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snelbz · 3 years ago

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Life As We Know It {Chapter One}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara's blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby's Masterlist

Tara's Masterlist

5 years later….

Nyx looked at his birthday cake and the lone candle that was lit atop the icing before looking up at Feyre with a confused expression on his beautiful, little face.

His mother laughed, quietly, before leaning forward and taking out the candle. She had just blown out the flame when Rhys barely pushed the cake closer to Nyx, who put his chubby, little hands smack-dab in the middle of the icing and dug in.

Everyone had come to celebrate, and even Nesta couldn’t stop her smile from showing. At least, she let it show when she was on the opposite end of the house from the one and only, and massively self-centered, Cassian Nazari.

Of course, he would be at Nyx’s first birthday party. He was Nyx’s uncle - maybe not by blood, not that blood mattered when it came to Cassian, Rhysand, and their other lifelong friend, Azriel.

He, too, stood across the kitchen, watching as Elain snapped picture after picture of the jubilant baby, the mess atop his high chair the largest Nesta had ever seen. She knew Elain was taking notes for their own daughter’s birthday party, though she was barely three months old.

Rhysand’s smile was as big as Feyre’s as they watched their son, listening as his giggles filled the kitchen. Nyx realized quickly that the cake was for him alone and after smashing it for a few moments, he lifted a large handful to his chubby face and took a bite. His eyes lit up and that started the giggling anew.

Nesta loved her nephew and niece, had loved him since the day they were born, but she didn’t envy her sisters and their happy families. Unlike them, she had remained perfectly content on her own, especially after the endless string of disaster dates she had been forced to sit through throughout the years.

And children? It wasn’t that Nesta disliked kids. Not all kids, at least. She loved her nephew and niece, anyway. Having one of her own, though? Having to be around one every day? Every night? Having to constantly try and make a tiny person content?

No, thank you. That was a challenge she had little interest in.

A deep rumbling laugh came from across the house and Nesta looked up to find Cassian entering the kitchen, still chuckling at something Mor had said.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her lip from curling slightly as she looked at him. It only infuriated her more when he caught sight of her as he raised his beer to his lips and winked.

He was absolutely insufferable.

After their catastrophe of a date years ago, which Nesta had made Feyre promise was a stunt she’d never pull again, she had only been forced to be around Cassian Nazari a handful of times.

One of which was during Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding, only months after their date.

“You only have to walk with him for thirty seconds,” Feyre had sighed, while Mor continued to pin and curl her hair into place. “You don’t have to be happy about it.”

“Good,” Nesta said, draining the glass of champagne in her hand. “Because I’m not.”

As Feyre’s maid-of-honor, it was customary that she was supposed to walk out of the wedding arm in arm with Rhysand’s best man. She wished that he’d picked Azriel, but since it seemed the Cauldron hated her, it had to be Cassian.

Elain, who was harboring the world’s most obvious crush on Azriel at the time, was thrilled with how they’d be exiting the wedding. Nevertheless, she said to Nesta, “I think you two got off on the wrong foot. He’s a really good guy, Nes.”

Nesta shot her youngest sister a look of pure annoyance through the mirror’s reflection. “Have any of you ever been on a date with the guy? And not only a date, but the worst date of your life?”

Feyre snorted, fully aware of where this conversation was headed. “No.”

“Then you have no room to talk,” Nesta snapped, admiring herself in the mirror. “Mother’s tits, Feyre, he wore jeans to the nicest restaurant in Velaris!”

“At least he didn’t wear his boots,” Mor muttered, then she caught Nesta’s glare in the mirror. “Really? He wore his boots?”

“He was dressed for an all-night, summer bonfire,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “And he’s completely full of himself. And, he forgot his wallet!”

“Not like you can’t afford dinner,” Feyre said, and Nesta’s lips snapped shut. She was fully aware that the conversation had somehow become a let’s-pick-on-Nesta session.

Feyre added, “You have to walk back down the aisle with him, share an entire table during dinner, and that’s it. No one is asking you to dance with him, but be nice.” Nesta met Feyre’s eyes, her jaw set. Feyre sighed, “Fine, be civil.”

She scoffed, but nodded. “Fine.”

The ceremony itself went off without a hitch. It was beautiful and elegant and the perfect wedding Rhys and Feyre had always wanted.

She ignored Cassian’s unending looks the whole night, managed to give her maid-of-honor speech without snarling at him, and after that, took advantage of the open bar her sister and new brother had so kindly provided.

She was coming out of the bathroom, a glass of wine still clutched in her hand, doing her best not to trip over her own feet when she walked into a wall.

A wall of solid muscle that turned out to be Cassian’s back.

When he turned around and she looked up at him, his eyes were nearly as glazed as hers.

“Hello, Nes,” he said, smirking down at her.

She bit out, “Don’t call me that.”

“That was a pretty, little speech you gave,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I know true love exists cause I’ve seen it first hand. Poetic.”

Nesta scoffed, brushing off the skirt of her dress as if he had tainted it. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t referring to you. I was talking about Feyre and Rhys, in case you thought otherwise.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he promised. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were talking about anyone. Just some fluffy shit that sounded sweet. Unless it’s that guy that showed up at the restaurant and ruined our date. Oh, wait,” he began, tapping his chin as if in deep thought, “You dumped him though, right? Poor bastard.”

“You’re a prick,” Nesta bit out. She refrained from saying that Tomas hadn’t ruined their date. It was sad that seeing her ex was one the bright points of her night, rather than seeing the Greek god standing before her. The pretentious, cocky asshole of a Greek god.

He only grinned. “But am I a liar?”

Nesta’s jaw locked. She eyed his tux. “I’m just glad you decided to clean up for your own brother’s wedding. No jeans?”

He scoffed. “Is that the worst you’ve got?”

“Do you prefer me to give you my worst?” she asked, brows furrowing. “If so, you may want to be careful what you wish for.”

Cassian said nothing, just lifted the beer she hadn’t noticed in his hands to his lips.

Nesta rolled her eyes, brushing past him, and made a move to head back into the reception.

His voice called out behind her, “You don’t have to be such a miserable bitch, you know?”

She froze, looking back at him. He was no longer smirking at her. Instead, his eyes were intense. “Excuse you?”

“You’re so miserable that you won’t allow anyone else to have any fun, won’t allow yourself to either,” he said, still leaning against that damn wall. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his dress shirt tight and loose in all the right places. “You want everyone else to suffer, just because you’re forcing yourself to, for whatever reason.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she bit out, stalking back over to him. She was so close she had to look up into his face.

“I don’t,” he said, words clipped. “I tried, but you didn’t seem very inclined to let me get to know you during our date. You were more concerned with my attire and your ex than you were with me. You thought all I wanted to do was fuck you.” His eyes, still glassy and glazed, dragged down her body and back up again. “Besides, you’ve got that damn stick shoved so far up your ass, there wouldn’t have been room for my cock even if I’d really even tried.”

A blink was Nesta’s only reaction. Then her hand was moving of its own accord, splashing her full glass of wine directly in his face and all over that pretty, white shirt.

“Go fuck yourself,” was all she’d said before she walked back into the ceremony, leaving him there to drip on the venue’s fancy carpet.

“Nesta!”

She blinked, Feyre’s voice drawing Nesta out of her memories, looking over at her sister. She stood next to Rhys and Elain, who had her camera in her hands, and Cassian stood behind Nyx’s high chair.

“I want a picture of him with his godparents, come here,” she beamed and Nesta tried not to cringe.

She had been so proud, her heart feeling like it would burst when Feyre and Rhys had asked her to be Nyx’s godmother. There was no hesitation when she said yes, tears lining her eyes as she’d hugged both her sister and brother-in-law.

She tried not to think about the fact that when they’d told her Cassian was his godfather, she nearly asked them to give the distinction to Elain.

But she hadn’t, wouldn’t. Despite what others, especially Cassian, thought of her… Nesta loved her nephew.

She loved her family.

With a sigh, Nesta meandered over to Nyx’s high chair. “Alright.”

“Closer,” Feyre ordered, gesturing Nesta to move in closer beside Cassian behind the high chair.

Nesta’s lips pursed but she took another step toward the boys for her sister’s sake.

“I’m not poisonous, Nesta,” Cassian muttered, smiling at the camera as he spoke. “You won’t burst into flames if we brush arms.”

“You’d be so lucky to brush arms with me,” she muttered back, hoping the smile she was giving her sister was convincing - and knowing full well that it wasn’t.

Without another word, Cassian tossed his arm around Nesta and said, “Cheeeeese!”

Nyx was giggling, looking up at his godparents behind him. There was so much joy and adoration in those big, beautiful eyes that Nesta didn’t have the heart to storm off, leaving Cassian in her dust, no matter how much she wanted to.

The camera’s flash went off and Nesta pushed Cassian’s arm off her shoulder.

The rest of the party was perfect. Feyre took Nyx up to the bathroom to clean him off, while Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian hauled his many gifts out into the living room. Feyre opened them one by one, despite everyone knowing Nyx had no clue what was going on, though he did clap his chubby little hands and giggle at a few particular items. Nesta stood off to the side with Elain, holding a milk-drunk, sleepy Seph in her arms.

Azriel and Elain’s little girl had been a surprise, neither of them planning on Elain getting pregnant so soon after they got married. They both fell into the role of parents so seamlessly though, that Nesta knew another baby would be in their near future. They adored the baby girl, and she was the most perfect baby Nesta had ever seen.

Persephone hardly cried, only doing so when she was hungry or needed to be changed, and once whatever wrong was taken care of, she became a happy, smiley baby again.

Nyx, on the other hand, had been a hellion as a baby.

Which was to be expected, considering who his father was. Although responsible when necessary, Rhysand was just as much of a madman as Cassian...especially when infused with alcohol.

“You look good with a baby,” Elain crooned from beside her sister.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You can keep trying to push me down the marriage-baby road, but I just won’t take it. Wasting your time.”

Elain sighed, dramatically, with that little grin remaining on her soft pink lips. “As long as you stay such a good auntie, I suppose I can’t complain.”

Nesta looked down at the sweet, sleeping infant in her arms. She didn’t mind those little snuggles.

She did mind the diaper blowouts, constant spit-ups, and loud crying, though. That’s usually when she gave Seph back to her parents and blissfully enjoyed her independent life.

Feyre gasped and Nesta looked up. She was holding a little guitar that had Nyx’s name and the night sky engraved into the dark-stained wood.

Nesta’s eyes snapped to Cassian.

Cassian smiled, fondly, at Feyre. “I know he won’t be able to start messing with it for another few years, but I couldn't help myself.”

“He made that himself, you know.” Nesta’s eyes shot to Elain, who was watching the scene before them. She whispered again, “He doesn’t do it for a living, of course, but it’s a hobby of his, making guitars. He’s really good.”

She blinked, the information catching her off guard for whatever reason. But all she said was, “That’s nice.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the man as much as she could, as she always did. But as the guests began to dwindle, as Nyx and Seph went down for their naps, the three sisters gathered in the living room, while Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian went out back to inspect the small jungle gym Rhys was building for Nyx. Again, he was too young to use most of it, but the tiny swing and slide would be hours of fun for the little man.

Feyre brought two cups of coffee out to her sisters before collapsing next to Elain on the couch. “That could not have gone better if we tried.”

Nesta leveled her a look and raised an eyebrow.. “If we tried? You had a minute-by-minute itinerary for a one-year-old’s birthday.”

“Everything was perfect,” Elain smiled, cutting off Nesta, blowing on her coffee gently. “Nyx had a good time, neither he nor Seph had a blow-up, Cassian and Nesta managed to be in the same room without stabbing each other. All in all, a good day.”

Nesta rolled her eyes before throwing a vulgar gesture towards her sisters, who were both laughing.

“Fine, new subject,” Feyre grinned. “Oh! Before I forget, Rhys and I are going out of town for our anniversary in a few weeks. I was hoping you could watch Nyx for a few days.”

It took Nesta a moment to realize that Feyre was talking to her. She froze, having been blowing on her own hot coffee. “I’m sorry, what?”

Feyre laughed, quietly. “I was hoping that you could watch Nyx while Rhys and I go away for a long weekend. We’re going to the mountains for our anniversary. To his family’s cabin.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Elain said, looking at Nesta.

Who blinked, having only unfrozen to set her coffee down on the table between them. “You want me…to watch Nyx…for the weekend? Alone? By myself? Just me and him?”

“That’s what I was hoping for, yeah,” Feyre said, nodding as she sipped from her cup. “You can come here, where all of his stuff is in one place, and make yourself at home.” She shrugged. “I’ll leave money for takeout and the key to the wine cabinet.”

Nesta hesitated. “I’ve only babysat Nyx a couple of times…all for, like, an hour each.”

“It will be fine,” she said, a genuine smile on her face. “It will only be three nights, really. We’ll leave after work on Thursday and be home Sunday evening.”

Nesta stammered and shook her head. “I have to work on Friday, the restaurant-.”

“I’ll keep him during the day on Friday,” Elain offered. “I don’t have any shoots that day, so he can spend the day with me and Seph.”

“You could keep him the whole weekend,” Nesta tried, looking at her younger sister hopefully.

“Seph is enough of a handful,” she chuckled, glancing at Feyre, who was nodding as well. “I don’t think I can handle two at once for an entire weekend.”

“Please, Nes,” Feyre said, drawing her eldest sister’s eyes to her. “I know you can do it and it would be nice for you to spend some time together, just you two.”

“And you can call me, if you need anything,” Elain added.

Nesta looked from Feyre to Elain. “You two already planned this.” They at least had the wherewithal to look guilty. She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Fine. But I’ll probably end up calling both of you every thirty seconds.”

“I can work with that,” Feyre said, just as Elain said, “Then it’s settled!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “But, I hope you know that I wouldn’t do this for anybody else.”

“Oh, I know,” Feyre grinned, “which is what makes you such a wonderful, wonderful big sister.”

“I am pretty damn wonderful,” Nesta agreed, grinning as she sipped from her mug.

As she drank, she peeked out the window, where the boys were putting together the playset. Once she did, only one thing caught her eye.

Cassian was already watching her.

And when he caught her gaze, that stupid little, cocky-ass grin appeared.

She hated that grin, hated it with every ounce of her being.

And she wouldn’t feel bad for it, no matter how much her sisters adored the guy.

She hated him, hated Cassian Nazari.

And she always would.

#life as we know it #snacmc lawki #shara #snacmc #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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mintugiyuu · 4 years ago

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> here’s the final part of your request @kyojoroo ! I’m so sorry it’s in two different parts, but I learned for the first time that these text boxes have a limit lmao, again I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night! <3

༄ we have to stop meeting like this - continued

sfw one-shot

➥ pairing || rengoku kyojurou x reader

➥ au || modern day; college

➥ warnings || cheesy, tooth-rotting fluff with extra cheese

➥ synopsis || the reader keeps bumping into the one and only rengoku kyojurou; only instead of just casually seeing him over and over again, they quite literally bump into him in the most inconvenient ways possible. (cont.)

➥ part one || click here!

༄ the mediterranean sea collection - masterlist

Today had to be one of the worst days in your life. Freezing, drenched, and newly homeless, you tucked yourself onto the bus stop bench. Lucky you, this one didn't even have an awning to protect you from the elements.

The rain had no pity for your predicament as it pelted your body, the light clothing doing close to nothing for you. Summer had just come, yet the night rainfall seemed to have brought an unexpected chill.

Not to mention the suitcase and duffle bag you had with you were now also getting soaked.

You could only hope nothing was too waterlogged.

Your hand did little to protect your dying phone from getting wet as you tried to search for the nearest place to stay. Motel, hotel, air B'N'B; anything in range to get you off the streets for the night.

You had a feeling this would happen, and boy were kicking yourself for not seeing the red flags and preparing sooner.

Not having enough savings for a dorm, you had signed a contract with the residents of an apartment to rent out one of the rooms for cheap.

The agreement only lasted for two semesters, but they had promised that you'd be able to renew it once summer rolled around.

"Promise my ass." You grumbled, remembering how the original owner had gotten a partner. In return, they refused to let you sign another contract so they would have space for the "love of their life".

You saw the signs; you saw how their stuff slowly moved into the apartment and all the time they were spending there.

You just didn't think they'd be shitty enough people to kick you out the moment your contract ended.

A gust of icy wind rolled through, causing another shudder to rack your body. The closest place wasn't in walking distance, and it was far to late for the buses to be running. Sighing, you shut off your phone and closed your eyes.

You had resigned yourself to walk the several blocks to the nearest 24/7 fast food place to at least get out of the rain.

That was until the rain fall suddenly stopped beating down on you. The rain couldn't have stopped though, you could still hear it. You blinked your eyes open and looked up, surprised to what - or more accurately, who - you saw.

"...Kyojurou?"

Standing there in all his warmth and glory, Kyojurou looked down at you with concern, holding a bright red umbrella over your soaked form.

He couldn't seem to help the small smile that graced his lips at the sound of his first name.

"I'd be happier that you finally used my name if you didn't look so sad and drenched."

A humorless snort escaped your lips as you hugged yourself, shivering slightly. "Timing always has my side doesn't it? I'm just about to head to the closest food place to get out of the rain, so don't worry about it."

"Why?"

"I got kicked out," you shrugged, looking to the ground.

"This late at night?"

"It surprised me too. They found a new roommate and wouldn't let me renew my contract for the next school year, and it just so happens it ended tonight." There was a hint of bitterness in your tone, one that was completely understandable.

Kyojurou's brows furrowed. "They didn't give you a heads up? A two week notice?"

"I'm just lucky they let me pack all of my stuff before I had to leave." You continued to look down at the ground, not seeing the way Kyojurou's face contorted ever so slightly.

He didn't get mad often, but whoever your old roommates are were now on his shit list

"Well that's a shitty thing to do," he stated bluntly, causing you to sputter and blink dumbly at him.

It's been almost a year since you've met the blonde, and in all that time you never once heard him say a single bad word.

"Did you just curse??"

He pretended not to hear, pulling out his own phone to see the time as you mulled over the fact that this sweet ray of sunshine just called someone shitty.

Expression neutralizing as he schemed, he turned back to you. "You don't have to stay in a fast food place for the night."

"Huh?? Are you suggesting I sleep in a box?"

The man smiled, resting a reassuring hand on top of your shoulder, frustration forgotten for now. "You can stay with me!"

"What now?"

Chuckling, he passed the umbrella off to you to hold, beginning to slip his arms out of the jacket he wore. "You can stay with me for the time being until you get back on your feet! Well, us. If you wanted to of course! Sanemi just moved out, so we're looking for a new one regardless."

Baffled at the sudden offer, you started to shake your head, forming the words to decline him. It was too big of a favor, how could you accept that?

He was one step ahead of you, as he always is.

"Before you say anything, no, it would not be any trouble, you're a joy to have around! We can settle the nitty gritty later, let's just get you out of the cold."

"Wait, Kyojurou," you were silenced by a heavy warmth that suddenly engulfed your upper body, including your sight. Moving the fabric from your eyes, you realized it was his jacket.

His once dry clothes was slowly becoming just as soaked as you were as he took back the umbrella, insistently keeping it solely above you.

The gentle way he smiled in combination with the light post that shined behind his head had you convinced he was your guardian angel in disguise.

You hesitantly pulled the jacket closer to your body, not being able to deny how relieving the warmth felt. "But, won't you be cold?"

"My insides are practically pocket heaters, it takes a lot for me to be cold. A little wind and rain won't do anything to me, I promise! Now come on, before you get sick," he insisted as he grabbed your bag, throwing them over his shoulder.

"Little" was an understatement, but you didn't have the energy to argue. It was the middle of the night and you could feel your eyes starting to droop.

Grabbing your luggage to role behind, you let the other wrap his free arm around your form, hand resting on your arm. "Thank you, truly I don't know where to start showing how grateful I am. I owe you big time."

"Never refer to me as Rengoku-san again and I'll call it even!"

A wobbly smile tugged at your lips as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you down the route to his apartment. "You have a deal then, Kyojurou."

The weather broadcasters warned everyone about heavy snowfall, but you couldn’t help but think they could’ve prepared everyone a bit more as you stared out your window and could only see the shadow of snow.

Thank the gods above it was winter break or they’d have to cancel classes, which would just be tuition money flushed down the shitter.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door of the bedroom you were in, which was odd because the door was open.

Low and behold, it was your sweetheart of a boyfriend, holding two mugs and using his foot to knock. “I brought hot coco!”

"You don't have to knock, this is your room you dork."

"Our room technically, my dear." He responded smoothly, shutting the door with his foot behind him as he made his way to you.

"Careful not to spill it," he winked, laughing slightly as he handed you your mug.

"Just for that I should," you scoffed playfully, sticking your tongue out at him as you took the drink. The smile on his face was nothing but adoring, finding you to be adorable. You had to look away to dismiss the butterflies that swarmed in your tummy. “Looks like we’re snowed in for a bit. The snow is above the windows.”

Kyojurou hummed in agreement. “I still don’t understand how tiny snowflakes can become so damaging so fast!”

“You’re funny,” you chuckled, taking a sip of the hot beverage. Kyojurou always made the best hot chocolate.

“... UME! I’m glad I can be amusing!” You couldn't hold down the snort at the realization that he wasn't joking, swallowing and shaking your head. You granted him mercy and switched the subject.

“What are the others up to?”

Kyojurou leaned against the sill next to you, shoulder bumping yours affectionately. “Tengen is in the living room playing video games with his girlfriends, Mitsuri is watching a movie in her room and Obanai is watching with her. I think she's also painting his nails from the conversation I overheard while passing by."

“I see.”

The both of you were leaning against the window sill, basking in the comfortable silence. It wasn't common in an apartment full of unique roommates.

Even now you both could hear the loud victory cheer of Suma as Tengen groaned in defeat.

Taking another sip of your drink, you hummed, lifting your head to face Kyojurou. You were going to say something, but that was forgotten as you covered your mouth with your fingers as to not laugh suddenly.

"Hm? Is something wrong?" Your poor oblivious lover had a whipped cream mustache. He tilted his head at you - not unlike an owl - seemingly confused to your sudden shift in expression. You swallowed your laughter down as you placed your drink onto the sill, stepping closer to the blonde.

"No, nothing's wrong. You just have a little something rigghtt..." you reached out to grip his chin gently, swiping your thumb across his top lip to collect the whipped cream. "-there, all gone!"

A pretty, bright red color spread across Kyojurou’s face, wide eyes blinking owlishly at you with his mouth slightly agape. Laughing quietly at his reaction, you licked the cream off your thumb, patting the side of his cheek teasingly.

"You'll catch flies, hun." A click of teeth could be heard as he closed his mouth.

"RIGHT!" He stopped himself to clear his throat, turning to face the window as his usual smile reappeared, though a bit wobbly. "Thank you!"

All you did was hum, a slight mischievous smirk settling onto your face. You were set to happily go back to your drink when you shivered, the chill of the room finally reaching you through your clothes.

Kyojurou caught it from the corner of his eye, turning back to you. “Are you cold?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, you'll just get another sweatshirt.

“I’ll be ok. The hot coco will warm me up in- WOAH!” That plan was thrown out the window when he suddenly scooped you up into his broad arms, smiling determinedly.

"You're not allowed to just continue on being cold, not if I can help it!" The firey man plopped you down onto your shared bed, quickly gathering the collection of fluffy blankets you have accumulated over time.

In the blink of an eye, you were neatly swaddled in said blankets and being held gently to your boyfriend's warm chest. He settled underneath the main blanket, wrapping his strong arms around your body.

“Is that better?” He beamed at you, looking oh so proud of himself.

What did you do to deserve him?

"Much," you all but groaned, snuggling your face into the warmth of his chest. It was like cuddling a big warm marshmallow. “I still can’t understand how you’re so warm.”

“I’m a living-breathing heater, my dear. I’ve explained this before, I’m sure of it.”

You snorted, leaning into his hand as he began to run his fingers through your hair. “I’m not complaining, you’re good to keep around for whenever my hands freeze.”

“I wouldn’t mind one bit," his voice came out softly, planting a warm kiss to onto your forehead. This in turn caused you to melt even further into him, burying your face into his shirt.

Kyojurou laughed with amusement as he turned on the television, looking for something for the two of you to watch for the rest of the evening. You eventually peaked your head out to look at him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Hey, Kyojurou?”

“Yes?”

All of his attention was on you. Even in these small moments he looks at you as though you're the most precious human being in the world. And to him, you were.

You hummed, placing a kiss onto his chin. “I’m happy I spilled my drink all over you.”

The small peck had similar effects from the whipped cream incident earlier, though he seemed to snap out of it quicker this time. He smiled brighter, cupping your cheek with his large, warm hand.

“That's an odd way of saying I love you."

This made you pause, the 'L-word' not being used between the two of you yet. “Wait, what?"

He gave you no time to question further as he placed a kiss onto your lips in return, his other hand finding the small of your back to pull you closer.

The initial shock of being kissed faded quickly, your arms finding their way around his neck as you pulled yourself closer. The kiss was short and sweet, yet the passion that Kyojurou lived by was always present.

The kiss came to a pause with you laying on top of his chest, remote forgotten and blankets wrapped around you as you steadied your breathing.

Kyojurou's eyes crinkled slightly with his smile, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek.

"I love you too."

#🎣.requests #sfw #one shot #kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny reader insert #demon slayer reader insert #kimetsu no yaiba reader insert #kny one shot #demon slayer one shot #kimetsu no yaiba one shot #rengoku kyojurou #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojurou x reader

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fictionalmenmakemecry · 4 years ago

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Best Friends or more?

Requested : @iwriteabouttomhiddles

Characters: Damon x Ana (Reader)

Summary: Everyone knows that Damon is a ladies man but he always wanted to be closer to one of his best friends, Ana.

Includes: Smut, Swearing

Damon could see the woman looking at him across the bar. They would catch each other's stares throughout the night. Like he usually does, he walked confidently across the room towards the blonde haired woman who was facing away from him at this point.

"May I buy you another G&T?" he smiled as she turned around to him

"I really shouldn't, I was about to leave" She pushed away her empty glass.

"Awh, come on. Just one? I'll let you go home then. I promise" He said as gesturing at the bartender to get her another

"Okay, I guess one more, can't hurt" She smiled back at him

As they started talking Damon would get closer to her, making sure to keep strong eye contact with her.

"I don't mean to ruin your fun here but can I talk to you for a minute?" A red haired woman came up between them.

"Can this wait, Ana?" Damon spoke quietly from the edge of his month rolling his eyes over to the lady who's he's been flirting with all night.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your very well played out plan for getting your dick wet tonight but no it can't wait" She gave a quick smile to the lady as Damon rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me" Damon smiled politely as he pulled himself and Ana away from the bar.

"What do you want?" He emptied the rest of contents of the glass in his mouth

"Nothing actually. I mostly just wanted to save that woman from her romantic dreams getting crushed as you drop her the second you're bored" Ana looked to the woman who was now getting out of her chair to leave giving Ana a dirty look as she went.

Damon sighed in annoyance as he saw he plan for the night walk away.

"Why do you do this to me every time?" Damon glaring at Ana

Ana was Damon's best friend for many years. They were always close but Ana never liked the way Damon treated woman. Over the years Ana had seen more women walk in and out of his life that she gave up learning their names.

They always avoided the elephant in the room when it came to them getting together, mostly because Ana was afraid of her getting hurt by her best friend and ruining their friendship.

She had feelings for him but kept them under control knowing that nothing good would come out from them getting together romantically even if Damon was interested in her.

"Well because you ruined my date for tonight, you're going to have to be my date" Damon smirked knowing what he was getting himself into.

Ana looked up meeting Damon's strong eye contact "What?"

"You heard me, it's time that we try this out, you and me" Damon could see that Ana was nervous about the idea.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Damon" She looked around uneasy.

"Ana, you're a beautiful woman, I want to treat you to some dinner. What harm can be done?" Damon lead Ana back to the bar and got drinks for both of them

"Okay, just dinner. That's all." She sat down looking over at her best friend.

They sat down at a fancy restaurant table and their server brought over leather bound menus. They both sat quietly looking through them.

"You really do look beautiful tonight" Damon gave a little smile while looking into Ana's deep hazel eyes.

Damon never complimented Ana like this and seeing him behave like this towards her, she could understand how women would get lost in his presence. The way their hands were close enough to touch but weren't touching. How he would look at her lips, eyes and hair like he was appreciating what was in from of him.

She could feel herself blushing from all the attention. But in the back of her head she felt foolish knowing that this was going to do more harm than good to their friendship. How this friendship meant so much to her and she was risking it for one date night. All the feelings that she was suppressing over the years were now wiggling free and she could feel herself slip into those bright blue eyes.

"So we've been close for so long but we never really explored our friendship more" Damon said as he leaned forward

"I think there is a reason for that" Ana raised her eyebrow thinking it was obvious.

"Is there one?" He smiled picking up his glass of bourbon

"Yes Damon, many" Ana glared "I don't want to lose what we have. You're my best friend and you know how I hate the way you treat women" She pushed the menu away, knowing that her stomach was in no state for food.

"Hold on, you don't think I would treat you like all those woman right?" Damon questioned Ana feeling caught off guard about how she felt.

"What other reference do I have to use? I don't think I would be any different. The worst part is that we would lose so much more. We been friends for years and I would really miss that if anything went sour between us." Ana could feel herself get worked up but tried to keep her composure.

"I know you've only seen one side of me but that's because I don't have many people close to me. You're one of the closest people I have in my life. I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally." Damon was more tense and looked down.

Ana could tell that he was being genuine but still was anxious about telling Damon how she really felt.

"Why do you think we would go sour?" After a long pause Damon looked back up retracing what she said earlier

"W-well.." Ana stuttered arguing in her mind whether she should fess up on how she really felt. She looked away feeling that if she looked into Damon eyes, he would see everything.

"Ana, you don't have to hold back. Tell me, please" Damon reached for Ana's hand and brushed his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I-if were going to get into a relationship, I feel like I would grow feelings. I know you wouldn't and then I would end up hurt and losing my best friend" Ana didn't look up from the table. She couldn't bare seeing Damon's face.

"How do you know I haven't already grown feelings?" Damon said quietly.

Ana stomach dropped, she slowly looked up. Damon smiled gently searching her eyes for some type of reply.

"You really don't have any idea how much you mean to me, do you?" He looked down at her hand tracing over her knuckles with his fingers.

"I never knew how to tell you. You've only seen one side of me and I was comfortable showing that. Especially when I thought you wouldn't be interested in me romantically. Sometimes I would go out to woman just so I could get some type of reaction out of you, whether that was jealousy or interest or something. But you never did show anything" Ana was overwhelmed with all this information. She watched Damon touch her hand as she tried to recall all the women that he had been with.

"I hid my feelings, I didn't want to think about them, knowing that you treated women the way you did. Seeing you with all those people made me feel jealous but it wasn't my place to stop you and I didn't want to get hurt." Ana spoke as she enjoyed the warmth from Damon's hands.

"Ana, I always wanted you. I wanted to bring you on dates the first week I knew you. You're so beautiful and as I got closer to you, I realized that I never wanted to lose you." Ana looked up at him now and watching those blue eyes stare into her soul.

"You wouldn't believe the amount of times I've imagined you while having sex with other woman" Damon said quietly "I can't get you off my mind, especially at the beach last year. I remember seeing you in that little black bikini and trying not to stare at you for too long" Damon bit his lip as he remembered.

Ana was starting to heat up, she could feel herself getting damp and crossed her legs.

"I think about you too. During the nights when I'm... I'm you know" Damon took a deep breath as he let his imagination run wild .

"My mind always ends up on you. I would hear so many things from the woman you would be with, about how you performed and that's what really made me jealous" Ana pushed her hair out of her face and she felt herself get hotter and hotter.

"I can't take this anymore" Damon looked down focused on his breathing "Would you come to the bathroom with me?" Damon bit his lip feeling himself get harder under the table.

"Right now?" Ana raised her eyebrows on how eager he was

Damon nodded and looked over to the bathroom. Ana hesitated for a second but slowly made her way out of the seat and walked over to the door to look back at Damon.

He waited for a minute and before getting up, he readjusted his hardening cock to try and not make it so obvious. He made his way to the bathroom and entered to see one of the cubicle doors closed. Ana opened it letting Damon in. They were in such a small space and could hear both of them breathing as they looked at each other.

"You want this right?" Damon asked brushing her hair out of her face.

"More than anything" She whispered

Damon leaned down and started kissing Ana deeply as her hand went up to his hair. He leaned more pushing her up against one of the cold tiled walls. He made his way down her neck leaving little bite marks as he went. He didn't care if people saw them, he wanted people to know that she was taken.

She reached down and massaged the bulge under his jeans feeling him moan into her neck. She started unbuttoning her dress and pulling it off her shoulders. He cupped and kissed her breasts like he visualized so often feeling her nipple harden under his touch.

"Damon, fuck me" She breathed out.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her giving her a kiss tasting her tongue.

"Fuck, if you keep saying that I will lose control" He growled into her neck

"Then lose control" She brought his face up to her's and stared into his eyes.

She turned around facing away from him as he unbutton his jeans pulling out his cock and spitting into his hand giving it a few strokes. He pulled up her dress, moving her underwear aside seeing her wet pussy for the first time.

"Oh, I can't wait to taste how wet you are later" He whispered in her ear as he place his cock at her entrance.

"I can't wait to sit on your face" She moaned as she felt him thrust in.

She felt one of his hands on her waist and the other massage her clit gentle in circles.

"I want you to cum with me so you can milk my cock as much as possible" Damon moaned as he started to thrust in and out.

Suddenly the door in the bathroom opened as a person came in and closed one of the next cubicle doors. Damon put his hand over Ana mouth to quieten her moans as he continue to pump in and out of her. He could feel her legs shake. Ana could hear Damon's heavy breathing as he tried to stop himself from moaning. Every thrust made her orgasm build.

The person got out of the cubicle and washed their hands leaving the bathroom quickly. Damon lowered his hand from Ana's face as they both moaned out loud.

The more Damon thrusted, the less they could contained themselves as they both felt their orgasms fast approaching.

"Damon, I'm about to cum" Ana moaned as she pressed her sweaty hands against the wall.

Damon quickened his pace while continuing to massage her clit feeling her wall tighten around him.

"Fuck baby, me too.." Damon wrapped his arm around Ana feeling her shake underneath him as he let his orgasm wash over him pumping the last bit of energy he had left while holding Ana up.

They both stayed in that position for a couple of minutes, catching their breath. Damon nuzzled his face into her neck as he kissed it gently.

"I can't believe we just had sex" Ana smiled reaching back to feel Damon face

"I can, I finally don't have to imagine anymore" Damon let go of Ana and grabbed some tissue to help her clean up. They both came out of the cubicle fixing their clothes and went over to the mirror. Damon watched as Ana fixed her hair realizing how smitten he really was.

"You should probably leave" Ana said looking at Damon through the mirror

"Why?" Damon frowned

"Because you are currently in the girls bathroom" Ana giggled pinning her hair back with a clip.

"Oh shit" Damon shifted and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll wait for you to order food for dinner" Damon winked and walked out of the ladies bathroom as unsuspiciously as possible.

#damon #damon smut #smut #damon x reader #tvd #damon salvatore #the vampire diaries

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

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Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 07 part two

(Masterpost)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Lantern Lighting

Now we have the famous lantern scene, where everybody gets to express their character and have dates, ranging from disastrous to delightful, with the objects of their affection.

Wei Wuxian continues to be ridiculously good at drawing.

We’ve all seen Lan Wangji’s lovely first smile in the show a million times, so...let’s look at it again!

This scene is important not just because of the smile, but because there’s a distinct shift in the way they talk about their growing relationship. In the pond, it was “come visit me” and “never!” “I want to be your friend” “No need.” Basically Lan Wangji firmly saying no to Wei Wuxian’s offers of friendship.

This time, Wei Wuxian says “let’s do this together” and Lan Wangji says “I’m used to being alone,” which is not actually a No, just an explanation. And WWX says, you can change that. And then Lan Wangji DOES change it, sharing the lantern and the promise with Wei Wuxian.

Whoever painted this flower is even better than Wei Wuxian at plein air painting.

(more after the cut!)

Everybody’s wishes

Nie Huasang makes a practical wish. Wen Qing prays for her brother and Jiang Cheng notices how she’s like Yanli. Jiang Cheng isn’t very intense about Wen Qing, which could be a sign of his shyness but could also be a sign of his gayness or aceness. After all, later in life he’s an apparently wealthy clan leader who is hot as fuck, and needs an heir, since his nephew is a Jin. But he’s still not married, 16 years after breaking up with and uh, helping to kill and cremate, the girl he liked in summer school.

The Promise We Made Together

Wei Wuxian makes an ultra-idealistic wish/promise while Lan Wangji watches and falls the rest of the way in love with him, and silently makes the same pledge inside his head. Later they will each refer to this as a promise they made together, which is a really super high level of face-reading by Wei Wuxian, to understand that he really is speaking for both of them here. While making this promise, Lan Wangji brings out his Yin Iron Magic Bag and waves it around in front of everyone, but nobody notices.

Let’s take a moment to consider *why* this moment is so powerful for Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji is a boy whose emotions are always on the boil. He’s 100% upset all the time, at this age, and he keeps it clamped down all the time. His cultivation level is probably as high as it is partly because of all the work he does in emotion regulation. (note: if you haven’t read all the meta at @howpeacefulislwj , go read it; it’s awesome and hilarious)

Wei Wuxian doesn’t GAF about emotion regulation; he just expresses what he feels, all the damn time.

He is openly bored, lusty, playful, hungry, whiny. He straight up tells Lan Wangji “you’re boring and you have a stick up your ass” as part of saying he wants to be friends; no deference and also no falseness.

And he can see right through Lan Wangji’s reserve, barging into his loneliness and isolation without any regard for all of his wards. Wards are made to be broken.

(Unrelated note: Young Lan Wangji's rare moments of contentment seem to come from looking at something beautiful--the moon, falling petals, these lanterns, his mirror.)

But Wei Wuxian is also good. Lan Wangji desperately wants to be good. And here’s Wei Wuxian embodying this awful, amazing, tempting alternative path, in which all the interesting things in life get explored thoroughly, all the sweetness and beauty gets consumed unreservedly, all the pain and ugliness gets confronted and endured without hesitation.

In this moment, Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji “you can change,” and then offers up this prayer/promise that is just pure chivarly, speaking straight to Lan Wangji’s heart. Very simply, I want to spend my life doing right. Not 3500 rules; just one.

This infuriating boy, who breaks rules and who flirts indiscriminately and who pushes and pushes and pushes, reveals himself in this moment to be a hero at the beginning of his journey, and Lan Wangji sees it, and his heart goes right over the cliff.

The Girls’ Room

The girl cultivators all rush over to Yanli to get in her business about her betrothal, inspiring Jin Zixuan to act like a jerk to her and get even further onto Wei Wuxian’s bad side.

Talk Shit, Get Hit

Yanli’s wish was that Wei Wuxian would grow up and be good. He promptly launches his own personal Sunshot campaign, punching her fiancee so hard that the sun falls out of the sky and the previously well-lit scene transitions to full night.

So, in English, “don’t mention it again” is really mild, akin to “I don’t want to talk about it.” Wei Wuxian’s reaction makes it seem like Jin Zixuan said something really shitty, like “don’t you dare mention that woman to me!” So I’m assuming something is being lost in translation.

Lan Wangji tries to calm him down. He grabs Wei Wuxian’s sexy arm muscle and basically holds it until the Jiangs exit the scene.

Nie Huaisang has placed himself between the opposing factions, which is unusually direct of him. In the future he’ll stick to being an unindicted co-conspirator when Wei Wuxian starts trouble.

Ants in my Pants

Lan Wangji thinks kneeling can make Wei Wuxian cry, which is adorable of him.

He really relishes this opportunity to be a pedantic tool to his new boyfriend that annoying boy he hardly ever touches, and it really doesn’t work out for him, poor lamb.

Jiang Fengmian stops by to show exactly how deep his affection for Wei Wuxian runs, and to give him whiplash from constantly changing parental expectations. In a couple of hours he’ll be laughing over WWX & JC’s hijinks.

Wei Wuxian takes this opportunity to fantasize about bad things happening to the other boy in the fight, which is in no way foreshadowing of anything.

Douche Dads Conference

We now convene this meeting of the douchebag council. Jiang Cheng is also invited even though he’s a prick, not a douche. <--important distinction

This is our first time meeting Clan Leader Jin Guangshan. He's actually the most sensible and best parent in this scene, but his smug self-satisfaction hints at his true nature. This actor, Shen Xiaohai, has been active in cdramas for a long while now. I wonder what he looked like 15 years ago?

...Holy mother of god.

Jiang Fengmian is the worst dad and the worst husband here. His clan believes in letting children do what they want - uhh YOUR child wants to marry Jin Zixuan. “I wrote a letter to her mother, who arranged this marriage.” Uhhh she arranged for her sickly, low-cultivation-level, sweet and vulnerable child to marry the heir of a rich and powerful clan, with a powerful mother-in-law who’s looking forward to loving and protecting her. Basically she’s guaranteed her daughter’s safety and comfort, and even potential happiness, since her husband may learn to appreciate her (and in fact, does, thanks to soup and repeated beatings from WWX).

Mom worked hard and probably spent a fair amount of social capital to achieve this. And you’re going to toss that aside because the boy thinks he’s too good for her? What the everloving fuck, how are you a clan leader in the first place?

You can see that Jiang Cheng understands all of this and what a terrible choice his father is making here.

So do the other adults in the room.

Jin Guangshen: our wives are going to kill us

Lan Qiren: I'm looking at a couple of dead men

Jiang Fengmian pointedly won’t listen to Jiang Cheng or let him speak, showing that all his talk about being free is actually bullshit, that only applies to other people’s children.

Jiang Chang vaults off of the deck to tell Wei Wuxian about it. Hottt

Sorry Sis

Wei Wuxian goes to Jiang Yanli to sorta-apologize and sorta ask to be let off the hook for fucking up her engagement, which he absolutely did. He knows it, which is presumably why he bows to her in paperman form while hiding outside.

At no time has Jiang Yanli indicated to anyone that she doesn’t want to marry Jin Zixuan, as far as I can see, or said she wanted to be defended from insults with punching. Look how good SHE is at defending a person from insults, for comparison.

Yin Iron Blah Blah Blah

The senior Lans meet with Jiang Fengmian to talk about the Yawn Yin Iron. Yawn.

Jiang Fengmian addresses Lan Xichen as Lan Gongzi, which is adorable, since he is a big boy to everyone else. His family calls him Xichen and other people call him Zewu-Jun.

Farewell and Fuck You

The three Jiang kids come to say goodbye.

Lan Quiren says goodbye with a heap of criticism for Wei Wuxian and the horse he rode in on, and Jiang Fengmian basically says, yep, that’s what he’s like, all right.

Good thing Wei Ying gets so much verbal abuse at home he doesn’t take it very hard when he finds it in the field.

Wangji doesn’t say goodbye properly, which will be a recurring theme for the two of them.

I don’t know if this is because he has a problem with goodbyes, or is just being a jerk, or because he’s so bad at lying he doesn’t dare talk to Wei Wuxian lest he reveal his travel plans.

Indulgent Dad Continues to be the Worst

Jiang Cheng complains at Wei Wuxian for wanting to say goodbye to Lan Wangji, and WWX says he likes him because he is equal to WWX in fighting, whereas JC sucks. JC hits him tries to hit him--gosh, he DOES suck, comparatively.

Yanli, who has been keeping these boys in line all summer, sighs deeply at her Dad’s tolerance for their hijinks. OP has five brothers and this sibling-hijinks behavior is 100% accurate, except for the part where it is happening at someone else’s house in front of the hosts.

WWX pretending to be Lan Qiren where Lan Wangji can see him doing it, in front of Lan Qiren’s colleague and supposed friend, and just earning a laugh from the patriarch? Good lord. Dad Jiang tolerating this is shocking, particularly in the in-show culture where corporal punishment is as common as tea.

We’ve tried Nothing, and we’re all out of ideas!

Uggghh why are you like this?

Here in the real world, OP uses “positive discipline” with her child, and encourages other parents to consider it, particularly if your child is neuroatypical or asynchronous. That said, JF should be punishing the crap out of both boys for this behavior every time it happens, or should quit being a clan leader. He’s relying on Jiang Yanli to keep them in line while he gets to just be amused by them. And he’s letting Lan Qiren discipline Wei Wuxian instead of doing it himself. He suuuuuuucks.

Lan Wangji watches all of this. Lan Xichen reminds Lan Wangji that without Wei Wuxian, he’s completely fucking miserable. Lan Wangji still doesn’t plan to bring him along on his trip, though.

Time to return to our lives of crushing loneliness

Rabbits

At this same moment when Lan Wangji is staring down the barrel of future loneliness, Wei Wuxian is already deciding to leave the (forbidden) rabbits in Cloud Recesses “In case Lan Zhan gets lonely.” This small decision by Wei Wuxian - breaking the rules of Cloud Recesses for the millionth time - is kinder than he knows. Because what is the job of these rabbits? Let’s have a desaturated flashback.

Lan Zhan spent 3 years in the ice cave. The rabbits kept Lan Yi company in the ice cave. So...did the rabbits sneak in to keep Lan Wangji company in the ice cave as well? I’m going to say yes. By ep 43 they are following him to the gate of Cloud Recesses so they are very attached to him. Well done, Wei Ying.

Where my bitches at? Seriously, our warren needs bitches

(Is Watership Down still a thing people read? If not, just go ahead and assume all of OP’s rabbit jokes are about Watership Down because OP ain’t going to stop making them)

While Wei Wuxian annoys the bunny he has a flashback to the scene that happened 4 minutes earlier. The Untamed editors assume the viewership has the attention span of a goldfish, and I personally appreciate that they understand me so well.

Wei Wuxian figures out that Lan Wangji is going on the road alone, and tells the bunny immediately. The bunny is very concerned.

Writing Prompt: What do next-generation cultivators Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi wish for at lantern-lighting time?

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #wangxian #the untamed gifs #cdrama #chen qing ling #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed spoilers

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captainsspnanon · 3 years ago

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C2E49 - A Game of Names - rewatch reaction

Retroactively added first comment – Marisha and Laura are rocking heavier makeup and Matt is still rocking his beard. Tal has the Percy spiral in his hair from the one shot, the remainder of the guys are on point, we just have a lovely image to look at for the show. :)

I think the best thing for me right now is that as Nott is sharing her story, everyone is mostly keeping it together in character, and then Travis is just YO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SEEING THIS DM WHAT THE FUCK OMG WHAT THE FUCK never change, Travis, never change

Okay, so there is the confirmation that Nott really was a torturer’s assistant. I definitely didn’t remember the confirmation, just the initial telling, so I thought it was just a story she made up to hide her past. But it sounds like that part is legit. Also confirmation that she was only with the goblins for about six months, which makes sense in the timeline.

Okay, pausing at what I think is the end of the monologue, because I was just watching it. So. THOUGHTS. First off, I’m super glad that Sam has said that the voice doesn’t hurt his throat, because man that speech sounded painful. Nott’s voice has always been interesting to me in the fact that there’s a lot of the time where it feels natural like how the other voices feel, but there’s also a decent number of times where it actually takes me out of the RP a bit, and makes me just realize that Sam is putting on a voice. Unfortunately, this is one of the times where it takes me out. And very unfortunately, it makes my emotional connection to this telling just a bit less than had it felt more natural. NOW. The story itself. SAM. RIEGEL. SAMUEL BRENT OSCAR RIEGEL. GodDAMN this was good.

Well, I suppose I should actually start with the moment before Nott gets into her story, Caleb trying to push them to leave town. It is completely in character, and it highlights that Caleb IS very selfish at times, which I appreciate. Does he have very good reason to be scared of Vess and Ludinus? Absolutely. But the fact that he’s still asking about Nott’s ‘friend’ shows how much he’s been in his own head, to miss that this was her husband and child. Or at the VERY least, her child and the father of her child. It’d be a bad look on him regardless, and it’s an even worse look after Nott has already shouted at him. You’re not even listening to her at this point?? Caleb was not joking on the ship when he told her that he was getting so close with the group that he was forgetting Nott. It’s been some small moments over a few episodes, but this right here is the worst of it. The good thing is that this conversation seems to also kick Caleb in the ass. Maybe he realizes how selfish he was being, maybe not, but he starts LISTENING to Nott again, maybe at a level he might not have before.

OKAY, now to SAM FUCKING RIEGEL. I’m not quite sure how I feel about the whole story being dumped out at once. I wasn’t particularly a fan of how it was done via Caleb either, something about it just feels unnatural. However, just as it made sense in the circumstances for Caleb, it completely makes sense in the circumstances for Nott. She’s kept this a secret for so long, even during the trip to Felderwin where she could have shared any of it, and now the entire group is looking at asking what the fuck is up with that. Out of how she could have framed it, I do really enjoy that she reintroduced herself as Nott, and then Once Upon a Timed into Veth. Not only a clean framing, but also a good way of highlighting the disconnect that she feels between herself and Veth. It wasn’t ‘one or two years ago, I was’, it’s Once Upon A Time. It’s a magical indeterminate time in the Past, far enough away that it’s not close to Now.

For the record, I will be continuing to use Nott while she continues to identify that way. As such, I’ll only be using Veth if I am specifically refering to later campaign events, or once she goes through her transformation back to herself. I’m also not going to be touching on any of the trans subtext to her. This has been discussed in such wonderful detail by many others who have more reason to touch it than me. I am cis and do not experience any form of dysphoria or body dysmorphia, so I’m not going to start throwing out guesses of opinions for something I can’t speak to. From a cis perspective, I don’t see it as a character that was created with the intention of having a trans parallel, but I think it works fantastically for it without hitting stereotypes.

Back to the story – Sam having decided that Veth would always feel and be told that she was ‘not’ is heartbreaking and sadly realistic, especially considering he designed Veth to be at a heavier weight. She skims through the story and falling in love and having a child, and as she describes the escape from the goblins and how she used herself as a distraction, we know as the audience that she has already done this again – the run from the yuan-ti back at Urukayxl. There are definitely moments where PCs see aspects of what they can relate to or feel bad for. She got teased for buttons and collections? Fjord looks guilty. She still feels the experience of drowning? Beau looks at Fjord because of the past month and a half at sea. Her son? Caleb’s face is going to fall of his face for how low it’s hanging.

I do 100% agree with her with the fact that the party got together because of deception though. Cad doesn’t count because Molly was with them initially and he was nothing but deception. Jester is the one real exception, but she’s also the one who (in my opinion) is the true glue who held the party together – so that works. :)

I do have to wonder though, while Nott is very sad with quavering voice, I wonder how much Sam was smirking on the inside going GOT YOU, FUCKERS. It HAD to have felt good.

I reaaaalllly hope that Liam has a good way of furrowing his brow all the time. Because he is IN it with Caleb, and if I do that for short periods of time, my head hurts!

I forgot that part of this conversation is due to the fact that they think the Assembly has Yeza. It does make complete sense, what with the arcane locks, the interrogation chair, the notes they found, and Vess and Ludinus walking to the apothecary. It just didn’t even register with me until they brought it up because I’m excited to go to Xhorhas. (and I only just remembered that they don’t even get to the Bright Queen right away either, so I actually don’t know how many episodes away it is!)

……..i just accidentally disliked the video when trying to move to this document. And a little popup came up saying ‘feedback shared with the creator’ nooooooooo. It was an accident!!!! I undid it instantly. :(

WHAT I WAS COMING OVER HERE TO SAY is that this is the first time that Travis/Fjord is officially the Sending counter! Before, Taliesin and Sam had been doing it kinda offhand, but there was no real holding up fingers to show her.

I love that the break between Nott’s story and Caleb’s story is Beau admitting that Dairon was her teacher not her roommate, but she’d totally still fuck her given the opportunity. And Liam moving Sam’s flask so that he can role play face to face. This happens a few times in the campaign and I love it every time.

The best thing about the Bren reveal is EVERYBODY except Liam and Sam break character at the reveal. EVERYONE. Even Matt is like “YUUUP”

I appreciate how Liam condenses Caleb’s story down for this reveal, sharing new things while not rehashing the old. Because while the other PCs don’t know his shit, the other players do. It was a smart decision not to essentially tell the same story twice, which could be very boring for an audience. Plus it means we got the fun little individual reveals along the way, which I personally loved. Getting into Caleb’s mindset, being in a big group, if one person says they’re fine with you, others may agree not necessary BECAUSE they agree, but because they don’t want to cause an argument or be the odd man out. So in a big group, you can’t really be certain that everyone is okay with everything. Whereas one on one, the reactions can be truer.

Also, I wish Ashley could have been here for these reveals, both of them. Yasha could relate in very unique ways, losing Zuala vs losing Yeza, her grief and guilt as compared to Caleb’s.

I do like that with the crystal reveal, Travis glances disbelievingly at Matt, and I’m like ‘don’t make that face. Matt’s the one who decided that, not Liam!’ XD

Fjord asking Caleb what name he prefers, and Caleb responding that he doesn’t know. My heart, my heart. :(

Beau telling Caleb ‘don’t run’. MY HEART

Once again, I’m so happy that this group is this group, because if I picture this as a home game with just some random dudes, I can easily imagine the one playing Nott getting very upset because Caleb was getting attention when this was supposed to be Nott’s time. Look at how much they focus on him this session!! and with this group, not only great friends but also professional actors, there’s no resentment for sharing the spotlight.

More Beau and Caleb squishy goodness!

It took SOOO LONG for them to realize they could send a message. Looks like Caduceus is going to do Commune for the first time, too!

I do like how Felderwin is basically a secret worshiping town of the Wildmother.

Holy crap, Jester asks about hair tonic EARLY! Also I still kinda have no clue as to why she wanted it in the first place. As far as we know, Jester hasn’t been losing any hair, and she does keep the tonic for herself, right? OH WAIT DOESN’T SHE WANT TO HELP FJORD GROW A BEARD???? Is that a thing? I have no clue if I’m making that up or if that’s what actually happened. *waits like five more seconds of video* oh lol never mind she’s just using it to try to find out about Yeza. I r a dum

I appreciate that the subtitles for this section is just (multiple Columbo impressions)

I love watching Beau do her Expositor stuff. That’s all, no further comments.

Jeff confirms that the Kryn took Yeza, and Sam is just thoroughly engrossed in the paper he’s reading. XD I love the chaos gremlin nature of Sam and Laura next to each other, but sometimes it distracts them

I feel like Travis and Taliesin deserve some very serious kudos for their ability for out of the box thinking. Travis’s tactics are super impressive and his ability to come up with very good questions to get information (from the DM, not in character) are chef’s kiss. Then you have Taliesin with incredibly creative choices, such as right here, using Thaumaturgy to cause an echo to see if there’s a gap in the tunnel. His ability to come up with creative but logical ideas, whether or not they work in game or are maybe the stretching of his PC abilities sometimes, is absolutely commendable.

PAUSING FOR A MOMENT. Nott just said that she was considering allying with the Kryn to go and attack Rexxentrum, had they been the ones to take Yeza. (and then they are incredulous of the idea of allying with the Dynasty LOL that’ll change) But with how seriously she took this, it reminds me of what many people thought was very out of character for her – offering to keep the war going for the hag in order to get her body back. I hadn’t really thought about this in depth at all, I don’t even know if I had deep thoughts about her hag bit and was gonna have a fun time puzzling that out when the episode came around. But this right here? This makes the hag moment not a single instance, but a trend. Nott (whether or not this continues into Veth will be fascinating to see) is willing to sacrifice others to help herself, and in a BIG way. This isn’t the petty level that she and Caleb were doing before the group, or even the level that the group do themselves sometimes. This is assisting with an attack in the capital of the Empire, allying with (at the time thought of) monsters and evil people, to get her husband. This is sabotaging peace talks that they managed to assemble, dooming two lands to even more bloody war, in order to get her body back. Part of this works with what Sam has always claimed with Nott, that her transformation has made her more extreme, tending to jump to the extremes in situations. Like a drink becomes alcoholism. Liking trinkets becomes thievery. And perhaps here, a willingness to dabble in grey becomes a willingness to cause great harm for very personal gain. Veth is completely against Caleb’s plan to travel back in time to save his family, I wonder if Nott was for it? I don’t think we ever really find out, as by the time Caleb gets anywhere close to it, Nott has already returned to Veth. SAM certainly was against it, but that doesn’t necessarily translate to that Nott was against it. Because after all, Caleb was just considering great harm for very personal gain.

I’ve seen posts about Caduceus being secretly cagey and stuff like that, and I honestly disagree? He’s always been very open about the corruption and what he wanted to do for it, and that his family left him to go searching for it, etc, but he doesn’t bring it up on his own. If someone asks him a question, he answers. Yes, he doesn’t just go around volunteering the information, but that honestly seems more of a Taliesin choice of not wanting to interrupt a narrative more than anything – not wanting to go the whole “ah yes, this flower. It reminds me of my family who have left me for yaddayaddayadda”, aka the dnd trope of the main character syndrome. He’s not being fully passive either, he definitely references his quest, he wanted to ask Yussa about the grove, so he is actively pushing his story forwards. It just happens that other stories ended up getting priority.

(Liam yoinking the candy right out of Sam’s hand)

Does anyone else feel like Laura is speaking slightly higher as Jester than usual this episode? I cannot tell if it’s just me, if it’s been a slow change over a period of episodes, or if she is just in a slightly higher register this time.

Oh, it is Divination, not Commune. I didn’t expect that. I wonder when he’ll start using Commune instead? Either way, the Wildmother has now started responding with breezes (yay!), and also refers to Yeza being in Ghor Dranas. I wonder if her using that term rather than Rosohna. One would think that a god would not use Empirical terms for other locations, but I suppose she could be using it in terms that she knows Caduceus would either understand or be able to get information on. If only those in the Dynasty know it as Rosohna, then the Nein in the Empire would not be able to figure out where to go, at least not easily. (Or Matt was just using terms that he know the group would know, rather than getting into the political aspect yet)

One of Jester’s rare serious Sendings. Also YEZA HI YEZA YOU ARE WONDERFUL AND I MISS YOU

Timelines for here are always confusing to me. The attack in Felderwin happened ‘weeks’ ago, two to three if we understand correctly. The Kryn are still bringing Yeza to Rosohna, he has not arrived yet. It takes the Nein four, ONLY FOUR, days to travel through the tunnels. Then only another four days in Asarius until they are teleported to Rosohna. Like, if the Kryn were traveling through the tunnels with a prisoner of war who they have reason to believe was experimenting with their stolen beacons, wouldn’t they book it and head to a teleportation circle ASAP? Why would it not only take them a week at most to get the prisoner to Rosohna? Why did it end up taking anywhere from 15 to 30 days?

I feel like this is the first and only time that they’ve actually leveled up in the middle of an episode. Congrats guys, level 8!

For as much as Matt talks about how the tunnels made him have to completely start preparing new shit, he really helped them out to get there. Jester was just going to Polymorph into a honey badger, but Matt’s the one who gave her the idea to do a dire honey badger instead.

I love the end of the episode where they are rolling their hit points and discussing feats and such. :)

@suicidallyreckless (also if the notes tag didn’t work, I did post my C3 reaction earlier. Sorry!)

#critical role #the mighty nein #cr c2 rewatch #spoilers for c1 and c2

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phairfantooooom · 5 years ago

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Obey Me Explained….. Kinda

In which I do my best to explain the shit hell that is the Time Travel in Obey Me.

Spoilers: It’s absolute bullshit

So we start in chapter uhhh 15 technically since the plot twist is explained that Barbatos is actually a OP Time Wizard, which feels like a throwaway plot device… like dude there are so many ideas and you use Time Travel? Come on.

However I do appreciate the Yugioh Pyramid room. Good taste.

Anyways Barbatos gives you VERY CLEAR INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW TO NOT FUCK UP and what does MC do? Why THEY FUCKING BREAK VERY FUCKING RULE IN THE LAWS OF TIME TRAVEL. *screams in quantum physics*

Barbatos’ Rules of Time Traveling (It’s more so Timeline Hopping but you know what, I can scream all day but it won’t change anything)

Do not reveal you are from the future (More like don’t reveal you are from a different Timeline or Universe)

Do not meet your past self (Hello??? Doppelgängers??? Stay the FUCK away)

Don’t make contact with others from the past. (Go back, observe how Belphie got out and then get the hell out)

To get back to this point in time (Read: Timeline) you need to KNOCK and ENTER through the door you used to get to the past

Now you may be thinking, Huh? What door? I don’t remember going back through a door in the story…

And you would be right. You didn’t.

From here I’ll be explaining the Timeline and order of events and speculation as to why it occurred the way it did.

For reference. There is the Original Timeline. Which is OT1, this is the Timeline of chapters 1 to the end of 15.

The Second Timeline, OT2 is the Timeline where Belphie kills you.

The Third and Final Timeline, OT3 is the Timeline we are currently in. Which is from Chapter 16-12 and onwards.

Alright now that’s out of the way let’s get this shit sorted shall we?

When you go through the wack time travel door you are sent back to Chapter 12-13, to the perspective of the brothers as they hide so that THIS TIMELINES YOU can go romance/befriend/ WHATEVER Lucifer.

So we start with OT1’s MC dropping into Mammon’s bedroom. You know, possibly fortnite like. With everyone in there. Worst possible outcome. And rather than fucking BOLTING, you stay and chat. You know, despite being told not to. You have the option to lie about how you ended up in the room but it doesn’t change the FACTS.

At this point, there are two MC’s. One from OT1 and one that is currently vibing with Lucifer.

The boys end up kicking you out of the room and telling you to go chit chat with Lucifer, unaware that there is already a different version of you doing that.

So you hear Lucifer and your other self coming down the hall and this is where shit starts to get weird.

Regardless of which option you choose (Run, Hide, Turn Invisible- which by the way seems kinda like a weird option right? I’ll get to that later) you end up going into Lilith’s room.

Now. Directly from the transcript.

It’s so warm in here.

I recognize this place. It feels like someplace I know very well.

Now. Time to over analyze. You may be wondering why this matters. I’ll get to that in a bit I promise.

It’s stated that it’s warm. But really that doesn’t make sense. The room is stagnant. Nobody comes in or out. The room is abandoned since Lilith is dead and nobody uses it. However, I have a theory that Lilith is spiritually attached to your body which is why you sense what you feel.

Lilith probably has plenty of memories of sitting by the FIREPLACE in her room with Beel and Belphie. A lot of times people with spirit attachments get senses of déjà vu when they are near places that the Spirit used to frequent when the Spirit was alive.

The next area of weirdness is Leviathan. He comes in, unannounced and addresses you as if you were Lilith.

Transcript:

I’m coming in, okay?

Aha, I thought I’d find you in here.

Wait, Belphie’s not here?

Huh, that’s weird… He was just telling me that he was going to stop by your room.

Both of you were playing hide-and-seek, right?

He said he couldn’t find you. He looked like he was about to cry.

Why don’t you try to go find Belphie yourself? I mean, I guess it’s hard to say who’s it at that point, but still.

Well, see ya later.

Alright. So we have a lot to unwrap here, but I’ll make it short and sweet. Something clearly happened when you KNOCKED and ENTERED Lilith’s room (Hint Hint Nudge Nudge) What happened you ask? You jumped timelines. Which is why everything seems disjointed and jarring. It’s not supposed to be normal or feel normal, the game is subtly telling you that you aren’t supposed to be there.

Time is beginning to fray at the seams and when you exit the room you jump into another timeline AGAIN. As you go to the stairs to get to Belphie which you would think should be vacant, they are not.

From a casual players perspective you’d think oh! Well Lucifer and past me are in the living room, and the brothers are in Mammon’s room. So it’s all clear, right?

Wrong.

From the moment you exited Lilith’s bedroom you entered the OT2 Timeline. Which takes place roughly right after Lucifer imprisons Belphie in the attic. And at this point in time, you haven’t arrived in the Devildom yet.

I make this assumption based on the transcript:

Belphegor: What scares you is the thought of disappointing Diavolo, isn’t it?!

Say something! Lucifer!

The old Lucifer wasn’t like this. He wasn’t afraid of what someone else thought of him. He wasn’t pathetic like that.

Lucifer: You’re free to think whatever you want, Belphegor. Also…

I’d say you’ve changed as well.

It would seem weird for them to be arguing like this in the present since it’s like. Wow y’all are really just arguing over the same plot point for an ENTIRE year? Damn and I thought I was stubborn.

Anyways.

Lucifer comes down the stairs. You hide and yadda yadda and you goooo upstairrrrssss

Oh boy oh boy this gets FUCKED in hurry folks

So you YOU can just. Open the door. Without Lucifer’s pact? 🤔 k. And then you go and have familiar dialogue choices to wake Belphie up and blahhhhh

Let me get something off the table here. I am calling entire Bullshit on the Lilith is my ancestor origin story. I hate it and you may or may not hate it too so I’ll present a better argument.

Lilith, the lovely gal that she was, upon remembering who she was when she died decided to haunt the House of Lamentation. Which would provide reasoning as to WHY people believe the House is haunted.

When you come to the house of Lamentation to stay with the brothers you catch Lilith’s eye, and she sees that you have the potential to fix the rifts between the brothers. When she attaches herself to you she forms a pseudo pact with you. Why is this important? Because that’s how you got the dumb door open in the OT2 Timeline.

Now some of you may be screaming, BUT THEN HOW DID IT WORK IN THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE THEN HMMMM? And to that I answer. Lilith could see how the conversation between Lucifer and you was heading and she went to go unlock the door. And before you yell and say BUT SHE IS A GHOST-

Ghosts can manipulate objects, yeah? All she had to do was open the door.

Now this is my theory, in the canon of the game it uses garbage Terminator Time Travel logic which is A PARADOX. Feel free to fight me on this, I have receipts.

Anyway. You open the door. Oh but! You can choose to call out before you do. But conveniently nobody answers. Which means one of two things. Either Belphie falls asleep very quickly, or something else is at work here.

Remember those turn invisible options? Kinda strange right? I mean they wouldn’t even work anyways so why were they listed? Answer: Lilith. Lilith is a ghost so at times of being discovered it would be easy for a ghost to just vanish. That’s why it’s listed as if it were one of the choices you would instinctively make.

Belphie had just been conversing with Lucifer, and while he is the Avatar of Soth, you have seen his anger. He wouldn’t succumb to sleep while enraged. And he has no reason to ignore you either.

What do I think?

*puts on tin foil hat like it’s a crown*

It’s because something isn’t letting him hear you.

I’ll get to that something later. First things first.

You get in the room and you have some…. choice dialogue. In OT1 Lilith had let Belphie out and naturally since she is attached to you, you have the same instinctive reaction to do the same. The difference is that you are still you. That’s why there is a Lilith choice and there is a you choice.

Transcript of Chapter 13-10

??? (Lilith):

Belphie…

Wake up…

Sorry Belphie…

Now the choices from Chapter 16-4

Wake up. (Lilith)

Belphegor. (MC)

Sorry. (Lilith)

It’s okay. (MC)

This might be over analyzing but fuck it. We ain’t here to under analyze.

Moving right along, remember how I said we are at the point where you weren’t in the devildom? Well you went through another door, and jumped timelines again. And not ONLY that but you jump into the body of the OT2 MC, your memories are those of OT1 but you are in the body of OT2.

Where is your OT1 body? It’s hidden by the stairs patiently waiting for you to die so you can inhabit it again.

Weird right? But it makes sense, and here is why.

When Belphie brings you to the edge of death you are lying on the border of the afterlife. As such you would be a lot more susceptible to, let say, communication with ghosts.

A.k.a Our good Lilith.

ALSO NOTE Lilith never outright says she is our ancestor and as such I’m going to ignore what Diavolo says because I don’t trust him for reasons. Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but I don’t trust him. At. All.

I’m more inclined to believe that Lilith was trying to say “Because you are my last hope.” Rather than descendant. I mean she outright says she chose you and that she has been watching over you and the brothers. Fact-check brought to you by Chapter 16-10.

Alrighty. Still here? Good.

Lilith lends you some of her power. And you pop back into existence.

Now at first I thought. Oh hey Lilith reversed time! That’s neat, now Barbatos isn’t too OP.

Except…. that’s not what happened at all.

The body you had been killed in was in Mammon’s arms. And your OT1 mind and body are now in what I call OT3. The final timeline. Not the true timeline, but the final one.

Now you really should skedaddle back to the palace and go to the yugioh room AND LEAVE

But you get caught. And things get very very…. suspicious. History at this point IF we were time traveling would be fucked, but since I don’t believe we are, we are still golden.

ALSO TO EVEN PUSH MORE ON THIS FACT YOU HAVE A FLASHBACK TO BARBATOS TELLING YOU NOT TO COME INTO CONTACT WITH ANYONE

But a moment later Leviathan sees you. And things get funky. The OT2 you vanishes, we have canon confirmation that both OT1 and OT2 WERE REAL VERSIONS OF YOU. No fakes here folks.

Now. Here is what piqued my interest.

You explain the story of Lilith and Belphie calls you a liar before Lucifer proclaims it to be true. Then Lucifer asks you how you know about it.

When you tell him the truth, that he had told you, he denies it and asks for an explanation. Before you can so much as breathe a response someone intervenes.

Who you may ask?

Diavolo, of course.

He makes a proclamation about you being Lilith’s descendant and your connection to her. Lucifer often tries to interject but is shut down. Every. Single. Time.

Hmmmm indeed.

Spiritual attachments, if they are strong enough can cause visions. And you may see memories from the spirit.

I firmly want to believe that all this is bullshit in an attempt to distract us from the fact that we are not in the correct timeline.

I mean…. did anyone notice just how easy Belphie gave in once Diavolo used the Lilith card? I mean, seriously, the guy killed you. And attempted to do so again not even five minutes earlier!

Diavolo and Barbatos don’t want you dead. And naturally you’d reason that of course they wouldn’t! The exchange program requires you to be alive after all. But what if…. there is more to it? I have reason to believe that Diavolo has more in mind than just the exchange program.

I mean this is the same man who Barbatos serves, it would be easy for him to just…. manipulate reality. We saw an example of this when the OT2 body vanished.

However keep in mind that the Diavolo and Barbatos we are speaking to are not the same as the original ones. These two are from OT3. And they might have a very very different agenda when compared to OT1.

In Chapter 16-19 we ask Barbatos if we warped history.

This is what we get back:

I know I told you that I have the power to see both the past and the future, but the truth is that there’s one more secret —something I still haven’t mentioned.

You see, I have the power to select from any number of different potential realities and make any of them into the sole reality.

Within the various potential realities, there are an infinite number of versions of MC…

...however, in the sole reality I chose, the one and only MC is the one right there. That’s why the previous MC disappeared while you remained…

Now by this logic, there are an infinite number of Barbatos’. Which poses an interesting question. OT3 Barbatos is acting as if he is OT1, which he is not. But him acting shady isn’t not the big issue here, believe it or not.

He can manipulate reality. Unravel it at his fingertips. He himself could have gone back and figured out that the ghost of Litith was the one to have opened the door. Which begs the question, why didn’t he?

Either OT1 Barbatos does not possess the ability to manipulate reality or he had withheld information on purpose.

Now that’s a scary thought. I mean why would they withhold information unless…. unless…

You were a danger.

I am in the belief that Barbatos of OT1 is on your side, he gives instructions on how to get back. Because you NEED to get back. There are consequences for messing with time, like…. getting stuck in a parallel reality. *wink wink*

On the other hand… if Barbatos of OT1 COULD manipulate reality then why bother with you unless… there was an extra variable at play.

What if Barbatos couldn’t see what happened. What if Mister OP Time Wizard suddenly encountered an anomaly with you? What if this entire situation was orchestrated by Diavolo in an effort to figure out why Lilith attaches herself to you?

But. The horror doesn’t end here folks.

I believe that OT3 Diavolo and Barbatos are lying in an effort to keep you here, in OT3. After all, Barbatos just yeeted the OT2 MC into smoke after all. And we have NO idea where the OT3 MC is. Honestly I have a very funny feeling that you, the OT1 mc, have powers of your own. Ones that are not related to Lilith.

Because Lilith is just lending her aid, you already have something there for her to boost.

You traveling back in time (Timeline hopping, fight me) May have been a test, a test to see if you had powers locked up inside you.

And I think that you do. I think that we are being played as a fool and that there is something much larger at play here.

Or - And please hear me out - I’m going stir crazy in this quarantine.

Hope you guys enjoyed 💚

A/N this took me about 2 hours? To write and bounce between apps. This is about 2.8k words. Maybe I’ll come back and elaborate more on this but it’s late and I’m tired lmao. Someone take the tin foil away from me-

#Obey Me #Obey Me Headcanon #Obey Me Theory #Obey Me Lucifer #Obey Me Leviathan #Obey Me Diavolo #Obey Me Barbatos #Obey Me Lilith #Obey Me Belphie #Obey Me Belphegor #Lmao I hope this makes sense

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tossawary · 4 years ago

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Chapter 29: “The Ringing Bells” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

It’s just been him, Yue Qingyuan, and the not-so-modest Qiong Ding entourage befitting Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s leader. Shang Qinghua and Yue Qingyuan still haven’t talked about anything personal (Shang Qinghua kind of hopes they never will!), but putting up a united front and then putting up with other sects seems to have brought them closer together again.

If Shang Qinghua had given in to his idea of bringing a flask of emergency wine in his sleeve, they could have made a drinking game or something every time someone managed to “casually” mention that Zhao Hua Temple Sect’s barrier techniques were the best in the world. With that face Yue Qingyuan made after the third, ear-gouging hour of listening to a long line of Zhao Hua experts condescend to them about security measures that will surely stop invading demons in their tracks, Shang Qinghua would have bet the man could have been talked into it. Big Bro would have been down, he’s sure.

AN: There is something immensely amusing to me that Yue Qingyuan and Shang Qinghua of all people run this sect (like, sure, SQQ and WQW and the other peak lords do stuff too, but YQY and SQH seem to be the ones who actually deal with worldly affairs and interact with people). To me, they both have such “I don’t want to be here” energy. YQY would rather be thinking about his slow reconciliation with Shen Qingqiu, and SQH would rather be daydreaming about the sexy ice demon he’s been betraying the sect for for 20 years.

But nooo, they have to be responsible.

Yue Qingyuan nearly dying at the end of SVSSS to me had such... vibes of relief? This man is carrying SO MUCH stress over his position and his responsibilities and appearances, that his reaction to dying seems to be at least a little bit: “Oh, time to put everything down. I can give up. I don’t have to be the invincible sect leader above it all anymore. Thank goodness.” You can fit so much trauma and unhealthy ideation in this man!

Which is, I think, why this connection between SQH and YQY was a little inevitable in this story. They’re both carrying so much stress and trauma, and doing their best to not let anyone see it, so they really relate to each other but... in a way that’s kind of one-sided on both parts? Because SQH isn’t supposed to know shit about YQY’s past or pressures. And YQY doesn’t have the full picture of what SQH is dealing with at all. After their fight after SQQ died and SQH coming forward about their invasion, SQH and YQY are finally getting to have some more direct connection, but neither of them are willing to put their masks down yet. It goes against their natures and their perceived duties (as sect leader and a transmigrator/traitor) to honestly confide in each other.

YQY and SQH both kind of have a “I know better than you” thing going on here. Yue Qingyuan because he’s the sect leader and he’s been taught that he has to manage himself and everyone else. Shang Qinghua because he’s a transmigrator and also... the fallen creator god of this world?

Yue Qingyuan is apparently just as eager to make it home as Shang Qinghua is. Their travel pace puts them a full day ahead of schedule, and Yue Qingyuan courteously sends his youngest personal assistant ahead via flying sword to warn the sect.

“Shen-Shixiong and Wei-Shixiong will need time to hide the mess from all the parties they’ve been throwing in our absence,” Shang Qinghua jokes.

Yue Qingyuan looks at him with polite but concerned bemusement.

“Aha, never mind, I’ll just… go check the last report my head disciples sent me again.”

None of them are expecting the assistant, who flew off with all the energy and eagerness of youth, to return only a little over an hour later. The assistant is red in the face and panting for breath. He collapses in front of Yue Qingyuan.

“Shizun, I-! I turned back as soon as I saw- in the distance-! The sect was on fire! Qiong Ding Peak was on fire!”

Yue Qingyuan and Shang Qinghua exchange a look of shock. When Shang Qinghua joked at the beginning of their journey that the sect would probably set itself on fire without them there to do damage control, he really was only joking! He’s had way too much of the shit he says coming true on him!

AN: I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but Yue Qingyuan’s youngest assistant is the kid that Shen Qingqiu shoved on him from the House of Rejuvenation mess. Qi Qingqi and Liu Qingge picked up Luo Fanli from that, Shen Qingqiu picked up Fu Qiang from that, and Yue Qingyuan got this kid.

He doesn’t have a name yet, but he’ll probably get one at some point. Probably in Part 4 when Shen Yuan and Fu Qiang’s story comes to the forefront.

“Shishu!”

Shang Qinghua turns and gets an armful of nephew. Binghe’s arms wrap around him with no care for the bandage around one of them and Binghe’s warm face is buried into his neck - he’s so tall now - to share his dirt stains.

Shang Qinghua has no idea what to do. He wants to hug his very huggable nephew, of course, but in front of so many people?! He can’t just shove Binghe away either! Luckily, Binghe seems to realize his mistake about two seconds after contact and launches away from Shang Qinghua, bowing deeply enough to hide his face completely.

“Apologies for tripping, Shishu!”

Shang Qinghua nearly laughs. “Ah, ah, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

This is probably one of the worst kept secrets in the sect, anyway.

AN: This is absolutely a reference to Binghe pulling this trick in SVSSS canon, only unlike SY, Shang Qinghua recognizes the excuse.

Luo Binghe clears his throat and intervenes before his friend can accidentally kill Shang Qinghua with kindness or something. “The demon saintess Sha Hualing and her followers attacked.”

“Oh,” Shang Qinghua says, relaxing a little.

“Is that all?” he thinks. “Phew! Earlier than I was expecting, but okay!”

AN: It’s very funny to me to have CQMS going, “Demon attack! Demon attack! Totally unexpected demon attack!” And Shang Qinghua going, “Shit, I think I put that down on my calendar wrong. Did I put that down on my calendar...?”

This apparently prompted Liu Mingyan and Luo Fanli to volunteer at the same time.

“They looked like they were going to argue over it, at first, or even fight over it,” Luo Binghe says. “Qi-Shigu and Liu-Shishu didn’t seem to want to let them fight, but they just ignored them and almost started a quick hand-game over who would get to fight. And then the demoness said… she said… she...”

“What?” Shang Qinghua asks.

Ning Yingying lifts her nose to the sky and declares, “She said: ‘If I get a say in this, I want to fight the pretty one in the veil, and not the old lady!’ So rude!”

“...Ah,” Shang Qinghua says again.

That explains the awkward grimace Binghe is making right now.

“Liu-Shijie and Luo-Shijie froze, then Luo-Shijie just looked at Shizun and Qi-Shigu and Liu-Shishu,” Ning Yingying continues. “ Snap! And then it was really quiet. And then Shizun said, ‘I’ll allow it.’ And Qi-Shigu and Liu-Shishu and even Liu-Shijie didn’t say anything.”

“Of course not! Shizun outranks them,” Ming Fan says.

As though that has ever honestly mattered to Liu Qingge or Qi Qingqi.

“So she got to fight the demoness,” Luo Binghe says, like it was a foregone conclusion that his stubborn auntie would get what she wanted. Who’s surprised about this? Not this long-suffering nephew!

AN: So, Sha Hualing made the “old lady” joke in front of 1) Qi Qingqi, Luo Fanli’s teacher who knows about her student’s past with the House of Rejuvenation, 2) Liu Mingyan, Luo Fanli’s friend who either knows about it or recognizes that LFL is touchy about her age, 3) Liu Qingge, LFL’s brother-in-law who also knows, and 4) Shen Qingqiu, who was THERE and that’s how they met.

So, there’s sort of a collective, “If we don’t let Luo Fanli try to beat the shit out of this demon girl, we will never hear the fucking end of it,” here.

Also, as soon as I made Luo Fanli into Liu Qingge’s apprentice of sorts, there was no way that she was NOT going to want to fight Sha Hualing, and it seemed a good way to shake things up from canon while also doing some stuff with the Fanli & Binghe relationship. I’m really trying to breathe new life into all the scenes that I’m redoing from SVSSS.

“She kicked that demoness’ ass!” Ning Yingying squeals.

“Ning Yingying!” Ming Fan hisses.

Shang Qinghua snorts. “Oh? Really?”

“It was rough,” Luo Binghe says, while Ning Yingying and Ming Fan both turn bright red realizing what she just said in front of a Peak Lord. Binghe, however, has totally heard Shang Qinghua say way worse than that. “The demoness was really good and really mean, and she kept getting up even after she got slammed into the ground, but eventually she got pinned and had to forfeit to keep her head. Fanli is still mostly in one piece. She’s over there right now with Mu-Shishu and Liu-Shishu.”

Shang Qinghua follows his nephew’s finger, then winces. His little sister-in-law looks pretty roughed up, her face is beginning to swell and she’s got a lot of claw marks, but she’s grinning up at Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge looks totally fine, besides some flecks of blood that must belong to other people, and is smiling down at her.

Mu Qingfang looks less than enthusiastic about all this as he treats Luo Fanli’s injuries of victory.

Aha, yeah, Liu Qingge is definitely the one explaining this to Luo Jiahui later.

AN: I really like building and having built up all these relationships. I like giving Binghe friends, even if they’re friends that he kind of runs rings around given his manipulative tendencies (NYY and MF rely on just grabbing him at this point and relying on sheer force of obliviousness/authority). I like giving Liu Qingge more connections in the form of Luo Fanli and Mu Qingfang too.

This cast is... so big at this point. I didn’t really expect this when I started.

Inside the cell is… a bloody demon girl who looks about fifteen-ish (sixteen-ish, maybe?), with dark hair in many braids, a sharp face and a sharper stare, and clothing that looks like it was made out of not nearly enough silk ribbons. Ah, wow, that’s way more skin than Shang Qinghua ever wanted to see of Sha Hualing. No jewelry at all, though, not even a belt. Not even boots or even slippers. Just lots of blood splatter.

Both Sha Hualing’s arms and legs have been restrained. She’s also been muzzled, though that doesn’t stop her from showing off her teeth in the least happy-looking smile anyone has ever smiled. There’s blood in Sha Hualing’s teeth! That’s blood there smeared around her mouth!

Qi Qingqi is in the cell too, utterly unimpressed, making sure that Sha Hualing is properly restrained and even treating an injury on the girl’s thigh. Demons are pretty tough, Sha Hualing would probably be fine, but Shang Qinghua supposes they can at least be a little kind toward the poor disciple who’ll have to mop the floors here later.

“So good of you to finally join us,” Shen Qingqiu says to Shang Qinghua. His voice is dry, as usual, but it might be missing its worst sharp edges? The man seems pleased at having caught himself a demon.

“Ah, I didn’t want to show up the sect leader with my speed,” Shang Qinghua replies.

That gets an amused look from Yue Qingyuan. “Let us speak elsewhere,” he says, politely admonishing everyone to shut up in front of their guest. “Qi-Shimei?”

“A moment,” Qi Qingqi says.

“Oh, don’t leave me all alooone,” Sha Hualing says, only slightly muffled by the muzzle, her eyes going wide and scared. “I’ll behave! This is really too much! These restraints are hurting me. Please… it’s making it hard for me to breathe, please…”

Qi Qingqi ignores her and finishes up her work.

Yue Qingyuan lets the Xian Shu Peak Lord out and then seals the cell behind her. Shang Qinghua is familiar with those seals and yeah, there’s very little chance Sha Hualing is getting out of there on her own. The demoness complains loudly about being left behind in a cold and lonely cell. Shang Qinghua can still hear her wailing as Yue Qingyuan instructs the guards on, mainly, not letting anyone in and not taking any of Sha Hualing’s bait no matter what lies she tells.

If anyone gets “seduced” by that teenage girl - a trick pulled many times by the wily Sha Hualing in Proud Immortal Demon Way - Shang Qinghua is going to be so disappointed. Surprised? Not really! But still… depressingly disappointed!

AN: It was... hm... important to me that none of the characters here actually sexualize Sha Hualing or disregard the fact that she’s very young to them. In his narration, Shang Qinghua mentions her skimpy clothes and the possibility of her seducing a guard, but it’s with the casual detachment of someone who was writing a stallion novel and knows the tropes.

I wanted to focus more on the fact that Sha Hualing is not just a “wife character”, but an extremely dangerous non-human individual and already a minor political player, if currently trying to play outside her league. She’s an enemy. Also, just because she is currently playing outside her league doesn’t mean that she’s not dangerous and shouldn’t be taken seriously.

All she needs is someone to get close and she will inflict life-long injuries.

I also wanted to use her here for some Mobei-Jun stuff, which I’ll talk about later when I get to the Mobei-Jun part.

“Shang-Shidi, do you recognize any of these materials?” Shen Qingqiu asks next, like he’s reading Shang Qinghua’s mind now! He looks so unimpressed by Shang Qinghua’s startle. “You are, after all, one of our experts on tracking down the source of such strange things.”

“Aha, off the top of my head? I couldn’t say! But… I would suspect part of this weapon came from the far north of the Demon Realm...”

Wei Qingwei finally looks up. “I would make the same guess,” he says, like a real bro. “If only this weapon hadn’t broken, we could have tested its limits of disruption! But our plans have been disrupted there… I’d like to see how something like this would go up against the different types of barriers out there.”

“Zhao Hua Temple’s barriers, perhaps?” Shen Qingqiu suggests.

Yue Qingyuan audibly sighs.

“Of course, they won’t wish to see proof that there are demon lords preparing to invade,” Shen Qingqiu says icily. “How remiss of me to forget that fact. What does it matter if a demon lord’s daughter was swinging around a previously unseen weapon like a child’s favorite new toy?”

AN: So, when I say that I want to breathe new life into the canon scenes that I’m redoing and reinterpreting, my goal for this one was to really... build up the upcoming Immortal Alliance Conference and actually connect Sha Hualing’s invasion to... well... anything.

In SVSSS, Sha Hualing’s invasion happening is just following PIDW events apparently, and SVSSS in my opinion isn’t... really too interested in PIDW worldbuilding or Sha Hualing’s character from the standpoint that this really is a real world now. It’s all about Shen Yuan reliving the PIDW plot.

So, if I’ve put 200,000+ words at this point into actually trying to establish that this is a real world, these are real people, there are real long-lasting politics and sect relations, that world elements aren’t just spawning into existence when the plot needs them and exist now, even if I’ve been doing so kind of as a joke because I think it’s funny to make Shang Qinghua deal with that, I wanted to actually try to place and connect Sha Hualing’s invasion to other story elements and place Sha Hualing’s character in relation to the others.

Here, Sha Hualing’s invasion is a spoiled and violent child looking to make herself look good and cause trouble, as it is in SVSSS, but here it’s emphasized that Sha Hualing really is 1) a child, 2) a demon lord’s child, and 3) a future demon lord herself. And Sha Hualing is showing off her family’s inventions in preparation for the Immortal Alliance Conference. This is a move that has consequences for her and for Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, and will continue to have consequences for her (partially indebted to MBJ’s clan) and for Cang Qing Mountain Sect (it makes them look bad in front of the other Great Sects).

“Aha, off the top of my head? I couldn’t say! But… I would suspect part of this weapon came from the far north of the Demon Realm...”

“Zhao Hua Temple’s barriers, perhaps?” Shen Qingqiu suggests.

Yue Qingyuan audibly sighs.

AN: Me to myself: “...Is there canonical evidence that Mobei-Jun can read and write???” Because, like, the impression I get from this guy is that he basically raised himself and barely survived, so the System could interpret that to make an AU in which MBJ never learned to read or write.

Mobei-Jun can read and write in “pride is not the word I’m looking for”, Shang Qinghua is just exaggerating here because he’s a little miffed.

But it’s kind of tempting to write an AU now in which SQH realizes early-on in knowing MBJ that... his king can’t really read or write... his upbringing was so shitty and his father was so careless that MBJ never learned more than a few words that he picked up from context. That’s fucking horrifying. MBJ’s poor socialization and communication levels reach new heights!

“It’s just that something like that happened before, remember, Uncle?” Binghe presses. “With the skinner demon? That same light and that same warm, almost burning feeling! It was different this time - that weapon wasn’t going to hit me, I was blocking it; I know that I was blocking it the right way - but it’s too similar, isn’t it?”

“It’s… very similar,” Shang Qinghua agrees slowly.

“System?! Bro?! This is your fault!” he thinks. “Why the fuck are you leaving these explanations to me?! If you take points off me for any of this, you piece of shit, I’m going to find a way to strangle you, I swear! Preemptively: fuck off!”

Shang Qinghua lets himself visibly think about, trying to figure out what the fuck to say here. Binghe looks up at him like he’s trying to see into Shang Qinghua’s head to watch his thoughts come together. It’s a lot of pressure to put on a man all of a sudden! Binghe is too clever to be easily fooled by weak bullshit! How is a man supposed to come up with a decent lie under these circumstances?

“Well, ah, it’s happened when you’ve come into contact with demons who are trying to kill you, so it seems like it’s… some kind of unique reaction between that demonic energy and your spiritual energy,” Shang Qinghua says finally, because it’s better than explaining that there’s some shitty, no-good god-like being invested in a predestined plot. “Strange things happen sometimes in life-or-death situations, you know. Cultivators can accidentally pull off great feats sometimes when they’re desperate or panicked, without knowing how they did it.”

Binghe doesn’t look very reassured. Which makes sense, because a long-winded way of saying “I don’t know, it sounds like a freak accident to me” isn’t really reassuring.

AN: This, plus Sha Hualing’s invasion, is about Shang Qinghua’s coming up against the consequences of his choices. He can’t really have everything at once! He’s managed to have a lot all at once so far, but the time for Binghe’s demon reveal is coming closer, and Shang Qinghua is going to have to make some tough decisions and live with them. He’s going to have to deal with the people in his life having opinions on his tough decisions.

Shang Qinghua is trying to keep the System happy, with his eyes on the end goal of keeping Binghe out of the Abyss, which makes him unwilling to take certain risks deviating from the plot. But, if you’re looking at it from the perspective of someone who doesn’t know about the System or the plot, Shang Qinghua’s decision-making seems completely illogical.

Binghe is too clever not to at least notice that there’s some bullshit happening here. He doesn’t know what his uncle isn’t telling him, but Shang Qinghua isn’t the greatest bold-faced liar, so he knows there’s something.

At the end of the day, Shang Qinghua leaves his fellow Peak Lords (Shen Qingqiu, Qi Qingqi, Liu Qingge, and Tang Qingling) arguing in circles over cold trails (Yue Qingyuan is stuck refereeing, poor bastard). He returns to his Leisure House and finds a familiar ice demon lounging in his sitting room, eating some of his snacks.

“My king, did you help Sha Hualing escape?!” Shang Qinghua demands.

“She did not contribute,” Mobei-Jun answers.

Mobei-Jun looks good, like breaking in and out of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect last night was no trouble for him. Why would it be any trouble for him? He’s been doing it for years and years without getting caught, after all!

“How did you bypass the cell’s seals so cleanly?” Shang Qinghua wonders, as he puts some papers aside and kicks off his boots.

The cell doors hadn’t been ripped off its hinges, just… taken off like they were never attached… which combined with the ice-related injuries on the guards, plus the fact that the intruder slipped in like a shadow and left the same way, kind of gave the whole thing away.

Mobei-Jun raises his eyebrows. “You have shown me many such protections.”

“Ah… yeah… I guess I did do that.”

AN: Presenting Sha Hualing as I did: a dangerous and political figure even though she’s only a teenager, was also meant to reflect on Shang Qinghua’s relationship with Mobei-Jun. Mobei-Jun is the enemy. Mobei-Jun may be on Shang Qinghua’s side and his own side, but he is not on Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s side and he has loyalties to people in direct opposition to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

Sha Hualing is, in many ways, Mobei-Jun’s people. He’s completely unfazed by her violence. To him, Sha Hualing’s behavior is normal and expected, if the foolishness and arrogance of someone trying to act grown-up. He is not human. He is from a completely different world to Shang Qinghua.

And their separate worlds are now colliding.

Shang Qinghua really can’t have everything he wants here. He’s a traitor and, realistically, he can’t expect that not to come out sooner or later. He’s making decisions for the sect (releasing SHL to prevent another demon invasion (and also to keep the plot on track)) that Yue Qingyuan might have agreed with if he knew the full picture of SQH’s spying (all he knows at the moment is that SQH has informants), but that YQY doesn’t know about and so can’t agree with, so SQH is acting beyond his authority letting MBJ break SHL out.

It’s a mess! It’s not sustainable! Shang Qinghua’s old character role and his new character role can’t continue to coexist like this.

Thinking of worrying unnecessarily, desperate to change the subject away from the looming plot, Shang Qinghua brings up the very important subject of Mobei-Jun possibly, maybe, if he has the time, letting him know when to expect him, when he’s going somewhere, and when he’ll be back. He’s brought this up before, though mostly in a “my king, this humble servant would really appreciate it if you at least learned to knock, but if that’s too much to ask, it’s fine, it’s really fine, never mind, forget I brought it up” kind of way.

He only realizes just how daring it sounds after he says it! He’s always kind of figured that the proud Mobei-Jun would take offense to the concept of being at Shang Qinghua’s beck and call in any way. Why would Mobei-Jun need to explain himself?

“Why?” Mobei-Jun even says.

“...Why?” Shang Qinghua repeats, kind of hoping that he wouldn't have to explain the things he asks for. Mobei-Jun said he could ask for things, but he has to explain himself too? That's really too much. “I didn’t get to see you at all while I was gone! I got back and I didn’t know when I’d get to see you again, my king.”

This gets him another random pinch to the cheek, but it also gets him another surprising kiss. Mobei-Jun is apparently not even a little bit offended by this request. So it’s fine! This one thing, at least, is really fine.

AN: But Mobei-Jun is also becoming one of SQH’s rocks in many ways! This relationship is new and exciting and comforting! Giving up or betraying Mobei-Jun is completely out of the question for Shang Qinghua.

I’m kind of fucking loving these secret forbidden romance vibes.

If Shang Qinghua asked, Mobei-Jun would whisk him away from everything right now, but he understands that Shang Qinghua needs to be here for his nephew, his sister-in-laws, and his students. With his father as king, Mobei-Jun doesn’t have the position or authority yet to make any kind of peace with CQMS. MBJ’s relationship with SQH could get him in deep shit with his father, with his uncle, and with other demon lords.

Shang Qinghua is a filthy traitor and he’s dragging MBJ down with him.

#tossawary commentary #tossawary svsss #pride is not the word

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

Text

Flower | 37

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 5k

; Warnings: Discussions of IVF, sperm donation

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Thank you for the reception to the last chapter! :D I think that was the most comments/feedback in a long time for Flower haha. It means a lot to me to have your comments like that <3333 I hope you enjoy this one, perhaps it’s not really what you were expecting. I changed the last few around and the characters had decided this was the way they wanted to go! (it might sound silly but honestly, characters have a life of their own!)

; Flower Masterpost

“Meeps!” Hoseok’s calls from the hallway, catching your attention from where you’d lined up all your baking ingredients on the counter. “I’m heading out.”

Placing the glass bowl down carefully, you wipe your hands clean before heading out and smiling at him brightly. He’s got a dark denim jacket on alongside his new favourite black leather biker style boots, looking suitably rocker and even more sexy. Maybe you had a thing for those boots.

You don’t let him know this though, just watching as he pats his pockets to check he has his phone and wallet before a concerned expression takes over his face. Chuckling, you reach out to tap his hand, revealing the car keys he’s panicking over and causing his cheeks to fluff a pretty rose.

“Thanks. Do you want me to bring you anything back later? I can swing by the store on my way back home once we’re done?” Shaking your head at him, you squeeze at the hand you’re still touching and give him a thankful smile.

“No, I’m good. We’re going to order in later. Maybe that Japanese place that we ordered from the other week or something. Thank you, though. Enjoy yourself, okay? Text me when you’re going to set off.” Hoseok nods before leaning forward, giving you a quick kiss before he’s out of the door.

Standing for a moment, you overhear the sound of his car starting up before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. Grabbing your phone, your fingers tap at the screen as you let the girl’s know that the door is open for them to just walk in. Almost as soon as you’ve sent the message into your group chat, you’re distracted away by the bark from Ciri at your feet.

She’s still pretty small, only a little bigger than she’d been three months ago when Hoseok had proposed, but you think that just makes her look cuter. Thankfully, she’s been very easy to train so far and she’s currently sat so prettily as she looks up at you, big eyes staring intently at your hands.

Another short, sharp bark makes you laugh as you glance at the stuff you’d gotten out to bake with. Crouching down, you stroke her fur and make baby noises to her until her tail is sweeping the floor rapidly.

“Ciri-billy, I haven’t even started yet! You can’t eat them as they are now. Have some patience my darling.” You don’t know why you call your pets the nicknames that you do, or even where the names come. They just tend to pop out of your mouth when you’re talking to them and you just roll with it.

It’s caused Hoseok to laugh more than once to hear you call Kasumi your chicken or Ciri your little pudding. Particularly given you don’t call him by many pet names, instead just using his name or Hobi. Occasionally he’ll get a ‘babe’ or a ‘sweetheart’ but it’s not too often.

“Soon my bub.” Giggling, you give her a final stroke before standing back up and facing the counter. Quickly opening Spotify and beginning the playlist of your favourite songs, you keep your phone within easy reaching distance while looking over the recipe you’d printed out earlier in the day.

It takes only minutes for you to become entranced in what you’re doing; careful measuring of ingredients and the delicate balance of mixing them to create a wonderful treat. Only what you’re making today isn’t for yourself, or even your best friends.

No, they’re for Ciri. You’d found a recipe for grain-free dog treats and you’d decided to try making them. Part of you couldn’t quite believe what you were doing, particularly for a dog, but you would enjoy seeing Ciri enjoy them all. It wouldn’t surprise you if Hoseok decided to try and eat one himself.

You’re so involved with baking and singing along to the music that plays through the Bluetooth connected speakers in the kitchen, obviously something that Hoseok had bought because you’d considered it pointless, that you don’t hear the front door opening. It’s only when you turn to put some of the finished treats onto the wire trays that you’ve lined up that you realise when Chungha is suddenly standing in front of you.

Shrieking, you jump and have to battle to not drop all the freshly baked goods onto the floor while cursing up a storm. Almost immediately she moves to help you, apologising profusely as she yelps when grabbing a falling dog treat, her face twisting as it burns her fingers.

“Oh fuck! Chungha, shit. Are you okay? Oh my god, come over here.” Tugging her to the sink, you turn on the cold water and shove her hand under it, ignoring her whine of pain as the cold water interacts with her burn. The two of you focus on making sure it’s okay, even resulting in you going to grab the first aid kit Hoseok had bought a year ago when a sudden voice interrupts.

“What is going on here?” Two sides of wide eyes turn to Soyeon, letting her see the medical stuff you’ve haphazardly thrown on the side as you’ve looked for the burn ointment you could have sworn was in here. A glance at the treats causes a small ‘o’ to form on her pretty lips before she leans against the counter, elbows on the top.

“Ooh, baking mishap?” Teasing you with a grin and a wiggle of her brows, you nod before handing Chungha the tube you’d finally found. She gives you a smile of gratitude and applies some to her hand, her lips pursed into an adorable pout as she concentrates. You’re so busy concentrating on watching her that you almost miss Soyeon’s hand as it reaches out to the wire trays.

“No!” Shouting, the word causes her to jerk in surprise as she snaps her hand back with almost obscenely wide eyes. Cringing, you realised that you’d perhaps been a little bit too loud and give her an apologetic wince.

“Sorry. I just...they’re not for us. They’re for Ciri! I found a recipe to make some treats for her so I thought I’d give it a go. Think I made enough for her?” Brow raising, you chuckle while gesturing to the ridiculous amount. Perhaps you’d bought a little too many ingredients and gotten just a little excited in it.

There’s no way you could feed Ciri all this before they went off. She’d end up getting sick, and you hated having to clean that up. Which meant you couldn’t because then Hoseok would have to clean it up and you know he’d whine and pout the whole time.

“I can take some back for Mandu?” Soyeon offers, referring to the cute golden labrador that Jungkook and her had adopted two months ago. They’d gotten her from a shelter as a puppy and Jungkook had been the one to pick her name, unsurprisingly choosing something food-related given mandu was Korean-style dumplings.

“Sure, I’ll make sure you can take some back for Eevee too,” Glancing to Chungha, you gesture over to the box on the other counter. “For us though, I did make us some triple chocolate cookies! Not entirely sure how many are left because Hoseok was being a locust.”

That gets a snort from them all as you separate the dog treats so that all three dogs will get an equal amount before washing your hands. Chungha puts the kit away and takes out two glasses from a cupboard before handing one over to Soyeon. The two take a glance inside the fridge before filling them up with fizzy lemonade.

As far as you knew, that was just what Hoseok liked to drink with one of his alcohols. It made it more like a soft drink or something.

Grabbing the box of cookies, you head into the living room and sit on the couch with a leg curled up beneath you. Your best friends follow and sit as well, looking over at the television where Netflix has been paused in the show you’d been watching. One of what was considered to be your worst traits was that you took far too long to watch the ‘popular’ shows, which is why you’d finally started watching Breaking Bad way too late.

Hoseok had been bugging you to try and watch it for years now but you’d just never been interested.

“Ooh, you’re getting to a good bit.” Chungha comments, reaching forward to grab one of the cookies out of the box and munching on it. A soft noise of happiness leaves her as she chews, her butt wiggling as the flavours melt on her tongue.

“Shh, I already have to put up with Hoseok doing that. I don’t need you doing it too,” Pursing your lip into a pout, you cross your legs and grab the sleeping Pikachu cushion from your side before hugging it. “I’m going, to be honest with you as well, I don’t really like this. I don’t get the hype.”

As expected, both of them look at you with shocked faces that make you want to laugh. You don’t know what it is about going against the grain but the reactions you got never ceased to amaze you.

“Are you kidding? Breaking Bad is like...television perfection! The character arcs are just...urgh, exquisite.” Brow raising, you watch as Chungha continues to wax poetic about the show while Soyeon nods along and interjects now and again in support.

“Well, I think it’s pretty boring. And I don’t like Walter. He’s an asshole.” More shocked looks cause you to reach out and take the PS4 controller, exiting the show and moving on to look through the large list of shows and films Netflix had on offer. Without any input from either of them, you settle on The Umbrella Academy.

You’d already watched both seasons but it was something easy to have on in the background while you all probably talked instead.

“How’s wedding planning?” The question comes from Soyeon, who lets her head drop onto the back of the couch. Kasumi is laid out next to her, probably purring contentedly as her soft fur is stroked and she gets all the scratches and love. Ciri is currently curled up between Chungha and you, her tail hitting your thigh gently.

“Good, good. We’ve chosen a date and booked the venue so...we’re going to get the invites done as soon as we can. Before we get onto picking stuff for the actual ceremony and all that, we’re going to book the honeymoon. Priorities, you know. I think we’re leaning towards Argentina for two weeks at the minute but that might change.” You were adamant on exploring the world with Hoseok and Argentina would be your first foray into South America.

Which wasn’t much really considering you’d only ever visited Italy and Thailand so far. But still, when the opportunity arose then you would grasp it firmly.

Chungha finishes off her cookie before brushing at her mouth delicately, “Have you bought one of those wedding planner’s? Where it lists out all the stuff for you to plan and add in ideas and stuff?”

Nodding, you smile at her before gesturing over to the bookcase to the right. Alongside the books, video games, figurines and plushies that had accumulated over time was the binder that you’d purchased only days after getting engaged. Part of you was still trying to get your head around the fact that you no longer had a boyfriend but a fiancé.

And in a couple of months then you’d have a husband. It was odd to think about.

“Ah, it’s all exciting to think about.”

“It is, but I don’t have much more to tell you at the minute, to be honest. We haven’t decided much more apart from that and I haven’t looked into anything else. I’m trying not to overwhelm myself, you know? Go slow.” That gets them both nodding in acknowledgement before they look around.

“Where’s Hoseok gone today?”

“Oh, he’s gone to a concert with Taehyung and Yoongi. Some...weird prog-rock band or something. He’s been playing some of the songs lately and they sound odd but he’s into it so,” You shrug with a wry twist to your lips, causing them to snort. “I doubt he’ll be home before midnight, to be honest, so...we have the house to ourselves, ladies!”

“I mean...I’m pretty sure the most exciting thing we’re going to do is just eat food or something. Which is probably all we ever do when we’re together. You guys are not good for my waistline.” Soyeon groans, patting her flat stomach and you give her a droll stare.

“Really?”

“Yeah?” Chungha backs you up and you can’t help but laugh in amusement, giving her an equally amused stare. She’s just as skinny as Soyeon is but you can’t bring yourself to argue with either of them. Everyone has their issues going on after all.

That thought makes you frown and you reach out to Soyeon, clasping her hand tightly as you watch her with concern. Your sudden change in demeanour causes her brow to lower, gaze skittering away from yours given how intense it was.

“You’re okay, right? There’s nothing wrong or anything you’d wanna talk about?” The sincerity in your voice makes her smile softly, her free hand coming to rest against your own and squeezing it gently.

“I’m okay, I promise. It was just a joke, honestly.” Twisting your lips slightly, you stare deeply into her eyes before nodding slowly in acceptance. After spending so long hating yourself, you didn’t want to let your friends feel even an iota of the self-hatred you had. Especially when they were so pretty anyway.

“So err...while we’re still talking about moderately serious stuff, I have something to ask both of you. I mean...well it’s kinda weird that I’m asking you both but I figure I should ask you to get your permission before asking them.” Chungha is babbling and you tilt your head in question, brow creasing as you wonder what on earth she’s trying to get at. She seems nervous given the way her fingers play with themselves and her eyes skitter away from your direction.

“Dahyun was supposed to be here, you know that, but she’s ended up having to go see her grandparents as her grandma is sick right now. Otherwise, she’d be here too. So...we’ve decided that we want a kid. And we’re looking to adopt, we’ve put our names down and everything but it takes a while to even get approved for that. But we also would like to have a baby as well. Like...one of ours. I know Dahyun, in particular, is quite eager to get to experience pregnancy because she’d always dreamed of having a baby but as you can guess, being lesbians we don’t have the option of getting pregnant so easily.” Now your eyebrows have lifted high, probably almost to your hairline as you listen to Chungha’s nervous words.

It doesn’t surprise you that they’re wanting to have kids now. They’ve been together for a while as well, and you know that they’ve been considering whether or not to get married. For the moment though, they’d just registered themselves in a civil partnership, unsure whether they wanted to go through the whole wedding thing just yet. Though you did not doubt that they would eventually go for it.

Kids were the next logical choice for them, and you felt excitement bubbling in your stomach at the thought of Chungha being a mommy. Even if you didn’t like kids, it didn’t mean that you weren’t excited for your friends when they wanted to have them.

You could imagine that it was a bit more stressful for Chungha and Dahyun as a lesbian couple, as compared to a heterosexual couple. The more you thought about that actually, the more unfair it seemed. People were getting pregnant all the time by accident, but your best friend had to go through so much effort to get the same result.

“So, we’ve looked into IVF and all that stuff. There’s not just IVF, there are other methods too. But if we’re spending money on it then we’d rather have the best chance of success, you know? I’m not explaining it very well but I’m not a scientist either, we’ve researched it a lot and had a preliminary appointment either way. I just...have something potentially awkward to ask.” She pauses at that, her face twisting into a picture of nerves and hesitation.

A glance at Soyeon has you catching eye contact, but neither of you says anything and decide to let Chungha go at her own pace. You have an idea as to where she’s going with this, but you feel that she should at least be allowed to get there on her own.

“So, we can use sperm from a sperm bank, right? It’s all checked over and vetted, but it’s really expensive. And I know that sounds rich considering we’re wanting to have a baby and the last thing they are is cheap, but we’re trying to look at all our options for the moment. What I’m trying to ask in a long-winded way is would either of you be okay if we asked Hoseok or Jungkook to maybe donate? I know it sounds awkward given we know them and you’re both dating them but they can get everything tested and I’d feel a little easier if we knew the sperm donor, you know?” A grimace takes over her mouth, causing you to frown as you reach out and squeeze her leg in reassurance.

“Hey, there’s no need to apologise. I think we’ve all been friends for long enough that something like this can be discussed without ridicule or negative emotions, right?” Looking to Soyeon, you feel relief as she smiles and nods in agreement. “I’m excited for you to start a family! You know I’m not one for kids so I can’t say I understand the whole process you’re going through but I can assure you that I’ll support you and Dahyun the whole way. In terms of a donation...well it’s up to you, Soyeon, and Jungkook. Hoseok literally can’t.”

Glancing between them both, you make a scissors gesture and watch in amusement as both their eyebrows rise in realisation. It wasn’t something you’d discussed with them before, even if Hoseok had been fine about it, mainly because you’d felt Hoseok’s health and your sex life weren’t things to casually talk about. But you felt it important at this moment to make sure Chungha knew that you weren’t being callous.

“Oh? That makes sense though, you’ve never wanted kids and it doesn’t surprise me that Hoseok doesn’t want them either then. So that leaves Jungkook, huh?” Soyeon chuckles, leaning back against the couch and stroking at Kasumi’s ears gently. You wonder what she’ll say, given it’d mean her best friend having Jungkook’s baby before she does.

Some women wouldn’t be on board with that, and you suppose it’s a sign of how much Chungha loves and trusts you both that she’s querying you both with this. On the other hand, you have complete confidence that if you both turned her down then she wouldn’t be offended and they would instead use a sperm bank as she’d said.

Chungha turns more to Soyeon, playing with her hands as her nerves ramp up. It must be affecting Ciri because the dog sits up, tilting her head and staring almost in concern at your friend. Smiling, you scoop Ciri into your lap and scratch behind her ears until her back leg is going.

“You can say no, I won’t be offended. Nor would Dahyun, if she could be here. We don’t expect anything. I just wanted to ask you both first because I felt it’d be rude of me to just go to him instead of querying with you two. You’re my best friends and they are your boyfriends after all. Also, Jungkook can definitely say no too. Once again, we don’t expect him to agree if he’s not comfortable with it. I just...wanted to ask, you know? We kinda considered all of Hoseok’s friends because neither of us has many male friends and we’d love to be able to have a better idea of the donor’s personality, a more detailed medical history and everything. Plus, with us having to do everything medically then it helps to make it a little more ‘normal’ for us. He doesn’t have to be involved in the baby’s life if he doesn’t want to be, otherwise, I’d just like for him to be known as an uncle. In the future, we’d tell them who their sperm donor was if Jungkook was okay with it and they wanted to know.” You find yourself nodding, appreciating the fact that Chungha and Dahyun have thought this through.

While Soyeon might agree to let them ask Jungkook, there was every chance that Jungkook might not want to agree anyway. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of another woman having his baby, even if he won’t have any rights to it. Some people didn’t like things like that. Or maybe he just didn’t want to, for whatever reason.

The fact that she was making it clear that Jungkook and Soyeon were both allowed, even encouraged, to say no if they felt uncomfortable at any moment settled you. You didn’t want to think that your friends were being forced or coerced into something just because they felt that they had to do it.

“Would it be cheaper though? I mean, I’m assuming they’d have to do tests and stuff to make sure he’s not got any diseases or genetic things that they ideally don’t want to pass on? Doesn’t that cost a lot?” Chungha sighs and nods, her lips turning down slightly.

“We would, but the difference is that I doubt we’d have to do those tests often. So if he agreed then we’d have the tests done but then after that, we don’t pay anything else. The sperm bank that was recommended to us is $1000 for just one vial of sperm. So if that doesn’t work then we have to pay out again. And I’m not saying we wouldn’t pay Jungkook, we’re both willing to offer but the idea of being stung for that much for a tiny vial is painful.” The price makes your eyes bulge while Soyeon’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit! A thousand dollars for something he just washes away? Fucking hell, he’s wasting thousands every time he jacks off. Oh my god, that must be the most expensive thing I’ve ever had in my mouth then.” Snorting, you bite your lip in amusement as you consider how many times Hoseok had ejaculated with you. Though you doubted the man was getting anywhere near a thousand dollars, it was still mind-boggling to know that the price tag on a cumshot.

“It’s ridiculous, right? I mean, okay it’s not really because obviously, they have to do all those tests and stuff. But still! You can understand why we were shocked. Either way, if you or Jungkook says no then we’re going to go that way. I want you to know that we’re not laying all our eggs in one basket. No pun intended there.” That makes all of you chuckle, the mood lightening up as you do so.

Reaching forward to the box you’d placed on the coffee table, you grab another cookie before handing more out to the two of them. Each takes one with a grateful smile before biting into it.

“I’m okay with it. I’m not sure whether I want kids or not and I think we’re just taking it as an ‘if it happens then it happens’ approach. So, to me, I’m not bothered if Jungkook says yes. Plus, you’re my best friend and I’d much rather you have a baby where you know the dad and can get more information from him. And oh my god, Jungkook would make such good babies. They’d be adorable and he has the sweetest personality!” Soyeon squeals, shaking the cookie around in excitement as she imagines his metaphorical children.

For a moment, you imagine it as well and can’t help but smile. You certainly hoped that his babies would all get his big, emotive eyes alongside his endearing personality. Before you can comment on it though, Soyeon continues.

“I will make it clear though, that he doesn’t have to say yes. He might not be comfortable with the idea of having someone he knows having his kid. Or he might not like the idea of not being involved in their lives in a father kind of way. On the other hand, he might turn around and say that he isn’t bothered at all and will give you as much as you want. But I want it to be up to him. Thankfully, I’m not a hugely possessive person so I’m not bothered by the idea of his kids with someone else.”

Watching Chungha’s face carefully, you can’t help but smile at the palpable relief that spreads over it upon Soyeon’s words. That smile vanishes though when you see her eyes glisten, the unshed tears forming fast and causing you to gently put Ciri onto the floor before you’re scooting over to her. Wrapping your arms around her, you make reassuring noises.

You’re not one to get emotional, nor can you handle other people’s emotions, but your best friends are different. They’ve been in your life for long enough by now that you feel the urge to care for them, to listen to their worries and soothe their fears. Seeing Chungha, who is normally so strong, starting to cry at Soyeon’s words makes your stomach hurt.

“Hey, hey!” Soyeon gushes, rushing over to the other side of Chungha until you’re all in some kind of weird cuddle fest. It just makes Chungha let out a laughing sob, the sound thick as the tears slowly start to fall.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know if I was doing the right thing asking you both this. I know it’s something so big and important. You might have told me to fuck off and got angry with me at even thinking of it and I was so scared that you’d be annoyed by it. I mean, how many other people are going to ask their friends if they can have some of their boyfriends’ sperm to knock up their partner?” Wiping at her tears, you tut softly as you try to erase the eyeliner and mascara that’s begun to smear as well.

“I mean, it is a slightly odd ask. I think we can both agree with that,” Soyeon nods in agreement, running her fingers through Chungha’s hair. “But we’re your best friends. You didn’t demand this from us, you gave us a choice and made it clear we can deny it. I’ll be honest, if Hoseok hadn’t got the snip then I would’ve said no. I’m not personally comfortable with the idea of someone else having his baby. But I know that you would have accepted that choice and not tried to push me. Same as you’ll accept whatever decision Jungkook makes.”

“Yeah, she’s right. We love you, and we know you love us which is why you felt you could ask this of us. I’m more than happy to help my best friend start her family and I know that Dahyun has made you happier than anyone else has over the years. If everything works out then I’m going to be the coolest aunt ever.” Grinning brightly, Soyeon manages to succeed in making Chungha laugh softly.

Getting up, you rush off to the bathroom before coming back and handing her some tissue and make-up remover wipes to clean up her face. A brief smile of gratitude is given to you before she proceeds to scrub at her face.

“You’ll both be great auntie’s. Even if you’re not going to be hugely into the whole thing.” She’s looking at you then, wry amusement in her eyes as her lips twist slightly. Feeling heat spread in embarrassment at her words, you shrug and murmur an apology.

“Don’t worry, we won’t push anything on you. That is, even if it manages to happen. Who knows, maybe we’ll get approved for adoption super quick and we go through that first instead? I have no idea what’s going to happen.” At that moment, Ciri decides to make her presence annoy with a shrill yap.

Looking down at the floor, you chuckle at the sight of her annoyed face that she got pushed off the couch. Reaching out, she jumps up and wiggles herself so that she’s half on Chungha and half on you.

“Okay, I think we’ve had enough emotional and in-depth talks for today. Or at least, for this hour. How about we put on YouTube and just start watching animals being funny? Cheer us all up.” Reaching out for the controller, you exit Netflix as Soyeon nods.

The conversation isn’t quite over, you can tell that much, but you know that for now it’s just being put onto the back burner. You don’t have much more participation you can give the whole thing given you’re not being involved in it, but you’re sure that Chungha and Soyeon will talk everything out much more in-depth before Soyeon asks Jungkook.

It’s an important topic but given Chungha’s emotional nature right now, you don’t want to push it any further just yet. Instead, you figure it’s time to lighten the mood a little before any more serious talk can be had.

“Find one of those TikTok compilations, they’re so funny.” This comes from Soyeon as she points at the screen.

“What? No way, you have to watch like 20 TikTok’s to find one funny one. Vine was so much better.”

“Those are fighting words.”

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 4 years ago

Note

Okay, what are your thoughts on Ian's relationships? With his family, his boyfriends, and Mandy (since I think that's the only friend he's had)

Oh, no. Ohhhhhhhh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’ve asked about my dear, darling favorite character on the show. My love for one Ian Gallagher runs deep, which means this answer is going to run super long. The good, the bad, and everything in between—Ian Gallagher lives rent free in my brain and always will. I derive so much satisfaction from seeing Ian interact with other people, in whatever capacity that might be. I admire and aspire to the compassion he has shown for others over the years, even and perhaps most especially those who arguably haven’t earned it. He tries so hard to be good to people, and seeing their love for him manifest when he’s reached such lows where he can’t even fathom why the love of his life would want to be with him forever? That’s powerful.

So, yeah. I said I could write essays on these characters, and that’s exactly what you’re about to get: five hours and 6k words’ worth of my thoughts. (I am so sorry. There will be text walls.)

Let’s dive into Ian’s many and multifaceted relationships—his family, his friends, and his romantic pursuits.

Ian and Family

Ian told us where he stood on this in the very first season, and it set the standard for his character for eleven years to come. Faced with a prospect that others in his position could only dream of—not being Frank’s son and having a wealthy father with a functional, prosperous lifestyle mere miles away—Ian refused to buy into it. He refused to do what might have been objectively better for his future by seeking a relationship with Clayton. In that household, he would have had access to a better public school, more financial resources, a tutor to help him where he was struggling, and less urgency for him to work so that he could enjoy being a kid. When he got sick, he would have had access to better healthcare, too. Perhaps he would have had a better shot at West Point from that background than he did at home. But that’s just it: home was with his family, and he was very clear that they didn’t live in that nice house. All he wanted—all he wanted—was to be with his brothers and sisters. He has never referred to them as only half-siblings or half-cousins; he has never even used the words, “you’re not my dad,” on Frank. That’s his family, the people he loves most in the world, and he’s always been at his best when he’s with them and at his worst when he’s not. Let’s look at each of them:

1. Frank: It is so striking to me that Ian doesn’t appear to hold the outright contempt for Frank that Fiona, Lip, and Debbie have exhibited at different points over the years. Aside from the handful of instances where they’ve gotten into physical altercations (which Frank always initiated) and kicking him out of the house on occasion, Ian is simply indifferent to him. But there are these moments, these brief glimmers of mutual attachment and loyalty, if those are the right words. In the scene where Ian famously doesn’t count to three before using the pepper spray on him, Frank starts saying how his New Gallaghers weren’t his real kids—that Ian is his real son, and Frank is his real father. It’s a passing thought uttered while trying to manipulate his way into the house that neither of them think much of, nor does the audience…until you remember that biologically, Frank isn’t his father, and he certainly hasn’t behaved like one either. Ian has more right than anyone to comment on that, but he doesn’t because Frank is his father. He’s the father that Ian idly hoped wouldn’t come to his wedding yet sat joking about with Debbie rather than getting pissed off that he was making out with some lady in front of everyone. He’s the father who sat at the table with them eating breakfast in 11x03 and claimed Mickey was the man in their relationship without Ian saying a word to him about it, and who Ian saw no issue with taking Franny to school when no one else could. In s4, as far removed from his family as he’d been for a while, Ian still went straight to the hospital when he heard that Frank was at death’s door. We focus so much on his attitude towards Monica because of how obvious it was that we frequently miss these tiny moments and their implications. It would take an awful lot of patience, compassion, and love not to write Frank off completely after all he’s done. Not necessarily our standard definition of love between a son and his father, perhaps, but a loving soul.

2. Monica: I have actually written a pretty lengthy post about his relationship with her because while their shared mental illness definitely plays a role in his feelings toward her, that grew complicated far earlier than his diagnosis. The first time we meet her, we see that he has a visceral reaction to news of her presence. He runs. When Ian can’t process strong emotions, that’s what he’s done in the past. I happened upon an interview Cameron did just after the end of s1 where he mentioned something I had already been thinking: Ian’s age when Monica left is extremely important. He was a kid in s1, but one who could roll with the punches, sometimes literally. She left them two years before that. Ian would have been in middle school, roughly as old as Debbie was when she still called Frank “daddy” and forgave him for everything he did. It’s an awkward age that once again set Ian in something of a danger zone—too old to accept an excuse or no explanation at all, but not old enough to process the situation in a healthy way. And then she’s back all of a sudden with no warning. Ian doesn’t cry like Debbie, and he doesn’t typically get explosively angry like Fiona. He can’t deal, so he runs. He hangs back. He only speaks when he has to and compartmentalizes: Monica wants to take Liam, and they need to stop her. It doesn’t have to be about her leaving. They have a goal—he can focus on that. And then she’s back a year later, saying she’s here to stay while Fiona seems to take her at her word and Lip isn’t there to ground everyone. Ian tries so hard to behave like Lip would with his biting sarcasm and attempts to stay emotionally distant in a way that seemed pretty exaggerated for Ian, but he’s also dealing with a fresh wave of guilt over Mickey going to juvie—and Monica gets it. She’s the only person to acknowledge that he’s in pain and actively try to make it better. She’s the only one who really knows at the time, but that hardly matters. This poor kid, whose mother left him when he still needed her, has her standing in front of him and saying she’s sorry and listening when he speaks and taking him dancing—just the two of them. Embarrassing as it was and harmful as it could have been, she tried to facilitate his dreams when no one else wanted him to go into the military. She was there for him when he went AWOL. She came for him when he was arrested and even wanted to make a place for him in her new life, unrealistic as it was. This goes so much deeper than them both being bipolar. Ian’s comment about her parachuting into their lives in s7 wasn’t about Mickey or her role in them breaking up. He trusted her. He wanted her. He needed her. And she’d convinced him that she would be there—until she left. Over and over again. She was there for him and unintentionally took advantage of how desperately he still needed his mother. She made him keep loving her, and that’s both a blessing that has him crying into a voluminous man’s arms when she passes and a curse that wrecked him more than once.

3. Fiona: The trust these two have for each other cannot be understated. Fiona has discussed things with Ian that she never brought up around any of the other kids throughout the entire series. In the pilot episode, she tells him about feeling needed and takes his opinion on the matter to heart. At the end of the season, he’s the one she talks to about the car because she can trust him to give her an answer even without speaking. In s2, she tells Lip that the two of them are her rocks, and we see that time and time again. That’s part of what makes their falling out over the church hit that much harder: it’s Ian and Fiona. The only time they’d been on the outs in any serious manner up to that point was when Ian was adjusting to his new reality and they were trying to find a balance between sister and caretaker. Otherwise, that bond of trust had never been severed—not until Ian literally sold himself only for it to amount to nothing in the end because she had no idea the lengths to which he’d gone to get that building. That damage gets mended, thankfully, but what a powerful period of time when those two were the only ones who��d never really been at each other’s throats. There is a downside to that trust, though. As I mentioned before, Ian was so responsible and put together when he was younger that Fiona didn’t think twice about his situation with Ned or that he ran away. Not even seventeen yet, and she was telling Debbie that she didn’t like his decision to leave but trusted him. That is one of the things I love about this show—even something like trust that we always prop up as an important factor in our relationships can betray us in the most unexpected ways.

4. Lip: I won’t go into it here, but the relationship they share is something that means a lot to me on a personal level. It’s part of how I knew that Ian would become my favorite character pretty early on. The way he simultaneously admires and envies Lip, loves and is annoyed by him, relies on him and is desperate to pave his own path in the world—what a beautiful and accurate depiction of what it means to be a younger sibling. Lip is the first person to discover that he’s gay and openly accept him for it. (I think what he tried with Karen came from a well-meaning place even if it was horribly, horribly misguided.) Lip is the one who tries to get him into West Point, hate it as he does. He helps Ian when Terry is after him, takes care of him in the aftermath of the wedding when he realizes just how deeply Ian feels for Mickey, searches the whole damn city for him when he finds out that Ian is in trouble, gets him a job, leans on him in his own time of need… He’s not perfect. He slips up, just like Ian does. Some things break my heart, like Lip insisting that he’s earned his own space when his little brother is asking him for safe harbor or Ian thanking him for being his brother outside the prison. But they love each other so much, and I just… I can’t possibly put into words how much I love their dynamic.

5. Debbie, Carl, and Liam: I’m grouping these three together because they’re further separated from Ian in age, so we see a lot of the same trends with them as a whole. Ian loves taking care of people. We know this. We also know that Fiona and Lip don’t typically want him taking care of them—they’re the ones who take care of him when he needs it, specifically Lip. With the younger three, however, Ian can be the Big Brother. He can shake his head in utter bafflement at Debbie’s obsession with holding her breath for two minutes, walk Carl through what he needs to go camping, and promise his baby brother postcards when he leaves. The difference here is that his relationship with them is so much less fraught with conflict. We don’t see him fight with Debbie, Carl, or Liam the way he has with Fiona or Lip. While Ian tends to be the voice of reason during conflicts overall, I think it’s also because he relies on his older siblings in a way that he doesn’t with his younger siblings, and the latter don’t tend to rely on him as much as Fiona or Lip as well. There’s a lack of tension in most of their interactions growing up because that pressure isn’t there. Perhaps this is where Ian’s age and standing in the family is a bit more beneficial: young enough to have people he can rely on while too young for anyone to really rely on him for more than his share of the squirrel fund.

Ian and Friends

I’ve seen it mentioned that Ian (and Mickey) not having more friends is bad or lazy writing. I tend to believe that that fails to take something into account that, admittedly, most of us don’t really have to think about: having friends is a luxury. It requires time and effort to cultivate friendships, especially lasting ones. As a kid, Ian spent a lot of his free time working or helping to manage one family crisis after another. Going AWOL, losing his health, struggling to acclimate to his illness, trying to find a new career path, spiraling into the Gay Jesus movement, going to prison, adjusting once again to normal life, getting married, a pandemic… I’m sure he’s had plenty of acquaintances over the years, but having a family to support and constant upheavals would have made it extremely difficult to really forge strong relationships with them. I think that’s part of what makes his relationship with Mandy so special and valuable to him: she’s sort of the same way.

When we met Mandy in s1, she had other friends. We saw her meet up with them and go shopping; she told Ian a story about how one was mad at her for not sharing her make-up. As the trauma in the Milkovich household reached its zenith for her in s2 and she started thinking seriously about getting out of there, we saw those friends fall by the wayside—all except Ian. He saw her and let her see him early on. That’s a level of trust and respect that nobody else in their neighborhood would have displayed, certainly not to her. But then there’s this guy who defended her against their creepy, perverted teacher and treated her like a human being, not an object. It’s no wonder she developed an obvious, unrequited crush and sought physical comfort from him occasionally. It’s no wonder she tried to repay the favor by giving Mickey a hard time in s3 and s4, misguided and rather uninformed as we know it was at the time. (It’s also no wonder that she went for the closest Gallagher to Ian, either, but that’s for another meta.)

And Ian… Ian is loyal to a fault. We have watched Ian cut out his own heart and let the blood drip down his arm to pool on the floor at his feet if it would make a damn bit of difference for the people he loves. Like Fiona and Lip, Mandy immediately accepted him for who he is and suggested an arrangement that would protect him as well as benefit her. That is enormous where they came from. To him, that had to feel like the ultimate sign of friendship: he could trust her with a part of him that he hadn’t even entrusted to most of his family yet. From that point on, she was on the List of People Ian Gallagher Would Do Anything For. Finding out about Terry and what had happened? He held a bake sale, of all things, to fundraise for her. Seeing that his brother—his best friend—was treating her like garbage? He put him in his place. Her boyfriend was beating her? He brought her home and made it his goal to find a safe place for her to stay, even if it ultimately didn’t work. She was going to move away from all of her meager support with that boyfriend? He didn’t just rally his own arguments—he brought in outside help with Lip, who he thought might tip the scales. It’s usually just a saying that true friends will help each other hide a body, but Ian literally tried to do that. Lucky for him, he has a good head on his shoulders and used it.

No, Ian doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. We’ve seen that he has spheres of influence, if you will, and acquaintances that he can call upon when he needs them. (For example, the guys that helped with the preacher.) However, Ian has always struck me as a “quality over quantity” type of person. Being a soldier or an EMT isn’t lucrative, but they’re meaningful for someone who sees them as vehicles for helping people. Seeing more parts of the world than just Chicago has appealed to him in the past, but he seems perfectly content to carve out a spot for himself right here at home. Having only three best friends—Lip, Mandy, and Mickey—doesn’t seem like much of a hardship for him.

Ian and Romantic Pursuits

I hate to say that there were five, but from Ian’s perspective, there were. So, let’s talk about all five. Even though…there weren’t five. There was only one. We’ll save the best for last.

1. Kash: The first of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. I hope it goes without saying that I hate this man with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I hate him so much. However, their interactions taught me a whole lot about how kind and compassionate Ian really is—and how naïve. Of course, he would believe that Kash loved him. The man was buying him all sorts of expensive gifts, and that’s what we see on all the commercials and in so many movies, isn’t it? Grand gestures of affection through expensive gifts. Poor as they were, Ian still scraped together the money to buy him baseball tickets and CDs, convinced as he was that that was all part of what you did in a relationship. That desire to do things like a “normal” married couple in s11? Yeah, that starts here. Ian has always been a planner, and he’s always bought into certain stereotypes. We can see that here. What we can also see is Ian’s compassionate, kind, loving soul. He cares so deeply for other people, even ones that he doesn’t know very well, especially if they are living in circumstances that mean something to him. (For example, the mentally ill woman they tried to help at work and the shelter kids whose situations were so similar to Mickey’s.) Kash being a closeted gay man living in misery with a wife he didn’t love and two children he never meant to have clearly tugged at Ian’s heartstrings. Even after everything that happens, even though Ian behaves as though they’re awkward exes who just happen to work together, he still covers for Kash. He gives him that head start and takes it upon himself to break the news to Linda that he’s gone. He defends Kash to Lip when the latter finally says exactly what we all know: he was a pedophile who deserved to rot in prison for what he did. As with Fiona’s trust, Ian’s loving soul, compassionate heart, and desire for love outside his siblings are virtues that have done him harm in the past. This is one such instance.

2. Ned: The second of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t believe that Ian would even characterize it that way. He seemed very aware that Ned was a distraction from his problems—from Mickey being in juvie, Monica falling into a depressive episode, the money in the squirrel fund being gone, Lip moving out, losing his shot at West Point, and getting denied for service due to his age. Again, though, Ian has always wanted to feel valued, and this rich dude was letting him stay in a fancy hotel room with anything he wanted readily available. This (disgusting predator) guy was giving him attention and a distraction with no strings attached. Then the complications roll in, and he’s once again faced with being the mistress to a closeted, married man. The difference here is that he’s not comfortable with it. He tries to tell Fiona twice, which is enormous for Ian when he has never been very good at communicating if it means burdening others with or even merely facing his own problems. But he tries to tell her. He rejects the GPS unit and tells Ned that he has a boyfriend, boxing him into a strictly sexual arrangement. (This, unfortunately, makes sense. It aligns with how Fiona viewed things: where Jimmy was concerned about it, she told him that it was “just sex.”) He is also visibly embarrassed to admit to Lip and Fiona what has been going on with Ned. By that point, Ian is a year and a half older and, while still scarred and warped in his views because of Kash, perhaps a bit wiser. Emotionally, he kept Ned at arm’s length most of the time. He used Ned not just as a distraction, but as a way to galvanize Mickey into taking their relationship a step forward. But Ian is still Ian, and Ian is compassionate to a fault. Ned played that card by asking if he could have a little understanding for a man whose life was falling apart. Sure, he can. He’s Ian, the Gallagher too empathetic for his own good at times. We know how that spirals out of control. It just goes to show that even when Ian was trying to maintain some emotional distance, his heart is simply too big and his perceptions too heavily impacted by the grooming he’d experienced with two different people by then, and so he [SPOILER ALERT] still feels enough of a connection to Ned after all these years to be mildly bothered that he passed away.

3. Caleb: The third of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Ian’s relationship with Caleb strikes me as being similar to what he had with Ned. While more age-appropriate, Ian was very much using Caleb, just as Caleb was using him. That’s why it was so easy for both of them to walk away. Ian was in a difficult spot when they met. He was grateful to the firefighters who saved his life, but he had also just saved someone else at a moment when he was perhaps at his absolute lowest. That’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it—to be a bit of a hero and help people? So, he’s understandably drawn there, first out of gratitude and then to be surrounded by very attractive gay firemen who helped people, saved his life, and invited him to be part of a function they were holding. But he made himself pretty clear from the start: he was interested in sex with Caleb. That was the draw. He still hasn’t come to terms with being bipolar and losing Mickey, but Ian has never not been with anyone for any extended length of time. That’s just who he is: he’s always sought some level of outward validation—from the army, Kash, Monica, Mickey, and so many others. We’re seeing him struggle with that now as he deals with the opportunities available to him as a mentally ill ex-con felon. So, he pursues Caleb as a distraction just like he did with Ned, only Caleb is a predator in his own right and can smell that his interest is coming from a place of weakness. He immediately (and initially unintentionally) preys on Ian’s desperate need for structure and order by insisting on a traditional date where Ian is very much out of his element and even goes so far as to instruct Ian on how to be intimate. It’s no wonder he mentions Mickey in these moments, as Mickey never wanted him to change, and Ian leans heavily (even slightly hyperbolically) into the fact that Mickey wasn’t a paragon of order and stability like Caleb outwardly appears.

And I think why Ian puts up with it so long—being taught like a child, being used to upset Caleb’s parents, being paraded in front of his friends to make them jealous—is because he was getting something out of it too, just like with Ned. A stable place to live when their home ownership was in flux, a place away from his family when they weren’t providing the support he needed as he adjusted to his disorder, someone who validated his desires to help people regardless of their ulterior motives, and a physical distraction from his own problems. All of these parallel his relationship with Ned very closely. It was never going to last, of course. Ian is a strong person who temporarily forgot how strong he was because he forgot who he was, and Caleb didn’t want to be cared for—he wanted a project, like all of his sculptures. Being a project, being something that others see as needing to be fixed? That’s a hard no for Ian. It always has been. There’s a moment I love later in their relationship where Caleb tells him to turn off the lights when he goes out and lightly reprimands him for leaving one on the day prior. Ian is in a better place at that point, having regained a lot of his sense of self, and stares after him with indignation at being treated like a kid. He’s then lied to and cheated on, but I think that to mention those things to Caleb when they break up is to admit weakness on his own part—that he stuck with Caleb knowing that he was being mistreated, and Ian is not one to be called a victim. So, while we know from his discussions with Lip and Sue that the cheating and distrust bothered him most, he merely focused on Caleb lying about his sexuality, which removed a lot of the emotion from the situation—just like he did with Ned. It ultimately turned out to be a bad move since Caleb, being a skilled predator, made him question even his own sexuality in return, but we’re starting to see that Ian isn’t here to be someone’s toy anymore. Not an older, married man like Ned, but definitely not anyone his age either. I’m glad this pseudo-relationship happened because it showed Ian how strong he really was and that he could be in control of his own life. Sure, it destabilized him a little in the aftermath, but he worked through it. He leaned on his family, specifically Lip, who has always been his rock without the blurred lines that Fiona represented between sister/mother-figure/caretaker. Caleb is a garbage person, but Ian was the one who pulled the treasure from the trash, not him.

4. Trevor: The fourth of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Trevor is perhaps the first relationship where we don’t see Ian dive in. Whether that’s because of his confusion over Trevor’s gender identity or the fact that he was really beginning to fully mature as an adult by that point (ostensibly finishing his education, getting a career, being fully self-sufficient, etc.), he tried to take his time and not jump right in. They hung out, talked around the neighborhood, and yes, engaged in some casual intimacy at the club. Again, Ian might not be in a full relationship, but he’s never without someone for long. At that point in the series, all he was missing was a relationship when it comes to traditional, “normal” goals for people to have. But Trevor posed a situation he’s never been in before since, while gay himself, Ian has never been very interested in activism or engaging in the LGBT community. It’s just not in his culture or environment, so to be faced with someone he’s interested in that challenges a lot of his views of gender and sexuality is something he takes his time with. Unfortunately, Trevor is younger than him and not quite as mature, not quite as experienced. He tells Ian he has plenty of friends and doesn’t need another, which is an ultimatum that has never really sat very well with me personally because I’m generally of the mind that if a person needs time and you really care for them, you’ll let them have that time. I’m not unsympathetic to Trevor: he’s been burned before and has his own trauma stemming from responses to his identity, so it makes complete sense for him not to be patient in this regard. He shouldn’t have to be—but then, Ian shouldn’t have to rush into anything he’s not 100% certain he wants either. That’s exactly what he does, though, because Ian does for others without thinking of the implications for himself a lot of the time. They make great friends, but they don’t make great partners. Trevor treats Ian similarly to Caleb in that he’s a bit of a project. Trevor educates him on the LGBT community and incorporates him into his ventures for the shelter without ever really showing much interest in Ian’s life or family, which suits Ian just fine because for as interested as he is in helping with the shelter and as attracted to Trevor as he is, he seems to know they’re not compatible. Ian, who has been having sex since he was far too young, takes a step back from it when they run into compatibility issues. (And pushes back on the pressure to bottom with some of his own—neither of them were in the right on that.) He doesn’t ask much about Trevor’s family or try to be part of his personal life. They sort of embody the “friends with benefits” stereotype: they hang out, they have sex, and that’s really all there is to their relationship.

The reason Ian doubles down on trying to make it work isn’t because there was a future for them before Mickey broke out. It’s because he thinks he’s lost Mickey forever, he knows he’s lost Monica forever, and he’s not going to get the support he needs from his family when they couldn’t stand Monica and Fiona told him what he already knew to be true, namely that Mickey being an escaped convict would destroy everything Ian worked so hard for if he got involved. So, he does what Ian does. He needs that distraction—he needs to run from these strong emotions he can’t process, so he bottles them up and unfairly hopes that Trevor will provide some of that comfort after cheating on him with Mickey. (Had Mickey been released, I think they would have broken up. Instead, that was the first match Ian lit, but certainly not the last.) Now, the thing is, Trevor said at the start that he didn’t want to be Ian’s friend. He’s also younger and less mature in a relationship, which means he threw the concept of love out there prematurely, just like Ian thought what he had with Kash was love. The death throes of their relationship were a back and forth where Ian was spiraling and seeking comfort, and Trevor was providing some while keeping their relationship pretty amorphous. (Were they exes? Were they friends? Were they people who shared interests and danced around each other? Were they going to get back together? They never officially broke up—it fizzled and resurged, then fizzled for good.) Ultimately, whatever it was that they had couldn’t survive Mickey, Monica, or Gay Jesus. Trevor wasn’t prepared to deal with a full-blown manic episode, and based on his hands-off approach with involving himself in Ian’s life even before the Mickey-shaped bomb got dropped on them, it doesn’t seem like he really wanted to anyway. He did what he’s always done: prioritized his shelter, which I’m not deriding in the slightest. By that point, Ian was too far gone to care that he disappeared anyway. Had the situation been different and he was getting the support from his family that he needed, it doesn’t seem like he would have cared much there either.

5. Mickey: Finally. Only took over five thousand words to get here. I’ll preface this with something that anyone who knows me from other fandoms is already well aware of, namely that I don’t do romance. Ever. Never been interested. The relationships I’ve always been most passionately interested in are platonic ones, especially “found families” and siblings, which is probably obvious from the other five thousand words here. Ian and Mickey are the first relationship I’ve actively shipped or written for in a fandom. They’re the first I’ve been invested in to this extent. As such, one of the biggest pet peeves I had when I first joined this fandom was the saying, “Ian fell first, Mickey fell harder.” These two wonderful dumbasses face planted on the concrete in front of the Kash and Grab in s1 and never recovered. I could go on forever about these two, but that particular wall of text would probably be too daunting for even the most avid Gallavich stan to traverse, so I’ll keep it fairly brief. As we can see above, Ian has a very strict sense of what he “should” want in a partner. Someone who is moderately successful in their chosen field, makes enough money to at least live comfortably, and typically does something that helps other people (a doctor, a fireman, a youth counselor). These aren’t passionate people. They’re not men who operate on instinct the way most of the people in his life have always had to by virtue of their social standing. They have life goals and opportunities that he envies, and Ian has a great deal of compassion for them when they hit a roadblock or things don’t work out. The amazing dichotomy of Ian Gallagher is that he straddles a line most people can’t between the rough neighborhood that has instilled in him all of his values/behaviors and the middle-class mentality of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and aspiring to more. Ian has always aimed for what Lip said wasn’t possible for poor people: being successful without having to scam or steal. But as I said way back at the beginning of this manifesto, the South Side is his home. His family is his family. And none of the people he’s been with personify the South Side quite like Mickey—they don’t personify home like Mickey.

And I think that’s where the initial draw for Ian is. (I’m going to focus on Ian’s side since he’s who your question focused on.) The other guys look great on paper, and Ian’s brain says that that’s what he should aim for. We know better, though. We know that Ian has an enormous heart that belongs first and foremost to his family and their home. His heart says that this person—this dirty, rude, mean, violent person—is home. His heart says this person is everything about himself that he denies having, just like Ian was everything about Mickey that the latter declined to openly acknowledge for so long. I don’t like relationships built on “making each other better.” I really don’t. The wonderful thing about this is that it’s never been that way. Ian didn’t change Mickey. He’s exactly who he’s always been, but he’s grown past the fear of his own emotions and Terry’s response to them. He’s still a thief, a con artist, violent, and rude. Mickey didn’t change Ian either. He’s still rigidly conforming to certain stereotypes of what he thinks he should want, seeking structure (to his own detriment at times), and not a great communicator. The point for them is that they complement each other, not that they make the other a better person—not even that they bring something out of each other that wasn’t already there. That’s what Ian’s other relationships did. They made him shave off his edges so that he could fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s not happiness. It’s simply what he thought he was supposed to do—what “normal” people did.

With Mickey, he doesn’t have to worry so much about what is normal or acceptable. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his life is objectively “on track,” not until fairly recently. Mickey is the only person he’s ever been with who has accepted him for who he is, faults and strengths alike, without the underlying insinuation that he should be aiming for something else or pretending to be whatever the other person needs him to be in order to care for them. Kash needed an escape—Ian provided it. Ned needed a very specific brand of toy—Ian played that role. Caleb needed a project to feel fulfilled—Ian went along with it for a bit. Trevor needed someone who accepted him as he was but did things his way—Ian did that. To care for Mickey has only ever meant being himself because all Mickey ever really needed was him. Mickey didn’t need an escape from his home—his relationship with his family is more complicated than that. Mickey didn’t need to be saved from his upbringing—it’s what made him the person Ian fell in love with and who he is happy to be. Mickey didn’t need someone to change who he is on a fundamental level because unless it is going to get him into trouble and separate them, Ian never wanted him to. (Even then, it’s about what he does, not who he is.) And yes, I’m sure that there’s a level of excitement that Ian finds exhilarating where Mickey is concerned, but I tend to believe it goes a lot deeper than that. What he finds exciting about Mickey is what Mickey embodies about the South Side—about home. About his own upbringing, but also Ian’s. About Frank and Monica, his siblings, school, work, ROTC—existing and surviving in an environment where it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have money to keep the heat on this winter or feed your family. They spent the early seasons living in a constant state of fight or flight. They couldn’t afford not to. And there’s excitement in that. Look at how many people say that the first seasons are their favorite! There hasn’t been a huge shift in the quality or direction of the writing, just the trajectory of the characters. They’ve gotten older, and their problems have been different. It’s not about survival so much of the time anymore, but those are the storylines that excite us. For Ian, that exhilaration in the constant battle of survival in their neighborhood is sewn into the fiber of his being just like it is Mickey’s. He saw his home in Mickey before they truly fell in love, and when that followed, Mickey became home.

In Conclusion

Ian has spent his entire life looking for the “right” path only to realize that it was laid before him: his family, his small circle of friends, and Mickey. I love that that is coming full circle this season, where [SPOILER ALERT] marriage has almost made him regress a bit to that place where there must be a right way of doing things going forward, and slowly but surely, we’re seeing him loosen up.

Good morning. It’s Ian Gallagher loving hours.

#shameless #ian gallagher #it's ian gallagher loving hours #shameless meta #well that took six hours #and I didn't get more writing done #but I feel accomplished

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something-very-special · 4 years ago

Text

they ran over the seals

More Replicant playthrough observations and general nonsense under the cut. For reference, up to the keystone quest; completed the Forest of Myth and Junk Heap.

This fucking game I swear to god.

A vaguely coherent ramble about sidequests An observation about sidequests in general in this game -- and I don't recall if I ever voiced this somewhere public or it was just a personal observation from my time with the original -- is that the quests in the first half of the game are all relatively easy to complete. There's that one asshat who wants 10 goat hides, but other than him, most of the sidequests are either very much based on finding characters, or gathering a sensible number of items that are either relatively common, purchasable, or given a guaranteed spawn for the duration of that quest.

The sidequests everybody remembers having to do are in the second half, where everybody is demanding and awful and I'm sorry ten MACHINE OILS do you know how goddamn rare those are? They're goddamn rare.

(We'll not discuss Life in the Sands.)

This is generally agreed to, in the technical vernacular, 'suck'. And it's always funny that the most interesting sidequests are the ones with very minimal requirements (Yonah's cooking, getting Popola drunk, the Lighthouse Ladoh my god everything's gone blurry I'm not crying you're crying who am I kidding we're both crying). That particular aspect of the design also feels intentional, not really gating your ability to progress the really meaningful or funny sidequests behind an unreasonable number of rare items. The other aspect of the design is that these quests are not meant to be completed in a single playthrough; most of them are single-stage and just absolutely unreasonable, but if you're going through the game four times you have a... reasonable chance of getting everything you need more or less naturally.

Nobody does that but I think that was the intended design. I think it's a good idea, although the execution of expectation is flawed so I don't really blame people for saying those sidequests suck. (Although I will in turn blame people for saying the sidequests suck as a blanket statement. Yeah getting that guy who burned his kitchen down a billion Broken Motors is aggravating but did you not find that old man's dog? Speak to Ursula on her death bed? Solve a murder? Then again I think tracking down that rotten son who's trying to get away from The Family Business only to learn his father is a con-artist and get literally no reward is the height of comedy so maybe I'm not the greatest point of reference.)

But that asshole in Facade can get bent. I can't exploit my garden properly, jackass! I am no longer a god of time. (I kid, of course.) (This guys sucks even when you can fix your clock.)

Forest of Myth It didn't even occur to me to wonder how they would incorporate the comprehensive voice acting into the Forest of Myth. I like how it plays out, although I wish the voices maybe had a fade as you went deeper into the dream instead of just cutting out at some point, especially for the lines where the characters are being ascribed actions by the narrator that they themselves aren't doing near the start of the Deathdream. But it's just delightful to go back to it. The second half of the game really sticks in your mind both for emotional reasons and because you play it at least three times per full playthrough of the game, but the first half is just so much fun.

Protip: Talk to everybody after you've finished the dream sidequest. Weiss tries to dissuade you. Don't let him dissuade you. I'm still delighted by the Mayor; "We're building a statue of you, made of solid gold. I know you don't own a horse, but we're going to put you on a horse."

I forgot about Yonah being a disaster chef Papa Nier's reaction to the stew is better. Brother is still funny but Papa Nier just expecting to die is comedy gold.

For anybody curious, the joke about the cakes is that Yonah made 'fruit cake' using some of the worst possible fruits for cake-making. If only she'd thrown a tomato into the mix, too.

Lighthouse Lady Every time. what the fuck is a canal I'm aware of the addition of the new-old content but it didn't occur to me until Popola suddenly starts nattering on about fixing the canal when I'm expecting Yonah to talk about a penpal that oh, yeah, I guess Seafront would have had something going on the first half that would play into the second half? (I assume it does. Be weird to introduce these characters just to have groundwork for an added sidequest. ...but it was a cute sidequest.) But look Popola my boy is supposed to be in the next area I visit could we-- I mean he's on the way could we just-- no-- fiiiiiiiiiine. (It was short and sweet, though, and I appreciate that the couple's love is exemplified by them both calling Weiss a floating magazine in tandem.) On a related note but was I the only person suddenly concerned when the sidequest completion maxed out at 50% and not 51%? I had to double-check with a guide just to make sure, since I've spent the last decade telling people to make sure you hit 51% before going on to Part II.

MY BOY I love that nowadays, Emil is everybody's son. But I really wish I could go find somebody only familiar with Automata and just watch their reaction. (I'm guessing there are streams out there that fulfill this but man I'd love to get it in-person.) If you're only familiar with him from Automata this has to be a mindfuck.

Personal anecdote, but I've had the privilege of playing NIER with somebody else almost every time I've gone through it. I had a wonderful experience of doing a replay some years back with somebody who had experienced it with me before but didn't have the most solid memory of the beginning (and had actually missed the entire weapon's lab the first time through). I get to the boy at the piano introducing himself and the 'Wait, what?' was a thing of beauty.

MY ANDROID This was a welcome mindfuck for me; finding Sebastian and having him 'reactivate' in such an unnatural, mechanical way. I don't recall if it was ever officially confirmed that Sebastian is an android (I know that it's just understood that this is the case but I'm not I can't recall a specific one) but the little flair they added to his animation caught me completely off guard. I liked it!

Destroying the food source A lot of people will cite a major inciting incident for the game as being when the protagonist heading back into the village and killing the child Shades just outside the entrance. This moment is such a great bit of subtle foreshadowing that's so easy to miss... but kind of joining that, just before the Knave of Hearts attacks, I realized that the Shades out on the Northern Plains are clearly ramping up for an assault of their own by murdering the sheep. The sheep population at this point is decimated (which is great when you realize you haven't gotten the Sheepslayer trophy and you're about to enter Part II and you don't know if the boar drifting minigame got carried forward with the inclusion of 15 Nightmares). You go out onto the Plains and you will find not only small clusters of sheep left behind instead of the vast, terrifying herds from the start of the game, but until you get their attention the Shades are prioritizing killing the sheep. (Also annoying because that doesn't count toward my sheep murder number.) The Shades will be out there also killing sheep earlier on, but since the whole map is in Overcast mode after talking to Yonah it's especially prevalent to go out to the Northern Plains and seeing the slaughter. And I realized-- they're cutting the Village off from a primary food source. Shades don't eat and they don't have any beef with the local ungulates (at least, no more so than anybody else does), so why are they hunting down the sheep? To deprive their enemies of resources. Sheep are extinct by the timeskip. It's actually really clever of them, and a really clever indication of their sentience and intelligence before it's fully verified.

"Let's get these shit-hogs!" Everything about the way Kaine and Emil interact across the entire game is perfect I will brook no argument this is objective fact.

Emotive Rectangles I wrote an essay about this before but it really bears repeating that the job the original animators did with this scene is just phenomenal. The way Weiss drifts, flits, flips, fans his pages, drunkenly swerves, shoots around the room in defiance... He's a goddamn rectangle, but there is so much emotion and personality in this scene just based on the movements conveyed through a what is effectively just a box. Ten years later and triple-A titles with full facial capture don't have this much seething personality. I really have to give props to the cavia animators, wherever they wound up. That studio could really put some subtle love and care into their titles, utterly unnecessary and easy to miss but you can tell that whoever was working on it was giving it their all. The books are probably the exemplification of this, but every time I go into Seafront and visit the seals I can tell that the guy on seal duty was having just the best day. They made Emil so pretty There's an FMV cutscene right smack in the middle of the original game after the battle against Noir. I understand why it was a necessity on a technical level, but it always looked pretty out of place and a little uncanny valley compared to the rest of the graphical fidelity. That's no longer a necessity so this cutscene is rendered in-engine. I admit I was actually curious to see it redone this way and it looks fantastic. I single out Emil since he is the focal point of cutscene and because his particular high-poly model had some pretty weird difference from his in-engine model, but he and Kaine both look great. But, like, it's almost mean how pretty he is.

They made Brother Nier so pretty Yeah okay you got me he's kind of hot. Kaine's expression when she wakes up and looks him over is... significantly easier to read now. Good voice, too. (Ancient rumors tell that one of the issues with international releases of RepliCant was that they couldn't find an English VA with a voice that 'fit' Brother Nier. He sounded good out the gate but hearing him growl "Let's go TAKE CARE of those KIDS" during the thief sidequest-- I got chills. It sounds so silly but there's a kind of percolating fury to that delivery. Papa Nier was like frustrated but mostly disappointed dad; I felt like Brother was going to take care of those kids, and nobody was going to find the bodies. Younger Brother Nier just never stops looking goofy to me but Older Brother just looks great in motion, between the alterations they made to the movement and just the entire weaponry system. The distinction between the two halves of the game was always a little odd in the Gestalt version-- not odd enough to really raise eyebrows if you didn't know about RepliCant, but of course you can tell that this age gape between the optimistic doe-eyed dogooder and a man largely ruled by his fury and calloused by tragedy is what the timeskip was going for. Swab me down and call me Ishmael, it works. Younger Brother wasn't quite clicking with me-- not because of any writing or voicework issues, but I've got Papa Nier on the back of my mind and it's impossible not to compare and contrast the delivery and dialogue between the two. I know that this is intentional, too; Younger Brother is supposed to be that happy-go-lucky video game protagonist, always doing the right thing and helping people, in order to contrast against the man he becomes. Even just edging into Part II the effect is dramatic and it recontextualizes Younger Brother into a much more effective overall character. And let me reiterate, I enjoyed my time with Younger Brother just fine, I have no issues with him. But he's up against Well Meaning Big Dummy Part I Papa Nier. No contest. And I'm excited to see where Older Brother goes from here.

Speaking of voices I mentioned this before but the delivery on the character's lines is different. The entire game was re-recorded and quite a few lines are still pretty similar to the original, but there are some that are... definitely different. Part of this is a difference in the relationship between characters based on their life experience and ages-- Weiss is much more of an ass to Younger Brother but has a much more even respect for Older Brother (neither of which are like the rapport he established with Father). Some of Kaine's lines feel more aloof, dismissive, and almost tired in the front half of the game. I haven't really gotten to a point to dig into Emil's rapport with the other characters, but the delivery feels more hesitant and uncertain (which I think is more in line with his Japanese VO, but I'm prefacing that on an untrained ear and a presumption rather than recent memory). It's been interesting to see not just where hey adjusted dialogue (and how-- there are some lines that didn't need to be rewritten), but also how they adjust tone and delivery. Dealing with Younger Brother is one thing, but as I said, I'm very excited to see what's different in the second half, especially being much more familiar with that part of the game. Speaking of Voices! Halua got dialogue! I... preferred when it was inferred (and the implications of "I'll always be watching over you" are borderline malicious given the results of their fusion dance, yeah THANK YOU HALUA this is GREAT). Halua's delivery also felt a little too innocent and upbeat both for the situation and when compared to her narrative voice in The Stone Flower, where she comes across as much more cynical and cold. But given what she's been through and the nightmare she's finally escaping I guess she's allowed express happiness. She's certainly earned the right to having a spoken line. No matter what. Every fuckin' time.

"Here we go." This was always a great line to kind of ease in to the officially-official start of Part II-- every time you start up a New Game+ you're greeted with Emil musing about his conflation of Halua to Kaine, and then the phrase "Here we go". There's a lot in that one line. On a personal level he's grounding his thoughts in the moment and steeling himself for what comes next and pushing through his pain and sadness and fear. Whatever Nier told him in the facility he's still terrified, desperately terrified, that Kaine -- who was the one who told him his life had meaning -- is going to reject him. And why wouldn't she? Ultimately they don't know each other, not really. He understands at that moment that his relationship with Kaine is based on confused memories of his sister, that maybe the bond he thought they established isn't actually real. As soon as he frees Kaine he's going to have to confront her, like this, and how could she ever-- she won't-- but he can't just leave her. Whatever happens next. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. (God it matters.) "Here we go." On a meta level, that's our introduction into the second half of the game. The first half is all prologue. This is where we'll be spending the rest of our time, even to the point that 'New Game+' skips straight ahead to this moment. Now that we've finished the establishment, this is where it all builds and where it all matters. Here we go, audience. The ride starts now. You get up to this point now in Replicant. You get the same lead-in. My dumb ass even whispered "Here we go", because I can't help myself. And he says, of course he says--! "Anyway." ... ...a-anyway? What the hell kind of line is that? "Here's some deeply personal musings that are also an indication of my own discomfort as I babble to myself just to fill the void so I can stave off thinking for just a few more seconds. ANYWAY." What a... bizarre decision. Just bizarre.

Upgraded melee combat The introduction to the armored Shades always feel kind of rough-- the defenses on those Shades are significantly higher than anything you've faced and the new weapons you're given to combat them just aren't that good. (If you got lucky you could have a fully-upgraded Faith by now, which is nearly three times as powerful as the 'heavy' two-handed sword you're given; if you downloaded the 4 YoRHa pack for Replicant you've probably been able to upgrade one of those weapons once, which are also a really nice strength boost that leaves the freebie heavy swords and spears in the dust). As an introduction to the new weapon types it always feels like rough going. But then you get a chance to get decent weapons and the combat system truly opens up, and compared to the first game you really feel it. At this juncture I would always just bustle off to Facade and grab the Phoenix Spear and never look back-- the raw power compared to the rest of your arsenal coupled with the triangle dash is basically the bread and butter of the rest of the game. It's not exciting, but it's effective. No more triangle dashing, which was deeply disappointing... but both weapons definitely feel good. I am also somewhat ashamed to admit that it wasn't until now that I realized attacks weren't just about rhythmic input-- you can hold the attacks down to do different charged hits and combos depending on when you execute them in your combo, similar to Automata. I, uh... I felt a bit dumb. But hey, wow, it's a welcome adjustment and it makes all of the weapon types feel equally valuable for different purposes. I never liked using the heavy blades in the original release because they just felt too slow for the damage output they did, even if their 'point' was mostly to sheer off armor (and they definitely felt too slow for use in crowd control). Now they're still heavy and slower, but not to the point that you're basically leaving yourself open just trying to attack. Spears now do crazy sweeping combos and multi-hits. Both of these properties were borrowed from Automata and I find myself prioritizing melee combat and almost forgetting I have magic because honestly it just feels intuitive and fun. I feel like Kaine and Emil might have gotten a power boost as well? Not that I can really confirm this but going into some of the Junk Heap rooms I'd focus on killing a few robots in the corner and then turn around and just see a field of item drops and no more robots. Don't take my word on that, of course, but they felt a little more effective, and a placebo effect is still an effect. "You're staging a protest? That's fun!" Emil. Rebel without a cause. Will not hesitate to kill you if you trespass on his property. (Might explain the statues in the courtyard, actually.) I'll have to double-check this dialogue because I definitely remember more of a melancholia before we get to roasting marshmallows. I think Papa Nier actually offers to talk to/implicitly threaten the villagers to let them in the Village whereas Brother offers to sleep outside with them... which is actually kind of funny. In the former it comes off as Emil and Kaine maybe kinda-sorta not wanting to be allowed in the Village for their own reasons (they're not happy reasons but they're reasons nonetheless) and reassuring Father that no, it's okay, it's fun! The latter is almost telling Brother to stay inside because he'll ruin their sleepover.

(They're absolutely having giggly girl talk about him outside the gates, 100%.) they ran over the seals All I want in Seafront is to enjoy the music and run out to the big beach and hang out with the last living seals and they put a fucking pirate ship on top of them. Oh, wow. Gideon. Wow. OG Nier featured a Gideon that tried to keep himself together and then had fits of mania. You'd be concerned about him during some of the dialogue but generally speaking he came across as... functional. The delivery on all of his lines is now so insanely murder bonkers, like every line he's addressing you like you're already chained to the wall of his serial killer dungeon and it's glorious. I don't know if the distinction between the games is deliberate (in that Gideon in Gestalt was just more even-keeled between his 'rip 'em apart' snarlings and was always just totally nutso in RepliCant) but I do appreciate it. It's a good mirror to Brother Nier's own anger, which only ever seems to be mollified when he's talking to his friends (even kindly accepting sidequests there's a pretty consistent -- not universal, but consistent -- air of barely-bridled frustration). The other characters that Brother encounters are various reflections of himself if things had just been a little different-- Gideon was a representation of the kind of obsessive madness that would have eaten Brother alive if he hadn't had his network of support. Gideon's constant fury and bloodlust even bleeds into him just saying "What can I do for you?" He has no anchor to keep himself sane, nobody to stay human for; he's all mania, all anger, and he only takes any real interest in Brother on his return because he sees an opportunity to act out his vengeance. After defeating Beepy and Kalil he even goes so far as to not only blame Beepy for killing Jakob, but for also killing their mother, which is patently insane but really speaks to how far his justifications and fury have taken him. Papa Nier responds to his anger toward Beepy by basically backing away slowly and saying "Oookay then". Brother, however, actually commiserates; "That's enough. [...] We get it. We really do." This is definitely one of those moments where Brother's context works better than Father's; he absolutely sees himself in Gideon. He completely understands him and sympathizes. He recognizes the madness of his own quest, he sees where it could take him, and there's a resignation when he speaks to Weiss: "Revenge is a fool's errand." "...yeah." Papa Nier has a similar delivery and similarly implies that he understands how terrible his quest is, but there's something decidedly haunting in Brother's sympathy. Also just verifying something on the wiki and this bit of 'Trivia' really jumped at me:

Gideon is the only character to only cause the deaths of other characters. In his case, he caused a platform to crush Jakob and ordered the deaths of P-33 and Kalil, with P-33 surviving.

Metal AF.

#NieR #NieR Replicant #Rambling #He will always say 'here we go' in my heart #And that's probably a serious medical condition

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fallenhero-rebirth · 4 years ago

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Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

#personal

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seagreen-meets-grey · 4 years ago

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When Lightning Strikes Ch. 17

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

“I’m in love with you.”

Fresh raindrops were hitting the windscreen in an increasing rhythm, the backdrop to her thoughts.

“I’m in love with you.”

She turned on the wipers.

“But I can’t be your friend anymore.”

His voice was haunting her, words replaying in her ears over and over, accompanied by an electric jolt stopping her heart for a beat every single time. She almost anticipated a flash of lightning on the horizon, a crack of thunder rolling through her chest.

The drive back to Berk had never felt this long, the allowed driving speed never this slow. Eyes on the road, she fumbled for her phone, managing to connect it to the car one-handed. There was a call that absolutely could not wait.

It rang a few times, then cut off. Did she have no reception here? Didn’t he? Did he decline her call? Nervously tapping her steering wheel, Astrid flung the phone onto the passenger seat. She would try again if she got stuck at a traffic light. But traffic flowed freely and not much later, she parked in the same spot as mere hours before. She couldn’t believe so little time had passed since she had gotten ready for her lunch not-date (that had totally been an unofficial date).

Dashing through the rain, she quickly made it to the front door and rang the doorbell. But after fifteen minutes of repeatedly pressing the button, she concluded that he either wasn’t home or really did not want to open the door. She tried his phone again, but it just kept ringing and ringing. Which was weird, because he had specifically asked her to call him back, hadn’t he? Why would he not answer her calls now? Had he changed his mind, was he mad that she’d just left like that?

She racked her brain for where he could be, but the weather wasn’t leaving her a lot of options. He couldn’t be at work because it was a Sunday. She didn’t know where any of his friends lived. Hell, she only knew two names, maybe three if she counted the ex-girlfriend. Perhaps he’d gone to the forest again, despite the weather?

But his car was still parked to the side. Was he home after all? She tried the doorbell again, then rang for his neighbor. They could let her in so she could pound at his door, just in case his bell wasn’t working.

“Hello?” came a grumpy voice out of the speaker.

“Ah, yes, hi. I’m trying to get a hold of your neighbor, but he’s not opening. Could you let me in, please?”

“No.”

Briefly taken aback, she blinked a couple times. “I really need to–”

“I don’t know you. If they’re not opening, I won’t either. Good day.” The speaker crackled and went silent.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” she mumbled. “You got great neighbors, man.”

He still wasn’t answering her calls. At this point, she didn’t know whether to be annoyed or worried. Texting him a quick ‘where are you????’, she returned to her car and deliberated her next step. One option was to just wait here for him to get back. Call him over and over again until she got a reaction.

“Ugh!” With a frustrated groan, she threw her head back and closed her eyes. There was a way for her to reach someone who knew him, but even if she was successful, it would be a mighty awkward phone call and she would have to swallow a bit of pride.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Dammit!” She hit her steering wheel, accidentally setting off the horn. Hopefully, it had made Hiccup’s neighbor jump.

The next call went unanswered as well, but that only boosted her determination. There was no stopping her, not so close to her happy ending. She wanted to hear his voice, wanted to look into his wonderful eyes and scream at the top of her lungs, let out all her suppressed feelings that she’d been harboring for him ever since the moment his presence had first struck her like lightning. Three words, one breath. The clear answer he needed to hear from her, the one she needed to speak out loud.

She found Dagur’s contact in her list and sent him a short text, hoping he would help her out first and ask annoying questions later. And lo and behold, twelve minutes later, she had Heather Oswald’s number.

She picked up after the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is Astrid Hofferson, um... We’ve met a couple times, I’m–”

“Yeah,” Heather interrupted her in a tone Astrid couldn’t decipher, “I know who you are.”

“Oh, okay. Great. Uh, I’m looking for Hiccup, actually, and he’s not home or answering his phone. You’re the only person I could get a hold of who might know where he is or…”

“I have no idea.”

“Ah, well then, do you have an idea where I could look?”

The line went silent for a moment. “Without a clue about what’s going on, it’s hard to narrow it down.”

“Oh. Well, maybe–”

“Look, Astrid?” Heather interrupted her. “I know it’s not my place to say. But Hiccup is one of my best friends and he’s been pretty depressed because of you for the past two years. He… cares about you a lot.” Astrid tried to get a word in, but Heather didn’t let herself be interrupted. “I know you two are friends, but you’re not doing him any favors as long as you’re not honest with him.

“Heather, I-”

“Whatever it is you want from him, please tell him so he can stop driving himself crazy.”

“Yes, I know, that’s why I’m looking for him!”

“You are? Good. You might not be aware of it, but you have the power to absolutely break him. I’d rather you didn’t.”

Astrid gulped. “Yeah, believe it or not, he actually has the same power over me. Why do you think I’m calling his ex-girlfriend for help?”

Heather chuckled. “I haven’t heard from him this weekend, but I can think of a few others who might have. I can give you their numbers.”

“Thank you, seriously!”

“I’m doing it for him. Good luck.”

The line went dead and Astrid let out the tension in her shoulders with a sigh of relief. She didn’t have a new lead, but she had gained new options. And she’d just gotten the dad talk from her ex’s best friend’s sister.

Her phone buzzed with a few messages from an unsaved number, sending her a few contacts. She assumed the two people with Hiccup’s last name were his parents and decided to make them her last resort since there was no need to worry them about their son being uncharacteristically unavailable. Besides, they didn’t even know her.

Discovering she actually knew the other people Heather had referred her to, she decided to call Fishlegs first, hoping for not another lecture on how to treat one of his best friends. The one had been uncomfortable enough. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Hiccup, even unintentionally. He was way too important to her, had taken root inside her heart the moment he’d first smiled at her.

She still remembered how he’d been able to make her forget about the sea of people around her in a matter of seconds, joking around about something trivial, grasping her full attention so easily she’d even blinded out her own fiancé, who’d been right there next to her. Looking back, she could only shake her head at her own stubbornness in admitting her immediate attraction and the connection that had been there from the moment their eyes had met. Her skin tingled at the memory of that bolt of lightning striking her to the core…

With a wince, she pulled herself from her daydream, concentrating on the task at hand and making the next call. Fishlegs picked up almost immediately, voice a little wary of the unknown number calling him on a Sunday evening. The horizon was darkening gradually, the last rays of sunlight drowning in the incoming wave of night, the streetlamps outside flickering on one after the other.

Fishlegs didn’t know where Hiccup was. “Maybe his phone is dead? He sometimes forgets to charge it before it’s too late.”

“Nope, it’s ringing. The signal’s getting through. Which means that’s not it.” She didn’t want to waste her time theorizing about why he wasn’t picking up. She wanted to find him, then she could ask him and punch him for leaving her hanging like this. “But do you know where he could have gone on a Sunday night while it’s raining?”

“Hm. You say his car is home?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Snotlout lives nearby, that’s an old friend of his–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know him.” Tucking her phone between her jaw and shoulder, she started her car. “Where does he live?”

Fishlegs gave her the directions and offered to stay on the phone so she could keep him updated, but she quickly thanked him and hung up before pulling out of her parking spot. This was the worst scavenger hunt ever. At least she could cross calling Snotlout off her list.

Severely hoping to either catch Hiccup this time or at least get a solid lead, she pushed the doorbell ten seconds long and then hit it repeatedly in a short span of time until she heard the static of the receiver.

“Whoever the fuck you are, fuck you. Hiccup, is that you? I want my jacket.” Well, so much for finding Hiccup here.

“No, it’s Astrid, we met once, I think you tried to flirt with me.”

“Wait, the Astrid? Hot Astrid? Hot-strid?”

“Call me that again and you’ll find out how hot my fist is!”

“Okay, okay.” She noted with satisfaction how he was trying to cover up that he was intimidated. “What are you doing here? Came here to get a taste of the Snotman?”

Deciding to ignore his immediate new attempt at flirting (she would handle that another time, for sure), she just rolled her eyes. “Have you seen Hiccup?”

Expecting the same answer she got from everyone else, she was surprised when he said, “Yep. He was here.”

“When?” She jumped on the information, leaning closer to the receiver.

“I don’t know, some time in the past couple hours? I was busy, I don’t check the clock on a Sunday.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Out.” Oh, she wanted to break the door in and slap him.

“But where, Snotlout?!” A dog started barking very closely to the intercom, making Astrid flinch away.

“Shut up, Hookfang! I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me. Sit, you dumb dog! He just came by for a jacket, he was kinda drenched. Pretty stupid, actually, because he had an umbrella and it wasn’t even raining when I looked outside.”

She bit her lip and frowned. So he was out somewhere, probably still in the rain. Great, so she just had to drive through town and search all the streets of Berk until she found him. At least she had some kind of solid plan now.

“Thanks, Snotlout.”

His answer was drowned out by the barking dog, then the intercom fell silent with a crackling static, but she was already sprinting back to her car. She tried calling Hiccup again, but then gave up with a groan; she wouldn’t reach him. He hadn’t read her text yet, either. So what now, call his parents if he had walked there? She didn’t even know if they lived in Berk.

Reaching for her phone again, she replayed his message. The butterflies tumbled through her stomach again when he said the five words she would never grow tired of hearing. There was the sound of traffic and rain in the background, but that didn’t help a lot, so she replayed it again. And there it was, another lead – he said he’d been at her parents’ place, looking for her. Of course! Maybe he’d mentioned more to whoever had answered the door.

She sped through town, parking right in front of the front door, something her father hated. But right now, she couldn’t care less. Fumbling with the keys for a minute, she pushed the door open and yelled into the house.

“Mom! Dad! Anyone?!”

Her father stuck his head through the door to the living room, glass of wine in hand, wearing his comfy couch pants. “Hello, daughter. We were wondering if you were still showing up for dinner.”

“Sorry, I forgot to cancel, I had something important to do.” She trudged down the hallway to the living room, leaving dirty footprints on the floor.

“Astrid, your shoes!” her father chided her, but she ignored it.

“Was Hiccup here?”

“Who?”

Her mother turned around on the couch. “Yes, your boyfriend was here. He was looking for you.”

Astrid scooched by her dad who almost spilled his wine. “When? What did he say?”

Wilma clucked her tongue in disapproval, shaking her head at her daughter’s wet shoes, two steps from the new carpet.

“Mom.”

Frederick put a hand on her shoulder, holding his glass out of her reach. “Why don’t you take your shoes off and join us? This crime thriller is very entertaining and there’s more wine in the fridge–”

“Mom!”

“Like I said, he was looking for you. I don’t remember when, but it was still light outside. He didn’t say what he wanted, though, and left as soon as I said you weren’t here.”

“Who?” Frederick repeated, confusion written clearly on his face. “The young man you spoke to earlier? What was that about a boyfriend?”

Astrid didn’t have time for explanations to be exchanged. “Which direction did he leave in? This is very, very important, mom!”

“What’s going on, dear? Why don’t you–”

Astrid rolled her eyes with an impatient growl, contemplating threatening to wipe her feet on the carpet if her mother didn’t just come across with the information, but figured that would only spark an entirely different discussion. “Mom, I swear – please just tell me, please!” The desperation had to be showing in her eyes because her mother gave in with a sigh.

“Down the street to Marram Lane, he was on foot so my guess is he was heading for the bus.”

That didn’t make her chase any less frustrating, but it was better than nothing. “Anything else?”

“No–”

“Okay, thanks, bye!” She dashed past her dad who took a surprised step back. Before the front door closed behind her, she could hear him complain about his spilled wine on the new carpet.

Jumping into her car, she deliberated showing Hiccup’s profile picture to every bus driver she could catch, until one of them remembered him and where he got off the bus. But chances were he’d taken the route home and was already back there while she was looking for bread crumbs all over Berk. So she decided on one last attempt. If he didn’t open his door now, she would go home and probably not sleep all night.

If it hadn’t been for the red light near the park, she would have missed it. Tapping her finger against the steering wheel, she absentmindedly glanced outside while waiting for green.

It was the jacket that caught her eye. Chipped print of faded red flames climbing up the dark sleeves, wide and short on a body too tall and lean for the cut. It was him.

The umbrella shaded him from the light of the streetlamps, but she immediately made out the wild auburn hair, the line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, eyes cast down. He was heading for the park, on a shortcut to his house that she couldn’t take with her car.

A honk from behind her alerted her to the green light and she stepped on it, crossing the intersection and pulling over onto the sidewalk as soon as she got the chance to.

She ran, only just bothering to lock her car. The rain was coming down in buckets and she splashed her entire right leg when she stepped in an overly large puddle, but that wouldn’t slow her down.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Hiccup! Wait!”

He had almost disappeared behind the next corner and a few trees when he suddenly stopped and turned around. “Astrid?”

Panting, she came to a stop. “Finally. I looked- I looked everywhere for you.”

“Oh- oh yeah. I’m so sorry.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and showed her the screen. There was a large crack right down the middle and her unsuccessful calls finally made sense. He hadn’t been suddenly ghosting her, after all. “Did… Um, did you get my…”

“I got your message.” Her instincts told her to just grab him and haul him in for a kiss like she’d wanted to for so long, but he’d asked her to talk and she wouldn’t make any rash moves; there was just too much on the line.

For a beat, he looked at her nervously, before he noticed the water running down her face, darkening her hair and clothes. He stepped closer, holding his umbrella over the two of them.

“Thanks.” She wiped wet strands of hair out of her face. Every now and then, a gust of wind blew cold rain underneath the umbrella like a lawn sprinkler that had lost its rhythm. She was exhausted. She’d had a very long day.

It didn’t escape her how his eyes briefly dropped down her face, awakening the memories of his lips brushing hers earlier that day, numbing the tips of her fingers for the fraction of a second, before he averted his face. “I’m sorry if I sprung all this on you, but…”

“No, I’m the one who has to apologize.” His eyes settled back on hers and the shiver running down her spine had nothing to do with the weather. “You were absolutely right, I had been running from my conflicts, and my feelings. I went home to talk to Eret.” She took a deep breath. “We decided to break up.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, I… Was… Was it true, then? About him and…”

“Dana? That wasn’t what I thought it was. You were right about that, too.”

“Well, I’ll have you know I am always right about everything,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug and the hint of a shy grin.

“Hmm, sure.” Her lips were twitching and the invisible string attached to her heart was pulling at her chest. The rain was cold and the heat his body was emanating was driving her insane. The proximity to him, the way he was looking at her, the light of the streetlamps reflecting golden specks in his deep green eyes sending a parade of tingles over her skin. “He hadn’t been cheating on me any more than I cheated on him.”

His brows furrowed; head cocked to the side ever so slightly.

“Emotionally. Not with Dana. And that’s only one of the reasons me and him didn’t work out.”

Shaking his head, his frown deepened. “So… What does that mean now? Astrid, why are you here?”

She mirrored his expression. “Because you wanted to talk–”

“No, I mean, why are you here? In the rain, soaked to the bone? You could have called later, or tomorrow, or any other time.”

“No, I couldn’t,” she replied, trying to lay all the sincerity she felt into her voice. “Like I said, I’ve been running away for way too long.” The world began to blur around her, the traffic and the rain faded, vision narrowing in on him, capturing his gaze so intently, it caused her palms to sweat and her hands to start shaking from the intensity. “I love you. Okay? I love you! I want to be with you, Hiccup! I- I love you.” Her heart was rapidly pumping liquid lightning through her veins from finally saying the words out loud.

The earth stopped spinning as she looked at him, waiting for a reaction. His lips were slightly parted, eyes posing as windows to his soul, alive and starry, burning into her like fireworks into the summer night. With bated breath, knees weakening under his gaze, she felt the electricity buzz around her, charging for the final blow. Seconds passed, small eternities, in which she couldn’t move, the current pinning her to the spot.

Then, he suddenly surged forward, grabbing her face with both hands, and lightning crashed through her as they finally connected in a blinding flash of blue and white. Her chest exploded; high voltage was coursing through her every nerve, every vein, blood alive, heart pounding in sync with his; it was like their souls were magnets, caught in each other’s magnetic field, too strong to disconnect.

Her heart was soaring, quaking, pulsating, the world empty but for them. Their heavy breaths and the deafening thunder in her soul the only sound reaching her ears. Space and time became foreign concepts, the universe narrowing down to where they stood, hands roaming over shoulders, necks, limbs and through hair, unable to linger, always seeking out more, lips chasing lips.

She had to hold onto him as the ground disappeared underneath her feet and she went falling, flying, tumbling through the clouds. Her stomach was doing somersaults, backflips, pirouettes; the lightning strike had left her blind. She couldn’t get enough of his touch, lungs screaming for air, but she couldn’t care less about breathing, reconnecting with his lips after every hasty intake of air, drowning in the feeling of wonder, of pure euphoria.

The only thing she knew to be real was the warmth of his body, the passion that let their lips collide over and over again until she felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the intense electric current running through their bodies like one.

Eyes still closed, they eventually parted for much required air, their foreheads touching, breaths mingling. Her hands were slowly sliding from his neck, resting over his erratic heartbeat, mirroring hers. His fingers trailed down her spine, settling around her waist.

“Did you feel that?” Her voice was shaking.

“The lightning?”

Her eyes fluttered open and her chest swelled with affection at the raw emotion in his eyes and the fact that he felt as much for her as she did for him. She nodded with a gulp.

“I did.” He lifted a hand to her face, gently wiping something hot and salty from her cheek that she hadn’t even noticed herself. “Is this real?”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Hey, if not, at least we’re stuck in the same dream, right?”

“Right.” Getting lost in his gaze again, she blinked when he suddenly cleared his throat and looked around, as if remembering that there was a whole universe out of their wonderful, perfect little bubble.

“We should probably go someplace dry.” The umbrella was discarded somewhere on the ground, dirty and forgotten. “I keep getting drenched today, how is that?!”

The laughter breaking out of her and the look he gave her in return were nothing short of breathtaking, and she wondered if she was ever going to get used to that, already addicted to everything about him, everything he was doing to her. “My car is back there.” She pointed in a general direction over her shoulder.

“Okay.” He leaned down and softly pecked her lips again, followed by another toe-curling, heart-stopping, world-shaking kiss, slow and deep, her fingers clutching at his soaked shirt. Their noses brushed, wet and cold. “Okay,” he repeated himself in a whisper and stepped away enough to entwine their hands, starting towards where she had pointed.

The skin of their interlaced fingers was frigid, but Astrid did not feel the cold. She just felt… free.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles as she steered him back to her car and the contact crackled through her nerves like an inextinguishable fire. Just this morning, she’d been shaken by her own confession to herself, still anxious over the fight she’d had with Hiccup the day before. Entire lifetimes had passed since then.

Glancing at him, she caught his eyes and the blinding smile on his lips. Oh, those lips. She had discovered a new drug and she was already high on it. With a weak fist, she punched his shoulder. “That’s for breaking your phone.” He blushed, rubbing his neck with his free hand. With her own, she fished her car keys from her uncomfortably wet jeans, pushing the button and glancing over him once more. “And what the hell are you wearing?!”

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- End of Part 2 -

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#httyd #hiccstrid #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #heather #fishlegs ingerman #snotlout jorgenson #when lightning strikes #modern au #a bit of angst with a dash of drama #or the other way around #maja writes #ff #fanfic #how to train your dragon

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