#again I'm sorry for not replying the messages i got on my previous posts

[modelsof-color]

In the right moment I will come back to post and to open my heart , to tell y'all that I survived through a though time , that the "new," me is stronger than ever .

to everyone who is grieving now , if you don't know what to do with yourself, you're not alone !!

that darkness is a long road which we need to take until we see the sun again .

take as much time you need to process as I have been doing, don't pretend you're strong if you don't feel like that , don't pretend you don't need others , because we all need people. ♥️

[a-b-riddle]

Can't Stop Thinking About Update 5/18

A bit of an update on what's happening with CSTA.

This week, unfortunately, there will not be an update on Sunday. I mentioned in a previous post I have a UTI and the nausea meds literally knock me out so I got very little writing done today which means there won't be anything to edit and put out tomorrow.

Chapter 9 will now be rewritten at the end of the series. I do plan to rewrite it, but for now, I want to continue the series as planned and having to go back and work on it has delayed further writing. Until then, the unrevised version will stay up.

In the next few days, ageless blogs will be blocked. I do not engage with minors, nor should minors be reading anything on my blog

Finally, I appreciate the enthusiasm with wanting updates, I really do. But if the only engagement you're going to have with me is replying "next chapter please" or messaging me on anon when I'm going to post the next chapter, please don't bother... I am not getting compensation for this. I am doing this for fun. But receiving several comments and messages either asking for the next update or requesting how the story ends is starting to legit piss me off...

I've said previously that the 141 and reader reconcile. Reader can work things out with them and still have a backbone. Just because someone finds it within themselves to forgive someone else (after they have proven they are sorry and rectify their behavior) does NOT make them spineless. Not every FMC needs to have a "eat shit and die" mentality when it comes to being wronged. Stop asking me for the ending you want. Stop telling me how to write my own story.

Again, thank you for the continued support whether its a like, reblogging, reply or even a message. I have over 50 messages right now and how to get through the bulk of them this weekend.

-Riddle

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Change of Plans Gen 1 pt.72

Madisons phone lit up the dark room. It had been going off nonstop for the last two hours the current time was 3:40pm. She stared at the screen, scrolling through the mix of notifications from Beckett and, to her surprise, Paris.

She slid her finger over Paris' messages deleting them without opening them first. When she got to Beckett's thread she clicked on it and started reading. The earliest was from around 1:30pm but she'd missed them while she was sleeping.

1:32pm Beckett: Just got off the train. Hope you're ready for today! I planned something...well you'll see.

1:47pm Beckett: Hope you are dressed warm it's chilly out. I think it might rain. 2:01pm Beckett: Just got to the statue in Sable Square.

2:30pm Beckett: Hey. I just tried to call you. 2:50pm Beckett: Did you forget about me? lol 3:10pm Beckett: Madison?

Then he'd tried calling again.

3:18pm Beckett: Is everything okay?

3:20pm Beckett: Did I do something wrong? I know I was kind of excited on the phone this morning, But I was just looking forward to seeing you.

3:21pm Beckett: I hope I didn't upset you.

3:30pm He called for a third time. That was the call that had woken Madison up. By the time she was fully awake to answer she had missed his call. He had sent three additional messages since.

3:33pm Beckett: Please just let me know you are okay.

3:35pm Beckett: I don't care if you bail on our date. I just want to know you're alright. 3:37pm Beckett: Please Madison Im so worried.

She closed the messages when her phone started to ring again. Beckett's picture filled the screen and she answered. She felt desperate to tell someone about what had transpired between her and Paris, plus she had been anticipating seeing Beckett for a week. She didn't want him to believe she had just stood him up.

Madison: Beckett. I'm so sorry.

Beckett: I'm so glad you're safe.

He sighed with relief.

Madison: Sorry, I worried you. I um..I laid down for a while when I was getting ready. I had a headache.

Beckett: Hmm. Maybe you're coming down with something.

Madison: Yeah, maybe

Beckett: You sound pretty out of it. If I haven't scared you, maybe we can try this another day? I'm sorry about all the calls and messages.

Madison: No don't apologize. It's nice to know someone would be looking for me if I was missing.

Beckett: It makes me sad to know you think no one would look for you. On the other hand, it's a relief you don't think I'm a crazy person.

She could imagine the handsome smile on his face as vividly as if he were standing in the same room.

Beckett: You should get some rest. I'll cal-

Madison: Beckett wait! I'm not in the mood to go out anymore, but..you're already in town....maybe you could come over?

There's a short pause.

Beckett: To your home? Are you sure?

Madison: Yeah. I could use the company.

Beckett: Is everything okay?

Her voice cracked as she replied.

Madison: No..it's not.

Beckett: Send me the address.

She texted him her home address without a second thought.

Beckett: I'll be there soon.

Previous Next

Beginning

Sidebar: I wanted to explain the photo layout for this post. The first photo below the title picture is of Madison already reading her messages. The next two photos of her are meant to show 2 hours earlier showing her sleeping through Beckett's arrival and all of his messages. The fourth photo of Maddy is when Beckett's third phone call woke her up. So if you think back to the first photo it would technically be the photo after she woke up from the missed call if they were in chronological order. I didn't want anyone to think she was reading her messages and then went back to sleep randomly.

I'm so sorry I tried to get ALL complex with the order and timing and when it came together it made sense to me (I'm the writer of course it made sense to me. Duh!) but I wasn't sure it would make sense to anyone else.

I'm sorry if my explanation just added more confusion.

@rebouks Lazy Bones

@starrysimsie on the line & My Iphone

@simmireen shocked news

[kyannae]

ILIKEU，↷ nagi seishiro.

summary: reo invited you to hang out with him and nagi, and who were you to refuse? except, with a twist where he ditches you two. sucks to suck. (gn!reader)

category: FLUFF BROOOO

warnings: gn!reader, ooc characters(?), friend cancelling last minute :rolls eyes:, cursing, nothing else i think

a/n: here's one for my skrinkly little nincompoop 🤭 also a super late valentines special! i'm having sm fun writing these HAHA (yes this is the fic i mentioned in my previous post. this was the one sitting in my drafts for over a week.)

"m' so tired. hey y/n, is reo comin' or not?" nagi sighed, leaning on your shoulder. you frowned, before checking your phone for the nth time that day, while nagi continued playing video games on his. and that was when you saw reo's recent text, sent a minute ago.

'oops, sorry guys, my parents asked me to stay home today. just hang out with each other!'

an irk mark appeared on your forehead and you nudged nagi's shoulder, drawing his attention to the message shown on your screen. he sighed again, before turning his attention back to his game.

"what a pain..." he muttered, and you chuckled. "wanna go to an arcade, then?" you asked, before typing a furious response back to reo. nagi's head perked up at the mention of an arcade. "sure," he replied, and the both of you set off.

"WHAT THE FUCK?? HOW DO YOU DO THIS SHIT BRO." you yelled, trying your hardest to shoot at all the zombies appearing on your side of the screen. nagi seemed like he wasn't even trying at all- even helping to clear YOUR side too.

"your posture and positioning is wrong." nagi pointed out, before standing behind you, adjusting your posture carefully. you froze, muscles tensing up at his touch. when nagi was done, you returned to the game- finding it much easier.

"yeah! i cleared it! take that, dumb game." you cheered, quickly keying in your name so that you'll be shown on the leaderboard. definitely not the top 10 or 5, but you were still happy nonetheless.

nagi hummed, a small smile appearing on his face at the sight of your childlike happiness.

"heyy, hey! nagi! i'm going to go and top-up my arcade card." you waved your hand infront of the spaced out male, whom blinked before mumbling out an "okay."

he eventually got bored waiting, opting to play a nearby game while he waited.

he stuck out his tongue slightly in concentration, fingers skillfully maneuvering the controls. he sighed in relief upon completing the game, and stretched when he saw that he got first place- again.

he was about to key in his nickname so that his score could be saved on the leaderboard, but that was when you appeared.

"I'm back! oh, you got first again. tch." nagi looked up at you, and although cliché- you looked...like...woah. the glow of the neon arcade lights behind you, the jealous look on your face which you weren't doing a very good job at hiding- it was all so, so perfect in his eyes.

he nodded, turning back to the screen- unconsciously keying in what he wanted going to say as his nickname, ILIKEU.

"nagi? your nickname?" you pointed out, and the boy let out a 'hm?' focusing on the name he keyed in, he was shocked and undoubtedly dismayed when he realised that he already pressed enter.

there it was, big bolded font right on the screen as the number 1 on the leaderboard- ILIKEU.

"oh." he muttered, the tips of his ears turning a slight pink in colour, and you chuckled. "did you mean to say that out loud instead?" you teased, and nagi pouted, hiding his face in his hands.

"aww nagi, don't be like that." you laughed, before leaning down to his level.

"i like you too." you smiled, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "although, this nickname is actually pretty embarrassi-"

please, let him be embarrassed in peace.

© kyannae

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Seven

Javi gif by: @skyshipper Jack gif by: @javier-pena My Masterlist

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Six

Word count: 9.2k+

Chapter summary: It's time for Ángel's surgery and the transplant preparation. Following the procedure, Jack visits his son, providing some closure regarding your marriage.

A/N: This chapter concludes the final installment of the series and stands as my penultimate post on this blog. Next week, hopefully, I'll be sharing one more post—a Din piece—officially wrapping up this blog. I intend to maintain my writing for another two weeks before ultimately closing my account. Thank you to everyone who has supported me!

Rating: 18+ No explicit content, but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles. Also, Jack's texts are in bold.

CW: angst is back again, but a happy ending is guaranteed, some science, mentions of surgery, chemotherapy, and stem cell transplant, Jack cannot use an iPhone, Javi and Jack tension, jealousy, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease.

Your conversation with Jack three hours ago left you drained and exhausted, and now you're perched on the chair in the corner of your son's hospital room. You're engrossed in watching Ángel and Javi talk about an upcoming soccer game and the probability of their favorite team winning the match when your phone vibrates underneath your thigh. With a subtle shift, you reach for it and once it’s in your hand, you flip it over. Your phone is illuminated with a family picture of you with your husband and son in the background and there’s a message on your Notification Center. 

Jack Daniels: HI. TEXTING YOU FROM MY NEW PHONE.

Another vibration follows, prompting a second message.

Jack Daniels: WHY DID THE TEXT SEND IN UPPERCASE?

The sequence of messages from Jack continues, each notification accompanied by a vibration.

Jack Daniels: HOW DO I TURN THIS OFF?

Jack Daniels: HELP me. Wait, I figured it out. Sorry.

You haven’t clicked on the messages to take you to the chat. Instead, you hold and press, sending him a brief response:

Hi, Jack.

He doesn’t send anything back, and you turn off your phone. As soon as the screen is black, it lights up again.

Jack Daniels: I went to the store and picked up a new phone.

A second later, an image comes through.

You hover over the message once more, and it’s a front selfie Jack took. Well, it’s not quite a full-face selfie. It only captures just beneath his eyes, and his eyes and face are not looking directly at the camera, so you guess he was looking down trying to take a picture of something else.

You’re proven correct when a second picture comes through. This time it’s a box of an iPhone.

There’s a bubble on your text chain, and this time you fully click, opening the message thread with Jack.

Sorry, I don’t know how this phone works. I just didn’t want my phone to fail, and you didn’t have a way to contact me, so I got a new one. Did I miss anything?

You reply back with:

Ángel is already ready to go, we’re just waiting for a room to open up in the OR. Could take hours, though.

How did he take the news?

Very well, actually. Saying he’s excited to go home is an understatement. He sensed that we were worried about his surgery and he kind of gave us a lecture on how important it is to listen to doctors and gave us a small list of the benefits of chemo ports. When we asked him how he knew about the port, he said, and I quote, "some light reading."

Jack doesn’t take long to reply:

Smart boy. He definitely got that from you.

A smile graces your lips at his message, but you decide to shift the conversation:

We never talked about it, but do you want us to tell Ángel that you’re his donor?

Your nerves are on edge, and waiting for Jack’s response heightens your anxiety. Glancing up from your phone, you see Ángel still in deep conversation with Javi. Your phone vibrates again, and you look down at Jack’s response:

No. I don’t want him to want a relationship with me because of the donation. If he wants a relationship with me, I want it to be because he truly wants it, not because he feels any obligation.

You exhale, relieved, and reply:

Okay, we won’t tell him.

Thank you.

A text bubble appears:

How do I send the accent on his name?

Suppressing a laugh, your fingers glide over the keyboard:

Press the letter A for a good two seconds, and a whole lot of options should appear. Click on the third one.

It doesn’t take Jack very long to send a single:

Á

He follows with:

Be honest, does it sound a bit funny when I pronounce his name?

You weigh your options, lie or be honest. You decide to go with the latter:

A little bit.

I remember when you used to make fun of my accent…

Liar. I didn’t make fun of you.

I miss that...

Oh, God, not again.

You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.

You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.

“Hi, I’m Will. I’m with patient transport services, and I’m here to take Ángel down to the OR,” he says.

“Come in,” you invite.

Javi stands up and retrieves your thick to-go bag from underneath the sofa. It's filled with water bottles, a variety of snacks, sweaters, sweatpants, and a few changes of clothes—because, as Javi says, uno nunca sabe (one never knows).

Will walks over to Ángel and looks at his hospital bracelet. He takes out a phone with a bulky blue case and scans the ID barcode. Will asks to no one in particular, “Can you please confirm his full name and date of birth.”

Javi does that for you.

Will nods and types something onto the phone. After a moment, he looks at Ángel, “Hey, little man, how are you doing?”

Ángel smiles, “I’m good, sir. I'm just waiting to get my chemo port. After that, I can get chemo and then a transplant so I can go home.”

Will chuckles, “That's a great plan, buddy. We’ll get you down to the OR, and they’ll take good care of you so you can go home soon. Ready to go to the sixth floor?”

Ángel nods enthusiastically, his eyes filled with trust.

“Great,” Will says, glancing at you and Javi. “If you guys are ready, we can head downstairs.”

Javi, lifting the heavy bag over his shoulder, nods in agreement. He glances at Ángel, a mix of tenderness and concern in his eyes, and then turns to Will.

“He’ll be under anesthesia, right?” Javi asks, his voice a bit gruffer than usual.

Will offers a reassuring smile, “Yes, sir. That's what his chart says.”

Javi nods, visibly swallowing some of his worry. “Okay, let’s get him down there.” He moves to help his son get up from the bed. Will positions the wheelchair closer to Ángel's bed, and together, they carefully lower Ángel onto the wheelchair. You reach for one of the blankets—a gift from your father-in-law—and drape it over Ángel. Will takes the IV wire and secures it on the designated hook at the back of the wheelchair.

"Are we all set?" Will asks.

"Yes," you affirm, and then Will wheels Ángel toward the door. Javi, anticipating the need, beats them to the exit, opens the door, and holds it wide open to let them pass. Stepping into the corridor, Javi instinctively reaches for your hands, intertwining fingers not just for your comfort but for his own solace as well. Together, you trail behind your son as Will expertly steers Ángel's wheelchair through the hallway. 

Descending from the tenth floor via the patient elevators, you and Javi follow Will, who scans his badge to usher you through the double doors into the pre-op room. 

Guiding Ángel to the left side of the room, Will selects a quiet corner and draws back a side of the arctic blue diamond-print curtains, revealing an unoccupied bed. Positioning the wheelchair beside the bed, he assists Ángel in transitioning onto the soft mattress.

"Alright, good luck, buddy. You'll do great in there," Will encourages, raising a fist. Ángel meets it with his own, and as their fists connect, they both playfully mimic the sound of an explosion.

"Thanks, sir," Ángel replies, his voice carrying gratitude. Then, in a quiet and unsure tone, he adds, "I'll see you after?"

Will's smile is reassuring. "Absolutely. I'll be the one taking you back up."

With that, Will takes a step back, giving Ángel some space. He turns to you and your husband, saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña, Mrs. Peña. Someone should be with you shortly."

"Thanks for everything, Will," you say, watching as Will, with a warm smile, exits and closes the curtain, providing you with some privacy with your son.

With only one chair in the room, Javi insists you take a seat, not wanting you on your feet.

"¿Y tú? (what about you?)" you ask, concern etched in your voice and face. Maybe it's because you went so long without a partner prioritizing you, or because in the time your son has been in the hospital, Javier has really taken care of almost everything. Sometimes you can't help but feel guilty that he always puts your comfort above his own.

"Me paro (I’ll stand)," Javi shrugs his shoulders as if it's the most obvious choice in the world.

"Papi, you can sit here," Ángel offers, patting the mattress.

"Está bien (it's okay), mijo, I can stand for a while," he smiles, loving that his son is always considerate.

"Baja ese bolso (put down that bag), at least," you plead with him.

"I'm good, someone should be here soon," Javi reassures.

"Pero, Javi- (but, Javi-)" You're interrupted when you hear a woman asking if she can come in.

He smirks and whispers, "Ves (see)." Dropping his cocky look, Javi opens the curtain to let the woman in.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Gaddi. I'll be Angel's anesthesiologist. Can I please get a full name and a birthday?"

Your son happily responds to the doctor's requests while she verifies the information on the computer.

"Great, thank you, sweetheart. Mom or Dad, I'll need your signature on the consent forms. If one of you will please follow me," she says.

"I'll go," Javi says, and to your relief, he finally drops the bag from his shoulder.

"It's just straight this way," the anesthesiologist says, motioning past the curtain where the nurse station is in the middle of the big room.

Javier nods and follows the doctor. "Ya vengo mis amores (I’ll be back my loves)," he says with a big smile before closing the curtain.

Once on the other side of the curtain, where you and his son can't see him, he exhales a shaky breath. The fear is there, gnawing at him, although he doesn't want to show it. He wishes he could share it with you, as he normally would, but you're pregnant. The stress is already too much, and he doesn't want it to affect the baby. That thought terrifies him, and he can't risk it. Through the course of your marriage, he's come to understand that sometimes, marriage isn't a perfect fifty-fifty. There are moments when one partner has to carry more, and right now, he knows it's one of those moments. He must bear the fear and shoulder some of yours. While he wants to share these worries with you, a deep-seated commitment to putting family first holds him back. His protective nature takes precedence, always prioritizing his family.

Javier raises his head back up and quickly turns around to follow the doctor, who is waiting for him.

Once he catches up to her, she tells him the forms are for consent of treatment. The doctor reads the online document, informing Javi about the procedure, the benefits, and the risks it entails.

Dr. Gaddi must have seen the look on Javier's face after she listed the risks and the way he nearly crumbled when she said "or death" because she stopped and turned to him.

"But... everything will be okay, right? He’s in good hands?” Javi asks, his voice cracking as if he's on the verge of tears; even speaking those words makes his throat ache, causing a noticeable strain in his voice.

"Sir, I can't make any promises. Every surgery does come with risks, but my team and I have successfully done this procedure multiple times.” 

Javi tries his best to remind himself that everyone in the OR is experienced and has done this procedure before.

"Where do I sign?" he manages to ask, his voice slowly regaining its composure.

While Javi is with Ángel's anesthesiologist, a nurse, and another doctor come in to check on Ángel. He had only managed a short nap, so now, as he rests, you take out your phone and send a text to Jack. 

Hey. We're in the Pre-op area. There's a room in the OR now, and I've met his doctors. As soon as the anesthesiologist comes back, they'll take him.

Jack replies instantly as if he's been sitting by, waiting for his phone to ring:

Thank you for letting me know.

He sends a follow-up: 

His surgery is only supposed to take an hour, right?

That's what the doctors said. I'm sure he won't be in there for too long.

As Javi, Dr. Gaddi, and a nurse approach, you text Jack:

The anesthesiologist will be here soon. I'll send you any updates I get, and I'm going to send you Javi's contact info just in case.

After adding Javi's phone number and hitting send, your husband and the surgical team arrive.

Dr. Gaddi approaches, “Hi, Mom, everything is ready on our end to take the patient to the OR."

“Okay,” you say, rising to your feet. The staff gathers around the bed and begins to move it. Ángel stirs at the movement, calling for you and Javi before opening his eyes.

Javi quickly rushes to your side, closer to your son, and reassures him, "It's okay."

"Oh, am I going to surgery?" Ángel asks.

"Yes, you are, Angel," the nurse responds as he releases the brakes on the left side.

"Oh, okay, yay," Ángel smiles.

The nurse chuckles at his excitement, "You know, not many kids are excited for surgery."

"I'm excited because chemo ports look more comfortable than the IV. It gets in my way when I do, like, anything," Ángel explains with a huff.

"Well, I've heard from other patients that they prefer the port, so hopefully you will too," says Dr. Gaddi as she stands to the side, waiting to wheel Ángel out of the room.

She turns to you and your husband, saying, "You guys can follow us until that red line, and then you'll be taken to the waiting room."

You start feeling more anxious, and Javier senses it. He begins to rub your lower back, his warm hand moving up and down, offering comfort.

"Okay, ready," says the nurse.

With the curtain open, they go through first, and you and Javi are right next to your son’s bed.

You're so hyper-focused on your son that you don't realize you've made it right before the line that you can't cross.

"Love you, Mommy, love you, Daddy," Ángel says, reaching out for your hand.

You take his little hand in yours, and Javi covers both of your hands with his.

"Te amamos más, mi niño (we love you more)," Javi tells him in a soft voice. Everyone can hear the love pouring out of his words.

Ángel knows this and doesn't try to contradict his dad because he knows it would be in vain. Instead, he simply says, "Nos vemos en un ratito (We’ll see each other in a little bit)."

"Okay, mijo," you say, fighting back tears.

The doors open, and Ángel is wheeled in. You think the tears are coming, but when you hear the light sound of your son's laughter, you're able to compose yourself.

"Would you like to be taken to the waiting room now?" a non-surgical nurse asks.

Thirty minutes pass, and you and Javier are seated in the waiting room, the only occupants at the moment. Purple chairs surround you, and you're on a blue seat cushion against the wall, your attention fixed on the TV opposite. It's a modest 35-inch screen designed to keep you informed about the ongoing surgery. Your son's name is displayed in green, and the message changes from ‘Surgery in progress: Incision and Pocket Creation’ to ‘Surgery in progress: Port Implantation.’

"They're placing the port-disk-chamber thingy inside the incision they made on his chest," Javi says matter-of-factly, pointing at the text.

You turn your head toward him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "'Port-disk-chamber thingy'—is that what the doctor said, Jav?"

He bursts out laughing, placing his right hand over his chest, realizing he was mimicking the tone doctors use when imparting information: authoritative. "Casi me cago del miedo (I almost shitted myself from fear) when the doctor told me step by step what they would do, so I don't remember exactly what he said," he chuckles.

Javier's laugh is contagious, and you can't help but laugh too. Your laughter fuels his, and vice versa. The only thing that interrupts your laughter is when you feel the baby kick.

"Ay, me pateó (oh, he kicked me)," you exclaim happily.

Javi instantly stops laughing too and shifts his hand to rest on your bump. As soon as you feel the weight of his hand on your stomach, your son responds with another kick, right where Javi's palm is placed.

A boyish look crosses your husband's face. He always loves feeling the baby kick, reminiscent of the first time he felt his first son kick.

"¿Hola, mijo, ya te despertaste? (Hi, my boy, have you woken up yet?)" he hums softly.

In response, the baby kicks again.

"He loves your voice so much. I swear he only kicks so you could talk to him. A mi no me quiere, nomas le gusta que le cantes y le leas (He doesn’t love me, he just likes it when you sing and read to him),” you huff out in fake annoyance.

"That's not true. The second-born is always the momma's boy. So the baby loves you the most," Javi says.

"And the youngest loves daddy the most, so no," you refute.

"He won't be the youngest for long," he grins suggestively.

You gasp, “ya me embarazaste, sinverguenza! (You already impregnated me!)"

"But if it was scientifically possible..."

"Shut up," you playfully scold him.

With Javi's hand still over your stomach, your son kicks again, this time much lighter.

"He's upset you told me to shut up," his gaze shifts from looking at you to your stomach as if he could see the baby, and he lowers his voice, “¿verdad, mijo? Dile a tu mami que no sea mala conmigo (right, mijo? Tell your mom to stop being mean to me).”

He looks back up at you, "te acuerdas cuando Ángel hizo eso por primera vez? (Do you remember when Ángel did that for the first time?).”

“Jesus Christ, he scared me, and he made you cry,” you laugh, a smile on your face remembering.

"Oh shit! I forgot to update Jack," you realize and scramble to get your phone. As you start typing to let him know what's going on in the OR, you tell Javi, "By the way, I gave him your phone number."

Javier lets out an unenthusiastic and dry, "Yay."

“Mira (look),” he says while you’re still typing. You look up to where Javi is pointing, and the TV changes to Surgery in progress: Catheter Insertion.

You wince, "They're in his vein now."

"The catheter is the tube that delivers the medicine to his body, right?"

"Yeah," you mumble, typing the next update to Jack.

Javi reaches for one of your hands and rubs soothing circles, “Deja de pensar en eso. Él está bien con ellos (stop thinking about it. He’s safe with them).”

He removes his hand and turns his body to the to-go bag. Javi reaches for the zipper and undoes it. He digs in the back, and you see him pull something out. "Do you need a blanket?" he asks, with a large fuzzy blue blanket in his hand and his soft brown eyes looking at you tenderly. Before you can reply, he places it in your lap and goes back to the bag. Javi fights a little and finally tugs a pillow out of the bag, "a pillow?" he asks with the same puppy eyes.

“I- thank you," you accept both items. You put the pillow behind you so you won't rest your back against the hard and cold wall. You take the blue blanket from your lap and extend it to drape it over the both of you.

"¿Tienes hambre? (are you hungry?)" Javi asks adjusting the blanket.

"Sí" 

He goes back to the bag and pulls out some snacks: Goldfish, Chips Ahoy, granola bars, fruit snacks, dry plantain chips, and a pack of assorted nuts.

"Sorry, I don't have any actual food," he looks at what he's offered you and feels guilty at the limited options. Javi gets up quickly, "I can go get you real food. Are you craving anything?"

"Hey," you wrap your fingers around his wrist and grip somewhat tightly. You look up at him and push him to sit back down. "No. I don't want you to leave."

"Okay. I'll stay," he says softly, kissing where your hair and forehead meet.

A knock reverberates in the room, and a nurse comes in. "Hi," she says, closing the door to come closer to you. "Everything went well. There were no complications. They're ready to transfer Ángel to the Post-op room if you guys would like to follow me."

Both of you look relieved at the news, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"Thank you," you tell her, and Javi can't get any words out. His eyes are watering, and he tries his best to not let them fall.

He starts hurriedly putting away the snacks, just keeping the bag of nuts, while you fold the blanket back up into the neat roll Javi had it in. After the snacks, blanket, and pillow are in the bag again, Javi helps you get up. You send Jack a quick text informing him that everything went well, and you're on your way to see Ángel. Javi puts the bag over his shoulder, and you both follow the nurse to go see your son.

Next morning - Day 1 of Chemo:

Hey, Jack. Ángel is awake and doing well. He asked about having visitors and hoped you would come see him. We explained that it's not possible right now. He understood but wanted to call. Would you like to FaceTime?

That's great. What’s FaceTime?

It's a video call.

Yes. How do I do that?

Instead of texting him back, you initiate a FaceTime call and hand the phone off to Ángel when it starts to ring.

As soon as Jack accepts the call and his face takes over your screen, Ángel's little face lights up. "Mr. Jack!"

Jack's face mirrors Ángel's: a smile so wide, eyes so soft looking at his son.

"I just started chemotherapy," Ángel blurts out just before Jack greets him.

Jack's heart glows watching his son's face. "How are ya feeling?"

"Mmm... I feel okay. Oh! I got the surgery last night, and look at my chemo port." Your son takes one hand off your phone and pulls his hospital gown just enough to show Jack his port. "Look! You can see the bump of the port under my skin. Eww, it looks gross. It's so cool."

Jack laughs, and that makes Ángel move the phone back to his face.

"Does it hurt?" Jack asks.

"Nope. It was a little bit like... sore when I woke up, but it doesn’t hurt now. I had chemo in the morning, and it pinched for a second, but it's wayyy better than the IV."

"It's not a pain to use the restroom, huh?"

"It's easier and faster to go now," his brows pinch in the middle, "I almost peed myself once 'cus I had to wait for the wires to detangle from the bed." Ángel trails off, tilts his head to the side, and squints. "What do you have behind you? Is that a needle?"

Jack turns his head behind to see what his son saw. He had picked up the prescription he needed to be Ángel's donor from the pharmacy the previous night. Jack opened the box out of curiosity and took out a needle to look at, but then he got caught up texting you in the morning and forgot to put the small vial and needle back in the pharmacy bag.

"Umm... yeah?" Jack says uncertainly, not knowing how to explain it to his son. He doesn't want him to know that he's his donor, at least not yet. "That is some medicine I have to take in two days," Jack says, trying to keep it vague.

When the words come out of Jack's mouth, Ángel's eyes show pure concern, "Oh, are you sick?"

"No, buddy," Jack blurts out immediately, "I'm not sick. I'm just takin' them for... to... Just takin' them to stay healthy. They're like vitamins."

"Maybe I should take some so I could be healthy. What's the name of the medicine?"

Jack's heart drops at his son's words. His mind starts spinning, but he takes a deep breath. He'll be healthy soon, he tries to remind himself. "You can't take this one, buddy. It's for adults."

"Oh," he sounds disappointed, but his voice goes back to normal, "Well, that's okay. I can't take vitamins on chemo either way. I think. Vitamins can affect chemo because of cancer cells, but I don't have any so I don't know. I can ask later. How are the horses?"

Donation Day - Day 7 of Chemo:

Jack sat comfortably in a green chair, his right hand extended over a pillow, squeezing a small blue ball as his blood cycled through the machine. Two hours had passed since he settled into the chair. He arrived at the hospital early in the morning with the last dose of his five-day filgrastim prescription, and for the first time, someone other than him administered the injection. Throughout the morning, he had been texting you, checking in on his son, and, though he wouldn't admit it, checking in on you.  Of course, he cared about his son and wanted to know every detail of what he was going through, but this had been the only line of communication he had with you for years, and he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while you were willing to entertain his conversations. From you, he learned that Ángel's last day of chemo had gone smoothly.

Jack's head spun when he heard a knock against the door. His heart thumped wildly in his chest at the thought of seeing you. When the door opened, a wave of disappointment washed over him. It wasn't you who set foot in the room; it was fucking Javier.

Jack instantly tenses and clears his throat as Javier walks over to him.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Javi crosses his hands over his thick biceps, "How's the donation coming along?"

"It's goin' well. They think in 30 minutes we'll have enough for Ángel," Jack fills Javi in.

"H-how are umm... how are you feeling?" Javi gets the words out, although with much effort. He sounds physically pained asking a simple question to Jack.

"You sound very concerned for my well-being," Jack quips sarcastically.

Not really, Javi wants to say. Instead, he tells Jack, "I’m trying really hard to not hate you.”

It doesn't faze Jack one bit. "Same."

"So just don't do anything to piss me off. More like don't do anything else to piss me off even more," Javi lowers his voice more, "She's my wife; she tells me things. Don't you ever dare call her ‘baby’ again. You're lucky she's not that uncomfortable with ‘sugar’, but if she ever shows one ounce of discomfort, you will stop."

"She never minded all those names before," Jack challenges, glaring at Javi."

Javi smirks, wearing a shit-eating grin as he nonchalantly shrugs. "Yeah, she never did lots of things before me."

Jack is furious. All he sees is red, and just as he begins to rise from his chair to get up, the nurse walks in.

"Oh! A visitor," she exclaims.

"Hello," Javi greets the redheaded nurse in blue scrubs with ducks all over them.

Seeing the nurse enter, Jack comes to his senses and sits back down. Subconsciously, he squeezes the ball so tight in his hands that his knuckles turn white.

"Mr. Daniels, are you okay?" the nurse questions with concern. All she sees is her patient gripping the ball so tightly that his nails are about to rupture through the material. She moves to him and checks his arm to see if there are any signs the needle is causing pain.

Jack's glare tears from Javi and shifts to the nurse. "I'm okay, thank you for checkin’ in on me," he tells her and moves his hand to signal for the nurse to release his arm. "Nothin’ hurts," he smiles up at her.

The nurse understands and checks the progress of the donation. While looking at the machine, she decides to make small talk with her patient and his visitor. "Are you Mr. Daniels' brother?" She turns to ask Javi innocently.

"No," Jack's words drip with disgust.

Javi smiles at how fast Jack denies the nurse's initial thought and says "Not related," under his breath, mumbling, "Thank God."

The nurse doesn't seem to pick up on their animosity and comments, "You two look alike, what a coincidence. Best friends then?"

"No, nothing like that. My wife and I know him, and he's giving our son a gift," Javi says 'our' while looking at Jack.

Suddenly, Ángel crosses their minds, and they both feel some shame for their earlier behavior. They know they can't go on still hating each other because it'll eventually turn into a fight. They just don't know how to set aside their differences.

"I'll call the doctor to get her thoughts, but it looks like we have what we need for the donation," the nurse says, taking note of the blood volume. "In a few hours, one lucky little boy will receive the cells, and he’ll be one step closer to being healthy."

After Jack was hooked up to the machine for two and a half hours, the staff deemed the collection enough and sent the blood bag to the lab to confirm that Jack’s procedure had collected enough stem cells. Four hours later, it was confirmed that there were the desired amount of stem cells, and the team took the cells to Ángel’s room. Due to your son being immunocompromised, he isn't allowed to have visitors other than legal guardians. So, you and Javi update Jack on the transplant.

Day 11 post-transplant:

Remember how I told you he started grafting on the tenth day?

Yes! How his body was accepting the stem cells, and the cells were growing and making new cells.

Mhm. Well, if everything keeps going at the speed it’s been going, Ángel gets to go home in four days!!

Oh, wow! It’s just day 11 after the transplant, and the doctors estimated it wouldn't happen until closer to day 25! Can I go see him then? I know I was cleared to go five days ago, but because I wasn’t feeling well, I didn’t go. My fever’s still here, but I’ll continue to monitor myself.

Sure! You need to be cleared of a fever for 24 hours and have absolutely NO symptoms.

You have my word, sugar.

Day 14 post-transplant:

You're packing all of Ángel's belongings to take home. It's been 14 days since your son's transplant, and he's cleared to go home. You don't know who's happier— you, your husband, or your son. But that doesn't really matter; all that matters is that your family is together. Just as you're collecting your son's toys and getting them ready to shove into the white personal belongings bag, someone knocks on the door. Javi stops placing Ángel's books into a box and hurriedly opens the door. He was expecting the doctor to come in with discharge papers, but it was Jack waiting on the other side.

"Oh, right, you said you'd stop by," Javi remembered.

When you saw Jack standing there not quite stepping inside the room with a red gift bag, you gasped. "Sorry, we forgot you were going to stop by." You turned your neck and saw Ángel reading the book Jack had gifted him, One Hundred Fun Facts About Horses.

"Come in," you usher Jack in. "Mijo," you call, and Ángel looks up from the book he's got his nose buried in.

"Mr. Jack!" Ángel's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He pats a spot in his bed as he tells Jack to sit down next to him. "I want to show you something," Ángel puts the book aside and lowers his shirt to show Jack that the port is gone. "They took my port out!"

Jack almost reaches out and touches his son's scar but settles for examining it with his eyes. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. I'm just excited to go to my house. Did my mom tell you I'm leaving the hospital today?"

"Yeah," Jack chuckles, "she mentioned it. And here I brought you this," he lifts the gift bag onto the bed.

Ángel tears it open and begins to pull the items out. The first gift he reaches is a book, Her Right Foot. "Oh, my God!"

You see the title and direct your question to Jack, "He's wanted that book for a while, how did you know?"

"Really?" Jack's smiling ear to ear. "I just went to the bookstore and thought he'd like that one." His heart feels like it could rip right through his chest because he feels like he knows his son. Jack had browsed many children's books and read the synopsis of every last book. The one he had purchased was the one he felt his son would love, the book his son is currently holding, and Jack was right.

The little boy takes out the next item, which is a box. "A Lego set!" Ángel flips the black box to the front, and he sees that this particular set is one of horses. The horse in the center looked similar to Andor, one of Jack's horses his son loved the most. "Is this an Andalusian?" Ángel looks to Jack, his eyes sparkling."

Jack nods his head, "It is, buddy. It's like a mini Andor."

Ángel seems pleased with Jack's answer and moves on to the last gift. It was another box, but this one was a shoebox. The little boy lifted the top off, and he was met with boots—dark brown leather boots with beautiful and intricate stitching all throughout.

“Is that a longhorn?” Ángel points at the center of the boots. He doesn’t wait for an answer before speaking again, “My grandpa has longhorns on his ranch. Do you have them on your ranch, Mr. Daniels?”

"I don’t have any longhorns, but umm... I have the same boots," Jack looks down at the floor like he’s suddenly interested in the simple pattern of the hospital floor. He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but when his son's sweet voice reached his ears, Jack looked up.

"You do?" Ángel was beaming, a smile brighter than the sun. He leaps to move sideways so his legs would hang from the bed. He took his left boot and put it on his baby blue non-slip sock-clothed feet and did the same for the right boot. When both boots are on, he pinches the tip to feel where his toes are. Ángel drops to the floor and begins to walk, showing all three of you his new footwear. 

"How did you get his shoe size?" You're amazed at how they seem to fit perfectly.

"I asked him," Jack nods his head towards your husband, who is smiling broadly, showing his perfect teeth. Javi squats down to Ángel's level and presses his fingers on his son's boot toe box to feel if they're pinching Ángel's feet. "Perfect fit," Javi smiles up at his son, dimple on display, still on the floor.

Once Javi's hands are removed from Ángel's boots, he runs to Jack, "Thank you so much, Mr. Jack," he says, jumping up and down. Ángel runs back to Javi, who is now standing up straight, "¡Papi, quiero una foto! (Daddy, I want a picture!)" Javi complies and takes out his phone from his back pocket.

You turn to Jack, and your voice falls to a whisper, "We're hosting a dinner in a few nights to celebrate Ángel coming home, and we'd love it if you'd join us."

Jack's head reels at the prospect of seeing you and Ángel in a few days, but beneath that excitement, there is fear, "Is your family going to be there?" he asks.

"Yes, and Javi's too."

"It's your family I'm worried about," he confesses, looking into your eyes.

You take in the way his face pales slightly, his eyes widen, and his eyebrows shoot near his hairline. "No. You're more than worried; you look genuinely scared, but you'll be fine."

"'Course I'll be there, Sugar," he says, looking at his son laughing while Javi takes his pictures. If Ángel was a happy and giddy boy before the transplant, Jack now sees how his innocence is amplified now that he's healthy, and Jack can't wait to see more of his son's childhood joy outside the hospital.

"Hey, can I talk with you alone before you leave?" Jack asks you, hoping you'll agree.

"Um, yeah, we can go outside," you agree, noting his urgent tone.

"Javi, Ángel, I'll be back soon. I'm just going to walk Jack out," you say, moving to the door with Jack on your heels.

"Okay, we'll keep packing, amor," Javi tells you, brushing his hand with yours. You lean into your husband for a while until Ángel and Jack say their goodbyes, promising they'll see each other at the dinner.

You and Jack exit the room, and you take him to a little corner further down the hall.

"What did you want to discuss?" you ask resting your back on the wall with brown and cream diamond wallpaper.

Jack's nervous to tell you what he wants: a father-and-son relationship with Ángel. You two never went into detail on how you would tell Ángel the truth about Jack and he's terrified of asking you for something this big so soon after a big weight of stress has been lifted off you. 

"Jack?" 

"Sorry," he clears his throat, "I wanted to talk to you about telling Ángel that I'm his dad- biological."

"Oh," you sound surprised. "Yeah. We didn't really discuss that, did we? I haven't thought about it in so long, I'm sorry. Maybe we can get some pointers from Ángels counselor?" You suggest. "Javi and I thought about making an appointment with a child therapist because of this entire hospital stay. We were hoping to get your opinion on that actually."

It's Jack's turn to be surprised. "I think that's wonderful, Sugar. Thank you for including me in the decision." 

"Of course. I think it would be great if we could get the counselor's opinion on how to best handle the situation. And we too can figure out how this new dynamic would work. For example, medical decisions moving forward. We'll tell Ángel about you and I have no doubt he'll want to have the relationship you want to have with him. We can talk more about the appointment in a few days. We haven't set an exact date for the dinner but it will probably be this upcoming Sunday." 

"I'll clear out my entire schedule," Jack says sincerely 

"We'll have food for you that won't send you into a choking fit," you tease. 

Jack covers his eyes with his hands, "God, 'M so sorry." 

You laugh at his embarrassment, "No, it's okay. I understand the food we serve can take some getting used to."  You continue to tell him about the plans for the dinner that is slowly turning into a party and he just stares at you while you keep talking he gets lost in the moment. He thinks about your laugh and the consideration you still have for him and suddenly Jack blurts out, “I love you."

The smile you had vanishes.

“Jack,” you warn dangerously. “We were doing so good, Jack.” You don't want to—can't see him now, so you close your eyes. The words only needed to be said once for them to threaten tears to spill. "How dare you say those words to me now?” You hiss, your tone now angry but more than anything, filled with frustration and pain. You thought you could handle seeing him, so you open your eyes. "What do you expect me to do with that? I won’t leave Javi if that’s what you’re hoping for.

"S-" Jack opens his mouth, but you cut him off immediately. "No, Jack, let me speak."

"Once, those three words would have made me the happiest person in the world, but now? They’re only causing pain,” you pause, exhaling a shaky breath. “You humiliated me, Jack. Time and time again. Even if I didn’t have Javi, I wouldn’t go back to you.” You sound defeated, your voice carrying the pain of past wounds, and it crushes you to keep thinking about the past.

“I did love you, through everything,” Jack whispers, his eyes searching yours. They are watery and dazed.

“I think…” you run your tongue over your lips and then purse them, “I think you loved me in your own way. But that’s not how I wanted to be loved. During our engagement, and more so during our marriage, I never really felt loved by you. Can you blame me for that if I can count with my fingers the amount of 'I love yous' you gave me?” Your words are like shards of glass, cutting through the air with the sharpness of your pain.

“When you did show me your love, I was so happy, Jack. So happy that I thought, hoped, you would give me more love, so I stayed with you. I longed for the morning you woke up and things would be different, better. Because that’s exactly what happened. You woke up after the night of our engagement, and you were a completely different person, and I couldn't comprehend what I did wrong. I was willing to stay with you forever for the odd chance one day you would feel for me how I felt for you.”

“And I stayed because I always hoped you would go back to your old self. Sometimes there were indications that you were going to become the old Jack. Well, I don’t know if I fooled myself, but sometimes I thought you were happy. Like right before I told you I was pregnant, you had this smile on your face….” Your voice trembles with the weight of those memories.

“Other times I genuinely thought you hated me, and then I thought that’s not possible. ‘Why would he ask me to marry him if he couldn’t stand me?’” 

“Did you always think that?” He sounds sad, a quiet plea for understanding. But your heart, scarred by the past, struggles to find solace in his remorseful gaze.

“Yeah. When… when we were together, it was rare you would look at me in my face. The majority of times you had me face down. How do you think that made me feel? You made me feel used and disposable.” 

“I wanted to be loved by you," you continue, your tone a mix of vulnerability and strength, "and you always made me feel like I was the other woman. Then I decided I should stop trying and let you go.” 

“What changed?” Jack's question hangs in the air. Everything you’ve revealed up to this point has felt like glass shards embedded in his heart. He knows you still have a lot left to say, and it will continue to hurt him, but he owes it to you to hear everything you went through.

“I was at a park one day after you didn’t come home," you recall, emotion tinging your words. "I came across this older man, and he showed me pictures of his family. When he talked about his wife…” you pause, emotion catching up with you. “It was beautiful. And I realized that would never be you. You wouldn’t talk about me that way. Since that day, I took off my rose-colored lenses and thought everything through."

"I thought about your behavior but also about mine. I hated who I was because it sounds ridiculous, but I was jealous of someone who wasn't here anymore. And I swear I never wanted to replace her or erase her from your life, I just wanted you to love me too. I loved you so much; I would've settled for half the love you had for Allison, but you couldn't even give me that. I never told you you couldn't love or mourn Allison. She was your wife, I get that... but I was your wife too, and knowing you would never love me like you did her was slowly killing me.” 

"I thought about one night, which I don't know if you remember," you confess, the vulnerability in your voice palpable. "But one night on her birthday, you got extremely drunk, and you kept slurring your words. I couldn't understand half of what you were saying, but I heard loud and clear when you yelled at me that you didn’t choose to stop loving her; you were forced to. And you said that you would’ve never looked at me otherwise. That you wish she came back and I disappeared… That we s- switched places,” you confess, exposing the scars engraved into your heart, and the pain of that night that is still etched in your memory—a wound that refused to fully heal. You were surprised that you weren't sobbing, because the night he told you those words, you felt your world had ended.

Jack was appalled, his face reflecting the shock and guilt that surged through him as he listened to your words. The heaviness of the past, the pain inflicted, all rushed back to him as a floodgate of memories suddenly opened, each carrying the weight of its own hurt.

"I always felt I was the third person in our marriage. You made me feel things I hated, and maybe even worse, I became someone I didn't recognize. After that day in the park, I was going to ask you for a divorce because I didn't want to be the person you settled for… then I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to give us one last try, and well, you remember what happened after I told you the news,” you say, the bitterness of the past lingering in your words.

"You kept hurting me, and you're smart, Jack. Did you not think I would leave you?" 

Jack exhales, the reminder of his own mistakes heavy on him. "I think I couldn’t let ya go, so a part of me hoped you would leave me if I treated you horribly. Every day I fought with myself to treat you like you deserve, but I wasn’t strong enough to open up to you."

The silence lingers, and Jack takes the opportunity to share a piece of his truth. "The night after I proposed, I had a dream about Allison. She told me I was replacing her, and I dunno, instead of working out through my issues, I took it out on ya.”

“Over a dream? You... you let our relationship go to waste because of a dream,” you say, a mix of disbelief and frustration in your voice. You want to be angry at him because such a trivial thing ruined the chance of happiness, but then you put yourself in his shoes. "Oh, Jack," you add, this time with a tone of understanding and sadness. 

“Have you been to therapy?” you ask him, your tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah…” Jack admits with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“Can I be honest?” you tilt your head, your fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.

He nods.

“I don’t think it helped.”

Jack smiles, a sheepish expression on his face, “If we’re being honest, I went in for two sessions and never saw my shrink again.”

“Well, your therapist probably knew what they were doing,” you playfully scold, but then your voice softens, "Please see a therapist so Ángel can get to know the best version of you. When I knew that Jack, he was amazing, and that's the man I want my son to know."

A sad smile greets Jack's face, "Yes, Sugar."

There's another thing you've always been curious to know but never had the stomach to ask, and this seems to be your window. "Can I ask, did you, um, did you ever sleep with someone else while we were married?"

"God no," the words tumble out of his mouth.

"Well, that's something, I guess," you say, a sense of relief evident in your voice.

"I'm really sorry about everything, sweetheart. I can't believe I ever hurt you. I just miss you so much. I’ve never regretted anything in my life as much as I do not telling you I loved you when we had a chance," Jack confesses, the weight of regret heavy in his words.

"It’s okay, Jack. I’m not your wife anymore, but we had some good times. Sometimes love doesn’t work out how we thought,” you tell Jack, your gaze turning when you hear footsteps that are familiar to you. 

And Jack would forever kick himself for driving you away and not accepting your love. The only piece of solace is that Ángel will have a happy and full life, and you finally got the love you deserved and dreamed of.

Javi starts calling your name, and you answer him so he can walk over to where you are. Once Javi comes into view, he tells you that Ángel’s been discharged and that they're ready to go home.

Jack looks at you once more, his gaze lingering, as if trying to capture every detail to hold onto. He sees the love in your eyes for your husband, a love he once had the chance to cherish but let slip away. It hurts, but at the mention of his son, it gives him the slightest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he has learned from his mistakes, and he'll find a way to be a part of your lives, even if it's not in the way he once dreamed. The love of his life and his son are happy and healthy, and that will have to be enough for him.

"Bye, Jack. I'll let you know what time we're having the dinner," you say, while Javi wraps his arms around you—a protective gesture that Jack once held the privilege of doing, but did so sparingly.

"Take care," Javi tells Jack over his shoulder, his voice firm but not unkind. He then leads you to Ángel's room, leaving Jack standing alone in the corridor, grappling with the ache of what could have been.

You both start heading down the hallway, and Javi pauses halfway. His eyes search yours, concern written all over his features. 

"Are you okay?"

"I am now," you lean into him and smile. "Jack and I were talking about when we were married," you begin, and Javi tenses involuntarily.

"Hey, no, you don’t have anything to worry about," you reassure him, cupping his face with both of your hands. "Our talk was more about what went wrong, and the bottom line was that I‘m okay with the fact that he wasn’t the one for me."

Javi takes a deep breath, visibly trying to control the surge of emotions within him. "It’s just- me cae mal ese - (I don’t like that-)” You can't help but chuckle lightly at your husband's choice of words.

"As stupid as it sounds, I wanted to make it work when we were married. I saw it in his eyes, I felt it in his words and actions; he didn’t love me, and I couldn’t stay in a marriage like that. I wanted a life with him... It didn't work out, and it's okay. Everything I dreamed of having, I found it with you. I'm the happiest I've ever been at your side. You’re the love of my life and I love being your wife, don't ever doubt that, okay?" Since the beginning of your relationship, you always repeated your love to Javier, not because he was insecure, but because you knew how it felt to be second place, second best, a consolation prize, and you never wanted Javier to think that you settled for him after Jack.

"Say it again," Javi requests, a genuine smile softening his features as he looks down at you.

"What?" 

“That you’re my wife," Jack wants you to repeat the words that make his heart flutter.

“I’m your wife," you say.

Javi, still reveling in the warmth of the words, spins his finger in a playful circle, silently requesting you to say the words again.

“I’m your wife," you repeat, the pride evident in your tone. You take Javi's hand and begin walking to your son’s room.

"Again," Javi insists, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m your wife.” 

“Otra vez," he requests, this time in Spanish.

You comply, “Soy tu esposa," you tell him and drag him further down the hall to your son's room.

When Javi playfully asks you to say it once more, this time it's you who stops. “Por dios, Javi, ¿en cuántos lenguajes quieres que te lo diga? (My God, Javi, how many languages do you want me to say it in?)” you feign annoyance.

He shrugs, answering with a mischievous grin, “En todos (in all of them).”

Amused, you grab him by the collar of his blue button-down shirt and bring him to a level where you can whisper into his ear, “Ay, Jav, apenas y hablas español (Oh, Jav, you barely speak Spanish).” You kiss his cheek and pull back, leaving him slightly offended but oddly proud. He had hoped for a different outcome when he saw you pull him down; the glint in your eyes made him believe you were going to kiss him on the lips. But, to his dismay, you chose to tease him instead.

"Take it back!" he demands as you stand right outside the door.

“Si lo dices en español (if you say it in Spanish),” you tease with a grin. Javier contemplates for a moment, and in the brief silence, Ángel's laughter and Dr. Navarro's voice echo from inside the room.

"Please?" Javi implores, wanting to savor one more of those heart-skipping phrases before joining his son. Unable to resist his pleading eyes any longer and mindful of the precious moments with Ángel, you relent.

“I’m your wife.”

END

Extended Note: The end! Thank you, everyone, for your kindness throughout the series. I truly appreciate every interaction 🥹.

As for my departure, I'm unsure whether I should deactivate my account or just private my writing. There's one post I received only positive comments on, especially from people with SPD who found it relatable. Apparently, there's a shortage of such stories, so I'm conflicted. Hopefully, I'll have a definitive decision next week.

I'm planning to post the Din story next Thursday; it's just one part, a sex pollen with Virgin!Din, titled 'Paleta.' I'm a fan of El Alfa, and I recently discovered that a song in his new album was sampled from the one I used for the Din story. It got me thinking about what I had written, and I wanted to share it with y’all before I bow out.

Thank you for reading 🫶🏽!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr @pedrostories

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 49

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

"Hey Garth," Sam answered his phone, rousing you from your sleep. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, wrapping your hands around Dean. And groggily greeted him "hey."

Dean, smiling at you through the rearview mirror, squeezed one of your arms. "Hey, you sleep okay?"

"Mhmmm," you hummed in response, turning your attention to Sam, who had just hung up. "What's up with Garth?"

"It's close, Farmington Hills, Michigan. Dude got ripped limb from limb inside his locked apartment," Sam confirmed.

"Well, that's not good," Dean remarked.

As the three of you approached the sheriff, Sam introduced the group. "FBI? You guys are quick. Haven't even got the body out yet," the sheriff replied.

"Well, the FBI is all work and no play," Dean glared at Sam.

"Alright Jack, calm down," you elbowed Dean. "You know, why don't you give my partners the tour while I look around?"

"You sure you don't need help?" Dean called from behind you.

"I work better on my own," you shouted back.

In the kitchen, you pulled out your EMF reader, finding nothing. Soon, you rejoined the guys.

"Fortunately, we got a real lead off his cell phone," the sheriff said. "An accountant, also in his 30s, also lives alone."

"How is he a lead?" Sam looked confused.

"The two of them talked together for 15 minutes, and then Lance sent Ed here all kinds of angry texts. Some of them were your typical threat stuff, but some were a little weird."

"Weird how?" you asked.

"You shall bleed for your crimes against us," the sheriff quoted. "And, this beauty I am a mage. I will destroy you. These kids today with their texting and murder. My men just brought Lance into the station for questioning."

"Well, we're gonna need to take the first crack at the suspect," Dean confirmed.

"It's your world," the sheriff replied.

"Lance Jacobsen? We're with the FBI," Dean stated as the three of you entered the interview room.

"The FBI? I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe Ed's dead," Lance broke down.

"Lance, just breathe. You're fine," you comforted him. "We just need to ask you a few questions. Try to calm down."

"We want to know about the texts you sent Ed last night," Dean questioned.

"I told them when they brought me in those texts weren't from me. I mean, they were from me, but they weren't from me me," Lance sobbed.

"Did you really think that sentence was gonna clear things up?" Dean asked, perplexed.

"I'm sorry. This is all a big misunderstanding. Those text messages were from Greyfox the Mystic to Thargrim the Difficult. Our characters in Moondoor. Moondoor is a game that Ed and I play."

"You're Larpers?" you asked excitedly.

"Yeah, we play Moondoor every other weekend at Heritage Park. All the info about it is on our website," Lance smiled slightly at you.

"You guys have a website?" Dean asked, looking at you.

"Yeah, one of the players designed it. If you log onto the site, they should have posted pictures from last night's feast. I was there all night," Lance confirmed.

"What does any of this have to do with the texts?" Sam asked, growing impatient.

"I play a character named Greyfox the Mystic. I'm a very, very powerful mage in the game. Ed was Thargrim the Difficult of the Elder Forest, son of Hargrim and Bouphin, he was Lancelot to my Merlin," Lance explained, breaking down again.

"Well, if you guys were so tight, then why the threatening messages?" Dean inquired, nodding his head in confusion, when he saw the smile on your face.

"We were named to the queen's honor guard, in anticipation of the coming Battle of Kingdoms this weekend. I thought he broke protocol, so I called Ed after game hours and accused him of cheating, and then I challenged him to a duel."

"A duel?" Sam said, not believing what he was hearing.

"Wands and swords at dawn," Lance nodded.

"Now, when you say wands, do you mean magic wands?" Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

"No. Un-magic wands, Agent. Because what I want in a duel is an un-magic wand. Yes, fake wands. It's a game. I can't believe it. Oh, ye Gods, Thargrim the Difficult has fallen," Lance began sobbing.

"Hang in there, Lance," you patted his shoulder. "We will find out who did this."

The three of you left the interview room.

"So? Do you believe in Dungeons & Dragons?" Sam scoffed.

"Those weren't crocodile tears, Sam. That's not our guy," you said confidently.

"So what are we looking at?" Sam asked.

"You saw the chain mail. This could be Fifty Shades of Greyfox for all we know," Dean smirked, winking at you.

And you blushed, smiling at him. "That's a LARPing experience I wouldn't mind trying."

"Dear god," Sam groaned.

"All right, well, let's check out the Moondoor site, and see if Lance's story checks out," you smiled.

"Welcome to Moondoor, Michigan's largest LARPing game," you grinned, leaning back in the chair.

"You sound like you know all about this," Sam accused.

"Well, Sammy, I do," you said proudly.

"We definitely need to get out more," Dean groaned, causing you to slap him on the shoulder. "And how do you know all about this?"

Before you could answer, Sam had clicked on the Picture Gallery where Lance appears dressed in costume and holding a tankard.

"There' s our guy," Sam confirmed.

"It actually looks kind of awesome," Dean grinned.

"It really is," you laughed.

"All right, there's a video," Sam rolled his eyes at you both.

Sam clicked on the video, but called out in shock when he saw the woman on the screen. "Wait, is that?"

"Queen of the moor, Charlie," you announced proudly, cutting him off.

"Wait, you knew about this? She said not to talk to her?" Dean sounded hurt.

"Yes, we came across each other in World of Warcraft. I told you I was playing with her," you tried to explain.

"Wait, so Charles the Warlock is Charlie, Charlie?" Dean finally caught on.

"Yes," you laughed.

You watched in sadness as the coroner wheeled Lance's body away.

"You're gonna want to see this," the sheriff pointed, indicating for you to follow him.

You all watched in disbelief as Lance coughed up blood and died in the interview room.

"God forbid he was contagious. I'm gonna go dip myself in hand sanitizer," the sheriff looked disgusted, making you angry. Dean pulled you into him.

"He isn't worth it," he soothed.

“There. See that?” Sam rewound the video, pointing at Lance's tattoo " Same as Ed’s, You recognize it from anything?

“Aside from the mark of the creepy here, the only thing these guys have in common is LARPing.” Dean shook his head defeated.

“Lucky for us, we know the queen.” you sadly smiled.

@deansgirl79 @suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @dragony937 @linzerrr @deans-spinster-witch @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @my-obsession-spn @mikaylalala13 @jackles010378 @spnbaby-67

[gay-otlc]

(no sure if my previous message got sent so i’ll just retype a shorter version here)

Hey, I saw that you hid/deleted my comments and blocked me, so I want to apologise if my arguments came as too harsh or agressive. I did not mean to hurt you and I mean you no harm. I was just really upset that agreeing with an anti sexist rhetoric caused me to be called transphobic when this is something I am completely against. Not sure you read every replies I wrote because I was also discussing with other folks in the section but I was saying that even if Terfs may use that rhetoric against trans people, we shouldn’t give it to them and allow them to reclaim it.

Your argument can be turned around by saying that on the other hand, both trans men and trans women can be victims of misogyny based on how they are perceived and can suffer from sexist violence. The bear thing is purposely exaggerated and extreme because its point is to catch attention and to be shocking. Of course it can lead to deeper conversations and reflections later on, but the priority is to point out sexism and violence against women. At the moment, men are the oppressor, since our society is patriarchal, and women are oppressed. Asking women to stop hating or fearing their oppressor will do nothing to help them stop being oppressed. I understand your sentiments and it’s great that you are fighting for trans people to not end up with that rhetoric used against them. But this was not the idea behind the original topic. Of course we can open up a discussion about this but it shouldn’t be overstepping on women’s attempts to denounce what they go through. Terfs are terrible people and will hide behind feminist arguments but we can’t let them reclaim all of these arguments and let them turn them into transphobic ideas because we would be giving them what they want by letting them become some spokesperson for feminism. Most women who agreed with the bear thing were not carrying any ill sentiment against trans people. Because that wasn’t what the topic was about. But I appreciate that you added another post and explained yourself more, and I am sorry that the discussion became a heated argument and that I got a bit too emotional.

I wish you well and hope you have a nice day.

I don't think I got your previous message (Unless you were this person? But you're a lot politer than them so I'm going to guess not)

I was also very upset at the time, which was definitely hindering my ability to have a productive conversation with you. I apologize for that.

To be clear, again, I don't think saying "bear" makes you as an individual transphobic- just that the sort of rhetoric present in the "man vs bear" discussion is very similar to the rhetoric that gets used against trans people.

I fully agree with the idea that too many women, and too many people in general, have been victims of violence from men. That it's horrible for so many people to have been traumatized in such a way that they don't feel safe around men. My problem is that this conversation frames men* as the worst possible threat. Not everyone who says "bear" feels this way, but a majority of them do

*or really, people who are presumed to be men based on appearance, because no one is going around asking strangers "excuse me, what's your gender identity?" before they decide whether or not they feel safe

even if Terfs may use that rhetoric against trans people, we shouldn’t give it to them and allow them to reclaim it

The thing is, this perception of men (or "men") as the ultimate threat isn't something we are "giving to" TERFs- it is already a foundational part of their beliefs. You can read further about some common TERF talking points here.

Your argument can be turned around by saying that on the other hand, both trans men and trans women can be victims of misogyny based on how they are perceived and can suffer from sexist violence

Yes! Absolutely! Both trans men and trans women, as well as other sorts of trans people, very much do suffer from sexist violence, and this might cause them to feel unsafe around (people they perceive to be) men just like many cis women do.

That doesn't contradict my point that trans people also suffer from anti-man rhetoric.

Of course it can lead to deeper conversations and reflections later on, but the priority is to point out sexism and violence against women.

Pointing out sexism and violence against women is absolutely an important thing! I do think it can be done without treating men/people perceived as men as inherently dangerous though.

Asking women to stop hating or fearing their oppressor will do nothing to help them stop being oppressed.

Obviously we shouldn't stop fighting misogyny because everything will be solved if women just stop hating men, or anything. But I do still want women to stop hating men. "Misandry, as I see it, can never reliably be prevented from collapsing into transphobia." (Not "misandry" as in a form of systemic oppression equivalent to misogyny, but as in the literal "hatred of men.")

Most women who agreed with the bear thing were not carrying any ill sentiment against trans people. Because that wasn’t what the topic was about

Even if the topic wasn't directly about transphobia- "man vs bear" is closely related to the belief that men/perceived as men are the worst possible danger, which is closely related to transphobia.

I don't think all women who say "bear" are transphobic, consciously or even unconsciously, or that they need to change their answer or else they hate trans people.

However, I don't think it's unreasonable to act people to reflect on their internal biases, and on how the way they perceive men may relate to transphobia.

Thank you for the chance to have a civil conversation about this, I wish you well too

[quickspinner]

Weekly Lukanette Link Roundup

What is the Weekly Roundup? | Previous Weekly Roundups

Two weeks' worth of links and I hope I got them all. Sorry guys between Halloween and sick kids and then sick me (it is extremely unfair that kid B brought home a different sickness than kid A so that just when I was getting over the first one, I got taken out again. rude.) I just couldn't get stuff done. I also have to confess, normally I have a least skimmed through all the fics on the roundup to make sure they are as labeled, but I didn't have time this week, so I'm trusting the tags that these are what they say they are. I recognize most of the authors so I'm not too concerned, but I just felt like I should put that disclaimer on here so you know. Remember to check the original post tags.

From @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers: October Minifics Post Part 1, Part 2 (there were too many links for one post, and thus, too many links to put them all in here again, so I'm just linking to the summary posts 😄)

From @haphira: Miraculous Ladybug and the Valiant Annuler Ch 38

From @airi-p4: Guarded and Protected Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Epilogue (woohoo you finished it congrats!)

From @writer-rider-dirty-thirties: Her Cover | Our Beginning | Just as Promised | A Perfect Fall Day | He's My Best Friend | Stargazing | A Spark | As Long As It Takes |

From @rierse: Bunny Kisses

From @generalluxun: Small Problems: A Lukanette fanfic

If I missed something that should be included, reblog, reply, DM, or drop the link in my asks and I’ll make sure it goes on next week’s roundup! If you prefer not to be included in these roundups for any reason please drop me a message, or if you post something that you would like to be sure I include, please drop a link in my asks and I’ll make sure it gets listed (Lukanette endgame only please - see what is the weekly roundup for more details). If you want to be sure I’ve flagged your work for inclusion you can check the quickroundup tag on my blog to see what I’ve got in the queue for this week.

If you find something you like please like/reblog the original post to let the author know you enjoyed their work!

[compo67]

Hello Dear Friend,

My goodness you have had some harrowing ups and downs over the past months. And I am sorry not everything has turned out the way you wanted/expected.

But you are here and you are amazing.

To piggy back off a previous ask, and what a lovely ask it was. You are not obligated to entertain us or post fic or be on Tumblr at any time. YOU ARE ENOUGH. Be here when you can. Post fic if you can..we will love it. Speaking of fic..thank you for the lovely Photo Op update..it was fun!!

Anyone that doesn't have the decency to break up with person with at least a phone call is not worth your time, thats a punk move. I know it hurts and it sucks and I am sorry.

Its nice to see you here again. Please take care of yourself

❤🧡💛💚💙💜

Hello, my friend!

It's always so good to hear from you. <3

Ugh, this breakup was so... unusual. We weren't even in a relationship. We hadn't even spoken about dating. We had just been honest about our feelings for each other. But he couldn't take what that meant, he got scared, and decided to just... drop me? He did *eventually* call to apologize and express his regret, but had the same bullshit responses I got through text. He had so much baggage and now I see that there were so many red flags. Sigh.

Why is it that I either don't see or ignore red flags? I need to work on that in therapy. These people lead me on and I just eat it up.

Anyway. I have a date on Sunday with someone who is a good communicator and knows how to set up boundaries. I hope we click in-person as much as we've clicked over text. Ye gods, I just hope I have a good time.

I've had so many things I've wanted to work out dating/relationship wise in the past few years. My heart is tired, but my brain says keep going. So here I am.

I need to hear "YOU ARE ENOUGH" a lot lately. I frequently feel not enough. But hearing it/seeing it, that helps. I put so much pressure on myself to write, that when I don't do it/post anything, I feel like I'm letting everyone down and they're gonna leave me. So like, if I'm not producing, why would you bother? Very unhealthy thinking. Also working on that.

I think a lot of this goes back to, "I have a lot of trauma, I need to be handled with care." I'm not expecting anyone or the world to bend over backwards for me, but some consideration for my feelings and how trauma has shaped/affected me would be nice. Just, for the love of god, don't lead me on.

I have 10 emails I need to reply to. One job I want to apply to. More job hunting. Postcards to write to voters. And I need to pack before I head over to my dad's. I also have a mindfulness group session this afternoon. Must not forget that.

My dad has two doctor's appointments tomorrow. I am hopeful that my neurologist will be able to help him with his debilitating headaches. Then, we'll be seeing his PCP for a follow-up. I'm also throwing a small (really small) party for him on Saturday for his 70th birthday. I got the plates/cups/silverware for that already. I need to order food and a pie or two.

Lots has been going on, my dear friend. But it feels so good to read your message. Thank you so much.

Be well, dear.

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part nineteen)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 668

Warnings: None

Author's notes: Introducing Conductor's daughter at the very end of this part! Yes, I'm a sucker for sentient vehicles, leave the Express alone. But anyway, enjoy!

Conductor hummed to himself as he jotted down music notes.

It wasn't often he spent time in the engine room but anywhere on the Owl Express was calming and felt safe.

"I will love you, until my dying day," he murmured, folding the papers and standing.

"I didn't know you wrote songs," Grooves commented from the doorway.

"How long have you been there? And since when did you wake up?" Conductor asked, face heating despite leaving the engine room.

Grooves moved out the way as Conductor dragged the door closed.

"Long enough to hear you singing to yourself," Grooves answered and Conductor turned back to him. "You know it's probably not healthy for you to be in there with all the fumes."

"I'm used to it. I've had this train for years, Grooves, I think I know how long it's safe for me to stay in one place," Conductor shrugged.

"What sort of song were you writing?" Grooves asked as the two of them walked through the train.

"Love song for the movie," Conductor said under his breath.

"You wrote a love song for the movie?" Grooves breathed as they ascended a set of stairs.

"It's not any good," Conductor responded, pushing open the door to the VIP lounge.

He strode over to the door of a guest room, unlocking it. "You can stay in there while we're on the Express. Sorry that yer had to sleep downstairs last night."

"It's fine Connie."

"I'm gonna go check on some of the cargo then I'll be back," Conductor stated, heading back out of the room.

He journeyed through the Express, down to the luggage room.

A melody rang through the air, and he looked over at the wall.

The phone was ringing.

"Who is it?" Conductor asked, picking up the earpiece.

"It's Empress. Where is Grooves?" She replied.

"Why would I know?"

"Because the last people who saw you were the cleaning team and supposedly he was with you," Empress rightly accused.

"What d'you want?" Conductor sighed.

"We know that everyone's off at the moment but Snatcher's got some business he needs to deal with in Subcon. He said he'll be back in time for the last couple scenes he has to film," Empress explained.

"You know, a little bird told me that you make this sort of trip every two months. Shut everything down for a week or two, and disappear along with your train. Makes a curious cat like me wonder what you're up to."

"They say that curiosity kills cats, are you sure you want to be asking all these questions?"

"Are you sure you want to be doing all this deflecting?"

"I'm leavin'."

"Running from your problems won't fix anything," Empress hissed.

Conductor cursed under his breath, slamming the phone back onto its stand.

The Express' brakes locked the wheels of the train in place, a scraping groan shuddering the carriage.

Conductor let out another, louder, swear and stumbled into the wall, glaring at the train.

"What the peck was that for?!" He shouted.

The phone buzzed with static on its stand before reciting a message.

"You've arrived at your destination!" The phone announced, a metallic reverb to voice.

"Yeah, I got that." Conductor scowled as the train stopped. "Yer lucky I love you."

"I'm the pecking best!" The phone buzzed again, a confident air about it.

"You are darlin' but go easier on the breaks next time," Conductor instructed, running out of the luggage room and shouting towards the stairs. "Grooves! You okay?!"

"I'm fine! Why did we stop?!"

"We're here! But wait inside, I need to deal with something first!"

Conductor didn't wait for a reply, sprinting for the back of the train.

He burst outside, looking at the cabin in the middle of nowhere.

"Please tell me I'm not late," Conductor whispered to himself.

He waited a minute, debating on whether to go knock on the door.

But it was answered for him, an owl exiting the house.

"Hey dad."

"Hi Roxie."

[pupmusebox]

Might be a good idea for you to use google docs or tumblr pages for your ocs. because its kinda hard to interact with ocs who have no linked info to read. also your link on yuki doesn't work anymore

Everything is still always in a under construction state as stated on my pinned post, if I had unlimited wifi/internet hotspot I would be tweaking things better and I'm sorry for that too. Plus docs would have to use internet too to link and all as well, I'm not fancy or going the long road to try get that going ack.

Plus I be mobile bound these days due to my home Internet having been gone for months now and lucky to have a phone too, I do wish I had time to make up abouts and the like... I really do honestly. Most of the ocs I make be spur the moment creation and the pages will like always be a ever present state of Swiss cheese with how I go on doing things, no joke when rattling me brain on this seriously.

As for the Yuki's bio I got to be cracking on the update of it and everything, considering I moved blogs for own comfort and have to sift through my previous posted abouts for some characters and all. Again a long process and my apologies of that anon, not being a stubborn person of not hopping on docs usage I do use them at times but it's mostly for getting replies set up and then pasted to the drafts I got.

Plus there's always the inquiries of ocs via messages or asks too mind you, which be another thing to consider if anything and the like. Since most bios/abouts be the like a basic rundown and it be a lot to slap on the headcanons along with some canon divergent details in with it too.

I'll end my rambling here since I nattered on too much as is, ahh... but that be the reasoning for my blog being like a big Swiss cheese slice and again I'm sorry of that.

[rainbowsky]

Hi, I was the one talking about leaving your blog due to ysl incident. I'm not anyone's only fan, why you grouped me together with solos 😂I was talking from a customer's pov. I know solos can be very toxic, but they also have their own right as customers. Also keeping calm is good, but not in all situations. I apologize for my tantrum. I'm just mad from bad shopping experiences 😆Sometimes I think you guys idolize them too much, it's not healthy.

[ysl continues cause limited text] thank you for replying to me! You seem to have a strong mind-very admirable! Really want to chat with you longer but I don't use social media. I'm kinda embarrassed that I posted something like that, if you can delete it then I 'd be grateful! I don't follow any idol anymore, just love the bond between xz&wyb (seem like soulmates to me) I was upset for several days after that post, so again sorry and happy new year!

This is in reference to a previous post.

Hi Anon... 🫤

I'm not deleting my post just because you feel embarrassed. It's an anonymous post. I don't think there's any rationale for asking me to remove it. There's nothing at all connecting it to you except for your own knowledge that you personally wrote it. That is, in fact, the entire point of being anonymous.

And I find your regret ironic considering the core message of my YSL post was that people should try to be a little bit less impulsive, and consider the outcome of their actions before they take them. Perhaps you're starting to realize that now yourself.

As for "being lumped in with solos," I'm not sure where you got the impression I'd placed you in any camp. You were simply referred to as 'a fan', and all of us are fans, BXG, MTJJ and XFX alike. As I've said many, many times, there are toxic fans from every camp. You're not unique in that respect. Although I will admit that you smell a bit fishy to me, for a variety of reasons...

Customer service issues can be frustrating, no doubt about it, but your "customer service issues" should not become GG's personal career issues. It's outrageous, tone-deaf and short-sighted for fans to think that they're helping someone by harming them in this way.

Every fan needs to get with the current program and realize that the situation has dramatically shifted around fan culture in China, and there are serious consequences to stars whose fans behave in disruptive ways.

I got quite a bit of pushback from someone (who I suspect to be you, actually, given their almost identical language usage to you... but I guess it could just be a 'coincidence') claiming that 'I have no clue about the fan culture in China'.

Regardless of who it was, I think the clue deficit lies with them and all the other 'fan culture' fans. They continue to behave in pre-2/27 ways, but we are living in a post-22/7 world. They don't seem to have gotten the memo that the public and official perspectives on fan culture have changed, and the consequences of fan behavior have changed. Fans can't continue behaving the way they used to and think that everything's going to be the same as it used to be.

Yes I know the fan reaction to the YSL situation was pretty typical of fan culture, but you seem to believe that's a good, normal thing when actually it's not. Not anymore. The government no longer looks the other way when these things happen. Stars can and will bear the consequences of those actions. The general public has a diminishing patience for this behavior and culture as well, and most people take a dim view of it all. Particularly during this time of extreme hardship.

Fans need to learn to read the room, and especially, they need to listen to GG and his oft-stated wishes around fan behavior. He has made it abundantly clear that he doesn't want fans over-identifying with him, being instigated, causing disruptions, focusing on consumerism, focusing on rankings or trying to 'protect' him.

I find it rather strange that you speak of 'our' (not sure who you're talking about with this grouping - turtles?) 'idolizing them too much' and it being 'unhealthy' when it's actually you who was exhibiting behavior that falls outside of what I'd characterize as 'calm', 'rational' and 'respectful'. I guess your impressions are your own, but perhaps some self-reflection is in order? Just a thought.

A bit of perspective might do you some good, Anon. 'Bad shopping experiences' can't justify disrupting the career of a star you say you care about, nor - frankly - can they justify disrupting my blog.

In any case, I'm grateful your ask came in two messages. It has allowed me to answer your ask while also being able to block you - for your good and for my own. I think we both can find more productive, positive uses for our time.

Happy new year. May yours be one of transformation and peace. 🙏🏻

[she-daemon]

Office worker AU - Nero x Fem Reader - Chapter 2

Previous chapter here

Summary:

Nero answers the phone, they go on a date, yeah End of this chapter gets spicy

Notes:

Okay okay so I haven't written anything in months (sorry for not posting in like 3 months) but I'm finally back!!! Since its been a while my writing should hopefully be a little better, or at least the smut should be (I have done a lot of uhh *research* lately)

Slight nsfw at the end!! You have been warned!!

After briefly listening to the dial tone, you heard someone pick up.

"Office of Nero Sparda, state your business please..." Its a woman's voice. You're disappointed it wasn't Nero, but its normal for someone like him to have a secretary.

"Hello, this is Y/N of _____ corporation, I was hoping to schedule a progress report meeting with Mr. Sparda ... possibly tomorrow?" Good, you said everything correctly.

"Just a moment please..." You heard her receiver brush against something, and you assumed she was checking Nero's schedule. Hmm. Nero's secretary. Jealous thoughts started to intrude into your mind. You waved them away, but the thought of being his secretary instead of her persisted. Imagine being so close to him ... being in his company all day ... all the things the two of you could get away with. Your thoughts were interrupted by her:

"Sorry, but it seems Mr. Sparda will be busy all day tomorrow. In fact, he doesn't have any available time slots for the rest of the - " Something interrupted her, and she got off the phone again. Was he busy for the rest of the month? Week? You listened closely. Suddenly, you heard a man's voice in the background:

"Who is it?" You heard her say your name, and then shuffling on the other end. Someone spoke.

"Hello? Is this Y/N?" It was Nero. Just hearing his voice talking to you made your heart leap.

"Yes, its me. Your secretary said you'd be busy, so I was wondering when we could arrange a meeting to discuss the progress report?" You knew it was far too early for Nero's team to have made any real progress on the project. Hopefully, he'd get the message.

"Well, I am busy the entire day tomorrow. But maybe I could take overtime and meet you for dinner. How's that sound?"

"Wonderful. I'll see you at Dorsia's." you gleefully replied, "Do you think you could manage 6?"

"Hmm, maybe 7?"

"Oh, okay, sure. I'm free the whole evening to be honest. The whole weekend, even." You cringed a little from how desperate you sounded, but you swore you could hear Nero's lips curl into a smile at those words.

"Guess I'll have to take a look at my plans and maybe take you up on that offer." Thank god he took that with a stride. And after a brief silence, he said:

"See ya then." And hung up. You processed that call, thinking over your brief interaction with him. If you weren't feeling all these stupid, fluffy emotions, you would've been worried about flirting over the work phone, and eavesdroppers. But Nero had you dumbly smitten with him and you were just paranoid anyway - right?.

It was still around midday, so you couldn't get off work just yet. Your mind drifted back to the secretary fantasy. You knew it was impossible to be his secretary because you were busy working for your father. And that was just temporary, until you took over the company anyway. And Nero's company was just an affiliate, you couldn't be transferred even if you wanted to. But still, damn if that wasn't a hot fantasy.

*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ The next day around 7 *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~

Wearing your nicest (and possibly most alluring) clothes, you entered the familiar high end restaurant. You've been here before for past meetings, but this day was special. 

Looking around, you're almost afraid you won't find Nero. But there he is, dressed in a nicer suit than the one he wears for work, a dark shade of navy, almost black, and a matching light greyish-blue tie. You meet eyes with him and he waves to you, signaling you to join him at a booth.

"Hey, glad to see you here, I just got off work." Nero looks so happy to see you, it fills your heart with joy. You make sure to greet him and let him know you feel the same. You talk about the "progress" of the project for about a solid five minutes until the waiter showed up to take your orders. For yourself, you decided to play it safe and order a Caesar salad with a medium rare steak. Simple, yes, but hopefully still dignified. You didn't have to worry about that for long, because Nero ordered pasta - plain spaghetti and meatballs - and you nearly choked on your water. As if it would save face, the both of you decided to share a bottle of wine, courtesy of Nero (but you were definitely going to pursue Nero for his food choices later).

The two of you were illuminated by the warm yellow lighting of the restaurant. You took a sip of your wine and leaned in toward Nero.

"So, Nero, I saw�� you have the same last name as the CEO of your company - Vergil Sparda. Are the two of you related? His nephew maybe?" Nero gave you a questioning look, before responding.

"Ah, you caught me. Vergil's my dad." He surveyed your face for a reaction, and he saw your eyes widen as you connected the dots. The two of you were in the same position, your lives were essentially the same. Trying to build your own career in the shadow of your parents, shunned for who your family was. "Oh, that makes sense. Guess we're in the same spot then. Small world." You could barely contain your excitement, you had so much to talk to him about.

"Haha, as much as I hate it, nepotism really does rule the world." You wanted to know more about Nero - so you asked:

"So how has that affected you or your life? Or... what do you think of it?"

And the two of you fell into a deep conversation about your lives, your pasts, and relating to each other. You really did have a lot in common with Nero. His father had also brought him up to take over the company some day, he also hated his business classes for being too easy (he had graduated a year earlier), and most importantly, the both of you had felt the same loneliness and isolation as a result of being next in line. But now it was clear you had each other, whatever that might imply.

Finally, the waiter returned with the long awaited food. As promised, he handed you a beautifully plated salad beside a tender steak, with various garnishes and sides, and for Nero, a heap of saucy spaghetti and meatballs. They actually made it for him! It still shook you. As a businessman of his level, you never would have expected Nero to order simple pasta and meatballs. Sure, this is an Italian restaurant so it's a valid choice, but still. Not only that, but as he was eating, Nero got sauce all over his mouth, his chin, even a little on his cheeks. Honestly, it was the most adorable things you've ever seen. Besides puppies. But he was kind of a puppy too. Hearing you giggle, Nero stops just as he was scooping another round of pasta and looks up at you.

"What?" he asked cluelessly. 

You didn't say anything, just looked at him, smirking, amused. But he really had no idea.

"C'mon, seriously." Now he was grinning too. It was infectious.

"... you have pasta sauce all over your face." And for a moment he froze, genuinely surprised.  Laughing, you reached for a napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth, like a little kid. It was too much for your heart.  Doing this you froze, with your eyes locked on Nero's, noticing how much you had leaned toward him, how close you were. Nero's cheeks burned a little red, and he averted your gaze. You quickly moved your hand away and blurted out: "Oh! S-sorry about that, I don't know why I did that. It just seemed natural."

"No, no its fine, that one's on me." But there was still an uncomfortable, bashful, silence. "Is there a story behind the spaghetti and meatballs?" You interjected, cutting the silence short. It was almost like you flipped a switch, because Nero's face lit up enthusiastically and he began to explain how it was his favorite food, how he'd been eating it since childhood, how Kyrie used to cook it for him... Wait, Kyrie? *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ A few hours later *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~

The two of you decided to head to a bar, after the restaurant nearly kicked you out for sitting there so long.

Nero was a bit of a lightweight, you had noticed, and you could see he definitely had his share of alcohol for the night. So did you.  "I think we've both had enough for tonight. " "Mmmyeah." Nero slurred. Unlike you, it seemed like he had a nice buzz going. Lucky him, because you only felt woozy. The two of you hailed a taxi, and it quickly became clear that you were going to end up escorting Nero to his home. The two of you entered the taxi cab, and as Nero barely managed to tell his address to the driver, you worried that this whole thing was too forward, but it was too late to turn back. That, and Nero was glued to you.

"Aww, you were gone for so long~" Nero crooned into your neck, half tipsy, half asleep. "I missed you~..." The warm breath tickled your neck, and you had to suppress a little squeak from escaping your lips when you felt his mouth just barely graze your skin. That was new, and it was nice.

You kept looking at his chest, his tie coming more and more undone with every drunken sway of his, seemingly shifting with the movements of the car. It was so ... distracting. The looseness of his suit exposed his chest, and when you tried to straighten his collar, Nero pulled you in for a hug. Nero gets clingy under the influence - noted. And it was getting to you. You could feel Nero's warm, shapely body, and the sleek fabric that outfitted and outlined it in the most delicious way. Not to mention you hadn't been hugged in years. Damn if it didn't feel good - almost too good, a blush spread to your face and you couldn't think of anything to say. Not that you needed to, since Nero occupied himself with saying strings of gibberish that faintly sounded like praise. You could only pick up words like "nice" and "warm" in his purring, until you felt Nero's weight shift onto you. He had fallen asleep. He left you there, frying your brain for the rest of the ride until the cab pulled up to a large apartment complex. You woke Nero up, much to his dissatisfaction, and paid the driver. You led Nero out of the car and into the complex, sternly holding him by the arm to support him. After a few steps though, he was flush against you, and it was almost like he was enjoying this - not that you secretly were too. Maybe his whole "tipsy" thing was just an act.

Walking him to the elevator, it seemed like Nero had sobered up a little from the fresh air, recognizing his surroundings and selecting his floor once the two of you were inside the elevator. 

 "You doing all right there Nero?"  "Hmmm...?" He blinked sleepily, not as buzzed as before - just tired.

He unlocked the door with his key, given a few clumsy tries as he worked his way through the wooziness. You stifled a giggle, and Nero murmured as he opened the door:  "What's so funnyyyy...?"  "You're such a lightweight, Nero." Hearing this, Nero scrunched up his face and swiftly turned away his head, pouting.   "No I'm not."  "Admit it, you were almost wasted after two glasses." You smirked, satisfied from drawing such a reaction from him. You wanted to poke at him a little more, but push far enough and you might find boundaries.   "I. Am not. A lightweight." He huffed, eyebrows furrowed, and it seemed like he was a little hurt. Did you hit a nerve? Okay, despite how cute he was, now you felt bad. You walked up to him, and cupped his pouty face with your hands.  "Okay, okay. You're not a lightweight Nero." You tilted his face so his eyes would meet yours, and you squished his cheeks a little.  "Better?" Just as you were about to pull away, Nero grabbed you by your shoulders, and leaned forward to kiss you on the lips. Shocked at first, you received the kiss, pulling on his lower lip and biting gently. You wondered if you should be doing this at all, but Nero let out a sigh and continued to kiss you - and it felt so good, so right. Nero pulled you close, and you felt your body grow heated, bothered from his hand gripping tightly at your waist. Eventually though, you both pulled away for air. Nero smugly showed you a shit eating grin, his lips a slight pink - thoroughly kissed.   "Now that's better."   "Oh yeah?" You tilted your head. "Are you gonna forgive me for being a bully?" You leaned your face toward him, gazing into his eyes. With a dark look in your eyes, you continued: "And there's really nothing else I have do to make you feel better?" You could see calculations running in Nero's head, and he suddenly picked you up in a princess carry. He took you into the bedroom and the next thing you knew he had put you down on a soft bed. You were sad you weren't in his arms anymore, but only for a moment because he leaned down to kiss you again, one hand sifting through your hair, the other squeezing your hip.  "I think you already know-" He said as he brought his knee to the apex of your thighs, suggestively brushing it, " -what you have to do to make me forgive you." His eyes looked back up toward your face for a reaction, and you noticed his erection pressing against your inner thigh.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

There it is! I'll try to get the next chapter done as soon as I can, and the promised smut will be in it ➳➳➳➳ I only managed to proofread once or twice at 1 am so sorry about grammar and inconsistent spacing, yeah

View this chapter on ao3

[sawdusst]

Theft of a Crew (Coroika Pirate AU) Chapter 3

[Markiplier voice] Hello everybody my name is Sawdust welcome back to another chapter of Theft of a Crew.

Sorry this chapter took longer than usual, I was kinda struggling to put something things together but I hope you guys enjoy it :DD

Here's the usual things:

Main thread

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 1,1671 + some edits

====== [ ⚓ ] ====== [Message in a bottle]

“Goodbye! Come again!” 

The shopkeeper had eventually showed up and as Barreleye looked for something in exchange, the inkling offered something instead.

Barreleye held the message in a bottle as they left.

“You really didn’t have to do that, you know,” Barreleye said, holding the glass bottle in his hand, “I could’ve found something… I was thinking about trading in my telescope or something since I barely use it… Hey, by the way, I don’t think I ever got your name earlier—” 

“It was really no trouble at all!” The other inkling replied with a smile. The inkling completely avoided Barreleye’s question as they turned to leave, “I should get going now. Hey, by the way, do you know anywhere I could get a new coat? Mine's falling apart."

"Oh.. I'm not really familiar with the area, sorry..." Barreleye replied, tilting his head with concern, "But I'm sure there's plenty of clothing vendors around who are willing to help you out."

"Don't worry about it!" The inkling replied, "I'll figure it out!" They turned to leave. "I'll see you around!"

As Barreleye watched the other inkling leave, his gaze shifted to the bottle in his hand.

With a loud pop the cork came off and Barreleye slid out the paper inside. He unfurled the old piece of paper as he walked, careful not to accidentally rip it. The paper’s ink was mostly faded. It was a decently sized treasure map. There were golden ink stains and smudged, messy handwriting scribbled on the paper. 

Barreleye tilted his head with confusion as he looked at it. It was a rather messy sketch with a few islands sloppily labeled. The whole map looks as if it was made in a hurry and frantically thrown together. 

The map illustrated a part of the sea that Barreleye wasn’t familiar with. He then noticed a sloppily drawn landmark circled in bright red ink. He looked over the map with a puzzled look on his face.

He noticed there was a chunk of the map missing in the corner, drenched with black ink. It appeared to have been ripped off. Barreleye walked off to the side. He rolled the map back up and carefully placed it back into the bottle. 

“I should read more into it once I meet back up with the others,” Barreleye thought to himself as he continued to peruse the marketplace.

====== [ ⚓ ] ======

The sun was starting to set. Barreleye looked towards the horizon with his shadow looming behind him. He started walking back to the docks, where he was supposed to meet back up with his crew. 

Much to his surprise, as he approached the ship, he noticed it was eerily silent at the docks. There was also a ship parallel to his that wasn’t there before. It was quiet, too quiet. Barreleye tensed, he hurried down the cobblestone path and headed towards his ship.

“I hope everyone is alright… I wonder where they are,” he thought to himself. 

The cobblestone path ended as Barreleye stepped onto the wooden docks. A few members of his crew were walking around on the ship, moving crates and walking around. Barreleye sighed a breath of relief as he hurried over to them.

“Hey! Guys!” Barreleye exclaimed as he approached the ship, “Did Tako or anyone else come back yet?”

None of his crewmates on board responded. All of their heads were lowered as they walked. Barreleye tilted his head with confusion, walking closer to the ship’s ramp. He looked up, noticing that his pirate flag was missing from its post.

"...What happened while I was gone..?"

Barreleye tried to call out to his crewmates again, but none of them seemed to hear him. Their gaze was still fixated on what they were doing. There was also no sign of Tako, Mitsuami, or Hornmet aboard the ship.

“...Huh, I guess they haven’t come back yet…” Barreleye wondered out loud. He then looked at his crew with a worried expression on his face, “What are you all doing?”

He was still met with eerie silence. Barreleye walked onto his ship. He looked at his crewmates who were all walking around. Barreleye looked down, seeing bloodstains that soaked into the wooden deck. He could feel an icy chill as he stood there.

Barreleye tensed, clenching his fists. 

“What..happened…?” Barreleye asked in a quiet voice. Barreleye hurried in front of one of his crewmates, an octoling that wore a bright blue bandana around his head and a white shirt with black shorts.

Before Barreleye could say something, the crewmate stumbled out of Barreleye’s way and continued to walk towards a set of crates behind him. Barreleye tilted his head with confusion. As the octoling trudged past him, Barreleye could see a sense of emptiness in his eyes.

Barreleye quickly turned around and grabbed his crewmate’s arm. “Hey! Wait a second— What happened while we were gone? Are you alright?”

Panic started to creep into Barreleye’s voice. His crewmate yanked his arm free from the captain’s grasp and continued to walk forward. 

Barreleye then heard a noise behind him. The sound of a door opening and footsteps hitting the wooden deck.

"Well, what do we have here?"

Barreleye perked up. He heard the captain’s cabin door open and footsteps walking out of it. Barreleye slowly turned around, turning to face the stranger aboard his ship. There was a silvery blue inkling standing before the ship, a Kensa charger resting on his shoulder carelessly. He wore a pair of black shades that obscured his eyes and a black coat with golden trim. 

“You’ve got quite a nice ship here, Captain,” He smiled at Barreleye. He then looked around the ship, kicking his feet against the wooden deck, “I like what you’ve done with the place. I hope you don't mind I had to move a few things around."

"And who are you, exactly?" Barreleye asked.

He then extended his hand to Barreleye, a smile still on his face. “You can call me Hivemind. It really is an honor to finally meet you.” 

Barreleye hesitantly shook the latter’s hand.

“Wha— What did you do to them? My crew... they're all...” Barreleye stammered. He looked down, realizing the deck he was standing on was scattered with the bloodstains of his crew. He then looked back up at the emptied gazes of his crew. “They all seem—”

“Brainwashed?” Hivemind interjected, “Don’t worry Captain, I didn’t hurt them— for the most part… They’re doing just fine! Isn’t that right everyone?” Hivemind then looked over at Barreleye’s crew.

A few crewmates nodded in response. 

“Wha-What do you mean?” Barreleye snapped.

"I've gotta admit, your crew put up a fight," Hivemind continued, "It was a bit tedious rounding all of them up. I'll admit, that was the most fun I've had in a while."

“You really think I’m going to let you do all of this?” Barreleye took a hesitant step backwards. His fingertips dug into his palm as he tried to keep his composure. “What are you going to do, kill me or something?” 

Hivemind tilted his head with confusion. He laughed for a split second. “Kill you? That's some pretty strong word choices. Do you really think I would do something like that?” 

Hivemind then placed a hand on his chest. “I’m honestly a bit offended you think that lowly of me. We literally just met and you already think I'm some kind of- murderer.

"I was just going to have you join them, wouldn't that be something?" Hivemind smiled, "A crew is nothing without their captain, of course."

Barreleye hesitated for a moment, remembering that not all of his crew was aboard. Tako, Mitsuami, Hornmet, and a few others were still walking around town…

“We promised to meet back up at sundown…” Barreleye thought to himself, “I have to go warn them or—”

Just before Barreleye could leave, two of his crewmates blocked his path. The captain flinched and staggered backwards.

“Hold on a second,” Hivemind said bluntly, “Just where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking here.”

Barreleye looked at his crew with an uneasy expression on his face. He took a deep breath. “If it’s treasure you want, you can have it. Just let my crew go.”

“It’s really nothing personal against you,” Hivemind replied nonchalantly, “Pretty soon, this whole thing is going to feel like a bad dream.”

Hivemind then smiled at Barreleye. “And you’ll join us. Whether you like it or not.”

Barreleye reached for his cutlass. He dug his heels into the wooden deck. Hivemind noticed this and sighed with frustration. He looked off to the side.

"Oh great, here we go again," Hivemind mumbled. “I suggest you choose your next steps carefully. You’re outnumbered. If you want this to be painless, you should drop the cutlass and do as I say."

“As if I’m going to surrender to the likes of you,” Barreleye scowled.

“That’s the least painful way to go. I wouldn't want to hurt you,” Hivemind replied, “Who knows when the other members of your crew will show up to help you. You’d probably already be in rough shape by then.”

"We were all supposed to meet back here, the others could show up any moment," Barreleye retorted. He looked at the emotionless gazes of his crew. "And I wouldn't want to hurt my own crew."

"No Captain would," Hivemind replied bluntly, "Doesn't matter who you are. I wouldn't want to hurt you either."

Hivemind then trailed his gaze to the brainwashed crewmates. "..But I'm sure they would."

Barreleye hesitated, tightening his grip around the cutlass' handle. He steadied himself, thinking of his next step.

Hivemind then tilted his head curiously. “So… 

==============

Hi gamers the action's starting >:3

the things are happening!!!!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!! I'll try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible! But I will be busy with school since exams are coming up for me :'D I'll try my best though!

Thank you so much for reading! Have a nice day/night!

[golbrocklovely]

letting you know this that shifting anon! i tagged you in my post because it’s too much for the ask box 😭

sorry for not responding sooner. i had a crazy day at work and was just super tired haha

i'm gonna respond to your post here instead of in replies or a reblog.

so when i was in school, i was able to get my work done on time. i'm kinda worse now with time management, but if i know i have to get something done, i'll get it done by the date it needs to be done at. even if that means struggling the whole time to get it done fast enough lol

idk what types of flowers they were, and having been on that campus (at that point) almost four years, they NEVER died like that before. and there's no way someone burned it without there being some form of message sent out to campus. plus by spring they grew back. so it was just so odd that they all of sudden died when they were alive literally the day before.

to give some slight more background into what i audition for and whatnot, so i audition, back to back days the previous week for a musical and play. the play, i had a gut feeling i wasn't gonna get strictly bc i was the first person sent home lol the musical on the other hand, i went thru callbacks and shit like that so i was a bit confused as to why i didn't even get considered or whatnot. but the director, who was also my advisor, ended up picking her own child and her friends to be in the show. so…. nepotism at it's finest.

and to be a skeptic on my own end: while i don't think it was a manic thing, bc even after i graduated and really sat with the fact i wasn't gonna have another show or two to add to my name, i still really wasn't upset about it. it was weird as hell how pippy skippy i became after getting the news when 10/10 times i usually would be upset, beat myself up over it, and cry.

but…. it's possible that i realized how lucky i got. bc the play i auditioned for, the director for that i had worked for once. i wasn't in a production, but i was her assistant and then became a stage manager. and let me tell you, that woman did not, at any given point, have her shit together. like, if you feel like your life is messy, you don't even hold a CANDLE to her mess. so i wasn't too heartbroken over not being in that show. then the musical… again, i think it was realizing i didn't have to worry about the director, who was also my advisor… who barely did any advising. i could spend the rest of my senior year in peace and just do whatever i wanted to. i only talked to her once or twice afterwards and that was bc of a senior project i had to do that she graded and passed me on.

my advisor/director, i'm telling you, had object permance problems when it came to me. there had been multiple times when she wouldn't even tell me there were auditions so the night before i would scramble to learn and entirely new song just to go perform it the next day. that happened multiple times. and just to add some more context for fun, her husband was the music director. so he dealt with the music side, she directed the actors. we did a production of into the woods. i auditioned, got callbacks, genuinely thought i had a chance at a major role, only to not get it. and i remember being outside the theater when they were practicing, i think bc i had a class in that same building. he came out, said hi to me, we chatted for a quick second, and then he very softly said to me "i'm sorry you didn't make it in… you should have" or something like that and then walked off.

so….. she might have just hated me for some reason lol so that could be why i was able to be like "you know what, i'm very happy i'm not dealing with you anymore."

but it didn't make sense how quickly i became happy. bc as someone that has suffered with depression since i was kid (and also didn't know i was suffering at the time this took place), happiness is not something that comes easily to me. i can be happy for a brief moment, sure. but i was giddy, and that itself was jarring to me then and still now.

and yeah my mom saying that to me was super creepy but also weirdly comforting. i never found out what was off, but it was just like a general feeling of things feeling out of place somehow.

and oh i didn't know that. i thought shifting was just a sleeping thing. well, that's cool to know :)

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Hi! Soo thank you very much for your reply for my previous message. As for the post regarding Queen Victoria, I can't put link in this askbox, or at least, I couldn't. But the post was put up on the 19th of Nov. 2022. Sorry I couldn't link it. As for liking or disliking Liam, I'll admit that I'm more neutral on him. I don't know, I guess some characters just appeal to some people more than to others. Anyway, again thank you for your reply!

This?

I'm not entirely sure what's confusing about this. Basically, I got asked why, if the Moriartys care so much about equality, they don't ever do anything about Queen Victoria, who in the real world was...not great, and also the head and symbol of an extremely harmful, oppressive organization worldwide.

And these things are true, in real life. But in the actual manga, this stuff is never dealt with. And that's basically all I was saying: the manga doesn't really care about that or address those issues, so William's plan could succeed without handling that issue because it's not part of the story that's being told, and the manga doesn't care about it.

And maybe it should be. Maybe it will be later. But it's not at the moment. Although perhaps I should remind people that Japan is also still a constitutional monarchy and was not colonized by the UK, so they may view the situation around the Queen very differently than other parts of the world do.

As for Liam, it doesn't really matter much to me if people like him or not. I like him (obviously). Everyone is allowed to have their own favorite characters for whatever reason a character appeals to them, and I hope that character makes them happy.

But if anyone wants me to talk about Albert more, they can always send an ask about it! I answer...most of my asks.