#and now brain is angry because it can't figure out how to fix what it knows is there

[sesshy380]

Wordcount for the day: 835 plus edits on previous chapter WiP

Wrapped up the chapter I was working on, but I need to come back to it with fresh eyes. My overall chapter plot is there, but the stuff in between just felt like it jumped all over.

Tried to give a moment of reflection and growth for Kat, but I think it ended up falling flat. Will most likely have to do a partial chapter overhaul when I'm not so aggravated with it.

Sister said that soccer practices are twice a week now, so more free time for editing. Might have to have her take a quick glance over the part that bugs me and offer some advice. I can see the issue, just can't figure out how to fix the issue.

[star-eyed-angels]

Oblivious

Changbin x female reader

angst/fluff 1.8k

Where your boyfriend is a little oblivious and awful at names.

AN: Request for @jin-from-the-block hope you like it❣️ Some. pre-valentine's angst because I clearly enjoy hurting my own feelings.

______

It’s the week of valentine’s day and everything feels like it’s falling apart. The apartment you share with Changbin has practically become a war zone. Every time you both enter a shared space the bickering and snide comments turns into an all out screaming match. It’s come to a point where he doesn’t bother coming home, choosing to spend the night at the dorms. To Changbin’s credit you’re doing the same thing. You’re all but hiding from your boyfriend at this point, taking longer shifts at work just to avoid him. 

Changbin can’t figure out exactly what went wrong. All he knows is that it started a week ago. One day everything is great and he feels like the luckiest guy on earth. Then the next you’re looking at him like he’s a stranger. At first he’d brushed off your behavior, thinking it was just because you were having an off day, but by dinner time the fighting had begun. 

Now it’s the day before Valentine’s Day and you’re still giving him the cold shoulder. He can’t help the way he keeps glancing at his phone, waiting for a text from you that will let him know everything is back to normal. Hours pass with him holed up in the studio, not a single call or text from you. At first he’s angry. Angry at you for the cold attitude you have towards him. But now as he unlocks his phone scrolling through the notifications for any sign of you, he’s just sad. Normally you’re blowing up each other’s phones when you’re apart, but now it’s just silence.

The sound of something hitting the desk startles Chan and Jisung from their spots across the room. They both look over to see Changbin with his head on the desk. Chan and Jisung share a look, Jisung jerking his head towards Changbin. 

“Bin, you good?” Chan calls out gently. He only gets a grunt in response. 

“Hyung, why don’t you just go home? You’re mind’s not here anyways,” Jisung says, spinning his chair around. 

 “I can't, she doesn’t want me there.” he lifts his head, dragging his hands down his face. 

“How do you know that?” Chan says, now facing Changbin as well. He huffs, glancing at his phone with a sad look.

“She won’t even talk to me. And everytime she does it just turns into a fight,” his says sadly. Jisung and Chan share another look. Jisung gives their leader a look, Chan only shakes his head. 

“Look, Jisung is right. You haven’t been able to focus in days. There’s no point in you forcing yourself to stay here,” he says. He quietly stands from his chair, going over to shut Changbin’s laptop carefully. 

“You should try and talk to her, sitting here isn’t going to help fix whatever is going on between you two”. Changbin glances back down at his phone screen that’s lit up with his lockscreen. The picture of the two of you staring back at him. A picture of his favorite day, spent completely with you. It makes him miss you even more. He decides then that he’s going to get through to you one way or another. 

He’d walked into your apartment hoping to have a normal conversation with you. Instead you’d looked up from your place on the couch and huffed, turning back to your phone. 

Only this time Changbin’s had enough, fed up at your unprovoked attitude towards him. He’s getting you to talk to him.

“Okay enough already, what’s your problem? You’ve been giving me the silent treatment for days now and I’m over it,” unable to suppress his anger any longer.

You scoff, getting up and trying to make your way into the bedroom. You’re still not in the mood to talk with him, the rational part of your brain tells you to stop. But your broken heart holds you in its shackles. Changbin follows you, unwilling to go another night like this. 

“See! There you go again, walking away like a brat!” He says bitterly. You whip around to look at him, jamming a finger into his chest. It startles him slightly, not used to this side of you.

“Don’t call me a brat Changbin. I’m not a fucking child,” you seethe. 

“Well you’re acting like one,” he fires back. Any thoughts of having a rational conversation with you have since disappeared. 

“I have every right to be fucking pissed at you,” you defend. Your mind stuck on what he’d done to upset you. 

“At me? What the hell did I do?” he asks in disbelief. You scoff, crossing your arms in front of you. Changbin groans, running his hands through his hair. 

“God, can’t you just use your words for five seconds? You say you’re not a child, but look at how you’re acting! You won’t even tell me what’s wrong, I’m not a mind reader, I can’t just magically know why you’re acting so goddamn crazy!” he yells. You blink back the stinging in your eyes at his words. 

“Fuck you.” you finally say, your voice cold and empty as you do it. Changbin feels his own eyes sting at your response. He stares at you for a few more seconds before he shakes his head in defeat.

“I don’t get why you’re so angry at me, I haven’t done anything to you. You won’t tell me what’s wrong, and if I did something I want to fix it, but I can’t if you don’t tell me. So please, please just fucking talk to me already. I can’t keep dancing in circles with you y/n,” he pleads quietly. 

The way he says your name makes your stomach curl. The pure exhaustion in his voice makes your heartbreak more than it already has. You stare at him, searching for any sign he’s lying to you. He stares back at you with his own heartbreak in his eyes.

“You really have no idea, do you?” you ask softly.

Of what? Why you’re acting this way? No, absolutely none,” he responds just as quiet. When you turn away Changbin sighs, turning to leave. 

“Okay fine. Don’t talk to me. I’m going to the dorms. I’ll be there if you decide you want me” he says. He’s about ready to bolt before he starts crying in front of you. 

“Six.” you say quietly. 

“What?” Changbin turns to look back at you. You’re still facing away from him, staring down at the ground. He watches you take a deep breath before you finally turn to face him. 

“Six times. You’ve called me by her name six times,” you say solemnly. 

For a moment Changbin just stares at you, confused at what you’re telling him. Then it finally kicks in at who the her you’re referring to is. HIs blood runs cold as the images of his ex dance across his mind.

“No, I didn’t,” he’s quick to defend. You shake your head, feeling the stinging sensation in your eyes again. 

“Yes, you did. It started when we were out at the cafe, and I didn’t say anything because I know it’s the cafe that you found out she was cheating on you in,” you start to explain. Changbin moves to say something, but you don’t let him get a word out. 

“Then it happened on the way home, and again I didn’t say anything because it’s an honest mistake. But then you kept doing it. And then you said it when we were in front of your members and I just-” you sniffle, swiping your hand across your face quickly. 

“Baby, I didn’t- I-” he’s at a loss for words, instead he just gapes at you. Your heart sinks a bit, more tears pouring out at his reaction. 

“When you said it in front of your members they all looked at me like I was something to pity. That’s why I left early. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Because to be honest I can’t bear to look at you,” you finally confess, your voice cracking the more you continue. Changbin stares on in horror, his eyes watering. 

“Things happen and I know that, but you look at me like you’re so in love and then you say her name. How am I supposed to be okay with that? How do I not think about everything that she is and I’m not. I can't look at you and wonder if she’s what’s on your mind, that she’s the one you want,” you cry out. Changbin’s crying at this point, his head dropped into his hands. The action does little to stop the small hiccups that escape him. 

“And if-” you pause, the mere thought of what you’re about to say makes you nauseous, “and if you’re cheating on me or talking to someone else can you please just tell me? Because if you don’t love me anymore I need you to tell me now, I don’t think my heart can bear much more of this,” you plead. You’re also crying freely at this point, the heartbreak you’ve been bottling in finally overcoming you. Changbin has already been feeling lightheaded from the amount of crying he’s done in such a short time. But those words nearly make his knees buckle. 

“No! No, god no. I know I’m stupid and clearly an oblivious fucking idiot. But I would never do anything to betray you that way,” he says firmly. You turn away from him, still too emotional to really look at him.

“I know I’ve fucked up, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for making you feel this way. But I’ll only ever want you, and I’m so sorry for hurting you like this,” he says softly, “You- you’re it for me. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t know I needed”. 

You’re still searching for any signs that he’s lying when you turn towards him. He only looks at you with his watery eyes and a serious expression. You start crying harder, reaching out to him. He’s already taking a step towards you the second your hands reach for him. He crushes you against him, like if he lets you get too far you’ll leave him.

“I’m so sorry baby. I wish you would have said something,” he says, burying his face into your hair as he hiccups quietly.

“It’s okay-” you start but he’s quick to cut you off. He pulls away from your hair, making sure to look directly at you. 

“No. It’s not. If I do anything to hurt you I need you to tell me. No more of this holding it in, I thought I was going to lose you for good,” he says softly. You press a gentle kiss at the base of his neck, hugging him tighter. 

“You won’t, I need you just as much as you need me,” you say quietly. Changbin’s sure you can feel his heart flutter at that. 

“I love you, he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your head. 

“I love you, too” you say, also sure that Changbin can feel the effect his words have on you.

[naffeclipse]

I absolutely adore every AU you come up with, but I was actually curious if you had already or were considering writing a traditional DCAxReader? Hopefully I can kick this art block soon because there is so much fanart I want to draw of your stories :) Hope your week is going well! (besides the roof disaster ^^;;;)

On another note... AUs are my brainrot and I keep thinking about that post about the large bed... and spoopy ghosts. Clipgeist? No running away from something that can follow you to the ends of the Earth. Poor Y/Ns just can't catch a break lol

I have a few canon stories with the DCA x Reader on my Ao3 but nothing as grand or long as my AUs! I do have a 'canon' story plotted but I don't know when I'll write it. Hopefully one day!

Ah, that's so exciting! I hope you can chisel that art block down hehe 

It's going good (aside from the roof ;-;) I have this week of school before we go on break for Thanksgiving and it can't come soon enough!

Shaking your hand so hard rn!! I love AUs! And a spooky ghost one? Oh ho, I've always wanted to write a domestic monster scenario!

Perhaps Y/N moves into an old, old house with steep roofs, pointed arches above the windows and doors, and a lovely porch. It's two and a half stories tall (the half story is attic space under the roof rafters) with a four-story central spired tower! All dark wood and even darker interiors. You can't desire if it's Dracula's castle or a fairytale home for the happily ever-after-ed prince and princess. It's even got a secret underground tunnel! What more do you need when flipping a home? You love restoration and you intend to keep all its gothic charm while updating it to be, well, livable.

It's also incredibly cheap! Like, stupid cheap, for something that should be incredibly pricey for its prestige style and historical value. Not that you've ever looked a gift horse in the mouth, but even you have second thoughts before ultimately snatching up the house key.

The first night is always unsettling—maybe you hear a voice whisper in your ear despite it being dead silent and there's not a soul for miles, but you'll brush that off as getting spooked by old ghost stories your brain conjures up within the ornate decorated rooms.

From there, things get stranger and stranger still. Your paintbrush is moved and you know you didn't set it there because of the wet paint dripping onto the floor. The electricity is ever fickle, turning off at the most opportune moments during the night, like when you swear you saw a figure standing at the end of the hallway, all thin and scraggly with a ghostly smile and an inhuman head framed with wavering energy that almost seems to glow like embers in the dark!

Still, you continue your repairs and restorations, sometimes softly talking to yourself out loud and talking to the house like it's a wounded animal you intend to restore back to its fittest with all the love you can pour out of your heart. Places need love, too.

The most obnoxious thing is that you can't access the tower—the door is always locked, and no matter what key you try, it refuses to budge. You don't dare risk causing damage by prying it open, but you swear you'll get into that tower one day. There's got to be treasure inside with how mysteriously it stands, just out of your reach. Though, you've mostly put it aside for now. Whenever you jingle keys in the lock, you swear you hear a voice grow angry with you, and the hallway becomes so cold you can see your breath.

So, yeah, you're saving that for later.

The pivotal moment of you even considering a haunting is one night when you find yourself overwhelmed and stressed from the ever-growing list of chores and how everything is falling apart faster than you can fix it. You dissolve on the living room floor into thick tears. You're usually so put together, even when alone. You hate crying. There's no one to hold you together except yourself, so why fall apart in the first place?

Your little moment of getting it out is interrupted when a quilt falls over your shoulders. A soft, heavy quilt of midnight skies and dotted pale blue stars that was never in this room.

You leap to your feet, quilt falling away, and call out in classic horror victim fashion, "Who's there?" but no one answers. In frozen terror, you stare at the room, expecting something, anything to jump out or scream at you, but it's so, so quiet. All is still, like apologetic comfort.

That couldn't have happened. No draft, no forgetfulness could explain how a quilt was draped over you as if by a concerned friend.

You stare at the quilt and decide that you've had a long day. You go to your room, unable to relax even once you're under the covers, feeling something cold and misty above your bed.

When you wake in the morning, that starry quilt is draped over your lying form. You did not put it there.

Something or someone else tucked it around you.

[inlovewithalotoffandoms]

Mix and Match

Luke x Female!Reader

Summary: You and Luke are dating, and one day, he and Reggie somehow switch lives, and everyone, including you, thinks Riggie is Luke and Luke is Reggie. (Based on the Elseworlds CW crossover episodes)

Reggie woke in bed next to you, and he was baffled as to why that was because he knew that you and Luke were together. When you called him Luke, he was even more confused than he already was. So he went to Luke, who was in the studio and told him what happened. Alex walked in and said hi to Luke but was looking at Reggie. Luke gave Reggie the 'I think we Switched lives' look. When Reggie and Luke were alone, they tried to figure out why this was happening.

Luke: This can't be a coincidence. There-there has to be a reason behind this. Which means that someone is responsible. We need to know who... hey, can you... can you not do that?

Reggie: Man, what a total "Freaky Friday." No, wait, we didn't switch bodies. It's more of a "Quantum Leap." Where's a mirror?

Luke: Focus, just for a second, and take this seriously because the world thinks that you're Luke Patterson and that Reggie Peters and I would really like to know why.

Reggie: Totally.

Luke: Is that cool?

Reggie: Yes. I'm sorry.

Luke: Thank you.

Luke pulled out a photo which was of you and him, but it is now of you and Reggie, who you think is Luke.

Reggie: Weird.

Luke: Just, if you could... just for 90 seconds of seriousness.

Reggie: You gotta admit, this is a little cool. Besides, I woke up in bed with Y/N!

Luke immediately looked angry.

Luke: You woke up in bed with Y/N?

Reggie: Mm-hmm.

Luke: We have to fix this right now!

You, Alex, Flynn and Julie were now in the studio with Luke and Reggie.

Alex: Let me get this straight. You believe that you are not Luke Patterson, but in fact, he is?

Julie: Luke, did you ghost travel too many times again?

Luke: No, I didn't.

Flynn: She's talking to Luke.

Alex: Sorry.

Luke: I am Luke.

Julie: Yeah, and I'm Wild Dog.

You: Easy, Wild Dog.

Julie: Sarcasm.

You: It's not great sarcasm, Julie.

Flynn: Reggie's brain scan is perfectly normal, no signs of hypnosis or psychic interference.

Alex: Tachyon meters are clear, no one's screwing with the Timeline.

You: Guys, come on, this is crazy. I mean, there's no way that I could be dating Reggie Peters. Sorry, but babe, you know he's not my type, right?

Luke: Y/N, you really don't believe me? *scoffs* We're telling the truth. Okay? We're telling the truth. Something is very, very wrong with reality.

Reggie: Yeah.

Flynn: All right, Phantoms meeting. Not you, Luke and Reggie.

Luke: Th... uh...

You: I've only got eyes for you, you know that.

You give Reggie a kiss on the cheek as you leave.

Luke: I sw... if you touched her...

Reggie: I didn't touch her.

A while later, Luke and Reggie were sitting outside.

Reggie: All right, well, if our friend's not gonna help us, then we have to keep moving.

Luke: They'll help us, okay? They'll help us. We just gotta get... we just gotta get Y/N on board first.

Reggie: How... how are you going to convince her?

Luke: I'm not. You are.

Reggie: She's your girlfriend!

Luke: I know, Reg. I know, I don't... I don't like this any more than you do. You just gotta tell her how much you care about her. Tell her that she's the heart of your songs.

Reggie: I'm not... I'm not saying that.

Luke: Just say it. Trust me. It works every time!

When you realise which one of them is actually Luke, you feel like an idiot. When the two of them walked back in, you sighed.

You: Hey, Luke....Reggie.

Luke: You believe us now?

Flynn: Yeah, we all do.

Alex: Sorry we locked you up.

You: Luke, I'm sorry, if I had known, I-

Luke: Shhh, it's fine, you couldn't have known.

Reggie: So how are we gonna fix this?

Julie: Figure out what caused it, I guess.

You: Luke, can we talk outside?

Luke: Yeah, of course.

You and Luke walked outside of the studio, and you let out a sigh.

You: Luke, really, I-

Luke: Y/N, stop. Okay, you, couldn't have known, and-and besides, you know we always find our way back to each other. Y/N, you're the heart of my songs, all of them, so what if something like this mixes up, we'll always find our way back, we cool, huh?

You: *nods and giggles* Yeah, we're cool.

Luke: *smiles and kisses your forehead gently* I love you.

You: I love you, too.

[bonesandthebees]

Okay fuck it. I think scrolling for hours today is enough DJFKGKFK I'll just log back out. I wanna focus my energy on more positive things

Im so gonna log back in the minute my friend sends me another tweet but HDKGKGKD no. I will do my best. He's not worth our time man.

Okay one more tiny rant about him and then I promise I'll stop I just OOOHHMYGODHFJGKG HE JUST. I had so much hope. That. He would reply and it wouldn't fix things, I wouldn't go back to watching him or anything but at the very least I could get closure that like? Maybe his closer friends would be able to heal and move on? Idk if that's parasocial or whatever but he was such a big role model for me the past few years I really had hope that at least some parts of it were real, you know? And instead we just find out that he not only did these shitty things but didn't fucking learn and did it to other people too and??? It's really really upsetting that he created this safe space, this community of people who were all so lovely while just being. Fake. The whole time. And he doesn't even have the gull to properly apologise and I just??#?# idk what to do with my emotions LMFAO I'd finally started to feel better and like move on but now today I'm just angry again grgrgfhfjdkdk and I totally get that like him being a complete dickhead is easier in a lot of ways bc there's no. Doubting it. Or anything. Like there's no redeeming him. And we can get closure from that. But fuckkk it hurts so badly and the tl is a mess of ppl being like "well this person would never do me wrong" and then ppl being like "fuck every YouTuber ever actually. We can't ever be sure we know them" and LIKE!$?_?$?

Dude I am so conflicted on so many levels rn I feel like my entire world has just been yeeted into the sun LMFAODKFKFKFK

Anyways. Anyways. Thank you bee. Ur tumblr is the only account w a brain rn fr lmfaodjfkfkfks

I get it, I'm fucking furious at him. he had a chance to at least own up to what he did. I wouldn't have gone back to consuming his content, but I could be somewhat at peace knowing he was taking steps towards being better.

I don't want to think it was all a lie, because abusers aren't all completely evil people. the thing is, wilbur is human. a very shitty human, but human nonetheless. and we can't know for sure how healthy or unhealthy every relationship in his life has ever been and I think overanalyzing that or trying to figure out what was fake and what was real isn't really our business or worth our time. wilbur is a guy who has hurt a lot of people, but also refuses to recognize the hurt he's caused. that's it.

I do hate the dichotomy I'm seeing between people trying to prop up their own favorite white boys on a pedestal because apparently people never learn, but also going out and saying every content creator is inherently evil and we shouldn't trust any of them. these people are human. they're all going to fuck up at some point, some worse than others. and sometimes they'll fuck up in a way that they can move past and we can forgive them for, and other times they'll fuck up in a way that shows they shouldn't have the platform they have. they're not all terrible, and they're not all perfect. that's what we should be keeping in mind for the future.

[sighonaraa]

30 and/or 32 from the Drabble prompt list with any character you like best for it

30: "Do you need a band-aid?"

Sam's not… certain how he feels about Jamie. Not entirely. Not even fractionally, really, because mostly when he tries to figure out how he feels about Jamie he ends up just feeling this sick, twisted knot in the pit of his stomach, and sort of like he wants to cry. So. He tries not to figure it out. Even now that Jamie's started being--

Well. Jamie's started being nice, or nicer, and it's confusing in the way that it's confusing when a teething puppy suddenly stops biting your hands when you try to feed it. You want to be angry at it for how badly it hurt, but you can't. You just can't.

Which means that Sam's doing the only thing he can do: Ignore it. He thanked Jamie for supporting him in the Dubai Air protest, and Jamie accepted the gratitude with an uncharacteristic, silent, almost shy jerk of his head, and since then they've been orbiting the locker room on opposite sides of each other, just waiting for the moment they finally have to collide.

Sam wasn't expecting that collision to happen like this.

**

His knee stings. Worse than stings. It burns, all the way through; the top layer of skin's been shaved off by the rough scrape of grass, and blood's spilling from the wound quicker than Sam thinks should be possible. It's not a bad injury. It's not bad at all. He'd had worse as a kid in the park, playing with his friends. Yet he can't stop the tears from welling in his eyes, nor the thick ache that rises at the back of his throat, and before he knows it he's sitting there in the middle of the practice pitch, silently sobbing over a skinned knee.

He hears a whistle blow, somewhat distantly.

"Hey, Sam," Ted says, a few moments later. Sam sniffles, head tucked to his chest. "Y'alright?"

"I'm fine, Coach," Sam mumbles. His voice is damp, sodden. "Just tripped."

"Yeah, made a little love to the ground with your knee, huh? Been there. You wanna head on inside, get some ice on that baby?"

Sam considers, cheeks hot with shame. He should decline the offer and stand up and continue playing. It's what Isaac would do, what Roy would've done, what Jamie--

Anyway. He should decline. But he still can't stop the tears, and a sob's building in his chest, one that he knows is going to tear out of him soon. And he'd prefer to be alone when that happens. "Thank you, Coach," he says, softly. "I'll do that."

So he heads inside. Makes it to the locker room before slumping onto the bench and burying his face in his hands, shoulders quaking with the strength of his cries, odd, half-strangled sounds escaping his mouth without permission. Much like his feelings about Jamie, he's not entirely certain what it is he's crying about now; only that it's been a long time coming.

"Oi. Twenty-Four."

Sam jerks against his palms; a gut instinct, born of months spent listening to that voice insult him in every possible way under the sun. It takes a moment to remind himself not to immediately snap back, that nothing horrible has been said yet.

"Jamie," he says, scrubbing his eyes before lifting his head and fixing his gaze on their resident recovering prince prick-- Isaac's words, not Sam's, but appropriately applicable in many scenarios. "What do you want?"

It's sharper than, perhaps, Jamie's initial statement warrants. Yet Jamie doesn't rise to the challenge it presents. Instead, he shuffles his feet and shakes them out, one by one. A nervous tic. Sam's noticed it, even though he's done his best not to.

"Coach says you got hurt," says Jamie, strangely hesitant. He twists his mouth to the side. His hands find a home inside the sleeves of his kit. "I, uh. Thought I'd come see, like. Make sure you're… okay, and all."

"…Oh," Sam says. He feels a bit dumbstruck; a bit like his brain's missed a step in this conversation and is now playing catch-up to fill in the gaps. "That's… that's kind of you, Jamie, but. I'm fine. I just--" To his horror, his nose starts to sting again.

Jamie doesn't mention the hitch in Sam's voice. He just rocks up onto the balls of his feet, then back onto the heels. Blurts, "I've got band-aids."

"What?"

"In me locker," Jamie clarifies, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "I've got band-aids, 'cause, uh-- just 'cause. They've got kittens on 'em. You want one?"

"I don't--"

"I'll get you one," says Jamie, and does exactly that.

When he returns, Sam's crying again; softer than before, less purposeful and more releasing the last of the water from a soaked towel, wringing it out till it's a bit wrinkled but dry at last. Jamie offers the band-aid, and it has got little kittens on it, batting balls of yarn back and forth.

"They're very sweet," says Sam, thickly.

"Always wanted a cat," says Jamie. It's information he offers freely, if awkwardly, as if he hasn't had much practice in the art of talking about the truth of himself. "It's, uh. I can put it on, if you want. 'Cause your hands're shakin', and all."

Sam's hands are shaking. He hadn't noticed. He tucks them beneath his thighs and says, "I would appreciate that."

So Jamie unpeels the back of the band-aid, and presses it gently to the wound on Sam's knee. He makes no comment of the severity -- or lack thereof -- of the injury. He applies it with the same solemn care one might treat a broken arm, brow furrowed and fingers careful, delicate. And when it's finished, Sam makes the decision to scoot in, tuck his thigh against Jamie's and press close, so that the warmth of his body meets the warmth of Jamie's and becomes something new.

They stay there like that until practice ends.

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Send you away - 10th doctor x reader!

A/N: I'd apologise for disappearing off the face of the earth, but it'll probably happen again. I've been in the biggest writing slump, I genuinely can't remember the last time i wrote something new. Even this story is old, but i've made a lot of adjustments so it's half new i guess. If you sent in a request, it will get done and posted!! It just might take me longer than intended.

Word count: 1989

Warnings: None

------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Doctor.” You called after him as he stormed towards the console.

But he continued to ignore you. As he’d been doing for the past five minutes.

“Doctor this is getting really childish now.” You sighed, leaning against the railing.

He begun flicking a bunch of different switches, busying himself with the console as the TARDIS begun to take off. You were growing increasingly more aggravated. You didn’t even know what you’d done to warrant this behaviour from him. One moment the two of you were exploring a new planet he’d taken you too, then the next thing you knew there had been an attack of some sort. And this being the doctor’s life, of course he ran to the rescue. Somewhere along the line the aliens causing the attack had captured you. It took the doctor almost 3 hours to find you. They’re ship was full of intricate tunnels leading to a million different sections. By the time the doctor reached you, you were worn out. They hadn’t hurt you too bad. Only a few punches here and there, but it was apparently enough to form big purple bruises all over you. Other than that you were fine. That’s what you told the doctor at least. Thinking back to it now, that’s when he’d stopped answering you. He’d saved you and then just sort of stopped. He couldn’t be angry at you because of that. Right? It’s not like you asked to be kidnapped. It’s not even like you went out looking for trouble – you’d stayed by his side the whole time.

“Doctor.” You tried once more, your voice coming out a lot harsher now.

Still no response.

“Jesus Christ, 903 years old you’d think you’d have matured by now” You mumbled.

Once again you were met with nothing but the hum of the TARDIS. He was getting on your last nerve at this point. How did he expect you to fix whatever it was he was mad at you about if he wouldn’t tell you what the problem was?

“For god’s sake, TALK TO ME” You yelled, finally snapping. His eyes snapped to meet yours, seemingly taken back by your sudden change in tone. “I don’t see what I’ve done to piss you off so much, but you can’t just stand there and wait for me to figure it out.” You ranted moving towards him.

His face remained as cold as ever, unwavering as he watched you.

“I didn’t ask for them to take me. For them to make me think I was never going to see you again. So if your angry at me because of that, then you have absolutely no right. I did nothing wrong. So don’t stand there and ignore me. Either talk to me or get over yourself.” You prodded his chest with your finger as you finished your sentence.

His hand moved to grab your wrist, causing your anger to fade for a moment. You stared up at him, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind.

“Talk to me.” You said, your voice coming out as more of a whisper.

His eyes flickered with a wave of torment. As if his mind was waging a war over what to say to you. Whatever it was, it broke your heart.

“No.” He replied, letting your hand fall and walking away from you.

You stood in your spot momentarily frozen before your brain processed what he’d said.

“No? What the hell do you mean no? Doctor you can’t expect me to just know why your mad at me-“

“I’m not mad at you” He cut you off, leaning forward on the railing with his back to you.

That confused you. Slowly you stepped closer to him. “

If you’re not mad at me, why won’t you talk to me?” Your voice was coming out a lot softer than before.

The doctor sighed as he dropped his head to rest in his hands. “I’m mad at myself. I should have protected you” He mumbled.

Your heart burned hearing the sorrow laced in his tone. You hated when he got like this. He caved in on himself, allowing the guilt to overwhelm and consume him.. The man in front of you carried the weight of worlds on his shoulder’s day in, day out and chose to blame himself no matter the outcome. Even in situations he had no control over. When in fact he was just one man. An extraordinary one at that. But nonetheless he was one man. And you knew he shouldn’t try to take on as much as he did.

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know it was going to happen.” You said reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

But he quickly whipped around to face you, anger in his eyes.

“YES I DID” He yelled.

You stumbled back, not prepared for his reaction.

“This is always what happens. Every single time and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It happened to Rose, Martha, donna. Even to mickey. No matter how hard I try, how much I care – I can never stop losing them.” He seethed, pacing up and down.

You watched him silently, not daring to speak for fear of saying the wrong thing.

“It hurt with them. So much. But you” He stopped, turning to face you. “Losing you would break me more than I care to imagine” He breathed.

You stared at the man you’d fallen in love with, breaking at the seams right in front of you.

“You won’t lose me.” You replied, stepping closer once again.

He rolled his eyes.

“No listen to me. You won’t lose me doctor. I refuse to leave you alone. Because I know how much it hurts, to feel so utterly alone in the world. To feel that there is no one out there to care or love you. No one to make you feel safe.” You moved closer still, taking his hands in yours.

“That was me when you found me. And you showed me a whole new life doctor. And I’m not just talking about the stars and the aliens, none of that. You showed me what it’s like to feel wanted, to feel needed. Whether you intended to or not, you made me feel loved.” You said, tears threatening to spill. You avoided his gaze, choosing to focus on his hands in yours.

“You fixed me. And all the demons we seem to stumble across, they’re worth enduring for a life with you. So I will not leave you.” You concluded, finally looking back at him.

His brow was furrowed, as if he couldn’t understand your feelings. But just as quickly as before, his cold deminer returned.

“You will. If you stay.” His words stung, causing you to recoil.

At the loss of contact, his face fell. He didn’t want to hurt you. But he couldn’t lose you the way he had with the others. He needed you safe, no matter how much it pained him.

“Y-you want me to leave?” You stuttered.

It felt like the wind had just been knocked from your lungs. It had never even crossed your mind that he might not want you there. The doctor rushed towards you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

“No. No I really don’t. You mean more to me then anything in the world”

You wrapped your arms around him as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“Knowing you has been the greatest gift the universe could’ve given me. I was hurting, just as you were. But you healed me.” He explained.

You chuckled against him. “I guess we work pretty well for each other then.”

“I suppose so.” He replied, smiling to himself.

“I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.” He said, pulling away from you.

Your face fell at the loss of his body against yours.

“Please don’t send me away. I have nothing to go back to.” You whimpered.

“I don’t want to. But I need you safe.” He whispered, his voice cracking.

Tears were now streaming down both of your faces.

“I’m safe with you” You replied, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

He moved towards you, cupping your face in his hands.

“I can’t promise you that.” He rested his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to. Just please. Let me stay” You were practically sobbing at this point.

You could feel his hesitance, but you really couldn’t leave. There was nowhere for you to go. The TARDIS was your home now.

“Please doctor. I love you please don’t.” You begged breathlessly.

The doctor tensed at your words. He pulled away, still holding your face, to look at you.

“W-what did you say?” He stammered.

You were too tired to try and lie. You gently placed your hand over his, nuzzling against it.

“I love you.” You whispered.

There was a tense moment as the doctor just looked at you. Just as you went to move away from embarrassment, the doctor crashed his lips against yours. You froze for a moment unable to respond. That was the last thing you’d expected him to do. The doctor mistook your actions as regret, so he begun to pull away, trying to turn away from you. That snapped you from your thoughts.

“No” You cried as you grabbed him, pulling his lips back to yours.

His arm flew to your waist, pulling you flush against him while the other cradled your face in his hands. You had one arm round his neck, your fingers getting lost in his brown mess of hair, while the other clutched at his jacket. The kiss was so full of passion, the two of you seizing every opportunity to explore each other. You didn’t even realise you’d been moving backwards until your back hit the railing. He leaned further into you, as if it was even possible. Eventually you pulled away from one another. You rested your forehead against his, your eyes remaining closed as you breathlessly cherished the feeling. You already missed him on your lips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that” The doctor whispered, causing a smile to crawl its way onto your face.

You opened your eyes and pulled away to look up at him.

“Oh I think I do. It’s been a rather tiring process”

He raised his eyebrows at you quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know how frustrating it is to be pining after a certain time lord you spend every day with?” You said laughing.

“Well seeing as your not a time lord. No, no I don’t” He replied smiling. “But I do know that I’ve been falling in love with you since I met you. It scared me at first. I’m not used to feeling this way.” He admitted softly.

Your eyes softened at the thought of him not getting the love you knew he deserved.

“But I came to realise it’s not a bad thing. The effect you have on me, it’s indescribable. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

You were positively blushing at this point. He brushed his thumb slowly across your crimson cheeks as he stared down at you, holding nothing but pure overpowering love for you in his eyes.

“I am head over heels in love with you. And it means everything to me that you feel the same.”

You smiled brightly at him. “I love you Doctor. So much.”

“I know.” He said before leaning down and capturing your lips in yet another kiss.

This one was a lot shorter and sweeter but full of love, nonetheless. You rested against him, enjoying the warmth his arm provided. Life with the doctor was not without its difficulties, but knowing he loved you the way you loved him made the whole thing a lot more bearable.

[desertfangs]

I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE ARMAND/DANIEL BREAK UP SCENE IN TVA PLS

Not gonna lie, I would’ve loved for a more polished version of this to have made it into the book, the potential is there IMO as well as all the elements that make Devil’s Minion such an explosive, intense, compelling ship. The fighting, the yearning, the weird sexual analogies (this one didn’t quite land but it kinda always goes back to sex with them, doesn’t it?), the kissing in between hurtful statements. Daniel using INSECT parts for his models, Pandora trying to make him pay attention to Armand, Armand being sad and kissing Daniel while trying to fix things, but Daniel being too far gone at the time to even register the impact of his words. I NEED MORE.

Anon, I have so many thoughts, my brain is spinning.

I'm not sure I'd want this in the book or not, it's so hard to say now. I was absolutely baffled by Daniel's lack of inclusion in TVA when it came out, and and then suddenly he's there in B&G mad and being cared for by Marius, and I had to do a lot of mental gymnastics to figure out how I thought he got from A to B. I eventually decided him thinking Armand was dead drove him mad, which made the most sense to me. That is clearly is not what Anne had pictured, but at this point I'm honestly pretty happy with that conclusion instead.

I'm trying to imagine how it would have felt if this was included in TVA. What else does that change? Is Armand still bitter and angry? Is he more regretful? Does this mean we get any of his POV of the Devil's Minion years, including their break up? (Because that is the piece I feel is most missing from that book and what I deeply wanted from it in addition to filling in Armand's background.)

The idea that Armand abandoned the island to mortal hands--a reference to him selling it, I guess--would absolutely break Daniel apart. It does feel very much like something he would be devastated by but I don't feel we're given enough on this one page to really understand what happened. Armand left the others? That doesn't gel with anything I've ever thought. Armand always struck me as the one who was holding things together and was then heartbroken when everyone else left. So I'd need a more context into Anne's idea of how things played out there.

That said, there are pieces I like!

I love the idea of Pandora and Marius looking after Daniel together and Pandora trying to get his attention.

"I have no maker!" I mean, if Daniel and Armand had a vicious fight and Armand all about renounced him and left him wandering to the point where the loneliness and devastation of it drove him mad, then this is absolutely something I can see him saying. The way he talks about how Armand doesn't make others so clearly he has no maker is so full of bitterness and resentment I would love to see a fic unpacking that (Someone should write it! Maybe several someones!)

Daniel building his worlds with found objects and weird shit is amazing. Like it's so deeply unhinged that I can't help but applaud the creativity. I honestly wish I'd known about this months ago because I can totally see this happening as Daniel sinks into madness and I would have loved to have added a scene to my fic about that where Daniel is building a little town on the floor of some seedy motel with bugs and matchbooks and rubber bands or something. It's delightfully freaking weird and I dig it.

I love Armand asking after Daniel, which is another thing I think was sorely missing from TVA. The fact that he doesn't seem to care where he is just explained by his assumption Daniel hates him, but it still feels exceptionally weird to me that Armand wouldn't even ask, particularly after he almost died, and he doesn't know if Daniel may have tried to follow suit? This whole big thing just happened and Lestat is catatonic on the floor, I'd be accounting for my loved ones, no matter how we left things.

Armand losing all his anger and bitterness (does he have that in this version? He must have some, right?) when he sees Daniel in a bad state, clearly struggling, and offering him comfort is so precious. But also can we talk about "I didn't mean to abandon you..." ????? Armand ABANDONED Daniel in this version??? I just... that's so wild, I have so many questions. And then he kisses him??? That is precious. Look, I have wanted an Armand and Daniel interaction during his madness since we learned Daniel was in Marius' basement playing with model trains in Blood and Gold. And I think I would have been okay with this if we got some satisfying resolution between them afterward - we can have this hurt, but we need some comfort to end it on, you know? And I don't think that would have happened. I think Armand would have left defeated and we'd have been stuck with that in our heads for decades until PL came out and we get one freaking line about them hunting together, so.

I think I am glad this version did not make it into TVA, but I would also love to read a dozen fics that try to make sense of all this because there are some delicious tidbits I think talented fic writers could explore and really work into something great.

[a-cat-in-toffee]

I originally wanted to talk a bit about Wight and David, and Wight's first "death" because some things have had me thinking abt them but! turned into general wight backstroy talk. <3 warning for discussion of gore and blood and generally wight having a Bad Fucking Time. MUCH LONGER THAN I MEANT FOR IT TO BE, AS THEY ALWAYS ARE....

so Wight and David have the normal distance and weird William and David relationship growing up. They're not close but they're not exactly hostile, y'know? They're less like family and more like acquaintances.

But then William dies. He gets in an argument with his parents and runs off into the woods to try to calm himself down, despite the rain. He slips and falls and falls into the chaos zone and his body and brain get all fucked up. It's still raining by the time he first comes back, not exactly knowing how to deal with the chaos in his body.

He's scared, he's bleeding, and he can tell something about him is wrong. It's dark out but he tries desperately to get home, stumbling through the forest until he gets back. It's hours later than he had left. He manages to get himself into his bathroom, finally seeing the gash giant gash on his face.

Now, head wounds bleed more than anywhere else, but he doesnt know that. He's freaking out. The skin itself is coming apart. So he searches for the first thing he can find, grabbing a stapler and stapling the pieces of his face together.  It doesn't help, even as he tries desperately to clean up the blood.

His parents are asleep, and besides, he can't go to them with this. He's not sure he can ever go to them again. does it make sense? not really, but in that moment its what he's convinced of.

David, though. David, for some reason, he decides he can go to.

He calls David, asking him to pick him up, still very much so freaking out. When David comes to get him he's hellbent on getting William to a hospital, but that just makes him freak out more He's wrong. there's something wrong with him, they can't know.

So David manages to get William back to his apartment, gets a towel around his shoulders and some of his wounds fixed up. Whatever William did to his face seemed to have worked, but it certainly wasn't pretty. William notices the way David keeps wincing when he looks over.

William lives with David for a few tense days, before he can't take it anymore and runs away. He had honestly assumed David had told their parents where he was, and only found out he had been declared missing, and later dead, further down the line.

Wight lives on the streets for a long fucking while, going through crisis after crisis as he starts building up his personal around him. lashing out and feeling out his powers, forcing himself not to be scared of them. But he's fucking terrified.

But he still doesn't know how to control them, not exactly. Something goes wrong, and something goes up in flames. People die, and a warrant is put out for his arrest as a powered individual. He stays on the run for a few months, figuring out how to use his powers and building up his reputation, until he's inevitably caught.

It doesn't matter, though, by the time he arrives at rockfall supermax he's already settled into being Wight. He has to be calm, he has to be in control, he has to be so manipulative. It's the only way someone like him would survive, afterall. He's had that proved to him over and over again.

David knows. David knows that Wight is William, and Wight is beyond angry when he finds out, because not once did David try to step in or help him. Just silently observed while the people who should have saved him and helped him manage this horrible thing that happened to him lumped him in with villains and murderers and threw him in prison. All of them failed him, why should he have any sympathy for them?

[cloud-somersault]

ok, so, I wanted to talk about that huge moment in chapter 13 when Macaque gets angry and yells in Wukong's face LMFAO but there's actually a lot going on here, and it's now one of my favorite scenes ever and always so. let's! dig into it.

Just heading into this, we're riding on the winds of Macaque being upset that Wukong walked away from him on the beach without a proper farewell or anything. I think I accurately portrayed how upset he was about that, going out of his way to not only offer a portal but offer to walk with Wukong and then chasing him down. Even thinking to himself "Did I do something wrong?" is incredible for his character.

For the most part in not only the epilogue but in Constellations in general, Wukong would be the one chasing after Macaque. That's all he did in the mirror was chase Macaque and try and get him to listen. It set up this dynamic of Wukong always being the one to keep that thread going.

Water and Stone was a huge turning point for this, since Macaque had to apologize and for his shitty comment. And he felt bad. And he wanted to make things right. And he himself acknowledged that was a position he doesn't often find himself in -- having to chase after Wukong like that. I think that was the first time Wukong left of his own choice and not because they fought or Macaque seemed to be done with the conversation.

And I think that moment really stuck with Macaque. He fucked up, yeah, but the feeling of Wukong walking away from him is a feeling he doesn't like. That's why he was nervous about apologizing but didn't understand why he was nervous. He was thinking that this apology might not be enough, and there was a fear that Wukong wouldn't want to speak wit him despite the apology.

As the epilogue has gone on, there's been a lot of instances of Macaque expressing that he wants Wukong's attention for himself, how he wants Wukong's eyes to be fixated on him. Wukong walking away on the beach is him actively choosing not to look at Macaque at all. And Macaque's attempts afterward were him trying to get within Wukong's sight again.

There is some entitlement there on Macaque's end; he believes he deserves Wukong's attention because of the murder. Like, after everything, Wukong could at least give him this. He could at least be endlessly trying to get into Macaque's good graces.

Deep within Macaque, there's this fear of abandonment (even if he understands Wukong didn't abandon him, those feelings are still there). Of Wukong not wanting to be with him in any capacity. So this showing of disinterest really fucked with Macaque's brain and upset him deeply. Like, he offered quietly to walk with Wukong. He stood there and felt sorry for himself and tried to figure out how to fix it. I think that's deeply tragic, for Macaque to be in denial about even this. That he wants Wukong's love and attention just as deeply, to the point of it being a need -- Just as Wukong needs his. But Macaque doesn't want to completely surrender to that weakness. He hates how pathetic he is about this, but loves to see it in Wukong.

ANYWAY, to get to the shouting match -- this is what fuels Macaque's anger in this moment. He's got this annoyance that Wukong didn't speak honestly with him, that he just ran off without explaining himself, that he's trying to push Macaque away at all. He gets so livid from all of these things, that he loses his temper and that is a very rare thing for him to do.

It's kind of a "I can't fucking believe this IDIOT would even suggest that" type of thing. Especially after the months they've invested into this. Macaque sees Wukong's want to limit their visits as an insult. And it leads to him needing to set things straight.

Not only does he call Wukong out, Macaque casually just drops his love and hate for Wukong while he's ranting and doesn't bring it up again LMFAO He's too mad! And he reminds Wukong who's in control of this because Macaque wants that control. He wants to toy with seeing how needy and desperate Wukong can get. That's his amusement, and he feel entitled to it because of the murder, which is why he brings that up, too.

But I think this passage is powerful for a couple reasons, and one of those is just the word choice here. How Macaque gets very rambly and ranty. I feel like the sentence structure in his dialogue reflects this. How he goes from succinct sentences to long, run-on sentences, then back to harsh and pointed statements. He's bouncing back and forth as he tries to state everything he feels like he needs to.

The entire piece of dialogue leaves Wukong with no room to argue, nothing to say, nothing to protest or bring up. Macaque is firm and unflinching and Wukong can just say yes to everything he's saying. And there is legitimate anger behind Macaque's words and his stance, but there's also this fear. The fear that Wukong tried to push him away, that that was something he wanted to do, even if it was a defensive mechanism..coping mechanism,,whatever, the fact that he brought it up at all rubs Macaque the wrong way.

He doesn't want that to happen. He doesn't want Wukong to think that's acceptable. To Macaque, he is the only person Wukong shouldn't try and push away. That's why he says that Wukong's love is shallow, that it's not enough. He wants Wukong to be unwilling to part with him, unwilling to exist without him, unwilling to go weeks without seeing him. He wants Wukong to be clingy and needy and unapologetic in his love. He wants that obsession.

And he encourages it at the end there, which sets them down a very dangerous path, but anyway.

I just really think Macaque's forcefulness is interesting here. Him slamming his hand against the tree, how he speaks to Wukong without fear. Just that assertion. It's coming from anger and fear but also this hurt. Macaque really doesn't like that Wukong walked away from him. If Wukong does that again, Macaque will probably say something LMFAO

It's also like "the audacity of this bitch" kinda scene, because Macaque is just. flabbergasted that Wukong would suggest that like...wow, okay.

And then for Wukong to be 💯💯💯into being yelled at and pushed up against a tree??? he liked that Macaque yelled at him and expects more from him, like...look at how they play off of each other and feed each other like that...damn...they're wild about each other, idk.

I think moments when Macaque loses his cool are very interesting to dissect because that means there's a lot of emotions going on there. Like, I probably missed a BUNCH, but just this is so much. The thought patterns and opinions of these monkeys change so quickly like, each visit there's this...change in how they view each other. As the epilogue has gone on, that's been very interesting to see!!

[carsonian]

avengers rock band au. not sure if i want to take this further. let me know if you're into it!

Content warnings: drug abuse, implied sexual content | Also, apparently 2024 is the year of pining!Steve....?

Steve stops at the foot of the bed, already done with the conversation set out before him. With a sigh, he says, "you can't run from this forever."

Tony's draped across the bed like he's an art installation, some avant-garde, postmodern posturing of an insouciant rockstar sniffing a line of coke. Because it's Tony, he does the line clean, and when his head finally slants to acknowledge Steve's presence, he doesn't look any lesser for having snorted a little plastic baggie of white powder.

He doesn't even have the grace to trip over his comeback. "I don't need forever." He turns over onto his back, stretching his arms above him with a slow inhale that carries on, and on. "That's nice."

"It can't possibly have hit your bloodstream already."

"I was talking about the stretch."

Steve feels his eyebrows knit tight and angry, and does his best to quell it as he walks over then sits down on the bed. "Tomorrow. That's the deadline. You said we'd look it over."

"God, since when is rock and roll about meeting deadlines?" Tony grouses.

"You're doing the Jagger routine? Really?" Leaning forward, Steve presses the flat of his thumb against Tony's pulse point until the man's wincing back. "Get up, come on."

"I'm incapacitated." Tony gestures to the plastic baggie.

"Your choice, isn't it?" It's a little sharper than he intends, than he promised himself he'd be. It is Tony's choice. Badgering him about it isn't going to help. "I've seen you give speeches with more a' that shit in you, cawm on. You ain't getting out of this."

"You're such a dick." Tony grumbles but it's the grumbling of a resigned man, and sure enough, in the moment after, the brunet sits up and shuffles close to him. Steve had brought his guitar with him, his trusty ol' Les Paul, and he puts it in his lap now. "I'm still figuring out the words," he warns Tony, and the man hums, eyes blinking shut the way they do any time he's listening to something for the first time.

Steve's not the singer of the group, no, that's the brown-eyed bugger himself, and his voice can't quite hit the high notes. Still, he's used to this, relaying lyrics to Tony, and there's no discomfort about him as he sings, soft and a little husky, about the twisted machinations of media politics and the displacement of the working class. The political songs are always trickier because wording matters so very much--and while he's good at punchlines, good at finding the lyrics that'll stick, he's not the greatest at stringing it together into perfect, lyrical harmony. Structure. Narrative. That's where Tony excels, pulling in the threads, rearranging things, knowing what to cut out, what to bring in.

Steve's sitting cross-legged with his guitar in his lap, and when he gets to the bridge, Tony shifts to rest his head atop Steve's knee. His eyes blink open, and the look in them is thoughtful.

He finishes the song, and keeps his fingers poised ready over the strings.

"You've got a thought," he murmurs. Tony fixes one eye on him, the other shut so it's like looking at a still-frame wink. It pulls at the barely there wrinkles around his eyes in an interesting way that Steve absolutely doesn't pay attention to.

"Lead up to the bridge isn't strong enough." Tony says, "for one."

"I reckon that'll be percussion. Haven't picked Clint's brains yet. Cooper's still got that nasty fever." He explains.

"Still? Thought they went to the doc's?" Tony asks.

"It's sticking around." Steve says, "I think Laura's keen for another visit, though I'm not sure how much that'll help."

"You and your distrust of hospitals." Tony turns his eyes heavenward, rolling off Steve's lap and onto the bed. "Instead of ending with, giving it all to the very few, why not lead with, giving it all to the very few, into nobody's seeing what it all comes to. And you repeat that thrice before the chorus. Extends the song, yeah, but it gives that first part of the bridge more heft."

Steve sings it, Tony joining in to demonstrate how each iteration gets more caterwaul-like, more desperate. It works with the isolation of the bridge and Steve smiles, private and quiet. "Works." He makes a note in his writing journal, flipping the blue slide down from his multi-pen.

He's got a system: black for writing drafts, green for chords, blue for amendments. In between lines and lines of black, blue and green--scrawled down whenever he gets a good line or chord in his head--are throwaway lyrics and beats in red, from times when Tony leans over and whispers something into his ear, whatever brainworm's gotten ahold of him. And sure, Tony could pen it down himself but he travels light, and Steve doesn't think Tony's actually gone into his notes app before, is practically familial with the virtual assistant for anything he needs done. So it all comes to Steve.

He doesn't mind; sometimes, Tony's ideas spiral into his own. Other times, it's just nice to write something in a different colour.

They pick through the song like this, Steve discarding some of Tony's ideas which of course prompts Tony to spitball more outlandish suggestions, shuffling up onto his elbows. It's fun, this. Tony getting riled up ranks high for entertainment value alone, but Tony riled up over music? It's a privilege. Even as Tony's fingers being to tap manically against the back of Steve's elbow and his teeth begin to grind from the cocaine, it's not enough to break the normal, honest, downright beautiful joy of songwriting.

After the third time Steve catches Tony's legs from folding around his neck in a pretzel-like headstand, he clicks his tongue and squeezes the man's ankle. "Alright. You're bouncing off the walls. Go shag a model or something." Steve pats his ankle, "go on. I hereby relieve you of your brain."

Tony's whoop is longwinded and obnoxious, but the grin he sets upon Steve is wild, all unholy danger. He points at Steve, and says, "I wanna explore every crack in the fucking universe," here, he licks his lips absentmindedly, "and I'm starting with that sound tech's."

"You're vile." Steve says, calling after Tony as he heads out of the room, "don't fuck Sandra, she talks shit about you when you're taking a piss break!"

"That's not a turn-off!" Tony sing-songs as he flicks the door shut behind him.

[imeternallylove]

Secret - S.Holmes; part eight

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut

Warning: none

Word: 3k

main mastetlist  | request & ask | prompts | theme song

Chapters index

prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part eight | part night | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | epilogue

You were a nervous wreck, sitting across from Sherlock in a quiet corner of a nondescript café, nursing your third cup of green tea to calm your stomach butterflies. There was silence between you two, neither of you saying anything. Instead, the awkwardness lingered, like an itch that wouldn't go away no matter how much you scratched it.

Sherlock had called the day Zoe had been discharged from the hospital, asking to meet up so he could talk to you about everything. A part of you was relieved to have the opportunity to explain things to him, but a larger part of you was afraid. If you messed things up with him, you'd just be harming Zoe and her desire to see her father. You felt terrible for keeping your daughter hidden for so long, but you'd feel a million times worse if Zoe was the one who suffered.

The only solace was that, from across the table, Sherlock appeared apprehensive as well, his fingers playing the piano along the table. He used to do the same thing for exams. 

"H-h-how is Zoe doing?" He stuttered abruptly after watching your nerve-racking, wondering why you felt the need to lie to him. He's a fantastic detective; he can figure out how these corpses get perished but why... with you. Why can't Sherlock see anything from you?

He broke the silence with his comments, and you eventually looked up at him as he fixed his attention on his lap.

"Is she feeling any better?"

“She’s feeling a lot better,” you replied, hiding yourself behind your mug of tea. You caught him peeking a look and you both smiled a little sheepishly. “The seizure was caused by an infection so they put her on antibiotics to fight it. She’ll be going back to school next week,” you added quietly, worrying if that’s what he wanted to hear or not.

He seemed to sigh in relief, his shoulders relaxing a little. “That’s good to hear. Where is she now?” He asked more, lips pursed together with nerves.

“She’s at her Elle’s house, probably dressing up as Princess Merida and having a tea party,” you told him with a chuckle.

The look of confusion on his face was definitely a picture. “Princess Merida?” He murmured slowly, his eyes moving from left to right in thought, you watching him like he gradually written each every single word of you about Zoe’s life into in brain.

Your hand reached over to give him a reassuring pat on his arm, but froze halfway when you remembered you weren’t his favourite person right now. “She’s a Disney princess,” you answered, quickly pulling your hand back to your lap and dropping your head to hide the embarrassing blush burning your cheeks.

You were wondering when Sherlock was going to cut the small talk and give your nerves a break. He was sure to have questions. You expected him to be angry and demanding explanations. Instead it was a nervous Sherlock you were looking at covertly.

Thankfully he didn’t keep you on edge for long.

“Why did you do it?” He asked softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the café around you. “Why did you lie?” You could hear how truly broken he was, hurt and betrayed by you.

All because of you.

Tucking your hair behind your ears, you took a deep breath in and mustered up all the courage you could. You needed it to get through this conversation. “I didn’t want to be the reason you gave up on your dreams,” you justified quietly, gripping your tea tightly like it was the only thing holding you together. “When I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to tell you everything so we met in the park that night, do you remember?” 

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And then you told me about your the great news, a first of greatest step of yours… and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be the reason you gave up on the one thing you wanted more than anything else in this world. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve always wanted to go to Boston and this was your chance. I didn’t want to stand in the way of that,” you admitted, nervous for his reaction.

You remembered that cold night as if it happened yesterday, remembered the beaming smile on his face, the happiness in his eyes. You’d never seen him so excited as he was that night in the park.

Sherlock sat up and leaned forward, his soft eyes wide and staring at you. “You should have told me then. I could … I could have …” He trailed off, biting his teeth down on his bottom lip.

“You could have given up on one of the best biology programs in Boston and stayed with me?” You finished quietly. Your hands twitched around your mug, wanting to reach out and offer him some comfort but you didn’t think it would help. “Then you would have resented me even more than you do now.”

“I wouldn’t have resented you,” he exclaimed, his lips pulled out in a little pout.

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. “Yes you would. You’d hate me for keeping you from your dream and I’d end up feeling guilty all the time,” you answered, taking a sip of tea to calm yourself. “What kind of environment would that have been to raise a baby?”

Sherlock looked down at his lap, his expression sad and thoughtful. Seeing him like this broke your heart but you only had yourself to blame. This was the result of years of lying. “We could have made it work,” he said quietly, looking up again and meeting your eye. “How can you say it would have been terrible when you never gave it a chance? We could have tried to be a family.” Unexpectedly, he reached out and peeled your hand off your mug, squeezing it tight. “I wouldn’t have let you go through all this on your own.”

“I know you wouldn’t have, but I felt horrible forcing you to make the choice,” you replied softly, leaning closer so you could see the tiny flecks of caramel in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was pregnant and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Zoe. If I could go back and change things, I would but I can’t,” you murmured so only he could hear.

“So what do we do now?” He asked, gulping hard while he looked at you sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. “I want to be a part of Zoe’s life.”

You sighed silently, feeling a new wave of nerves flutter in your stomach. Sherlock wanted to meet his daughter and the thought made you happy, thinking about Zoe having a Mummy and a Daddy like you knew she always secretly wanted. But you were scared too: scared that introducing Sherlock to her could do more harm than good, scared that Zoe would become too attached and then Sherlock’s life would pull him away, scared that she’d get her heart broken like you did six years ago.

However, you know he deserved a chance. 

“How about I talk to her and explain things and if she wants to meet you, then we’ll make arrangements?” You resolved after a few seconds of thinking things through in your head. This was as much Zoe’s choice as it was Sherlock’s and although you could probably guess what she wanted, you knew she should be included in a decision lie this.

He now smiled up at you, the first smile you’d seen from him since he sat down. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly, squeezing your hand tight with a slight glisten to his eyes. Only then did you fully realise how much this meant to him.

Zoe sat opposite you with an empty plate on the table in front of her and a big satisfied smile on her face. “I’ve finished,” she exclaimed proudly, sitting up straight at the dinner table and looking at you expectantly.

You finished your glass of water slowly, forcing her to exercise a little bit of patience. You promised that if she ate all of her dinner without any moaning, she could do some painting afterwards. “Help me load the dishwasher up and then you can get your paints out,” you told her, watching her jump down from the table in a flash and hurry into the kitchen with her plate.

As promised, she helped you with the dishes and thanked you for dinner, before sprinting off to get her paints from her bedroom. Meanwhile you laid a plastic sheet on the floor in the living room to protect the carpet from any spills. It was Sunday and in the morning, Zoe would be going back to school for the first time since her seizure, so you wanted to put her in her best mood which meant letting her be creative in whichever way she wanted.

“What are you going to paint little one?” You asked from the sofa where you were perched ready to watch. You loved to watch your daughter paint. It reminded you of how innocent your love for art had been when you were her age.

Zoe pondered for a second, the paintbrush poised between her lips as she stared down at the blank piece of paper just waiting to be transformed into something fridge-worthy. “The stars,” she declared, opening her paints and quickly getting to work while the image was still fresh in her head.

Watching her splash colours of dark blue and white onto the paper, you realised that this would be the perfect time to bring up Sherlock. You’d been tiptoeing around when it was best to broach the subject with her, but after tomorrow, the pair of you would get caught up in school and work and you’d just be postponing the dreaded talk.

You made both you and Zoe hot chocolates topped with whipped cream and marshmallows –Zoe’s favourite – and sat down on the other side of the coffee table. “Sweetie, I need to talk to you,” you started slowly, sliding her hot chocolate across. “About your daddy.”

Your daughter instantly looked up at you. “My daddy?” She asked in a high pitched squeak, her eyes wide and her bottom lip pouting a little. Slowly she put the paintbrush she was using down and took a sip of her hot chocolate, smearing cream along her top lip.

“Recently, I met your daddy again,” you explained to her, reaching over to wipe the cream away. “And I told him about you and how amazing and beautiful you are … and he wants to meet you.”

“What did you tell him?” She asked quickly, rising up onto her knees in eagerness.

You sighed softly and smiled, trying to calm the nerves in your stomach. This conversation was a lot harder to have than you expected. Maybe it was because you were admitting your lies to your daughter, the one person whose opinion of you mattered the most. You didn’t want her to hate you for the decisions you made before she was born.

Back then, you were only a child yourself.

“I told him that if it wasn’t my decision to make,” you replied, brushing a little strand of hair behind your daughter’s ear. It still amazed you how much you could love your daughter, nothing else in the world mattered but her happiness. “It’s up to you little one. If you really want to meet your dad, then you can meet him.”

Immediately Zoe jumped to her feet, squealing with excitement. “I want to meet him! I want to meet my daddy!” She exclaimed, dancing around the coffee table before jumping onto your back, little arms wrapped tight around your neck. 

So you arranged it. That night you put your little girl to sleep and called Sherlock, organizing a little trip to a kids’ café at the end of the week. He thanked you for giving him a chance, to which you apologised for not giving it to him sooner. You wanted to talk longer, ask him about his day, ask him what he ate for dinner, ask him whether he slept ok, but it no longer felt like your place to ask. 

Instead you just wished him goodnight and hung up, taking a long shower to hide the tears falling down your face. Zoe may have found her father but it felt like you had lost your best friend.

For the week leading up to Zoe finally meeting Sherlock, your daughter was a pure ball of excitement. It was all she could talk about. She wondered what he would look like, what he would sound like, what his favourite things would be. When she ran out of things to wonder, she moved onto making plans: all the things they could do together, all the places they could go together.

The night before, you were brushing Zoe’s hair in front of the television, twisting the strands of hair into a pair of pretty braids. It was therapeutic, just weaving through the motions without any real thought. Zoe liked it too, the feeling of someone playing with her hair. 

When you were finished, she turned around on the floor in front of you, Sherlock’s eyes staring at your face. “Do you have a photo of my dad?” She asked timidly, almost afraid to ask the question. “I want to see if he looks like me,” she mumbled, her thumb slipping into her mouth.

“Ok sweetie,” you answered softly, leaning across to unplug your phone. You remembered taking a picture of Sherlock at lunch one day, so you pulled it up and showed it to your daughter, smiling a little as her face screwed up in confusion.

“This is a photo of Uncle Detective, Mummy,” she told you, looking at you like you were the stupidest person in the world.

You laughed a little and pulled on her arm so she stood up and you could sit up on your lap on the sofa. “It’s also a photo of your dad,” you told her slowly, kissing the little baby strands of hair that curled up around her temple. “He was my best friend at school before he was the hero of London.”

She stared down at your phone again, her mouth hanging open. “My dad is Uncle Detective?!” She asked in disbelief, checking your face for confirmation before jumping out of your lap and screaming.

It was a positive reaction at least.

Still screaming, she sprinted out of the room into her bedroom, reappearing with Mr Snuggles in the air. “Uncle Detective is my dad!” She shouted, before stopping mid-step, a thought clearly crossing her mind. “Does this mean I’ll get to meet Grandpa John again?” Then she buried her face in Mr Snuggles’ stomach and screamed again.

Just as excitable as her father, you thought with a smile.

It took a while but you finally managed to calm Zoe down and get her into bed, although she wasn’t even the slightest bit sleepy. After reading a story with her, she settled down with Mr Snuggles tucked up against her side.

You climbed off her bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin, crouching down at the side of her bed. “What are you going to dream about tonight?” You asked her in a hushed voice although you could probably guess her response pretty easily. Every night this week you’d asked the same question and each time she replied with meeting her dad.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, concentrating on the fluff surrounding Mr Snuggles’ ear.

You frowned. Something was up. “What’s the matter?” You inquired, letting your head rest on her pillow so you were face to face.

Zoe looked up, and you could see the sadness in her eyes. “What if my dad doesn’t like me?” she asked in the tiniest voice, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip nervously. The excitement must have drained out of her, leaving only the worry left.

“Oh一 little one,” you cooed softly, running your gentle fingers across her soft rosy cheek. “You don’t have to worry about that,” you assured her, watching her eyelashes flutter sleepily. “He already loves you so much and he didn’t know you were his daughter at the time. I know he’s going to only love you more tomorrow.” You’d hoped your words would alleviate some worry but she was still nibbling on her bottom lip. 

Sighing softly, you leaned over and dotted a little kiss on the tip of her nose. “You have nothing to worry about,” you murmured quietly to her, stroking your fingers down her face. “Your dad will love you just as much as I do … and I love you squillions!”

She giggled into Mr Snuggles, closing her eyes and snuggling deeper into her pillow. “I love you too mummy!” 

Every time you had taken Zoe to the kids’ café, you had hated it. It was always absolute chaos, screaming children running around on way too much sugar, like little tornadoes. However, you’d suggested it to Sherlock because it was your daughter’s favourite place, apart from amusement parks, and it was an easy place to play with her– if you could keep up with her.

But as soon as you arrived, you wondered if you had gone to the right place. You pushed the door open and let Zoe in first, expecting a wall of noise to hit you as soon as you stepped inside. Instead the café was eerily quiet, faint music playing in the background that you’d never noticed before.

Zoe paused too, looking up at you with a confused expression that probably mirrored yours. “Is this the right place mummy?” She asked, waiting for you to take the lead before making another step.

“I think so,” you muttered, pulling your phone out of your coat pocket to check the address. Yep, this was definitely the place. Was it closed?

You rounded the corner of the corridor into the main part of the café, surprised to see it completely empty apart from a man stood in the middle of the seating area. Sherlock. He looked effortlessly handsome, wearing pale blue jeans and a white t-shirt. For a second your breathing hitched in your throat as you processed how attractive he looked… and then you remembered the little girl by your side.

Immediately you felt Zoe tense up. She scurried behind you, wrapping her arms around your leg and hiding her face in the fabric of your skirt. Ok so your daughter was choosing now to be shy for probably the first time in her life.

Giving Sherlock an imploring look, you beckoned him over with your hand, crouching down to lift Zoe up onto your hip. She instantly buried her face in the crook of your neck. He approached you slowly, his hands behind his back and a nervous smile on his lips. 

This was it: the moment your daughter met her father for the first time (and actually knew he was her father). You took a deep breath in and ran your hand up and down Zoe’s back to comfort her and help with her shyness. “Little one? This is Sherlock Holmes…” You gulped hard. “This is your father.”

Zoe peeked up from the collar of your shirt, still clinging to you but turning her face to look at the man in front of her ㅡher dad.

Sherlock took a step closer and offered Zoe a warm smile, the kind of smile that melted your heart and left your insides all gooey. “Hey there Zoe,” he said in his bright melodious voice, waving his hand at Zoe cutely.

“It’s nice to meet you… I’m your dad.”

[mephestopheles]

What is it about certain things that just take over my brain? I've read several things in the last year that legitimately had me side ways and hyper fixated. Way of Kings? Absolutely adored it, was obsessed with the novels and read all of them in three months. Am absolutely not interested in fandom stuff for it, love the books, do not feel the need to play in that playground. The Locked Tomb? Took a full year and change to get into and finish Harrow the Ninth, and then speed read Nona inside a week. Have done a full reread of them a month later. But again, not really interested in fandom although I do follow the tag.

Mass Effect was a decision made because I was bored, and couldn't figure out a new book to read, can't seem to settle my brain enough to prepare for my dnd campaign, and needed something that would kill a few hours. First game was cool, kind of pissed I couldn't romance Garrus in the first one, but decided to not romance anyone in the first game.

Found out Garrus is locked to Femshep, so switched tactics to Tali. Mass Effect 2 is when the rewiring started. Like the first one was great and fun and the lore was cool. I'm an absolute sucker for space anything. So aliens and new planets and all that shit is just pure candy for me. But maybe it was the end of ME1 and then going right into ME2 and the way you need to work on helping people and finding ways to cooperate.

By the time I hit ME3 I was not just hooked but overwhelmed. I knew going in there were issues, and I could see the spots that didn't add up. But it wasn't until Citadel dlc that i felt something click in my head and it went "there's a playground here" of course it didn't really fit in the lock so to speak until the ending, and now the ELND tag is circling my brain.

I can see the spaces in the writing in mass effect. The depth and potential, and where the actual story fails to reach those places. Not just the "this definitely needed a second or third pass with an editor" but also the places where they suggest something and drop it. I understand they were probably under crunch (which awful, terrible, this is a thing that shouldn't exist), which means a lot of things get left on the table.

It has created the perfect environment for me to basically go "I love your work, please take this 90 page treatise on where I believe you went wrong and how it can be fixed. Also please answer the next twenty pages of questions regarding species and governments of all of the sentient species in mass effect universe"

Whatever it did, it unlocked something that I have 17,000 words of fic at present. Not even sure if I'm going to get anywhere near smut in this. Who knows though, it's currently just a lot of dialogue.

I just would absolutely love to know what the special sauce is that opens the door, so I can open it myself, with my own stuff. Would really like to be obsessed with prepping my dnd game, that'd be cool. Of course I think I'm just angry at wotc more than anything. And the fear of failure with my original stuff is still strong.

[staceymcgillicuddy]

5, 7, 16 for the couple questions!

5. How do they sleep?

I did five here, but I will add that I think after sex, Eddie wants to cuddle for like forty-five minutes and Chrissy is immediately like "I HAVE TO PEE RIGHT NOW" and she always, always, always puts on a t-shirt or something to go and do that, and he is a huffy baby about it, even though he really likes that it's usually his shirt that she chooses to wear.

7. What's their most and least favorite thing about each other?

Specifically for Soul Eddie and Chrissy, because they're the ones I know the best right now.

Eddie's favorite thing about Chrissy is the way her brain works, and how he has no idea what happens between a thought forming in her brain to when it comes out her mouth, but he is faaaascinated by the journey and will spend his life figuring it out. His least favorite thing is the food waste, full stop, because he is never going to get over his food insecurity issues fully and while he gets that her shit with food is very different from his, it will always bug him, even if he doesn't vocalize that.

Chrissy's favorite thing about Eddie is how unconventionally smart he is. She loves that he just knows random shit about shit, and goes down research rabbit holes, and just genuinely likes learning about the stuff that interests him. Her least favorite thing is like... (and this doesn't come up in the story much, I'll be honest, but I can see it being a fight in the future)... the line between protective and overprotective, and that sometimes he falls on the wrong side of it? Like, he never tells her what she can't do, but sometimes he can be a little smothering. Which makes sense, considering how they hooked up, and how much he's helped her along the way, but as she becomes more and more sure of herself (getting that soul known again, as it were), she can feel a bit stifled by that level of attention. I think there was a bit of that manifesting in the scene in New York at the bar, actually.

16. How do they react when the other is upset? How do they try to help?

Also for Soul specifically, but can probably apply to most iterations of them in my head.

Eddie goes into that hyper-aware "what do I need to do to fix this" mode. He's like a Terminator except instead of killing John Connor his mission is to remove whatever's making her unhappy, whether that's her own mental shit, her mother, Jason, or idk, she tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. If he needs to make her laugh, he'll make her laugh. If he needs to hold her, he'll hold her. If he needs to let her punch a wall, she can punch a wall. He is just immediately in "fix it fix it fix it" mode.

Chrissy is interesting, because we haven't really seen her dealing with an upset Eddie, since Eddie's pretty chilled out and self-actualized in Soul. Not to say he doesn't have issues, but he's really good at not letting her see the complexity of his frustrations with work, or his future, or whatever. So, without giving any spoilers away, I want to say that Chrissy's probably a lot less "fix it fix it fix it" and more "I don't like conflict and I have a bit of a trauma response to it and I'm sorry you're upset, buddy, but I'm going to walk away until you calm down" if Eddie's angry (not necessarily with her, but with the world). If he's like, actually hurt/emotionally wounded, I think she's probably pretty quiet, but very into physical touch, holding him, just being physically present with him, even if she's not always 100% sure what the solution is.

Overall, though, I think they're both pretty emotionally attuned to the other, so even if the responses weren't perfect right out of the gate, they'd level-set and figure out where they needed to be pretty quickly!

Couples Questions

[thecloudstan]

Wow that was a very long response indeed. But don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed reading it (even if I was admittedly a bit confused.)

I was also unsure of what Sephiroth we’re dealing with here, but what you said about AC Sephiroth and him trying to fix things makes sense. It would also explain why one version of him is seemingly sticking to the original plan (the one that stabbed Aerith) while the other is doing things that were never in the original (distracting Rufus so he can’t mobilize the military to attack the weapons.)

Now I’m wondering though if AC Sephiroth managed to somehow control the Alpha version though. Because as far as I remember, all the instances where Alpha Seph is present he doesn’t really say things all that relevant to the plot. He’s just kind of… there. When he attacked Aerith he stood in place for a while- which I thought was strange- then started laughing, then the whole boss battle happens and the Jenova thing comes out of nowhere. So either AC Seph turned the Alpha one into a clone, or got rid of him entirely. Because if he hadn’t he’d still be trying to do the same things he did in the original, all of which look now to be done by AC Seph. The more I think about it the more I realize it doesn’t make sense for there to be more than one, because they’d all be getting in each other’s way. I think AC Seph managed to somehow infiltrate this timeline, take control of Alpha Seph’s memory, and is now operating based on those. But the thing also is that there’s only one world- Sephiroth says that no other worlds existed before Cloud and co. Defeated the whispers- so this Sephiroth has to have traveled back in time, so does that just mean that it’s the same Sephiroth as it’s always been? And there isn’t actually another one? Maybe the whole time it’s been the Sephiroth with knowledge of the future who’s just been using the robed men as his vessels, even in remake, and only spoke directly to Cloud when he shows up on the highway at the end of part one, and since then it’s been him the entire time.

I’m sorry if this is hard to follow. Honestly the more I talk about the more things I come up with and you’re basically just seeing my brain vomit in real time.

But just as a side note: Sephiroth seems to be really busy this time around. Like this poor man’s running himself ragged trying to get himself a victory. He’s trying to keep Aerith from entering the life stream- which is even harder because now there are THREE different universes AT LEAST where she exists and she’s dead in one of them- while trying to keep Cloud stupid and puppet-like, while ALSO screwing with Rufus. Like I said though, his thing with Rufus seems the most personal. He doesn’t show such rage with Cloud or even Aerith, with whom you’d think he’d be the most angry since she’s pretty much why he lost the other time. But he’s trying to mess Rufus’ presidency up from day one by starting the war with Wutai and also keeps provoking him by calling him names- which is surprisingly childish, considering how much wisdom and maturity Sephiroth should have at this point- and doing all of that while wearing the face of his own dead father figure. If you didn’t know, by the way, Glenn is from first soldier/ever crisis and was basically Sephiroth’s father/older brother figure when he was a teenager before he defected from Shinra, which only makes the whole thing even more messed up.

Whew, that was tiring to type. Let me know what you think. Maybe we can figure this out.

I've always thought that the moment Sephiroth arrives in Remake, it's AC Seph because he just starts popping up everywhere way too early. But of course, the only time you actually physically interact with him is in the singularity, between things. Because he can't physically manifest or interact with the real world like the dumpy Reunion thrall Sephiroths can. Every instance you see Sephiroth in the original, he's just a thrall, and I think that's why he's often just babbling Jenova nonsense and either disappears or is easily defeated. This isn't the case in AC, because Kadaj isn't just some dopey, degraded thrall yet. He's intact, so that Sephiroth is much more "complete." He also states that he'll never be a memory, which I can't help but feel is the devs' basis for this entire fucking Remake series 😂

I did know Glenn's story on paper, but I didn't watch any of the interactions between them. I pretty much assumed that Glenn is meant to be the character responsible for showing young Sephiroth that you can't just go around being a heartless killing machine for Shinra. You should like...protect civilians and such. It clearly sticks, because I'll never not be haunted by Sephiroth's reaction when he loses that Security Officer in Mt. Nibel...

Also, is it not being heavily implied that Glenn is Cloud's father? The timelines line up, from what I've researched. And I can't help but feel that Glenn/Seph's comment to Rufus about the son fulfilling what the father began is not only in reference to Rufus...it would be an interesting misdirect if it proves true. But you're right, they really decided to dive more into Sephiroth's relationship with Rufus and Shinra, so to speak, which makes sense because wouldn't that be the most acute grudge of all?

[krikeymate]

Was debating sending this but saw all the other asks you posted today about songs. It's not everyones cup of tea BUT ''Hate Myself - Dodie'' keeps giving me strong Tara and Sam vibes whenever I hear it and I just want to asfhaodjiado;ajsaojidas. I don't wanna say too much about it because don't wanna influence your thoughts on it but !!!!!!

This was an interesting song. So I wanted to double-check that I was reading the song right before I posted this, and thankfully I was. It's about the singer assuming that when things go wrong it's their fault, when really it's just that the other person is dealing with their own problems and it has nothing to do with them.

Could it be different? / Did I ruin the day? / Oh, do you look angry? / Oh, what did I say? / Filling in the gaps / Build a problem that / Neither of us needs / Something wrong with me -> Sam trying to figure out what's wrong with Tara, trying to fix a problem that can't be fixed, because she didn't cause it.

I'm getting desperate / Losing my mind / Oh, how do we get here / Every time? / One will fold their arms / One will do the dance / Really is no need / Something wrong with me -> This new normal of theirs, their constant back and forth, the push and pull of uncertainty and conflict. Sam's desperate to fix it, to find an equilibrium.

Oh so illogical, I'm not magical / I can't read your mind! / But how can you not hear the whole conversation / I have sitting still with a brain on fire? / I know; it's a me thing / Eyes closed, isn't helping / When you go quiet, I hate myself / When you go quiet, I hate myself -> Sam blaming herself when Tara's angry, when she gets mad, but she doesn't know how to fix it because Tara won't tell her. It must be her fault. She hates it when Tara goes quiet, when she shuts down.

I'm only proving how / I'm only worth losing now -> She's only making things worse.