#anyways last time i managed to read like 4 issues and got to the beginning of mercury falling

[themyscirah]

Damn....

(Impulse (1995) #62)

[onedirection072310]

Ok. Imma go on a rant.

To Simon Cowell you’re a piece of shit and ALWAYS have been. You overworked Louis, Zayn, Liam, Niall and Harry to their brim. Way more than what they, much less any normal fucking person could handle. All they wanted was to live out their dreams. Instead they went on 4 tours in 5 years. They released 5 albums in 5 years. When they were on tour for their previous album they were already recording their next album. Because of them constantly recording their next album they had to record all over the world, therefore they barely hit any sleep. They were away from their families for 9-10 months out of each year at least. When they weren’t on tour, writing/recording they were promoting an album, movie, etc. Simon, you didn’t allow Niall to get surgery. You portrayed Harry, a 16 year old CHILD to be a womanizer. You forced Louis to SIGN a contract to adhere to what you wanted him to be. You forced Zayn to have an Ed due to how much you overworked him therefore he had little time to even eat. Liam suffered from addiction issues because of the ptsd, trauma he endured and how often he was locked away in his hotel room all because you wanted MONEY from these CHILDREN. And worse of all your hateful ass closest Zayn/Liam and Louis/Harry for YEARS. You didn’t allow them to be who they wanted to be. You gave them fake gfs and kids that were not theirs. How dare you do any of this that I have just mentioned? How did you think any of that was humane? I hope you NEVER have any peace ever again in your life. And I hope you have the most painful death imaginable. I hate you, you piece of shit.

Maya Henry. Where do I even begin with you? You adhered to managements fucking wishes. You lied and spewed all of the bullshit you could have ever wanted. You did that to further closet him. How dare you? You forced a certain image on him being an a*user when he wasn’t just so it could benefit YOU. You’re a piece of shit. You’re a piece of shit for agreeing to do that just for the MONEY you would earn. I hope you also have a very painful death and NEVER have any peace in your life.

Kate (Liam’s last beard). Even though you were a beard.. why? Why, when Liam was in the hospital last August did you make it all about YOU? When he was dealing with a LIFE THREATENING kidney infection? You made TikToks and profited off of your “boyfriends” pain he was in. Why not support him? Oh yeah, because all YOU wanted was the MONEY. Also why did you not stay in Argentina when you KNEW (actually you probably didn’t even know because you were a beard). But when he was showing very obvious signs he was nowhere near in the right headspace to be left ALONE. In a fucking FOREIGN country. You’re a piece of shit for EVER thinking that was ok and I hope you think about that for the rest of your life. Thinking about how you should have gotten help for him. Call Zayn, call Niall, call Harry, call Louis, call his family. Call someone who ACTUALLY fucking loved him.

Liam haters. Idc if you NEVER believed in Ziam and you believed in the a*use allegations you were hearing. Your hate for Liam started LONG before the allegations. You hated him for NO REASON. You knew he was showing obvious signs of addiction and alcoholism. Yet you hated on him constantly. You hated on him daily for YEARS. You used him as your punching bag for YEARS. Liam read all of your comments when he was struggling like hell. Yet, you didn’t CARE. You kept hating your asses off. You don’t get to hate on Liam one day, and then mourn him the next day. You never know what someone is going through, so maybe if you hateful mfkers were a bit kinder this would have been less likely to happen. Go get fucked, all of you.

To the hotel. If you knew that Liam was struggling… why didn’t you restrain Liam until someone got there? Why did you keep walking him back up to his room KNOWING he was a threat to himself and to others? Y’all should have known better.

Anyways rant over. Liam my precious angel, I’m sorry that EVERYONE besides the boys and your true fans FAILED you for YEARS. You didn’t ever deserve this. I’m sorry that you never knew your worth and never knew how loved, special, kind and beautiful you were. I’m sorry that this ever happened to you my love. You’re missed so much and you’re loved so much. I hope heaven is kinder to you than most of earth has been to you for the last 14 years. I’ll love and miss you forever, my love❤️

[the-hype-dragon]

Books I read in June

Good god I got kinda burned out this month, I made the dumb decision to read a bunch of doorstoppers and made the mistake of forcing myself to finish a book I didn't think was that great.

uhhhhhh anyway here:

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling - reread, 3/5

Confession time: I've always kinda disliked DH and my opinion has not changed lmao, I thought it wrapped up the series okay but there are a lot of things I just don't like about and never have. On the other hand I'm one of those people who actually likes the epilogue. Had some genuinely great writing for a YA series and certainly was not a bad book, I just never had as good a time reading this as I did the other Potter books.

The Broken Sword by Poul Anderson - 2/5

There were things I liked about this while I was reading it but overall it was not an enjoyable experience and as I sit here typing this I can't even talk myself into saying there were any parts I really enjoyed, although I know I did WHILE I was reading it, or else I wouldn't have finished it. Like I would start to think "hmmm maybe I better DNF" and then something interesting would happen, rinse and repeat for 260 pages. I can't believe people think this is better than LOTR (which I am also not a huge fan of so don't @ me lmao). Yes I understood what Anderson was going for, I just didn't like it. Maybe I would have Gotten It if I was a man, who knows. There are like eighty covers of this book but I was blessed with a copy bearing the above image, which just... idk it's that distinct 70s-era corniness, I can't help but love it.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling - reread, 4/5

I've always liked HBP but it's been a hot minute since I've read the latter half of the HP series and I forgot just how weak HBP's denouement is. That said it's still pretty entertaining and the cave sequence was as harrowing to read now as it was when I first read it back in 2005. Slughorn is my favorite Hogwarts professor, he's just so mundanely unlikable and imo a good example of Rowling's talent for character writing.

The Burning Stone by Kate Elliott - 5/5

For about 90% of the book I was willing to say this was just a solid 4/5, but the last chapter really blew my mind lmao and that's saying something because much of the rest of the book is full of crazy plot twists. I did have some issues with it like an increasingly dragging pace (thanks to the ever-growing cast of characters) but otherwise it's a pretty great book, the good parts are REALLY good and the few parts I had issues with weren't because they were outright bad but because the stuff happening wasn't really my cup of tea. Also this book is pretty poorly-edited (at least the 1999 edition I have) with many noticeable typos but that didn't detract TOO much from the story imo. Still pretty solid and the climax was amazing, ended up really loving it.

The Seventh Son by Reay Tannahill - DNF, 1/5

The War of the Roses was a legitimately interesting period of English history with actual larger-than-life personalities involved and not a single author I've read has been able to truly capture it effectively in fiction. My problem is basically this: in spite of what records exist about the women involved in the conflict very few authors manage to make them anything but man-obsessed nonentities, and most of these books focus (or over-focus, I'd argue) on the military campaigns. Anyway The Seventh Son is just more Richard III apologia and I hate that too. And in spite of a strong beginning focusing on the dumbass laws these idiots made to hoard as much power for themselves as possible (which I genuinely find interesting) it quickly devolved into typical boring historical fiction trying to flaw-scrub the men while also listing off the horrible ways men were legally allowed to treat their wives, and how not even women of high rank were exempt from this treatment. Made me feel physically ill. Overall disappointing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

so now that I'm completely fried here are the books I plan to read in July:

The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin (which I started in the third week of June, but I was also trying to finish The Burning Stone and that took precedence)

A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O'Connor

Child of Flame by Kate Elliott

Nine Layers of Sky by Liz Williams

And there may be others, sometimes I'm just seized by a whim and cannot stop it. But we'll see!!!

[crucifixes-and-chrysanthemums]

Journal number 2; I forgot until a minute ago that I was doing this weekly!

I started a 9 day novena to Saint Anne last Tuesday. It'll be finished on the 29th, and then I'll send Brial a message - I managed to find her on Facebook. It goes (or at least, the draft of it):

Dear Brial,

I am sorry.

You were right.

At this point you can stop reading - those are the two most important parts of what I have to say.

I hope that you are well, and that you continue reading. I began in apology and I must begin the body of this the same. I did not treat you as you deserve to be treated. I was raw and hurt and refused to see it. I was sick and called it health, and spurned you when you told me the truth of the matter. Even more, I pushed you away when you said you would stand by me and help me heal. And when I ended our relationship, I did not even have the decency or honesty to tell you the truth - that it was because I could not face reality. In no uncertain terms, I was a bad person and a worse partner.

I have done a great deal of prayer and soul searching. I faced myself and my history. I took your advice, eventually, which in my heart I knew to be true. That is why I struggled to do so in the fist place. I told you that I was considering joining the Army, and I could not make that decision with a partner. The first half is true, and even after I healed and got better, I considered it for a long while. I eventually decided against it. The second half is a lie, and even in that moment, deep down, I knew it was a lie. I was running from the truth of things. Self-isolating and making a martyr of myself in a vain, stupid attempt to do something that I knew even then was impossible, and even were it, it would not be good. I did not believe in myself and you did, and for that I pushed you away.

I did not begin to fully grasp this until about a year ago, after I had healed from Leisha. There was no near death experience or life-changing conversation or some encounter with an epochal work of writing. Instead, there was simply the slow revelation of what I had done and not done. There have been some since, which have only served to help, thanks be to God. Each issue that we had could have been solved had I been willing - I know that you were. I did not appreciate your kindness, patience, and understanding.

In several drafts of this, I expressed something to the effect of "meeting the right person at the wrong time." This nagged at me, though. I do not think that it was the wrong time. Your repeated willingness to work with me, as a partner, showed that. So it was not the wrong time. With this expression, then, it would be that you were not the right person. But I do not believe that for a moment. That is why, then, I reject that expression upon further thought. Instead, I was the wrong person for everyone: you, myself, and others. Instead, I met the right person as the wrong person.

I am not sure if I expect to hear from you or not, honestly. I would be a liar if I said I do not want to. I would like to make us work. I do not want to "start over" - that'd be impossible. Instead, I would like to try again. I would like another chance.

Jeffrey Yaw

Em says it doesn't sound corny or cliche or dumb. It's heartfelt, that's for sure. It didn't hurt to write like I thought it would, honestly. It felt nice to get it out there. To admit it all to myself. If she doesn't give me a chance, that's okay. I'll live.

Anyway, Christmas passed. It was really nice to see everyone. Worked Christmas Eve morning, then went home and changed. Mass in Retsof at 4, then over to grandma and grandpa's. It was a very nice visit actually! Everyone was in a good mood, even Tim. He was actually out and out pleasant! We all joked and made merry and ate delicious chicken wing dip - made by grandma from Jodi's recipe this time, instead of by Jodi. Then Christmas we opened our own at home, then went to Nan and Pap's. Another great visit, although I really would've preferred turkey or ham to roast beef. Hendrix got to come along since David and Amy didn't bring their dogs. He was a smash hit. I put pap's light on his gun and showed him how his new holster worked. I got a Milwaukee heated sweatshirt and I'll be getting Mom one too since she loves it so much. I also got a Stetson hat from grandma and grandpa! I plan to wear it through fall and spring mostly. I also need to go through my closet &c and clean some things out. I have too much stuff.

Anyway, that's about it! A nice week, all told. My apologies for being a bit late.

Tuesday, December 27th, 2022, 12:22am.

[lostgreekgod]

delusion

a/n: hello aaaaa i had @theaudacitytowrite give me a prompt for a loki x reader fic solely because I do not find entertainment elsewhere! anyways

word count: 2776 (shit got longer, but what can I say I'm very feely when it comes to angst)

warnings: angst. angst angst angst. some crying. there was this one mention of blood, tendons & stuff ? but that's about it have fun crying

pairing: loki x f!reader

summary: you and Loki have been together for quite some time now. what happens when his insecure self realizes that you love him? and that he does too?

another a/n: I feel like this could use a part 2 i might come up with it next week because I've got a 7 day break from school yayy lmk if you'd like that nexie

4 years. It had been 4 years, 3 months, and 27 days since y/n had shed a tear. But on this fine autumn morning, as the yellow and brown leaves rustled in the gentle winds, as the smell of coffee, pumpkin, and spice wafted in the air, she let a tear fall- courtesy of her lover. No, scratch that. Her ex-lover.

\\ 3 hours earlier \\

Humming a tuneless song, an exhausted y/n walked back to her room in the Avenger’s tower. A whole day of training wouldn’t be smart when she had a crucial mission to lead just the next day, but she wanted the mission to pan out exactly right. This wasn’t her first mission, but the stats were so much more critical compared to the missions she had been sent on before. A new rival organization was springing up in SHIELD’s radar, and they seemed as high as ever in spirit, regardless of how the Avengers had managed to crush HYDRA not so long ago. Apparently, according to a message they had received a few moments before, the up-and-coming organization had 4 junior agents in captivity, and in exchange for those agents, they wanted intel. Fury’s plan was to provide a hard drive with incorrect information with an embedded virus, and have the agents rescued before the rival agents decrypted the file and realized SHIELD’s play. Two birds with one stone, as he had phrased. y/n was going to go in with Natasha and Loki. Nat, because she was as light as a cat on her feet, and Loki because he had his seidr for illusions, teleportation, et cetera. This wasn’t going to be her first mission with her 4-month boyfriend either, but she was excited to be fighting alongside him, nevertheless. As she washed up in the shower, she heard her room door open and close with a click. Finally. She thought with a smile. She could go to sleep in her beloved’s arms for the few hours she had left for rest and relaxation before they set out. Putting on her nightgown, she left the bath. She saw how Loki was cocooned on her bed, arms reaching out towards her, a little smile on his face. Unlike her, the god didn’t train much- but he still looked tired.

“Hello, my little lioness. Whom did you beat up today? You do realize it is wiser to rest before a mission.” He said in a loud, lazy whisper. All y/n could do was smile sweetly at him and snuggle under the covers. He knew how the lack of training made her insecure about her ability to be stealthy. Instead of letting Loki’s arms wrap around her like most of the other nights, she spooned his chest instead. Loki’s eyes widened at the sudden gesture, his body tensing up at the sudden disposal of love. He had only given love; he had never been on the receiving side of it. Wait, love? He didn’t love y/n. He didn’t. That swell he felt in his chest every time he saw her was simply the result of the great appreciation and respect he had for her. Nothing more. He couldn’t love her. After all, everyone he had ever loved ended up being taken away from him.

Chuckling lightly, he hoped y/n wouldn’t catch onto his nervousness. “What are you doing my dear?”

Inhaling his scent, y/n mumbled, her eyes still closed. “Sleeping. Go to sleep my love. We have to be up in less than 3 hours.”

My love? Yes, y/n had called him that multiple times, but he had never thought much of it. Why was he suddenly so wary of it? Did y/n truly love him? No, maybe she wasn’t thinking. She was already worn out and sleepy, maybe she blurted it out accidentally. No one could love him. No one.

y/n sensed that he still hadn’t relaxed. Cracking her eyes slightly open, she asked lightly, “Is everything okay, love?” Loki’s brows furrowed at her question. There it was again. Love. Loving him was impossible. To love him would be delusional. A move of delusional stupidity. Blatant ignorance.

Loki shifted away from her and sat up, ignoring the throbbing in his chest when he heard her whine in response. He met her eyes only to be asked another question. “Love, what’s the matter?”

His heart clenched against his chest, suddenly the room was too hot. He had to understand what was going on. He had to figure this out before it was too late.

“Love?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

y/n scanned his face, trying to understand the reason for his sudden withdrawal. She simply hummed in response.

Loki raised his eyebrows, indicating her to reiterate her response.

“Yes, what is the matter?”

“You referred to me as ‘love’.” He repeated, his tongue spewing out the last word like it was coated in dirt and grime.

“Yes, I suppose I did. Is something bothering you?” she asked again, placing her hand on his thigh as a gesture of concern.

How was he expected to ask her if she actually, truly loved him, without causing a kerfuffle? Without making it seem awkward, without losing her? What if she said she didn’t love him? What then? Would that make him feel better? Would that make him happy? A chill ran down his spine when he realized his answer. No. he wouldn’t be happy. In fact, he’d be terribly upset. He wanted y/n to love him. Shaking his head, he tried to heed logic over his emotion. He had to stop himself before he caused something he couldn’t fix. Before y/n realized the monster he truly was. He had to protect his beloved y/n, that would be the least he owed to her, after all that he had led her into.

He neutralized his expression, calming his breathing. This was for the best. He was the God of Lies, he did not deserve love after all that he had done.

“As a matter of fact, y/n, something is bothering me.”

y/n nodded, encouraging him to explain his predicament. “You can talk to me, love.”

Loki inhaled quickly, the use of the blasted term knocking him out of character for a second before he was able to regain his composure. He would ask the question directly. Right to the point, like he was doing business. That was the only way he could maintain his pretense without breaking down too soon. y/n might never forgive him after tonight, but to have her angry at him was so much better than losing her, on his account.

“Do you love me?”

y/n gasped lightly at the sudden question, her eyes widening at how Loki asked her about something so deep with no emotion in his voice. She sensed his sudden hostility, this coldness he was presenting her with. Sitting upright, she looked into his eyes. Nothing. She could read nothing from his expression. All she could pick up was this eerie sadness radiating off of him.

She decided to try reasoning with him. This sudden hostility meant something was bothering him at a much more personal level, and such issues mustn’t be dealt with before an important mission. She would know.

“We don’t have to do this today, Loki. We have to be up early tomorrow, and I doubt- “

“Answer the question, y/n.” Loki interrupted, his voice hardened like steel.

“Loki, we really mustn’t-“ she tried again.

“Answer, y/n.” he pressed.

y/n could only look at him and wonder what the cause was for the unexpected change in his demeanor. How was she supposed to tell him? How was she supposed to give the answer to the one question that could either make or break everything that they had together? How was she supposed to tell him that her love for him was far more than life? That he was her life? It didn’t matter how less time they had spent with each other; she knew him a lot longer before they had decided to begin their courtship, and she had fallen in love with him even before they had gotten romantically involved. She only fell harder for him after she saw how he truly was. How broken and vulnerable, how he yearned for a place in someone’s heart, how he wished someone could love him without any foretold conditions. How he wished to be free. Loki’s eyes widened as realization dawned upon him. y/n’s lack of response answered his question. She did love him. But he had to hear it from her. That was the only way he could finish this for good. For his y/n.

“I’m waiting.” He prompted, slightly flinching at the coldness in his voice.

y/n’s eyes flicked over to his, her skin eliciting goosebumps from the steely nature of his voice. He had never been like this to her. The last time she had seen him like this was when he was under Thanos’ control. Breathing deeply, she reached out and held his hands, shutting her eyes for a moment.

“Yes. I do. I love you,” she whispered, blood pounding against her ears. Her heart convulsed in her chest when Loki didn’t reply. She cracked her eyes open, her fingers growing cold at Loki’s unchanged demeanor.

Loki’s chest heaved at her response. ‘I love you,’ she had whispered, her eyes shut at the vulnerability of their situation. He already knew what she was going to say, but to hear it from her own mouth, her voice tiny as ever in fear that he wouldn’t return her feelings had him gasp slightly. His blood ran cold, his mind freezing at another realization. He loved her too. Of course he did. How could he have been so blind? He loved her so much, he hadn’t even noticed. Finish it! Finish it right now! Before you make things worse! His mind screamed at him. He knew what he had to do. Swallowing, he tried to memorize the feel of her hands against his. This was all he was ever going to have. A memory. A memory of his little lioness, a memory of what he would have had if he was someone different. Someone nicer, better. Someone not him. He pulled away from her, and met her eyes, his expression stoic and emotionless. Like the monster he was.

“Pity.” He whispered, his heartbreaking at how y/n’s eyes widened. He thought he experienced heartbreak when he lost his mother. As destructive as that moment was, many years ago, he believed he wouldn’t feel anything over this. After all, you can’t break something that’s already broken. But boy, was he wrong. This was heartbreak. And apparently, it's even worse when you go through it a second time. His veins felt like ice, his head heavier than ever. He could feel his throat closing up, all he wanted was to rip his heart out of his chest. He didn’t deserve her. Hell, he didn’t deserve to live after all that he had done.

“What?” came y/n’s voice, a little barely over a whisper. He couldn’t help but notice how her voice was heavy, laced with hurt.

“It’s a pity you think you love me.” He reiterated, his words chapping away at his already cracked heart.

y/n couldn’t process the event unfolding in front of her. Loki didn’t love her. No, worse. Loki thought it was stupid that she loved him. If she had any concern for her dignity, she would ask him to leave. But she loved him far too much. She decided to try one last time. Straddling him, she reached over and cupped his face in his hands, pressing her lips against his ice-cold ones. He was shocked for a moment, and before he realized, he was kissing her back. I love you, he wanted to say. I love you too. But all could do was try and engrave in his mind the feeling of her soft lips on his, the warmth of her hands against his cheeks. This was the end. He had to use all his willpower not to pull her in his arms and deepen the kiss, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

Breaking away, y/n whispered, “it may be stupid that I do. Pathetic, even. -It isn’t pathetic. I love it.- Honestly, not one day goes by where I don’t face criticism about how I must be an ignorant fool to love someone like you. But what these people don’t understand, is that they are the ones that are ignorant. They do not see you as I do, and although I wish every day that they would, I doubt it will ever happen. You are, the best thing that has ever happened to me. That ever will happen to me,” she says, taking his hand and placing it over her heart. “Can’t you feel this? This is what I feel every time I think of you- this is how I feel every time you merely breathe in my direction. -You are the reason I still exist, my dear. You keep me tethered to the outside world.- My love for you has been in existence for far longer than our courtship. I wish I could do more than just tell you how much I love you, if I could, I would give you anything, everything you’ve ever wanted; my heart was yours the moment I set eyes on you 2 years ago. So take it, trample over it- it was yours to do anything with anyway. -So was mine. I am yours, just as you claim to be mine.- I love you, Loki Friggason, and I refuse to stop. -I love you too, my darling y/n. but I must do this. For you. Forgive me.-”

All Loki could do was hold in all those thoughts he desperately wanted to put in words. He could feel his eyes well up, his chest convulsing for the umpteenth time. Inhaling her scent, he hoped he would remember the sweet smell of chocolate and wine she always smelled of.

With great restraint, he pushed her off of him, his heart churning at y/n’s gasp. Her heart cracked at his dismissal. He couldn’t look at her while he shattered her heart, while he ripped it right off the pedestal. This was the end.

“You say all this, but you mean nothing by it, I assure you. I have encountered numerous midgardians professing their love for me, but I can tell when someone lies y/n. And it is very clear to me how you are simply overwhelmed. You do not love me. You are simply but a blatant, ignorant fool.” Could his heart shatter any further? Apparently, yes. It clawed at his chest, pain searing in his bones. He would feel all of it. He would embrace it.

He forced his lips to morph into a twisted, sickening smile. Agony. That is what he felt. Fresh burning agony, like fire in his tendons.

“What we have is all but a product of boredom. I was simply bored, silly mortal.” He looked up at her when she gasped, her hand on her heart. It was almost as if he could hear it shatter. All he wanted to do was hold her and weep. Tell her how sorry he was. Tell her how he wished he was the person she truly deserved. Instead, he was going to crawl into a ball and wish for death.

He got up to leave. Once and for all. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he willed his tears to sink back to wherever they came from. He didn’t deserve to cry.

“Did I ever matter to you?” he heard her whisper. Deciding not to answer, he stepped towards the door before she called to him. “Did I, Loki?” she asked again, her voice steadier. There was the woman he had hopelessly fallen in love with. A lioness, she certainly was.

He turned around to look at her, the same lifeless smile dancing across his lips. If he was someone else, he would have been taken aback at y/n’s stoic expression. She would rise again. She would continue to live her life, and no one was going to stop her. Especially him. That was the lioness he knew of. The only evidence of her hurt was the tiny teardrops prickling in her eyes, which he could see only because of the morning sun rays peeking in through the gaps in the curtains. She never cried.

“No,” he breathed, swiftly exiting through the door before she could see the tears that had traitorously fallen onto his cheeks.

part 2 here!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Light on the Door (ao3) (aka WWX in the Nie sect); tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Wei Wuxian woke all at once when someone dropped something onto the floor, but he kept his body relaxed and his eyes closed. It was only when the smashing sound was followed by a very familiar muttering – “Shit, shit, shit, da-ge’s going to kill me!” – that he relaxed.

“How expensive is it that you think he would care?” he asked, opening his eyes and frowning when he found himself somewhere unfamiliar.

Nie Huaisang, who had been standing in the middle of the room and looking at the shards of a (admittedly very expensive looking) broken teapot with some dismay, promptly forgot all about the teapot and dashed over to him. “Shixiong! You’re awake!”

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” Wei Wuxian said, reaching up to rub his head. “Am I – wait, is this Jiang sect grounds? How’d we get to the Lotus Pier, of all places?”

The last he remembered, he and Lan Wangji had remained behind in the cave with the Xuanwu of Slaughter, distracting it while the others went out through the underwater exit, which had closed up when the Xuanwu had thrashed around. After a few days, when inedia would no longer help them and they knew their strength would begin to decrease, they had decided to fight it, and then…

“Is Lan Zhan all right?” he asked, abruptly concerned. “What happened to him? Did he –”

“He’s fine, you big baby,” Nie Huaisang said, throwing himself down on the bed next to him and promptly snuggling in for a hug. He had zero grounds to call anyone else a big baby. “He woke up two days ago and already left for the Cloud Recesses. He didn’t want to worry them any longer, and they need him, what with his brother still being missing.”

Wei Wuxian spared a moment’s thought for Lan Xichen, who was very nice and also a good friend of Nie Mingjue’s in addition to being Lan Wangji’s precious older brother, but reminded himself that there was no point in worrying when it wouldn’t do any good. That settled, he complained, “Oh, that’s rude! He left before making sure I woke up?”

“Oh, you woke up yesterday before he headed out,” Nie Huaisang said breezily. “You were sleep-drunk as anything, but you were awake and saying something about musical masterpieces. Possibly you might have started to say something about kissing, but tragically I was forced to gag you for your own health before Lan Wangji disintegrated from embarrassment.”

Wei Wuxian put his head in his hands. “…and so he left.”

“And so he left,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “Don’t worry, he left you a nice long letter to read when you feel up to it – and when I decide to give it to you.”

“Cruel.”

“Caring! You must think of your health, shixiong.”

“Shixiong this, shixiong that,” Wei Wuxian teased. “Were you worried about me?”

Nie Huaisang glared death at him. “Of course I was! Do you know what you put me and Jiang Cheng through?! We left you in a cave with that thing, we got ambushed by the Wen sect the second we emerged –”

“You did? Are you all right?!”

“Shut up, I’m fine, Jiang Cheng handled it,” Nie Huaisang said, which – fair. Wei Wuxian would have to give Jiang Cheng many relieved thank-you-for-saving-my-little-brother hugs. “We then ran for days to get someone to rescue you –”

It make sense. The Lotus Pier was closer than the Unclean Realm, and Jiang Fengmian had always been a little unreasonable about Wei Wuxian; it was a good bet to make.

Still, even if they’d travelled down from the Nightless City, they hadn’t gone that far, and the Lotus Pier was a long way away.

“Are your feet all right?” he asked.

“No! They are not! They are awful! There was blood! But not as much blood as we found all over you when we broke into the cave to find you lying there unconscious!”

Wei Wuxian resigned himself to spending the next shichen calming down Nie Huaisang from (admittedly somewhat reasonable) hysterics.

-

“So I’m worried about the Jiang sect,” Nie Huaisang said the second they crossed out of the Lotus Pier – by horse, since that required less from his torn-up feet.

Wei Wuxian looked at him sidelong. “And this wasn’t something you could mention while we were there? To them?”

“I’m not so stupid as to start a fight with our allies by implying that they can’t handle themselves,” Nie Huaisang said. “Even if…”

“Even if you don’t think they can?”

Nie Huaisang sighed. “It’s not that!” he protested. “They’re very capable. Extraordinarily capable, even. But Sect Leader Jiang doesn’t take things seriously enough – the way he tried to scold Jiang Cheng for lecturing you..!”

Wei Wuxian winced. He’d managed to head that off at the pass, luckily, but Jiang Cheng’s face had gotten that mulish expression of mixed envy and hurt that he hated to see, and it hadn’t cleared up until Nie Huaisang fainted in order to escape the awkward conversation. It was a trick he pulled often, one that worked on adults virtually all the time and also amused Jiang Cheng every single time.

“And he doesn’t take da-ge seriously, either,” Nie Huaisang said, sounding as if that were the worst possible crime imaginable. Wei Wuxian understood his feelings. “Not even after the indoctrination camp…I just don’t know if he’ll take the steps he needs to in time.”

“You’re right,” Wei Wuxian said regretfully. “Uncle Jiang won’t want to think about it, so he won’t, but that won’t stop the war from coming…Wait, hold up. You think the Wen sect would come here? Why?”

“I mean, it’s the logical next step to quash another one of the Great Sects,” Nie Huaisang said. “Also, remember that time I fainted from the heat and they took me inside the guardroom? I looked at some of their papers; they were definitely planning on a siege.”

“But why here?” Wei Wuxian asked, deciding to reserve comments on Nie Huaisang’s unexpected foray into espionage to a time when he could appropriately lose his mind over it, preferably with Nie Mingjue in the vicinity to add to the effect. “Why the Lotus Pier? Jiang Cheng wasn’t involved with sticking it to Wen Chao; that was Lan Zhan and Jin Zixuan, and then after that it was mostly me. No Jiang sect at all!”

“He helped later,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “Anyway, where else would they go? They attacked the Cloud Recesses once already, Lanling Jin is so slimy and double-dealing that they might as well count as a Wen ally, and if you had to pick between attacking the Lotus Pier or the Unclean Realm, between wishy-washy old Sect Leader Jiang or da-ge, who’s been preparing for war since before you joined us, which would you pick?”

“Well, shit,” Wei Wuxian said, because Nie Huaisang wasn’t wrong at all. Nor was he wrong to keep this from Jiang Fengmian, who would probably just pat them on the head indulgently before dismissing them. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Shopping,” Nie Huaisang declared.

Wei Wuxian knew his little brother too well. He started grinning. “Just a couple of young masters going on a shopping trip? With a nice, small retinue?”

“We could hardly be expected to travel with anything less,” Nie Huaisang agreed, grinning back. “Especially with there being both of us, heir and spare! It would be disgraceful to send us out with anything less than at least a squad of Nie culivators. We could stay in Yunping, maybe? That’s not far.”

“Yunping? There’s nothing in Yunping.”

“Not recently, no,” Nie Huaisang said, and shrugged when Wei Wuxian shot him an inquisitive glance. “Personnel issue, someone da-ge met recently…not a big deal. I’m just curious about him, that’s all. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

“I love how you just decide these things and then pretend that I have some input into how things are going to go before doing what you want anyway,” Wei Wuxian remarked. “I take it that you’ve contacted da-ge already, then?”

“Of course! Sent him a letter first thing once we arrived at the Lotus Pier. Are we going?”

“Yes, fine,” Wei Wuxian said, rolling his eyes. “We’re going, we’re going.”

-

“So, I think we can all agree that that went badly,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we all agree on that?”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng said. His impression of being above it all was somewhat ruined by the tears still streaming down his face and the way he wouldn’t stop hugging them both intermittently.

“Listen, it could have gone worse,” Wei Wuxian said placatingly. “Right? Could have gone much, much worse. At least Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu made it out, and they’ll go crazy trying to find us.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said, and sniffed, rubbing his nose. “Yeah. That’s true. Thanks.”

Even with the best river-watching intentions in the world, the attack had come so quickly that they’d only shown up midway through the assault on the Lotus Pier, just in time to find Jiang Cheng tied up in Zidian and floating downriver, a sure sign that Madame Yu had given up all hope of maintaining a defense, and naturally they’d grabbed him and rushed in to help her.

A single moment of surprise had been all she’d needed to finish Wen Zhuliu.

Unfortunately, even two full squadrons of Nie sect cultivators – Nie Mingjue hadn’t stinted – couldn’t change the end result, not against the massed forces the Wen sect had brought with them, not even if they sold their lives into the bargain. It was only enough to hold them off for a little while. 

At Wei Wuxian’s order, they had gone back in again and again, getting as many Jiang sect disciples out as they could. It’d been a good plan.

Getting captured hadn’t been part of the plan.

Getting thrown into the Burial Mounds was definitely not part of the plan.

Fucking Wen Chao. Just because his smarmy stupid core-melting servant got killed and he didn’t want to risk them returning as ghosts…

“Somehow, the possibility of it being worse doesn’t actually make me feel better,” Nie Huaisang said, scowling. He had the weakest core out of all three of them, so they’d given him the one blanket they’d managed to smuggle along with them – though technically, that had been Wen Ning who’d done the smuggling, actually, a Wen disciple that Wei Wuxian had befriended in the archery contest. 

He’d apparently remained very sympathetic despite the war.

It would’ve been pretty funny, if anyone had been in the mood to laugh: Wen Ning had arrived to the Lotus Pier late in a panic, nominally to provide medical services, although Wen Chao had implied in a snarl that it was actually to claim credit for helping. He had stuttered his way through excuses and apologies, offered to go start work right away, and then promptly beelined straight for the room where they’d been trapped, sneaking them a qiankun pouch with a few supplies in hopes that they could use it when they escaped.

He hadn’t known that they were bound for the Burial Mounds at that time, of course.

Maybe he’d have included some weapons they could use to fly out of here if he had.

Wei Wuxian had whispered to him “Find a way to tell Sect Leader Nie,” as they’d been dragged away after hearing Wen Chao declare that he was going to dispose of them where they’d never escape, and he could only hope that between that avenue and the Jiang that they would be found soon.

Ideally very soon.

They were running out of protective talismans, and night was approaching.

“Still could be worse,” Wei Wuxian said, thinking to himself that if Wen Zhuliu hadn’t been garroted by Zidian they might have found their way here without even their golden cores. Definitely worse. “Okay. So. I have – an idea.”

“Oh no,” Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang chorused.

“…you two are so supportive.”

“It’s going to be a dumb idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “We can tell. Your tone of voice tells us.”

“He’s not wrong,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s going to be dumb and self-sacrificing.”

“Dumb, self-sacrificing and with a less than fifty percent chance of –”

“Must you throw all my past failures in my face?” Wei Wuxian said mournfully.

“Yes,” they both said.

“…fine. I’m still going to do it.”

“We never doubted that for a moment,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now tell us what heart failure we’re going to be dying of today.”

“Well…” Wei Wuxian said.

-

“I think I’m hallucinating,” Wei Wuxian announced. “It may be the resentful energy going to my head.”

“Nooooo,” Jiang Cheng said. “You think?”

“Could be the reduced rations and extended inedia,” Nie Huaisang said, looking very tragic. “Or maybe these sad excuses for potatoes we’ve been picking.”

“I am never eating wild-grown potatoes ever again in my life,” Wei Wuxian agreed fervently. “But also, no, seriously, I think I’m hallucinating, which we should write down as a possible side-effect of demonic cultivation.”

Jiang Cheng groaned from where he was lying on his back and staring up into the ever-clouded sky above the Burial Mounds. He’d gotten tired of the writing-things-down portion of the experimentation process early on, especially when they’d had to carefully unbind the one book Wen Ning had (rather inexplicably, but helpfully) shoved into the bag for them in order to get enough paper to do it after they’d run out of space on Nie Huaisang’s fans.

“We have to keep notes!” Wei Wuxian insisted.

“Fine, fine,” Nie Huaisang said. “What are you hallucinating?”

“Suibian,” Wei Wuxian said. “Flying right at me. From the northwest, if that’s relevant.”

“It is extremely relevant, actually,” Jiang Cheng said, sitting up. “Because it’s not a hallucination if I see it, too.”

Jiang Cheng was their control group, insofar as they could have a control when they were all stuck here being slowly consumed by the Burial Mounds. He and Wei Wuxian were about evenly matched in cultivation strength, so it only made sense for one of them to try demonic cultivation and the other not, and then Nie Huaisang had also started doing it, over Wei Wuxian’s protests, when they’d realized that they needed two people for some of the arrays Wei Wuxian invented.

So if he was seeing things as well, that either meant that the Burial Mounds were affecting them faster than expected, or else –

“Wait, you can see Suibian too?” Wei Wuxian jumped up to his feet. “Suibian! Suibian! Over here!”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang said. “We don’t know how Suibian will react to demonic cultivation –”

Oblong meat boy! Suibian shouted in Wei Wuxian’s brain across their bond, familiar and perfect as always, descending like a whistling arrow. You left me alone! With evil people!

Wei Wuxian leapt up as high as he could and wrapped his arms around his saber. “I’m so glad to see you, you jackass of a saber!”

Apology accepted.

“Is he talking to his saber?” Jiang Cheng murmured to Nie Huaisang, who nodded. “I know he told us about the whole Nie sect cultivation thing - which I understand I shouldn’t know about, but whatever - but I’ve got to say, it’s kind of weird to see it happening out loud.”

“You think that’s weird? You should see my brother and Baxia.”

“How did you get out?” Wei Wuxian asked, ignoring them both.

Baxia tore open the wall where we were being kept, Suibian said, which probably meant that the war was going well and also that Nie Mingjue was on the warpath and very likely that Wen Ning had not managed to deliver the intended message, which would explain the delay in anyone finding them. Baxia’s master gave me energy and told me to go find you, while he followed behind.

“Da-ge’s coming!” Wei Wuxian shouted, and Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang dropped their supercilious commentator façade in order to cheer.

Hey, jerkface master. Why do you feel funny?

“…uh, about that…”

[sleep3deprived]

Kill the Director Semi Eita x F!Reader

Summary: Semi loves you. With every fibre in is being. But why is it that his love life with you has this many ups and downs? Semi swears his life is starting to feel like some deranged rom-com…if only he could kill the director.

Status: Ongoing

Genre: Fluff/ Comedy/ Angst

Warnings: Language, some crude humour, angst, Debating on a happy ending or not (don't count on it), projected daddy issues, If any others please lmk

Updates every Friday EST

KtD Masterlist

-- Chapter 1 --

“I’ve met someone...Looking at her makes me feel- fuck- I don’t even know...sea-sick, I guess?”

“Wow, that’s a skill to have the emotionally constipated Semi Eita feeling feelings.”

Semi sighs out a breathe and continues rambling to Shirabu, ignoring his sarcasm. “No, but she’s so much better than that. She has so many skills, and talents that you can catch her a mile away.”

Tendou and Shirabu look at their close friend and just stare at him. The bar’s soft lights illuminate the lightest blush on his cheeks. They’ve both known Semi for quite some time now, yet they have never seen him look this head over heels over a girl. Usually, it lasts for a little while, but he’s been pinning on this girl for the past 4 months.

4 months of him talking about her to his friends.

If anything, this is the first time they’ve both got Semi drunk enough to give them more info about the girl rather than a 'She's cool'.

“Sounds to me like you’re...in loveee.” Tendou sings out the last part, dragging it out.

Semi looks at Tendou like he’s gone crazy. He knows Tendou is a little weird, but Semi...in love? ‘No no, that’s crazy I don’t even know her that well yet…’

“Whatever, I should go now though. I have a recording early in the morning.” He says, waving off Tendou and Shirabu while getting up.

“Bye, LOVER BOY!” Tendou yells out to him right when Semi leaves.

“Don’t go writing a song 'bout her yet!” Shirabu yells out to him after.

“Wasn’t planning on!” He bids them a farewell with his hand while walking straight ahead.

Semi continues thinking of her, mostly because of the conversation he just had with those two dumbasses. ‘She’s not mine to have yet, anyways.’

----

“Alright, everyone knows what they have to work on today?” Semi’s manager says, walks into the recording studio.

Right before they started recording, a knock on the door was heard and a figure walked in. “Hey dad, I was just passing by the area and decided to get some coffee. You want it?” You told your dad, handing him a coffee.

Your father gives you a side hug while pressing a kiss to your temple, “Thank you, dear. But you should leave now before you get late to work.”

You chuckle out at your dad’s worry. “It’s alright, I can stay for a bit. I don’t have to be there for another 30 minutes.” You wave off while looking at the booth.

Semi had no idea what you were doing here, so when you looked into the recording booth and made eye contact with him, he immediately switched his head to the reading stand that has the notes and tunes of what he is supposed to be playing, since that was the nearest paper. Semi could still feel your eyes on him, slowly having a blush creep up from his ears.

Your gaze on him felt intense. At least it did to Semi. He could feel the way your raking up the equipment in the studio, allowing your eyes to wander with curiosity. And you can subtly notice the disregard of Semi towards you, brushing it off as stress of him being so busy.

Once he finally felt your stare go away -to him it felt like hours when it was really just a few seconds- he felt a little calmer until he heard his manager, A.K.A, your dad in the sound system of the booth. “Alright, let’s get started! Y/n will be watching you guys play for a little while, so don’t mind her. Let’s get to it!”

‘God, why me?’

----

“Semi, that line felt off. And I’m saying this nicely. Let’s take it from the beginning of the chorus.” The band heard their producer’s voice boom through the connected sound system to the recording booth.

All Semi wants to do right now is die of embarrassment. Usually, he sounds better than whatever this is. Or what his delightful manager said to be “him going through puberty all over again” but having you stare at him, watching his every move, the way your eyes fall over his hands playing his guitar, when your bangs fall right over your eyes, when you brush them off your face, you-

No. Nope. Nu-uh. He has to focus. You’re distracting him is what you’re doing. Semi can’t keep playing with you here. Not with him focussing on every move you make.

“Oh, shit…” You muttered out under your breath while getting up, “I gotta go, I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Okay, I’ll get someone to walk you back to your car just in case.” Your dad tells you.

You look at your dad to see him asking the producer if they can take a break, “Dad, it’s fine. You guys are busy and I can take care of myself.”

“Hey, Semi! While we take a break, walk Y/n to her car, got it?” Your dad tells Semi.

----

“Sorry, my dad forced you here to drop me off...” You gave him a shy smile, hoping that will clear your name.

‘What do I say? Oh shit, she’s looking at me!’

He looks to the side, away from you with his hands in his hair. “Uh-Uh yeah...It’s no problem...you know. Uh-” He swears he can feel himself turning into a tomato. He thanks the weather that it’s cold enough for him to put the blame on that.

“You know, even though you had your rough patches while singing, I still think you sounded pretty good.” You say while bumping your shoulder with his.

Semi looks at you with wide eyes. He knows he didn’t sound the greatest, but with the way you’re smiling at him, with soft eyes, he can’t help but think that maybe you’re being genuine right now.

“Haha, you don’t have to be so nice about it. I know I didn’t sound the best.” Semi chuckled out awkwardly.

“Mm, yeah you really didn’t.” Semi gives you a slight nudge of his shoulder while grinning, which earns a giggle from you. “I’m kidding! Maybe one day I can hear you sing properly in person then.”

Semi Eita feels like he’s walking on clouds. It’s beautiful, but he feels light-headed and he knows that one wrong step and it’s all over for him. He knows this isn’t an EastEnders episode or any rom-com of any sort. But hell, with that smile of yours, it sure fucking feels like one.

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— US AGAINST THE WORLD ; PART 4 / ?

( credits to @animusrox for this gif )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2247 hot diggy dog

SUMMARY: You have a heart-to-heart conversation with one of your students before the play and you're hit with the realization that your love for Bruce may be more than meets the eye. hence, you’re starting to wonder if it was a mistake you can never fix.

A/N: This one’s long and kinda depressing. I’m in an angsty mood now whoops. Nevertheless, thank you for reading this series, the bagels will make its appearance and enjoy this one folks.

WARNINGS: Anxiety, depressing thoughts.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

The night of the show arrived quicker than you anticipated. The flurry of theatre kids rushing about backstage is quite the sight, feeling the incredible sense of pride of a mother for her children. Yet in prayer, you ask Mrs. Wilson for the gift of strength and ability to manage a bunch of highly-strung teenagers. It’s only Shakespeare after all but you knew that wasn’t the genuine nature behind their stage jitters. With all tickets sold out within a week, it has easily become the biggest event of the year aside from homecoming. It may be a little pretentious for a high school production of an over-performed Shakspeare play to emerge as the highlight of the year, but you know it will help with some of the students’ portfolios for acting school.

The clock ticks—thirty minutes before showtime and panic starts to creep.

Your fingertips dance along the selvage of the extensive drapery of the stage as lighting queues are being run through for the last time. The urge of curiosity lets you crack open the curtain as you peeked at the rest of the theatre. The bustling crowd made up of mostly teenagers with seats rapidly being filled, it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Amongst the settling audience, you spot Bruce, seated between Mr. Walken, the principal, and Mr. Huckleberry, the vice-principal, likely being shamelessly asked for donations. He looks engaged, but his posture and the gaze of his eyes tell a very different story—Bruce is barely listening to a word they’re saying.

He then turns in the direction of your hiding spot and despite the distance, he catches your eye, immediately recognizing it’s you spying from behind the curtains. You watch the curve of his lips turn up into more of a smirk, swiftly sending a wink your way. You instantly disappear behind the curtains, cheeks burning.

You sometimes find it hard to believe you’re sleeping with the man with no strings attached because you’re incredibly attracted to him.

Someday, you’ll burst out into an exaggerated love confession, and you know it’s going to be ugly. It’s a reality check and right now, it’s the last thing you want. Running away from your problems is more of a habit than a choice as you would rather live in the world your mind has created, where miracles are made and defects cease to exist. Anyone would trade the cruelties of reality for a perfect one yet getting too caught up in a daydream will eventually evolve into toxicity. Bruce orbits the very core of your problems and daydreams. You want to run away from him and allow yourself to be engulfed by his presence at the same time.

You just need...to breathe. Hence, the second dressing room has a weird stench to it. It’s a mess but it’s empty. Yet, it seems you aren’t the only one in need of space, away from everyone else. Shaniqua is seated at the far corner of the room on a crooked metal chair, dressed in a somewhat modernized version of an Elizabethan era dress. Very elaborate and theatrical. Despite her introverted character, she was constantly bright-eyed and keen during your classes. She had a drive like no other. Hell, she miraculously memorized all her lines in two days.

You’ve never seen a furrow of the girl’s brows, until now, and it worries you. Even her glitter-covered eyes could not conceal the dismay they portray with prominence. Gingerly, you made your way to her as she stared at her fidgeting hands. It was only when you settled on the opposite dusty old chair when she finally noticed your presence.

“Stage fright, huh?” you casually asked, resting your arm on the dressing table. She mirrors your posture, heaving a deep sigh, and shakes her head. “No, it’s just,” A pause, her gaze finds yours. You nod, flashing her a smile. It’s a simple gesture that you’re here to listen. “It’s about Oscar...” You catch a hint of a smile as she trailed off and in an instant, your brow raises with curiosity. Oh? Another beat of silence, her eyes dart around the room. You sit quietly with patience because you knew she had more to say.

“It’s just that doing this play has got me thinking a lot about my feelings. I mean, if Romeo and Juliet could be lovers, despite their feuding families, then it must be easy enough for me to admit that I like Oscar.”

“You have a point.” You chuckle, eyes crinkling with amusement. Sometimes she thinks too much for her own good. She reminds you of Bruce. Shaniqua flashes you a faint smile, lips pressed with doubt. “But why am I finding it so hard to just tell him that?”

You stayed silent for a moment or two, mind deep in thought. The chair creaks as you shift in your seat. “Well, could it be that you aren’t sure if he likes you back?”

A hum in response, shrugging coyly as she mumbled a ‘maybe’. Although it was clear as day to you that Oscar liked her back, you wondered if her doubts emerged due to their differences in character. The familiarity of the situation is beginning to feel a lot like deja vu.

“How do you know that someone is the one?” Her sudden question catches you off guard because, in all honesty, you aren’t confident if you knew the answer. A straightforward question, commonly seen in the pages of teenage magazines, written for innocent eyes. You knew its true nature and it terrifies you. The image of Bruce charges through your thoughts like rushing water, memories of times when the two of you were younger clouding your mind. You forcefully push back your university days, buried back deep into your conscience.

“I don’t exactly know the answer to that but in my opinion, it’s—it’s the feeling of completeness when you love them and know they love you. They may be different from you, but it doesn’t make you love them any less. There’s no conflict or strife; it’s just the two of you against the world.”

Those words were raw and genuine, carefully crafted directly from the heart. You weren’t surprised by your words because you’ve thought about it a lot, especially on nights you slept on Bruce’s bed. Maybe, you do love him, and that's a huge ass problem. It’s amazing how unexpected situations tend to encourage apprehension on large issues you never knew existed in the first place. Perhaps it was your astonishing lack of discernment when it came to matters that could potentially alter your life.

Tonight, a sixteen-year-old girl did just that.

Amid your growing anxiety, you manage to catch sight of the wall clock, hung on the other side of the room. It’s now eight minutes until showtime. Your eyes are now wide as you sprung up from your seat in the sudden realization that everyone should be at their respective positions two minutes ago. “Oh God, we’re running late. Shaniqua, word of advice—don’t end up regretting something you didn’t do,” You shoot her a pointed look, index finger stretching towards her. “Now, you really need to go, or we’ll have to delay and you know Mr. Walken hates waiting.”

-

It’s a quarter to nine, and the theatre is empty. Outside, the foyer and the hallways are buzzing with the remaining audience, lingering and sharing inane conversations as others wait for a car to take them home. You had only just finished rearranging the costumes in the wardrobe of the dressing room. You tried to sweep the scatter of glitter all over the floor but it deemed a task as impossible; you’ll deal with it next week.

You’re sitting in the seat at the front row, nearest to the aisle with a large box filled with props on your lap. Alone in transcendental silence, feeling as empty as the theatre itself. It was partly the conversation you had with Shaniqua that hit you with the reminder of all the mistakes you made that have led you to this unchanging world of a blur that takes the blame for the wretched feeling in your chest. Yet, as the show progressed, hearing the words of affection from two lovers had sent your mind reeling. You were desperate to head home, crawl into bed and potentially cry yourself to sleep but the growing anxiety forbids it, you don’t even think you could drive home.

So, you stillness of the theatre reminds you of Edward Hopper’s painting, Solitary Figure in a Theater. With eyes shut, you pretend you are the figure in the painting, sheathed in black, sitting alone in the cavernous dark.

You hear the door of the theatre squeak, swinging open followed by the shuffling of feet. You don’t look at first, too tired anyway. You’d assume someone had either forgotten something or it was the janitor that you’re sure is going to be upset over the glitter massacre in the dressing room. It looked like a crime scene, except it was the murder of a literal unicorn. You made a mental note to send an apology sandwich of some sorts next week.

It was the familiarity in the whiff of cologne that made you snap your eyes wide open, looking over your shoulder to meet with the sight of Bruce, ambling down the aisle towards you. He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “What are you still doing here?” He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “I could ask you the same question.” He settles in the seat next to you, elbow brushing against yours. Your head tilts, gesturing to the box. Bruce merely hums and nods thoughtfully.

“So, how was the play? Does it get a Wayne seal of approval?” There’s a hint of teasing in the curve of your lips as his eyes drift to the stage. “I liked it. The kids have talent.” Your eyes glint with amusement, your smile growing wider. “I never knew you were a fan of romance.” His laugh comes out more like a huff of air, crinkled eyes meeting yours, and nudges you lightly. “Well, now you know.”

He recognizes the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes and the way you’re fussing with the edges of the box on your lap. Something is bothering you and he knows it. He nudges you once more. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You blink once. Then twice, face wincing instinctively. You keep forgetting how well Bruce can read people, especially you. You exhale slowly as he watches you struggle to pick the right words.

“It’s really nothing. It’s just-” you say after a long minute, cutting yourself short. Then, you turn to Bruce. “I’m growing older, and I’ve spent my entire life in a fog with so much fear for reality, I’m afraid it’s too late to fix all my mistakes and regrets.” Your voice dwindles with every word that escaped your lips. You were young, naïve with the notion that time was extensive to make decisions without thinking it through. To know that you could never take back the things you did. Saturn’s rising, it’s a wake-up call now that you’re older and the fear that you would never change creeps onto you with every passing birthday.

Bruce defines the epitome of the sinking feeling in your chest whenever you lay in bed at night and let your mind reel about your existence. Yet, it isn’t as simple as you want it to be. The boy you met at university has grown into a far more complex and entangled mess of the grief of his parents, the responsibility he held over this city and the drive to just...keep moving on. For the longest time, it was him against the world, and a part of you wants to believe that it doesn’t have to be that way. That maybe, you could be enough for him.

He glanced away from you, trying to hide the despondency in his eyes. He holds back a sigh as he speaks, “Do you regret us doing this?” As vague as his question is, you know what he exactly means. He remembers the time the two of you used to exchange senseless conversations and laughter so vividly that it scares him. Juvenile friends, lacking the knowledge to know what love really was. Hence, the agreement—it was just two friends, messing around. Nothing could go wrong. Now, the hole has been dug in too deep, with no way of getting out.

“I don’t,” you reply and with just two simple words, his chest feels like fire. It was the way you had said it, with so much confidence and assurance, despite the intricacy of this relationship. For the first time in a long time, you were extremely sure about an answer. You could never regret Bruce. Never.

It’s almost hesitant in the way his hand finds yours, but it represents his care for you, even if you may not know it. The warmth of his hand feels like fire. Hell, your chest feels like it’s on fire, heart burning for the man beside you. “I’ll drive you home,” he whispers with a squeeze of your hand. You flash him a grateful smile as the two of you drift into a comfortable silence. Silence so eloquent that you don’t feel so empty anymore. No longer a solitary figure trapped in a painting but now two, hand in hand, against the world.

TAGLIST

@raineeace

[utilitycaster]

Skill Proficiencies are the Bedrock on Which the Success of a D&D Party Rests, Monks are  a Utility Class, and Other Correct Opinions

This came up when I was thinking about the Cobalt Soul subclass and the discussion thereof, especially the dismissive way in which people sometimes treat the mystical erudition feature. I am also a bard player, in my longest-running game, and I prefer utility classes in general, so I decided to write a whole essay that maybe like 5 people will appreciate, two of whom are in my inbox (thanks for the encouragement, @ayzenigma and @agigabyte and one of whom is me.

In D&D, on a fundamental level, this is what happens:

A DM describes the world

You decide to interact with the world in some way

The DM decides if you automatically can do what you want, if you automatically can’t do what you want, or if there are a range of possible outcomes. If the last option, roll a d20.

The DM narrates what happens when you act or fail to act, ie, describes the new state of the world; the cycle begins anew.

The vast majority of those d20 rolls will be skill checks. Some will be combat rolls, which are a whole other thing, but most will be skill checks. Some will be incredibly important skill checks. Some will be relatively minor. Sometimes you’ll be aware of how important the roll is; sometimes you will not. Spells can sometimes guarantee or improve the chances of a success, as can some class abilities; but those are finite resources, and in the end a lot of D&D is resource management, and many of the choices you make in interaction are going to be influenced by what resources you have left.

Consider: the party comes upon a door with a single lock. The party is D&D four-person-party classic: a mage archetype, a thief archetype, a healer archetype, and a strength-based battler archetype.

The mage can cast knock to open the door. This does guarantee success, but it’s extremely loud and will not only alert anyone nearby but also uses a second level spell slot. They may be able to get around this if they or the healer also casts silence, depending on how you play it*, but that’s either another spell slot gone, or ten minutes wasted.

The battler can, for free, either kick down the door or attack it. This is also going to be very loud unless silence is employed, they might choose to use a finite resource (a once a day weapon ability, a rage) and even if this itself doesn’t alert anyone on its own, the big hole where a door should have been, or even the smashed keyhole, probably will.

The thief can, for free, pick the lock. Assuming they are specifically a rogue, because of their class build there is a very high chance of success, and specifically a high chance of quick, quiet, secret success even without additional help. And if they fail, well, the other options still exist and only a small amount of time has been lost.

Things like a single rage, or a second level spell slot, don’t seem like much on their own, but that is the other thing about D&D: usually you go to bed with some things left in the tank, but occasionally you do not, and as the resources get into the red line it is not terribly difficult to get into a death spiral of throwing your limited resources at a problem too large to be solved by them. When you’re in a game where, mechanically, there is no difference between having 100 hit points left and having 1 hit point left, but there is a vast chasm between having 1 left and having none, that extra second level slot worth of healing or damage can mean everything.

Or: at levels 5 through 8, with a cleric, the difference between an ally’s life and potentially permanent death is whether the cleric is left standing with one third level spell slot at the end of a battle.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t use spell slots to achieve things, especially if they’re important; just that there’s a balance, and sometimes a single good thieves’ tools check, investigation check, or persuasion check makes just as much of a difference in terms of the party’s success as a high level spell, even though it’s far less flashy.

The game designers realize this. Older versions had the idea of taking ten: if time is not of the essence and there is no significant penalty for failure, you could take ten and guarantee an average job (which does still require some skill proficiency to take that assumed roll of ten to “pretty good”). This still remains in 5e in the form of passive checks. It’s a core element of the rogue and bard classes that they are people who are highly skilled - both have more skills than most classes and access to expertise, which significantly increases their proficiency bonuses and therefore reduces the chance of failure - and both have additional class features that either improve the breadth (jack of all trades for bards granting them partial proficiency in everything) or depth (reliable talent for rogues granting them a guaranteed average job) of those skills. Frequently, and especially for bards, this is not seen as a significant help, possibly because it rarely comes up in combat. This is wrong.

Here’s the thing: combat takes a long time at the table but in terms of what the party is doing, two minutes of combat a day (20 rounds, total) would be considered an incredibly difficult day. The rest of the time, you’re not in combat.

Here’s the other thing: how did that combat happen? Did it happen because someone failed a check - that a better stealth roll or deception check, perhaps made by someone with expertise in one of those two areas, could have prevented? Or if this conflict was inevitable or necessary, was the party able to use that stealth or deception to get a surprise round? Investigation, nature, arcana, or history to know a little bit more in advance about what they’re about to face? Perception or survival to even find the enemy they need to stop? Persuasion to gain an ally? All of these can make the difference between a success and a failure.

When you come to the end of a long-running D&D game, you will probably think back a lot to combat moments and RP moments, and unless it was one of those few clutch ability checks where you knew how momentous it was at the time you probably won’t think back to the dozens of locks picked without issue, or social encounters navigated with relative ease, but they’re going to be there, and you would have felt the strain without them.

This isn’t limited to skill checks, honestly; it’s a problem with almost all so-called fluff/flavor abilities. It’s interesting, in that the words we use to describe a well-built character are themselves quite neutral in terms of the specific build (min-maxed, optimized) but in practice many people assume these fit into one of two categories: the tank, or the glass cannon. Of course, those are combat-specific abilities, and see above with regards to combat. And maybe you are in a D&D game that is very much about combat and combat only, but if you’re not, that so-called fluff is far too dismissive of utility.

And monks, in particular, are more of a utility class than one would expect. Sure, they get a lot of attacks and they’re sort of tanks of the ‘too fast to hit’ variety and they can stun, but monks are utility in a negative-space sort of way.They don’t need your buffs, and a monk in your party, like a rogue who can pick locks or a bard who can talk their way out of trouble, saves your resources. They are incredibly fast, and don’t need longstrider or jump cast on them. They don’t need feather fall or fly because they run up walls and avoid falling damage. They don’t need to be healed, if they just catch the arrows that were shot and evade the area of effect spell; they don’t need a magic weapon (or any weapon); they don’t need a restoration to end effects, they don’t need protection from poison or disease, they save you the need to cast comprehend languages or tongues, they’re less likely to need a buff to help them save against other effects, eventually they don’t even need food or water. A monk, like a skill check, helps the party by saving finite resources. The Cobalt Soul build merely makes it a little more literal by granting the monk themselves the ability to make those skill checks.

In conclusion: skill checks are cantrips that everyone gets, and if a class got 8 cantrips when most others got 4, and they had an extra bonus to hit, you’d absolutely notice.

*per a quick search it’s up for debate based on the ranges of the respective spells and whether the lock needs to ‘hear’ the spell or not and anyway if this is what you choose to fixate on in this essay I cannot stress this enough: you have the reading comprehension of a slime mold and the sense of relevance of a Republican congressperson.

[vro0m]

2008 season summary

So... What did I learn from the 2008 season?

I felt like Lewis was pretty much the Golden Boy during his first F1 season. Sure, not everybody liked him but he was mostly well-liked. In 2008, however, the vibe has changed. First of all, the tabloids are relentless, which is unacceptable. But Lewis is also critiqued for his driving style, including by other drivers.

And to be fair... He made a number of controversial moves and said a number of controversial things that season. Not too much of a fan of him saying he misses Alonso because Kovalainen doesn’t put enough pressure on him, for example. The overtake in Belgium that reminded me of Max’s move in the 2021 Jeddah GP minus the brake-testing is not a good look. His driving has been described as “I’m coming through and if you don’t get out of my way we’re gonna crash” which is also very much what is being held against Max nowadays. He did push some people off the track. He was undoubtedly brazen at times.

And that got him a number of penalties. Some of those were controversial. Overall, the stewarding work was already controversial that season, and there were talks of having people be permanently appointed stewards instead of changing every race at that time too. Why it didn’t happen I don’t know, but it obviously wasn’t for good reasons otherwise we wouldn’t still be having the same problem to this day.

But in any case, to be very honest (and I know some people will disagree) I’m not sure I’d say he completely and wholeheartedly deserved the WDC that year. Not because of the last race : after watching the beginning of the season, I wrote that I didn’t understand how he managed to pull it off because his overall performance wasn’t very good and I stand by that. His rookie year was much better than this one, though he crumbled under pressure at the end. In 2008, I have to admit that his style is less clean and not any more consistent. He did get a bit better at handling the pressure, though, but it still got to him and was still an issue at that point. The Japanese GP is a good example of that. Also the pitlane incident from the Canadian GP?! Wtf was that?

However I also don’t think he robbed anyone else from that title, because Massa wasn’t all that consistent that year either, and Raikkonen even less. Kubica’s performance was more stable throughout the year but not good enough. So in the end it is what it is.

He did have a couple of fantastic races, though. The wet Monaco win?! Outstanding. The wet Silverstone win?! Unbelievable. Absolute strokes of genius. More of that please.

As in 2007, I am still very impressed by Massa. Also very good work from Kubica. I had high hopes for Kovalainen at the beginning of the season but he got crushed quite quickly, unfortunately for him.

Anyway, I’ve now completed about 12,15% of my rewatch, lol. Long way to go!

Here’s a list of the GPs with a roughly two-sentence summary and the link to the actual recap if you wanna read it or take a look at the GIFs I made :

1. Australian GP : Lewis meets Kiss. Lewis getting choked by Paul Stanley. Big Glock crash, overall 15 DNFs + 1 disqualification. Lewis wins! Celebrating with Nico!

2. Malaysian GP : McLaren grid penalties for impeding during quali, 19.9 seconds pitstop, Lewis 5th. “Could do with a beer.”

3. Bahrain GP : Max Mosley n*zi pr*stitutes scandal. Terrible start, Lewis runs into Alonso. Lewis 13th.

4. Spanish GP : Kovalainen big crash. Unusually serious Lewis. Finishes 3rd.

5. Turkish GP : Still unusually serious Lewis. Good overtake on Massa. Finishes 2nd.

6. Monaco GP : Terrible terrible fashion show. WET MONACO GP! Early puncture. Traffic in the hairpin. Big Nico crash. Lewis wins! Anthony yelling “that’s my son!”.

7. Canadian GP : Lewis pitlane mistake. Big sad. DNF.

8. French GP :  Grid penalty for the accident in Canada + drive-through penalty for cutting a corner. Shower at the end but it doesn’t change anything. Lewis 10th.

9. British GP : Wet race. Outstanding start! RABBITS?! Lewis wins! More than one full minute ahead! 3-way tie for the WDC.

10. German GP : Big Glock crash. The team decides not to make him pit during Safety Car. Aggressive overtake. Lewis wins!

11. Hungarian GP : Poor start from Lewis. 3 pitlane fires? Late puncture. Lewis 6th.

12. European GP : The ‘08 financial crisis hits. Two botched Ferrari pitstops. Lewis 2nd but we barely saw him.

13. Belgian GP : Wet track. LATE RAIN! Max Jeddah 2021 style overtake. EXTREMELY CHAOTIC END. Lewis wins! But penalty. So Lewis 3rd.

14. Italian GP : Wet race. Weird grid. Beautiful overtake on Raikkonen. Aggressive overtake on Glock. Beautiful overtake on Kubica. Seb wins! Lewis 7th.

15. Singapore GP : First night race! Crashgate : origins (the prequel). Terrible pitlane incident for Massa. Lewis 3rd.

16. Japanese GP : Terrible job. Lewis still doesn’t handle pressure well. More and more talk about him being aggressive. Questionable penalties. Lewis 12th.

17. Chinese GP : Solid boring race. Lewis wins!

18. Brazilian GP : Wet start! Wet finish! CHAOTIC LAST 3 LAPS! The WDC is decided in the last corner! Massa wins, but Lewis is world champion!

[simpingforsoftboys]

Love Me, Love Me Not

ft. Kuroken

G/N Reader

TW: Insecurities... I think that’s it?

Read This First

Mini Series Here

Okay part 2/4 for the continuation of “Toxic Things They Do” request. This is probably the hardest one for me because I’m better at writing Kuroken x reader on a platonic level aha. Not proofread because your girl is a slacker-

You’re sitting on the floor of your living room, staring at the tv while Kenma plays on the new PS5 he bought. He’s seated in Tetsuro’s lap, the dark haired male is busy yapping his ear off- to which Kenma lets out small hums of acknowledgement every once in a while to show he’s listening. You want to join them up there, somehow the couch seems so far away from you. Like a pillar high in the sky- only serving to show off what you can’t ever really have. It seems a little dramatic to be thinking that way, sure, but you have a valid reason to put it in such a manner. You know, since you’re allergic to leather and all.

Tetsuro was always so caring, constantly doting on the ones he loves. With his trashy puns, troublesome smirk, and sparkling eyes that promised a good time, he was perhaps the ideal man. He gave his all for those he cared for, seemingly nothing about him was selfish... and yet the leather couch had been Tetsuro’s idea- he had always been fond of the material after all. Even when you brought up the whole issue of you being allergic to it- he still insisted that they purchase a leather sofa. 

“We’ll just buy you a separate arm chair or something.” Kenma had said after listening to the both of you argue back and forth. “It’s not like we don’t have the money.” It hurt more looking back on it now than it did at the time. It was an unreasonable solution, but it wasn’t like Kenma was going to disagree with Kuroo. He never did. At least when it came to you that is.

You continue staring at them. There’s something about the way that Tetsuro gazes at Kenma that just screams love and contentment. He’s never looked at you that way- even back when you were in denial you knew that much. Kenma never had to do what you would need to in order to keep his attention on him. All Kenma needed to do was exist- unlike you- he never had to earn dear Kuroo’s love. 

Tetsuro only doted on those he loved. He loved Kenma. And he only seemed to love you when Kenma wasn’t around.

“Y/n...” The messy haired male called, long arms winding around your torso. “Let’s go to the arcade! I made some reservations- we have the whole place to ourselves for a few hours.” 

You remember being excited at the time- finally you would get to go on a date with Tetsuro. It had been so long since your last one. 

“Really? That’s awesome! Let me just get dressed.” You slipped into a pair of jeans and a band t-shirt before hurrying to meet Kuroo at the door. “Tetsu I’m-”

“I can’t believe you got called in so last minute. It’s too late to cancel the reservations already kitten.” Kuroo whines into the phone, obviously talking to Kenma. “Yeah I’m just bringing Y/n, no point in wasting money... oh? Okay see you later. Love you kitten~”

Needless to say, your day seemed a lot less exciting after overhearing that conversation.

Kuroo gently nudged the smaller male aside, standing up to go use the restroom. The two of you made eye contact briefly, he winked playfully before continuing on his way to the bathroom. Your gaze fell upon Kenma- who was still rapidly pushing buttons and triggers on his controller. 

Kenma had always been elusive. It was one of the things that drew you into him. He looked so uncaring about everything, at first you couldn’t even have imagined that he would be so attentive to every detail. Was it a trait he had gained from Tetsuro or vice versa? People do say lovers begin sharing habits over time. At first you could barely distinguish one of his expressions from another, but as you spent more time in his company you found much more than you could have hoped. You discovered that he was constantly changing, learning to be more expressive. Each time you thought you had him figured out- he had already developed beyond that.

The minuscule way his lips would upturn when he was amused soon changed into a hidden smile, chuckles threatening to escape his throat. Then that changed to a slightly wider one, showing the smallest amount of his teeth. Eventually he learned to forgo his embarrassment entirely- and he would laugh freely, all teeth, heart, and soul, in it. Yes, Kenma was a constantly evolving individual- like the ever changing maze in the maze runner. There was seemingly no escape to him- just twists and turns and dead ends. He was impossibly deep- a promise of a myriad of mysteries within his eyes. 

But you were just another runner- doomed to be lost in the maze- but never to escape it. Kuroo on the other hand was something else. He was on a completely different level- skilled in his knowledge of Kenma- able to come and go as he pleased. You doubted he’d ever wanted to escape. Neither did you- at first. 

Out of the two of them, Kenma had always been more receptive of you. It had surprised even Kuroo himself actually. You didn’t doubt Kenma’s love for you- not like you doubted Tetsuro’s- but you also knew that he’d never care for you as much as he did Kuroo. It showed in the little things.

“Y/n did you want to play with me?” Kenma’s soft voice carried over where you were- snuggled up in blankets, playing Animal Crossing while sitting in your arm chair. He had his own red and blue Switch in his hands. Kuroo had been home at the time, you recall hearing him snoring away in your bedroom. “It’s been awhile since it was just us.”

You smiled at his words and agreed. The two of you visiting each others islands and irritating your beloved villagers. It was fun, spending time with Kenma, and you could tell that he was enjoying himself- and not just because of the game. He would shoot you shy, soft smiles when he thought you weren’t looking. It was those smiles that really kept you clinging onto the sinking ship that was your relationship. 

Kenma loved you.

The smiles directed towards Kuroo were different. They weren’t shy- instead they were familiar and open. Kenma had known Kuroo far longer than he had you. The comfort he took in him was of an entirely separate magnitude. Naturally, this was the same with the amount of love he held for him too. 

He looked happier with Kuroo than he did with you.

Maybe it’s because of that fact that you decided to break the news to Kenma first. Making sure that your skin was covered with you long sleeves, pants, and socks, you made your way over to where Kenma was seated. His eyes tore away from the screen to stare at you worriedly. 

“Y/n your allergies-” He began.

“It’s fine, as long as my bare skin doesn’t touch the leather.” You reply, sitting beside him. You know you shouldn’t- not when you’re about to say this- but you yank him into a hug anyways. You hug Kenma tight and hard, because he’s the only one in this relationship that might even love you a sliver as much as you love him. He tries to turn, so that he can embrace you too- but you won’t let him, opting to pin his arms down with your own. It’ll hurt too much to do this if you let him hold you. 

“Y/n what’s wrong?” He asks and he looks at you like you’re the only one in the world for that moment. Bitterly, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be in Kuroo’s shoes. Yet again, you are reminded that while this is a rare sensation for you- it’s a daily occurrence between the two of them- looking at each other like they hung the stars up in the sky- that is. 

“I have to tell you something Kenma.” You murmur, licking your lips. “But first I’m going to let you go, right after I try to memorize what you feel like against me. And you have to promise not to try to hug me after that okay?” 

“W-why? What’s wrong Y/n?” He struggles again, fear overtaking his heart at your words. “What is it?”

“J-just promise me. You can be mad, you can cry, hell you can even laugh afterwards. But don’t try to reach out and hug me okay?” He’s never seen you so serious, so he nods his head. 

“I promise.” He agrees and stops fighting against you. You do your best to memorize this- the feeling of him in your arms. He’s warm and despite his lithe figure he’s firm against you. His hair is smooth and soft- since you had managed to drill into him how important hair maintenance was- it smells like his pricey conditioner. You rest your cheek against his for a long moment, before forcing yourself to pull away from him entirely. The half blonde abides by his promise, but it’s clear that he wants to reach out to you.

“This is going to hurt me a lot more than it’s going to hurt you.”

“What are you saying?” Kenma’s anxious now, eyes searching for answers in your own pools of e/c. 

“But you have Tetsuro... I don’t know how he’ll feel about this- but he’ll probably be furious with me.” You continue, heavy tears slipping from your tear ducts. “I don’t think this is working out Kenma-”

“What did I do?” He asks, wide eyed and desperate- you can hear the pain in his tone. “Did you fall out of love with me- with us?” The angel and devil perched on your shoulders agree that you should lie to him- tell him ‘yes, I did fall out of love with you.’ The angel says it’s better to do it this way, to spare him the pain of knowing what you went through. While the devil thinks you should say it in the most vicious way possible- to give back all the pain, the unworthiness they made you experience. But you refuse to listen, no one deserves to suffer through your insecurities.

“I’m still in love with you two.”

There’s tears spilling from both of your eyes now.

“Then why-”

“It’s because I’m not content anymore.” It’s not the full truth but it’s better than a lie right? You forgot that a half truth is a whole lie. 

“I think we deserve the truth.” Kuroo says from the entrance of the living room, he’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. “Not some half assed explanations.” 

“Right...” You agree, blinking back your tears. “I’m so grateful for you two. Tetsuro you’re so caring and selfless, you give your heart in everything you do- I’d be lying to say that I’m over you. Kenma you’ve always been so attentive and I won’t lie- something about you just makes me want to appreciate you endlessly. But babes, you’ve been in love for so long- I can’t possibly catch up.” 

Kuroo’s expression is shocked, not expecting this. “Y/n-”

“No, please listen.” You ask of him- just this once- to listen to you. Luckily for you he does. Kenma looks like he wants to speak up too, but swallows his words. It’s the first time they’ve let you get a word in without getting defensive. Kinda poetic if you think about it. Your last 'argument’ as a throuple and the first time they’ve been able to let you say your piece.

“Tetsu, it’s clear Kenma’s your first and foremost priority. I don’t even know if what we have is love or admiration- but it’s not what I’m looking for.” You give him a sad smile and he discovers that it’s the most genuine one he’s seen from you.

“Y/n I-” He tries, only to get an impatient look from both you and Kenma. “Sorry, continue.”

“I’m a hypocrite to say this- but Kenma... this is harder to say because I’ve grown more attached to you overtime.” You hate yourself for what you’re about to say next- the hypocrisy you’re about to spew is enough to render your feelings null and void... or so you believe. “I never doubted with you- what we had... have... it’s definitely love.” 

Kenma looks ugly, his face is all scrunched up and theres snot and tears dripping down onto his lap. “It always was- still is Y/n.”

“I know baby.” You whisper back, it pains you to see him like this. “But you’re still more in love with Tetsu.” He can’t deny it either, that’s what pains him the most. “I love the both of you though. So I really do wish you the best. It’s the only thing I can do- because I can’t stay here and hold you back.”

Something inside of Kuroo’s heart cracks and he finds himself tearing up at your words. It hurts because you’re right. He doesn’t love you like that- or at least he doesn’t think so. But if that’s the case then it doesn’t make sense as to why he’s hurting. 

“I’m sorry that I had to be the one to call it quits- because I never, ever, wanted to be the one to do that. But guys-” Your voice cracks, it embodies all the heart ache you’re feeling- been feeling for so long. “When it’s just you two, at the altar, finally becoming one... I’ll be able to say with good faith that I made the right decision. So don’t fight me, don’t even say anything- this is what I want. This isn’t for just you- it’s for me too.”

They nod, facing the consequences of your choice- maybe it goes further than that. Maybe all this time the three of you were doomed to fail. If that’s the case then it’s a blessing that you’re not going down in flames. Instead this chapter is ending with a flood of tears and the promise of ruin. But there’s also the underlying hope that one day the flood will dry up and they’ll finally be able to look at the ruins without feeling regret. It’s that hope that all three of you cling too. That hope that one day you’ll be able to rebuild upon the ruins- a new temple, new kingdom. A new place for a rebuilt- or maybe even entirely new- love. 

A/N: I did Kuroo so dirty but I’m not sorry about that. In all honesty this is how I feel it’d go in a situation like this. Kuroo’s priority is always going to be Kenma. He’s a chemistry nerd- and their shared chemistry is so deep, it’s engrained onto the face of their soul. I think Kenma does really love Y/n but he’ll always love Kuroo just a little more. But sometimes a little is all the difference and is the game changer in the end. I do think, that if Kenma had loved the two of them equally- then maybe they could have been fine with a polygamous dynamic- but sadly that’s not the case.

This is also the harsh reality to a lot of poly relationships- some people enter them but aren’t prepared to love equally. So there’s an imbalance there that really shouldn’t be there. A lot of authors who write for polyships don’t touch on this but I want to be here to write about the good and the bad. 

Seeing the reader after the breakup

[insufferablelust]

Pretty little thing (III)

Warnings : this series will be filled with Adult content, upcoming smut, murder, psychotic behaviors, dark kinks, traumatic events, manipulation, gaslighting, and isolation, interrogations, Daddy issues, abusive parents, blood, Spencer Reid x Unsub!Reader.

This is a dark fic, there might be stuff that could trigger you so please read with caution and/or don’t read it if you are sensitive to the stuff in the warnings.

MASTERLIST.

——————

Broke down the walls of her will, like the haunting willow tree singing as she savor and serve. adrenaline rushing and prickling inside her bloodstream, relishing the way his name rolls off her tongue. glistening with adoration, and graceful lust.

——————

“William Y/L/N, her father.” Next to her’s.

“Garcia—“

“On it!”

~

Y/N’s head was spinning, she hasn’t said anything hasn’t even heard any word that spilled from her lawyer’s mouth. Her mind solely pinned to the man behind the glass which she couldn’t see but she could feel him. His presence warms her up in a way, yet sent an incredibly powerful tingling feeling up her spine, from the beginning he was always going to be her’s— she has waited since cat, patiently waiting for her execution, playing the naive clean up girl for her, but now that her biggest threat, as well as her mentor is burning in hell, she’ll finally make him her’s. She just need to find a way to execute her masterplan.

“You aren’t listening, aren’t you?” The annoyed tone of her lawyer caused her to snap back into her role, sighing softly she let out fake tears slowly— knowing damn well the very man she want is right there.

“I’m sorry. This is all just overwhelming, listen do what you have to do.. all i’m going to say is....”

Spencer watched their interaction from behind the protective glass, his eyes never leaving every single micro expressions she made, every twitch of her lips, he saw everything even if he can’t hear them.

He watched as she cried, tears spilling all over the table her fingers were shaky, and her knees bounced. He could tell that the voice she lets out must be shaky, with hiccups, he scoffed to himself as he observed her. Knowing every single behavior she displayed was a cover up on top of a cover up.

Even after her lawyer stood up, his eyes never left her face, wanting to see everything. Not only that it’s his job— but there’s something about Y/N that almost.. amazes him in some ways, maybe it was because the cat situation but.. the way she built a fortress over her true self, the way she managed to be whoever she wanted to be and perfectly at that. It was like she was an actress, an art.

Then, he was snapped out of his mind when her lawyer close the interrogation door shut, sighing as she looked over at Spencer.

“Are you going to gawk at my client all day, agent? don’t you have a theory to pursue?” Typical, it was to get on his nerves.

“Yes, she’s a highly capable suspect of dozens murders. It’s my job to make sure we get her this time.” Spencer answered calmly, trying not to let any of their plans spilled, he was meticulous that way. Sharp.

“You better find those evidence soon agent, or the court will see to it that Y/N Y/l/N is— was in fact just another victim of Ms.Adams,” Spencer’s lips twitched at the sound of her voice, but moreover at the names she mentioned.

“Oh and My client asked me to tell you that the little brown house is only the beginning of the end, clock is ticking.” His eyebrows furrowed, as he snapped his head back towards Y/N— finding her looking straight to the glass almost as if she knew he was there, the sound of her lawyer’s heels clicking away turned all the wheels inside his head,

Little brown house,

beginning,

of the end,

————

“So, i found out William Y/l/N changed his name to Hansen Sharp after his company went bankrupt years ago. There’s not much of him few years after that basically just a mundane man living a mundane life but.. turns out, oh no..—“

“Garcia...”

“Hansen Sharp served jail time for a reported violence complaints from several different women but get this, after his bankruptcy, he worked as a high school janitor—“

“Let me guess, the women who reported him were the mothers.” Prentiss shake her head,

“Yeah... 4 Complaints, Violence against children, his victims were girls around 15 years old.” Garcia Cringed,

“Her stressor, she wasn’t even going to try to get her father after she left his house but then she heard it and somehow she met cat.” Tara sighed heavily

“No, cat found her, she told me that.” Reid crossed his arms this time

“Oh! i found his address, he’s currently serving parole, it’s 157 Brownstone— i’m just going to send it to you crime fighters.”

“We caught her before she could find her father whereabouts, that’s why she was so unstable. JJ, go with Alvez and Rossi, Tara you’re with me. Reid stay here, observe everything. Lets go.”

Brownstone,

Little Brown house,

Reid slammed the door open, meeting her eyes as she smiled, “Hello Professor, Is there anything i can help you with?”

She knew.

————

“Tell me where he is.” Reid banged the table harshly, eyes sharp through yours as you smiled still, bringing your chin down to rest against the table and rolled your eyes

“Who’s he? I don’t know anything, professor.” Y/N shook her head as she bit her lip teasingly, enjoying the tense look on Spencer’s face as he leaned in closer to where she was pouting underneath his gaze

“Y/N—“

“Oh! how wonderful professor! we’re using first names now? oh okay um hi Spencer right?” Her voice was bright, bright and manipulative. She reminded him of Cat, from the way she talked to her gestures yet there’s something about her that screamed wounded to him, as if she was tortured and this is the only way she knew on how to feel.

Closing his eyes momentarily, before opening them and slowly walked over her side of the table, gently running his fingers through her hair and chuckled as he suddenly grasp her hair tightly— she barely flinched, “Stop messing around, Where’s your father Y/N?”

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know?” She smiled in amusement, eyes glimmering with its doe like stares up at him. Y/N let out a satisfied whimper as he gripped the hair tighter, pulling it back slightly, his voice was so deep that she could feel the timbre rumbling through her spine,

“Tell me right now, or i swear to god you will never see me ever again.”

There, that right there made her eyes go soft, her smile turned into a genuine frown and she felt as if her guts were being punched— she hate it, hated the fact that he even dared to say something like that. Doesn’t he know that he’s hers and hers only? the possessiveness, the need to have him consumed Y/N the longer she sat there.

“Stop it with the tears, you might be a damn good manipulator to everyone but not me,”

What tears? Y/N thought as she sucked in her breath, she didn’t even realized she let out a tear let alone letting his words consumed her that way. She was in deep, and she won’t ever let him go.

“Oh but you see this, Dr.Reid,” She smiled sadly, leaning closer— so close that he could feel her warmth, and whispered,

“I’ll tell you where my wretched father is, although he’s all bloodied the last time i seen him,” She shrug as she press her lips against his cheek,

“but—“

“There’s no deal Y/N” He cut her off, causing her to giggle sweetly in his ear and tuts, “Ah ah but here’s the thing professor, i don’t mind if i get a death sentence or life in prison— either way i’ll die anyways and best believe i know how to,” She chuckled,

“You see all my life, i never ever wanted to hurt anyone but my father— well and Catherine of course but she’s death, and soon he too will join her.. unless...” She pecked his cheek now causing him to grip the table tighter,

“I’ll tell you where my father is but under the condition that you, my dear professor, shall go to a date with me.. You went with my so called twin, only fair i get the same treatment right..?” She smiled sweetly, leaning back down to her chair as soon as Spencer bolted out the door and thought, If only he knew that this is the beginning of the end, for him.

————

By the time the team got back from the house, Spencer is already waiting for them, pacing around in the room as he kept on thinking about her offer,

“you, my dear professor, shall go on a date with me..”

“I would like to go on a date with you..”

He flinched when he remembered the phrase that Cat used, shutting his eyes for a moment as he thought about their words— analyzing them thoroughly, letting their voices dance around his head, as if taunting him to find the difference,

You shall,

I Would,

Cat proposed, meanwhile Y/N demanded.

He was snapped out of his mind as he heard the team walked inside, placing each evidence and clues they found on the table. A pair of bloodied socks tested to be Hansen Sharp’s, a bloodied hammer with no lead on the DNA match, and a written note of “Have fun hunting, x C” were amongst the things they found back at Y/N’s dad’s house, there were no sign of him and no trace of her DNA that could link her to the murder.

“We need think to rethink the best way to approach her,” Tara muttered, “She obviously knows where he is, whether she’s the one torturing him or not— she knows. Garcia have you found anything linking to the handwriting or DNA on the hammer?”

“No... according to her school journals, it’s definitely not her’s.” Garcia whispered the last bit, eyes scanning through her screen and sighed.

“Reid?”

“She asked me to go on a date, in return she’ll tell us where her father is.” He looked up at his team, to find them looking back at him and he sighed, “Look, maybe—“

“No. Absolutely not.” Prentiss insists, her tone set dangerously low as she flip through the newfound evidence from Sharp’s house. “We will not follow her game, no matter what. She’s as dangerous as she could get right now, maybe she wasn’t responsible for other murders but she is certainly a master manipulator. Whatever you do, do not let her get inside your head.”

Too late, Spencer thought.

“Tara is right, we should try different methods and we have to do it fast, we don’t know how long Sharp could take it.” JJ suggested, he went to pat Spencer’s back as he shake him lightly “We know you think this is your fault, but it isn’t, we’ll save him and we’ll get her.” She assured, Spencer smiled as he nods.

Yet, little did they know that Spencer was beginning to wish he never searched for her.

————

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( @drreidshands, @annestine , @addie5264 , @maybankslut , @lolitstiana , @imjusthereformggcontent , @wooya1224 , @reverdevivre )

upcoming updates : TAAHM VII, Blurb Requests!

[sekceesimps]

A Rose Made of Chains Ch 2

a/n holy crap! thank you guys so much for all the nice comments and positive feedback about this story. This is the best Christmas gift ever. Hope you enjoy! Chapter 3 out tomorrow (Tuesday) night. 

Sincerely, Coffee

teaser.     Ch 1    Ch 3

teaser for part 2,    Ch 4,     Ch 5

Kurapika (aged up) x reader x Chrollo

warnings: This chapter does get very violent and angsty. If physical branding and torture triggers, you please don’t read  

Don’t scream. Don’t scream. You silently chanted to yourself after waking up from a horrible nightmare. For once you wake up before your torturer has a chance to dump water on you. There were no windows or other sorts of indication about the time. You analyzed your surroundings. For whatever reason, you felt motivated to fight this time. Your “room”, if it could even be called that, was made up of a small charred blanket on the ground to act as a bed, a rickety looking bucket, and a sturdy chair being held up by thick gray shackles. Just looking at the iron chair sent shivers up your spine, it was where most of the torturing had been taking place after all. You had tried using your nen ability when you had first gotten here, but it had proved futile, as it seemed that there was something that forced zetsu upon you. It wasn’t like your nen could do anything  to escape to begin with. You had no issue with being a manipulator. You were an incredibly talented and special user according to Kurapika himself. Your nen ability was being able to manipulate and influence the movement of light. It made you incredible with stealth and diversions to help your friends, but terrible at actually being able to fight back. Your ability was too weak combatively, it was kind of why you were even here in the first place. Mumbling, you continue looking for a way out as your mind goes back to the day you were taken. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

That day had started so beautifully. You had woken up to sweet humming from Kurapika as he lazily flipped through the pages of a book. After passing out on the ground next to his hotel bed the night before, he had graciously pulled you up next to him. His long arms hold you close to his warm body, making your face flush, an action only reserved for lovers, but he did so nonetheless with you. 

“Good morning, Y/N'' he greeted and put his book down. You’ll never forget the joyful glint in his eye, one that was becoming less and less common to see, as his face nuzzled into your neck. It was times like this when you wished that you could just tell him that you were his soulmate. Unfortunately, you couldn’t do that to him now. He was busy planning on what to do with the spiders. You had helped him with this plan, but he often made it clear that he didn’t want your mind to be burdened with the violence of his future actions. “Can you go to the store? We don’t have much food left and I’m tired of eating junk with Gon.” he mumbled against your neck. 

“5 more minutes,” you whined and cuddled closer against him. His warmth was intoxicating and the heavy smell of lemongrass that came off of him made you want to stay next to him forever. You don’t want this moment to end. You never get to see Kurapika smile and you’ve never seen him so vulnerable as he is in the mornings. You’d never admit it out loud, but you love to fall asleep on the ground next to his bed, knowing full well that he’s much too polite to leave you down there alone. 

“Get up, lazy” he answered and untangled his arms from your body. You know the two of you aren’t dating, but it sure did feel like it on mornings like this. “I can’t come with you today  because Leorio wants me to help him with something. Make sure to get breadsticks! Oh, and don’t forget to get something sweet for Killua” he snaps you out of your thoughts.  

“Alright alright. I’ve got it, do you need anything else,” you remarked as you dragged yourself out of the comfort of his bed. It creaked softly at the shift in weight. He shook his head and wished you goodbye. 

You never made it to the store that morning. After you had left the hideout, you stupidly decided that you wanted to take the scenic route to get groceries. Unfortunately, the scenic route at 8 in the morning is also a dangerous one. With no one out on the streets yet, safety in numbers dwindles down to ominous empty and open areas. Soft footsteps and the feeling of eyes burning into your back were felt as you made your way quickly through a quiet alleyway. You had thought nothing of the dangerous feeling until you were shoved onto the ground. You were a hunter, a natural born fighter too. However, you weren’t wise enough to anticipate an attack and bring a real weapon. It honestly didn’t come as much of a surprise when you had been quickly overtaken by three shadowy figures. You were quick to spring to the defense and had managed to give up a small fight until the tallest figure muffled your screams with a large cloth. Being pinned to the ground and knocked out was not what you had expected on your peaceful trip to the store. I’ve got this, you thought to yourself as your vision blurred and you slipped into the black abyss. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

Finally! You shriek in your head. You had found a small curved nail in the corner surrounded by dust. If you could just use it to break the padlock on the door you’d be out of your dingy room. Your inner clock was warning you that it was almost time for the water wakeup. An even better but more risky idea suddenly popped into your head. It’s going to be risky you think, but I’ll have to fight my way out of here if I have any chance of leaving. You clutch the nail in your sweaty hands and lay back down on your “bed”. The door handle lowers slowly, slowly. Creak, the hinges squeak, you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Footsteps come closer. You jolt up before the man can react. Surprise and luck on your side. With one sharp movement you stab the nail into the short man’s upper thigh and run as fast you can. You would have made it out too if a new woman hadn’t grabbed your collar and knocked you to the ground.

“Feitan, did you let this little mouse out? She looks a little lost.” you looked up at her serious face. Her lovely pink hair smoothed up into a ponytail. With wide and begging eyes you  pleading with her silently to let you go. She looked past you and glanced at your torturer instead, who was grumbling on the ground with his bleeding leg.                                

“I’ve got it from here.” he replied as he got up. “Time for something new anyways. The little mouse isn’t screaming as much as she used to.” he made his way over to you and grabbed the collar of your shirt roughly from her. You make yourself as limp as possible, trying to stall your impending doom. He was a small man, so it surprised you by how much strength he had as he dragged you back into your room and secured the heavy ropes onto your arms, securing you back  into your chair. 

This time he pulled a dark brown belt  and fastened it around your head and stuffed it into your mouth. You let out a muffled yelp in protest to this intrusion. This man had done so many unspeakable things to you. You had been burned heavily, close to drowned, had fingernails ripped out, but each time you had prided yourself on staying as strong as you had. You were unbearably tired of fighting. It had been so long since you saw the sun. You would give anything to have rays of light touch your skin again. 

“I have to admire your strength. Many don’t last as long as you have. Will you join the phantom troupe? Will you join us?” your torturer asked curiously. You shake your head in a vehement no. “That’s a shame. I hope the boss doesn’t mind that I do this.” he replies nonchalantly as he takes out his many knives. This time though he has something different. This time, he has an iron. 

You barely flinch at this point when he begins expertly cutting up your skin. There was a certain art that was in the way he opened up your delicate flesh and created such pain and terrible marks. For what seemed like hours he did this, ripping apart barely healed wounds, creating new ones, all the while he smiled and kept asking those four annoying words. You briefly considered entertaining him and saying yes. No! You refuse to do that. 

He removes the belt that acted as a makeshift gag, asking those four words again, “Will you join us”. You boldly spit your blood onto his face and smile wickedly. This seems to egg him on as he takes a lighter and begins warming up the iron. You hadn’t seen it before. It was beautifully shaped and at the very end you saw what looked like a… no. It couldn’t be. The more you looked at it, the more your stomach hurt and rage began building in your chest. At the end of the iron was an expertly crafted 12 legged spider. You hadn’t realized it but the rage had turned your eyes into the most passionate crimson. A shade that you refused to show anyone who wasn’t trusted. Your torturer smiles, “The boss always liked those eyes”,  as he quickly shoves the leg of your pants up to leave your thigh bare and open. The iron was sure to be hot now. The reality of the situation was setting in as the man tugged your gag off and said happily, “be as loud as you want”, before he shoved the iron onto the area beneath your soulmark. Pure pain, white hot pain blinded you. Your only form of agency now in this hell was to be quiet. You knew that sleep was taking you again as your vision darkened and your head nodded off as you passed out. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

Panicked breaths tore through the silent room. Your ragged gasps for air breaking the peace of the pitch dark stillness. As your eyes slowly adjust you try to calm yourself, you focus on your soulmark and the level-headed blonde that has the matching one. It started to feel like reassurance but now it’s become a mark of pain and conflict. 

“How are you feeling?” a calming baritone voice spoke through the darkness. As he steps forward you take in his menacing appearance. He was tall and had the funniest looking coat you’d ever seen. It was fur and looked expensive. His whole appearance and tone just screamed wealth and power. He was a man who was clearly sure of himself. He’d come to visit your torture sessions several times before already. Each time he would stand close to the shadows, just out of sight, but still close enough for you to catch a glimpse of his outline. He never said anything, choosing to watch you instead. His smoky gray eyes are always on you and drinking in your appearance. 

“I’d feel better if you just let me leave” you whimper softly. The ropes that a spider had secured on you when you had gotten here were digging roughly into your skin. You felt like your aura was constrained and it was hard to breathe. 

“You know I can’t do that darling,” he all but purred, the pet name setting your face on fire with blush. “all you have to do is say yes.” he continued, coming closer and closer to your face. You do your best to move away from him. “Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Chrollo Lucilfer. It truly is a shame that we had to meet like this.” he had his finger raised now and languidly stroked the less bloody side of your cheek. 

You whimper softly at his movement. His intense ashen eyes felt like they were piercing your soul. “All you have to do is say yes and all of the pain can go away,” he grinned down sweetly at your pitifully shaking form. 

Your tangible fear seemed to edge him on as he got closer and closer to the side of your face. “I don’t want to,” you stated in a last attempt of defiance. 

His warm breath was fanning across your bloodied cheek. “Oh, but you will.” He remarked casually before leaning down further to your flushed body. 

His lips were soft and they had meshed well against your own dry ones. This was the first sign of  comfort you had been given in your time here. You refused to kiss back at first, but he was right, you would give in. As he politely nipped your lip, asking for permission to take it further, you couldn’t help but take it as a sign. A sign to cling onto any warmth you could get. You had no idea if you would see this man named Chrollo again. A part of you screamed that you were betraying your soulmate, but the hungrier and more desperate part of you cried to let him comfort you. 

You pulled your head back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about you.” you mumbled and bit your lip. Missing the warmth that the raven looking man had provided you with. 

He smiled sadly and sighed, “That is unfortunate. I’ll be back tomorrow and the day after that. We have some time to get to know each other before you join me.” He backed away from you and let a hand linger in your H/C hair. Pressing his lips lightly against your hand, he let you go and left the room. The heavy door slammed shut and the lights flickered off as he left. 

Wind, you thought to yourself. He smelled like the fresh and intense wind that came after a hurricane. He tasted like a small dash of sugar and fresh fruits mixed in the best tarts. You determined that you liked these new feelings. They weren’t foreign but they were still unfamiliar to you. You want to experience more, but that would hurt your soulmate wouldn’t it? You yearn for him with all your soul, but your body can’t help yet yearn for the raven haired man who offers you protection. The ghost of comforting warmth lingers on your lips as you start to feel uncertain about your future here in the spider’s den. 

a/n hope you enjoyed the tieback to the teaser and first appearance of Chrollo. The reader and Chrollo are going to have a very complex and intricate relationship that will be explained much more later. Next chapter will be in Kurapika’s POV and will be the last chapter until we hit another milestone. thanks everyone! 

Also very sorry about the formatting. I don’t understand spacing at all, I hope it doesn’t bother anyone too much. 

askbox is open if you want to talk or leave requests. 

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Season Zero: The Yo-yo Crimes of Jounouchi Pt 2

OK, last we left off, we were in a different Youtube video. This one I grabbed off of 2 different videos (you’ll see their watermark in the corner change) and it makes me appreciate the quality that our other episodes have been, honestly. A little bit of compression going on in these, just to give you even more of that nostalgic feel of watching a bootleg anime from the 90′s your brother got from his weird high school friend’s Napster account.

Because this is done with subtitles on, it takes more caps to cover it. Part of why I rewrite the dialogue in these recaps is to help abridge stuff, and so consider yourself warned...there’s a lot of caps in this one. For most of you, that’s probably not much of a problem. But I’m just letting you know because...I sure wasn’t expecting it to be over 40 caps for half an episode, and I’ll probably just type less to make up for that. (Tumblr keeps Erasing All My Words anyway, so this is for the best, but that’s a tech issue I already went into in another post.)

(read more under the cut)

So, to start off, Yugioh and co. walk up to a bar like a really weird version of a bar joke and are like “do you know where we can find the yo-yo gang?” And, much like a video game npc, the bartender was like “I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about, and I heard every part of their intimate conversation. Let me give you all the details, children.”

Hey, PS, there’s an entire Wikipedia entry about the bar joke. And that is wild. Apparently the first bar joke was from Ancient Sumeria, and Wikipedia was like “Here is the Sumerian joke, but we Do Not Get it. Please don’t try to get it.”

The joke being: "A dog walked into a tavern and said, 'I can't see a thing. I'll open this one'."

Damn. I can’t believe the Sumerians were onto meme humor before we ever invented memes. They were in the Galaxy brain over there in the land before time, holy crap. Depositing their memes knowing that 7,000 years later mankind would look at the world’s first joke and be like “I don’t get it!” while all the millennials and zoomers with our MB of nonsense memes on our phones are like “No. I get it.” Good on you Sumerians, that is freakin the best joke ever made. 7000 years to get to the punch line of confusing the hell out of all us. Bless.

They promptly tell Miho that everything was resolved and that she should go to bed and she was like “Cool!” and exited stage left. Bye, I guess. Anzu also went home, but she didn’t have to be tricked into doing it, she just went the hell to bed.

(PS, I just realized that if I want to write less...I should probably not look up Wikipedia articles about the world’s first ever bar joke. But y’all, habits die so freakin hard, and I just feel like it’s very pertinent to this Yugioh recap, although I know it’s really not.)

Yuugi and Honda decide to visit the warehouse and harass Jounouchi. In the context of the show, they’re going out of their way to pull their best friend out of society’s systemic downward pull of a life of crime and most likely turning into exactly like his Father. But, the way that it’s storyboarded makes it look a lot like these kids just show up out of the corner and this gang was like “Damn it, again? OMG small children, please leave us alone!”

Honda hands over the symbolism sash, to which Jounouchi symbolically says “Nyeh.”

And Honda didn’t take it very well.

After tending to his kidneys for a little while, Honda decided to go back at it again at the Krispy Cream and do some sort of insane parkour over this completely ordinary fence.

Ah, the very first instance of real duel law where you duel over a relationship. In later seasons duel law is invoked for things like Mai’s marriage and the right to date Tea (and then just kind of forgetting you ever won the right to date Tea twice). But to think the very first time was Honda dueling for the right of Jounouchi to be part of nerd gang because Jounouchi had fallen to the dark side yo-yo gang across the street run by some 40 year old man with blue hair.

How many times is Honda gonna fight with a broom? Like are they just magnetized to his location? where are they even coming from?

Freakin janitor powers over here, put him in a Final Fantasy style RPG. I want to see what his limit break would be.

Not like it matters, because Hirotani very quickly explains why these yo-yo’s are at all a threat.

Which honestly shouldn’t be...so lethal? Seems like the weight is all you need, not really the spikes. But it’s at least stronger than Honda’s janitor stuff.

Unfortunate for Honda that he just destroyed an antique.

So with lightning reflexes, Yuugi does what he does most:

The death yo-yo ricochets back and does this little itty bitty scrape to this guy’s face and he’s real bothered by it. Although it’s like...well dude, you’re a 50 year old high schooler, I don’t think people will notice the scrape compared to everything else falling apart in your life.

And so then the Yugioh Season Zero team was like “oh shoot is it time to torture Yuugi???” and they got hella excited.

Like I thought it was just Yuugi’s class that were a bunch of disturbing criminal disasters, but I guess it’s the whole city. Like...was Yuugi’s class the good school?

I mean, it can’t be, there’s no way...

but like...is there a good school in this universe? How does anyone survive till graduation? If you so much as disgrace a yo-yo, you will get the torture treatment that I sure did expect in Yakuza games, but not so much in Yugioh, tbh.

Just a reminder: This is the third time we’ve beat up Yuugi this episode. Within the first meeting of Yuugi and Hirotani, he beat the tar out of Yuugi within eye shot of Jounouchi. So like...Jounouchi was reallllllllllllllllly lax on that deal, right? Like...he took his toot sweet time to realize “yeah this just ain’t ever gonna happen.”

And then the yo-yo wars begin.

Just like Solid Snake crawling through the radiation chamber.

Hirotani throws his Fyper-yoyo, Jounouchi intercepts with his Eireboy, and Hirotani’s completely terrible yo-yo just flies off the string again because Hirotani should have just sticked to using his fists. No wonder they wanted to recruit Jounouchi so badly, their yo-yo game is so off.

We never get a door to darkness in this episode, dipping our enemies into mind horrors. Instead, we get home-alone style traps. But, this makes sense. Not only do the show makers have to make Yuugi avoid solving problems with magic in front of Jounouchi, they also have to make it Jounouchi’s choice to leave Hirotani behind. If Yuugi did it for him in like...some sort of duel law situation...then that sort of leaves out Jounouchi’s choice in the equation.

Not like this ever really comes up in later seasons, since who even follows through with duel law and marries Mai? But like, it does feel like Season Zero calls out the later Seasons a bit in this regard. Honda got beat up because he tried to win Jounouchi back by force (or game, I guess.) That was just another form of coercion on the heels of Hirotani’s. What Jounouchi actually needed was to make his own decision to leave.

...most other anime I’d be like “I’m sure that’s just a translation error” but not this one.

So Yuugi runs to the roof where Jounouchi will never see this.

My audible sigh reading this line about fight club roof.

These stupid gang members went into Yuugi’s native territory, not just a fight club roof, but on a warehouse? They were dead before they arrived.

This was like maybe 3 frames of animation in just rapid succession, it was pretty silly and good.

Reminder that like 4 minutes ago, Yuugi was about to get like executed on a meat hook.

Speaking of getting executed on a meathook:

Hope you like the idea of glass in your eyes, because this anime’s got it.

They chase Yuugi around, in a sequence that was done mostly to conserve frames, so you rarely saw the ground until this shot:

Lots of falling down this episode, but unlike Tea, who fell from a warehouse ceiling once and just kind of rubbed her ass after and was like “ah damn it.” these guys won’t come out of it virtually unscathed.

Also, Honda is here now:

Jumping off of his symbolic sash trapeze, he decides to do in Hirotani for good.

Hey so like...walk the dog is a fairly gentle walk that a yo-yo does slowly on the ground right?

Just pointing out how sensitive Hirotani’s fingies are.

And he...didn’t appear to be dead, so I don’t have to add to the bodycount...but it’s gonna be a real long road for recovery.

And now, with the gang back together Jounouchi is back at school knee deep in make up assignments he’ll probably completely ignore since we know that in a years time, these fools are going to be trapped on Pegasus’ island, and at that point school will be just that place you talk about when you try to remember why you’re friends with Bakura.

---hey aren’t those chairs attached to the desks?

Because...holy crap, Anzu.

Honestly this is what you see before you die, but I guess Jounouchi died off screen after the episode ended, so I don’t have to add him to the deathcount (again). RIP.

Alright! That took like...8 tries to get Tumblr to save this one, but it managed! (well...I guess “managed” isn’t the word you’d use for a typing program that takes 8 tries to save)

Next time, we’ll be back to S5, for an arc I’ve heard is kind of boring. We’ll see. If it truly is, I can condense episodes into fewer posts. Or maybe it’s a secret gem? I guess we shall see.

And if you just got here this is a link to read all the Season Zero recaps from the start:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yuugi-muto/chrono

(there’s also a link to read all the Yugioh posts we wrote from the start in chrono order but straight up, this file won’t freakin save, and I just can’t even will myself to look up that link again. It’s on the home page of this blog on the right.)

[procrastinatorimagines]

I Want Us Part 8

Fandom: Chicago PD / SVU

Series: I Want Us

Part 1 //  Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 (Final)

Pairing/s: Sonny Carisi x Intelligence!Reader

Warning/s: tw rape, murder, assault

Word Count: 1,269

Summary: The Intelligence Unit’s last case with Manhattan SVU had them flying out to New York to track down an abducted boy, and had Dectective Y/L/N and Detective Carisi growing close in the process. Now, a string of rape-murders in Chicago has SVU boarding the next flight out, believing the suspect to be the same man responsible for a set of identical crimes 10 years prior. As the case unfolds, Y/N and Carisi are brought back together, reigniting the spark between them.

Tags: @the-baby-bookworm​ // @inlovewith3​ //

The call came while you were still driving to the address you’d been given on Tate, now your prime suspect - Billy’s alibi for the first murder checked out easily, he was at a track meet with over a dozen witnesses, and there wasn’t exactly any point in checking his alibi for the New York murders, he’d been 7. 

Almost as soon as that call ended, you got a text on your phone. “You mind?” You nodded to your phone, giving Carisi permission to check it as you drove.

“It’s Jay, he says neither families have seen Billy or Tate before,” he relayed, “but that doesn’t mean Tate isn’t our guy, it’d make sense with what we’ve heard so far.”

“Still,” you sighed, turning Tate’s road, his apartment building just up a head, “we’re going to need something more to go on if we’re even going to get into his place, let alone arrest and charge him.”

Carisi couldn’t agree more as you both climbed out the car, making your way towards the building with your badges on hand. They’d get you through the main doors no problem, but getting further...

“Do you have a warrant?” What had you expected, honestly? Standing before the landlord in the main lobby you were greeting with the question you’d seen coming a mile away. 

“Is he here?” Carisi asked anyway, hoping you’d at least find out something useful, even if this turned out to mostly be wasted trip.

“Nah, he hasn’t been back here since yesterday, I’ve got some mail waiting that I need him to take off of my hands,” the landlord explained, sounding bored and impatient with the conversation already. He’d given you something, at least; Tate hadn’t gone home after he’d given his statement to you, he must have somewhere else to lay low - but where?

“You ever seen either of these women before?” Carisi tried, holding up photos of the two Chicago victims on his phone. The landlord shrugged and shook his head.

“Okay, thanks for your time,” you told him, pulling your card out of your pocket, “but if he does come back, at least give us a call?” He grunted in what you couldn’t tell was agreement or not, but he took the card and walked away, which presumably meant you could both see yourselves out.

You grumbled in frustration as soon as you were outside, knowing you’d been this close to your killer and let him slip away, and now you didn’t know where he was. “We’ll post some unis outside in an unmarked car,” Carisi told you, already making the call as you wandered once again back to your car, fresh out of leads to follow.

“Let’s call Benson, see where Tate lived the time of the New York murders, maybe it’ll be enough for a judge to issue a warrant,” you said, casting a glance back at the apartment building. 

“Food?” Carisi suggested once you got to the car. It had been a while, you realised, all this running around you’d been doing hadn’t really left any time for breaks - food was definitely not a bad idea.

“I could eat,” you replied with a smile, dialing Benson’s number as you got back behind the wheel.

“Tell me you have more than we do,” she answered by way of greeting, sounding as frustrated by this case as you. 

You explained the situation as concisely as possible. “Do you think you could find out his old address?”

“Yeah, should only take a moment, stay on the line?” You hummed in agreement and put it on speaker as you heard her place her phone down and begin to type on her keyboard. 

“New York,” Benson confirmed after a moment, “want to try for a warrant?”

“That’s circumstantial at best, I can’t see a judge signing off on that,” Carisi noted, not being happy about saying it though. He was right, but neither of you liked it.

You clicked your tongue, hesitating before saying: “I could ask Voight to maybe-”

“No,” Benson cut in quickly, “we do this by the book, if this is our guy, which I think it is, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardise putting him away for good, understood?”

“Loud and clear Captain,” you promised genuinely.

“Good, Kat and I will look into Tate’s history in New York, maybe we’ll find something we missed now that we know who we’re looking for, we’ll keep you posted,” she informed you both.

“Thanks Cap, we’ll be in touch,” Carisi signed off and you leaned your head back on the seat’s headrest, eyes closed. You only opened them again when you felt Carisi’s hand on your leg.

“Come on, let’s go eat, re-energise and re-focus,” he said, somehow always managing to make you feel instantly better. You nodded and turned on the ignition, knowing exactly where you could grab a quick bite nearby.

You were half way through your sandwich, feeling a bit more self-conscious than usually about how you were eating in the presence of a guy you liked - not that he’d care - when you got yet another phonecall. 

“Hey Kev,” you said, pressing answer with your little finger and hurriedly swallowing what was in your mouth. 

“Hey, Voight asked us to go back through the CCTV from Lily Hamilton’s murder, we’d been looking for the bentley the first time around, but this time we were looking for Tate’s car, just incase.”

“And?” You asked, alert, putting your sandwich down and brushing your hands together as you shared a hopeful look with Carisi.

“We got it,” Kev answered. Was this is? The breakthrough you needed? "Now, the main street cams don’t catch enough, but Vanessa found a private security system set up nearby the cite where her body was discovered. I’ll send you the screen grabs, you tell me how guilty you think this looks.”

Two pings on your phone came a second later, images of a man emerging from Tate’s car carrying a very large bag - definitely large enough for a body. “We got him,” you said triumphantly.

“It gets better,” another voice joined the call from the other end, Hailey’s. “We did some digging into that date the second vic’s sister mentioned and get this, both girls had dates, I’m sending you both the dating profiles and messages we found now-”

Carisi got them up on his phone, showing you briefly and nodding.

“-and it’s pretty damning. They look like different guys at first, but the script is the same, prince charming, true love, you get the picture when you read the messages, anyway, it looks like both girls went to meet up with their mysterious date the nights they went missing.”

“Can we track the IP, see where the messages came from?” You asked, already turning on the ignition yet again, ready to catch this guy once and for all.

“They came from the same location,” she confirmed.

“Tate’s apartment?” Carisi asked hopefully.

“No, a storage facility basically between both the current crime scenes,” she explained, “it’s not under Tate’s name but we called the owner, the man who rents the facitily matches the description, right down to the scar.” 

Another ping on your phones had Carisi showing you the address of the storage facility. “I assume that’s enough for warrants now?” You asked.

“You’ll have everything you need by the time you arrive,” you heard Voight confirm from somewhere else in the room, “I want you and Carisi at the storage facility, Burgess, Dawson and Ruzek will meet you there with Benson and Tamin, the rest of us will head to the apartment.”

“Let’s finish this,” Carisi told you after Voight hung up. You certainly didn’t need to be told twice.

[killian-whump]

Game Night! [Liveblog #4]

I’m gonna try to finish up the last game and the end of the video in this post, so we better get right to it!

The last game they’re going to play is called Quiplash. Okay, they’re going to be given a prompt... and whoever finishes the quip in the funniest way wins. Kat warns that she’s a master at this and that everybody’s going down. Colin seems impressed by her bravado, but incensed to win nonetheless. “Here we go,” says Sam unenthusiastically 😂

AND THE GAME IS ON!!!

...or it’s meant to be on. Sam’s not joined the game yet. Seems to be having some sort of technical difficulty. “You scared of losing, Sam?” Colin asks helpfully. “All the rest of us got in pretty easy...”

Sam has joined. His name is now Colonislosin 😂 It’s hard to see exactly how it’s spelled. I don’t think any of them can see it that clearly, either. Sam has to tell them what it says.

“We’ll see,” Colin says. “We’ll see.”

The game begins. “It’s more like Col-on is losin,” Sam says. “Col-on.”

The audio is breaking all up in this segment, and Josh even comments on “Low internet signal. We’re doing great.” Hmm. I paid $10 for this, you damn well better find a stronger internet signal.

ROUND 1! The first quip is: We can all agree that... The two answers are: “Covid sucks” and “Josh... is... hairy” “Covid sucks” wins ~ and Colin gets all the points.

The second quip is: A terrible name for a funeral parlor. The two answers are: “Happy Times Palace” and “We put the Fun in Funeral” “We put the Fun in Funeral” wins ~ and Kat gets all the points.

The third quip is: “Knock Knock” “Who’s There?” The two answers are: “Me DUH” and “Get the fuck away from my door” “Get the fuck away” wins and Josh gets most of the points. Colin gets some too, I think, for his answer, because Sam voted for it.

The fourth quip is: “Something that would make a creepy replacement for the horses on a merry-go-round.” The two answers are: “Mini Josh’s” and “Creepy Princes” AREN’T THOSE THE SAME THING?! 😂 “One and the same,” says Sammy. “You don’t want to sit on a mini Josh, do you?” Sam ponders. Josh forgets to even vote, and Sam gets points for “Mini Josh’s”

At the end of Round 1, Sam is in the lead, with Kat and Colin tied for second.

I wanna take this moment to apologize for how BORING this post is so far. During the games, all five people (the three stars, Josh, and Sammy the producer) are in these miniscule windows on the far right of the screen. You can barely even see them. And during this game, there’s little to no conversation going on between/during the quips. As much fun as this game might be to play, it’s not a lot of fun to watch. The last one was better, but even that tended to DRAG for the audience at home. Josh really needs to work on the games he’s having stars play if he plans to keep charging $10 a month to watch this stuff. Also, the audio keeps breaking up in this segment, so even when they talk, some of it’s hard to decipher.

“I respect that Colin is doing this instead of reading bedtime stories to his children tonight,” Josh says as everyone’s entering in their answers for Round 2. “[That’s] how committed I am,” Colin replies. Kat says something that is so broken up, I can’t even begin to figure out what it is. Something about bedtime stories and Colin’s kids. It’s probably funny. 🤷‍♀️ I’m getting mad about my $10 gift card being gone again.

Alright. Round 2.

Quip #1: It never ends well when you mix ___ and ___. Answers: “poo and oatmeal” and “Sam and Josh” Okay, that second one is gold. Who did that? Apparently Colin did “poo and oatmeal” and Kat did “Sam and Josh”. Bless her. Colin gets the points with more votes, though.

Quip #2: The worst car feature that ends with “holder” Answers: “penis” and “diaper” Sam is just blinking rapidly. Now he’s laughing. “How does that work?” he asks. No one answers. “But I wanna know,” he says. “How does it work?” Josh wins the points with his “penis” answer - which Colin voted for, by the way - but no one cares now. “Does it move?” Kat asks. “Or does it just-” “Don’t ask too many questions,” Josh says. “What kind of size is it?” Sam asks. “Is it stationary or is there a motor feature?” Kat asks. “Maybe it’s a good idea...” Sam concludes, as Josh laments the kind of dreams he’s going to have now.

The third quip is literally happening in the background now, as everyone talks about the penis holder. Colin is noticeably silent on the topic XD

Quip #3: Something upsetting you could say to the cable guy as he installs your television service. Answers: “you smell like fart” and “want to see my murder room?” I’m sitting here going, “don’t be Colin, don’t be Colin” while simultaneously knowing 100% that Colin absolutely typed “you smell like fart” into his phone and... Yeah. Yeah, I’m right. That was him 😂 And he got 0 points. “Oh, boooo,” says Colin. Honey... Honey, I’m sorry, but that was bad.

Quip #4: The name of the reindeer Santa did not pick to pull his sleigh. Answers: “ohdeer” and “tipsy” Neither of these are very good. I hate this game. Kat gets the points with “tipsy”.

OH WOW, YOU GUYS. The final points are tallied and...

WHAT IS THIS TOMFOOLERY?! Colin is LOSING?!?! I mean, I know “you smell like fart” was bad, but this is unbelievable! I call shenanigans!!!

Colin is literally sitting forward in his chair now, lmao. The determination is intense, you guys. I once again cannot handle him right now. I wish he wasn’t in the teeny tiny window so I could show you guys better, but look at him getting his fucking game face on:

This man is a peanut and I love him with every fiber of my being. Look at him being a competitive little somesuch in last place. I can’t, you guys. Bury me here, etc, etc, I’m just a goner for this ridiculous man.

O’DONOINTENSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last Round: Quip: Strange side effect to hear during a drug commercial. Answers: “cream cheese will come out of your butt” “seeing double horowitz” and “the screams of baboons” - there’s only three because Kat didn’t get her answer in before the time was up. Aaaaaaand the sound’s breaking all up again 😣 Josh is wondering what the point is of voting, if all you’re doing is giving points to your competitors. “Do you have to give all three votes?” Colin asks. “See,” Josh says. “Colin is thinking strategically, like me.” “Well, I’m not entirely sure the other two, I think, deserve any more than one point.” But it’s... it’s the WAY he says it, OH MY GOD, lol. Lemme... I gotta... Okay, I screen recorded it for you guys.

That O’Donosass is actually almost worth $10, you guys.

Which is good, because the audio is getting worse and worse on this and it’s starting to piss me off. Anyway! Everybody’s got a lot of points, because those were ALL good answers (Colin’s was “the screams of baboons” which I quite like). Let’s see the final tally...

Josh is the winner! But Colin managed a come-from-behind close second, so I’m really proud of him :D Sam mentions how Josh invited them all there to play games and then BEAT them. Josh is closing out the show, saying he hopes everyone enjoyed it... “I enjoyed it,” Josh says "But maybe that’s just 'cause I won at the very last second.” “No, well, you won ONE,” Colin cuts in. “You won ONE game.”

SERIOUSLY. BURY ME RIGHT THERE 😂😂😂

“Colin won the first round,” Josh says.

“...and then we have these two other people.”

Incidentally, I wish everyone’s webcams were as clear as Kat’s.

Anyway, now there’s some sweet summing up... and Josh hawking everyone’s current projects... (gee, it’s like this is promotional content or something) and the show closing down and-

“Can I win next time?” asks Sam Heughan.

~ The End ~

I hope you guys had fun reading this. I gotta say...  this one video isn’t worth $10. I can see if you’re a huge fan of Josh’s or really into celebrity culture, $10 a month might be a fine price to pay for a bunch of this kind of content... but for a one-time video when your fave happens to show up on his channel? Nah. He really should have a “one time access” fee available for individual videos that’s a LOT less. Like, I’m talking, like... $1 or 2. This is literally a zoom call... and as such, the quality’s only as good as his guests’ webcams and audio and everyone’s internet connections. Also, I found the game format enticing... but ultimately boring due to the games chosen. The Would You Rather was the most fun of the three, because we actually got to hear from the stars and get some banter going. The games relied too much on the stars interacting with their devices instead of each other or anyone really engaging the audience. Honestly, if it was any of my faves other than Colin in this video, I might not have even watched the whole thing. Colin’s adorable competitive streak and eagerness to win play games is what kept me watching. The idea is cute, but it needs some work. And the price is too high - especially with the audio issues in the last ten minutes or so. That’s my final verdict.