#at least I hope he does or these tags will be inaccurate

[the-daily-male]

Today's daily male is Neil Newbon from Real Life!

for @dangerousfellowsstuff

[darlingofvalyria]

❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

 You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes.  "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

 "He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

 "If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

 "Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

 "I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

[theflavorpurple]

would it be random if i just info dumped on this rare pair ship i've been obsessed with..?

eh ima do it anyways-

fair warning it could be like ooc or inaccurate this is just kinda my take on how it would work kinda making my own au for it ig ANYWAYS-

Transformers starrod dynamic?? :

-both under the shadows of previous leaders

-both had some type of admiration/ idolization/ slight infatuation with megatron that both ended up in disappointment and slight heartbreak, it wasn't love no it was a crush but both seemed to end on the most disappointing note on megatrons side

-could possibly get together under the demands/influence of peers/society since rodimus is a prime and starscream is now leader of cybertron, could be arranged

-use each other for their own self benefits and pleasure (complicated toxic yuri)

-”it's complicated” it really is but also isn't, their relationship is their own business

-everyone tells rodimus starscream is using him and ‘seducing/brainwashing’ him and that he's only going to break his heart. rodimus isn't stupid he knows but he also knows starscream would never do that (or at least has some hope)

-everyone tells starscream he's wrong for being with rodimus and to leave the prime alone or whatever but the seeker knows what he knows even if their relationship is complicated he's not going to let someone who doesn't know the true meaning of their relationship get to him (or at least tries to)

-maybe the mistress of flame has some significance… (idk her she just sounds important and relevant especially with rodimus)

-everyone wanted them together but their close friends (rodimus's) want them apart, starscream has had his fair share of “talks”of interrogation trying to get him to share his “true intent” with the prime (honestly it's an insult to him and his past trine)

- maybe they're still together out of pure spite?

-people may still try to act all sleezy around rodimus thinking it's all an act and fake. starscream still proves even after the war his talons are sharper than ever.

-jealous. starscream? jealous? of megatron? ha. don't make him laugh. yet his glare that could strike fear in most was pointed directly at the ex-decepticon leader. more specifically at the hand that was placed on a certain flame colored bots shoulder. no his wings didn't twitch in agitation. you've seen wrong, you don't understand how wing cant works.. and certainly the tiny spike of annoyance you felt in his field was just a figment of your imagination… yeah official meetings are certainly awkward, best to not interact with either of the pair…

-rodimus lives under the constant shadow of optimus wherever he goes people think he’s immature and naive when he is not, he acts like he doesn’t hear the jokes and whispers but he is no idiot everyone thinks he is and optimus does nothing but prove that

-i feel like their relationship as hot rod and optimus went from father and son like to disappointment and underestimation after he became Rodimus Prime

- seeing megatron with Optimus hurt them both. as a form of betrayal on rodimus’s end and as a form of anger for starscream. betrayal because he had trusted megatron with his troubles of never being good as the optimus prime. anger because no matter what happens even if that war is over megatron will always get his way. he gets his prime.

-the war is over but their idolized leaders had left a mess in their hands. now it’s their job to fix it. but hey. they’re happy together now, they’re proof everyone is at peace.

-”they think you're an idiot. they think you're naïve.”

“and they think you're not fit to be a ruler. they think you're selfish.”

“they think. and do you believe them?”

“do you..?”

“i know what i know, and i know how to prove them wrong.”

(i mean if anyone wanted to write for this concept don't let me stop you if anything pleases tag me cuz i crave content for these two😍 i love how complicated they are)

[richmond-rex]

this sounds a little petty 😂 - or maybe it's a genuinely valid piece of frustration, idk - but whenever I see a list of Tudor queens or Tudor queen consorts and Elizabeth of York is either 1) not on the list or 2) regarded as one of the less "important" (what does that even mean? idk but people keep saying it) queens, it irritates me so much. You'd think people who care about the Tudors as a historical dynasty would give the first Tudor queen her due, but apparently the most she's good for is vague and rather inaccurate comparisons with Henry VIII's queens. Particularly Jane Seymour, even though I really don't think there's much of a "parallel" between the two women's personalities, queenship, marriages or even appearance at all.

Elizabeth was SO IMPORTANT for the inception of the dynasty. So damn important. Henry VII's route to kingship from 1483 did not begin with him. It didn't begin with him angling for the throne or people angling for his right to the throne. It began with Yorkist supporters trying to put the Princes on the throne and then beginning to consider their sister Elizabeth of York as the Yorkist heiress. Their loyalty to Henry VII was primarily as the future husband of Elizabeth of York, that's where he gained the majority of his new supporters, including William Stanley who was of immense, history-altering help in Bosworth, came from. (I thiiiink you had reblogged a post of yours with someone's additional added tags about this that framed it a lot better, recently but I can't find it rip). That is obviously not discounting Henry's competence or his capabilities or his victory, or Margaret Beaufort's admirable actions, but I just feel like Elizabeth of York's importance to the Tudor dynasty can never be overstated. Her position as his queen and wife were so important for his road to kingship AND the way he secured his reign and dynasty afterwards. Without Elizabeth of York, it's highly doubtful that Henry would have been able to gain the throne the way he did (at least, not without a significant more time, effort and a MUCH higher chance of failure) and it's also doubtful that he'd be able to secure it the way he did, because their unification from two opposing sides was a major factor in his propaganda and collective perception of their marriage, and the comfort, strength and support it evoked.

Obviously, this is within the bracket of the Tudor queens (because they're a very famous dynasty and all their queens are significantly better known than a lot of former or latter ones), but it's just frustrating??

again - I hope this doesn't sound very petty 😂

Hi! Sorry for taking so long to reply, but don't worry I get your frustration completely (and I share it too). I remember once seeing an incredibly pretty illustration for the Tudor consorts depicting all of Henry VIII's queens AND Philip of Spain..... and it didn't include Elizabeth of York. After Catherine of Aragon, Elizabeth was the longest reigning Tudor consort, being queen for no less than seventeen (17) years! She was immensely popular at her time which can be attested not only by the several presents she received from noble and common folk alike but also by the fact that she was the subject of a popular ballad that reimagined her as a romantic heroine (The Most Pleasant Song of the Lady Bessy), and the subject of songs during her lifetime. Her death was lamented by commentators from Ireland to Rome, and her reputation for charity was well-known. She was so popular in her time, it's a bit ironic that she has become, as Amy Licence puts it, 'the forgotten Tudor queen'.

(Of course, it's all relative as you said: we're talking about the Tudor perspective. Elizabeth is still more well-known than Philippa of Hainault or Anne of Bohemia, for example, if only because she's known in relation to the drama of her brothers and uncle, or because she's known as Henry VIII's mother).

In terms of importance, it's staggering how much her role has been downplayed. And I'm not only talking about the establishment of the Tudor dynasty, which is usually cited if only in brief terms. Her legacy lived on. As pointed out by Michelle Beer, for both Catherine of Aragon and Margaret Tudor, Elizabeth was the only queen consort whom they had experience observing, and her queenship style would have impacted their own. But going back to the establishment of her husband's reign, her importance was so much more than simply providing him with the supporters he needed (which is so often reduced to merely 'lifting a finger for a wedding ring'). I will never tire of pointing out Elizabeth's active participation in diplomacy, communicating with European princes in order to protect her husband's interests. If on one hand, Margaret of York was writing to the Pope asking him to lift his sanction of Henry VII, Elizabeth of York was writing to him to do exactly the contrary and reinforce his sanction.

She was an integral element of her husband's reign that went beyond her dynastic blood. Elizabeth provided a more human/accessible image at court celebrations and feasts, formal occasions and receptions of foreign delegations. Not for nothing, she was so frequently found at Henry VII's side on those occasions. Symbolically, she seems to have been greatly valued by Henry too, and I don't mean it simply by how her family symbol, the white rose, was integrated into official Tudor imagery. I'm also talking about how much weight he seems to have given to their union. In terms of art commissions done by Henry, their marriage was constantly alluded to in a way that referenced prophetic discourse: we have their marriage bed where Henry and Elizabeth are portrayed as the new Adam and Eve (Christ and the Virgin), the royal chapel at Greenwich where they were depicted holding hands (I will talk about it in the future), the family portrait where Henry and Elizabeth are depicted as if re-enacting their wedding vows, and even the shared tomb he commissioned.

Elizabeth of York was important and was valued on so many fronts, I daresay she was one of the most efficient queens in terms of successfully upholding her husband's reign. When it comes to Henry's ascension, I think Elizabeth and Margaret Beaufort might have been equally important (considering Margaret's articulation/funding and her claim from which Henry derived his own). But after Henry's ascension, my opinion is that Elizabeth was even more important for all the political, symbolic and of course, emotional support she provided her husband. They seem to have been a very effective partnership, and I doubt his reign would have been as successful as it was if it wasn't for Elizabeth.

So yeah, it is frustrating that she's not given the real importance that she's due when it comes to discussing Tudor history. Whenever she is talked about, she's so commonly relegated to a passive dynastic and decorative role, a trophy wife, it's insane.

[felicitysmoaksx]

Hi all! Welcome back to this story and thanks so much for the kudos! I'm glad to see everyone is enjoying my little story! This chapter is a little bit heavier in some places. But it does have it's lighter moments too. In the form of Autumn (you'll understand when you read the chapter) and we finally get to meet a character I mentioned in the first story of this universe, Tucker!So I hope you all enjoy this chapter and happy reading! P.S. If you want to set the mood of this chapter I recommend: Flares by The Script, Sympathy, and Iris both by the Goo Goo Dolls.Remember kudos and comments are good sources of protein for the author

Rating: Mature

Summary: Her eyes squeezed shut before she dropped her head. Borrowed time. It was meant to be her…It was meant to be-

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Inaccurate medical procedures, and implied/references a canonical character death and in depth survivors’ guilt  

Read On AO3 | Fic Playlist | Fic Playlist but Less Shippy  | Chapter 1 | Want to be tagged when I post a Rheese story?

Bottled Up Feelings are Silently Screaming (You Were Breaking Down) 

 Ch. 2

“Claire, please. I know I need to sign those forms for the store. Just hold off Dad for a day or maybe two? But today at the very least. And I'll be there by the end of the day tomorrow.” Connor said into his cell phone, glancing at the closed bathroom door, where Sarah was getting dressed.

“I know you and Dad have your issues, but why can’t you just stop by after your shift? You wouldn’t even have to see him.” Claire asked before he heard her direct someone to ‘put that dress on a mannequin for the window display.’

Connor glanced at the bathroom door again, before he lowered his voice so Sarah wouldn’t hear him as he explained the situation to his sister.

“Claire, I’m not on shift today. I took the whole week off because something happened and Sarah was hurt.”

“Hurt?” His sister repeated the word and it sounded like a question coming out of her mouth. Concern seeped into her voice. “Hurt how?”

“Sarah and her brother were both shot the day after you and I had dinner with Robin and her husband.”

“Oh god.” Claire breathed, “Is Sarah okay? I mean you just said she’s not okay, but…”

His little sister trailed off, but Connor understood his sister’s question. He exhaled slowly, “She was discharged a few days ago, but her doctor didn’t want to do that. She wanted to keep her for observation. But Sarah wasn’t going to miss her brother’s funeral today.”

“…Which is why you can’t come to sign the forms because you’re going to the service with her,” Claire said slowly. Connor nodded even though his sister couldn’t see him before he told her carefully, “Sarah would have her family and I know that. But she’s grieving. She’s fragile right now and pushing everyone away. I want to be there for her. Today especially.”

“I’ll hold Dad off,” Claire reassured him, “And I’ll keep a good thought for Sarah and her family. That today goes as well as it can.”

“Thank you,” Connor said as his sister told someone else to ‘please put out those new vases we just got and price them.’

There was a crash in the background then and he heard Claire sigh, “I’ve got to go. Got a situation to handle.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. We’ve got to leave soon anyway.” It turned out the siblings hung up just in time because the door to the bathroom opened up a moment later.

“I still think I should go with the other dress. It covers more.” She said, coming to stand in front of the mirror as she rubbed at her wrists. Her wrists were now scabbed over and in the process of healing. But they were still agitated and red and added that to the white bandage over her neck. Sarah was worried about people staring. About the pity in people’s eyes. She didn’t want people to focus on her today. Not at her best friend’s funeral.

“Sarah, it’s going to be in the upper eighties today. You’ll overheat in the other dress.” He reminded her, thinking of the black sweater dress she was referring to. Though it was technically autumn, it was still the beginning of the season. This meant summer was fighting for its last legs in Chicago right now and that produced unusual warm weather like today.

When she remained quiet, staring at her reflection, Connor stood and moved so he was behind her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her head.

“How did this happen, Connor? Why did this happen? Why did I get shot? Why am I getting ready to go bury my best friend?” Sarah asked in a weak, brittle voice. Connor frowned because he didn’t have an answer for her. Not one that made sense at least.

So he told her that. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t have any answer that makes sense and I’m so sorry for that and that this even happened in the first place.”

It shouldn’t have gone unspoken. The brunette in his arms released a shuddering breath that could’ve been a sob as she turned in his arms and cried.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” The surgeon had been saying those words since she woke up in that hospital room just days ago. And though he meant them every single time he said them, with every fiber of his being he meant those words; the words had started to feel hollow even to himself.  He couldn’t imagine how they felt to her.

She said something, but he couldn’t understand her through her tears or her voice being muffled by his suit jacket. It was probably a good thing he didn’t. It would’ve just broken his heart that much more.

“Everyone leaves me at some point. Everyone.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“Does someone need to go get Sarah? She shouldn’t be driving right now, should she?” Tucker asked, coming to stand by Olive, Erin, and Teddy. While Olive had her arms full with Baby Danny,  Autumn’s hand was tucked into her father’s and she pressed her face into his leg when more people arrived. At least until she tugged on Hank's pant leg and asked to be picked up.

“Autumn Kimberly, leave Grandpa Hank alone right now. He can play with you later.” Tucker scolded his daughter softly in that Texas accent that he never lost when he and his parents moved from Dallas to Chicago. The accent he got teased for in school that made Camille Voight introduce him to her son. The reason he and Justin were best friends and had been since that day in sixth grade.

Hank waved a hand to show that Autumn was fine and bent down to pick up his pseudo-granddaughter. When the little girl was settled on his hip, she patted his cheek. “Daddy and Aunt Olive says Uncle Justin was hurted very bad.”

“He was,” Hank told her in a solemn soft voice. Autumn nodded in the way that all children seemed to do when mulling over information.

“Daddy also said he’s in a better place, a place where he can’t be hurted anymore. That he’s with my mommy and his mommy.”

Hank nodded, “He is. I promise. He’s not hurting anymore.”

Autumn nodded again before she patted Hank’s cheek again. “Does that make you sad? That’s even though he’s not hurted anymore, he’s not here?”

Hank mulled over his answer. He never wanted Justin to suffer but…“Yeah, yeah it makes me sad, baby.”

The small girl looked over at her pseudo-aunt holding her cousin. “Aunt Olive? Are you sad too?”

Like Sarah, the young widow had been crying on and off for the last few days and she knew her niece was four-years-old. She wasn’t asking these questions to be cruel. She was just trying to make sense of everything, of Justin being here one day and gone the next. But that didn’t lessen the ache, the hole in her heart growing wider with every beat of her heart because her husband was gone.

The sob bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop it causing both children to look up at her. Danny grabbed at her chin. “Mama?”

“Auntie Olive, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you start crying.” Now Autumn looked like she was about to cry.

“I know you didn’t little autumn leaf, but Aunt Olive just cries easy these days because I miss your Uncle Justin.”

“Me too. Daddy says it's okay to be sad though.” The little girl told the room in a soft tone. Hank gave her the best attempt at a comforting smile.

“Your Dad is a smart man.”

Autumn fell silent then, laying her head on Hank’s shoulder. Until she saw a familiar mop of brown curls.

“Aunt Sarah,” she said softly, wiggling out of Hank’s grasp and darting across the room to get to her pseudo-aunt.

“Autumn Kimberly,” Tucker narrowly avoided colliding with a man in a Marine uniform and scooped up his four-year-old daughter before she got to Justin’s baby sister. When he turned her in his grip, he saw the frown she wore and her tiny arms were folded.

“What conversation did we have about your Aunt Sarah?” He asked her patiently after she stopped whining and squirming. Instead choosing to glare at her father. The child huffed, blowing a stray piece of dark hair out of her eyes. But Tucker just stared at her, waiting. Finally, his daughter huffed again before uttering.

“Aunt Sarah was hurted like Uncle Justin. But not as bad, but that doesn’t mean you can go climbing and jumping on her like your person-al junglely gym.”

She repeated his words back to him with enough sass of a teenager. Four going on fourteen. Tucker sighed and hugged his daughter. Then he set her back down, but not before he cautioned her, “Gentle little leaf.”

His daughter didn’t disappoint. Slowly, the little girl approached her pseudo-aunt, who bent down with a half-hearted smile. Then she crashed into the brunette.

“Missed you,” Autumn’s voice was muffled by Sarah’s shoulder.

“I missed you too, Autumn Breeze,” the woman said softly. Brown eyes peered up at her then. Not quite filled with suspicion, but certainly on their way there.

“Then why didn’t you let us visit you? When you were in the hospital for your ouchies?” Sarah licked her lips, unsure how to approach her answer.

How could the brunette explain to a child that she blamed herself for what happened to Justin? That she didn’t deserve comfort? That she wanted to keep everyone away because the guilt was eating her alive? Because it was meant to be her…Borrowed time…It was meant to be-

“Autumn,” Tucker said softly, not quite admonishing his daughter. But stepping in to save his best friend from having to answer the complicated question.

“Aunt Sarah just hasn’t been feeling her best. And you know the hospital can be a pretty scary place. I just didn’t want you or your Dad to be scared.”

Then using a stage whisper, loud enough for her best friend to hear Sarah told her pseudo-niece, “You know your Daddy scares easy.”

Tucker snorted but covered it up with a cough before his daughter could hear him.

“Oh,” the little girl nodded before she peered up at Connor. Now the suspicion was clear in her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Autumn Breeze,” Both Sarah and Tucker admonished the little girl softly as her father reached down and picked up his daughter, settling her on his hip. “Be nice.”

But Connor chuckled slightly, not the slightest bit deterred. “I’m a friend of your Aunt Sarah.”  

The little girl nodded but her brown eyes still stared at Connor with a borderline glare in them before she noticed Travis and Annie arriving. She looked at her dad and the glare was gone. “Can I go say hi to Travis and Annie?”  

Tucker set Autumn back down with the warning, “Stay where I can see you little leaf,”

His daughter nodded once before she darted across the room again. Tucker watched her hug Annie’s son before he turned his gaze back to Sarah.

Their trio was a duo now.

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“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Tucker said to her, reaching out to wrap her in a one-armed hug. Sarah sighed as Justin materialized in the corner of her eye. He narrowed his eyes at her with a look. One that meant he was annoyed with her.

“He doesn’t mean that like you’re taking it and you know that.” He said as Sarah sighed and grimaced at the ghost’s best friend as she returned the hug. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know that. I just meant that you wouldn’t let Annie or me visit you while you were in the hospital. Your siblings and Olive seem to think you’re pushing everyone away because you are under the delusion that what happened was your fault.”

Because it was her fault. It was meant to be her. Because it was always her that lived on borrowed time. Not Justin. Not when he had just married a really good woman and had a baby. Not when his life had just gotten on track.

Still, the brunette gave Tucker a wooden smile and said in a hollow voice, “Wonder why that is. It’s not like I’m here and he’s not, Tuck-Tuck.”

(“It wasn't your fault, Sarah,” Justin repeated his words from earlier that morning. Just like before, the brunette ignored him.) Despite Tucker repeating his best friend’s words with a heavy sigh. Connor remained silent but grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly in hers. The movement seemed to make her best friend remember their duo wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Tucker said with a shake of his head. Sarah saw the opening and took the opportunity to duck away from the conversation before it could get turned back on her, about it not being her fault when it so clearly was.

(“I wish you would stop saying that.” Justin’s ghost told her, “Because it’s not true.”)

Ignoring the transparent version of her pseudo-brother, she squeezed Connor’s hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to go say hi to Dad, Olive, Erin, and Teddy.”

When her lover nodded, Sarah’s hand slipped from his grasp as she walked away, giving Justin’s best friend since middle school her best attempt at a tight smile. Both men watched her go, then Tucker turned back to face Connor. Sticking out his hand, he introduced himself in his southern drawl.

“I’m Tucker Carvin. Justin’s and Sarah’s best friend. And I’m sorry my daughter. She’s been trying to make sense of everything with Justin being here one day and then gone the next. This is her first real experience with something like this and it’s manifesting into stranger danger.”

“Stranger danger isn’t always a bad thing, but it’s okay. I’d be wary of a new person too, if I was in her situation. I’m Connor Rhodes. Sarah’s boyfriend.” Just like days earlier with Teddy, the title rolled off of his lips easily as he took Tucker’s hand. Shaking it.

“Yeah, I heard about you. Didn’t know Sarah was really seeing anyone till she was in the hospital though,” the man commented and Connor winced, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck. “That's my fault really. We’ve had some miscommunication about what we are. But I’m working to remedy that.”

Tucker nodded then he nodded to Sarah, talking with Annie.

“How’s she doing? I’ve asked Erin, Olive, and Teddy but they say they don’t know because she’s not talking to them. Not really by giving them vague answers. I didn’t want to ask sergeant Voight because I didn’t want to add salt to an open wound.  And she refused to let me visit when she was in the hospital and she hasn't answered any of my calls. The only thing she’s been responding to is text and even those are one-word answers.” Tucker sighed sadly as the worry for his friend grew.

“She’s…” Connor sighed once more as he struggled to talk about his lover and how her grief and survivor’s guilt were getting to her. “I want to say she’s managing, but that would be a lie. She’s all over the place because it’s almost as if her misplaced guilt and her grief are warring within her. She’s actually keeping a better handle on it then you would think. But it still spills over and she can’t handle it without breaking down. I’m trying to be there for her. But I don’t know if it’s working as well as I hoped because I don’t want to smother her, but I also don’t want her to feel like she has to deal with this by herself.”

“Olive said she shouldn’t have been released as early as she was.”

“She shouldn’t have. Typically with gunshot wounds, Med keeps you for two to three days afterward and Sarah was a doctor there. So maybe she was being a little over-cautious but her doctor wanted to keep her observation. Sarah was determined to be here today though. She was going to leave against medical advice if she had to.” The double-certified surgeon explained.

“Heard you stopped a fight there too.” The man from Texas drawled slowly. Connor shook his head as Sarah started to make her way back over to them, “I just tried to offer a solution that would help everyone.”

“Dad said Justin wanted both of us to speak?” She asked Justin’s best friend as she leaned her uninjured side against Connor’s shoulder. His lover had been doing that a lot lately, clinging to him. (And calling Hank, Dad but that wasn’t Connor’s to touch.) Connor didn’t mind. She needed the support right now and in all actuality, she wasn’t being clingy by the same measure of other people. But she was being clingy for her. In fact, tragic events aside he was probably the more clingy out of the two of them because of how physical he tended to be when he was in a relationship.

“Afterwards, at the house. Good memories. Memories that make us laugh. That type of thing. Before…” Tucker trailed off before he cleared his throat, “He told me he didn’t want people to be more sad. So he wanted us to remember the happy memories and he thought you and me would be the best because-”

“We have the most embarrassing memories of him?” Sarah said with the ghost of a smile on her lips. Her friend mirrored her.

“Well, that. But also we were his best friends. I think Olive was going to speak too, but she doesn’t think Danny will let her right now because he doesn’t want anyone else to hold him right now. She can barely go to the bathroom without him throwing a fit right now because he’s so confused right now with Justin not here.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Tucker excused himself a few minutes later to go call his parents. They were coming in for the service, but they weren’t here yet and he was starting to worry. So that left Sarah and Connor to go mingle around the room. Well, Connor was mingling, being his naturally charming self. Sarah was more or less standing by his side, listening to his rich raspy voice as he talked.  

Only talking quietly when someone spoke to her directly. A lot of the people in marine corps uniforms seemed to know who she was. Or they recognized her name. Apparently, Justin and Olive talked about her often and it was ‘nice to finally put a face to the famous sister we’ve heard all about despite the circumstances.’

In those cases, not knowing what to say, Sarah just gave them a tight smile and let her lover make conversation for her. The brunette knew it was a cop-out to lean on Connor with this, to use him as her crutch. Because he was here for her. This was her best friend. Her pseudo-family. But as the service continued, Sarah’s energy had started to wane. (And they hadn’t even made it to the actual service yet.)

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“By the way, just so you know,” Annie told her best friend in a quiet undertone while Travis entertained Autumn with a piggyback ride because Tucker was still talking to his parents, “When you told me Sarah didn’t have a boyfriend and I told you she did because I caught a vibe between her and a guy at her hospital-”

“Let me guess, he’s the guy?” Erin interrupted looking over to where her little sister and Connor were talking to a group of people in marine corps uniforms.

“Yup.”

“Yeah, I know. I was wrong,” Erin said with a rueful smirk at herself, “Apparently, I’ve been wrong for six months now.”

The blonde woman whistled but didn’t say anything more than, “Well, no one can blame you for being out of the loop. You did kind of go into a black hole with Nadia’s death.”

Erin felt herself grimace as she opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out, a voice called for everyone’s attention.

“Sorry for the delay folks, but if you’ll follow me into the viewing room, we’re ready to begin the services now.” The funeral home director told the crowd of people. Olive released a sob. Hank reached out and grabbed Danny, passing him off to Teddy. Then he wrapped an arm around Olive’s back.

“Olive, maybe taking a seat will help. Come on,” he told his daughter-in-law in a gravelly yet gentle voice. Then he moved forward and one by one the crowd followed behind Hank as they made their way to say their final goodbyes to Justin Voight.

[crescentblossom66]

Hello. As you know, I love your work and I love your ocs just as much! I can't tell you how happy I was when you mentioned Hokusai's work within your work. So let me thank you first for that!

Now, if it doesn't bother you, may I ask you a question about Toshihiro? As I recall, his way of speaking is influenced by haiku, right?

✉️

(1)If the little cuckoo doesn't sing, I will kill it.

(2)If the little cuckoo doesn't sing, I will make it sing.

(3)If the little cuckoo doesn't sing, I will wait for it to sing.

(4)If the little cuckoo doesn't sing, I will let it go.

These are the most famous haiku in Japan. There are four very famous warlords in Japan, they lived in the same era, and all four have different personalities. A poet wrote haiku about the case when they kept a little cuckoo as a pet and its little cuckoo did not sing as they expected.

(1)represents a short-tempered and brutal personality that is quick to kill those who do not get its way.

(2)represents the ability to think out of the box and accomplish what others think is impossible.

(3)represents the ability to persevere and wait for an opportunity to present itself.

(4)represents a character that is very considerate of one's friends, but is cruel to one's enemies.

Which of the above describes Toshihiro? If he does not fit any of them, how does he treat his little cuckoo?

Sorry for the long message. I look forward to your work. Have a good day!

First off, thank you for your support and your kindness. I always like to receive asks and the like, so don't feel bad about sending one, short or long. I always enjoy reading your comments in the tags too, they make me happy. This is a long answer.

1. Creation and design

Now to the topic, after @R3d1ke gave me the ideas for the names, that I never would have thought of by the way. I would have likely given them more western names which would have clashed with what the Nyakuza are supposed to represent in the first place, a Japanese cat mafia. I decided that one of the characters should be more Japanese themed, if that makes sense. I kind of created Toshihiro based off of the good stereotypes we Germans have for the Japanese, politeness, kindness, honor and a serious demeanor are associated with them here, so I decided that he should show those traits...at least on the outside.

He is supposed to show a front of a kind and polite, but a bit eccentric cat that loves art, which isn't entirely inaccurate, more on that later. His design, in my mind at least, you know that I can't draw well, was based on the same concept of a polite Japanese man. He wears a kimono, the pattern on it is inspire by the waves of The Great wave of Kanagawa'. To make him more interesting, I made him speak in haiku like the firefly NPCs in the level 'Spooky Swamp' in one of my favorite games of all time 'Spyro: Year of the dragon” which is the third installment in that series. The characters there have their text boxes show three sentences; the first one has five, the second seven, and the last five syllables again. It made his sentences hard, but fun for me to write and gave the character more personality, it was especially hard to not make the sentences to...simple, for the lack of a better word. Toshihiro was still supposed to sound like a sophisticated man, and not like a toddler that just learned to speak.

I'm really happy that you as a Japanese enjoyed that character, as I was trying to make my characters more diverse and interesting. Nozomi being a mix out of the crazy scientist and cold and calculated secretary archetypes, and Maemi being a non-binary character for example. I just hope that I didn't put anything that could be offensive in there, I know that my little fanfics don't reach a lot of people, but I do care about the few that read them and want them to be comfortable. I do have a tendency to write heavier subjects into my longer stories though, there is no good story without conflict after all.

That covers his creation and design.

2. His personality and backstory

As mentioned earlier, Toshihiro's outward appearance and demeanor reflect how we perceive the Japanese in my country, he is dignified, polite and kind, but that is mostly a front for his more...violent behavior. In reality, he is a calculated and very dangerous cat that annihilates every obstacle in his path. This can be seen in how he easily saw through Bow's diguise and knew that they were coming for him, so he sent his underlings out to deal with other adversaries while he wanted to take care of Bow personally. His underlings, by the way, are based off of ninjas as you see them in modern fiction, stealthy and deadly, I gave them weapons to reflect that too in form of the shurikens and kunais they use. The former being more of a ranged weapon while the latter is more of a melee weapon if I remember that right.

The Toshihiro in the story is a cold-hearted individual, who was once a kind and innocent soul, but his father and his peers tainted his character.

Bow in the story quickly realizes that something sinister and dark hides behind his eyes, something traumatic, and she isn't wrong. When he was a child, Toshihiro witnessed his father kill his own mother brutally, he was too young to properly remember that now, but that trauma is subconsciously still with him. Toshihiro was fond of art his whole life and really enjoyed drawing and painting, yet his father wanted him to take on the family business, like many parents of large companies want their first-born kids to do. He, however, wanted to become and artist, a dream that his father quickly destroyed by making sure to burn all his art supplies, so he could only ever draw at school. He didn't have it easy there either as the other kids made fun of him for speaking formally and more like a person much older than him would, that and the fact that to them he was the spoiled rich kid. His classmates bullied him and at home he was terrorized by his father...so when one day Empress found him on the streets and talked to him back when they both were roughly teenagers and told him to just do whatever he wanted to do, he took that to heart. He worked on improving his art, cutting the ties to his father as soon as he could. He later joined Emrpess's gang of cats, being deeply loyal to her for helping him. Toshihiro is known to be a bit of a freespirit, but he always completes his missions with perfect results...He just underestimated Conductor's accuracy and perseverance in the end.

While he was with the Nyakuza, he was polite to his allies, but emotions and feelings other than anger and coldness were simply...lost due to the trauma and the poor treatment he endured, he simply couldn't be compassionate anymore, that part of him was destroyed by both his father, and the cruel children that ridiculed him.

3. How he would treat that little cuckoo

Being that his compassion has been practically beaten out of him, he would likely kill it for not serving its purpose. His former self would have patiently waited until the cuckoo would sing its song.

In summery, he does care for his allies to some degree, but can no longer feel empathy. His sense of loyalty binds him to Empress, as he feels he has to repay the dept he owes her.

He kills his enemies with no remorse, he has some twisted sense of honor though, as he prefers to use his wit and more conventional means to beat his enemies. Kind of like a samurai refusing to wield a gun even if it was the more effective weapon, as his honor and pride wouldn't allow him to even if he died.

-

Well, that certainly was a long ask to answer, but I had fun going into depth and fleshing out my characters more. I kinda wished that I had thought of those three (Nozomi, Toshihiro and Maemi) earlier, but I'm never too confident in writing any Ocs into my works, because I don't know if people can engage with the character and find them fun to read about.

If you have some time, could you tell me how you felt when you read my attempt and including a Japanese-themed character? Was I offensive or did I do an okay job and made him fun to read about, even if he was just there for 2 chapters? I might try to include more Ocs in my stories if people like them.

Thank you for your ask and your nice words again, it meant a lot to me. I always love your art, even if I only reblog sometimes and not write anything in the tags, I will try to write more in the tags next time. Have a good day or night!

[aether-friskets]

I posted 668 times in 2022

That's 668 more posts than 2021!

203 posts created (30%)

465 posts reblogged (70%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ap0stle

@heather-garland

@carlyraejepsans

@friskibitz

@aether-friskets

I tagged 653 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#fanart - 209 posts

#op's art - 188 posts

#silent hill - 149 posts

#rambles - 134 posts

#undertale - 128 posts

#heather mason - 110 posts

#silent hill 3 - 109 posts

#safeutdr - 105 posts

#silent hill fanart - 99 posts

#frisk - 91 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#and honestly? op's suggestion of him having been a member of the order is way more interesting to me than just 'otherworld manifestation'

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

not the most extravagant piece I've ever made for something like this but. Here's a little drawing I made for Undertale's anniversary!! Like I said I would!

It would've been nice to get a piece with more of the characters but alas

Also I feel like Chara could be better but I always have trouble drawing them quite right >:|

Anyway uhhhh yeah!!

23 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

#4

See the full post

31 notes - Posted August 2, 2022

#3

so I recall this line in outlast 2 when you end up in St. Sybil one of the first times. Blake says somethin like "Great. Back in the Fourth Grade." meaning those the stuff he's reliving must've happened in that grade.

And we know that 4th graders are typically either 9 or 10

(assuming Jess was in the same grade she was only 9 or 10 as well which. damn.)

But we ALSO know what year this takes place in, because there's multiple instances on papers and stuff with the year 1995 (in fact it's December 1995 iirc). I don't have any screenshots on-hand but I could totally go get some at some point lol

MeaninG Blake was 9 or 10 in 1995

We also know that Outlast 2 takes place not all that long after the first game does (due to the Murkoff Account, which, admittedly I haven't read in a while so feel free to correct me there). And we know Outlast happened in 2013.

This mean that our pal Blake is most likely 28 (or 27). Which also makes him the youngest, since Miles and Waylon are both supposedly in their "early to mid 30s" (I couldn't see the cited tweet so for all I know this could be inaccurate but it sounds reasonable enough for me to believe).

Also Waylon has two kids so I'm inclined to believe he's the oldest but like they're all like a few years apart in age anyway lol

Anyway this is probably really obvious stuff but I thought it was interesting for some reason

38 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#2

random minor thing but I always thought that while Frisk's SAVEs are like normal manual save point saving you'd expect to see, when Flowey steals back control as Omega Flowey, the whole "File x loaded/saved" thing gives the vibes of someone using an emulator. Where you have multiple interchangeable save states that you can save or load to whenever you want, even if the game isn't normally capable of that.

In particular it makes me think back to repeatedly loading a save state in Majora's Mask because of the goddamn town shooting gallery mini game AUGh

Which I guess it kind of makes sense? Omega Flowey is artificially stealing control of the game, sort of like how an emulator gives you an artificial way of accessing a game (in the sense of like I could play a PS1 game on my pc, or a N64 game on my Wii U, for example). So not only does his save system make sense from an in-game stand point, it's kinda cool from a meta standpoint too.

At least, I think it is.

63 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

late night posting of an old-ish drawing

Psychonauts was big on my mind for a short while there and although it's not my current focus, the games are still really great!! And I still like this little drawing I did of Raz.

It was interesting trying to translate his design to my art style, because that game has a very particular look (in a good way).

also hope y'all don't mind my random mish-mash of posting and reblogging various stuff, I cannot be consistent to save my life

Hopefully I'll have some new art to share soon though!! Assuming this funk of mine dies down, anyway.

71 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[scoobydoodean]

#op you're one of the few people I respect... you just /get it/ you know #absolutely say that it's not about ~wanting to forcefully control people~ it's about over and over #being assigned and assigning to yourself the responsibility for literally. everything. #that starts early on with the parentification and the hunting duties and then just grows and grows #i also think we can probably acknowledge more often the ways dean's control issues clash with sam and cas' control issues #which br they each have and which each have their own other roots via @humandisorderincarnatedean

I hope y'all don’t mind I was just thinking about this post with these tags. I'll admit posts that mention Dean's name and control issues together tend raise the hairs on the back of my neck ajshdbjhbdhjb because historically when I have seen such posts, they've been made by deancrits building frameworks of Dean having control issues that are... completely inaccurate (and I'll restrain myself from saying more than that here). However in deangirlland, I would love to discuss how all three principal characters occasionally suffer from the desire to control a situation (and not always in a way that is even super damaging to others—sometimes it's damaging mostly to themselves, or is even relatively harmless, like Sam's control of his diet). But it got me thinking about how when Sam and Cas do display control issues with outward consequences in a certain setting, they tend to feed into Dean’s in other settings with outward consequences in an infinite loop.

I've gotten more than one set of tags on a post I made today, saying that when Sam feels he has lost control of a situation or failed, there is occasionally a tendency to try and make what happened at least partly Dean's fault—which I agree is a thing Sam has been known to do a handful of times, and I also agree with the perception that his father is the root cause (both through denying Sam agency through his childhood and by modeling this behavior toward Dean). Then if Dean absorbs that blame from Sam (which lbr—he often does at least partially) it feeds directly into Dean's tendency to see himself as responsible for every horrible thing that happens (to Sam or anyone) and feeds Dean's own issues and then Sam gets upset again, but then Sam also eventually feeds the cycle again.

Then there's Cas, who, in a completely separate way from Sam, displays on occasion designs to control a situation that also feed Dean's own issues. He often designs situations that involve keeping Sam and Dean on an information diet so he can be the sole actor working to solve a given problem and Sam and Dean are unable to interfere either for good (to help him when he doesn't want them to be in harms way) or for ill (he's doing something he knows they won't agree with and doesn't want them to try and stop him) or simply because he is trying to secure a "win" he feels must be earned alone. But he has no idea the depth of the negative associations Dean has with this from his own childhood and how that is also creating a feedback loop of distress and a greater desperation to know... what the fuck Cas is doing (and it also isn't unreasonable on its face to want to know what Cas is doing or that he is okay, but may be displayed by Dean in a negative way).

I guess my point is: John's ghost haunts the narrative through a vicious cycle of feeling helpless and needing control.

i know i just rb'd a post abt it agreeing w/ dean having control issues bc he's never had control over anything in his life before but i feel like i need to reiterate for me it's so clear that his issues are rooted in fear and love and also the feeling of being responsible for everyone and everything ever. like he's had these big adult responsibilities thrust on him since he was a child but didn't really have the control or resources or maturity to effectively handle and deal w/ those responsibilities but he would face consequences if he failed. so he's just internalized a lot of that mentality that if things go wrong it's his fault so, now that he's an adult and feels like he has more control he thinks, ok if i'm controlling the situation, if i have eyes on everything and everyone then everything will be fine and also this is my job and what i'm supposed to do bc if i don't do it then bad things will happen and it will be my fault. and it's so clear that all of this comes from a place of deeply caring for people, caring for his family, caring for the world and wanting to protect everyone. and yes, maybe at times it's overbearing or unwanted, esp if you're, say, a little brother and you think ur older brother is just being a typical overbearing older brother. but it's less abt dean wanting to like forcefully control people and it's not abt dean wanting to take away choice or autonomy, it's abt feeling like he's solely responsible for literally everything ever. it's that mentality that's been ingrained in him since john, and then reinforced over and over again, by demons and angels and even god, that he's the reason bad things happen, that it's his fault the apocalypse starts or the world ends or sam dies or cas dies or or or etc etc forever and ever. so he thinks, okay, i need to be better and i need to be in control and i need to do whatever it takes to keep everyone safe.

[not-poignant]

ah! (this is the UtB worldbuilding anon) - i see i made the fundamental error of assuming that The Facilities had any actual medically positive societal function in a fic tagged 'dystopian universe' LMAO (/genuinely, am loling at my own self HA) ; id still like to know what the in-universe justification is, esp for the more 'humane' facilities (hv?) but it sounds like we'll get that in-fic from surprise hottie Gary, so!! i am very very much looking forward to it, thank you again for the Content

Yeahhh that tag 'second class citizens - omegas' is a good one for the general direction the dystopian universe is going in as well. :D

Okay let's talk omegaverse and dystopian tropes!

As for the justification: male omegas, because they can't get pregnant, are generally more useful as trophy husbands. Like alphas generally have a biological drive to mate with omegas, most will end up with one, so the idea is to make them as polite and sweet and passive as possible. Many already are those things, but omegas that have been abused can become repressed, or too scared, or 'abnormal' in other ways and in upper class society can end up in rehabilitation centres (most of which just break them so they're at least passive - Hillview aims for something a bit better than that).

In lower class society many male omegas end up working in prostitution, or just end up with an abusive husband and it doesn't matter what they're like or how they're treated. Most are claimed young and have no option to escape their relationship.

It's really common as a trope in a lot of omegaverse content that omegas are generally second-class citizens. They don't have the same rights to jobs, driver's licences, or universities sometimes. They're not allowed to become doctors or other high responsibility jobs. (This is often blamed on the fact that they go into heat on a semi-regular basis (which stereotypically causes them to lose the ability to consent, and they will be fucked by an alpha near them, because they're desperate to be knotted to calm the intensity of a heat - which makes them easy prey for alphas in this state), and a common trope in omegaverse stories is omegas who live on heat suppressants pretending to be betas or even alphas, so they can access the same rights as others, or just don't have to deal with bullshit. This is the premise of my published novel, Blackwood, in my Perth Shifters series).

Efnisien was raised with the hopes that he would 'become' an alpha, and be treated better if he could just be good enough at it - for him that justified the mutilation, the agony, the sexual assault, being beaten constantly by Gwyn, and more - to give you an idea of just how much omegas don't always want to be omegas. Finding out that Crielle has given up on her project and has abandoned him to a place dedicated to making him a soft, passive, complaint omega to be fucked by an alpha in a relationship he has no control over with a spouse he can't choose for himself (arranged marriages are common for omega, and the norm in high society) is pretty mind-shattering for him.

Even if Hillview does it differently, even if he's away from being literally tortured by his family and has people around him who care for him, it's still a pretty profound fall from grace that he's struggling with. And because he's been raised with the worst (but not inaccurate) picture of the worst of the rehabiltation facilities, he thinks he's about to be treated worse than he was growing up.

He's not. But he doesn't know that yet, and we - as the reader (well I suppose I'm the writer but go with me here) - are only learning that over time ourselves.

The fact is, most omegas that aren't Efnisien actually are a lot more placid, docile, gentle, or easily controlled. They are easily taken advantage of. There's less omegas and alphas in this world than betas (though it doesn't seem like it because of the setting, so I need to find a way to get that worldbuilding in there), so they're often left to their own devices, because betas be out here having mostly regular relationships with each other, and the world has generally internalised 'omegas are so helpless they need an alpha to look out for them, so it's better they're in a not great relationship that isn't ideal, than being gang-raped on the streets by random alphas who will take advantage of them' (and sadly, this is sometimes true).

Gary is pretty groundbreaking as an omega psychologist who simply believes in an omega's autonomy. While he's not doing a great job of that in a one-on-one situation, the fact that Hillview is the way that it is already makes it extremely challenging within this dystopian universe. But because he's been raised in a world that has these views about omegas, he has that clash of - this is what I philosophically believe and this is what this centre is for vs. what he's internalised alongside the fact that he's not actually attracted to omegas.

We'll get more into this psychology and the nature of this world as the story goes along! But this is the cliff notes version of where we're at.

I hope that helps anon! As always, you're welcome to ask more questions and some I will and some I won't (mostly around spoilers or what I think is coming up soon in the story etc.) :D

[skepticalarrie]

what do you think?💀🧍

I don't agree lol I think this person completely missed the context of the song, to be honest, and I’m not sure how to make more clear that I do not think Harry and Louis ever broke up. Lyrics are open for anyone’s interpretations and who I am to say someone is wrong! But for me, I don't think it's about that and <rant> it’s kind of annoying how every week someone comes to blog addressing this exact same subject about a potential break-up. I mean, at least scroll down, look into my tags before sending me stuff and you’d realize I think this is bullshit. Tiktok is always talking shit imo 😂 </rant> This timeline doesn't make sense to me at all. I think people are often trying to prove Elounor (or some other stunt) is fake and then they end up in the craziest theories about larry... but I don't really think it's like that, I think Larry is real regardless of the stunts and stunts are fake regardless of Larry. When people try to make too much sense of both things connected - and ignore the context of everything else - it's when I particularly think people are reaching. (Not to mention the amount of inaccurate information on this video... please I'm begging people get the fuck out of tiktok)

Now, as for DLIBYH. I don’t think I have too much stuff about it tagged on my blog, so I will just take this opportunity to add some stuff here because why the fuck not...

So. Louis co-wrote this song with a bunch of other people, and differently from other songs on Walls, on this one it's unclear what was exactly Louis' participation in the song. He is listed as author and composer of the song and he did talk about being involved in the songwriting on the track by track video, plus he also mentions Wrabel being involved in the song as well and them working together. However, Alan Cole, one of the songwriters too, made a few comments about some of the lyrics which very clearly says he and Louis were not involved in the same process. This leads most of us to believe that Louis already had the "structure" of the lyrics when he finally got involved in the creative process of the song and probably made some changes and added a few things later on.

Essentially, I don't think the song is about a relationship, it's about life. Louis said:

“This one (I wrote) about six months ago, eight months ago, something like that, around that kind of area. And it’s, conceptually it’s a song about hope, and a song basically saying that, um, if you keep seeing the glass as half full, eventually everything will be alright in the end, really. Um, and yeah it’s a song musically I’m really proud of, opens with a really nice electric guitar. And yeah just in general, probably one of my proudest songs to be fair.”

And I think this is exactly what the song is about. Louis went through some hard moments in his life, we all know about his personal dramas, and I see this song being about hope, and about healing and the fact that things getting better, you can't let that break you because it will pass. And Louis does write about that a lot if we think about it, even We Made It and a few other lyrics that inspire hope and being in a better place than before.

As for the "On our way to Twenty Seven" bit, like Alan Cole confirmed, it's a clear reference to the 27 club, and Louis was in fact about to turn 27 when he wrote the song. Which also makes complete sense in the song, because it's a song about not giving up and going through this hard moment in life.

Now, the New York part, this one sounds too specific for me for Louis not to be more deeply involved. We have a very significant parallel with Ever Since New York here.

Harry apparently received the news about Robin when he was in New York. And although I don't think the song it's about a relationship, like I said before, it does feel like Louis is directing the lyrics to someone besides himself. He says we a lot as well, so something like *I'm getting through a hard time and you're getting through a hard time but we will be fine*. So it makes sense if Harry left a part of him in New York under a bed in a box because it was there where he left a part of himself, where he went through an incredibly hard time, he lost someone. And this is what the song is about, you know, faith in the future.

[literaryfic]

Chapters: 1/?
 Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) 
Rating: Explicit
 Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young
Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Italian Mafia, (i know nothing about the mafia so this will be very inaccurate!!!), basically vincenzo & cha-young being mafia bosses in italy


Summary: When Vincenzo Cassano came back to Italy, no one expected to see someone by his side. Or how Cha-young and Vincenzo became the head of the Cassano family. a mafia couple au inspired by a discussion with @ourgalaxybangtan @ghostrights & @whovie-reloaded

  Vincenzo had been handling most of the family business since their adoptive father’s health had started to decline. As the consigliere of the Cassano family, he was Fabio’s most trusted man, his advisor, his lawyer but also his second-in-command.

It hadn’t been easy, all these years, to climb the ladder. He wasn’t a native, he wasn’t blood, and so not many people had welcomed him at first. That’s why he had to become ruthless, so that no one could deny his authority or even dare to try. He had killed and tortured many men, broken their minds and their bones, burned their flesh and cut off their limbs, ashes and screams trailing behind him. If he wasn’t proud of the blood on his hands, he was at least proud of his work. All the hours he’d spent training, fighting, preparing, scheming, studying, all his efforts to erase Park Joo-hyung from the face of earth had paid off. The scared, weak little kid was gone, buried with all his other victims. ‘An eye for an eye, and then some’, Vincenzo lived by that, and he would stop at nothing except killing the innocent. There was no doubt he was the best at what he did and anyone who did not respect him feared him enough to not threaten him. His success was the Cassano family’s success, yet he knew that members of his own clan would not hesitate to have him killed if they could. Two clear factions had formed in the past five years, those who supported Vincenzo as the next head of the family, and those who supported Paolo, his brother. Paolo and Vincenzo had never gotten along, and Paolo’s inferiority complex and jealousy grew deeper every time his older brother had to clean up after one of his rushed job. Paolo had a particular taste for violence. Whereas Vincenzo killed and tortured because he had to, Paolo got a kick out of hurting others, be it children, women or elders. He loved to assert his dominance, to feel almighty. Vincenzo didn’t think himself much better than him, (regardless of the reasons behind his murders, he’d probably killed way more than him), but he wanted Paolo to be punished for his sins. It was only a matter of time before some influential family members whispered plans of assassination and of ‘restoring the rightful heir’ into his ear. Paolo was an angry, frustrated man who wasn’t particularly good at his job, an easy puppet to control. He’d been watching them carefully but he knew that as long as his father was alive, no one would dare to touch him. Back then he had thought he would take care of them when it came to it, become the head of his family, and continue to rule the underworld. Then, the incident happened and everything changed. He hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks, his victims’ screams haunting his dreams. He started avoiding mirrors, his reflection taunting him. He barely ate anymore, and Fabio had reminded him to get a grip. So he had done just that. He drank himself to sleep or took sleeping pills, and he went on. He knew, however, that he could not go on like this much longer. He had to get out before he buried himself next to Park Joo-hyung and all the others whose lives he’d taken. He’d started to plan his escape secretly. He would wait until his father died, staying loyal to him as long as he was alive. When the time came, he knew Paolo would try to kill him. The power struggle between them would start as soon as the head of the family would die, but instead of destroying his opponents, Vincenzo would seize the opportunity to leave. He would go back to South Korea, get the gold and leave to an island, where he would spend the rest of his days. The death of his previous Chinese client was perfect timing. As expected, Fabio, his boss and adoptive father, had named him the next head of the family in his will. It came to no surprise to most members, but murmurs spread quickly, “Can you imagine? A foreigner, as the head of our family? What has the world become?”. After wrapping things up in Italy, Vincenzo promised himself to never return, throwing away the key to the graveyard of his sins. …. There’s no going back from this, he thinks. Vincenzo is still holding Cha-young’s face, unable to look away from her lips, still wet from the kiss. Her pink cheeks, her smeared lipstick, the freckles under her fondation. Her. Hong Cha-young. His heart is soaring in his chest, all the emotions he had desperately tried to silence erupting all at once. There was no point in denying it, he had fallen in love with her. All he could do now was break his own heart, hoping it would heal. …. He realises he can’t live without her after she gets injured. They’re trying to get more information on Jang Han-seok’s paper company, and this time they’re trying to prove that some of the transactions made to European bank accounts were bribes. They’re breaking into none other than the Minister of Economy and Finance, Cha Do-won’s house. Miri had made sure to deactivate the security system and cameras, and Vincenzo was in charge of securing the place while Cha-young searched for the secret ledger the Minister kept hidden in his office. Cha Do-won was making a speech right now, and they had assumed most of his personal security would be with him. Vincenzo had quickly incapacitated the few men around the house and Cha-young looked for the ledger. After a few minutes, she found a hidden drawer in his desk. There it was, a thick documents labelled 'Accounts’. Subtlety wasn’t one of his strong points, apparently. They were about to leave when suddenly, a dozen men started to raid the place. Vincenzo fought them off as best as he could, and he was grateful that Mr. Lee barged in to help. They thought they had them all beat, and so Vincenzo made a mistake. He turned his back to the door to look for Cha-young, who he thought was behind him. “Vincenzo!”, he heard her shout his name. He sees her across the room, about to get struck by a man. He rushes to her and knocks him out quick enough. “Oh my God”, she says, “Did you see that? I almost died! He had a knife as well, and I dodged it, and then I ran—”. She keeps rambling while they get out of the house and into their car, clearly in shock. She’s getting paler as time passes, and he only notices the blood that pooled on the seat when she tries to get out of the car. She was stabbed, but the shock and adrenaline had prevented her from feeling any pain. “Oh”, she says, looking down at her wound. Vincenzo jumps out of his seat and rips the bottom half of the T-Shirt he’s wearing. “I don’t think now’s the time for that, Darling.” Even in a life-threatening situation, Cha-young is joking around. Vincenzo’s mind stops, he feels paralysed by fear, the fear of losing her, of her dying in his car, because of him. He pushes those thoughts away as he holds the fabric to her wound. “Hold this, as hard as you can.” The rest of the car ride to the hospital is a blur of running red lights, speeding in between traffic and repeating “Hong Cha-young, stay with me.” Vincenzo had faced death everyday for the last 20 years. He had killed, had seen people kill and had almost died countless of time. “There’s no limit to fear”, he’d once said to Jang Han-seok’s informant. Only now, waiting for Cha-young’s surgery to be over, does he understand what those words truly mean. During 6 hours, Vincenzo pleads and begs God, the devil, anyone willing to listen (Don’t take her. Everyone but her). He makes empty promises (I’ll do anything. I’ll stop hurting others, I’ll disappear from her life) and meaningless threats (Don’t you dare take her. I’ll kill you, too). In the end he doesn’t know who answers his prayers, and what promises seals the deal, but Cha-young wakes up and he doesn’t care. He holds her hand, stays by her side, and vows to never leave her. He starts to plan for an escape route shortly after that. In case they can’t stay in South Korea and need to take off. First, he thinks of Malta, or another island. But they would need to go somewhere they have allies, somewhere with an easy access to emergency money and resources. Italy. He contacts Luca and sets everything up, a two bed-room apartment, two bank accounts, and everything they could ever need like cash, some guns, and a car. “Consigliere, will there be another person with you?”, Luca asks. “Hopefully it won’t come to that”, he avoids the question. He knows he promised not to come back, but some promises need to be broken out of necessity. He needed to make Cha-young was safe, at all cost. His brother’s betrayal had made it easier. He’d been caught in the crossfire of their fight against Babel, killed by Choi Myung-hee in order to frame Vincenzo. But they had proved his innocence, and sent back his corpse in Milan. After Fabio’s death, Paolo hadn’t been the best replacement, and after he was killed in South Korea, they’d put in charge one of their cousins who had neither Fabio’s experience, nor Vincenzo’s mastermind. The family was in a crisis, which didn’t go unnoticed by their rivals. Soon, business started to slow down, their clients stolen by the competition and their allies started to switch teams. Money ran low. For that reason, Vincenzo didn’t run into much opposition when he came back. Most members and people in their business thought he had killed Paolo after he’d unreasonably followed him to South Korea and tried to finish him. Paolo only left disappointment and resentment behind him, and so no one missed him much. What they had not expected, however, was for Vincenzo Cassano to come back with someone.

[felicitysmoaksx]

Hi everyone! And welcome to the last chapter of this fic! It's been a ride and I want to thank all of you for the kudos and sweet comments you have all left.

Now I want to warn you there is heavy survivor's guilt in this on Sarah's part and it does go in depth. So please be careful when reading. And this won't have the happy ending everyone is hoping for. But remember there is still time in the series. This is not the end. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy it!

My song recs for this chapter Heaven's not too Far and Lifeline by We Three and Five More Minutes by Scotty McCreery

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI 18+)

Summary:  Blue eyes flicked down to his lover asleep once more. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. There was not a doubt in his mind that he knew Sarah. At least where it counted. He knew what kind of person she was. He knew her heart. But he didn’t know the stories of what made her heart the way that he knew it.  

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: Sexual Content, Depictions of parental abandonment, depictions of violence, inaccurate medical procedures, and implied/references a canonical character death and in depth survivors’ guilt 

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Hold On, I Still Want You Ch. 5

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The beeping was back, only it sounded more steady? And her body…her limbs still felt sluggish and heavy. But the weight of Justin’s body was gone. Groaning quietly, Sarah noticed she couldn’t move her head as she tried to open her eyes. 

“Am I dyin’?” She questioned after she got her eyes open and the blurry image of Teddy Courtney hovered over her. Looking every bit the parallel image of his older sister in the ambulance.

“Why the hell would you ask that?” Teddy asked, sounding agonized as she blinked and now he was slowly starting to come into focus. 

“Because you’re here,” her voice sounded hoarse and she almost didn’t recognize it. It felt awkward to talk to like her mouth wasn’t really moving but Sarah knew it was, “And when you’re here, usually that means something bad has happened because you really don’t like Chicago and only really come back to the city if something has happened. And from what I’ve gathered in the last few minutes based on my surroundings, I’m in a hospital bed. So two plus two equals me dyin’.”  

“You’re not dying,” Teddy said with a roll of his eyes lined with eyeliner, “And when you get out of the hospital we’re going to have a discussion about your scary math skills.” 

Sarah grinned drowsily at him, despite herself. Her pseudo-brother still looked unimpressed. Till she asked, “Do I still have my shadow?”

In response to the callback to their childhood, he made an exaggerated appearance of checking her over with a tiny smirk on his lips, “Yup, shadow’s still there.”

“Good,” she yawned, eyes drifting shut. Just that small interaction had taken a lot of energy. 

“You scared the shit out of Erin. When your boyfriend comes back, I’m gonna go call her, let her and Voight know you woke up.” Teddy said offhandedly as he sat back down in the seat by Sarah’s bedside. (Sarah didn’t see it because her eyes were shut. But her pseudo-brother was frowning worriedly at her. She was acting like the Sarah he knew, but she had only been awake for a minute or two. Was it bad that she was already tired? Maybe he should find her doctor.) 

Brown eyes snapped open instantly. Boyfriend? She didn’t have a boyfriend. Sarah stared at Erin’s brother in confusion. When she spoke, every word felt like she was moving cotton around in her mouth. “What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? I don’t have a boyfriend?”

Teddy rolled his eyeliner-lined eyes. “Then you might want to have a conversation with him when he gets back from the bathroom. Because he’s been here since I got in this morning. I think he might’ve been here before that too because he was sleeping here when a nurse brought me up.”

“Who?” She croaked. 

“Um,” Teddy turned around and pointed a finger. When Sarah followed it, she saw he was pointing to Will Halstead walking out of a room across the hallway. But he was engaged to Natalie. Why would he-  “Not him but about his height and build. But a little broader? With dark hair and he has a more grown-out beard. Connor something.” 

Oh. That both made more sense and didn’t all at the same time. Connor had stayed? With her? Why? But no sooner than the questions came to her, Connor appeared in the doorway, like he had heard his name. 

“Hi. There are those brown eyes I’ve been wanting to see,” he said, his voice soft when he saw she was awake. If not for the beeping and the smell of disinfectant, Sarah could close her eyes and she would be back in Connor’s apartment.

Seeing the other man, Teddy stood up slowly. It seemed like they needed a little space. Then with a light squeeze to her arm, he said: “I’m gonna go to the cafeteria, get something to eat, and call Erin. I’ll be back in a little while, okay?” 

Sarah couldn’t nod with her neck being immobilized, so she shot her pseudo-brother a tired grin…Well, she hoped it was a grin. But Teddy still looked worried. So she slurred out, “Don’t take my shadow.” 

That seemed to loosen him up a little. Teddy rolled his eyes fondly, “We already established your shadow is still firmly attached to you. It’s not going anywhere, Wendy-lady.” 

Then he made his way out of her hospital room, pausing briefly to speak to Connor in a low undertone that Sarah couldn’t make out the words being said. She narrowed her eyes as her…lover?  Was that the adept word to use when she described what the dark-haired, broad-shouldered surgeon was to her? Honestly even that seemed too intimate because Connor wasn’t in love with her. Sure he probably cared about her to some extent because they were sleeping together. But…If the brunette could shake her head, she would. (She should not be having this discussion with herself in her drowsy, hazy pain medicated state) Connor nodded and Teddy left. 

Leaving her with her…something. Every word seemed inadequate to describe what Connor was to her and the term boyfriend was off-limits because Connor Rhodes wasn’t her boyfriend. Guys like him didn’t fall for girls like her. They had more than a friendship, but less than a relationship and Sarah wasn’t about to make it more than what it was.

 (Little did she know, it was more than what she thought it was. And Connor was going to make that perfectly clear to her fairly soon) 

Sarah opened her mouth as if to ask him a question, but her voice was still horse and a sudden coughing fit took over so the only noise that came out of her mouth was croaky or coughing. Connor moved quickly. Pouring a cup of water for her. Then placing a straw in the cup, he made his way back over to Sarah. 

“Small sips,” he told her, raising her bed so she was in a slightly upward position. He held the straw up to her mouth. While she sipped at her water, the brunette eyed the double-certified surgeon. His mused hair, bloodshot eyes, and rumpled clothing were reminiscent of the Connor Rhodes that walked through Med during Dr. Downey’s final days or when Robin had been in the hospital before they knew about her tumor and after when she was in recovery, Sarah thought Teddy might be right. Connor had stayed with her. 

“Good?” He asked her a few minutes later and she drew back a little in answer. So Connor took the cup away. Those powerful back muscles were on display to her, but she couldn’t properly enjoy the view like she usually would in a non-hazy state. Not with the questions swirling around in her head and her medicated state.

“You stayed with me,” her statement came out in the form of a question. Connor turned back to her, nodding as he made his way back to her. “Yeah,” 

“Why?” 

“Because I was worried and I didn’t want you to wake up by yourself.” He said his tone soft before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The familiar feeling of his lips against her skin was soothing in a way Sarah didn’t know she had needed till now. Apparently, the feeling was mutual because he lingered and breathed deeply as if he were taking her in. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

Then he pulled away, but he didn’t stray very far as he took the seat, opposite where Teddy had been by her bedside. Grabbing her hand in both of his, the former trauma surgeon asked, “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

Sarah blinked, noticing for the first time how small her hand looked in his. Then she realized he was waiting for her to answer. She yawned, “No, no pain. They must have me on good pain medication though.”

“Why do you say that?” 

“Because I can’t feel a thing and I’m high as a kite,” she yawned again and when she saw his look of confusion, she grinned lazily, “How many times have you held my hand in yours for any reason?”

“A lot?” Connor said in a confused tone. 

Sarah gave him a grin that was tinged with exhaustion, then she asked with a slight slur to her words as the medication started to pull her back under, “And I’m just now noticing how small my hand is sandwiched between yours.” 

Connor snorted. Her grin grew broader as she opened and shut her eyes slowly, “Don’t worry. I just sleep when I’m high and oh, I get real honest,”

Now he raised an eyebrow at her, “And you know this, how?”

“A story for another time,” she said, words still feeling foreign, and the story of her first and only experience with edibles was not one she needed to tell while feeling floaty on medication.

She blinked long and slow again as he brought her hand up to his lips. A sense of secondhand déjà vu hit her and she wasn’t sure why. But she knew she had seen Connor do this before with someone else, but Sarah couldn’t remember who. She knew it wasn’t her though. Her eyes fell closed. 

“I’m learning you have a lot of stories that you’ve been saving for another time,” he murmured against her skin and Sarah’s eyes drifted open once more to stare at him.

“Huh?” 

Connor sighed heavily, dropping her hand gingerly as he ran his hands through his hair. Now Sarah could see the pent-up tension that hid in his shoulders. “You know I was the doctor they paged for you?”

There had to be a reason Connor was telling her this but as she blinked again, longer and slower than before, she couldn’t see it. 

“Choi took Voight’s son-” Justin. Oh. Guilt manifested in her like a second itchy layer of skin that Sarah couldn’t scratch. She hadn’t thought to ask how Justin was once since she woke up. But her…Connor was continuing before she could ask if her best friend was okay. 

“-But Maggie paged me to work on you.”

Sarah's brow furrowed, “So you’re the one that took the bullet out of my neck?”

Her something laughed, but it was a sarcastic, harsh sound. “Bullets. Two of them. And God, no. I don’t think I could’ve been that strong. But Ava, for all her faults and ability to bust my balls, never let it get that far. She was the one who took those bullets out of you. In fact, she was pushing me back to the elevator so I wouldn’t see it was you. I didn’t even know you two were friends, something I feel like I should've known.” 

There had to be a reason why Connor was telling her all of this. So she asked him. 

 “You being wheeled in on that gurney made me realize that I don’t know anything about you. Not really. Not the small detail stuff at least. Will knew you were close with Detective Lindsay but that’s another thing I didn’t know. In all of our six months together, I don’t know anything about your past.”

Were you supposed to know that kind of stuff about an extended booty call?

“You really think that’s all you are to me?” Connor questioned in that low, serious tone of his. The tone he took when explaining treatment to a patient. The brunette realized that instead of keeping that question inside her head, she had spoken it out loud. By the tone and his body language, he was waiting for her to deny that’s what she thought. But Sarah’s voice was starting to hurt worse than when she woke up and she didn’t want to lie to him. So she blinked at him instead. 

“You are not an extended booty call,” Connor told her firmly after her beat of silence, but his tone was gentle, as his hand carded soothingly through her curls that had seen better days for sure. Then he huffed.

“We have a lot to talk about when you feel up to it. But baby,” and it wasn’t the pet name that made a shiver run down her spine because he had called her that before. Although that was part of that, but it was the tender way he spoke that really got her. The way his lips formed that gentle caress of words, “You are so much more to me than an extended booty call. So much more.”

Sarah went to respond but an owlish blink and the yawn that followed, told Connor just how much she was struggling to stay awake. He pressed another kiss to her hand, “Sleep baby. We can talk later. When you’re feeling better because I’m not going anywhere.”

Still, the curly-haired brunette continued to fight off sleep. Connor sighed softly, reaching up, he pressed the button so her bed was laying back once more. Then he allowed his thumb to rub soothing circles into her forehead. “Baby, I promise. I’ll be here when you wake up. Rest right now. You need it.”

She puckered her lips to him, waiting like usual for the kiss from him before she went to sleep. Huffing a small laugh, he raised an eyebrow at her. “If I kiss you, will you stop trying to fight falling asleep?” 

Sarah just blinked those doe-like eyes at him, continuing to wait for him to kiss her. Those eyes that had him wrapped her little finger. Her apparently high as a kite brown eyes. He had even said it himself. Connor chastised himself while he stood up and hovered over her slightly as he kissed her slowly and gently. His lips a whisper against hers.

“Go to sleep, baby.” He told her quietly when he pulled away. Usually, after he’d kiss her like this, Connor would run his nose down the length of her neck, breathing her in. She always seemed to smell like apples and vanilla. But that wasn’t an option with the hospital bed rails in the way. So he sat back down and grabbed her hand again. With one last long blink of her chocolate irises, her eyes finally drifted closed and stayed that way.

An extended booty call? Really? That’s all she thought she was to him? Nice going, Rhodes. He chastised himself as looked down at the woman in the hospital bed, who held his heart in her hands. This was his fault; he never even tried to put a label on what they were. He was too apprehensive after his relationship with Robin. 

In his head, he heard his sister saying she had told him so.

“Should we be concerned that just talking took that much out of her?” Teddy asked, ten minutes later when he came back and saw Sarah was sleeping once more, “Because it feels like we should be worried.”

“No, this is only her first time waking up. There are many factors for her exhaustion right now. Her body is still processing everything. Adrenaline and shock from the injury might be wearing off. Plus there’s the shock of waking up in the hospital. That’s a real thing. Plus she has the medication too that might be making her drowsy. And where her wound is located, talking could actually be causing some of her exhaustion because her wound is being agitated by her vocal cords.” Connor explained to the other man. 

“So this is normal?” Teddy asked, his eyes flicking back to Sarah. In this state, she seemed so small that she reminded him of the five-year-old she was, when they first met many years ago. He wanted to hug her tight and wrap her in bubble wrap.

“Yeah, it’s normal as she regains her strength and the injury heals. Now if we don’t see any improvement in about a month. Then we’ll be concerned. But right now, we’ll just be glad she woke up in no pain.” 

Speaking of…

“Thank you by the way.” When Sarah’s boyfriend or whatever he was looking confused, Sarah’s pseudo-brother continued, “For not telling her about Justin. I just thought it’d be better coming from someone else, his wife, my sister, or even Voight.”

“You aren’t close? Your sister said you were.” Connor asked as Sarah mumbled incoherently. Teddy’s eyes flicked up, thinking she had heard him but her eyes remained closed. The trauma surgeon shushed her gently as he ran a hand up and down her arm to soothe her.

“We were before I went away for a while…I ran away when I was thirteen. Sarah was eleven. Then we didn’t see each other again till last year. It’s been getting better but we still aren’t where we were.” 

“You’ve known Sarah since she was eleven?” Lindsay had said she knew Sarah for a long time, but since they were kids? Sure he had known Russell since he was fourteen but that was because of the store…

“Longer than that. Her dad brought her down here from New York when she was five. My mom and her dad were friends, I guess. They stayed with us for a while.” 

Five years old…But something else had also caught his attention.

“Sarah’s never mentioned her dad.” Connor thought aloud. Suddenly Teddy looked as if he said too much. Playing with his pierced lip, the blond-headed man reached behind him to rub his neck with a manicured hand, “She might not have thought it was important. As far as I know she hasn’t seen him since she was a kid. He kind of bailed out not long after that. In and out mostly. But I really think that’s more of a story that Sarah needs to tell you.”

Connor nodded a little dejectedly. He understood that. He would want to hear it from his lover’s lips anyway. 

“But wait…I thought Voight was her father? When he was here yesterday, he was talking to Sarah and he said he couldn’t imagine losing one kid, let alone two.” The surgeon said when he remembered Voight showing up yesterday. 

“Voight… has filled that father figure role in Sarah’s life for a long time now... I’m sure the next time she’s awake, you could ask her and she’d tell you Hank is her dad. But I think that’s all I’m going to say about that because it’s another story Sarah should be telling you.”

Blue eyes flicked down to his lover asleep once more. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. There was not a doubt in his mind that he knew Sarah. At least where it counted. He knew what kind of person she was. He knew her heart. But he didn’t know the stories of what made her heart the way that he knew it.

“Now can I ask you a question?” The other man asked Connor, breaking his thought. He nodded. “Why did Sarah tell me she didn’t have a boyfriend when I mentioned you had been here?”

“Miscommunication and a misunderstanding. When she can keep her eyes open for more than thirty minutes, I’ll make it perfectly clear where I want to stand with her.” 

“Ooh, is Sarah going to be in trouble?” Teddy grinned at him and he snorted. The double-certified surgeon shook his head as he said, “More like I’m in trouble because the misunderstanding and communication was my fault and I’m too relieved she’s going to be okay for her to be in trouble for thinking what she was to me in this miscommunication.”

“That’s Sarah. Always taking on a view of pessimism, even when she was a kid.” Teddy told him with a slight huff of laughter, “Erin and I called her Eeyore all the time. It drove her nuts.” 

“Everyone who has visited her has said she’s been unflinchingly kind to them though. That’s not something you typically see in a person with pessimism.” Connor mentioned, thinking of Mulcalley. The floater paramedic was always seen with a different partner when he brought a patient to the ED because no one could stand under the dark cloud he cast for too long.  

The blond man shrugged, “What’s that saying about people who have never been shown kindness? They’re usually the kindest people around. And I think that the resident that committed suicide in her first year affected her.”

Did he mean Wheeler? He knew Sarah had blamed herself for his death to some extent but did she really internalize it that much?

“When she told me about it, she said you never knew what someone was going through. What could be the action that pushed a person over the edge and pulled them back from making that choice. So she was making a conscious effort to be the thing that pulls them away from that edge.”

Connor felt a surge of affection swell up inside of him. Once upon a time, he had told Sarah she couldn’t jump in and save everyone. But she was trying to prove him wrong.

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Hank Voight, Erin Lindsay, Olive, and the rest of the intelligence unit arrived together half an hour later. 

“I’ll go ahead and give you some time as a family,” Connor said, seeing the police unit hang back in the ward. 

“Hey man,” Jay Halstead called when the other man made his way out of the room, stopping by the nurses' station. He wanted to see if now that Sarah had woken up and wasn’t showing signs of restlessness, they could remove her neck brace. But he needed Ava’s okay first.

“Hey,” the surgeon said before he caught one of the nurses’ attention, “Can you page Dr. Bekker for me and ask her to come up to the ICU when she has a chance?”

“Of course, Dr. Rhodes.”  

“How’s she doing, Doc?” Attwater asked. Connor shrugged making his way over to the group, “I’m not her doctor but I’d say about as good as can be expected. She woke up with no pain and was a little hazy but mostly lucid and coherent. Seemed to know what happened and had no confusion. That’s why I’m having them page Dr. Bekker. I want to see if we can take the neck brace off of her...What about you? Tell me you have this guy.” 

“This asshat is sneaky. But we have his picture out everywhere. So it’s only a matter of time.” Ruzek told him. 

“We also have our tech guy running down all his last known addresses. Plus with Reese awake now, we can have a positive ID instead of just circumstantial evidence of this crime. Help our case even more.” Jay explained and moved his hands. A glance down saw the younger Halstead was holding a yellow folder.

“Would she have to testify with that though?” Connor asked in concern. 

“If Voight even lets it get that far,” Ruzek mumbled and Connor was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it.

“Kid,” Olinksy said. He didn’t say anything else, but Connor thought could hear a warning in the other man’s voice. 

“What? You saw him today Al,” the officer was trying to quiet, but Ruzek wasn’t known for talking in whispers. “Everyone in our unit knows it’s probably not a far leap from that.”

“Kid,” now the warning was clear. No mistaking it, “Stop talking.”

There was a noise from behind them and the surgeon turned with the rest of the unit. Sarah was awake and was shaking her head, at least she was trying to as she kept forming one word. Connor wasn’t close enough to hear her, but he could tell from the context of her body language what she was saying. 

No.

“They just told her about Justin,” Antonio Dawson observed softly. 

“Yeah,” Alvin sighed while Connor watched with the rest of them as Sarah broke down in tears, still shaking her head as best as she could in her neck brace. Hank Voight gripped her head in both of his hands, his palms coming to rest over both her ears. He was saying something and then he hugged her as she continued to cry. A yearning stirred in him as he watched his lover sob into the police sergeant's shoulder. A yearning to rush in and fix everything for her. But there was nothing for him to fix. 

Death was one thing no one could fix.

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Sarah woke up to a warm hand on her forehead. She almost thought it was Connor but he had a more warm citrus kind of smell to him and the smell that wafted into her nose wasn’t that. Instead, the smell of burning wood mixed with a lingering scent of gunpowder reminded her of the security that she associated with home. She peeled an eye open to see Hank standing there. 

“Hey kid,” his gravelly voice was soft and gentle. She tried to smile up at him, before lifting her arm that still felt as if it were asleep to push the button so her bed was sitting up more. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m a little-” she started to explain before a movement to her right caught her eye. She shifted her eyes since she couldn’t move her head in the neck brace. Teddy was still there, but now Erin and Olive were there as well. 

“Hey,” she shifted her body up on shaky limbs. Her hazy state sobered and zeroed in on Olive, “How’s Justin? I thought you’d be with him.” 

Instantly, Sarah felt something in the room shift. Her pseudo-sister, whose eyes were red and bloodshot, glanced at Olive, who had silent tears running down her cheeks. And Erin’s little brother wasn’t meeting her eyes. Unease crept inside her stomach and settled there.

“Is Justin going to be okay?” She asked, shifting her eyes to meet Hank’s again. He looked sad and weary. 

“Sarah,” Hank sighed heavily as if what he was about to say was too much to bear. If only Sarah knew how much that was true before he had to utter the words.  “…We-we pulled Justin off of life support yesterday. He passed…away not long after that.”

“No, no, no,” Sarah heard her own voice and it was still unrecognizable to her, but not like it had been earlier. Though it still was hoarse, there was now a steeliness to it. Conviction. Because Justin wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Not when it was her that was always meant to be living on borrowed time. 

“When he was shot, it caused a catastrophic brain injury. They said he wasn’t going to wake up again,” Olive hiccupped as she tried to wipe away her tears, “He wouldn’t recognize us; he wouldn’t be able to talk to us and he’d be on feeding tubes and a ventilator the rest of his life. You know he wouldn’t have wanted that.”  

They were already talking about her best friend in the past tense. But he wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be. She started to shake her head. Or tried to. It was difficult with the neck brace she wore. And that’s when her tears and sobs started to come.

“No.” This was all her fault. If she hadn’t been there then maybe Justin could’ve run or…or if she had just listened-

“Sarah Athena,” her pseudo-father rumbled out her name. Then she felt his hands come to rest over her ears. Her teary-eyed gaze found his serious one. “Now you listen to me and you listen good. This is not your fault. None of this.” 

How could he say that when his son was gone and she was the one who survived? 

“No,” she sobbed again and that’s when he hugged her. Her wails were muffled against his shoulder. Hank shushed her, running his hand over the top of her head. 

“I know,” he told her quietly every time her shoulders shook. “I know. But the fact of it is that whether you were there or not…it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Sarah sobbed harder.

“You being there with him…I know you were hurt too, Sarah. But at least he wasn’t by himself when it happened. Small mercies and all that.” Olive's wavering voice floated somewhere close to her ear. 

But Justin was still gone. Why was nobody blaming her for what happened but her? Couldn’t they see she was the reason Justin was dead? Why were they comforting her? She asked herself as her shoulders continued to shake. She didn’t deserve it. 

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Eventually, her tears slowed and stopped completely and when she pulled away from Hank, she just sat there feeling numb. Her family talked around her, to her. She was sure of it. But Sarah couldn’t tell anyone what was being said if she was asked. Or her detached responses. Everything was quiet and blurry to her. People-her patients-had compared being numb to time not moving. That wasn’t it though. Time was moving around her, but it was her that was still. 

A soft knock pulled her back to reality a little. Jay Halstead was in the room while the rest of the intelligence unit and Connor hung back by the door. Everyone that looked at her seemed sad or worried. She avoided their eyes in favor of staring at the wall. Then Jay was speaking, but Sarah couldn’t make out what was being said. It was like she was underwater. 

“Sarah?” Erin’s hand on her shoulder was soft and it broke the surface of the water keeping her under. Sarah looked at her pseudo-sister. 

Her face was calm and suddenly the curly-haired brunette was five-years-old again, crying for her Dad after a bad dream. But he hadn’t come. Instead, Erin did. Erin, who was only nine at the time, climbed into a bed too small for her and held Sarah. Had told her stories and calmed her down until Sarah fell back asleep. 

Erin’s tone even reminded her of those nights, “You’re not telling us anything we don’t already know. But a positive ID would do nothing but help us.” 

A photo array was placed in front of her. The man was there so she pointed to him. Erin, Hank, and Jay glanced between each other. Then Hank nodded, a look in his eyes that she had only seen once before. “Bingham. Let’s bring him in.” 

A look that did not bode well in her pseudo-father. The unit started to move, walking away from her room.

“Hank,” she tried to call him back. But he kept moving. She tried again, “Hank!”

He still kept going. The space grew more and more between them so she choked out the one word that was guaranteed to get him to turn around. Sarah had only used it a handful of times in the time she had known him. 

“Dad,” 

Her father figure stopped walking abruptly and stilled before he turned around to face her. As did everyone else following him. But the brunette was only looking at Hank. “Don’t let the world blow up. You’ve always said you’re with me till the world blows up. So, please. Do not go over the edge. I know it’s so easy too. I know it’s Justin... But please, this guy isn’t worth it. He’s not. Please. Do this the right way.”

Hank licked his lips as he considered her words before he said, “I’ll be back later. After we close this case. I promise.”

He still had that damned look in his eyes as he turned and stalked off; Erin following behind him as she called his name. So she turned to Alvin and Antonio for help. 

“Don’t let him go over the edge.” At her words, both men sighed sadly and glanced at each other. 

“Please,” she pressed. Antonio spoke first, “I think we’ve already gone past that point Sarah.”

“Bingham shot you and Justin.” Justin is dead, went unsaid as he continued, “Left you both in the trunk of that car. Hank isn’t just going to forget that. Speaking as a father, I wouldn’t.” 

Al told her all of this in that soft voice of his. But she could hear the sympathy in his tone.

“I wouldn’t either,” Antonio admitted quietly. Their words which were probably meant to comfort her, did nothing of the sort. Her eyes started to water again, but she swiped at her eyes stubbornly. 

“We’re sorry, kid,” Al told her. Antonio nodded, “We know it’s not what you want to hear.”

They left soon after. Antonio with a sympathetic look. He started to say, “I hope you feel-” Better.

But the detective stopped abruptly and fell silent. He looked guilty for a moment as if to suggest such a thing after what happened. Sarah didn’t hold it against Dawson though. It’s just what you said when someone was in the hospital. Then he sighed, “I’m sure you’ll get through this.”

Nodding at her, the detective made his way out of her room. Olinsky, who had known her since Erin became Hank’s C.I. ruffled her hair. Like he used to do when she was a kid. 

“It’ll work itself out, kid. Just maybe not the way anyone wants it to.” Then he turned and nodded at both Olive and Teddy and followed behind Antonio.

The silence was back and she could take that. But what she couldn’t take were sad eyes that still lingered. She didn’t deserve sadness and comfort. She deserved anger. Anger that should be directed at her because Justin had stood in front of her and now he was… She inhaled shakily.

Sitting up even more up so she could turn her body to face her pseudo-brother and sister-in-law; she told them, “You two should go home,”

Both of them started to protest but she held up her hand. She looked at Teddy first. “You said you’ve been here since this morning and I know you don’t sleep on public transportation. You have keys to all over our places. Use them and find somewhere to sleep. I’m-” 

The brunette almost said she was okay. But that wasn’t right. She cleared her throat, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Four hours minimum won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes shifted to Olive, “Who has the little monster right now?”

“Tucker,” Justin’s best friend since middle school.

“Oh, I bet Autumn is having a field day with that.” Sarah huffed a barely there laugh, despite why they were having this conversation and Olive laughed watery, nodding her head. Then sobered as quickly as the laughter has come.

“We haven’t told her about anything yet, he wants to find a way to explain it that is age appropriate. Right now she thinks it’s just a very long play-date. Tuck said he’d keep him till I got back and then he’d be by to see you after Autumn went to sleep later tonight.”  

“Go and be with Danny. He’s probably confused.” She told Olive softly, “He’s not used to being away from either of you for more than a day right? He’s going to need you now more than ever.”

“We don’t want you by yourself, Sarah. Stop trying to isolate yourself.” Teddy said after sharing a look with Justin’s wife. From the look also in Olive’s eyes, she knew what Sarah was trying to do too. 

“I’m just sitting here. There’s really nothing you can do.” Sarah continued to protest as Connor said from his place in the doorway, “I’ll be here with her. She won’t be by herself.”

They shared another look and Teddy nodded with a small shrug. Justin’s wife met her eyes once more and she nodded. Then she reached down and squeezed the brunette’s hand. “Okay, we’ll leave. But we know what you’re doing and Sarah, no one blames you for what happened.”

Except for herself.

“This isn’t your fault. Come on, Teddy, if you want you can come with me.”

“And can you tell Tucker that tonight isn’t the best time to visit me? I’m just…a little overwhelmed and not the best company right now.”

The frown on Olive’s face deepened a little at Sarah’s words but nodded her reluctant acceptance without any protest as she and Teddy made their way out of the hospital room. 

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Then it was just her, the numbing silence, and Connor. She broke the silence in a quiet, almost inaudible voice, “You really don’t have to stay. I’m sure I can occupy myself for a while. You can go home or go back to work.”

“You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Teddy is right and you’re trying to push everyone out of here.” His voice was trying to be light but it missed its mark because that’s what she was trying to do. She was trying to isolate herself.

“I want to and besides everyone, myself included, don't think you should be alone right now. We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to.” 

“I’m-” Fine. She cut herself off, grinding her teeth together as she fisted the fabric of her hospital blanket. Sarah was about to say she was fine but that wasn’t true. There was a hole in the side of her neck and her best friend was gone. She looked down at her lap. It was her fault. No matter what anyone said Justin was gone because of her.

Connor remained silent and waited because he didn’t want to push her. All he could do was remain there and remind her that he was there for her.

“Connor, they said you requested they page me? Is something wrong?” Ava entered the room in a hurry, breaking the mournful silence, and then brightened when she saw her patient was awake, “Reese, it’s good to see you awake.” 

Then why didn’t it feel like it? Sarah questioned in her head as she resisted the urge to pull the covers back over her head like she did this…Wait. Yesterday morning. It was yesterday morning because she had slept through the day yesterday. Teddy had said he had only gotten there this morning. Guilt pooled once more in her stomach at the thought of Justin passing and her blissfully unaware. Her fists were almost white as the hospital blanket she had in her grip.

When Reese didn’t respond, Ava looked at Connor, who studied his lover for a moment. His gaze moved to look at the blonde, who was imploring him silently for some information. He mouthed the word: Justin. Her eyes widened as he cleared his throat and explained why he had her paged. Ava nodded, sliding her doctor mask back into place, “Okay, thanks. Sarah, I’m going to check you out again. Now that you’re awake and can let me know if you have any concerns then we can remove the neck brace.”

“Rhodes,” the surgeon addressed him snarkily, “Go get a cup of coffee or something.” 

Connor held back a slight chuckle. He knew what she was doing. His partner in the field was trying to give his lover a sense of normalcy and Ava was busting his balls. That was normal. 

And there was also the fact that now that they knew Sarah was going to be okay, Ava’s kind of truce with him was over and Ava’s regular sarcastic and snarky attitude toward him was back in full force. He couldn’t believe he was saying this, but it was a welcome change. Ava being back to normal with him meant his Sarah was on the upswing. 

Still, he looked at the curly-haired brunette in the hospital bed. Though he knew why his colleague was shooing him from the room, that didn’t make his reluctance to leave any easier. Especially with Sarah being so quiet and withdrawn now. He understood why she acting this way, but That didn’t mean he had to like it. Unclenching her fists from the blanket as gently as he could; he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back.”   

He left and came back thirty minutes later with an energy drink in hand, stopping just by the nurse’s station when he saw Ava still there. But Sarah no longer had her neck brace and the female heart surgeon looked to be just about done. She was raising the bed rail as she told the curly-haired brunette, “You don’t even have to finish it. I just want you to attempt a smoothie. See how it goes.”

When her patient remained silent, Connor heard Ava sigh and give an ultimatum. “I don’t want to Reese, but you said all you had yesterday was half a protein bar for breakfast. I understand you’re not hungry and can even understand it. But you know your body needs nutrients to heal. It’s either you try a smoothie or I hook you up to an IV. I won’t have you getting dehydrated.”

“Okay.” Sarah agreed in a quiet voice. Ava continued in a softer voice, “And I’ll send a nurse in with something to put on your wrists to help with the itching so they don’t get more irritated.”

His lover nodded mutely. Ava made to leave, but Connor saw her turn back at the last minute and heard her speak quietly, and sincerely. “I am sorry about Justin Voight, Sarah.” 

Sarah looked back up, tears gathering in her eyes. “Me too.” 

Ava left the room and caught sight of him standing by the nurses' station. Making her way over to him she sighed quietly. “She’s claiming she’s not hungry, but she hasn’t eaten in a day, almost two now. And not much at that.”

Connor nodded because knew the protein bars Sarah was so fond of for breakfast. He had taken to keeping them in stock for her in his kitchen. On a good day, she ate two back-to-back to fill herself up because they really weren’t that big, to begin with. 

Ava continued, “And I know they couldn’t keep it from her. She has a right to know. Justin Voight is dead. But I just wished I had gotten here sooner to put something on her stomach before her grief had a chance to set in. Her body needs the sustenance to help her heal.”

“I’ll try to get her to drink the smoothie when it’s brought up,” Connor reassured her. The blonde nodded, “It’s either that or I have give her an IV and I figure you’ll apply the ointment to her wrists too.”

“Aloe Vera with lidocaine for the pain?” He asked. It’s what he would give Sarah. She nodded once more, “I can’t wrap them. They’re too agitated to bandage. A wound like that needs to breathe.”

“Anything else I need to know before I go back in there?”

Ava shrugged. “She asked if we could switch her medication? Something to make her feel less floaty? Her words, not mine. I’m going to look into it, but I’m not sure what else to give her that would subside the pain as well as the one she’s on now. I also redressed the bandage on her neck.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Sarah had her arms wrapped around her knees and her forehead pressed to them when he came back. Touching her back softly, he pointed out to her gently. “You’re going to agitate your wound if you sit like that too long.” 

The brunette inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath before she allowed him to coax her to lean back against the bed properly. There were tears in her eyes, but she rubbed at her face roughly. As if sheer force would be enough to remove any evidence of her crying. 

But Connor didn't understand why she was fighting her feelings. He bit back a sigh. There was a reason he was a surgeon and not a psychiatrist. Still, he found himself saying, “Sarah, I know-”

“No you don’t.” She mumbled. He nodded as he fell silent, not wanting to push her but he squeezed her hand. A silent offer. Rubbing at her nose, she started to explain. 

“It was supposed to be me. I was always meant to be the one living on borrowed time. Not Justin.”  At his alarmed expression, she raised a hand to stop the concerns he was bound to have from how quickly his mouth opened. “I know how that sounds okay? Just let me try to explain okay?” 

An uneasy look settled in his blue eyes, but Connor nodded hesitantly. She continued, “Hank and his wife took Erin and me in when we were kids. I was eleven. Before that my childhood was rough and I know you’ll have more questions later, but for now, we’ll just leave it at that. Rough. Rough enough that on my first day in their house, I was angry and scared. Angry because I was too young to know that the guy, Erin and I had been staying with previously was a scumbag. And scared because I thought this was my last stop before Erin and I were split up. I thought I was putting up a good front though.”

She paused slightly while her eyes moved to look at her lap. “Justin though…he saw right through me.  He told me his parents, his Dad would keep me safe. And I told him…” 

A humorless laugh passed through her lips, “I told him it wouldn’t matter, because being the cynical eleven-year-old I was, I thought I wouldn’t live past my sixteenth birthday. I was just living on borrowed time and being safe for a week, maybe two wouldn’t make a difference.” 

“Oh, Sarah,” Connor whispered, not quite believing what he was hearing. But his heartbreaking all the same. Sarah shook her head as he moved so he was sitting on the edge of her hospital bed. Reaching out, he cupped her face and rubbed her cheeks soothingly as her tears fell silently. 

“I know it’s fucked up. I knew it was fucked up to begin with, because what eleven year doesn’t think they’ll live to see their sixteenth birthday? But it’s how I felt at the time. Do you know what I thought when the gun was pointed at me? When the safety clicked off?”

Connor didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to but that’s okay because it was a rhetorical question. 

I thought that I had been right. I was just living on borrowed time, I just got when I was going to die wrong.  And now, with Justin gone, I have that damned conversation stuck in my head. On repeat, because I was the one who said I was living on borrowed time. Not him. Not when he just had a kid and was in a really good place. It was supposed to be me and the only damn reason it wasn’t…is because he tried to protect me.”

“Baby,” he whispered, still rubbing at her cheeks soothingly. He didn’t tell her anything was going to be okay. It’s not what she needed right now and Connor didn’t think she’d hear him anyways.  

“It was supposed to be me,” she sobbed and he dropped his hands from her face in favor of moving farther up the bed. Careful not to agitate her wounds or any of the wires attached to her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Curling himself very delicately into her good side, he hugged her tight as he was willing to with her injuries.

“It was supposed to be me,” she repeated the sob, turning her head into his neck. With each wail of sadness, his body shook. But Connor endured it because Sarah needed him to be her rock right now. She needed someone to just be there. So Connor would be that for her right now. That unmovable force.

“It was supposed to be me,” she sobbed over and over, breaking his heart a little more each time. Still, he held her, whispering soothing nonsense in her ear. But never telling her it would be okay or anything close to it. It would be with time of course, but she didn’t need to hear that right now. 

Right now, she just needed him to just hold her and be her rock. Everything else could wait for later.

[tuiyla]

Sentimental Affection: Hambo, the Shirt, and Objects of Psychic Resonance

Adventure Time and the mundane, aka Daddy, why did you eat my fries?

Ever a show to be full of hidden symbolism and so much more under the surface than its 11-minute runtime would allow, Adventure Time uses seemingly mundane objects like a teddy bear or a T-shirt to convey the monumental importance of character dynamics. This doesn’t only apply to objects but actual parts of one’s self, like Finn’s arm and the interwoven significance of his many swords. And then, there’s Marceline.

Like with many of the show’s more complex aspects, this is especially prevalent in Marceline’s story. How do you stress the sheer volume of having lived for a thousand years? How do you signify the lack of letting go of the past, lack of maturity? You give a girl a teddy bear and have her hold on to it for as long as she can. And it’s not just Hambo that adds unexpected depth to Marceline’s character and her relationship with others. There’s the infamous rock shirt, which we’ll get to, and then there’s the French fries eaten by Hunson Abadeer.

As iconic as the Fry Song has become and as synonymous with the complex Abadeer father-daughter relationship as it is, it seems silly, at first glance, that Marceline would be so upset over that simple transgression. But Adventure Time has a special talent for making the mundane whimsical and significant, so through the context of the full song, through little glimpses here and there, we understand the symbolism of the fries. It’s Hunson’s disregard for Marceline’s feelings, his carelessness, his lack of understanding, that really matters.

Just a teddy in the wreckage of the world

So what about Hambo? Hambo is, for a while, everything to Marceline. Hambo is the one representation of her relationship with Simon that she has left. It’s a remnant from the wreckage of the world, a plushie given to a scared little girl by an equally scared old man. It’s the one thing Simon leaves behind when he abandons Marcy, for her own good, and summons Hunson to take care of her instead. But Hunson eats those fries and so Marceline takes the family axe instead and keeps it as safe as she keeps Hambo.

Hambo stays with Marceline long after she turns into a vampire, ever a symbol of the tragic childhood she lost and yet is stuck in. It’s not a coincidence that she’s implied to tolerate much of Ash’s jerkish behaviour but draws the line when he sells Hambo for a new wand. That’s the only thing of Simon, the real Simon that she has left and it matters more than a boyfriend who doesn’t care about that. Disregard for Hambo is disregard for her. So Marceline keeps moving all across Ooo, both to escape from this new, twisted version of Simon and to find the one thing that proves he wasn’t always like this.

You kept the shirt I gave you?

Let’s take a break from Hambo for a moment. Let’s picture a time long before Finn washed up on the shores of Ooo, before the Candy Kingdom grew into what it is today. Marceline and Bonnibel are friends, maybe more - details depend on whatever nuggets “Obsidian” gives us. For a while, it works, and Marceline gives Bonnie a rock T-shirt. That shirt is so quintessentially Marcy that it becomes a symbol of their relationship when it’s with PB. The two drift apart, though, as Bonnie becomes known as Princess Bubblegum to everyone else and Marceline leaves before she can be left behind. The shirt becomes a sort of inverse of Hambo: a token of love that’s - as Marceline initially thinks - never cared for. Bitter as she might be over this, Marcy leaves it all behind as she left Hunson with the fries. She never really got to grow beyond being that young girl who was left Hambo in the snow.

Except, Finn does come along, eventually, and he brings Bonnie and Marcy together again. It’s intense and Marceline lashes out because, well, sorry she’s such an inconvenience. But in truth, it’s Marceline who tags along to defeat the Door Lord despite having no stakes in the mater, and it’s PB who wants to get her precious possession back. Her treasure is, of course, Marceline’s shirt. The one she always has worn, just in the comfort of her own room or under something else. Not out in the open, one might say, but constantly nonetheless, even long after Marceline was gone from her life. A reminder of what they had as much as Hambo is a reminder of who Simon was to Marcy.

That’s the wonder of “What Was Missing”. It lampshades the potential cheesiness of the message, that being “the real treasure is friendship”, but it is genuine in how it portrays that message beyond what would be expected of a kids’ cartoon. Finn keeps a piece of Bubblegum’s hair, but PB is right there to hang out with whenever they want to. Bonnie keeps Marcy’s shirt because she thinks it’s as close as she’ll get to be around her again, but Marceline tagged along just for the joy of being around them. What these two examples have in common is that both Finn and PB want something more from the relationship with the actual person, something they think is unattainable, so they hold on to the objects instead of reaching out.

I’ll get your kid back, toy

So what about Hambo and Marceline reaching out to Simon? When the Ice King inevitably finds her, again, Marceline is rightfully frustrated and just about ready to pack up and move again. But she’s grown these past few years since Finn entered her life and helped her face her past demons. It breaks her heart but she starts accepting Simon back into her life. They hang out and she insists on calling him Simon, because she never stopped viewing him that way. She knows who he used to be, even if he doesn’t, and she clings onto the representation of that hope, Hambo.

Marceline is already in a much better place by the time “Sky Witch” rolls around than she was at the start of the series. She kind of has Hunson, Simon and Bonnie in her life again. It’s all a bit complicated and unresolved - ”Stakes” isn’t for another two seasons - but she’s on her way. That doesn’t mean she’s gonna let the opportunity to get Hambo back pass by, so she asks for Bonnie’s help. It’s a bit awkward but she spent all this time being angry and feeling like she wasn’t good enough when PB cared enough to at least keep the shirt, so maybe that’s as much hope as Hambo is for Simon. And that’s exactly what “Sky Witch” proves, as Bonnie’s level-headedness helps Marcy navigate Maja’s treacherous turf and gets her Hambo back.

There's only one Hambo

There’s a misconception, a common and understandable one, but a misconception nonetheless when it comes to the shirt and Hambo. When Maja says that Hambo’s psychic resonance is nothing compared to the shirt’s, it’s easy to see the implication being that the shirt is that much more important. Therefore, Marceline is that much more important to PB than Simon is to Marcy. This isn’t entirely inaccurate but I also think that what’s important here is not to put these two objects and therefore the two relationships on the same scale. It implies that we’re comparing the familial type of love between Simon and Marcy to the romantic love between Bonnie and Marcy and that’s just a false and pointless comparison. Instead, the significance once again comes through trademark Adventure Time subtlety.

“What Was Missing” was mainly the Bubbline dynamic from Marcy’s perspective: her hurt, her anger over not knowing why it all ended. The twist with the shirt at the end only hints at PB’s side of things and “Sky Witch” takes it home. From the little moments at the beginning of the episode to the revelation that PB gave up the shirt for Hambo, it’s a full package. It’s in everything, including the scene where Peebs dismisses Hambo’s importance. It’s just a doll, totally replaceable, an insinuation which insults Marcy deeply. Bonnie doesn’t necessarily get why Hambo is so important but, in a way, PB does understand. She understands, because Hambo is to Marceline what the shirt is for her: hope.

When PB gives up the shirt, she gives up the only piece of Marceline she’s had for all these centuries. It wasn’t replaceable, just like Hambo wasn’t, but by giving it up she gives Marceline her most treasured possession, her hope. And you know what else? By giving up this remnant of the past, Bonnie gets Marceline back. “Sky Witch”, then, is the beginning of their new dynamic, as the lesson from the Door Lord finally sinks in. And by equating, in a way, Hambo and the shirt, after we’ve already seen in “I Remember You” and “Simon & Marcy” how monumental that relationship is, this makes Bonnie’s devotion to Marcy clear as day.

Magic, madness, sadness, and all the rest

Hambo becomes something even bigger in “Betty”. The reason why Maja wanted Hambo and then the shirt in the first place is because Adventure Time acknowledges within the logic of its own universe how important the love poured into these objects is. She uses the magic of the shirt and Simon uses the magic of Hambo. Marceline, reluctantly, lets go of Hambo because she just got Simon back, just as PB let go of the shirt and got Marcy back. Nothing is ever that straightforward in the land of Ooo, though, so Hambo brings Betty back but it can’t save Simon. Now Marceline got a taste of the old Simon, had hope, and it lives on in the person they sacrificed Hambo for: Betty.

Betty’s hope is misguided, though. With her time jump to modern day Ooo, a journey of denial and desperation begins that leads her and the whole land down a road of magic and madness. Betty’s shenanigans is its own separate post, really, and all the themes of acceptance, denial and change they represent. What I find fascinating in this context is how, again, in true AT style, the butterfly effect did its magic and the mundane lead into the whimsical and grandiose.

Right there where you left it, lying upside down

Simon gave a little Marcy her teddy doll and Ash carelessly passed it on. Marceline gave Bubblegum a rock shirt, something so quintessentially her that it was the one thing Peebs held onto even after all those years. The shirt was a symbol of their lingering connection and its sacrifice meant the start of a new chapter. The significance of the shirt was enough to get Hambo back, which in turn was powerful enough for Simon to get Betty back. And, eventually, by moving almost literal heaven and hell, Betty brings Simon back. Everything stays, but it still changes.

The shirt is not Marceline. Hambo is not Simon. Objects are not people, nor can we only be with people if we let go of those objects. That isn’t the message the show is going for. And these objects are only catalysts for character arc and dynamics in most cases, anyway. Marceline doesn’t grow up by letting Hambo go, she succeeds in leaving the past behind in “Stakes”. And, if the “Obsidian” trailer is any indication, even that doesn’t mean she’s done with all her demons.

What the intertwined stories of Hambo and the shirt tell us is that complex, emotional stories can be told through simple objects. A teddy doll can signify a thousand years of pain and yet provide hope, while a rock T-shirt can pack some good old-fashioned queer yearning into it. Hambo and the shirt aren’t even monumental parts of Marceline’s, Simon’s and Bubblegum’s stories, even if Adventure Time finds clever ways to use them in the plot. They are just two simple things that represent so much in terms of character development and some of the show’s central dynamics, and that’s damn good storytelling.

[dascarecrow]

Dating Advice II

Oscar: *Approaching JNR* Hey guys. 

Jaune: Hey Oscar what’s up? 

Oscar: *A bit nervous, rubs the back of his head* Well Jaune... You know how to talk to girls right? 

Jaune: *a bit confused* I... guess? What’s this about? 

Oscar: *still nervous* Well... I was hoping you could help me. See there’s this girl I like and I was hoping you could help me talk to her. 

Jaune: Now when you say like do you mean “I like your hair” like or do you mean “I’d love to go out with you” like? 

Oscar: *bashful* The second one. 

Nora: Oh my gosh! You’ve got a crush! Oh that is wonderful! Who is it? Who is it? Wait it’s not Neon is it? Ugh that girl lives to drive people mad. 

Oscar: Uh no it’s not Neon.  

Nora: Then who? Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!  

Jaune: Nora! *gently pulls Nora back* So who is this girl anyways Oscar? 

Oscar: *bashful and nervous* I’d... rather not say. I don’t want to set things up that might not happen. 

Jaune: *very understanding* Alright. Well you’re in luck. The Arc family has a bevy of secrets and knowledge. And I think I can share some of it with you. 

Oscar: *completely earnest* I know. That’s why I came to you. You’re an expert when it comes to girls. 

Jaune: *flattered* Well I wouldn’t say expert. *places his hand with his index finger pointing on his chin and flashes a confident grin* Though it wouldn’t be inaccurate.  

Nora: *whispering to Ren* I wouldn’t say expert either. And it would be accurate. 

Ren nods his head without a change in expression. 

Jaune: Here’s what you need to do Oscar. Women like confidence. Just go up to them like you know what you want and they’ll respond. 

Nora: *still whispering* Yeah with biting commentary. 

Oscar: Confidence huh? Well the thing is I can’t even get near this girl without freaking out. I don’t know if I can just go up to her like that. 

Jaune: You get nervous huh? Don’t worry, happens to the best of us. 

Nora: *still, still whispering* How would he know? *no longer whispering* Okay that’s enough of that. *Pushes past Jaune* Don’t listen to Jaune. He got shot down at Beacon all the time and couldn’t see a girl crushing on him when it was lit up with a neon sign. 

Jaune: Nora! Not in front of Oscar! And I didn’t get show down all the time! It was just Weiss being... Weiss. 

Oscar: Wait you went after Weiss? 

Jaune: *now embarrassed* See what you’ve done now? Ahem. I attempted to court Weiss and she was not receptive to my advances. She chose to pursue someone else and I accepted with grace and dignity. 

Nora: After she turned you down flat for like the thirtieth time. Look ignore him. Take advice about girls from an actual one. Be direct, okay? Don’t dance around or try to hide it form her. Just go right up to her and lay everything on the table. Leave no doubt about how you feel about her. 

Oscar: *doubtful* And what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I wind up ruining something good because I push too strong? 

Nora: *a bit saddened now* Then... at least you both know what’s going on and can figure out where to go from there. Even if she doesn’t feel the same way at least you’ll know whether or not there’s a future there. *looks at Ren, who looks away* Trust me it’s better having everything in the open instead of just dancing around trying to see what might happen if you wait. 

Oscar: *uncertain* Any advice Ren? 

Ren looks up, a bit confused. 

Ren: You’re asking me for advice because...? 

Oscar: Well you and Nora... I don’t actually know what you two are right now but you’ve both gotten your feelings out in the open. You’ve made whatever this is work for you. I just want to know how you were able to say it. 

Ren: *feeling uncertain* Okay then. I don’t think I’m the best source of advice for this sort of thing. I’ve spent most of my life mastering my emotions so they won’t rule me. *gaining confidence* But if I were to give you advice it would be to try and determine how this girl would feel before you say anything. It’s easier when you know how someone else feels to say what you have to say to them. And you should also determine if what you want to say is something that they should hear. You could give them an undue burden or you could be giving them a source of comfort in difficult times. Just be mindful is what I’m saying. 

Oscar, Jaune and Nora look at him in awe.

Ren: What? 

Jaune: Nothing. That was just... incredibly profound. Way better than my advice. 

Nora: Yeah. How are you so good at this? 

Ren: It’s not that difficult. When you look with your heart you see things rightly. You can see the things truly matter and should be done. So look with your heart Oscar and you won’t be led astray. 

Oscar (smiling): Thanks Ren. That’s actually very helpful. Okay I’m going to go try that. 

Jaune: That’s the spirit. Go for it Oscar! 

Oscar: Right. 

Ruby: Hey guys! 

Oscar: *internally* Oh Dust. 

Team RWBY walks up to them. 

Ruby: What are you guys up to? 

Oscar: Well... 

Nora (grinning): Oscar here is crushing on someone! 

Ruby: Wait really? 

Nora: Yep. It’s so adorable. He’s so shy that he can’t even go near her without freezing up. 

Ruby: *excited* Oh my gosh! *gets in Oscar’s space* Oooh who is she? Is it love at first sight? How long have you known her? What made you fall for her? Details Oscar! 

Oscar: *in crisis mode of the inside* Well it’s not that big of a deal. 

Ruby: Not a big deal? Oscar you have a crush on someone. That is a tremendous deal! So tell us about her. Is it someone we know? 

Oscar: ‘You have no idea’. Well she’s someone that I’ve known for a while. She’s... amazing really. Being around her I don’t feel like the next life of Ozma, I just feel like me. As for what she’s like... well *starts smiling* there just aren’t enough words. 

Ruby: *smiling widely* Oooooooh! You make her sound so wonderful! Stop being so mysterious about it! 

Oscar: Er... well... I... 

Jaune: Okay give him some breathing room. This actually might be an opportunity for us. Would any of you be willing to help Oscar? 

Oscar: *starting to panic* Wait what? 

Jaune: If you’re having trouble going near this girl then maybe you just need to practice talking to someone so you know what to say to her. Now any volunteers? 

Ruby: I’ll do it! 

Oscar: *goes wide eyed* You will? 

Ruby: *oblivious to Oscar’s panic* Sure. Might be nice getting to hear romantic things from a boy. Light knows Dad made sure I never got the chance back in Patch. Besides this’ll help you out. So *grabs Oscar’s hands in her own and lifts them up* what do you want to say to her? 

Ozpin: I honestly can’t tell if the Brothers above are blessing you or cursing you right now? 

Oscar: ‘I lean strongly into curse’. 

Oscar looks at Ruby, entranced by her gleaming eyes and gentle smile. 

Oscar: Well no turning back. The first time I ever saw you I was entranced. My whole life had been in chaos and then I saw you and none of that mattered. I saw your eyes and I knew that I would never see anything else so beautiful. And then I got to know you. I saw you for all that you are. Your strength, your wisdom, your resolve. Nothing would ever turn you from the fight to save us all. As I’ve gone on this journey you are the most amazing thing I have seen. Somewhere along the way things changed for me. I don’t know if it was the first moment I saw you or one of the many incredible things you’ve done. You’ve gained my heart and soul ever and eternally for as long as I live this life. You are special beyond measure. Ephemeral. And for all of that... I have fallen in love with you.  

Everyone looks in awe and wonder at Oscar for the words he’s just spoken. 

Ruby: *touched in her very soul* Oh Oscar. That was beautiful.  

Oscar: *emotions all over the place* Y-you really think that was good. I just... spoke from the heart.  

Ruby: It really was wonderful! You better be careful! If you keep talking like that I just might have to fall for you myself! 

Oscar: ‘By the Brothers above!’ 

Ozpin: Alright Oscar this is your chance. Just tell her that you meant those words for her and you will find victory. 

Oscar: I... I’m glad that you liked what I said Ruby. It really does help to know I can say the right thing. 

Ruby: Of course. Well we’re going to go over the mission board. Tag along if you want but I’m guessing you still have to think over what to say to this mystery girl. 

Team RWBY walks away as Oscar watches Ruby. 

Ozpin: I try not to be too condemning or judging of the souls I reincarnate in but I can honestly say that was one of the biggest shows of foolishness and cowardice I have ever seen. 

Oscar: ‘What was I supposed to do? Confess to her in front of everyone?’ 

Ozpin: Of course. You just had the perfect setup to reveal your feelings to her and walked away from it. 

Jaune: Wow. Just wow Oscar. I mean where did all of that come from anyways? 

Oscar: *not fully tuned in* Just something that’s on my mind a lot. I had a lot of time to put the words together. 

Jaune: Well you know what to say. Now we just have to get you to the point you can say it to this girl. *leans in and whispers* Don’t suppose you could give me some pointers? 

Oscar: Another time. I think I’ll see what the mission board has available. *walks away* 

Ozpin: What are you actually planning to do? 

Oscar: Find the hardest wall I can and hit my head against it until I either forget his whole thing or I’m so dazed that talking to Ruby seems like a good idea. 

Ozpin: Believe it or not this actually isn’t the worst luck we’ve had with romance in our lives. 

[soukokuwu]

! urgent! Hello Rachel Can I request just an comfort cuddling in bed scenario with Dazai? I'm so done with everything at the moment Everything is too much, the work , the school I'm so stressed out. My best friend (TW self-harm & suicidal thoughts/attempt?) told me she cut her self again and swallowed like 15 tablets..... I wouldn't say that it triggers me anymore but I'm feeling so bad because I don't know how to help her. 😔

THE PERFECT ESCAPE.      genre. fluff, just pure fluff      synopsis. he strives to be everything you give to him.      word count. 1.4k      author notes. hi! i’m so sorry to hear that, i really hope that on your side that you can find comfort in this. my fluff isn’t too good but i do hope it makes you feel at least a little better. and i know the overwhelming feeling all too well, if you ever need to vent/talk my dms are open okay, anony? <3

favourite book in one hand with the other twirling in his own brown locks, he hums a tune he’s made up in his head while his eyes gloss over the page he’s flipped to. it’s a book he’s read countless times and he already has the whole thing memorised by now.

still, he’s addicted.

one other thing he’s addicted to?

your love.

it’s been on the back of his head for a while now — what makes him so attracted to you? it’s different with you. how is it that someone like you, who’s so simple to understand, so, in lack of better vocabulary, ‘layman’, manages to pique his interest? he thinks of it all the time. everyone is normal in his mind, with the exception of ability users, of course, but then, why is it that only you manage to retain his interest?

more often than not, you’re the only thing that remains a constant in his mind, occupying a permanent spot in every thought that crosses it.

it had taken a while, but how is it that you’ve managed to stop making him question how much he deserves every ounce of happiness you’ve bestowed upon him? sure, people might find dazai osamu a remarkable man, one they’d both fear yet crave as an ally. but the man in question finds you absolutely exceptional.

when he thinks of you he thinks of jovial footsteps skipping across the hardwood floors of your shared apartment. he thinks of cotton candy smiles accompanied with contagious laughter. he thinks of bright, alluring eyes brimming with determination. he associates you with the sun in winter, and how good the warmth feels against his skin. he associates you with the calm after the storm, the reward for every hardship he’s been put through.

which is why the moment he hears the keys jingling outside the door, his eyes shoot up, staring up ahead at nothing in particular; at the random dust motes floating through the air. something is off about the way you unlock the door. it’s you; there’s no question about it, he can hear the familiar click-clack of your heels as they uncharacteristically trudge in, any of their usual mirth missing.

and when he watches you pass through the bedroom doors, flinging your purse harshly against the dresser, he knows he’s right. something’s happened with you — he can usually tell at one glance what it is, but today the possibilities find themselves all jumbled up in his mind, like information overload.

oh, that must be it, isn’t it?

your habits are usually followed through each day, but not today. today you don’t even make an effort to get a change of clothes first before heading for the bed (where dazai’s usually already waiting before you get home). so now, dazai doesn’t let you slump down onto the bed. he catches you before you hit the mattress, allowing your head to find purchase on the comfort of his chest.

just like a switch, instead of overflowing determination, tears start spilling from your eyes, dissolving into the cotton of dazai’s plain white shirt; the one you got him as a moving-in-together present. he had felt bad about not getting you anything (he didn’t even think it was a custom to, which you agreed, but you had just felt like you wanted to give him something). it’s very soft and comfortable, which is why he wears it almost everyday.

soft and comfortable — just like you.

now he wants to be that for you. to be the warmth that you envelop and let yourself go in. the safety amongst unknowns and the shelter from the storms. it’s hard considering he’s typically known for being the exact opposite — the one who stirs trouble instead of soothing anyone from it. but for you he tries, because you’re the only one alive capable of making him want to bring out the good in himself.

but he knows better than to ask you about it, he knows it’ll just make you even more frustrated. besides, he’s smart enough to realise the ‘information overload’ he felt earlier is the catalyst for your mood. dazai always knows, and in this moment it is no exception. he can hear from your suppressed sniffles and the subtle clenching of your jaw that you’re trying to hold it in, trying not to cry so much. now this, he doesn’t understand why. do you not feel comfortable around him to let yourself go?

“cry as much as you need to, belladonna, i’ll be here for you, all the way.”

you’re receptive to it, as he can tell by the way you clutch on to his shirt tightly, your nails bound to leave crescent-shaped indentations on your palms. you continue to pour your emotions out through your eyes, with dazai patiently waiting, one arm round your back and the other pulling locks of your hair away from your face.

he never once thought that he would ever associate tear-stained cheeks and humid heat with perfect, but that’s what he thinks now. but no, that’s inaccurate. he thinks the crab dishes you make and the way the sun hits your face is also second to none.

“hey,” dazai calls out your name, planting a kiss upon your eyelids before flashing you a confident grin, “whatever it is, i know you’ve got this, okay?”

in comes your self-deprecating laugh, a sign of your inherent doubt in your own abilities, or rather, the lack thereof. “i just feel like i’m screwing everything up and that everything’s just piling one on top of the other and…”

dazai lets you ramble on, lets you get that weight off your chest. doesn’t interrupt you with pointless, empty sugar-coated consolations. instead he makes sure you tell him of every single thing that’s bothering you now (of your own volition, because he never forces you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with). and when you finally fall silent save for the sound of your heavy breathing, he knows that there is something that’s still stuck in the back of your head. something that surpasses the average problems that school and work proposes.

but he doesn’t press. instead, you find him baring his soul. a different kind of comfort, the most effective one in your book, and it’s still comfort all the same.

“i think, despite everything i’ve been through,” he lets his digits caress down from your temple to your chin, curving his index finger and tilting you upwards so he can look into your eyes as he tries to tell you of something important, “you’re one of the strongest people i’ve ever met.”

your mouth is slightly agape, as though you wanted to say something but you decide against it midway. dazai chuckles knowingly, “you know i’ll never say things i don’t mean, belladonna —” a peck on the lips, and he licks the saltiness away — “never to you.”

everyone can remind you of how strong you are, but none of them will ever carry the weight that dazai’s brings. with him you know he means it, you know he’s serious. because he never takes these things — or you, for that fact — lightly. and you can’t seem to think of how good you must have been in your life to deserve someone like him; someone who knows to be patient and makes you an exception although he’s not one to be known for doing so.

you feel special, wanted, significant.

and he doesn’t let up on it for the rest of the night. he leaves you for just a moment, so you take the chance to slip out into something more cosy. this means oversized sweaters and shorts. and you are pleasantly surprised when your boyfriend comes into the room armed with snacks and hot chocolate, which, in his head, represents a delectable heat to shelter through the storm.

he even has all your favourite movies and series lined up in a folder on your smart television, choosing one at random to start with while he lets you settle into his arms. all through the shows, he does subtle things like feed you a piece before feeding himself, and lightly squeezing your arm in a constant pattern (which you later learn on your own is morse for ‘i love you’). it’s in these little things that surprisingly touch you the most.

it’s in how he doesn’t — despite knowing many things — actually know how to be the least bit comforting yet he tries anyway, even to go so far as to act like he knows what he’s doing. it doesn’t escape your notice. you know that dazai osamu is many things; a suicidal maniac, a feared enemy, a questionable lover (to others but never to you). but one sure thing is, to you, he’s a perfect escape.

he’s perfect.

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @smoochi-dazai @animatedarchives please ask me to be added/removed! <3

[foodcourtdetective]

Sleeping with Other People AU: Chapter One: First Time

summary: Dr. Spencer Reid runs into his first time Y/N after a car chase gone bad. They decide not to complicate their friendship by not sleeping together, but it proves to be harder than they think as they slowly fall terribly in love with each other. 

tags: sleeping with other people au, first time, virgin!spencer reid, slow burn, college!spencer reid but only in chapter 1, friends to lovers, TENSION, sexual themes, commitment issues, brief mention of cannibalism but it’s praying mantises calm down armie hammer

A/N: I have 12 parts planned out so please don’t let this flop girlies and non-binary buddies

word count 1.8k

AO3 x

May 13, 1999. Spencer Reid would not attempt to remember a day as unremarkable as this one. Sure, Mozart's first opera premiered, and the Bezalel Art School opened on the other May 13ths of history. But this particular date was in the midst of his finals. He was trying to work through a particularly difficult physics calculation when suddenly—

"HEYYYYYYYY!!! SOBEVICH??? YOU HERE, BUD???" The banging on his door, paired with an intoxicated feminine screeching, was incessant. Reid scoffed, maintaining focus on the task at hand. If you divide x by—

"MATTTTTHEEWWWW??!! COME GET Y'ALL'S JUICE!!" In response, he slammed the pencil down. A little shouting and banging wouldn't typically break his concentration that quickly. However, certain variables (a lack of sleep, other commotion in the dorms prior, not to mention a certain someone not responding to his AOL messages for over 48 hours) had brought him to the edge faster than a cliff diver. Rolling up the sleeves of his sweater and pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, Reid stormed up to his door and yanked it open.

"Heyyyyy wait a second... youuuuuu aren't Matty boyyyyy!" The nuisance in question wasn't his type at all. Her hair was too black and choppy, her eyes too dark with liner smudged everywhere, and her skirt was basically a napkin over her lap that highlighted her purple panties that were visible to anyone with eyes. Her painted lips twisted into a pout as she looked him up in down with interest. Before he could speak, RA Gideon turned the corner of the hallway and, spotting his target, picked up his pace.

"YOU! Young lady, you're not supposed to enter a dorm without getting signed in!" The girl snapped her gaze away from Reid to roll her eyes and drunkenly face the RA.

"I'm heeere! Can't someone else sign in for me?? I'm waiting for a friennnnd!" Gideon's face darkened with barely veiled annoyance, looking over to Reid.

"Is this girl bothering you? I can call campus police to escort her—"

"N-no! It's fine! She's here to see my roommate Matthew." Reid grabbed the clipboard out and scribbled down the details, looking frantically at the girl for her name.

"Y/N L/N aaaand NERDDD BOY are besties!!" She slurred in response. Gideon huffed as he scanned Reid's face carefully.

"Are you sure, Reid? She's your responsibility if anything happens." The student nodded once in reply, muttering thanks as he handed over the clipboard. Taking Y/N by the wrist, Reid pulled her into his room. He shut the door behind them with urgency but was careful not to slam it. Y/N scratched her bare knee lethargically, accidentally flashing him further.

"Alllrighty, here you look a little cold," he squeaked, awkwardly averting his eyes and turning his attention to his dresser to grab her a Cal Tech sweater his mom made him before she had to leave home. Y/N stumbled, leaning on the bed for stability as she took her heels off. As she did so, she took notice of the two beds pushed together.

"Does Matty even live here?? The beds are holding hands?" Reid managed a pitiful laugh as he tossed her the sweater. Pulling a face, she pulled it on. He gulped, noticing the hem barely skimmed her thighs. At least the purple is put away. Realizing he had caused a long pause in the terrible attempt at conversation, Reid quickly looked away from Y/N again.

"N-no, he lives with his boyfriend at Baker." Y/N's eyes widened, her lip trembling a little bit in shock as she hugged herself with the too-big sleeves.

"Dammmn, I shoulda known a brainiac like that was a bisexual. Didn't peg him for playing so hard to get otherwise."

"Did he try to flirt with you? Because he's basically married to Adam and not to mention the stereotype of bisexuals cheating-"

"is inaccurate and offensive blah blah blah I know, I am one... Nah, I was just hoping that being more forward would seal the deal! But I would never purposefully try to hook up with someone taken... and you're no longer listening to me," Y/N cut off her rambling as he had gravitated helplessly towards his brick of a computer with a glowing screen. He chewed on his lip thoughtlessly, only looking up when he felt Y/N's exasperated gaze on him.

"Sorry, I-I've been waiting for a message..." Y/N scuffled over beside him, her bare feet sticking slightly to the wood floor. Reid winced as she leaned across him to rest her hands beside the keyboard. He tried to move out of her way, but she ended up with her back pressed against him. Don't be embarrassing. Digits of Pi GO! 3.1415926—

"Oh, I know Jennifer! We went to East Allegheny. Fucking smoke show, but she has this praying mantis vibe," she said matter of factly. Reid's mouth gaped open and closed.

"A-what vibe?"

"You know... how they fuck! With the—"

"Female praying mantis engaging in cannibalistic mating behavior, biting off the head or legs of her mate and eating them. I've heard of it, but you should know that that behavior occurs in less than 30 percent of all mating sessions in the wild." As Reid rattled on, he slowly became aware of her piercing eyes on him and the warmth of her back. He sucked in a breath, cutting himself off from going further.

"Wow! Guess you weren't really studying! I'm sorry I interrupted your terrible Thursday evening," she quipped, gesturing to the now-abandoned physics equation. He hurried to close the notebook, tucking it away in his desk as he began to sweat.

"Oh, that! That wasn't studying! I was calculating to calm down." Reid somehow didn't expect the not-unfriendly laugh to erupt in front of him. She bent down to brace herself on her upper thighs as she guffawed, unintentionally pulling the sweater up from the back. Without thinking, he pulled it down for her dignity, but she grabbed his wrist tightly as he completed the action and locked eyes with him.

"What are you, a physicist?" She asked playfully. He gulped again as Y/N watched the movement of his prominent Adam's apple.

"N-not really. I'm working on my chemistry and mathematics masters right now, but I finished my physics MA last semester." She whistled in response, impressed.

"They LET you have that many?? Wait..." Her heated eye contact wavered, flicking up and down his body.

"There's no way! You're only like sixteen!"

"I'm EIGHT-teen! And yeah, I signed a waiver saying that MIT is not responsible for any poor grades or drops in my mental state," he winced as his voice cracked on his age.

"Guess what they say about MIT being smarted than BU kids is right! My med-track major could never be as flexible as yours, virgin," Y/N quipped, cheekily checking out the dark flush of crimson on his cheeks as he pulled away from her grip, facing the wall in frustration of two different types.

"WH-WHY! Why would you-"

"Spence, you're waiting by the computer for a direct message!" Reid sputtered in response, the nickname he had signed off as in her mouth sounded both so wrong and so right as he adjusted his stance to hide an unfortunate situation going on downstairs. Y/N rolled her eyes again as Reid suddenly realized that he loved the color of her eyes more than any color he had ever seen in his life, including Jennifer's. After a long, not uncomfortable, silence, Y/N made a step toward him, suddenly hesitant.

"Don't get your sweater all wrinkled! I'm a virgin too. That's why I came— you better fix that expression on your face, kid!" Reid realized that his shock had painted his face too clearly, flapping his hands frantically as he watched her face drop. The visible vulnerability struck a nerve within him; he didn't know if it was good or bad. As she turned back to the computer, he touched her shoulder in an attempt to get her to look at him.

"NO! No! Not in a bad way! Just individuals who are sexually confident in their self-image with a certain presentation tend to have already completed the act!" Y/N scoffed, rolling her shoulder to get away as if it burned her.

"PLEASE! Now who's engaging in the stereotypes, genius?"

"I'm sorry! You're just too beaut-attract-hot..." Reid kept cutting himself off in an attempt to quantify her looks properly. Y/N chuckled to herself, charmed as she finally looked to watch him fluster himself to try to rectify the insult.

"It's okay... You don't have to say anything. I mean, I couldn't even get Matthew fucking Sobevich to fuck me. As the guest TA, he managed to make four of my classmates pass out within the hour." She cast her eyes downward, fiddling with the loose string on the sweater near the sleeve. Reid swallowed, stepping closer to her. He bent his knees, basically in a squat, to try to get eye contact.

"You deserve better than Matt. I mean, look at you!" He gestured awkwardly at her whole body before framing her face with his fingertips. Y/N finally looked at him, the inner workings of her thoughts almost visible in her eyes as she straightened her gaze to bring him standing up. She cautiously brought her hand up to his chest, right over his heart.

"Well, if you want to date someone like JJ... you might want some experience... We could-- let's get it out of the way!" Y/N carefully explained her idea, her fingers walking up to brush against his Adam's apple. Reid shivered, pulling away to retreat toward his bed, almost involuntarily giving in to her plan.

"I-this was all supposed to be very romantic!! And-and now you've gone and just fucked it up!!" He squealed, watching as Y/N crossed her arms to take off his sweater from the bottom. She came over to sit on the bed, thoughtfully taking a second to let him gather himself before curling her index finger under his chin to get him to look at her.

"You are going to drive some girl crazy someday. With your long, Kurt Cobain hair and that infuriating mouth of yours," Y/N whispered sincerely, moving her finger to trace up his jaw and to hook under his glasses. Reid's breathing hitched, but he kept his gaze on her as she pulled his glasses off and gently put them on the nightstand.

"Say the word, and I'll stop. Say you don't want this, and we won't," Y/N continued, her other hand shaking on his knee as she inched closer to him. As she closed her eyes, Reid closed the gap between them, the hiss of heavy breathing from his nose the only noise in the room. She responded immediately, wrapping her fingers in his hair as they fell against the bed. Suddenly, May 13, 1999, wasn't so unremarkable after all.