#because they fucking suck at everything they do and are incapable of actually focusing on real problems

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

GOD I FUCKING HATE RISHI SUNAK

[honeypiehotchner]

That’s When (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part three of Bye Bye, Baby

Part three has arrived! Guys, this was so much fun to write and this part made me so weepy. Thank y’all so much for reading <3

Loosely based on “That’s When” by Taylor Swift ft. Keith Urban xx

Summary: Juliet wants to meet Aaron, so you set it up. Things go better than you were expecting.

Warnings: angst, happy ending!

Word count: 3.7k this time EYE

Bye Bye, Baby (part one) || Don’t You (part two) || Hotch Masterlist

You said, “I know,” when I said I need some time, need some space/to think about all of this

You pour the coffee Aaron got you down the drain. You took maybe two sips on your way home.

Juliet is still with Dannie, but she’s on her way now to drop her off. And once Jules is asleep, you’ll be filling Dannie in on everything.

Easier said than done, because Juliet all but refuses to fall asleep.

“Munchkin,” you sigh. “You have school tomorrow.”

“M’not tired.”

You give her a look.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” She asks out of nowhere. “You look sad.”

“I’m okay, baby,” you whisper, even though you nearly start crying. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“French toast for breakfast?”

You chuckle, tapping her nose gently. “French toast. You got it.”

“Love you bunches,” she murmurs, already falling asleep.

You lean over and kiss her forehead. “Love you, munchkin.”

Juliet keeps her eyes closed as you stand and turn off the light, and you don’t doubt that she’s fast asleep by the time you pull her door closed.

Dannie is waiting on the couch, two glasses of wine already poured.

“You know me too well,” you laugh, taking your glass from her. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s your wine,” Dannie grins.

“Right.”

Dannie watches you stare at your wine. Something you never do.

“How’d it go?” She asks. “It looks like it went bad.”

You snort. “Well, it wasn’t great.”

You watched me go/And I knew my words were hard to hear

“Oh boy.” Dannie shifts her body and faces you on the couch, her legs bent underneath her. “Go on.”

“His first question was if she’s his.”

Dannie scrunches her nose in disgust, an expression Jules has picked up from her. “What did you say?”

“That she’s mine, but he is her dad,” you exhale shakily. “I forgot she has his dimples, too.”

Dannie smiles sadly. “Honey…”

“Yeah, it was bad,” you admit. “It was so easy to forget all of that when I was angry and when I was too busy being pregnant,” you joke. “Seeing him just opened that door again.”

You swirl your wine for a second. “He said he wants to meet her. I told him I’d have to ask her first.”

“That’s good,” Dannie nods.

“How do I even bring that up?” You ask, defeated. “And what if she says no?”

“Then she says no,” Dannie shrugs her shoulders. “Then life goes back the way it was.”

You take in a deep breath. “Is it wrong that I kind of want her to say no?”

“I think that’s very motherly of you,” Dannie smiles. “You’ve protected her so well, I hope you know that.”

“I’ve tried.” You take a big sip of wine before your next sentence. “He asked me for a second chance.”

Dannie blinks. “Seriously?”

You nod.

“Did you tell him about the phone calls? He’s ignored you this whole time and now just because he realized he’s a father, he wants a second chance?” Dannie scoffs loudly. “Maybe I want her to say no, too. I hate men.”

You nearly inhale your wine in laughter. “You and me both.”

+++

As it turns out, bringing up Aaron to Juliet is easy. She asks you the next night why you still look sad, and you use it to bring him up.

“I’m not sad, munchkin, I’m just thinking really hard about something.”

Juliet furrows her eyebrows. “What?”

You slide off the couch to sit on the floor next to her where she’s coloring a picture of Elsa. “Remember how I told you that your dad and I don’t talk anymore?”

It was the easiest way to explain Aaron’s absence when Juliet started to ask about it. It was hard to think about because you and Aaron were never married, he didn’t die, and to make matters worse, he had no idea Juliet existed.

She nods, picking up a blue marker. “Yeah, you said adults have to stop talking to each other sometimes.”

“That’s right,” you nod. “Sometimes it’s better for us if we don’t speak. But sometimes, after a while, we can start talking again.”

“Okay.”’

“Well, your dad and I have started talking again,” you pause. “And he said he’d like to meet you. But only if you want to.”

Juliet thinks for a moment, then shrugs, switching to an orange marker. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” You ask, just to be sure. “Where do you want to go?”

“I can pick?”

“Sure can. Wherever you want.”

“Hmm,” she taps her chin for emphasis, and you try hard not to laugh. “What about McDonalds in the park?”

It’s a somewhat tradition of yours to get McDonalds, then go to her favorite park and have a picnic. It’s one of her favorite things to do, so you should’ve known.

“I love that,” you smile. “What about this Saturday?”

“Mhm!” She nods. “Can Dannie come, too?”

“I’ll ask her, but I don’t see why not.”

Juliet is completely satisfied with this answer and goes right back to coloring Elsa.

You chuckle quietly. Kids.

+++

It’s almost noon by the time you get Juliet in the car. And surprisingly, you were the one running behind today. Juliet was ready and sitting on your bed, watching you get dressed before you had even done your hair.

Now, though, you’ve picked up Dannie, and the three of you are headed to McDonalds.

Juliet hasn’t mentioned meeting Aaron once this morning, but she has talked about McDonalds at least four times now.

“How are you holding up?” Dannie asks while Juliet is occupied singing along to ‘Let It Go.’

“Nervous,” you admit quietly. “Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t turn down McDonalds any day,” Dannie scoffs, then turns around to Juliet. “Are you excited?”

Listening to the two of them ramble makes you smile wide, and the drive to the park feels infinitely shorter.

You told Aaron you’d text him when you get there, so he can come over. He said he’d already be there, but for what reason you have no clue.

All you care about is setting out the blanket and getting Juliet to eat her food before she plays with her new Frozen toy.

Truthfully, you’re expecting him to text you and say he called on a case. Not that you blame him because you’ve been there, the BAU is unpredictable like that. But you wouldn’t be surprised.

However, you are surprised when Aaron jogs over.

Yes, jogs.

In shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers, with sweat clinging to his hair, he jogs over. And you lose all semblance of reality. There’s cotton in your mouth. Good fucking god, he looks good.

“When the hell did you start running?” It's the first thing that comes out of your mouth, and it’s complete word vomit.

Juliet gasps dramatically. “Bad word, Mommy.”

Dannie tries and fails to hold in her laugh.

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “Bad word.”

Aaron, with a smile, answers your question. “The BAU is having a triathlon. I’m training for it.”

“When is it?” You ask without entirely meaning to. You hate how easily you fall right back into conversation with him, how easily he makes you dumbfounded just by his looks.

“In a few weeks, so I’ve got some time,” he breathes. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, scooting over. “Here, I got some nuggets.” You ordered enough for the two of you to share, mostly to save money, but now you’re realizing the implications of it.

You don’t have time to think about that, though, because Juliet has been staring at Aaron for a few moments.

“Munchkin?” You ask. Dannie nudges Juliet’s arm.

“Didn’t you hit us in the grocery store?”

Dannie bursts into laughter then, unable to control it this time, and thankfully, Aaron laughs, too.

“I did,” he nods. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Aaron,” Juliet says, going right back to her nuggets, sandwiching fries in between two pieces of chicken.

His eyebrows raise and he looks at you.

All you can do is shrug. “She forgets nothing.”

From there, lunch is...uneventful.

Juliet is more focused on playing than she is talking to Aaron, but thankfully, she doesn’t seem upset by him being here.

Dannie asks him a couple questions, mostly standard ones. “What’s the BAU like? I bet the hours suck. You’re unit chief, too, right?”

Aaron answers everything politely, and seems mostly at ease.

After a while, you begin to relax, too.

You have no choice, really, when Juliet feels comfortable to ask questions like, “Are you really my dad? Why weren’t you talking to my mommy?”

Aaron handles the questions like a pro. “I am. Your mom and I needed some time to ourselves, so that’s why we weren’t talking.”

“Adults are weird,” she says, but she seems satisfied with his answers and even hands him her Olaf toy. “I’m gonna go swing.”

Aaron chuckles and sets Olaf in the shade of his leg. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t melt.”

Juliet tilts her head. “He’s a toy, he won’t melt.”

This time you’re the one incapable of holding in your laughter.

“Dannie, come on!” Juliet yells out, giggling when Dannie nearly trips over her feet to stand up.

As they run off, you start picking up Juliet’s trash and stuffing it back in the bag.

“Here, I’ll run it over to the trash can.”

You turn your head to Aaron with a smirk. “You’ll run it over there? Promise?”

He gives you a look.

He doesn’t actually take it over to the trash can because he goes completely still, then says, “She has my eyes.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. She does. Your dimples, too.”

He smiles. “Thank god she got your nose, though.”

“What?” You whip your head around. “She has your nose.”

“She does not,” he argues. “And as I said, thank god.”

“Oh, shut up, I love your nose.”

His smile is never-ending. “Really?”

You move on from it quickly. “Thanks for meeting us today.”

“Thank you for letting me.”

You nod slowly, deciding to blurt out what’s been eating at you. “You know, if— If you’re doing this just to get a second chance with me, please don’t.”

“I’m not.”

“Because I don’t need that kind of stress, and Juliet doesn’t either—”

I said, “I know,” when you said I did you wrong/made mistakes, and put you through all of this

“Y/N,” Aaron’s hand rests gently on your arm, getting your attention. He lifts it when you stop talking. “I’m not. I’m doing this because I want to be a part of her life, as her dad. I wasn’t there for her, or you, and I’m sorry. I just want to make it right. Let me make it up to you — to her.”

You stare at him closely, watching. “You mean that?”

He nods. “I do. And I’m so sorry my actions in the past made you think differently of me.”

“I just don’t want her to get hurt,” you murmur. “She’s my baby.”

“I know,” Aaron says. “I know.”

+++

Co-parenting with Aaron is surprisingly easy. Or maybe he makes it easy.

Every Saturday, you and Juliet meet him in the park for a picnic lunch after he’s done training for the triathlon. Sometimes you get there early — which happens nearly every week as Juliet becomes more eager to see him — and you get to cheer Aaron on as he finishes his run.

Dannie comes sometimes, but the few times that she hasn’t have been just as pleasant.

Aaron keeps his word. He does this to spend time with Juliet as her dad, and he doesn’t make any advances on you. The two of you don’t even hug at the end of the afternoon, but Juliet has taken to running and jumping in his arms.

She’s growing more and more attached to him every week, and you hate the dread that you feel. So far, you’ve been lucky. Aaron’s cases have been during the week, so he hasn’t missed a single Saturday — yet.

It’s one of the reasons you are grateful for your transfer at the time four years ago. If you had been in as unpredictable of a job as the BAU when you were pregnant, or when Juliet was born, you have no idea how you would’ve done it. Your job now is a perfect 8 to 5, sometimes 6, but that’s only been a handful of times in the past four years.

Juliet is used to you being there every day. And now, she’s getting used to seeing Aaron every week. You’re just bracing yourself for the time when he has a case and won’t be able to make it.

You try not to think that far ahead, but you can’t help yourself. You were once an agent under him. You know just how crazy the BAU can get. You know exactly what to expect when it gets busy.

Which is why you don’t understand the feelings that are growing inside of you.

You told him he wasn’t getting a second chance — at least not right now. Because you don’t have it in you, and you don’t want to do that to Juliet if it doesn’t work out.

But that was before things started working out.

And you said, “When can I come back?”

Before he never missed a single Saturday. Before he insisted on a birthday dinner when he realized her birthday was a few months ago. Before she started running into his arms. Before he started lifting her up and spinning her around, listening to her giggles as she squealed, “Mommy! I’m flying!” Before she fell asleep on the blanket in the park, and he moved over to shield her from the sun, all while still talking to you.

Now, you don’t know what to do. It sounds awful, but you didn’t expect him to prove himself this well.

You’ve always loved him. That is easy enough to recognize and admit. But you never imagined feeling this way again.

“Mommy?” Juliet pushes your bedroom door open a little.

You sit up, patting your bed. “Good morning, munchkin. C’mere.”

She climbs into bed and right to your side, and you spread the blanket over her, letting her snuggle into your side.

After a moment, you think she’s asleep, but then she whispers, “Are you and dad going to stop talking again?”

You freeze. Up until now, Juliet has called him “Aaron.” Obviously, she knows Aaron is her dad, but she’s never called him that.

“Why do you ask that, baby?” You murmur, kissing the top of her head.

“I don’t want you guys to stop talking again. I like hanging out with him.” She buries her head further into your chest. “He makes me laugh.”

Tears fill your eyes. “He makes me laugh, too.”

“I know,” she smiles into your shirt. “He looks at you a lot.”

“What?”

“When you’re not looking,” she whispers, half-asleep again. “He smiles a lot. He has dimples like me.”

“He does,” you smile softly, wiping your tears away.

+++

The day of the triathlon, Juliet is more than eager to get to the park to cheer Aaron on.

You, on the other hand, feel like you could throw up from the thought of it.

Aaron told you the rest of the team will be there, and you’re grateful for the heads up, but you’re also nervous as shit. You haven’t seen them since your send off party. You haven’t texted with Penelope and Derek in...probably two years now.

He said he didn’t tell the team you’re coming because he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but he also warned you that the team has been questioning him nonstop if he’s seeing someone. He said he’s told them that he isn’t, but of course, they think he’s lying.

Dannie comes with to the triathlon, mainly because Juliet asked her to. It’s been a few days since Juliet has seen Dannie because she was out of town for work, but now she’s back, so Juliet wants her around all the time again.

You’re grateful for Dannie’s presence once again to calm your nerves and offer distractions at every second.

Surprisingly, you don’t see the team anywhere when you arrive, so you, Juliet, and Dannie set up your chairs and blanket peacefully. It’s a while before Aaron will be over here for the run, the last part of the triathlon, so Juliet breaks out her coloring book at your and Dannie’s feet.

You and Dannie spend the wait while idly talking, and after about an hour, the first cheers begin echoing out.

Juliet perks up with the noise. “Is that dad?”

Dannie’s eyes snap to yours and she mouths, “Did she?”

You nod, smiling stupidly. It brings you way more joy to hear Juliet freely call Aaron her dad. Way more joy than you thought.

“Maybe,” you stand up and reach for Juliet’s hand. “Let’s go see.”

Juliet grabs your hand and starts tugging you toward the front, and Dannie follows with a laugh, watching you get drug away by a four-year-old.

A few runners are passing by, but none of them are Aaron. Juliet is watching impatiently, and squeals when Dannie lifts her up onto her shoulders.

“Can you see now, munchkin?” You ask, your hand resting gently on her back, even though Dannie is holding onto her ankles.

Juliet nods. “I see him!”

You look down the way, and you see him, too.

Your lips split into a grin almost immediately. His black shorts, black t-shirt, with his number pinned to the front. His hair is slick with sweat, and yet, you still have a burning desire to run your fingers through it.

Aaron moves to the side, running right next to you, giving Juliet a high five on his way by, and you, too, only when his fingers graze yours, he squeezes.

As soon as he crosses the finish line, Juliet is scrambling out of Dannie’s arms, and when she hits the ground, she runs.

You’re running after her, Dannie too, calling her name, because she really shouldn’t run off like that.

But your nerves calm down the second you see Juliet jumping into her dad’s arms.

Slowing to a walk, you shake your head with a smile as Aaron spins her around, squeezing her tightly.

“Hey,” he says when he sees you. “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“Me too,” you smile. “She wouldn’t let me miss it,” you nod toward Juliet.

“You’re smelly,” Juliet says out of nowhere, pinching her nose.

Dannie laughs loudly at her comment as Aaron sets her down. But despite her comment, she doesn’t move from next to him.

“Is that who I think it is?” Derek Morgan’s voice floats through your ears.

You turn around to face him, putting your hands on your hips. “Depends, who do you think it is?”

Derek grins wide. “Come here, you.”

You hug him tightly, and over his shoulder you see everyone else, all with shocked looks on their faces. JJ, Emily, Penelope, Spencer, and Rossi, too.

After giving out hugs all around, you look back to see Juliet still clinging to Aaron’s leg.

“Who is this?” Morgan asks quietly, kneeling down to Juliet’s level. “Hey there.”

She eyes him skeptically. “Hi.”

“Munchkin, this is Derek. He’s a friend, too.”

Derek waves.

“Do you like Frozen?” Juliet asks.

Derek nods seriously. “I love it.”

“Hmph,” she wraps her arm tighter around Aaron’s leg. The sight makes you want to crumble. She looks up at Aaron, and says, “Dad?” To get his attention.

Everyone stills. Even Derek.

“Yes, honey?” Aaron replies, kneeling down, too.

“Are they your friends, too?”

He nods. “We’re all really good friends.”

She shrugs. “Okay.” She looks around at everyone, and gasps when she sees Penelope. “I like your bracelet!”

Penelope looks down at it with a smile. “You wanna try it on?”

Juliet practically sprints toward Penelope with a dramatic nod.

While the two of them are playing with Pen’s jewelry, everyone else is looking at you and Hotch with blatantly shocked expressions.

“We’ll explain later,” you offer. “But the answer is yes.”

Rossi, bless him, breaks the awkward, silent tension. “Is anyone else starving?”

You laugh some nerves away. “Yeah, I am. We just need to go pack up our stuff.”

“I can help,” Aaron says.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod, glancing over at Juliet, but her, Penelope, JJ, and Emily are now sitting in the grass, talking animatedly about Frozen.

“I’ll stay over here,” Dannie says, nudging your arm.

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying to hide your dumb smile at the thought of being alone with Aaron, even if for only a few seconds.

Regardless, you try to keep your cool when you turn back to him. “We’re just over here.”

“Lead the way,” he gestures ahead.

You ignore all efforts to hide your smile now as you start walking. He falls into step beside you, his sweaty shoulder brushing yours, but you don’t mind.

And against all of your better judgement, you slide your hand into his.

His surprised look is priceless, and you can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes you. “What? Am I not allowed to make the first move?”

You don’t know if the red on his cheeks is from running or blushing. “No, no, you’re allowed.”

“Good,” you murmur, walking a little closer. Your things are far too close for your liking. You want to walk with him like this for longer.

When you stop next to your chairs, you don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t let go, either.

“Can I ask something?” He says, squeezing your hand.

“Sure.”

He steps closer, his toes nearly touching yours. “If you make the first move, am I allowed to make the second?”

You can’t help the violent swarm of butterflies in your stomach. “I think that’s how that works.” You pause, tilting your head, gesturing to how close your feet are. “Was that your move?”

He shakes his head. “No. This is.”

That’s when, when I saw your face/You let me in, and baby, that’s when

Aaron’s free hand holds your jaw as he kisses you in the same tender, gentle way that he used to, only this one has four years’ worth of apologies in every touch. You let go of his hand to smooth your hands on his chest, his neck, any place you can touch because it’s been too long. Way too long.

That’s when I want you/That’s when I love you/That’s when

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 1

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack warnings: lots of swear words  wc: 4.8k 

a/n: 

Thank you @tokyosdawn​ and @oii-sugasan​ for the betaread!

As always, let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. 

Prologue || masterlist

You notice an unfamiliar presence by the entrance. You stare at them for some time from your seat to see if they’ll leave, but after a few minutes of them standing idly there, you decide to deal with them.

“How may I help you?”

You cross your arms as soon as you reach the entrance. It’s a green-haired guy with freckles wearing casual clothes. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him somewhere. You study him, scrutinizing his build from the loose hoodie, which didn’t give anything away, down to his denim pants which verifies your hunch.

Yep. Most likely a volleyball player. 

You probably saw him play somewhere before if he’s familiar, but you haven’t seen him in any recent games.

“I’m sorry, but this gym is closed for training,” you announce strictly. You’re not sure if he's actually from other teams, but you’re not taking any chances. You can’t have people spying on your players. Never mind that this guy is doing a bad job of making it discreet.

“Oh, sorry,” he gives you a panicked apology which doesn’t decrease your suspicion one bit. “I’m Tsukki’s friend. I just came by to return his headphones.”

Tsu...kki?

You hear Kogane use that name for Tsukishima all the time but hearing it from this guy sounds different. It’s very warm and pleasant to the ears. 

“Tsukki,” you test it out with your own lips, liking the way it rolls out your tongue.

“Yeah. Tsukishima? Is he here?” the green-haired guy asks, thinking you don’t know who this ‘Tsukki’ is.

It’s decided. From now on, you’ll call him Tsukki too. Oohhh, you can’t wait to see how he’ll react as you roll the nickname of your tongue with your very own ‘pleasantness’ reserved only for Tsukishima.

But more importantly...

You scan the green-haired guy again as he takes out something from his bag; white Sony headphones. It’s Tsukishima’s alright. He always has the thing on his neck whenever he comes to the gym, when he leaves, and on bus rides during tournaments. It’s like his part of his anatomy.

Thinking back, it was no wonder he looked off you to you when he came in that afternoon -- he didn’t have his headphones around his neck.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. He’s not answering his phone, so I waited. If you don’t mind, can you give this to him?” the guy  asks while handing the headphones at you with a very kind smile and a faint blush that accentuated his freckles.

This is Tsukishima’s friend? This is his friend? For real? How can someone so adorable and nice be his friend? Not that Tsukishima is incapable of making friends, but this guy here is so timid, adorable, kind, and everything Tsukishima isn’t. 

“I’m sorry. What’s your name again?” A subtle smile forms on your face from how interesting this friend of Tsukishima’s is. 

“Uhh. Tadashi Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi? You’re positive you’ve heard that name somewhere. You rack your memory on where you could have possibly seen him from.

You clap your hands in realization. “Yamaguchi! Captain of Karasuno, the float server. Oh my God, I am so sorry for being so rude earlier.”

He seems surprised as well that you know him. You didn’t remember it immediately because it was years ago, but even in high school, you’ve followed volleyball teams that you find interesting. So when you became a manager, the players of the teams weren’t really new to you. 

“Do you still play?” you ask out of curiosity since he’s not in your grid. 

“For fun, yeah,” he responds, laughing nervously.

Oh my. That’s so precious of him. You walk closer towards him until you’re at his side. You rest a hand on his shoulder and lean a bit closer. “Do you mind if I call you, Yams?”

Yamaguchi flusters from your touch. Earlier, you were so scary, looking like you wanted to throw him out of the gym. Now, you’re suddenly too close with an overly friendly smile.

“S-sure,” he agrees out of the domineering aura you give off despite the nice smile you have. 

“Cool!”

He can tell you’re really pleased, but he doesn’t know why.

“We’re cutting practice today because our coach is out. You can wait for him inside if you want.” you offer nicely to which he accepts.

You must be the manager Tsukki is talking about, Yamaguchi thinks. You’re not at all what he expected. Granted, he based only off of Tsukki’s explicit and detailed descriptions of how ‘detestable’ you are. You were a bit stern a while ago but he can understand that because he was practically a stranger.

You’re a bit weird, sure, but you’re not as evil as his best friend says you are. It’s actually nice of you to let him come in. Tsukki always tells him not to go there because visitors aren’t allowed. 

“Can I ask your name as well?” He asks hesitantly.

“Oh right! My bad. I’m y/n. I’m their manager.” You stop in one of the benches and sit. You beckon him to join you.

“So, how long have you been friends with Tsukishima?” You ask while watching the team with their spiking drills. 

“We’ve been best friends since middle school.” 

You raise one eyebrow and break into a wide smile even with your watchful gaze focused on the team. He can’t tell if it’s because of him or you saw something mirthful. “Ahhh. I see.” 

“How’s he doing here?” Yamaguchi asks, curious to know what you think of Tsukki.

“Great! I’ve seen him play in high school and I thought he’s really smart. But being his manager? He’s a fucking piece of work. He finds it fun when he says something sarcastic to others. He sucks at team spirit. Everyone will be hyped as heck and he’d just be standing there giving us nothing. I have to manhandle him 90% of the time, and he despises me with a passion because of it.” You simper with your last statement. 

Yamaguchi wonders how Tsukki would react about being ‘manhandled.’ However, from what he can tell, you don’t actually despise Tsukki. On the contrary, your eyes twinkled with amusement as you talked about him, despite the sharpness of your words..

You settle down with a smile as you fixate your eyes on the subject of the conversation. 

“Honestly though, I think he’s a great player. He’s disciplined. When he’s at his best during matches, I could just kiss his big brain from the consistent smart plays he does. And between you and me, Yams. Behind those uncaring, dead eyes he has, I know he loves it here. He loves the sport.”

Yamaguchi is astounded at how profound your understanding of his best friend’s personality is. But yeah, he can see why Tsukki doesn’t like you. Tsukishima didn’t like the mere prospect of being ‘put in line.’

“Oh look. They’re done now. Let’s go call your friend.”

You cup your palms around your lips and take in a deep breath. “Tsukki!” 

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima both flinch when you suddenly yell.

Tsukishima shudders at how nauseating his nickname resonated from your pretentious, frilly voice. He could tell right away that it was you. He could recognize that tone from anywhere. In the three years you’ve been the manager, you never called him that. 

So why now?

He turns around to see what your deal is today, only to find you beaming with one hand in the air eagerly waving at him, and beside you is…Yamaguchi?

Yamaguchi joins you in waving at him. Your obnoxiousness and the obliviousness of his friend makes it even more odious. He should be used to it by now, but you always come up with more annoying antics to bug him with. 

“Tsukki!!” You call out again. “Your best friend is here.” You announce with all smiles. 

What the hell? Why did Yamaguchi tell you that? Knowing you, you’d find ways to use it against him. As if calling him by that nickname isn’t enough.

He lengthens his strides to your direction, and even though he’s trying his best to look unbothered, you know he is. It’s pretty easy for you to tell. After all, you’ve been observing every member so carefully to the point that you can pick up the changes in their demeanor and facial expression. Especially, Tsukki who was a pain in the ass in your first year of being a manager. You had to watch him more closely than others ‘cause aside from his well thought sarcasm, there’s literally nothing else you could get from him.

Having your eyes on him for three years, you became aware of the little changes in his front, like that barely noticeable scowl in the corner of lips and the slight squint of his eyes. 

He’s pissed. 

Oh lord. Why must Tsukishima be so goddamn entertaining? It’s even funnier that he doesn’t acknowledge you at all, turning his complete attention to his friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide you’re smiling.

“What’re you doing here?” He asks Yamaguchi disinterestedly. 

“He came here to return your headphones,” you answer on behalf of Yamaguchi. Tsukishima gives you only one quick glance before turning to his freckled visitor. “Let’s go. We’re done with training today.” Then he walks away to the lockers. 

Yamaguchi stands abruptly and bows to you. “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

You wave at him amicably. “Nice to meet you too, Yams.”

Tsukishima wished he didn’t hear that. Yamaguchi visits one time and you give him a nickname already? 

“She’s not that bad,” Yamaguchi comments once they’re out of the gym.

“Yeah. She’s worse.” He’d like to tell his friend not to interact with you, but what Yamaguchi does is not up to him. He can only warn him. “Don’t be swayed by her smiling face. She looks dumb, but something’s going on in her head all the time.” 

“She’s very pretty.”

He looks at Yamaguchi with a vexed frown. “So? That doesn’t change anything.”

Yamaguchi laughs nervously. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, it doesn’t. I just noticed.” He’s not going to deny that, but to him, that superficial shit doesn’t matter. You are a repugnant presence when you want to be, and that’s all he can ever associate your face with.

“I think she’s really looking out for the team though,” Yamaguchi points out. 

“I don’t wanna talk about her anymore.” He doesn’t need any more reminder of what he’s very much aware of. He doesn’t want to think about you when he doesn’t have to. Your presence already plagues him enough when you’re present. 

“Sorry! Anyways, I’m meeting with Yachi tonight. Wanna come?”

He wouldn’t mind going, but he has plans for tonight. “Can’t. I have a group project I have to finish.”

“It’s fine! Next time then.”

—

This is why Tsukishima hates group projects. He should’ve done the whole thing himself. Instead, he’s in a crowded bar (Or is it a club? He can’t tell the difference. Not that it matters anyway.) looking for his groupmate who thought it was best to put the data in a flash drive instead of uploading them somewhere he can access.

He can’t count the number of times someone has bumped on him. The place reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. He has trouble seeing because the lights are too dim. His ears hurt from the loud music banging on every corner.

He dials the number of his teammate again. One more unanswered call and he’s doing the project on his own from scratch.  It doesn’t matter if that means staying up all night because of it. He’d rather do that than stay in this foul place any longer than he should.

He navigates through the clusters of people, trying to spot his groupmate while ringing their phone. It’s a good thing he’s tall. If he isn’t, he’d be swept up by this sea of drunk party-goers by now.

His eyes scan the place for the millionth time, still listening to the endless ringing from his phone when he spots something in the crowd.

It’s not his groupmate however, but an oddball wearing a onesie pajama, looking completely out of place. The hood of the cloth is clad over half of their face but he has a very bad feeling who they are.

And just as he thought, you reveal your own face by pushing back the hood previously hiding it.

He’s not surprised you’re in this lame gathering organized by a fraternity in the university. But he’s not happy about it either. 

That’s it. He’s going home and he'll do the project himself. He can’t let you see him there.

Just as he’s about to step away, a guy starts getting handsy on you while you’re talking to another girl. You must have noticed it too because even though you keep conversing with the girl, you also keep swatting the hands of the guy.

Tsukishima is frozen in place. There is a busy tone on his cell now, but he doesn’t press redial right away. Right now, he’s deciding whether he should intervene or not. 

It isn’t like what you do or what happens to you outside the court is any of his business. Plus, he doesn’t want to get involved with you. Ever . But… something about the scene unfolding in front of him ticks him off. It is common sense that people should be left alone when they want to be left alone. But this imbecile… rather than being discouraged, the pervert becomes even more persistent. 

He steps closer to the scene pushing through the crowd. He decides to ‘nicely’ tell the perv off. You’re annoying, but you don’t deserve being harassed. But before he even gets close enough to cut in, you face the guy and shock everyone near you by giving the guy a well-executed jab on the face. 

Everyone stops whatever they’re doing and stares at you. Impressive, knowing how occupied everyone had been. Tsukishima doesn’t particularly like violence, but fuck . That was one mean hook delivered nicely on the guy’s lousy face. 

“I SAID FUCK OFF!” you shout at the guy who fell on his ass from your punch. The music was loud but because everyone froze from how you just sent a guy flying, your voice was heard. You take a deep breath and comb your hair back, glaring at the staring crowd.

Suddenly...

“YEAH!!” The place roars with cheers for you as you break into a wide smile for everyone. The bass drops and everyone is dancing around once more.

He sighs. Why did he even think you needed help? You manage a bunch of boys almost everyday. Good for him though. At least he didn’t have to interact with you and he can go home now. 

Or not.

Before he can make his retreat, your eyes meet - his full of charin and yours full of zest. You disregard whoever you’re talking to earlier, pushing everyone aside to reach him.

Tsukishima thinks that maybe he should have ran away when he had the chance. Maybe he could even have pretended to not see you.

Anyway, it is too late now.

“Oh my God. It really is you, Tsukki!” Your eyes are wide from disbelief and amusement from his presence in the place. “You actually go to these places?!”

He hasn’t answered yet, but you already cut him off by suddenly screaming when the song changed. “I LOVE THIS SONG!” He’s sure you weren’t talking to him. You were regarding the area eagerly like you were talking to everybody who’s there. 

Then you start moving weirdly. You’re swaying your hips in a one second late from the beat of the music. You’re banging your head side to side while you’re flailing your arms all over the place. You look like a fledgling who was just thrown out of the nest. 

“Are you supposed to be dancing?” He asks but you don’t hear it.

You look so horrendous that he’s getting secondhand embarrassment from the people around giving you second glances. This is his chance to get sarcastic with you, but you look like you won’t be ashamed of anything even if he does say something about that ghastly display of body movements. 

“C’mon Tsukki!” You grab his wrist and give him the unfortunate experience of ‘dancing’ with you while he stays completely still while you randomly swing his limb from one point to another. 

You don’t take Tsukishima as a person who’d go to parties. You don’t even have any clue as to what his idea of having fun is. You peg him to be someone who prefers the quiet rather than the chaos. Saying that seeing him here is surprising, is an understatement.

Even though you like seeing your players all serious with training, you want them to have a balanced lifestyle, especially those who are working or studying. Since there is no training tomorrow, you don’t mind seeing him here being a normal college student.

You take a peek at Tsukishima to see if he’s having a blast like you are, but only sees him standing still with an inconvenienced expression. You stop dancing and burst out laughing. Amidst all the people grooving around, he sticks out like a sore thumb because of his height and his evident discontent in being here. It’s like he’s a very tall building mistakenly built in the middle of a lively forest. 

You didn’t have the wrong impression of him. You’re spot on as you witness him getting even more displeased by the minute. 

You release his hand and put both of yours on your hips with a regaled smile. “What are you even doing here?!” 

He rolls his eyes, but he looks relieved that you finally stopped dancing. He mumbles something but is drowned out by the chatters and the loud music. “Sorry, what?!” He should know that the only reason he can hear you is because you’re basically yelling. At this rate, you expect him to walk out already. 

What you don’t  expect is for him to lean down with his mouth just an inch away from your ear. You instantly inhale his scent. You can tell that he hasn’t been here too long. He smells like citrus with a hint of mint, while everyone else smells like sweat and alcohol with a hint of vomit. You vaguely wonder what you smell like right now.

You’ve always pestered him, but this is the closest you two have been, so this is the first time you’re acquainted with his scent and find that you like it. You’ve never liked men with strong musky scents. You prefer it like this - refreshing and comforting, especially in this smoke-infested club.

“I’m looking for a classmate,” he whispers in your ear then quickly retreats back to his stoic standing position. Oh, of course. What are you suddenly flustered for? It’s much easier on your throat to be whispering than shouting your words. Yes, yes. You can really rely on Tsukishima for brainpower. 

You place your hands on his shoulder and tiptoe to reach his ear. Doing so, you only manage to reach his neck. He’s so tall that you had to gently tug him down a bit so he’d be able to hear you. 

“Who are you looking for? I know everyone here,” you mutter next to his cheeks. You retain your position so he wouldn’t have to repeat leaning and standing up from talking to you. But instead of answering your question, he slightly turns his neck to look at you, making your faces only centimeters apart.

Tsukishima thought you’re going to keep squawking your words like you were doing earlier. He didn’t think you’d mirror his action. It should’ve been a strange scenario with you gaping at him this close, but you two remain focused on each other with confusion and a hint of something completely foreign reflecting in both your eyes — a certain spark of attraction that shouldn’t have been there and neither of your expected. 

A miniscule hint of panic shows itself in your eyes, and in this proximity, Tsukishima doesn’t fail to notice it. You instantly take your hands off of him, planting your heels back on the floor to create a safe distance from him. 

You don’t completely falter though. You still have that stupid grin on your face, but he knows it’s forced.

There it is -- something he’s been waiting three years for. He waited for the moment that you’d show an opening that he could pick on and exploit as payback for the many times you’ve gotten on his nerves, but he didn’t anticipate it would be something like this. He wanted to see what riles you up and to be able to  tease you nonstop about it until he makes you uncomfortable the way you make him. 

Yet something tells him that he shouldn’t. As much as he wants to see that smile of yours completely stripped off and reduce you to flustered shambles, flirting with you isn’t how he’d do it. It doesn’t sit well with him. 

Still, he also wouldn’t scream his lungs out for you. So he dips down again, leveling his mouth against your ear. “Hiro Takahashi. He’s from our Herpetology class. Seen him?” He doesn't stand up straight as he waits for you to answer so you wouldn’t have any reason to touch him again.

He feels you nod, the soft skin of your cheek grazing against his. You murmur something but your voice is too low that even with the short distance, he doesn’t hear it very well. “Louder. I can’t hear you.”

But you don’t comply. Rather than raising your voice, you nestle your face closer to his. “Yeah. I saw him a while ago. I’ll help you look for him.”

He heard it, but his whole attention was on how warm your breath is and how your lips are ghosting over his ear. He feels goosebumps at the back of his neck and his mind starts reeling.

Fuck this. He should have started the project on his own. He shouldn’t have gone here. He should’ve left the moment he saw you. He shouldn’t be having this stupid interaction where you’re at a spitting distance. And even if you are, he shouldn’t be this affected . 

He hears rumbles of footsteps behind him accompanied by reverberating male voices which he couldn’t make sense of. “Going through!” Someone shouts but he hears it late, resulting in him getting knocked over when they pass by. 

He wouldn’t have staggered if not for you who was snuggled in front of him, which results in his footing faltering from the impact. He grabs your waist and pulls you to him to make sure you don’t fall over when you collide with him. Your reflexes probably kicked in as well as you wrap one arm around his neck and while your other hand clutches his shoulder.

“Shit!” He hisses on your temples. He would never go to a party again, even if someone pays him to do it. 

It was already bad when you two were only whispering to each other. Having your body pressed against his is three times worse. He doesn’t like anything about this, yet he can’t take his hands away from you. The crowd has long passed and the party rages on around you. He expects you to do something about it, push him away or say something stupid to irk him even more like you always do. 

You loosen your grip on him, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. And when you do, he realizes instantly that you’re held captive by whatever’s happening right now between the two of you. Your face is too close and goddamn, everyone was right. You really are pretty, especially right now that your mouth is shut. Even in the dim lighting he can see it -- the captivating spark in your eyes, your nose, and the shape of your lips.

He wets his lips unconsciously, all too aware of the warmth of your skin against his neck, and the curve of your hips against his palm.

He tries to quiet the havoc in his head. You’re adamant to not date anyone from the team. Surely, that meant not getting into anything remotely physical with them as well. So whatever the hell this is, you certainly won’t allow it to happen. Not that he wants it to happen. It’s just that you should really get the fuck out of his hold already. 

“Tsukishima,” you mutter his name with dangerous uncertainty that alerts all his senses, rendering him to dread the next words that will come out of your mouth with anticipation.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Even like this, you’re still the sly person he knows you are. By asking him that, you’re going to make him an accomplice in your own disobedience of the rule you, yourself, strictly imposed. 

As if he’ll agree to that. Did you really think he’d go along with this just because you look slightly more adorable this close to him with your doe eyes gleaming with apprehension as you wait for his answer? Of course not. Nothing about this is appealing, not even the way your lips are parted slightly as if you’re deliberately luring him in. 

He must have taken too long to respond because reluctance takes over whatever ounce of boldness you had about the situation. The shame your question brought gradually settles in your face.

He realizes right then that you’re just as conflicted as he is, so you start pulling away when he doesn’t say anything.

Rather than relief, he secures his grip on you to stop you from completely backing out. He replicates how you whispered into his ear, but purposely does it this time as he lets his lips rest on the shell of your ear, his next words going against every rational thought swimming in his head. Maybe it’s the atmosphere of this goddamn club, maybe it’s the way your body fits perfectly with his, or maybe it’s his own selfish curiosity getting the better of him, but he gives in. Against his better judgment, he gives in.

“Yeah. I can keep one, manager.” He hums grimly in your ear, intentionally stating that you’re their manager so you’re fully aware of what consequences these whispered nothings might have with your relationship.

You drag your face back just a little bit until your lips are just a breath away from his. Your eyes flick up to his just for one second as the unruly temptation lingers heavily around you two. 

Then you give in. 

He didn’t really know what he’s looking for when he agreed to this illogical spur of the moment tomfoolery, but at the first touch of your lips on his, he regrets it. He regrets it, but he doesn’t pull away. He didn’t have any expectations, but for fuck’s sake, you’re not supposed to taste this good. You certainly haven’t been drinking tonight. Your mouth tastes like honey and milk, coaxing him to nip on it further to have more. 

He’s seething. How can a pair of lips that spat a ton of shit be this fucking delicate. It doesn’t make sense. 

Your arm finds its way back around his neck while he draws you even closer as he waits for resentment or disgust to hit him, relentlessly sucking on the softness of your lips to find anything remotely unpleasant. But he finds neither. He only finds himself enjoying this despite the lack of privacy, the blasting music in the background, and the athlete-manager relationship he has with you.

He withdraws a bit, leaving you panting against his mouth. When you raise your gaze to him, he meets your bewildered orbs that even the dimmed blue led lights weren’t able to hide. 

Then your eyes drift behind him. 

You see something that instantly snaps you back to the wild persona he knows you have. Your whole body shudders when it sinks in your features what you two just did. You retrieve your arms quickly as if his skin burns yours.  

Your eyes are scorching with both embarrassment and determination when you grab his collar and yank him not so gently. “We tell no one about this shit!” You tell him aggressively and let him go instantly.

You put the hood of your onesie back and look down before gripping his shoulders to get him to turn around. 

A few steps away is the classmate he’s looking for. Before he calls for his irresponsible groupmate, he looks behind him to catch where you’re going, but you already disappeared. Even in this wretched place kilometers away from the gymnasium, you still manage to have the last word.

He fists his knuckles with anger. Out of all the maddening shit you put him through, this the worst.

Prologue || masterlist

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[ddarker-dreams]

Kinktober Day 5: Cramped Spaces. Mista x F Reader 🎀

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

This takes place in Guido Mista’s route, which branches off from the main Scarlet Ribbons story.

Description: Mista never has good timing, but this has to be the worst you’ve ever seen. Not SFW. Tags: Slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, blow jobs, boob jobs, throatfucking, and partially clothed sex. Word count: 1.5k.

You’ve never seen such a disaster of a night. 

The expectation of plans going exactly as they are meant to is one you’ve never held, especially when you’re paired up with Mista. Improvisation seems to be his middle name. That’s all well and good. What’s not good is the fact you’ve lost sight of your target, and are currently knee-deep in enemy territory. 

Mista is running just ahead, gun at the ready, and you’re following suit. You’re both concerned with the same thing, do you risk fighting here? This building isn’t an ideal place for Mista’s Stand. A cramped nightclub filled to the brim with tourists and locals alike, music blasting at full volume and strobe lights blinding. It’s too risky that bystanders would get caught in the middle.

Even if you could find a more open area to fight, that might not be in your best interest. The rumor of another gang selling narcotics at this establishment is what got you two assigned to this job. Getting in a fight with them now could lead to a full blown turf war, the last thing Passione needs at the moment. This was purely meant to be reconnaissance, not a confrontation. Now it feels like you’ve swatted at a wasp nest. 

Utilizing all your stamina to continue weaving in and out of the crowd behind Mista, he suddenly makes a sharp turn into a storage closet. Maybe he’s hoping to gather our bearings, you think. It’s a good idea for the two of you to be on the same page. You follow in behind him, closing the door and wrapping ribbons around the handle for good measure. There, now no one should be able to open it. 

“So, what are we supposed to do?” you speak up while shuffling around, trying to get used to this constrictive space. It doesn’t help that it’s so dark you can barely see a thing in here. “I’m pretty sure Mariano spotted one of us. God, what a mess... now they know we’re onto them. Should I call Bucciarati?” 

No response. 

Well, that’s odd. Mista’s nothing if not talkative. Frowning, you squint, eyes still adjusting to the dim light from a single lightbulb overhead. Mista’s chest is heaving for air. Was the run that winding? You were only sprinting for less than a minute, you’ve seen him exercising for longer periods of time than that. Concern floods into your being at his unnerving silence. Leaning closer to him, you inspect for any possible injuries, hearing how he inhales sharply as you brush against him in the process.

You’re not seeing any visible wounds. “Mista? Are you alright?” 

“A-ah, I’m fine [First], just... catching my breath, that’s all...” He trails off, gulping at the end of his sentence. Why does he sound so apprehensive? You feel something hard against the inside of your thigh, mind temporarily going blank. Wait. Hold on just a moment. Everything is starting to add up. Glancing down, you take notice of how your chest is pressing right against his. It doesn’t help that this outfit is particularly revealing, in hopes of blending in with the night crowd. Your cleavage is visible even in the sparse lighting. 

“For fucks sake, Mista,” you whisper yell to him, flicking his forehead. “Now is not the time for this!” 

“I know that! It’s just, god, you look so hot tonight and I just want to,” he takes a deep breath and cuts himself off. You can tell he’s trying his best to calm down, but now you feel flustered as well. “And we haven’t... well, y’know, in a while because we’re both so busy--” 

“You can’t be serious.” You deadpan. Here you two are, on the brink of a possible firefight, and Mista’s incapable of not being horny for just a few minutes. Not that you don’t understand where’s he coming from. With all the work on your plates it’s been far too long since you’ve been intimate together, warmth gathering between your legs at the thought. I guess we’re both a mess. How romantic.

It’s difficult to know what you’re doing without a clear source of light, but you start pulling his pants down, much to his surprise. “Babe, wait, what?” 

“Be quiet, would you,” you curse yourself for stuttering, cheeks flushing as you sink down to your knees. The last thing you need is for his head to be in the gutter when your lives are on the line. “I’ll just-- take care of this, so you can use your brain to full compacity again.” 

“It’s not like I’m complainin’ or anything, trust me. Fuck, okay, I’ll be honest, this is really hot. I’ve jerked off to the thought of this at least once... maybe twice, actually.” 

You manage to get his pants down as he rambles on. He bites his lower lip when you take his length out, which has hardened considerably. Running your fingers up and down his cock, you feel the most prominent veins throbbing from your movements. Stroking him further, the muscles in his legs go taut, and an idea comes to mind. The easy access of your revealing top allows for you to pull your boobs out. Mista’s mind goes blank when you settle his dick in between your cleavage. 

“Ahh, fuck, yes,” he groans, bucking into your movements frantically. “I’ve always wanted... to fuck those pretty tits of yours, nn...”  

You hum in acknowledgement, pressing your lips around the head of his cock. His precum tastes salty, but you don’t mind, tongue coming out to lap all of him up. Mista throws his head back at the sensation, numerous curses leaving his lips. It feels nice knowing you have this effect on him. While you pleasure his length with your chest, your mouth focuses on sucking and kissing the tip of his dick. 

Mista’s hands curl into your hair, pulling your face as close to him as he can. “Make good use of that cute little mouth of yours. Take all of me in.” 

Obliging to his command, you open your mouth further, taking in all of his pulsing cock. Mista doesn’t give you any time to adjust. He starts thrusting into your mouth, the sudden sensation causing you to gag. You press your hands on his thighs to keep your balance, feeling how his balls hit your chin with every desperate thrust. He’s too occupied fucking your mouth to think about anything, the loud wet noises he’s making, or the moans that continue falling from his lips. 

“Y-you like that, don’t you?” he gasps, slamming his dick into your mouth like a man possessed. “Little... slut... dressing like that... you wanted me to do this to you. Wanted me to use you like the little whore you are.” 

You whine against him, the vibration almost sending him over the edge.  “Nngh... I’m gonna come right in your mouth, take all of it...!” 

Just a few moments later, Mista lets out a low growl, halting his feverish movements. He releases hot loads of cum down your throat, pressing himself so tightly against you that it’s difficult to breathe. Your heart is pounding while he remains still, salty cum coating your tongue. He’s gasping for air when he finally pulls his softening dick from your mouth. Grimacing, you manage to swallow as he asked. Some globs of his cum dribbles down your face from your mouth. That’s going to be a pain to clean up... 

Neither of you say a word. Mista puts himself away, then offers you a hand to help get up. 

“What a gentleman.” You comment with a roll of your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe at your mouth. At least your lungs are able to get the air they so desperately need now. A part of you almost forgot the situation you were in entirely, too preoccupied with your horny boyfriend. Not that you’re much better, seeing as your panties are completely soaked. He’s gonna pay for that later. Now you have to walk around the rest of the night in these... 

“I second that,” Mista hums. He’s beaming at you, smoothing over your messy hair. “I’ll eat you out later, don’t even worry about it babe. Or we can just fuck, whatever you like.” 

“How about we find a way out of this mess first?” 

He blinks, realization hitting him. “Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about that.”

“Mista, you’re unbelievable...” 

[ato-matsuri]

On Agartha

Been a while since I’ve written a long text post, most of all one about Fate. It honestly inspires a lot of rambling in me, after all. But I don’t think, this time, it’s due to its good writing, the emotions it makes me feel, or anything good. This, my friend, is about Agartha. I should probably prelude that this contains a metric shit ton of Agartha spoilers. If you haven’t seen Agartha, and you’re actually wanting to see the story -- scroll past. But, having played through Agartha completely and rested on the story for a bit, I think I want to repeat what everyone else has for ages lol.

Agartha, on paper, is incredible. A subterranean world built off fantastical story off fantastical story, made by a woman known for her ability to weave story after story, within stories, on the fly, and from a database of every possible Arabian Nights tale. Where the fear Scheherazade has due to Shahryar's endless abuse and fearmongering has stretched even to men as a whole due to literal years of having to survive Shahryar. Where the only leaders were queens, where the only rebellion force was a man so horrifically corrupt that he'd easily fall for the tricks she played. Her intent -- to reveal magecraft forever, removing any power magecraft has, saving her from ever having to fight and face kings -- and die -- ever again. That... sounds pretty good when I describe it that way, huh? Now if only it were executed with any modicum of sense.

From the beginning, Agartha's writing struck me as remarkably odd. It was like I was watching someone desperately try to emulate Nasu's writing style -- but had absolutely no idea what made Nasu's writing so good. Its exposition dumps, rather than being interesting, ended up being thoroughly boring -- as they focused on the mundane, like the fact that moss glows to light up the landscape -- instead of the magical implications of a world like Agartha even existing to begin with. Albeit, with the mystery of Agartha at that time, we can safely assume that there wasn't much to focus on, but then why spend so damned long talking about this stuff?

The worldbuilding, while passable, feels fairly flawed in execution. The idea of a world made the way Agartha was could've made for some interesting commentary about the way men treated (and still do treat) women in modern society, but Agartha not only misses the point, but tumbles head-over-ass into the uncanny valley and makes the whole thing sound like a continent-wide BDSM session. There's barely any actual subtle or well-done symbolism to showcase misogyny in this way -- and while hyperbole can serve a good point at times, the hyperbole combined with the strangely sexual writing of these segments makes it feel less like commentary and more like a badly-done doujin.

For example -- El Dorado was as simple as it gets. Men are slaves/breeding machines/whatever. The whole 'breeding machine' thing is played off extensively, even with Penth -- a minor at this stage, mind you -- comments on using the protagonists as such breeding machines. I'll come back to this later, because this serves as another point.

Ys was a fucking cool concept -- a world ruled entirely by rampant consumerism and chaos. Men, in this world, are still second-class citizens, pretty much the playthings of the women around them. I say that Ys is the best kingdom comparatively, as it was at least more bearable than its other kingdoms, but it still felt weirdly sexual in its writing tone. Of course, following tone, Dahut (who I'll get back to later) smashes men constantly, and is very keen on fucking Guda as well, following a trend. It's played for comedy, mostly, but it's still uncomfortable as all hell. Even so, I note it's more bearable because it's a very slightly more subtle take on the whole 'misogyny' allegory -- these people are using men for basically whatever they want, and tossing them away after. I'd compare it to a few true crime cases of people who murdered, or assaulted women for no good reason at all, purely out of a want that was either denied (for good reason), or that the want itself was to inflict harm. While the allegory still does feel unintentional here, it's at least slightly less unintentional. It was probably mostly just by accident due to Agartha's generally uncomfortable writing style, but the allegory here feels a little more potent when it's not so blatantly a BDSM fic.

I hate the Nightless City, despite it again being a cool concept. A 'utopia' where speaking out at all means death -- where men are in concept free citizens, but in practice fall victim to the law if they look at someone funny. Again, in concept, great allegory. The law does not treat men and women the same -- and while it differs depending on the case which is preferred, the vast majority of the time, women are pretty much shafted by the legal system (see Brock Turner), especially in very conservative areas. Cases can be made for both genders being shafted, of course -- but for the purpose of this allegory, picking out the prejudices of the legal system against gender is a fair critique. But, like everything else Agartha does, these neat ideas fall flat in practice.

They barely touch at all on the allegory, and nobody seems to even realize it in the cast, making me further believe the allegories aren't intentional at all. In due fact, it's as if the writer didn't even realize that this could be read as an allegory. The men's plights make some sense, as they were yoinked out of nowhere into a world that hates them. But the Servants and Guda don't think about it at all past the 'wow men are slaves that sucks' -- barely even considering that this could be an allegory the world's creator made due to their own horrific circumstances. They do point this out, but to my knowledge, it's very late -- when Scheherazade's called on her bluff, only then is it ever mentioned, and only in passing at that. If anything, the fact they point this out so close to the ending makes the ending itself that much more insulting. But before I get to the ending, I think there's something else about Agartha that sets the scene for just how awful it is -- and that's the way the characters are written, and the dialogue that comes of it. For this, I'll split it up into the characters who portray this the most. I'll even describe their personalities in Agartha's context.

Guda: Crouching pervert, hidden Mash stan. A few non-sequiturs of Guda complimenting Mash despite the mood being completely broken by it. Guda's incapable of taking a situation seriously in Agartha, even when the world's basically due to be changed forever. They keep cracking jokes, creeping on Astolfo/d'Eon, and other such things even when people are literally dying all around him. For that matter, I clearly recall the scene where -- for no real reason -- Guda just changes gears with Mash in tow, and starts trying to decipher d'Eon's gender. There's absolutely no real context to this, nor any reason for Guda to do this. Further noted is the fact Guda has worked with d'Eon before, and should've probably realized d'Eon's situation by this point. The Nasuverse has always been a bit, er, behind on gender norms and such, but it's so prevalent in any scene with d'Eon it hurts -- especially in that particular scene.

Astolfo: Oddly enough, the most tolerable person here (sans one other person). Agartha's refusal to take itself seriously works remarkably well for Astolfo. And while Astolfo isn't exactly written well here either, the fact that Astolfo's always been a bit loopy makes them seem, well, more in character. They're responsible for some of the funnier moments in Agartha, with their input composing approximately 3/4 of the, like, seven or eight funny moments in Agartha proper. Even so, Astolfo's appearance sometimes hurts Agartha as much as they help it, probably since Astolfo is a bit of the reason Agartha won't take itself seriously.

d'Eon: Deserved fucking better. The previously mentioned scene was the worst offender by far in my eyes, with it coming out of fucking nowhere. d'Eon's paired with Astolfo as a buddy and fighting partner, which itself could've made for good material -- instead, d'Eon is constantly dragged into Astolfo's fanservice-y gimmicks, and d'Eon themselves are pretty often creeped on by Guda. I'd go out on a limb to say that d'Eon's implied dislike of gendered clothing (see the maid outfit) made their scenes wearing such outfits far more uncomfortable, especially with how distinctly sexual the Agartha humour is. I just hated it.

Columbus: I can't fucking believe I'm saying this, but Columbus was the funniest character in Agartha. And I don't even think that was intentional. Something about how unabashedly horrible he was caught me completely off guard -- I thought he'd end up sort of like Napoleon at a glance, someone whose Spirit Origin was completely changed due to Europe's collective worship of the dude -- but holy FUCK was I wrong. Something about the hilariously cursed faces Columbus pulls, combined with his loud-and-proud irredeemable evilness, made him a blast to watch -- and an even bigger blast to beat the shit out of. His, uh, toothy grin still cracks me up even a few weeks after playing it.

Penthesilea: One of a very large amount of people who really deserved better. She barely ever shows up -- and when she does, she voices her desire to turn Guda and co. into a breeding machine/slave (recall she's like. 16?), and pretty much throws the whole 'reasonable-ish zerk' thing out the window instantly, because Agartha decided to forego decent writing in favour of 'funny berserker hates achilles haha brrrrrr,' therefore losing pretty much all the characterization they could've given her. The lack of 'alternate views' that show her in greater detail make this far worse, which I'll go into later.

Dahut: God, wasted potential out the asshole! A woman who made an entire world that fucked around and needlessly consumed stuff, she's the epitome of such a belief. But that's all she is. I'd be able to forgive this awful writing if Scheherazade, who 'implanted' Drake onto Dahut, was a bad writer -- but she's fucking Scheherazade! Dahut's a completely flat character, who constantly tries to bed (and kill) Guda, and generally likes the idea of needless consumption. That's literally it. Again, could be explained if Dahut had difficulty keeping control of Drake's body and conscience -- but this isn't explored either! She's just a walking, talking missed opportunity.

Wu: God, look at her design. Do I even need to say more?! She falls under the same problem that the other rulers do -- shallow characterization, no opportunities to flesh them out, etc.

Scheherazade: She could've been so fucking amazing. Scheherazade's story is one ripe with interpretations the Fate series so loves to utilize -- and on paper, her character is amazing. It'd only be natural for someone like Schez to be this deeply traumatized after so many days on death's door -- not many could really get through that okay. The incredible storyteller who fears death, kings, and unconsciously, men as a whole -- creating Agartha as a subtle way of ensuring none of them harm her while she prepares her ultimate plan of revealing magecraft to the entire world. However, as with the other Agartha characters, she becomes cripplingly one-note. Bringing her fear of death above all else, she comes off as an unreasonable asshole, constantly freaking out about death and preserving exclusively herself to a fault. While one could argue it's partially due to a Pillar's influence, Phenex doesn't seem to have a hold on her at all -- it's a basic alliance, and nothing more, as the ending shows us. It just leaves her as a one-note death avoider, with no other character traits at all. I'd go into further detail, but I'm saving that for later.

Fergus: God fucking damnit, man. A literal child version of Fergus, who the entire cast constantly expects to sexually harass every woman in sight. He's a one-note flanderization of Fergus, just without the one character trait Agartha gave Fergus. It just makes him... boring, a character whose only character trait is his refusal to hit a woman. Like... Come on. The fact the entire team is so sure this literal child will start trying to hit on women is just uncomfortable to witness, and the fact he slowly starts gaining these traits feels less like him 'meeting his fate' as Fergus, and more like Agartha wants an excuse to sexually harass more of the cast.

The Fucking Ending I'm giving this its own category, because of just how much of a punch to the face it was. In short -- the plan to reveal magecraft is revealed, more jokes are made, bla bla bla. Agartha can't keep a serious mood at all. ...But the final few scenes take it to a whole other extreme.

Wu Zetian comes out of nowhere despite being squashed by Megalos earlier, stuffing Phenex into a pit of her weird water shit, placing Phenex in a state of 'life and death.' Child Fergus then sac's his own Spirit Origin to summon Fergus inside himself(???), thus gaining the power of Caladbolg to weaken Phenex enough for the player to destroy. ...However, Child Fergus just summoned Fergus inside his own body. So, what happens when you put Agartha!Fergus, a one-note sexual harasser, into the body of a child? You get the final scene of Agartha. For some reason, I guess you need more help from others to take out Phenex. To this end, Fergus decides to convince Schez to join their side. I'd like you to recall that FGO!Scheherazade is implied to have the trauma of Shahryar's abuse, sexual and physical, burned into her memory -- not just the whole death thing. In every form of the story, Shahryar abuses her in such a fashion almost nightly. It's to the point where Schez' first line of defence, and much of her skills, are as much oriented around storytelling as they are charm and seduction (moreso the former than the latter, albeit), because her defence mechanism was that as much as it was storytelling, to keep her abuser happy. This is a part of why Agartha is the way it is -- to keep such men away from her. Hell, there's not a single King in sight, save technically Fergus, and Chaldea's d'Eon and Astolfo. Fergus knows this. Hell, he heard this being called out. He's well aware how terrified she is. So, what does he do?

SEXUALLY HARASS HER. He claims she has to live to have kids. That men and women have to live to have kids. He claims that she should live, because he'd smash her. ...Now, that's insulting enough -- moreso, that it's played dead serious. Nobody even as much as calls him on such a shitty persuasion tactic, and nobody even mentions how awful it is to sexually harass a woman who'd been sexually assaulted at best for the better part of almost three straight years. AND IT. FUCKING. WORKS.

SCHEHERAZADE. IS IMPLIED. TO BE INTO IT.

And because of this, she's swayed to join the heroes and seal Phenex away for good -- giggling about how Fergus' worldview was partially correct even as she fades away. The epilogue features Fergus, sexually harassing Scheherazade ON SIGHT -- calling out 'tits on my 12:00' or whatever, as Scheherazade darts off. However, Schez isn't avoiding him due to trauma. She's avoiding it because, while she's into it, she doesn't want to 'die' so fast. This fucking ending highlights among the biggest issues with this damned Singularity. Even Blavatsky coming out of fucking nowhere to Deus Ex Machina a grail and help into Guda's hands -- despite seemingly being slaughtered by Columbus in a (admittedly a bit funny) way to get the base of the Resistance -- means nothing to me compared to the blatant slaughter of two characters at once. Fergus is a total horndog even outside of Agartha's reach, but he even notes he respects his partners' consent, and doesn't overstep his bounds if he makes them uncomfortable. Scheherazade isn't exactly trusting in the slightest, least of all in Agartha - she barely even begins trusting Guda due to Guda treating her with actual respect. Even then, she isn't actively prostrating herself for Guda in that sense, very likely due to the fact that's more of a defence mechanism to her rather than something she'd enjoy, due to extreme trauma. Albeit, Fate writing does leave the possibility in the air for Guda specifically, but that's very likely just due to Guda being Guda and being careful to treat her properly and help her than anything else (and also the whole 'self insert harem' thing, I guess, but that's a hell of a lot easier to ignore esp in contrast to Agartha) And yet, we see that epilogue, that butchers both of them in one fell swoop so badly that I almost ended up hating both of them. Agartha's biggest problem is that it tried to be deep and intriguing, while having the writing quality of the goddamned Valentine's events. It picked all the right characters to have an incredibly intriguing storyline, and fell flat because the author decided that playing sexual harassment, d'Eon's everything, and even the most serious scenes for comedy was more important than telling a story even half as meaningful as the chapters before it. Lo and behold -- to my knowledge, Minase wrote it. Of course he did. He chose the best, the most interesting characters he could find, and made them so fucking one-note that the story lost all its charm in moments. He chose to emulate Nasu without understanding what made Nasu's writing so good. He chose to make Agartha a laugh fest despite simultaneously trying to make it 'deep.' He chose to fall head-over-ass over a possibly interesting allegory into misogyny and fall right into sexualizing it to the point of feeling like a femdom BDSM fic. And go figure the only character he did decently was Christopher fucking Columbus. I have a hatred for Agartha I can't reasonably place anywhere else. Prillya was just as shitty, but I ignored it, because Prillya itself wasn't great, so of course the crossover sucks too. Valentine's events written by him weren't great, but whatever, it's a Valentine's event. Septem, written by someone else, was similarly not great. But it wasn't insulting. It simply wasn't great, and had a lot of wasted potential. But its ending wasn't out of character to the point of being insulting. Its story didn't make incredible mythological and historical figures too infuriating to like anymore. It didn't almost ruin entire Fate characters for me. Not the way Agartha did. I should probably contextualize that Scheherazade is among my favourite mythological figures. I introduced myself to her through Magi (lmao) due to further research into the base stories -- as well as a favourite Magic: The Gathering card, Shahrazad, which forced you to play a game within your game, like how Arabian Nights featured stories within stories.

Even in Fate outside of Agartha, I liked her. Her design didn't make much sense to me considering her character, but whatever, I didn't need to think too hard of it. It's just a design, and despite my hatred of Penth's design, I still love Penth as a character, so I can handle Schez. But Agartha painted her in such a way that all the subtlety and interesting parts of Schez went completely out the window. No longer was there any hidden references to the aftereffects of her life beyond 'i dun wan die,' and there was hardly an ounce of sympathy or kindness in her bones at all. While her being an anti-hero made some sense, especially as she was only a normal person with far above-average storytelling prowess, there was a point when she stopped being a 'good, but terrified person' and started being a complete asshole. And Agartha was that time. If it weren't for her Interlude, which redeemed her considerably, and Ooku, which did wonders for her character despite being written by Minase (as I believe Nasu was overseeing him at that point), I very likely would've never gone for her at all, despite my love of the myth. In Conclusion This rant is just to say that Agartha is bad. Horrific. Insulting, even. At every step where it could've been good, it tumbled head-over-ass into the most insulting, uncomfortable shit you could imagine. It failed to take itself seriously, and paced itself like a comedy event, but simultaneously acted as if it expected its audience to take it seriously. Like a clown brigade deciding to take on Les Mis, it loses all of its punch when every few lines is interrupted by a jab at Fergus, sexual harassment, or something that comes close to being cool before suddenly turning into a badly-timed joke, or suddenly becoming laden with dialogue so sexual it feels straight out of a porno. It's aggravating, awful, and with only brief reprieves of bareable comedy in between long, long lengths of hellish text and awful characterization. The only good part was the gameplay -- which, laden with interesting mechanics not seen elsewhere, was legitimately fun. My take? Avoid all Agartha cutscenes and plot, and just play the gameplay. The gameplay's fun, and if enjoyed on its own, would probably make for a far better experience than observing the story surrounding it. But good gameplay doesn't make up for a horrible story, especially in a game where plot is as important as it is in F/GO. Agartha's a pile of shit in my eyes, but that's ultimately only my opinion, and nothing more. If others have an opinion counter to mine, that's completely fine -- and don't let this analysis ruin your fun with Agartha if you enjoyed its plot. To be frank, I'd be happy if you enjoyed it where I could not. And if you think my takes are misinformed, or if I missed a spot (or overreacted to a spot), that's what the reblogs and comments are for! I'm definitely not the kind of dude who has the final say in matters like this -- this is only what I picked up. Thank you for reading!

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Azusa Ecstasy [Prologue]

Monologue

There is just one thing,

God has given to me.

Those are my friends.

Friends, different from Justin, Christina,

and Melissa.

Yuma, Kou.

And also Ruki.

They all live in the same orphanage,

alongside me.

I am sure they all have their own circumstances,

of how they ended up here.

All of us are harboring different scars,

the other simply cannot imagine.

However, even if we can’t relate,

we strangely enough understood each other.

That’s whyーー

ー The scene starts with a flashback in the orphanage

Ruki: Listen up. You have to move exactly according to plan.

Kou: Roger, roger~! Let’s bid farewell to this orphanage already and become free, okay?

Yuma: Yeah. No way I’m stayin’ in this hellhole forever.

Kou: Exactly! ...By the way, Azusa-kun, you’ve been quiet this whole time but were you actually listening to our escape plan?

Azusa: Eh? ...Y-Yeah...

Yuma: That doesn’t sound very convincin’...

Azusa: S-Sorry...

I-It’s fine. I was listening properly...I’ll go with all of you.

I’ll follow you guys to wherever you’re headed.

Ruki: ...Oi.

Azusa: ...?

Ruki: You shouldn’t go just because we are. The final decision is up to you.

Azusa: Up to me...?

Ruki: Exactly. ...So, what will you do?

Azusa: ...T-That’s...Wait, I’ll ask them...

*Rustle*

Azusa: ...Say, Justin? What do you think...?

( I wonder if there will be people willing to hurt me where we are headed? People giving me a reason to exist... )

Ruki: ...Haah...

Oi, you. Raise your head.

Azusa: Ehーー

*THUD*

Kou: Wah! H-Hold up, Ruki-kun!?

Ruki: ...

Yuma: Damn, did ya hear the sound it made...?

Kou: This isn’t the time to be impressed, is it!? Aah, geez...! Azusa-kun, are you okay?

Aah, you’re bleeding so much...Ruki-kun, you didn’t hold back one bit, did you?

Ruki: ーー Because I was disappointed.

Kou: Disappointed?

Ruki: Azusa, who do you think we are...?

Azusa: ...Eh...?

Ruki: We areーー Fuck!

Azusa: ...Fufu.

( Right...I have Ruki, so I’ll be okay. )

Ruki...Hit me more...

Ruki: Che...There’s really no talking with you, is there?

ー Ruki steps away

Azusa: Wait, Ruki!!

I’ll tag along! I’ll come with you out of my own free will! Ruki!!

Kou: W-Wait, Azusa-kun!? Aah, geez! Let’s go!

*Rustle*

Yuma: Wah!? D-Don’t pull me!

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to the living room

Azusa: ( ...Aah. That takes me back. )

( Those were the days... )

Ruki: Oi, Azusa. Is this really the time to get lost in thought?

Azusa: Ruki...

Ruki: If you have the time to space out, you should hurry up and make your decision.

I’m sure you’re aware what will happen if you leave your injured arm untreated?

Good grief...Why didn’t you inform me straight away...?

Azusa: ...Well...

( I know. But my friends are on this arm... )

( Justin and the others are here...So... )

Ruki: Azusa...

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the hallway in school

Yui: Ouch...

( Aah, the place Azusa-kun sucked my blood from the other day aches a little. )

( However...I don’t dislike it as much as I did back when he had only just met. )

( I wonder if I’ve lost my mind...? )

( Could this be how Azusa-kun feels when he rejects getting his wounds treated...? )

( I... )

???: Oi.

Yui: Ah...Ruki-kun...Is something the matter?

( That’s new. Ruki-kun doesn’t approach me very often... )

Ruki: ...You’ve started resembling him.

Yui: Resemble...?

Ruki: You just had the same look in your eyes. As him.

Yui: Him...You mean Azusa-kun?

Ruki: ...Hmph. Seems like you know the answer already.

There’s something... (1)

...

Yui: Ruki-kun?

Ruki: ...I’ve got a favor to ask.

Yui: ( Ruki-kun has a favor to ask...of me? )

Ruki: I want you to tell him. That he should...give up on his arm.

Yui: His arm? ...What do you mean with ‘give up on’?

Ruki: Exactly like that. He talks to his arm, believing it’s his friend, no?

Yui: You’re talking about Justin, Christina and Melissa...?

Ruki: ...Yeah, that’s it. He refuses to listen to me because he’s too focused on that.

Even though thinking of his arm as a friend or family only proves that he is still too caught up in the past...

He still...doesn’t truly see us.

Yui: Ruki-kun...

Ruki: If he were to actually lose his life as a result of that...

Yui: ...!

Ruki-kun, what did you say just now...?

Ruki: So he really hasn’t told you anything, huh?

...Listen carefully. That Vampire Hunter used silver bullets.

To us Vampires, that means death.

Yui: ...!!

Ruki: ...Fortunately, he could easily save his own life by simply giving up one arm. However, he refuses to...

Yui: Because Justin and Christina are there?

Ruki: Exactly. Because he is far too obsessed, he is incapable of abandoning them. However, if we leave the wound be...

Yui: ( Azusa-kun will...die...? )

( He didn’t speak a word of that... )

( This whole time, I’ve been by his side without knowing at all... )

Ruki: So I want you to tell him. No...I’m begging you, Yui.

Yui: ...

Ruki: In the past, I’ve been saved...by him, by Azusa.

That’s why I consider him my friend. He can be a pain at times...but he’s like a brother to me.

However, even so...We couldn’t replace his scars. I feel quite ashamed to admit that.

His obsession with those scars and his desire to attach some sort of reason to it, has made him lose sight of what is truly in front of him. However, you might just be able to...

Yui: ...

Ruki: ーー I’m counting on you.

ー Ruki steps away

Yui: ( Azusa-kun...Why did you keep something so important hidden from me? )

( I have to look for him! At this rate, he will...! )

ー The scene shifts to the rooftop

Yui: Haah, haah, haah...

( There he is...! )

Azusa-kun!

Azusa: Ah...!

What’s wrong? You’re out of breath.

Yui: ...Azusa-kun. Listen to me...There’s something important I want to talk about.

Azusa: Something important...? It’s rare for you to say that.

What is it?

Yui: Well...

Azusa: Fufu, what’s wrong?

Yui: ( Why is he acting as if everything’s fine? )

( How can he still smile? )

( He might die, so why...? )

( I’m not fine with this at all...I don’t want him to die... )

Azusa: Why are you...crying? Are you hurting somewhere again?

Yui: N-No. It’s okay. I’m sorry.

Azusa: I see...

...Aah, right. Then can I talk to you about something as welL?

...You see, I remembered something about the past today...

Long ago...

...On the day Ruki punched me...

It was such a lovely day with clear, blue skies...

And thenーー

Monologue

As Azusa-kun continued to tell his story,

I couldn’t sense a shred of pain in his words.

If anything, he would talk about Justin and the others,

as if he truly felt happy from the bottom of his heart.

To Azusa-kun,

they are his precious friends.

No...

They might even be,

proof that he is alive.

I simply couldn’t bring myself,

to tell him to give that up...

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Ruki starts the sentence with お前に or ‘omae ni’ which means ‘to you’. I assume his full sentence is something like ‘There’s something I’d like to ask of you’, hence my translation. 

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<- [ Maniac Epilogue ] [ Ecstasy 01 ] ->

[theshrubbery]

Chapter 6 of Can I Be Close to You

SIMON

I kissed Baz. Actually kissed him. Mouth-on-mouth. Kissed. It was nothing like kissing Agatha. Kissing Agatha never made my head spin like this. It was good, sure, it was fun but this. Kissing Baz. It felt different, somehow. I still don’t entirely know why I did it. He probably hates me even more now, I should probably watch my back.

I look over at him. Baz, I mean. He’s sitting across from me, studying. I’m meant to be studying too but I just can’t concentrate, every time I try my brain betrays me. Goes back to Baz. Back to Baz’s lips. Oh fuck, I’m staring at his lips again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying, Snow?” Baz drawls, not looking up from the essay he’s writing out a plan for. He doesn’t stop writing, and for a second I’m hypnotised by the way he loops his Ls and Gs, the particular slant of his script. How in the shit is he so calm whilst I’m falling apart from the inside? Surely I’ve gone too far, kissing him like that.

“I am,” I say grudgingly, looking back down at my notebook. I press my textbook (Baz’s textbook, actually, I’m borrowing it) further open and lean over it to get a better look at the words. But that’s all they are to me; words. Words floating round a page, letters, lines, weird squiggly markings that mean shit-all to me right now.

Why can’t I fucking concentrate?

Why is Baz so calm?

I’m supposed to hate Baz, he’s my mortal enemy, my sworn nemesis. So why is it that all I can think about is that kiss? About how wrong it is he was kidnapped? No one deserves that. No one deserves to have their mother murdered, no one deserves to be held captive. I just can’t look at Baz the same knowing all this, I can’t help but see the kid in that photograph, smiling with his mum. And really, Baz can’t be that bad, can he? Sure, he pushed me down the fucking stairs, I don’t care what Penny says, he fucking did and he fucking meant it, the prick, but I’m still alive aren’t I? After sharing a dorm with him for nearly a decade, I’m still alive enough to kiss him.

Fuck’s sake, I can’t stop thinking about kissing him.

I’m looking away from my textbook again. I can’t even stop my little traitor eyes from looking back up at Baz.

His dark hair is falling over his face as he bows his head over his work. I watch as he tucks it behind his ear on one side, tilts his head to keep it there.

At least all the nightmares he used to have back at Watford make sense now. It was impossible for me not to notice them when he’d start thrashing and shouting. Our beds were close enough that I could reach across and shake him awake if I knelt on the very edge of mine and leaned over but I never did. I always just left him to it.

“I know I’m handsome but really, Snow, it’s rude to stare.”

“I’m not staring!” I snap a little too quickly. I can feel my face flushing and Baz smirks. I want to slap it off his face. Not really. I just think that’s what I should be thinking. Really I’m still thinking about that stupid fucking kiss.

Baz laughs, says whatever, and goes back to studying. I see him shift out of my peripheral vision and I know that he’s rearranging his legs under the table to sit with them crossed over one another. He always does that when he’s concentrating. That’s how I usually know when he’s plotting something against me.

The next time Baz catches me looking at him, because I’m an incapable prat and I can’t just ignore everything, play at being normal, and do my fucking homework, he slams his book shut.

“Studying not doing it for you, Snow?” He says with a raised eyebrow, his hand still pressed to the hardcover front of the book, his fingers splayed. The noise jolted me and suddenly I wasn’t sure if my heart was still in my chest with how hard it was fucking hammering.

“I hate studying,” I tell him, trying to play it cool. I stammered though, I just can’t help it when I’m flustered.

“Aren’t you meant to be a genius?”

“Yeah. Exactly,” I lean forwards and slam my own books shut. “So I don’t need to study.” That’s a lie and we both know it.

Baz sighs and stretches his long arms out in front of him, interlocking his fingers and pushing them out, his palms facing me. Then he runs both hands through his hair, combing it back, and grabbing it in a fist at the back of his head in a small ponytail before letting it loose and shaking his head.

I wonder what Baz would look like with his hair tied back.

Probably good.

Fuck, that’s gay.

I need to stop thinking these kinds of thoughts. I hate Baz. I don’t like him and he sure as fuck doesn’t like me.

“What else can we do?” I ask him, hoping to sound as nonchalant as I wish I was. Baz hums, looks off to the side as he drops his arms back down onto the table. His eyes narrow a little as he thinks, he bites his lip, twists his wrist to look at his watch.

“I mean there isn’t really anything around here for you to do but I have to practice violin soon,” Baz says as he starts piling all his strewn papers neatly together, flipping them all over and making sure they all face the same way. He’s so neat and orderly. I don’t give a shit, I just slap my hands against the table and drag them all into a messy heap. Baz glances up whilst I’m doing it and he pauses mid-pile, he smiles and starts to huff a laugh but chokes it off into a cough when he catches what he’s doing.

The fuck is that all about?

“What, do you have a schedule even when you’re at home?” I stand up and push the chair in, Baz does the same, holds out his hand for my messy heap of notes and starts to shuffle them against the table to at least tuck all the corners in.

“Of course, what did you expect?” He huffs. “Father runs a strict household.”

“Routines are for school,” I tell him. Because really, they are. I hate routines.

“Whatever, you animal. Are you coming with me, then?”

“Only ‘cause I’m bored.”

“Right.” Baz nods. I follow him out the room. “Only because you’re bored.”

Baz’s damn mansion has its own dedicated music room, ‘cause of course it does. How rich can you get? It’s a pretty small room though, in comparison with the study we were just in. The walls are a deep navy blue, and there’s some really ugly, thick curtains with tassels and ties framing the big windows.

“You can sit over there.” Baz points to a big green armchair near the fireplace with the bow of his violin, so I do.

“What sort of bastard has a room in their house filled with instruments?” I gawp at the grand piano behind the armchair I’m sitting in. Baz lifts the violin to his neck, and presses his face into it, positioning it or whatever. Watching him do that is kind of making my skin tingle and I don’t fucking know why.

“I do, Snow.” Baz glares at me, looking up at me through his eyelashes. There’s no real ice in his glare though, or at least I don’t think there is. I wonder if Baz is still thinking about the kiss as much as I am. “Now shut up for five minutes, I’m concentrating.”

“Whatever.” I cross my arms and try to look confrontational. I don’t feel confrontational. Especially when Baz gently flips a sheet of music over on the spindly stand in front of him, poises himself ready to play, and then does.

I’d never really heard Baz play before, not properly. He left lessons early to rehearse violin with his private tutor at school, and he played in the school band performances too but even then, he was drowned out by everyone else.

This was something entirely different. Seeing Baz so focused, so in-the-moment as he stroked the bow over the strings, his fingers dancing at the neck of the violin so effortlessly and so perfectly I almost couldn’t believe it was Baz playing. Baz who was so much of an angry git, a prat, an absolute insufferable bastard, here playing such a soft and emotive song. It feels familiar, the song, but I can’t put a name to it.

My face is burning, again, I really need to try and figure out if there’s a way to stop blushing all the time—it’s becoming a problem—and I feel like I’m intruding on something. Something personal, something I’m not meant to see, which sounds stupid as fuck when Baz himself invited me to sit and listen.

“What song is that?” I blurt out, trying to cover my sudden embarrassment, only to realise that Baz hadn’t been paying me any attention anyways. Baz opens his eyes and looks at me, really looks at me; he doesn’t stop playing.

“You wouldn’t know it if I told you,” he says, smirking, trying to rile me up. I feel like I should retaliate, like I should be getting riled up by him, but if I’m thinking that’s what I should be doing I obviously don’t feel that way genuinely. Why don’t I feel that way? “I’m practising it for the formal in a few days.”

“Formal?”

“Yes, Snow, formal. Father is hosting a formal with some business partners. I’m attending, you’re attending, he’s attending, Daphne’s attending.” Baz stops playing, lowers the violin. I want to tell him to keep playing, I don’t know why but I think I could sit and listen to him play that thing for hours.

“I don’t think that’s my thing,” I tell him, panicked. “I really will screw things up at a formal.”

“You won’t don’t worry. And even if you do, it’s fine. I’ll cover for you.” Baz shrugs.

“I—Baz, I can’t go to a formal!”

“You don’t have a choice, it’s part of the deal we made.”

“I didn’t agree to a formal!” I grab the thick arms of the chair and lean forwards.

“Do you really have to keep emphasising it like that? Really, Snow, it’ll be fine.” Baz raises the violin back to his neck and turns to his sheet music, and that’s the end of that. I want to argue more, I want to throw a proper bloody tantrum over it, but somehow the desire to hear Baz carry on playing that fucking violin wins.

Baz carries on playing right from where he left off as though he’d never been interrupted, and I feel myself getting sucked right back into his music.

This is dangerous, I realise.

“You make that look easy.” Fucks’ sake. I didn’t even last two minutes. I would very much like my brain to mouth filter to come back from wherever the hell it’s gone, please. God, I sounded like such a dreamy bastard as I said it, too. I hope Baz didn’t pick up on it.

My gut tells me he did though if the way the violin string squeals as he slips and pushes against it the wrong way with the bow.

“I-It’s not easy, Snow.” He clears his throat, but I heard the stutter. Why did he stutter? Baz never gets flustered.

“I bet I could do it,” I say ‘cause it’s too late to go back now. Baz smiles and, unexpectedly, holds the violin out to me.

I really don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for Baz to hand me the violin. It seems too valuable a thing to let me touch it but I take it anyways. I’ve dug myself into a hole after all, might as well make it a pit, a trench maybe, depending on how badly I feel like humiliating myself.

“Not like that,” Baz chastises as I raise the violin to my neck as I watched Baz do. I can’t imagine there’s many ways to hold a violin wrong, but apparently, I’m doing one of them.

BAZ

Snow looks like an oaf holding my violin. A maddeningly attractive oaf. When I tell him he’s holding it wrong, he tries to tilt it further towards him but that’s wrong too and there’s only so much I can watch of Snow manhandling my violin.

It’s obvious he doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s doing. I wonder whether he’d let me help him, guide him with my hands. After that kiss it seems likely he’d let me do many things. But I shouldn’t think of the kiss right now, I need to carry on repressing it along with the rest of my feelings in the overflowing jar labelled ‘For Simon Snow’.

“Snow just—” But it’s too late, he’s already jumped the gun and the violin is screaming. There’s no other word for the absolutely unholy screeching coming from that instrument and I can see it in his face that he knows he’s doing a shit job but he’s too stubborn to quit.

Snow pauses, looks down at the violin, and drags the bow across again.

Dear lord and Christ above, my fucking ears.

“Stop!” I yell. Snow jumps about three feet out his skin and swings his arms out with the violin in one hand and the bow in the other, for a second I think he’s going to lob it and I panic. He doesn’t though, just stands and looks adorably shell-shocked. “Let me show you, you absolute buffoon.”

I stride towards Snow, stand behind him so I can guide his hands, and reach around him to grab his arms and pull them back up. He lets me pull the violin into the correct position, lets me position his hands, his head, and I don’t even realise what I’m doing until I hear him gasp.

“Hold it there,” I murmur, ignoring him. My face burns red hot. I can smell him, this close, can feel how warm he is. My heart’s hammering against my ribs and I wonder if he can feel it. I can’t help but look down at his chest to see if Snow’s is doing the same, and I feel a twist of something when I see the fabric of his jumper fluttering ever so slightly above his heart.

I force my breathing to remain steady against the twisting in my stomach, force my hands to keep steady, I don’t want to be given away. I press my chest to his back, my chin is almost touching the shoulder the violin isn’t occupying, the shell of his ear brushes my cheek, his cheeks are bright red. I wish I could see his eyes.

“Like this?” Snow asks me and it’s so quiet I can hardly recognise that it’s Snow who spoke it.

I nod, press even closer, flush against him, and slide my arm down his, all the way to his wrist, and I guide the bow in his hand to the violin. I cover his hand with mine and feel the way his breathing stutters through his back, the way it breaks into a laugh as I push him to drag the bow across the strings and the instrument screams out loudly again.

I can’t help but laugh, too. I feel giddy, electric, I feel like I’m floating. I push and pull at his arm a few more times, and the sounds get louder and more hideous, but Simon Snow’s laughter gets louder and, by God, it’s a drug. I’m addicted. I feel like he’s pulling me closer, through some unseen force, and just when I’m about to take the next risk and press my cheek to his, my father bursts into the room shouting.

“What in the name of God is all this noise!” My father yells, one hand on the doorknob, the other gripping the doorframe, his face blotchy and red with anger.

“Oh shit,” Snow swears, pulling away from me. I take a quick step backwards, pull him behind me, as though that will remove him from my father’s metaphorical firing line. The movement draws his attention, though, and he realises with a start what exactly is in Snow’s hands.

“How dare you touch that!” Father swings out an arm to point, stepping forwards into the room. “That was Natasha’s!”

“Oh fuck,” Snow tries to push the violin into my hands and I take it from him, I don’t have any choice but to do so with how desperately he’s trying to get rid of it. “I-I’m so sorry. Fuck, Baz, why did you let me—I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, Snow, don’t worry,” I reassure him, moving both parts of the instrument into one hand and using my free one to rest a hand on his hunched shoulder.

“How dare you!” Father repeats. He marches forward and snatches the violin from my hands, as though I’m also at risk of defiling it even though its my fucking violin that my mother left me. “And how dare you make such a racket in your host’s home! Have you no manners?”

“Father,” I try to interrupt. He holds up a hand to me, doesn’t take his eyes away from Snow.

“I let you stay under my roof, and you make such noise as that? You mess with such precious items?”

“Daddy, is Baz in trouble?” Of course Mordelia heard all the noise and decided it was worth butting in. I love her, I do, but she’s so completely clueless sometimes that it does my head in. I don’t want her getting into trouble on my behalf.

“This doesn’t concern you, Mordelia, back to your bedroom!” Father, already more than wound up, snaps at her.

“Mordelia, you should leave,” I tell her a little more gently but as firmly as I can. She’s too young to really understand what’s going on here but she’s old enough to do as she’s told. She’s also old enough to choose to ignore everyone, apparently.

“What’s happening?” She asks, tottering forwards in her little dress and tipping her head back to look at father. When father doesn’t reply or acknowledge her, she tilts her head to the side and looks to me and Snow instead and her eyes light up when she sees the violin. She really does need to learn how to read a room. “Is Baz and his boyfriend playing violin? Can I play violin, Daddy?”

“Mordelia! Leave!” Father snaps at her, “I don’t want you getting any ideas.” And it’s the way his voice curls around that last word like something coiling and venomous that boils my blood. I’m shouting before I’ve even realised I’ve spoken.

“Is ostracising one child not enough for you?” I bite out quickly, my hands shaking with the effort to hold back. I pull my hand from Snow’s shoulder so I don’t hurt him. “Would you do the same to your daughter as you have me? Father, how can you say that?”

“What would you do to me?” Mordelia interrupts, looking confused and worried.

I feel like I’m losing control. Like I’m going to say something I’ll regret. If I do, at the very least I want Mordelia to be kept out of it.

“Mordelia, everything’s okay here,” Snow reassures her suddenly, or at least tries to. She looks at him like she’s trying to figure him out. “You should go back to your bedroom.”

“How dare you tell my daughter what to do!” Father barks at Snow no sooner have the words left his mouth. I feel humiliated that my father would speak to Snow in that way. I feel like I need to apologise a thousand times and I wonder why I ever opened my stupid fucking mouth about having a boyfriend in the first place.

I’m practically vibrating at this point, I can’t take this much longer. Can’t take the disgusting way father is speaking to me, to Simon, to Mordelia.

“Simon, please can you take Mordelia back to her bedroom?” I ask him without looking away from my father, realising only belatedly what I’d called him. Father purses his lips tightly and furrows his brows even lower, but even at his worst he still has respect for Mordelia, for keeping control of himself around her. Father will shout and rage, but he doesn’t really want Mordelia dragged into this, I know that, she’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Simon agrees and I watch from the corner of my eye as he walks around me, takes Mordelia’s hand, and leads her from the room. He pauses to look back at me before he leaves but I don’t acknowledge it, I keep my eyes locked with my father’s until it is just the two of us.SIMON

I kissed Baz. Actually kissed him. Mouth-on-mouth. Kissed. It was nothing like kissing Agatha. Kissing Agatha never made my head spin like this. It was good, sure, it was fun but this. Kissing Baz. It felt different, somehow. I still don’t entirely know why I did it. He probably hates me even more now, I should probably watch my back.

I look over at him. Baz, I mean. He’s sitting across from me, studying. I’m meant to be studying too but I just can’t concentrate, every time I try my brain betrays me. Goes back to Baz. Back to Baz’s lips. Oh fuck, I’m staring at his lips again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying, Snow?” Baz drawls, not looking up from the essay he’s writing out a plan for. He doesn’t stop writing, and for a second I’m hypnotised by the way he loops his Ls and Gs, the particular slant of his script. How in the shit is he so calm whilst I’m falling apart from the inside? Surely I’ve gone too far, kissing him like that.

“I am,” I say grudgingly, looking back down at my notebook. I press my textbook (Baz’s textbook, actually, I’m borrowing it) further open and lean over it to get a better look at the words. But that’s all they are to me; words. Words floating round a page, letters, lines, weird squiggly markings that mean shit-all to me right now.

Why can’t I fucking concentrate?

Why is Baz so calm?

I’m supposed to hate Baz, he’s my mortal enemy, my sworn nemesis. So why is it that all I can think about is that kiss? About how wrong it is he was kidnapped? No one deserves that. No one deserves to have their mother murdered, no one deserves to be held captive. I just can’t look at Baz the same knowing all this, I can’t help but see the kid in that photograph, smiling with his mum. And really, Baz can’t be that bad, can he? Sure, he pushed me down the fucking stairs, I don’t care what Penny says, he fucking did and he fucking meant it, the prick, but I’m still alive aren’t I? After sharing a dorm with him for nearly a decade, I’m still alive enough to kiss him.

Fuck’s sake, I can’t stop thinking about kissing him.

I’m looking away from my textbook again. I can’t even stop my little traitor eyes from looking back up at Baz.

His dark hair is falling over his face as he bows his head over his work. I watch as he tucks it behind his ear on one side, tilts his head to keep it there.

At least all the nightmares he used to have back at Watford make sense now. It was impossible for me not to notice them when he’d start thrashing and shouting. Our beds were close enough that I could reach across and shake him awake if I knelt on the very edge of mine and leaned over but I never did. I always just left him to it.

“I know I’m handsome but really, Snow, it’s rude to stare.”

“I’m not staring!” I snap a little too quickly. I can feel my face flushing and Baz smirks. I want to slap it off his face. Not really. I just think that’s what I should be thinking. Really I’m still thinking about that stupid fucking kiss.

Baz laughs, says whatever, and goes back to studying. I see him shift out of my peripheral vision and I know that he’s rearranging his legs under the table to sit with them crossed over one another. He always does that when he’s concentrating. That’s how I usually know when he’s plotting something against me.

The next time Baz catches me looking at him, because I’m an incapable prat and I can’t just ignore everything, play at being normal, and do my fucking homework, he slams his book shut.

“Studying not doing it for you, Snow?” He says with a raised eyebrow, his hand still pressed to the hardcover front of the book, his fingers splayed. The noise jolted me and suddenly I wasn’t sure if my heart was still in my chest with how hard it was fucking hammering.

“I hate studying,” I tell him, trying to play it cool. I stammered though, I just can’t help it when I’m flustered.

“Aren’t you meant to be a genius?”

“Yeah. Exactly,” I lean forwards and slam my own books shut. “So I don’t need to study.” That’s a lie and we both know it.

Baz sighs and stretches his long arms out in front of him, interlocking his fingers and pushing them out, his palms facing me. Then he runs both hands through his hair, combing it back, and grabbing it in a fist at the back of his head in a small ponytail before letting it loose and shaking his head.

I wonder what Baz would look like with his hair tied back.

Probably good.

Fuck, that’s gay.

I need to stop thinking these kinds of thoughts. I hate Baz. I don’t like him and he sure as fuck doesn’t like me.

“What else can we do?” I ask him, hoping to sound as nonchalant as I wish I was. Baz hums, looks off to the side as he drops his arms back down onto the table. His eyes narrow a little as he thinks, he bites his lip, twists his wrist to look at his watch.

“I mean there isn’t really anything around here for you to do but I have to practice violin soon,” Baz says as he starts piling all his strewn papers neatly together, flipping them all over and making sure they all face the same way. He’s so neat and orderly. I don’t give a shit, I just slap my hands against the table and drag them all into a messy heap. Baz glances up whilst I’m doing it and he pauses mid-pile, he smiles and starts to huff a laugh but chokes it off into a cough when he catches what he’s doing.

The fuck is that all about?

“What, do you have a schedule even when you’re at home?” I stand up and push the chair in, Baz does the same, holds out his hand for my messy heap of notes and starts to shuffle them against the table to at least tuck all the corners in.

“Of course, what did you expect?” He huffs. “Father runs a strict household.”

“Routines are for school,” I tell him. Because really, they are. I hate routines.

“Whatever, you animal. Are you coming with me, then?”

“Only ‘cause I’m bored.”

“Right.” Baz nods. I follow him out the room. “Only because you’re bored.”

Baz’s damn mansion has its own dedicated music room, ‘cause of course it does. How rich can you get? It’s a pretty small room though, in comparison with the study we were just in. The walls are a deep navy blue, and there’s some really ugly, thick curtains with tassels and ties framing the big windows.

“You can sit over there.” Baz points to a big green armchair near the fireplace with the bow of his violin, so I do.

“What sort of bastard has a room in their house filled with instruments?” I gawp at the grand piano behind the armchair I’m sitting in. Baz lifts the violin to his neck, and presses his face into it, positioning it or whatever. Watching him do that is kind of making my skin tingle and I don’t fucking know why.

“I do, Snow.” Baz glares at me, looking up at me through his eyelashes. There’s no real ice in his glare though, or at least I don’t think there is. I wonder if Baz is still thinking about the kiss as much as I am. “Now shut up for five minutes, I’m concentrating.”

“Whatever.” I cross my arms and try to look confrontational. I don’t feel confrontational. Especially when Baz gently flips a sheet of music over on the spindly stand in front of him, poises himself ready to play, and then does.

I’d never really heard Baz play before, not properly. He left lessons early to rehearse violin with his private tutor at school, and he played in the school band performances too but even then, he was drowned out by everyone else.

This was something entirely different. Seeing Baz so focused, so in-the-moment as he stroked the bow over the strings, his fingers dancing at the neck of the violin so effortlessly and so perfectly I almost couldn’t believe it was Baz playing. Baz who was so much of an angry git, a prat, an absolute insufferable bastard, here playing such a soft and emotive song. It feels familiar, the song, but I can’t put a name to it.

My face is burning, again, I really need to try and figure out if there’s a way to stop blushing all the time—it’s becoming a problem—and I feel like I’m intruding on something. Something personal, something I’m not meant to see, which sounds stupid as fuck when Baz himself invited me to sit and listen.

“What song is that?” I blurt out, trying to cover my sudden embarrassment, only to realise that Baz hadn’t been paying me any attention anyways. Baz opens his eyes and looks at me, really looks at me; he doesn’t stop playing.

“You wouldn’t know it if I told you,” he says, smirking, trying to rile me up. I feel like I should retaliate, like I should be getting riled up by him, but if I’m thinking that’s what I should be doing I obviously don’t feel that way genuinely. Why don’t I feel that way? “I’m practising it for the formal in a few days.”

“Formal?”

“Yes, Snow, formal. Father is hosting a formal with some business partners. I’m attending, you’re attending, he’s attending, Daphne’s attending.” Baz stops playing, lowers the violin. I want to tell him to keep playing, I don’t know why but I think I could sit and listen to him play that thing for hours.

“I don’t think that’s my thing,” I tell him, panicked. “I really will screw things up at a formal.”

“You won’t don’t worry. And even if you do, it’s fine. I’ll cover for you.” Baz shrugs.

“I—Baz, I can’t go to a formal!”

“You don’t have a choice, it’s part of the deal we made.”

“I didn’t agree to a formal!” I grab the thick arms of the chair and lean forwards.

“Do you really have to keep emphasising it like that? Really, Snow, it’ll be fine.” Baz raises the violin back to his neck and turns to his sheet music, and that’s the end of that. I want to argue more, I want to throw a proper bloody tantrum over it, but somehow the desire to hear Baz carry on playing that fucking violin wins.

Baz carries on playing right from where he left off as though he’d never been interrupted, and I feel myself getting sucked right back into his music.

This is dangerous, I realise.

“You make that look easy.” Fucks’ sake. I didn’t even last two minutes. I would very much like my brain to mouth filter to come back from wherever the hell it’s gone, please. God, I sounded like such a dreamy bastard as I said it, too. I hope Baz didn’t pick up on it.

My gut tells me he did though if the way the violin string squeals as he slips and pushes against it the wrong way with the bow.

“I-It’s not easy, Snow.” He clears his throat, but I heard the stutter. Why did he stutter? Baz never gets flustered.

“I bet I could do it,” I say ‘cause it’s too late to go back now. Baz smiles and, unexpectedly, holds the violin out to me.

I really don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for Baz to hand me the violin. It seems too valuable a thing to let me touch it but I take it anyways. I’ve dug myself into a hole after all, might as well make it a pit, a trench maybe, depending on how badly I feel like humiliating myself.

“Not like that,” Baz chastises as I raise the violin to my neck as I watched Baz do. I can’t imagine there’s many ways to hold a violin wrong, but apparently, I’m doing one of them.

BAZ

Snow looks like an oaf holding my violin. A maddeningly attractive oaf. When I tell him he’s holding it wrong, he tries to tilt it further towards him but that’s wrong too and there’s only so much I can watch of Snow manhandling my violin.

It’s obvious he doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s doing. I wonder whether he’d let me help him, guide him with my hands. After that kiss it seems likely he’d let me do many things. But I shouldn’t think of the kiss right now, I need to carry on repressing it along with the rest of my feelings in the overflowing jar labelled ‘For Simon Snow’.

“Snow just—” But it’s too late, he’s already jumped the gun and the violin is screaming. There’s no other word for the absolutely unholy screeching coming from that instrument and I can see it in his face that he knows he’s doing a shit job but he’s too stubborn to quit.

Snow pauses, looks down at the violin, and drags the bow across again.

Dear lord and Christ above, my fucking ears.

“Stop!” I yell. Snow jumps about three feet out his skin and swings his arms out with the violin in one hand and the bow in the other, for a second I think he’s going to lob it and I panic. He doesn’t though, just stands and looks adorably shell-shocked. “Let me show you, you absolute buffoon.”

I stride towards Snow, stand behind him so I can guide his hands, and reach around him to grab his arms and pull them back up. He lets me pull the violin into the correct position, lets me position his hands, his head, and I don’t even realise what I’m doing until I hear him gasp.

“Hold it there,” I murmur, ignoring him. My face burns red hot. I can smell him, this close, can feel how warm he is. My heart’s hammering against my ribs and I wonder if he can feel it. I can’t help but look down at his chest to see if Snow’s is doing the same, and I feel a twist of something when I see the fabric of his jumper fluttering ever so slightly above his heart.

I force my breathing to remain steady against the twisting in my stomach, force my hands to keep steady, I don’t want to be given away. I press my chest to his back, my chin is almost touching the shoulder the violin isn’t occupying, the shell of his ear brushes my cheek, his cheeks are bright red. I wish I could see his eyes.

“Like this?” Snow asks me and it’s so quiet I can hardly recognise that it’s Snow who spoke it.

I nod, press even closer, flush against him, and slide my arm down his, all the way to his wrist, and I guide the bow in his hand to the violin. I cover his hand with mine and feel the way his breathing stutters through his back, the way it breaks into a laugh as I push him to drag the bow across the strings and the instrument screams out loudly again.

I can’t help but laugh, too. I feel giddy, electric, I feel like I’m floating. I push and pull at his arm a few more times, and the sounds get louder and more hideous, but Simon Snow’s laughter gets louder and, by God, it’s a drug. I’m addicted. I feel like he’s pulling me closer, through some unseen force, and just when I’m about to take the next risk and press my cheek to his, my father bursts into the room shouting.

“What in the name of God is all this noise!” My father yells, one hand on the doorknob, the other gripping the doorframe, his face blotchy and red with anger.

“Oh shit,” Snow swears, pulling away from me. I take a quick step backwards, pull him behind me, as though that will remove him from my father’s metaphorical firing line. The movement draws his attention, though, and he realises with a start what exactly is in Snow’s hands.

“How dare you touch that!” Father swings out an arm to point, stepping forwards into the room. “That was Natasha’s!”

“Oh fuck,” Snow tries to push the violin into my hands and I take it from him, I don’t have any choice but to do so with how desperately he’s trying to get rid of it. “I-I’m so sorry. Fuck, Baz, why did you let me—I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, Snow, don’t worry,” I reassure him, moving both parts of the instrument into one hand and using my free one to rest a hand on his hunched shoulder.

“How dare you!” Father repeats. He marches forward and snatches the violin from my hands, as though I’m also at risk of defiling it even though its my fucking violin that my mother left me. “And how dare you make such a racket in your host’s home! Have you no manners?”

“Father,” I try to interrupt. He holds up a hand to me, doesn’t take his eyes away from Snow.

“I let you stay under my roof, and you make such noise as that? You mess with such precious items?”

“Daddy, is Baz in trouble?” Of course Mordelia heard all the noise and decided it was worth butting in. I love her, I do, but she’s so completely clueless sometimes that it does my head in. I don’t want her getting into trouble on my behalf.

“This doesn’t concern you, Mordelia, back to your bedroom!” Father, already more than wound up, snaps at her.

“Mordelia, you should leave,” I tell her a little more gently but as firmly as I can. She’s too young to really understand what’s going on here but she’s old enough to do as she’s told. She’s also old enough to choose to ignore everyone, apparently.

“What’s happening?” She asks, tottering forwards in her little dress and tipping her head back to look at father. When father doesn’t reply or acknowledge her, she tilts her head to the side and looks to me and Snow instead and her eyes light up when she sees the violin. She really does need to learn how to read a room. “Is Baz and his boyfriend playing violin? Can I play violin, Daddy?”

“Mordelia! Leave!” Father snaps at her, “I don’t want you getting any ideas.” And it’s the way his voice curls around that last word like something coiling and venomous that boils my blood. I’m shouting before I’ve even realised I’ve spoken.

“Is ostracising one child not enough for you?” I bite out quickly, my hands shaking with the effort to hold back. I pull my hand from Snow’s shoulder so I don’t hurt him. “Would you do the same to your daughter as you have me? Father, how can you say that?”

“What would you do to me?” Mordelia interrupts, looking confused and worried.

I feel like I’m losing control. Like I’m going to say something I’ll regret. If I do, at the very least I want Mordelia to be kept out of it.

“Mordelia, everything’s okay here,” Snow reassures her suddenly, or at least tries to. She looks at him like she’s trying to figure him out. “You should go back to your bedroom.”

“How dare you tell my daughter what to do!” Father barks at Snow no sooner have the words left his mouth. I feel humiliated that my father would speak to Snow in that way. I feel like I need to apologise a thousand times and I wonder why I ever opened my stupid fucking mouth about having a boyfriend in the first place.

I’m practically vibrating at this point, I can’t take this much longer. Can’t take the disgusting way father is speaking to me, to Simon, to Mordelia.

“Simon, please can you take Mordelia back to her bedroom?” I ask him without looking away from my father, realising only belatedly what I’d called him. Father purses his lips tightly and furrows his brows even lower, but even at his worst he still has respect for Mordelia, for keeping control of himself around her. Father will shout and rage, but he doesn’t really want Mordelia dragged into this, I know that, she’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Simon agrees and I watch from the corner of my eye as he walks around me, takes Mordelia’s hand, and leads her from the room. He pauses to look back at me before he leaves but I don’t acknowledge it, I keep my eyes locked with my father’s until it is just the two of us.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {44}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought. 

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

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Chapter 44:   Surrender 

-Vixen-

 “A divorce Vix, really?”

 You sighed and did your best to ignore her. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy especially now that she found out.

 “You can’t ignore me Vixen. I’m like your conscience, your voice of reason. I speak to that part of you that isn’t so withdrawn, the part that wants love, and connection. How do you think you’re going to get any of that by divorcing the man who wants to love you, the man who is trying to connect with you?”

 “Nex, let’s not,” you began opening your laptop.

 “No, we’re going to.” She came around and slammed it shut again. You gave her an exasperated look.

 “No, I’m not afraid of you. One why didn’t you tell me about this? Two, a divorce, is that really what you want? Have you thought about this?”

 You really didn’t want to do this. You were already barely hanging on.

 “Yes. I’m sure and I have thought about it. What else was I supposed to do Nex? We’re complete strangers. We live in two different worlds, there is no way anything can—this was the right call.”

“You’re full of shit. I know how you feel about him. I know how you’ve always felt about him. You can deny it all you want and ignore it and pretend that you have no feelings for him, but I know the truth. Why can’t you just let him in?”

 “I did that twice Nex! I let him in three years ago and he fucked me literally and broke my heart. Then three years later I did it again against my better judgment, against every single alarm inside my head. I did it and surprise, fucking surprise he fucked me again. I am done Nex, I am so fucking done!”

 “Both times you made the same fucking mistake. Both times you bit your tongue, you cut yourself off, you distanced yourself, you pulled a Heisman. Both times you were never all in,” Nexus accused.

 “For good fucking reason. Why would I be all in with a man who has shown me time and time again why he’s not trustworthy, who shows me how different we are, who shows me why I have these defenses why my freedom is the most paramount thing in the world?!”

 “Just say you’re scared and get it over with. You’re scared you’re so in love with him that he can do no wrong and have you fall out of love with him. Hell, you’ve been in love with him for three fucking years and still, you love him. he fucked you over again and you still love him.”

 “And I hate him for it!”

 Silence filled the room. There is was.

 “Vix, there is a thin line between love and hate. What you are forcing as hate could really be such a love that scares you.”

 “Nex, I am so drained. I have never been more drained in my life and that includes being pregnant, going to culinary school, and going through labor while I finish exams. I am tired.”

 “Then stop running. Yes he fucked up, twice, he should have told you, he should have never taken your choice away from you. I am not condoning it at all, but I understand.”

 “Of course you do. Why am I not surprised. You always understand everything he does.”

 “Because I choose to. You choose to shut it down, lock it away and never address it. You choose to hope it goes away, but Vix it won’t go away. It’s like a scab, it will keep itching and crusting unless you treat it. Face your fears baby sister, face them and grab them by the horns and take your happiness, take your life back. This isn’t living.”

 With your back to her, you stared out the window. You hated when she got this involved. The way you handled things it worked; it had been working. you couldn’t afford to go back to that woman from three years ago. Thankfully your phone rang distracting you from the conversation.

 “Hello? Hi Charmaine. No, you’re not interrupting anything. How can I help you?”

 You listened to her give you up to date information from Chris’ lawyers and every word she spoke made your heart beat faster and your mind race.

 “No, I’m here. Sorry. Um—so that means what exactly?” She spoke again and when she stopped you knew you should have said something but words failed you.

 “Thank you. I have to go.” You hung up and took several breaths.

 “Who is that?”

 “My divorce lawyer,” you informed.

 “Wow, you’re serious about this shit. Unbelievable. What did she say?”

 “Chris’ lawyers informed her that per Chris, he doesn’t want anything from me. Whatever I had three years ago and since he doesn’t want any of it.”

 “No shit!” You looked at her, she looked impatient as if she was sick and tired of you.

 “He also said that he won’t fight me for custody, he doesn’t want joint custody, he just wants access to her when he can in San Fran.”

 “Again, no shit. I’ve told you that he is not like that and you know he’s not like that. You know exactly who he is and always have. You saw the real him that night in Vegas, the him that you fell for and decided to be carefree with. He’s not an asshole Vix.”

 “She said that if I want half of what he has he will not contest it.”

 There was silence now, both of you letting that nugget sink in. He was giving you access to everything he owned, no fight. It showed a disregard for it like none of it mattered.  

 “Yep.” Nexus shook her head then sighed.

 “Look, Vix, you’re on the right path to being alone forever, the right path to just let the one man who actually is your equal, your potential match slip right through your hands. You are on the right path to not making sure that Ella’s relationship with him is not the best it can be, the right path of stealing such a happy family and future from her. So, if that is what you want then continue because the outcome is inevitable.”

 Once she said the words she walked out leaving you standing there shaking from the impact of what she said. You were going to fall apart; it was only a matter of time.  You already didn’t know if you’d made the right decision. You knew you sided with your fear instead of your heart and what made it worse was you felt completely incapable of taking a chance.

 Pushing the conversation with Nex away you focused on the tasks for the evening. You walked out of your office and looked out and down to the space below. The restaurant was coming together nicely. It was T minus four days before the grand opening and you were so close to the finish line you could see it.

“Amazing isn’t it?” Beside you, Kassius looked down at the view you were looking.

 “It is. I can’t believe that we’re getting so close.”

 “You worked hard for this Vixen. I can’t wait for it to pay off. This place looks incredible. You are going to blow minds on Saturday.”

 You smiled and felt the excitement bubbling within you. You sure hoped so. It would suck to put this much work, tears, and sweat into something and it be a horrible failure.

 “Don’t worry. This is what I do for a living. I take chances but only on things I’m sure about. I’m sure about you Vixen. You’ll see.” He patted your back then walked away. You took a deep breath and tried to knock it into your head that you were going to crush the opening.

 The rest of the evening you did your best to stay present and work with the crew that was left there. No job was too small for you, you chipped in and got your hands dirty. Nothing was beneath you. When you left that night you were pleasantly surprised to see that none of the paps were outside. For the first time in weeks, you took a deep breath and walked to your car. You thanked your security and drove down the near abandoned street.

 While finishing your errands at the pharmacy you saw the tabloid rack and scanned the covers. At least six of them were about you and Chris. This was still a big adjustment seeing your face plastered on tabloid magazines and having people so interested in everything about you. Over the last week, you’d scanned some of the gossip sights and had read some hurtful things that people were saying but also read some kind ones. It was a toss of the dice type of situation.

One of the covers had Chris’ face on it in the center, but there were several women circling him. The white headlines were all about his history with each of them. When you read the words, your interest piqued. “Chris Evans Married but quite the impressive list of mistresses over the years.” You couldn’t believe the nerve of these gossip magazines.

 “What if we were happily married and I saw this?”

 You bought the magazine and made it home to find Ella asleep and dinner in the microwave. After a shower, you sat down with a bottle of wine and ate in the dim light of the kitchen. You flipped through the article and saw pictures of him with the women. They were all beautiful, all sexy and all completely different. One of the two things they looked to have in common was the color of their hair. They were all brunette or brunettes with highlights. They all were also white. You knew that you were probably the only woman of color he’d associated with but to see his entire dating history laid out for you cemented it.

 For the next near hour, you sat there comparing yourself to these tall, slim, blue-eyed, actresses and models and tried not to feel any jealousy. He’d gotten around these last three years. While you were steering clear of the opposite sex, he was fucking his way through Hollywood. It made you think back to what he’d said the night at your house that he’d thought of you all these years and been in love with you. Looking at his little black book before you made you want to shout bullshit. You also tried not to be too critical on yourself for being so different from them or let your insecurities flare-up. You wondered why you and if you were some phase he had to work through.

 It took you almost two hours to realize the postal envelope across the kitchen. When you took it up you saw your name on it but no sender information. When you looked inside the envelope you froze for a few moments before you emptied out its contents onto the counter. Before you were items you hadn’t seen in years, items you’d almost forgotten about. Items you’d ran out of his house without.

 You slowly examined the items beginning with your golden anklet. You’d searched for it for weeks until you accepted you’d lost it somewhere in Vegas or LA. It was one of your favorite pieces of jewelry and you missed it. You then moved on to the lace bra and panties you were wearing the night you were at Chris’. You hesitated touching them, afraid somehow you’d be bombarded with memories. Finally, you took up the bra and smelled it, it still smelled like your perfume, a perfume you still wore every once in a while.

 “My god.”

 Your eyes landed on the golden ring on the counter. The last time you’d touched it was to slide it onto his finger. Suddenly you felt as if you’d run a marathon from your racing heart to your sweaty palms. You took up his wedding band and slowly examined it.

 “He’d held on to all of this, this whole time.”

 Your shock was evident. You couldn’t believe it and didn’t know why he still had any of this especially your underwear. You must have stood there staring at his ring for an hour or so. Everything from the last few months raced through your head, every conversation, every smile, touch, every quiet night together and every genuine moment. You began to wonder if he’d been truthful the whole time. Wondered if you had it in you to take that leap that was required.

 Walking over to your bag, you pulled your phone free and found his contact.

 MSG: 9-1-1. Cathy’s corner where we had tacos.

You shoved the items into a Ziploc bag, grabbed your bag and hurried out the door in your car without a thought to your attire. The drive was relatively quick because of the hour. The streets were mostly abandoned and the further you drove into Mulholland Drive the darker they got. When you pulled up to the spot where you sat with him a few weeks ago you stared out over the city lights. It was still a beautiful view. 

After a minute you worried that it was too little too late, worried that this was too far to come back from. You’d pushed too far.

 After a few more minutes, you saw bright headlights pull up the drive, then the car screeched to a halt beside yours at an angle that blocked your bumper. You watched as Chris jumped out his car wearing a men’s tank and dark sweatpants.

 “What’s the matter? Is it Ella? Is she okay? Are you hurt?” His words rushed out one after the other as he approached you. Once he was before you his eyes scanned your body. You then held up the items in front of his face.

 “Why did you hold on to these?”

 Chris’ expression changed from worry to confusion, then annoyance. “Vixen, are you kidding me? You text me 911. I'm running red lights, switching lanes, honking like a mad man thinking something was seriously wrong with you or Ella. You can't text 911 if it's not 911!”

 He sounded exasperated as he rubbed his forehead. Ignoring his rant you asked again.

“Why did you hold on to these? You could have thrown them out.”

 “I should have,” Chris dryly responded with little emotion on his face.

 “Yeah. So?” Chris didn’t speak for a few seconds. He then rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head.

 “I couldn't. I--I--,” he stuttered before he let out a loud groan while he ruffled his unkempt hair. With a grunt, he walked away from you before turning back to you once there was space between you.

 “What are we doing here? What do you want?”

 “Tell me why you couldn't,” you countered.

 “No. You tell me why I'm here. I've said everything I need to say. What do you want?”

 “Everything. It's my one fatal flaw. I want it all. I want the incredibly successful, fulfilling career that everyone envies, and I want the perfect, loving, sexy, guy who is head over heels in love with me and will give me everything I want. I want him to love me completely. I want him to never leave and have me be his only dream. I want my amazing little girl who is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want to keep her happy and help her grow to be the best version of herself. I want happiness, peace, and joy. I want everything!”

 Chris scoffed and shook his head looking at you as if this was no surprise. “No surprise there. What does that have to do with me?”

 “My career is getting there. I am so close to getting what I want, so close to fulfilling my dreams there. My little girl is amazing, she was born amazing and she is happy and growing; or she was happy until she didn't get to see her daddy as much as she had been lately. Ironically, a daddy she'd lived without for years and now can't seem to forget him after only a few short months. She loves you so much and it makes my heart so full and warm. I want her to be happy again and the only way that can happen is if I find a way to be strong enough, a way to be brave to stand here and tell you that I've never felt nothing for you.”

 Your heart was racing a mile a minute and the fear you felt was real, but you also knew you couldn’t just stop there. Chris didn’t move, and his face gave nothing away. He was unreadable, you hated it. Guess it was your turn to suffer with it now.

 “Since we met even though I heavily drank and got drunker and drunker I felt things for you I'd never felt before. I was able to talk to you and open up to you in a way I only do with Nex. It was insane what we did getting married like that, but I know without a doubt I wanted it. That night at your house you hurt me but only because I thought we were on the same page I thought you felt what I did, and it turned out you didn't. Boston--of course it meant something,” you confessed. That was when Chris’ face glitched with emotion.

 “What?”

 It was do or die time, you thought.

 “I haven't been with anyone since you. No dates, no kissing, well except Zack but that meant nothing. There has been no one. I haven't let there be anyone and I tricked myself into believing it was because I didn't have the time or the energy but I didn't want to invest again or get my hopes up only to get hurt and the truth was I never got over you. I never fell out of love with you.”

 The way he stared at you was only making your heart pound harder and the butterflies flit through your stomach more. He still stood there not moving, not encouraging or discouraging your newfound candidness. Turning away you walked to your car and dug into your purse for the desired item then walked back to him. You held up the papers so he could see.

 “Thought you were going to file those. I signed them over a week ago.”

 “You did,” you answered before you ripped them once, then twice. You attempted a third, but it was tough. A small smile spread across his face before he walked closer to you. Still, he didn’t touch you.

 “Your mother said something to me in Boston, she said, "fate only brings us what is meant and letting something go and it coming back should not be let go again especially if it's what you want."

 He nodded his head as if he agreed. “Sounds like my mom.”

 “Smart woman. Fate brought you to me in Vegas, you let me go, fate said no and gave me Ella, then fate brought me to you, and I've tried to let go. I can't. I have to stop running.” Saying those words felt surreal. All the self-help books said acceptance was the first step then admittance, you just did both in the same breath.

 “Are you saying we're meant to be?” The curiosity and amusement on his face weren’t missed. You were relieved, you thought he’d be angry to see you after what you’d said.

 “Do you think we are?”

 Chris gazed deeply into your eyes and closed the remaining space between you, but still, he didn’t touch you. You wanted him to, but you’d wait.

“You're the only one meant for me. I love you Vixen, I always have, I always will.” Chris softly trailed the back of his hand across your cheek caressing it. A smile spread over your face as joy filled you. Chris looked scared, worried even.

 “I love you too, Chris. I always have and apparently no matter what idiotic plan you concoct, I always will.” 

 The two of you smiled the goofiest smiles ever then pressed your lips together in a sweet kiss. A kiss that increased in passion as the seconds ticked by. Before either of you got carried away, Chris pulled back and stared at you with a serious look on his face.

 “So no divorce?”

 “Nope. I’m so sorry. I ruined everything and hurt you. I hate that I hurt you, I hate that I said those things to you. My god Chris, I’m so sorry.”

 Chris didn’t speak, instead, he took the ripped papers that you still held and ripped them three more times before he flung them in the air. At that moment, the breeze picked up and blew them away scattering them around. The two of you stood there watching them drift in the night sky with sentimental smiles on your faces. 

 “Matter of fact,” Chris began. When you looked to him you were in time to see him drop down onto one knee. That was all it took for the tears to well in your eyes. Chris held onto your hands as he stared at you. You could see everything in his eyes and for the first time, you didn’t doubt any of what you saw.

 “Vixen Star Giovanni-Evans, the last time I did this I was drunk off my ass but even drunk me knew without a doubt that you were something to hold on to. The last three years have not been easy, and they have been quite unconventional. We've both grown so much and accomplished so much. I can say that I am a better man because of meeting you three years ago. I am a better man today. A man that is not only ready but begging for a second chance; a chance to love you properly; a chance to build a life with you, grow even more with you; a chance to be the man that loves you unconditionally; a chance to be the husband I've always envisioned myself, the father I've wanted to be. Will you spend the rest of your life with me, will you allow me to stand by your side and take care of you and show you every single day just what you mean to me? Will you be the mother of my six kids? Will you marry me—again--but for the last time.”

 You laugh throwing your head back and rejoicing in the feel of happiness, a happiness that you hadn’t felt in so long. You pulled him up to stand before you then pressed your forehead on his chest. You allowed your tears to fall freely unabashedly.

 “Are you sure?”

 Chris swiped the pad of his thumbs across your cheeks drying the tears as they fell. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life as I am sure that I want to be married to you until the day I die.”

 “Goddamn!”

 “Yes, but we may have to revisit six kids.”

 Chris smiled widely and shook his head dismissing the notion.

 “Nope. Six. One down, five to go.”

 Your laugh was loud, and you didn’t care. You kissed him again and again and again hoping that this was the beginning of making up for the time you’d been apart and the beginning of building a beautiful life together.

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[self-loving-vampire]

@melancholygirlfrien said:

I think I'm literally incapable of imagining how dull your mind is. people with children have every right to go out to eat, and travel on planes just like everybody else. 

No one said anything about stopping them or suspending their rights in any way, only that noise is annoying (and especially painful to autistic people with sensory issues).

Now, they shouldn't be bringing their babies to movie theatres especially if that baby is too young to appreciate the movie and understand what's going on, I do agree with that. But when it comes to most other public places, I think you as the adult should just shut the fuck up and deal with it tbh. 

As a childless person you have no idea what parents go through so maybe next time a baby annoys you you should just do the respectful thing and look the other way,

Um... what do you think I do? Activate Karen Mode and go bother the parents about it?

Nah, I just judge them silently. I am free to complain as much as I want on the internet though.

be grateful that the baby only annoyed you for a short time, and that you don't have to deal with a baby on an every day basis like the parents of that child do

I like how I don’t even have to argue in favor of being childfree because even people who love babies seem find them endlessly annoying and draining.

I know you can't put yourself in the shoes of babies, or parents, or anyone else because you have low empathy so that's literally what I'm saying. I can't make you understand or myself understand how terribly dull it must be inside your mind so there's no point to discussing this, you're just going to see things through your self-centered world view and never evolve from that. You may not want to

And yet from my own point of view it is the parents you’re defending who are being inconsiderate of others, especially people with sensory issues.

Like, your argument doesn’t even deny that they are making a selfish decision for their own pleasure at the cost of others, you only claim that they are entitled to do so.

You don’t call that self-centered?

I feel like you might be focusing too much on the presence or absence of empathy and neglecting considerations like “what effect will this action have on others?”

Also, for the record: It is more accurate to say that I have low affective empathy, but normal to high cognitive empathy. 

I actually can put myself in the shoes of those parents, and my conclusion is that if I was in their situation I would probably just stay home? Being home suits me fine and I would rather not cause other people pain through noise.

Like, ok, lemme just put this in a way for you to understand: I am the owner of an adorable baby snake. I love him and I plan to take him out the the pet store at some point when he's comfortable enough to be handled and go out. Now, fear of snakes is one of the most common phobias there is. Many people are afraid of snakes and some even hate them, naturally they do look very strange and I can see why some would be uncomfortable with them. Should I then avoid having a snake or taking my snake outside in the world just because some people might be annoyed by it, or scared? Fuck no, if someone talks shit about my baby snake I have every right to tell them to go suck it.

I don’t know, when I see people fearmongering about snakes (and everything from Christianity to JK Rowling is very anti-snake) I don’t take it personally or “tell them to go suck it”. I may lack empathy but I do understand the fact that other people do not share my preferences.

If people have ophidiophobia I would actually recommend them not to look at my blog or anything, but I would not go around picking fights with them without a better reason, especially if they would rather leave me alone.

Just bc there's people out there who see babies as a nuisance and hate it when babies cry doesn't mean the parent is responsible for catering to those people. It's developmentally healthy for babies to be taken outside and shown the world!! It's good for their socialization and development!! Parents shouldn't be judged for being in public with their babies just bc their cry has the potential to annoy pussies like you

I don’t know, like I said I am very glad my development was generally more about learning a second language plus reading early by playing on the computer and less about publicly humiliating my parents at the movies. Wish there had been less abusers though.

When my parents did start dragging me out with them (mainly later in life) it was almost always for their own benefit rather than mine. I was open about my preference for staying inside.

I sincerely see no value in getting dragged around by parents. I never wanted it for myself to begin with.

[consumedkings-archive]

I gotta! 10 and 55 for John and Elliot.

(Don't worry I'll help you avoid)

HMMM YES THIS IS SO LATE I’M SORRY. so as u know i spent about 24 hours agonizing over what to do with this........... i love you dearly w/ all my heart so i’m sorry in advance for this.  (❁´◡`❁)

john/ell + “things you said that made me feel like shit” +  “things you said under your breath” ~ 2.5k words, no warnings! they get a lil frisky for like .000003 seconds but mostly the rating would be for elliot’s mouth. a sequel to this blurb! which makes it pre/no cult-au and christmastime.

send me a prompt + a couple and i’ll procrastinate with a oneshot or blurb!

“I knew you missed me.”

Elliot was severely regretting having uttered the words at all. Among other things, admitting to John Seed that she missed his presence anytime, anywhere, was close to a capital offense against her person—and surpassed only, she thought, by admitting that she loved him, regardless of she said it in the dark of the bedroom, half-asleep, or if she said it in the bright light of day.

John flashed his most charming grin and leaned in to kiss her; she tilted her head out of his reach, feeling the spite welling up inside of her. It was all fun and well when John liked it, wasn’t it? And that was the most frustrating part about it all—that he seemed to have no trouble breezing in and out as he pleased.

So instead of relenting to sweetness, she snipped out, “It’s nice to know I mean it, isn’t it?”

He paused and cocked his head at her inquisitively. After a moment, he said, “This feels like a mistake to ask—”

“It probably is.”

“—but what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Elliot drawled around that awful, poisonous itch that begged her to make him suffer for making her suffer, “you didn’t really miss me, you missed having a bed-warmer. If you missed me, you’d have taken us seriously the last time you had the chance.”

She could see that her words struck a nerve. His expression flattened a little, and she could see the flex of his jaw. Elliot would have been lying if she said that she didn’t regret throwing the words in his face—whether or not John had been with anyone in the lapse between their make-ups and break-ups certainly wasn’t any concern of hers, and it wouldn’t have been fair to hold it against him; but it did feel a little justified, seeing the way the words took his ego down a notch, sucked the air right out of his big-fucking-ego-sails.

“That’s real cute, El,” he snipped, the irritation visible on his face. “I’ll have you know, I’m in no shortage of bed-warmers.”

Elliot felt the heat crawling into her face at the sinking feeling of humiliation; it was as though John found himself incapable of going three minutes without saying something that pissed her off. It shouldn’t matter, she thought furiously, it shouldn’t, but it still bothers me so fucking much, because—

“Then what the fuck are you here for?” she demanded, pushing that pesky thought of her brain. John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a minute; he clearly regretted what he’d said, but it was there already, and any warmth Elliot might have felt was gone. “I’m sure any one of them would be happy to go with you to your stupid fucking Christmas family dinner, which we both know is why you’re actually here.”

“Fucking—can’t go even three minutes without picking a fight,” John muttered under his breath, passing a hand over his face.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, I—”

“The absolute audacity,” Elliot bit out, “of you walking into my fucking house after we’ve been broken up and telling me the one thing you want is to hear that I missed you, and then you look me in the fucking whites of my eyes and tell me you aren’t in shortage of people to fuck? You are incredible, John Seed.”

John protested, “I didn’t—that’s not what I meant. I don’t have people traipsing in and out of my loft at all hours of the day and night, okay? I just meant that—”

But it was too late; the damage had been done, and it was spiraling, fast, and Elliot was doing everything she could to cling onto the last shred of control she felt like she had, even when seconds ago she had been thinking about surrendering it to him. “Baby,” she bit out, “you can have anyone you want—”

“—nobody’s like you, Elliot—”

“—why don’t you take anyone you want back to your dumbfuck Christmas dinner—”

“Elliot.” John groaned and took in a deep breath, trying to re-center himself. Elliot couldn’t fight the shame—and jealousy—burning in her cheeks, even if she’d wanted to, and she was sure that the frustration of it showed on her face. He reached for her, and one chilly hand found her bare calf, tugging until she relented and he could sidle between her legs.

She watched him warily. Despite her physical acquiescence, Elliot said, “Don’t get any funny ideas, mister I’m in no shortage of bed-warmers. What kind of fuckhead comment was that?”

“I’m sorry,” John murmured, squeezing her knee with his chilly fingers. “I didn’t mean it like that, El. You know I’d give you anything—”

“John Seed,” Elliot warned, as he slid closer and the warm, wild heat of him seeped into her bones, “you had better—”

“—and I just can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued, taking her face in his hands now. Ah, yes, finally, something in her said. She felt her lashes flutter and John nosed the curve of her jaw, his dark beard tickling her skin after the warmth of his breath.

“John,” she tried again, attempting to harden her voice, “don’t fucking play with me.”

He pulled back to look at her. He looked oddly somber; there was something unsettling about that. John, focused.

“I’m not playing. I’m serious about you, and I’ll prove it.” These were not unfamiliar statements; they were things he’d said to her before, in situations just like this, and if Joey could see how Elliot was turning into a little puddle right then and there she’d probably be completely and utterly disappointed. And ashamed, that she had crumbled so easily.

His thumb grazed her cheekbone, then slid down to her lower lip, and he sighed, and fuck if the sound didn’t just send a hollow, aching kind of want straight through her. “I want to kiss you so badly, beautiful.”

Don’t, she thought to herself, don’t fucking fall for it, don’t, you heard him, he doesn’t need you.

She said, “John,” in something close to a warning, like she thought this was a bad idea—and she did, in a lot of ways, think that, and in a lot of ways she also wanted that closeness again, an intimacy that she didn’t like to give to anyone except John; so she was less surprised and more disappointed when she leaned in instinctively and kissed him.

A tension she hadn’t realized was there fled from John’s shoulders. His hand slid from her jaw to her hair, and then to the arm of the couch to support himself. She felt his lips parting against hers, his tongue darting out and re-mapping her mouth, like he didn’t want to even get close to forgetting again.

“You taste like fireball,” Elliot complained into the kiss. “You know I hate that shit.”

He laughed. “Needed some liquid courage,” he replied, “to come over here, and that was the quickest shit I could get at the bar.” And he kissed her again, harder this time, until her lungs ached with a need for air and her hands had fisted the front of his turtleneck. They stayed like that for a minute, until she pushed on his chest and moved to straddle his hips; John’s hands immediately went to her hips to steady her and she pulled back to look at him.

“How much did you miss me?” she asked. She wanted the words to come out flirtatious, but they came out more shy and small, in the blaring truth of his easy access to lovers; John’s eyes roved over her face, and he pulled her down against him.

“More than anything, hellcat,” John murmured huskily. “I mean it when I say that I’m serious—”

“This time,” Elliot interjected, but without cruelty. His fingers dug into the slope of her hips until he’d pulled a little whine out of her, and his gaze was dark and hungry.

“I mean it,” he said again. “I want to marry you, Elliot—”

Elliot made sound, something like a mm-hmm, because the phrase was inconsequential; and she leaned down to kiss him again. This time, it was John’s turn to try and wiggle his way out of it, his hand sliding from her to his pocket, talking between kisses.

“I’m serious—I want to—El, listen to me—”

“You never stop talking,” she murmured. “I’ll come to the stupid family dinner, you don’t need to keep sweet-talking me. I mean, we’ll have to stop and see my mom—”

John shifted under her, finally getting his hand into his pocket and fishing around awkwardly while she remained straddling his lap, her hands on his shoulder. He pulled out something small, and gold, reaching for Elliot’s left hand.

“What the fuck is that?” she demanded, catching his wrist before he could snag her hand. “John—”

“I was trying to tell you,” John said, his grin boyish, “I want you to marry me. Give me your hand, El.”

Panic washed over her instantly.

“Fuck you,” Elliot snapped, her throat feeling tight. “You’re really proposing to me in my living room, after we’ve been broken up for months? You didn’t even really propose, you’re just assuming I’ll say yes—”

John looked at her blankly, as though whatever protestation she might have against this particular situation didn’t make any sense to him. “Are you saying no?”

Elliot’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She tried not to look at the ring very long, or very much; the few glimpses she’d given it showed that the ring was gorgeous, the center gem a rich, dark sapphire color. Of course it was blue, she reasoned, fixing John with her eyes as she tried to iron out her willpower.

“Yes,” she managed out after a moment.

“I knew it. This should be a perfect fit—”

“No, you dumbass, I mean yes I’m saying no,” Elliot ground out, climbing off of his lap. John looked like she might have slapped him square across the face, the hand holding the engagement ring falling to his lap. She crossed her arms over her chest, her cheeks burning. “I can’t believe you came in here and just—just—”

“You told me you wanted me to take us seriously!” he exclaimed. He was upset, maybe more than before; she could see it in the furrow of his brows, the narrow of his eyes. If there was one thing John Seed couldn’t stand, it was being told no. “And here I am, taking us seriously!”

“You don’t think maybe we should see if we don’t break up again in a few months?” Elliot asked him tartly. “What are the odds you do something that pisses me off enough, hm? Wanted a little change of pace, to break up with your fiance instead of your girlfriend?”

“Well, we’re never going to stay together with that attitude.”

Elliot rolled her eyes, snagging the bottle of wine off of the coffee table and making her way into the kitchen, grabbing herself a fresh wine glass from the cabinet. “I cannot fucking believe you,” she said as she poured the glass nearly-full. The idea of marrying John was—

It was lovely, if she let herself think that everything would be okay and not a complete shitshow. John was a drama queen, but she knew that the entire day would be about how much they loved each other, and it was a lot, all things considered. And to call herself Elliot Seed, instead of Elliot Honeysett, to erase the last tie of her father’s claim on her; it was alluring. Joey and the Hudsons would be there, of course, and John’s siblings. Maybe her mama would even be able to make it, though they’d have to make sure that she didn’t have anything more than one drink, but Elliot thought it could be that her mama would hold herself together for one night if it was for her, and—

“Fine. Don’t say yes right now,” John said petulantly, his voice coming from behind her, his hands finding her hips again. She exhaled and closed her eyes. “I’ll hold on to the ring, and when you come to your senses—”

“What if I don’t ever want to get married?” Elliot asked sharply. “What if I don’t ever want to fucking give anyone some legal claim to me? My dad did that to my mom, dragged her credit and her reputation straight through the dirt and then left, and my mom spent her entire life thinking he was going to come back and he fucking. Didn’t.” She swallowed, hard. “It’s fucking pathetic, and I won’t let it happen to me.”

John paused. He was watching her, watching the venom, watching the vitriol; he didn’t mind it so much, she knew, when it wasn’t centered around him, when he was letting her push it all out of her system. After a second, he began, “You know that I—”

“I know,” she ground out. “I know you aren’t—him, and that you want to get married, or whatever—but it’s not—I have never once said to you that I wanted that, and that you think it’s just going to fix all of that shit you put me through—”

“That we put us through,” he protested.

“Yes! Exactly!”

John sighed and passed a hand over his face; she turned, leaned against the counter to regard him, and she could feel the hard lines of her expression digging the tension into a headache that had just begun to bloom behind her eyes.

“You can,” she started, “I mean—someone else might want—”

“I don’t want someone else,” John snapped. “I want. You.”

It was endearing and infuriating, in equal amounts. John kept trying to jam a puzzle piece where it didn’t fit, and that wasn’t to say that she thought she’d feel this way forever—because maybe, someday, she wouldn’t—but John didn’t do anything to endear her to the idea when he threw it around like it was a fix-it to everything he’d ever done to piss her off.

“I’ll hold on to the ring,” he started again, and she sighed, closing her eyes. “Listen. I’ll hold on to it. Come to Christmas dinner. I’ll sit through your mom criticizing everything about me if you do. We can...” John’s gaze flickered as he searched for a word, his hands coming up to her face. “Revisit the topic after the holidays.”

“And what if I say no again?” she asked, warily.

“Then you say no,” John replied. “And we go from there. So will you come?”

Elliot took a sip of her wine, having to move the glass around his hands, and exhaled out of her nose.

“Fine,” she replied. “But only because I know Jacob would never let you live it down if he heard you made the big show of coming all the way to my house and I said no.”

“See? It’s like you’re already one of us.”

“Thin fucking ice, John.”

He grinned, leaned in, and kissed her; slow, unhurried, luxuriating in the moment before he said, “Pick you up tomorrow morning? Nine?”

“Fine,” she said again, tired because she knew that the next few days were going to be only exhausting. Well, that wasn’t true; it would be nice to see Faith (and maybe even Jacob) again, and there was a tiny, tiny sliver of a chance her mother would stop trying to set her up on dates if she brought a boyfriend around for the holidays. “But don’t make me regret it.”

“Of course,” John agreed. “Nothing could go wrong.”

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

In defense of Mika Shimotsuki (season 2)

I watched Psycho-Pass Season 2 for the first time back when it came out and my apologies if it has changed since, but I remember the general consensus being that Shimotsuki sucks a load of ass.

Now that I’m done rewatching it, I’m ready to play devil’s advocate.

Note that I haven’t seen Season 3 yet and I’m choosing to write down my thoughts as of now in order to better revisit them after that.

First of all, wait, that’s who she was? How could I not notice? This immediately makes her more awesome.

My main argument will be that putting aside the kind of person she is, Mika is one of Season 2′s best characters.

I think everyone will agree that season 2 was much too short. Many plot points were rushed, even more so those that should’ve equated to character development. A few characters were introduced only to be killed off immediately afterwards (may Aoyanagi and Kaede rest in peace) and many were shoved to the side, as the show didn’t have enough time to focus on them. This is how Ginoza’s grief over Aoyanagi happens off-stage and Shion and Kunizuka don’t fuck nearly enough.

Shimotsuki’s arc, however, is perfectly well-rounded. While Tsunemori remains the main character, the show doesn’t shy off showing Shimotsuki’s thoughts, feelings, and important encounters. At the end of the day, everything she thinks, everything she does makes sense. Her train of thought is perfectly fluid.

Now, I’d like to mention something which I think she suffered from. However, I couldn’t tell for sure whether that is also due to this season being too short or that was meant to be - and this is the part where I think Tsunemori messed-up.

At no point in season 2 does anyone stop to have a chat with Shimotsuki. She also makes it clear in early episodes she doesn’t feel like Tsunemori trusts her, even though she has been working for the Bureau for one year and half. We know that she started off as a minor, and yet, she receives no guidance that we know of.

We know that she wouldn’t listen to Ginoza even if he tried, and that Kunizuka isn’t particularly eloquent. Guiding her should be Tsunemori’s responsibility, and yet... she keeps trying to do things on her own, and when she does focus on the capacities of her team, as part of her job, all she focuses on are the Enforcers. Tsunemori knows for certain what task to give new Enforcer Hinakawa (God Bless His Soul™), and yet she never seems to take a moment and discuss or research what Shimotsuki would like to do, or congratulate her when she did a good job. (While she’s completely incompetent on the field, Shimotsuki makes a smart researcher, but I’ll come back to that in a few.)

Now, by no means am I trash-talking Tsunemori. She knows things secret to the rest of the world, and she has many responsibilities her coworkers don’t even suspect - she’s also trying her best to make the world a better place with the few abilities she has. Tsunemori is badass and strong and I love her. Yet... She’s only human, and I think she made a mistake.

I know this is from Season 1, but how am I supposed to find a good screenshot without stumbling upon Season 3 spoilers?

Tsunemori is trying to do things her own way, and with good reason, but Shimotsuki is completely out of the loop. She spends most of Season 2 trying to do what she thinks is right by stopping Tsunemori, because she has genuinely no idea how what she’s doing could possibly be the right thing. Tsunemori doesn’t even act particularly friendly, as she brushes her off when she asks how she’s doing after a battle. There definitely is reason for Shimotsuki to think Tsunemori is going astray.

Tsunemori doesn’t actually want a partner, she’s okay with only having Enforcers, since she trusts them completely. Actually, she could probably deal with pretending Ginoza’s still an Inspector. It’s not her fault Shimotsuki wound up in her team - being that of the only Inspector to know Sybil’s secret -, but it’s not Shimotsuki’s either.

In any case, Shimotsuki tries to find someone she can trust within Kasei. She files her best reports in hopes to fix the situation at hand, all on her own since she doesn’t feel like she can trust her team, and that’s when Kasei stabs her in the back.

Uh-oh.

This is where everything goes downhill, and I think this scene is what showcases Shimotsuki’s weakest point the most efficiently.

She’s smart, and she can definitely tell when something’s going wrong, but she doesn’t want to know the truth. She’s not mature enough to handle it. She screams in terror when Kasei tells her she will reveal Sybil’s entire secret. When she has, she doesn’t even want to think about the bad implications of what she just learned - she forces a facade upon herself, immediately accepting that Sybil must be perfect. Oh, she’s definitely a good toy to the cruel mind of Sybil.

And yet, I think Sybil made a mistake by hiring her as an Inspector.

Mika isn’t a bad person in the least, nor is she incapable, but it’s obvious that she can’t take a decision on the field. She’s far too immature for that - or should I say, she doesn’t want to take control. She wants to be able to ignore what’s wrong (so she tried to do in Season 1, even though she knew where to look) by following Sybil’s orders. This sounds like the perfect citizen for Sybil, but it’s not what they need at the Bureau. Even though Shimotsuki has good instinct and knows how to research the information she needs, she can’t - because she doesn’t want to - counteract Sybil’s weaknesses.

This is why Sybil needs someone like Tsunemori.

Sybil’s ideal Bureau would know their secret and be ready to defend it, yet they can’t allow just anyone to know, as most of the population isn’t ready to learn such a thing. Shimotsuki perfectly showcases that by avoiding to think about it, else her hue would likely darken.

Anyway, this isn’t about Sybil.

I can’t really defend her lack of attempt to avoid abiding to Tougane’s blackmailing other than by saying the ending of Season 2 was particularly rushed and we didn’t get to see her internal fight enough. This is the only time Shimotsuki’s actions aren’t the focus when they should have been.

It does highlight her lack of self-will. She is unable to take a decision on her own... No matter how much it hurts her. Similarly, she wasn’t capable of pulling the trigger on Tougane.

So, what’s my defense of Mika Shimotsuki?

As a character, she is the best Season 2 has to offer.

As a person, she would do an amazing office-worker.

What led her to the Bureau were probably her great thinking abilities and whatever her past trauma made her wish. Either she wanted to work on Kunizuka’s side, or she wanted to be able to protect people with her abilities, unlike she had when she led her best friend to death by refusing to act...

Unfortunately, she isn’t strong enough yet.

Shimotsuki is much too immature, but if she manages to grow up, I think she could do great things. Unfortunately, the environment she’s in might only make her worse - a youth spent in a closed environment, untrustworthy coworkers (from her point of view), guilt and secrets she didn’t want to learn might make her want to indulge in her flaws.

I haven’t heard much good about season 3, but I hope she remains a good character.

[hippychick006]

15.12 - Galaxy Brain

Episode Review/Recap

This is not pretty. Not the worst episode ever, but definitely somewhere in the bottom 10. It mainly suffers from having the focus on “fan favourites” I stopped caring about seasons ago, and contempt for Sam and Dean and their fans coming through loud and clear in the writing.

Everything under a cut because some people can’t handle the truth!

Official episode summary to get us excited and want to watch live: Sam and Dean respond to a frantic call and together along with Castiel, Jack, and Jody Mills (guest star Kim Rhodes), assist in an extraordinary and heartbreaking rescue. Billie (guest star Lisa Berry) surprises everyone with a visit to the bunker.

My reaction:

“Heartbreaking rescue” 😂

Kaia is shown in the recap and since I know from the promo that Jody is also in this episode, it’s yet another Wayward af episode being forced onto an audience who were very clear they didn’t want it 🙄. The recap is sending me to sleep and my bitter Sam girl is rising since he’s barely in it.  Checks who wrote it and rolls eyes: Teleplay by Bobo the 🤡.  Dean likely isn’t going to be much better off, prepares self for Destiel pandering and Dean being used as a side character to prop up the actual side characters.  Awesome. Roll on Walker where I hope I won’t be subjected to this shit.

The radio shed scene is boring.  Done with “fan favourite” Chuck and have been for several seasons now.  Chuck’s droning on about Sam and Dean, yet it’s Dean and waste of space who are being shown sitting down together, with Sam barely in the background.  Awesome.  I just. Why?  This is like when someone says something about J2 but we get a gif that includes M.  Why are we incapable of getting just J2 or Sam and Dean?

Moving quickly on, we transition from one character I used to love but now don’t care about, to another character I used to love, but now don’t care about.  “Fan favourite” Jody is examining a dead cow. “Fan favourite” Alex calls her, she must have been busy doing something else as she doesn’t appear in the episode. Side note, Berens put the line in about vegan lasagne because the girl playing Alex is a vegan. Oh… so we’re putting in shout outs to the side characters now?  Maybe that’s why the writing is so bad. #justsaying 🤷‍♀️

Jody gets whacked on the head and is it wrong to hope she’s dead?  😔 I know she’s not dead, I know this episode is going to be TFW 2.0 rescuing her (though I predict they will end up being the ones needing to be rescued because Wayward af). It’s too much to expect some real cases, some real urban legends to investigate in the final season.  Show went too big when it should have gone home.

Almost 7 minutes in and we finally have Sam and Dean. Yay! Berens has finally remembered they are still characters on the show, but I guess he hasn’t focused on them as they aren’t “fan favourites”.  And of course “fan favourite” waste of space is in the scene because Chuck fucking forbid we get the brothers without their waste of space hanging around because he somehow has nothing else to do the last 4 seasons.

We’re pandering to “my three dad’s” fan fiction crowd in this scene, though sharing 1 braincell Destihellers for sure will be tweeting about “dads” Dean and waste of space and cheerleader Uncle Sam.  They’re talking about “fan favourite” Jack and him eating hearts. Sam doesn’t want to trust “fan favourite” Billie (good call imo).  Dean seems disconnected from this scene. Same Jensen, Same tbh.  Jared, bless him, is trying his best with this shit, even bringing out the big gun puppy eyes of doom, but I’m feeling nothing but anger.

We move from them to Jack wandering around the bunker. We see him looking at “fan favourite” Mary’s initials carved into the table… and thank you show for reminding me of that fuck up that I’d wiped from my memory.  😡🤬. We learn during this scene that Jack has been trying to contact Billie, but she’s busy so sent him a reaper.

Back with my three dad’s and Jensen can barely keep the contempt out of his expression to deliver this script.  😂

We learn in this scene that Jack trusts Death so waste of space trusts Jack (me plaintively, why???), This appears to be the part in the season that waste of space is being set up to be the tool, which they’ll forgive him for yet again. 🙄 and also 😴 and 😡, a lot of 😡

Ooh, Sam just asked the obvious question, “If Jack kills god, what about Amara.” Nobody really answers it though.

Jared side-eyeing Misha at the end of this “brother” scene. Wtf are you doing in this scene? Your contribution was what exactly? Did I get any time off during any of this for you to stand in this scene doing nothing, other than pandering to Destiel stans that could give a fuck about me, than as a cheerleader for their non ship?  He flounces out.  I wish I could leave as easily Jared, but you sucked me into this show the first time you popped your cute mop of emo hair around the door and asked, “Do I have to?”  I’m here to the bitter, bitter end my friend.

Back with Jack and “fan favourite” random reaper we’ve never seen before.  No offence to the lady, but it might have been nice to see “fan favourite” Tessa back.  I don’t think she bit the dust, did she? Anyway 😴 through this scene.

Parent!Sam goes to find Jack and hears him talking to someone. Immediately concerned, he knocks on the door, and enters.  The reaper has disappeared. Sam asks who Jack was talking to, Jack says no one,  Sam knows that’s not the case but doesn’t push it.    Sam says they’re glad to have Jack back and asks if he knows that and that Jack could have come to them first, they would have helped him. So… we’re just ignoring the whole box thing and the end of last season? Awesome, said no fan of good writing or continuity anywhere.

By the way Jack, that was your cue to be honest with Sam about the reaper.

Ah, yet another pandering moment!!  How would we have endured the last few seasons without one or two or twenty of these crow barred into every episode.  Screams from the rooftops “waste of space is a god damn angel, he doesn’t eat or drink, why the fuck are you trying to humanise him you twats.”

Anyway 😴 through that scene and I swear, I would pay to have a version of this show with waste of space completely removed from the last few seasons.  Zero purpose to this, other than setting him up to be wrong again, and taking Dean along with him, because if Jack’s anything other than a red herring, I’ll be very 😡

As an aside, I  don’t know who that is in this scene but it’s not Dean. It’s not my Dean that I fell in love with.  I hate how much this show lost its way and dragged everything down to pandering and soap opera drama.

As another aside, this scene is like an outtake with seeing who can have the deepest voice, their vocal chords are going to be permanently screwed.

However, what amuses me as always with any Dean and waste of space scene, they don’t actually talk, except about Sam or Jack and this scene is no different.

Dean’s phone rings.  It’s Jody.  I started watching this epsiode, then took a break for a couple of days and had somehow completely forgotten she was in the episode. That’s how efficient my mind is at removing the trash. 😂. Anyway she’s in trouble and tells Dean where she is and that he has to come, otherwise she dies. 

Dean and Sam drive to the location given by Jody and I’m incredibly surprised that waste of space isn’t cadging a ride in the back seat.  Seems this is a random time they can deal with things on their own without requiring the assistance of several others. Just like the good old days.  Shame they’re saving one of the Wayward failures rather than a brand new case that would have been infinitely more interesting.

Sam and Dean get to pretend they remember how to hunt in this episode, Dean covering Sam’s back while Sam helps untie Jody who is tied to a chair in the middle of a barn is the best scene in the episode so far.  Jody has plenty of time while Sam’s untying her to warn them to watch out for “fan favourite” Dark!Kaia but no, and that’s how bad this is. She barely gets a gasp and a “look out” before Sam gets whaled on.  And of course they are both going to get their asses handed to them because “Wayward af” 🙄.  Fucking hate Wayward, not content with ruining 4 episodes of season 13, they’ve come back uninvited to waste another in season 15.

What the fuck did I just see? No seriously, what the actual everloving fuck did I just see? (My swearing goes up exponentially the worse the writing is, I make no apology for that).  Samsel-in-distress is writhing on the floor, while Dean is being choked by whiny dark!kaia complaining about her spear, so of course Jody has to be the one to rescue the Winchesters by whacking her on the back with her chair 🙄.  To add insult to injury, we don’t even get a padabooty shot to make up for this atrocity we’ve had to endure.  And believe me, I could see Jared desperately trying to give us that shot. I’m 😡

Now that Jody’s been shown to be more competent than the Winchesters because “girl power rules”, Sam’s able to stand up again and both he and Dean get their guns trained on dark!kaia.

Long boring scene later – mainly between Jody and Kaia because why write for the two guys you’re paying a quarter of a million dollars per episode for, when you can write for the cheap side characters and have Sam and Dean just stand in the scene doing practically nothing.  Are you chuck damn insane with this nonsense?  Oh sorry, upshot is Kaia is alive and Dark!Kaia can see her world ending and needs to open the portal to rescue her so she lured Sam and Dean to get to Jack (for him to open the portal like he did before). 😴

Jack and waste of space are playing connect 4.  Jack wins. 😴

Sam and Jody arrive back at the bunker. We get a waste of screen time between Jody and waste of space who meet for the first time, with Sam once again being very expensive, but beautiful background.   Dean comes in a little later so he can have a dramatic entrance with dun dun dun, dark!kaia. 😴

I love how the Scooby gang are all off to the side, having a conversation but Dark!kaia is clearly within listening distance so it just makes them look like dumbasses.

Jack’s off limits in helping Kaia (Parent!Dean said no), but Sam says they’re going to look for another way.  Ummm… wasn’t that what the entirety of Season 13 was about and you needed the grace of an archangel for?  You’re just going to “check the lore” and miraculously find in half an episode what you couldn’t find in the entirety of a season?  This is bad. Waste of space is going to call plot device “fan favourite” Sergei.  How they never stumbled across Sergei before, I have no idea as he seems to be the oracle as far as Drabbernatural is concerned.

Dark!Kaia is so whiny. They are terrible at writing teenage girls, it’s actually insulting at this point.

Oh, I thought Jack had found the right spell in research, but turns out the monster needed for the spell is now extinct as they read about it in dad’s journal. Wow, I don’t remember the journal being mentioned in a long time, surprised they remember it even existed, let alone used to be the holy grail of hunting and pretty much what the show centred around in the early seasons (*whispers*, when the show was good).

Wow, they even managed to make the 30 second broment boring. This is a new low.  😴

Jody and waste of space scene because yes, out of all the scenes I could have wished to see in the final season, this was on the list. 🙄. They talk about “fan favourite” Hunter!Barbie Claire (who couldn’t be in this episode because she’s all that and a kit kat now - Supernatural who? I don’t know her.). We find out Claire loved Kaia.  I mean yeah, it’s totally normal to fall in love within 15 minutes of knowing someone. Fucking hell, someone take this pandering hack’s laptop away and save us from this trite aimed only at people who share 1 braincell who only wanted the relationship as it’s a “parallel” to Destiel.  But since Dean dancing with a lamp a couple of episodes ago was a parallel for Destiel, why are we pandering to them. (*whispers* the writers are all narcassists and put stoking their ego before good writing).

This is bad.  Did I mention this was bad?  No, but it’s really, really bad.

Jack was listening in so he’s going to do something stupid so Claire gets her “love” back. Of course he is. 🙄

He goes to speak to Dark!Kaia.  She’s still whiny, we’ll fast forward this garbage to the point Jack looks inside Dark!Kaia’s head to see what she sees, which is Kaia struggling in lizard world. 😴

Jack goes to Sam and Dean and says he’s helping Kaia because he owes her.   Parent!Winchesters are funny, neither are happy with what Jack wants to do but they support their mother killing son.

Reaper is back to stop Jack doing something that is “Winchester dumb” and Jesus fuck, how much contempt does this hack writer have for the lead characters and the 99% of the audience who love them?

Anyway the next few minutes are how stupid the Winchesters are that they can’t even fix the warding on the bunker, and I hate this writer is getting paid actual money for handing this crap in. Unfortunately, he’s got his fellow writers and a couple of hundred sycophants telling him how absolutely amaze balls he is with the rest of the c list cast tweeting around each other at how good they all were.

This is my favourite bit of the episode – not really – but it amuses me the Hellers are making mountains out of “I need to borrow your angel” (😔 pandering) and completely ignoring that no-one bats an eye or puts up a token protest that the reaper needs to use waste of space to feed the wards to keep them running as long as they need for the spell to work. No one asks what harm that might do to him, waste of space is yet again, nothing more than... well, a waste of space really. Never change Hellers, never change. 😂. I’d like to point out that if Sam has been needed to charge it, the reaction from Dean would have been entirely different. 😂

Dean makes the spell, Sam reads the words, while 2 of the 3 side characters just stand there with no purpose.  The warding going up throughout the bunker is the coolest part of this episode though.  Special effects used their $2.50 dollar store budget wisely this week.  👍

10 second broment where Sam asks Dean how Sam’s feeling about what they’re doing.

Sam: honestly?  It feels like we’re taking a big, probably stupid risk… it feels good. Disobeying cosmic entities, doing the dumb right thing, it feels like we’re back.

Note to Berens, I think you could have fit a few more dumb synonyms into that speech to let us know how you really feel). 🙄

I like how Sam checks Dean’s backpack in this scene though.  I’m wondering if that was J2 rather than writing or direction.

Yet another scene between Jody and waste of space. 😴. Jody thanks him for staying behind to look after the reaper.  Waste of space says he wants Jody to stay behind too.

Jody (out of absolutely nowhere): What is that?  Some bs male chivalry thing?

Fuck off with your sjw feminist bullshit to please the single braincellers. With shitty lines like this, it’s absolutely no surprise Wayward didn’t get green lighted.

Waste of space talks about how he’ll never be able to make what’s right, what he “took from Claire”.  Oh, you’ve remembered you possessed a child, incapable of consenting to being possessed, in order to blackmail her father to agree to being possessed again against his will.  A father and husband you got killed because you provoked Lucifer by shouting “Hey assbutt” at him and getting Jimmy blown to smithereens? And you still wander round wearing his face and clothes? No, waste of space, you can’t ever make up for that.

Anyway, the reason he doesn’t want Jody going is that if Claire loses her on top of what she’s already lost (including Kaia), then it would kill her.  Jody agrees. I meanwhile have to stop watching while I try to find my eyes which have rolled right out of my head at this point of the episode. 🙄

Found them, we’re back!  

The reaper and Castiel put their hands on a stone tablet, not sure if we’ve seen it before or it’s just a random object the reaper has handy.  🤷‍♀️. The wards are supercharged (hiding the use of Jack’s powers from Chuck so he doesn’t alert Chuck that he’s back).  Jack opens the portal and Dark!Kaia, Sam and Dean step through to lizard world.

It’s raining heavily, but not on Sam’s hair bizarrely. Denied wet!Sam so here’s a gif from a good episode.

And because I'm here for both my boys, here’s wet Dean as a bonus

They start walking to find Kaia and are set upon by those creatures from the first Star Wars movies – the ones that sell the droids and this bit is exciting, finally we get what I’m here for.  Sam and Dean are going to kick as….  Or not, because why write Sam and Dean doing what they should be doing.  The creatures don’t want to fight, they are scared of the world ending and run away. Totally anti-climactic. 😔

They find Kaia and in the most bizarre writing so far in a season chock full of bizarre writing, Kaia rushes to the guy who pulled a gun on her and forced her to do something she didn’t want to do, resulting in her getting stranded on that shitty lizard world alone, and instead of stabbing him, she… hugs him.

In fairness, it was ooc writing by I think Berens that had Dean pulling the gun on Kaia in the first place so this is just a really weak attempt at fixing the original bad writing, which only ends up compounding the problem.

Sam “the writers never bother to write in a hug for me” Winchester just stands back and smiles at Kaia.  In fairness, Sam never getting hugged goes way back and I headcanon that Sam has “back off” vibes to protect himself.  Common in younger siblings that experience a lot of loss early in their lives.

Kaia notices dark!kaia and looks about to kill her but Sam says that she helped them find Kaia.  They go to leave but dark!kaia wants to stay because she doesn’t belong in their world.  Sam says she’ll die and she seems to accept that, being left behind as Sam, Dean and Kaia run for the portal.

We see Dark!Kaia’s world pretty much ending, with her embracing it, just as Sam, Dean and Kaia step back through the portal.

Jody and Kaia hug and I think we’re supposed to feel 🥰 at that, but I care for neither of them (and Kaia was the one I originally liked in season 13, but Wayward af and the trite with Claire, plus dark!kaia episodes ruined it).

Kaia and Jack scene and Kaia looks really well put together considering the entire time we saw her in the AU, she was clearly having mental issues, but like a magic wand has been waved, she’s completely normal and healthy and no worse for 2 earth years in complete isolation in a world you have to fight to survive in every day.  Miraculous, but that’s a Wayward af cardboard cutout character for you.

Jody comes in and offers Kaia a home at Jody’s home for cardboard cut out girl!power hunters.  Kaia asks if Claire will be there and Jody says soon.  

Sam, Dean and waste of space are crammed into a frame and we wouldn’t have this overcrowding in a scene if they didn’t insist on crowbarring him in.  There would be more space in the scene if he wasn’t wasting it. I’m guessing it’s to frame Jack in the front with his “three dad’s” behind 🤮. It just looks bad.

After Kaia and Jody leave, they go back to speak to the reaper.  They’ve remembered they have two stars in this framing, Sam and Dean are together in the front of the shot, Jack and waste of space are behind.

Sam asks the reaper if the warnings worked. She snidely answers that the fact they are all still alive says it worked.  She’s killed milliseconds later by… Billie.  Oh “fan favourite” reaper, so sad to see you go. Maybe you’ll be resurrected in a later episode. We can always hope.

“Hello boys”.  Wait, isn’t that Crowley’s line (and before that Ellen?).

Oh my chucking lord, why the dramatical looks at Death and everyone being scared. This is bad. This is like that Clint Eastwood movie where they all look at each other.

It’s bad.  Who directed this?  Lol, I think it might have been Richard. He’s been hit or miss for me.  And this one’s a miss.

Sam and Dean step aside to allow Billie to get to Jack and can I just say, no parent would ever do that.  I don’t believe Sam and Dean would do that, but they do, do that (sniggers childishly at do do). They just step aside without saying a word, but who cares about them and what their characters would do.  Certainly not the writer of this episode.

Death tells them they risked everything for one girl and for what, because all the worlds are dying.

Waste of space says it’s Chuck and glares impotently at Death (I think that’s what he’s doing, he might just need the bathroom again, who knows anymore tbh), while she agrees with him, saying Chuck has been wiping out galaxies for the end.

Sam asks what her end game is.  He asks how Jack is going to kill god, what the plan is.

Long, boring monologue later, God has a book in Death’s library, meaning he can die. Billy: Everything dies” 😂

We flashback to original death in the pizza place with Dean and I wish they hadn’t. The difference between that scene and anything in the last season is glaring.  But I was right from something we were talking about a few weeks ago, because we get this quote from Death to remind us;

Death: In the end, I reap him too

Original!Dean: God?  You’ll reap god

Death: oh yes

Waste of space, “And why would god write the blueprint to his own death?” (that would have been a good line for Sam or Dean who have barely had anything to say or do this episode as it is, and they’re in the scenes just standing there getting paid a quarter of a million dollars to watch someone who hung up his acting shoes before season 7, give this line, and I can’t with this).

Anyway, god didn’t write the book, the books write themselves.

Another boring monologue, the upshot of which is Chuck had to write himself into the framework, hence he has to have a book, but it’s not explained very well and I’m fake coughing bullshit on this plot device as it doesn’t make any sense but I throw my hands up in the air. If the writers don’t care about even trying to make it make sense, then why the fuck should I put any effort in to explain it away. 😴

God hasn’t read his book and can’t unless Billie lets him. Sam asks if Jack is in god’s book. She says yes and “so are you.  I told you Dean, you and your brother have work to do, this is your destiny.  You are the messengers of god’s destruction.”

Oh great... they’re messenger boys now?  Awesome.

Back with Chuck, he’s still in Radio Shed, watching a number of televisions and all of them show worlds being destroyed.  

Chuck gets up to leave, the “fan favourite” Radio Shed employee asks if he’ll be saved.  Oh you sweet summer child! 

Chuck says he’ll be fine, but as he leaves we see a meteor hit the store (and show, if you think that was a surprise twist ending, it was flashing neon lights from the very beginning).

The episode seemed to be double the length of normal, but nothing really happened and it was boring af.

Somebody get this show a defibrillator.  Stat!  Oh wait, on second thoughts, slaps “Do not resuscitate” sign onto show.  Let it die in peace. 

[she-is-tim]

Bleeding Hearts | Elu Vampire Soulmate AU Ch.1

Eliott is living on alcohol, weed and blood. That drives his dead body on a daily basis, giving him at least some kind of purpose in his meaningless life. Being immortal sucks. Being dead sucks even more. All he wants is to get out of this endless loop of nothingness, but he doesn’t expect that to happen so soon. When he meets him, his world turns upside down and his heart starts to beat again. 

In a beat of the heart

The night was calm, nothing extreme happened and it was good like that. March just started a week ago, so the weather was still cold, it was often raining, but he could never complain about that. The more the sun was behind the clouds, the more he could walk in daylight. Not today though. Today the sky was clear, moon shining brighter than the city lights below. Cars were rushing through the busy streets, but he was focused on one building. 

There was always a lot of people around the hospital, people running in and out, Ambulance coming in with paramedics, taking unconscious patients inside to save their lifes. He could hear every single heartbeat, even from this far away. He knew when someone would not make it, but that was alright. Death is part of life. It’s something that happens when a person had finished his task on this world. Yeah sometimes it happened before that, unexpectedly at a young age, but that was alright too. He would do anything to be like that. A normal human living his life until death comes along the corner to take him and he would fall into his arms with a smile on his face. 

He looked at the empty blood bag at his feet, he could still feel the metallic flavor on his tongue and it made him sick. It was never enough, his body was craving for it, but he could never get enough. That was probably the worst out of all if he doesn’t consider that hs body was dead. The endless craving. It was like tiny ants crawling under his skin, a beast growling inside him, screaming for it. I need blood. Give me blood. He could hold it back most of the time, feeding it just enough to shut its mouth. There were days when it was harder, when the beast was stronger. On those days he needed more blood and he had to stay in his apartment, behind locked doors. It wasn’t impossible to resis the craving, but it was harder than anyone could imagine. His whole body was itching, like it wants to burst out in flames. 

Focus!

He shook his head and looked back down at the street, throwing the remains of his cigarette aside, tucking the empty blood bag into the inside pocket of his jacket. He noticed the person he was waiting for waling towards the hospital, it was almost time for the night shift to start, therefore he had to get ready. With his speed and soundless movements it wasn’t hard to get into even such a crowded building as a hospital. He did this countless of times, always being successful. 

He jumped, feet landing on the sidewalk quietly. No one noticed, because they shouldn’t. People were so blind about their surroundings that it was almost ridiculous. Since Eliott became one of these things, he realized how ignorant and idiotic regular people can be. Of course that made things easier for the nightcrawlers, but it annoyed him so fucking much. They were basically offering themselves for the beasts. Letting them feed from them, charm them into death or the promise of eternal life. Yeah, sorry, bad news. Eternal life sucks. 

He stepped into the hospital, people walking past him, not even realizing that he’s there, though he was pretty outstanding in the bright environment. His black clothes, his pale skin, his stormy grey eyes and deep black hair was in a stark contrast with the white and light blue colors inside the building. Yet no one paid attention to the stranger and it was okay. He got used to this side of being dead. People only noticed him if he wanted to, otherwise it was like wearing camouflage in the woods. He was hidden. He was just a shadow. Not breathing, not making a sound. Not being alive. 

His steps were soundless, the tiles under his feet were cold, but not as much as his own body. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, there was no point, since he couldn’t get sick or feel cold. The jacket was on him only because it had a large pocket, making it easier to carry the stuff he came for. He walked past the waiting area, going straight towards the stairs. The smell of antiseptic was burning his nose, even though he wasn’t breathing it in. Things like these always found a way to bother him. Small noises, irritating scents, everything. His senses were much more sharp, eyes seeing things from miles away, ears hearing heartbeats from afar, nose smelling things through walls. He might be dead, but that made him even more dangerous. A predator designed to lure in the prey and end its life quietly, quickly. As he took the steps, heading down towards his goal, theawful scent of the antiseptic was more than welcome in his nose, as long as it covered the smells that would drive him crazy. The smell of fresh blood.

The hallway was awfully quiet, even to his sensitive hearing. There were distant sounds of steps, heart monitors and other machines. It was already late, past 22 actually, so there wasn’t much people in the building other than the night shift workers. Especially not on this level, where the storages were. He fastened his steps as he got closer to the end of the hall, turning to the right. Before he could open the door, it moved on itself. Well, not actually. 

The woman behind it was wearing light blue hospital outfit that was in high contrast with her beautiful, chocolate brown skin, her black hair in small braids with an ocean blue headband on top. Eliott flashed her a smile, which she weakly returned. Imane, because that was her name looked really tired. It wasn’t easy for her to do her night shifts and study at the same time. She was on biology major in college, wanted to be a doctor, but for that she had to work even harder than others, considering her place in society. Eliott always found it infuriating how much they looked down on black or muslim people in schools, like they are incapable of having high IQ or being talented. Since he became a beast of the night, he knew how it was feeling separated, different from everyone else. Maybe that’s why they understood each other so well with the girl. 

He stepped into the room, his eyes fixed on the large freezers that were standing by the wall exact opposite from the door, filleg with bags of blood. He could feel his mouth hurting, his fangs wanting to pop out, ready to drink up all of it, but he held it back. He got quite good at controlling the beast by now. 

“You look like shit.” Imane said quietly, standing right next to him, eyes scanning the boy from head to toe. 

“Well, try living without heartbeat or breathing for a while. We’ll see how pretty you can be.” Eliott shot back with his usual sarcastic humor, which the other seemed to like a lot. 

“I prepared some for you. They are kinda fresh, so it won’t taste so awful like last time.” she said, walking to the drawers in the corner, that were there for documents to hold, but Imane always used the bottom one to hide blood bags in them. No one really cared for the papers in there anyways, it was the task of the night shift nurses to organize paperwork and make sure everything is registered. He knew that Imane was risking a lot by helping him out, but she was a smart girl and kept reassuring him that she made sure no one notices the missing blood bags. Eliott believed her, even if she was lying, because this was the only way he could feed the beast without hurting people. Imane also knew that. 

“Is everything alright with you?” Eliott asked and it was genuine interest. He could be dead, but that didn’t mean he had no feelings or thoughts. Of course he tried to not get too attached to anyone, especially not to mortals, but his friendship with Imane was special, something that gave at least a small reason for him to get through his days. 

“You can say that.” she mumbled, placing bags of blood from the drawer to the table in the middle of the room. Eliott needed all his strength to focus on her words and not get lost in gazing at the crimson liquid behind the thick plastic. “College life is hard, but I’ll manage.” she said nonchalantly and shrugged, flashing him a toothy smile as she finished packing. There was six bag on the table, enough for at least a month or so. If he doesn’t get carried away like last time. 

“I still don’t know how to thank you all of this.” he said, voice slightly raspy as he tore apart his eyes from the bags, looking at the girl. 

“You look like you could use more.” she said, concerned look on her face. Eliott could swear that her skin was the smoothest he had ever seen. 

“Yeah, well, I only take what I can.” he shrugged and walked towards the table, stuffing the bags into the inside pocket of his large, leather jacket. If someone had told him many years ago that he will meet a black, muslim girl that’s going to help him get blood, he would laugh into the face of that person. Tables have turned since then, and he couldn’t imagine his life without the help of Imane. She was a genuine and caring person, not even afraid of a monster like him. 

“If you need more, I can...” 

“Cut it!” he said gently, raising his hand. All the rings on it were shining in the sharp white of the neon lights. One skull ring, slightly faded silver, one bronze snake ring, wrapped around his middle finger and a simple black one on his index finger. “This is more than enough, don’t worry.” he said and placed the last bag in his pocket now. “Just make sure to let me know if I can help with anything. I might not be a hundred years old, but I still know things.” he winked playfully, earning an eyeroll from the girl. 

“You know I can see right through you, right?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I know that you are unhappy. I can see the burn marks on your skin.” she said seriously, her eyes fixed on Eliott’s bare feet. There was a small place of skin that was still a bit red from where the sun touched it. “You can’t do this to yourself.” 

“This is the only way I can feel anything, other than the hunger.” he answered roughly, eyes slightly squinted. He liked Imane a lot, but talking about feelings wasn’t his favorite topic, especially since he became one of the dead. 

“Fine.” Imane sighed and rested her hands on the table now, leaning forward. She learned to keep the distance between them during their usual “blood meeting” because if she would be too close, Eliott might not be able to hold back the beast. It liked young blood more than anything. Young and fresh blood. 

“Thank you again, Imane.” 

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want you to starve to death.” she smirked and now it was Eliott’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” he said mockingly, but it was good to have someone who was comfortable enough around him to say jokes like this. He zipped up his jacket, making sure he won’t lose the bags on his way out, giving the girl a two finger salute before leaving the room. 

The only noise in the hospital was the sound of the magazine the receptionist was reading. She seemed to be pretty preoccupied with it and Eliott was too, since he didn’t notice the boy walking towards him. He was talking fast into his phone, arguing with someone. The tall boy only noticed someone was coming closer when they shoulder bumped to each other. It was only a slight touch, the other didn’t even notie it, too busy with yelling quietly into his phone. But for Eliott it felt like a lightning struck. He suddenly felt everything, like his nerves were going crazy. His nose was filled with the scent of the combination of mint and deodrant. He fell to the wall next to him, grabbing his jacket by his chest. The world was swirling around him, the floor felt like ice, hurting his feet. The walls were closing around him, his vision slightly blurred. Static noise was filling his ear and something else he quiet couldn’t recognize. It was like something was drumming on his ribcage, trying to burst out of his body, something was pumping under his skin. His eyes burned, filling with tears as he was gasping for air. Gasping for air? 

It took him long minutes to realize that what he was feeling in his chest was in fact his heart, beating. The feeling under his skin was his own blood filling his veins. He could hear it. Tears were running down his face and he couldn’t stop them, not like he wanted to. He haven’t been able to cry since he died, not even when the sun was burning him. But now they were overflowing, wetting his cheeks, leaving warm traces on the pale skin. He looked at his hands, seeing his veins popping out, slighting thumping to the rhythm of his heartbeat. It was too fast, irregular, but it was his heart. 

It felt like hours passed, but it was only a couple of minutes. He looked up from his hands to see the boy leaving the building. He couldn’t see his face, just a grey hoodie and a beautiful crown of brown hair. Whatever that person did to him, he had to find it out. His mind was racing with a hundred miles per hour, he still felt dizzy. He couldn’t remember when or how he left the hospital, but the next thing he saw was the door of his own apartment. He slowly opened it, walking inside and sitting down on the couch. He could feel the bags of blood in his jacket, but he couldn’t think of anything else, but that boy. The scent of him would not leave his nose. It was driving him crazy. 

━━━━

After the shock came the panic. Eliott spent most of his night curled up on the couch, trying to take in all the shit around him. If his senses were sharp before, now they were even worse. He could hear bugs crawling inside the walls, the snorring of the old lady from downstairs. Everything got on his nerves, making him lose his mind. And of course on top of that there was his fucking loud heartbeat and his breathing. Those were the worst. He so got used to having a dead body that now he had no idea what to do. He wasn’t even sure if he was alive, but he felt alive. 

His forearms were red from where he kept scratching it endlessly, but he couldn’t stop the itching. His body got slowly filled with his blood and that was surprisingly painful. It felt like when your limbs go numb and they slowly getting back to work, but it’s also super sensitive to even the lightest of touch. Yeah, coming back to life was something like that. Shaking the numbness off your body, embracing the pain that was coming with it. 

When the morning came, Eliott felt exhausted, like he was running for hours and hours. It was probably caused by his panic attack. Who would have thought a creature of the night could have one. But he would have never thought it’s possible for his heart to beat again, so there’s that. 

He got up from the couch, basically pulling his legs with him as he entered the kitchen. He only drank coffee out of habbit before, but now he felt like his body could use some caffeine to function. Everything was weird with his extra sharp senses and he still couldn’t get used to the beating heart in his chest. He could feel every movement of the muscles making it pump the blood through his veins. He knew that being alive didn’t feel like this before, this was something else. He might have a beating heart, but he was still a monster, which confused him even more. 

━━━━

Not more than two weeks passed and now he was back there on the rooftop, glancing down at the street. It took him a while to calm down and try to find some sort of explanation to what happened to him. Sadly the internet wasn’t much of a help, so he had to look for old books written by actual vampires. Eugh, he hates that word so much. Vampire. It makes his skin crawl just by using it in his head. He is one of the bloodsuckers, the dead ones, but he hated his own existence more than anything. Well, he did before all this happened. Before a boy made his heart beat again. 

His research didn’t go as well as he wanted it to, but there were some information and crumbs of situations like this in the books. All of them mentioning deep connection, fate, meant to be together and even soulmates. Like that is possible. How could a dead creature have a soulmate? That sounded ridiculous, but he had no better explanation to this. That boy literally made his heart beat again, bringing him back to life and maybe giving a reason for him to embrace that. He still hated the fact that there was no detailed paragraphs about all this soulmate bullshit. Was he supposed to approach him? But how? He was just a human being, probably knowing nothing about the creatures of the night. And on top of that there was no way it wouldn’t be dangerous for Eliott to be around him. God, they just bumped into each other, only touched for mere seconds and they should now be together forever because what? The universe decided so? What about their feelings? What if that boy would hate him? He can’t ask him to accept him the way he is, because he can’t even accept himself. He can’t ask for his love when they don’t even know each other. How is he supposed to tell him this? Oh, hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but we bumped shoulders last week and it seems like our fate is to end up together. Oh, and I could rip out your throat anytime if I lose control over the beast inside me. I’m Eliott by the way, your soulmate, you know.  

He buried his face into his palms, rubbing over it slowly. He let out a deep, desperate sigh before lighting up another cigarette. The roof around him looked like an ashtray already, since this was the third night he spent up here, observing the hospital from afar. Usually he came here once a month, or even less often, but right now he had to see that boy. It was stupid, he knew. They met here more than a week ago, whatever brought him to the hospital could not be there by now, but there was a deep feeling, a little tingling inside him that he’s going to see him again. 

And there he was. It felt like electricity running through his body, soft smell of mint and deodrant filling his nose. It was crazy how intense these feelings were, though his boy just stepped to the street from a crowded bus. His eyes fixed on him instantly, examining his features and damn, he was the most beautiful human being for sure. His skin was soft, smooth even, small moles scattering around it here and there, his hair was brown, slightly disheveled, cherry pink lips that were a bit chapped. Eliott could imagine kissing him, breathing into his mouth and never letting him go. He shook his head, pushing away the dirty thoughts. The most captivating thing about the boy was his ocean blue eyes, they were basically glowing, even under the dim light of the street lamps. He was wearing a grey hoodie and black sweatpants. How can someone look so gorgeous in sweatpants? It should be illegal. 

He was holding a plastic bag in his beautiful hands, walking towards the front door of the hospital. Eliott was so focused on him that he only noticed Imane when the two of them met in front of the building. He could feel his heart sink and then beat faster at the sight. They greeted each other like friends, Imane even hugged the boy, Lucas. That’s how she called him. Beautiful name for a beautiful boy, indeed. 

“Good to see you here.” Imane said softly, rubbing the arms of the boy, who smiled at her softly. Eliott felt like he could melt from that smile if Lucas would ever flash it at him. It made him look even more beautiful. 

“Yeah, you too. We should hang out sometime.” the brunette offered.

“Definitely, but I think both of us is busy with work and studies.” she said with a sad smile, earning a slow nod from the other. 

“For sure. I think I’m going crazy with all those assigments.” he smirked. “But that’s the life of a university student.” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. Eliott could watch and listen to him for hours. He had such a soft voice and his face was just... so fucking pretty.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he missed the rest of their conversation. His stomach churned at the sight of the boy entering the hospital, leaving the line of his sight. The urge of going after him, grabbing him and never let go was almost stronger than his hunger for blood. Which was terrifying. How could he crave for a boy he had only seen twice and never spoke to him? How can there be a connection between them? 

He let out a thick cloud of smoke and got up from the edge of the roof where he was squatting before, throwing away the remains of his cigarette. This building got closed off since years now and Eliott had claimed this rooftop for himself since then. It was high enough to be out of sight and close enough to the hospital too. A perfect hiding place for a monster like him. 

He fished his phone out of his pocket, letting his heart take control over his body this time. It was such a long time ago since he had feelings like this, so deep that they could physically hurt. Being apart from his boy, from his soulmate was just like that. His chest was aching and he couldn’t get his face out of his mind, he was everywhere inside his head. Those bright blue eyes were the most beautiful things he had ever seen in his life. And he had seen a lot of things. 

He didn’t have much people in his contacts, so it was fairly easy to find Imane’s name an click on the chat button. His fingers were hovering above the screen for a while, not being sure what to type. He didn’t wanted to involve Imane even more into the sack of shit that is his life. She had enough problems without this vampire-soulmate-beating-heart crap, and honestly it was still not clear for him what all this meant. He only knew that he was destined to meet Lucas and the moment their shoulders bumped, their lives intertwined with each other. 

After taking a deep breath, he put his phone back in his pocket and sat down on the edge of the roof, lighting yet another cigarette. He needed to think. Think about what to do. Approach Lucas, let him into his life, into his heart or stay away for good, saving probably both of them from the inevitable pain that would come with this bullshit. 

“I am so fucked.” he mumbled into the cold, starless night, his grey eyes fixed on the transparent door of the hospital. “So damn fucked...”

ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^ˇ^

Soooo, I did a thing. I know this might be a short first chapter, but I really wanted to post something to get some reviews from you. I’m hoping that you guys like it and that I could explain the things fairly okay. I wrote a lot of fantasy stuff when I was a teenager (like 10 years ago), but not in english, so this was a hard task and I would appreciate some honest opinions about this. The base idea was stolen from Kresley Cole’s vamp books I read like 8-9 years ago, but the story is completely made by my crazy mind. Anyways, I will stop rambling. Thank you for reading and make sure to leave a feedback. Bisou

[twilightofthe]

For the Star Wars questions- 16 & 19. :)

Thank you!!! (y’all this got ridiculously long for two damn questions lol)

Send me a number and i’ll tell u my fave/least fave:

16. Book/Comic (Aight, so I’m actually not a huge comic reader in general, most of my comic knowledge comes from other fans on here posting about them, so this is gonna be mainly book-focused)

FAVE:  Welllllll, since I’m literally incapable of narrowing down my favorite anythings, I’m gonna do faves for both canon and EU novels.  

Canon-wise, it’s a tie beween A New Dawn and Ahsoka.  I know I don’t post about them as much on here, but I truly have a super soft spot for Kanera and Kanan and Hera’s characters, they’re just so GOOD and I love themmmmm aaaaaaaaa.  You get super good insights to how Kanan was running wild and traumatized and trying to repress everything and how Hera was a little naïve but still tough as nails and she had a dream and she was going to make it happen or so help her, ugh I just love how the story showed how they’re strongest as a team working together and I just love character dynamics where the two are so obviously married and kinda snark at each other sometimes but they have each other’s backs through everything and know each other like the back of their hands and uggghhhh this is just such a healthy good ship and such a good book.  The Ahsoka novel is just fantastic all on its own because it shows Ahsoka as a young adult, kinda floundering and lost in this new world, full of guilt over what happened with Anakin and the Order, trying to do what she can to help people and just enduring because she’s a survivor, she was raised (by two argumentative, adoptive parents who love her very much SO SAYETH THE BOOK) to be a survivor and handle herself, but that doesn’t mean she’s not lonely as all hell.  And oof I just fucking adore Kaeden Larte and her relationship with Ahsoka (who absolutely comes back and marries her once the war is over oh yes) and her relationship with Miara and ugh just all of it is A+++++.  E.K. Johnston is just an amazing author in general and her other book, Queen’s Shadow is one of my two canon runner ups because I am in love with her Sabé and her Padmé.  Other canon runner up is A Certain Point Of View, if only for the “Time of Death” chapter.  Don’t get me wrong, the rest of it is also fantastic, but oh god it kills me DEAD OBI WAN DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER AND I CRY I REALLY CRY

EU-wise (oh god, I haven’t even gotten to least-faves yet), it has to be the Revenge of the Sith novelization.  Without a question.  Y’all it’s SO FUCKIN’ good, and in my personal opinion should be considerrred canonnnnnn (look I think the reason they gave for excluding it is that there’s no mention of Ahsoka or Rex or Mandalore or any of the stuff that happened literally the day before which is valid, but I counterpoint that Anakin is a mess with A Lot Going On At The Moment, he could have just forgot?  He forgets most of his morals, all of his common sense, and three of his limbs by the end of the story, Snips could have just slipped his mind! xD).  Anyway, besides the fact that it’s like 99% written in Obikin-colored glasses which really just makes me happy as a person because I love it being acknowledged just how important they are to each other, it really offers a deeper insight INSIDE the chaos going on in Anakin’s head, the mess, just why he falls so quickly and so awfully.  I love it gives the Padmé plot that got cut on screen some validity.  The beautiful beginning and the goddam introductions to Anakin Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi are just A++++++++++++++ and oof other people can more accurately describe just how good this book is, but I love it a Big Lot ok?

LEAST FAVE:  Okey doke, here we go....  So firstly for canon, I’m not the biggest fan of how Claudia Grey writes Leia’s character.  She’s a wonderful storyteller and I love her worldbuilding, but just the way she characterizes Leia herself never felt... right, ya know?  Idk, I can’t really explain it, but it makes it difficult for me to enjoy her Leia novelsWarning right now that this is a VERY unpopular opinion and my opinion alone, please do not yell at me!  So as skilled and admired an author Timothy Zahn is, I don’t like the Thrawn books.  I’m sorry, I don’t.  To me, Thrawn is just.... ok so he’s like BBC!Sherlock but in space.  The plot makes a big deal about how “oooh cool and intelligent and Literally Better Than Everyone Else” Thrawn is, but the only way they really show his “cleverness” is by either him solving problems by pulling together information that literally no one but the writer knows and then acting like it was oh so obvious and in front of everyone OR, the story dumbs down other characters to make him look smart.  And maybe it was because the one Thrawn book goes after Anakin/Vader in particular to do the latter is what kinda ticked me off on Thrawn books in general, but y’all, it really ticked me off, because Anakin is like the lowest hanging fruit for an author to pick to make their character look good in comparison, and therefore it is done All The Time (LOOKING AT YOU, CLONE WARS), which I think is lazy and an insult to Anakin’s character.  Look, I am fully aware Anakin Skywalker is a dolt to the highest degree sometimes, but he is ALSO A GENIUS.  He is SMART.  IT IS CANON THAT HE IS SMART.  So when the Thrawn book has Thrawn constantly one-upping Anakin The Useless Doofus (and Padmé a bit!!!) and then doing it again once he meets him as Vader, that just makes me hmmmm.

The canon comics are actually gonna be featured on the list here a bit because if y’all don’t already know my hatred for That One Particular Vader Comic (not the rest of the series run as I have not read it and from what I hear, it’s excellent and I’d probs like it a lot) doing the implication in a dream sequence where it says that Palpatine used the Dark Side to impregnate Shmi and create Anakin, well I HATE IT.  Look, I know the plot was literally about Sidious trying to mess with Vader’s head and that dream shouldn’t be trusted, but it fooled all the fans too and now like 60% of Star Wars fans actually believe Sidious fathered Anakin and I am so damn tired of hearing about that.  Yeah, now that Reylo is canon, that comic’s authors are trying to do damage control by saying that no, Sidious isn’t Anakin’s father and Rey and Ben are not second cousins, but they’re still being mysterious about it and “oh well it COULD be this--” so now there’s just more fans who are digging into that theory just because they don’t like Reylo and I don’t really care for the ship either but I really HATE the entire “Born of the Dark” concept for reasons I can explain more separately, so I’m pissy at that particular comic for spawning it.  I know it’s petty but I do.

EU-wise, well, this is gonna be unpopular too, cuz I haven’t read most of the EU stuff, and from what I’ve heard of it, there doesn’t seem to be much that I WOULD like.  The movie novelizations all seem good, but everything else???  “Obi Wan prequels but guess what, he had a shitty childhood too!” uh, no thanks, the rest of his life sucks enough, I want to see him happy.  “Mandalorian worldbuilding, but they’re all a bunch of stoic, overpowered badasses who are Good At Everything And Better Than Literally Everyone and the plot bashes the Jedi left right and center!” ehhhhhhhh pass.  “What happened after Return of the Jedi, except the Skywalkers still don’t get a happy ending because the galaxy goes to war again, Han and Leia’s son turns evil, Luke Suffers, and Palpatine comes back again!” nah, that sounds too depressing-- oh wAIT :) :) :)(at least the EU actually lets Han and Leia grow old and happy together okay okay that’s enough sequel salt for one day)

19. Outfit

FAVE:  Everything Padmé Amidala wears in the movies.  No I will not narrow it down.  I am in love with her whole wardrobe and I want it. 

 I also love the standard Jedi tunics and tabards and cloak (c’mon, the cloak completes the picture!)  It’s just such a signature and unique look that’s supposed to combine medieval European knight tunics and samurai warrior clothing and just the #aesthetic is oof, just wonderful.

Also Sabine Wren’s armor and its various paint jobs.  It’s just so uniquely her and bright and beautiful and badass in all its stages and yes good I like it.

Also Lando Calrissian’s cloaks!  Swooshy and colorful and good!  I love cloaks!  

LEAST FAVE:  Gonna go with my petty, silly ones first, and those are all of Padmé Amidala’s outfits that are only seen in the The Clone Wars TV show (so not the ones that were based off of movie costumes).  Eh, actually three of them were nice, her orange outfit she visits Mina in, her white casual housedress, and her black slinky Clovis dress.  All of her other series-only outfits made me highkey pissy because they were either A.) Wrong for the situation she was in, B.) Defied the laws of physics and should not have held the shape they did/stayed on her body, or C.) just plain UGLY (the highest crime of all), and for the animators to have the audACITY to put any of those things in the mere vicinity of the most stylish woman in the galaxy is an insult to Padmé, an insult to ME, and an insult to Star Wars as a whole (yes, I am mostly joking, but come on!).  No, I will not give the designers the excuse of clothing being difficult and expensive and time consuming to animate because I have SEEN the fancy, PRETTY outfits of the other ladies of Padmé’s status on the show.  Everything Satine Kryze wore was intricately beautiful as all hell and I loved it.  Riyo Chuchi’s two outfits were lovely and fashionable.  Heck, I’m pretty sure I liked Mina Bonteri’s outfit too.  There were tons of people on that show with stylish clothing!  How hard would it have been for the animators to remember Padmé doesn’t wear exposed midriffs on official government business?  That dresses with no sides or back cannot be sleeveless or they will not stay up?  Not give her hairstyles that looked like either a goddam tuning fork or like Jimmy Neutron’s mother?  That beige jumpsuits are BORING and adding a mauve vest is NOT enough to make it exciting!!!! xD xD xD 

Aight, now in more seriousness, I also hated both of Ahsoka’s outfits in the original TCW show.  Enough people have spoken on why sending a fourteen year old into an active warzone in a tube top and miniskirt is a BAD IDEA, but like it just makes me extra mad when you remember her older and more experienced at Not Getting Pulverized Masters were both in full concealing robes and chest and shoulder and shin armor, so you can’t even pass it off as Jedi not getting hurt as easily.  Her updated outfit was only slightly an improvement because her Masters STILL got at least fully covering robes and arm bracers, while Ahsoka still had her entire back exposed, leg holes exposing valuable arteries and stuff, and a goddam boob window that basically signals “shoot me here”.  Look, I know the animators goofed, and I know how they have learned from it because from Rebels on, they never show her as improperly covered for battle, in the new TCW season both outfits are cute and practical too, but seeing her running around in her red outfits actively impeded and took me out of my watching experience because I was cringing over her having a lack of protection, that it made her that much more vulnerable to injury.

Finally just gotta give a standard raised finger to the Slave Leia Bikini.  Carrie Fisher hated it so I do too.

[bigskydreaming]

Like, I definitely firmly believe that someday soon I will be able to finally resolve this whole jaw issue once and for all, because like....I have to, lol, that’s literally how I get up in the morning.

But just...lmao its so weird to think about how I really have no idea how to picture my life after that point, because like....every day is a ridiculous onslaught of ridiculous that keeps me so stressed, panicked, desperate and oh yeah in pain, to the point of not being able to have a single life goal, ambition or like....future event I want to do, because its almost all about ‘must make today’s rent and food by the end of today so I can eat and sleep and oh yeah also another $800 by the end of each month so I can continue to enjoy even the possibility of this not being the state of my existence for the rest of my life.

Wow, that came out way more pity party than I intended, lmfao, because like the whole point of this post and why I started writing it was not like oh look at me, my life sucks so many balls, whine whine, a little bit of cheese, barrels of more whine. Like, believe it or not I was kinda rolling my eyes while typing out that above paragraph and literally laughing in that “look I know its not funny but I’m still laughing because fuck you that’s why” kinda way.

Bizarre as it may seem, this is actually intended as an optimistic kinda post? And like....the result of me doing deep breathing exercises and making a concerted effort to be optimistic today? Because the point is, the above has been the day to day state of my existence for almost two straight years (look, I’m not SAYING all things straight are bad, but hey if you can, be gay, do crimes). And its definitely not like my life was all sunshine and roses before that, lmfao, but at least there were breaks in the storm clouds, like...I had actually hills and valleys of suck but also wahoo! It wasn’t like........the constant annoying beep that accompanies a flatlining heart monitor, but also somehow seems to keep descending.

Like, I can handle sucky events, as long as I can find that bit of normalcy in between, and I mean, I feel like the fact that I’m still here and have at no point really entertained the thought of not still being at this point, like, it kinda lends credence to the idea that I can also handle sucky events even when I CAN’T find any bit of normalcy in between. I don’t LIKE to, because who would, lmfao, but I can, and do, and will continue to do so.

Its just.....I mean bottom line of where this whole train of thought started and was aimed at is.....its been so long since I wasn’t just preoccupied day to day with constant chronic pain and stress and an unknown future or how long this would last, as well as repeated attempts to fix things that have managed to end up just being a disappointment at every turn so far.....like....I’ve literally forgotten what it FEELS like to not wake up every day in pain and spend the whole day worrying about making enough money to still have somewhere to sleep before the day is over. LOLOLOL, like the bar is super low, I’m aware, but like....I remember that state of existence exists, and that I’ve definitely enjoyed it in the past and have every hope of doing so in the future, its just....I don’t remember how it FEELS for this not to be the only thing on my mind, 24-7.

And I’m so looking forward to that, to feeling that again, even if I can’t picture it at the moment, because like...I’m anticipating how MIND-BLOWING it’ll be, the first time I can spend a whole day just...enjoying myself. With no interruptions, no pain. And as crazy as it may sound, I’m so lucky in that I know that day is even out there? Like I know that as bad as things have gotten for me over the past two years, I can hold out hope that there is an actual end point to THIS state of existence, that it is a specific problem with a specific solution, and once I find it, so much about my life will change because I’ll be able to stand on my feet for hours at a time, go running, exercise, all things that I enjoy and use to keep myself centered, I’ll be able to take a day to just go to the movies even if its just by myself and like, have a fucking chewy pretzel without having to worry that doing so will actually be the thing that finally fractures my jaw beyond repair, lmfao.

And the thing is.....as sucky as the last two years have been.....constantly, day to day....its not like they’ve been nothing BUT suck. I may not have had a single day in the past two years where there hasn’t been at least SOME pain, SOME stress, SOME inescapable awareness of like....all the things I can’t do and the reasons why, all the things I desperately want to do but can’t afford or physically am incapable of, but none of that means that through all this time I haven’t also had tons of good moments to carry me through.

Because I have. And I’m so thankful for them. Even if they seem miniscule to other people in comparison, they mean everything to me, because any moment that takes my mind off all the things that are wrong or that suck and just lets me laugh and MEAN it, be truly entertained, any moment where I’m more preoccupied with being inspired by an idea or something someone said or something I’m picturing, any moment where I’m just smacked in the face with the undeniable truth that I have some of the best friends on the planet and who love me unconditionally and are here for me even if its just to bombard me with cute animal pictures at 2 am so I go to bed with a smile on my face instead of focused on the pain...and the flip side of that, any moment where I’m able to feel good that I was able to provide one of my friends with that good moment for themselves, to make THEM laugh or be inspired or take their mind off their pain or troubles, like.....

Those good moments still exist, no matter what else exists or in what quantities. They still count. They still add up. And the point isn’t even about them needing to add up to some specific tally or quota or otherwise they don’t mean anything, or don’t mean enough....because each good moment exists purely on its own, for itself. There’s no POINT to them, they’re not FOR any specific purpose or outcome. They just exist. They simply are. And that’s all they need, in order to matter.

Because I firmly believe, and honestly always have, that ultimately, life is just about the good moments. They’re the things we focus on when times are hardest, they’re the things that spring to mind when we try and think of reasons to keep going. Because I mean...there ISN’T a specific tally of how many good moments you need to reach before life is worth living, before there’s a reason to be alive. Because each good moment is enough, all on its own. Each good moment, no matter how small it is in anyone else’s eyes, IS the reason to be alive. The whole reason. The only one anyone needs. Because the only way you get those good moments, those small snapshots that are for whatever reason, just wholly, undeniably GOOD and WORTH IT.....is by being alive. That’s the only way you ever get to have any more of them. 

Like yeah, 90% of 99% of the days over the past two years might have epicly sucked for the most part, especially if we’re focusing on percentages, defining each day’s ‘success’ by whether or not I spent more of the day miserable or more of it enjoying myself...but when you say screw the percentages, the quotas the tallies....when you look just at the good moments, specifically, let each one of them matter by themselves and be worthwhile, worth EVERYTHING just in and of itself....

The whole picture changes. Because that one conversation I had with my friend Moukie on a day where I just laughed myself breathless at something he said.....that good moment wouldn’t exist if I threw in the towel before I got to it. That one story I loved and just blew me away with how perfectly it encapsulated everything I wanted from certain characters but that I would never have dreamed up myself, but that I kept thinking about days, even weeks after I read it.....that’s a story I wouldn’t have read if I only let the fact that it’d been seven months of chronic pain at that point, like, be the only thing that mattered. Instead of how just that one story made me feel, for however long I felt it. That one conversation, that one episode, that one post or tweet or daydream or whatever.

Anyway. I wasn’t intending to get all sappy or life coach woowoo or whatever, more just thinking out loud or in text, as I’m wont to do, and I use it to put my complaints to paper often enough I might as well use it to put the non-complaints to paper too, lmao.

But I mean. Yeah. Its the good moments that really matter, if you ask me. They’re what any of us are here for any way, no matter what form they take or how much space there is between them, but like....idk, I think we could all benefit from being reminded from time to time that they all count. They all matter. They’re the POINT. At least if you ask me, because if we’re not here to enjoy good moments in whatever shape or quantity we get to enjoy them, like, what other reason IS there, to spend however many years on this earth as we end up getting? 

*Shrugs* So yeah. That’s it. That’s the point. Enjoy the good moments, and don’t forget to keep them somewhere you can queue them up when you need a reminder that they exist, they’re out there, you’ve had them before and no matter how long it takes, you’ll have them again. They’re what carry us through however much suck we have to wade through before we chance upon the next one, and the one after that and the one after that. And the more we carry with us, keep with us, THAT’S when the percentages start to matter, if by the end of it all we can say no matter what the actual quantities of good vs suck, or what shapes or sizes that good and that suck took....its the good moments that mattered most. Stuck with us most. Defined us most.

Anyway, that’s where my thoughts took me just now and it helped so maybe it’ll help someone else too, and if not. More verbal diarrhea, business as usual. Same place, same Batchannel. Tune in tomorrow, I’ll probably be bitching about Tim. Or hey, maybe I’ll surprise myself. Who knows?

[the-coldest-goodbye]

TWDG Nick - NSFW Alphabet

TWDG Nick x reader

A/N: I know that this is a few years too late for this to be relevant, but Nick will always be my boy. Under a cut because NSFW.

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Nick usually feels pretty emotional after sex and he’s overwhelmed by how vulnerable he let himself be with you. In these moments, he’s not much of a talker (not that he really ever is), but he tends to snuggle into you, resting his head on your chest or in the crook of your neck. Because of how he was raised, he has a tendency to bottle his emotions inside, but after growing more and more comfortable with you, he might actually open up about how he’s feeling in those quiet, intimate moments.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Nick has pretty low self-esteem and doesn’t like much about himself or his body, but he starts liking his eyes since you often tell him how much you love them and their icy blue color. Nick’s favorite part of your body would be your hands. Any time you touch him, from running your fingers through his hair to resting your hand on his knee, shivers run down his spine. Your touch is so gentle and loving, things he’s never been used to before he met you.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Nick is turned on by the idea of cumming inside of you, but if there’s a chance that you could get pregnant, he generally doesn’t given it’s the apocalypse, birth control is scarce, and the thought of you getting pregnant is terrifying to him. Instead, he’ll usually release his load onto whatever your nearest body part is to him depending on the position you were just in, so usually your thighs or stomach or ass. He likes seeing his cum on you, but he’s quick to offer to clean you off because he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Something that Nick would be super reluctant to ever admit is that he’s fantasized many times since his youth about being with Luke. Before you came into his life, Luke had been the person he had been the closest to for so many years, so there have been quite a few times when Nick’s mind has wandered and thought about what it would be like to be with Luke, both physically and romantically.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

When you and Nick first get together, he is incredibly inexperienced. He had only ever fooled around with one other person before you, but he never actually got that far before stopping because it didn’t feel right with the person and he just kind of panicked during the experience. He’s pretty embarrassed when you two first start getting intimate because he’s afraid that his inexperience will show and that you’ll be disappointed by his performance, but he’s actually not that bad his first few times. The biggest barrier he needs to overcome is his lack of confidence because it holds him back. He improves quickly, though, because he’s eager to please you and to figure out what makes you feel good.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

In the early stages of your physical relationship, Nick prefers you to be on top and to take control because he’s very shy and not confident in his skills. However, as he gets more experienced with you, he begins to experiment more with being on top of you and he loves that too. He particularly loves any position where you two are face-to-face or when he gets to feel your bodies completely pressed up against each other. He’s not much of a kisser normally, but his mouth is constantly on yours and your neck, shoulders, and chest during sex. He’s not super confident or dominant in his daily life, so he gets very turned on thinking about you writhing in pleasure beneath him.

On occasions where he’s spent the day feeling particularly jealous, he’ll love to fuck you doggy style, fast and hard, fingers digging into your hips and waist as he pounds himself into you. This isn’t something he likes to do normally, though, because it feels pretty impersonal to him. It’s more just a way of him getting his frustrations out. Whenever you guys have any sex that’s rougher than usual for you two, he’ll definitely check in afterwards for sure to make sure you’re okay. He’ll also be looking for cues from you during the act that it’s okay and that you’re enjoying it. If he thinks that you might not be into it, he’ll definitely stop. Actually, this is something he’d be aware of any time you two have sex, but he’ll be particularly hyper-aware of it if things were getting rough because he just doesn’t want to hurt you.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

When it comes to sex, he’s pretty serious about it all.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I mean, it’s the apocalypse, so he’s not super concerned about personal grooming down there. Plus, even before the apocalypse, he wasn’t very concerned with grooming either because he wasn’t sexually active so never really had a reason to be concerned about it at all. If you’d prefer him to be a little neater downstairs, he’ll make an effort to trim it up for you. If you don’t mind, though, he’d probably prefer just not worrying about it at all and just leaving it natural. He doesn’t expect you to shave or anything either. It’s just not a big deal to him.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Nick is surprisingly more intimate than he lets on, though he’s still not Mr. Romance. He has a hard time expressing intimacy in regular conversations throughout the day, so all of his intimacy comes out whenever you two are alone, be it when you are just cuddling up in bed or having sex. He’s gentle and sweet and gives you lots of little kisses all over. He’s not the most romantic guy, so don’t expect champagne and rose petals from him, but you can tell just how much he loves you by how soft and gentle he becomes around you.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nick doesn’t have the highest sex drive, so he doesn’t masturbate all too often, especially ever since you two have started a physical relationship. Before he was with you, he would jerk off every once in a while, but it wasn’t something he required all the time. His appreciation for sex isn’t really due to the orgasm, but instead his favorite part of it all is just the time he spends with you and the intimacy you share.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

Nick probably (definitely) has a praise kink. Tell him he’s a good boy and he will melt. He will do everything in his power to get you to praise him and tell him you’re enjoying what he’s doing. He spends so much of his life being treated like he can’t do anything right by the group that you praising him for doing a good job and him seeing the pleasure he causes in you turns him on more than anything else.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

In the apocalypse, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, but if he had it his way, you two would mainly just have sex in a bedroom. He prefers the security and comfort of having sex in a bedroom so he can let his guard down a little bit and focus on the two of you instead of being on high alert for any danger.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets turned on when he knows that you’re turned on because of him. Similar to what I said under “kink,” the group often treats him like he’s incapable of doing anything right, and it’s something he’s very aware of and it hurts him badly. You can turn him on by whispering in his ear how much you need him and how he’s the only one who could make you feel that good. He’s also had a rough go at life and was deprived of a lot of gentleness and care growing up, so you being soft with him (both physically and emotionally) makes him yearn for you.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t want to hurt you in any way. He just can’t do it. Even when he gets a bit more rough with you during sex, it’s still not super rough. He might cause some small bruises from his fingers grabbing you tight, but he’d feel a little guilty seeing them afterwards and would apologize, even if you tell him it’s okay. He would never want to make you cry out in pain. During the times when he takes on more of a submissive role, he’ll usually be more receptive to receiving pain if you ever wanted to get a little rough with him, but he just doesn’t want to cause any pain for you.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving over receiving. He’s a little shy and embarrassed the first few times he goes down on you because he’s never done it before and doesn’t want to disappoint you, but he’s a fast learner if you gently guide him. He gets pretty skillful at it fairly quickly. Sometimes he really likes it when you go down on him, but other times when he’s feeling particularly bad about himself, he feels too embarrassed and uncomfortable to have you suck him off because he doesn’t really want all of the attention to be focused on him on those occasions.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Nick is definitely slow and sensual, though he can get faster and rougher the closer he is to cumming. He also tends to be rougher when emotions are high, such as when he’s jealous or if he’s had a bad day and is frustrated.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not super into quickies. He’ll do them very rarely. He prefers a long build up into sex with a lot of intimacy. So he generally doesn’t like having quickies at the drop of a hat. Generally if you suggest a quickie in the middle of the day, he’ll scoff and tell you not now, especially if he doesn’t feel secure or safe wherever you are. You want to screw him in the middle of the woods while you’re supposed to be looking for food? More than likely not gonna happen. Too unsafe. However, he’ll be a little turned on by how you desire him enough to want to have sex with him right then and there. Sometimes he’ll oblige, but even if he turns you down, he’ll be thinking about it all day and getting more and more turned on, excitedly awaiting you two to be alone for the night when you can thoroughly take care of each other’s desires.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s not super risky or experimental. He’ll concede to your requests if they’re not too crazy since he is eager to please you, though he wouldn’t really have many crazy ideas of his own that he would want to explore.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Because Nick was so inexperienced at the beginning of your relationship, he couldn’t last long at all, but he would recover after a short break and would be willing to go for another round or two (if you encouraged him because honestly at first he would’ve been embarrassed by finishing so quickly, so if you reassure him that it’s fine and that you still want him and are turned on by him, he’ll be willing to go again for another round or two). Over time, he builds his stamina and can last for longer. He loves taking his time with foreplay, though, so he loves it when you two take the time to pleasure each other in a lot of different ways beyond just penetration. He always makes sure you get your release.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nick himself never owned any toys, but he would be willing to use them if you had or found some and wanted to experiment with them. In fact, I think he would find that he would really enjoy them being used on you and him.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nick is all about the teasing, both teasing you and being teased by you. He wants to extend the pleasure as long as he can, so he loves it when you two build the anticipation and edge each other so you’re both begging for release.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Because you two are rarely ever someplace where people aren’t nearby and Nick is embarrassed by the idea of being overheard by someone else in the group, he tends to keep the volume low. He’s still pretty vocal though. Lots of heavy breathing, gasping, moaning, and him whimpering things to you.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One day when he’s drunk, he admits to you that he’d be down for a threesome with you and Luke. Nick himself definitely wouldn’t go out of his way to make it happen because he’s afraid that Luke would think it’s weird and Nick doesn’t want to jeopardize their friendship, so you would have to be the one to secretly propose the idea to Luke so the two of you could surprise Nick with it.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

I think Nick would be fairly average in both length and girth.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Nick’s sex drive honestly isn’t very high. He wouldn’t particularly want sex every day.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes Nick forever to fall asleep after the act. He has so many thoughts swirling around in his head that he lies awake for a really long time. Once he feels your breathing even out as you fall asleep, he’ll eventually begin to relax and drift into sleep too.