#but I’m sorry. The characters and plot… these guys have NEVER meant anything to me

[modifiedyincision]

It hurts so bad that avatar isn’t, like, good. I’m so enamored with the visuals, the locations and invented alien life —I’m a sucker for made up worlds— but i just can’t give a fuck about the characters or plot. My ideal avatar movie would just be a 2 hour film showing off assorted locations and creatures. And literally nothing else. redesign the na’vi while you’re at it. James can you turn it into a slideshow.

I saw a museum exhibit before that just showed off like, creature and plant concept art and explanations on real-world inspiration for certain creatures’ biologies. Turn the whole movie into an exploration on world design. Get rid of the rest

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 17k (holy moly)

Chapter Warnings: I tried to sprinkle some fluffy flashbacks and smutty references later in here just to lighten the mood but this is angsty!! probably cursing I honestly can't remember, and serious warnings rn mentions of hacking/gossip blogs/blackmail/cyber bullying/nudes being leaked, talia is her own warning tbh. I tried not to make a cliched ex comes in between them plot and idk how it comes across but yeah I was trying to toe the line between it being interesting/different and then going too far and not being able to write around it which is why the plot kind of fixes itself quick and is a leeeetle bit bad but there's some unresolved bitterness in that relationship for sure lmao she has a LOT 2 say!! did I mention there's angst in here? insecurity/self-doubt and miscommunication!!! in abundance!!! but!! luke is a cutey patootie in this I wrote his part with a lil smile on my face 💖 also a ridiculous conversation about huffing glue lmao

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Four)

A/N: ok so in the grand scheme of things this is both a filler chapter and also like a pivotal point in the story to set something later up, but when I was planning this entire fic out, the only directive I gave myself for this specific chapter was insert angst. you wouldn't believe the amount of times I've written and rewritten and gone back and forth on what's in here. it's the kind of instruction only a complete melon would give themselves and I clearly just hate myself in ways that are spooky and strange to submit myself to this kind of torture.

and I hear your cries of hasn’t this fic just been angst so far??? yes!! you may be correct!! but you don’t get a rainbow without a bit of rain hun!!! grab an umbrella!!! I promise good will come of this lmao

I'm sorry this one took so long, it's the only chapter I didn't have any kind of plan or direction for obviously and I tried to come up with so many different options for the talia plot before I landed on whatever this is, but the next one I do have some scenes written out in my plan so shouldn't be as long in between. my goal has always been a chapter a week but like I said the other day work has been a lot for me the past couple of weeks so I am genuinely sorry for making you wait!!

you guys were very fun and very kind to me after the last chapter so please please please lets keep the good vibes going come chat to me about your thoughts about the fic about the weather about anything!! 💓

Nico

When Nico and Talia had first started dating, there had been an element of excitement to the dynamic. Nico hadn’t properly dated anyone in a while - had casual flings here and there, and for the most part spent his time swallowing down his burgeoning feelings for his best friend - and there was a novelty to starting something with someone new.

He had all the intentions of building something serious with her. She was fun, got on with his friends, had ties close to home that meant he wouldn’t be putting a wedge between the two of them should he want to travel back in his breaks, and sinking his teeth into the challenges of a relationship was something that actually intrigued him.

He liked planning dates, liked buying gifts to see that buzz of joy and gratitude it would elicit, and he liked the companionship - liked having someone there when he came back from a long roadie or a tough string of games. 

He liked it so much he never really opened his eyes to the fact that Talia didn’t. 

She didn’t like the dates he planned - didn’t like the restaurants he chose, the movies he wanted to share with her, the bars him and the guys frequented. She didn’t like America, didn’t like their coffee shops, thought their pastries were packed with too much sugar, their portion sizes were too large for her ever to enjoy going for lunch, always complaining about feeling bloated and sluggish after every meal. She hated Jersey - wanted to spend all her time across the Hudson, looking down on everyone she met and everywhere they went together. She didn’t make much use of the gifts he bought her - let every bouquet of flowers die a quick, careless death, said the watch he bought her didn’t go with enough of her other jewellery and turned her nose up at every effort he made to make his apartment feel more like her home. 

She wasn’t all that comforting when it came to companionship, either. Rolled her eyes when he came home aching and exhausted, went out without him on the days he was coming back from a roadie and returned home when he had long retired to his bed. She would always want to meet up with her girlfriends instead of hanging around the team, and only ever wanted to come to games if she could bring her own entourage - mostly to show off her connections and hardly ever to actually support him.

And so, despite the initial attraction, despite the excitement that first came with their blossoming relationship, Nico can only look at Talia with disinterest and frigidity now.

He barely greets her as he opens the door to his apartment, moving aside to let her in and waiting for her to trudge her small case in behind her before he closes it, leaning against the surface and watching her discard her bag and keys on the counter with familiarity.

When she turns to face him, running a hand through her hair and huffing out a big sigh, he takes in her dishevelled appearance.

Even when travelling, Talia usually takes great pride in her pristine exterior - hair blow-dried, outfit co-ordinated and steam-pressed to perfection, not a crease or stain in sight, and usually a light layer of makeup to cover the slight imperfections like the darkened under eyes and redness around her nose. This isn’t like her.

She looks like she’s been messing with her hair the whole 8 hour flight out and beyond, her eyes are rimmed-red with smudges of brown at the corners, her lips are chapped and swollen like she’s been crying, and her sweatpants don’t match her hoodie. It’s almost like she’d thrown on whatever she could find and caught the first flight out, fresh out of bed.

“What’s going on?” He cuts straight to the chase, losing all formality and courtesy. He should feel bad for his callous greeting, but she had broken up with him over text not even a month ago - she doesn’t exactly deserve outstretched arms and a warm embrace, he thinks.

“Hi Talia, how have you been, Talia? It’s nice to see you Talia.” She mocks, a frown overtaking her features immediately. “I’m absolutely amazing, thanks for caring, Nico!” Sarcasm spews from her tongue like pure venom, and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head.

Nico pushes himself off of the door, heavy footsteps leading him into his kitchen where he can make himself a coffee to get through this. His watch reads 6:05 - far too early for her antics - and rising to her nagging is only going to make things worse.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, as he busies himself with his coffee press, unable to look at her too long without the pricks of guilt irritating him.  He doesn’t even know what he has to feel guilty about.

“I’ll get it myself,” she scoffs, venturing over to the fridge and pouring out some orange juice - her movements around his space eerily natural. She slams back most of the drink as he works out how to brew his coffee - but she sees right through him. He’s hardly ever used the press before, and he’s just doing so now to avoid her in whatever capacity he can. “I need money.”

Nico’s almost positive he hasn’t heard her right - that there’s some kind of mix up between her standard German and his Swiss - and he slowly turns to properly face her, brows slanting into a deep frown as he assesses her expression.

She has a hand on her hip, her jaw set and her eyes darkened and serious. 

“You have money.”

Talia comes from money - her father is some kind of film producer and her mother an artist, if Nico remembers correctly - and she makes good money, herself. She’s been a print model since she was scouted in some market in Munich since she was 15, has had her face plastered in ads in magazines and catalogues around the world. She’s hardly strapped for cash. She gets things gifted to her by whatever company she can get a hold of. What could she possibly need him to give her money for?

“Not enough.” Her tone is cold, her demeanour the same, and if Nico can still gauge her emotions correctly, there’s an element of blame that she is starting to shift towards him, and his whole body starts to feel tense.

“Not enough for what?”

He can’t quite tell what feeling washes over him - worry, at the thought she’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble, stress, at the thought this could be a recurring thing, and potentially pity, at the way she’s so clearly carrying the weight of something heavy - something she’s lugged all the way across the Atlantic on a long haul flight with her.

“Not enough to pay the guy who’s blackmailing me not to leak the videos that I sent to you.”

“What vide-“ he bites back, and the immediate arch of her brow tells him all he needs to know. “Oh.”

Shit.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” She sneers, fury in her gaze and dismay in her tone. “You’ve ruined my life, and all I get is an oh?”

“Whoa, slow down, I’ve ruined your life?”

Nico has never been one to shame any girl for sending explicit pictures - he’d been more than willing to receive them at the time - but he hadn’t ever forced her hand. He hadn’t even asked her for them, in the first place. 

She’d taken it upon herself to spice things up, as she had put it at the time, when the team had gone on the road in early December. It was just after he’d returned from his injury - a time in which he’d spent mentally distanced from her as he’d focused so much on getting back to the game, their relationship consisting mainly of not-so-passionate sex to avoid aggravating his injury and hardly of any kind of meaningful conversation - and she had thought that keeping him on his toes on a roadie would mean he’d come back more interested than ever.

If he’d been looking out for red flags at the time, he might have caught that blaring one; needing to try new things only a few months into a relationship to keep it fun and light.

He’d been in his hotel room in Seattle, freshly showered and ready to throw himself straight into bed when his phone had started to ping. It was suggestive texts at first, are you alone? And I’m thinking about you. Then it had been pictures, hands over lingerie and fingers between glossy, pouted lips.

And then videos, one after the other before he had any chance to respond - her phone set up far enough away that her whole body was in frame, touching herself while laying on his bed and calling out for him.

He had called her instead of sending anything back, and as he realises the severity of the situation, a selfish part of him is glad he did so.

“Talia, I didn’t even save those videos, and I definitely didn’t show them to anyone else.”

Nico could never. Not only for the fact that he was raised to be a decent human being, but he has a sister - if anyone ever did that to Nina, he’d tear them apart, limb from limb. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever sent anything to.” She seems to have made her mind up, and Nico feels as if his heart plummets through his torso at the realisation. She’s travelled all this way because she genuinely believes he’s the cause of this - that he’s shared intimate videos of her without her consent, to someone who would extort her for them. “And he sent me some pictures as proof, had information about me like the address of this apartment.”

“Talia, I swear on my mother’s life, I wouldn’t do that to you - to anyone, not ever.”

Tears well in her crystalline eyes, and Nico waits with bated breath as she assesses the situation in her head. 

He isn’t a liar - he has never given her a reason to think he is one. In their time together, he had always been honest, always been loyal, and he hopes at the very least - despite her obvious distain for him now, and how little she ended up caring about their relationship in the end to cut it off in the way she did - she thought of him as kind. 

He can do nothing but be patient, let her come to whatever conclusion on her own, and it’s only when he spots the quiver in her bottom lip that he takes an apprehensive step forward, ready to console her if needed.

She practically throws herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and bawling into his chest, and all he can do is hold her and wait. He tries to rub a soothing hand up and down her back, holding the other against her head as her body wracks with sobs. All he can feel is the pounding of his own heartbeat, pulsing throughout his entire body until it’s all he can hear, too.

Nico does his best to comfort her, shushing and cooing and whispering how it’s going to be alright, but it does little to help. She’s beyond relief.

“There’s a guy who said he can track whoever is doing this to me,” she sniffles as she pulls herself away. “He’s in Jersey City Heights, he’s some sort of ethical hacker, whatever that means, I’m going to meet him and he’s gonna go through my phone.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nico doesn’t even hesitate to ask - if not to protect her, and make sure she isn’t unknowingly getting herself into an even more dangerous situation, then to protect himself too. If someone has Talia’s pictures, and she only sent them to him, there’s a possibility his phone had been hacked, and if this guy is as ethical as he says, maybe he can check Nico’s stuff, too, just to be safe.

She gives him an appreciative smile, eyes still glassy and cheeks flushed. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“I’m gonna shower, then we can go. You can grab whatever to eat while you’re waiting.” He backs away from her completely, only just able to acknowledge the ache in his muscles once the intensity of the situation has settled a little, and he just needs to stand under the steaming spray and clear his mind before he properly immerses himself in her company. 

He has a lot more than this whole mess that he needs to think about, and maybe a shower can bring him a little clarity on how exactly he’s going to explain himself to the beautiful girl whose bed he had abruptly left not even an hour ago. 

“Why are you dressed?”

Nico stops in his tracks.

When he had got back to his apartment, he’d made a little effort for it to seem like he’d been there all night. He’d gone through to his bedroom, mussed up his sheets to make it seem like he had been sleeping in them - and not with the anticipation that Talia was going to be entering his bedroom, but with her, he never knows - trying to retrace the steps of his usual routine before he goes to bed, he had closed all the blinds, had moved his gym bag by the door.

But he hadn’t changed.

Still adorned in his sweatshirt and jeans from the night before, the clothing feels all that much heavier on his body as she brings attention to it, and he quickly racks his brain to come up with a valid excuse that doesn’t rouse further suspicion.

“I fell asleep in these clothes.” As easy as the lie comes out, he doesn’t feel great saying it. Doesn’t feel like erasing the night he had shared with Poppy is for the greater good, even if it is just to Talia, but avoiding another difficult conversation is a must right now - especially when he’d already lied to her on the phone. “Was out late with the guys last night, Timo threw a party for my birthday.”

“Right,” she drags out, and when he turns back around, she casts a scrutinising glance over him, top to bottom. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“No worries,” he shrugs, genuinely not offended. She has no reason to remember his birthday. Not anymore. “Like I said, help yourself to whatever, I’ll try not to be long.” 

When he undresses for his shower, he’s thankful he hadn’t had the foresight to change in anticipation of Talia’s arrival. He probably would have donned a t-shirt and some shorts, oblivious to the visible indents on his thighs where Poppy had dug her nails in as she took him in her mouth.

His chest and torso are littered with scratches, some faint, some a little deeper, and he can’t get the right angle to see his back but he imagines they’re the same - the memory of her clutching at him as both of their climaxes approached is vivid enough for him to picture the marks she left behind.

He groans as the thought of her brings back that swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he notices the blooming arousal pool there, and feels himself harden as he steps under the spray of his shower.

If his phone had been on do not disturb through the night, he could be in the shower with Poppy, instead.

He could have woken up to her in his arms, could have pecked at her sleep-swollen lips until it brought her out of her slumber, and spent his morning making up for lost time just like he had promised her last night. He could have made light work of the pleasure he had given her the night before - could have had her underneath him in her bed, tangled up in the mess of sheets and falling apart before they shared a morning shower, where he’d have held her up against the tiles and would’ve moved into her until they couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. He’d have made her breakfast, something sweet, so that as she sat and watched him atop the kitchen counter he had tasted her on for the first time not even 12 hours before, he’d press his tongue into her mouth after she had eaten and savour the flavour of strawberries that had settled between her lips.

Instead, he’s here, turning the temperature of his water down until any and all excitement in his body is dampened, and all he can focus on is the effect the cold has on all his other aching muscles.

Once he has showered and gotten dressed - and has come to the conclusion that any further thoughts about Poppy need to wait until the Talia problem is resolved and out of his hands, he finds his ex girlfriend sprawled across his couch, music playing from the speaker in the corner, and taking helping herself to a whole new level. 

Her case is opened where she had left it by the door, and she’s set herself a little vanity up on his coffee table, fixing her appearance before they leave.

She’s changed out of her mismatched sweats, has dressed herself in jeans and a sweater, and has found an extension cable long enough for her to plug in whatever hot tool she’s currently running through her hair.

“You take the longest showers in the history of man,” she rolls her eyes, not even casting a glance his way as she focuses on her own reflection in the little mirror she must have brought with her. “I do not want to know what it is you get up to in there.”

“I was barely 30 minutes, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, almost,” she runs the tool through her bangs until they flick out at the edges on either side of her face, and it reminds him of all the times he had watched her while waiting for her to finish getting ready. It makes him feel uneasy how familiar it all is, how she’s so quickly made herself at home again in his space.

He wants to tell her she needs to pack her stuff back up, that she won’t be staying here and needs to give his keys back, but the weight of the situation at hand dawns on him before he can open his mouth.

He’ll wait until they get back later, his decision depending on the outcome of their visit to her hacker friend.

As much as he doesn’t want her around, he isn’t going to kick her out with no place to go if her life is still shrouded in unsafe circumstances. 

Talia unplugs her stuff, wraps the cord around the handle of the brush she was using, and places it on a mat she must have brought with her so it doesn’t burn through the surface of the table. “Kay, let’s go.”

She marches ahead of him, picking up her bag and keys on the way out and leaving him to lock up while she calls for the elevator. They wait together in silence, his heart thudding an anxious rhythm in his chest as he anticipates the arrival of the elevator - and thankfully, it arrives empty.

He tries to distance himself from her as they enter, him standing in one corner, and hoping she takes the other, but she doesn’t quite get the memo, standing obliviously in the centre as she types away to someone on her phone and he presses the button to go to the basement.

Nico watches the numbers go down with bated breath. His floor, the next, the next one after that, and he uses any good will he has left with the universe to hope and pray it skips the floor coming up - but, as is just his luck, the elevator comes to a stop with a soft thud, and the doors open to reveal the very situation he’s been hoping to avoid. 

Jack walks straight in, eyes cast down to the phone in his hands, distractedly typing away and not even noticing the button for the parking level has been pressed before he pushes it, himself.

Luke notices straight away, halting in his movements to enter the space as his gaze flickers between the two people already occupying it. 

He diverts his eyes when they meet Nico’s head dropping as he steps in and stands beside his brother, uttering a quick greeting of, “Hey, Cap.”

Jack’s attention is captured immediately, spinning at an almost dizzying speed to face his captain, phone disregarded into his back pocket. “Schao! I thought you’d be at-,”

He’s thankfully able to tune into his perception before he carries on with his train of thought, a subtle movement in his peripheral diverting his gaze to the figure stood to the side of Nico. 

“Talia. Hi.”

“Hi, Jack.” Nico cringes inwardly at how disinterested she sounds. “Luke.” Talia had never really cared for Nico’s teammates - especially not the younger guys like Jack and Luke. She was quick to pass judgement, making comments on their maturity, or apparent lack-thereof, and wasn’t the biggest fan of how close Nico was with the pair. Didn’t like the time or attention he gave them considering the close quarters they lived in, and had always been resentful. She always claimed her English wasn’t good enough to hold a proper conversation with them, but he’d seen her enough around her American friends to know it wasn’t true.

“We’re just meeting up with some of the guys for breakfast.” Jack says, cautiously, in an attempt to fill the silence. The invitation remains unspoken, but Nico can tell in the way the younger boy cocks his head and meets his eye that he’s gauging his current situation for the morning.

“We have plans.” Talia must be able to tell what he was getting at, too and Nico can see Luke’s eyes narrow as soon as the word resonates in his head. Plans. Pre-meditated. Made before she had sprung all of this on him within the last hour or two. Panic stirs within him, and his throat itches to speak the truth, but it’s just not the right time to do so with Talia stood beside him. If he starts getting defensive, she’ll start asking questions, and the boys will have to bear witness to him skirting around the matter of Poppy. 

It’s not a good look no matter which way he swings it. He’s stuck in a thick, dark, tarry mess of not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings but making all the wrong decisions. A minefield of not knowing how to explain himself without raising a million questions on either side, and hoping one of the brothers might toe the line of the boundaries of their relationship and just straight up ask why Talia is here.

He knows he has fucked up without the way neither of them are looking him in the eye.

He knew it the second Poppy’s door had locked behind him this morning - he doesn’t need Luke refusing to meet his gaze, doesn’t need Jack’s shifting side eye to tell him he’s made a mistake. 

“I’ll text you later.” Nico says, mainly to Jack but still trying to meet his brother’s eyes with no luck. It’s an attempt to say something, without saying anything. A silent beg not to jump to conclusions about what they’ve seen - and, although he knows they wouldn’t, not to tell anyone else. Not whichever of the guys they are meeting up with, not anyone else on the team, and definitely not Poppy.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack mutters in a poor attempt to hide his discomfort, and an even worse attempt at masking his relief when the doors ping open on the parking level.

“Have fun with your plans,” Luke huffs out, his tone like a tight fist clutching at Nico’s chest despite his courteous choice of words.

“We will,” Talia forces a smile. Nico gets the feeling she isn’t as oblivious to the tension as he hopes she is.

The four of them separate into their pairs with mumbled goodbyes, Jack and Luke heading off to Luke’s car on one side of the garage, and Nico and Talia heading to his on the other, and Nico can’t even let out a sigh of pseudo-relief before Talia jumps on him.

“That was weird.”

“We broke up, they weren’t expecting to see us together.” He quickly excuses as he starts the car up, turning on the heat and hoping the soft buzz of the air will fill the silence enough that she doesn’t feel the need to talk. 

“It’s been like 3 weeks, most couples get back together after their first breakup.”

Has it only been 3 weeks? He thinks, shuddering at how little time had actually passed between her sending that text and him restoring balance to his life.

“We’re not most couples,” he shrugs, shutting that train of thought immediately as he starts to make his way out of the parking garage, ascending the ramp where the doors open up to reveal the dull beam of the winter morning sun. “You dumped me over text a week before Christmas, we’re not getting back together.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you were real cut up about it,” she jibes, sarcastically. “Probably landed straight in the bed of some desperate puck bunny more than happy to take your mind off of how awful I was to you.”

His mind immediately goes to Poppy, to last night, to her bed - and despite the complete bullshit Talia has fabricated in her head, despite how much he wants to tell her she has it all wrong, he can’t bear to twist himself even further into knots to skirt around mentioning the girl who did make him better.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” He decides, tapping at the screen in the console of his car until he brings up the navigation. “Put in the address you need, we’re not too far from The Heights.”

The location she enters into the system is for an unassuming condo in a quiet, suburban area. The neighbourhood itself is picturesque, the buildings colourful, the paths lined with trees that seemed to flourish even in the midst of winter, and when Nico pulls up across the street, he notices the amount of families around - parents walking their kids to school and couples with dogs getting their morning steps in. It’s the last place he imagines some hacker to be shacked up, but maybe that’s the point.

He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.

“It’s the one with the red brick and the balcony,” Talia points to the other side of the road as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and Nico looks over at the building as if he’s going to be able to see all the secrets stored within it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, number 414.” She shows him the messages she has exchanged with the guy, and sure enough, the address matches up. “C’mon, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can figure this out.”

He follows her across the street, adjusting the cap he wears atop his head and making sure it conceals his identity from anyone with eyesight good enough to catch it, trying to shrug off the discomfort of the whole situation as he waits for someone to pick up the buzzer Talia relentlessly presses.

He hears a different kind of buzz, lighter, like the manual zoom of a camera, and cranes his neck to assess their surroundings as they wait, before he catches sight of the device in the top corner of the porch, facing directly onto them.

He hears the click of a lock as soon as his eyes make contact with the thing, and cautiously tries the handle on the door until it pushes all the way down, letting them into the building. 

The door to the ground floor condo is open, and stood in the entrance is a guy no older than 20, dressed in all black with dark, beady eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. If Nico could find it in him to see the humour in the situation, he’d laugh at how he looks like Luke - a mop of curly brown hair, tall with a slim build and ever so slightly poor posture.

He straightens up as the two of them approach, Nico keeping Talia behind him as he assesses the safety of the situation. If they’re being lured into some kind of trap, he could definitely take this guy - he can’t even maintain direct eye contact, never mind manage to subdue a man of Nico’s stature.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, Talia.”

He’s soft-spoken, his voice ever so nasally, and despite the fact that he’s talking to the girl behind him, his gaze has settled on Nico’s chest.

“My name’s Nico.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand to shake. He thinks he can write him off as a threat, for now, and if making him feel comfortable encourages him to help them, he wants to put him at ease. “

“I know who you are.” He doesn’t shake Nico’s hand. “I’m Myles. Come in.”

Myles doesn’t wait for the two of them, marching back into his place and leaving the door open for Talia and Nico to enter and close behind them. 

Nico isn’t surprised by the space - from his brief encounter with the resident so far, it fits him to a tee; neat, impersonal, furniture that looks fresh out of a catalogue. He follows him over to the corner of his living room, a PC set up with several monitors that he can’t tell are on until they’re standing straight in front of them.

Myles throws himself down into the large swivel chair, spinning until he’s facing the two of them and crossing his arms over his torso with disinterest. “So, nudes?”

Straight to the point. Nico can’t exactly be mad at it.

Talia steps out from behind him, handing her unlocked phone to Myles. “The messages started last week, just after New Years. Straight to my number, not in DMs or anything, but the number doesn’t even come up for me to call it from another phone or anything, just says unknown.”

Myles takes her phone and plugs it into his setup without even looking at whatever she has opened on it, and Nico watches as the screens come alive with mirrors of the device and some other apps that launch as soon as it connects. 

“That’s more helpful than you think, they have to use an app to be able to anonymously text you, makes it easier to identify them.”

The way Myles talks is monotonous and detached, but the way he works is anything but. His fingers move quicker than Nico’s eyes can track on his keyboard, typing away at whatever as different things flash up and leave his screen. It like something straight out of a spy movie.

“So we can find out who it is just from that?” He asks, arms folding over his chest as he watches in almost-awe.

“Not exactly. If it is a hacker, I could identify their signature. Doesn’t mean I could identify them, but we can work around it potentially.”

Talia throws herself down on the couch behind them exasperatedly, sighing loudly and making her displeasure known. “You told me you could track them down, that’s what I’m paying you to do.”

“I told you I could help you, I didn’t say I could specifically track anyone, that’s not how this works.”

“How does it work then?” Nico asks.

Myles wheels his chair to the side to make room for Nico to get closer, and starts walking him through the process, pointing through the different apps he uses and explaining how he uses them. One deciphers which app the person used to message Talia. Once that’s been deduced, he uses another to enter a backdoor into that app’s servers, perusing through them until he finds the account that sent the text, making sure the date, time and then content line up. Once he’s found the account, he can see the other texts sent from it, and a gallery spreads across two screens, with maybe hundreds of pictures, videos, messages and transactions all to or from that same account.

“You’re telling me you have the power to do all this and you don’t use it to like rob banks or something?”

“Ethical hacker, clue’s in the name.” Myles shrugs. Nico looks back to Talia, her jaw set as she picks at her nails out of boredom. It’s probably taken about fifteen minutes for this guy to work an absolute miracle, and she looks like she couldn’t care less. “We use all this information, and the access I have on the server, to shut this dude down and cut his con before he can do it to anyone else.”

“Whoa whoa,” Talia shoots up, “Won’t that make him mad? Make him just post all the photos?”

“I doubt it,” the hacker comments, bringing up a couple of the photos on the screens, some of Talia, some of another girl, making Nico divert his eyes. “They’re not even real.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Talia and Nico both question at the same time, leaning in to get a proper look to confirm what is being told to them. The other pictures Myles had brought up, the ones of other girls, are actually kind of the same. The same poses, the same backgrounds, the same outfits, or lack thereof, just different faces and different hair.

“They’re called deep fakes. Photoshop, essentially.” He has that aloof tone to his words again, and Nico can’t quite believe how simple it seems for him to say. “They put a bunch of your pictures into an AI generator and give it instruction, like put this face on a body posed like this or wearing that. I’d assume the video they have is the same.”

“How is that even possible?” Talia gasps, pushing herself forward and snatching the mouse from Myles’ grasp. She clicks into what she assumes is the video, and it starts playing before she can think better of it, thankfully without any sound. 

It’s Talia - that much is obvious from the initial close up of her face - but Nico doesn’t recognise anything else about it. He doesn’t recognise the room she’s in, the bed she’s on, the things she’s doing. He’s never seen this before. It’s definitely not one of the videos she had sent him, and when he looks closer, he realises the little moles on her ribs aren’t even there.

None of it is real.

“You said he sent you the photos? You didn’t realise they weren’t the ones you took?” He can’t conceal the bite in his tone, his brows furrowing as he looks at her in disbelief. She’s flown out here, disrupted his peace, blamed him for blackmailing her, and she can’t even recognise what is or isn’t her own body. 

“They looked real, I-,” Her shock disappears as quickly as it had come about, her mood shifting and a glare all of a sudden being directed at her ex boyfriend. “I wouldn’t have accused you if they didn’t look real, Nico.” She snaps, frowning at him like this is his fault. “You have no idea what it’s like to be threatened like that, I won’t have you blame me for panicking.”

Slivers of guilt seep into his subconscious, and he takes a deep breath, diverting his gaze uneasily and letting out a big sigh.

He knows he should be a little more compassionate, but there’s panicking, and then there’s this.

She had accused him of ruining her life.

“What about the rest of it?” Nico asks, “Like how did he get her number or have my address? You said he had other information?”

“He did,” Talia nods, looking over to Myles.

“The address he probably got when he got your number, and he could have got that from anywhere. Could be something as small as you ordering something online and the store having a data breach, or clicking a link that shared your IP address, and getting your phone information from that.” Myles starts his typing again, keeping a tight grip on his mouse so that it can’t be snatched again. “I could probably find out actually, they’re pretty easy to spot, do you clear your history often?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that,”

“Perfect,” Again, his fingertips work at lightening speed, and Nico watches as instagram opens on one of the screens. “Yeah, a DM sent to you from… Devils_tea. You opened a link to a shared drive to upload some pictures, the drive probably had malware and the pictures have location metadata.”

Nico rolls his eyes, that small ebb of pity washing almost completely away, and before Talia can stop him, Myles carries on. “Some of the pictures you sent them are the ones they used for the AI photos, look your face in this one is the exact same as this photo they threatened to leak.”

Nico recognises these photos. The ones that had been plastered all over social media when their relationship had leaked. Pictures of them back in Switzerland, on a weekend trip to Ibiza, selfies of them in his apartment, and even a picture of the two of them with his parents back at his family home in Valais.

He has been far too oblivious to Talia’s games for far too long, he realises. 

Of course she had been the one to leak everything - who else would have had those photos - but he hadn’t even considered it would be her; she had faced the harshest aftermath for it, why would she subject herself to all the subsequent grief that came with people knowing about their relationship?

Thank God for this guy’s lack of social cues, Nico thinks, or he would never have known that for as long as they had been together, she had been violating his revered privacy and trust.

“Nico, that wasn’t-,” Talia’s panic is evident, wide eyes, trembling hands raised in defence, “I must have been hacked,”

“Actually, there’s no-,” Myles begins to interject, fingers working again to fact check, but Nico doesn’t need him to validate what he already knows.

“Shut up,” Talia snarls, with a finger pointed at him, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re done here.” She reaches forward to snatch her phone back, yanking out the wire that connects it to his monitors and throwing it onto the desk. “We’re leaving, and if you think I’m paying you anything, you’re deluded.” 

Talia marches past them and straight out of the condo, slamming every door she possibly can behind her. Nico can only cringe as the sounds of her stomping footsteps echo until they fade out - until she’s probably outside and waiting for him back at his car.

“Doesn’t she want me to shut this thing down?”

“I’ll pay you.” Nico sighs, reaching into his pocket for his phone and trying to push down the feeling that arises when he’s met with a blank lock screen.

Poppy hasn’t messaged him. 

Not that he deserves for her to make it easy, to let him off the hook and pretend he hasn’t royally fucked things up with her.

“If you stop him, does he still have all the photos? He could still release them?”

“Yeah, but they’re pretty easy to validate as fakes, especially when you have the source material. I don’t think this guy is sophisticated enough for a full blown hack into her phone for the real thing. I couldn’t find evidence of any breach of her cloud or her device.”

Nico nods, but the information does little to quell the anxiety that squeezes his chest in a vice-like grip. 

This whole morning has been nothing but a giant waste of his time. From the second his eyes opened, to this moment right now, he’s made nothing but mistakes.

Not putting his phone on sleep mode before he and Poppy went to bed had been a mistake. Taking Talia’s call had been a mistake. Not waking Poppy up had been a mistake. Leaving without a note, without a text, leaving at all - it had all been one error after another, and all he has left to do is face up to the fact.

He can’t do anything to dwindle the panic rousing in every fibre of his being, the scarring marks left by torturous lashings of regret that whip at his skin.

He’s never felt so ashamed of himself, in such disbelief at his own decisions.

Why didn’t he just wake her?

She’s the most level-headed, acceptable person he knows. She would have understood. He hadn’t had a reasonable explanation at the time, and he doesn’t really have one now - but she would have accepted it, whatever he could have told her, she would have listened, waited until he could give her more.

He needs to see her, to explain, before it’s too late.

If he thinks about the feeling settling in his stomach, if he can compare it to anything, it’s like running from a blazing inferno of doubt and insecurity, licks of fire racing to catch up to him, the soles of his feet pressing into the sizzling ground - and Poppy is the cool embrace of safety.

She is light cracking through a window he just needs to break through to make it out.

If he can get to her quick enough, if he runs, and runs, maybe he’ll make it before he’s jiggling at a red hot handle that won’t move, won’t give, won’t budge.

If he can just talk to her, maybe the morning from hell will be outweighed by the days of resilience, weeks of efforts, years of loving her in whatever capacity, and the promise of something better.

He just needs to get rid of Talia.

The car journey back to his apartment is carried out in a deafening silence. She had tried to talk to him when he’d made his way out of Myles’ condo, when he had found her waiting by his Mercedes with crossed arms and a sour look on her face, but he’d told her he didn’t want to hear it, that they’d deal with it in private.

He hardly wanted a showdown with her in the middle of the street.

And so, she sat in his passenger seat, jaw set, glaring out the window and letting out the occasional huff or puff for attention that he wasn’t entertaining.

The elevator ride up to his place had been the same. Silent, filled with the type of tension you could cut with a knife, and all he could do was ignore her continued petulance and take deep breaths to calm himself down. In through his nose, out through his mouth, overlooking the way she tapped her foot in his peripheral vision, and almost audibly rolled her eyes every few seconds. 

“Would it have killed you to defend me in there?” She scoffs as soon as the door closes behind them in his apartment, “You just let him accuse me of all that stuff and completely invade my privacy!”

Nico screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He can’t blow up, can’t stoop to her level. He won’t feel good after the fact. He knows how Talia operates, should have known she’d immediately play the victim card, and he isn’t falling into the trap of arguing to the point of being in the wrong.

He’ll say something he regrets and she’ll use it to her advantage, somehow.

“You asked him to go through your phone, Talia.” He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen and getting himself some water. Chugging at it does little to soothe the burning feeling prickling at the back of his mouth, or the itch of his tongue to spit out a scathing retort. “He’s shut down the guy behind it, he can’t message you or anyone else with any more threats, you should be happy.”

“I should be happy?” She follows him wherever he tries to get away, crowding his space and jabbing a pointed finger into his arm. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through this past week. I thought my career was over! How was I supposed to know it was fake?”

“You didn’t even look at the pictures-,”

“Because I was panicking! I was upset, you can’t expect me to be able to recognise what’s been photoshopped when I’m scared like that!”

“But you can fly straight over here and pin the blame on me for ruining your life? You weren’t too upset to point the finger, Talia,”

“Don’t be an asshole, Nico, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“I’m being the asshole? You don’t even care about the trail of destruction you leave behind you, do you? You send private pictures of us, of me, of my family to random people online who you don’t even know, for what, Talia? For money?”

“I don’t need their money-,”

“So it was just for the attention? You get to parade our relationship around like it means nothing more to you than a title, and once you get your fifteen minutes and a few more instagram followers, you just jet back home and dump me over a text?”

“Oh my God,” she cries, flailing her arms dramatically, following him yet again as he makes his way into his living room, picking her stuff up after her that she had discarded here before they left and throwing it into her travel bag. “Stop playing the victim, for Christ’s sake, you’re hardly heartbroken over it. I know for a fact you’ve been hooking up with someone, one of the girls messaged me that they saw you leave a party with her on New Years!”

“So that’s what this is?” Nico snaps, pointing to her, to her stuff, “You think I’m moving on so you fly back out here and spring this bullshit on me, try to make me feel bad?”

“You have some nerve, Nico,” Talia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest and levelling him with a darkened glare.

“I have nerve? You’re the one who broke up with me out of nowhere and think that you can just march back here and make demands, Talia, blaming me for something that was entirely your own doing.” He’s getting sick of walking on egg shells around the topic. If she hadn’t have been messaging people she wasn’t supposed to, this would never have happened - it’s no one’s fault but her own, and as harsh as it may be, he wants to wash his hands of the whole thing. “Calling me in the middle of the night, telling me I ruined your life, saying I need to give you money?”

“Out of nowhere?” Of course she would only pick up on that, he thinks. “My God, you are so self-absorbed.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you think that dating you is easy?” She questions with a measured step toward him. “Do you think I want to spend my life waiting around for my boyfriend, only for him to only ever come home grumpy,” another step, “Or whiny,” and another, “Or too tired and achey to do anything? And that’s when you do come home at all and aren’t half way across the country with the communication skills of a candle. It’s a constant uphill battle trying to get even a second of your attention, Nico, so God forbid I tried to gain some kind of advantage from being with you.”

Her words are starting to cut, but he tries not to react, tries not to bite back. He can count several ways in which she gained an advantage being with him, just off the top of the head - a girl like Talia is never shy of attention. Her courting gossip blogs and sending them private information is probably just scraping the barrel of the ploys she made for exposure while she was with him.

“I didn’t break up with you out of nowhere, I put up with you and the whole circus that comes with you for months, but God, is it exhausting being with you.”

“You knew what you were getting into, Talia. You knew my job, knew my life.” They had met initially through mutual friends - hockey friends of his back home, even - and she has other friends who happen to be wives or girlfriends of athletes. She can’t say she came into the relationship completely oblivious to the downsides of dating a professional player.

“Not really,” she shrugs, “All the other guys can find some sort of balance, but not you. All the other girls get a proper boyfriend, someone who spends time doing what they want to do, who sticks up for them when their psycho fans start to turn on them, who doesn’t keep them hidden away like some dirty secret.”

“That isn’t fair, I can’t control that stuff, Talia, it’s not my fault.” He wants to point out that she was the one engaging in their gossip and riling them up, but he can’t keep harping on about something she refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t have the time, patience or energy for it anymore.

The initial ‘leaking’ of their relationship had caused their first major fight. Fans online had somehow - although Nico can now hazard a guess as to how - found out about the two of them, had dug into Talia, her background, her family, her job, and had found some pretty toxic posts on her social media. They had been old posts, and she had told Nico that wasn’t the kind of person she was anymore - and he had no reason not to believe her, had never seen or heard her act in the ways she had online in what she called her misguided youth - but someone in the PR department at the Devils had cottoned onto the topic, and had warned Nico of speaking out in her defence when the pitchforks started to raise.

He’d told her he supported her, but he couldn’t do so publicly - not without upsetting people within the organisation he had worked so hard to gain the respect of - and she had told him she understood. They hadn’t been together that long, it would have been a little unreasonable for him to put her above his work in the ways she was expecting, but she clearly doesn’t see it that way, now.

“Maybe not, but if I’d have known that being with you meant having my life invaded, my career ruined, I never would have followed you back here, Nico.” She sounds more solemn now - regretful, even - and as deep as her words cut, she says it like a piece of advice, “I just hope whatever poor girl you’ve got tangled up in your mess this time knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“And what’s that?” His throat feels tight as he speaks all of a sudden, his resolve in defending himself fading, and he tries to gulp down whatever lump is forming there but the feeling doesn’t budge.

This is what she’s good at.

Turning the tables. Reducing him to uncertainty of himself, of his actions, of his memory of their time together.

“A one-sided relationship with a guy who will never be able to put her first.”

There’s a point in every game he has ever had the misfortune of losing, as the seconds count down in the final third, where he has to come to terms with the fact that there’s no possible way for him to win. It’s sort of comparable to the way his insides churn when he’s on a plane and it drops into descent, like his body is falling at a different speed to his surroundings, or the feeling he gets in his gut when he’s hiking, and he dares to take a peek over the edge of whatever mountainside he’s trekking up, where his body can predict the fall, and his mind has set on there being nothing he can do about it.

This feels like all those feelings.

“Whoever she is, and I know she exists, she doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”

Nico’s heart pounds in his chest, echoing and thrumming in his ears until all he can hear is the beat reverberating, ricocheting around his skull.

He can put Poppy first.

So many parts of their lives are intertwined, it would be so easy to make it work. They work together, they live close, he speaks to her more than he speaks to anyone else in his circle. They’ve spent more time together as friends than he has with any other girlfriend he’s had.

He’s wanted her for years, of course he can do it.

Except, deep down, he knows he can’t. Being in a committed relationship with someone is an entirely different ball game to a friendship, no matter how close he and Poppy have been over the years.

He knows there’ll come a point soon into the season where he has to knuckle down and focus, can’t let anything or anyone distract him, and he’ll close himself off. It’s what he has always done. He gets in his head, starts to carry too much weight that he can’t shift until that final buzzer blows - and he can only hope that it happens with his team in the playoffs. Winning, thriving, succeeding. And for that to happen, he can’t prioritise anything other than the game he’s already dedicated his life to, his training, and most importantly, his team.

It isn’t about what he wants.

What have you done? He thinks, his chest aching.

Talia is right.

Poppy doesn’t deserve that.

She doesn’t deserve him only being there in the physical sense, if she even gets that at all. Doesn’t deserve him getting snappy and stressed, doesn’t deserve him not being able to give her time, or give her attention or affection like he wants to, or like she’s worthy of.

“I need to go.” He manages to choke out with a shake of his head, shouldering past her to pick up his jacket - needing to be out of this conversation and away from Talia. “Leave the keys, I don’t want you here when I get back.”

He needs to see Poppy.

He never should have left her - he wishes with everything in him that he had soaked up the time he had with her before everything came tumbling down around him. And somewhere deep within him, there is a fragile, wilting piece of hope that clings to the belief he can make things right. He just needs her to hone in on it. If anyone can reach into the deepest cracks of his insecurities, can show him he’s overthinking things and everything is not as hopeless as he has made it out to be, it will be Poppy.

Poppy

The first time Poppy had ever fallen asleep beside Nico was at a movie night in Jack’s old apartment he shared with Ty Smith. Jack had invited more people round than could reasonably fit in their living room, and so everyone was smushed in - each chair and every inch of floor space used to its full capacity. 

Nico had attempted to save Poppy a space, to give him credit. He had scowled at each of his teammates who tried to throw themselves down in the tiny slot beside him - prime space, corner of the comfiest couch, facing the tv directly, a small table to the side where one could keep their drinks and snacks - only, by the time Poppy got there, he had barely gotten away with man-spreading to make room, so the small section of the couch between Nico and the arm rest had become her designated spot.

It was cosy, to put it nicely. He had to swing his arm over the back so that she wasn’t being assaulted by the hard dig of his shoulder with every laugh, and her closest leg was pretty much on top of his for most of the film.

She’d known the guys for almost a year - had been working in media, attending every game, home and away, and had integrated herself into the group pretty closely - and she felt pretty comfortable around everyone.

It wasn’t the kind of dynamic she had anticipated falling into when she first got the job with the Devils. She was supposed to start getting serious about her life - cracking down on mingling with co-workers and throwing herself into new social circles, and focusing on building a career for herself, climbing through the ranks and attaining the kind of success and happiness she could shove in her family’s disapproving faces - but the guys had charmed her.

Jack had been somewhat relentless in his pursuit of Poppy’s friendship. He rarely took no for an answer when it came to inviting her out. He was new to New Jersey - a much younger player in a slightly older team - and his rookie season had been rough, so it came naturally to Poppy to want to provide comfort. She introduced him to some of her friends, showed him her favourite spots close to his apartment, found him a decent barber, picked up extra fruit whenever she went to the farmers market near her parent’s house and took it over to his and Ty’s place when she came back home so she could mother him into having his 5-a-day as if he didn’t have access to the best nutrition coaches in the country. Despite her best efforts, Jack had weaselled his way under her skin in the way only a brother could.

Nico’s charm was entirely different.

Nico’s charm came in the form of convenience at first - in the oh I live that way, I can drive you and I have some time, I can do some media stuff for you type of way. Convenience blended into companionship - I haven’t eaten either, we should go for lunch together and I’ve been wanting to watch that movie, do you want to watch it with me?

It turned into grabbing food together, even on days neither of them were working - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, even coffee or sometimes drinks if they could meet up with the rest of the team. It turned into him spending time at her place, whether it was helping her paint her apartment, putting up her new wardrobes, or just binging whatever crazy long series Poppy had decided to start over from the beginning - she provided him with a sense of familiarity and calm he couldn’t really find in anyone else he had met in his time in the states. She became his person, his home away from home, away from home.

And he became hers. 

There wasn’t as much she had to escape; her job not as strenuous, the expectations of her not as high, but when things built up for her - when her mother became overbearing, or her latest endeavour into a relationship crashed and burned - Nico was there. He’d make sure she had a distraction, made sure she was looking after herself, and, in turn, would look after her as well. He made sure she got home safe on nights out, or when they returned from a roadie and landed late - he would always make sure to see her off into the comfort of her own home before he went back to his own. 

And that first time she’d fallen asleep beside him, he’d done the same.

He’d wrapped an arm around her to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as he could, and when the movie had finished - when her face was burrowed into the side of his chest, soft snores falling from between her lips - he gently drew her back to consciousness with his hand stroking at her cheek.

She’d been a little startled, hand shooting up to wipe at her chin and thankful she hadn’t been drooling on him - although with the easy smile he was giving her, she had thought he of all people wouldn’t have minded. 

“Movie’s done, do you need a ride home?” His voice had been low and soft as not to worsen her apparent disorientation, and his hand was still lingering by the side of her face.

She had nodded, blinking away her sleepiness, and working her way up from the couch and onto her feet, stretching out her muscles as Nico did the same.

The two of them bid their goodbyes to the rest of the guys, made their way together to Nico’s car, and he had driven her back to her apartment, chatting on the drive about work and training. 

Poppy had been cramming to prepare for her interview for the Foundation at the time - had been getting herself seriously worked up, staying up late, getting up early, barely allowing herself any time for anything fun - and Nico had seen right through her. 

He’d stopped her before she got out of the car, had held her hand, rubbing at her knuckles with his thumb, and had told her that she should get some proper rest, and that she was going to absolutely rock their world in her interview in a few days time. And, knowing she was going to ignore any instruction he gave to make herself some decent dinner and go to bed early, had ordered her favourite Japanese takeout to be delivered a good half an hour after she got inside, with a text that followed telling her to sleep straight after she had finished.

She’d never expected to drift asleep with him on Jack’s couch - had never expected to open her eyes to the sight of his looking so warmly back at her.

And she hadn’t expected the same thing this morning, because, as her eyes drifted open to the intrusive light peaking through the cracks in her curtains, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up.

The first time had been to subdued movements, a slight groan of her bed frame, and the soft pattering of footsteps leading away. It had been to a hushed voice, the creak of her bathroom door, the flush of a toilet and the uttering of a name she had hoped she would never have to worry about again.

Talia.

The rest of his words had been uttered in his own language, but that she could understand.

She had acted purely on fight or flight instinct, laying back and pretending she was asleep - although as soon as she did, she regretted it, her mind racing at the million and one other possibilities she could have gone with. Sitting up, waiting for him to come out and asking him what was going on being the most rational.

But when had she ever gone with the most rational thought?

She tried not to react as she felt his presence, felt the soft press of his lips to her skin, or the placement of her bunny in her arms. Tried not to follow him as soon as he departed her bedroom, beg him to come back and whatever was going on could wait until the proper turn of the morning. Tried not to get up and go after him when the click of the lock to her main door echoed throughout the empty apartment.

And she tried not to cry as she laid in bed, overthinking herself back to sleep, thoughts racing to the point of exhaustion, and hoping when she woke up again it had just been a god-awful dream.

But it hadn’t.

The spot beside her in bed is empty, not even a crease in the pillow to prove he was ever there - only the t-shirt of his she still adorned, the one that when she takes a deep inhale, still smells like him, and the distinct aching between her thighs.

She finds more evidence of their night together in the bathroom, where she undresses herself with sore muscles and glances in the mirror to see the spattering of purple marks forming on her chest and neck. Her fingers trace over them lightly, her fleeting touch bringing vivid images forth of his lips pressing to her skin, practically able to feel the pressure of her flesh being nipped and bitten again.

He had been so attentive to her - so in tune with what she needed and wanted, and so ready to give her whatever that may be. He’d been gentle at some points, and purposeful at others, and every little thing he did, he did it with sweet disposition.

The kind of man who treats a girl like that doesn’t just leave her in the dead of night with no good reason, right?

Her mind races despite her body going into auto-pilot throughout her morning routine. Her shower is over in the flash of an eye, she strips her bed, starts her laundry, makes herself some tea and gets herself dressed - all the while weighing out all the possibilities of what could have taken him away from her, and what she would be able to understand. 

That quickly turns to her imagining the worst, and a tight, constricting feeling starts to consume her chest. 

There isn’t a single part of her apartment she can get away from the thoughts buzzing around her brain - her kitchen marred with the memory of what had happened on the counter, her couch, her bedroom, her bathroom - all carrying distinct memories of Nico that she needs to bench until she knows the truth.

She mistakenly thinks her escape might lie in her phone. There might be a text there waiting, explaining everything and relieving all the anxiety that has welled up in her very core.

Nia’s warnings from the night before don’t ring quick enough in her mind as the screen comes to life, the immediate barrage of notifications flooding in.

2 missed calls from Mom

Mom: Just calling to remind you of proper table etiquette in case it has slipped your mind, I won’t have you embarrass me in front of a Lyon.

Mom: Cutlery going from the outside in, hold your wine glass by the stem and dab with your napkin, don’t swipe!

Mom: Also let the man tuck your chair in and pay the bill, this 21st century woman nonsense is very unbecoming!

Mom: And I don’t want to have to bring this up but for the love of God, Poppy, have some class. I don’t want to hear mutterings of your promiscuity at the next luncheon.

Whoever taught her mom to text deserves a prison sentence, she thinks.

Tucker Lyon standing a girl up and ghosting her attempts to contact him is what’s unbecoming, not her trying to pay her half of the meal.

She can picture her mother as she reads the texts, sipping on her Manhattan on the couch in the great room, her dad already having retreated to bed at that time, and her having nothing better to do than sit and stew on her daughter’s sex life.

If she knew what was really going down last night, her mom would probably have a conniption.

Knowing she’ll no doubt be getting a call later that evening, Poppy swipes away at her text thread with her mom, immediately checking the notifications she hasn’t long received from her best friend.

Nia: hey if you happen to release yourself from Nico’s wandering hands at all today me and Kelsey are grabbing breakfast by my work!!

Nia: if you need refuelling we’ll be at Marco’s at 9 😘 

Perfect. Therein lies her escape. Breakfast with her best friends, where they can hopefully talk her down from the ledge she’s precariously placed herself on.

A catch up with her girls, and then she can distract herself with work.

Poppy: I’ll be there!!

“Hasn’t he text you or anything?” Nia asks, covering her mouth as she chews on her breakfast bagel, the three girls sat around a table inside their favourite cafe close to Nia’s office.

When Poppy and Nia had first moved in together, they rented an apartment in Hoboken, not too far, and their tradition of grabbing breakfast at Marco’s carried on despite Poppy living further down the river and working even further away in Newark. 

Kelsey had lived in Manhattan at that time, but she stayed over so often with the other girls that she practically spent majority of her week there, and so Poppy and Nia’s routine became hers.

Poppy had given the two of them a brief rundown of her night with Nico, a safe-for-work version of events, all leading up to the mysterious early morning phone call and swift departure.

“Nope,” she sighs, swiping to refresh her messages as if she hasn’t put her phone on loud just to be alerted when he does reach out.

“Have you text him?”

“Nope,” she repeats, putting the phone down and leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her already messed up hair. She’s going to have to throw it up if she wants to look any sort of presentable when she gets to work later.

“Is he usually this pathetic at communicating?” Kelsey asks, manicured nails swiping at a bunch of Sweet’n Lows like she’s trying to play Tetris with the packets. 

Kelsey hasn’t met Nico before, not that Poppy can remember.

Despite considering her one of her closest friends, their personal lives have never quite intertwined like that - not like hers and Nia’s.

In college, things were different. They were coming into their own together, figuring out just what they wanted their personal lives to be, and so Kelsey, Poppy and Nia would all share pretty much everything, just to have someone there to validate their feelings.

But that changed once they graduated.

Kelsey moved in with her boyfriend, Liam - who just so happens to be Poppy’s idea of hell-spawn.

The kind of guy her mother would probably love.

Liam worked on Wall Street, couldn’t go five minutes of conversation without talking about stocks or investment funds. His native language was risky money moves and belittling remarks, and he treated Kelsey like an accessory to parade around in public and discard in private.

Poppy had tried a few times to open Kelsey’s eyes to the way that it was, but it soon became apparent that she had to let her friend make her own mistakes, and some parts of their lives didn’t have to cross over.

They broke up around Thanksgiving, and Poppy had tried with all her might not to show her relief, but it has made her somewhat resentful when it comes to other relationships - like no one can be happy if she isn’t.

She knows it isn’t malicious, but she restrains from letting Kelsey all the way in, all the same.

“Not really,” Poppy lies, not wanting to clue her in on the Big Freezewhere he didn’t speak to her for months on end. It doesn’t entirely help her case. “I just don’t get why he’d sneak out to see her of all people, he told me they weren’t ever that solid, that he wasn’t happy with her.”

“Ooh, what if she’s pregnant?” Kelsey is entirely oblivious to the horrific realm of possibility she has just opened Poppy up to, evidenced by the casual chuckle and subsequent sip of her coffee. “Maybe she’s back to baby-trap him.”

Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.

Nico is a family guy - if Talia is pregnant, he’d force himself to love her again, if he ever even stopped, for the sake of their gorgeous brown eyed, floppy haired baby, and push Poppy to the side just like he had before. And she’ll have to watch him from the sidelines, yearning for what she had just managed to touch the tips of her fingers to before it was violently yanked from her grasp. 

Maybe she’d have to flee the country even - move somewhere remote where she doesn’t even have the chance of being reminded of hockey, let alone of him.

Somewhere with no coffee shops that she’d enter, and the smell of fresh pastries would remind her of all the breakfasts they had together. No railways, where she’d be reminded of his love for model trains every time she came across the tracks. No weird club music that he loves so much, or dorky wizard franchises he chastises her for never having seen.

Maybe Antarctica. They only have penguins there. No real civilisation that she knows of. No brown haired, dark eyed Swiss Gods with deep, honeyed voices that make her knees weak and dimpled smiles that do even worse.

She wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him like that, living her life in an endless mental cycle of what ifs and maybes.

“Kelsey, I beg of you to read the room,” Nia chastises, swatting the girl on her arm before taking Poppy’s hand in her own. “Don’t listen to her, she just wants us all to be single at the same time.”

“Sue me for wanting to have fun! It would be just like college, you and me full-body plunging into the dating pool. Imagine the chaos, Pop, you don’t wanna be tied down to a guy hung up on his ex right now.”

“Dating pool?” Nia scoffs, turning to glare at her, “You’re hardly dry from your last relationship.”

“I’d rather be a grape than a raisin, Ni.” Kelsey chides back, and Poppy can’t help the twitch of her lips at the horrific comparison. 

“You’re really gonna listen to a girl who says that?” Nia asks, unable to mask the glint of humour in her eyes, and Kelsey bites back a smile, too.

Despite the ache in her chest at the thought of any of it - of Nico leaving her this morning, filling her up with empty words and false promises, potentially knocking up an ex girlfriend he is still secretly hung up on even though he told her otherwise - she manages to crack a full smile.

��You are terrible at analogies, Kels,” Poppy tries to hide the grin behind her cup, sipping at her tea and letting the warmth of it soothe the pain in her throat. 

“I’m trying to encourage you to be a strong, independent woman here!”

“She is a strong, independent woman,” Nia defends, “She also happens to be a chronic over-thinker with a deep seated fear of confrontation.”

“I don’t fear confrontation.”

“Then why are we here chit-chatting about hypothetical scenarios when you could just text him and ask what’s up?”

“Maybe ‘cause that’s scary?” Poppy scoffs, only half joking. “What am I supposed to say, hey I just so happened to eavesdrop on your private conversation before you fled my apartment this morning, and despite me not understanding most of it, I definitely heard you mention someone, so could you just let me know if your gorgeous model ex girlfriend is pregnant with your perfect specimen baby?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t even need us.”

Poppy rolls her eyes.  

She could text him. Could be casual about it, a good morning or even an are you okay? Those don’t warrant the alarm bells she’s afraid of raising - the ones that blare out with the siren sound of run, this girl is unhealthily attached to you already!

But she doesn’t want to be the pathetic girl chasing after the guy sending her clear messages that he doesn’t want her.

It’s easier said than done not to overthink the whole thing - not to second guess everything he had said, or everything she had done last night.

She feels like she had rushed things. It was so impulsive, so charged, and after spending the majority of her week away from him, she just hadn’t been able to help herself. And that makes her feel like a hypocrite. She had told him that night he had first kissed her that things between them had gotten intense. It had been the whole reason for spending a few days outside of each other’s company, and in the first possible instance, she had thrown herself at him.

It was desperate.

And maybe that scared him.

It sure as hell scares her.

“I don’t know what to do,” She groans, throwing her head into her hands and scrunching her eyes shut to try and drown out the endless doubt. 

She feels two hands rub at either sides of her back, “Listen, Pop,” Nia is the first to attempt to console her, as always, and Poppy holds her breath for the harsh reality check she’s about to throw her way. “You know I am the one person who would usually be trying to convince you to cut your losses and run when it comes to guys who are no good, but this is Nico. I’ve watched the two of you ignore your feelings for far too long to let you get in your own way, now.

“And you’re forgetting I saw him last night, before you got there, there isn’t a chance in Hell he would have left you like that without a good reason. I don’t for a second think he’s still hung up on her.” Nia casts a side eye to Kelsey.

The only problem is that Poppy isn’t sure there’s a reason good enough. Not when it comes to Talia. Not when the memory of those months of radio silence is still so fresh for her.

“I have to go to work in a building where his face is plastered everywhere, Ni, I can hardly forget his entire existence until he deems me worthy of an explanation. Who leaves after a night like that without even a note or a text?”

“An idiot,” Kelsey mutters around her drink, rolling her eyes when Nia sends her another death-glare.

“I’m not asking you to forget, I’m telling you to wait.” Nia frowns, but her tone remains consoling and warm. “You need to stop letting what this thinks,” she flicks at Poppy’s forehead, “Get in the way of what this knows.” She points to her chest on the left side. “You know him. You know how much he likes you.”

She does.

She knows Nico, she trusts him.

She can only judge him based on his actions so far - the ones that tell her that he cares. He leads with his heart, it’s his most attractive attribute. He’s gentle and loving and she needs to focus on those things over anything else.

“Ugh, corny,” Kelsey drags, and despite her repeated efforts to discourage her, Poppy knows she isn’t being entirely serious. “If he has any non-stupid hot athlete friends though, I’m first in line when the two of you kiss and make up for double dates.”

Guilt pricks slightly at Poppy’s chest - for making her recently single friend sit here and listen to her complain about something so monumentally small compared to the breakdown of the long-term relationship Kelsey had just endured. Even if it was perceivably toxic.

“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”

It’s a poor attempt to make up for it, but it seems to console her friend all the same, a giant grin breaking out and flashing her perfect pearly whites.

“I know.”

Poppy tries to distract herself with work. Tries to make her way through her inbox of seemingly never ending emails and her list of ever-growing tasks. She types up lengthy responses, puts together a presentation, makes a bunch of phone calls she’s been putting off for God knows how long, sorts all her invoices out - she even sends a fax. In the year 2024. It’s her most productive work day she thinks she’s ever had.

She zeroes in on the ground every time she moves through the building. Ignores the pictures that line the walls of the Rock, pushes down the memories of all the times she’s walked these very halls by Nico’s side, and she thinks she’s done just about enough to clear her mind for the time being.

She hasn’t thought up some heart wrenching scenario in at least an hour by the time she’s wrapping up for the day.

She’s making her way back to her office after dropping some files off for Elaine when she catches sight of a mop of curls over the top of the chair by her desk.

Luke is sat in her chair when she enters, swivelling around and staring at the ceiling.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick doing that, you know.”

“You’re such a mom,” he scoffs, standing up and clearly trying not to sway, “You ever tried having fun? I think I saw a glue stick on a table out there,” he points through the door into the wider office space, where there are a few, less private cubicles and a common area. “We should go sniff them, let loose a little.”

“Is that why you’re here on your day off? To huff glue?”

“Yeah, I don’t get to let loose enough. Being a rookie in the NHL is hard, Poppy,”

“Bummer for you.” She pouts, mockingly, swerving past him as he rounds her desk and sits on the other side, flicking at the bobblehead version of his older brother that stands by her computer. “If you’re chasing a high can you do it with one of the other departments, it’s not a good look for the Youth Foundation.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

When Luke had first joined the Devils, she hadn’t expected that she would warm to him the way she has - but, surprisingly enough, considering the fact they’re brothers, their relationship recently has started to mirror her and Jack’s.

Luke is funny. He’s sarcastic and a little silly, and it can be nice to have him around when work gets a little stressful. He doesn’t let the pressures of his own career outweigh those of hers, and, despite the gap in age, she actually enjoys his company.

But he never seeks her out like this.

Their interactions have always started through other people. Group conversations that dwindle to just the two of them, or he usually accompanies Jack to bug her and carries on when Jack’s ever-so-busy schedule takes him elsewhere.

She can’t think of another time he’s just shown up in her office alone.

Especially on his incredibly rare day off.

“Why are you actually here?” She asks, casting a suspicious but half-playful glare his way as she starts to pack up her things. 

“Came to see if you wanted to join us for dinner.”

“Aw Lukey,” she reaches over her desk to pinch his cheek, “I’m flattered and all but I’m a little too old for you.”

“Ha ha,” he swats her hand away, “Us. Me and Jack. Maybe a couple of the others if they’re free but you can pick where we go if you make a decision quickly, we were thinking a steakhouse.”

She narrows her eyes at him, expecting him to crack a joke about her being old, but he just looks back at her awaiting a response. “Why?” She drags out the question, her movements stopping completely.

“Maybe ‘cause humans need sustenance to live? What do you mean, why?”

“Why would you want me to tag along on your bro date?”

“Don’t call it a bro date,” Luke cringes, “Just remembered you were working today and we were in the area, don’t know why you’re being weird about it.”

“You’re being weird. You guys never let me choose where we eat. Don’t you remember that time we grabbed dinner when you guys drove me home and Jack told me to stop being a pussy about my seafood allergy ‘cause he wanted sushi.”

“Don’t blame me for the crimes of my brother, Poppy, he was obviously joking.”

“I had to eat tofu, Luke, I don’t find that very funny.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“That depends, how do you have your steak?”

“Well done.”

“Oh! Then absolutely not.”

“Remind me never to try to be nice to you again.” He scowls as they make their way out of her office, and she locks up behind the two of them.

“Gladly, it’s creeping me out.” She grabs at his elbow before he can carry on, stopping him in the otherwise empty common area where she knows no one is around to listen in. “Is something going on, seriously?”

Luke rolls his eyes, but she knows him well enough that it’s only done in an attempt to avert from her gaze. 

Bingo. He’s hiding something.

“I just thought you might want some company.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and twisting his lips to keep from saying much more.

“Why?”

If Poppy wanted to spend her life getting a straight answer out of people for a living, she’d have become an interrogator. What is it with these guys and their inability to answer a simple question?

“Jack said you left the party last night with Nico.”

Poppy’s eyebrows scrunch so close together that she can feel a deep crease form between them. What on earth does that have to do with asking her to dinner? Or being overly nice to her?

Unless-

“You’ve seen him?”

“This morning.”

“Oh.”

All of her efforts from throughout the day seem to have been for nothing - an immediate rush of insecurities flooding her mind.

Where did he see him? What did he say? Was he okay? Was Talia there?

She feels like she can gauge an answer from the way Luke looks. Sheepish, almost, like he doesn’t want to say something he knows will hurt her feelings.

She had to have been with him. He wouldn’t just show up to her office like this if it wasn’t something that would seriously hurt.

She wishes she wasn’t the kind of person who did this - who filled in the gaps of conversations and always came out with the worst possible outcomes - but she can’t help it. She’s been doing it all her life, and there’s rarely ever an instance where her instincts have led her astray.

She knows it’s some weird part of her mind protecting her, but she needs to do something here. Nia’s words from earlier ring like a warning. Don’t let what her brain thinks get in the way of what her heart knows.

Her heart knows Nico wanted her. Knows Nico liked her. Knows Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

She needs to figure things out for herself and stop running, stop letting her mind fill in the gaps of a situation it can’t even comprehend to begin with.

She reaches her arms around Luke’s shoulders, stretching up on her tip toes to pull him into a hug before rubbing her knuckles into his curls, affectionately.

Luke Hughes is sarcastic and silly, and he cares enough about her to not want her to be alone if she’s going through something.

“Thank you for the offer, Luke, but I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her stubborn lips. It takes over her face, eyes glinting fondly and cheeks warming. 

“Yeah, you can walk me to my car if you’re that worried about me though.” She loops her arm through his elbow as they make their way to the parking lot, and when they get there, he makes sure she’s in her car and has set off before him and Jack leave.

As if her day can’t get any worse, the elevator in her building is cordoned off with tape and a sign when she gets home, and she has never regretted moving up a floor as much as she does when she’s trudging up 6 flights of stairs.

She’s exhausted. Emotionally and physically, and she just wants to throw herself into bed and pretend the last 24 hours were a terrible dream.

Only, as she rounds the final corner to get to her door, any hopes of that go straight down the pan when her eyes land on Nico, standing in front of her door with his hands buried in his jacket pocket.

He looks tired too - hair messed where he’s no doubt been taking his cap on and off for however long he’s been stood here, running a hand through the tresses until they’re all askew. 

His shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t even greet her with that pretty smile he usually gives her.

His lips do curve up a touch - limp and half-hearted, not even enough for a dimple to form - but it doesn’t provide the comfort she had thought it would.

She feels anxious. A culmination of the day’s emotions washing over in one go. Sad, regretful, nervous, disappointed - all things she shouldn’t be used to feeling when it comes to Nico, but are all too familiar when she takes the last few months into account.

“Hi.” She gives a weak smile of her own.

“Can we talk?”

She wishes he’d have just said hi, back. That might have relieved the tightness in her chest just a little.

Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?

He steps aside as she approaches, maintaining a safe distance as she opens the door and enters her apartment.

The Nico from yesterday might have brushed past her, the graze of an arm or a lingering hand, but this Nico doesn’t. He barely even meets her eye.

He closes the door behind himself, watching as she discards her bag and keys to the console table on the side, and while she’s turned away from him, she tries to let whatever emotions need to come out cross her features where he can’t see them.

She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.

If she doesn’t get her back up, doesn’t get agitated, she won’t scare him off.

“Are you okay?” She asks once she’s turned to face him, not liking how he stands unmoving by the door. He hasn’t made any effort to settle in - his jacket still on and his hands still hidden in the pockets.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

She realises now that she can get a good look at him that the expression he wears is one of shame. Guilt. Apprehension. She needs to be careful and toe the line before he gets consumed by it, she realises.

She steps toward him a little, and he doesn’t back up - not immediately, not obviously - but he hardly welcomes her approach, either.

She doesn’t like feeling this way when it comes to talking to him - feeling uneasy and unsure, but there’s a part of her that’s tired of having to prompt him for answers.

He had been the one to leave this morning. Why can’t he just come out and tell her why?

“I’m alright,” she shrugs, not wanting to scare him off with the truth. “Super tired, though, can we sit?”

She wonders if he thinks about the same things she does as they make their way to the couch. Wonders if he can feel the scratch of her nails on his torso, or the brush of her lips against his, as they sit in the spot where not even 24 hours ago, their bodies had been intertwined.

He doesn’t sit right beside her as he normally would, and she finds herself missing the way his thigh usually brushes against her own.

She doesn’t know where to start or what to ask, and so she basks in the silence for a little - finding comfort in the fact that, despite the mess they’re currently in, they aren’t quite at the end yet.

But a part of her feels it coming.

She’d known it this morning if she lets herself listen to the rational voice in her head. As soon as she’d heard him say her name, as soon as he’d left, a part of her knew that was it, and maybe if she’d let herself believe it at the time - hadn’t talked herself down and convinced herself she was being irrational - she could have protected herself from all the ways this is going to hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and when she looks up, he’s looking down where his large hands are now clasped together in his lap.

“For what?” She manages to choke out.

“Last night, I,” she digs her nails into the palms of her own hands to stop herself filling in the gaps as he figures out what he wants to say, but it’s no use.

He’s sorry for last night.

Last night, he made a mistake.

Last night, he was drunk, he was confused, he was just looking for something or someone to keep him occupied.

“I care about you so much, Poppy.”

That sentence shouldn’t be the one that fills her with dread, but it is.

“You’re my best friend, and I love you,” he does look up as he says this, eye meeting hers in an attempt to convey his honesty, but she sees more of the truth in his glassy gaze than she hears in his words. “This morning, I panicked, and I just needed some time to figure out what I want.”

No, no, no.

She’d rather he tell her what actually happened than do this. Than pretend he left because he doesn’t want her.

“I love you-,”

“You said that, already.” She can’t help the bite in her tone as she prepares herself for the hit. The I love you, but.

“You’re so important to me. Being your friend, it’s like it’s what keeps me sane lately.”

She chews at the inside of her cheek as she feels the tears start to well at her lash line.

“Poppy, I don’t want to mess up what we have,” he shakes his head as his gaze drops, dark eyes darting to focus anywhere but on her own, pleading and watery as she watches him slip away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t think this is hurting me?” She feels weak as her voice breaks, “You don’t think this is already messy?”

She reaches out to take his hands in hers, digging in to unclasp them, to try thread her fingers through, but he doesn’t make it easy.

“Nico, I love you, too, you know I do, we can figure it out, you don’t have to run away from me.”

It’s a desperate attempt and she knows it is, but she needs to know she tried. When she’s sobbing into her pillow and crying herself to sleep tonight, she needs to know she didn’t just let him go without a fight.

“I can’t give you what you want, I can’t be in a relationship, I’m no good at it.” 

Regardless of what she had told herself earlier, about taking what he says at face value, and trying not to fill in the gaps like she does so often with everyone else, she can’t help herself. When he says, I can’t be in a relationship, he means with her. He can’t be with Poppy. He would be no good with Poppy.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you-,”

“No, you said before that you’ve wanted this for as long as you’ve known me, you don’t just wake up and change your mind, not after-,” Poppy starts to feel panic building within her like a flipped over sand timer. Rising and rising until she starts to feel nauseous, getting harder with each second not to jump to conclusions. 

The voice inside her that tells her he got what he wanted and decided it wasn’t for him sounds caustic and bitter, and if she hadn’t wound herself up so much about this whole situation over the course of the day - the past week, even, or the months before - she might have been able to fight off the way it so easily convinces her.

“I have to put the team first, it doesn’t matter what I want, I have to focus on them, on hockey.”

She’s too caught up in her own emotions to notice how weak he sounds - glassy eyes unable to catch the glint in his. All she can hear, all she can see, is the minute hints of a cover-up - that she isn’t getting the whole story, that he’s lying to her, and that the excuse he’s giving is cowardly.

He still hasn’t mentioned the call, hasn’t mentioned Talia, hasn’t explained why he left her, why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t come back.

“And you didn’t know that before?” She scoffs, pushing herself up off the couch and stepping away from him, “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fall, but she can’t rid her skin of the feeling that they were there, her flesh damp and sore.

“I know we took things a little too far last night, but that doesn’t mean-,” She almost thinks he notices how bad that hurts her, referencing the night they shared as a mistake - an instance where they got carried away, and not where they followed through on years worth of built up tension and adoration for one another. She doesn’t even have to fill in the gaps, this time. Took things a little too far is clear enough. “We can still be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Friends?” Poppy jeers in disbelief, turning completely away from him now and missing the tears that drop from his own cheeks - missing the way his chest cracks and stretches open in a last ditch demonstration of his vulnerability, his desperation not to lose her completely. “You should go.”

“Poppy,”

“I can’t,” she tries so hard not to cry, knowing she won’t be able to stop, but the words come out in a choked sob, and her voice carries on in the whiney way she always hates. “You told me you wanted more, you said I was yours, and I’m supposed to just act like it never happened? Just accept you didn’t actually mean the things you said?”

“I meant them,” he says, defiantly, so sure of himself that it makes her head spin. “I wouldn’t-,”

“No, you didn’t. You’re a liar. You were either lying then, or you’re lying now. I don’t know which is worse. I can’t be your friend. I can’t pretend like you can that I don’t feel the way I feel.”

“Please, Mohn,” His fingertips just manage to reach out to land on her forearm before she shucks him off, wincing as if his touch has pained her.

“Don’t.” She takes an immediate step back, arms crossing over herself as a defence mechanism, body language screaming at him to go away, and she watches his pleading eyes drop to her arms just as she feels the cold of the metal there - so in tune with her every thought despite his denial of their true connection. Her arms move before her mind can make the decision, before it can remember what even sits on her skin, and her shaking fingers fumble to unclasp the jewellery adorned on her wrist. “You should take this back.”

Nico shakes his head, stepping back and away from the outstretched hand that holds her gemstone bracelet like it’s an actual danger to him. “No, that’s yours, Poppy.”

“I don’t want it.” She knows she’s the one that’s lying now. She wants the bracelet. She wants him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to be his friend over being nothing. 

But she doesn’t want to hurt.

Looking at him hurts.

Remembering last night, remembering their kiss, the things he has said, the things he has done, it all hurts, and she can’t keep hold of a constant reminder of the pain, can’t wear it on her person at all hours of the day just to know deep down that the man who gave it to her will never want her the same way.

“I want you to leave.”

“Please,” he begs again, head tilting as devastation floods his features, brows pushing together, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, “We need to talk about this-,”

“No, you were right, we went too far, it was a mistake.” Her voice breaks as she says things she knows she doesn’t mean, but he’s already put it out there, so she doesn’t see the harm in echoing his own opinions. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”

She can’t look at him anymore, and so she drops her gaze to his hands, stepping and reaching forward and forcing him to take the bracelet from her before she rounds the couch and heads to the door.

If he isn’t going to give her the whole truth, she isn’t going to entertain part of the story, and she needs him gone so she can give in to the way her body wants to fold in on itself.

It takes him a minute to gather himself, but she refuses to look his way, waiting by the open door to her apartment and staring at the floor in front of her until his shoes appear.

“I do love you, Poppy. I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need, but I’ll be here when you want to talk about this. I mean it when I say I can’t lose you.”

 She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything.

There’s a stabbing pain that’s building and building in the centre of her chest, and she doesn’t even think she can breathe in his presence.

He clasps a hand around her upper arm, and leans into her, his lips pressing a firm kiss into the crown of her head, and he lingers there for a moment before he retreats. 

She manages to push the door closed behind him, the click of the lock louder than ever, and waits a good few minutes in silence before her body is wracked with a silent sob.

The one time she had tried to be brave and fight her own intuition, and this is where it gets her.

So much for Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[tayloralisonswift]

perhaps my hottest take of all time is that while the himym finale sucked, it did not make sense for barney and robin to be together forever and i like how it ended for barney, even if he did recede to his creepy old ways for a while first. the following is probably gonna be an essay, sorry.

so first of all, the main reason why barney and robin couldn’t be together for the rest of their lives wasn’t even why they ended things (though i suppose you could say in a way barney wanted to settle down somewhere and robin wanted to keep traveling, which is symbolic.) it’s because of children. robin categorically does not want kids, something which is impressed upon us a million times, and it would be out of character for her to randomly want to put aside her career to be a mother. barney, meanwhile, longs for the family he never had. he wants to be a father, ever since his not-a-father’s-day karaoke session, just like he wants his father to be a father to him. at one point when he borrows his brother’s baby, he and ted both agree that they have to wait for the real thing. character-wise, it wouldn’t surprise me if barney wanted to bury this in order to be with robin, but it would feel like an unfinished plot thread. barney was always meant to be a dad. thus, they were ultimately incompatible.

however! that doesn’t mean their marriage was wrong or bad or out of character. when they tell their friends, they stress it was not a failure, just a short marriage, which reminds me of jack gilbert’s poem about divorce which says “everyone forgets that icarus also flew.” i don’t think their relationship was a waste. the love was there! it wasn’t enough and it didn’t change anything but it was there.

so why do i hate the finale then? ted and robin. putting aside their differences and the contradictions there, ted is loyal. ted often sucks a lot, but he is loyal to his friends, and barney is his friend. you cannot tell me that ted would get together with his bro’s ex wife. it’s a literal bro code violation, which we know barney really cares about. it would, essentially, rip their friendship apart. especially because the marriage ended on “the love was there” terms - barney will probably always love robin.

then there’s robin’s characterization post-divorce, where she is regretting ever marrying barney and suggesting that she chose the wrong guy, which is shitty of her. mostly she is whiny about ted finally being happy when there have been so many instances where she could’ve been with ted again and chose not to be. this robin is pathetic. at the very least she’s an awful friend. (like it’s not lily’s fault you miss your ex.)

and tracey deserves better than for robin to usurp her story! tracey’s story matters, it’s the reason we started watching, she is The Mother! another hot take but i can see pros and cons to her dying, mostly cons (because hello, we’ve been waiting all this time and you just kill her off??) but i do think it makes sense narratively that ted would sit down his kids on his own and tell them about their late mother. plus that scene where he runs to her door to have a few extra days with her is probably the most excruciating moment on television. (sorry as if it’s my fault.) but i do agree with the general consensus that killing her off in service of ted and robin was shitty.

in my dream finale, barney and robin are together for longer, maybe five years or so. barney goes back to dating and has his child, including the sweet moment where he says that speech he never thought he’d say. robin travels the world. she comes back to new york and she and barney reconcile enough that the gang gets back together and it’s sort of awkward but they commit to it anyway. tracey does die and ted only loves her until his dying breath, or she doesn’t and they grow old on the front porch together. marshall and lily’s story stays the same except robin is a better friend.

wow i’m so glad i decided to spend my morning writing something no one will read! but if you were reading 1. ily 2. don’t kill me for my hot takes <3

[the-names-kam]

okay i’m sorry to beat a dead horse but i’m angry about this again. i genuinely cannot believe that we did not get an OUNCE of izzy backstory beyond “oh he and ed have known each for a REALLY long time” (and even then there’s inconsistencies in the amount of time implied). like. not one single flashback to his childhood, or to him and ed when they were younger

now, only three characters in the show actually get backstory flashbacks: ed, stede, and jim. why ed and stede get flashbacks is obvious, but jim is interesting because they only really get flashbacks because their backstory in season one affects the show’s plot. after that, they kind of just get pushed to the side

but izzy is an extremely important character from day one, and he becomes even more crucial to the plot in season two. and i think part of the reason why a lot of people still hate his character is because we never get an explanation for WHY he acts the way he does. we can infer, but without anything concrete it’s very easy to just dismiss it as him being an asshole

i really think a flashback to how his and ed’s relationship used to be was very needed, and an explanation for how everything went downhill and why the two of them turned out the way they did. we can gather that they were very close, and their relationship deteriorated due to ed getting bored of being blackbeard, but there’s so many little nuances to their relationship that are never really explained

not to mention that, in my opinion, izzy has more unexplained character details than any other character in the show. roach’s character design has a lot of details, but as far as i’m aware all of them have been explained, just not in-show. and of course wee john has all his tattoos, but those are just kristian nairn’s actual tattoos, so i don’t think they really count as character details

but we never get any kind of explanation (whether in-show or not) for izzy’s “x” tattoo, or the spade on his hand, or why he only wears one leather glove, or the RING ON HIS TIE, or the fucking LASH SCARS ON HIS BACK. those last two especially drive me fucking insane to think about

because with the ring, some people think that con o’neill requested to have it for his mother, but he actually only asked them to change the gem to an emerald. the ring was always going to be there. but, again, why? it’s so strange to me to have a pirate, and especially one who (at least in season one) totes being a pirate as this big, scary, masculine career, wear a dainty little ring around his neck with absolutely no explanation as to why

and with the lash scars, that is SO MUCH makeup and special effects work just for them to a.) never be addressed, even though stede could clearly see them; and b.) be barely even visible to the viewer because of the dim light and the lack of a clear shot of them

and idk if you guys have seen that BTS picture of the scars, but uh. there are a LOT of them. and again, where the fuck did they come from? i use them as fuel for my headcanon that izzy was in the navy, but is that what we’re meant to assume? is that what’s being implied here? or is it that he served on hornigold’s crew with ed and jack, even though that’s also never mentioned? did ed give them to him? we know he canonically enjoys pain (thanks for that at least, guys), at least to a certain extent, so is it meant to be implied that he had that done to him as a kink thing? is it supposed to be a joke and that’s why it’s never addressed?

i truly don’t know. i can talk myself in circles about this for hours, but at the end of the day the only good answers i can think of for why izzy didn’t get a backstory are budget and bad writing. and no, it really isn’t that serious, and i’ll move on eventually, but it’s still just extremely disappointing to me. okay, rant over

[astrowaffles]

Here's To Never Growing Up

“My favourite story about Megumi as a kid is about when we were painting his bedroom,” Satoru began, laughing a little at his memory. “We were going with a dinosaur theme, so the walls were gonna be light green. Megumi takes one look at the colour he picked, yells ‘it looks like puke!’, throws up on the floor, and storms out. He got a pink bedroom the next week, and loved it.”

“You always tell that story,” Megumi complained. “It makes me sound like a spoiled brat.”

Gojo looked at him pointedly. “What happened when I tried to get you to bake cookies with me?”

“…..”

“You threw flour all over the kitchen, didn’t you?”

“I was five!”

“What about when I accidentally played Justin Bieber at your eighth birthday party?”

“I think crawling under the table to cry was justified. It was a horrible song.”

“And when Toge borrowed your wooden toy car?”

“…Yeah, alright, I guess I didn’t need to hit him over the head with it. Still, even if I was spoiled, isn’t that your fault?”

“Eh, I think you turned out alright in the end.”

------------

OR: let's talk about Gojo & Megumi.

“So, you’ve got a TV dad in season two,” the interviewer ventured. He crossed his legs. “How does that work for you? I mean, considering your legal dad is in the same show…”

“Have you seen season one?” Megumi enquired. “Like, did you follow the plot at all?”

“Um, are you referring to anything in particular?” The interviewer uncrossed his legs.

“Yeah, I am.”

“And what would that be…?” Crossed legs again.

“How about the scene where kid-me says ‘I don’t care about my dad, he’s an asshole’?”

Gojo hid a snicker behind his hand, trying (and failing) to pass it off as a cough. He cleared his throat. “Alright, Megs, let’s not get snappy-“

“No, no, it’s alright,” the interviewer hurried to assure him. “I quite understand why it would be a sensitive subject… I do apologise.”

Megumi nodded. “Alright, then. The character of my biological dad in the show is completely irrelevant to my character, as you would know if you’d seen JJK.”

Gojo nodded in agreement. “He literally abandons him, man. And then my character swoops in! So, in a way, I’m his TV dad after all.”

“Definitely more than the biological guy,” Megumi agreed. Gojo beamed at him.

The interviewer was nodding along. “Oh, totally, I do remember that episode. I just meant, how is it to have a real dad on TV, when in real life-“

Gojo slapped him.

“Yeah, it wasn’t my finest moment,” Gojo laughed. He was sprawled across the couch, taking up as much space as possible. His arm was around Megumi, who was sat in the remaining corner, legs curled around himself like a cat. “I stand by it though.”

“What’s worse was that Satoru was trying so hard to be nice to the guy,” Megumi sighed. “He was trying to stop me from being mean to him, but the questions just kept going…”

“Pretty much. Megumi tends to get very heated very fast with interviewers who mention the dad character, because he thinks they’re always leading him down Trauma Lane. He was getting better at staying calm, and then that interview came along. We blacklisted the question after that.” Gojo pushed his sunglasses up his nose, and stretched his legs out in front of him. Megumi rolled his eyes.

“Stop stretching out like that, Toru. You’re kicking the table, look.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Gojo grinned at the camera. “See, he’s always keeping me in line. Imagine how bad things have to be before he starts being rude!”

“Haters will say it’s an overreaction,” Shoko commented, taking a sip of her coffee. “But I’m not a hater.”

“And that’s saying something, because she hates everything else Satoru does,” Geto observed. “But I agree with her. To suggest that Megumi doesn’t have a ‘real’ dad, right in front of his dad’s face … there are so many things wrong with that, on so many levels.”

“See, he’s ever the voice of reason,” Shoko shrugged, jabbing her thumb towards Geto. “I literally don’t care. I’ve known that kid since he was three. I think Satoru should’ve just killed the interviewer.”

“I don’t know Megumi very well,” Geto clarified, “but I’m all for murdering the interviewer.”

Shoko stared at him. “Like, just on principle?”

“Just on principle.”

Silence.

“Well, I never expected that from Suguru, he always seemed so nice, but I did say it first, so-“

“Not that there’s anything wrong with not having a dad,” Yuji clarified. “I don’t. I live with my grandpa. But there’s a lot wrong with telling someone sat right next to their dad that they don’t have one.”

“Like, the moment he said ‘legal dad’, I thought, someone should slap him,” Nobara confessed. “You could tell right from the start that he was going somewhere he shouldn’t, and Megumi knew it too.”

“And the thing is, Megumi and Mr. Gojo have always been so obviously family. We’ve known since day one, even though they didn’t tell us until… day three?”

“Mr. Gojo totally just blurted it out,” Nobara giggled. “Megumi would’ve kept it a secret forever, but Mr Gojo was so proud…”

Itadori smiled at the memory. “Have you guys ever heard the story of how Megumi started acting?”

“What? No! Why haven’t I heard this before?” Nobara turned towards Yuji, giving the story her full attention. Yuji laughed.

“Don’t know, but I’m sure he won’t mind me telling you. Alright, so, before Mr. Gojo adopted him, he was his babysitter, right? Like, this was before Megumi’s dad- well, anyway. Mr. Gojo took him on set with him, because he had to be there and couldn’t leave Megumi by himself… Megumi was probably, uh, two or three. Mr. Gojo would be fifteen or something. And basically, Megumi thought Mr Gojo was so cool that he insisted on becoming an actor too. Mr. Gojo thought, why not, because he could give a helping hand if Megumi needed it. So, Megumi got signed up for an agency, and he got cast in his first show when he was four. And the rest is history.”

“Wait, so, Megumi’s an actor because he wanted to be like Mr. Gojo???”

“Yeah.”

“And he was just … naturally talented? No stage school or anything?”

“Yeah. The same as Mr. Gojo.”

“Shut up, is that true??? Oh my god-“ Nobara turned to the camera. “You heard it here first, guys. Megumi’s whole life trajectory was decided because he idolised his dad-to-be as a toddler- are you crying, Yuji?”

Yuji sniffed. “No. Only a little.”

“It was your story!"

“It’s just so beautiful!! They were meant to be!! Destined family! Doesn’t that make you want to cry too?!”

Nobara paused. “Yeah, actually. It kinda does.”

“A long time ago, when I’d just been adopted, Satoru sat me down at the table and said, ‘You don’t need to call me Dad. You don’t need to see me as your father. I just want to look after you.’ And, yeah, I still don’t call him Dad. But that’s who he is. He’s my dad. He has been for … as long as I can remember.” Megumi looked across at Gojo. “I owe him everything.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” said Gojo, fiercely. “You owe me nothing. You could spend all my money and kill my cousins and you’d still not owe me anything."

Megumi smiled. “You want me to kill your cousins, though.”

“True. Please kill my cousins, Gumi, I literally can’t stand another family reunion-“

“My character’s leopard print tie is inspired by Megumi,” Nanami informed the camera, a nostalgic smile on his face. “When he was younger – maybe ten? – he was obsessed with animals. I was transitioning out of a ridiculous phase at the time, and came to visit him wearing leopard print … he demanded to know if it was made of real leopard. He was absolutely incandescent. I’ll never forget it. He wouldn’t speak to me for weeks, even when I showed him the label to prove it was nylon.”

“You’ve known him for a long time, then?” someone behind the camera asked.

“A while, yeah. Since he was seven. Satoru used to say I was the only one he trusted to make sure the kid was fed while Satoru went to work. What he meant was, he didn’t want Shoko and her twenty cigarettes a day to go near a small child. She ended up quitting just so she could keep hanging out with her nephew. Megumi’s absolutely changed lives – and he’s such a talented man now. You have to give Satoru some major credit, he raised a good kid.”

“My favourite story about Megumi as a kid is about when we were painting his bedroom,” Satoru began, laughing a little at his memory. “We were going with a dinosaur theme, so the walls were gonna be light green. Megumi takes one look at the colour he picked, yells ‘it looks like puke!’, throws up on the floor, and storms out. He got a pink bedroom the next week, and loved it.”

“You always tell that story,” Megumi complained. “It makes me sound like a spoiled brat.”

Gojo looked at him pointedly. “What happened when I tried to get you to bake cookies with me?”

“…..”

“You threw flour all over the kitchen, didn’t you?”

“I was five!”

“What about when I accidentally played Justin Bieber at your eighth birthday party?”

“I think crawling under the table to cry was justified. It was a horrible song.”

“And when Toge borrowed your wooden toy car?”

“…Yeah, alright, I guess I didn’t need to hit him over the head with it. Still, even if I was spoiled, isn’t that your fault?”

“Eh, I think you turned out alright in the end.”

“It was a total take-a-guess-and-hope-it’s-right situation,” Shoko reminisced.

“For fifteen years?”

“Well, more like thirteen, but yeah. No-one tells you how to raise a kid, especially when you’re fifteen yourself. At first, we’d be giving Megumi back to his dad at the end of the day – but then again, all he did at home was go to bed, you know? Everything he learnt, he learnt from us or school. Completely insane.”

“I do have a very vivid memory of the first day of filming,” Geto said, mentally connecting a few dots. “Satoru and Megumi walked in together. Satoru was in a feather boa and pineapple shaped sunglasses, chattering away, and Megumi looked like a glitter factory had exploded in his face. He looked like he was having the worst day of his life, and he had noise-cancelling headphones on. The moment he spotted Yuji, he made a beeline for him – but then Satoru made a super offended noise, and Megumi literally froze in place. He immediately did a complete 180, and went and hugged Satoru, who patted his head and whispered something to him. That’s when I thought, these guys are the real thing. These are the people you want to model your family on.”

“They just understand each other on a different level,” Shoko agreed. “Megumi could be completely overstimulated and about to kill Satoru, but he’ll still hug him goodbye. I don’t know how he does it. If Satoru ever tried to hug me after talking my ear off for an entire car ride, I’d flip him off and go hang out with Yuji instead.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, he went straight back to Yuji,” Geto nodded. “I just thought their connection was so lovely.”

“Once, I was idly complaining about something- oh, yeah, it was that Nobara was getting a modelling gig,” Megumi began. “It wasn’t serious, it was just along the lines of ‘I’m not earning anything out of this except my actual pay, what the heck, this is unfair’, yada yada. But then this idiot goes, ‘Do you want a modelling contract? I’ll get you a modelling contract-‘”

“Listen, you were complaining about not having one, I could get you one,” Gojo said defensively. “What do you want me to say? ‘Sucks for you, shut up’?”

“No, but you knew I wasn’t serious! He literally picked up the phone and starts calling his agent-“

“Shoutout to Agatha, you’re a star-“

“He’s just so intent on me getting everything I want-“

“What am I for, otherwise??”

“And then he has the audacity to call me spoiled-“

“I think you’d make a good model, though!”

“I did actually end up getting a contract. Not through Toru, though. Through my own hard work-“

“And your pretty eyelashes.”

“-And my pretty eyelashes.”

“Oh, man, my favourite Gojo and Megumi memory? Probably when we went out for boba,” Yuji mused.

“Oh, yeah.” Nobara started scrolling through her phone. “I have pictures, hang on.”

“I mean, I’m used to parents coming to hangouts with us. They’re useful, because they drive us places and pay for stuff and all that. So I didn’t have a problem with Mr. Gojo coming with us, although I was surprised because I thought Megumi wouldn’t like spending time with his dad."

“Oh, how wrong you were,” Nobara sighed. She held up her phone to the camera. “They get along so well it’s ridiculous. We felt like third wheels to a father-son date, rather than Mr. Gojo being a third wheel to a group hangout.”

The camera zoomed in on the photo; it showed Megumi, Gojo, Yuji, and Nobara in a restaurant. Megumi and Gojo were on one side of the booth, Gojo’s arm over Megumi’s shoulders. Yuji and Nobara were opposite them. All four were smiling at the camera, though Megumi’s small smile stood out in contrast from the others’ beams.

“They’re a lot of fun to hang out with,” Yuji said. “Like, a lot. They’re ridiculous. Megumi would trip Mr. Gojo up in the street, and just keep walking, but if he reached the next bench and Mr. Gojo still hadn’t caught up, he’d turn round and wait for him. Mr. Gojo would stop halfway through a conversation just to make sure Megumi was doing something social, and not just ignoring us-”

“Sometimes he’d purposefully walk ahead with me, to force Megumi to talk to Yuji,” Nobara snickered.

Yuji nodded in agreement, cheeks tinged with pink. “He talks plenty if you can get him started. But anyway, Mr. Gojo bought us boba and let us do our thing, because I think he was super excited that Megumi had friends. It was kinda sweet.”

“That was probably the day we realised that they were father and son,” Nobara observed. “Like, logically, we knew. Like Yuji said, we knew from day one, it’s obvious. But you just don’t get it until you watch Gojo steal Megumi’s boba, or you see Megumi pull a pen out of his pocket because Gojo is always being struck with ideas that he has to write down immediately, or you see them walk in perfect sync, even when they’re not next to each other…”

“You’d genuinely think they shared DNA,” said Yuji, seriously. “And not even halves. You’d think they were clones, sometimes.”

“Uh, I think that’s a bit far,” Nobara disagreed. “They have different personalities.”

“Just wait until you Mr. Gojo do his feral scenes this season. You’ll see what I mean.”

“We make new favourite memories every day,” Gojo said. Megumi rolled his eyes and slapped Gojo’s shoulder. “What? It’s true! Just yesterday, you used a cookie cutter to make my carrots into different shapes because I complained about eating vegetables. I love that memory, just the same as I love remembering me doing that for you ten years ago.”

“He’s a sappy little shit,” Megumi told the camera. “He can’t help it.”

“It’s true, I can’t.”

“His actual answer is that he’s indecisive.”

“It’s true, I am.”

“He also apparently can’t answer for himself.”

“It’s true, I can’t."

“Do you ever STOP BEING ANNOYING-“

“If we’re talking favourite memories of all time, it’s got to be Megumi’s adoption,” Shoko decided. “Satoru cried. Megumi didn’t. Megumi was absolutely overjoyed, you could see it on his little face. I’d never seen such a big smile. I thought his face would split in half. And he’s never done it again; he went right back to being his grumpy self the day after.”

“I genuinely can’t imagine that,” Geto confessed. “Satoru crying or Megumi smiling, I just can’t see it.”

“Neither could I, until I did. You know what people say, about such-and-such having changed their brain chemistry? For me, it wasn’t a song or a book. It was watching my little nephew be able to fling his arms around Satoru, and call him Dad. That’s another thing he never did again, but he did then. It was the best day of all of our lives.”

“I don’t believe in destiny, but I do think it was inevitable,” Nanami pondered. “I mean, if there are infinite alternate universes, like scientists say, I don’t think there’s a universe where they aren’t father and son. Maybe sometimes they swap roles. Maybe there’s a universe where it’s biological, although imagining Satoru with a girl is …. unfathomable…”

“So you think it was written in the stars?”

“In a way. I think Satoru and Megumi are two incredibly stubborn, caring people, and they wouldn’t let something as small as an alternate universe stop them. In this universe, they were born and raised in the same area by people who were friends, and they came together naturally. In the next universe, maybe they find each other through Craigslist. We’ll never know.”

“I’m glad to have met Megumi, yeah,” Gojo said, like it was obvious. “After all, with him around, I get to play with Toast and Maple- ow, Gumi!”

“He actually only looks after me for the dogs,” Megumi told the camera, hand resting on Gojo’s shoulder, where he’d hit him moments before. “It’s a sad truth.”

Gojo sighed. “Alright, I see where we’re going. What do I have to bribe you with this time?”

“Airpods.”

“You already have airpods, you donut.”

“New ones. I want blue ones.”

“What, seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“And if I don’t buy them?”

“……….”

“Oh my god, fine.”

Megumi grinned. “Thanks, Toru!” He turned to the camera. “My dad is the best dad ever. He looks after me, feeds me, combs my hair, supports me emotionally, threatens interviewers for me-“

“And buys you Airpods.”

“And buys me Airpods. Everyone needs a Satoru. Thank you, and goodnight.”

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

[copsecore]

my thoughts on the "fanon-isation" of sam (and his newest ba)

(taken from a long winded text conversation i had - slight NSFW talk below the cut) [WORD COUNT: 1047 WORDS, IM SORRY]

psa: while i am complaining about it, it's just my own thoughts, and none of which is an actual criticism of erik, feel free to add your opinions, as per the usual

Maybe its coz time is passing, and the relationship is developing but i feel like i’m enjoying the dynamic between sam and darlin’ a lot less than i did at the beginning. It feels a lot less “human-realistic” and more “tailored for fan preference” (you sam fans gotta hear me out on that bit okay).

Clearly erik isn’t “pandering” towards the fandom or anything, however there HAS been a change in sam’s writing that i don’t know if anyone else can see, or whether it’s just me.

 Fight me, but i feel like whatever’s happening to guy, the reverse is happening to sam. In the sense of where guy is gaining lore and becoming more plot relative, sam seems to be losing that position, which doesn’t cover all of my opinion, but it’s the simplest way i can think of putting it. 

He feels more “disconnected” as a character and I wish i could write this more specifically but there’s almost no “good” way of putting it, i’m just trying to put my vibes about this into readable thoughts in a way that’s somewhat well communicated.

It feels like he’s being diminished, where there’s less of the gruff dad-type personality, protective semi-asshole, gently-caring-in-a-non-tsundere-way, and a lot more “here’s your standard cookie-cutter southern bf who just so happens to be a vampire, however that’s essentially irrelevant because it’s never referenced in a way that’s plot-needed”. 

It’s quite flat and 2D now in a way that i can’t explain, so therefore don’t yell at me for saying it. While he’s still hot ofc, I don’t enjoy his character nearly as much as i did pre-quinn era, which is a shame because it’s difficult to let go of the fact that he’s one of my favourites, but the energy’s shifted and it’s “off” now. 

Maybe it’s because I’ve changed as a person in the last four years, which i know i have, but it doesn’t seem to be just character development, in the nicest way possible, it feels like he’s being written “out of character”.

Character development in any way is good, I’m a writer myself, I would know that, but those words aren’t what i would personally use to describe it. Forgive me, but i just felt like i needed to get everything out so i could see if anyone else agreed. 

You could say “it’s not that deep” but I’m autistic; this is my special interest, so as much as you can say otherwise, it is in fact “that deep” for me. 

Don’t get me wrong, i still thoroughly love sam as a whole, complete character, and the more recent videos that i don’t like as much could never take that away from me, so again, don’t come at me saying i’m “hating on him”, because i’m not.

This is as constructive of a “rant” that i can make it, and yes, my anonymous asks are turned off. I’m not gonna go on about how “i’m not criticising erik, BUT-” because if you know me at all, you’ll know i would never send hate towards him. 

With the “fanon-isation”, that’s just a word i threw out there to header this whole thing. I meant it mostly in reference to how a large part of the fandom seems to idealise or romanticise darlin’s character, and somewhat how that seems to be translating to the canon of their relationship with sam, and thus effecting him as well. But that wasn’t the right wording - the sam fangroup is big, and i’m already throwing myself to enough proverbial wolves as it is.

The thing that sparked all of this - and if you don’t have the patreon then you probably won’t know - is that Sam biting darlin’ for the first time happened in his most recent ba, which wasn’t something that i really liked. It felt weird to me that, even though it was fully communicated and both parties were okay, it would happen FOR THE FIRST TIME in a sexual setting. While it made sense for darlin’s character, it made less sense for sam’s.

 It also means that (at least as i’m writing this) the non-patrons won’t experience the very plot-important aspect that is sam biting darlin’ for the first time, considering how built-up it’s been throughout their storylines, it didn’t feel right.

It almost felt like the only reason the reverse-comfort audio even previewed for a ba was because THAT was the video that fell on release day. The circumstances just didn’t feel right for it, not given sam’s past and everything that happened in the quinn arc. 

i figured it would at least happen with a sit down conversation, in an sfw audio, even if it was ON patreon, but free. Of course - knowing darlin’ - it was going to be sexual at some point, but i didn’t think it would happen for the first time.

 I’m not going into any more specifics on the audio itself, but those are my thoughts on that bit. Sam bites darlin’, and i didn’t like it. My gripe is neither that it happened, nor that it’s not available to the public, but that nothing about the setting or the build up felt right, and it felt like it happened “just because”, which was a big let down for me, personally.

It wasn’t even the first time I’ve gotten the gist that something was “up”, THAT happened in sam’s hbs 2023 audio (NOT the ba, just the youtube access one) where it definitely felt more like “this is what the audience wants” because yes, who wouldn’t want to see a hot southerner get down and dirty in a club? But it didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time, but more so now it seemed like fandom influence of a sorts.

Almost like I was reading a fanfic or something that was posted on here (no hate of course, I would say my "platform" on here is mainly constructed of fan based content, just that it seemed more “headcanon-y” and less Just Canon) rather than something that erik himself wrote.

TL;DR: sam feels more and more “out of character” to me as a long-term viewer, and it all came to a head in the most recent bonus audio

[theproperweirdo]

Now to get into song of strife and how Alsa and Soren methodically rewrite some of the more ‘savage’ ideals.

(Also spoilers, just in case)

Alsa and Soren come from a clan made up of children abandoned from the clans for being seen as too weak. The Uru clan existing already tries to humanize the maulers. There’s a saying that humanity began when the first broken bone was mended because it meant someone cared enough to heal them even when they were no longer strong enough to be of use, and the Uru clan does just that. And these are the first maulers in the desert the player meets. Not only introducing the player to the two newest hero’s but the overarching morals of the SoS season.

By traveling with the two the culture of the Ashen wastes is further explored. The maulers are still aggressive and look down on those without strength, but it’s heavily explained that this societal mindset originates from the pure fact there is simply not enough resources for everyone to survive. This further plays into how Journey seeks to angle the mauler’s brutalist mindset and nurture instead of nature, unlike how (again just off the wiki I’m dying to know how the plot explains this in Arena’s storyline) the arena wiki that implies they do it because of their inherently violent race.

Even just the name ‘Maulers’ is off the bat more violent than ‘Wilders’ and ‘Graveborns’, which are fairly neutral. And definitely has more negative connotations than ‘Lightbearers’ (kinda ties into the human-supremecy thing for the first one)

There’s also a side quest that’s stuck with me that follows a dead mauler who wishes to be mourned (an act that is frowned upon due to appearing as weak) and I stg I had to going find the story recap for this line but “He said it was a blessing to be able to cry, and to have someone cry for you after death was an even greater blessing.”

Song of Strife Humanizes the Maulers while also respecting the fact they are not humans according to the canon. They are allowed equal to the other factions and their culture is allowed to be more than just “yeah no, they’re crazy aggressive if you run into one you’ll probably get your head ripped off lmao”

Bit of a side note but slavery was also something maulers were mentioned to do on the wiki and the second half of SoS focuses on liberating enslaved/kidnapped maulers. The enslavers while I’m 98% sure are technically a subset of maulers are never referred to as maulers and instead as just the “quicksand claws”, which is super minor but still helps imply that slavery is something just the bad guys do

I missed this one sorry 😭😭

Just about everything you’ve written here, I agree with! The maulers were a product of their environment, but inherently have caring and living qualities in them. They are equal to humans despite their differences.

Arena implies more that they value strength above anything else, not that they’re brutal by nature. They’ve never been described as savage, just as products of a hateful society.

If you talk to most people who were into arena lore before Journey, they’ll agree that the Maulers (and other factions) have an incredible depth to their lore and it’s just not the same in Journey 😢

And YES!! Slavery and human trafficking specifically is a topic in both games. A lot of the characters in Arena have stories that revolve around the trauma of being or having family that was trafficked.

It’s mainly the quicksand claws that kidnap maulers to enslave for labour, but Lightbearers also take Maulers and Wilders because of their strength and affinity to nature. It’s an all around problem, and it’s actually both an interesting and emotionally heavy topic they bring up frequently. I’m actually very keen on learning more about it in game.

The quicksand definitely are maulers though. It’s a collective of different types of maulers, all of which work under the group collective. Human groups like in Rustport (and even large Lightbearer settlements) have large human trafficking rings because of lawlessness and corruption. Definitely not something that any faction has been unaffected by.

[atenea14]

In the Wake of Heroes: Prologue

Soulmates AU

Masterlist

Pairing: Katsuki x Eijiro x Shoto x Izuku x OC (not physically described though)

Warnings: Season 7 spoilers, events of the anime not represented accurately, soulmates AU, slow burn, not beta read, nothing else for now.

A/N: Hi! I’m updated with the anime, not with the manga so possible spoilers for season 7. I don’t really know where this fic will go but I wanted to write something with Katsuki x Eijiro x Shoto x Izuku x Reader and couldn’t decide between abo or soulmates AU and between school setting or professional setting, I also couldn’t decide which character should I pick but why not all?. I’ve decided to do a soulmates AU with an original character and start in the school setting. 

The plot starts at season 7, there will be spoilers but I’m making up most of the events to be able to fit my character. 

Word count: 1,6k

- We will arrive in 30 minutes at the air coffin. Are you sure you want to do this? - She looks at one of the special agents that are accompanying her. 

- What else am I supposed to do? Do I need to remind you of all the pressure you’ve put me in? - Turning back her shoulders she puts on headphones. The rest of the adults look at her with worrying glaces but no one else says anything yet the music seems to calm her. 

I can do this, my singularities have been cause of discordance in all my life but today they will be useful. I can do it, I need to. I’ve been explained how my power can counter attack the disintegration of Shigaraki. I don’t need to be this sca… I’m totally freaking out. HOW THE FUCK I’M I GOING TO DO THIS? I wish I was like Star. I wished she was here to fight with me.

- Minus 20 minutes. - The same agent as before, Mike, puts a hand on her shoulder, taking her out of her thoughts.- I’m… I want to say I’m sorry but I don’t think I have the right to do so. I know you’ve never wanted to be a hero, just anonymously work in intelligence but you have a good base training and your quirk gives you a chance… and we are desperate. - He puts his head between his legs and covers it up with his arms. The girl stares at him and after some long seconds starts to slowly caress his back. 

- Actually… I want to do this, it’s my country too you know?- The agent raises an eyebrow while looking  at her. 

-  I thought you didn’t want to set foot again in Japan- The girl just sighs. 

- There’s a difference between not wanting to come back and wanting it destroyed.- The agent stares at her trying to decipher her but failing. - Anyway the plan is easy, I intercept Shigaraki and give that hero guy the chance to go fight the no face evil man I give my all and pray for my soul. - Some chuckles are heard in the helicopter while the captain approaches her. 

- No Saya, you give your all and if it gets too much you call for extraction.- Saya snorts. 

- And then what? I let that zombie looking guy kill the heroes there?- 

- You are not a hero Saya, nor have you been training to be.- She frowns and suddenly gets up. 

- No, I’ve always wanted to be a detective, old style but that doesn’t make me any less than the rest of the people fighting.- 

- That’s not what I meant…- 

- It is exactly what you meant. Plus how am I going to enter the interpol if I coward in the middle of a fight?-

- It is not any fight Saya, it wouldn’t affect your future.- 

- No, but today’s public exposition surely will.- Some agents sigh in desperation. 

- It won’t be as bad as you think, but you’re too stubborn to believe it.- 

- Enough.- Mike stops it before it gets more heated. - It’s not time for this, we are arriving and we need to have our heads cool.- Easy for you to say, you're not the one who’s entering a place called coffin with a psycho. 

- Opening the jumpgate. Prepare.- The pilot’s voice surprises everybody, Saya takes a deep breath before putting on a determined face. 

- I’ll proceed as planned, try and not to die without me guys. -

- You’re not the one that should be saying it.- Mike pets her and gives her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. Saya smiles at him and nods to the captain, who nods back. Then she just gives a really bright smile to everybody and let's herself fall backwards through the gate. 

- See you!- 

- That kid is going to provoke me a heart attack someday. -

Saya’s POV

Should have not jumped like that. Well… who cares. I see the hole in the barrier, that’s it, I’m entering. Once I take in everything that’s inside this floating enclosure I get breathless. It should have been caused by all the chaos, because of the destruction and all the fallen heroes… but no. I get breathless because of a couple of green eyes that look at me as if they had seen a ghost… Not surprising given the fact that my arrival hasn’t been notified. 

- YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE - How intense, my heart beats a  hundred miles a minute, he has scared me.

- Chill, you’ve scared me!- 

- YOU’VE SCARED ME!- Oh my, I got so anxious at the helicopter that now I’m numb, I should focus more. 

- There’s no time to explain but I’m here to fig - A chain of hands appears out of nowhere and tries to smash me as if I were a fly. Luckily I’m able to dodge it but since the green eyed guy tried to save me we collapse mid air and get destabilized. 

- MORE EXTRAS, I hate you. - Everybody is shouting in here, is this normal in group fights? 

- You have good reflexes. - His voice brings my attention again to him and realise that he’s holding me princess style. He grabbed me when we collided, my heart warms and I cannot understand why. While he is busy dodging Shigaraki’s attacks I use the opportunity to speak. 

- You need to go fight All for One, I’ll stay here and end Shigaraki. - He looks at me in astonishment. 

- That was not the plan!- 

- Things have changed, I’ll make an opening for you to run, use the opportunity.- 

- What? But I have been purposefully brought here I…- Luckily the heroes outside intervene, with communications open again It’ll be easier for everybody to catch up. - Okay, are you sure you’ll be able to fight him?- I mischievously smirk at him. 

- Don’t you know? I have good reflexes. - He chuckles and I jump out of his arms ignoring how his presence affects me. Shigaraki has been throwing a tantrum all the time we’ve been speaking. 

- One for All, what are you doing? It’s my time to kill you.- I activate my quirk and get in between the two of them. Suddenly his attacks get interrupted, the chain of hands stops proliferating. 

- Hello! I’ll be the one playing with you know. - 

- You’ll need to hang on for 5 seconds

- Ah??? Damned extra. ONE FOR ALL. - Shigaraki launches himself at Deku while tries to smash me again, but fails. I use the fact that he isn’t paying attention to me and concentrate my quirk at my punch, I teleport myself in Shigaraki’s face and punch him. Surprising nobody he avoids my attack, yet his attention is now focused on me and I start playing a game of attack and dodge with him. These are the 5 longest seconds of my life, but Deku needs them to be teleported.

I momentarily focus on an unconscious guy in the ground, he looks my age… is he dead? What a great moment for my numbness to subside. Seeing the results of the destruction makes my anxiety turn back tenfold. 

- YOU!… IS YOUR FAULT HE LEFT- Shigaraki’s rage is now completely focused on me makes him focus all his attacks, his speed seems to increase by the second, or I’m getting slower. A leg suddenly kicks him and gives me a little bit of breath, I look at my side and realise it’s Mirko. 

The next few minutes pass by in a blurr, I need to communicate with the rest of the present heroes but I don’t have the chance. At least not until a blasting explosion shakes the whole place up. I’m not going to miss the chance. Pressing my ear intercommunicator I speak. 

- I need to pass a message to the rest of the present heroes. - 

- Proceed. - A female voice replies to me.

- Due to my quirk Shigaraki won’t be able to regenerate if I fight hand-to-hand combat with him. I need your help, I can’t overpower him alone but if you create openings for me we will make it. - The female hero that stands watch outside passes my message to all the presents. 

- OI! You sure of what you’re saying?- It’s the guy from before, the one I thought was dead. I speak to him while the game of dodge restarts. 

- Positive!- He gives me a side glance but doesn’t hesitate. 

- Let 's go then! - 

The coordination and tenacity of the heroes here surprises me. It also surprises me their ability to trust me, a stranger. Without a doubt they all make their biggest efforts to allow me to approach him enough to attack him, and for once it pays off. I don’t know how much time has passed but Shigaraki finally gets weakened. Everything is a chaos and I’ve started merely reacting, the combat is extenuating but I won’t give up. The explosive guy is amazing, he’s the one who’s been making me possible to punch the devil and although it is the first time I’ve seen him we fall into rhythm easily, if it wasn't a fight to the death, I'd even enjoy it. 

Time pass by in a blurr, I don’t know what’s happening outside and I don’t know why Deku is here again completely bruised up. He doesn’t give me a chance to ask anything, upon arriving kicks Shigaraki in the face and due to all the damage we’ve inflicted him it really affects him. 

- Kacchan! Let’s do what we agreed! You! Punch him with everything you’ve got when I give you the signal!- The latter is addressed to me and I won’t be the one messing up. I concentrate my quirk at my maximum and once it is needed I attack him with all I have while Deku and the explosive guy also kick his ass. I don’t know what’s happened but suddenly everything hurts, more than it was already and I seem to be unable to keep my focus. Inevitably, the fall to the ground cuts off my breathing completely and I lose consciousness. 

Final note: Sorry for the inaccuracy of the fight, I haven’t read the manga and don’t know how it really develops further than chapter 12 of season 7. I’ll completely make up the plot in the following chapters :)

Next chapter

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I absolutely love your analysis of the gerudo and Ganondorf because they put into words what bothers me about how TOTK portrays Ganondorf. That being they remove his agency as a character in favor of having some great evil against the good guys.

[Major story spoilers ahead for the end of the game]

At the end of the game, when you’ve defeated Ganondorf, he swallows the secret stone and becomes a dragon, like Zelda, fully knowing the consequences of what happens when that happens. And it’s just kinda left me with a bitter taste in my mouth? In the context of the story it makes sense, he’s portrayed as a egomaniac who just wants to destroy Hyrule. But compared to other versions of him, this one just feels more openly biased against him and the gerudo, with no reason or justification other than “he’s evil, hate him.” As far as I can tell… They never really show us that he’s done anything horrible or deserving of being feared before the show of fealty cutscene, other than not submit to Hyrule, attack them once, and generally have bad vibes. It feels forced how much they want us to hate him and the people who follow him. I’m not saying character in video games always have to be nuanced or complex but comparing like, Wind Waker Ganondorf next to TOTK Ganondorf…. 🙃 Waste of an excellent design imo.

Heyyy sorry for being a billion years late with this ask!! I was busy finishing the game!!! among other things!!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I'm super happy it resonated with you in that way!

I mean, the whole draconification plot beat doesn't really work for me. Like yeah, sure it's sad that Zelda is now a giant dragon and it's cool to have her soaring above your head while you have no idea where she actually is (a situation that isn't nearly tapped into enough in the narrative imo, like it gets obvious way too fast if you happen upon the wrong memory, etc), and I actually think the whole sequence of you removing the Master Sword from her head was the best scene in the entire game in terms of mood and emotions --even THOUGH it would have been so much better with a stronger story and stronger stakes-- BUT. How does that build up thematically?

I think what doesn't work for the Zelda side of this plot point (I'll get to Ganon next) is that... she doesn't make that choice. It's not like she's being tempted by an easy way out and decides to sacrifice herself for the sake of Hyrule or Link or whoever: she has no choice in the matter. Her powers activate (?? somehow? once and never again also, talk about dropped plot threads), she finds herself in the past, is the passive witness to a bunch of shit that only tangientially relates to her --it's like she's visiting estranged family in a foreign country and watch their drama awkwardly before being dragged into it against her will even though she was just trying to renew her passport and get back home (if there had been any callback to her relationship with her father it would have landed better, but it's just completely ignored so vOv). Then her relatives all die or corrupt or something, and she still can't get back home. What is she meant to do besides draconify? Grow old and die in the past? What would that accomplish?? Her adventures in the past are just basically about solving a shrine puzzle with a particularly weird solution --but the game treats it like a huge sacrifice when it's basically her only way out, and she lost absolutely nothing making that sacrifice (and then she... cries about the weird family drama? sure. Honestly I think it would have worked better if the tears were Rauru's, it's his bullshit everyone is dealing with right? He's the one who feels broken and aggrieved by the whole thing.)

So, if we ignore the draconification precedent builds up to zero thing thematically beyond cheap drama that reveals nothing about neither the characters nor the world, I think Ganondorf's case is a little more compelling because he does make a choice here: dying as he tries to achieve his weird lofty goals (and fail), or postpone his victory eternally by sacrificing his objectives but reject death and defeat --while also barring himself from victory. In a better crafted story, this could be utterly excellent and it feels very Ganondorf to me. BUT, my beef with that plot beat isn't that he chooses the second option, making him kinda active for the first time in the entire game (and makes an appropriate hideous smile: *loved* this second one, the first one didn't land for me but this one really captures the ecstatic insanity and transcendance and desperate madness of the act --I have nothing against Ganondorf offputting smiles and cackles when they feel earned, and the Sonia one just... doesn't to me, it just feels like weird rigging and mesh deformation choices getting out of control).

My problem is that his existence as a dragon contradicts everything we knew about dragons before --both for him and for Zelda. I thought the big issue with draconification was that you'd lose yourself to the act entirely, and would become this sort of organic landmark of infinite power and eternal life but without will to act on your precedent goals and understanding of yourself. But the second the big man becomes an evil dragon, suddenly Zelda zips in to the rescue (apparently remembering who you are? understanding she's meant to fight Ganondorf? I mean, this kind of works emotionally as a climactic ending and the power of love or whatever, again it would have worked better in a better story), and Ganondorf is still very much into destroying the world as well as you and Zelda.

Also, he's very definitively mortal (and he has the stone on his head again? And so if you destroy it you destroy his immortality? why???)

So... What I dislike here is the suggestion that he was somehow so evil and rotten and bad that all of these rare moments of interesting worldbuilding and ambivalence gets completely swallowed in the bossfight logic, making his choice (and Zelda's) completely meaningless in retrospect.

also: let Zelda remain a dragon you cowards, that way Hyrule gets any sort of chance to escape and reimagine its horrying eternal monarchy instead of re-establishing it even harder than before!!!

[pokemenlovingmen]

A mlm pokeimagines blog? In this economy? God where have you been all my life.

Apologies in advance if its a long ask lol

Seriously though you would not believe how happy I got when I saw this blog pop up! Barely any mlm reader stuff so finding you got my lil poke men loving heart all excited!

If requests are open I was wondering if you could do Emmets reaction to a male reader who loves the fact that Emmet is so blunt? I've seen some stuff like this in the past were reader loves Emmet DESPITE him being so blunt but I love him because of it!! I find it useful and charming!! I have a hard time understanding most people because I'm bad at picking up subtext and stuff in conversation so characters like Emmet that are just blunt and honest are always appreciated!

Also, claiming 🐗 boar anon in advance lol

Hi hi boar anon!!! I’m glad you like my blog so much! I literally made it bc I couldn’t find enough male reader content, and as a trans guy that gendered language is really affirming to me. Also not being courageous enough to get into a relationship with real human people lmao I gotta be gay somehow!! Literally all of you who’ve come to visit me on this blog are so sweet. I changed the blog description up for a reason, it really does feel like I’ve invited a bunch of funny gay guys into my living room and we’re all sitting in a circle whispering about boys. Doing this makes me feel so stupidly comfortable in my own skin and so much like a part of the LGBT community when I’ve had to stand on the sidelines most of my life, I just can’t explain how stupidly therapeutic writing imagines for fictional men from a fictional monster battling game is LMFAOOO

And we’re always here for supporting the autism shit lol, you can pry my autistic submas out of my cold dead hands, my submas will always be pretty heavily headcanoned and a post appreciating those verrry autistic coded traits is a huge win for me :) Emmet deserves to be loved for just being Emmet

Straight (Gay) to the Point— Emmet x Male Reader

��️ — Emmet and Ingo have grown up with a lot to be self conscious about, from their appearances to the behavioral quirks they share and the quirks they don’t. Kids can be cruel when you’re neurodivergent so different. So when you get together with Emmet and he comes to realize you LIKE his speaking patterns, he’s floored.

⚪️ — Emmet has always had a lot to say, but he’s quite bad at phrasing things. Compared to his brother who is a constant stream of consciousness, just prattling on about anything and everything that crosses his mind once you get him into conversation, Emmet needs to carefully plan out each word and it never comes out how he wants. Sometimes it feels like with his more approachable appearance (even if some call it creepy) and Ingo’s ability to talk (even if some say he rambles too much), they’re just two halves of one fully functional person. But you like him. Not his brother. Not him and his brother. You like him. How crazy is that?

⚪️ — He doesn’t have time to waste on careful wording. Do that, and he’d be plotting his course of conversation for ages. And he’s rather aware of that fact, so one day, he offhandedly mentions that he’s sorry his bluntness can be so off-putting, and he really hopes he hasn’t said anything to offend you.

⚪️ — Imagine his surprise when you said the contrary! When he heard you liked him because he said exactly what he meant, and he was always so clear-cut and easy to understand, it was like a fuse blew in him. Growing up, he’d always heard the opposite, and while Ingo never criticized him for it, plenty of other people did call him out for being rude when he didn’t mean to be.

⚪️ — He feels verrrry comfortable in conversation with you, yes indeed. Your sense of communication with one another is very strong and any conflict gets resolved very quickly. Emmet is happy to just talk with you and not have to pretend to have conversational skills he doesn’t have. You like him, his brother likes him, that’s all that matters.

⚪️ — He wants to talk with challengers on the Battle Subway more freely, so he’ll often come to you about the best ways to translate the things he wants to say into more “socially acceptable” ways of saying them. Of course, he’s also fully aware that he can come to you and not need to jump through all those hoops.

⚪️ — Since he’s so comfortable with you, he’ll say just about anything to you or around you and knows he can say things to you that will make you laugh, while others would just shush him for it.

⚪️ — After all, nothing makes you laugh quite as hard as sitting on your bed only to hear “OH DEAR! THE GALVANTULAS ARE MATING ON THE SOFA!” from across the apartment. Like cool Emmet, you definitely did NOT need to hear that—also please make them stop??—but that got the best laugh out of you you’ve had in a while.

⚪️ — He’s genuinely just so funny without trying. Another iconic moment you can recall is when, on a Friday night, a particularly inebriated woman was getting a bit too comfy with Emmet, which he was oblivious to at first, too preoccupied with the joy of battling. When you did tell him, though, you ended up laughing your ass off as he gasped and ran off with great urgency to apologize to the woman, as he was unable to reciprocate her advances due to both being taken and, I quote, “a homosexual”.

⚪️ — You’ve definitely made him a lot more comfortable, even in public situations, which he doesn’t seem to realize. The Battle Subway staff has regularly mentioned Boss Emmet has been way chattier than he used to be (which still doesn’t mean anything dramatic, but it’s a big step to him and that’s all it needs to be!) And anyone who has a problem with Emmet’s mannerisms can answer to you.

⚪️ — You’re more than just Emmet’s boyfriend, you gel perfectly into his family. And granted, that family is only Ingo, both of their Pokemon teams and Elesa ever since she basically adopted them, but it’s perfect anyway. It’s not like Emmet has been telling his brother about how much he wants to marry you eventually or anything.

⚪️ — You have literally so many Joltik grandchildren already.

⚪️ — Since both of you can struggle with reading other people, you often put your heads together to try and figure things out. (If it’s anything like the attempts at two neurodivergent people trying to use their combined knowledge to socially navigate that I’ve been a part of, it probably accomplishes nothing, but at least you can both relate to each other’s struggles and have a good laugh about it at the end of the day.)

⚪️ — He acts like a little kid with a crush around you and when he’s not working, he follows you around like a lost puppy.

⚪️ — He also knows that when he’s specifically feeling insecure about his mannerisms, he can lean on you for comfort, because you unashamedly love that about him. All of it. One night, after a particularly rough day, you remember him cuddling up to you and getting teary-eyed about how much you love him.

⚪️ — Please stay in his life, okay?

[robertsmithclone]

I Wait For You (Its What I Do)

Xavier Thorpe x Female Original Character (Sade Ricci)

Sade Ricci’s fangs just came in two weeks into the school year, so that means a transfer to Nevermore academy. (Does not follow show plot)

1.9k words (part three)

TW: cigarettes, vapes, mention of pills, blood, mentions of making out, falling and becoming unconscious, eating disorder if you squint, weed, smoking

Posting to Ao3 under wonde_rr and Wattpad under SHADYGROVEE

Playlist: it’s in the works

chapter three masterlist

“So, Sade, why don’t you wear glasses like Yoko? I mean, I never really asked why she wears them…have any of us? Yoko’s usually with Divina nowadays…”

Having Ajax as a partner in Thornhill’s class was not Sade’s favorite part of Nevermore, and she doubted it ever would be.

Sade liked Ajax. He was nice, funny even, but sometimes he wouldn’t not stop talking and asking questions. Sade would bet most of her money that he was high right now. Despite that, she hoped they would make good friends now that Xavier convinced her not to remove herself from the group the other day.

That was Monday, which meant it was Friday. Sade couldn’t wait to get out of third period. Staring at the back of Xavier’s and Wednesday’s heads while they worked on the assignment together was making her sick.

“Sade?”

The girl turned to see Ajax staring at her. She smiled slightly.

“Sorry, Ajax, I zoned out.”

The gorgon smiled back at her. “It’s all cool. You’ll have to provide some answers to my questions another time.”

“Oh yeah…” Sade wasn’t sure what to say, she almost felt bad (mostly for the fact she wanted to drain his blood. Only slightly, though).

She quickly scribbled down her phone number in her notebook and ripped out the paper, handing it to Ajax. “Here. Text me later.”

Ajax looked confused for a moment when he picked up the paper, before grinning at her again. “You don’t have snapchat or instagram?”

She just kind of looked at the boy and he laughed. “I’ll take that as a no. Jesus, I’m hungry. Do you think anything in here is edible?”

Sade tuned him slightly out again, focusing more on the assignment than anything else. She was smart, yes, but she knew she couldn’t focus on trying to stab both Wednesday and Xavier with her eyes the whole period. Plus Ajax certainly wasn’t getting much done.

“Is it because you’re like a baby vampire? Y'know, the blood pills and shit?”

The vampire sighed.

——

“…Dude, you’ve never seen How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days?” Ajax had a bewildered look on his face and Xavier wanted to shoot himself.

“No, Jax.” The artist sighed as he watched his best friend take another hit of his blunt.

“Enid made me watch it back when, y’know, she wasn’t out of the closet. It’s actually so good. I should’ve told you about it before so you could’ve used Ben’s sexy tactics to get with Wednesday. Wait, I think she’s dating Enid. Hey, where’s Rowan?”

Xavier sighed again, before inhaling the smoke Ajax was letting out. “I don’t care about Wednesday anymore. Rowan is probably with Sade at this rate.” The boy ended with a sour look on his face, feeling extremely jealous.

Ajax looked at him. “Wait, did you seriously just get over Wednesday like that? I mean Sade is attractive, but we’ve known her for like, not even a week yet.”

Xavier shook his head. “I’ve been getting over Wednesday. She made it obvious she wasn’t interested back in like, sophomore year. Her getting with Enid was the last push I needed.”

The gorgon looked at him skeptically. “You sure it wasn’t Sade?”

“Yes! I’m sure! This isn’t about her, or Wednesday, or Bianca, or Tyler!” Xavier burst up from his seat in the corner of the dorm. He had a hand on his hip and one rubbing his temples.

Ajax put his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry dude, you know I didn’t mean it like that,”

Xavier looked up at the boy before Rowan walked in. Both their heads turned to him, his lips seeming slightly swollen and his hair mussed up. “Hey, guys.”

“Christ, what happened to you?” Ajax questioned.

Rowan flushed as they heard loud music start, flowing in from the window.

All three boys went to look out of it, seeing a window from the girl’s dorms open, and out of it flowing an Italian melody. A sweet voice singing the Italian perfectly started to flow over with the music.

Xavier slammed the window shut and the other two boys flinched. The artist stormed away from it to the other side of the room and started pacing.

It was silent for a moment before Xavier spoke. “So what, Rowan, you were just with her, weren’t you?”

Neither boy had to ask who the taller boy was talking about, it wasn’t even a question.

“…It-it’s nothing serious…just…fun…?” Rowan spoke and it sounded like a question. Sade had made it clear to him that she just wanted to make out. That was it. What Rowan hadn’t expected was a cut along his lip and a small hickey on his upper jaw.

Xavier was fuming and Ajax looked slightly frightened.

“What fun?” He spoke with venom in his voice that felt thick.

“She told me she just wanted to make out, I dunno. I doubt it’ll amount to anything if that’s what you’re worried about, Xavier.” Rowan sighed. “She’s all yours.”

Ajax looked between the two boys before taking another hit of the blunt and texting Enid what was happening. The girl had sent various emojis before responding with actual words.

Enid

this is almost council meeting worthy!!!!!!

Enid

like what do we do about Sade

Enid

i hate to say it but she’s been messing?? things up a little bit. rocking the boat if you will

Ajax

yeah

Ajax

really nice tho

Ajax

we’ve all been in a routine with each other for so long and she’s just altered it yk for better or worse

Enid

EXACTLY!!!!!

Ajax put his phone down to see Rowan had gone into the bathroom and Xavier had sat down again, but he was sulking. Not too unusual.

“Dude, we kind of knew Sade was flirty, I really doubt it’s anything.”

Xavier didn’t say anything for a minute, just sitting with a jealous look on his face.

“I know I can’t control her, but I already really like her. If she’s just running around doing shit with guys for ‘fun’ then how am I supposed to try and get with her anyways?”

“You’re overthinking it! You just gotta try. If she’s not into it then you can’t do anything about it. We just met her, she could be the devil for all we know. Chill out and if it’s meant to be, it’ll be. I’m sure we’ve all made out with people before without it meaning anything…hormones, Dude.” Ajax provided surprisingly good insight and Xavier looked at him.

“You’re right. I can't take this shit out on Rowan…I’m just scared I guess. I’ve already taken this liking to her and I don’t wanna lose what I don't even have yet.” The boy sighed, running his hand through his hair.

Ajax nodded and pat Xavier on the shoulder. “This shits tough man, I get it. Your past romances don’t help. You deserve something good. Let this be good!”

Xavier looked up at his best friend and smiled slightly before looking down to his phone.

——

Saturday came around and Sade found herself in the woods again. Her jeans and sweatshirt weren’t exactly suited for the rain and a damp vampire was not a happy one. Her umbrella would have to suffice.

She was upset because of the rain, itching for a cigarette, her stomach was growling, and she couldn’t find anything to help her thirst for real blood. Sade knew the blood pills would help that over time, that’s what they were meant to do, but she couldn’t be bothered to listen to her Dad anymore.

Her Dad was a vampire and she didn’t know her mother, so she was probably some sort of half-breed, the reason for her not knowing she was a vampire till her fangs came in and her lack of sunglasses so she didn’t go blind. This was her working theory, but she had never asked her Dad. He didn’t like to talk about her mother.

“Christ I need a cigarette…or a vape…something to stop this headache.” Sade muttered, cursing herself for leaving her cigarettes in her dorm.

After finding nothing to drain the blood out of, she stumbled upon Xavier’s shed again. There was no one in it and Sade was desperate.

She picked the lock with a stray bobby pin and started rummaging through anything and everything to find some semblance of nicotine.

Eventually Sade found an old vape, thrown in a drawer with a few crumpled pieces of paper. She hit the vape a few times, which surprisingly wasn’t dead, before she calmed down. What felt like animalistic urges were gone.

The vampire threw the vape back into the drawer, closing it quickly. She stopped for a moment before opening the drawer back up and taking out one of the crumpled up pieces of paper. Sade unfolded the paper, straightening it out on the desk as she saw what was on it.

Fangs, eyes with slight red penciling, lips, and hands with long fingernails. A look of confusion twisted on the girl's face as she took out more of the crumpled papers, seeing similar things on all of them.

Sade looked at the drawings laid out in front of her, biting the fingernail of her thumb before crumpling them all back up and stuffing them in the drawer. She took another hit of the vape before slamming it shut.

The vampire stood there for a moment before spinning around in horror as she heard laughter and footsteps begin to draw closer.

“Merda, merda.” She mumbled under her breath, unsure of what to do.

Her mind seemed to move on autopilot as she quickly took off her shoes and slipped out of the crack in the door, abandoning her umbrella where she left it outside. The voices and footsteps were getting closer and closer. Sade stuck her shoes down the front of her sweatshirt before running to the nearest tree. She climbed it quickly and with skill. Perks of vampirism.

Xavier, Ajax, and Rowan had approached now, confused at the sight of the umbrella and unlocked door. Sade watched from above, not daring to breathe. She seriously didn’t wanna fuck up the already fucked up friendships she had going on with these guys, especially Xavier. She knew he’d be pissed.

“Jesus, things were going well after last night.” Xavier was pissed alright. “Is someone in there?!”

The boy stormed into his shed, Ajax and Rowan looking at each other before following after him.

Sade could hear what was going on inside, another perk of vampirism! There was shuffling, the voices were muffled but she could tell Ajax and Rowan were trying to calm the artist down. She was fairly certain she hadn’t left anything out of place, not touching anything but the door and the drawer with its contents.

Xavier stormed out of the shed, his two best friends right behind him. He started looking around the nearby woods as Ajax and Rowan tried to come up with explanations.

Sade hoped she was occupying the only place they wouldn’t look; up.

The combination of all three boy’s blood almost made her want to jump to the ground and—she needed to focus.

It was hard, though. Last night she had cut open Rowan’s lip ‘on accident’ with her fangs while making out with him. She had tasted exactly what she had been craving, and she would bet her life—not that she really had one, in a literal sense, she was technically dead—that Xavier’s blood tasted even better than sweet Rowan’s.

That was the last thing she thought about before slipping out of the tree and falling to the ground. It was all black.

——

translations

merda - shit

—

tags:

@solacestyles

@wxnderingthoughts

[2dumb2furious]

whats your favorite part of solitaire?

Omg thank you for the question I could talk about it for hours. If you meant part of the plot and not like element of the book I’m sorry.

My favorite part of the book is so hard to say but it has to be the characters and their development. They are just fleshed out and well written. Becky seems like a classic popular girl but no she’s actually a flawed complicated person with both really great sides and really bad sides. Lucas Ryan character is fascinating and also a roller coaster and a half. Tori thinks she doesn’t care about anything and is apathetic to the world but progressively realizing that’s a lie and finding the closest to happiness she has in a while. She’s so much more than your stereotypical depressed teenager. Her inner monologue is so amazing. AND MICHAEL!!! Michael is one of my favorite characters of all time he is so complex and interesting and unlike any other character I’ve read before and also just so relatable to me personally. He’s this eccentric weird guy who does weird things (like doing a one-man flashmob on the lunchtables) and just seems to live in his own little weird sunny bubble and is trying to make Tori less depressed. But no he’s angry at the world. He struggles in school. People think he’s weird and he doesn’t have any friends. He isn’t hanging out with Tori to “help her”, he needs a friend just as much as he can see she needs one. He can’t be normal person to save his life and just always come across to other as if he’s trying too hard. These characters and their relationships to each other are just something you can never stop analyzing once you’ve started.

But I also really the mystery!! I love books with really good mystery books and how Solitaire is built up and progressively goes from feeling like a silly school prank to something actually dangerous is so fascinating. And the writing!!! It’s all just so good.

[raccoonfallsharder]

🎂🎊🎉HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎉🎊🎂

Just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and your writings and wanted to gush about you for a bit (and sorry if this is late)!!! I can’t even say how exited I get everytime you post something!!! There’s something so authentic about your characterizations I don’t know if that sounds right but just the way you write Rocket just feels true to canon and makes your writing so addicting. I can tell you really put a lot of thought into your writing and characters and it really does show when reading through your stories.

I always feel magnetized when I’m reading anything you write, its always so fun to see how you paint what’s going on in these characters heads and how they react to what’s going on around them 😭 Your plots always hit so good too I don’t know if you put crack in your writing but I am sat for all of it. There’s so many of your writings that live rent free in my head all the time and that I think about all the time. I go back sometimes to read some of your past works and it just never gets old to read again and again.

But I just wanted to say thanks for writing and posting, I know all of these stories could be kept private but I always appreciate you posting for the fandom and how much you write for Rocket. I adore your stories and I’m so happy you take the time to write them out and share them with us, so thank you and I hope you have (or had) the bestest birthday possible!!! :D

❤️🎂❤️

this literally had me tearing up. i am the most annoyingly longwinded person i know but i genuinely don’t know what to say. at a complete loss

truly - being part of this community has meant so much to me. the people in it are so welcoming and warm and genuinely caring (i suspect it’s part of the reason we’re all drawn to rocket), and also so creative and amazing. i need to update my recommended works page but there are so many wonderful creators out there who share their talents with us and create such loving portrayals of this guy (which is important to me). i think even if we don’t see ourselves as rocket, most of us see something of ourselves in him, and i feel strongly that when we create space for him to grieve, rage, hurt, heal, love, and be loved, we offer the same to ourselves and each other

and the world galaxy needs more of that

which is to say thank you. i am honored to be part of this community and to be able to share what i make with you, and i’m so grateful that you’ve found something to love in it. ♡♡♡

excuse me now i’m gonna go cry happy-tears into my tea

[itswrenly]

thinkingggggg about how my ocs have kinda made the own tropes (I’m staring at the main cast of drakocine rn)

like okay hear me out, and bare in mind these are all things in written into these character that are not there to INTENTIONALLY BE RELEVENT TO THEIR THEME. This is stuff that just happened I guess bc of how I write

Albatross, Arashi, Lumine and Pyre (and Angler, though he’s only a sort of semi-protagonist) all have absent father figures. Albatross and Pyre’s parents are both stated very clearly to be deceased long before the story starts, long enough before that neither of them really thinks about it as anything more than a fact of life.

Arashi and Angler’s fathers face more ambiguous fates, Arashi’s father being sent off to fight in a war at a time when Arashi was too young to really remember him, and Angler’s parents essentially being divorced, with him living with his mother full time.

Lumine is that outlier here, and I’ve definitely realized that Lumine accidentally burrows a TON of stuff from my life? Cuz like. Okay.

Lumine doesn’t meet her father until she’s already a teenager. She has enough life behind her with her other parent, the person they’re coparenting with, both of her older cousins, and, to a very small degree, Arashi, Angler and Pyre, that by the time she meets Smog, she doesn’t care to think of him as her father. He’s her other parent’s ex, and she treats him as her parents’ roommate, as opposed to someone who’s meant to be a parental figure, and I never really though about how I came up with any of this.

well by god am I thinking about it now

and FUCK this is why I need therapy

because I can look at all these characters, and they all (minus Pyre, who’s parents both died at the some time before he got to meet them (these character are dragons. They hatch from eggs. Did I mention that? I should’ve mentioned that)) are fatherless, but they all have another parents, and I just think that’s really disturbingly funny

especially because off the top of my head, the only child/teenage character I can think of in drakocine who plays a major role and has a “normal” relationship with her father is Aurora, who’s Angler’s kid. She’s granted a non-fatherless upbringing because her father has a TINY SMIDGE OF PLOT ARMOR! AND I JUST THINK THATS FUNNY!!

anyways sorry if this is incomprehensible. I think I had a point. I might’ve lost it midway through.

but yeah. These guys are dragons. They’re from a story I’m writing. They’re fatherless. I’m on a weird island where by definition of “lacking a father” I’m not fatherless, it’s just weird. Y’know the plot type of “oh no, I just found out everything is a lie and I can never see anything the same”? Yeah that. That happened to me but in real life. With my dad. And it SUCKS. And it’s not even a “I’m not really your dad” thing. He IS my dad! And I accidentally wrote Lumine to be me! She is all the shit I wish I’d said at the time!

but yeah reblogs off. Night y’all

[magentaink18]

Although there are a lot of unnecessary sub plots in the redux version of Apocalypse Now, the anti-war message is much stronger (kinda because there’s more instances of needless destruction and displays of America being shitty) but I guess it is also diluted with the goofy sub-plots so it balances out anyways.

Also Chef has unspoken rizz. Man managed to pull a playboy bunny despite completely ignoring her interesting infodump about birds. Well I guess he didn’t “pull” her per se, but they seemed to get along well, like she was being genuine or at least came across that way because if she was putting on any kinda act, we wouldn’t have had the bird monologue but idk man I guess you need to talk about your interests when you can when you’re working for an enterprise that is in place to oppress and dehumanise you. I love bird lady more than anything but Hugh Hefner can eat shit.

This film’s fatal flaw is its overindulgence but the self awareness does take the edge off ,, like the narrative, characterization and general composition is amazingly produced and entertaining while still clearly communicating a serious message. I think the main critique of glorification is often misinterpreted irony. Like many aspects are so hyperbolic (nonetheless accurate to the actual Vietnam War) that they’re meant to appear ridiculous and uncomfortable in order to convey the corruption of the US military

Also funny surfer man go brrrr

Song - Let’s Go Trippin’ (Dick Dale)

I literally never make edits of characters and then the one that my brain decided to make one that ignores the importance of the central message of the film it’s from .

I suppose there’s always the argument that the main cast of characters were drafted against their will and are just trying to get through it. Of course that doesn’t justify everything they do. I’d say the character who makes the least effort to participate is Chef bc he never fires a gun at anyone (apart from the tiger because the poor fella’s terrified). But what I’m saying is that the main characters aren’t into war or particularly patriotic and it doesn’t fully align with their beliefs much at all - they’re just tryna get through it - unlike , say , Kilgore. They are characterised in unique ways in which any pRiDe fOr tHeiR cOunTrY (used to justify corruption) they may have isn’t explicitly there or at the centre of the way they’re characterised.

Me when idiot surfer man who does nothing but fuck up at the expense of other people

Sorry guys my neuros are divergent I need to have a balance of fun and silliness with analysis and critical evaluation when watching this film for the 100th time

They also made Willard way sillier and goofier. I love to see the poor jaded and traumatised lad actually have a little bit of fun. A few giggles for a treat. Just a little bit of clownery to balance out the edginess.

Respectfully, there’s also a significant increase in boobs in the redux version, immediately making it better than the Final Cut /hj

Also also they gave Clean a proper burial and sendoff,,,

Sure, the Final Cut is better in terms of what constitutes a good film but the redux version fucks if you liked the Final Cut for its narrative and characters aside from its more filmic aspects. Not to say there aren’t some elements of cinematography that were left out the Final Cut that go hard as fuck. Like the transition from Roxanne behind the curtain to Willard back on the boat in the mist ,,,, mmmmmmmmmmm

It also ties up a few small minor loose ends and clarifies on a few details

Willard’s from Ohio? *insert Ohio joke here idk man I’m British*

Maybe I’m psychoanalysing Chief too much rn but out of all the characters, the way in which they’re presented, he’s the most likely to have started off as the most patriotic. However, his whole thing is following orders and ensuring order and professionalism is retained so maybe he could just be a fan of those things and not inherently having his motives be that he’s abiding to the rules because he loves his country, but abiding to the rules because he loves rules. Whatever patriotism he may or may not have had is destroyed over the course of the film and meets its definitive end with the death and burial (as seen in the redux version) of Clean. The scene where he folds up the tattered US flag that was previously on the boat and hands it to Willard. Or at least that’s my interpretation since he still made that whole announcement when handing it to him but it just felt as if he was reciting empty lines if anything but idk but he’s an interesting character either way. But damn that scene goes hard and it was good to see Clean get the sendoff he was entitled to instead of his body just disappearing without an explanation :’]

[strangerthings1975]

I have a few questions about writing sorry if there are too many:

Do you have any pre writing rituals? What do you write on (online)? Do you take a lot of notes (online or otherwise) or go with the flow? Did you plan every chapter before writing them? Do you write with background noise (music/shows/any sound at all)? Do you plan the time you will upload or just when you’ve finished (morning or evening)? How long does it take to write a chapter? How long does it take to edit a chapter? Do you edit as you go along? Do you read your fics after you’ve uploaded? Do you wish you’d of put things in other places (earlier or later in the story) ? Is there any parts that you wish where more of a story than they are (more in-depth than you went)? Do you have someone read before you upload?

Sorry I know it’s a lot but I’m really into learning writing processes right now, hope it’s okay to ask. Thank you.

Hello! This question is no bother at all. I don’t mind. 🖤🖤🖤

I have no ritual tbh. I just open a word document and start. I use Microsoft Word. Mostly I have an idea to begin with and no serious plan, but then once I get a little deeper into it and connect with the characters and the story more, the idea evolves and gets more complex. So then at that time I’ll stop and make a plan and figure out exactly where I want things to go and then start finetuning the writing to steer in that direction.

Like idk if you’ve read MPG, but for that it was just: I want Eddie to suck Steve’s dick through a glory hole. Then I was like okay, how is that gonna happen? Where is this hole? Why is Steve there? Then to answer those questions I developed some context, and then it was like oh, well how does Steve find out about the glory hole so he can actually proposition Eddie? So then I had Neil come into play, and he was only ever just supposed to be a random guy. Never planned for any drama. Never planned for Hellfire Club or Corroded Coffin to be a part of anything or for any other plot shit. It was just supposed to be 30k or so. Very quick. But then as I continued writing, I unearthed the need for Steve’s character arc and for Eddie to be more complex, and then I thought hmm maybe I should use the Hargroves as active villains and not just background fillers. And toyed with whether Steve should tell the truth about Neil sooner or later, couldn’t actually decide… And then Eddie offering Steve FWB was sooo unplanned. Didn’t know I was doing it until Eddie said the words. And then I was like okay we’re doing this now, so let’s connect dots/figure out how long it’s going to go on and what sex acts they’ll exchange and where. How much further will they bond before Eddie has enough? And around that time I was like okay I need a more concrete plan to work towards so I plotted out the next chapters but very vaguely. Like I knew I needed a fight. Couldn’t decide if it would take place when Eddie and Steve were together or when they were apart. Couldn’t decide which Hargrove it would be and why exactly but knew if it was going to be Billy I had to show him being at the Hideout once or twice before the fight night so it wouldn’t seem too convenient he was there. Which meant I had to find a place for Eddie to slip that detail. And I didn’t know what I wanted Neil’s fate to be. So I had to consider that. And also didn’t know when the rejection would be or how, just knew I needed Eddie’s hot and cold behaviour to come to a head. So it was probably around when I was writing Chapter 16/17 that I knew the Neil secret reveal and Steve’s love confession were going to be a 2 for 1. Initially was going to have it separate. You know so basically what I’m saying is I planned milestone events—sort of. But had no real idea of what the hell was going to happen most times. The characters like to do their own thing and surprise me. Which can be irritating.

Every chapter takes a different amount of time to write. The early ones (1-18) were sooo fast because I was extremely excited and all my ideas were flowing. Like I worked on each chapter for probably like a couple hours each evening after work, then alllll day Saturday/Sunday and that allowed me to update nearly once a week. But then my mental health took a huge hit, and chapter 20 was hard for me to write because it was my first time with such angst. I rewrote the breakup scene about four times. Ever since around that time (October) my mental health has been awful, so writing anything has been taking hours and hours of work because forming ideas and flow is like crawling uphill. It’s taken me approx. 3 weeks to get 3500 words written of chapter 26 for comparison. When I wrote basically the first 12 chapters in that same time.

I edit as I go too which is a habit I’m trying to break because it can be extremely disruptive. Like I’ll edit some sentences a few times until I get it just right. Especially the dialogue because it’s my favourite thing, and it’s important to me. But then once a chapter is done I’ll edit it again, and then maybe decide to add a scene, so then I’ll read the chapter again with that scene added, and then I’ll read it again like dozens more times and keep hacking at it or beefing it up until I feel satisfied. I don’t press the publish button lightly lmao. But despite all this effort I always always find typos in my work when I reread it later. Again, poor mental health makes this process gruelling because I hate everything and can’t tell if it’s actually good or bad. So I can’t trust my instinct. (Do not write when your mental health is bad. Seriously. I am a cautionary tale.)

So yes I do read my work after it’s posted. But mostly just to get the flow of the story before I start working on the next chapter. I did it with MPG at first. But then it got so long that I haven’t read it back for a while. If I’m talking about a certain thing or referencing old shit, my good memory helps with that. I’ll just CTRL-F a certain word to see when the last time they spoke about something was and how they spoke about it just to avoid redundancy and maintain consistency. But usually by the time I finish a work I’ve put so much effort into it I’m tired of looking at it. So it won’t be a while until I read them over again for actual enjoyment. I’m very hard on myself too and when I reread old work all I see is errors and things I could’ve changed. So I try not to torture myself like that.

I don’t plan the time I upload really. Just whenever a chapter is done and I think, okay I can’t even stand to look at this shit anymore… I post it. I don’t like to hold onto it. But I often regret it. Because the next day I’ll get an idea and think fuck I should’ve included that. But if that happens I just go back and edit the chapter right on ao3. It’s never anything major. Just little nitpicky things. But that answers your other question too. There is ALWAYS something I would change if I could go back in time. For this reason I won’t be posting WIPs anymore until I have them done, then I’ll just release one chapter at a time or post the whole thing at once. I’ve learned it the hard way unfortunately.

And no, I don’t have anyone read it before I post. I probably should because I know it would help me improve and give me new perspectives, and a few people have offered but I’m too insecure. Also too much of a control freak. It would irritate me if someone told me to change something, and then I’d wonder if I’m a useless failure who just shouldn’t bother writing anymore if they told me an idea I had wasn’t quite working… so best to avoid that.

My main process is just reading stuff to my mom (the non explicit shit) and asking her if it sounds right. And sometimes if I’m caught between a few choices I’ll ask her what she thinks is best to do. Sometimes she gives me answers and then I know what I *don’t* want to do. Which is helpful. Or if I read something that doesn’t sit well with me but I can’t tell why, I’ll highlight it to come back to.

And also I listen to music only. I’m not a tv on in the background kind of girl. If the tv is on I need to watch it. I don’t have specific playlists. Just whatever is the vibe. Like this is the vibe right now: