#but be careful about saying decisively “this doesn't deliver what i was promised”

[crsssie]

i'd stay, cancel my flights, change everything just to be in your life

word count: 11.3k

summary: parallel lines holding hands, side by side til the end of time

"You're leaving?" You raise a brow, watching as Leon, sweet 21-year-old Leon, pulls his suitcases to the door with all the boxes of his things.

"I have to." He frowns. "You won't move to Raccoon with me, and it's—"

"Landlines cost a fortune to use. I know." You close your eyes. "Will you write to me?"

"I can try." He doesn't dare to look you in the eye. You know he doesn't want to leave. He knows he shouldn't just break up with you like this. Is this the end of your relationship? All because the two of you refuse to do things to stay together? Is this selfishness... or is it something else? Did Leon ever really truly love you?

"Trying is too much. If we're truly meant to be, may we cross paths in the future once more." You hum. "I'll help you move the boxes."

"Will you visit?"

"Depends if you invite me." You crack only the lightest of jokes, boxes put into the back of his car as he closes the trunk with a thud, fiddling with his fingers as he looks at you.

"I guess this is goodbye?"

"May our paths cross again." You hold your hand out, and Leon pulls you in instead, arms wrapped around your waist as he squeezes, heart racing painfully against his chest.

He doesn't like that he has to make this decision.

"I'll see you again, I promise." He mumbles.

You watch Leon Kennedy drive into the sunset, stuck staring from your place in the suburbs as his car eventually loses itself in the light. You wonder if that is a sign of something. Is it possible to blind yourself from the light? Is it dooming to force oneself into the sun? May his wings not burn off, you decide. No matter how far, you hope that he will be kept safe. That is all that matters to you. And when he is inevitably too close to the sun one day, may the embrace of the stars catch him and hold him close. The sun is a star, after all.

Yet, the sun gives warmth to life, and when you're stuck staring at the two lines on the test, you think the sun has burned you for getting too close.

You only ever receive one letter from Leon the entire time the two of you are apart.

Signed two days after his new beginning, delivered five days after the destruction of Raccoon City, you are given all of the details of what had occurred during the time that Leon had been in that place.

Don't come find me, as I no longer hope our paths cross ever again

Heed my words, LSK

You decide to do what Leon knew you did best. The story of Raccoon City is turned into a bestseller, people crowding to read more about what your mind could conjure about the mystery of Raccoon City on the news, desperate to get some sort of twisted release. You do not heed Leon's words. You do not answer to the desperate public. Instead, you disappear after the release of the novel. You're sure that Leon's more than happy to see you disappear from the public as he had instructed you to do so. You would become a thorn in his side— or something. You're not quite sure. Do you care all that much? You wish you could say no. You know nothing more than the fact that Leon survived. However, from the fact that he knew so much, you can only assume that he ended up working somewhere in the twisted political system. Perhaps not politics... perhaps government.

Your daughter is born, a sweet girl that you decide should take your last name instead of his. It is a curse, that last name of his. His sweet girl should not have to deal with everything that comes with being of his blood. Your sweet girl belongs to you rather than to him. She will be raised and loved and cherished until she knows that it is not worth it to throw your life away simply because you have fallen in love with someone. She will be the new light in your life, and you will choose to bring joy to her life to the best of your ability.

When you catch Leon at 27 on the news after saving the president's daughter from Spain, you do not feel anything.

You hope not to feel something. Are you supposed to feel something? Is there anything left to feel for a man who has not been part of your life for over 6 years? It would be pathetic to mourn over what could have been. It is truly not your problem. You do not get the luxury of being in his life anymore. Perhaps, he did not want the luxury of being in yours. "I no longer hope our paths cross ever again." Are you supposed to just move on? Leon, the man that you are.

Your daughter asks you how work was when you pick her up from elementary school, and you tell her that you had caught a government agent returning home after a particularly hard mission. She asks you if you have a story to tell her, so you tell her the story of how you met Leon, his youth and yours entwined as you promised to stay together until the stars in the sky burned out, but you don't tell her that it was her dad. You tell her that it was a story you heard from a friend because you would rather bear the guilt of lying to her than let her know that her parents were cowards — that you were a coward.

At 28, you catch a glance of Leon in the window of a coffee shop in the capital, eyes meeting his for a second before he turns away first and decides that you are not worth the time.

It hurts more than you'd like to admit.

Instead, you continue on your way to your interview, wondering if you should just ditch now that you are aware that your blind guess had been correct. Leon Scott Kennedy was in the capital of the country, and you would be stuck in the vicinity of him at all times if you took the job. Though, you really can't pass up on such good pay. What right do you have to complain if you receive a pay far better than anything else? Who are you in a capitalistic system that will inevitably drive you to ruin one day?

You wonder why there are so many rhetorical questions that spin in your mind.

Yet, you stay in the capital because you know it is better to move on face to face than to mull over the shadow of what it could have been.

What use is a hypothetical in the face of reality?

Besides, it mattered more than you had a child to feed.

When Leon is 35 (you're still counting), the two of you meet at a press conference. You stare at him and he stares at you, and the two of you exchange a nod before you both go your own ways. You are here to help someone just as he is — only in different ways. Leon is to serve with his body, and you are to serve with your mind. What difference does it make if you both are serving someone in the end? What difference does it make if it's the body or the mind? Can you truly say that the two of you are different at all?

You wonder if Leon is truly healing when he looks so distraught over something. Perhaps he's busy with whatever the government is tasking him with. If he's by the president's side, then surely he's someone of higher ranking now. You think it's been a long time since you've seen his face properly. Age has wrecked through his body, fine lines in the corners of his eyes and lips, facial hair so much more defined than when you had first met him. Time is ticking, yet you are stuck in place.

Your daughter moves quickly, high school starting as she gets to tell everyone that her mom is a major journalist, at the frontier of covering big issues regarding the rumors that spread around. She treats you like her hero, and for the first time in a while, you let out a sigh in relief that makes your whole body relax. It is as if the tension that you would accidentally let the frustration of raising her alone ruin her life has finally been lifted from your shoulders. You will be alright. No matter how much the two of you would fight, you will be fine because you have survived for so long and you will continue to.

At 38, you watch Leon return after a mission abroad with the rest of the press, staring at the bandages on his cheek, watching as he passes you with a glance, movements never stopping once. You are stuck in place, you think. You are moving at the same pace as Leon when you could be running ahead, and it will inevitably come back to destroy you. What use is there in matching someone's pace when they do not think of you? Are you stuck in place? Will you be stuck here forever? You thought moving to the capital could change things, yet you are back where you began.

The world is moving too fast for you to keep up.

At least someone grounds you.

One day, your flip phone becomes a smartphone, and your cents charged for the landline become a monthly phone plan that you pay at the beginning of the month with your rent and just about everything else. The world is moving on, so why are you stuck in place? Maybe it was you who needed to be caught in the stars and not Leon. Who will catch the moon when it collapses from the sky? What chasing is there if the moon will never see the sun?

What does it take to break a cycle of destruction?

Not much, apparently.

When Leon himself is banging at your door at the crack of midnight, you know better than to open the door, but you do it anyway. If you are to die, then you might as well let it be at his hands.

"I'm sorry." He's gasping for air, on his knees.

Leon Kennedy, a grown man in his forties, kneeling at your open front door.

You wonder if you should just cut it right here.

"Do I—"

"You don't need to." He heaves, breathing heavy as he dares not to look at you. "I'm sorry."

You stare down at him, and you wonder if this is the universe's way of apologizing to you.

"You can crash the couch. If you leave tomorrow morning, then I'll take all of this as a mistake you're making while drunk." You let him in, and you know he'll be gone in the morning.

Leon was not one to go against his own words.

Yet, in the morning, you find yourself staring at Leon as he serves you breakfast, terrified of talking to you or something. It makes you raise a brow, but you thank him as you start on breakfast. He wants to say something. You wonder if he hasn't changed at all since you've last seen him. Maybe somewhere deep down, he's still that rookie who had his first day in a zombie-infested city.

"I really am sorry."

"There's no way you're deciding this now." You don't bother looking at him, sitting down as he hands you a plate of food for breakfast instead. Always an action. Always an act of service in order to remind you that he loves you instead of speaking up. You wonder if you're the one being stubborn in that case. Maybe the reason your relationship went downhill was all because of you. It is always you, you find.

Yet, despite all odds, your daughter is in college now.

"I heard you have a daughter." He laughs dryly, leaning against the kitchen marble as you raise a brow at him.

"Yes. I do."

You stare at Leon as he sucks in a breath, and you refuse to tell him. Even if he asks, you will lie through your teeth to make sure that the wound in your relationship would be severed. You do not understand why he still insists on checking in on you, but as you start eating, you do not complain. If he wishes to drag your severed limbs through the mud, then let him do so. If he would have to exist in your life only to wound you over and over again, then let him do so. If you should exist only to be hurt back because you had hurt him first, then let it be so.

"Is she mine?"

You stare at Leon, and then shake your head.

"Who's the... father?"

"Hookup. I forgot to take the morning after pill." You start at the breakfast, humming quietly as Leon stares at you apprehensively. "You didn't burn the bacon this time."

"That was once." He points.

Yet, you finish the food, watching as Leon still lingers. He stays. You don't know what prompts him to stay, and quite frankly, you're too scared to ask how he managed to get your address, but you keep quiet. You do not want to know. You should not want to know. You aren't someone in his life anymore, so does it really matter if you know or not. Maybe you should let your daughter know that her biological father has decided to crash at your apartment door at two am on a Monday all in the name of apologizing. You're sure that she'd be disappointed after you had told her to never take a man back unless he groveled.

"Why are you really here?" You stare up at Leon as he slides you a mug of tea, and he sighs.

"Wanted to know if Leona was mine. She..."

"Don't delude yourself." You press the mug to your lips, and Leon exhales.

"Do you want the truth?"

"Should've started with that."

"You're on a wanted list of potential conspiracy theorists."

"What the hell?"

"Leaking government secrets... or something. That book you published."

"Ah." You mumble. "All over the book?"

"Too accurate of a retelling. The government didn't cover up the nuking, but they did cover up the zombies, so—"

"So they think I somehow am convincing the masses with the book that there were zombies."

"It's a national security concern."

"Which involves you? I thought the CIA covered that."

"I asked the president personally to be put on the case... didn't wanna fly international again. Also, it was you." He swallows slowly.

"So, if I get caught, you go down with the ship too, huh?" You laugh dryly, sliding him the half of breakfast you didn't touch. "You need to eat too."

You wonder if it mirrors all the times that Leon had been too tired after a day of drills to even respond to you when the two of you had been together, but even then, he had threaded his fingers between yours, telling you to sleep well before he headed off to bed himself. Age or PTSD? You can not imagine the trauma that goes into shaping Leon into who you see before you now. The blonde he used to dye his hair has faded out into a darker color — damaged hair making it a lighter brown rather than the one you had been used to when you first met him. Are you overstepping your boundaries? Is he overstepping your boundaries? You can not tell.

"Old habits die hard, huh?"

"It's been nearly twenty years." You mumble. "They shouldn't be habits anymore."

"Trust me. Some of them are just embedded into your soul." He glances at the door as it rattles, and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I'm home." Your daughter, Leona, pauses when she notices the man in the kitchen. "Who's this?"

"Leon Kennedy." You don't give her any more details beyond that, exhaustion written all over your face enough to tell her to save the question for another time. "How was the trip?"

"It was fun. I'll show you photos after I unpack. Hi, Mr. Kennedy."

Leon nods in response.

"Of course, baby. Did you eat yet?"

"I had a bagel in the morning, but I'll need lunch. Did the stuff in the fridge go bad?"

"No. I'll make lunch for us today."

"Thank you, ma."

You smile, waving as she tugs her luggage with her into her room.

"She's the spitting image of me." Leon stares down at you, brows furrowed. "How can she not be mine? Everything matches up."

"I cheated on you with a blonde man with blue eyes before you moved, or something." You half-ass it, standing up as you close your eyes and watch him eat. "What's next? I go to the town hall? I turn myself into the CIA?"

"No, I just need to monitor you regularly. That's it. You've been inactive in terms of writing for years. They just want me to keep you in check." He hums. "They moved me in next door. Let me know if you need anything."

"For how long?"

"Only a couple of months." He nods. "Can I meet Leona sometime?"

You glance at her open door, wondering if you should treat this a little more seriously.

"Make us lunch."

"Hm?"

"Lunch. We can talk about this over lunch. Dinner is too formal." You sigh. "Are you trying to be back in her life?"

"So she is mine." He mumbles. "I had a daughter all this time and you never bothered to tell me?"

"Didn't feel necessary. It would have stirred up too much press. Can you imagine me yelling at you that you have a daughter? The government would go insane. Now, answer my question. Are you trying to involve yourself in her life, or do you just want to introduce yourself to her?"

"You'll let me co-parent her?"

"Leon Scott Kennedy." You seethe. "Answer the fucking question."

"I don't know, but I think introducing myself would be a good start."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Shakshuka for brunch."

"Shakshuka?"

"We have the ingredients for it. You're on cooking duty. I trust that you haven't just been living off of store-bought food this whole time."

"No, I picked up cooking recently." He looks up a recipe on his phone, searching for the ingredients in your pantry as you knock on your daughter's door.

"Hm?"

"Leon will join us for brunch. Is that alright?"

"It's fine, ma." She smiles. "I have an idea on what's going to come out just... based off of his face."

"It wasn't to hurt you."

"I know." She nods. "I'll mull over it later when my insomnia hits, but I'll mull over it. I know you didn't do it to hurt me."

You glance at the souvenir she's decided to bring back and raise a brow. "Is that a mug?"

"Isn't it cute?" She grins. "Found it at a local potter's place while there."

"It is." You take it from her, tilting it to get a good look at the colors as she starts explaining the rest of her little trinkets.

"This one's for you." She hands you a mug that looks the same, and you raise a brow at the design.

"XOXO Gossip girl?" You raise a brow. "My coworkers are going to love this."

"Did you call off work today?"

"Yeah. Leon crashed last night, and I told the team that I wasn't able to make it."

"PTO?"

"PTO." You hum. "Thank you for the mug, baby. Did you see anything fun?"

"Met the president's daughter."

"On the trip?"

"Yeah. Our sorority was introducing ex-members, and she was one of them. She brought up how I reminded her of the dude who saved her that one time she got kidnapped... said we shared a name too."

"Ah, is that how?"

"Felt like a strange coincidence more than anything." She places her two bags of trinkets on her desk, and she hands you her mug. "Did you name me after him?"

"Partially. I just wanted you to be brave like your name." You listen to the way that the kitchen hood turns off. "Brunch is ready."

"How long did you date?"

"I'll tell you that after I've had my first glass." You hum. "I need one if you're going to ask me all of these questions."

Leona laughs, lips curled upwards as you take her out with you. She's taller than you, yet she is still your baby. Your sweet child whom you adored so much has grown up so much. The spitting image of her father that you had grown to be thankful for rather than get haunted by in the narrative. Your sweet daughter that you adored.

"Brunch is— oh, you both are already here. Your mother requested shakshuka."

"Oh... it's been all over my Tiktok lately." Your daughter mumbles.

"And I saw some bread, so I toasted some slices." Leon nods. "I figured I should introduce myself. I'm Leon—"

"My father." Your daughter is curt, nodding as Leon takes her hand. "Nice to finally know who you are."

"Trust me, had I known earlier, I would have come running. Your mother is insanely good at keeping secrets."

"Yes, ma has always been like that." Your daughter sits back down to start eating. "What do you work in?"

"Government."

"Like administrative or politics?"

"Security."

"Like FBI or internet?"

"I'd say it's closer to FBI, though, we don't do the same missions. I've been protecting the president lately."

"So like... bodyguard."

"Something like that."

You plate your daughter's food first and then Leon's, and yours last. You watch as your daughter makes small talk with him, surprisingly unbothered by the sudden intrusion of her biological father in her life, getting to know him over brunch. Though, you know your daughter better than anyone. She's not getting to know Leon, she's just making small talk so that Leon lets his guard down around her. You can't say you blame her. It's hard to accept a man who's been missing all of your life as soon as he comes back.

Your daughter turns to you as you hand her the plate. "Can I drink?"

"Careful, Leon can arrest you for that." You bite into your slice of toast, giving her no other answer.

"You let her drink?"

"It's safer to know what her tolerance is than to have her find out on her own. The answer is no, though. Not today, at least. Maybe when Leon isn't here."

"Tough luck, I'll be here pretty often from now on."

"What?" Your daughter raises a brow at you, and you give her a look that can only mean you'll tell her later.

"There won't be a later." Leon hums.

"If you write this in the report I'm going to burn you alive." You grumble. "Mom's under suspicion from the government because of a book I published years ago. A fiction book."

Your daughter raises a brow, and realization strikes her.

"Oh my god, it was true?"

"Leon wrote all of it in a letter to me." You hum. "And yes, it's what Leon does."

"You eradicate zombies? Like The Walking Dead?"

"Well, not as dramatic—" He pauses. "Alright. Sometimes it gets that dramatic, but it's nothing super big. They're moreso mutated biological weapons than zombies—"

"You fight bioweapons for a living. That's huge." Your daughter mumbles. "Do you know the biology behind it all? What are the—"

"Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to tell you. The government would suspect you next."

Your daughter huffs, going back to her egg instead.

"Are you in college? What are you majoring in?"

"Biology. I'm specializing in bioweapons"

"What."

You hold back the laugh that threatens to break onto your face, eating quietly as you watch Leon blink at your daughter twice.

"Biological weapons?"

"More specifically, I study gene mutation. I study how they come to be."

Leon turns to look at you, and you shrug. "Her choice. Whether she uses it for good or bad ultimately depends on her."

"They teach that?"

"GWU does." Your daughter shrugs. "Can I continue unpacking?"

"Of course, baby." You nod. "I'll keep chatting with Leon."

"Thank you for brunch." She nods, heading off.

"You're letting her study something that dangerous?"

"It's not dangerous unless she decides it is." You wipe your mouth, staring at the last egg. "What am I expected to do?"

"Not much." Leon hums. "I just need to report your day-to-day."

"Alright. I'm gonna rot on the couch all day, so you'll have nothing much to do. Is this your job for the next couple of months?"

"Don't worry, you'll have me all—"

"If you say another word, I'm going to shoot myself."

Leon laughs in response.

You find that having Leon around isn't the end of the world. You still exist in your day-to-day life, Leon hanging around your apartment while you're at work and your daughter is in class, and it makes for an interesting icebreaker when people ask how your weekend went. (It isn't "my ex moved next door to me", no, it's "a government agent paid me a visit over the weekend"). Yet, life goes on, and you find that despite your brooding over how the end of the world was coming because Leon had slipped back into your life, it's very much not the case. If anything, Leon sort of just exists in your life.

At the very least, someone cooks for both you and your daughter when you return home.

"What's the menu tonight?" You raise a brow, your daughter coming in after you as she kicks off her slippers.

"Beef stew."

"I'm surprised he knows how to season his food."

You hold back a laugh, sliding your heels off as Leon feigns a look of offense. Your daughter peels her tablet out, settling on the couch as you sit next to her, yawning.

"How was work?"

"Leon, stop acting like we're married." You grumble.

"Yeah, but you like coming home to a home-cooked meal, no?"

"Caught red-handed." You put both your hands up, watching as your daughter does some sort of witchery with her ochem homework. You don't wish it upon anyone, ever. Though, the idea of Leon trying to figure it out does amuse you just a little bit. You decide a short nap would work in your favor, telling the two to wake you up when dinner is ready, eyes closing as your daughter tells you good night.

Good night means you wake up at two am in bed, Leon knocked out on the couch, and just about a hundred question marks floating over your head. You glance at the pot of stew that sits in the fridge and a smaller bowl portioned out for you, and you jump in your skin when you hear Leon move.

"Awake?"

"Yeah." You reach for a can of beer, cracking it open as you sit back on the couch. "Why are you still here?"

"I was going to take you to bed, but I remembered you don't like your outside clothes on in your bed. I can't change you anymore since... yeah." He pauses at the beer. "Drinking on an empty stomach isn't going to feel so good in the morning."

"Wow, how kind of you."

Leon has not forgotten you. You're made aware of that at the very least, eyes still full of a sincerity and warmth that you had grown used to decades ago. It makes you sick to the stomach that you had such an effect on him despite the two of you ending on good terms. It was not good terms. It was surface-level good terms, but both of you had secretly wished the other would say something about sticking together. Both of you are cowards, now that you think about it. He probably would have stayed had you let him know that you were pregnant, but you didn't wish to hold him back. Maybe it was selfish of you.

Yet, you do not regret all that you have done for your daughter.

"I never moved on." Leon speaks slowly, light in the living room dim as you raise a brow at him. "I... I thought about you all these years, and—"

"If you're staying back to tell me all of this useless stuff, I don't see a point in you staying back."

"You're not ready for this conversation?"

"Leon," You glare at him. "This isn't a conversation we should be having at all. Our feelings mean nothing now. You're here to monitor me casually, nothing else. Imagine if the government found out that you were being so lacking on the job."

You watch as Leon's voice gets caught in his throat.

"We're too old for this."

"We aren't." He tries.

"We are." You leave it at that, shaking your bottle as you realize it's half empty. "Leon, we're in our forties and both have jobs—"

"You can't just say shit like that to hurt me!"

"Keep your voice down. Leona's a light sleeper." You grumble. "It's fine. Let's just end it at that."

Leon stays quiet, and the look behind his eyes tells you more than enough that he wants to continue the conversation, but he learns to keep quiet. It feels the same as before. It was always petty squabbles that could be fixed the morning after once you've cooled down, but you don't want to. It's a conversation you refuse to have with Leon. It's a conversation that's been rotting in the display case of your heart — something you refuse to let go of all because it would feel foreign. You're selfish, you find. You used to care for Leon's heart as your own, but the rotting has consumed your heart and mind. Maybe you will only hurt him if you stay close.

"Morning." Leon hands you your cup of tea and your daughter her flask of water, waving to her as she rushes off for her 8am.

"Morning." You press the mug to your lips.

"Ready to talk about it?"

"I told you the conversation was over." You hum, turning to stare at the clock. "I have work in an hour and a half."

"We should get breakfast by your workplace."

"Sure, mister bodyguard." You mumble. "Didn't feel like cooking?"

"You need to diffuse."

"I'm very good at separating personal life and my work life." You hum. "You're paying."

"Yeah, yeah." He grabs his jacket from the rack as you hit the button to lock the door, clicking on your phone as you start the security system.

"You driving?"

"I'd have to pick you up from work, no?"

"Leon... I take public transport to work. Leona uses the car."

"Oh." He pauses. "... I have a bike?"

You raise a brow.

When Leon said bike, you were expecting more of a... bike bike rather than a motorbike, and as Leon steps on the gas and you're chanting quiet prayers in your mind to stay alive, something feels all too foreign yet familiar. Leon wanted to get a motorbike when the two of you had first started dating years ago, so to be able to see Leon have his own and drive safely was interesting. You are watching him grow. He has changed in little parts of his life. It is comforting to know that the pace you had been matching was moving at the very least. Perhaps you can not see how far you've come if no one can show you how far you've gone.

"Ugh, my hair." You huff, fixing your hair as Leon pays for parking.

"Is this a date?"

"If you somehow remember my order." You brush at the loose strands, following behind Leon as he guides you around the uneven pavement. You wonder if you'll bump into someone you know. It's a popular brunch place even for government workers. You follow Leon in, blinking as somehow a table clears up and the two of you are seated. It makes you raise a brow, but you don't think too much, looking at your emails as he orders for the two of you. You wonder how much of you he does remember.

When one of your coworkers comes up and asks you who you're with, you glance at Leon and tell the guy that it's your neighbor. He was plenty of trouble already, and as Leon raises a brow at the man that only means trouble, you worry for the poor guy's health. Leon's going to decimate this guy, even if it's unintentional. You can only hope he doesn't go around telling everyone you're hooking up with your ex again. Though, it's not like they knew you had an ex. You could play everything off. Perhaps this was the curse of working in journalism with men whose temper breaks at the slightest aggravation.

"If you're just neighbors, then this should be fine, right? What, you won't date me because your daughter's still young? She's an adult now. You should be honored that—"

"Hey, man, I wouldn't go that way if I was you." Leon raises a brow at the man, and your coworker raises a brow.

"Shut it, neighbor."

"The father of her child begs to differ."

That's all it takes to shut up your coworker, his face red as he storms off, and you grin into your palm, eyes meeting Leon's as he hums.

"Didn't even need to pull out the badge."

"Now, that would have been a power move." You thank the waiter as the food comes and eat. "You keep it on you?"

"Required at all times. It's helpful when out, definitely." He glances at the food. "Will you have leftovers?"

"Definitely. Can you take them back for me?"

"Of course."

When you arrive at the company, you're bombarded with questions — unsurprising considering everyone here is an investigative journalist of some kind, and you wave all of them off. You don't want to talk about it. He is the father of your daughter. That's all. He's not someone you're allowed to love anymore, and you should leave it at that. It won't just take a handful of months for him to somehow get you back. It would have to take more than that. No one pries further when they notice you refuse to budge. Perhaps time would tell.

When you return, you note your daughter's text about staying over at a friend's place and step home.

"Where's Leona?"

"Out with her best friend." You hum. "House is just me for the week. Don't try anything funny, though."

"Do you still have the old photobook?"

"Of before we broke up?" You raise a brow, pulling out another can from the fridge.

"Can I get one?" He thanks you as he catches it, nodding to your question.

"Yeah. It's somewhere in the study's cardboard boxes. Why?"

"Wanted to look over them."

"Well, haven't you grown sentimental?" You crack open the bottle, holding it out to clink bottles with him, pressing the drink to your lips as you hum.

"Maybe I just miss you."

"I'm right here."

"Sometimes I worry you aren't."

You laugh in response, brows knitting and resembling a sneer, but it isn't malicious. It's the same smile that Leon knew you put on when you were annoyed that someone had read you like an open book. It wasn't fair. Leon hadn't moved either, and the two of you had been stuck matching pacing in life only to stay exactly where the two of you had started. It wasn't fair. It was never fair. Were you stuck where you began all because you had been fixated on your past? Unfair. It was unfair.

Leon stares at the can in his hand, sighing.

"What's wrong now?"

"I should have looked for you earlier." He mumbles, grimacing at the taste of the alcohol on his tongue. "I should have known."

"I didn't expect you to."

"You had been nauseous the days leading up to my departure."

"And? I kept her from you."

"It was not your fault. I left you with no way to contact me." He mumbles. "I should've... worried about her instead of someone else."

"It's not your fault. You didn't start the outbreak, and you didn't choose to join the government."

"How did you know that?" He turns to look at you, and you hum. "Despite our cutting news, we also take bribes. One of the first archival information I was given was that you had been forced into your position because of your stellar behavior in Raccoon City. They threatened you with that other girl.,, Sherry, was it?"

Leon grimaces. "I ended up seeing her so little because of my position."

"It wasn't your fault." You tap the rim of the can, blinking slowly as Leon meets eyes with you.

"You haunt my world."

"Good to know." You swallow slowly, staring at Leon as he meets eyes with you. You wonder if he's actually drunk or just taking the opportunity to be honest with you. Regardless, you appreciate the attempted honesty. Shall you bait him? Tear your soul bare all for him to look at you and touch your heart all over again? Shall you present yourself bare to the bone to Leon so he could feel that you were finally being honest with him? How unkind of you — to think that way.

"Leon, did you love me?"

"I don't think love could even begin to describe how much I adored you." He runs his hand through his hair, laughing as he takes another drink. "I couldn't sleep without you for months after I left."

"Really?" You think back to all the nights you had woken up in need to empty out your stomach, grimacing at the memory. "But you moved on, no?"

"Hm?" Leon turns to look at you completely now, eyes going half-lidded as you get the idea. "No, sweetheart. I never did."

"I guess those shitty bedroom eyes you give me when you want something hasn't either. Couch is all yours. I'm locking the door tonight."

"I love you." Leon manages, swallowing as he stumbles out of the chair, reaching for your wrist as he ends up on his knees again. "Fuck, I'd rather die than live without you again. I'm already here begging for you — what, what else do I need to do? I'll—"

"Leon." You stare down at him, brows furrowed as you seem to remember this scene all too well. "We're both adults with jobs—"

"With a daughter." He swallows. "We're parents too, you know? We're also our own people. Why do you keep stopping me from making choices to put you first?"

"You work for the government. As much as I despise it, you keep all of us safe." You mumble. "Let's talk in the morning if you remember anything about this conversation at all."

"I'm not drunk." He mumbles, and you drag him back to the ouch, helping him get comfortable as you stare down at his closed eyes.

You've hurt the two of you more than enough, you think.

You check your daughter's location, fingers clicking on your keyboard as you wonder if you should take a trip out too. It had been a while since you've actually taken paid vacations and not sick days. You wonder if you'd get your ass kicked if you just decided to take PTO off a day in advance, but considering the lack of news going around lately, it wouldn't be impossible.

A break. You need a break to collect yourself.

So, you leave Leon a note, refusing to diffuse too quickly out of a fear that you'll snap, and you call the head office right first thing in the morning to let them know that you'll be taking two weeks off for personal reasons. You assure them anything left to you will be handed in on time, just... you wouldn't be able to make it to the office. It's not PTO, the more that you think about it. You're really just working remotely.

You leave in the morning with a suitcase, ticket booked for the middle of nowhere. Anywhere but home, you decide. It is not that home is where your belongings are. Your home is where your heart is, and for a long, long time, it has been with Leon. You can not recall a moment in which he hasn't been the place your heart was, but you wonder if it was possible that at some point, your heart had just shattered and broke in your chest instead of staying with him.

You step out onto the sunny beach houses of your company's private island given as a bribe and think you're in utter bliss. Though, the story that would have sold was worth a couple million dollars, you guess. You don't care at that point. It had been a long time since you had last taken a while off for the sake of your body. You draft things to discuss when you get back. You're sure Leon will probably find you somehow, but it really isn't your problem. Until you're nice and warm from the inside out under the sun, it is not something you'll care about.

You should probably have a talk with Leona once the two of you return as well.

Your days on vacation are nice, sand in your toes and drink in your hand as you abuse company privileges, checking your phone to like your daughter's photos as she sends you updates about her day. You're glad Leon doesn't have your number (though you're sure that he could get it if he really wanted it). You trust that he lacks in nothing when it comes to stalking you down.

Which is inevitably true when Leon finds himself on the same island, texting Ashley a thanks as he steps up to your beach chair, covering you from the sun as you stare up.

"Took you long enough."

"Still haven't changed that awful habit of yours, huh? Running away when you need to have a conversation?" He takes a step back, taking a seat on the beach chair next to you.

"It took you a while this time."

"Yeah, well, it isn't exactly the small town bar we used to visit, no? I can't believe your third place has become a private island only certain government workers can get into."

"Yeah, but you're here, no?" You sit up, taking your sunglasses off. "Let's talk."

"I'm sorry."

"I still don't understand why you're apologizing if there's nothing to apologize for."

"I feel guilty that I left."

"We weren't in a place where we could decide where we wanted to go." You pause. "The child would have slowed you down. Leona's great, but if I told you that you had a daughter, you would have left everything behind just to return. I did not want to tear that away from you."

"I—"

"You couldn't have raised a child with your job." You hum. "I don't despise you for it."

"And then? Did you love me at all? You never let me decide what I wanted and didn't want to do." He grimaces. "I would've put you two first. You know that. I loved you even while I should not have. You should know better than anyone that I would have been hung up over you. You can not replace my first love in my heart and then not tell me about Leona."

"It's unfortunate I did, then."

"I... still love you." He mumbles. "It's fine if it's not mutual, but please don't cut me out of your life again. Let me make the choices this time. We're both at an age where we can."

You finally look at Leon, and you sigh. "I won't stop you, but do not expect anything back from me."

"I won't."

You wonder if you should fear getting used to being taken care of by Leon. You play cards with him by the pool, drink with him at the bar, lie with him under the warm sun, and you wonder if you've gone back in time for a moment. Is this it? Is that it? Is that all there is to this? Is all it took a sincere apology from him? You feel like you should apologize as well, but there's just something stuck in your throat whenever you try and bring it up.

"Hey, Leon, did you ever hate me?" You glance at the wine in your glass, and Leon raises a brow from the hotel room. You wonder when the two of you had become close enough to share a room again. Is this some weird form of being roommates? You're too old for this, you think. You're far too old to be having a moment like this.

"No. Well, I was hurt when you told me to leave, but I never hated you." He hums.

"Good, since I feel like I still owe you an apology and all that." You mumble. "Sorry for forcing choices upon you. I just... I always feel like you can do better."

"Oh, honey, you are better." He mumbles, raising a brow at you from his bed as you frown.

"Sure, but I'm still sorry for being a terrible person." You mutter. "I can't guarantee anything from your efforts, but I appreciate you a lot."

Leon raises a brow at your words, but he doesn't speak up.

"Anyways. Maybe I'm just some control freak who needs to know everything that's going on like some maniac." You tuck your legs under your chin, staring out at the ocean as Leon seems to remember something. You don't know what, but you feel too vulnerable to find out, opting to stay in place and blink instead. The waves crash against the sand gently, and even when the lights are turned off and you're stuck in bed, you wonder if something's wrong. There's always something wrong.

You step out of the room, stepping on the beach as you wrap the robe around you tighter. The waves are higher now, and as you dip your feet in the cold water, you wonder what it'd be like to float off into the distance. Right. right. No, you have a daughter who would ruin her life in order to fix yours. You wonder how you managed to raise her to be the way she is without a father in the house. Maybe you sold your soul in order to do that.

The waves eat at your ankles, night breeze rustling your hair, goosebumps snaking up your calves as you continue staring into the distance. You don't know. You wonder if you could just keep playing stupid and not knowing. It had worked until Leon stumbled back into your life. Well, stumbled would be the wrong word. He kind of... crashed into your life again. You still wonder if his mission was truly a mission. He was always the type to make harmless jokes when it came to you.

It probably isn't. You saw him working on his laptop before you tucked yourself in.

"You're up." Leon's voice emerges from behind you, and you take a step back to turn.

"Yes." You hum.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No." You close your eyes as the wind blows again.

"What's wrong?"

"A lot." You mumble. "Though, not much of it is my choice. I'm wondering if I can just go back to playing stupid."

"You should see a therapist." Leon cracks a smile. "Mine's pretty good."

"No wonder you've changed so much." You sport the same smile, stepping out of the water back into the sand. "Let's go back."

"Will you be able to sleep?"

"Time will tell."

You aren't able to, but at the very least you catch three hours of rest before you emerge from bed with bedhead you hadn't seen since your youth. Leon laughs as he brings you breakfast, and you sigh, raking your hands through your hair.

"How's Leona?"

"I think she went to Amsterdam or something."

"How are you sustaining her lifestyle?"

"I know this is hard to believe, but our company actually pays a livable wage for all of us since we know too much. The government has compensation for our work too. We're basically entangled with the government at this point."

"And you don't pay for your life?"

"No bad sides. I don't know which senators and people of the cabinet decided to bomb the city. I just know it was bombed. It's why you received such a vague order."

Leon puts your breakfast down by your legs.

"Thank you." You hum. "How'd you sleep?"

The look on Leon's face implies something along the lines of getting the best rest in a while.

"That's good." You start at breakfast, staring at the lower tides before glancing at Leon. "Did we ever go on a beach date? I forgot."

"Us and what beach? We were landlocked."

"True, huh." You think to yourself, eating absentmindedly as Leon changes in the bathroom. You glance at the robe on yourself, and you wonder if you should just go naked or something. No, you'd probably get sniped or something. Shorts it is.

You place the tray on the table as you finish, wiping your mouth when Leon steps out of the bathroom.

"Wowwwww..." You grin. "Stay in shape, Agent Kennedy?"

"Government-mandated." He chuckles. "When do you go back?"

"In like, two days. You gonna catch a flight back with me?"

"How else am I going to get back?"

"Not sure." You hum. "Maybe swimming?"

"On an island in the middle of the Atlantic? Tough luck." He hums.

Leon settles back into your life after that. You wonder if this would categorize as co-parenting or being roommates, but you don't put a label to anything. It's not worth the time and effort. The PTO was good for your soul, but you return to being a corporate slave in the end anyway. Only, you wish Leon would stop stirring up more trouble when picking you up downstairs at your office each day. Would it kill him to be a little more secretive? Well, not like you told him about it. You used to like it when he did that while dating.

"You got me flowers?" You raise a brow, taking them from him as he nods.

"How was work?"

"It was fine. If you think this is all it takes to win me back, though? Not happening." You glance at the flowers. "Though, thank you for the flowers."

You're sure your coworkers are going insane over this. You don't know how long you had been single when most of your coworkers had gotten married and hitched. It really wasn't something on your mind after having Leona. So, for you to be going through the whole courtship thing again from Leon was a little strange. Well, not that you mind being pampered.

"Are you driving us home?" You raise a brow.

"I promise not to crash." He shows you the car keys, and you sigh. Well, if you die, you die.

You yawn as you get on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist as he takes you home. You wonder if Leona's home by now. She's probably unpacking again. You're not really surprised when you get home and she has her stuff sprawled out in the living room. Well, as long as it's not hurting anyone.

"What's this?" You pick up a keychain with a rabbit. "Miffy?"

"Miffy! The Dutch rabbit that Japan loves." Your daughter hums. "Isn't she cute?"

"Yes, she is." You hum. "Should I..."

"Don't check my credit card statement, please." She mumbles. "I've made some bad decisions."

"As long as you can pay it off." Your brows furrow as you contemplate. "Yeah, as long as you won't end up in debt."

She gives you a thumbs up. "You can have the one you picked up. There should be another one in blue for Leon."

"You got him something?"

"Appreciate it." He picks up the keychain, glancing at the doll. "The agents are about to have a field day when they see this keychain."

"Too out of character?"

"No, last time I had a keychain was in Spain." He hums. "I ended up giving it to Ashley."

"She still uses it." Leona speaks up. "I was out with her this time."

"When the hell did you get so close to the ex-president's daughter?"

"When I went on my sorority trip. She liked me a lot since I look so much like Leon."

"When are you going to start calling me dad?"

"Never." Leona deadpans. "You've been missing all my life. Don't push your luck."

Leon pouts, squeezing the keychain gently to calm himself.

"Yeah, she flew me over. She's great. Saw her texting Leon on the trip, though. You wanna explain that?"

"I was looking for your mom." Leon hums.

"Oh, the flowers." You remember, kicking your shoes off as you rest them on the counter.

"Yeah, I told her you're my biological dad and she told me about some agent you were flirting with in Spain."

"Not a government agent." He clears up. "She's someone I met in Raccoon City."

"Kissed?"

He grimaces as your daughter takes it as a yes. "If you cheat on mom, I'm going to ruin your life."

"How?"

"You'd be surprised how many senator's children go to my uni. Stay keen, and don't be an ass."

Leon settles into a schedule of picking you up after work, a different trinket in hand each time he picks you up, and you always take it, placing it in a box in the living room, the three of you eating together for dinner. You wonder if Leona has ever considered having a dad. Maybe she gave up a long time ago when you explained to her that her dad was someone in your past. Well, that statement sure came to bite you in the ass. He's not so much of someone in the past now, is he? You wonder if Leona would have something to say if you were to start with Leon again.

Yet, you don't tell her what happened on the island for the time being, her busy with her studies before the start of summer. So, instead of calling her and keeping her up, you let her tend to her own watching as she grumbled over all-nighters and classwork that wasn't ending. Despite her running around for her break, she wasn't gonna be able to run from her finals.

"Can you lobby so my professors get fired and I have no exam?"

"Tough luck, baby." You laugh. "I'm not in that line of business."

"I am, though." Leon hums. "Who do you need gone?"

"Leon." You warn. "No."

"His name's—"

You sigh as the two of them get into hypotheticals about taking out her professor with a sniper rifle, and you wonder where Leona had learned all of that. Though, from the stuff you had seen on the shared desktop before she got her own laptop, you think you know. It's whatever... it was probably from Twitter or one of her fanfictions. You wonder if the unrestricted internet access as a teenager was worth it — well, not your problem. She's gotten off boyfriend-free and kid-free so it's fine. There are worse things that could happen.

You wonder how much more help Leon could have been when she was going through that fic writing phase of her in middle school. You're sure all that knowledge of weapons could have helped her a lot. Well, not that you mind it anymore. It's nice to see the two of them get along. She is her father's daughter, after all. It makes you wonder if this could have happened under different circumstances. Well, what point is there in moping over a universe that isn't yours?

"What's for dinner?"

"I made a reservation for a place." Leon hums. "It's pretty basic so you wouldn't need to dress up."

"Well, if anything, you'd be the one who needs to dress up." You raise a brow at Leon as he glances at the two of you, nodding slowly.

"It's just a family restaurant that gets busy around this time." He stares at his t-shirt and jeans.

"You know, Leon." Leona raises a brow. "I'm sure you don't just wear this while on duty. What do you wear normally?"

"It depends on the occasion. Most of the time it's a suit."

"Government agents in suits is crazy." You mumble. "And when you're out on a mission?"

"It's typically some sort of body armor and a compression shirt with cargo pants and combat boots."

"What brand does the government use?"

"There's a variety of suppliers, but the material stays the same. We aren't just sponsored by one."

"Democracy, or something." You hum. "What time is dinner?"

You wonder if Leona has ever entertained the idea of having a dad in her life. She had been adamant about letting you know as a teenager that she didn't care if she had no dad as long as you wouldn't disappear or just die, but you had a feeling that she had just lied at the time to make you feel better. Well, she had grown up without a dad, so it wasn't super surprising that she had ever wondered what it would feel like to have one. You wonder if you should have just dated, but there was no way you'd be able to with such a young child. Maybe you shouldn't have—

"Whatcha thinkin' bout?"

You space back in, striking the hammer one last time as the tent is set up properly. The insulation is set up thanks to Leona, and you start the grill outside in the camping zone. The stars are starting to show, and the moon sits high in the sky as you grill the meat. Leona refreshes for her grades, chewing on her bottom lip as you serve her dinner. She only lets out a sigh in relief when her grades all come back as normal.

"You alright?"

"My GPA will live." She huffs. "Thanks for dinner."

"Of course."

"It's been a while since we've done this." Leona stares up at the stars in the forest as you crack open a can of beer for the two of you. "Is this about Leon?"

"You don't need to call him that." You hum. "I thought I'd get your opinion. I'm your mom just as much as I am my own person."

"I'm fine with it." Leona hums. "You've... I don't know. You've grown softer since he's joined us. Ugh, I'm not good at this like you are."

You laugh, adjusting the blanket on her as you turn to face her.

"You won't be mad?"

"No. It'd be... nice to experience having a dad. officially. I can't lie and say I've never once wondered what it's like to have a dad." Leona huffs. "Though, please let me punch him at least once when he officially asks you out."

"In the face?"

"I might break my fist, but hey, at least I broke his nose."

You wonder what universe you saved in a past life to deserve a daughter like this. Though, not that you complain of it. Leona lets out a sigh in relief when her grades come out unscathed, and you press the can to your lips as she catches you up on what was going on. Sorority drama sounds like a lot to you, but Leona handles it all just fine. She likes it there, and while the people around her have their flaws, you're glad she can see past most of them. At least she knows how to stay sane.

You can tell Leon's trying. He spends less time on his laptop at night, typing less and less details on your day-to-day life before it completely is voided, and when you try and ask, he tells you the mission is over. You wonder if that means he'll go back to his work clothes. Yet, for some reason he stays in the apartment next door, taking you to work each morning as he insists it's "on the way" (it's not). He always takes you back with flowers, your coworkers getting unbearable to a certain degree as they pry into your day-to-day life. You tell them that he's just trying to court you.

"Water," Leon hands Leona her bottle as she waves goodbye, handing you your bag as you follow after her while doing your hair. You stare at the mirror by the door, smoothing it out as you blink at Leon's crooked tie.

"Tie." You don't think, fingers sliding under Leon's tie as you unravel it, tying it properly as he holds his breath, daring not to move as your fingers smooth over the clothes, patting his chest as you turn back around you make sure your hair is fine. Leon tries to calm his racing heart as the two of you step into his car, his heart beating so hard he's sure he could throw up on command. Intimate. Too intimate. You can feel it too. The last time you had done that was when the two of you were young. Much younger. The racing heart makes Leon think that the two of you really haven't changed all that much.

"Have fun at work."

"Thank you." You step out of the car, waving as Leon watches you enter the building before driving off.

You calm your racing heart, ears ringing all the way to your floor as you exhale. Habit. You hadn't done it for Leon in such a long time, but the familiarity of reaching for his crooked tie and fixing it was like second nature to you. Maybe you haven't changed. Maybe neither of you changed, and at the rate that things were going, you think it's fine that neither of you has outpaced the other. The two of you are parallel lines, holding hands all the way as the two of you move through life. It's fine. You're fine. You'll be fine.

Leon picks you up after work like he always does. You stare out the window the whole time, silence pooling in the car as you think. You think too much while you think less and less these days. What are you doing here? Why are you here? Is the only thing stopping you from dating him your own flaws? Why are you letting them get in the way when you could be peeling back your skin and laying bare to him? He won't hurt you, you know that much.

You know what comes next. You have the feeling, you always do. You know that at one point Leon's going to try and confess to you, and you wonder if he could possibly outdo himself from last time. You wonder if he'll show up with flowers and a teddy bear to your apartment like he did the first time. You wonder if you could skip the formality and just confess to him first. It would be funny and catch him off guard, you think. When you spot your favorite for dinner, you think you will.

"Leona's gonna have dinner with friends." You sit down, thanking him as he hands you a plate.

"I know. She texted."

"Mhm." You wait for him to sit down before eating, lips curled upwards as you grin. "Leon, will you go out with me again?"

He's caught off guard, fumbling with his fork as he blinks at you. "Pardon?"

"Will you go out with me again? I have a lot of flaws, but—"

"Yes! Yes. Oh, my god. Yes." Leon blurts. "I was supposed to confess first, my god. I feel like this is our first date all over again— I'm still in love with you despite everything, and I'm begging you for the chance to date you again on a clean slate. This time, we both make our own decisions without regrets, and we talk it out when we have disputes. This time, I won't leave no matter what, and if I need to leave, I bring you with me. Please go out with me— I will kneel and beg."

"There has got to be a better way to say that." You laugh, watching as Leon slides out of his seat to grab something behind the counter for you. "And if I say no?"

"I imitate the meme that Ashley's been sending me with the text messages and fall on my knees and beg."

"Sounds really tempting..." You tap your chin. Leon grabs your hands, frowning at you gently as you reach up instinctually to smooth out the crease between his brows. "I was kidding. Please treat me well."

"I'll make sure you never need to think again." He mumbles, pressing your fingers to his lips as you hum. "Please accept the flowers."

"Will you get me flowers once a week?"

"I'll make sure you never have to lift a finger to do housework. I'll retire for you."

"Are you really sure you'll be allowed to do that?"

"As long as the president orders it." He mumbles. "I'll just say I can't work anymore and fake a doctor's order."

You laugh, raising a brow. "You'll do that for me?"

"And much more." He mumbles, lowering his head into your lap. "As long as you give me the chance."

"Then be sure to hold on."

"Forever and ever, always."

The door to the apartment clicks open, and Leona stares at the second bouquet on the living room table.

"Ma?"

You nod.

"Leon, how sturdy are you?" Leona raises a brow, tossing her backpack to the side and ditching her jacket.

"I'm mostly muscle. Why?"

"Leona's gonna swing at you, give her a second." You take a step back with the flowers, Leona winding up her arm as Leon blinks. "No, you're not allowed to dodge. Think of it as playful fighting. It's to welcome you into the family."

"Please be gentle. I've seen your arm muscles, and there's a high chance it'll bruise or kill me." Leon clenches his jaw, wincing as Leona lands a hit on his cheek, sound making the two of you blink. Leon rubs his jaw, laughing as he winces.

"Sorry, dad. Had to do it." She grins, shaking her hand as the words punch Leon a second time.

"Say that again."

"Hm? Sorry?"

"No, you called me dad."

You hide behind the flowers as you laugh, watching as Leon grabs Leona by the shoulders and beams.

"Say it again."

"Alright, old man. You're pushing your luck now." She rolls her eyes, kicking her shoes off and falling back onto the couch to escape his grasp. "We've got plenty of time. Also, you're paying for my tuition now."

"Oh my god, I'm a dad."

You squat to the ground as you laugh, back shaking as Leon stands there, dazed.

Leona takes the chance to slip away, and as the living room fills with your laughter, you think it'll be fine.

[all-pacas]

OKAY. 13 AND CHASE IN AFTER HOURS THO

The fact that when 13 needs help, she calls Chase. Why does she call him? Why doesn't she call someone else? She needs someone to deliver her a portable ultrasound, and okay, you could argue Foreman is a bad call because he's her ex and would pry. That House would just refuse. Taub would have been a good pick tbh, he would drop it off and just go home no questions asked. But no, she calls Chase

(And I love that call. "You doing anything?" "Oh, yeah, I'm just about to go out," Chase lies blatantly, asleep in bed with a book on the crusades on his chest. Like the loser he is. I don't know that it was done well but I love how S7 examines his Dumb Whore tendencies: it isn't really him, it's a rebound. He does it again when he gets stabbed.)

And of course the second he shows up he immediately sees through 13's excuses and pushes his way into the apartment. Because we love Chase's observation skills triumphing over his laziness.

13 tells Chase the prison backstory. Like! It's kind of glossed over. She hasn't told this to anyone else. She doesn't hide it. I killed my brother. It wasn't murder. Chase is just pacing, you just know he's twigged as hell, he's so anxious all at once as she tries to brush past it. The idea that 13 kind of had to tell him to explain Darrien's presence but she's also — House is the only other person who knows.

CHASE: Have you talked to anybody about it? I mean, are you okay?

Like we know this immediately triggered something in Chase, but 13 doesn't, and seeing him so anxious and pacing and ignoring the bleeding dying woman as 13 works, it's just. Incredible. It's good. He cares immediately, he's relating to this immediately.

But I love seeing them work together. Like they just immediately go in sync, Chase offering suggestions and 13 doing the work. They're just. It's nice.

SIDE NOTE: House says he called everyone before he called Cuddy. We see him call 13 and Taub. Chase is off picking up drugs, we don't see House call him, but like. He had to have called Chase first, right? Did Chase not pick up? Did he blow him off because he already was dealing with someone bleeding to death in someone's apartment??

The way they fight oh my god. The way 13 just is trying to fucking murder Chase. She punches him, she claws and shoves him, and then he just clocks her and stares horrified as she falls to the floor. Like it's an actual fight, it's brutal, it's so good. They hurt one another. I can't explain it but I love how brutal it is, that they both walk away with bruises, that it isn't pretty. Incredible. Amazing scene.

CHASE: You were defending your friend beyond all rationality, granting her the right to die in your bedroom. Was it really all because of a promise? 13: That word means something to some people. CHASE: Not that much. […] CHASE: You promised your brother you'd euthanize him and you think you won't feel bad about it as long as you can blame it on the promise. That's why you have this twisted obligation to keep all promises… or your carefully constructed defense mechanism could crumble down. 13: I saved my brother from a lot of pain.

!! Chase keeps bringing it up, he keeps bringing up her brother, not out of I can't believe you did a murder or I can't believe you went to prison but: you must hate yourself. He's calling her out on her coping mechanisms, he's calling her out on her guilt, and it's so fucking clear what he means is I get it but he's not saying that part. 13 killed her brother and now has to believe she did the right thing, no matter what, no matter how she feels. She's taking away her own agency: it was for a promise, it was his decision, she had nothing to do with it, it's fine, it doesn't feel bad. Chase killed Dibala and told himself it was for the greater good, it was morally just, it was the right thing to do, it doesn't feel bad. And it nearly destroyed him. And so he's pushing and pushing at it. He never goes 13 went to prison! he never goes it's so crazy you did that! Whenever he brings it up it's only in the context of how worried he is about her. Has she spoken to someone? Is she coping? Is this healthy? Is she okay? He's so worried. He cares so much.

I adore 13 and Chase running out of ideas with Darrien and calling dad. Most sibling coded of all time. Just. And the fact that House doesn't allude to also being in the hospital, actively bleeding and in pain, just, yes, we gotta help bail you two idiots out. Beautiful moment.

Chase getting 13 ice and coffee and still feeling guilty for punching her out, and 13 not blaming him at all. Like. You know. Don't beat people up. But in this one case I totally approve. Because I love it.

13: Darrien had to shoot that kid. It was the right thing. Completely justified. But it didn't matter. She destroyed her life trying to forget. I'm afraid that's what's gonna happen to me. CHASE: You really should talk to someone. 13: I've talked to a therapist. It didn't help. CHASE: Well, maybe you should talk to someone who isn't a therapist. 13: Do you really think you have any idea what it's like to live with something like this? CHASE: Let's grab a coffee.

Since the second Chase found out, this is what it's been leading towards. I love that he doesn't answer, he doesn't say a thing, but this is what he's been thinking all episode, why he's been pushing, why he's been so worried and caring: talk to me. Tell me you're not okay. Tell me everything isn't fine. And 13 holds it back until the end of the case, until it's over and she has no distractions. It's not at all clear Chase himself has talked to someone about Dibala, btw. He probably hasn't.

And how insane is that. He never told Foreman or House; they figured it out. He told Cameron: she left him. (Imagine being 13, hearing this. Realizing the timeline. She went to their wedding. What did she think happened when Cameron just … left? How quickly does she figure it out now?) House told Chase to talk to someone, Chase tried Confessing, but whenever he's tried to tell anyone it's gone terribly for him. I don't think he has talked to anyone. But he repeats House's advice to 13: talk to someone. (Talk to me.) He's offering her what he never got. And their situations are different, hers is much more sympathetic and easy to accept than his. Chase never goes I never got help or you have nothing to feel bad about or implies he doesn't think it's a big deal: his entire reaction is just empathy. He wants 13 to get what he didn't get, he wants to help.

The song that plays over the end of the episode is Bon Iver's Flume. And as much as you can apply it to House, and Cuddy, and Wilson, and all of that — it's a song about feeling isolated, feeling alone and being afraid of letting go. Of holding on to things that stain and hurt. The lyrics that play while 13 and Chase are having their coffee in the conference room, though:

i wear my garment/so it shows now you know

And I just! I love! Them! The ways 13 and Chase are so alike and so damaged, the way Chase reacts with empathy and care and wants her to have what he didn't, the way they know one another's secrets and worst moments and rely on one another so easily. 13's secrecy is a meme, in and out of universe, but Chase is absolutely no better: he won't even admit he's Catholic when talking to a nun. They're private to faults, they mask by sleeping around and taking risks and pretending not to care, they hide their hurts and then somehow, they punch one another in the face and know everything. I'm just. I'm so obsessed with them. I want them like this always.

[galaxyedging]

@fuckyeahdindjarin mentioned Prima Nocta and since I can't sleep, I thought about soft General Acacius.

General Acacius x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Just fluff and feelings.

Warnings: Prima Nocta, arranged marriage.

The festivities are in full swing. The musicians' lively playing echoes around the ornate hall. The wedding is over, everything went smoothly, your mother is beaming with pride. Still your hands won't stop shaking. The thought of your wedding night has your heart clawing up your throat.

Soon, you'll have to retire to your new shared bed chambers and let your husband have his way with you. The thought leaves you cold. The man seems nice enough. Your father had assured you that he was honourable and would make you a mother as soon as possible. His station in the army would bring you respect and prosperity. Still, your hands wouldn't stop shaking. The booming voice of an announcement shakes you further. The announcement proceeds the arrival of General Acacius. The General speaks to your husband in hushed tones before approaching you. Even with the feelings you have nursed for the General over the years that your father had worked for him, your stomach dropped at the serious, almost predatory, look on his face. General Acacius has a fierce reputation. He can cut men down where they stood with ease. He can inspire men to fight with their last breath. To you, he is kind, caring, and intelligent. He treats you with respect well above your station. More than once you had hoped that you could be promised to him.

“Come with me.” The General's tone is short and clipped as he leads you out into the night.

“General Acacius? May I ask what is happening?” The quiver in your voice is unmistakable, yet he doesn't react to it.

“I have invoked my right to have you on the first night of your marriage.” Again he is short with you.

The short ride to the General's home is silent aside from the sound of the horses and the rhythmic sound of wheels turning on stone. The silence continues right up until General Acacius escorts you into his bed chambers. All the silence has just given your imagination room to run wild. Even with someone like the General, the thought of performing martial duties fills you with fear. With the door to his chamber safely closed, the General lays a hand on your arm. He retracts it at the feel of you flinching away.

“It's alright. I was surprised when I heard you were getting married. I thought that your father would find you someone more…suitable.” General Acacius doesn't even try to hide the distaste in his tone.

“My mother wants to make sure I am with child before I am too old.” Once you find your voice, the words come a little easier. “Is that why you want me General? Do you wish to have another child?”

“No, I…” The General sighs. “...I have known you for many years. The thought of someone such as yourself marrying a man like that…it did not sit well with me. I feel the decision was made in haste. I thought, by bringing you here, I could give you more time to reflect on the decision.”

The man spoke as if you had a say in any of this.

“Here, you may sleep in the bed.” The General lifts the thick woollen blanket back for you to slip beneath. His warm breath ghosts over your face as he leans over to tuck you in before laying down himself on the accubitum in the corner.

The sleep that takes you is restful after all the worrying. In the morning the General is gone and his staff make sure you are fed and returned home safely. The house is a buzz when you enter. Your mother takes your hands to break the news that your husband has been sent to war.

Months go by before you hear word of your husband's fate. They are delivered by General Acacius himself. “I am deeply sorry.” The look in his eyes doesn't match his words. “For your loss and for robbing you of your wedding night. The Gods must have been smiling upon you as you were already married, so your late husband's land and possessions will be yours for you to do with as you please.” With that, the General turns away, leaving you to ponder his words as his God-like form retreats.

[mybookof-you]

My current attitude toward the fast-approaching election day is one powered by mixed emotions. I know it's not over until it's over, but part of me is overwhelmed and slayed by the fact that so many Americans appear to support a man who can stand up and sway to music for what seems to be an eternity during what is supposed to be a critical event designed to convey meaningful information to his supporters. What he seems to be saying here through his actions is that he just doesn't care. He believes he can do just about anything, and his people will follow. Those who disagree can make fun of him all they want, and the result will be the same: his base is solidly sold on his message. It doesn't matter that his message is mixed, fabricated, or totally ridiculous. His people are sold on his promise to deliver specifically to their personal, diverse, contradicting, opposing needs.

It's like prayer. You pray for what you want, and the god seems to be listening, so you keep praying, you keep believing, you keep being a faithful member of the flock. Ut-wo. Instead of a steady, harvest- ensuring flow of steady rain, there came a flood. No worries. god is god. He will come through in the end. It will be heaven. You'll see. Meanwhile, people are drowned en masse, and there is no way to escape it, unless you were faithful enough to build an ark like god told you to. Those are the ones who get to enjoy more fruitfulness and multiplication. The believers. The others got what they had coming to them, but not you. You are special and sinless, because you believe and you confess, and you start over again and again.

Snake oil. When I look at the candidate, Donald Trump, I see a very successful salesman. He knows how to motivate and how to manipulate. He's no dummy. He can speak out of both sides of his mouth, work that groove, and deliver the sheep unto the market all at the same time. He's a multi-tasker, a multi-crafter, and an expert at fibbing. It's all harmless until you find yourself in the mouse-trap. You took the bait, whether you're a believer or not, you deserve what you get. Please, don't take me with you.

Perhaps some join the bandwagon, because, heavens to Murgatroyd, something has got to change, things have to get better, and I know that things that are said don't always mean what they mean, and I am betting that Donald Trump is a better man than all the things he has done before, all the things he has said. He really is talking to me when he says he's going to make things better. Things certainly aren't better now. Not for me. nuh-uh. I want capitalism at its most monopolist, laws at its most freedom-restrictionist, and leadership at its most definitive authoritarian glory. Somebody make a decision, make it happen, and deliver a change. Anything has to be better than what my life is like right now. Poopy-doos.

I really don't get it. Somebody explain why you would want a stacked Supreme Court ready to diminish human rights and call it good when the states can take over and do all that dirty work for them. Why would you bother citizens who are no threat to your lifestyle, those who are making choices for themselves? None of your choices have been eliminated.

Don't let your kid read that book if you don't want them to. That is your right. Read the newsletter that tells you what is going to be covered in your child's classroom. Talk to the teacher who is a trained professional and find that their approach to the classroom is flexible and designed to accommodate your needs and preferences. Your rights are not threated in any way. Someone has been selling you snake oil.

Not communing with anything I said? That's okay. So far, it's still a free country, and I'd like it to stay that way. I don't ever want to fear that I will be sent to jail for having an unpopular opinion. I don't want to find out what this country, whose citizens "will never have to vote again" will look like under the rule of Donald Trump.

I will vote for Harris/Waltz, not because they are perfect representatives of all of my viewpoints, not because they are polite, not because they can magically deliver on all the wish-lists of special interest groups, but because the candidates represent the possibilities of the kind of country I want and believe in. That is a country where no one group is more important than another, where people are heard and listened to, where votes matter, and where the leaders are in alignment with the voices of the people.

None of us are going to get everything we want. That is not possible in a country of such blessed diversity. What we can work toward is a country that values its people and envisions a future which is profitable, sustainable, and inclusive. You can be a bigot and enjoy all the freedoms of the majority of minorities. if you want. Just don't take away my freedoms. I have just as much a right to be here as you do. I have just as much right to be me without the fear of displeasing you to the point of social suicide. I just want to live with the same opportunities, the same resources and economies, and the same respect you seek. I am willing to compromise on what the blueprint to that kind of society might entail, but not on the results. To me, Donald Trump represents the blueprint of a disastrous deluge of inequality and suffocation.

We can't afford to mince words anymore. We can't worry if we are going to offend. We don't have to be rude. We can't stand behind a veil of smoke knit with promises. We may lose, but let's be frank, we see Donald Trump for what he is, and he is not my president.

[ktzt96-blog]

Ge Please don't give up on me .....

Yu Palace Assembly Room

"Care to explain Gong Yuan Zhi" Sword Master ZiYu question him

Gong Yuan Zhi was unmoved and silent .... ZiYu sigh, what should he do with this kid ......

"YuanZhi" after hearing Gong ShangJiao voice Gong YuanZhi slightly trembled and ZiYu tried to hold his laughter.

"He was trying to pick my herbs.... I tried to stop him nicely but he didn't listen ... so"

"So you poison him" ZiYu scoff

"Gong ZiYu , you try to make the problem bigger and bigger don't you, it's not that strong it's just itchy powder that can't even considered poison"

As soon as he called the name of Sword Master he got a glare from his brother ShangJiao

..........

Yesterday Evening ,a kid from Shang Palace came and play at Zhi Palace Clinic.

He pulled out some plants just for fun, and when servants tried to stop him he cried out loud. So he put some itchy power into a pretty wooden container and gave it to that kid. That stupid take it and played it in his sick father's room. Master Shang was sick and couldn't get up from bed. Later the whole Shang Palace was itching and they reported it to the elders.

xxxxxxx

Sword Master decided to punish YuanZhi ....

That is YuanZhi needs to deliver the medicine to Shang Palace personally and say sorry to Master Shang who is sick. At first, he doesn't want to accept it. But brother ShangJiao pressured him with his glare so he had no choice.

When YuanZhi came back from Shang Palace he headed to his Zhi Palace clinic .... At some point, he doesn't want to face his brother yet. He knows his brother is a righteous person though he was slightly expecting. How silly he is ... he thought bitterly.

To his surprise, his brother was already in the clinic and wait him with dishes.

"You came .... come on let's have dinner" his brother said with soft voice which is YuanZhi weakness.

"Ge ~ why are you here?" he questions his brother with a disbelief face

"Why? am I not allowed to come here and have dinner with you..." Shang Jiao asked his brother with playful tone

"No no, it's not .... it was just ... I thought you mad at me" YuanZhi answer quickly

"So you accept you've made a mistake" ShangJiao smirk

"Yes brother I'm sorry" he reply with faint voice

His brother point to the seat and pour the tea to his cup ...

"Did you enjoy the show?" the sudden question made YuanZhi off-guard "Sure .... um...Ge what are you talking about"

Gong ShangJiao smiled slightly and didn't say anything. YuanZhi feel uneasy ... how did his brother know his inner thought ... GeGe was right even though he felt wrong by the decision of Sword Master, when he arrived , he really enjoy seeing the whole palace people were scratching here and there while doing their business. But how ?? Does my brother have any power?

"If I take your side others will target you more, next time when you feel wrong and you believe you're right, fight back you don't need to listen to me every time" Gong Shang Jiao said softly

Since, there was no respond so, Gong Shand Jiao look up and met with Gong Yuan Zhi tearful eyes.

"YuanZhi" ShangJiao was confused, which word made his little brother so sad.

"Ge ~ I will listen to you forever ..... please don't give up on me" Yuan Zhi said while holding his sob.

"Yuan Zhi calm down .... I'm not gonna give up on you forever"

Shang Jiao went to YuanZhi's side and patted his back gently, he thought he knew this child inside out. After his own family accident, he always limits his emotions. That made his brother feel insecure. He promise to himself starting from today he will show more and more of his affection to relieve his brother's insecurity little by little.

XXXXXXXXXX

[malorisaurus]

Last night, I finally finished Lucifer (Netflix). It took me quite a long time to make my way through the series—a couple of years. I would have periods of binge, and then long breaks when I reached critical mass of the specific types of shenanigans in the show. I think I have concluded that repetitive behaviors can cause me frustration, even if they are leading to an interesting and valuable place. The lack of communication or Lucifer's regressions would sometimes become too much for me, or plot elements (like Cain) would fall into narrative elements that I just did not care for.

That said, it is unusual for me to have this feeling but keep coming back to a show. Even more unusual is for me to feel the incredible love I felt for the characters that I had in the final season and the series finale.

All of the behaviors made the outcomes very rewarding to me, and even though I was initially irritated by the time-traveling angel daughter, it actually became one of the most impactful parts of the show for me. Don't get me wrong, I do have to just gloss over some problematic self-sacrificial stuff, so I am not without my criticisms. But it doesn't really matter, in the end. They wrote a show that managed to be true to all of the characters, deliver on what was promised and then some, and created a found family that I genuinely loved.

More than that, I am struck by how long it took me to get through this show because it is difficult to look at the circumstances surrounding this exact moment and not feel that it was kismet—truly well and good "meant to happen right in this moment" shit.

You see, I have been in therapy for the past two years largely to deal with the fallout of my abusive, narcissistic father "punishing" me by ostracizing my sister and I out of our family which led to our mutual decision to ultimately go no-contact with him. The way I described it to my therapist was that staying in contact with my dad let me feel like I had some measure of control—I gave him what he wanted out of me and our relationship, and then he would proceed to not give me a single thought. I could control encountering him because I knew what to say to keep myself safe (to an extent). He showed me pretty quickly after no-contact what he thought of that by showing up at mine and my sister's doorstep unannounced to not speak to us but leave random shit as some sort of message, or he would drive by when we were visiting my grandmother and wait for us to see him and then drive away. It quickly unmoored me. You see, not speaking to him meant that I no longer knew where he was, so he could be anywhere, so I was afraid of everywhere.

This is relevant to watching this last season of Lucifer because Lucifer Morningstar has a lot of narcissistic behaviors, but his growth is also profound. He has to grapple with the fact that everyone is telling him who he is (the devil that abandons his family), and even though he has his moments of doubt, he ultimately says to people, "No, I would NEVER do that" and it is the truth. I watched the devil grapple with himself, become defensive and blame his child for the simple fact that she was speaking her truth, and then come to realize that the past (future) is the past (future) and that all he could do was be better now.

Lately in therapy, I have been grappling with a particularly difficult period of my life—the time-period I would say where my enmeshment with my father really became solidified. She [therapist] is constantly probing and cautioning me to make sure that I am not "story-telling"—essentially catering to my traumas by telling a narrative about the circumstances (like ascribing motive and intention to behaviors of other people when I can't know those things). I have been struggling to internalize this, to be honest. It is difficult to let go of the stories that helped one survive, because for many of us in abusive circumstances, these stories are the only thing protecting us. I have been regressing emotionally as a result of these therapy sessions to a depression similar to what I experienced then at 15, and I have had difficulty letting it go. It has been hard to grapple with the fact that much of my identity and how I think about myself was forged within that 15 year old and is relevant today. To let go of those things then would mean I would also have to let go of them now, and it is human nature to be self-protective.

And this is where the last season of Lucifer comes into play. I have watched it entirely over the past week, after a session where my therapist really honed in on this story-telling I was doing in a way that really made me see how it was not serving me. And to be honest, I was filled with grief at knowing I needed to let it go. There is a grief to letting go of your rage.

And I was sitting there, watching Lucifer show up for his daughter and choosing to be better than he even believed himself to be. Choosing to believe that he was deserving of love and knowing that he had love to give. He self-actualized because it was important to him to be a good father. He chose Rory over and over again, and I honestly wept harder than I have in a long time, entirely unexpectedly.

Rory's rage and her arc to understanding was also just incredibly impactful to me in this period of vulnerability. She is so wrapped up in her own narrative of why her father left her that she was filled with anger. It colored her whole life, and the bitterness dramatically impacted her. But in the end, that was all just a story that she was telling herself. Now, not to compare the circumstances of this particular narrative with the actions of my own father. Objectively, his actions were not great! Regardless, I am telling stories about his motivations and even his intent because that was my perception of them. There is no way to know those things. And even though I intellectually understood that concept, it solidified it seeing it play out in Rory in the context of her relationship with her father.

In this, it was extremely evident that it was vital to leave the past in the past. Rehashing the past is often an exercise in defensiveness and being protective of one’s trauma. There is no making amends for the past. Forgiveness isn’t about amends. There is only how we choose to move forward. That may include being apologetic, but I think that the point is that to move forward there has to be simple acknowledgement of the past and that the reality of it is different for every person. To shape a relationship going forward simple things have to be in place—lack of judgement, security in vulnerability, honesty, openness, and an intention to do no harm. Literally the basics of human interaction, but surprisingly difficult in certain contexts. If the past is not owned, then it will just be repeated. But rehashing the past only makes it live in the present, and each present moment into infinity. Holding onto trauma isn’t the way out.

Ultimately, I never expected to be so moved by my silly little devil show, but it is truly this power of fiction that constantly floors me. I owe so much to books, film, and television. I have, over the course of my entire cognizance, contextualized and learned how to understand the world around me through these mediums. As an Autist, it was a touchstone for me in a way that I cannot adequately describe. And here I am again, a whole ass adult, having therapy breakthroughs because of Lucifer Morningstar.* Linda would be so proud.

___

*The therapy in this show is also very funny to me. I am actually not a huge proponent of therapy, even though I talk extensively about my own therapy pursuits here. The depiction of therapy in the show is (I think accidentally) an accurate representation of the therapeutic experience. Lucifer comes to therapy with extreme bias, a tendency to very obviously and conveniently misremember details to suit his narrative, and a propensity to steamroll Linda (his therapist turned friend and mother of his nephew) by either willfully misunderstanding her guidance or ignoring it entirely because he is avoiding his emotions.

The effectiveness of therapy is only as good as what the patient brings to it. And Lucifer does ultimately wind up thinking about what is brought up in therapy after making some rash blunders in reaction to confronting something emotionally uncomfortable, and I think that is an honest representation of how therapy goes for many people. A therapist is only privy to the information given by the patient, and has some tools to ask questions and offer differences in perspective. But ultimately, if the patient lies, withholds, and disregards, the therapist will not be effective. Even in the show, the way they got around the therapist not knowing that Lucifer is doing these things (aside from his obvious traits: selfishness, a flair for the dramatic, daddy issues, persecution complex) is the fact that Linda is close with every person that is important to Lucifer. She literally knows the details, so he can’t get away with misrepresenting them to her. It is fascinating to me that a show can show how therapy is simultaneously very flawed but also sometimes still effective.

[mysoulismelting]

Ok so I don't typically post anything that can be considered political on my page cause it's supposed to be my little happy space free from torment on the internet but I feel like I'm loosing my fucking mind right now.

WE NEED TO STOP FIGHTING WITH EACH OTHER.

Political parties are the stupidest fucking thing that was ever invented- I hate to break it to you, but you're not all so different. Lots of people have the same ideologies as you and are on the "other side" of the political spectrum, but you are only hearing the outspoken angry people.

You ever play that game "we become what we behold"? It is a prime example of what's happening right now.

Anyways that's not my point right now.

My point is:

No one who is part of the 1% or in power wants to or is going to help you.

The government? Doesn't want to help you. Those billionaires? They don't wanna help you. Anyone who is running for president or any government position? They won't help you.

There has been an exorbitant amount of time for policies to be put into place to help the people who are struggling today. The only people who are in power or want power today are people who want to control you. I'm not talking about making it safer for people- I'm saying they want to continue to exploit and abuse the working class for their own gain.

And if we don't come together and fight the common enemy?

We'll continue to become more and more enslaved to corporate greed.

For once, stop complaining on the fucking internet and fighting with people you won't ever see in person in your lifetime and look at the people in power. They are the ones oppressing you. Not some random joe shmoe on Twitter. The political party they are with doesn't matter. They don't care about you. You are nothing but a bug under their shoe. You can "call them out" on the internet all you want, but that won't do anything in the long run. Register to vote, sure- your options are all ass- Do your own research look at what bills they endorsed or if they had been in the government before look at what they promised and what they delivered.

None of these old bags running are gonna tell you the truth, whether they're republican or democrat or an individual runner. Cause they wanna win. Start pushing for actually beneficial bills, make petitions, fuck run for president yourself.

As the people we're supposed to have the power. But we aren't fucking acting like it. Stop letting these old mother fuckers make outdated decisions and start pushing back. There are more of us than there are them.

I'm not saying riot or storm the white house for fucks sake. I'm saying do the paperwork, work with your local government, push back against the insane amount of leniency the government gives themselves.

They want us to fight with each other because it keeps our eyes off them.

If we keep looking at the state of our country and going "eh someone else will fix it" nothing will get done. I'm sure you know the bystander effect.

The people you see everyday are not so different from you. And guess what? We're all humans and we're all learning as we go. So the last thing you should do is ridicule or harass someone who's goal is to learn and better themselves for a better future. We need to stop acting like one different opinion means we can't get along with each other- because guess what? If we only interact with the most extreme sides of the spectrum we'll never learn from each other. It's okay to change your opinion when you are exposed to new information- stop acting like it's not.

This is not a post about anyone specific or anything specifically happening. I just want people to stop fighting each other when they have just as little power as the other person.

At this point I hate this point and really don't want to post it cause people have a habit of misinterpreting things said on the internet, but I think I will this time.

I'll reblog this with a link with an official list of current bills. If I can find anything else helpful I'll add it too. I can also look for more specific things if asked nicely. I'll see if I can get a link for voter registration too. Since things vary state to state I can only do so much. On more reminder that I don't want to fight with anyone, I want to be as helpful as possible.

[having-conniptions]

KinnPorsche ep 7 + Side Story Rewatch Rambles:

Idk why the Side Story isn't in the actual episode I think it's so important for the development of the relationships - both the VegasPorsche fuckery and the KinnPorsche softness are SO IMPORTANT

THIS IS THEIR FIRST TALK AFTER THE DRAMATIC GOODBYE KISS AND KINN TAKING A BULLET FOR PORSCHE

Aka this is where feelings are acted on AND EMBRACED instead of being pushed down right away AND without a dramatic, emotionally charged situation as the catalyst. Just soft, wholesome cuddling, hand-holding and hair-petting. No alcohol, drugs or adrenaline clouding their judgment. The conscious decision to be together like this - loving, caring, romantic. As a couple. THIS IS A BIG STEP FOR THEM I'M TELLING YA

Also the phone call between Porsche and Chay 🥺❤️❤️

Ok on to the actual episode

I know this is gonna be a good one

Idk how grenades work but certainly not Like That

Vegas wearing red I- 🥵

Oh god Vegas getting out his little torture briefcase

Pete's face says "he looks kinda good covered in blood"

I need that necklace Vegas is wearing

"Promise me, no matter what happens, you must return to me." ❤️❤️❤️ SEE WITHOUT THE SIDE STORY IT WOULD BE WEIRD TO SEE THEM ACTING LIKE A PROPER COUPLE NOW BECAUSE THERE WOULD BE NOTHING TO BRIDGE THE GAP BETWEEN "EMOTIONALLY CHARGED FAREWELL KISS" AND "WHOLESOME SOFT COUPLE BEHAVIOR"

Yes I am very passionate about this why do you ask

Vegas' face when Porsche doesn't show up alone lmao

VEGAS IN YET ANOTHER RED SHIRT MMMMM

The minor family residence is actually so pretty

Awww lil bit of Ta & Vegas interaction

Ta & Porsche awkwardness LMAO

VEGAS SIPPING RED WINE WHILE WEARING RED VELVET OH LORD HAVE MERCY

I think Chay's ringtone is the same as the alarm on my phone lol

Hahahaha the messy house is so relatable

Korn your apple metaphor is fucking stupid

Kim gifting Chay a guitar awww 😭❤️😭❤️

PROTECT CHAY AT ALL COSTS

Detective Kim back in action!! And he sees all the pictures on Chay's wall and the shirt and he actually finds it kinda endearing awwww

"Do you like anyone?" Real smooth, Kim.

THIS HURTS I K OW HOW IT'S GONNA END SO IT HURTS

Kinn is jealous and Porsche is ENJOYING IT

Oooooo Vegas spilling the tea 👀

Tay 🥺❤️❤️❤️

"Looking for something?" 👀

Balcony scene my beloved

"When you're done, return it to me. The gun... and yourself." 😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️

"I'm not just carrying one gun, you know" AND PORSCHE'S EYEBROW LMAOO

The way the sexy music just stops and Why Don't You Stay starts playing idk if I should laugh or cry

Idk if I'm a fan of the scene where Vegas speaks English for a long time - as much as I love Bible I feel like his voice sounds too soft and it makes his acting seem kinda flat (which I obviously can't judge when he's speaking Thai but in this scene I've kinda noticed it)

AGAIN I LOVE BIBLE AND I THINK HE'S INCREDIBLY TALENTED AND HARD-WORKING AND JUST OVERALL AMAZING, I just think he comes across as a little flat in some parts this scene (idk the lines feel like they should be delivered with more arrogance/confidence but that's just my opinion)

Vegas speaking Italian, now THAT'S hot

Porsche and Vegas have such good chemistry, such a shame Vegas is forcing it (though I don't think he's completely faking)

Pete as Kinn's spy keeping an eye on Vegas and Porsche is so good lol

I need the scene of Porsche dancing, drinking and smoking as a live wallpaper on my desktop please and thank you ❤️❤️❤️ idk what it is about that scene, it's so satisfying, aesthetically pleasing, attractive? Idk it's just great. The music really matches the vibe and Porsches dancing and the editing match the music I just love it

Especially that first shot where he empties his glass and the light hits his tits just right lmao

"Let's go outside" *takes him to the bathroom*

Porsche's triceps as he leans on the counter APOOOO ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US

JEALOUS KINN TO THE RESCUE

"DO YOU NOT SEE THE RING ON MY FINGER?" 🔥🔥🔥

I can't focus on them fighting I'm distracted by Apo's arms HOLY SHIT

"I shouldn't have loved a crappy guy like you" LOVE CONFESSION LOVE CONFESSION

This scene tho. THIS SCENE.

The way Kinn goes straight for Porsche's tit - same, babe

The lighting is so beautiful aaaa

The most unrealistic thing is that there is no mess whatsoever, no clean-up, nothing xD

But the hug??? Beautiful. <3

I guess in a way we have Vegas to thank for this huh?

[regarding-stories]

The Quintessential Quintuplets - fulfilling narrative promises?

Didn't I write about this just yesterday? Twice? Yup. I'm back and still in the five stages of grief about this one. Somewhere between anger, denial, and maybe some bargaining. I know it's ridiculous, but I couldn't go to bed before the second article helped me process some of the feelings regarding the movie out into written word. And I woke up and it was back on my mind.

I was wondering if one can objectify this disappointment I feel and I had additional thoughts on that topic. Now, no matter what I say about this in terms of analysis, it's clear that ultimately one also rationalizes one's own feelings. I felt it was the wrong ending. The movie felt flat and limp halfway through. I can try to rationalize why, but the reality is that if a story is brought to any satisfying conclusion - and that doesn't mean it's a "good" one - you will feel that. There will not always be a sense of acceptance. The author might try to rattle you and deliberately deny you the satisfaction. That's fair in art.

But I doubt that's what happened here. The story feels like it falls flat because you're not sold on the ending. People walked out. So lay back and join me for another ride.

First things first

No matter what else I say, if you made it this far into the series, the makers of both manga and anime have managed to make you care. As I said in the start, the character detail sells the series. You would want to know how it ends. And that it has to end has been "promised" right off the bat.

During the course of consuming the story you have built expectations. Maybe you looked for clues. Maybe you simply enjoyed the feelings the series transmitted. You navigated the story along the lines that its writers laid out.

Unwittingly, a story is also a contract between author and audience. Some stories guarantee the outcome and the joy is seeing how it happens. Some stories are more about passing experience with no singular goal or resolution point. Sometimes it's about the ride, sometimes it's about the end. "Ideally," both matter.

The Quintessential Quintuplets (QQ) made it clear from the beginning that there must be a definite end and a singular end. That was as a promise and a narrative constraint, and either it would deliver on that promise or provide a twist or copout. It even teased twisting the end several times - multiple white dresses, the "quintuplets game" right before the ceremony. But in the end it plays this promise straight - which is surprisingly unsatisfying. Not saying that a twist or a copout would have been more rewarding. But due to the way the story "gets there," it incurs quite a bit of narrative debt it doesn't pay down on.

And oh yeah. Spoilers.

What genre is it?

What genre is this actually? And what are the genre's promises?

Is it a mystery? Is it a love story? Is it a story about the fleeting nature of first love? It's kind of neither and tries to be all of it, and succeeds and fails to varying degrees.

Is it a mystery? Mystery refers here to something akin to a detective story. Not the kind of mystery with monsters and files with a big X on them. More like a classical Whodunnit. And in a sense QQ makes it clear that wants to be a bit of that. It deliberately and constantly obfuscates the outcome, it provides clues but these clues are often misleading, or not real clues.

Who will hold Futaro's hand at the campfire? Subverted. They all do. Who kisses Futaro under the bell? Deliberately held out on. Who posed as Rena? Etc. The story then insists, through narrative from the future, that these are decisive events that tip the balance. But in reality they are just placeholders the writer left open to fill them later on and put the girl into he always wanted to. The campfire legend keeps everybody in the race. The bell one is unresolved and gives only limited clues (though Yotsuba was quite a possibility here).

Here the author says that these are the decision points. But we don't get the clues to truly answer that by them alone. This story does not lead us to its conclusion, it does not allow us to solve the mystery. It's mystifying and deliberately obfuscating the end.

In other words, it fails as a mystery story because it doesn't want to give away the end. This makes it hard to be satisfied with any ending. Futaro plays a big part in it because there are no clear giveaways on his side either. For the longest time he refuses even to play the game he's in proper.

This will factor into my final assessment of the genre, but let's look at it some more...

Love, actually?

So is it a story of fleeting teenage love? It tries to be. But while it plays on the feelings of magical summers and a time that never comes back, it insists that love is not fleeting. Campfire legends and who rings the bell with whom seem like overblown things, and each girl gets to have a bit of her own love drama with Futaro.

But the story insists that first love is not fleeting. It's even destined, it leads to marriage. And frankly, it goes even further by making Yotsuba the Kyoto girl. It was always meant to be. In other words, it takes love quite seriously. And the girls don't seem to relent on their feelings on Futaro even after the cat is out of the bag, which I find pathetic. Yes, they all let Yotsuba have her happy end - because they're good people. We never get to see them find their own love, their own "ending." If love is supposed to work like in the story, dispensed by the fate fairy, then why did she just retire her wand after 20% of the job? (She sucks.)

Love stories work differently than mysteries. We may not always know if the protagonists end up with each other. But we get to see what they feel on the way. This is only half-fulfilled here. What we see is that each girl gets to have her story by his side and we see feelings on display. But what we don't see is the inevitability that tells us: This is love.

We just don't.

Do you get a single moment that tells us - "Oh, this has to be!"? Where you can't feel but say: "Futaro clearly has fallen in love with Yotsuba." You definitely will not. Because it feels like they picked one of many moments and declared it the winner.

It's not fate. It's like the spinning wheel in the Game of Life board game we saw them play together.

We don't see them have this inevitable chemistry that convinces us of the answer. That's why the answer feels flat. The author sets it up as meant to be, but the story never sells it. It's out of sight. With what we see of Futaro he should be unable to decide because you don't really know at this point, either. The answer the author provides is like the drink Futaro pulls out of the vending machine. It may represent his supposed gut decision. But it is not inevitable. It's not set up as the answer.

It's an answer, just not the answer.

So the winner is...

QQ is a shell game. As the author moves around the shells we are deliberately misled as to who is the winner to reel us in. Yotsuba's winning ticket was stamped five years ago. She's the card in the sleeve. Everything else is just chaff and distraction.

This is part of why the answer feels random. Yes, it is foreshadowed by Yotsuba being the Kyoto girl. So love never changes, and yet it takes us an awful long time to get there. Look at Futaro. Look at how he treats Yotsuba. Do you feel how they work as a couple? They work as loyal friends. But they lack something.

Yotsuba's playground outing on the date lays out a few things. It's a reminder how she's the child among them. She's not even presented as teenager much. She's the goofball puppy that I was glad also got a bit of attention because I like her. I never was convinced it was real. I was just glad the puppy got a treat, too, else I would have felt sorry for her.

What the story also is is both a race and popularity contest. But the popularity is never the one of the girls with Futaro. It's with us. Which one do you like best? What's your type? Who could you fall for or identify with? There are five archetypal choices on the menu.

Miku, for example, is like a remix of two of my exes. If she's executed well, I might always be partial to that. While all five girls are meant to be likable and suitable for identifying with them, people will be like the quintuplets. Once asked, everybody picks differently. Of course Yotsuba has her own fan club. But does that really mean the answer is narratively satisfying because you like Yotsuba best? (Which I can totally see happening.) You see, I do like Yotsuba a lot. But narratively she fails to satisfy. She needed to be the Kyoto girl to have something going for her in terms of the romance which we don't see happening.

She could have been satisfying had it been set up, it's not beyond her. But by delivering the setup after the resolution the writers admit how weak and arbitrary this ending is when comparing it to what came before it. By avoiding committing for this long, maybe any ending would feel arbitrary. You're after all 500+ minutes into watching the show when we head to the resolution. There was lot of damn time to set something up.

And the nasty thing is that by dragging out the popularity contest, it is meant to end at its highest tension point. None of the other girls gets gently let down, knowing that she's not it. They all learn the hard way. The show could have convincingly shed the leaves until one remains as the answer. It could have treated the other girls as the equally loved ones that end up not being chosen. But the dramatic solution is like teenage love often is - not what you hope for and painful.

"Quite the Crappy Kyoto Quagmire"

And then we are not released into an end. We're just dragged through the husk, a mere shell of a story that feels empty. This whole bit of getting Yotsuba to accept Futaro's decision is unconvincing and overplayed. The drama doesn't fit her.

It doesn't help that the second half of the movie rewrites Yotsuba's character. The always cheerful genki girl that is a ditz was once a dedicated, focused girl-with-a-goal, and actually quite selfish. We're meant to believe Yotsuba is what she is because she's turning herself around before we get to look. Her actual story is copy-pasted in and has been deliberately hidden from us. The Yotsuba puzzle was missing important pieces.

Yotsuba wasn't a lovable ditz that required the aid of others. She made bad decisions. Her sisters stepped up for her in spite of that. And like she said in the second season: They never breathed a word about it. So that we don't know.

You don't get to be complicated just at the end. We have to see that before. Not after the story is meant to have resolved. Yotsuba is a plot twist. The card in the sleeve. The winning ticket was sold before you enter.

Movies that establish a lovable cast often have a hard time letting go. Look at the ending of, let's say, Lilo & Stitch. You notice how the authors don't want to let go and want to tell us more stories with these characters.

But here's the thing. With the way this story was set up as a popularity contest and that you "have to chose," you can't stick around after that happened. The whole "quintuplets game" at the end is a silly gimmick. Yes, it reminds us that he loves them all to a depth that they can no longer fool him. But again that's not entirely how it feels. It also reminds us of our own dissatisfaction with the resolution.

The same is true for this unshakeable "it will work" attitude we get from Futaro. It's not set up. It feels empty. After he made up his mind, it's forever made up. Is that how a real person would be in his stead? He feels entirely like a plot device after the reveal. The date he takes Yotsuba on is unconvincing and even rehashes their "greatest moment" instead of giving us another one. Because they couldn't think of one.

Popularity contests are not good stories

If this is a popularity contest, make it a game and let me chose my ending. Give me five equally satisfying endings. Let everybody win on their own terms. Don't fool us with shell games that can only disappoint.

Somebody wrote online: "If you don't like the ending, play the game."

If I don't like the ending, the author hasn't done the job right. Whether we like the ending of a story is not meant to be decided by our semi-random bias in picking a character. Whatever ending we get, it's meant to be sold to us. When we read stories, we like to have ourselves set up for this satisfaction. This is manipulation we willingly participate in. We want to be right. We want to have felt "the right thing." Cash in our reward voucher for paying attention.

What The Quintessential Quintuplets did was set up a minimal threshold each girl gets to cross so that she is a candidate for the final decision. What it didn't do is set up the winner so that we can be happy with her. And it absolutely knows it. The second half of the movie is proof that it didn't stick the landing and is conscious of it. We never get to let go - as the other girls don't. They just line up behind her sister. We never get this "Yes, you were the special one." feeling. Because she wasn't. She was one of many, not the one.

And maybe none of them was. The actual story doesn't line up with the happily-ever-after ending. It could remain as the story of our teenage flings and almost better end unresolved. Okay, maybe not. It's hard to imagine a satisfying ending here.

But look at this way. For the end of season 2 all the girls line up for Miku's sake. And it feels genuine, satisfying, and entirely in character. Even Nino's little slip. And this ending does not have that feeling. They lined up for Yotsuba alright, but again before the story started.

An author's prerogative is that they get to make choices for us. If I play a game or a role-playing game, I have agency. So I get to chose what I like, hopefully, and you can bank on me liking my choice. If you chose for me, however, you need to make the choice matter for me.

I rewatched the series 2.5 times at this point. And that was satisfying. And I don't feel like I ever want to rewatch the movie. The narrative satisfaction only lasted while the game was going. Ending it sunk the ship altogether. I never liked popularity contests. Why did I join this one?

[allthelovelydeadthings]

Disappointment

From Merriam-Webster's Dictionary: Disappoint. Verb. To fail to meet the expectation or hope of.

In some ways, I am very different than my mother. In others, though, I can be just like her. One such way is our shared farmer's cynism.

"The dogs need to be fed, and walked. The sheep need to be let out to pasture. They don't care about the weather, how your day is, whether you're sick or not. The chores need to be done."

Replace the specifics with any farm chore, anything a custodian of nature would do, and there you have it.

I didn't want to be sad with others. I didn't even want to talk about the election. To be honest, I was a bit numb. I don't feel any big emotions, because those emotions have already been felt. The government has never really cared for me; rural, queer, humanities scholar, woman- they care about the money they can scrounge from me, and that's it. It doesn't matter who's in office- that's how it's felt since I was cognisant enough to understand that bi-partisan politics will never truly aid the people.

I don't know, man. I just don't know. I'm not surprised, honestly, I'm not even angry. How can I be? There's been a genocide happening in Palestine for over a year now, reproductive rights have been cut down again and again, school budgets have been being sliced and diced, and everyone in the queer- especially trans folks- community has been demonized regardless of who is rotting in the White House.

But I'm not saying anything new right now. That's what actually makes me angry. We will write pages and pages of woe and empty promises, but what are we doing to actually build hope?

Disappointment is not new for me. Cynism isn't either. I'm 24, watching the world go by, stuck in an office job that makes me feel unfulfilled, and kept from creating because I can't stop comparing myself to my friends who have found more success than me.

But as I write this, as I face and contemplate my doom and gloom and anxiety, I think back to one of the worst fights I have ever had with my mother, after the 2020 election. She told me that my future was ruined, and she couldn't understand why I didn't understand her fear. I told her that if I lived my life in fear, making every decision based off of what the worst outcome would be, there'd be no point to my living. That I would rather die than live miserable all of the time because that wasn't living.

The same holds true now. You have to hold onto hope, because without it, you won't do anything to make a difference. We see it all the time; "the world's going to shit anyway, who cares if I get Starbucks or McDonalds, cross picket lines, overconsume, litter, etc." "nothing I do will change, so why bother?" "Neither outcome will be good for us, so what's the point of voting?"

You've got to get up. You've got to do your chores. You've got to take care of yourself, so you can care for those you love. And most importantly, you have to find joy and purpose in what you can reasonably create and control.

Don't want to join a protest or call your reps to make changes? Make posters to deliver to those who will, flood reps' inboxes with emails. Feel too small to do something worthwhile? Go outside. Take a walk, bring a trash bag, and pick up every piece of litter you can find. Start small. Donate to local food banks, give and support where you can. Stop supporting big companies where you can. Reuse, repair, recycle.

Take inventory of yourself. Do you want to do your actions for you, or for something or someone else? What does that mean to you in the context of your decision? For me, writing this was to help myself put my thoughts in order, and get them out so I can maybe sleep better. Posting it is freeing myself of the burden of my thoughts, which, yes, is selfish. Especially when I am white, cis, and privileged. I'm lucky, even with a lot of my rights being threatened every day, that I can go to sleep in a bed that is safe, afford to feed myself, my cat, my dog, curl up on the couch and listen to the mixtape my partner made me for our anniversary.

I don't know, man. That feels like all I can say with absolute certainty. I can't make this beautiful prose. Nothing I'm saying here is groundbreaking. But I'm saying it, and sharing it with all of you, because I want you to know that I believe in your potential to care. I believe in your ability to do good for yourself and others. I believe in your ability to believe in the world. Because for every bigot, every window smashed, slur said, and ugly winners uplifted, there is a mother who jumps into puddles with her child, people who will carve out safe spaces and fight for minority voices. People who will be kind, despite, despite, despite.

I believe in you in the way I believe in myself. Take time to heal, however that looks for you, and then get out there and do the chores.

I don't know man. But I do know that the best we can do is try.

[daydreambelievcr]

"I do. Performance is an art to me either way, no matter the vantage. Oh, I'd love to catch a show with you!" Valerie confirmed with an enthusiastic nod, surprised at her eagerness to share that part of herself with him. She'd only recently ventured back to the world of theater as a spectator, the wounds of the past finally healed enough to allow for such a thing, but it stood to reason that making new memories in those spaces with Seojun at her side would be a good way to erase the old ones. "Creativity doesn't come naturally to everyone, but that's okay. You have other strengths," she assured him. "I used to think I wasn't very smart 'cause I didn't get the best grades. But as I got older, I learned that there are different kinds of intelligence. I try to remind the daycare kids of that every day." She said it simply, like it was just an interesting tidbit she was sharing with him and not what it really was, a life-long insecurity. "It's nice that you're expandin' your horizons, though—takin' dance classes with Lou. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Promise," she said, extending her pinky in his direction.

"Well, it sounds like you made the right decision. Kids should have time to be kids, havin' fun with their friends and explorin' the world. That's no way to live, especially when you're that young." She tried not to sound too impassioned about the topic, lest it lead to any questions about what might have inspired her feelings. "I take it you're not a big fan of going to church," she inferred from his tone, her expression earnestly curious as she looked over at him. Eyes blown wide in alarm, worried for a moment that he thought she was only complimenting him to be polite, Val fixed him with a more serious look. "I'm not just bein' nice, you know. I really think so. People in that line of work should care about victims, and I think you care a lot. You'll surpass my expectations easily, I know it." She hoped she wasn't overstepping some unspoken boundary, or making assumptions about Seojun that he disagreed with. But it felt important to the circus performer that her sincerity was clear. Managing a weak laugh at his observation, she briefly wondered if it was juvenile of her to avoid that kind of media when most people her age didn't think twice about it, but she brushed the thought off just as easily as it had occurred to her. "Thanks. I don't know what that says about me, but I'll take it. It's a hard time of year to avoid those kinds of films, for sure. That's why I tend to gravitate towards more light-hearted Halloween movies. As for shows, I stick to comedies, the soapy kind of dramas. And I love a good romcom or musical movie. If somethin's gonna make me cry, I prefer it to be the good kind of cry." Meeting his comment with a very elegant snort, Valerie shook her head. "Oh, please. The pet names and quips are second nature to me, hun. But you... I'm startin' to think you might be trouble." It was delivered like a light-hearted jest, her tone playful, but a part of her regarded him with renewed fascination.

"Yeah? You won't mind if I crash one of yours shifts?" she wondered, a delighted grin playing across her lips at the idea. She'd never really had a reason to venture to the Scaredy Cat Club. On the list of places she'd yet to patronize around Anchorage, it ranked pretty low. But now, she had a new reason to want to visit—aside from the tantalizing offer of people watching. "Cocktails? You a bartender there? I'll have to see for myself if your mixed drinks are any good," the blonde agreed, resolute in her decision to visit him sometime. "Now that you mention it, I always seem to hear from you more whenever you're too busy to come by the carnival. Maybe that's why I still feel like I get my fill of you, even when you can't come to our shows," Valerie mused, paying no mind to the accidental implication on her part that she looked forward to hearing from him, regardless of whether it was in person or over the phone. "You say that like you're some kind of ogre. Just 'cause you're tall and dress in dark clothes doesn't mean the kids around here will be scared of you," she insisted. She couldn't imagine anyone feeling ill-at-ease around Seojun, even despite his more intimidating stature. He was a beacon of warmth to her, and she was certain that the children under her care would agree. At the revelation that he'd already constructed a certain image of her in his mind (and one that was painfully true to her tastes), the songstress allowed herself to be lead through the crowd as they set off in search of her drink, her hand nestled in his like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You can really read me like a book, huh?" she replied, that newfound feeling of warmth spreading through her chest. "Tea with no sugar... you mean you don't like sweet tea?" the blonde feigned a dramatic gasp. "Are you sure you're Southern?" she wondered, eyes narrowing playfully, but her smile still intact. Taking the extended cup from him with her free hand, Valerie raised it to her companion, their hands still clasped together between them. "Thanks, m'lord. You're definitely a Southern gentleman, I'll give ya that much."

"So being part of big performances yourself, you also enjoy watching them from the guest side?" he asked curiously, "we should go to the theater some day, I think it could be fun and I haven't watched a play live in ages." Seojun took another look at his costume recognizing the details and parts where his friends helped him; it had been fun days with the three of them cutting, painting and decorating. "They're really good for sure, I still owe them a good meal in exchange for it. Oh, if they help you with crafts for the kids, they must really like it then. I thought it was a just a random thing they enjoyed, but they seem to be really into it. I have trouble with creative stuff, but getting into dancing classes with Lou has been pretty fun — don't tell him I told you that".

"Balancing it with school was not hard... but I never had time to hang out with my friends or do much of whatever I wanted. I guess that's also what got me tired of that life," Seojun explained. "Church on Sundays was a must, though, the only part of our week we couldn't change." This last part was crowned with a little nose scrunch that was mostly just a reflex of how secretly annoyed he was about attending mass at least once or twice a week. Seojun got a little shy at her words, his bites to the food even getting smaller as he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks. "You're being too nice," he mumbled, "but if you have such high expectations about me, then I'll have to work harder to fulfill them", he grinned happily. It felt just nice to be appreciated in that way and to receive said compliments from such a good friend. Oh, she just kept adding up to her innocent image with every comment. He definitely couldn't imagine her binge watching crime shows in the way Lou and he did. "You know what? That's great, the fact that you still have enough soul to not be desensitized by those shows is really good. What do you like to watch on TV, though? Specially now with Halloween, there's a bunch of spooky stuff in every channel." He laughed inevitably at their funny banter and shook his head. "Not a chance. I've seen you come up with thousands of pet names and comebacks for everything and everyone. I got nothin' on you for sure. If you think I'm a smooth talker, it's just because I'm hangin' out with you".

"You should come visit sometime and hear some of these stories yourself. I bet you'll be entertained. I can even give you a list of where the hottest gossip of the night will be and not to be a braggart, but my cocktail are to die for" Seojun offered, although on second thought he didn't know how much of a good idea was to invite someone like her to a place like the Scaredy Cat. He'd have to be very careful with Valerie if she decided to visit. "You bet," he assured her, "my weeks are not complete without a show performed by you. Haven't you noticed I text you more whenever I cannot attend?" He laughed softly at the topic of children. He could vouch for that, kids were certainly something when it came to resistance. "True, but also way different to bump against you who looks like a fairy opposite to bumping against me who is just tall and dressing in black," he replied bumping her hip right back. Seojun used the advantage of his height to look over the crowd. "Pink clothes, cowboy boots, flower patterns... lemonade was sitting right next to the plethora of things that makes Valerie so Valerie," he commented right after spotting the table that was serving the drink. "I found it, let's go," he smiled brightly and reached for her hand instinctively so they weren't separated by the crowd. "Mango smoothie probably, I'll add a bit of vodka if I don't have to drive or do anything that requires too much focus, but either that or orange juice, I guess. I like fresh stuff during the day but stronger stuff during the nights like whisky or a strong tea with no sugar." Seojun opened a path for them to go through the room safely to the desired destination. His hand tightly closed around her smaller one until they finally reached their objective. He immediately grabbed a glass and offered it to her "M'lady, your beverage."

[faerunscursed]

The words of the devil before were a reminder that most of the time, it was Mizora who gave him the freedom of choice. It was her who controlled the leash around his neck. It was her benevolence, that made him more than a slave, something that could be remedied if he wasn't careful. Unlike Karlach, he couldn't run from his obligations, as Mizora so delicately put, and Mizora didn't have the restrictions Zariel did. No, Mizora could freely walk the mortal plane, forever following anywhere he went.

"Karlach is not bound by the same thing that binds us, Mizora. She was forced into that by someone else. She is more free than I will be." Wyll pointed out, though there was no venom to his words, no ill will. Moreover, his voice was clear, with no hint of a lie to follow. "I bound myself to you willingly, Mizora. You presented the contract and I agreed to it without hesitation. I did what I had to save Baldurs Gate in my fathers absence. I made that decision knowing how my father fault about devils, and while I did not anticipate his reaction I would never take it back. I am bound to you unapologetically. But she had no such choice."

Every word held firm conviction in the way he delivered them, because it was all true. Despite what he had become now, this pact had given him the power to save those who could not save themselves. In the eyes of many right then, he had become a hero. However, at the root of it all, it was the power of a devil and it was all encompassing. Corrupting. Wyll would be lying if he didn't bask in the power he had. In fact, he found himself hungry for more, and although he used it for good, it was rooted in darkness that would eat at his soul. He knew that all too well but it was worth the cost.

Yet those seven years of hunting at her side alone was not enough to chip away his morals completely. Wyll was still a hero of the people and to simply choose between his father and Karlach tore at him. The warlock thought the choice over, weighed the consequences, and prepared a counterpoint. He had to figure out just why he was so driven to help the man who had condemned and the answer surprised him.

"I thought that perhaps in saving my father, I could prove that I am more than he thought I could be. Make him regret casting me aside like I was nothing by rescuing him as the blade of frontiers." His fiendish eye, staring right into Mizora's, burned with the passion of a man who wanted to rub it in his gifts in his fathers face, much like he had tried over the last several years. Everything he did was to make a bigger name for himself, to get his father's attention. To prove that he was better and stronger. "But maybe this is exactly what he deserves. If he gets out of this, it won't be by my hand and I'll remind him of that should we meet again."

Then the passion that had suddenly overcome him, dulled slightly as he looked away. "You're right, he doesn't want me. So why not help the someone else who cares more than he ever has." Wyll approached the contract that he had decided on, standing before it but not quite signing it. "However, I don't think I have the heart to kill her. I will do everything else, including binding myself further to you, but I won't kill her."

The eyes that met Mizora now were pleading ones. "Instead of killing her, I could promise to leave. Should she lose complete control, I will leave her behind. I will say my goodbyes and never see her again." Wyll nodded his head, as if to confirm to himself that it was what he wanted. "Do this and I will sign, you'll have my word, I swear it."

Wyll dug the tip of the quill into the palm of his hand, covering it in blood. If there was to be a deal, it would be signed in his blood. With that he couldn't take back his word.

"I understand." Mizora's expression softened. "You humans and your relationships have always been surprisingly complicated." There was a strange glint in her eyes as if the Cambion spoke of more than just mortal connections. "Furthermore, your father is Baldur's Gate's champion. The city needs him more than he needs you. The Blade of Frontiers is too far away from its home to be of any useful protection."

A brief flicker of flames licked across Mizora's deep orange hair as Wyll pointed out how she too avoided Avernus like it was a plague. With her nose wrinkled, Mizora said: "Karlach is blood money, whether she is in or outside of Avernus. That is never going to change. Karlach was the item of exchange for someone else's powers. That makes her as free a woman as you are a free man. Just like you don't get to refuse your obligations, Karlach is not supposed to run away from hers." Her expression darkened. "If anything, Karlach should consider herself lucky that she could run away at all. That engine clearly was not enough of a deterrent as my Mistress hoped. Believe me, if I had been the one who had control over Karlach, she would have been dead the moment, she stepped out of Avernus. A pile of ash with a single soul coin in the middle."

A certain pleasure and satisfaction rolled over Mizora at seeing Wyll's bravery melt away like ice in Avernus' heat. Her puppy was still that. A puppy. Loudly yapping, easily excitable, but still woefully inexperienced. His bark carried no weight just yet. And as far as Mizora was concerned, it would stay like this for a long time. If anything, Wyll had hindered his development by making friends in the first place. He had allowed these idiots to influence his morals and make him believe that he could do good. Amorality would suit her pupster so much better. They would get there in the end. Mizora was sure of it.

"I know", Mizora quipped back and crossed her arms, "And I am not in the mood to hand out a favour, puppy. You disobeyed me. You don't get to ask for a favour, so an additional deal is all you get."

The only reason, Mizora had not called forth Cirrus and Ferras, was the fact that an additional deal and how it was conducted was explained in the main contract. Therefore, by Mizora's standards, they were not breaching Wyll's contract and merely operating in its legal terms. This was further emphasised by the fact that, unlike Wyll's soul contract, these contracts had clauses explaining what conditions voided the agreement.

Mizora said: "You cast yourself as a hero all the time. The fabled Blade of Frontiers. You even have your own little catchphrase." The Cambion chuckled, finding that aspect of her little warlock wonderfully droll. "So, what's the matter, Wyll Ravenguard? Are you suddenly realising that making a heroic choice is much harder than just prancing around with your rapier and playing the hero?"

Her reddish orange eyes locked onto the large horns, curling beautifully across Wyll's head. Mizora smiled fondly, still thinking her pupster looked much better, now that he could no longer hide behind a charismatic face and the safety of anonymity. These horns would force him to make amoral choices sooner or later.

Mizora said: "Believe me, those beautiful horns, little devil, were me being lenient." She spread her open hands as if she were washing her palms off the blood of Wyll's work and shrugged her shoulders. "And well, what does a devil like me know of heroism anyway? Though I might be willing to reconsider if you have a better proposition, puppy."

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ CROW EATER ❜

with Juan Carlos ‘Juice’ Ortiz.

Request: Hi lovely! Can I please ask for a juice x reader where they have been fighting for about a good week about little things, and finally get the courage to talk to one another and maybe make up smut when they get finally make up💫thank you!

BY @multiyfandomgirl40

Word count: about 600.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that! To me, the smut part didn't fit this time.

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

When you left the party consumed by demons, Juice followed you to your shared house. And even if you thought that he would stop to listen about your insecurities flooding back, after seeing that bitch trying to haunt him, he just told you that you were crazy. That everything was part of your imagination. He could have said that you should trust him, but instead, he decided to tell you that he never had felt jealous any time that Tig is jumping around you. Your boyfriend didn't care about your feelings, until he saw you crying for the first time. He had crossed the limit. And seeing you like that made him think that maybe you were a little right, and he was a little wrong. But Juice's apologies came when you slammed the door on his face.

That night he slept on the sofa, just like the next three. You gave him the silent treatment, ignoring him completely. His words, his touches, his gifts delivered to your job. You didn't care a shit, exactly as he did with your demons. He started to sleep in the clubhouse and you didn't feel guilty for a single second. It was that easy like going to that bitch and setting her straight. But, according to Jax, he used to spend his time crying in his room. Regretting and lamenting with Chibs. The scottish were also desperate for you to forgive him.

One week has passed and you can't deny how much you miss him, so you take the decision to go and talk with him; because Jackson told you that he was too ashamed. He has never had a serious relationship before you and he doesn't know exactly what to do.

Sighing, you turn by a side the doorknob, coming into the gloom room. You can decipher his silhouette under the covers, curled against the pillow as if he was hugging you. Actually, there smells more like you than like him. Closing the door, you take off his hoodie that you're wearing and also your sneakers. Now, you feel bad and sorry for him. Tucking into the bed, you notice Juice not wanting to open his eyes, in case that it's a dream. But you can also notice the red freckles over the bridge of his nose, that only appears when he cries with all his efforts. Kissing every one of them with short and gentle gestures, you pull apart the pillow, letting him embrace your body with his bare arms.

You weren't expecting for your boyfriend breaking into cry again, sinking his face into the gap between your neck and your shoulder. With a hand on his head and another on his back, you try to comfort him while he starts to apologize again. His supplicant tone of voice is badly hurting you. Cupping his cheeks into your hands, you kiss every inch of his face with clingy kisses, until Juice feels somewhat better.

“I'm sorry for ta—talking to you like I did…” He mumbles, fixing his eyes on yours. “You were right… I am so sorry, baby…”

“We both were wrong, Juicy… I shouldn't doubt you and you should have heard about how I was feeling”. You reply then, caressing his nose with yours.

“I will talk to her… next time I see her, I promise… I do—don't wanna lose you”.

“You will not, my baby boy”. Hugging him tightly, you kiss his forehead this time, pressing your lips for some long seconds. “I love you so, so much”.

“I love you too, (Y/N)... I don't love… anyone else but you”.

You can't help but hold him as much closer as you can, kissing every tear running down his cheeks.

[bumbershots]

Mistletoe & Wine

A/N: Hello this is my collaboration for @goldenbluesuit very well put together Christmas song fic challenge. It’s my first time participating and my first time posting my writing here as well (I’m sort of new, I have no friends) so, I’m kind of nervous and English is not my first language (sorry for any mistakes) thanks to my boyfriend for being a Brit so he could help me with the “slang” and for reading this about fifteen times and listened to Mistletoe and Wine by Cliff Richard throughout the entire week with me lol. Thanks for  taking the time to read this :) If you want to befriend a twenty six year old Aries, or just send me an ask click here.

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Harry meets a woman that is not here to stay, he will need to decide if that will keep him from making the most of the very few days they have together or dread the imminent separation.

It was raining when her flight landed in London. The kind of rain that doesn't pour heavily, instead it settles over the city for days. And although she can't afford to take a cab, she steps out of the airport just to stare at the endless grey of the sky and wrap herself in her coat because of how cold it was. After a few more minutes she goes back inside to find the way to get out of there on the tube, she knew it to be possible after all the research she's been doing since the age of twelve on the internet.

Soon enough, the man she approached to ask for help, confirms that a train is leaving in a few minutes and she can easily get off at Hammersmith, he even helps her buy the ticket and recommends to get an oyster card if she is going to use London's Underground often. But she doesn't know, she relishes in the element of surprise that is surrounding her life for the next 3 weeks. It excites her to an unfamiliar degree to see people come and go into the carriage, it almost makes her miss her stop, but she manages to get off just in time, her hands clutching the heavy suitcase that contains all her nicest and warmest clothes. She follows the crowd up the stairs and out of the station, the busy street revealed before her is straight out of those books she restlessly studied at school, people wearing trench coats and long scarfs hurry in hopes to avoid the rain and then a red double-decker bus passes by. The cherry on top.

The spontaneous decision to spend Christmas in England instead of her home country was made months ago, on the night of her birthday, although her closest friends would say that she's been dreaming of it since she read Harry Potter. No one gave her a hard time for it, in fact, almost all her friends and family members went to the airport to wish her a safe trip. Her grandmother was cheeky enough to slip a twenty pound note when hugging her goodbye.

Every day of the first week went by in a blur, visiting museums, galleries and walking around the city, getting soaked in its beauty and the endless rain. By the beginning of the second week, a bit tired of the scarce options from the hotel's breakfast, she ventured out, burying half of her face in the scarf she bought the day before at Primark, her feet guiding her almost out of instinct to the little cafe at the end of Hercules road. The place is warm and the menu seems to have it all for a very fair price. After a couple of minutes the Full English wins, she iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds a cup of tea handing over the money.

"Get a seat love, I'll bring it over." The elder lady says making the girl smile and thank her before scampering across the room to sit by the window at the four seat table tucked in the corner.

It doesn't take long for her food to arrive and for her to dig in, feeling kind of full almost at the end, she slows down then, a trick her father passed down on her. Let it settle in for a few minutes before going back at it. Works every time. She gets lost on the daily life happening before her eyes, the people walking by, some in a rush maybe to get to work, others in a rush to get to the shops early and buy presents. She could easily tell the difference between one and other. The elderly couple walking to the market, slower than anybody else, arms linked and without a care in the world. A girl around her age doing "the walk of shame" elicited a smirk on her lips. Good for her.

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" She almost missed the question by the stranger standing there. "There's no empty seats elsewhere I'm afraid, I won't bother you." He was right, in the span of thirty minutes the place was full to the brim with families, the three seats at her table the only ones free so, she nodded and even managed to smile in a friendly way. Unfortunately for her, the green eyed stranger did the same, a sweet dimple on his left cheek more prominent than on the right one and she had to eat a spoonful of beans in an attempt to hide her blush.

Two weeks in the country, almost two weeks, and the best looking man on it decides to show up on a greasy spoon cafe when she's eating what's left of her sausages and beans. His food is delivered by the same lady from earlier, of course it is something that looks healthy. The sudden need to fly away from the place pops in her head, it's not a bad one, he doesn't even know her name. She wants to know his. She remembers how he said he wouldn't bother her, it's almost disappointing, she wants to be bothered.

The situation seems to be straight out of a rom-com, she is cutting the banger in little pieces, as if the formula to spark conversation with the mystery guy keeping her company is hidden in them. But after five minutes she sighs quietly, knowing that her own shyness won't let her even glance at him again. She will have to do her best to remember him and observe from the corner of her eye until the last piece of minced pork is consumed by her. And maybe she will gush about how gorgeous he was with her friends once she is back home, describing his shiny emerald eyes for them, sharing a sigh when she recalls how dreamy his accent was and squeal upon the memory of his raspy voice.

Ten minutes later her last bite is chewed and swallowed, the cup is empty as well. She's about to grab her coat draped on the back of her chair. "I'm going to have to break my non-disturbing you promise but... um, that's a sick cardigan." His voice doesn't sound confident as before, he even clears his throat, but his eyes never leave hers.

"Thanks, my grandma knitted it for me." She forgets about her coat and straightens out a bit for him to appreciate the colourful patchwork and extends her left arm to show the over-sized sleeve. Her companion hums in approval. "She hates it."

"What?" His green eyes widening in disbelief and she just shrugs.

"As soon as I put it on she went on and on about how horrible it was, the wrong proportions and how it all seemed better off in her mind." They share a giggle and don't notice that their empty plates have been taken away and the place is no longer swamped by people. "But I like it, I like it a lot, does a good job keeping me warm." And makes her look lovely, he thinks but doesn't say.

Instead he licks his lips before speaking again. "I'm Harry." He offers his left hand and she quickly eyes the cross tattoo.

"I'm a tourist." She says before adding her real name, earning a deep chuckle from him before letting go of his hand.

The set of circumstances in which she met Harry is dreamy for sure, but something about him made the set of affairs so real. When he asked about the places where she'd been the scoff afterwards and the roll of his eyes made her ask what was wrong about them. But he didn't answer, with a shake of his head and a deep sigh he asked for her phone number. The promise to show her the real London lingered in the air as they parted ways outside of the corner cafe.

Her heart raced at the very sight of him outside Borough Market the following morning. "Morning love, alright?" he greeted her before hugging her tight and quick. It was so genuine it made her wonder if she really just met him the day before. "Do you like doughnuts?"

"Who doesn't?" she says with that grin he worries will wait for him in his dreams.

"Wisest words ever spoken." Harry's arm is wrapped around her shoulders, guiding her on their quest inside the huge market.

The early morning is spent too soon, Harry guides her to talk to the stall owners, they are so passionate about their produce, most of them willing when possible to give them a sample. The highlight is the stop at Bread Ahead, they buy more doughnuts than what she thinks they need. They eat them all while sharing a Monmouth coffee. Harry shares with her stories about almost every stall they passed by. "I'm not a fan of red meat, and oysters." She keeps record of it, basking in his lovely anecdotes that seemed to summon the sun from it's hiding place. "We're granted a sunny day in winter!" He celebrates and it's impossible not to join him. "Let's go to Richmond Park."

Of course she nods in agreement and follows him down the street where he parked his car before she gets in the passenger seat. The stranger danger alarm, should've gone off in her head. But there was something about him, like he was holding her in place. As she heard Harry speak about his job, it started to make more sense in her head. Harry was a lot like this country, foreign, new, exciting and hers for the next few days. He made that clear when they parted ways at the end of the day.

"Come home with me for Christmas." Harry asked her on what would be the beginning of her last week in London, while having a picnic on Primrose Hill.

"With your family?" Her eyebrows were shot up when he nodded, fighting back that deadly smirk of his. "All your relatives will be there?" He nods again and she scoffs completely agitated. "Don't be daft Harry!" She voices out her feelings borrowing an expression of his.

He laughs and it's impossible for her not to join him, her face growing hotter by the second. "I don't want to go without you, and mum will love to have you there," that's what she fears.

"I don't know Harry, might be weird." He disagrees right away.

"It's close to Liverpool, we could spend a day or two over there." The past week he's been trying to learn as many things from her as possible and if he chooses his words carefully he can convince her. "Pay a visit to Anfield, The Cavern." His fake nonchalant attitude makes her roll her eyes, "Strawberry Fields is there too, you know?" She agrees and he kisses the back of her hand to mask the proud grin on his face.

In the past, she was always careful not to let a partner know how deeply she cared about them. The thought of being vulnerable made her lose her mind, thinking it was a sign of weakness. But seeing Harry drive through the English countryside, singing at the top of his lungs to Mistletoe and Wine by Cliff Richard and smiling just for her. It made her want to tell him, but not even all the words in every single language ever spoken by humanity could be enough to give him an idea of how much she cares for him.

There hasn't been a proper kiss between them, it puzzled her at first. Because his gaze seemed to be constantly directed to her lips. But then there was all the touching, holding hands, tucking her to his side when walking, his tender touch before hugging her goodbye. And the way he was always running his hands through her hair.

"She's a friend," he introduces her to his mum Anne and sister Gemma, after saying her name, chewing on the word like it's that mint gum he carries in his purse everywhere he goes. "Was a bloody tourist when I first met her but now... she's a proper Londoner." She doubts it, but she agrees on them being friends and she likes it, a lot.

They help Anne and Gemma to set the table and the finishing touches for dinner. Only three more family members show up and she chastises Harry for making her believe that all of his offspring was going to attend. That's how they usually spend Christmas Eve back home, she explains.

It saddens him, the thought of her going back to her home country in five days time. All the way across the Atlantic, six hours behind him. It's almost unfair.

"Tell me more about it," Harry's curiosity is genuine, thinking that he would love to know more about her traditions. Perhaps even be lucky enough to share them someday.

"We don't have these," she regrets taking a tube of brightly coloured paper. "We have piñatas though." She adds proudly and Harry's jaw hangs open in surprise.

"No fucking way!" He is immediately told off by his mum as they all take a seat at the table. "I thought that was only allowed for birthdays."

"There's no rules for that!" She takes the Christmas cracker out again and Harry takes it from the other end. "So, I just pull it?" He nods and it makes a noise revealing the present.

"You get the crown." Harry unfolds it before helping her fix it atop her head. "And the little toy, what is it?oh... I get the joke!" His family groans, his sister hiding her face in hands, but all she sees is the glint in Harry's eye before he reads. "Who's Rudolph's favourite pop star?"

"I don't know," she's the only one that was going to ask him. And she really wanted to know.

"Beyon-sleigh!" Harry watches in delight how the girl before him snorts at the silly and not so funny joke.

"That was awful." She confessed.

"Agree, next year we'll make our own. Riddles only." His mum adds and Harry protests right away but is shushed by Gemma's voice reading out loud the riddle from her cracker.

Next year, she will probably be spending the day with her numerous family, she thinks. Harry will be here again, telling awful jokes, pulling away Christmas crackers. Perhaps he will bring another person with him. She tries to push the poisonous thoughts down with a big gulp of wine. Only succeeding when Harry's left hand rests on her knee, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin exposed by her ripped jeans while he listens to his sister talk about her podcast. It marvels her how he is there, for everybody.

After dinner they play family games and Harry makes a fake tantrum after his cousin Chloe claims his companion for her team.

"She's mine!" He argues, his long arms embracing her easily. She ends up joining the other team, but the quick kiss she bravely gave to his neck before he let her go, confirmed the words he spoke.

There is a three step process Harry follows to know he's fallen in love. If he finds himself talking about them with every living soul, if he does something they like just because it makes him miss them less and finally if he takes them home to meet his mum. He knows that for the past few days, there was no other topic to discuss with him than the girl sitting beside him in the sofa. He's been drinking tea every morning, just because it reminds him of her. He watches her talk to his mother about how much they like Rod Stewart and knows that he's in too deep.

It should bother him, because she will leave. And all these moments spent, will be just distant memories for him to torture himself over and over again. He wants to feel the angst of knowing that maybe she will forget him, maybe she has a partner back home. He gives up on trying to feel miserable, agreeing with that song from earlier. It is a time to rejoice in the good that we see, a time for living and believing.

Right now all he sees is her, he sighs before tucking her by his side, her brown doe eyes meeting his briefly before sneaking an arm around his waist. She continues to chat with Anne and Gemma even after the rest of the guests leave, still holding onto him. Harry can see the fondness radiating from his mother and sister for the girl in his arms. He sees trust, and he smiles thinking of a new beginning.

What a beautiful sight.

[xx-autmnlvr-xx]

I know it's not the Christmas season but I'm obsessing over Arthur Christmas again and I have to point this out

Steve giving his place as next in line to Arthur really touched something in my heart. It was a shift in his mentality and it showed his character development.

You have to realize something about Steve Claus.

In the movie we learn these things:

Steve was refused something he really wanted from his own father, (who is SANTA) because he didn't touch Malcolm's ego with being santa. (When Steve was 8 he wanted a pool table but Malcom, his father, didn't give it to him because he didn't sit on his lap and ask)

in mortal terms, it's like your parent was a candy factory CEO and they would not give you, their child, candy unless you pay them

Because of this the magic and love of Christmas kind of dulled in Steven's eyes. He assumed it doesn't matter how a child feels, because that's how Malcom made him feel.

So he grew up being more technical in his role as next-in-line. He knew he was gonna be Santa. He was raised to be santa. He was grateful to know that was his destiny and that it was something Malcom would give him.

When he creates the North Pole to be efficient and manageable he felt proud of himself. He had something he could work with and get thanked for!

Or did he?

As we saw in the movie. It was the 'most accomplished Christmas ever' and that was all Steve. He choreographed the elves, he MADE the S-1 that made them deliver presents quickly, and ,from his knowledge, they delivered all the presents! He was happy he could do that!

Then Malcom went and claimed that it was his mission so it was mainly him. He DISVALUED his own sons accomplishment just to get a little confidence boost because, as we saw, he felt insecure about his role as santa.

This made Steve a bit frustrated but he brushed it off because it was supposed to be his father's last night and now it was HIS TURN!! He could get recognition.

That all changed when Malcom declared he would continue being santa.

HE DENIED HIS OWN SON THE DUTIES HE WAS PROMISED BECAUSE MALCOM DIDN'T KNOW WHO HE WAS WITHOUT BEING SANTA

I know some of you are thinking 'yeah but steve is being insensitive' if his accomplishments being disvalued was just the one time thing then I would agree. But it wasn't.

We are hinted at during the dinner that Steve continued getting overshadowed by both his grandfather and his father since he began the north Pole operations. Grandsanta continuously picks at him while Malcom focuses on his place as santa. Maybe his mother cares? Margaret obviously loves both her children. But when you're the children of SANTA you kind of have a weird place in the family.

To me I think both Arthur and Steve get pushed around too much by their family. They are two sides to the same coin. Arthur didn't let getting pushed back hinder his view of Christmas. While Steve saw how he was treated and pushed back to try to get noticed.

Anyways, back to the point.

When the child was missed we see more evidence of Malcolm's AND Steve's insecurities.

While Arthur was worries about the child, Steve tried to cover it up. When Malcom heard a child was missed he IMMEDIATELY shifted the blame.

'oh Steven how could you do that?'

Steve pushed back with, 'me? I thought it was YOUR mission!'

'but it was your department'

Things go on and peter points out that they had the best delivery that year. Steve repeated that to his father by saying

'my DEPARTMENT...' basically mirroring his own father's words.

Then you know what Malcom said? 'well done US'

0_0'

That's not even the end of it!

Toward the end, when the other elves realized the missed child they went to Malcom and asked him.

Being faced by this, he says 'go to Steve. He can explain'

An elf points out, 'but aren't you in charge, sir?'

When they get to the HQ

Steve gets frustrated by all the questions because, to him, why DOES one child matter?? That goes back to his childhood. He HONESTLY thought one child didn't matter because back when he was 8 HE didn't matter. HE didn't get a toy under the tree. If you think he did, I want to point you to the fact that usually Santa only gives ONE TOY to each child. The other presents are usually from the parents. Since the North Pole can't give a lot of presents it's possible that they only give their children one toy each so they save material.

STEVE DID NOT GET A TOY WHEN HE WAS 8. That is WHY he was frustrated at everyone freaking out over this random child.

He LITERALLY SAYS IT 'who cares about one single tiny child?'

I'm not apologizing for Steve but I'm just pointing out why it's justified in HIS eyes.

Steve looks and sees Malcom staring at him and immediately his mind goes to 'oh no. I might never get the role if I don't rephrase that and says that he cares. (Which is a lie but go off)

Malcom starts saying how he's worried about Arthur and says

Malcom literally blamed Steve?

STEVE WASN'T EVEN THERE!!! HE WAS IN BED! Steve left Arthur at HQ WITH MALCOM BESIDE HIM

Malcom claiming it was Steve's responsibility to watch Arthur when Arthur is 20-something is proof of how much Steve gets pushed around and expected to take all responsibility of the negative things.

THEN MALCOM SAID THAT FORGETTING THE CHILD WAS STEVE'S DECISION!!! IN FRONT OF ALL THE ELVES!!! Sure Steve said it more but MALCOM AGREED!! also you don't just push your son under the bus just to look good.

This makes Steve crack a bit. 'i don't care anymore. Here's the location of all the important stuff. You take care of it all. Good night SANTA'

He doesn't even say 'dad' he is finished.

Further on Steve runs to the S-1 because it's getting dented and when he sees it's his parents going to deliver the present he gets even more frustrated.

He gets on. Malcom claims that the s-1 is his (even though Steven BUILT the thing)

Then Steve says this:

That's a face of a man tired of being the after thought of his own dad.

He EXPLODES!! He realizes that he will never get anything he was promised.

You can FEEL the emotion and let me just say that when I first watched this movie. This was the moment I realized BOTH Arthur and Steve played second fiddle. When the movie began I thought Steve was going to be the 'perfect oldest sibling' cliche. (Which as an eldest sibling, I think it puts us in a bad light) and seeing the insecurities of Steve here i nearly cried.

Back to the esssy

Steve gets to drive the s-1 and offhandedly comments how the delivery is the only thing that matters to everyone.

All the Santa's get there and Steve says 'it's so not fair' I'm not quite sure why he said that but I assume it's because he wanted to do something that will be looked positively on him. And at the moment Arthur was nearly in the house.

The bike gets delivered (by Arthur) and they end up in the closet to escape. Arthur asks to watch the kids open it from the closet.

Malcom finally realizes just how blinded he was over wanting to stay santa that he never was a dad. He pats both of their backs and says 'back in my day a pat on the back and a walnut went a long way.'

We get this image:

From the look of Arthur and Steve's face (especially Steve's) we can assume they never had any kind of positive touch by Malcom (No hug or anything???) and it surprised Steve!

Gwen (the child) opens the present and says 'santa brought me the bike I wanted'

Malcom examines Arthur and Steve's faces and tells steve

'you deserve to be santa' (because technically he does. He's the eldest and he was trained for it. But he doesn't have the heart for it)

Getting this recognition from his father, Steve gasps and reacts

Lip pursed like he's biting it, and eyes showing that he was about to cry.

He was acknowledged by his dad. He was told he deserves the role and that surprises Steve! Because before that he was only told that by his assistant, peter the elf, and his brother.

Peter is peter. Arthur is Arthur. They both love him and tell him that. But it doesn't faze him because they have no control over the matter.

Malcom then says 'but I wonder if Gwen was right' (meaning: he wonders if Arthur should be santa because of his heart and love for children)

At this point Steve notices Arthur is still watching the child play and realizes that Gwen would not have had a good Christmas if Arthur hadn't have cared so much about one single child. I think he puts himself in Gwen's place and imagines if his father cared about his Christmas like how Arthur did the child's.

He realizes that what Arthur did was more Santa-like then anything he had done that night. He makes a hard decision and gives the figure of Santa he had in his pocket to Arthur.

This is the part that really REALLY touched me. Imagine being promised something and believing that what you were promised was the only way to be acknowledged and loved by others. Then realizing someone else deserved the role more and giving it to them.

You can see that he's unsure about giving it but he knew it was best for the children. So no one would feel like he did when he was a child.

Malcom tells them that they are both good men and they leave.

That is why I honestly feel like Steve is a wonderful character and why the scene where Steve gave his future to his brother really warmed my heart.

And don't worry

He's happy in the end. I believe Arthur gives all the recognition after the missions to his brother because Arthur is kind and generous like that.

[tyunniverse]

Midnight Crisis

pairing: huening kai x reader

genre: fluff (?)

word count: 1728

synopsis: huening kai gets woken up by his neighbor's alarm every midnight and finally decides to do something about it

There it is again.

Kai lies awake in his bed, eyes heavy and dark circles evident. He stares at the ceiling, trying his best to cancel out the noise that's been plaguing his mind for countless nights but to no avail. He's grown to hate the noise with each passing day. It's been like this ever since he moved in two months ago.

The first night was bearable, he'd assumed that his neighbor had something important to do at midnight. After all, it wasn't unusual for a college student to be up that late to finish an assignment. The first week was excusable. Kai figured that they must be working on an extremely important project that couldn't wait until morning to be finish. The next few weeks were hell. He thought he'd be immune to the alarm blasting through his walls but he wasn't. It sounds off for five minutes and after that, waits another five minutes more to go off again. His suffering doesn't end until it nears 1 am, and if he's lucky, it'll end before 00:30. This became the norm for Kai.

But the alarm had been going off for more than an hour. A hundred thoughts go through Kai's mind. Should he just try to go back to sleep? At this point that seemed impossible. He'd tried a hundred times before and it never worked. Should he just stay up until it ends? He'd be tired by morning but that's the safest possible decision. But what if this goes on until sunrise? He can't risk falling asleep in class when he had a presentation first thing in the morning.

Kai bunches the his blanket in his hands. "Why me?" He groans, shifting to the side to check his phone. His classmate, Beomgyu, had left him a message a few hours ago.

Hyuka, I can't make it to class tomorrow. I'm at the hospital with my roommate. Sorry, but I think you have to do the presentation on your own tomorrow. I promise I'll make it up to you.

Great.

Given the news and the loud pinging of the alarm, Kai decides that he has had enough. He can't deal with the stupid alarm going off every night, especially when he really needed the rest.

He hops out off bed, grabbing a hoodie from his closet and putting it over his shirt before storming out of his room.

—

You were beyond tired.

The classes you had on that day had all conducted tests, leaving your brain fried by the time you got home. You immediately pass out once you reached the comfort of your bed, not even caring to change out of your clothes. Your mind peacefully drifts into sleep, remembering that you had something to look forward to at 1 am.

You never forget to set your alarm. Sometimes, it was hard waking up in the middle of the night when you're having such a good time sleeping, but you made sure that it went off every five minutes until you're forcibly awoken by it's blaring sound.

The drama your best friend, Soobin, had recommended to you had been the highlight of your day since the beginning of the semester. School has been nothing but the source of your stress and you found that watching the new episodes every night helped you get through it and prepare yourself for anything to come. Little did you know that your energy booster had become the bane of someone else's existence.

"Excuse me!"

You were woken up by the sound of loud banging on your door. Having just come to your senses, your eyes wander to you phone that had been blasting your alarm since 12 am. You reach out to it, checking the time and panicking once you saw that it was way past the time slot for your drama. It was about to finish.

"Shit." You scramble towards your laptop, hoping to at least see if there was still hope to watch it until your attention was brought back to the loud banging on your door.

"Excuse me! Is anyone in there?"

You frown. "Who the hell disturbs people in the middle of the night?"

The place was quiet for a while until the banging came back. You take one last glance at your laptop before treading towards the door. You grab anything heavy along the way in case things get a little weird with your unexpected visitor.

Kai rubs his eyes as he waits for his neighbor's door to swing open. His ears perk up when he hears shuffling behind the door. It opens for about an inch wide, raising a few questions in Kai's mind.

"Do you need something?" You speak out from behind the door.

Kai's brows knit as he leaned a little closer. "It's me, Huening Kai, from room 208. I need to talk to you about something but isn't refusing to open your door a little rude?"

"Oh, sorry." You relax once you realize that the visitor wasn't a threat. You'd seen him a lot on your way to your room but you've never interacted before. All you know was that he seemed like a pretty nice guy. "Ah," You look up at him. He looked kinda cute despite his tired look. His messy hair had almost entirely covered his eyes and his hoodie had a molang print on the side. "But isn't it also a little rude to bang at your neighbor's door at 1 am?" You ask him, brows raised.

Kai purses his lips, trying his best to hold off on snapping at you. He was truly at his limit. "Not when that neighbor has kept me up for the past two months with their stupid alarm?"

"What are you— oh." You cut yourself off upon realizing the entirety of the situation. Maximum volume. You had set your alarm at maximum volume to make sure you never missed an episode. It had barely been effective on you but it sure did its work on your neighbor. In hindsight, you should've seen this coming.

Kai watches as you space out and decides to just tell you then and there instead of waiting for you to invite him inside. "Uh, listen." His hands fidget, trying to get through the awkwardness. "You must have something important to do but please be responsible with your alarm. It's ringing has kept me awake since the start of the semester and I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since. I have a presentation later and I really need to get some sleep before that, so can you please tone the alarm down or just shut if off? I don't think I can survive another night like this."

There he had it.

Kai felt a bit better. He should've done this sooner. His problems would've been solved by then. He figured that you'd apologize and stop your alarms since by now, the two of you have probably reached an understanding.

"I understand your side, I really do." You tell him, looking up at his now smiling form. "But I can't lower the volume." His smile disappears.

"What?"

"I can't wake up if it's not at maximum volume. Please understand, I need this in order to wake up." You insist.

Kai didn't know how to react. He'd been so sure that you'd cooperate that any other responses would have rendered his mind blank. "What?" He repeats. "Then, can you at least tell me why it's so important for you to be awake at this hour?"

You cant. You can't tell him.

The moment he finds out that you were willing to sacrifice his sleep for the drama you've been watching, he'd never let you hear the end of it. "I have a project and it needs to be finished by tomorrow."

Kai crosses his arms, frowning. "So you're saying you have an important project every single night?"

You hold your breath. "Yes?"

"Yes?" Kai scoffs. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I'm serious!" You wage him off. "I really do have one!"

Kai takes a peek at your room and sighs. "Then bring it here. The least you can do is prove that you're telling the truth. I can't keep suffering like this, Y/N."

Hearing your name made you nervous. Of course he'd known your name, he had delivered your packages a few times when it ended up in front of his doorstep by mistake. What's worse, he wanted you to show him the project you made up on the spot to hopefully escape the situation. Your mind goes blank, and there's only one thng that passes through it despite being fully aware that this solution was only temporary.

"I'm sorry!"

"Huh?"

Kai freezes in his spot as the door slams shut in his face. He hears you run back imto the safety of your room and he's left standing there, speechless. It takes him a few seconds to register what had just happened.

"Hey!" He reaches out for your door knob, twisting it a few times before giving up and knocking on the door. "Y/N? Y/N! Open up! We're still not done talking!" He knocks a few more times. "Hey!"

You snicker, hellbent on ignoring him and focusing on what's left of your show. Even if it's just the ending of the episode, it was enough to at least get you through tomorrow.

The episodes starts loading after a few clicks and you move to get your headphones. That's when you realize that Kai had finally stopped bothering you for the night. A smile creeps in your face as you feel a mixture of relief and guilt. "I'm sorry, Kai, but I need this."

You plug your headphones in and was about to focus on the episode when a loud alarm starts blasting through the walls of your room. Eyes wide, you check your phone to see if your alarm had beem turned off. It had been dead ever since you got up, which meant that the sound could only be coming from the room next door.

You jump when you hear a rather loud laugh coming from Kai's room, followed by him banging on your shared wall. Your phone buzzes with a notification and you check it.

Hey there, neighbor! If I'm not gonna get any sleep then so are you. Suffer with me >3<