#but hes the type to compartmentalize his loneliness

[trash-can-sam]

Qi’s time at sandrock.

I think  hes better friends with a lot of people than he actually thinks he is, and I think the town rubs off on him a lot more than he would like to admit.

A thing I wrote that inspired this I couldnt fully fit in but I like it a lot “He doesnt want to admit that these complacent, stupid people with no desire for efficency or improvement have made a place in his heart. That they have grown on him in a way they all sort of notice, just in little thing. Small gestures like sometimes apologizing after he says something rude/out of pocket. Or he’ll deliberately take less time on projects, prioritizing their projects over his own personal ones. Or he starts to leave his lab door unlocked. Or how he sits outside the blue moon instead of in the corner on the inside. How his interactions, although they remain brief, contain small insights into his life. Qi doesnt notice this change that much of course, but the more observant people in sandrock who do notice it know enough not to point it out.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi raven, I’ve loved your intricate and deep analysis of the twst cast for the past 2 years to the point where I’m surprised you have characters you don’t really care about! (Not that that’s bad thing!) Now with the introduction of new characters (cough, cough Rollo), I’d love to see how you rank the twst characters again 👀

Edit: Updated with Skully J. Graves. Have also adjusted Jack, Kifaji, Sebek, and Cater's placements based on recent event and book 7 updates. Thank you very much—but I think there’s an important distinction to be made!!

Knowing a lot about a character, analyzing them, and thinking that they have interesting writing does not always equate to “I like this character”. This is definitely the case for me; I try to compartmentalize my objective opinion from how I subjectively view each character. There’s certainly characters I dislike on a personal level, but I continue discussing them because they still provide value and nuance to their world and story! (You can see that I don’t like Malleus at all but I am still capable of thinking critically about his loneliness and how his resistance to change informs his actions.) For the sake of analysis, I can mostly put aside my own feelings 😂

A character could be the most kind and/or complex individual ever and someone could still dislike them for a reason as innocuous as not vibing with their tropes or even their physical design. (For example, I dislike Vil’s dad not because I think he’s a bad parent; Eric Venue is one of the best parents in the whole game. I simply dislike him because I have a bias against celebrity characters.) And that’s okay!! Everyone’s tastes are different. People should be allowed to dislike whatever they want for whatever reason they want.

I wasn’t able to find a TWST character tier list that included all the NPCs, so… I typed in as many other significant characters as I could recall for the tier I slot them in. I hope that works ^^

I think the only big changes here are Idia and Rook; Idia has gone higher up (no doubt thanks to all the family drama he’s been in lately) and Rook has dropped down (he has, sadly, been displaced by another pseudo-French man). I also tried to segment my “likes” into “lesser liked” and “more liked” tiers, otherwise there would be a ton of people crammed into the blanket term of “like”. Malleus is… in a tier of his own…

There’s my updated tier list for ya! ^^ Let me know if I missed anything~

[changeling-fae]

alone, desire, & guilt!

Thanks, definitely doing this for Nym. Going to put under the cut ‘cuz it’s dark. TW for past child abuse, implied past CSA, suicidal mentions, and drug abuse.

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

Oh boy, before the start of the game she was dealing with such loneliness and major depression that she had many suicidal ideations. That’s essentially what had her returning to the Devil’s Den to see Raphael so often.

After the woman she had feelings for got her own life together and met someone, Nym kept coming back to Raphael for lanceboard, wine, and philosophical discussions. She was seriously contemplating just letting him have her soul on the condition that he devour it so she doesn’t ever have to exist again.

Before she met him, she dealt with her loneliness through sex and ONS. She also did a lot of drugs to get high. Basically anything that would distract that gaping void inside her where she felt numb and in pain (both mental and physical).

She kept herself busy through her job as an entertainer or through the cult stuff with Bhaal. She just did what the cult wanted but at least it kept her distracted (and I headcanon the white dragonborn Durge also existed and was the leader at the time before she and Orin shanked him).

She’s felt and has been alone since her father’s death as a child. The man who bought her from the debt collector kept her hidden beneath his estate and she lived in a cell for 4 years in utter darkness before she escaped and was found by the cult.

If no one is around, she just gets high and stares into the middle distant for hours. Sometimes she’ll even cry before she pulls herself together and continues forward with whatever people want from her.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire?Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

To not feel so dead inside, to stop feeling both numb and in constant agony of her existence. Before the events of the game, she really thought about just surrendering to Raphael (she was aware he wanted her soul, this is before he’s canonically obsessed with Tav/Durge though so was just viewing her like another client). Some part of her clung to life though, which is why she never went through it but also she hadn’t been back to see him after she and Gortash stole the crown through his home.

She never hid that desire around Raphael though and he was well aware that he just had to patient (initially). Fate had other plans though.

Now however, her desire is to live and to heal. She has kids to look after, she finds love with Astarion, and she has a new type of relationship with Raphael. She’s ready to move forward and start anew.

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

She has major survivors guilt for one thing. Her father (her favorite person) had died protecting her. She also feels some guilt (though she buries it) over killing the kids of the man who held her captive. When she escaped, she was in a blood rage and murdered every soul in the estate, including his kids. She was still a kid herself (14) but it haunts her a bit.

She’s got a soft spot for kids and giving her Durge lifestyle, doesn’t feel good whenever kids get caught in the crossfire, or making kids into orphans. But that’s what drugs and compartmentalizing is for.

When she murders Quil in the game, she’s not entirely sure what happened and feels a measure of guilt there and tried to hide evidence of her involvement. She didn’t hide the body but she washed the blood off of herself and told the group (technically truthfully) that she didn’t see anything that night when they ask her if she was involved.

She’s very good at mental compartmentalization overall though.

[trashlie]

I love how I am deep enough in my MLQC feels to, once again, see how MC and Kiro, like Nol and Shinae is just me beat for beat I am nothing but consistent I like what I like and I go for it and I will not stray bucihojohuf9j9gugoh lmaoooooooo I thought about this last year when I was in this state, too. How Nol is so alike Kiro in the type of characters who are haunted by loneliness who harbor something dark (in Nol's case, what he believes about himself). The lmao compartmentalizing of their identities?! How Kiro tried to hide Helios because he thought he could only show only his good and his bright side.

LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I'M NOTHING IF NOT CONSISTENT AS HELL THE DYNAMICS ARE REALLY CONSTRUCTED SO SINILARLY LMAO this is like, SO niche that I'm talking to myself but I find it SO FUNNY

If Nol and Shinae ever give me pining and yearning and palpable want built so high they can see it from space I will COMBUST

[carpisuns]

ok im seeing people take this comment as a confirmation of the true selves trope and i have some Thoughts lol

i don't think that was a confirmation that chat noir is actually adrien's "true self" but more an expression of his self-perception

adrien's a model. he's used to posing, literally and figuratively. what he shows on the covers of magazines is not his "true self"—that's the image people want to see, and he knows how to give it to them. it's exhausting to have to play the role of posterchild all the time because that isn't really him

but neither is "chat noir." it's really clear that adrien kind of puts on a persona when he suits up, and he leans into his natural goofiness extra hard because it's fun and freeing. but he also uses that humor to deflect a lot, and he tends to push back his feelings to keep up the fun-loving, carefree facade of chat noir. in a lot of ways, i feel like the mask wears him as much as he wears the mask.

i think maybe adrien doesn't really know what is "true self" is like, because he's never been allowed to just be. he is constantly performing, whether it's as the agreste brand posterchild or the wise-cracking superhero. he says that his goofy side is the "real him" because that's the role he prefers to play, but it's still a role. (he even acknowledges that in weredad when he says he “didn’t think chat noir was marinette’s type”—not that he wasn’t her type, but that chat noir wasn’t her type. meaning that he recognizes that chat is kind of a character he made up for himself, that doesn’t perfectly reflect the person he actually is)

so what is his "true self"? it's not "adrien" or "chat"—it's both. all of us act differently in different situations, but the characteristics that come out in one set of circumstances are still as much a part of us as the ones that are currently hidden. of course, we’re closer to our home base/true self when we’re around people we’re comfortable with, and with adrien we see this probably most strongly with nino and sometimes with ladybug or marinette, depending on the situation. those little moments when adrien gets a little bolder and goofier, or chat gets a little softer, or when he shows his disappointment or his loneliness on either side of the mask—those are signs that he feels comfortable enough with her that he can stop worrying about appearances and just let himself exist, however he feels at that moment.

probably the best example of adrien’s “true self” is how he is when he’s alone (or with Plagg). after all, aren't we our most authentic selves when there's no one to perform for? in those moments when he’s by himself, we see kind of a merging of those two sides of him that he has compartmentalized. he lets himself actually feel and express his emotions, and that helps us see who the “real�� Adrien actually is—a sweet, soft boy with a big silly streak and a flair for the dramatic, who cares deeply about his loved ones and who longs to be loved the way he loves.

i feel like the fandom tends to put adrien in a box—either the “model adrien” box or the “chat noir” box, and i honestly think that’s a disservice to his character, which is really beautifully and subtly developed by the show writers. this is one of the reasons why adrien is such a fascinating and lovable character, and i hate to see him stripped down to a single, sparse set of characteristics when he is so much more than that.

[sepublic]

Snaggleteeth and TOH (S3?)

            So our gracious friend @tortol was able to provide us with information on Dana Terrace’s other greenlit pilot (for Cartoon Network) Snaggleteeth, which she ultimately passed on in favor of The Owl House. As the mastermind behind both, you can definitely see Dana’s touch and influence upon either show, so I’d like to discuss a bit the similarities and parallels on a meta level.

         Firstly, I think Jesse Porter and King invoke some similarities; Furry little dude wants power and is a tyrant, is scheming to get to the top, but then realizes via his new friend, a fish out of water, that he no longer cares about that. Then we have Sharkboy as someone arriving in a new place; He’s an awkward kid, a social misfit, but finds a new friend. It reminds me of Luz going from Gravesfield to Bonesborough; As does the apparent disconnect between two settings, Pawchester and Riverfield.

         A major arc seems to be Sharkboy being used for his potential/worth, only to realize that just as Jesse begins to value and appreciate him as an actual friend first and foremost. We know it leads to a “point of contention”, but I have to wonder if part of that storyline would’ve involved Sharkboy internalizing that he’s only useful for these particular set of qualities, and leaning into that; Leading to him refusing to be himself anymore, not wanting to open up and be vulnerable around Jesse just as Jesse is actually doing so, etc. Perhaps Sharkboy has a bitter acceptance; Half-resentful towards Jesse, but also not quite blaming him for thinking this is all Sharkboy is good for, because by now he agrees, given his loneliness seems to have reinforced the idea of Sharkboy being unlovable.

         …To get morbid, I have to wonder if this applies to Luz. We already see in Season 2 especially how Luz seems to internalize and insist on having to be useful to her friends, not wanting to be a burden; How her mother Camila was busy and that likely influenced this feeling of herself as dragging others down, needing to be accommodating, as did being sent to the Reality Check camp. So I have to wonder if Sharkboy’s dark development is narratively reborn in Luz’s arc, of becoming more cynical and disillusioned.

         In Luz’s case, the issue was always there, just not as obviously; But now, we see how resentful Luz looks in Dana’s art post-King’s Tide. I get the sense that Luz is starting to actively dislike and blame herself, see herself as only good for what she can provide, and thus lamen when she fails; And this might lead to her forgetting that her friends DO care about her… It could lead to an interesting dilemma, in which a self-loathing person believes their friends don’t care about them that much; And amidst having to discover self-love, confront that they’re unknowingly being rather cruel to their friends in assuming that type of meanness from them.

         We’ve seen it in Reaching Out and other episodes, how trying to compartmentalize doesn’t just hurt Luz, but even her own friends, rendering the effort useless and contradictory. I speculate that all of this is basically the original core concepts of Sharkboy’s arc, just expanded upon and dramatized in the setting of a seemingly greater conflict…

         Yet by the end of the day, it’s about a social misfit learning to love themselves, and realize they have friends who DO care, after discovering and valuing them, but also believing they have to prove a point to said friends. It’s a coming-of-age story about loneliness and how friends are necessary to get through; It’s a recurring thread between TOH and Snaggleteeth.

         On another note, we also have some woods of which are considered haunted by the local community, because of a previous version of the town that was destroyed by a natural disaster there… I wonder if this connects to Gravesfield and the fire that burned down its historical building in the past; We see emphasis on Gravesfield’s titular graves in the Season 3 poster. Will we have our cast explore the town’s history, and some more abandoned ruins ravaged by this fire, with the shack in the woods being one of said ruins?

         Additionally, we have Ron Porter, Jesse’s father, a conspiracy theorist who ropes naïve Sharkboy into his antics, and can’t differentiate reality from fiction. Sharkboy’s aspirations to be a writer echo Luz’s and her love of media; And we know one of her core arcs is learning to differentiate reality from fantasy, it was why she was sent to the Reality Camp to begin with! So Ron Porter seems to carry on that same idea, that idea of a ‘Dark Parallel’ who never learned… Weirdly enough, I guess one could compare him to Belos, who never grew past his childhood games of witch hunting, unlike Luz. Ron Porter also gives me Jacob Hopkins vibes, being a seemingly friendly, likeminded individual, only to rope the protagonist into an utter mess as we realize how nuts and dangerous he truly is.

         Jesse also shares a last name with Gus, which of course reminds me of Gus using Luz’s human nature at school to prove a point, only to endanger her; And thus realizing what he actually values, and relinquishing the HAS as proof. We know Perry’s played an influential role in Gus’ showmanship and value of news reporting, which makes me wonder if Ron’s fame affected Jesse’s desire for popularity, as well as making a comeback to avoid ending up like his dad as a has-been. Makes me wonder if we would’ve gotten a similar arc with Perry had the show not been shortened, but then again, he seems a fairly well-adjusted individual, so maybe not.

         Violet is obviously representative of that love of witchcraft and creepy weird girls; She reminds me a lot of Vee’s tarot-reading friend, actually! More on that later… Jesse’s crush on her, amidst learning to be a better person; It also reminds me of similar redemption and healing arcs in Amity, Lilith, and Hunter. With Amity especially, the awkwardness of this popular bully gunning for the weird kid obsessed with magic, I wonder if Lumity was partially inspired by this? Admittedly we don’t know if TOH or Snaggleteeth were devised first, they could’ve influenced each other, and/or both been inspired by the mutual source of Dana and what she likes to see in fiction. I know the feeling.

         Furthermore, Jesse’s surprising interest reminds me of Amity’s crush on Luz and love for The Good Witch Azura, as well as Hunter’s interest in wild magic… And tbh, I can kinda see Boscha here as well; The surprise of this stereotypical popular kid having an interest not conventional to their trope. Like how Boscha is this apparent mean girl archetype, but then we see her fame comes from being THE Jock of the school, itself a more masculine and unexpected connotation. Dana did mention Snaggleteeth also ‘shattering expectations’ like TOH, so this makes sense; People being a bit more than their trope, actually.

         We have Uncle Pete, who actually gives me Eda vibes; We’ve all called Eda a Wine Aunt, and there’s that joke of both being criminals with a lot of wisdom to our protagonists, not all of it ideal alas. They’re on the run from the authorities… It’s a familial, older role to the young social misfit hero; And it reminds me of Eda’s alias as ‘Marilyn’ and how like Grunkle Stan of Gravity Falls fame, she also had a similar notoriety and crazy life in the human world.

         Sharkmom bears a passing resemblance to Camila; The single mother of our protagonist (Sharkboy probably would’ve had an angsty and surprisingly hard-hitting episode where we learn of his dad’s death), just wants the best for their kid and so sends them to another place to make friends and integrate. She would’ve adopted Jesse to his dismay, so I wonder if we’ll see something similar in Hunter learning maternal affection from Camila in S3… And Amity, too! And maybe Willow (though this mostly comes from having two dads rather than a missing/bad mom), and Gus! And Vee…

         Tbh, I have to wonder if Gravesfield is a sort of meta adaptation of the original setting of Riverfield; I mean, look at the names. Now I’m imagining an AU where Luz doesn’t go to the isles, nor the Reality Camp necessarily; An AU where she stays at Gravesfield, and we get to explore its setting and dynamics as very similar to Snaggleteeth’s. She makes a friend who initially uses her for popularity but then realizes they like Luz, all that stuff. Vee’s classmate could play the role of Violet…

         Hmm. Now I’m imagining a spin-off in which Vee parallels Luz’s story with her own in Gravesfield, meant to invoke the ideas of Snaggleteeth. Vee seems much more of a social pushover (until she isn’t!) than Luz. Imagine her trying to integrate with everyone else, and befriending the fellow kids at her camp. Sharkboy is a swimmer and Basilisks seem rather eel-like to me; But also, Sharks clearly have a notoriety in-universe for being scary, which is contrasted with Sharkboy being such a cinnamon roll.

         Basilisks are DREADED by witches and audience alike for their power, and yet look at shy, bashful little Vee! Which makes me imagine Vee revealing the truth of her identity to her friends, and one of them maybe getting the idea to exploit her terror, only to get Vee in danger because of that, and learn a lesson. Vee’s witch classmate plays the role of Violet, they explore the woods and learn of the ruins of Gravesfield, its dark witch-hunting past and the great fire that devastated it; Maybe she gets enamored with Vee as a Basilisk given her love of the supernatural, and learns to tone things down a bit? Because she values friendship more than sacrificing Vee as vindication and proof that she’s not a nutjob (this reminds me of Gus using Luz against Mattholomule), which contrasts her to…

         The local conspiracy theorist, Jacob Hopkins, unable to differentiate reality from fantasy! Now I have to wonder if he has a familial connection to one of Vee’s friends! Principal Hal could play a role similar to Snaggleteeth’s own principal, Luz’s school would have its own Ms. Lovejoy, whom Luz/Vee might have a crush on, and a Mr. Rainy! Vee and her friends visit the ‘haunted’ woods, which just scares Vee even more seeing how magical and demonic outsiders were treated; Her friends remember to make it clear they value Vee as more than a trope of their interests in the supernatural, even as Vee worries about living up those scary expectations to impress them, maybe by boasting of Basilisk ruthlessness that backfires when she fails to live up to it as the necessary ‘defense’ or ‘offense’ role of a recent scheme.

         Just imagine it. Vee, who is used to being used by others for her power and traits, her terrifying ability to drain magic, just the danger of being a Basilisk. And yet she’s so meek, which makes her more accustomed to being wielded by others; Only to realize she’s got a lot of power herself, when her friends encourage Vee to claim her own agency. And alas, mistreatment leads to Vee perhaps abusing said power, as her friends confront the monster they’ve made, and remind Vee she’s more than that and is indeed loved. Vee learns to stand up for herself but then takes it too far and becomes the monster others feared her to be…

         Screw it, we NEED to flesh out Gravesfield by drawing directly from Snaggleteeth, as a very meta trend! It’s easily a story that Luz, or even Vee, could’ve or already had! Gravesfield even has that kind of chainlink, slightly run-down vibe to it… Camila and Luz could’ve moved in like Sharkboy and his mom; Gravesfield might have a rivalry with a more robust town right over! Which could’ve influenced Luz participating in Hexside’s rivalry with Glandus…! Honestly, Season 3 might really explore Gravesfield and invoke Snaggleteeth’s Riverfield that way; So maybe that’s part of why Dana has embraced the shortening as an opportunity in and of itself… She might see the new S3 as a chance to explore the ideas behind Snaggleteeth in a TOH context specific to the Nocedas and Wittebanes!

         And come to think of it, I wonder if Dana would’ve incorporated some of Snaggleteeth’s ideas, dynamics, and setup into her proposed Young Eda spinoff… Though of course, we know how certain things end up, so there’s a lot of restriction there; Like Eda never quite internalizing that Raine values her no matter what, regardless of a curse (or maybe she does, but because the curse is different from being useful, Eda messes up there). As well as Odalia still ending up like that, Lilith and Eda’s bond only getting worse, etc. The characters also don’t quite align with what we see in Snaggleteeth’s, but that’s only based on how we know them now, so perhaps they’ve changed a bit since childhood.

         Very enlightening stuff this Snaggleteeth, where one can get a sense of the creator’s mark by the common threads between their stories. Snaggleteeth also reminds me of TOH, particularly Season 1, in how it’s initially this silly cartoon about fitting in at school and a misfit finding friends; But then we get surprised with how surpisingly in-depth and realistic the characters are. The lore and history of the community. Seeing the unexpected nuance of the protagonist internalizing some harmful ideas about themselves, kids developing in meaningful ways that last beyond the silly sitcom format. A certain level of maturity, because kids can be rather mature and deal with a lot themselves, actually!

        We take things at face-value, only to steadily learn and unwrap more behind what drives people, it’s actually very character-driven. Each adventure actually accomplishes something to the growing storyline in the background involving our protagonists and their relationship. Emotions and complex feelings are actually openly acknowledged in a dignified way, with events actually affecting characters beyond the episode they happen; It’s something I love and feels distinct about TOH to me compared to a lot of other shows, and it seems that’s a Dana Terrace trait in her works!

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Supposedly 

A/N: this was a request sent in that inspired me a lot for some reason and i figured i’d do it cause i haven’t done any demon!h and demon!reader in a while so i gave it a go and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out :D enjoy!

Anonymous: This may be too cutesy for them, but do demon!harry and demon!reader ever cuddle after they fuck? Or they fall asleep separately but wake up in each other’s arms and just try to play it off awkwardly 

word count: 4.5k

content: some angst but nothing major, fluff, mentions of nudity, and some cocky asshole demon!h because that’s his Brand laidese and germs!!

///

Despite the emotionless, unattached agenda demons tend to uphold, let it be known that Harry didn’t really mind what was happening at the moment. 

On the surface level, from an outside perspective, this definitely doesn’t fit the bill for what is expected from his kind. Cuddling is an action reserved usually for real couples that have a sentimental bond, which he and Y/N are very much not. He’s not even quite sure what they are, really. Their relationship— if he can even call it that— was born out of three very important, adequately limiting notions: a mutual understanding, the desire for a convenient warm body, and sheer boredom. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

The mutual understanding was that neither of them wanted a genuine significant other, given what they are, so it was established that feelings were to be kept out of this arrangement completely. Emotions lead to complications, complications lead to a falling out, and a falling out would be inexplicably messy considering that they’ve shared the same friend group for well over a decade now and neither are willing to let a booty call mishap ruin that. Feelings stay dormant, end of discussion. 

The desire for a convenient warm body is pretty self-explanatory— Harry and Y/N had known each other for a while now so there was no annoying getting to know you phase, they both agreed that they found the other attractive, and they both live relatively close to one another so it was a pleasant set-up with minimal issues. Harry could shoot her a text at three in the morning and she’d be at his place in less than five minutes, or vice versa. There was no spending hours at a bar trying to pick someone up, no time wasted learning what the other person likes and dislikes, and certainly no fretting over birth control tactics to keep up appearances— they were both dead, which is a morbid advantage but an advantage nonetheless. It was easy access, easy fun, and easy clean-up. 

The sheer boredom aspect was just that. It had started on a drunken night out with friends, where— by a series of fortunate events— Harry and Y/N had ended up together post-bender, sitting in his car in the parking lot of a club. They had been waiting for him to sober up to drive them home and she had made a passing comment about not wanting to turn in for the night quite yet. He’d blinked at her sluggishly, absentmindedly reaching over to tuck a rouge strand of hair behind her ear because he was getting secondhand irritation from it tickling her nose. He’d spoken up, voice numb and thick from the alcohol. “What do you wanna do, then?”

Y/N had glanced over at him, eyes half-lidded as they had raked down his lean tattooed chest, his unbuttoned silk sheer shirt leaving very little to the imagination. When she’d pinned her gaze back up to his, her eyes had inked black as they’d flitted to the palm of his hand for a second, a suggestive glint washing across their reflective surface as the corner of her pretty mouth had quirked. “I have a decent idea of exactly what I wanna do.”

And now here they were, with many restless, heated nights, ruined bed frames, and rumpled sheets littering their past, as well as their immediate future. 

And here Harry was, slowly blinking awake after one of those said nights, cruel scratches itching across his back as they finish up healing, an empty content still bubbling at the pit of his stomach. 

His lashes flutter open as he inhales a large sigh, flinching at the bright sunlight filtering its way through the lightly swaying curtains. The only sound in the room is the soft thrum of the air vent at the far corner of the ceiling, alongside Y/N’s soft, rhythmic breathing. 

In his barely conscious state, Harry goes to do what he always does the morning after he’s spent a night doing Y/N’s back in: he goes to stretch. He does most of the work more times than not— courtesy of his dominant tendencies— but she always gives him a run for his soul. Anything he dishes out, she usually returns with the same amount of energy and will. Last night hadn’t been any different and the ache at the bottom of his spine and along his inner thighs proves it. 

Harry instinctively goes to lift his arms above his head, reaching for the top of the headboard to use it as support. He is stopped cold when he realizes a foreign weight is keeping one of his arms pinned to the bed. 

He knuckles at his eyes with his free hand, ridding them of the last residues of sleep, and then drags his palm up his face and through his mussed curls to comb away his disorientation. He cranes his sore neck to the side and downwards, eyebrows jolting up in surprise when he’s met with a wall of fluffy, tangled, mandarin-scented hair. 

Harry lifts his head up slightly, neck straining to see over the back of Y/N’s wild halo to make sure that the image before him isn’t some type of exhaustion-induced mirage. 

It’s odd for her to be so near him— she usually likes her space; says that being too close in proximity for too long is irritating. It’s why she usually sleeps with her back to him at the other end of the bed, and why he’s gotten accustomed to giving her the majority of the mattress space. Despite the fact that it’s his flat, she’s stubborn, hard-headed, argumentative and frankly, he’d rather just forfeit the extra leg room instead of bickering for thirty minutes just to end up losing anyways. It’s gentlemanly, in a sense. Minimal, but it’s something.

Given Y/N’s general disgust for excess contact, it’s no shock as to why Harry is utterly baffled right now. He’s about ninety-eight percent sure she’d fallen asleep all the way across the expanse of his sheets so how did they willingly end up here? How did they end up with her bare back pressed to his chest, her legs intertwined between his, and his arm wrapped almost protectively around her waist, wedged between her hips and the bed. 

Harry would never outright admit it but...he’s not necessarily mad about it. 

As he lays there for a few more seconds, absorbing the situation with an expression of pensive dismay pinching his face, he slowly comes to terms that he’s actually starting to enjoy this.

The warmth of her smooth skin gradually undoes the knot of confusion between his brows. The sensation of her back flushing against his chest as it rises and falls with her breathing erases the unease dipping the corners of his stinging mouth. The way she’s started to unconsciously rub her calves gently up and down his own makes the last traces of unsettlement melt off his face, replaced by an appearance of subtle affection, lips parting in blank wonder. 

Harry relaxes back into the plushness of the mattress, eyes remaining glued to a blissfully ignorant Y/N. His thoughts are scurrying around the inside of his skull, attempting to get accustomed with this new experience, having a difficult time arranging into place. He’s aware that he seems to be taking easily to what’s unfolding, but there’s an unsteady bubble inflating in his chest. He knows that if he lets himself dwell in this too much, it’ll end up biting him in the ass later, most likely as a wave of undealt emotions and crippling loneliness; that’s baggage he’s spent too many years compartmentalizing for it to all just come bursting out. 

All those decades of locking away his issues are in danger of resurfacing, and all for some harmless hugging? Doesn’t seem like a fair negotiation, and he knows plenty about negotiations. 

However, he can’t seem to make himself pull away. 

Especially not when Y/N suddenly shifts in her sleep, turning onto her other side so that she's now facing him, snuggling deeper into his body and tucking her head into the junction between his neck and collarbones. Her annoyingly soft, hot lips smear against his throat, settling into the dip at the center where a pulse would normally be present. The feeling of her exhales washing across his cold skin sends a wringing down his spine, a hushed “fuck…” escaping his dry mouth as the warmth behind the gesture spreads upwards, spilling redness into his cheeks and along the shells of his ears. Her hands come up as loose fists, pressing between his pectorals lightly, her own naked chest flushing against her forearms. 

Surprisingly enough, her supple chest isn’t at the forefront of his mind at this instant. Instead, he’s focused on the intimacy they’re sharing in this moment, unbeknownst to her and stressfully beknownst to him. 

Harry’s free hand acts of its own accord, coasting upwards towards her face and moving her chin over a bit until his palm can comfortably nurse her jaw. He rubs the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip slowly, every ridge and bump sending miniature shots of electricity surging through his veins, his eyes falling shut at this strange form of pleasure he hasn’t felt in ages. 

Y/N just looks so beautiful like that, in such a vulnerable state that he knows for sure no one else has ever gotten to witness— at least not in a very long time. 

No one else has gotten to see the way her lashes sit atop her cheekbones so delicately, her face soothed by sleep, not a wrinkle or grimace in sight. She looks as if she were made of porcelain, her features nothing short of perfect. No one has gotten to witness the way she mumbles a handful of incoherent, groggy words, her mind lost in a meaningless dream, or the way her nose twitches in the cutest manner as a draft from the air conditioning runs across it, causing her to sniffle. No one has seen the way she gives into his touch, her face cradling deeper into his hand, chasing the uncommon gentleness behind his demeanor and it hadn’t occurred to Harry that maybe— just maybe— she’s craving this type of innocent bliss, too, though he’s certain she would never confess to it if she were awake. 

Harry runs his hand down the slope of her bruised neck and across the curve of her shoulder, tracing the teeth marks he had left the night before. The tip of his fingers follow down the incline of her torso, wriggling around her side, his wrist resting upon the faint dip of her waist. He cups her lower back with his large hand, borrowing a moment to appreciate the way it fits flawlessly. He then leans forward some to give his reach more length, his digits carefully trailing up the middle of her spine, the action timid and tranquil. 

He looks down at her from over the tops of his colored cheeks, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he continues to lull his fingers up and down her back. Y/N releases a shy whimper of gratitude, her whole body bathing in a light shiver. She does like it.

Harry swallows thickly, moving away a few locks of hair off her shoulder with the tip of his nose, glassy jade irises studying her facial expressions to make sure she’s still asleep. He puckers his tingling lips, pressing a bundle of chaste kisses to the fading bite marks on her staticy skin. If his heart still beat, he feels like it would be glowing right now. 

He tilts his chin up, settling it on top of her head and sighing in satisfaction as he feels her steady breathing wash across his Adam’s Apple, her flyaway hairs tickling his nostrils. 

He decides to stay like that for a while,  just basking in her company within this tender setting that he knows he probably won’t receive again anytime soon. Harry lays there, limbs woven between Y/N’s as his black-polished nails scratch gently at her back, swimming in his numb thoughts. 

After what feels like hours— but is realistically just ten minutes— he goes to gingerly shift the arm stuck beneath her body, trying to regain some circulation. Y/N stirs, resulting in him freezing in place to prevent a mishap, his mouth finding her warm forehead and placing a lingering kiss between her brows. It eases her. 

Harry waits five minutes before trying again.

He manages to escape this time around, lifting his arm above his head and twisting out the cramp in his wrist, then folding it behind his head. He allows his eyes to shut once again, intent on spending a bit longer milling in this bubble of domestic peace.

His plan is shattered to pieces by an alarmed, angry sentence. 

“What the fuck?”

His eyelids fly open, ice materializing across his entire nervous system. 

Shit.

Y/N launches upwards, sitting up rigidly with her face contorted in startled repulsion, clutching his blood red sheets to her chest as her hair stands up in tousled tuffs. “What in Lucifer’s red, barren hell are you doing?”

Harry now has two distinctive routes to pick from: confess to partaking in the unorthodox cuddling, or fake it and say he was asleep as well and that it had all been an unintentional mistake. 

It’s hardly a choice. 

He flings his arms away from the other demon’s body as if sickened, shooting up into a seated position and slouching back onto his palms, a look of agitated horror plastered across his sleepy, handsome features. “What do you mean what am I doing? What the fuck were you doing?”

Y/N blinks at him as if he’d just stabbed her between the eyes with a demon blade, irises momentarily flitting black with nerves, the area under her waterline webbing with dark veins. “What do you mean what was I doing? You were the one with your arms around me!”

Harry narrows his sight at her pointedly, thick brows furrowing with faux resentment. “You were the one with your head snuggled into my neck and your hands on my chest!”

“You were the one kissing my forehead!”

“You were the one rubbing up on my legs!”

“Because you were close to me!”

“Because you rolled over here!” 

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh, so what?” Harry snaps sarcastically, drawing forward and crossing his arms over his chest adamantly. “Did an angel sneak in and place you there? Because as I recall, you always sleep on the left side of the bed, so what were you doing on the right?”

Harry’s accurate counter renders Y/N speechless, her mouth parting quizzically as if waiting for a response to magically appear. Her eyebrows cinch down begrudgingly, the gears in her head spinning on overdrive, trying to piece together an appropriate rebuttal. Her grasp tightens on the blanket covering her bare body. “Well, I...I don’t know—I don’t think I—”

Harry cocks his head to the side expectantly, loose curls falling across his forehead as he shrugs his brows with a condescending air. He mimics her with a high-pitched voice. “Well, I— I don’t know— I—I don’t think I—I—I—”

Y/N’s face goes sour as heat floods her cheeks, fire threatening to spark across the tips of her sizzling ears. She yanks the sheets off of him, holding them with one hand as she uses the other to begin crawling across the bed towards the edge, a haphazard defense thrown over her shoulder. “Shut up! It wasn’t on purpose!”

Harry scoffs in dark amusement, not even bothering to cover himself up. He bites into his cheek to keep from exploding into a round of triumphant laughter; he can’t believe he managed to turn the tides so quickly. “Oh, so you admit it was you, then?”

Y/N dismounts the atrociously tall bed, stumbling over the long linens as she desperately searches for her clothes. “No! I’m just saying that whatever happened, it didn’t happen intentionally!” 

“Obviously.” The brunette demon snorts, shaking his head for subtle emphasis, crossing his ankles offhandedly and returning both arms to the place where one had been prior— tucked behind his head casually. “What do you think we are, mortal?” 

“Of course not.” Y/N agrees quickly— a little too quickly, which hints to Harry that she might be trying to cover something up. Perhaps she wasn’t as disgusted by this as she had led on…

He watches as his friend— he uses the term lightly— shuffles around his room, peering at the floor in an determined quest to find her jeans, underwear, and black lace blouse. Or maybe she’s just hellbent on avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Y/N…” His tone has lost its arrogantly mocking edge, softened by what she can only decode as...guilt? 

She ignores it and doesn’t answer, nearly passing out in relief when she spots her panties and bra hanging off the doorknob to his closet. She snatches them swiftly, panning her gaze around the rest of the room for her leftover clothes, spotting them in a pile sticking out from underneath the opposite corner of the bed. They’d probably gotten kicked there in the heat of the moment. 

Harry repeats himself a little louder, adding onto his comment to try and stifle some of the embarrassment radiating from her. “Y/N, you don’t have to leave. You usually stay for breakfast.” 

Y/N scoops up her outfit, settling it into the crook of her right elbow and squaring her shoulders as if ready to brace a hellhound. Their gazes lock and he feels his stomach flop when he sees the vulnerability she’s obviously trying to hide. She’s good at it, he’ll give her that, but if he stares intently enough, he can just make out the traces of conflicted longing leaking into the disinterested facade around her pupils. 

“It’s fine, Harry.” She sighs heavily, her tone drastically different from the unkempt girl that had been floundering about just seconds ago. She’s now calm, cool, collected, and scaringly so. “I have somewhere to be later. Meeting someone to close a deal.”

She shrugs one shoulder indifferently, grabbing a handful of the sheets arranged around her figure and pulling away, dropping the bedspread at his feet and leaving herself completely nude. 

And there she is, the Y/N he so well knows. The same one that uses sex appeal as a shield. 

She’s managed to spackle the cracks that had appeared in her typical barrier of heartlessness, her confidence and ease leveling off once again. She places her clothes on top of the crumpled sheets, picking out her cheeky bright red panties from the heap and working them up her tempting legs. Harry can’t help but notice the hickies covering her inner thighs, as well as the finger prints staining her hips. 

Y/N catches him ogling, smirking to herself now that she has her composure back in order. She hooks her index finger around one of the straps in her bra, lifting it up and bouncing the lace lingerie in front of him teasingly. She raises her eyebrows at her lover provokingly, a sultry air pouting her lips. “Think you can help a girl out?”

Harry licks at his slightly chapped lips thoughtfully, eyes flickering between the article hanging off her hand to the sly grin decorating the edges of her pretty mouth. When he speaks, it’s low and thicker than usual, accent heavy. “Of course, pet.”

His legs thunk emptily off the bed and onto the floor, a small grunt catching the back of his throat as he pushes himself up onto his feet. He is most definitely sore. 

His footsteps are soft against the carpeted ground, faltering as he rounds the corner of the mattress. 

Y/N eyes his every move, suckling her bottom lip at the way his muscles flex and contract under his sun-kissed skin. She doesn’t let herself wander below his waist though; she’s never one to pass up flaunting her power of will. 

Harry stops about a foot away, taking the bra from she is offering and holding it out for her to slip into. She does so at a mind-numbing pace, her toes curling as she feels his warm fingertips running the material up her arms and onto their designated spot on her shoulders. He tugs at the hooks gently, pinning them into place and tucking the tag in, exactly how he’s seen her do countless of times before. 

He then runs the palms of his hands up her arms, sighing softly at the silky sensation of her skin and giving her shoulders a dismissive squeeze. “All done.” 

Y/N turns on her heels to face him, looking up innocently through her lashes, lips quirking into an easy smile. “Thank you. Such a gentleman.” 

Her playfully seductive personality is unbearably contagious, seen in how Harry returns her action with a coy scoff and a simper of his own. “For you, always.”

“Well…” Y/N turns her lower half to the side, showing him her ass for significance, which is covered in the unmistakable print of his hand and rings. “I wouldn’t say always.” 

Harry’s pursed lips break into an even wider shit-eating grin, his cheeky laughter echoing across the walls of the apartment, his arms absentmindedly folding across his broad chest. “Yeah, well, you can’t say it’s one-sided, can you?”

He points towards his neck, stretching his chin upwards so that she gets a good view of all the fading love bites she’d left there the night before. 

Y/N’s giggles match his. “Touché.”

Harry rummages through his drawers as she finishes getting dressed, shimmying into her tight jeans and throwing her shirt on, finger-combing her hair into a decent state. He comes up with a pair of maroon briefs, slipping them on as he walks back towards her, letting the elastic band snap into place against his lower abdomen. 

The two demons with benefits stand before each other, Y/N with her braided black sandals swung over her shoulders and Harry with his hands fixed on his hips nonchalantly. 

“You really can’t stay for breakfast?” Harry inquiries one last time, lifting his eyebrows curiously. “I’m making those cinnamon bun waffles you like so much.” 

Y/N sighs grandly, clutching her chest dramatically as if it physically hurts her to decline his offer. “I’d love to, but work is work. Don’t really have a say.” 

Her friend nods in understanding, well aware of the truth behind her words. “It is what it is, then.” 

“However...” Her sudden continuation makes his head perk. She reaches up, carding her fingers into his messy curls and combing them back from his face, tucking a handful of rebellious ringlets behind his small ears and giving him one final self-assured smile. “Do y’think you could maybe save me two and I can come pick them up tonight?”

Harry cranes his head to the side, placing a slow peck to the palm of her hand and then biting into her skin jokingly, a certain lewdness painted all over the deed. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Great.” Y/N quips happily, wrapping his curls around her knuckles roughly and hauling him in for a sloppy, dirty kiss that leaves his teeth numb and his face buzzing. 

Once she breaks their mouths, lightly panting with her skin a darker shade than before, he has to blink three times in order to reign himself back in. His ability to form coherent sentences right now is about as useful as alphabet soup; he just gives her a jerky nod instead. 

Y/N wipes at his swollen lips with the pad of her thumb, giving his cheek a playful pat. “I’ll see you then, H.” 

Harry can’t tear his eyes away as she leaves, his bedroom door clicking shut behind her, the soft, distant thunk of his front door accompanying the sound a bit later. 

Fuck, that was something is the first comprehensible thought that registers in his mind. 

It was absolutely something and who knows how differently it would have gone if he had admitted giving into the weakness they had both sworn off of. 

That notion haunts him for a while— the idea that he could have driven her away for good if he had confessed that his emotions had bleed through their arrangement. Sure, it had only been this once, but Harry has a horrible gut-wrenching feeling that he’s unlocked a box deep in the back of his skull that won’t easily be chained down again. 

He thinks this over again and again as he prepares his morning meal, the looming uncertainties of it all causing him to check out of reality here and there, resulting in a few burn marks across his hands and two charred waffles in the bin. 

As Harry finally sits down to enjoy the food that had nearly not made it to his plate, he finds himself mentally running through the awkward encounter he and Y/N had faced this morning. He can’t stop himself from dwelling on the expression he had seen crack through her eyes earlier— one that showed she seemed to be feeling the same kind of emotional turmoil he was. It opens too many unanswered questions for their future and he hates himself for being so worried when nothing had truly happened. For all he knows, it could have just been a trick of the sunlight that had been streaming into the room. He’s getting himself out of sorts for nothing. 

However, as he goes in on a forkful of his cinnamon-glazed pastry, one pesky detail suddenly launches him into a coughing fit. 

It was so minuscule he had missed it the first fifty times he had run through the events, but it had decided to prick him in the brain now, the weak dam of reassurance he had built crumbling to ashes.  

After Y/N had woken up, saw what was happening, and their fight had ensued, she had made a comment about how Harry had kissed her forehead. 

On the surface, it had seemed unimportant because yes, that is exactly what he had done. The problem arose when he remembered that she had been dead asleep when he had done that. 

Supposedly.

He had gone to remove his arm from below her body, she had fussed a bit, he had pressed his lips to her forehead to ease her, and she had remained asleep for a while longer until he decided to finish removing his arm. That final motion was what had awoken her.

Supposedly. 

If she had been unconscious the whole time they were cuddling, then how did she know he’d kissed her?

[predannost]

some tidbits for verse 08 because shower thoughts are the only way i can worldbuild.

> mikaela’s using his family name shindō ( although i’ll be lazy and typing shindo ) > his home life sucks, much like canon with his abusive father and his nutcase of a mother. the main reason he pursues culinary arts is because it’s an easy way to put as much physical distance between himself and his parents. mika bailed as soon as he was able. > he finds safety in loneliness due to the habitual abuse. on the other end of the spectrum, however, he craves the positive attention he had been denied growing up. this leads him to become easily attached. > he has a more friendly disposition in this verse, but it’s likely him overcompensating for the fact he’s terrified of passing someone the mistreatment he’s been exposed to. sometimes, it’s easily misconstrued as flirting simply because he wants to make sure the person he’s talking to smiles. > unfortunately, he himself has a tendency to hit walls ( once or twice at most ) if he’s in a genuine place of frustration and stress. his ability to compartmentalize stress has begun to backfire as he gets older, so he’s prone to stress dreams. his sleep schedule is incredibly inconsistent because of this. > he’s a revenge procrastinator when it comes to sleep ( or sometimes the absence of ) due to the above. > occasionally he chooses to stay at the teahouse after hours to bake, or take leftovers home.  > he has a few scars typically hidden underneath his clothing, one that’s horizontal across his right bicep, and another that runs down his left thigh. they’re sustained injuries too deep, but he was unable to get proper medical care for. they stand out on his skin as they’re lighter and slightly raised by scar tissue. he does not remember what age he was when he was injured. > he had a few friends back home during his formative years, but they weren’t privy to the severity of what he was dealing with at home. needless to say though, he’s not afraid to talk about it if asked directly abroad---he wants to love them, but he knows they cannot love him in return. it leaves his understanding of relationships ( in any sense ) incredibly volatile. his gut instincts tend to make him flighty, in most situations. > he’s just about finished his primary education, and is focusing on completing apprenticeships for experience and credits. the teahouse is his second apprenticeship. the first was a confectionery chef position in kyoto. he gained more permanent friends during that year. > once he’s finished in france, he’ll be a free man ( burdened by some loans ).

[hollyxqx]

happy without me  |  kihyun

PAIRING: Reader / Kihyun GENRE: angst > idol!au WORD COUNT: 1.1k SUMMARY: Still reeling from your break-up, Kihyun goes lurking on your social media...[inspired by this song]

all about luv series

Kihyun has never particularly liked social media. For him it's more a curse than a blessing, especially lately but that doesn't mean he can't see the merit in it. Which is why he's a reluctant part of it too. For someone like him, someone who spends the larger percentage of his life travelling or away from loved ones it is useful to keep in touch. Mostly.

His brother lives abroad, so facebook is an easy way to check in with his adorable niece who he barely sees anymore. Everytime Kihyun sees a new photo his heart swells, the kid is growing so fast. His mom's posts always make him smile since she's still not entirely sure how to use any platform (no matter how many times Kihyun has acted as her own personal tech support).

All his profiles are extremely private, not by his choice. They're under another name, there's no pictures and every privacy setting is set to the almost max. Kihyun's an idol, if anyone even got wind of half the accounts that he had signed up for he could be in serious trouble. God forbid he was friends with a girl or someone the general public didn't approve.

You never liked that, but to your credit you understood. You always understood, always good at compartmentalizing your feelings when you had to. When you and Kihyun had first met you knew what you were getting into, what dating an idol meant. It was never going to be easy but you were strong; he always loved that about you.

There were lots of things he loved about you, many things he liked about you and god knows how many things annoyed him, but he missed them all. If he could have another argument with you about what movie to see, where to go for dinner or how you didn't like it when he flirted with fans he would take it, in a heartbeat.

Anything right now would be welcoming over the nothingness he was currently experiencing. The gut-wrenching, empty, quiet loneliness of 3am creeping up on him once more.

It was okay during the day, he was busy after all, with schedule after schedule. His mind was occupied and thoughts of you rarely crept up on him. But now, lying in a hotel room, alone his mind had no distractions to keep them at bay. Which is entirely how he ended up on your social media.

It's been five months? Six months? Kihyun didn't remember exactly when you had broken up. He definitely didn't forget how ugly and how messy it was. He knows (hopes) deep down that's because neither of you really wanted it in the first place. You'd both just reached your breaking point. He was gone too much, too busy to give you the attention you needed and it was steadily getting worse. You snapped.

Told him you loved him but it was enough. Being with an idol wasn't what you wanted. You wanted a boyfriend that you saw more than a few times a month. Kihyun recalled bitterly that even that was considered 'often' for the two of you. He more than understood but it hurt nonetheless. It still hurt.

So he endured, he suffered and then would get slightly drunk and would check up on you online, under the guise of making sure you're doing okay.

The pictures of you smiling ear to ear with several of your friends suggest you were more than okay. You were great. You were doing shots, dancing and laughing like you had not a care in the world. These days Kihyun didn't miss how you always had a drink in your hands. You never partied like that when you were together.

His breath hitches in the darkness of the hotel room as he lands on a photo of you and a guy. He recognises him, how could he not? It was your co-worker who he fucking hated. Many an argument had been had about that guy. Kihyun had called it from day one, the idiot was so into you but you were blind to it. The picture is way too cosy to be platonic. You look like a couple.

"Asshole," Kihyun mutters under his breath, wondering how long it took for him to swoop in. He bets his spot in your bed wasn't even cold yet.

He's being a hypocrite and he knows it. There's been girls since you. No one that even held a candle to you but still, they've been there. It was never the same. They didn't make him laugh like you did, match his wit like you did, touch him like you did. It was all rather soulless.

He clicks out of the photo and goes for a second look at the ones of you smiling. How come you were so happy? These aren't fake smiles. He knows you too well, he could spot them if they were. An ugly part of him wishes you were feeling like he was, even though he truly does want you to be happy. It was lonely to be the only one in pain.

Kihyun finishes the wine that was in the mini-fridge. Fresh tears sting at his eyes and he blinks them away, feeling foolish. It had been so long since he's cried about you, he wasn't going to do it now, couldn't let himself do it now. This is the first time you've looked happy, truly happy since you broke up and he's struggling.

"Fuck." He groans, rubbing at his wet eyes with the heels of his palms. God he misses you.

He misses you so much he's overwhelmed for a few moments, the feeling entirely consuming him. Before he even realises what he's doing, the alcohol and hurt completely wrecking his inhibitions he has his phone back in his hand and he's opening your chat log. He winces when he see's the last message was 3 months ago and it was you telling him you missed him.

He'd never replied. He was too busy and forgot, and by the time he could it was too late. Pushing that thought agonzingly away he begins typing.

[from: kihyun] I know I told you we'd still be friends, but when I see pictures of you smiling I hate to see you happy without me.

masterlist

[sparklingsin]

listen i ..... i have many things to stay but typing this through tears is going to be difficult so please bear with me. if i could, i would quote the entire fic because there are so many tiny pinches, along with the harder stabs and the final rest that i felt throughout this fic but since i cannot, here's some of my top favourite lines that are probably going to stay with me forever.

The loneliness of it yawns out down the drive, like visible smoke plumes that escape every window.

Steve doesn’t finish it because then you’ll hear the other part of the sentence, even without him saying it. No one stays.

But like red wine on white linen, with time — and plenty of distance — it had faded.

You had sighed, chin in hand, and leaned into the foolish feelings — because going crazy over a boy felt the most normal thing you could do.

this so perfectly describes the feeling of having a crush, you are a literary genius.

There’s something so alluring about your silhouette, the golden street light let in through slits in the door. It halos you, soft amber that softens every curve. You’re enchanting, even when bloodied.

if somebody described me in this way, i would fall apart.

But Steve will do what he had done last year; take the punches, burn them off in the heat of the shower — hot enough that he can’t feel any tears — and then deal with it.

this hits so close to home, good god, i was full on sobbing at this point.

Steve Harrington has some very thick defenses and not without good reason; they’ve got him through some treacherous times. Even now, he uses it like a crutch, a seal to hide away horrid memories. Ignored in favour of temporary strength.  // A final line of defense. A ploy to make you upset or angry, to make you emotional enough to storm out and leave him to lick his wounds alone. Another way to ignore it, compartmentalize what happened instead of facing it head on.

these lines... the hurt....they understand steve better than the duffers have ever. i read these over and over and i think I can speak then from memory now.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” You respond, lips twitching. You bare your heart and half hope he sees it — sees it and knows he’s loved when you say, “Not if it’s you.”

"Not to me. Not if it's you." !!!!!!!!!! I AM NOT OKAY !!!!!!!!!!!

You work away the blood from a cut above his eyebrow and when it’s clean, your thumb follows. You caress along the broken skin as if you could meld it back together with pure will.

“B-Because that first time,” He’s stuck on some belittling ramble about himself, continuing between his sniffs. “I definitely deserved it. But then I grew and I changed.”

i had to put away my phone and cry for a bit. because good god steve definitely believes this, and it's horrible but it just fits and i ...sigh. thank you for letting him cry in this and thank you for letting him be loved.

But you? You were the thump on his heart. Not a push for change, nor for growth — but permission to grant himself a second chance in love.

my heart was stabbed and then stitched together, what an experience.

if i haven't made it abundantly clear already, i am in love with your writing. this was beautifully written and the concept was amazing as a whole. i am in awe.

not if it’s you.

word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]

You’re bone-deep tired.

The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.

It’s been a hell of a night.

You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.

It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.

The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.

Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.

Keep reading

[gweyowmi]

Gweyowmi Rose Character Sheet

Childhood

Abandoned as a small child, Gweyowmi was found at the age of two by an angry old pirate between two palm trees along the coast at Costa Del Sol. He saw that she was starving and unable to survive so reluctantly brought her home. He did this only because he decided he had already seen enough women and children die in his time and there was no treasure to be had for this young sun seekers death. She grew up in the fringes of Costa Del Sol, with only animals from the wild she would befriend from a deeply ingrained feeling of loneliness. The pirate would raise her, teaching her how to fight, and unintentionally, his attitude about the worth of others lives when there was something to be gained by robbing or killing. As a result she developed poor social skills, the ability to drink the best of 'em under the table, and little regard for others beyond a very small circle of souls she would ever truly care about.

At age 14 Gweyowmi ran away from home wanting to explore and see someone, anyone, her own age. She was found by a Madam who was never seen without her pipe, smoke circling the air around her like a cloud of poison. This Madam lured Gweyowmi into her brothel at first for cheap labor, with the intention to train her in the arts of seduction and charm. Gweyowmi was not nearly as naive as the Madam had assumed. She stayed for two years learning all that she could, silently sneaking around and spying on others to learn different tricks to deception and charm, learning to master social cues and reading others. Gweyowmi saw first hand the lessons her adoptive father had always taught her about others. If there is something to be gained, and no one there to stand as witness, even the most noble in appearance will often succumb to their own selfish desires at the cost of others. This confirmed for her that she should always look out for herself and only herself despite her strong desire for companionship. At 16 she ran away and then began to apply what knowledge she already had.

Gweyowmi has zero interest in politics, rules, social expectations or anything at all that would inhibit her from living how she wants to. She only modifies herself if it serves her a purpose, be it an invite to an event, occasionally giving to the poor or unfortunate out of a subconscious need to try and fix others who are broken, or obtain something she desires.

Work

Fluent in several languages, athletic, charming, beautiful, Gweyowmi might as well have written the book on infiltration and seduction. Combined with her lack of regard for life when gil becomes involved she naturally became a mercenary with her specialty being covert jobs assassinating and other types of high risk jobs. She shows zero discretion in who she kills once the price has been agreed upon. Extra up charge for cold and damp environments as she despises the snow and cold considering she grew up along the beach and spent her teen years in Limsa.

Communication is key in work and life, Gweyowmi figures out a targets desires and wants then molds herself to best fulfill that desire to get close to the target if this is applicable then poisons them, she prefers this to killing from afar. Otherwise she changes her appearance, the way she walks and holds herself, is a master at quick change technique in the middle of a crowd with out missing a beat, changing her voice tone and laugh to fit the role needed for the job. Sometimes she will steal uniforms that are commonly seen and discounted so she is not remembered by passerby's and infiltrate the area to find an opportunity to neutralize her target.

Between the extreme personality shift and her appearance being masked Gweyowmi can easily go unnoticed or recognized when she needs to.

About

Despite being a person who will kill any man, or woman for the right price, Gweyowmi is not completely without a heart. Nor does she wish to ever pass up a good time. When Gweyowmi is not on a job she appears on the surface to be a carefree bikini clad sun seeker Miqo'te often playing down on her own intelligence level, and pretending to be clumsy. Often fun loving, confident, outgoing and social, interact with her enough you will begin to notice hints of something lying beneath her sunny persona, however this may be hard to break through. She is often seen with animals following her around. If she sees an abandoned or wounded animal she will carefully take them in, giving them medical care and treatments. She never imprisons them, but if they wish to stay with her she continues to feed them and carry them around as they wish. Since she too was abandoned as a child, and animals were the first friends she had, she has quite the large soft spot for lost, broken, and abused. Paired with the inner desire to have a normal relationship with someone she can truly trust and confide in, Gweyowmi often attempts to make friends but pulls back with an ingrained fear of being abandoned self-sabotaging her relationships. If you are able to become friends with her though, she would easily slay an entire village, trekking across all of Eorzea for you.

After all, Gweyowmi wants to be loved, and she wants to have someone to trust. Her adoptive father always taught her to be self reliant however there's a flame of desire for companionship burning within her that refuses to be extinguished. She compartmentalizes well work from other aspects of her life. This allows for her to socialize and blend into the crowd while living day to day life. For this reason, and perhaps others, Gweyowmi on the surface appears to be nothing other than a typical happy woman who just seems to severely lack the understanding of how society dresses or expects women to dress.

Traits

Age: 26

Race: Miqo'te - Sun Seeker

Height: 4'6" - 137 cm

Weight:  38kg 

Eye Color: Black

Hair Color: Blonde or black usually, changes fairly often.

Skin Tone: Deep Tan

Orientation: Pansexual

Birthplace: ????

Grew up: In some woods along the border of the Beach by Limsa Lominsa

Tribe: Unknown

Family: Adoptive Father.

Alignment: neutral

Likes: Gil, parties, drinking, gambling, treasure hunting, sassy or shy characters, broody types.

Dislikes: Hero’s of any sort, Lawfully good especially, Ishguardian nobles, Tribal types(since she was abandoned), too serious of personalities. 

Sample

Drinking her preferred simple drink of dark rum mixed with cream, Gweyowmi is slid a piece of paper beneath the next glass she orders. She delicately cups the glass with both hands, her right hand at the very base of the glass. While lifting the glass to her mouth with her left hand she leaves her right hand low and casually lays her hand flat on the bar top tucking the paper into her palm to retrieve. She expected a reply to her requested price, however did not expect such a quick one. Regardless she isn't in a rush to finish her evening so soon. Brushing a stray strand of pale hair from her temple she begins mentally preparing and plotting her next targets demise.

She smiles sweetly to the barkeep as this is a bar she often frequents and leaves him a generous tip. Gweyowmi understands there's three basic desires to everyone, sex, money, and rest. By fulfilling these needs to others she ensures she in return gets treated well at places she favors to spend time in. Letting herself slide off the bar as she is small in stature and cannot touch the ground typically when seated, she hits the ground with barely a noise, slipping away into the crowd disappearing.

Once safely away from prying eyes Gweyowmi takes out the paper she was discreetly slipped and reads the name and location of her next mark. She can see the price she had replied with has been agreed to and collects her things along with a dark wig and disappears in the dead of night out of her home traveling to a city in a neighboring country. She stops momentarily at the beach outside of her apartment admiring the calm sea. Moonlight glints on the crest of small waves gently coming in with the tide, the sight of the sea always calms and centers her. Water is the most adaptable of all elements, can be the most brutal and devastating source of harm, but is also required for all life, and beloved by most for play. Gweyowmi sprints off into the night reminded again that one of the most important things in life, is the ability to adapt.

------

Koala Pet

Precariously balancing herself, hidden well within the protective foliage of a well established tree Gweyowmi is resting. She hears a strange noise with an infliction of pain in the tone, and looks below scanning the area. There is a koala limping around and is being harassed by some larger creature with the lust for murder glowing in its eyes. Gweyowmi jumps down nimbly while firing off a simple arcane spell at the predator. The spell hit a split hairs distance from the creatures paw as intended, scaring it away lumbering into the nearby bushes. Gweyowmi holds out a leaf that has a sweet taste to it and the koala recognizes it but is unsure of this stranger.

Much time passes as the wind gently blows the surrounding terrain, along with the scent of the food gweyowmi is offering to the small wounded koala. She keeps herself low with her ears relaxed and tail calm and visible so the koala knows she means no harm. Eventually it begins to limp towards her and she then gives it more food out of her bag. Gweyowmi noticed earlier the wounded paw and her heart ached at the sight of something defenseless and innocent being threatened. Unlike most of the beings walking Eorzea able to speak and reason, yet still choosing to kill each other for personal gain, animals are viewed as pure and worth effort in Gweyowmi's eyes.

Eventually, after some time passes of continuously camping in the area and feeding the kola it allows Gweyowmi to pick it up and bandage the paw. She ends up taking the tiny animal home with her and allows it to take time to heal, then be set free back into the wild if that is what the koala chooses, or allow it to stay with her.

OOC

I I am not opposed to gore/violent/dark/super natural/ mature themed rp. I am opposed to character death and permanent scarring/injury. 

PLEASE NOTE

My in-character interactions with your character do not necessarily reflect my view of you outside of the game. If my character becomes involved with yours romantically, that does not mean that I reciprocate that interest outside of FFXIV. I have my own life. This is role playing, a fictional character intended to explore and develop same as a character in a book. On the same note, if my character dislikes yours, that does not mean I hold any animosity towards you outside of RP. 90% I don't. If you cannot respect these limits, I will attempt to reconcile the issue with you, but I may end up blacklisting you if it becomes a recurring issue.

[her-phenomenon]

...

ok for real i’m gonna rant to talk about mr jumin han

DISCLAIMER: i have only done casual story mode routes, with the most recent being jaehee so if anything i say is inaccurate, then please excuse me

jumin is my fave char in mysme even from running through other routes (shallow reason being he’s in a suit and i’m a sucker for the proper-looking types). he’s generally depicted as a very stern, pragmatic person who doesn’t care for nonsense like emotions and can be extremely self-serving at the cost of jaehee’s sanity and sleep. he apparently hates women (a past i know very little about considering that it was just alluded to in jaehee’s route). he has the appearance of someone who is very well put-together and nothing much seems to bother him. 

but then you have scenes of him saying “meow” and teasing zen and then i think mr jumin han who or what are you really like???

one of the points in his personality i found really interesting is the whole hating women thing. let me get this straight: in jaehee’s route, he was a little shit and acted like a spoiled brat. but then i also got to thinking, mc in-game is a woman, no? why doesn’t he act like she has some kind of disease? again, this is all my reasoning and speculation but i feel that i have to rant a little bit.

in jaehee’s case, jumin has basically demoted her to a level of “assistant” - with that title carrying a very heavy, work-related responsibilities. that’s all he ever saw her as and so he treated her as, well, someone under him (which technically, is correct). he gives her such a hard time in her route because to him, she was there to do whatever he said and take care of him whenever he had one of this eccentric moments with cat franchises and businesses that he refused to see her more than, well, sub-human. or so you’d think, but the way he reacts to her quitting definitely shows that her absence has affected him. was he right in the way he treated her? no, of course not. but as we’ve learned, jumin tends to very clearly differentiate between work and personal life. so to his credit, it’s because he runs his ship the way he does that every goes smoothly.

in mc’s case, jumin does not react anywhere nearly the same way he does with jaehee with mc. sometimes, you can even say pretty antagonistic things against him but his replies are never angry - or at least, they are never angry towards mc. sometimes he even asks her for advice. i think in this aspect jumin has come to regard mc as one of the members of the rfa, a real member, and not sub-human or just another woman. despite his aversion to that sex, he seems to treat mc fairly normally and even has moments of being close to her - like when he describes her voice and how it’s not grating. like i said, i think this is largely owing to the fact that how jumin sees people under him and working for him and how he sees members in the rfa are completely different. i think jumin has learned to compartmentalize who goes where, how to treat different categories of people, and how to deal with them. because of that, he can seem like he is just a slave driver but somehow shows mc favouritism, but i think that it’s because he lives by such rigid rules and classifications that he can still function and run his company as well as he can.

and then comes v. mr jumin han is still a ball of complication but nothing has hit that home more than the above scenes.

holy shit was definitely my first reaction. in three screenshots alone, more was revealed to me about jumin than the entire week’s worth of chats. in three screenshots alone, i saw on his face and in his head emotions that i didn’t know he could exhibit:

anguish

hurt

betrayal

“At least not you... at least not you...!” gotta keep in mind that this period was already more of an emotional bombshell to jumin than he’s probably used to. jaehee had just quit and he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he did miss her and took in out on poor 707′s car. so when v comes in wanting to disappear and gives him all this crap, look out. the above line, to me, comes from someone who’s just lost something important and he’s sick and tired of bullshit but he’s about to lose something else. i don’t even know their backstory but from this i can tell that jumin finds v extremely valuable to him as he tries to find answers in his friend as to why, of all the people in the world to turn against him, it had to be v. this simple line tells me that jumin has been through a lot of relationships, all probably shallow, and maybe some deeper than others, but that they didn’t hold a candle to how much he values v. jumin acts as someone who has experienced true betrayal for the first time, so much so that he’s actually pleading.  i have never seen something as heartbreaking as someone who usually has it together breaking down and pleading.

“Even my friendship... how dare you treat it like this!” my lord. this line screams selfish, but it also screams “after all the times we’ve spent together, did that all mean nothing to you?” i’ve honestly never seen jumin lose control like this, with such simple words screaming of anguish that it’s almost indescribable how much v really means to him. it means that he’s seen all those times with v as precious and extremely important to him, although he’d never admit that out loud. jumin has obviously invested a lot of personal and emotional ties in his friendship with v to a point where, well, v means almost everything to him. he looks like someone who was drowning, had a life buoy tossed at him, then having it taken back when he was almost back on the boat.

“Quit with the bull shit that you have cancer.” jumin’s pretty much done at this point. after everything, the fact that v still feels the need to lie to him at such a pivotal moment brings nothing but hurt to the guy. i can see him thinking “please, not you too, i don’t want to lose you” because, as i said, this had been around the moment jaehee quit. he was feeling a sense of emptiness from her loss, and v, of all people, coming in and dropping the bomb on him like this just made him snap. there’s a desperation here to me, in that jumin feels that if v’s gone too, he’ll have nothing and no one left. i think nothing screams about jumin’s loneliness more than this - well, more than all these lines.

i think the cherry on the top of my jumin feels sundae is his facial expression. the anguish, hurt and betrayal are all so evident on a face usually so stoic that it really makes you wonder and mull over how close the two of them are truly are that a couple of words from v can get jumin’s facade to crumble so completely.

i know more will be revealed in jumin’s route as i do it, but i felt i had to rant a little over this amazing character development and just... this amazing character in general. i won’t deny he has faults, of course. then again, so do the others. that’s just what part of makes them unique.

[raynebowrayne]

My Quora answer to the question, "What do you think about Kylo Ren and Rey's relationship?"

Below is a copy/paste of my honest opinion of Reylo, Kylo and Rey. Enjoy.

I think it is beyond beautiful.

It’s complex, multidimensional, and absolutely inspiring.

Think about it…

Kylo Ren aka Ben Solo is the absolutely last person in the galaxy that most people would want to commit their lives to… He is moody, mean, mentally disturbed, a mass murderer, absolutely down to torture information out of anyone. He flat out has zero moral compass. He doesn’t consider anyone less powerful than himself to even be worthy of consideration as a person. He is a certifiable nightmare of a human being.

Then he meets Rey.

Rey is a scrappy, fiery girl with her own set of mental issues, a ferocious temper, a fight/kill now- ask questions later attitude and she is brimming with a type of heedless courage that makes her seem fearless. And she’s a Force powerhouse with basically identical potential to Kylo/Ben… But on the opposite side of the war from him.

He rejects all human contact, relationships, and ties and she longs desperately for all three. He seeks only power, she seeks only love. Where he is mean she is nice. Where he is cruel she is kind. Where he is jaded she is niave. In short, on the surface, the ONLY thing they have in common is their Force potential.

Ah… But their Force potential… Because of that one piece of common ground they are able to see beyond the surface of each other in a way most couples who are deeply in love would kill to be able to do. They see into each other on a bared-soul-deep level.

He sees her in all her lonely, terrified, desperate, needy glory… And she sees the exact same things in him. In roughly equal measure.

He saw into her an was immediately drawn to her in unnamable, inescapable, life-changing, soul-deep ways.

When she looked into him she saw his fear and his training… Ever the pragmatic survivalist she stopped her search right there and *downloaded* the information she needed in order to use this always known but never before fully-awake talent of hers… She didn’t look any deeper until she was forced (or Forced?) to by the unavoidable intimacy of the mind bridge…

But she began to see him long before she reached for his hand. His “Haunted, needy eyes” touched something in her before she’d ever got an eyefull of his naked chest.

The misery in his voice called to her when he admitted to being a monster… she didn’t cry her eyes out in that cave and decide she wanted to speak to him because of his alabaster skin or gorgeous hair…

She wanted to talk to him because of those haunted, needy eyes, misery, and loneliness… Because she understood that he was as deeply alone, miserable and needy- everyday, as she felt in that moment. Because a part of her finally stopped being willfully blind to the fact that just beneath the surface they are exactly the same… Something he’s known since Starkiller Base.

Any doubts that were lingering in her mind were wiped away the moment they touched hands… Hence the utterly devastated reaction to his throneroom proposition.

You cannot be truly shocked and devastated by someone you have doubts about. Ever. Disappointed, angry, appalled, yes… But not shocked and devastated.

And was his reaction to her rejection? Shocked devastation followed immediately by murderous rage which was quickly followed by dejected remorsefullness.

He’s a hot mess because of her rejection but guess what? So is she. He externalizes his emotions, she internalizes… He explodes, she compartmentalizes. They are polar opposites on the surface. They handle things very differently… But make no mistake, they’re in perfect sync where it counts…

It is my absolute belief that EP:IX will show us exactly what real, honest to god, soul deep, all in, no holds barred LOVE can achieve.

After all-

*begins to sing*

When a man loves a woman…can’t keep his mind on nothin’ else.

He’d trade the world for the good thing he’s found.

He’d give up all his comforts and sleep out in the pouring rain… If that’s the way she says it aught to be….

*stops butchering Percy*

I can’t wait for the third act of this EPIC ode-to-Percy set in space.

And seriously, what could be more inspirational than watching such a trainwreck of an individual (Kylo/Ben) get his shit together and turn his life around?

I mean, hell, if he can do it, why can’t we?

[electronswrites]

Superboy being half Kryptonian is actually such an important factor, and I'm so glad you touched on it. So keep in mind that, initially, no one knew for sure what Superboy's deal was. Was he a sleeper agent? Was he going to break down into a pile of goo eventually? Did he actually have ill intentions towards Superman?

We know and love Conner, but, again, think of this from Superman's perspective. Superboy by his own admission was created to take down and replace Superman. Awk-Ward. Superboy even admits to Black Canary that being seen as Superman in the Failsafe scenario felt good to him, even though it occurred right after the death of one of his closest friends.

Please don't think I'm blaming Superboy for his feelings, because I'm not. People react to trauma in different ways, and after everything Conner went through, it was completely natural for him to be confused about his feelings. It's just that, Superman has every reason to think that Superboy might one day turn on him. He has to at least aknowledge the possibility it could happen.

Clark is not Bruce Wayne; he isn't good at compartmentalizing his feelings. When Clark Kent loves, he loves with his whole heart. (I'm not saying Bruce doesn't, just that Clark wears his heart on his sleeve while Bruce keeps his cards close to his chest. Bruce loves his kids, but he can sometimes be emotionally distant and that's how he protects himself for better or worse.) Caring for Conner like a son and then having him turn on him would break Clark, and he knows it.

But what does this have to do with Conner being half Kryptonian? Everything. For so long, Clark has been the last of his kind. That pain, that loneliness, that responsibility, has weighed on him since he was a child. The chance to be able to pass down his heritage, the risk of sharing his culture with someone who might be able to honor it but might end up being against everything it stands for... Clark is stuck between a rock and a hard place. There were no good choices for him, just different types of pain.

In Defense of Superman

As hilarious as all of the "Lex Luthor is Superman's baby momma" jokes are (and they are so, so hilarious), I do think there's an interesting conversation in how the narrative treats Superman for not wanting to mentor Superboy.

It seems to be the view of the story, most of the characters and even the majority of the viewers that Superman was obligated to take in Superboy, that he is his father and owes it to him to train and care for him. I understand that from a genetic point of view Superman is Superboy's progenitor. However, Superman wasn't a willing participant in the creation of Superboy. I wouldn't necessarily say that Luthor's actions were akin to rape, as there was no sexual component, but the theft of Superman's genetic material for the purpose of creating a child without his consent or knowledge is certainly a violation of some kind.

None of this is Superboy's fault, and his situation is regrettable. Nonetheless, I don't believe this to be Superman's responsibility. Of course it would have been kind for Superman to take on Superboy, but it would have been just as kind for any member of the Justice League to do so, and yet none of them are viewed as being obligated. It was certainly kind for Bruce Wayne to take in Dick Grayson, but was doing so an obligation? Not at that time, no.

However, once an adult does assume responsibility for a child, that responsibility is permanent. You can't take back love and security once you've given it to a child. That's monstrously cruel. So really, isn't Superman's resolution to keep his distance from Superboy an act of kindness? Why get his hopes up? Why tease him with the possibility of a relationship Superman isn't in the right emotional place to offer?

As sympathetic as I am to Superboy's plight, it feels wrong to throw Superman under the bus here. His actions are viewed in terms of what would be best for Superboy, but what about what's best for Superman? Doesn't he have an obligation to himself and his own emotional well-being? Why is he obligated to care for a child he had no hand in creating?

[whatspastisprologue-blr]

Sam can get pretty single-minded. It's possible that, between his compartmentalizing and the "my whole future on a plate", that he pursued law school to the point f eventually excluding Jess. Not to say that Jess wasn't still important, at least as far as what she symbolized. But going to Stanford for law was his path to escape hunting. He was gonna be a lawyer. And he was gonna have a safe life--and, with how important the idea of normal versus freak has been with him, a "normal, apple pie life", too. Jess was a part of that, sure--nice, traditional job, pretty wife, white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog, that's the stereotypical dream (or, it was), the safe life, the normal life. But she wasn't how he was gonna get there. She was something he had to include into his original goal: Stanford law.

So what if it's a world where he pushed Jess away, too absorbed in work, in relentless pursuit of his goal (I'm imagining the law school version of Sam's behavior at the end of "Mystery Spot"). So maybe the demons never killed her because her death wouldn't have been enough to get him on the road. And maybe the demons did kill her, but it just made him more determined to escape, leading to him preaching the gospel of loneliness and only eating kale.

And in that universe, Dean had been cut out so completely from Sam's life that he never got him at Stanford. And without Sam's more rebellious attitude rubbing off on him, would Dean have ever tried to help John hunt Azazel despite John's wishes? Since Dean was the one who killed Yellow Eyes, is the demon still alive?

I like what was said about how we still don't know much about Sam's hobbies. I don't think I'd realized how little he shares his likes and dislikes until "Born to be Wild" by Steppenwolf came on the radio in S12 and, from the back seat, he leaned forward and asked for it to be turned up. I remember being blown away because I realized I couldn't remember the last time he had done something like that.

And so in my rewatch of the series, I've been trying to pay attention to the evolution of Sam's outfits (the brightness of the colors, the garishness of the patterns, how buttoned his shirt is) and his eating habits (when did his healthy eating/inner purity thing kick off). And I'm realizing that he wasn't always the "top button only eats salad" type. He slowly became that way in response to his experiences and trauma.

And in this AU, Sam has apparently traded the bright fun t shirts under really colorful and oddly printed button-up of, say, S1, or the basic t shirts under more muted but still kind of funky-on-occasion button-up of now, for just a black turtleneck. Completely devoid of color, no buttons to possibly let loose, no patterns that are even subtly funky. Even more restrained.

Because of how I see Sam's wardrobe seeming to change in response to his trauma and general experiences, and that even now--after, for example, everything with Lucifer-- Sam doesn't dress like that, it does make me wonder just what might have happened to Sam in this AU. Is it just his drive to be a lawyer, so he's shunned pattern and color and buttons to seem as "professional" as possible? Because even lawyers can wear buttoned shirts and color and even at least some pattern. But Sam isn't going for it. So is this the result of his determination, or did something happen to him even more awful than what he's experienced in this reality?

1/2 I'm interested to hear your thoughts about Alternate-Timeline-Douchebag-TEDTalk!Sam. The thing is... I found him surprisingly plausible. Not that our Sam could turn into him - that future was averted the moment he reconnected with Dean - but knowing what we do about who Sam was immediately pre-series, and about his hangups, etc. I could trace the line to see how he got there. There were bits of course, that resonated with Sam's whole clean eating/purity thing, but even more, the bit about

2/2 giving up hobbies and family got to me. Because Sam’s always had this all-or-nothing tendency, and even now we comment on how we know almost nothing about his hobbies. And if this is a Sam who never reconciled with Dean, or got any part of his family back after severing those ties—and if he still lost Jessica, or never had her—I can see how that could lead to him becoming this lonely person who has convinced himself that actually, that’s what he wants. It’s way sadder than it seems at first.

Hi hi! And sorry I didn’t get to this sooner, but I agree with you 100%.

Lizbob hasn’t finished watching the episode yet, and I found myself biting my tongue so hard when she was taking a break to share her horror over the Sam and John chat over Winchester Surprise, but that’ll all be in her episode notes.

But THIS is what I wanted to yell about, so thank you for giving me a forum to do that. :P

I kind of hinted at this in the notes I made while rewatching 1.01 this morning:

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/182659456565/the-more-i-watch-101-the-more-i-see-how-1413

Sam didn’t want normal, he wanted SAFE. And to him, in that alternate timeline, would’ve meant having no family, nobody who could ever possibly hurt him, and living only for his work and his super-healthy raw vegan diet. Don’t love anything, and nothing can hurt you. And just… wow that’s horrible. D:

SAM: I have this…I have an interview.DEAN: What, a job interview? Skip it.SAM: It’s a law school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate.

in the AU, it literally became his whole future. He had literally nothing else except a douchey black turtleneck.

But even if his hobbies don’t seem like tons of fun– studying serial killers, reading obscure lore books, cataloging their inventory– they are to him, theoretically. :D

Plus here, he has people who love him, who he loves in turn, you know? He has Dean, Cas, Mary, Jack, Jody, Donna, and the girls, Rowena, and everyone else… the AU hunters, the extended hunter network including Garth and his family and so many more we probably haven’t even heard of. He’s not alone.

And I think Sam would choose this life over being the guy with no hobbies, no family, kale-loving, but successful lawyer with nothing else to show for it. It’s just the most depressing possible version of Sam. Like, way worse than the version in Dean’s djinn dream in 2.20. Because at least back then he was happy. He had a life, was beginning a family, even if he didn’t have hunting and wasn’t close with Dean, at least it was a life Sam could theoretically enjoy. And that was based on a “wish” of Dean’s as well, that Mary was still alive…

Now in a world based around the wish that brought John back to life, they’d not only lose Mary, but they’d end up in such a worse place than they’d been before. NOBODY would’ve gotten their white picket fence, and far worse than that, none of them seem particularly settled, or have any family or loved ones to speak of. It seems like Dean’s on his own hunting, Sam’s preaching the gospel of loneliness, and John is… who even knows where he is in this world, aside from having landed there and remaining otherwise unaffected by the spell to the point he began to be changed by it and integrated into their lives yet. Because in that world… do they even know the bunker exists? If they never met Abaddon? Or Henry? Or would John have found it if Henry’s spell and brought him straight to John, as he’d expected it would?

Heck, there’s just too much to contemplate, but the absolute worst fate seems to belong to Sam, who not only apparently severed all ties with John and Dean permanently, but never was able to form a single long-lasting, healthy relationship with anyone else.

Because he DOES tend to compartmentalize his life this way, you know? He never told Jess anything about his life before he met her, growing up hunting, and he never intended to, either (based on what he told Dean in 1.01). But in a world where Jess was never killed by demons, you’d think he would’ve had a long, happy life with her. But no, she’s not with him anymore. I wonder what happened there? If maybe she discovered some of the truth of his past, and Sam decided that was unacceptable to him, or too dangerous for her to know about, it’s just too depressing to contemplate. Or maybe the demons never bothered introducing Sam to her in the first place (as he discovered when he met Brady and discovered he was a demon in 5.20), so he never even met her at all… 

And wow.

But yeah, in that other world, it’s like he’s perfected the fine art of running away from everything, to the point that all he has left is his job, and that’s just depressing.

[walkinginsolitude]

Abby

It's some day of the week that’s wedged too far between days off to matter much.

I’m on auto-pilot.

Delivering packages via bicicleta in the cold winter air of downtown Manhattan.

My phone startles me with a noise that only exists in this world because a bunch of assholes sat in a room somewhere dragging nails across chalkboards and throwing kittens at drumsets and listening to brunch conversations about intermittent fasting until they engineered the single most obnoxious sound ever heard.

It's an alert that I thought we had all agreed was only to be used when someone stole a kid.

But no, instead this sound scares the absolute shit out of me in order to let me know that “a winter squall is approaching”. It might as well say a “scoopty poop is coming” because I have no idea what the shit that means.

Either way the sky almost immediately falls dark. The temperature drops. Winds pick up. Snow begins blanketing down, which is just the cutest of all severe weather unless of course you’re the idiot in your family who didn’t go to law school and so is currently riding his bike around New York delivering packages.

Okay. Fine.

An hour or two pass.

I’m cold annoyed and considering applying to law school.

But I'm alright. It’s what I signed up for.

Until some young meat popsicle who clearly attended business school walks directly into the bike path without looking which just has a terrible ROI as I'm forced to swerve brake slip and tumble across the pavement and into a gaggle of other business humans.

Okay. Fine.

I lay there for a minute more due to the cumulative shittiness of the day than the bumps and bruises of the fall.

I am a bit shaken up though.

Never fun to fall off your bike in the streets of NYC. It's sort of like the world’s longest, stupidest game of russian roulette.

Fine. The only way through the day is through the day. Back on the bike. Back to work. I can be resilient. Take it in stride.

I’m riding slower now. But not too slow because it’s absolutely freezing. The snow is still piling up with no signs of stopping. Thank God no children were actually taken, because you're not finding no kids in this squall.

So I’m working. Shaking off the gitters of the fall. Finding shelter where I can.

My phone goes off again. This time far too softly for the message it's delivering.

It’s a text that reads: “Abby is stopping chemo. She’s going into hospice. She’s not going to make it.”

………………. Shit. …….

…. Bu……

…………….

Fuck.

I get back on my bike again trying as best I can to compartmentalize my feelings. Not be overwhelmed. Don’t be overwhelmed, Don’t be overwhelmed. Focus up.

The snow doesn't matter. The physical pain doesn’t matter. You'll have to think about Abby later.

I can't.

I can't.

The harder I try not to think about her the more overwhelmed I become. Until she is ALL I'm thinking of.

I’m not even looking at the street anymore.

I fall from my bike again.

I’m crying.

Keeping my head down while delivering packages so the recipients won't see my eyes.

I can’t control my feelings. I'm drowning.

Thinking of Abby.

She's been battling ovarian cancer for some time and is now apparently preparing for the end.

To be fair her and I were never all that close.

We went to a small boarding school together had some close mutual friends kept in sparse contact throughout the years.

And in typical Abby fashion she never cried for help or asked for attention.

It was only when things got too bad to ignore that her friends betrayed her orders of privacy and let those who love her know her situation.

I’m thinking of this Woman. This Beautiful Vivacious Kind 33 yrs old Woman, who in every cliche way that people talk about the dying IS TRULY, HUMBLY, WONDERFUL.

In high school everyone seemed trapped in their egos. Consumed by insecurity.

Abby didn't.

She wasn't too cool or more mature, just refreshingly devoid of teenage self-centeredness.

She was always genuine. Inquisitive. Joyful. Real.

She has the type of smile that only free people have.

And she is.

A free soul.

Every step along the way that I've been fortunate enough to share with Abby she always seemed free. She always seemed connected.

And so I think of Abby with her whole life ahead of her. That bright, infectious smile. That spirit to really live. Going through this.

Falling ill. Getting the horrible news: You might die. Putting on a brave face.

But life looks different now.

All your friends are traveling getting married having kids going to the beach talking politics.

And you’re just surviving.

In and out of chemo. All the medication. The fear. The loneliness.

And I wonder, beyond all of this unimaginable physical pain and suffering she endured, when it was that she first truly allowed the possibility of dying to enter her mind. A young, vibrant, talented, joyous woman in her early 30s now coming to terms with the realities of her illness.

Think about that. It’s worth your real consideration. What it must be like to face that.

For no good reason your life might be Ending.

How does that feel? What do you do? How could she find the strength to fight with that looming over her? What did she think about every day? How insanely scared are you? It’s unimaginable. It’s not fair.

And now to know for certain that this Is the End.

At 33.

To go into hospice and literally prepare for death. It’s FUCKED.

It’s a concept that fills ME with so much anger and frustration and sorrow that I can barely breathe when I think about it and I’m just some asshole who knew her 15 years ago. This poor, amazing woman who I sincerely believe deserves to be alive more than I do if life was fair, has to actually go through it. It’s FUCKED.

And so I’m biking in the squall in the cold scraped and bruised crying thinking of Abby absorbing the news. I am miserable in a way that I haven’t known in a very long time.

But then I think about just what Abby would give to trade places with me in that exact moment.

To be riding a bike out in the world in the beautiful snow in a beautiful city with her health and her life ahead of her.

She would be smiling that bright beautiful effortless smile. She might be singing. She might stop to take a photo of the large white snowflakes falling in the light of dusk on the east river before getting back on the bike and navigating the world. Her beautiful blonde curls floating in the air behind her.

She would be living.

That realization helped me a bit.

There is a thing that happens any time we hear about tragedy. About death. When we are forced to acknowledge through other’s pain and suffering our own mortality.

To recognize that we are just a bunch of sentient organisms on a spinning rock with no fucking clue why we are here or where we go when we die.

Some time after I first learned about Abby having cancer I was thinking about her and I saw a beautiful flock of birds flying through the air doing that weird thing birds do where they all move as one through the sky in those quick erratic motions. It seemed unfathomable to understand how they could all know which way to go and when exactly to turn. How do they do it? Who's steering?

I watched them and thought about wedding rings.

This million or billion dollar industry that seemingly everyone has accepted is just the way we do things. So much so that a bunch of children in Africa are literally physically abused into finding shiny rocks in the ground that are then sent to these other parts of the world where people have running water and 3D printers. And they take these rocks and put them on top of this very shiny metal which, I’m sure, also has some fucked up back story as to how it got to be sitting in this display case at Zales somewhere in Rhode Island. And then this man (it’s a man because the bird flock decided this was the man’s job and so all the birds just instinctively turned left) goes into the store and buys this metal/rock thingamabob that costs something like 120 days of his life, which, again, like, who the fuck is steering? And he takes this shiny metal rock thing and brings it to a woman he’s known for two and a half years who likes the same netflix shows as him but doesn’t know that he occasionally does cocaine and he gets down on one knee at the fanciest restaurant in Providence and puts the shiny thing on this lady he kind of knows finger and they begin a promise to be with one another forever even though there are something like 2020 years of glaring statistics that the likelihood of all this working out or keeping them happy is like 1 in 40. All the other bird humans in the fancy restaurant get up and applaud. They kiss and smile at each other take in the moment and at the very-first-socially-acceptable-moment they announce their engagement online with a photo that is cute, subtle and funny, catches them both at their most symmetrical, supports the troops and only takes a full hour of attempts to finally get the shot where they don't look like they are trying. Then they reminisce about their relationship call their loved ones, buy a round for the birds sitting next to them, she cringes, thinking of how upset her older, unmarried sister will by by the news, he smiles thinks about all that blow they are going to do at his bachelor party, but more than anything they just keep looking down at their phones to see how many likes that engagement announcement got. It ends up being 324, and that feels pretty good.

And I just hope that something, somewhere is watching all of us do all of this saying “what the fuck? Why are they all doing that? How is it possible that none of them just stray off and do their own thing?” Which is exactly what I was thinking about watching the birds.

And then thinking of Abby. And Life. And Death.

What I took from it is that nobody knows what's going on. None of these systems or paths make any sense. Forget about a career. Or money. Or beauty. Or soul mates. Forget all of it. What do you want? For you? Not the flock. Because one day, sooner or later, you’re going to die.

So live you’re fucking life while you can.

I like to believe that Abby did that well. Maybe I only feel that way because she has passed now, but I don’t think so. I really believe that woman knew how to live and who she was. And if you don’t know her it would only take seeing a photo of her or by her to feel the same.

And so I’m left with a painful reminder of our mortality. Just how important and beautiful and fleeting life is. That even on your worst most mundane day in the middle of the winter in the middle of a squall with truly terrible news in your mind there is still beauty to be found lessons to be learned reasons to be present because your friend who is dying or that kid in a ditch in Africa mining shiny rocks would love to have that moment. Every day above ground is an insane gift. And that is an important lesson to continue to learn.

But it does absolutely nothing to change the fact that an exceptional young woman went through hell on Earth and is now gone.

Nothing will change that. And I certainly won’t do any justice in articulating just how tragic that truly is. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. It’s just unfair.

And so I’ll end by saying that I genuinely feel very fortunate to have had the pleasure of knowing Abby the little that I did. You were an amazing person and I am so incredibly sorry that you had to go through all of this. You deserved better. I wish I could have told you this in person.

Goodbye Abby Kraftowitz. And thank you.