#but unless it gets written in a compelling enough way to actually turn me around I’m just kind of;; not vibing with the idea;;

[yaminerua]

every time lister is like ‘I gotta find Krissie’ I’m like son please leave her be, let her try to find a way back to her own dimension;;;; it’s not healthy to keep chasing after her like this;;;;

[nouearth]

blue current.

clark kent x male reader headcanons.

warnings: fluff, co-workers at the daily planet, maws!clark, soft!clark, intern!reader.

a/n: it's been a hot minute since i've written anything! i feel so bad because i've been swamped with school, so hopefully this will hold you guys over until i post my next fic! it's not much, but i've been feeling fluffy as of recent, and clark is the perfect candidate, HAHA. idk, i've been feeing low-key creatively stuck for writing, so hopefully this well get me out of the slump!

—clark was smitten from the moment he first laid eyes on you.

—it had only been the fourth month into his internship, but it was no secret that the higher-ups, and even his colleagues, have been impressed by clark's rapid growth.

—it was enough to ensure their trust in clark to train the new intern as the lead journalist had taken a month off for vacation. while he had his doubts if he would do a good job, clark always loved challenging himself.

—his mother had always reminded him: one who feared failure will never achieve greatness.

—sure, you weren't being mentored by the best journalist in the city. though, you had to admit that you felt defeated since miss lane was the only reason why you chose the daily planet over other internships.

—but bitterness turned to throat-drying, cheek-flushing, and hand-flexing sweetness when you came in your first day and met the man who would be training you.

—for clark, it was the drowsiness in your gaze that suddenly brightened when he met your eyes. if he could have seen his own face, clark would reckon that his eyes lit up the same way yours did upon meeting you for the first time.

—he's so... handsome. maybe training him wouldn't be so bad after all...

—his blue eyes sucked you in like heavy ocean current, but instead of fighting back the pull like any sane person would, you allowed him to drown you in the gorgeous wash his gaze doted on you with.

—god, are you toying with me right now? have you finally come around to my reckless behavior back in high school? i knew you always would!

—it began with a handshake. when clark's large hand cupped into yours, a current of sparks flickered from the bone of your knuckles to his own, and you both released with a gasp.

—"sorry! it must be my vest or something—has a lot of... cotton, i think—" clark assured with a laugh, but cursed his lame excuse in between breaths.

—"no, you're fine! i guess your sweater vest knew i was half-asleep, huh?" you laughed with him, and almost as if it was choreographed, you reached back to rub at your nape when he does, and the discomfort left the collective laughter in a fleeting dance.

—"well, lucky for you, our first stop is the break room! i'll show you how to make a poor man's mocha if you get sick of the coffee here!"

—from then on, you two had quickly become close friends.

—where clark would teach you more hacks to spice up an ordinary roast of coffee, you would return the favor by surprising him on random days with lunch that you prepared the night before.

—on nights where you were too tired to function, you simply settled for sandwiches and prepared an extra meal for clark.

—whether he claimed he forgot his lunch, or was too busy to even take a glance at his lunchbox; eating lunch had become a rarity for him.

—unless it was with you.

—even before opening the brown paper bag, clark knew it was going to be delicious.

—you always remembered what ingredients he liked and disliked since the first time you had lunch with him.

—clark smiled to himself as he ate the meal you didn't have to prepare for him in big bites.

—and then laughed when you watched in amazement and mirrored him like a parrot with messy bites.

—somehow, the thought of cared for was more filling than the actual meal.

—in moments where clark suddenly felt guilt for liking you as more than a friend, he sat silently, staring blankly ahead, with the tissue crumpled in his hands.

—and you sat beside him on the bench, compelled by his silence, while the birds watched from their home of oak and birch.

—it had been happening more frequently: clark's sudden mood shift. no matter how much he tried to deny it, how much he attempted to pacify your silent worries with his handsome smile, it was clear that something was bothering him.

—at first, you tried to break him with a joke.

—"geez, was my sandwich that bad?! i guess i shouldn't have used that expired mustard..."

—you've studied clark enough to anticipate a half-hearted chuckle from him; weak, but still had the intention to please. to masquerade his thoughts.

—instead, the birds chirped in his absence, and your frown only deepened as clark maintained a fixed gaze to the pavement.

—"clark?" you nudged him once on the arm, and he immediately dropped his head in between his legs with a heavy sigh.

—"what's wrong?"

—"there'ssomethingigottatellyou..." he muttered into the crook of his elbow, and your brows knitted together in worry, despite your amusement at the fact that he was behaving similarly to a puppy throwing a tantrum.

—"huh? didn't quite catch that when your mouth is full of linen." you gently nudged him once more to vacant the space between his legs, then another with a gentler squeeze to his arm when he doesn't.

—"clark, come on. talk to me." you squeezed harder to the sound of his groans. "people are staring—"

—then another squeeze.

—"there's something..."

—and another.

—"i gotta tell you..."

—and before you could alert him once more, clark returned the pressure into your own palm when he suddenly took your hand into his, and held it as if it was a pirate's lost treasure.

—the warmth of your skin compelled him to sit back up, but he refused to look at you. instead, he gazed every perimeter that didn't involve your eyes.

—the birds again, the sky, the trees, anything to drown out the sight of potential rejection.

—but how you wished he would turn to you right now, because you smiled. wide enough to sting the apple of your cheeks, and as much as you wanted to yell out his name for him to do so, you wanted to let clark do it for himself.

—to take upon the challenge of potentially meeting failure or success.

—heat crept onto his cheeks as he stared at a couple who were charmed by chubby ducks floating on the nearby lake. for a brief moment, he could see you two walking hand-in-hand, while the other free hand threw feed at the eager ducks.

—he was lost in his imagination. a blink turned into a dream, and a dream turned into a desperate paradise.

—it wasn't until the trail of your hand that looped your fingers into his, tightly sharing the warmth of anxiousness with a sticky clamp, that clark opened his eyes again and finally turned to you.

—wet eyes and shaking blues, they told a story that you didn't need to read into.

—silence filled the space between the two of you, then groaned in annoyance when you scooted closer until your knee was pressed to clark's. you folded his hand into yours, still clutching onto him tightly, and laid the joined affection on your lap.

—"i like you too, smallville." your thumb ran several laps over his knuckles to calm the tremors clark had possessed.

—he watched, open-mouthed as if he was about to respond, but the shock trapped the remainder of his words within his throat.

—you lounged back and squinted at the radiance of the sun, the brights of the sky.

—"(m/n)..."

—the sunlight faded into the background as the beauty of your best friend came into frame once again. he absorbed all the color and light of the world until your focus was on him.

—"i really like you."

—the sigh on his lips told a different tale compared to the previous exhales. it curled his lips upwards and finally pacified the shakes that had been bothering clark for months.

—when he pressed his palm back into yours, folding his fingers over your own, you braced for impact as you felt the electrical current from the first day you met him return in stronger pulses. it nipped at your skin, then at clark's, in its desperate escape.

—but clark held tighter, as did you, until the shockwaves melted in his skin, into his veins, then into his blood, and became one with the victorious cheer of his heart.

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

[glowingbadger]

Hi, it’s @libidinous-weeb!! I would like to request some alphabet prompts for SETETH, the dragon daddy who could fix ME.

Could I get M, Y, and…perhaps either D or W? I know you’ve done those letters already but I feel like I know in my heart you could think of more lmao. If not, maybe T then?

No pressure just D and W are my favoritessss

My love!! My husbando of husbandos!! My perfect dragon DILF!! This request was technically further down on my list, but I wanted to post some Seteth thirst-content for father's day lmao so here we are.

For my fellow dilf-fuckers, I'll include a link here to the section of my masterlists containing the frankly baffling amount of Seteth smut I've written here over the years. Tis the season!

Alphabet prompts - Seteth (FE3H)

M (motivation), T (toys), Y (yearning)... and maybe an extra W (wild card) as a treat...

NSFW 18+

Motivation: While Seteth's sex drive is predictably pent up and, as a result, intensely compelling (we'll get to it below), he's also incredibly accustomed to stifling his lusts- so much so that it's practically a reflex at this point. As such, actually pursuing his desires is something that will need to be gently encouraged and teased out of him with time, so for a long while into a relationship with him, he's mostly reactionary about it. It's as though in showing that you desire him, it subconsciously grants him "permission" to express his own lusts in turn- so unless you get really good at reading extremely subtle cues very early on (heated stares that he averts as soon as you catch him, his touch ever so slightly lingering, etc), you're going to have to be the one to initiate things for a while- but when you do, he meets your passionate energy and then some.

Toys: As to the comparatively sparse options presumably available within the intended time period of FE3H, Seteth has a politely curious but ultimately limited interest in them. While it can certainly be appealing to play with a plug or carefully carved dildo of sorts (and I've always enjoyed the idea of him using one specifically to stimulate you during the work day while he's unavailable, or to keep his cum inside of you), it's typically not a significant part of the "main event" for him. He's of course not shy about lubes, massage oils, and the like- as these can be pleasantly stimulating, provided they don't cause too much of a mess. To my mind, it's more amusing to imagine a modern setting, where Seteth is made to confront the sheer quantity and variety of pleasure toys that humans have innovated over the years- including some rather "dragon inspired" ones, on which he has strongly conflicting feelings.

Yearning: Goddess, Seteth wants you, and it's just about compelling enough to break through literal centuries of repression piled on so heavy that he'd almost forgotten he possessed such carnal wants and needs before he found himself with an oh-so-willing partner. In terms of his sex-drive, he's honestly playing catch-up in a way, and he has to relearn how to accept, process and express his lusts in a way that won't quietly drive him mad. It's not even necessarily repression solely due to religious dogma- though his position in the church does require that he conduct himself appropriately to avoid scandal. It's more about the need to avoid A. siring a child by accident (no one needs uknown half-dragons wandering around Fodlan) and B. allowing the wrong person to find out a bit too much about him, and by extension, Flayn (it's tough to hide pointed ears in bed).

Wild card bonus round: This is more a personal chip I've had on my shoulder about writing Seteth smut, but I've always felt strongly that calling him Cichol in bed is something that should only be done with care, during moments of emotional intimacy and vulnerability, and most importantly, only after discussing it with him. Whipping that one out on him mid-sex without warning would just frazzle his nerves and take him completely out of the moment- hell, worst case it could be similar to dead-naming. But with discussion about it prior, or waiting for him to ask you to call him by his old name, it can be an incredibly tender and sensual experience for both of you- a sign of the deep and profound trust he has in you, and his desire to open himself to you completely.

[vizowrites]

“We” vs “Me”| or “Why BlitzStrike Works So Well For Me But Stolitz [as of episode 6].....Doesn’t”

Alright my Loves, so I said that I was going to talk in further detail about my feelings regarding Stolas and the multi-layered portrayal of his relationship with Blitz in the new episode, and today’s the day where that happens!!  First of all, though, before I really get into my feelings about things, I want to just make it ABUNDANTLY clear that I’m not trying to sway anyone from one side to the other, or trying to shame anyone for shipping two fictional characters.  I’m fully in the boat that you are completely entitled to ship whoever you want, but I also think it’s wise to at least be able to recognize the faults and flaws in a pairing--and especially to be able to recognize them in the context of an IRL relationship.  In this analysis in particular, I’m specifically focusing on these two relationships within the realm of the Helluva Boss universe [......Hell] and within the specific context of their characters as they’ve been portrayed in the show thus far.  And, my biggest disclaimer of all: I’m doing this for no other reason than I felt like putting my jumbled thoughts together into a cohesive post so that they don’t have to stay bouncing and buzzing around in my head.  Please keep that in mind that this is just pure personal opinion and interpretation before anyone comes at me with torches and pitchforks.  <3 <3 

SO WITH THAT LONG ASS DISCLAIMER OUT OF THE WAY 

Let’s finally get to the good stuff.  And the not so good stuff.  :D

So I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone who follows me here that I’m a huge BlitzStrike fan.  What I think fewer people know is that when I first entered the fandom a few months ago, I actually was on board the Stolitz train like so many others that I’ve met here in the fandom.  Naturally Stolitz was the first major pairing I was introduced to, and I did find both the characters of Blitz and Stolas incredibly interesting and compelling in their own rights AND saw the potential in how they could really come to grow into one hell of a relationshp over time.  I was honestly really excited to see it happen, too.  

And then I watched Episode 5 [still my favorite episode, btw] for the first time and had this sudden question hit me like a truck that even now is still relentlessly burning in the back of my mind because I still haven’t found a legitimate answer for it: Why in the FUCK wasn’t Blitz falling head-over-heels in attraction to Striker throughout this fucking episode??

And I don’t mean that in a “They’re so hot and I ship them now why didn’t they get together?? DX DX” kind of way--I mean that in the genuinely perplexed “I don’t understand based on what has been presented to me thus far about Blitz as a character and the storyline overall why he’s reacting so nonchalantly to this whole thing”.  To Note: This is me wondering this from the context of what’s in the show itself, not from any extra fan materials like the Instas or Twitter or just straight up knowing that the most likely answer is that there are people on the creative team that ship Stolitz really hard and realistically wouldn’t have probably written Blitz as being attracted to Striker because that would just be--to quote Jack Sparrow--blowing holes in their own ship.  No, this is me disregarding ALL of that and trying to rationalize this with myself from the perspective of a fan whose entire knowledge of the show and its characters comes exclusively from what’s in the episodes themselves.  .....And that’s where I just can’t find my answer, except for the Stolitz positive “He’s not attracted to Striker because he’s in love with Stolas” answer.  Which really doesn’t even feel like a satisfying answer, because the entire vibe I’ve gotten from Stolitz in the show has just felt.....strangely.....off.  Like, the framework is there and the elements are there, but I’d felt as though they had so far to go still that it would be entire SEASONS before they got there.    

And THEN the new episode [Episode 6] came out and I’d heard a handful of fans going crazy because the show was finally addressing Stolitz in full, and I thought to myself, “Well, maybe if the show really is going to go with saying that the reason Blitz wasn’t interested in Striker is because he’s in love with Stolas.....sure.  I’m curious to see how they finally establish it in an episode, especially since there’s only two more episodes left in the entire first season.”  And then I watched the episode.  And then it hit me why Stolitz just does not do a damn thing for me but BlitzStrike does despite the fact that we’ve had 4/6 episodes [5/7 if you count the Pilot] of Stolitz but only 1/6 [1/7] of potential--not even canonical--BlitzStrike:

When Striker talks about Blitz, or interacts with Blitz, he always talks about them as a “we”.  As a team.  A partnership.  OR he just straight up puts the entire focus on Blitz and his accomplishments and keeps himself out of it entirely.

When Stolas talks about Blitz, he always talks about them within the context of “me”--of himself--of what Blitz does or should do for him.  Even here in episode 6, in the most “selfless” instance we’ve seen yet, where he does ask about Blitz’s safety first BEFORE going right back into how Blitz’s actions affect him and what Blitz should be doing in response for him.  Stolas’s focus is always automatically set to himself--and even when it comes to the people he supposedly loves the most.  

To explain what I mean here, let me give some examples directly from the show itself, starting with the Stolas side of things: 

Episode 1

Blitz, in the middle of trying to hide so much that he actually clamps both of his hands over his mouth just to muffle the sound of his own breathing, knowing damn well that this psychotic bitch who already shot him once won’t hesitate to do it again if she finds him.....gets a call from Stolas.  Stolas, who we clearly see from his leisurely hang out time in his bubble bath, is literally watching this happen and is fully aware that calling Blitz right then was potentially putting him in danger. But what does he say when he gets Blitz on the phone?  He offers--not help--but Blitz the use of his book in exchange for monthly sex.  Stolas literally uses Blitz’s peril as leverage here--consciously or not, though given the fact that he knows the situation at hand, I’d find it very hard to argue that he didn’t do this on purpose--just to get him to agree to be his bootycall until further notice.  

Stolas not only doesn’t lift a finger to help Blitz once in all of this--even at the moment where he and Millie are about to be shot in the face--but instead continues to stay on the phone talking about all of the things he wants for their upcoming future rendezvous.  He already got exactly what he wanted out of this and he still just continues to go for more for himself.

Episode 2

.....There are honestly so many fucked up things that happen here as far as Stolas and his relationship with Blitz goes but honestly the thing I want to draw the MOST attention to is actually Stolas’s storyline with his daughter, Octavia.  I know it’s a little left field, but bear with me--this is actually something I want to use as comparison for Stolas’s relationship to Blitz as we go along:

When Stolas first decides that he’s going to take his daughter to Loo Loo Land, he does so while completey setting aside the fact that she doesn’t want to go.  He just offers her assurances that it’s going to be so much fun because he remembers that she loved it so much when she was a little girl--effectively putting his memory above her wishes even as she’s sitting right there and telling him that she doesn’t enjoy the idea of going now.  

Stolas doesn’t actually notice just how uncomfortable he’s making Octavia throuhought their entire trip by spending his time sexually harassing paying more attention to Blitz than he is trying to cheer her up.  This tells me that Stolas--though I do believe he genuinely wanted to do something to make her happy--still wasn’t able to completely overcome his own self-centered tendencies at first even when it’s for her.  And this is the person that Stolas loves more than anyone or anything else in the entire world. It still wasn’t enough.

It’s only when Octavia runs off and completely breaks down that Stolas finally gets the much needed slap-to-the-face of reality to understand just what he’s putting his daughter through--and, for the first time in the entire show, he actually puts someone else’s needs and well being above himself.  It’s the one solid honest display of love that we see from Stolas in the entire show--and it’s how we as the audience come to learn that that’s how Stolas shows that he loves someone: When he puts their needs above his own with no strings attached or expectations of something in return.  A true selfless act just because he loves them.  **Keep in mind the parallel of Stolas carrying Octavia out of Loo Loo Land at the end, and how it compares to Stolas carrying Blitz out of D.H.O.R.K.S headquarters.

Episode 5

The. Fucking. Cigarette.  I had no idea that something so small and quick would be able to infuriate me as much as it did, but the fact that Blitz used the post sex cigarette to free Stolas from his wrist bondage but then Stolas turned around and put the cigarette out on Blitz’s horn which is literally a part of Blitz’s body just.....honestly it sums up exactly what I’m trying to get across in this entire huge ass post: Stolas only ever thinks of himself first and anything pertaining to anyone else just doesn’t cross his mind at all unless you blatantly put it there in front of his face.  And the fact that he’s still at this point with Blitz all the way here in Episode 5 is not.....promising for their relationship.

The fact that Stolas literally cannot stop himself from calling Blitz “Blitzy” or talking to him in such a condescending way no matter how frustrated Blitz gets and how many times he asks him to stop.  I just--how is that supposed to be interpreted as someone talking to a person that they love?  There’s no respect or dignity given to Blitz at all on Stolas’s part, and the fact that it seems to be presented as a “Oh teehee it’s just their cute couple thing” is just.....I really, really don’t like that.  It also doesn’t match with the Stolas in the very next episode which I quite frankly think is because the creators have been listening to the feedback from fans and were like “We need to SHOW THEM that Stolas actually does speak to Blitz respectfully!!” but that’s just my personal opinion there and, also, it still didn’t happen.  

Episode 6 

Keeping in mind that THIS is finally the episode where we see Stolas actually save Blitz from danger and demonstrate even the slightest inclination towards his well-being.....I think that honestly makes the next few things here even more fucked up

First and foremost: “WE”.  The second after Stolas asks if Blitz is alright and gets the assurance that he is, he roughly grabs his cheek and points out that “If you get in trouble, I get in trouble!  WE don’t want that”.  The fact that this is the first time that Stolas ever talks about Blitz in the context of “we”--when really what he’s really saying is that him [Stolas] getting in trouble is going to be a bad thing for all of them--is just.....so, so disappointing.  At least with this I could hope that perhaps the idea here is that Stolas is genuinely afraid that if he gets in trouble, he won’t be able to protect Blitz from the undoubtedly much worse trouble that he would be in as an imp, but still.  The fact that Stolas immediately reverts back to his self-centered perspective so quickly after supposedly being so worried about Blitz’s wellbeing, really makes it seem as though it’s just his own ass that he’s trying to protect.  And that.....isn’t  exactly what I’d been expecting from “the episode that confirms Stolitz is canon” feedback I’d been hearing.

"Am I going to get ANY thank you for the rescue Bltizy?”  This for me was kind of what actually lead to me having this whole epiphany over Stolas’s selfish perspective in the first place.  I realized that even here--even when he’s just been the most “romantic” towards Blitz that he’s ever been in any previous episodes up until now [and yes this shift in his character was incredibly jarring for me because of that]--Stolas still goes right back to thinking about what he’s going to get out of this now that he knows Blitz is safe.  Let’s take this back to that thing I was saying about Episode 2 and comparing how Stolas rescued Octavia and how he rescues Blitz.  Obviously they’re going to be different because it’s Stolas’s daughter vs his hook up BUT just think about where the focus is for Stolas in both of these scenes.  With Octavia, Stolas is entirely focused on making things up to her--taking her to do something she wants to do--even if it’s something that he himself doesn’t fully understand or isn’t fully into.  That doesn’t matter though, because the entire point is that he’s doing something just for her.  It doesn’t have to be about him.  But now go back to the scene where Stolas is carrying Blitz out of the room.  What does he do?  Ask what Blitz is going to do for him.  That just takes the idea that this scene was a confirmation of their love and throws it right out the window.  Stolas--as we’ve been shown before--would never ask for something in return from someone that he actually loves.  

Now let’s take a look at the one and only episode we have of Striker and Blitz interacting together, with an honorary shout out at hallucination!Striker’s appearance in Episode 6: 

Episode 5: 

Striker knows Blitz’s name.....and he uses it.  He’s literally the ONLY other character that we’ve seen so far refer to Blitz as “Blitz” instead of “Blitzo” or “Blitzy” by someone who wasn’t a member of I.M.P..  Aka someone who wasn’t a member of Blitz’s family.  He shows Blitz respect at that basest level, and only builds on that from there going forward.

Striker first recognizes Blitz for being “the bold imp that started his own killin’ biz”.  Not his hotness, not his skills in the Harvest Moon games because at that point he hasn’t seen them yet.....but for his accomplishment in starting up his own successful business down in Hell.  He treats it as an accomplishment.  With the kind of respect that comes with acknowledging another person for their accomplishments.  Right there, within two seconds of meeting him, Striker demonstrates more respect for Blitz than Stolas has yet to do in the entire show.

The Harvest Moon Festival Games.  Now this is something I find fascinating to think about from Striker’s perspective in particular.  We as the audience are shown pretty early on that Striker has a strong desire to be the one who comes out on top.  He likes the idea of being superior and he openly relishes in the praise and attention he gets for being better than everybody else.  ....Except Blitz.  When they tie in the games, Striker doesn’t seem bothered with sharing the spotlight with him at all.  If anything, he--again--respects just how skilled Blitz is in rightfully earning his place beside him on the stage.  That, to me, is HUGE.  I’m not going to go so far as to say that Striker necessarily sees them as equals because I think that might be going a bit too far for his ego but he does still fully acknowledge that Blitz is in the same general class as him: that is to say, better than most.  Worthy of the same kind of acknowledgement and praise that Striker gets.  I literally can’t get over just how big of a thing that is for what we’ve been shown of Striker’s character, and I think it’s unfortunately something that’s incredibly easy to miss or gloss over. :(

And now--for what I personally think is the most significant thing of all--we have: “We”.  How many times does Striker suggest during that final scene between them that he really wants Blitz to join forces with him as equals?  He never demands that Blitz join up with him, he doesn’t threaten him into joining up with him--Striker barely even hurts Blitz at all during their fight scene compared to how he tried to straight up murder Moxxie--and, most of all, Striker continues to acknowledge that Blitz deserves better than his current arrangement with Stolas.  And he’s right.  But instead of putting it as “I’M right and this is why you should do this”, he always puts his focus on Blitz himself, or the two of them together as a partnership:  “You are so above sucking on a a digusting rich pompous Goetia” | “We could be the most dangerous beings in Hell, Blitz” | “You could partner up with me and klll the unkillable--starting with the one that treats you like a plaything”.  It’s just--I honestly can’t believe it’s taken me this long to put together why Striker appeals so much more to me as a romantic interest for Blitz, but really breaking it down episode by episode and comparing the differences in wording between Striker and Stolas’s dialogue when it comes to Blitz is just.....holy shit. 

Honorary ShoutOut of Episode 6: 

The fact that the only thing hallucination Striker has to say to him is “But you don’t want to do things alone Blitzo!” is really, really interesting to me in the fact that he’s.....not......wrong??  Like, To be fair, Striker, RoboFizz, and Verosika all spill their harsh truths, but the thing is.....Striker’s is markedly different in that his wording really isn’t harsh or aggressive at all the way the other two are.  He’s just kinda stating a fact in an overexaggerated way because tripping balls hallucination sequence.  It’s very interesting to me that that’s the worst that Blitz can imagine him to say--as well as the fact that halluci!Striker calls him “Blitzo”, which is really weird considering that Striker’s never called him “Blitzo” once in the entire show.  Makes me kinda wonder where that came from tbh. 

Alright so, in conclusion of this very long and rambly styie post: I want to take things back to where I started by reiterating that this is not me trying to convince anyone that BlitzStrike is “right” and Stolitz is “wrong”, or that you should stop shipping what you’re shipping in the fandom.  This was just me honestly getting way more excited than I should’ve been over having my “Eureka!” moment for realizing why this new episode didn’t put me back on the Stolitz train like it did for so many other people--and why, in fact, it actually made me think even more favorably of the idea of Blitz and Striker being together.  

Thanks for sticking around with me for this very long read, I hope you found it interesting, and I really really hope that it didn’t piss anyone off or rub too many people the wrong way.  Like I said at the beginning, ship who you want to ship!!  That’s part of the fun of being in a fandom.  I’m just hoping that this might help make it easier to understand at least one perspective on why Stolitz is seen as being so problematic as a ship [as of where they are right now].  

Here’s to seeing where things go from here!! 

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

Overheard - Chapter 2 (also on 9L)   (Chapter 1 here)

Daryl ignored the overheard conversation for two whole days. At least that's what he told himself. It wasn't the cause of him offering to keep night watch again to avoid spending the evening alone with Carol after the kids went to bed, it wasn't why he snapped at the crew when they didn't get as much of the walls secured as they'd planned to that day, it wasn't why he'd smashed his own finger with the hammer as he fixed one of the garden planters, and it most certainly wasn't why he now traipsed around the compound late into the night when by all rights he should be sleeping. No, he'd forgotten all about that little tête-à-tête. He glanced down the block to the house where he knew Carol, Lydia, Judith, and RJ slept and an empty room awaited his presence. It looked closed up tight and secure, windows darkened just like every other house on his block. You're the only dumbass too afraid to walk into his own home, that sneering voice mocked. Dammit, he needed sleep, especially since he expected yet another grueling day of fence-mending and trap-checking tomorrow and he knew the kids would be up bright and early as per usual. Sighing deeply, he bee lined for home, sure he could slip in unannounced and settle in for yet another restless night of thinking about the woman sharing his home and owning his heart but still eons away from where he wanted her. It wasn't until he opened the front door that he saw the oven light on. Carol stood at the island, busy when she should be sleeping.

He turned away quickly. Damn this... What had she called it? An open-concept house? No way he could sneak to his room now. He closed the door behind him, set his crossbow down, kicked off his shoes, and shrugged out of his jacket and vest, hanging them on the peg on the wall. He started to move in the direction of the stairs, sure she’d stop him to chat, but made the mistake of actually looking over at Carol and found himself arrested mid-step.

A spread of foodstuff lay on the island, and her hands deftly went about their work, but it was the way she looked in the soft light, her hair on one side pushed behind her, long gray locks cascading down the other, that left him frozen in place. She wore a fitted red tank top with spaghetti straps, and he knew if he could see the bottom half of her she'd be sporting those ugly, careworn pajama pants she loved so much. Her skin looked invitingly soft, and when she peered up to find him there, a smile broke over her face. He could barely breathe. "Hey." "Hey. Whaddya doing?" "Making lunch for tomorrow. Lydia and Judith are going to teach RJ how to feed the chickens and gather the eggs before school and weapons training, so they'll be up extra early." He barely heard what she said, his thoughts a million different places, and about half of those in places they shouldn't be. All he could see was her in the home they shared, mothering kids that weren't theirs, distracting as any minx, and stealing his breath and his thoughts like a perfect thief. Maggie and Aaron's refrain, a broken record in his brain, played again. “…times I thought Carol was about to make a move. Been thinking the same thing about Daryl lately.”

He couldn't take it anymore. Before he knew what he was doing, the words had already come out of his mouth. "Do you like living here?" Carol looked at him quizzically, then glanced around the darkened house. "It's better than most of the other places I've lived," she stated as she wrapped up the kids’ lunches. He took a few steps closer. "Do you like it here with—" He nearly said 'me,' but recovered before the singular word slipped out of his mouth. "—the kids and me?" She kept glancing up at him as she finished putting the food away. "Yeah. I think it's good for Lydia. No one else could understand what she's been through better than you and me," she admitted quietly. "Being around Jude and RJ has helped her open up and allowed her to be a kid—when she lets herself. And you know how much I love Judith and RJ. I wouldn't want them with anyone else." He kept moving slowly towards her, unsure what compelled his feet to close the distance between them even as he felt mystified by the direction of his questions. What was he doing? "And me?" he heard himself ask quietly as he rounded the island. A teasing glint entered her eyes. "You have to ask after all this time? You know I liked you first." Her words took him back to another lifetime, another home they'd shared. A time when his mind had first begun thinking about her constantly, when he’d started wanting to care and protect and provide for her, wanting her near. Wanting her. Nothing had changed since then, unless he counted how strong those feelings had become over the years. She expected him to bashfully retreat—he saw it on her face—maybe give her his usual 'stahp' so she could chuff a laugh and they’d go on as they had been for yet another decade. But that overheard conversation had played like a broken record in his head for days. He’d envisioned all the ways he could find out the truth of their words, and laughter was the farthest thing from his mind.

"Carol," he said lowly. His eyes dropped to her shoulder, and of its own volition his hand rose until his fingers trailed over her soft, cool skin, a slow back-and-forth graze across her shoulder. The air around them sizzled, and the voices of his friends, which had accompanied him for days and somehow compelled him into this moment, suddenly dissipated until only the internal drumming of his own heartbeat remained.

He lifted his eyes back to hers, and she peered up at him with desire. "Daryl." He heard his name ghost from her lips, and though he barely knew what he was doing, the sound drew him closer, closer, until his lips finally met hers.

He'd imagined this moment in myriad ways, most of them flushed and frantic and fast. Now that he was here, he wanted to make it last forever in case this, the greatest risk of his life, ended in spectacular shambles.

He moved his lips slowly, deliberately taking his time, and Carol let him. She turned towards him more fully, and his hand cupped her shoulder before sliding down her back, holding her in place, though she seemed content enough on her own to match him, her hands against his chest sending fire spiraling through him.

He eased away just enough to look at her, to make sure this was real. The heat in her eyes and the wonder on her face told him everything he'd ever wanted to know.

He kissed her again, gently, languidly, until it wasn't enough. She slid her arms around his neck, feverishly pressing into him and his hands roamed from her shoulder blades to her hips. Instinctively, he lifted her as her legs wound around him, and he started to move towards the bedroom.

"Too far," she mumbled against his lips, the hum of her voice and the friction of her body against him causing his blood to rage within him.

It was only a few steps to the living room, but they barely made it before she started removing his clothes, and he was more than happy to help. Somehow they missed the couch and ended up on the floor, but he couldn't care when her lips and hands and skin were touching him all over and she urged his own roaming hands to continue mapping her body. And moments later when he stared into her eyes, he knew he'd never be the same.

*****

Daryl took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, before he opened his eyes and looked to his left. His arm was falling asleep where it pillowed Carol's head, but he didn't dare move. Her eyes were closed, cheeks tinged pink, a look of contentment on her face.

He couldn't believe what had just happened.

For the first time in his life, he didn't care that he'd completely lost control, let loose every emotion he felt, every word that formed on his lips, every thought about Carol that came to him. Didn't care that he lay completely exposed, both physically and emotionally. Because she had done the same, and it was glorious.

He took a final deep breath, his heart rate finally returning to normal, when, in one smooth move, Carol rolled towards him onto her side and tucked herself against him, slinging one leg over his. His arm curled around her, and he trailed his fingertips across her hip as she placed a kiss over his heart.

"So that was fun," she purred playfully, eliciting an amused huff from him.

"Best thing that's happened to me all day," he admitted.

"Daryl Dixon, are you

flirting

me with?" she asked coyly, clearly pleased.

He raised an eyebrow in response, one side of his mouth turning up in a lopsided smile, and she kissed his chest again.

"Why now?" she asked softly. "I mean, what made you...?"

He flushed a little, embarrassed to admit the truth. "I overheard Aaron and Maggie talkin'. Seems they've been waitin’ for us to get together for a long while and think we've been taking our time."

Her eyes smiled at him. "They're not wrong. We should stop waiting."

"I think we just did," he reminded her.

She moved over him, straddling his hips, seduction written all over her face.

He wanted to. Hell, he'd been waiting 10 years. He could spend the next 10 years making up for it. Still... "Carol, I don't think I can--"

She set a finger over his lips. "Shhh....we'll take our time," she promised as she leaned down to kiss him.

And they did just that.

[strawbeebo]

~♡ Damned If I Do ♡~

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem! (She/Her) Reader

Warnings: ❌MAJOR SPOILERS!!❌ Seriously, if you aren’t caught up with the manga, don’t even finish reading this description lmaooo

Words: 5.5K

Genre: Fluff & Angst

A/N: this has shit that’s 100% me taking shit into my own hands and assuming the shibuya incident ends with things going well for those still alive and everyone returning to the Tokyo school for rehabilitation and mourning so ye ye ye. also i’m delving into completely unfamiliar territory so don’t @ me if it makes no sense LMAO

As always, if you enjoy this and want to see more of my work, PLEASE consider reblogging as it’s the best way for my works to get around and keepin’ me motivated to make more for y’all!

❌ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD ❌

Gojō remembered the first time he met you, after all, how couldn’t he? It was actually a pretty funny situation, but if Nanami had a say in it he would heartily disagree.

It was his birthday, something Nanami had never put much thought into and actually preferred others to treat it in the same way. For the longest time, his birthday was just another day that happened to show that he had been on this hell of an earth for one year longer than the year before. It was a countdown leading to nothing when he had nothing he really wanted to live for, but when he met you, that seemed to change in a blink of the eye. Well, at least your relationship felt just like that, a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ type situation, but despite that, the handful of years he had spent with you felt like something he never could have even dreamed up happening.

You had met by chance, running into each other at the grocery store. It was nothing special, he had quite a few more items than you did so he offered up the spot ahead of him so that you could get through more quickly. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately so, the line was still fairly long so you decided to strike up a conversation with him following your list of ‘thank you’s’. You thought he was nice, a little bit on the serious side and not overly cordial, but you could tell just from that short conversation that he was the type of person you could sit with and not say a single word and still feel comfortable and content. He had a sort of calming, mature air about him and with a handsome face to match, you couldn’t help but think about how surely a man like that had someone waiting for him back home, wherever that was. Either way, before your conversation could go on for long, you had to turn your focus to checking out, so you thanked him once more for letting you pass him and simply went on your way, not thinking in the slightest that such a minor encounter with a stranger would change your life like it had. Your life continued on as normal and so did his and, for a few months at least, things went on as such until the two paths of your respective lives came together once more.

This time, it was at a small café that you later learned was near his place of work, so he frequented it often. You actually didn’t see him at first, he had intentionally chosen a table that was at one of the corners closer to the entrance so he could be away from the noise of the front counter, but the cafe was a bit packed that afternoon so it didn’t really matter in the end. You had only noticed him because you were looking for a place where you could sit and your disappointment in the fact that there didn’t seem to be any empty tables was soon replaced with intrigue in response to seeing that vaguely familiar face. It took you a moment, but his unique features allowed for your memory to be jogged quickly as you made your way over to him after putting in your order, starting with a small wave to get his attention.

To your surprise he actually remembered you, though that was for the better since it made you feel a little bit less creepy about remembering him. You introduced yourself, something you didn’t feel like you had to do last time but for some reason with this meeting, you felt it was appropriate. He returned the favor, ‘Kento Nanami’ was his name, something that at first didn’t seem to suit him well, but who were you to say? Your small talk continued and, while you didn’t actually have any intention of ‘using’ him for the empty chair that sat across from him, the topic of how busy the cafe was came up and his request for you to sit with him followed soon after. You turned him down initially, you assumed he was working since he had both his laptop and his phone laid out in front of him and you didn’t want to be an annoyance, but he politely insisted it was not bother for him, so you eventually accepted his offer.

You were only on your break after all, so you figured it wouldn’t be long and that if you drank your coffee and ate your chocolate croissant quietly, he wouldn’t regret allowing you to share the small table, though once again to your surprise, it was him who started up another conversation a few minutes after you got settled. You talked about your respective work, his disdain for his job being clear as day even as he seemed to try and justify it either to you or to himself, but you almost felt bad speaking of your boring day to day job that didn’t seem nearly as bad as his. Aside from work however, you spent a lot of time talking about good places to eat in the area as it seemed you shared a love for good food amongst a few other things. He was as nice to talk to as you had initially imagined he would be, to a point where you had to cross your fingers and hope that he didn’t notice your interest peak and your eyes flicker to his ring finger when he happened to mention living alone. To be honest, you had never really been one to put yourself out there unless the person who you found an interest in had a clear interest in you in return, but when you stood up to leave, you felt compelled to slip him your number written on a piece of notepad paper you always kept in your purse, telling him if you ever happened to be out at the same time, you’d like to meet up for coffee or something another time.

He, much like you, wasn’t particularly romantically focused, but he accepted the offer nonetheless. If anything, he wouldn’t deny it was nice to have some company that wasn’t his coworkers. You were polite and all, though for some reason, he felt a want to get to know you on more than a ‘small talk with a stranger’ level. He didn’t have much to go on, but that was all the more reason to get to know you more, and that he did. You had one more meeting over coffee, and then once again, this time at a different café you had told him about. He liked to stick to his routine, but it was cute how excited you got raving about how amazing their cherry danishes were, so he decided it couldn’t hurt. From there his feelings of ‘it couldn’t hurt to go’ slowly turned to him waiting to see you again, for once tapping his pen in annoyance not just because he wanted to get out of another pointless meeting, but because he wanted to see you. You had become a breath of fresh air in his mundane life, one that made all those late nights seem slightly less exhausting and after some time, made the idea of making money for himself come second in his thoughts. Your coffee dates turned to dinners out, then to him cooking dinner for you, then to nights spent together that ended with both of you being late for work the following mornings.

You had gotten more than ‘close’ over the span of a year or so, so much so that after many evenings of you commenting on how you could tell something was wrong, he decided that you were someone he could trust with the information regarding his former work as a sorcerer and eventually, you were a big part in convincing him to go back to it, something that, thinking back, you both regretted and welcomed as a fantastic idea. Despite the injuries you’d see him with, he seemed...lighter, as if something that had been previously bothering him had vanished with him returning to the objectively much more relentless work. Still, you could tell he was happy in his own way and as cheesy as it sounded, if he was happy, then so were you. A few months after that and you decided there was no point in living separately if you were spending almost every night over at his place anyways, so the two of you moved in together. Things were about as normal as you could possibly imagine being with someone who did what he did, but with you, a sense of normalcy was all he wanted.

Another year passed and he fully welcomed his thoughts making the change from thinking about how he was going to live out the rest of his life in a tedious manner to how he was going to live his life with you in it. Hell, even his acquaintances could tell you were more than just some woman he was seeing because if you were, they wouldn’t know about you at all. He was rather private like that, everything about his personal life was very much on a need-to-know basis that in his eyes, they didn’t need to know, especially Gojō, but unfortunately you had asked for a few contact numbers just for emergencies and Gojō happened to be one of them. It didn’t take him very long to abuse said connection though, and before Nanami knew it, he was walking into a private party room of a small restaurant the two of you frequented often, only this time he was met with an obnoxiously loud array of ‘Happy Birthday’s being shouted at him. Still, the sheepish smile you wore as Gojō explained he had been secretly planning this little surprise party with you was more than enough to make him ok with his birthday being celebrated in such an over the top way. More than that, something about the way you interacted with his coworkers and students made him...oddly happy. The way you handled Itadori’s numerous enamored questions about your relationship, being able to hear that loud, full on laugh you let out at the stupid stories Gojō told about when the two of them were in school, and all the little small talk in between as you got to know eachother. He hated to admit to thinking of them as his family, but he knew there was no other explanation as to why he felt so fortunate to see you all get along so well.

That night felt like it went on forever, though slowly the party began to thin. The students left first, they had lessons early in the morning after all, and eventually it was down to him, Gojō, and you. You shared a drink with them before tapping out early with an apology, you had pulled an all nighter the night before and the exhaustion was starting to set in, but you insisted he stay out a little bit longer and enjoy himself and after a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye and a whispered “Happy birthday, Kento.”, you were off to hopefully catch the last train home. Nanami knew what was coming next as he could see the knowing look on Gojō’s face before he even turned back to look at him, and maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn’t mind the conversation that he knew was about to follow.

It started with a simple comment.

“She seems awfully nice. Too good for you, don’t you think, ‘Nanamin’?~”

If he were being honest, he would have answered ‘yes’, but that wasn’t something he really wanted to get into. Instead he brushed him off, making a comment on how he sincerely hoped he wasn’t suggesting that somehow Gojō would be a far better option for you, to which he laughed in return. They talked quietly like that for a while, after all Gojō hadn’t gotten to hear the whole story yet and he was intrigued about how this seemingly normal woman managed to wiggle her way into the overly serious and stoic Nanami’s heart. He didn’t ask that directly though, instead he just listed off different harmless questions about what you did for work or what kinds of things you liked. It wasn’t the answer itself that necessarily mattered, but with the way Nanami spoke about you, he could tell that he was simply taken by you. For someone so blunt and pessimistic, when he spoke about you, even if his tone didn’t change, Gojō could practically see the passion he held for you in his eyes. Still, he couldn’t let his carefree reputation be tarnished so to hide his interest he would crack a few jokes and, as always, Nanami would respond with something clever. The night droned on like that until finally, in a slightly more serious tone, Gojō asked a question that Nanami had already asked himself many times over.

“So, you gonna’ marry her?”

It was a simple question with a technically simple answer, however it took much more pondering than one would think. The life he lived was a dangerous one, one that rarely made room for romance at all, let alone marriage, but somewhere along the way, you had helped him break from his repetitive schedule of a life that was meticulously planned and for once, this was something he was certain of even if the outcome itself wasn’t so. The two of you had already had this conversation, more than once actually since he was the one who needed some convincing, so it was really just a matter of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’. Still, he didn’t have to let Gojō know that.

“....I’ve thought about it.”

“Uh huh. So can I see the ring?”

He should have known there wasn’t a single thing on this planet that Gojō couldn’t pick up on. With a sigh, he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the small black box that he had carried with him practically every day that he wasn’t working since he had bought the damn thing and placed it on the table. Gojō snapped it up almost immediately, flipping the lid open and lowering his glasses to look at the ring properly. It was simple, something that wasn’t surprising since Nanami didn’t put much meaning into materialistic things and you didn’t seem like the type to want something too excessive anyways.

“A sorcerer’s salary sure doesn’t buy much does it.~~”

The box was snatched away from him in a matter of seconds as he continued to laugh it off as Nanami mumbled about how ‘he shouldn’t have bothered’ despite the fact he knew Gojō was just messing with him. Slowly, the topic faded and after one more drink, they were back to their own personal realities which, luckily for him, involved slipping into bed with who he was sure was the love of his life.

The morning came and went and your worlds settled back into their odd sense of a different kind of ‘mundane’, one that involved curses and demons, but was saved by the comfort and love you had for one another. However even that could only hold up your spirits for so long and with every passing day, it seemed like Nanami was always coming home with worse news, and that was with him sparing you as many of the details as he possibly could. Even with him explaining it to you, there were still things you didn’t understand, but you knew that things were escalating in the world of jujutsu sorcerers and curses. The flashes of true normalcy and happy days seemed to appear so few and far in between lately, the days where you could visit him and the students he helped out with became a thing of the past as said meetings were deemed ‘unsafe’ by the higher ups.

Then, all at once, it seemed the steady decline of the situation seemed to falter just for a moment before sinking even deeper than any of them could have possibly imagined. You knew this mission in Shibuya was different from anything leading up to it just from the way Nanami spoke to you before he left. He made a point to never treat you like a child or as if you couldn’t handle the work he did, however this time, unlike before, he made a point of telling you about the amount of sorcerers that would be there and that they already had an idea of what the curses’ plans were. He was reassuring you that this would be no different than any other mission, and that alone was enough to let you know things were much more dire, but as if that weren’t enough, he held you with a lack of his usual confidence, keeping his arms locked around you for longer than usual before pressing a sweet kiss against your lips that you wished to god you could have savored more than you did. He assured you once more, told you he would call you as soon as he possibly could, and he was gone.

You didn’t even live that close to Shibuya, but with the amount of noise and the way the ground shook that night, you felt even people halfway across the world could feel the sheer amount of power that was devastating the area. You didn’t dare turn on the news, so instead you simply waited. You kept waiting until somehow, you fell asleep. You waited through your morning coffee that you could hardly stomach, waited through the calls and texts from coworkers and friends asking if you had seen the news, you waited and waited and waited. Every call that wasn’t from him became irritating, and as the afternoon passed and the sun began to set, you felt every wave of emotion fall over you. You began to agonize as night fell, calling Gojō you don’t know how many times before eventually falling asleep, no doubt due to stress.

You woke up to a call from the principal of the school Kento worked for, someone you had never even spoken to before, asking you to come to the school the following day. That wasn’t the call you were waiting for, that wasn’t who you wanted to hear, but what else could you do? How long could you reasonably wait to hear Kento over the phone apologizing for being so late and complaining about the amount of overtime these curses were running up? All you could do was agree to be picked up by one of the few sorcerers left, who oddly enough wasn’t the usual black haired man who you had seen drop off Kento on occasion. The young woman didn’t speak much aside from confirming your name, but you were glad for that as you didn’t know what you would say. Or rather, you didn’t want to ask the question that was clawing at your skull because somewhere deep past the threads of hope you were hanging on to, you knew what the answer would be. You could feel something was wrong from the moment you woke up that morning to right this second as you walked with bated breath before being asked to sit in a small lounge room.

It wasn’t long before you heard the slide of the door and were met with the familiar young face of Itadori and lengthy figure of Gojō who, for as strong as Kento had described him as, looked particularly exhausted and lacked that usual grin he always wore.

“...We need to talk.”

Never had those words made your chest feel so tight, but as the rest of his explanation spilled past his lips, you felt emptier than you ever thought was possible.

You knew from the beginning of the end that he was gone.

You knew, yet nothing could have prepared you for the words your heard cried from young Itadori’s mouth as he practically collapsed down onto his hands and knees with his head bowed to the floor as he sobbed out a whirlpool of apologies and regrets that made your stomach turn in knots. You felt cold and painfully numb, as if you were off in a dream somewhere watching all this happen, your brain scrambling for a way to prove that none of this was real. You didn’t feel in control when you got on your knees and hugged Itadori close to you, your own tears finally beginning to spill from your eyes as reality set in and yet, you still tried to mutter through your own weeping that it was ok, it wasn’t his fault, it will be okay. It felt like an eternity that you were crumpled on that floor next to this poor boy, your thoughts completely shut down by your emotions. You had talked about this so many times, sworn up and down that no matter what happened to him, you wanted nothing more than just just be with him. Now, you couldn’t remember how you convinced him of that, because suddenly you weren’t sure how you could possibly be ok with him gone. What was next? Did you even have a single faction of your future planned that didn’t involve him? Over and over your brain went back and forth, between acceptance of this new reality and ridiculous explanations as to the ‘fact’ that somehow, they were wrong. That they missed something, that Kento hated overtime more than anything else and would be waltzing in with nothing more than a few scratches and bruises and ask you what you were doing on the floor like that. It was then that you must have either passed out or dozed off as you could have sworn you felt the phantom of his embrace and his lips pressed to your forehead.

——————————————————————————

For all the late night dramas you watched on television, you could never quite understand what people meant when they said ‘it all passed in a blur’ in regards to what followed after a loved one passed away, but now you knew with certainty that description was not far off from reality. You felt as though you did nothing but cry for days, days that were spent at the school since the mere thought of going home to an empty apartment made you feel sick. Every time you thought you couldn’t cry any longer, there was always something, an item belonging to Kento being offered up to you or a question in regards to his funeral that would send you further down the spiral that you already thought you had reached the bottom of.

The numbness began to fade, slowly, but as awful as it sounded, luckily things around you seemed to be moving just as slowly due to the sheer amount of chaos there was to be dealt with. You tried your best to pull yourself back up again and you were fortunate for the lack of pressure from the others to do so because the reality was, you didn’t know what to do, so for a while, you really didn’t do much of anything. Some days you cried for hours on end, some days you were angry, some days you just didn’t feel much of anything. Days turned to months, though now some of those days were occupied by grief counseling that seemed to help the more you got used to it. You were finally able to return home, though even after another few months of counseling, it felt hard at times with how empty it was. Still, having all of Kento’s friends and acquaintances nearby helped and you all supported one another in the ways that you could.

Eventually you found yourself able to think about Kento more fondly and less about the fact that he was gone. You slowly began working again, you were lucky to have an understanding boss who didn’t have a problem with you having days here or there where you still couldn’t quite handle a normal work day. You also took your counselors’ advice of taking care of yourself physically quite seriously, though most of that motivation came from the fact that if Kento could say something to you now, he would be more than willing to scold you for missing meals or not drinking enough water. Little things like that were working their way into your thoughts more often and you found yourself able to smile again, pushing yourself forward with the idea that Kento would give you as much time as you needed, but you knew he would still hope that you’d be able to find your old flow of life once more.

It had been a while, you still felt off in regards to being social, but you had finally decided to reach out to Gojō and ask him out for a drink. To be honest, you hadn’t been keeping up with the sorcerers as of late. At first you obsessed over it, your lover had given his life over their cause after all, but it was doing you no good and eventually Gojō genuinely convinced you that he was going to keep you up to date on everything significant and let you know what was happening. As far as you knew, they were still in a bit of a recovery period, thought that was partially because the opposition had been awfully quiet while they were left with little to no leads to follow. Still, Gojō was more than happy to hear from you about something other than updates and happily accepted your offer.

He wasn’t surprised at your choice of restaurant being that same one both you and Nanami had loved, but he still felt ill prepared to face that longing look you had as the two of you met up in front of the place. You still looked worn down, but you seemed well off enough considering the situation and the amount of time that had passed.

“He pretended to be pissed off the last time we were here together, but he was really happy that day.” You started, nursing a cup of the shared bottle of sake the two of you had ordered.

“Really? I’m sure he’d deny that with everything he had.”

“Yeah,” You said with a short laugh and a tired smile. “He probably would.”

The two of you talked a bit about nothing in particular, you could tell he was avoiding any mention of his work and the current state of things, but you didn’t mind. That wasn’t why you wanted to see him anyways, though to be honest, you didn’t know exactly why you had wanted to meet up with him. Maybe you just wanted to feel close to Kento again, a part of you dreaming of a world where the three of you were chatting over drinks, just like before. Your chatter quieted, the silence between the two of you drowned by the quiet murmur of the other customers before you finally decided to speak something that had been on your mind as of late.

“I- um…” You started, the telltale tightening of your throat creeping up on you as you gently fiddled with your cup. “...I’ve- I keep thinking...or maybe daydreaming...I think about what would have- what we would have...been.” You finished, stumbling over your words in the process as you tried to fight back against your own emotions.

You knew that thinking about all the ‘what if’s’ was probably horrible for your mental state, but sometimes, when you were really alone with your thoughts, you just couldn’t help yourself. A part of you thought that maybe if you thought about it enough, if you wished for it hard enough, your dreams would somehow come true. Even knowing that in the end that could never happen, those thoughts were always bittersweet in a way. In the end you were and always would be happy for everything you had with him, even if your time together was cut short.

“This has been a topic of debate, you know.” He spoke, tapping a finger on the table a few times as if in thought. “The consensus was ‘don’t give it to her’ but I disagree and I think Nanami would agree with me for once, so I took it anyway.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had heard you correctly, or maybe he didn’t understand what you were saying? Your questions were quickly snuffed out before you could even ask them though as a small black box was placed down in front of you and your heart just about stopped. Your mouth hung open as you looked at him and he simply gestured for you to open the box. You did just that, staring at the simple ring with a single pear-cut opal set in the center, a stone you had commented on loving seemingly years ago. Your fingers felt tingly as you reached for it, your mouth finally closing once you finally held it in your hands. All at once your emotions began to overflow with the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes.

“I’m no expert, but I think you woulda’ gotten married. Obviously I would be the best man and Nanami would find some new ugly tie to wear.” He said with an air of reminiscence for something that never actually was.

“You’d probably look great, but that’s a given. Then you’d party and get drunk and finally go home so you could do some stuff that would end up with us having some good news a few months later….Ok maybe no kids but I’m sure the two of you could make a damn good night out of it.”

You were silent for a moment, and then you burst out with laughter that quickly dissolved into crying as he handed you napkin after napkin to wipe your face with. You wondered how Gojō could make everything sound so simple and make you somehow both overjoyed and saddened at the same time, but after a while, you were left smiling even though you still had tears running down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry that couldn’t come true.” He spoke in a more serious tone, a gentle smile gracing his features. “-But, who knows? Maybe it could, someday, with someone. Point is, you should know that all Nanami ever wanted was to be happy with you. Whether or not that was for a hundred years or two, he was more willing to ride that train through than he was with anything else. He knew there was a chance that being happy with you could only last so long, but he’d want you to keep living and loving the things and people that you do. That’s what he fought for, after all.”

You nodded, laughing once more through your most likely obnoxious crying. You knew there was no way you could ever get over that want to have lived a happy life forever with Kento, but you also knew it would break his heart if you were never at least able to enjoy the rest of your life alongside the grief you held. You wiped your eyes once more, your tears finally ceasing, and you slipped the ring onto your left ring finger and lifted your hand up to admire it and everything it represented.

“Would you look at that!~ Guess he really did have an eye for perfect measurements.”

You smiled and gave him a nod, unable to tear your eyes away from the ring that now sat proudly on your finger. This was where your life and your love had led you, mourning for the loss of everything you had and yearning for the things that you now knew would have been, yet you knew from him proclaiming it many times that if there was one thing Kento cherished, it was the fact that you gave him something to look forward to, a reason to truly live rather than just go through the motions. He would want you to live the rest of your life just the same, even if it was without him. You would love those you held dear, you would laugh til’ you couldn’t breathe and cry until you ran out of tears. You would eat your favorite foods, sleep in on your days off for as long as you could, and be sure your calendar was marked with little “X’s” for even the smallest of things to look forward to. You would live your life to what you felt was the fullest with him in your heart throughout all of it until maybe, someday, you could see him once more to finish your story with a long awaited “I do”.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Perfect (Bryce x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Dr. Ximena Valentin) Word count: 900 Warning: some language

Premise: After a fight, Bryce decides to apologize via grand gesture, taken right out of her favorite holiday movie. 

Author’s Note: Love Actually is the best holiday movie. 

It had been two days since their fight and neither had contacted the other to apologize. Bryce had almost done so on many occasions, but the angry look Ximena had skewered him with before she stormed out stopped him every time. 

They've had arguments and petty fights before, but they always made up absurdly fast. This time, their tempers and the words they hurled at each other had been made harsher by the stress they each faced at Edenbrook. 

God, he missed her. 

Which is why he stands at her doorstep on Christmas eve, arms loaded with a stack of poster board, about to execute the cheesiest idea imaginable and praying it is enough. 

Bryce holds his breath as the door creaks open. Privately, he curses himself for being this nervous about something. For someone so sure of himself, the anxious way his stomach bottoms out is completely foreign to him. But then again, aside from his career and Keiki, he never really had anything he gave so much of a damn about. 

His heart, already beating at an alarming rate, picks up further at the sight of Ximena, looking so fucking beautiful in a messy ponytail and wearing one of his shirts. 

“Bryce?” 

Her dark brown eyes fall to the poster board he's holding with both hands and her confused frown only deepens. 

“What are—” 

Bryce briefly balances the posters with one arm as he presses play on his phone. The beginning notes of Silent Night fill the empty hallway. Belatedly, he realizes the volume might be too loud for her grumpy neighbor, but Bryce decides not to care. 

With much effort, he flips over the first card. A brief glance down allows him to read what Keiki helped him write that morning:

I know this is your favorite movie. 

With much evident confusion, Ximena reads the words. 

Bryce flips to the next one. 

Because you've made me watch it with you a million times. (Not complaining). 

Her beautiful face, illuminated with a warm glow by the hall's orange lighting, remains impassive. The unfamiliar worry settles deeper into Bryce's stomach. 

Even though we had a long discussion about whether or not this scene is inherently creepy. 

He remembers that discussion vividly and how soon they both forgot it when he made the compelling argument of kissing her. Ximena must remember the way she ended up on top of him on his couch because her cheeks bloom with color. 

It's not creepy for us though because you're not married to someone else.

Bryce lifts his gaze to meet hers. Still, there is no evident response aside from her arms crossed tightly across her chest. 

So I'm just a boy, standing in front of a girl…

At this, the corner of her mouth twitches. 

Sorry, wrong movie. 

Ximena snorts. Despite his past teasing, Bryce thinks it's the most wonderful sound he has ever heard. He continues flipping, realizing at this point that maybe they overdid it with the number of cards. 

Two cards later, Ximena's amusement vanishes until it settles on confusion. 

“Bryce?” 

“I'm almost done, I swear.”

“They're out of order.”

He glances down at the card he's currently holding and to his horror, it reads “... An idiot.”

“Unless you meant to say, 'To me, you are… an idiot.'”

Bryce groans, looking up to the ceiling as though hoping to find the answer to this horrifying dilemma written there. 

“No. That was supposed to say, 'But that's what you get for choosing to date…' but Keiki and I overshot it and made the font too big. We had to write '... An idiot' on another card.”

Ximena says nothing, her face remaining as unreadable as with the first cards. 

“The 'To me you are…' was supposed to end with 'perfect'.”

More silence. 

“In all caps.”

Nothing. 

“And it was supposed to go at the end.”

This time the silence is so deafening, that Bryce has half a mind to pack everything up and escape. 

Before he can turn off the music, however, Ximena's expression breaks with laughter. 

“God, you are such a dork. I love you so much,” she says when she sobers up enough to speak.

 He doesn't have enough time to savor the glorious words because she flings herself into his arms. Without a moment's hesitation, Bryce drops the cards to catch her. 

“I'm so relieved to hear you say that.”

Without saying another word, she kisses him, their mouths moving against each other's with days worth of pent up longing. Ximena's leg had hitched securely around his waist and Bryce's mouth had found its way to her neck by the time they remember they're still in public. 

Breathless, they disentangle but Bryce continues to hold her close. 

“Did you at least see the card that said, 'I'm sorry'?” 

Forehead pressed against his, she shakes her head. 

“Damn. That was the whole point of this.” A chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “I am, by the way. I'm sorry for snapping at you.”

But his girlfriend is already shaking her head vigorously.

 “I'm the one who's sorry. Work has been stressful and I shouldn't have taken it out on you.”

Their lips meet again. Though this kiss is chaste, the smile she gives him when they break apart is anything but. 

“Now,” she says in the sexiest whisper he has ever heard. “Let's go into my room so I can show you what you've been missing for the past few days.”

________

Author’s Note: Happy holidays! :)

________

I am so sorry I am tagging everyone! If you don’t want Bryce x MC content, please feel free to ignore. I am very disorganized and don’t have my tags separated :(

tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself,  @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices,  @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, , @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman,  @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie​, @tsrookie​, @mvalentine​, @professorkingslay​, @drakewalkerfantasy​, @casey-v​, @helloblueeyedcat​, @mysticaurathings​, @blossomanarchy​, @thegreentwin​, @togetherwearerapture​, @rookieoh​,  @rookiemarsswiftie​, @natashajaniphilchoices​, @mysticalgalaxysstuff​, @hatescapsicum​, @choices-lurker​, @kiara-36​, @junehiratas​, @danijimenezv​, @macy-ray85​, @adrex04​, @canigetanawwjunk​, @sanchita012​, @overwhelminglyaquarius​ , @scorpiochick8​, @skylarklyon​, @starrystarrytrouble​, @mercury84choices​, @drariellevalentine​, @ethanrcmsey​,  @aarisa-frost​,  @udishaman​, @a-crepusculo​, @quacksonlover​, @caroldxnvxrs​, @ramseyandrys​, @whatchique​, @openheartfanfics​

@varikasnuori​, @dimitriwife​, @genevievemd​, @shanzay44​, @fabi-en-ciel​, @trebondialanna​, @lady-calypso​, @ashiiknees​, @dr-ramseys-rookie​, @stygianflood​, @bellcat2010​, @iemcpbchoices​,  @emotionalswift2,  @lion-ess24,

[trillgutterbug]

Fic Writer Questions!

tagged by @palamedessextus 😊 thanks friend!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

64! only five more to the magic number ayyyyy and then i’m legally obligated to never post another one.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

289,575 apparently??? which seems way way way higher than i ever would have guessed, wow. who knew!

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

31 on ao3, although that’s lumping, eg, all marvel subfandoms together. but i have a ridiculous amount of wips in all kinds of other fandoms that i haven’t/won’t post, soooo.... more than that! and i don’t want to list them all bc that’d be a long boring read!

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

it serenely disdains to destroy us, a magnus archives fic that, i somewhat vainly note, has been orbiting in the top few top kudosed fics in the tag since i posted it womp womp.

concerning flight, because we all thirsty for thor/loki+gender and i for one support us.

untitled porny snippet (yes that’s actually what it’s called), because same as above. (i see u, kudos-to-comment ratio and i aint mad but.... i see u. all you dirty birds out there shamefully yet silently jerking it. kudos to YOU.)

an experiment in posthumous subsistence, a batman/joker zombie au i wrote fucking TEN YEARS AGO ALMOST. why???? why is this fic so popular?? i’m barely a good writer now and i sure as shit wasn’t one a decade ago! the terrible title alone should disqualify it from being read, but i guess the people want what they want. and what they want is batman and joker handcuffed together, trying to escape the zombie apocalypse  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

all good things, some stucky hydra trash party-adjacent smut regarding piercings. i stand by this one 100%, it deserves every kudo(s?) tbh.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i do, depending on the comment! i don’t think comments like “loved this!” / “thanks for writing!” are written with the intent to receive a response (or at least, when i write them on other people’s fics, i certainly don’t expect one). they’re like an extra kudo(s?), and i appreciate them a lot, but they’re not really an invitation to Discuss. whereas if someone clearly has put a lot of thought into a comment, or asked a question, or made some observations that i jive with, or just seems like they want to engage, then hell yeah i jump in there. love that shit. 

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

i guess arguably thine own self, which is some hydra husbands abo. laugh all you want, it’s one of my fave of all my fics lmao. probably specifically bc of the unpleasant/open ending.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

probably moderation is a memory! since it, unlike 99% of all my other stuff, isn’t just total smut, and the whole point of writing it was to wallow as deep as possible in the sauce of giddy teenage infatuation, it got the opportunity to have an actual emotional arc (more or less). furthermore i could not possibly bring myself to break johnny lawrence’s tender little heart ever, that would hurt me far more than it would hurt him.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

i only realised while answering this question that apparently.... no i don’t write crossovers! which is not at all a deliberate choice, i guess a compelling enough one just hasn’t occurred to me yet! 

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

shockingly no! by some accidental miracle i’ve managed to fly under the radar so far, despite some of the really buckwild stuff i’ve posted. however, considering some of the stuff i’m probably ABOUT to post.... that clean track record might soon come to an end lmao.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

lmao. uhhhh. almost exclusively, and i guess??? all kinds? this is clearly a question composed by someone who does not write smut.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of, and i wouldn’t really care if i did. 

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah i think a few....? a number of people have asked anyway and i always say yes, so probably there’s at least one floating around out there somewhere.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have! just once, and we really made it count. it’s called a reptile dysfunction, which should tell you all you need to know. 

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

thorki, probably. i always have and always will come back to it, no matter what. it’s got such a ferociously timeless staying power and so much potential variation, i don’t think i could ever get bored of it, regardless of what level of marvel-exhaustion i might feel at a given time, or what tropes, kinks, or stage of literary pretension i’m at. truly the oh tee pee. 

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

ohhhhh all 836575927 of them, but. there’s this one thorki fic i started almost ten years ago as an experiment with a new-to-me style, which turned out over the intervening years to become my main style, and looking back on that fic, which for many years was a touchstone of writing-to-aspire to for me, it’s actually Not Very Good lol. but i still love the core concept, which is a canon divergence berserker thor au, but not only is it a somewhat inaccessible (admittedly less so since the deadpool movies came out, which was a hilarious pipe dream back when i started writing it) x-force comics crossover, but i wrote myself into a bunch of corners and have yet to dig up the energy to write myself back out of them! i go and reread it every year or so and think “hmm... maybe now...” but tbh it’s just not really good enough to bother! perhaps someday i’ll repurpose the best elements of it into something new.

16) What are your writing strengths?

man, it’s so hard to say. in much the same way that you can spend hours every day staring at yourself in a mirror, yet be utterly incapable of picking yourself out of a lineup, i spend a lot of time eyeballing my writing, but stepping back it seems like a chaotic mass of nonsense with few cohesive throughlines. i’m good at writing smut, i know that much! and in that vein, i think i am good at smut bc i am very good at committing to the bit, as it were. getting into the nitty gritty of experience and sensation (physical or emotional) and rendering largely abstract internal concepts in fairly comprehensible ways. i think my prose is quite decent on a sentence level too.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

utterly incapable of finishing anything! or plotting anything! can’t mange a cohesive emotional arc! write myself into overly structured corners or out onto a vast plain with no structure in sight! all the macro elements of storytelling totally elude me, which is very frustrating when i have all this tasty fleshed out micro-level character stuff, but no narrative skeleton upon which to drape it.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?   don’t! unless you are very sure you know what you’re doing, and the other language bits are a) very few, b) easily contextually understood, and c) actually adding something other than a weird flex that you know google translate exists.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

11yo me wrote spock/kirk/janice rand and thought she invented the concept of a threesome. brand been stronk since day one 🤘. (the vulcan salute is right next to the devil horns in my emoji list, so....)

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

i love the (ongoing) better with you series very much, not least because i’m still absolutely flabbergasted that i wrote something that long. i think it’s actually pretty good all things considered and it’s very dear to me on many many levels. but the fic that i just viscerally adore, that i love the style of, and that i had such a transcendent, invigorating, organic Experience writing, is temper its strength, adding honey until quite cold, which is a terror fic with the inexplicable pairing of edward little/hartnell, featuring crossdressing and gender stuff. it just burst out of me fully formed one day and i don’t think i’ve managed to top it yet! 

lowkey tagging @lingua-mortua @pitcherplant @kaasknot @froggy-babyy @deputychairman @nomercyonlytears @clockheartedcrocodile

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux‘s „The Phantom of the Opera“ - Chapter 8: “In Which Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Dare to Have “Faust” Performed in a “Cursed” Opera House, and We See the Frightful Consequences”

<< Previous Chapter Quite a few elements from this chapter have found their way into ALW’s musical version of the story - the „far too many“ notes from “O.G.”, Carlotta the croaking toad and last but not least, the famous chandelier crash.

On Saturday morning, Moncharmin and Richard receive another of „O.G.‘s“ famous notes (“Are we at war, then?”), in which he sets forth an ultimatum - they will have a „cursed“ performance that night if they do not comply with the following conditions: 1. Box 5 must remain empty, 2. Christine Daaé must be given the leading role in „Faust“ instead of Carlotta, 3. Madame Giry must be reinstated, 4. They must agree to the payment of the monthly salary of 20,000 francs.

Considering the terms that Erik states, only one is dedicated to advancing Christine‘s career - the rest serve to reinstate the necessary infrastructure for his „haunting“: he needs access to Box 5 to be able to communicate with Madame Giry, he needs a trusted ally - and of course, money (to buy stuff for Christine, presumably). He also feels compelled to assert his power since the managers have decided to challenge him. He does not randomly create chaos or terrorize the Opera house just for the sake of it - everything he does serves a necessary purpose from his point of view. Considering the time (”several months”) that he has been haunting the Opera House, Erik likely started the whole opera ghost business only because he fell in love with Christine.

The Phantom‘s note has just prompted another angry outburst from Richard when the stable-head Lachenal enters and tells them that one of the opera’s horses - César, the horse that is habitually used in „Le Prophète“ - was stolen. The stablemen are suspected of the theft, but when Lachenal reports that he saw a black shadow vanishing on a white horse at great speed into the underground, everyone concludes that it must have been the „ghost“. Leroux’s sense of humour really shines through in the chapters dedicated to the managers and their dealings with the Opera Ghost. In this case, the managers seem to be completely unaware that the Opera House even has stables, let alone horses - showing that they are more or less amateurs at running it. And the Opera Ghost is apparently not afraid of making bold moves. But what does a ghost need a horse for? We will see later on that this act also serves a distinct purpose and goal.

Madame Giry comes in, as she has also received a note from the ghost telling her to call at the managers‘ office. Richard is about to explode with fury and literally throws her out of the office, refusing to comply with the ghost‘s demands. When she realizes what has happened, she throws quite a fit and has to be dragged out of the opera house. She is replaced by Richard’s own concierge, who will be in the audience at the opera for the first time during that night’s performance of “Faust”.

Carlotta also receives a note from the ghost in the morning post, warning her not to sing that night, or else a „misfortune worse than death“ will happen to her. She, seeing herself as the victim of some conspiracy, is also willing to defy him and ignore his threats. We also learn that it is actually her who has been slandering and bullying poor Christine in the meantime and using her friends to make sure she won’t be able to repeat her triumph from the gala night. Christine, on the other hand, has few friends apart from Philippe de Chagny - who has been lobbying in her favour simply to please his brother, Raoul - and the opera ghost, of course. Carlotta calls upon all her numerous friends and acquaintances to support her performance that night, telling them that Christine Daaé is conspiring against her. Erik sends her a final warning in the evening post, but she still won‘t be deterred, having secured everyone‘s support previously.

This chapter also gives us a short background on Carlotta, the Spanish diva. She is described as having a perfect voice fit for a wide repertoire, but neither heart nor soul. She is a selfish, wicked and scheming bully, ready to defend her hard-won position as the reigning diva at all costs. She comes from a lowly background, having danced in „disreputable taverns“ in Barcelona, and later in dingy music halls in Paris, working her way up by way of her many lovers.

As no one heeds the ghost‘s threats, that night‘s performance goes ahead as planned. Carlotta sings the role of Marguerite opposite Carolus Fonta in the role of Faust. Christine sings her customary role of Siebel, the young man who is also in love with Marguerite. Despite Siebel being a male character, the role is written for a soprano voice and therefore habitually sung by a woman. ALW turned this into the “page-boy” in “Il Muto”, with the addition of the page-boy being silent, while Siebel is not, although he gets very little stage time.

The first and second act pass without incidents. During the interval, the managers leave the box to find out more about Christine‘s supposed conspiracy. When they return, a tin of boiled sweets and a pair of opera glasses have been mysteriously left there, and they also feel a kind of draught around them.

During the third act, Christine is singing Siebel’s flower aria (“Faites-lui mes aveux” - watch it here) when she notices Raoul in the audience and starts to falter, her voice becoming less clear and confident. Raoul, in turn, is also crying, which greatly embarrasses Philippe and also turns him against Christine because he doesn’t know what kind of games she is playing with his brother. At this point, Christine thinks that there is no future for Raoul and her for various reasons, and she also fears for his safety. Philippe was worried about Raoul‘s precarious state of health following his trip to Perros, and had even asked Christine to meet him, but she had been bold enough to refuse. Christine had also sent Raoul a letter, asking him never to come to her dressing-room again for the sake of both their lives. Supposedly, at this point she still believes the „Voice“ is the Angel of Music, so it is not quite clear in what way she feels their lives are in danger from him.

During the duet between Faust and Marguerite in Act 3, Erik uses his amazing ventriloquist skills to make Carlotta croak like a toad, and the entire audience reacts with horror and dismay to the hellish sounds coming from her mouth. Carlotta cannot believe what is happening at first, and her partner Carolus Fonta is equally confused. Erik‘s idea of a „misfortune worse than death“ is pretty accurate considering Carlotta‘s reaction, but from the point of view of the reader, it is also quite funny especially since we are not meant to empathize with the petty, mean diva too much.

In Box 5, Moncharmin and Richard experience the distinct sensation of the ghost standing right beside them. Leroux later insinuates that Erik is now hiding in the hollow marble pillar beside Box 5. Carlotta resumes her song, but the toad croaks again, and all hell breaks loose in the audience. The managers hear the ghost chuckling, and his bodiless voice says: „Her singing tonight is enough to bring down the chandelier!“ when the chandelier starts slipping downwards and crashes into the audience, causing one death, many injuries and a general panic. The woman who was killed was the concierge brought in to replace Madame Giry, leading to her reinstatement.

The chandelier at the Garnier never really crashed, but there was an actual accident with the Chandelier’s counterweight which happened in 1896 and resulted in a single fatality. Other indications of dates given in the novel suggest though that Leroux does not adhere to this “official” timeline, although it would probably be the most exact indicator of when the story actually happened if it was true. The headline that Leroux quotes - „Two hundred thousand kilos hit concierge“ - is actually based on a real newspaper headline:

Image from @fdelopera​

Within the context of the story, we assume that Erik actively caused the chandelier to fall - which he will later deny when speaking to the Persian. The problem with this assumption is that the chandelier accident actually happened in real life - so unless you assume that Erik is real, too, it is clear that such an accident can indeed happen without someone intentionally making it fall. As such, the case remains finally inconclusive, like many other parts of the novel, and is left for the reader to interpret.

Image from the opening night of the Palais Garnier in 1875 from artlyrique.fr

Next chapter >>

[e-louise-bates]

It’s Jane Austen’s birthday! I hate ranking lists that claim objectivity (Austen Heroes, Worst To Best, Absolutely And Completely The One Correct Way To View This, No This Isn’t Clickbait Why Do You Ask?), so here, instead have my own personal opinions of least-favorite to favorite Austen Heroes and Heroines.

First, the dudes, because, well, why not:

7. Edmund Bertram. Look, Edmund is unfailingly kind, but good grief. So judgmental toward others! So blind to his own weak spots! So unforgivably dense about the Crawfords! I could forgive the blindness and denseness if he didn’t set himself up as the wise and unfailingly correct judge and mentor. Edward Ferrars is also an idiot (see below), but at least he doesn’t go around considering himself better than everyone else.

6. Edward Ferrars. A bit of an idiot, but trying his best, poor thing. Kind of remarkable he turned out as well as he did when you consider his family and his tutor.

5. Colonel Brandon. A bit boring (unless portrayed by Alan Rickman), but a true gentleman and a man of sterling worth. Not much else to say about him.

4. Captain Wentworth. I disliked Captain Wentworth for a long time because of his unyielding bitterness against Anne. But you know, the older I get, the more I like the fact that he’s not perfect, and his flaws are actually kind of major ones, and he really does have a lot of growing to do throughout the story--and he does so. And yes, the letter. Swoon.

3. Mr. Darcy. The man who recognizes his flaws and then acts to correct them, both out of love for the woman who shoved them in his face and because it was the right thing to do. I have little patience for those who claim Mr. Darcy’s “real” problem was social awkwardness--Austen makes it thoroughly clear that yes, he is socially awkward, and that’s no excuse: he doesn’t think highly enough of other people to work to overcome his discomfort.

2. Mr. Knightley. I’ve already written an entire post on why Mr. Knightley is one of the best Austen heroes, so here I will simply say: I love his kindness, and empathize with his dislike of social gatherings, and admire his willingness to participate in said gatherings despite his dislike (unlike a certain other Austen leading man ...)

1. Henry Tilney, of course. He has a sense of humor! He cares about people! He’s kind! He makes mistakes, and then acts to rectify them! He’s mischievous! He’s human and adorable, and I love him.

The ladies!

7. Marianne Dashwood. Oh, Marianne. When I was sixteen, I too believed I knew exactly how the world ought to be, and was convinced my views were utterly correct and would never change. I suspect I was just as irritating to the people around me as you are. Marianne is a difficult character to really like. Yes, she does grow and improve by the end of the story, but I suspect she will always remain an exhausting individual.

6. Catherine Morland. Poor naive Cathy, she is so easily mistaken for a nitwit--that’s how I read her for years, until I had enough maturity myself to recognize that no, she’s simply an innocent girl who is too prone both to letting her imagination run away with her AND to expecting everyone else to be as straightforward as she is. Her character development isn’t as finely drawn as it would have been had Austen written her book later in life, but it is there.

5. Fanny Price. I love Fanny--she is not a drip!--but even I can admit that she is a difficult protagonist to admire. Her quiet steadfastness and strong moral compass are incredibly admirable, but her timidity and lack of self-esteem make for difficult reading, especially for modern readers who more easily resonate with a “headstrong, impertinent girl,” then with someone who cowers in the corner and passively accepts the terrible treatment she is given. That said, I do love her for the fact that despite the terrible treatment, despite her natural inclination to avoid conflict, despite her lack of faith in her own judgment, she still stands firm on what she believes is right and wrong, and won’t bend from that.

4. Emma Woodhouse. Emma is such a complex character. She’s not very likeable, but her journey from self-absorption to genuinely thinking of others (not just of how wonderful she is for appearing to think of others) is compelling. I especially appreciate Romola Garai’s portrayal of her as a too-intelligent woman desperate for mental stimulation and broader horizons, yet compelled to remain closed in a tiny box out of love and duty, and the indication that much of her errors came about as a result of that situation.

3. Elinor Dashwood. Elinor is nineteen at the start of S&S, and man, the poor girl. The only person with any sense (hah) in her family, she is forced to crush down all her emotions because otherwise her mother and sisters would be destitute and most likely disgraced. She’s not a very joyful character, but she is lovable, and especially when played by Emma Thompson, you rejoice all the more with her at that glorious ending.

2. Elizabeth Bennet. She is witty and intelligent, she makes mistakes and then strives to do better, she sparkles, and she is utterly lovable. There you go.

1. Anne Elliot. Anne is The Best, and that’s that. (Oops, I said I was going to stay away from objective statements, didn’t I? Let me rephrase) So far as I am concerned, Anne is The Best, and that’s that.

[okay-victoria]

Love of My Second Life: Tanya & Romance

This is both my take on why, despite seeming like the easiest and healthiest relationship to write, TanyaxVisha is up there with TanyaxMary in difficulty level for pulling off successfully, what I’ve seen go wrong in fanfic so far, and what needs to make it/any romance go right.

Where to start, where to start...um, a warning, for obvious reasons I’m going to have to talk about sex.

The Age Difference

This has the joy of being a bit creepy on both ends of the spectrum! Yay.

Visha Being Creepy

Visha is probably 5 - 6 years older than Tanya. While as more mature adults that age difference is relatively negligible, Tanya being 17/18 and Visha being in her early 20s doesn’t make it suddenly a non-issue. If you and a coworker, both in your first job out of college, went to happy hour and you met his/her significant other and they were a senior in high school, would you feel good about that?

The age-of-consent laws in bygone eras may help your case for why in-story characters give a pass to such things, but it doesn’t really help explain it to your readers. Unless I’m missing something, no one is reading this story from 1920s/30s Germany, and so it needs to have the relationship explained in a way that tries to work for modern standards. Additionally, I think people tend to mix up age-of-consent with “people found this generally appropriate”. A 19 year old dating a 59 year old violates no laws in the United States, but that doesn’t mean that most people are going to consider it a loving and healthy relationship without any proof. Even your in-story characters are probably going to have some thoughts.

The final issue, from Visha’s end of the spectrum, is that even when Tanya is aged up to 18+ and has gained some secondary sexual characteristics, she is sometimes still presented as being an “eternal loli” who can be easily be mistaken for someone around 14/15, an age at which girls normally have some secondary sex characteristics, but distinctly immature ones. I imagine this problem stems from two places:

1) Scenes when Tanya’s lolidom is brought up are not the same scenes as the romantic ones, so the problem is not as obvious to the author and

2) Author forgets that “short+small boobs+doesn’t have wrinkles yet” does not actually result in people looking like they are mid-puberty. Without being really creepy, as women age, their breast tissue drops down and to the side, waist/hip/leg ratios change, and the face loses its baby fat, among other things. Writing that references Tanya as looking like a teen comes along with the unfortunate implication that she actually looks like she is still mid-puberty, and Visha...is into that, instead of being someone who is attracted to petite POST pubescent women.

These are all extremely fixable problems. Really, all an author has to do is make Visha acknowledge that it’s weird, and probably try to talk to Tanya about her reservations before she starts trying to seduce her. It’s the handwave that is the issue. For the last/puberty problem, unless there is some reason I probably don’t want to know about that the author only wants to write the relationship if Tanya looks 14, simply describe her as a petite but adult woman, and if you need to use her looking young as a plot point, have her make an effort to adapt her adult characteristics to suit or hope that nobody looks hard enough to tell the difference.

Tanya Being Creepy

While Tanya is physically the junior member of the relationship, mentally, she is the senior, and by a lot. Tanya knows this. While I don’t necessarily think Salaryman is the Earth’s most morally-pure man, I have a high enough opinion of him to think that he was not pursuing college girls when he was like 35. Tanya should also have a moment of thought over this, or the relationship needs to wait until Visha is closer to her late 20s, when she is approaching a similar level of life maturity that Salaryman would have felt was close to his own.

Even if you think that Salaryman’s logical side would have been eroded by his “but I’m a guy, I can’t help it, college girls are hot” side [I’m side-eyeing you], I think it’s very unlikely that living as Tanya, and being on the receiving end of that kind of stuff, wouldn’t make her reconsider her stance on it, at least a little.

I know, I know, Visha’s been to war! She’s not the same as some random college girl in 2020! While this is allowable as a partial justification, because it is true, it ignores a whole lot.

First off, maturity is not a straightforward drive. All parts of you do not mentally mature at the same time. If you want to write early 20s Visha as a mature-enough partner for Tanya, a bit of time needs to be spent on what Visha loses because of it - she never has, and never will, get to be that happy-go-lucky girl. While making fun of young women for being dramatic gossips, obsessing about non-serious things, etc remains a popular sport, thinking that you are doing Visha a favor by taking that time of her life away from her says pretty terrible things about how society values women’s relationships with each other. If you don’t mean for your fanfic to accidentally imply that, it’s something that needs some love & care.

Alternatively, you could write a story in which Visha, while being a competent adult, still gets space to explore her “girly” side. If doing so, you are going to have to make a really strong case for why Tanya is willing to put up with this, as Salaryman does not come off as someone who would judge it a good use of time & effort to be constantly letting his girlfriend rattle off about things he thinks are silly and immature - there’s a lot of other fish in the sea, why not find one that is a competent adult *and* isn’t often talking about things you don’t care about.

The Canonical Setup of Visha & Tanya’s relationship

Opposite Goals

In a nutshell, Tanya is presented as a person that wants to live a safe, boring, and non-notable life, is doing her best to get there, and is constantly failing and being stressed about it because she needs to figure out a new plan. Visha is presented as someone who has major qualms about Tanya as a human being, but has a nigh-worshipful respect for her heroic officer side.

This is a massive, and I mean MASSIVE problem. You absolutely cannot ignore that what makes the characters happy is diametrically opposed to each other. Can you overcome it? Yes, by slowly developing the characters towards a compromise, but you can’t just not acknowledge it and expect me to think this relationship has any hope of leaving both partners happy. Either Tanya never escapes her never-ending stress cycle, or she does, and the entire basis of Visha’s attachment to Tanya disappears.

This can be fixed by: 1) Tanya coming to terms with a new side of herself, one that wants to be that hero. This cannot just be a one-paragraph epiphany. Tanya is shown to hate when she thinks her internal self is being changed by her new experiences and she needs a lot of work to get to a point where she is willing to acknowledge this in herself.

2) Visha has to go through a rocky part where she second-guesses herself - she thought she wanted Tanya, but turns out, Tanya isn’t the person she thought she is? How and why does she decide that she likes the person Tanya has become? This is probably the easier route, but I think runs the risk of having an author have Visha *say* Tanya does all these other good things for her, but never really show it happening.

3) The happiest medium is probably one where Visha *mostly* adapts towards Tanya, so Tanya gets to live a quiet but not too quiet life, and Visha learns to love another side. As Visha is compromising more in this sense, a healthy relationship is going to include Tanya realizing what is happening and deciding to make an effort to appeal to Visha and not just be like “Take me as I am. Or don’t.” and Visha unilaterally decides to accept that.

Why Does Tanya want to be in a relationship with Visha?

Tanya betrays no actual emotional attachment to Visha in the light novels. While you can read in rationalization to the reasons Tanya gives to her actions, she herself does not believe that it is because of an emotional connection.

Canonically, Tanya is portrayed as liking Visha because of how well Visha passes the “usefulness” test. This brings up another MASSIVE problem - does Tanya, in any way, shape, or form, actually like Visha as an individual, or just  her ability to conform to the role Tanya wants her to play?

Look, I don’t need Tanya to be in LOVE with Visha in the way we usually talk about people being in love to believe that Tanya can be in a relationship successfully. I’m fully on board with a portrayal in which Tanya can’t quite summon that level of emotion. However, she needs to like and respect Visha as an individual person, and summon a level of emotion beyond friend with benefits.

IMO, it is really hard to do that without showing Tanya and Visha disagreeing on a major piece of Tanya’s philosophy and Tanya actually listening and responding positively to it, not simply agreeing to disagree because it isn’t worth upsetting her useful sidekick, or whatever. There needs to be character development of both characters - Visha finding it in herself to be comfortable rocking the boat, and Tanya having a compelling enough reason to change something that she has clung to for two lives.

Everyone wants to be a lesbian

While I get it, the Empire is not the exact same as Germany, and yes, I know that Weimar Germany was relatively sexually progressive, it’s really not something that a well-written romance should handwave.

“Weimar Culture” in many ways developed as a result of how WW1 went for Germany. If you have a story where WW1 doesn’t go that way for Germany, gay culture is unlikely to flourish to the same degree.

All that aside, Tanya isn’t someone that is going to easily shrug her shoulders and say “you know, sometimes you need to jeopardize your career for the sake of hot sex/love”. She’s pretty clear on which she prioritizes. A lesbian relationship is not going to help her here, and she’s going to be aware of it. She needs to struggle with that choice.

Visha not struggling to accept herself as a lesbian is also somewhat of an oversight. It’s pretty unlikely that a woman born in her time period would come to terms with that easily. Visha is also never shown being attracted to other women besides Tanya, which carries a weird “I’m only a lesbian for you” vibe that is like a gross parallel of a straight guy wanting a lesbian to be so attracted to him she can’t help it, she wants the D.

And now, we enter the realm of Tanya’s relationship with her identity and sexuality.

Tanya is shown to have mental qualms both about entering a straight or lesbian relationship in her new life. The reasons behind those qualms are not explored at all in the LN, but they should be in a story in which Tanya goes into a relationship.

No matter which path puberty takes her down, there is the issue of Tanya being comfortable having sex as a woman. Even if it is with another woman, it is not going to be particular similar to the way she had sex with women as a man. That type of thing is pretty tied up with our identity. Tanya hates having her internal, I haven’t changed identity threatened, and not being able to give sexual pleasure/needing to receive it differently is the type of thing that is probably going to come along with some emotional reservations on her part.

Again, sexual identity being a part of our overall identity, while Tanya may remain attracted to women, that means her identity is now as a gay person, not a straight person. Given her biases from both growing up in Japan and the state of gay rights in her new life, it would seem atypical that she would consider this a non-issue and it wouldn’t make her question her priorities or the type of person she thought she was.

But...The Sex?

Look, I get it, sometimes you wanna see certain characters bang. We’ve all been there.

While yes, I recognize that many humans make terrible decisions solely in pursuit of sex, and so it’s perfectly realistic to have Tanya and Visha do the same and say that’s why you’re handwaving everything else, it is an extremely lazy storytelling technique, especially since neither character seems likely to go to extremes for it.

Because people focus so much on sex appeal, unfortunately, they use it as a substitute for making a good case for the relationship. Visha/Tanya is so attracted to Tanya/Visha, that now they are willing to undergo character development, because the pulsing loins urge them to. Really?

Do at least some of it first, lay the groundwork for romantic attraction before you slam them with physical attraction. While it often works the opposite direction in real life, that undercuts the romantic side in fictional story-telling.

I also think that because of the focus on their attraction to each other, what ends up missing in all TanyaxVisha fanfics I’ve seen so far is the tension. That makes it boring, I don’t care about it, and the entire reason I don’t care about it is because the choice to handwave the inconvenient facts means there is nothing in the way besides Tanya being a dumbass, which you can only do for so long without it becoming boring.

They are both attracted to each other, and admit it to themselves. Neither sees any real problem with the relationship other than not knowing if the other person likes them, but they aren’t even hung up on it and mostly work on straightforwardly winning the other person.

When in doubt, blame it on The Patriarchy

As far as we know, Tanya isn’t pining for relationship, and never thinks about a romantic relationship from her old life. Combined with other things Tanya says, it is hard to imagine Salaryman ever had a “considering marriage” relationship - more like, he may have felt partnership had some desirable aspects, but probably never was able to compromise on his kind of extreme worldview enough to try to make it work with someone, just figuring he’d find “the one” one day that wasn’t going to make him compromise.

While of course, you should not need to change everything about who you are for a romantic partner to like you, saying “you should like me for me” and then putting in exactly zero effort to do things because you know they are important to your partner, even if they aren’t for you, is not one of the keys to a successful relationship.

While it is not a problem inherent to Tanya & Visha’s relationship like the above sections, it is a problem in all forms of how I’ve seen the relationship written. It fails to answer a fundamental question: WHAT CHANGED?

Why did Tanya want love/a relationship/a wife in this life, and not in her last? If she did want it in her last life, why did she successfully find love/a relationship/a wife in this life, and not in her last?

Unfortunately, skipping the answer to this question implies that nothing changed. The success is then entirely reliant and Visha, and that brings along with it a really ugly answer.

Visha’s professional I’ll-do-anything-for-you is equated to a personal I’ll-do-anything-for-you, and she very much accepts Tanya for who she is, through all the flaws that are definitely there and that presumably no woman in Salaryman’s life was willing to put up with. Tanya doesn’t have to undergo any character development to be capable of making the relationship work.

This has some really, really unfortunate undertones. It is the very reason why even legal-but-large age difference relationships often aren’t healthy, because the older partner, instead of trying to be someone capable of contributing to the life of someone their own age, decides it’s easier to find someone younger who doesn’t know better and is more willing to put up with their bullshit. That, then, turns into a creepy grooming undertone - you make the less experienced partner think this is normal.

It really isn’t normal or good that Visha should have to put up with a relationship in which she never discovers who she wants to be because she’s so caught up Tanya’s idea of how to live your life. That is borderline emotional abuse, I am sure no one intends it to be there, but without giving some serious treatment to character development, unfortunately, it is.

To me, this has some of the worst overtones of the worst types of male fantasy - My Manic Pixie Dream Girl is completely devoted to me, and instead of emotionally adding to her life and/or our relationship, she is completely fine with me substituting being a Strong Heroic Man who occasionally buys her Nice Things. She demands I change nothing of myself and completely agrees with my Logical Man worldview, no matter what she needs to change about herself to get there. She’s hot, and I get to simultaneously be a straight man and have hot lesbian sex. Even better, because she’s a “strong” woman who is capable in her own right, not only am I physically satisfied, but I get the ego boost of “earning” the submission and subordination of a woman who is better than most people, because she knows I’m better than her.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the grosser it gets, so as far as fanfic goes I just try to ignore it and understand that the authors intention wasn’t to bring along all this baggage. However, to truly write a good Tanya x Visha story that gets away from all these unfortunate implications is a big undertaking, and it’s really impossible for it to make for a compelling side-plot that doesn’t get much screentime.

I’m generally fine with handwaving issues for sideplots, but if Tanya is making decisions because of her relationship with Visha that are now affecting the main plot, it really isn’t something that *should* be handwaved.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

[forever-rogue]

Disappear Here - 4/4

A/N: Hi friends, I hope you enjoy this little finale. Please don’t kill me - but I hope you enjoy. Again, I recommend the acoustic version of Disappear Here by Bad Suns to set the scene! As always, feedback is welcome! xx

Based on this blurb (because I’ve gotten a few questions and realized I never really explained it - this blurb is in the present and everything else is in the past).

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALTERNATIVE ENDING

SEQUEL

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You’re telling me, Agent L/N, that you want to withdraw your request for a transfer-”

“Yes, ma’am-”

“The request that has been granted and you’ve accepted-”

“Yes, ma’am-”

“Because you now want to stay in Colombia?” although she kept herself together, mostly anyway, there was nothing but annoyance in her tone and written all over her face. Annoyance and daggers that was. You were sure your face must have been a brilliant crimson as she berated you; all you managed to give her in response was a small nod, “you realize what you’re doing, correct? I sure hope you do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you stared at your feet for a moment before daring to meet her eyes. Noonan sat back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest as she let out a sharp exhale through her nose, “I-I realize how much of a hassle I’ve created and I do apologize - to everyone.”

“I sincerely hope that you’re not changing your mind all because of one man,” you almost stopped breathing at her words, wishing she wasn’t always so spot on. You did want to stay in Colombia and finish what you started, but there were…other reasons too - you just weren’t about to tell her that. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you shook your head, trying to convince her as much as yourself, “I suppose it’s not my place to wonder or figure out your logic. Whatever is compelling you to stay, I hope it’s worth it.”

“It is,” you told her confidentiality, putting a small smile on your face. It was going to worth, it definitely was. You wouldn’t be doing this, shaking up everyone’s lives yet again, if you weren’t so sure of that.

“Well, I guess I’ll tell Agent Breslin not to expect you,” her voice was cold as ice and sent a chill down your spine, despite the warm Colombian afternoon. You remained rooted in your spot as you tried to figure out something to say; it felt wrong to just silently remain there as she shuffled her papers and appeared to be looking for something. She gave you the up and not after a few moments before snapping, “you’re excused, Agent L/N. You might as well go and do some work since you’re so keen to stay here.”

“Yes ma’am,” you turned on your heel and quickly darted out of her office. The tension broke as soon as you entered the hallway and you finally felt like you could breath easier. You knew, you just knew without her even having to say anything that you would be on her shit from now. Oh well. You’d just keep a low profile and work hard. Try being the operative word.

When you made it back into your shared office, you were almost relieved to find it empty for once. You leaned against your desk and let out a long sigh, closing your eyes and relishing in the silence. But your peace and quiet was quickly ended as a pair of footsteps approached, stopping in front of you. For a moment you thought it was Murphy, he had been suspicious about your sudden change of mind, but hadn’t questioned it too much. He knew, you were sure of it, and if he didn’t know exactly why, he had strong inklings. The little looks he kept giving you and Javi gave him away.

You slowly opened your eyes and found Javi’s honey brown ones staring back at you, a crooked smile on his face. He reached up and put his hand on the side of your face, running a thumb gently over your cheekbone, “hi, sugar.”

“Javi,” you looked around to make sure Steve hadn’t somehow made his way in just yet. When you realized you were alone, you took his hand and placed a gentle kiss to his palm. He grinned at you before capturing your lips in a quick kiss. Your eyes widened at his audacity before the two of you broke into a small fit of giggles, “I told Noonan.”

“I’m sure she took that extremely well,” he cringed slightly at the mental image of that conversation. If he could have avoided her forever, it wouldn’t be long enough. He was by now means her favorite person, and he was well aware of that fact.

“About as well as you think,” you sighed, moving to sit down on your desk as Javi gave you a small smile, “she knows. She totally knows.”

“We’ll just be careful,” he promised and you nodded. If she had so much more than a mere hunch that you two were actually in a relationship, or anything, she’d have you back on the first flight to the states, you knew at that point your career would be all but over, “I promise nothing bad will happen.”

“If she finds out then my whole career will be over before it’s even really started,” you looked at him with raised eyebrows and he nodded. At least if something happened to him, he’d already established himself well enough not to have to worry about anything. You took his hand and playfully pushed him back towards his own desk, “so this - us, means we can’t do this at work, you cheeky bastard. Paws off until later.”

“But honey, you’re killing me-”

“Hey, did you two want to go and get lunch? There’s nothing good anywhere here,” Steve asked as he walked back in, nose buried in some papers. You and Javi quickly tried to play off anything that had been happened, pointedly looking away from each other, “if we leave soon, we can meet Connie. I know she’s dying to see you, Y/N, ever since she found you’re staying.”

“Lunch sounds great,” you both chimed in at the same time, causing Steve to look suspiciously between the two of you. So much for being subtle.

“What’s up with you two?” a small smirk it’s way on his face as your face grew warm and Javi looked anywhere but his face. If he didn’t know before, he knew now, “well come on then, let’s get going.”

He started to head out the door and you and Javi followed close behind. You narrowed your eyes at him, and stuck out your tongue at him, “you’re gonna get us found out, Javi!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you later,” he smirked quietly, giving your ass a quick smack causing you to yelp lightly. Steve paused for just a moment but didn’t turn around to face either of you, instead he just kept walking, shaking his head sightly. He fucking knew.

“Javier!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier grinned at you as he pushed a piece of hair off of your face, letting the tips of fingers trace over all the highs and lows before stopping at the corner of mouth. You gave him a lazy smile before a yawn escaped your lips.

“Tired?” he teased as he draped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“Wonder why,” you asked as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart slow back down to a normal rate. It was late, away later than you should have been up considering that you both had to be at work in the morning. But once things had started, they were hard to stop. And it wasn’t like you were particularly eager to stop anything when it came to him, “maybe you shouldn’t be keeping me up so late, Peña.”

“I don’t hear you complaining,” he was proud of himself with that little comment, as you jokingly scoffed at him, “unless oh Javi, Javi please, more, more, harder, is your way of complaining.”

“Shut up asshole,” you groaned as you buried your face into his chest. As soon as he had his way with you, as soon as he had he had his hands on you, you were lost to him and whatever coherent thought you had left was out the window, “you’re the worst!”

“Only kidding,” he promised, putting a finger under chin and lifting your face up to meet his, “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” you bit your lip as you studied him, still somehow managed to feel shy despite how intimately he knew you, or how often he reminded you that he loved you. It was different than what you just experienced before with your past lovers. He a combination of hard and soft, a duality that worked well with your fiery nature. You nuzzled your nose against his and just stayed there like that for a while before whispering gently, “te amo, Javi.”

“Look at that, you’re practically a Spanish aficionado now,” he teased before pulling the blanket over your bodies so you could attempt to get a few hours of sleep before work, “aren’t you glad you gave me a chance? I told you it’d be worth it.”

“Oh yes,” you laid back down and Javi automatically pulled you into his body, “I’m so glad I put everything, my career, my future, on the line for you-”

“Hey now!”

“I’m just kidding, Javi, lighten up,” you traced your fingers his bare chest as your felt your eyes growing heavier and heavier with the call of sleep, “I’m very glad. I’m glad every day. Sometimes I wonder if you’re worse off. You had to change everything, and only have me. Who’s the real winner here?”

“I would choose you and only you every time,” he whispered back, causing a smile to grow on your face as you finally shut your eyes completely, “you were worth it.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Present Day

“No,” you shook your head fervently, trying your best to keep your angry tears from spilling down your cheeks as you looked between Steve and Javi, You didn’t want to cry and knew it wouldn’t help your cause, but you couldn’t help it. All you could see was red, “absolutely not. You’re not leaving me behind again.”

“Y/N, please listen to reason. Carrillo said this was dangerous-”

“I don’t give a shit what Carrillo thinks!” you stomped your foot for added emphasis.

“You did before!” he reminded you.

“That was then. This is now and I am ready for this. I’m sick of you leaving me behind,” you crossed your arms over your chest as you glared at Javi. You couldn’t believe his nerve, that he was trying to get you left behind yet again, “this isn’t fucking fair.”

“I don’t care if you don’t find it fair,” Javi raised his voice and Steve looked anxiously between the two of you, “it’s too fucking dangerous.”

“That’s not for you to decide!” you insisted, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I am a grown woman, I am your partner, and most of all I have proven myself over and over to everyone during the last seven months. You all know that.”

“I said no,” he insisted through gritted through, his nostrils flared with anger. You knew if it had been anyone else asking to go he would have said yes. You knew he was only doing this because you were together, because he valued your safety more than anything else. But it still didn’t make it any easier, or less obvious that you were actually together. If you hadn’t been in this particular situation, you would have taken advantage of the moment - there was something about Javier when he was angry that turned you on. But not today. Not with this.

“It’s not for you to decide,” you insisted, glaring back at him with just as much as annoyance as he was giving you, “this isn’t all about you, it’s not always just Team Javi. It’s the three of us. Right, Steve?”

“I’m staying out of this one,” he said as he raised his hands in defense and took a step back, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes and sighed, “whatever you two have going on, you need to figure it. And fast.”

“Some fucking help you are, Murphy,” you couldn’t believe he was just backing out of this, “I’m going and that is final, Javi. I can take care of myself.”

“No,” he said quietly and shook his head, “you’re not. You’re staying here and that is final. I’ve already told Noonan and Carrillo and anyone else involved that you’re not coming. And if you do come, you’ll just go right back to the States, you’ll be done.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” you couldn’t help yourself as you shoved past him, making sure to slam into his shoulder as you did so, “you’ve got some nerve, Javi. How could you do this? I’m ready to come.”

“Honey-”

“Don’t you dare call me that right now,” you sighed as he tried  to follow after you, “you can’t just sweet talk your way out of this.”

“I love you,” he tried and you just groaned at him and flipped the bird. You didn’t even bother to respond to him as you stormed out of your office in search of something - anything, else.

“So, that’s a thing, huh?” Steve looked at him with wide eyes as he looked between Javi and the space you had just occupied. Javi let out a long sigh as he nodded, leaning against his desk, rubbing his tired face, “I think you should let her come. In all honesty, I think she’d be fine. She can handle herself.”

“She’s not going, Murphy,” he insisted firmly, “that’s final. I don’t want to hear another word about if. From anyone.”

They had left shortly after, without you having said another word to the two of them. It had caused your stomach to churn because you kept wondering what if. What if something happened to happened to Javi? Or Steve? And  the last tie you’d ever said them was basically a fuck you?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Luckily, nothing of the short had happened. Javi and Steve had come home in one piece. But things were different. Everything felt off - wrong.

Javi had been back for several days after being gone for several even longer weeks. Since he’d been back, he’d been quieter, more stoic than he normally was. So much unlike the man you had grown used too. Even when he held you, kissed you, or did anything with you it felt so odd. Almost like you were with a completely different person.

You hadn’t pushed him to speak, or explain anything; you knew how stressful his job could be: the long days, the sleepless nights, the horrors that meet your eyes on the daily. You, after all, shared the same occupation as him. But unlike him and Steve, you hadn’t been allowed to go on this mission, despite your pleas, so you had no clue exactly what they’d seen.

No, instead, you had been behind and become a glorified pencil pusher once again, working on menial paperwork. And hung around the phone, waiting for any call, no matter brief from Javier. And he called on occasion, filling you in on everything that was happening with him and Steve. If you were lucky, he’d spend more than five minutes with you and remind you, in a hushed tone, that he missed you and loved you. But it was different…less real.

But now he was home, back in your life on the daily, but it seemed like he might as well have been gone still. Your Javier had left you, and a mere shell of his former self had returned, someone you didn’t know anymore.

“Javi?” you asked quietly as you sat down next to him on the couch. He had been nursing a single beer for several hours, staring blankly at the television as he only made a comment here and there in response to your questions.

“Mhmm?” he asked without evening you looking at you. You sighed heavily and turned off the television and he finally looked at you, and unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Where are you, Javi?” you put your hand on his cheek, running a thumb over his soft skin.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his brows knitting together, an unreadable expression n his face, “I’m right here.”

“Your body is,” you agreed, “but your head hasn’t been. You’ve been quiet since you returned. It’s like you get lost in your own mind. Where do you disappear to?”

“Just…tired,” it was a clear lie, and he seemed mildly annoyed. You wondered if you should press the issue and decided you would; you’d been silent long enough. You were done dealing with this empty shell. You wanted your Javier back, the one you had so desperately loved.

“Javier,” you removed your hand from him and crossed your arms over your chest, “don’t lie to me. What’s wrong? What happened while you were gone?”

“Nothing,” it was a firm statement and offered no room for negotiation.

“Javi-”

“I said nothing was wrong.”

“And I want to know why you’re lying,” it was a challenge. He should have known better than to argue with you by now. He stood up and ran his hand through his hair, an exasperated look on his face.

“Y/N, just drop it,” he insisted, but you weren’t about to back down now.

“No, Javier, I won’t,” your tone increased in volume, “because you’ve been back and you’ve been treating me like garbage. If something is wrong, tell me, and we work on it together. We’re supposed to be team!”

“I said drop it!”

“No, I’m not going to. Now tell me what’s been going on!”

“I cheated on you,” it was declared without emotion, and it washed over you like a cold wave, crashing down hard. The air was suddenly so thick and tense that you could have cut it with a knife. The words just kept repeated on loop in your head, “are you fucking happy now?! That’s what’s wrong!”

“Get out,” you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. Of all the things in the world you had expected, this wasn’t one of them - he had promised you… He hung his head and sighed, unmoving, “I said get out.”

“Y/N-”

“Get out!” you shouted as you grabbed the vase from the table and threw it at him. He ducked and it shattered into a million tiny pieces, just like your heart, “get out! I never, ever, want to see you again.”

“Y/N,” he tried to reason with you one more time hurt you weren’t having it.

“Walk out that door and never come back,” you pointed sternly before turning around and hiding your face in your hands, tears steadily steaming down your face, “I never want to see your face again, Javier. Fuck you and get out.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next morning you’d somehow managed to drag yourself into work, despite feeling like hell. You had wanted to call in and let them know you were sick or whatever lame excuse you could come up with but you didn’t want to give Javier the satisfaction, or whatever he was after.

Before you knew what you were doing, you had stared gathering your things from your desk and stuff them all into an old banker’s box you had found lying around. You were on autopilot and nothing even mattered.

Not until he walked in.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, when you saw that he looked just as bad as you, it sent a pang of sadness through your heart. You thought you would have been happy with the sight, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to be spiteful or angry. Nothing mattered - he didn’t matter. You weren’t sure if that make things better or worse.

Before you knew what you were doing, you stormed over to his desk, causing him to instantly look up at you. His eyes were puffy - bloodshot.

“Was this the first time?” he remained silent as he avoided looking at your eyes. No. It was enough to bring your whole world crashing down around you.

“How many?” you asked and he instantly knew what you were talking about. Of course he did, “how many fucking others were there?”

“Honey, let me just-”

“No,” you cut him off, feeling the tears already welling up in your eyes as you stepped out of his reach, “you don’t get to call me that. Not anymore, never again. You could at least have the fucking decency to be honest with me. This was going on the whole time? How could you do this?”

He didn’t answer you right away, instead hanging his head as he breathed heavily through his nose. It was at that point that you felt your heart shatter into a thousand little fragments, yet again, as the tears spilled over and down your cheeks.

“I asked you for one thing,” you reminded him as you dabbed your eyes. The little break in your voice was enough to make him want to cry too, “one thing. It shouldn’t have been so hard. I gave up everything for you. A move, a whole new career step, only to stay here and be held back and cheated on this entire time.”

“Y/N-”

“No, I’m done,” you turned on your heel and heard for the door, leaving your box of things. You stopped just before you exited, turning back to give him one last look, “I want to hate you, and a part of me does. But I hope to God you remember this the next time you tell someone you love them. If I ever see you again, it’ll be too soon.”

You didn’t wait for him to say anything else before storming out, almost running into Steve. He looked bewildered as you just shook your head, before wrapping him in a right hug, “goodbye, Steve. I’m going to miss you and Connie most of all.”

“What happened?” he asked as you pulled back and just gave him a teary smile, “Y/N?”

“I hope our paths cross again one day,” your voice was soft as you walked away from, heading down the hall in search of Noonan’s office.

Steve jammed it into the office and found Javi sitting at his desk, head in his hands, “what the fuck happened?!”

“I fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Steve sat down at his desk with a heavy sigh, “you did.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“So, you’re telling me, Agent L/N, that you’re once again asking for a transfer to Mexico,” it was hard, so hard, to keep yourself composed and not let the tears steam down your face. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself or give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“Yes ma’am,” your voice was shaky, and it almost cracked. You felt more like a boy going through puberty, rather than a grown woman. Although in the moment you felt more like a silly child than anything. But you could only blame yourself; your biggest weakness became your greatest undoing.

“You realize the strings I had to pull ten months ago to try and you the position over there,” her voice was laced with venom, and in all honesty, you couldn’t even be mad at her. She had a point after all, “and when I had to tell them you had changed your mind.”

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, hanging your head as you stared at your scoffed up sneakers. You weren’t even dressed properly for work, hell you’d barely managed to drag yourself out of bed to make it to work.

“I’ll go and see what I can do. I hope you realize that these types of things aren’t done on one’s whimsy. These things take time and if you’re lucky, they’ll be able to take you.

“Yes ma’am.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Yes ma’am,” you swallowed the lump in your throat as you nodded at the ground, “and if it’s that much trouble, I…I can go back to the states.”

“Is that what you really want?” she asked and you paused for a moment. Was that what you wanted? To just give up everything you had worked so hard for because of this? She noticed that you were silent you, so she carried on, “you were just starting to make a name for yourself. To give it all up now would be a shame.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure you’ll be able to do well in Mexico,” she stated and you nodded lightly, “I’ll place a call to Agent Breslin and see what he has.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, dabbing at the back of your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. You’d tried to prevent the tears from spilling over, but it was getting harder and harder. You figured by her silence that you were allowed to leave so you started walking away, figured you’d just go home. Nothing else really mattered anymore.

“Agent L/N,” you turned around at the sound of your name and waited for her to go on, “I hope it was all worth it.”

You didn’t even bother to respond as the tears flowed down your cheeks. She knew exactly what she was saying, and the words were cold as ice. You said nothing as you slammed the door shut.

You can’t give her the satisfaction knowing that none of it was worth it.

Javier Pena had not been worth it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[sugarandspice-games]

Spicy take time (costarring Sugar): The Bros rated by how well I think their arcs/character development/relationship with MC was written and how much it makes sense. (Disclaimer: Our affection for these characters and how interesting, compelling, and lovable we find them has ZERO bearing on this list. ALSO, beware, here there be salt, IE, this is critical of the writing. It’s also long as fuck, so if you just wanna skim and read the bold parts, that’s okay too. You are also free to disagree with us as this is just an opinion, and keep in mind that we have only read to chapter 24 so if there are elements of the story we are unaware of... please be understanding of that and don’t spoil it.) Let’s get started, shall we?

1) Starting at the top is BEST BOI IMO: Beelzebub. So, yeah, in terms of character development and growth, he really doesn’t change all that much, aside from starting off not trusting MC to slowly opening up to them about his trauma. But putting that to the side, his relationship with them makes the most sense. After sharing a bedroom and helping him open up, as well as having the mutual goal of protecting Luke, and then even later going on to save his beloved little brother, it follows that he absolutely adores you afterward. Also, he doesn’t start off disliking you like some of the others. So, all around, he makes the most sense. He’s also one of the deeper characters with his backstory, even if I wish they’d give him other flaws than just being hongry (and playing his unhealthy eating habits/coping mechanism as a joke. Disordered eating should be taken more seriously, especially binge eating but that’s a can of worms for another day)

2) Second best is probably going to shock you, but Satan takes this spot. Why? Well, strictly in terms of arc progression, his relationship with MC starting out as one of manipulation and growing into something more genuine when they go on a heartwarming and wacky adventure together with his hated older brother which causes him to open up makes a lot of sense, at least more so than some of the others. While I wish they gave him more meat characterization wise, I think his arc was pretty well done in terms of story structure.

Okay, so, Sugar here. While I agree with Spice that Satan could use some more meat (and that we should be able to have some more information on Baby Satan because we all need that in our lives), I think that the progression of him and LUCI’S bond (not MC’s) could have done with more subtlety. While I appreciate him softening up, and see that progress, we don’t really get to see the tension of the newfound change and how he settles into letting things go/mellow out and I get it-- it’s a dating sim and the secondary relationships are well, secondary, but it would be interesting to see him and MC bond more through time.

3) Third place probably won’t be all that shocking, because this is where I’m placing Lucifer. He’s arguably one of the characters in the series who’s gotten the most love from the writers, having the most screentime, the most affectionate scenes with MC, and the most fleshed out backstory and characterization as well as fleshed out relationships with each of the characters. His relationship progression with MC also takes a nice, even pace, with him slowly learning to trust them and respect them, culminating in an almost-confession (I THINK. Unless I’m reading that part wrong) and then being shattered at MC’s betrayal, and then earned back in true Pixar-movie fashion by them teaming up for a common goal. HOWEVER. And this is a big however. I would love to see his unhealthy tendencies addressed and NOT fetishized. (Don’t come at me with that “BUT THEY’RE DEMONS THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO BE EVILLLLL” dude. If a demon being in a healthy relationship is where you draw the line in terms of believability, then why are you playing a fantasy demon dating sim anyway?) I love him, I stan him, I simp for him, but I wish he had at least apologized for his not-subtle threats of physical violence toward MC rather than jumping straight into the ALSO kinda violent “You’re mine and nobody else’s” gimmick.

Unlike some men (SPICE), I am actually not a Luci stan and while I do have a soft spot, and understanding of his place as an eldest sibling... I would also like to see the writer’s unravel the unhealthiness/coping Lucifer has in place and why/how it came to be. I feel like we get a sense that Luci has thawed since coming to the Devildom but we don’t really see how Lucifer in the Celestial Realm (and how his friendship with Simeon) has progressed. Luci has a lot of love from the writers but from a story stand-point, he is never really allowed to be weak and own up to his own flaws and how that has impacted/hurt MC.

4) Sharing fourth place is Leviathan and Mammon! I’m putting them in the same spot because the issues I have with them are the same, though I plan on addressing their good points individually. But since my beef is simpler, I’m going to start off with the bad. IMO, a good rivals to friends to lovers romance happens in STEPS. You start off from not getting along, to then finding some things in common, and gradually coming to respect each other, and then like each other, and finally love each other. This... doesn’t really happen with these two, and while we see the change from both tsundere boys starting off disliking you and eventually coming to love you, we don’t really get that inbetween that makes the payoff so much worth it. And if those inbetweens are there, the story doesn’t really tell us that, and it doesn’t show us their thought processes. Like, how much would it suck if in pokemon, your charmander evolved immediately into Charizard upon beating your first few gyms? It’s like that.

But as for the good, Levi’s arc makes sense because you’re the first person to really let him be himself and not shame him for the things he loves. You let him ramble about his interests and show interest in them yourself (AT LEAST IF YOU’RE NOT A FUCKING MONSTER. I’ll let Sugar talk more on him, that’s their boy.)

Whoo, boy. Here we go! For whatever reason, the otaku became my favorite and I love him, but as far as arcs go... He could have gotten a bit more screentime and progress. It makes sense that he would become attached to MC as his brothers are very, very... critical and patronizing about his interests. He is also by far the most skittish and introverted of the bunch, coupled with his sin and seeing all the ways he falls short (in his eyes) is a recipe for loneliness and desire for companionship/friendship. While I am not happy with the progression, for me, it makes sense and I would also have loved to see some breaking/softening of how much his Sin influences him when it comes to MC. I’m not saying erase it because demons are meant to give in to temptation but some reassurance and acceptance of that would be good.

(I also know that there is some disk horse about him guilt-tripping you about spending time with his brothers and while I agree it can be hard... It definitely isn’t on a painful level. Like, say... Ray’s in Jihyun’s route in Mystic Messenger. This also is a difference for players who are interested in one love route versus the many route and different strokes, but I digress.)

As far as Mammon goes, well, you’re his first. And he’s not only glad that there’s someone who’s kind to him instead of making fun of him, but also takes pride in having someone to protect. His puppy crush going to full blown love is adorable.

This blog is all about spicy takes, yeah? Well, here’s mine (Sugar): Mammon is lovable but not as lovable as he could be and before all the Mammon stans, come for me- let it be known I like Mammon but his introduction and how he comes to be soft is NOT an easy, or believable transition. There are ways to write a good tsundere and the writers just missed the mark by having Mammon be too callous and then slipping to lovable without that sweet slide into the other end. I will not deny he is very cute, and a good character, and a good brother (and also the most human, according to Satan’s home screen interaction) but... The progression and endearment factor is lacking because of the structure of the narrative.

5) Is another unsurprising one, but this spot is Belphegor’s. Solmare. My dude. Why did you do this. We could have had it ALL. It could have been great. But you screwed the pooch. You took anything good about this relationship out behind the shed and shot it like a lame horse. Let it be known that I LIKED Belphie and MC’s alliance to get him out of gay baby jail, and I adored that love he still holds for Beel... I thought he was going to be a fav of mine, in fact. But how they handled the... uhm... murder ruined it for me. I’m sorry, I just cannot believe that I’m supposed to suddenly be besties with the man who manipulated me and crushed me to death like, a week after it happened. What if I have PTSD from that??? Also... he claims that he loves MC for who they are and not because of Lilith, but that’s not believable when his whole turning point is finding out that they’re Lilith’s descendant. The change needed to be more gradual, and having a subtle, gradual forgiveness arc would have been AWESOME but we were robbed. ROBBED I TELL YOU!!!!!

Annnd... Belphie is actually one of my favorites FOR SOME REASON. I DON’T KNOW MAN. I agree that we could have had it and I’m like (Insert Hades red flaming hair gif here). The decision to not have a redemption arc ruined it for me and while I love Belphie and his softness/brattiness mixture with handling MC... It is underscored by a lack of believable affection and the payoff of struggle on both Belphie’s part and MC’s. Also, there is a lot of ‘You are not who I want you to be, but it’s good enough’ with MC regarding their lineage and connections to the brothers and how that plays out/color the relationships with maybe the exception of Satan and surprisingly, Mammon that irks me but again, another thought for another time.

6) Aaaaand last and also the least... Asmodeus. “YOU GET NOTHING!!! YOU LOSE! GOOD DAY SIR.” --Solmare to Asmo. The writers neglected him SO much, I like him but what the hell are they doing? There’s so much that could be explored here, and with anything involving Asmo they’re like “I do not see it”. His love for MC also isn’t really that believable when his turning point is realizing that they’re powerful. It doesn’t even fit with any of his potential conflicts. The Diavolo’s castle arc set us up to think that Asmo would have some deep seated insecurities with not being able to be loved or desired by everyone, or maybe some insecurities about not being an angel anymore, or some vulnerability issues or something, and they were just like NOPE. It doesn’t make any gotdamn sense! I just... Grrr. Asmo, I’m so sorry, sweetie. You deserve better.

Asmodeus definitely deserves better and I will stand by that until the day I stop playing this damn game. While I, personally, think that his intrigue with MC makes sense (because he is lusty-- probably not just for sex but in general), it makes sense he would want someone with power but while the set up is there, his character falls flat because there is no bonding moment, or turning point for him at all. His affection for MC is still that playful, carefree, flirty persona he carries and I would love to see it dropped and how his fall from the Celestial Realm really weighs on him and an arc where he and MC talk about vulnerability and the power behind being seen as someone attractive and the way it dehumanizes you at the same time. It could be good-- hell, it could be great-- but it was killed before it started and I will never not think that Asmo could have had some KILLER growth. As it stands, he has more connection/romantic potential with Solomon than MC.

Anyway, that’s all for now folks! Feel free to yell at us in the replies, you know you want to. If this post blows up enough, maybe we can rate the undatables (though they don’t have any story arcs so... that would be a challenge.)

[agent-cupcake]

could you do a Sylvain or Felix x reader angst that turns to fluff at the end? Thank you :)

I can’t believe how fluffy this is. Old age is making me soft. This was going to end a LOT differently, but then I watched his supports and I just wanted this SOOO Sappy Sylvain for your reading displeasure

-

Of course Sylvain misunderstood your intentions. Of course, after months and months of playful flirting and coy looks, he’d assume that this was why you approached him in the dead of night, knocking on his door with wide eyes and a racing heart. Truthfully, though, you didn’t make a good case to the contrary in the way you melted into the forward caress of his hands, either.

But who could blame you? As the stories always seemed to go, it all happened so fast.

Before you could get your bearings, the opportunity for you to gather the guts to speak was already gone. Once Sylvain made his move, all of your carefully planned thoughts went out the window, lost once you were pinned against the edge of his messy desk. Perhaps he thought he was doing you a service, removing the necessity for your flustered and stilted words to be spoken. There was only one word needed here, and you were certain a ‘yes’ wasn’t far off, becoming more and more clear within the catching foggy haze of desire.

Sure, conflict warred in your mind, unease tickled your spine, but you were only human. Even if your heart was heavy with a thousand built up feelings and an epiphany regarding your true feelings, even though your was tongue clumsy with words you’d been rehearsing, you still wanted him. Sylvain was offering nothing more than a bitter mockery of the romance you dreamed of, the empty regards of the physical touch you yearned for so desperately, but it was still some kind of romance, it was still his touch. After so long of your back and forth flirtations and the feelings you’d found increasingly difficult to ignore, your body craved him, ached for him.

But not like this.  

“Sylvain…” you said, an attempted warning in the whine of your voice. Unconvincing, not helped in the least by the hot feeling the light brush of his lips sent through you as they trailed across your jaw, down your neck. “This isn’t… Isn’t why I came to see you…”

As if utterly oblivious to the discord in your head, the strength it took for you to get out those words, Sylvain laughed. Wet from the open mouthed kisses he’d left across your collarbone, the breath of that laugh was enough to make you shiver. Chills rushed across your skin, reacting to his touch in all the proper ways despite the wrongness of it all.

“Are you sure about that?” he replied playfully, undoing the buttons of your shirt so he could push the neckline aside and expose more of your skin to his southbound lips. “We both knew it was only a matter of time before you got curious.” He ran his lips over where your heart fluttered, make you shudder all over again. “You don’t have to play naive for my sake.”

“I’m not playing,” you said.

“Then relax,” Sylvain soothed, his hands tracing a path down your waist, sliding to your thighs and pushing them further apart to allow him closer. The position forced you to cling to him, allowing his lips to find your ear, his muttered promise raising even more chills, “I’m not gonna do anything you won’t like.”

Breath caught, you very nearly reconsidered, overwhelmed by the temptation to submit, to accept what he would give you. Sylvain was intoxicating, electrifying. It would be easy to be swept up in his lust, cheap as it was.

But you couldn’t.

“No, I wanted to…” You swallowed hard against a throat that suddenly felt swollen, glad that he was close enough that you didn’t have to meet his eyes. “Can we talk? Please, it’s… Important. Sylvain.”

“I’m all ears,” he said, his attention now focused on the buttons of your shirt.

“I-I know you’re seeing other girls, and I know you’re not necessarily one to commit, but I… I don’t want to get involved with you unless-”

Sylvain froze, the sudden tension in his body prompting your words to cut off.

Whether from your tone or from your phrasing, he somehow seemed to understand. And he wasn’t happy about it. Letting out a heavy sigh of what felt uncomfortably like resignation, his eyes rose to meet yours.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Sylvain asked, all traces of a smile gone from his suddenly solemn face.

You weighed those words and his expression, an awful pit of discomfort and regret in your stomach. Maybe you shouldn’t have spoken.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come here.

Maybe, despite the conviction you had felt earlier, your feelings were wrong.

“What don’t I get?” you asked, not wanting to know the answer, but feeling compelled by the inevitability of asking anyway.

“All you’re worth to me is a little bit of fun. We’ve been having fun, haven’t we? I thought that you understood,” Sylvain shook his head, disappointed. He let go of you completely, pulling out of your grip as he stepped back to sit heavily on his bed. His loss left you half sitting on his desk, hair and shirt askew. The absence of his warm body against yours was a cold one, prompting you to tug at your neckline to cover the phantom chills and regain some modesty against the quickly approaching humiliation and pain.

With that shake of his head, you had seen it all collapse inwards. Your friendship, the relationship you had begun to dream of, even the echo of his touch that burned at your skin was now lost to you. Worse, maybe you’d never had a chance at any of it to begin with.

“So what is it that you want, huh?” he asked when you had no response. “I’d hate to leave you disappointed.” Those words landed like a slap, leaving your ears ringing.

“I don’t want anything,” you replied in as hard a tone as you could manage, straightening your skirt and wrapping your arms around yourself like a hug. It was a lie, but there was no way you could voice the thing you did want without lapsing into tears.

“Huh? But you said ‘unless’. It’s okay, you can be honest,” Sylvain said, his voice hard, “Everyone wants something. In my experience that goes double cute girls like you.”

The compliment made you flinch, spoken in such a cold tone. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“I…” Doubt crossed Sylvain’s face as he searched your expression, but was quickly replaced with resolve. “I have to admit, you had me convinced at first. I really did think you were different.” He ran a hand through his messy red hair, looking away from you.

“I guess I thought I was different, too,” you muttered quietly, not trusting your voice to remain steady if you dared to speak louder.

Following the pain came anger, the most predictably agonizing chaser to misery. As horrible as the humiliated burn of rejection and his cruel mentality was, how quickly this had all fallen apart, it wasn’t as if it was truly surprising. You knew, on some level, that this was how Sylvain was from the very beginning. His rejection was validation of your worst fear, that you were just like every other girl. That your friendship had meant nothing.

But, was that really true?

You arms dropped, fists tightening at your sides, the action giving you a scrap of strength to speak at an audible volume. “You know what else I think?” you asked, the words coming before you could think about how wise they really were. “I think you’re lying to yourself… To keep from being hurt. And I think that you can… Can be a real jerk sometimes.” This anger, at him and at yourself, was all you had to keep any semblance of composure about you. You had to cling to it, or else you knew you’d start crying in earnest.

The temperature in the small room rose, Sylvain’s posture becoming rigid despite his feigned relaxed position. “I might be a jerk, but I’m not the liar,” he responded, his expression dark as he looked up at you. “C’mon, be honest. I know other guys who are way better than me. Guys with titles and Crests, do you want me to introduce you to them? You’re such a beautiful girl, I bet they’d fall over themselves to marry you.”

“Other guys?” you repeated, stricken with astonishment. It took time to process in your head, but Sylvain’s words cleared something up for you, at least. “If you think that I like you for your Crest or title, you’re not a jerk, you’re just an idiot.”

“Really,” Sylvain countered, incredulous. “Why else? In case you can’t see-” He spread his arms, as if on display. “I’m no good. I’ve never lied about that, or my intentions.”

“Oh, you are an idiot!” you cried, throwing your hands up in hurt exasperation, speaking too quickly on the heels of his self-deprecation for your mind to catch up and attempt to censor your thoughts. Sylvain’s eyes widened in reaction, the look of surprise only serving to make you feel more embarrassed. “This… This was a mistake,” you said, your voice hushed in an attempt to over correct your outburst. Tears, finally, were creeping up on you. A mistake. That was the only conclusion that could be gleaned from this mess, ultimately. Your arms wound back around your waist, your face down-turned to hide from him.

“H-hey,” Sylvain said, his voice softened somewhat. “Please, don’t cry-”

“No, it’s fine,” you muttered, hardly audible and shaking your head in a last ditch attempt to clear it. “I know how you are. I never meant for this. I didn’t even like you at first, really. But… But you’re not all bad, you know? Under the jerk persona, you’re strong and brave and kind and… I care about you. Really, I do. I even… I think I love you. I’ve never felt this way before and I…” You couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t look at anything besides the floor. “That’s what I came to tell you, but obviously-” An awful cough of a laugh made it up your throat, a humorless sound. What a mess. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” That is, if you didn’t drown in the tears you could feel yourself choking on before then. You turned away, ready to make your escape while you could still control yourself.

Unfortunately, he had other ideas.  “No, wait-” Sylvain said, reaching out to grab your wrist and using the advantage of the forced close confines of the small room to pull you back. Without the resistance he was expecting, his grip catching you completely unaware, you toppled towards him.

This time, Sylvain’s touch was awkward and clumsy, neither of you expecting the way you fell against him. The backwards tug had caused you to stumble and land in an undignified sprawl in his lap. Not to mention the elbow you accidentally threw against his ribs, earning yourself an ‘ouch!’ to match your unbecoming cry of surprise.

Still, he caught you from bouncing back to the floor, nearly cradling you against his chest.

“I swear, that was an accident,” Sylvain said, always so quick with damage control. His voice vibrated against your cheek, oddly intimate. “Are you all right?”

“Let me go,” you said, voice pinched and cheeks burning. Tears, either from embarrassment or hurt, were quickly gathering in your eyes, blurring your vision. In an ungainly and halfhearted way, you struggled, but he held fast. Steady.

“I will. But first…” Sylvain paused, as if unsure. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to let him see whatever expression you were making, but you knew he was looking at you. Intently. “Did you mean that?” Vulnerability colored his tone, softened it. His voice wasn’t strong with his patented flirtatious bravado, or cold with simmering steel. He spoke with disbelief.

“Why would I lie?” you asked, hardly audible. The words were meant to be strong, but your unrelenting emotions dictated otherwise.

“I don’t know, I-”

“You’re an idiot, Sylvain. Please, let me go,” you insisted, emphasizing the words oddly out of the vice that had become your throat. Finally, he released you to scramble and be free from his grasp, twisting upright to sit on the bed next to him and regain control over yourself.

“Just, wait. Before you go, please hear me out. I know I don’t deserve it, but…”

You didn’t respond, not trusting your voice as you tried to calm yourself down with deep breaths. But you didn’t leave, either. Of course you didn’t. Sylvain, thankfully, took that as the silent permission it was.

“When you spoke, I got scared,” he admitted. “Most girls just want me for my title or my Crest, and when I thought that it was the same for you, I… I was the one who made a mistake. I’m sorry, truly I am.” Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you could see the furrow of Sylvain’s brows, the frowning twist of his lips. It was a look you’d never seen on him. Regret, maybe. Weakness. Somehow, you didn’t doubt the apology.

What a mess.

You sighed, rubbing your reddened face. At least the tears had finally been fought off. For now. “I know.”

“No, I swear that I’m not lyin- Huh?” he said, his prepared counter cut off in confusion.

“I believe you. You’re not a bad person, Sylvain, no matter what anyone says.”

His surprise was palpable in the air between you, almost justifying the pain you felt.

“You say that, but it doesn’t excuse the things I’ve done,” he finally said. Self soothing, he ran a hand through his hair again, not that it could get any messier. “But, if you were being honest about the way you feel, then… I’d like to be the type of man who deserves that. Who deserves you. Even if you want nothing to do with me, one day I will find a way to make it up to you, to earn your forgiveness.” Sylvain spoke with a strange conviction, as if trying to motivate himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. It made your heart flip oddly. “I swear.”

Sylvain could say such awful things, he could be so absolutely clueless, and he probably wasn’t altogether worth the heartache you felt. But, no, those were just things you said to yourself in an attempt to save face. Because, despite all that, you adored him. And that was that.

“You already have my forgiveness,” you said, “I accept your apology.”  

Sylvain’s eyes widened in shock. It was really almost adorable. “What? Really?”

“I’m an idiot, too,” you answered, a wry smile on your lips. “But I haven’t lied to you, Sylvain. I can handle rejection like an adult. You apologized for being unkind, and I forgive you. I’m not going to hold any of this against you, because I… ” You couldn’t say that word, unwanted and ugly, again. But that was fine, it was better this way. You let it drop.

But he didn’t. “Because you…?” 

You winced. Did Sylvain really not get it? “Nothing, forget it.”

“No, what were going to say?”

“Really, nothing, I should-”

“I love you. That’s it, right? You really meant it,” he said.

One of his hands rose to cup your cheek, pulling your face towards his. Sincerity shone in the light brown of his eyes, as did determination. Despite the fact that you knew you looked a wreck, that you were probably making some sort of dumb expression, you didn’t want to look away. 

“You said you believed my apology. Well, will you believe me if I say that I love you, too? Not just because you said it first, or because you’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, but because you’re you. I love you.”

“Careful, Sylvain, people will think you’ve gone soft,” you tried to joke, hushed in a completely different way than before. He laughed.

“People can think whatever they want, although maybe it’d be better if we gave them something to talk about.” You didn’t resist as he pulled you closer, brushing the hair away from your face.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, attempting to sound playful but coming off as nothing short of adoring. 

“Yeah, but can I be your idiot?” Sylvain asked, pulling one of your legs over his lap. Bold, but he was kind of a bold person. You held onto him just as tightly, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of his body against yours. It was your turn to laugh, unable to contain the giddy excitement his flirtatious earnestness filled you with. Tonight truly had been a whirlwind. The relief was striking. 

“Only if I can be yours.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Sylvain responded, sealing the promise with a kiss.

[lis-likes-fics]

Written In The Centuries

Chapter 7

-

Elijah followed Y/N around as she trekked through the woods. It was as if he was watching her. Did he not trust her not to attack someone else? Whatever the reason, Y/N didn’t find it to be one of the most comfortable in the woods.

She was surprised she hadn’t attacked him by now.

Werewolves attacked vampires, so why wasn’t she attacking. The wolf in her had no intention of attacking Elijah and it kind of bothered Y/N.

Was there something wrong with her? Maybe Elijah had compelled her not to attack him? She looked through any reason she could but she couldn’t come across one that would really stick with her.

She turned around, looking up at Elijah. She sat and stared at him, hoping he got the gist to leave her be. She spent her time as a wolf alone, unless Tyler had decided to shift with her on the rare occasion.

Y/N did nothing as she watched Elijah intently. As the silence settled around them, besides the sound of crickets and a few birds, they both only watched each other.

As she guessed Elijah hadn’t gotten the gist, she lightly growled. Elijah sighed a little and guessed, “You wish for me to leave?”

She stared, not doing anything. His presence wasn’t annoying, it had a feel of comfort in it, but it wasn’t enough for her to feel like she exactly wanted him there.

“Very well, then.” Elijah spoke, looking ahead of him. He turned his attention back to her after a few silent moments, gave her a small smile, and said, “Goodbye, Y/N.”

In a second, he disappeared from sight. Y/N looked after him, staring in the direction he’d just left. She let out a small whine and then huffed, standing and turning around to continue her night as a wolf.

*

The sky began to brighten, very slightly but enough to notice. Y/N headed back to the cellar, making her way quickly. Some of the humans ran through the woods in the morning sometimes as a morning routine, so she had to get there before she was seen.

When Y/N finally reached the cellar, she began shifting back, the action natural as she changed back.

When she was back in her human form, Y/N put on her change of clothes and grabbed a blood bag, quenching some of her thirst from a long night as a wolf. As she headed out of the cellar, getting back to her car, she turned her phone back on and checked her messages.

There were five texts from Caroline, a text, a voicemail, and two missed calls from Tyler, and a text from Elijah.

“What the hell?” Y/N mumbled, opening her messages.

Caroline Y/N, did you hear what happened?

Caroline Y/N!

Caroline Y/N if you don’t answer the damn phone...

Caroline Oh, yeah. It’s a full moon, you’re wolfing out.

Caroline Call me when you see this.

Y/N rolled her eyes, more drama. Was she a magnet for it or something?

2 Missed calls from Tyler

Tyler Call me back when you get this.

Y/N audibly sighed. Of course, he ended up getting himself in trouble again.

Elijah Are we still on for tonight?

Y/N smiled a little, shaking her head to sort her thoughts before replying to his text.

Y/N Yes. I’ll explain last night later...

She turned to the other messages and responded to Tyler.

Y/N What the actual HELL do you do this time?

Y/N texted Caroline finally and responded with:

Y/N What happened?

A few moments later, she got another two replies.

Elijah Of course, see you then.

She smiled and checked the second reply.

Caroline ...Call me...

She let out a sigh. It can’t be good if she isn’t willing to just text it. She called Caroline and on the first ring she answered.

“Y/N?” Caroline’s voice came through in slight concern.

“Yeah? What’s up, Care?” She asked as she walked to her car.

There was a small pause before Caroline confessed, “Tyler got himself in trouble again.”

Y/N clenched her jaw and focused her sudden anger there instead of on her hand so she didn’t crush the phone. She answered, “Of course, he did. Where is he now?”

There was another pause and Y/N pushed, “Caroline.”

“Klaus has him. I don’t know if he’s okay or not. Klaus said he’ll let Tyler go if you show.” Caroline finally confessed.

Y/N kept herself under control, careful not to get too angry so she didn’t go on a killing spree. She couldn’t have one night to herself anymore. Just one.

Y/N responded after a few silent moments, “Okay. I’m going to head there now.”

Caroline spoke, “Wait! It could be a trap! Let’s talk about this first.”

Y/N clenched her jaw before she replied, “Caroline, as much as this shouldn’t make sense, Klaus isn’t going to kill me. If he was going to, trust me, I would’ve already been dead by now. I’m going to get my cousin and then I’m going to kick his ass into another dimension.”

Caroline spoke with a sigh, “You aren’t going to change your mind so all I can tell you is to be safe. Please?”

Y/N’s anger softened just a little. Caroline’s concern for her didn’t go unnoticed and it seemed to calm her wolf just a little. Enough to get a grip on her control again.

“I will. I’ll call you later, Care.” Y/N reassured.

“You better. Or I’ll kick your ass.” She told you, hanging up. Y/N chuckled lightly before she finally reached her car, throwing her stuff inside and climbing in the seat.

She started the car and quickly headed to the Mikaelson’s mansion.

[clumsyclifford]

intimacy prompts - 37 with mashton? feels like it would work for them

i got this idea and then i just felt like a compelling need to write it im sorry im not taking these prompts literally enough however this plot is absolutely crucial frankly i don’t know why it’s not employed in fic more often

-

“This stuff doesn’t work,” Ashton says.

Michael frowns. “You’re saying you don’t want to fall in love with me?”

“I’m saying there are better ways to fall in love than to just a bunch of questions,” Ashton says. “If I were going to be in love with you, don’t you think I’d have done it by now? I’ve known you for, like, seven years.”

“I’m pretty sure you are in love with me and you’re just in denial,” Michael says dismissively. “But that’s not the point. I’m just curious. Look, worst case scenario it doesn’t work and we just become closer friends.”

“And best case scenario?” Ashton asks, raising his eyebrows. He can’t really think of a best case scenario here, because falling in love with Michael through a series of carefully curated questions just feels fraudulent, and Ashton wouldn’t believe himself if it “worked.”

“We fall in love,” Michael says. “Duh.”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Fine. But I want it on the record that I don’t think there’s any merit to this experiment, and I’m mostly doing it so I can have material to blackmail you with.”

Michael smirks. “Sure you are.”

(And maybe a little bit because he’s curious to see what will happen. If maybe it is possible to fall in love in thirty-six questions. If Ashton were going to fall for anyone this easily, he reckons it would be Michael.)

-

Some of the questions are kind of funny. When Ashton asks Michael, “Would you like to be famous? In what way?” Michael snorts before going off about how badly he wants to be a rock star, and how he’s worried he’ll never make it, because everyone in his band sucks and he doesn’t know if this song he wrote is good enough for any record labels. Then Ashton hits him and tells him that if they’re really going to do this, they have to be honest, and from there it gets, well. 

“If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?” Michael reads, and then props his chin in his hand and looks expectantly at Ashton.

If Ashton had known just how probing these questions would be, he’s not sure he’d have agreed to this game. (If it can be called a game.) It’s not that he’s uncomfortable, but it’s hard to be open and honest like this, with no buffer, just him, Michael, and the truth.

“Nothing,” Ashton says, which is the only truthful answer he can come up with. Michael looks unimpressed. “I mean it. I wouldn’t want to know anything. What’s the point of life if you can just look up the answers? Why, what would you say?”

“I —” Michael purses his lips. “I’m not sure. But not nothing. I guess, I don’t know, I’d want to know if the band will last.”

“But if you knew the band would last, you’d stop working as hard to keep it together,” Ashton says. “And if you knew it wouldn’t, you’d just give up, wouldn’t you?”

“Would not,” Michael says, defensive, almost offended. “I’d do my best to make sure that future never came true.”

“It’s the future, Mike. It’s — it’s going to come true, that’s the point.”

“If the future tells me something I don’t like, I have every right to try and fight it,” Michael says stubbornly. “The band doesn’t tank unless I say it does.”

Ashton’s gut twists, although not in an unpleasant way. Actually, the dogged determination to protect what he loves is one of Ashton’s favorite things about Michael, and hearing him talk about the band like he’d rather die than lose it is making Ashton feel, well, something. He’s not sure what, and not sure he wants to know, although he has a feeling it’ll identify itself before the thirty-six questions are through.

They work through a few more questions in the second set. Then Michael, slightly strangled, says, “Uh. How close and warm is your family?” He clears his throat. “Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”

“That’s two questions,” Ashton says. 

“It’s written as one,” Michael tells him, turning his phone around like Ashton won’t take him at his word. “Well, uh. Go ahead. It’s your turn.”

Ashton bites his lip. “You already know all of this about me,” he says, which is an evasion tactic, and Michael sees right through it.

“You — it’s part of the thing,” he says. “If you don’t want to answer it, I guess…”

“No, I just — I don’t think I’m going to say anything surprising.” Ashton sighs. “How close and warm is my family? Enough. My mum’s gotten better at keeping us close. I think it helps that I have money now. My childhood was unhappy until I joined the band. So, no. I don’t think it was happier than most people’s.”

“Until you joined the band?” Michael echoes, tilting his head. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Like, I didn’t really have anything pushing me forward until that. It gave me direction. And three new friends, which didn’t hurt.”

“You’ve never said that,” Michael says, studying Ashton. Ashton feels like he’ll wilt under Michael’s gaze, too vulnerable, too easy to pull apart.

“Yeah, well.” Ashton clears his throat. “It’s your turn.” He wants to avert his gaze but also really, really doesn’t, and is saved by Michael looking away to reread the question from his phone, and they move forward.

The deeper they get into the questions, especially in the third set, the more Ashton wants to crack a joke, and the worse it feels to do so. They’re in the thick of it now, and even if it’s just a test, to see if it works, it’s not exactly the kind of thing Ashton wants to laugh at — just in case it does. (It can’t. There’s no way it could, because Ashton’s known Michael all this time, and hasn’t been in love with him.

And yet.)

“Tell your partner what you like about them,” Michael reads. “Be very honest — say things you might not say to someone you’ve just met.” He gives Ashton a lopsided smile. “Good thing we didn’t just meet. Lay it on me, Irwin.”

Ashton licks his lips, which suddenly feel dry. “Okay,” he says. This shouldn’t be hard. There’s a lot he likes about Michael. But all of the things immediately flying to Ashton’s tongue are things he would say to a complete stranger; surface compliments, or basic acknowledgements of skill. You’re a good guitarist is ridiculously shallow, and even you’re very dedicated sounds too vague to be true.

“I like that you’re the kind of person who knows how to heal,” Ashton says quietly. Michael furrows his brow. “I mean, I like that you’re someone who doesn’t ever fully break. You’re — you’re so strong, and you put up with so much shit, and every single time, I think, this is it, this is going to be the one that breaks him, but I’m always wrong. I’m glad I’m always wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if you really did break, but I’m always amazed. I’ve never — I think I’m the type to shatter, but you’re not. You can pick yourself up. I admire that about you. I always have.”

Michael swallows. “Oh. That’s — that’s really, like. Thank you, I think.”

Ashton rubs the back of his neck. For some reason, he feels more like an open book from this question — which is really, for him, about Michael — than any of the other ones. “Yeah,” he says. “Uh, you go.”

“I don’t really know how to follow that,” Michael says lightly. Ashton cracks a smile. “Okay, well, um. Alright. I like that you have this, I don’t know, endless optimism. It doesn’t make any sense to me, because I feel like with all the shit you’ve gone through, you should be full of, like, hate, and anger, but instead you always smile, and you believe in people, and,” Michael gestures aimlessly, unaware of the way Ashton’s palms feel clammier every second, “I don’t know. You’re relentless in your optimism, even though you’ve been burned. More than once. I don’t think I could be like that if I — but you are. So…I admire that. It’s very — noble.”

“Noble,” Ashton murmurs, cheeks pink. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” 

“Not really,” Michael says. “It’s just true.” But that makes Ashton feel even warmer, a fizzing sensation building in his chest that he can’t really diagnose. He’s used to pressure like this, but usually it’s anxiety or something, not — whatever’s happening right now, doing this. This kind of pressure feels like it needs to be relieved by someone else.

They make their way through the last of the questions, and by the time they’re through, Ashton feels like he’s just been on the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime. “I need water,” he says.

“Get me some?” Michael requests, with a halfway smile. Ashton chuckles and takes his leave, returning with two glasses of water.

“Well,” he says delicately, “how do you feel? In love with me?”

“It’s not finished,” Michael says. Ashton frowns; he’s pretty sure there are only thirty-six questions. “Now we have to look into each others’ eyes for four minutes.”

“What?” That’s just...strange. And the more Ashton thinks about it, the more nervous he gets. “Why?”

Michael shrugs. “That’s what the article says. Answer the questions, then look into each others’ eyes for four minutes.”

“Four minutes,” Ashton says hoarsely. “That’s kind of long.”

“I think that’s the point,” Michael says. “Shall we?”

Ashton’s panic response is kicking in, but he’s in too deep now to back out. “Sure,” he manages. Michael smiles, soft and small the way he only ever does for Ashton, and some of Ashton’s tension dissipates.

They sit across from each other, cross-legged on the rug, hands in their laps, and Michael sets a four-minute timer on his phone. “Ready?” he asks. Ashton’s not sure he’s ever going to be ready for this particular task, but it doesn’t really matter; Michael hits the start button and then he’s confronted with Michael’s eyes, gazing into his own, and the realization that it’s going to be this for the next four minutes.

For what feels like an eternity, Ashton twists his fingers around themselves, nervous energy manifesting in fidgeting hands, and he keeps wanting to look away, desperate to close whatever window is being opened right now, because he’s absolutely certain that Michael is seeing into his soul. Then Michael reaches across and gently wraps Ashton’s hands up in his own.

“Stop fidgeting,” he whispers. Ashton can feel the calluses on Michael’s fingertips skimming across the back of Ashton’s hands. He stops fidgeting, but Michael doesn’t take his hands back, and Ashton finds himself hoping he doesn’t decide to. 

Michael’s eyes are very pretty. Ashton zeroes in on that fact. They’re the kind of green that looks like sea glass, maybe, and they’re ridiculously easy to get lost in. Again and again, Ashton has to force himself not to look away. He’s never stared at anyone this intently, for this long, in this kind of silence that feels loaded with tension.

(Since when is it loaded with tension?)

Michael’s palm is warm against the back of Ashton’s hand, and Ashton thinks about that, about how Michael always feels warm when Ashton needs him to be, and thinks about the thirty-six questions, and wonders why they were supposed to make him fall in love with Michael. Most of those questions hadn’t been the kind of thing you’d fall in love with for anyone. Knowing that the last time Michael cried by himself was last night, watching Bambi, shouldn’t really make Ashton fall in love. It wouldn’t. 

Although the knowledge that Michael has been crying alone at all is pretty painful. So is the fact that Michael had clearly been relieved to share that information, as if, slightly less recently, he’d cried on his own for something a little heavier than Bambi. Ashton wants to know what it was. He wants to be the person who holds Michael together while he stitches himself up. Michael’s always had an instrumental role in his life — it had been Michael, in the first place, who’d recruited Ashton for the band — and Ashton could spend all his days trying to return that favor and still come up short.

The pressure in his chest, or the butterflies, or the sparkling soda, whatever it is is back with a vengeance, bubbling over until Ashton feels hot and cold all over. He tightens his grip on Michael’s hands.

The realization that they could kiss right now doesn’t so much hit as settle easily into Ashton’s already volatile mind. In fact, Ashton thinks, he kind of wants to kiss Michael like this. It feels like a natural extension of the questions and the staring, the next bridge to cross, the easiest way to communicate to Michael that — well.

It’s not that Ashton’s fallen in love with Michael, it’s just that maybe being in love with Michael has been Ashton’s reality for a little longer than he’d known.

As soon as that thought lands, the timer on Michael’s phone goes off, a breezy alarm song that startles them both. Michael tugs a hand out of Ashton’s grasp to turn the alarm off, and the eye contact breaks for a second, but Ashton stills feels like he’s in a trance, especially when Michael immediately turns back to him, eyes wide and questioning, head at a halfway tilt.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, which is not what Ashton had expected him to ask, and catches him by surprise, enough that he actually says what he’s thinking, though he shouldn’t, though it’s a dangerous train of thought, though it’s probably a mistake because Ashton still doesn’t really believe in the magical thirty-six (and a half) questions.

“I want to kiss you,” he tells Michael, holding unconsciously tighter to Michael’s hand.

Michael exhales, a sigh of…maybe relief. “Oh, thank God.” And he leans in, freeing his hand from Ashton’s grasp to put both palms against Ashton’s cheeks, fingers curling around the back of his head, and kisses him.

The bubbling pressure in Ashton’s chest feels light and airy all of a sudden. Ashton reaches for Michael, anything to get his hands on him, and settles an unsteady hold on Michael’s shoulders just to anchor them in place. The angle’s awful — they’re both still sitting on the floor — but the kiss feels like coming home, and it makes more sense to Ashton than most of the other things in his life. Michael is uncharacteristically gentle with him (Ashton’s seen him kiss other people, knows how rough and tumble he can be), and after a moment, not long enough, he breaks away, resting his forehead against Ashton’s. Ashton’s whole face feels too warm.

“Believe me now?” Michael teases. It takes Ashton a second to understand what he’s talking about.

“I’m not in love with you,” he says, but the way his heart sinks at that, and the way Michael flinches backwards, immediately disprove that statement. “Okay, I might be, but not because of the questions.”

Michael smiles, which turns into something of a smirk, but without losing any of its initial gentleness. “Well, it worked for me.”

Ashton finds that difficult to believe. “You can’t be in love with me now just because you know more about me.”

“Well, I already liked you a whole fucking lot,” Michael says easily.

Ashton does a double-take. “You did?”

Michael sighs. “Oh, Ashton. You’d be the worst if you weren’t the best.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ashton says, although he fails to bite back a smile. “So now you’re in love with me?”

“I’d be an idiot not to be.” Michael pushes himself to his feet and then holds out a hand for Ashton to do the same. He doesn’t step backwards when Ashton rises, leaving virtually no space between them. “I want to kiss you again.”

“You can kiss me as many times as you want,” Ashton says breathlessly, and Michael does.