#don't know if the writers thought about all of this but I did and it's f*cking poetic and tragic

[ladyloveandjustice]

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[teambyler]

The Strange Postponement of Mike and Will's relationship

If Mike and Will had remained as close as they were in Season 2 in the subsequent seasons, the "are they gay?" rumors absolutely would have spread among the General Audience, as they entered their official teen/dating/sexual awakening years.

There have been peculiar writing choices that seem to have no other explanation but to postpone romantic rumors about these two.

The show does it's damnedest to keep these best-friends-since-kindergarten apart once they enter puberty. The only interaction that possibly hints at romance in Season 3 is their virtual double date with Lumax where Mike is concerned for Will's well-being one time. This was necessary to reestablish their "good friendness" at the start of the season to set-up their breakup during the Rain Fight.

Then, of course, the Rain Fight happens. Mike says "It's not my fault you don't like girls." They effectively "break up."

But then there is the strange, interesting choice that there is never a resolution of the Rain Fight. The apology for ignoring Will's D&D game comes from Lucas instead of Mike:

Will had his blow-up with MIKE, not Lucas! And we know that Mike absolutely was DRIVEN to apologize to Will, but we don't see it. Maybe he actually did, but it was offscreen. But why not have it ON screen? Why not clear the air on whether Mike thought Will was gay and was being homophobic to Will? Why not clarify THEN that Mike is a straight ally who supports his gay best friend, setting things up for Will to have a coming-out arc where he finds a love interest who is not Mike?

Instead, the writers made sure they had NO conversations for nearly all the rest of the season. They made sure Mike was focused on trying to repair things with El and blurting out "I love her." These two things together also kept the Gay Rumors(TM) in check.

Season 4 then dramatizes how they'd GROWN APART -- specifically, how they don't seem to have stayed in touch and Mike seems to be ignoring Will.

What a strange thing for the writers to do! Mike and Will had been on good terms. That's because it was the start-of-season set-up for an ARC where they become close again.

Alright, so they soon repair things. But for what?

The Will Counseling Hour:

They literally have no conversations with each other where Will isn't comforting Mike and/or talking about El. To the extent that the GA was annoyed that Mike was "useless" and the California plotline was a "waste of time."

(Either the Duffers were bad writers or had a reason to spend so much time on the California plot. Hmm...)

The show was putting Byler in a holding pattern. The show established that Mike and Will were close again, but with a "beard" on Mike: his relationship with El. Will's attempt to talk about anything ELSE -- like playing Nintendo and D&D -- was ignored as Mike worried about El.

The Will Counseling Hour ends only with their very LAST conversation of season 4, when Will shares that he can still feel Vecna. Mike becomes the Counselor: he resolves that they will beat Vecna. The bringing of these two together, along with signs that Mike and El are drifting apart, lays the trajectory for Season 5.

Season 5 will be the first season with Unfiltered Byler(TM) since Season 2.

EVERYTHING that kept the GA from thinking about the possibility of Byler, (1) how young they were in Season 2, (2) their being kept artificially apart and (3) Mike's focus on his relationship with El, will have fallen away.

For the first time since Season 2, the A Plot and Mike and Will being close ("a team") will mesh.

Meanwhile, we'll get Season 2 Mike because Will will also be the center of the story and IN DANGER. It's impossible to imagine Mike being his aloof start-of-Season-4 self. Add to all this Season 4 hormones: we're likely to see the heart-eyes romantic, Will-Voice-speaking boy in love we Bylers see in the 2nd half of Season 4.

And there's the Painting Lie, which the Duffers have told Finn Wolfhard will "pay off in the end." Mike WILL KNOW Will loves him, and loved him so much as to sacrifice himself for him.

Even if one doesn't accept Byler, one can't deny that there has to be a DIRECT RECKONING over whether Mike returns Will's feelings.

The entire structure of how the show has presented their relationship is building up toward this. The Strange Postponement of Byler had a purpose.

-teambyler

EDIT: You might enjoy my s5 speculations in "How the Duffers likely will make the general audience AWARE of Byler and CHEER for Byler" =D

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I have been thinking about Feast recently and it got me thinking about the kids that are studying at the temple and how fucked up it is that they're brought back 186 years later

Considering that Fu was forced into guardianship and had to leave his family behind we can assume the same thing goes for the other kids as well, which makes the situation even worst

Because imagine you're around young Fu's age, they force you into guarding a box with magical jewelries that you didn't asked for and aren't interested in, doesn't help that the training is a nightmare, suddenly a giant blue frog shows up and swallows you whole alongside other people and you're now dead, and when you thought things couldn't get any worst you're miraculously (no pun intended) brought back to life and you realize you skipped almost two decades into the future, meaning you can't come back to your family since I highly doubt they're alive for so many years, you can't go back to your home either because again highly doubt it exists anymore, so you're now an orphan just like the other kids and you're forever stuck in that guardian temple

One thing for sure everybody want Fu dead after this

The guardian lore is one of the many elements of canon that feels incredibly underdeveloped. Heck, I'm not even wild about the idea that a sentimonster's damage can be perfectly undone over a hundred years later. The implications are really weird. Like, if I'm dying from cancer, can I make a sentimonster and have it kill me so that a future Ladybug can undo that move and I wake up when cancer has been cured? Based on Feast, I think the answer is yes! It's super weird. ~180 years have passed. The guardians should have been dead, cure or no cure.

Having Fu be an unwilling child guardian would have been a solid choice if the goal was to have a discussion about Marinette also being an unwilling child guardian. It's a decent analogy for generational trauma. It could even be used as a discussion on child soldiers! But canon isn't doing any of that, so Fu being an unwilling child guardian just feels sad and weird. Why add that element if you're not going to do anything with it? It's up there with implying that teenagers aren't supposed to be Chosen like they did in Furious Fu:

Su-Han:(interrupts, shouting) When the lion speaks the cub listens! First off you two are going to hand over your Miraculous to me. Cat Noir: What, that's a bad joke. (smiles with Ladybug) And I know all about bad jokes. Ladybug: We can't do that! How are we going to defeat Shadow Moth without our Miraculous? Su-Han: I will reassign then to carefully selected, appropriate adult holders. Like any rightful responsible Guardian would do.

You should never acknowledge that teenagers are a questionable choice for heroes in your show about teenage heroes unless you're going to give that statement actual weight and discuss how messed up this would be in the real world. Canon doesn't do this, so this was a terrible thing to include. This isn't breaking the fourth wall for a joke. It's the writers trying to engage with bad-faith criticism to which there is no good counterargument other than, "this is the show's premise. If your suspension of disbelief doesn't allow you to enjoy that premise, then this isn't the show for you." Don't remind the viewers who are happy to play along that the show is asking them to use their suspension of disbelief. That is a great way to break their suspension of disbelief!

All of this is why my stance is that the guardian order was a bad call. It's just way too complicated an element to introduce if you're not going to do anything interesting with it. Su Han could have easily just been the guardian of a different miracle box who comes to train Marinette when Fu is lost. He could have even been some sort of master guardian who only has one kwami of his own and no box because he oversees all the different sub boxes. Anything is better than introducing a whole temple of guardians and then only having one guy show up to help, especially when he doesn't actually do anything to help! At least give the heroes a new power up!

[juchily]

Yellowjackets S3 Ep1 thoughts

Spoilers below ⚠️

not them buttering us up with the cute fun scenes like them playing tag so they can hit us with the horrible stuff later... I see you showtime

edit: MARI CALLED SHAUNA GAYWAD WHEN SHAUNA TACKLED HER?? ALSO JUST IGNORING THAT SHAUNA IS COMPETITIVE IT WAS INDEED VERY GAY THE WAY SHE WAS MANHANDLING MARI

Taivan taivan taivan taivan!

taivan broke up after rescue 😞

Travis is one of the girls ✨🧚

Shauna's freaky as shit... But like 🙇

That whole scene with Melissa and Shauna was gold, "You have a personality?"?? Be fr the extra gets her first real line and the writers write in a character pointing it out this is so funny

Melissa being so eager to suck up and impress Shauna, two girls telling each other "yeahhh", Melissa wants that cookie. Genlissa shippers it's OVER

what do we think Nat got arrested for when she was 24?

Love Callie for that... I've never hated her be real she's too much of an icon to hate

Im going to be real, when those girls talked about the girls eating pig blood and then having a druggy orgy I did infact go "we all wish" because do we not?? The writers KNOW what we want at this point lol

did Shauna know pre crash that Lottie was schizophrenic? Did she find the pill bottle post crash? If she knew this, would this be a fuel for her hate for Lottie because of her visions, miracles, etc

Lottie being a therapist... God she's too much of everything I can't even begin <3

Lottie and Travis as a duo are so cute (AS NON ROMANTIC, I HATE THEM ROMANTICALLY THAT)

...i thought Van and Tai were going to go at it in the restaurant bathroom ngl, dining and dashing and fucking in an alley is cool too

also that scene in the restaurant where Van seems to be feeling weird... And then right after that the waiter guy dies (supposedly) and we see that onscreen effect go away... Just saying

Id eat the shit (read: spit) out of that soup...

Mari and Shauna getting treated like misbehaving dogs... They low-key are. Poor Mari honestly. And Shauna gaslighting...

SHAUNA AND CALLIE BONDING OH MY LORD CALLIE'S A MINI SHAUNA AND I DONT KNOW WHETHER I SHOULD BE SCARED OF THAT

i can believe Ben finding a war/apocalypse prep container especially considering Cabin guy's insane amount of ammo, but I find it odd that the case is pristinely clean despite being covered in a pit of dirt and dust. Maybe they just didn't bother making it look weathered and I'm looking into it too hard.

NAT HALLUCINATION PLUS CHERRY BOMB 💥💥🎉

Honestly I think Walter may have lied to Misty, on the other hand Van and Taissa were getting down and dirty and Shauna was actually bonding with her kid for once

they make memorial for Javi, then Jackie, then Wilderness baby, im just confused on the fact they don't mention Laura Lee? Especially that Lottie of all people wouldn't mention her. Also the five lanterns I still think that's a clue to a death count this season (past and present, maybe just past timeline)

Ben is up to some evil shit... I don't think Mari dies in that hole though from some of the teasers we've seen

callie pocketed that tape... Didn't anyone tell you not to open other people's mail young lady 🤓

CAKE, they played CAKE, oh I can die happy

Ending thoughts:

Wtf is that sound Travis heard? Does the sound have something to do with being drunk? He hears it first when he's high, and the other girls hear it after the feast (they had like wine or something).

The no eyed man... come on let's get a good look at 'im

Who left the letter? Will the other Yellowjackets get a letter like the one that was supposed to go to Shauna?

What will happen to Mari? What is Ben's purpose of making that trap and what does he plan to do now that he's catched one of the girls. Furthermore, this would prove he knew they survived the cabin fire. Will this lead to the girls finding where Ben is?

Laura Lee erasure... 😭

[orchidyoonkook]

Diving back into your glory with the second response! Kiki you once again absolutely spoil me. I had the biggest damn smile and the giggles reading through this <3

okay so the first thing that caught my eye was the warning yoon why????? a whole jk and ady warning i can't i don't think i can make it through them fucking 😩😩😩

I'm a big believer in not shying away from writing things that may make people uncomfortable. Especially if I find it to be crucial for the plot, like it is here. It's a very important back and forth, metnal conversation, sen reactions and visual scene and it. is. important!! THEREFORE! you get a warning that it is going to happen to prep yourself! I know folks dont really side pairings a lot of the time when the sex is included with them, but in this case I needed it to show an important contrast so I kept it in.

also! Because I can. :)

(this is also why i will fight to the death for all my horror, yandere, boundary pushing writers. Just because their work makes YOU (general use) uncomfortable or upset, doesnt make them wrong for writing it)

like oc and nel i can handle but jk and ady ugh nooooooo our boy our prince not her please anyone else i can take but not her (i just realized the hate train towards ady is strong damn my loyalty to oc ain't cracking) so i am just going to power through that part and take the angst that comes with it (which I welcome)

I hope you were able to see why it was needed!! (let me know if you wanna!) and I appreciate your dedication so much. I know it's tough when it's obvious to you as the reader why something probably shouldnt happen and ngl that makes it wayyyyyyyy more fun to write.

i did notice that subtle hint at of using someone and the fantasies uhmmmmm ok that must be the upside...

noooooooooooooooooo comment 😈

I honestly wonder why oc isn't mentioning her friendship with jk I honestly love it it's giving me little tingles,

She went over her reasoning in chapter three!! ☺ but that was a while ago so I cant blame you there. In a terribly summary she essentially wants to stay out of the public eye, keep the prince happy because she does emjoy his company, and not cause any drama with friends and family.

That being said! I love it too

i don't think i mentioned it but uhm this slow burn is everything its freaking burning and i think oc is definitely feeling it now that jk is with someone, the little encounter at the cafe and the texting they are just adorable and fluffy my face hurts from the smiles...

This is one of my favourite parts of the story. The banter, the subtle jabs, the build up upon build up, the realising of things and denying them, just all of it. Slow burns are my bread and butter, i can devour them always, and apparently I can somewhat write them too. Which is pretty cool

I just love how they have these opinions about each other's partners like the red flags they each see but they are all about each other's happiness, oc held back with ady but oooh jk isn't 😂 you go boy you tell her gosh i love his character in that scene....

This is another contrast!! It's intentional!! I love that you noticed because I try to be subtle about it. They both have their issues and deal with it in their own ways. OC very much deals with it in a small town girl way, whereas the freaking prince is, shockingly (not) very confrontational. I love that theyre opposites in this way.

oc and nel's scene had me pausing cause i literally went why the heck is she thinking about jk at a time like this and then she said it too it was epic oh oc you give me the giggles😂

AHA i LOVE this. I also love the fact their yours and her lines of thinking lined up. That's actually really nice feedback in a way because it means I was able to write OC in a way that actually mimics real life thought patterns when in certain situations and thats REALLY COOL to hear as the writer from the reader.

Also! Happy to make you giggle! Humor is another thing I struggle with writing wise, so I'm glad I can make you crack a smile now and then with mine.

wait what she didn't finish?!?!??!?!?! THIS IS MY ACTUAL REACTION IT'S LIKE OC IS IN MY HEAD ANSWERING ALL MY QUESTIONS OC BABYGIRL NO DIDN'T YOU LITERALLY GIVE YURI ADVICE ABOUT HER DATE AND NOW THIS 😩😩😩

The best advice often comes from those who have experience with things one way or another.

Ex: I never dated in highschool and yet I was the person ALLLLLLL of my friends came too for their relationship advice.

So, my darling OC was just looking out for her bestie in that regard imo, as someone who has trouble in that aspect of her life.

and we jump straight into jk's horror I can't help it this back to back is amazing, not me shouting no through out his entire scene why jk why, here's oc is having trouble and ady on her fourth whyyyyyyyy he better have oc on his mind

YOU DID SEE HOW THE BACK TO BACK WAS IMPORTANT!!!! YAYAYAYAYAY!!

oh I'm so happy, literally this was the "let me know if you wanna" from earlier. This is what I was hoping for!!

JK is allowed to make bad decisions every now and then unfortunately as no one is perfect and no one has perfect coping mechanisms the first time they encounter new problems. He's human, and therefore is prone to making poor human mistakes.

as for the orgasm ratio....noooo comment :)

i love how jungkook says nels name in full i can literally picture the disgust and the face he would pull (cue oc eye roll) italics and all..

AHA I love this. This is probably my fave part im sorry becaue I wrote this in intentionally as sort of a joke that turns into a habit and it's just.....so him. And i adore it because its SO. PETTY. and I live for it.

i am writing this as i read so everything scene/sentence i go to write something on my notepad so i hope it all makes sense

it does!!

and let's just say when he shut her up the scene was better to read

As the writer, I'm cackling. As a reader, FACTS.

ugh jungkook likes oc he likes her fuck can they get together already i am dying here this chapter was perfect (even if ady was in it) like the build up and their thoughts both being on each other oh that tension is building i love the progression between them and the next chapter is gone be golden ahhhhhh lemme run over

Literally the only response I can think to give is just a bunch of these guys: 😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈 and then a giant THANKYOU!

yoon you beautiful genius you have my heart this fic is everything and it's getting more and more captivating as it goes along i can't wait to see what more you do in this series seriously yoon with every update i go back and re-read everything again and I am in awe every single time and your talent, like this should be printed like i want a physical copy when it's done you are brilliant and such a star for coming up with this ily yoon i hope you know that 🥹🖤

SOBBING IN THE CLUB KIKI. THERES A SPOTLIGHT ON ME, IM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CROWD OF DANCING PEOPLE AND IM SOBBING.

And funfact! I can actually bind this when I'm done with it as I am slowly gathering all the materials I need in order to do so. So maybe one day it will have a physcial copy (or two)!

Once again I feel nothing but warmth and love and light and kindness from your beautiful words. As much as I enjoy writing, it's words like yours and lovely folks like you that make me want to keep writing.

Thankyou. Truly, truly.

Xo, Yoon.

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides. 

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running. 

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too. 

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home. 

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand. 

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now. 

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met. 

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again. 

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you. 

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.” 

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week. 

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.” 

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn. 

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up. 

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him. 

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do. 

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?” 

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home. 

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red. 

He’s here. He’s yours. 

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined. 

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly. 

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console. 

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs.  “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.” 

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn. 

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose. 

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two. 

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries. 

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead. 

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job. 

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold. 

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.  

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down. 

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice. 

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso  PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired. 

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time. 

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration. 

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on. 

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself. 

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius. 

Your boyfriend. 

Cornelius, your boyfriend. 

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay. 

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly: 

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too. 

That you want him to know you’re back.  

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch. 

He needs to leave. 

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him. 

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face. 

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good. 

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before. 

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore. 

He was never very good at it anyway. 

The smell of bacon wakes you. 

And toast, and…

Eggs? 

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am. 

9:27? 

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in. 

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly. 

Too quickly. 

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next. 

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come. 

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade. 

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him. 

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait. 

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him. 

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines. 

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.  

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down. 

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to. 

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays. 

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place. 

Like you asked him to do. 

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty. 

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date. 

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work. 

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study. 

Nel can though. 

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day. 

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign. 

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it. 

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem. 

No one can know. 

Not Nel. 

Not anyone. 

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice. 

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions. 

None.  

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline. 

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best. 

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants. 

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users. 

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it. 

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out. 

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds. 

Someone. 

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention. 

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him. 

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you. 

Fine. 

You’ll acknowledge it. 

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you. 

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.  

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.” 

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.” 

He sighs through his nose, but relents. 

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?” 

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle. 

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.  

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right.  PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know 

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you. 

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly. 

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch. 

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it. 

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself. 

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months. 

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes  You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling. 

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright. 

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again. 

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.  

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it. 

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right? 

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment. 

What did he see that they didn’t? 

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does. 

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead. 

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after. 

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook. 

You internally scoff at that. 

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing. 

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences. 

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight. 

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook. 

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words. 

And dismiss it. 

You aren’t one of those women. 

You know yourself. 

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed. 

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you. 

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone. 

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear. 

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this. 

Need it. 

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you. 

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him. 

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing. 

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try. 

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. 

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust. 

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel. 

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love. 

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out. 

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it. 

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly. 

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it. 

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and— 

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that. 

Than him. 

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place. 

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure. 

Jungkook could never understand. 

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible. 

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything. 

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out. 

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done. 

A routine you’re all too familiar with. 

One you created. 

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off. 

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did. 

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t. 

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm. 

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason. 

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few. 

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp. 

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver. 

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan. 

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue. 

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy. 

He shouldn’t be. 

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today? 

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger? 

Feelings he doesn’t want to have. 

Jealousy? 

Does have. 

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have. 

Not for… 

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off.  He seemed the type. 

Overly possessive, overprotective. 

Overbearingly so. 

Suffocatingly so. 

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him. 

He knows he has to keep others away. 

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick. 

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself. 

Was it childish and unnecessary? 

Yes. 

But he was right. And that felt good. 

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions. 

It pissed Jungkook off. 

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus. 

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was. 

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could. 

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only… 

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure. 

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual. 

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth. 

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though. 

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good. 

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft. 

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to. 

And he has to.  

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity. 

To forget. 

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums. 

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer. 

Chapter Seven: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[fangdokja]

I don't know if anyone else has told you this, but you are a really captivating writer. Maybe it's just me, but when I read your writing I feel genuine fear, it is almost as if I've jumped into the screen and experiencing the story myself.

Hook, line, and sinker, I am reeled in by your words. Thank you for sharing your talent to the world!

WARNING: Semi-formal rambling + Library Recommendations, based on what emotions you want to awaken inside you.

Aww, very wholesome message, Anon :)). That’s very nice of you. I’m honored you think of me as a captivating writer, your genuine support and honesty it’s appreciated. Thanks for taking the time out of your day to leave such and encouraging message here with me, thank you.

Don’t worry, you aren’t the only one. I’ve gotten comments even from those who have read horror and yandere content for years, and don’t react or feel much, even personality-wise. They did say that they felt genuinely afraid or immersed in the story.

And now you too. That honestly makes me so happy :)). I always aim to create extremely immersive stories, characters, and worlds after all. Especially grounded in some form of moral grounds and logical world building, even if it takes place in a fantasy setting.

One of my musts as a write is that I always want my Readers to actually live in the role, to feel that they’re actually in the stories. Fully immersed and not simply reading it passively, or as a third person with a safety net. Especially when it comes to horror yandere content.

Whenever I write, I always aim to awaken and touch the emotions of people. Whatever emotion I’m aiming like for Yandere! Valentines! Special:

Yandere! Valentines Special

Novella : Red Roses, Black Hearts

This Valentine’s, your heart might be the last thing you give away.

Yandere! Yan-Apocalypse

Drabbles

The perfect Valentine’s present: something personal, thoughtful, and won’t scream anymore.

And Yandere! Otome Game, it’s full of dark humor and comedy.

Yandere! Otome Game

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Crown Prince, Archduke, Supreme Mage, Demon King, War Hero, Master Thief, Enemy Spy, Demon Assassin

Drabbles

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

"Romance is a garbage genre, but if I have to play, I might as well do it on easy mode."

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

Headcanons 1 : How to Survive a Reverse Harem (You Don’t) (General)

I hate it here.

System: “Would you like to resume the main storyline?” You click ‘No.’ They click ‘Yes.’

Imagine hating me so much that you chase me across lifetimes. Imagine being that obsessed.

It’s made to make people laugh and enjoy lighthearted feels. Dark humor is my lightest yandere content, and people love it. They laugh, enjoy, comment, etc. I consider it a huge success already for me if you found it funny or amusing.

Other times, I aim for fear, dread, panic, feelings meant to be inspired in horror. The best Yanderes for this would be my personal “Unhinged Yandere Collection”.

Other people already freaked out a bit in Yandere! Alpha! Hybrid Wolf.

Yandere! Alpha! Wolf Hybrid & Little Omega

Drabbles

“You look prettier when you cry.”

“Do you know what I love most about you?”

“You don’t get to decide anymore,”

“And treasures don’t get to escape.”

“You’re waiting for someone to come for you, aren’t you?”

“Cry for me,”

“But don’t worry, darling. I’ll fill it with something better. Me.”

“You’ll only ever have one choice with me,”

Novelette 1 : Marked and Mated

🔞Run all you want, little omega—I love the chase.

But the truly unhinged Yanderes I have? We currently have three who are part of this collection: Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss...

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss

♡ Main Story. 🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

Headcanons 1 : The Bride of Blood (General)

To him, you're perfect. To you, he's just a mission.

🔞"I don't need your love, I need your submission."

And, Yandere! Author.

Yandere! Author

Headcanons 1 : Fate’s Final Draft (General)

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

There’s a third one, but those are major spoilers lol.

Or how about sadness, despair, and pain? Yandere! College! Bully did really well in this, which was what I was aiming for.

Yandere! College! Bully & Loser

Oneshots

The worst part? You’ve stopped trying to fight it.

Novella 1 : Torn Between Us

In a world where no one cares, he’s the one who notices you… and that’s frightening.

Trust no one. Not even yourself.

Or maybe bittersweet and wholesome? Comforting, realistic, yet warmly wholesome. Ironic considering the character I wrote it for. Yandere! Light Yagami.

Light Yagami

Novella 1 : In the Name of Love

Two hearts, one unspoken promise—forever best friends.

The sweetest kisses are often the most dangerous.

And of course, we have the gaslighters who make you question reality, full on gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

Scaramouche / Wanderer / Kunikuzushi

Novella 1 : Lover or Captor?

Your body is chained, but your mind? Still free. Or is it?

Mixed Character Stories

You tried to break up with him… but did you ever really want to? (Chrollo Lucilfer, Johan Liebert, Geto Suguru)

I’m genuinely curious on what your favorite story is or who your favorite characters are, Anon. This is just me usually being curious on my Readers’ personal takes and perspectives. Plain curiosity. You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable or the like. Just have fun and relax, you’ve already done a lot just with leaving me this wholesome message :))

Haha, I liked how your described your feelings. “Hook, line, and sinker, I am reeled in by your words.” That makes me sound like a fisherman, and also reminds me of the verse, “Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men (Matthew 4:19).”

And no need to thank me. You’re welcome though. This also goes for all my Readers. The thanks is appreciated, but don’t need to thank me or anything. I enjoy writing, it’s healing for me. It’s not as if it’s a job or anything. I’m genuinely happy writing stories.

And, honestly? I’m genuinely shocked how much people are reading my stories. Engaging and even being genuinely impacted it, makes me really happy. It honestly feels like I’m running my very own social entrepreneurship project. Technical terms, it’s not. But, just the vibes.

Nevertheless, thank you for all the support. From you, Anon, and to the rest of my Readers.

Thank you very much for reading, immersing yourselves in my stories, having fun and relaxing, commenting, reblogging, and sharing your thoughts with me.

Actually all of you Readers have varying personalities. Most of you are lurkers, but it’s interesting to see this growing diversity in community.

∘₊✧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 ✧₊∘

❝ 𝘈 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥 & 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘦. ❞ (✦ 𝙰 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙲𝚃𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙷𝙴𝙳𝙾𝙽𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚂 ✦)

I’m well aware it’s not really a social hub, which is why I’m genuinely shocked with the influx of inbox messages. Though, even then, it’s a generally quiet community. And that’s alright. I don’t want any of you to feel pressured to engage beyond just reading if it makes you uncomfortable. All I want for each of you is to just relax and enjoy the stories here. It’s your digression if you want to do more or less. No worries. And no need to feel pressured with outside factors and people.

Life is already difficult enough as it is, so think of it as a breather in a life that’s always moving, always asking for more. In a way, it’s about appreciating the moment and present, the blessings you have. And slowing down to think, ponder, and relax in immersion.

Hope that’s understandable.

But if you want the short answer?

Please do continue to have fun and relax in The Library Of Forbidden Texts.

We welcome you all here. Whether you crave our dark humor cafe snacks, or the sophisticated erotic horror dining, we have it all here for you to enjoy.

All you have to do is read and relax. :))

[cringengl]

I know that it's a fairly popular opinion that the reason that Ian badmouths Mickey in s6-7 is mostly because the writers wanted us to dislike Mickey and be glad that he was supposed to be permanently gone from the show. However, while I do think this is partially true, I also think that it is veryyyy much in character that Ian says those things and that even if the writers fully planned on having Mickey back in those later seasons, he still would have said what he said.

It basically comes down to the main difference between the Gallaghers and the Milkovichs. The Gallaghers want to escape the southside (at least Fiona down to Liam do), while the Milkovich have claimed it as a part of their identity. They embrace it and are proud to show it off, including Mickey, and even Mandy believes that she will never do any better in life. Because of this, the Gallaghers, who are cocky, look down on the Milkovichs for not wanting to get out of the Southside and see them as more white trash than they are. Ian goes into his relationship with Mickey with this ideology. He's young and wants a boyfriend, and Mickey is hot and gay, so why not?

The problem comes when Ian gets diagnosed. You can see it in 5x10 when Ian calls Mickey the "shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash I fell for" and during that one deleted scene of Ian's dream where he and Mickey are dressed in white and holding Yevgeny. Ian doesn't want to stay in the Southside forever and his dream involves a 'perfect' Mickey, one that wants to hold Yevgeny and have a house together and doesn't cut the sleeves off of his shirts. Mickey didn't initially believe that Ian was bipolar and ignored Fiona and Lip's advice to take him to a hospital to get seen, he's white trash that is happy to scam people with his brothers for the rest of his life. Ian doesn't want that, he wants to have a successful career, live in the suburbs, and grow tomatoes.

After breaking up with Mickey, he's convinced that Mickey would not help with his recovery and mental health. Fiona and Lip certainly think that, plus how is he going to get a good job and recover if his boyfriend is literally in prison and could easily go back?

The problem with that is that Ian is in love with Mickey. Mickey isn't just a shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash, he's the shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash that Ian fell for. Not only that, but the deleted scene of the dream reveals that he genuinely believes in a future with Mickey, and recognises that Mickey is a gentle, loving person, who would make a great dad despite his shitty role model.

These two conflicting ideas are constantly clashing in Ian's head, 'Mickey is bad for me' 'But I love him' 'I don't think I can be where I want to be in life with him' 'I don't want to be without him'. And so, in order to reassure himself, partially through getting other people to agree with him, Ian badmouths Mickey, bringing up the worst of their relationship to convince himself that Caleb and then Trevor is right for him, and a sign that Ian is going to stop being white trash and get out of the Southside, while Mickey would only make him stay.

It's only when Ian realises in s9 that the only person that has made sure that Ian is stuck in the Southside is Ian himself, that he goes, fuck it, I love Mickey and he is a good partner for me.

wow this got super long sorry about that- if u did manage to read this all the way through i'd love to hear your thoughts on whether ian being rude about mickey was in character or not!!

[iscdisc]

You and your gorgeous TMNT art make me ship everything you ship. You could tell me to ship the most outrageous thing, draw it, and I would ship it. Like the most grotesque thing. I would love it. You are brilliant. May I ask for the fics you are reading and/or you have read?

Well I hope I wouldn't ship anything grotesque or that you feel would be grotesque- 💀😭 Lmao

But I get what you mean and that's incredibly flattering ! I hope everybody that engages with my content knows that I'm not trying to necessarily convince anybody to enjoy the pairings that I enjoy, but if you happen to click with my perspective whether it's from my art or from me talking about them, that's really cool to me !! ☺️✨

And sure ! I'll list some that I'm currently reading or have read recently that I really enjoyed ! I'll even include some that I plan to or started but haven't gotten very far yet- :

• "And It All Starts Again" (by Non_Parsimonious | Currently reading-)

I'm starting with this one because it is absolutely peak- Are you serious?? I'm telling you right now, this should have been Season 5 instead OR if the 2012 series had ever gotten the opportunity to have a film adaptation and it actually be well done narratively, this should have been that movie- I'm TELLING YOU, this story is absolutely phenomenal and I'm already in the process of making art for it to promote it ! 🫶 || I'm not going to spoil too much because I really want people to read it for themselves, but there's so much stress and angst that kind of pushes the narrative for that I'm just eating up because I enjoy those kinds of stories ! But if that's not your cup of tea, then feel free to skip this one-! 👍✨

• "Thoughts About A Boy" (by @jaywritezshitz | Currently reading-)

Maybe I talked about this one enough already, but I'd love to talk about it some more because it's a really great 2012 Jonatello story and I think it's incredibly well written !! I love the premise, I love the character interactions (Especially with April and Donnie, which says a lot in regards to myself because that's usually something I don't particularly enjoy because of canon / not fanon- /,, 😭), I love the build up and the constant anticipation that I feel waiting for confessions or for Donnie's letters to be weaved back into the narrative in the least expected way possible (Not to give too much away, because I really encourage you guys to read it for yourselves-), like !! There's just so much to enjoy with this one, and I really encourage people to read it cause I personally think it's really phenomenal !

• "Oh, Where'd All The Time Go?" (by Tae_rhymeswithslay | I plan on reading this one-)

My memory is kind of foggy with this one, because I swear I started reading the first couple of chapters but when I went back to confirm that I have read the story before it didn't feel familiar-?? So maybe I meant to read it and I thought I'd started it but I hadn't yet? 😭

But you're going to see a couple of Tae_rhymeswithslay entries on here, because I do enjoy their stories ! I also know that they're on here (Tumblr) but I couldn't @ them, so if you're reading this Tae, I'm sorry !!I did not tag you on purpose or anything like that-! 👍✨

• "Purple Hokey" (by Ani_Wagner_7w7 | Have already read-)

The setup for this particular 2012 Jonatello fanfiction feels very authentic to the show, in the sense that this is a situation I can absolutely see the writers putting them in (Not that they were the biggest Jonatello enthusiast, but you get my point-), you know? LMAO / It sort of felt like a cliche trope but done well ! It does ramp up a little maturity wise towards the end, just to give a heads up for that-! But otherwise it's just a cute story in my opinion ! ✨

• "Of the Same Cloth, the Same Coin" by Kazegami | Currently reading-)

Another incredibly peak story- Are you kidding?? I genuinely get so happy every time the story gets updated because it's one of my favorites ! The premise is that Casey asked Donnie for help with his school tutoring since April's going on a trip with her father for a few weeks, so of course they build a better relationship through constantly being around each other due to this tutoring situation ! Another kind of trope-like premise, but how the author tackles it is my favorite thing ever- I also really enjoy how April is written in the story as well and the sort of subplot that's going on with her ! I swear these writers do such an incredible job with her character and it makes me both happy and upset at the same time because why couldn't she have been like this in the show? I don't know- 💀 Lmao / But another story that I highly recommend !!

• "Technicolor" (by SecurityTape | Have read already-)

This is one that I genuinely was not expecting to read, since I'm not the biggest fan of crossover pairings (Not that they're necessarily bad, they just don't always interest me in the way I feel the interest of the people-!), but this one was really charming !! I really enjoyed the writing of both Rise! Donnie and 2012 Casey in the work of fiction ! It really reminded me of how much I missed the energy of Rise! and that I need to rewatch that version more because it genuinely is very funny- 😭✨

• "A Kiss As A Prize" (by Mili_8a | Have read already-)

This is one of the few 2012 Raphril fanfictions I've read / found on AO3 that I really enjoyed ! It's pretty short, but the premise was really cute and there's such a shortage of Raphril content in my eyes, so anything that I find I'm pretty much going to eat it up immediately- LMAO ❤️💛

• "Northampton Echoes" (by Gladrial | Currently reading-)

I barely started a chapter of this last night, and I already love the writing so far ! It takes place at The O'Neil Farmhouse (So far at least-), which I find particularly enjoyable because a lot of my Raphril centric thoughts in regards to building their dynamic / better establishing a connection between them starts in The Farmhouse in my head (I actually have this whole comic that I was trying to make talking about how I felt certain things during The Farmhouse Arc should have played out differently in my opinion and it mostly focuses around April and Raph- Maybe I'll bring that up at some point on here !), so I'm already pretty enthralled in this story set up so far ! I don't have much to say about it besides that though, because like I said I haven't gotten too far into the store yet-! But there's 19 chapters so far, and I already know that that's probably not going to be enough for me- LMAO

• "The Day The World Broke" (by @saladmix | Started reading this one-)

I feel like an asshole, because I started reading this one like months ago and I just never picked it up again and I don't know why- I think I might have gotten distracted with other things going on? I genuinely don't remember- But seeing people talk about it on here (Tumblr) reminded me that I need to go back and read that because the story is incredible ! I genuinely loved the first couple of chapters that I read ! I love the dynamic that they were setting up between the Mutant Mayhem Brothers in the beginning of the story, especially since I feel like (at the time anyway-) the MM / TOTTMNT brothers weren't getting a lot of love or attention from people?? I didn't get into the more plot focused chapters yet, but I believe I was close ! So hopefully I'll go back and read that soon I'll have more to talk about ! 👍✨ (Sorry for the abrupt tag by the way, Saladmix ! I hope that was okay-!)

• "My Best Enemy Is You" (by Aethernight | Have already read-)

I didn't think I was going to like this story as much as I did, because I'm not super into vampire stories, but this story was really good !! I never knew how much I needed Vampiric 2012 Jonatello (But in the context of the story, Donnie's the vampire, where Casey's a vampire hunter-) set in like the 1800s (??) before now, it's wild- 🦇💜🖤

• "Something Dumb To Do" (by Aleaf737 | Have read already-)

This is another really short and sweet one for 2012 Jonatello ! It's about a marriage proposal and it honestly was really wholesome ! ✨

• "One Nice Moment" (by Tae_rhymeswithslay | Have read already-)

Another kind of short one but it was really cute ! 💜🖤

• "Make Me A Promise Here Tonight (Love Like A Tidal Wave" (by Imthebest_ever | Have read already-)

This one spoke to me immediately because it involves a sort of aftermath to the episode, "The Power Inside Her" ! I really liked the narrative here ! ✨

• "Ink On Paper" (by Tae_rhymeswithslay | Have read already-)

This is another short story, but it felt so in character for Donnie towards the end it's so upsetting- LMAO

• "Arnold Bernid "Casey" Jones" (by Tae_rhymeswithslay | Have read already-)

I feel bad for saying the same things about a lot of Tae's works, but they really are just short and sweet most of the time and I enjoy reading them a lot !! This one in particular had a lot of humorous moments as well- 😭👍✨

Hopefully those are enough ! There are probably some that I'm forgetting at this point, but oh well,, 😭 Lmao

[ilikekidsshows]

My main problem with Marinette is that she has absolutely no respect for either Chat Noir or Adrien, despite all the lip service she does. To me, she sees Chat Noir as a pet she can ignore whenever she wants and Adrien as her manic pixie dream boy who exists for her fantasies, not as actual people with thoughts or feelings of their own.

She never takes the time to understand either of them meaningfully; she just thinks she knows best and thrusts them into situations that could end up damaging them in the long run. For example, her various plans involve Chat Noir risking his life while revealing nothing of value to him and not telling Adrien the truth about his father. If she really respected or loved them, as she says, she would tell them the truth about the situations they're in for their own safety. Oh, and can we forget that in this latest episode, she played Russian Roulette with 'her true love's' life instead of doing anything to try and get Milly to reject the Akuma on her own. Or how about the fact that none of this would've happened had Adrien known what those rings meant.

Frankly, it's gotten to the point where I honestly don't think Marinette is any better than Gabriel. She sure lets him have amok, but she's still willing to lie to him as Adrien and use him as Chat Noir, but she still expects them to be there for her during her various pity parties. That's not even getting into her treatment of Sublime just because she had the sheer audacity to be a female near Adrien.

To end a long rant, Adrienette should not be a thing at this point in time. Adrien needs to learn self-worth and true acceptance, and Marinette needs to get over her controlling and toxic behaviors if they are to ever be a healthy, functional couple. As is, though, it feels like Adrien left one cage for another, and even Chat Noir can't save him from this one.

---

True and factual. No notes. Seriously, though, this is all stuff I said already during season 5 and the hiatus, and the way you’ve described the current romance in a similar way just showcases how nothing has changed. The writers had a chance to tweak this dynamic now that they were starting a new season with them already dating and with a proper hero team established, but they just didn't bother.

One of the first things we see about the “new and improved” Ladynoir is Cat Noir being Ladybug’s whipping boy, someone she can yell at out of misdirected frustration at her own failures as a girlfriend, and he’ll just be understanding. Charming. Meanwhile, our first reintroduction to dating Adrinette is Marinette neglecting Adrien just like Gabriel did. Lovely. 

Marinette doesn't treat Adrien or Cat Noir as human, and I hate that she's still getting no pushback on this or even easing up on it. Marinette needs to leave them both alone until she has a handle on herself. Rena Rouge can be the go-between for her and Cat Noir, let her and the team get used to her in a leadership position before it gets thrust on her unceremoniously. But that would require Marinette to think about anything other than her personal comfort, so Alya is right there with Adrien on the chopping block of sacrificial pawns for Marinette's comfort, only there to be used and never given consideration.

[junedenim]

2014

beneath the boardwalk, part 12 (series masterlist)

fireside

warnings: slutty behavior

word count: 15k

I found out Alex and Arielle broke up through Facebook. Of course, because it's Alex we're referring to—a man who never touched social media with a 39½ foot pole—I didn't find out through a relationship status update, I found out through an article. I cursed the Facebook gods for knowing I would click on the article and nearly didn't but I did because I had to know whether it was legitimate or just gossip. The article didn't indicate much either way. I made the assumption I would hear about it if it were true and clicked off Facebook before it fully rotted my brain.

I spent the majority of January in England. I had gone back for the holiday season but had been convinced to stay through the new year through the pull of London. I caught up with old friends, most notably my old neighbor, Lee, and her two girls who I used to babysit and who were now both teenagers. I felt old.

When I returned to New York, my agent told me that one of the short stories from my upcoming book would be featured in the New Yorker. Featured, not just plain old staff writing, a full-on feature. Right up there with the likes of Shirley Jackson, Truman Capote, and George Saunders (okay, maybe not up there, but I have it in common with them). It was a nice start to the new year.

Fennel and Kaka had a dinner party in celebration, or just to have an excuse to throw a dinner party, they like those kinds of things. I wore a slutty dress Fennel provided and got drunk on champagne.

The day after this beautiful fancy party, Opal took me out for a proper celebration. Shitty bars and shitty clubs to get drunk off tequila. This was followed by the worst hangover of my life which made me vow to give up alcohol (fat chance).

Alex called me during this time and I missed it. There was a good chance people thought I was dead for several days. I didn't answer my phone and only got out of bed to vomit. I never returned Alex's call but he called me right before Arctic Monkeys performed at Madison Square Garden. I assume the call was some form of an invitation to attend but I wouldn't have gone anyway. I watched their cover of "All My Loving" on YouTube a week later and decided that I was only pissed that I missed that song.

Through Fennel, I had met Isaac Gaunt, a fashion photographer from London. He asked to do a photoshoot with me, which could've been a good way to be sex trafficked but considering the guy had shot for Vogue, I took my chances.

Isaac and the photos he took of me unlocked a whole new world for me. One where I would be referred to for my looks. All those years of being concerned over my author photo seemed to be indicating something.

My agent had no experience with fashion and graciously suggested I get another agent who specialized in it. She proved that not all agents are money-hungry monsters. So, I stayed with her and said I wanted her to handle fashion the same way she handled books because I was still a writer after all.

Because my image had cultivated somewhat of a following over the first few months of the year, I was offered more and more opportunities and got to feel like a diva when I turned down offers because I was simply "too busy." I loved it. It fed into my ego and made me feel way better about myself after feeling like shit for so long.

Of course, the buzz only lasted for so long but because I had the luxury of dictating my new career and whatever direction it was heading, I got to control the rush. I quite liked being busy too, especially when it meant getting invited to cool parties. Thus, I drank more champagne.

I got an invitation to this one party at the Museum of the City of New York. The building itself being this glorious display of Gilded Age glamour. I believe it was a fundraiser for the museum but also a celebration of the city and the talent it cultivated. I don't think I fell into that category, I just knew the right people, which is really just what it's all about. Knowing the right people.

Most people didn't know who I was and those who did recognize me didn't know I was British, which meant that they hadn't read anything I had written. So, I guess I was just a face now. I thought that would piss me off more but I liked being this mystery. I was luckily still taken seriously and people were intrigued when I said I was a writer instead of rolling their eyes and thinking I was some dimwit with looks who claimed to be a writer but actually barely knew how to string a sentence together. 

At the MCNY, on the luxurious staircase, dressed in something that was expensive and vintage and left me fearful of spilling something on it the whole night, I ran into Jackson. We stared at one another and with a nod of each of our heads, we passed one another with not a word uttered. I assume he was there with one of his clients but I went on and met up with a group of people who were slowly becoming my friends and didn't see him for the rest of the night.

It made me feel mature. I didn't feel a need to prove how fabulous I was and no need to spin the skirt of my dress around or sip my champagne with no care for him. I was perfectly comfortable with a small smile and seeing that he was doing just fine. It made me feel like I must be doing just fine too.

*

On the first coatless day of the year, I got fro-yo with Opal and her friends, Nadia, Sophie, and Mina. Opal's birthday was the following week but I would be out of town so we had a mini girl's day with the latest craze of fro-yo. I had met all the girls before but only had a close kinship with Mina after she crashed at my place following a night of clubbing.

After buying our combination of swirls, we sat in Tompkins Square along a bench. By the time our fro-yo was melted, the topic of my goings next week arose. Opal asked, "How do you feel about seeing you-know-who?"

Nadia licked her spoon clean. "Who's you-know-who?"

"My ex-boyfriend," I informed. "I'm going to a wedding next week. It's his bandmate and my friend, Katie, getting hitched."

"Your ex-boyfriend is in a band?" Sophie questioned.

It was rather odd to me that my life had grown so far outward that people didn't know about Alex. I was grateful for it, specifically in terms of my career. My life moved on and my name was no longer followed by "Alex Turner's ex-girlfriend." It had been a new discovery that past year. Be it good PR people or, more likely, people in my line of work didn't care. 

Though, I was shocked Sophie didn't know.

"What are you going to wear?" Mina asked. I went simple since I was flying in from New York. It was a soft blue slip dress. There was nothing fancy about it other than the gorgeous colour.

In regard to running into Alex, I didn't care. Well, I mostly didn't care. Okay, I cared, but I didn't actively try not to. I wanted to be friendly and my expectations didn't go further than that. I wasn't nervous about it anymore. I cared more about Katie's wedding dress than what I would be wearing. In any scenario, that was an unanticipated form of growth out of self-absorbedness that I never believed I could reach. 

*

I cry at weddings. I am reduced to a blubbering fool. It's quite embarrassing. If I wasn't me, I would be making fun of me because being vulnerable is something I'm still not comfortable with despite how emotional I am. With Jamie and Katie, it felt understandable. They were a couple I watched grow together from two awkward kids to well-adjusted adults. It was an unexpected overwhelming feeling but Katie was so beautiful and I was jet-lagged. 

After grabbing a flute of champagne, I got my emotions under wraps and had small talk with the various attendees, many of whom I hadn't seen in years. I lucked out by finding AB and Shay, who I had no clue were attending, and buddying up with them by the bar.

I sipped my champagne, talked with them, and looked out at the crowd the whole time, slightly dreading or rejoicing whenever the moment would come that Alex and I locked eyes. Eye contact was generally avoided during the ceremony. I sat too many rows back and think my stomach would have fallen out of my ass if we looked at each other when two people were getting married. I much preferred the idea of a dramatic, but subtle and tamed, wedding reception gaze at one another. 

Breana found me during this time, sans Matt, which probably meant he was with Alex. As I hugged her, I feared Matt and Alex would come looking for her like she was some lost puppy. I felt ridiculous but Breana understood my predicament and didn't question why I was looking over her shoulder the whole time we spoke.

Cocktail hour wrapped with no sign of Alex, which meant I didn't get totally hammered before dinner. I was seated with AB and Shay, who were now engaged as well, and I spent the whole of our time together staring at the rock on her finger. 

Right around when I began to dive into dinner, I spotted Alex eating at his table. His back was to me. I wondered if we were intentionally seated that way so we didn't have to stare at each other from across the room.

Cake was given and I managed not to ball my eyes out during the first dance. AB and Shay escaped me to do their own dancing, I felt impossibly envious and deeply regretful that I had not shacked up with someone to bring as a plus one because weddings are disgusting and lonesome when you're watching all the cute couples dance.

I made friends with the only other single gal at my table, Dolly, one of Katie's friends. We travelled to the bar together with interlocked arms, despite the fact we barely knew each other. We both got a margarita and cheers to an okay night, whatever that might be.

"I haven't been to a wedding in years and suddenly it feels like everyone is getting married," Dolly said.

I hummed and swallowed my drink. "We're getting to that age when you're either a single loser or having babies."

"My younger sister is engaged and I don't even have a boyfriend. How much of a loser does that make me?"

I leaned against the bar and deposited my empty glass, requesting another one. "It makes you smart."

"Can you tell that to my parents?"

We shared a laugh and the bartender gave me my next margarita. A tap was felt on my shoulder and the voice rang through my ears, "Hey you."

I managed not to fully choke on the liquor running down my throat. I covered my mouth to prevent a major coughing fit or spitting the liquid out onto him. "Hi."

I wasn't sure what else to say. He stood there. I noted the uptightness in his posture. He smirked to hide his nervousness as suaveness. I knew he had to be nervous because I was too. I did get a kick out of him being the one to approach me. For a change, I no longer felt like the girl falling at his feet.

After too long of a silence staring at one another while Dolly surely thought we were looney, Alex asked, "How are you doing?"

I nodded. "Fine." I was being dry and rejecting, leaving nothing for him to grasp onto. This was the crossroads. I could be cold and watch him walk away dejected, getting immense pleasure for the power I had over him. However, who was to say I did not have that power over him anymore? Who's to say I wouldn't have just come off as awkward and a loser? A boring single loser.

I could’ve smiled and asked him how he was and acted out pleasantries that were likely too sweet to be believable coming from my lips. Silence hung and I wasn't sure what to do. I took a sip of my drink and Alex did the same with his. It was a game. Whoever finished their drink first had to speak.

"I've just been chatting with Dolly here," I told him. I lost. Or won. I wasn't sure. I requested another drink pulling myself further on the road of alcohol poisoning. "How've you been?"

"Fine." He was smiling—no more than that—a shit-eating grin. He was mocking me. He was two seconds away from breaking into an uncontainable laugh. "I've been fine. The usual."

I hummed like some wise old man. "Yes, the usual. And what would the usual be?"

He shrugged and swirled his drink, looking down at the spiral forming around his ice. I wasn't sure what game we were playing. I felt like breaking the ice but it slowly began to feel like we were freezing ice between us. Everything was awkward and cold and Dolly was just staring at the whole thing.

She threw her pickaxe into the mix. "Jane and I were just talking about how it feels like there are suddenly so many weddings this year. I've got two more I've got to go to in the summer."

Alex pulled himself away from his hypnotizing drink, adjusted his suit jacket, and swung back into action. "It does feel that way, doesn't it? I suppose that's what your late twenties is." His eyes bore themselves into me and he sipped on his drink.

"For some of us," Dolly said. "The rest of us are left to deal with the scraps."

"Aw," Alex rejected, "you ladies aren't scraps."

Dolly replied, "I never called us scraps. It's you men that are the scraps."

I giggled and Alex tossed between a frown and a chuckle like he couldn't decide how he was supposed to react. "The ones that haven't been potty trained yet," I joked.

"We aren't all so bad, you know," Alex said. "Some of us at least know how to aim."

It broke me out into an embarrassing laugh. One that had me trying my back to him and leaning on the bar because I couldn't bear for him to see me clutch my stomach and snort my drink out. Dolly and Alex laughed more at me than the joke and I turned back in shame as the two of them stared at me. "Sorry," I muttered through my amusement.

Dolly shook her head at me. "All these weddings have made me acutely aware of how single I am. I've become one of those people who bitches and moans about that to people I barely know."

I relaxed against the bar and sipped away. "Welcome to the club."

"The only benefit of being single at a wedding is a chance of catching the bouquet," she stated.

Alex stood amused by Dolly, chuckling at her and sliding his hands into his pockets. "If it makes you feel better I don't even get a chance to catch the bouquet." His eyes drifted to me a moment later like he was waiting for a reaction. My eyes moved to Dolly. I realized this was his way of informing me he was single. I didn't know how to take that.

"You two are very Debbie Downer," I said. "You're 28, not the 40-year-old virgin."

Dolly straightened up. "You're right. I'm spiraling too much. I should be focused on the open bar and having fun."

I lifted my drink. "That's the spirit."

"My friend's just gotten married. I'm chatting with old and new friends. I could stumble on the love of my life tonight instead of bitching and moaning. Or at least a plus one to the next wedding."

"Husbands are overrated anyway," I stated.

Alex chuckled, grabbing my attention again. I almost forgot he was standing there. "Is that the subject of your next book?"

I pointed a finger at him. "You know, that's not a bad idea. At least for an article."

Dolly placed her glass down on the bar. "I'm gonna hit the dance floor. Care to join me?" I wasn't sure which one of us her question was directed at.

Alex eyed me and I eyed Alex. I looked back at Dolly and told her, "I'll catch up with you after I finish my drink."

She looked at me with a hint of something that I refused to acknowledge. "Don't spend the whole night by the bar," she warned.

"I won't," I promised as she walked away.

I leaned back at the bar and focused on my drink and not the man in front of me. It was easier to digest my decision that way because of course I only stayed at the bar for my drink and not anything else at all. Totally. 

"She's nice," Alex said. He was still nursing the remaining liquor in his drink, even though the ice was beginning to melt.

"Shall I set the two of you up? We could be at your wedding this time next year," I quipped.

Alex feigned some laughter. "I don't think I'm ready for that kind of thing."

I narrowed my eyes. "Wives overrated?"

"I haven't found out yet." We stared at one another with the knowledge that whatever move followed would determine the rest of the night. I didn't finish my drink right away and he never took another sip of his. "How are you?"

"You already asked that."

He playfully rolled his eyes. "Right, you're fine."

It made me laugh and I dropped my shoulders, no longer feeling a need to be tensed up. "I've been busy but I like what I'm busy with."

"That's good."

"You?"

"The usual."

I rolled my eyes this time. "You're so funny, Al."

"What else would you like me to say?" The question posed so much with so little. We could run down a thousand different avenues with that one question. I could beg, I could insult, I could walk away.

I disguised my blushing as red-hot amusement. "That you've become a grand master in chess or learned how to get a ship into a bottle."

He gestured his glass at me. "You know, it's not as hard as you think."

"Come on, you have to give me something to work with. How else will I relentlessly make fun of you?"

"Like you don't already?"

I tossed my head back, pretending I was exhausted by him. I never could be it seemed. "I need new material."

He rattled the ice in his glass and moved closer to me, leaning his side against the bar. "I've been trying to learn magic tricks."

"Are you going to pull a coin out from behind my ear?" I hid my smile in my drink.

"I never said I was good at it." He placed his glass down at the bar like he was establishing his place there. "Have you learned any new tricks?"

I couldn't deny it then. He had confirmed it right there. He was flirting with me. I didn't know what to do with it or how to act on it so I just sipped my drink and didn't dare look at him. "I've taken to doing the New York Times crossword every morning."

He laughed at me. "How long does it take you before you look up the answers?"

I refused to allow him to see me blush. If I could dive into my drink, I would have. "Probably ten minutes." He laughed with me. "But they're just hints. I'm allowed hints. The Sunday one is really hard."

"I believe you. I know how smart you are."

His closeness was beginning to make me uncomfortable. I turned my body and leaned my back against the bar like I had so many times before. "There was a crossword clue mentioning Sheffield a few weeks ago."

"Really?” He perked up. Something about it felt so childlike or maybe like a dog who hears the rustling noise of a bag of treats. “What was it?"

"It was easy. Something like ‘stroller in Sheffield, 4 letters.’"

"Would it be a pram?" He looked at me expectingly like he was awaiting cheers to erupt.

"Ding ding ding," I sounded. "You're not as dim as I thought."

"Oh, thanks, Jane." He tried to act offended but his voice edged with mirth and a smile tugged on his lips.

He opened his mouth to speak but I beat him to it. "I think I'm going to go dance."

I placed my empty glass down on the bar and watched as he let delight spread across his face. "I should've known Backstreet Boys would get you on the floor."

I crossed my arms. "Well, it is ‘I Want it That Way’ after all. Just be happy I'm not screaming it in your ear." I turned away before he could say anything else. I joined Dolly in horrible dancing and singing as the margaritas blasted through me.

I lost Alex in the crowd. I think he might have been with Matt because I found Breana on the floor. I grabbed both her hands and spun around with her. At some point we had formed a mini circle of girls, kicking off our heels, and jumping around. 

Perhaps it was too early to be shaking the floor based on some side eye we were given. Out of breath, Breana and I decided to step back into our shoes and sit down. She leaned toward me. “So, what have you been up to?” Her eyes were wide and coming onto me alluringly.

I held my stomach and worked on quickly reinflating my lungs. “Are you hitting on me?”

She pushed away from me with a laugh. “No, I’m just curious what you’ve been up to this evening. You’ve got your eye on anyone?”

I stared at her. “No.”

“Come on, the only benefit of going stag to a wedding is taking someone home with you.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “When did everyone become so sex obsessed?”

“I don’t know. Maybe in the last year or so. When did you become so prudish, Jane?” She teased.

I countered, “I don’t know. Maybe in the last year or so.”

I debated the idea of it but thinking of trying to hook up with a stranger at a wedding kind of disgusted me. Maybe because Alex was there. I think I also didn’t want to be the one trying to seduce someone. I wouldn’t deny a Four Weddings & a Funeral situation, especially if I got to be Andie MacDowell.

Breana stood up and asked, “Should we get a drink?” 

I slumped in my chair. “Maybe. I feel like I might be too drunk already.”

She laughed. “There’s no such thing at a wedding.” She reached out and grabbed my hand. “Come on. I’ve barely had any. Take me to the bar.”

I guided her through the crowd to the deck of the bar. Along the way, I decided she was right and that free alcohol is free alcohol. We both indulged in cocktails with pieces of fruit and straws. “This is so sweet,” she said. “I feel like I’m gonna vomit.”

I gagged. “Don’t talk about vomit.”

Breana waved her hand to someone behind me, gesturing for them to come toward her. I looked behind me to find Matt and Alex. I kept my eyes trained on Matt and smiled and waved.

“Jane Cavendish!” Matt drunkenly cheered. “I heard you were crawling around.” He slung me into a hug. I returned it despite how sweaty he felt and how hard I was trying to not laugh at him.

“Matthew J. Helders III,” I returned his proper greeting.

Breana tucked her arm under Matt to keep him upright. “Maybe we should sit down,” she suggested. When Matt insisted otherwise, she decided for him, taking him over to their table, and leaving me with Alex.

He took a step forward towards me. “And I thought I was going to be the one to get hammered,” he said.

“Night’s young and the bar is still mighty full.”

He eyed my drink. “What’ve you got there?”

I stirred my straw, clunking the ice against the glass. “I believe it is called a woo woo.”

“A woo woo?”

“Yeah, it’s vodka, cranberry, and…” I took a sip. “Peach Schnapps. I’ve never had it before but I quite like it.” I eyed the hand around his glass. “And what do you have? Your bourbon,” I mocked, continuing to sip away at my woo woo.

“I go for reliability over experimentation.” He sipped his with a piercing stare at me.

I couldn’t tell if he was making a pointed comment at me or trying to make some eloquent quip. Either way, I didn’t care. I liked my woo woo too much to care. “You’ll never know the joys of a woo woo then.”

“Gimme a sip then.” He curled his fingers, beckoning me to move the drink toward him. 

I handed it over. “Sip out of the glass, not the straw.”

He chuckled. “I’ve kissed you but can’t share a straw with you.”

I was determined for my face to stay neutral. “You’ll get the bourbon taste all over it.”

“Oh,” he sarcastically said. 

He began to chug out of the glass until I pulled it out of his hand. “Get your own if you love it so much.”

“It tastes like candy floss.”

“No, it does not.” I sipped just to check. “It definitely doesn’t. I don’t think you’ve ever even had candy floss.”

“I’ve had it. Might have been 20 years ago now but I’ve had it,” he insisted.

I looked out at the crowd dancing. I had no clue what time it was or how long we had been there but it felt like no time had passed and hours had passed at the same time. I wasn’t sure what had a greater effect of time distortion Alex or alcohol.

“Have you danced at all?” I asked him.

He leaned an arm against the bar, slowly inching closer and closer to me. “Is that an invitation?”

“No,” I claimed, “I’m waiting for them to bring out more food. Can we get a second serving of cake?”

Alex chuckled, standing up straighter, no longer coming off as leering. “You haven’t had enough sugar from your woo woo?”

“Well, if I don’t have any food to soak up the alcohol than I won’t remember the rest of the night,” I told him.

“I think they’re bringing out pretzels soon.”

“Hard or soft?”

He smirked. Him and his dirty mind. “Soft, I think.”

“God, I could eat like five of those right now.” I felt like my stomach would rumble so hard it would shake the building causing a microearthquake. “What time are they doing that?”

He shrugged.

“You’re no help. You’re supposed to have the insider information,” I complained.

“I didn’t plan the wedding.”

“Go find out for me,” I commanded. I was desperately hungry and desperate for him to get away from me. It was his gaze that made me blush from a shared nervousness and awkwardness. I didn’t know how to act around him anymore, not with the way he was acting.

The wave of my hand shooed him away and he disappeared into the crowd again. I got a Moscow mule and went back to my seat. Before Alex returned, the soft pretzels were taken out and I was first in line. I got back in line before I even finished my first one.

When I spotted Alex across the room, I raised my pretzel toward him. He raised his woo woo back at me.

AB, Shay, Dolly, and I chatted over our pretzels and drinks at our table. Shay looked sleepy, leaning her head against AB’s shoulder, and I knew they’d be heading out within the next half hour. Dolly kept throwing her head back in laughter, even when the conversation didn’t prompt it.

I wiped my hands clean of salt and, encouraged by the group, chugged the rest of my drink. With the empty glass, I stood, curtsied, and headed to the bathroom. I was buzzed, maybe even drunk by that point, but still felt in control despite my heeled shoes growing bothersome. I was ready for another drink. Well, after I peed.

When I left the bathroom, he was standing there, acting casual with a drink in his hand and tapping his foot to the music, but I’m not sure why he would be standing outside the women’s bathroom unless there’s something I don’t know about.

I walked up to his profiled body. I placed my hands on my hips as the upturn slowly occurred on my lips. “Are you stalking me now, Al?”

“How was your pretzel?” He wasn’t being concealed. He couldn’t control his smirk and it felt like every second passed in a thumping heartbeat.

“Same as yours I’m sure.”

“I didn’t get one.”

“Well, maybe you should. They were good.”

“I was gonna pop out for a smoke. If you wanna.”

“Wanna what?”

“For old time’s sake.” 

The nostalgia played a role but the look on his face tugged at me and as much as I wanted to deny it, I wanted to go out and smoke with him too. For old time’s sake. I was also itching for a cigarette and bumming one off Al was as good as anything else.

Night had covered the outside world. The once warm day had turned into a breezy night. We walked to a park bench outside the venue. The wood grates pressed through the fabric of my dress and I took the opportunity to curl my legs behind me and rest my feet.

Alex handed a cigarette to me before pulling one out for himself. I startled him by reaching into his coat pocket, perfectly aware of where his lighter was. I lit my cig before tossing it to him. I leaned back against the iron bar and watched as the smoke left his lips.

“Talk,” I urged him.

“I’m in charge?” He questioned.

“You brought me out here.”

He chuckled. “Nicotine brought you out here.” 

I looked out onto the scene in front of us. It wasn’t particularly interesting. There was a car park and a field and the venue. There were some other people. A few were smoking, some leaving, and a few getting fresh air or trying not to act too drunk. “I’ve got a lot of addictions.”

“Woe is me much?”

I snorted. When I faced him, his eyes were already trained on me with a smile. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

“Dark and mysterious might’ve worked on me in college, Jane, but I know you better now.”

“You knew me pretty well back then,” I reasoned. “As I recall it.”

He hummed like if we looked into each other’s eyes long enough a wormhole would form and we’d be taken back in time to 2003. “You’ve always been easy to read. You did put up a good wall back then though.”

“Nothing compared to yours.”

He broke eye contact with me for the first time. He turned completely away, staring at whatever lay before him on the other side. “I have the reputation for it, I’m sure.” He looked back at me like he couldn’t resist it for too long. It burned me. He could have put his cigarette out on me for all I know. It burned a hole through the center of me. Too much. Too hurtful.

“Well, I was still able to read you pretty well.”

“More than I would’ve liked,” he said. “There I go sounding all despondent. How’s your next book going?”

I shrugged. “Somewhere. It’s been a little complicated lately. New ventures. And a new agent.”

“Ah, the post-Jackson era?”

“Yeah, kind of fucked that one up. Business wise.” There was no reason to get into all the personal propensities here or ever because I can barely recall that mess and have had limited desire to, clearly. “Lisa’s my new agent. She’s lovely and nice but it’s different. Jackson was my friend too. I guess I have a habit of not knowing how to keep friends.”

“It’s a natural part of growing up,” he tried to assure me.

“You are aware of whose wedding we’re at?” I longed to have friendships like Alex’s. I felt like I couldn’t hold onto those things. I think it’s easier for guys or maybe that’s just a grass being greener mentality. 

He couldn’t argue, instead breaking into laughter. “Yeah, you are a bit shit at keeping friends.”

“Hey!” I whacked him.

He held his hands up. “I’m kidding. You’re my friend after all.”

“The aforementioned: a bit shit. Case and point.”

He laid it out. “You make things too awkward.” 

“I think the situation is awkward.” Is there a proper way to interact with her ex? If so, I haven’t quite found it yet. There’s a fine line, especially with Alex. I felt we were always tiptoeing around our situation. That was the problem with never addressing anything. With no formal break-up, we never discussed and unravelled how things went down. We stayed tangled and flipped back and forth between the closest of friends to distant figures in one another’s lives. Here we tried to find the middle ground.

He pondered what I said for a minute. He sat with it and took a few drags before saying, “Who am I to talk? I’ve made my own messes.”

I almost didn’t ask but it was getting late, memories crept up on me, I felt warm, and he felt close. “With Arielle?”

Alex turned away, clearly not wanting to dive into it. I could see the environment pulling away at him too. He leaned against the bench’s backing and laid his arm on it. “Yeah, not that it would have worked out anyway.”

I felt myself leaning closer like he had lassoed me and was pulling me in. “What do you mean?”

He let out a half-suppressed laugh like he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. He put out his cigarette but didn’t move an inch from his seat next to me. “Did you think you were going to end up with Jackson?”

To prevent the situation from travelling too deep, I leaned my temple against my fist, and joked, “I don’t know. Cavendishes are historically unhappy in their marriages.” I followed his suit and put out my cigarette, but stayed glued to my seat next to him.

He didn’t look at me when he said, “If you’re going to be unhappy at least aim wealthier than Jackson.”

I wanted to ask if he meant him.

I wondered what my next move should be. There was no longer anything between our fingers excusing us to sit outside. I felt my continued participation in the conversation would reveal something. I was probably reading into it too much, but it was sending him a signal I didn’t know if I wanted to give off.

“Should we go back inside?” I asked.

“Why?” His questioning sent a shiver down my spine. “You getting cold or something?”

“Thirsty,” I claimed. I feared he’d attempt to take his suit jacket off and throw it over my shoulders.

“You dipsomaniac.” He stood up beside me and we walked back in together toward the bar. I got a Tom Collins because I liked the way the bartender decorated the glass with the lemon slice and a drink would distract me anytime I needed to think of something to say.

Alex got something boring. I don’t remember. “What number is that for you?”

I stirred and thought. “I don’t know. I guess that says it all.” I stared out at the crowd of people on the dancefloor shimming to “Billie Jean” in a wild manner. It comforted me that the age of the crowd had levelled out and the sobriety of the crowd had diminished. “Have you danced at all this evening?”

“I’m not that drunk yet.” He took a mighty gulp. “You offering?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want my toes broken.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m a good dancer.”

“Not when you’re drunk.” Alex would shake, thrash, and toss when drunk dancing. He loses all control of his limbs and his coordination is deadly for someone who already suffers in the department. “What song would get you on the floor?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Chicken Dance.”

“This isn’t a school dance. Serious answer.”

“Why? You gonna go give the DJ a request?”

“I’m just curious. No need to accuse.”

“Some Spice Girls.” He smirked.

I glared at him. “Don’t mock me now.”

“Let’s get it on,” he offered.

“Huh?” Uncertainty lied in my reaction.

He raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Marvin Gaye,” he clarified. 

“You’re not funny.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

The booming of “Single Ladies” blasted through the room interrupting any proper answer. I held my glass out to him. “Keep it safe for me?” I asked.

He nodded, wrapping his fingers around the cold glass. “Good luck,” he taunted.

I stuck my tongue out and headed to the girl-filled dancefloor. We bumped shoulders with one another and Katie pretended to throw it several times before finally releasing it. The bouquet twisted and turned and flew through the air before it landed directly into Dolly’s hands. She squealed and clapped her hands together, having won the ultimate prize. 

When I returned to Alex and teased me with a pout on his lips. “I’m sorry you lost.”

I took my drink back and took a quick sip. “Eh. It’s probably better if I'm not the next to get married. Logically it’s actually Breana right?”

“Does it count if you’re already engaged?”

“I have no clue.” I sipped away and he stared at me. I felt like I was about to melt under his gaze. I almost asked him why he was but I knew why. Alcohol, wedding, single, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. So. “Say it.”

“What?” He questioned.

I dropped my drink onto the bar with a blatant stare in my eye. 

He shrugged like he wasn’t being obvious.

“Okay,” I sighed. I picked my drink up and finished it off. 

I was prepared to walk away when the beginning notes of “Spice Up Your Life” began to play. Alex was taken way by laughter. Through his chuckles, he asked, “Did you request it?”

“No,” I said, “you saw me the whole time.”

He grabbed my hand tightly. “It’s fate.” With that he walked toward the dancefloor, dragging me behind him. I was laughing too. I couldn’t help it. I was happy. And drunk but that made me happy too. 

His hand was warm and he felt firm. He dropped it when we reached the floor but we moved and jumped like we were toddlers still learning how to stand properly. He made faces and moved in a way that made unstoppable laughter wrack through me. I felt buzzed from the inside out, every limb, bone, vein affected by him.

It was too much. Drunk I could handle it but even the power of him made me feel nauseated as if it was eating me alive. I was risking too much. The fun of it was slowly overtaking me, wrecking the moves I had made to change things.

After a few more songs, the music cut. We watched as Jamie and Katie left and with it, the reception was pretty much over. I turned to Alex, who was already looking at me. Always looking first. “I’m glad I got to see you,” I earnestly told him.

“You leaving me now?” I kept feeling like he was pulling my leg. He was constantly smirking at me like he was playing some trick on me. Like there was some inevitable shoe about to drop.

“Everyone is leaving now.” The room felt like it had emptied quickly, a stark contrast to the packed reception. 

“Do you wanna…?” He scratched the back of his neck.

I laughed at him. I’m not sure why. I think because he reminded me of his younger self. Even with the gelled hair and pushed-back shoulders, he still kept his awkward mannerisms and inability to get to the end of sentences. “Do I wanna what? Know?”

“Shut up.” His eyes fluttered slowly. “Talk to me more. I’ve got a mini bar.”

“You’re inviting me to your hotel room?” I raised my eyebrows at the implication. 

“Yeah. Don’t be so dirty, Janie.” He hadn’t called me that in a while. “I just want to catch up more. I miss talking to ya.” 

I stared at him blankly. “Right. Okay. I’ll get my purse and coat. I assume this is all on your tab.”

“Overpriced little bottles are on me. I’ll meet you out front.”

*

We sat on the carpet hotel room floor which I’m sure was probably covered in all kinds of germs and diseases but that night it was covered with little empty bottles and Alex and I leaning against the bed and dresser respectively.

I sat barefoot and he rubbed my feet. I don’t think I asked him to, it was just out of instinct. I couldn’t protest because they ached so much. He had taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie enough that he might as well have just taken it off. There was no need to keep up appearances in front of one another.

I downed the little vodka bottle. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything from the mini bar. My mother usually came prepared.”

“We did that one time,” he reminded me. “In Bristol. You got so hammered I doubt you remember.”

I giggled. “I remember the hangover. And I’m sure I’ll remember the one I’ll have tomorrow.”

“Drink some water.”

I shook my head. “Nah. I haven’t reached that level of intelligence yet. Plus, I don’t think I can get off the floor.”

He slumped against the bed like a ragdoll. “Yeah, I don’t think I can either.”

“We should just stay here forever.” It was a joke. Intended to be one, at least.

Alex smiled. “Yeah. Okay.” He moved his head around to stay awake and rubbed his eyes. “Make me laugh.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. You always find a way.”

I thought but humour abandoned me at that moment. It felt like all the funny had been kicked out of me. I decided to spill my guts. “On the plane ride here I decided to watch Eyes Wide Shut because I had never seen it before. I wasn’t aware of the massive orgy and the flight attendant had to come over and tell me that I couldn’t watch porn on the flight. So that was fun.”

Alex had fallen over into a fit of laughter. It eased me up and my embarrassment felt a little lighter when I knew it brought joy to him. “I’m going to tell some gossip mag that Jane Cavendish watches porn on planes.”

I kicked him with my foot. “Shut up.”

He collected himself and sat up straight. His look held so much in it. He looked like remembering and I wanted to experience every moment we had ever had together all at once. I looked away instead. But he didn’t and I could feel it. And then he said it. “I missed you.”

And like that, I was pulled back to him. My eyes looked into his and we were transmitting a longing we couldn’t dream of acting on. I smiled. “Me too. I’m used to it.”

He dropped his head. “Fuck.” His eyes plucked up. “Don’t say things like that to me.”

I crossed my brows. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’ll be what pounds through my head every night. Every day. How fucked up everything got. I’m wishing—I don’t know.” He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to erase himself.

I tucked my knees up to my chest. “I think it always was, Al. No need to beat yourself up over it.”

He stared at me as if to say, “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

I giggled. “We should move,” I suggested.

“No,” he whined.

With every fibre in me, I fought to stand up, eventually beating the effects of hotel-provided liquor. “Come on, mister.” I reached my hand down to him. He intertwined himself with me. Instead of me pulling, he yanked me down. Before I could shout a note of surprise, he silenced me. He kissed me.

It didn’t stop. He fought hard and I didn’t reject it. I was a phony and I could spout words of it being over for as long as I wanted but I don’t know if anyone ever believed it. How could they when it felt so good to kiss him? It was delicate and sloppy but I was sloppy too so I didn’t care one bit. It wasn’t about precision it was about emotion and I felt everything burning from the inside. It probably wasn’t smart but my other organs took over to act as my brain after it had been stifled from alcohol and his sweet words. I’d figure it out later. I’d keep him to myself for now.

We fell back on the carpet, my back hitting the floor and him towering over me. He tried to pull away to say something, to smile, or to breathe, but I wouldn’t allow it. I think if I looked him in the eye and he uttered a word it would have been too much so I didn’t allow it. 

We became those people that soiled the hotel room carpet. In our refusal to get up off the floor, Alex pushed my dress up and his pants down and it was quick so we didn’t have to think about it. I felt sweaty and he tucked his head in the corner of my neck and kissed it, breathing me in. I pushed everything away and laid there with him because that felt good and I felt loved, even if those things were to have faded away, I was left with memories of when it was there and this was just a reminder.

When it was over and his out-of-breath body pinned on top of my out-of-breath body, I lifted my hand and tried to run my fingers through his hair. I pulled a face he couldn’t see. “Ew,” I remarked. “I’m not used to your hair being so greasy.”

I felt the rhythms of his laugh against me. He was quiet but his hands pried into the space between my back and the carpet and he hugged me to him. The tightness and pressure of it weighed on me and I could’ve been eaten alive by it if I didn’t think it brought him so much comfort. He nudged his nose against me and for a moment I forget we were on the floor of some random hotel. It felt old and familiar. Things didn’t feel so foreign.

“Bed,” I voiced. “I think I have rug burns.”

He lifted his head for the first time since. I saw the blur of his eyes and the thrash of his smile. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

I smiled back but couldn’t think of anything teasing to say. He pulled me to my feet this time and we found solace in the cloudy bed. Unspoken words sat in the gap between us and I could feel his eyes burn on me as mine began to flutter. “Al.”

He reached over and brushed my hair out of my face. He nuzzled closer to me with a comfortable distance one that caused an ember to shoot through me but not a wildfire. “We’ll talk in the morning.” And that was enough. It always would be.

*

I got up before him. I thought about waking him but that would mean facing things. With my pounding, but sober head, I panicked. I sat somewhere between losing it and jumping up and down. I stole his clothes, went to get a coffee, and sat in the hotel lobby. If he woke up, I wondered if he would have thought I left. I didn’t write a note or anything. Would it have brought him relief or disappointment?

My headache cleared somewhere in my people-watching time and with that, I was allowed to calculate my next move. Quickly I knew I didn’t want to leave. I would be an asshole move and I was trying to be less of an asshole. The communication part was hard. It almost made things feel more normal. Alex and I always struggled to get to the point. Last night it was the same way. We didn’t make sense of things. We only jumbled the Rubik’s cube up more.

When my coffee cup reached half-full, I went back upstairs. He was still asleep and I was left with nothing to do. Boredom was worse than inconveniencing him so I landed on the bed and began to shake until he woke. Asshole move?

“Alright, alright.” He placed his hand on my leg to stop my movement. He kept it there with no other words spoken.

“Hi,” I said.

He smiled. “Hi. Morning. Is that coffee for me?”

My eyes drifted off. “Well…”

He dropped his head on the pillow. It spread out across it in a new way. I was discovering new movements and how he looked different, not just with hair, but he gained new mannerisms and practices. He was teaching me new ways to act. I think part of me always wanted to be him. Being with him was the next closest thing.

His hands covered his face. “My head is killing me.”

“You can have the rest of it if you want.”

He threw the covers off and stood up. I forget he was naked underneath all that. I stared at his ass. I almost reached out to squeeze it but he turned too quickly. “No, I don’t want your slug.”

I giggled. It felt like an old routine. We were still the people we used to be. We had done this a hundred times before. I could do it a hundred times more. For a moment, it felt perfect. I think we only have a few of those, scattered across years and times; a clear view of when everything lines up and makes sense. Perhaps, the circumstances weren’t ideal, but I wasn’t thinking about that anymore. It was a distraction from everything else. I missed laughing with him.

“I can get you some milk,” I offered as he slipped into the bathroom.

*

Over a coffee, one bowl of Cheerios, and one bowl of Corn Flakes, Alex and I talked. Only a few people sat in the hotel’s dining area with us, scattered feet away from us. We slurped our cereal and Alex milked his coffee. It all felt disposable.

“I don’t remember the last time I sat and had breakfast,” I commented while spooning my Cheerios.

“Always rushing off somewhere?”

“I guess. Sitting at a table and eating by yourself feels weird to me. I usually get up too late for breakfast anyway.”

“You were up early this morning.” He sipped his coffee, still pepping himself up.

“Time difference. I’m all turned around.”

He nodded, perfectly aware of the struggle of time zones. “I’ve finally learned how to keep track of days on tour. Day of the week, month, number, everything.”

I smiled at his excitement. He could be so overjoyed about such small things. He paid attention to the small things. He was exceedingly good at spot the difference games because his eye was somehow able to take in all the fine details. 

“When are you going back on tour?” I asked. The answer to our predicament lay in his answer.

“A week or so.”

I laughed in hopes of lightening the load. “Some honeymoon Cookie and Katie will have.”

“We are headed to New Zealand. It’s a beautiful place to go. You know that. Good hiking.”

“You sound like a travel agent.”

He leaned back and gazed at me. “Maybe I am one.”

I broke eye contact with the pain of letting him down. “Nice try.”

Alex nodded. He already knew my answer but held out for a change if maybe this had been one of the things I grew out of. “I’ll take pictures for you.”

“Email them to me,” I requested. “I miss your emails.”

He looked at me and didn’t say anything. He was pulling things apart in his mind. I could see his brain untying knots and straightening the wrinkles. He deciphered, walked down every path, and climbed every tree before he could have the best view of things. “When are we going to talk about…?” He gestured to him and I. Us.

Old habits were there for me to slip back into. It was easy to push away but he offered himself up to me. Him taking the first step alleviated me and the burden didn’t feel so painful to speak honestly. “Whenever you want.”

The ball was in his court and he bounced it a few times, double-checked its firmness, tested his racquet, and hit the ball back to me. “You’re going back to New York. Nothing’s changing that, right?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded along, working through things. His face stayed neutral and didn’t show any explicit reaction. He looked around the room as if the answers were playing hide & seek with him. “We’re touring all summer.”

“I know.”

Those words tapped into him. A smile crept out from the knowledge that I kept up with him, even if it was just the grand scale of his world tour. I didn’t lock him away from my mind. “Well, if you ever want to visit anywhere. I hear Germany’s nice in June.”

I raised an eyebrow. “With all the tourists?”

“You’ll fit right in with them. You can help me out with my German”

I chuckled. “I think your German might be better than mine.”

“Then I can show off.”

I toss my head. “Well, maybe if New York gets too hot. And someone pays for my flight.”

“You’re really milking me here.”

“I’m prostituting myself for you.”

He chuckled before all the humour sunk from his voice. “If you fall in love with some guy before then I’ll be happy for you, Jane. Or if you don’t want to do this—whatever this is—again, I’ll get it.”

It touched me, even though I knew it shouldn’t. I worried this was a pattern I’d repeat my whole life. “If you get a girlfriend I’ll kill you.”

Luckily, he smiled. “I’ll have to fight them off.” Eye roll. “Do whatever you want, Janie.”

I couldn’t look at him. I was too embarrassed that my cheeks were turning red. “I’ll be your Nell Gwynn.”

“Who?”

“Charles II’s mistress.”

He shook his head in laughter. “Only you would know that. Gimme more respect than that. I’m not some imperialistic floozy boinking everyone I see.”

“Boinking?”

*

Alex and I hugged each other goodbye and the next day I was back in New York. I had to attend this Writers in New York event for Gotham Writers where I got to wear a fancy blouse and suit jacket that made me look sexy professor librarian chic and not Hillary Rodham Clinton pantsuit disaster. I met up with a group of my writer friends because I had that now. There were all cool women because male writers are weird and either old or misogynistic or arrogant or all of the above.

I hung out with Maddie a lot. She was a year younger than me and worked as a part-time professor for The New School and spent the rest of the time writing part-time for Vogue Magazine. She was always complaining about how busy she was but she was always at these events. I had the opposite problem of having too much free time, although that was becoming less and less true.

We were smoking cigarettes outside with glasses of scotch and talked about how we wished we had cigars so we could be like those old literary professors we loathed. “All I need is a beer belly and a Viagra addiction and I’ll be lecturing at Columbia in no time,” I quipped. I took a drag like taking a deep breath.

“That’s until you get caught touching a student’s ass,” she joked back.

I waved her off. “I’ll get a cushy suspension package and be back in no time.” I sipped my scotch and was reminded of Alex’s hands around a glass. Maddie only vaguely knew about him and that’s why I felt the freedom to tell her. Opal could be judgy. (I did eventually tell her and she wasn’t surprised. She asked if it was worth it. I said yes. She said good. And that was that. Although, she did start to make plenty of annoying jokes about it but it was worth that too). 

“Are you going to get back together?” Maddie asked with riveting curiosity as if she was reading through Page Six. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I weirdly don’t care. The ambiguity of it left a lot of imagining in the air. I don’t know when I’ll even see him again.”

“Do you want to?”

I nodded. “I still love him.”

“Then how can you not get back together with him?” The answer was always simple for me: love had nothing to do with our relationship. I would love Alex forever it would ebb and flow and change but I know we both would have a love for one another that only the two of us could fully understand. It was under lock and key in our minds and it was a shared experience only we would know about. It’s impossible not to love someone who shared that with you. It would not be ripped away from me.

When I got back home that night, Alex sent me an email with pictures of New Zealand. At the end of his length message, he wrote, Let me know if you change your mind. Australia is not too bad either. Or London. We could even grab a pint with Robert if you want though I would object to the threesome. I don’t need anything else making me insecure. Keep me updated and don’t drink too many woo woos. Love, Al.

The possibility of a vacation was wishful thinking. My second book was headed toward release and the summer seemed to fill my schedule up beyond a long flight to Australia that would likely cause me major sleep issues. London was a nice thought but having just been there it wasn’t likely. Moreover, I didn’t want to chase him this time. That’s what stopped me from saying we would get back together.

*

New York was too hot during the summer but I stayed in it. Alex and I talked on the phone occasionally. Conversations were usually mundane in the way I always loved. We were filling each other’s silence. Whenever we would get to the end and try and say goodbye the other thought of a story to tell and we talked for another hour. It was a dance we did. One time he tried to talk about it—whatever we were. I told him, “We’ll talk about it when we see each other again. Did you know the Eiffel Tower grows up to 6 inches in the summer?”

Fennel and Kaka threw a massive dinner party for their anniversary at Lotte New York Palace. I had never been somewhere so stunning in my life and with every move I was worried I’d break something and have to pay for it.

After dinner, I went out to the courtyard for a smoke. When I pulled the pack out of my clutch purse, I saw I had a missed call from Alex. He was in Iowa, back on the road. He answered after two rings. “Hello,” he said all formal and pristine.

“Heyo!” I cheered back. “What’s up?”

His voice was light and he sounded happy. “Nothing really. Wanted to see what you were up to.”

“I’m at Fennel and Kaka’s anniversary party. I told you about it.” We were back to that. We communicated about our days and lives and he no longer felt so far out of reach and with that I didn’t feel so far out of reach to my own self.

“Ah. Right.”

“I’m standing in this fancy hotel’s courtyard in a dress that is way too expensive to be stinking it up with my smoke right now. Fennel gave it to me as a gift for his anniversary ‘cause he’s a whackjob. It’s a 1997 Dolce & Gabbana sheer black lace gown thing and I know that doesn’t mean much to you but that’s expensive.” It was the perfect dress. I had never felt more tailored to a T. It’ll be a dress I give to my children because it deserves to stay in the family. Maybe I’ll be buried in it.

My hand moved down the lace just admiring it on my own body. He cleared his throat. “It means something to me.” I could hear the hunger in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. “Right. I forgot you’re André Leon Talley.”

He hummed. He had no clue who that was. “You should send me a picture so I know what it looks like.” He always struggled with subtlety in the seduction department. He didn’t even have a face that fell a certain way to hide behind. 

“Alex, you’re not clever.”

“What?” He tried to act like he had no clue of his words or his tone that overflowed with lust. His voice naturally came off erotic after the effects of cigarettes, singing, and if you’re a person like me with a predisposition to a Northern English accent. “I want to see the Dolce & Gabbana. If you love it so much.”

“I never said I loved it.”

“Janie.” 

I gave in because he was cute and horny. “I’ll send you the photo I took before I left. You gonna jack off to it?” I quipped. This was my version of flirting. 

He snorted. “You’re so romantic, Janie.” (He didn’t deny it). “I’ll save you the trouble if you just want to have phone sex here.”

“You’re not funny,” I said back. “In fact, you’re a creep.”

“You’re horny.”

“Oh, my god. Ew, you’re disgusting.”

“No, you totally are. You only get freaked out by this stuff when you are. You turn into a massive prude when you’re turned on. Are you wet?”

“I’m gonna hang up,” I threatened. 

He was laughing at me. “You’re totally gonna go into the bathroom and jerk off right now.”

“Bye, Alex. Have a nice time with your penis.”

I sent him the photo and refused to give into the idea he had of me and whatever his sick perverted fantasy he projected on to me. (I did it when I got home).

*

Alex visited me the last week of September. Fall had allegedly begun but summer weather remained to haunt. He decided to spend part of his tour break in New York claiming it would be cooler than LA but it was in fact hotter. Besides, if he wanted cooler weather he should’ve just gone back to Britannia.

He came in around dinner time, taking the subway to my apartment. He buzzed up and I met him at the top of the stairs because I didn’t want to help carry his belongings. After he dropped off his things and refreshed himself, we got dinner at Gage & Tollner, which was fancy but you could get away with wearing jeans. He made fun of me for getting oysters and we split a Baked Alaska for dessert because I had never had one before.

We went back to my apartment and watched Halloween H20: Halloween 20 Years Later, which made us feel stoned even though we never lit up. Alex was particularly fond of LL Cool J’s role. The movie has since become a staple around Halloween time.

I began flipping through channels after the movie had finished not wanting to watch whatever Superman movie followed it. It was nearing 11 PM and the options were limited to The 700 Club or some late night talk show.

I flicked away and Alex leaned over and kissed me. I was taken away by that programming. We slept together. I think that was inevitable. It was unavoidable no matter how much at dinner we joked and skirted around what had happened at the wedding. We waited until the night hours when the sun didn’t shine the truth on us.

In the morning, we fell into an old routine. I wore his boxers and one of my ratty white Hanes tank tops and he didn’t even bother to put on a shirt as we ate breakfast. We even did the crossword together. 

We dressed for the day—I, in a skirt and some spaghetti strapped top, him, in jeans and a dark tee, unrespectful for the balance of the seasons. I was already sweating by the time we stepped outside. He was fine somehow, something I’ll never understand.

I grabbed an iced coffee from the corner cafe and we took the subway up to Central Park, walking from the south of it to the northern edge. “I never come here,” I told him. “It’s too long of a ride.” I didn’t mention that it reminded me of him. It felt stupid for a landscape so large and iconic to forever be tainted by one person that you’d avoid said landmark. Well, it was also a 40-minute subway ride away and Brooklyn had parks of its own but Al still liked to go to Central Park.

“I loved going here,” he said. “I would come up here while you were at work and go somewhere new every time but always ended up watching someone play baseball.”

I laughed. “You’re gonna end up coaching one of these days.”

“Like Little League or something?” He questioned.

I didn’t answer questions about little children and Alex being the coach of some kid’s baseball team. Not just some kid but his kid. “Why’d you never tell me that?” I knew about his love for Central Park but these excursions were mysterious. It would be a simple shrug on how his day went and he would say he went to Central Park and then that was all. I never asked what he did there either. I was less interested in other people in those days.

He thought about it as we climbed up the makeshift stairs for a hill. He scratched his cheek with his mouth in an open circle. Chewed up whatever he was thinking in his mouth. He landed on, “I don’t know.” He chewed some more. “It felt more special that way. It was something just for me, you know? We did so much together that…I don’t know.”

The way he put it made secrets feel like a sweet thing. The omission of things is actually a treat and was something for me to be endeared by now. Suddenly, every other thing he kept from me, those nights were he sat far away from me and smoked outside with a closed notebook, they were all delights for him and not things I pondered about until I fell asleep.

“Did you feel a need to keep things from me?” I blamed myself. Even in that moment, I knew it was stupid to feel that way. 

“No.” He thought about it a little. He moved his face, twisted it up in a way that I knew he didn’t fully believe that. “Not intentionally.”

We were descending the hill when I asked, “What’s that mean?” I was lighthearted about it. I had the attitude that what was done was done and it had been done so long ago that it almost felt like another life. I had a dull edge to it.

“Young and a natural inclination to be taciturn. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. I just walked around but I think I didn’t have a lot of things that were my own here. You had a whole life here that I wasn’t apart of.”

I almost told him that wasn’t true but I could already picture the look he would give me and I would agree that it was probably true. I acclimated much quicker to New York with a job and friends. I don’t think Alex ever fully adjusted. “I always worried about what you were keeping from me and I’m realizing now that it was probably just a bunch of your typical dorky shit.”

“Oh, thanks, Jane,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to come off that way. Truthfully, I just didn’t have a lot going on in the first place.”

“You were bored here.” It never occurred to me that Alex could feel the same as me. Call it being in your twenties and raised with selfish role models. I’m still undoing the whole world revolving around me thing. I am writing a book about myself so…there’s that.

He tossed his head from side to side. “I wouldn’t say bored. Not by New York. I think I was bored of myself.”

“Are you still?” He was the most fascinating person to me I couldn’t imagine the idea of being bored or tired of him. He saved me from boredom endless times. Just the idea of him, daydreaming, fantasizing, lamenting over him. I did it all.

“Sometimes. Not as much as before. Kinda too busy to deal with that.”

I nodded and sipped the last of my iced coffee before tossing it. “A rare benefit of no free time. I’m no longer so concerned with myself because I don’t have time to be. Only in the mirror in the morning really.”

“When you give yourself pep talks?”

I jabbed him with my elbow. “I did that one time. Maybe if you gave me a pep talk before that job interview I wouldn’t have had to do it myself.” He was still laughing at the memory.

We stood on the top of Bow Bridge and watched as people sat on the lake in their rowboats. “You wanna do that?”

I scoffed. “No, rowing hurts my arms.”

He gave me a taunting grin. “Weak.”

We walked up to The Met. They had an exhibit called Early American Guitars that piqued Alex’s interest but they didn’t have that many so we ended up going to the In Miniature exhibit that piqued my interest because I like tiny things. We roamed the halls of it until we got too hungry we had to leave for lunch.

I wanted to go to Lexington Candy Shoppe but Alex insisted he was so hungry he couldn’t walk the three blocks to get there. So, we bought hot dogs and sat on the steps of The Met. “I can’t remember the last time I had a hot dog,” I said.

He was chewing and trying his best to not have his toppings fall on his clothes as he said, “Neither can I.”

“I thought I would hate it but I kind of like it which is totally disgusting because this hot dog has probably been sitting in his cart for like years because you know they buy these in bulk for sure and then they are sitting out there all day until we order them and then they are thrown in this dirty water that they never clean but it’s still good. In fact, it’s probably the best hot dog I’ve ever had and it’s disgusting. I’ll be burping hot dog all day but it’s worth it, I think. I was starved and this feels like my death row meal.”

He listened, nodded, and said, “What would you be on death row for?” Because that’s the kind of person Alex is. He listened to that whole rant about hot dogs and appreciated it. I think he might have some sanity issues because I don’t really know how a person can put up with my level of talking and enjoy it. He claims to.

“Stealing hot dogs or something. I don’t know. Or a hot dog cart license. Do you know how much money they make? I read an article that hot dog stands make over $100,000 per year but a license, especially in a place outside The Met or Central Park is so expensive that not your average Joe can do it. Maybe you should invest in something like that.”

“Wouldn’t I then have to run the actual hot dog stand?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you can hire a guy to do it for you. Because it’s never women is it? Have you ever seen a woman run a hot dog stand?”

“Do you want to work at a hot dog stand?”

“No. Maybe only men are gross enough to deal with that dirt water boiling thing. I think we need to break the gender barrier on that.”

“This sounds like a great piece for The New York Times. Front page news.”

I laughed with him. “Don’t mock me. I’m serious.”

“I know. Truly I’m entranced by you talking about hot dogs. I don’t think any other person can do that. I think you should write a piece about it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“Kind of. Then again, I think you could write a piece about anything.”

*

Saturday night I had plans to go out. It was the standing day of the week and counted as my job falling somewhere in the category of “networking.” I told Alex that he could come along or spend the night in at my place or get up to whatever secret shit he wanted to.

He strangely enthusiastically said, “No, I’ll join ya!” 

The Good Room (horrible name for a club) had opened that year and it felt like everybody who lived in Brooklyn went there, at least everyone I knew. It was loud and seizure-inducing but still probably the best club in Brooklyn. Not that I really go clubbing anymore.

Drinks were heavy and it was the kind of place where you felt like the night would never end, the music would keep going and the party would never die down. Alex met some of my friends. They shouted their names at each other and shared the experience of dancing in the middle of a booming bass speaker. It didn’t make for good conversation but it was a nice bonding experience.

We were there until the night became morning but not as late as most of my friends stayed. Alex was leaving the next day and even though the flight wasn’t until the afternoon he still wanted a good night’s sleep (and time to do other stuff). 

Before we left we had a smoke outside because tradition is tradition and few things in life are as good as being sort of drunk, dark outside, and Alex standing beside me. It also left time for it to feel like the world was cracking open in front of my eyes and daunting truths that I didn’t want to let slip from my lips now felt powerless to stop them from coming out of my mouth. “We should probably talk about it now. Before you go.”

He nodded but didn’t talk.

“This is a bit of an endless cycle,” I said. “You and me and maybe—”

He interrupted. “Let’s talk about it later.” He wouldn’t look me in the eye. The ground was much more interesting. “After the tour.”

“Okay,” I muttered. Anything not bite-sized felt impossible.

We left it at that. The routine didn’t change but everything was tinted differently. A sense of goodbye haunted the area. We were numbed by alcohol. In the morning, we hugged goodbye tightly like we were two old pals. As if we were in a timeline where all we ever were to each other was friends.

Photos were taken of us outside the nightclub and it made me laugh. I have a sense of humour about these things that might be misplaced but Alex and I joked about it as if we’d be cutting it out and placing it in our scrapbook. Like the conversation being photographed wasn’t some awkward jolted painful thing. Like we weren’t some awkward jolted painful thing. 

*

History Lesson was released on the first day of November. It was less eventful than my first book. I suppose the second time around isn’t as exciting. You’ve already conquered the mountaintop and after people aren’t as shocked you did it a second time. Or maybe it is more shocking? If you do it well I guess, which was kind of the consensus for that collection of stories. It sticks out like a sore thumb and maybe my lack of enthusiasm was because I wasn’t super satisfied with how it turned out.

Still, I did a book tour for it, which was fine. I’m still not a fan of tours. I like home. Whatever or whoever that is at the time.

It was the last one I ever did and with reason because I don’t really see why authors have to tour and scattered signings around major cities are fine with me. I went to Syracuse on this tour. Syracuse is not fun in winter.

But I ended up in LA. For Alex and me, this was the benefit of touring.

He came to the event. I think I hated that most of all about the book tour. He showed up before it began and we grabbed a coffee at this place on the corner because I hate Starbucks (I wish it was in the social justice way but no they just always mess up my order). He joked about showing up at the table to get his book signed and I said if he did that I’d skin him alive.

Luckily, he didn’t. We talked about the book briefly, mostly him just being nice about it, things that weren’t true despite his continued claim that they were even after I told him to shut up about it. We walked back to the bookstore and I refused him being in the audience of chairs so he walked around and stood out of my view. He said he wouldn’t listen in but I know he did.

On the drive back to his place, he wouldn’t stop talking about how eloquently I had spoken. I think he got a kick out of the way I told him to stop and would duck my head to the side so he couldn’t see I was blushing.

“And you always said you were a horrible public speaker but you’re a fucking good one,” he enthused.

We were stuck in LA traffic. “I think you’re gonna need your eyes checked, Al. I said ‘um’ about a million times and stuttered while reading my own words.”

He shook his head. “You’ve heard me speak and you think you’re bad at talking.”

“You know, we can both be bad at something. It’s not a competition.”

He chuckled tightly, almost embarrassed by it, covering his mouth as it rippled out. “Oh, my god. You of all people are saying it’s not a competition.”

I squashed my laugh the best I could. “Fair enough. But I think we both lose either way.”

*

He made me dinner. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. One that was sloppy and that he forgot to bring out a fork for me and he oversalted it but I didn’t say anything. It was too lovely to ruin with my criticism.

“I would love to learn how to cook but there’s barely any space in my apartment so if a fire starts the whole place would burn down right away,” I told him over a glass of wine.

“As long as you can boil water, I think you’re fine,” he assured me. “You could come out here and practice.”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve got a lot of space in my kitchen. If you ever wanted to try or something.”

I didn’t engage with his suggestion. I wanted to enjoy my stay and whatever this was. My response to it, a rejection of LA and moving out here again for him, would ruin that bliss. I changed the subject and everything else went along smoothly.

My stay was supposed to be for a week. As the week moved further along, Alex dropped words about how warm LA was compared to the bitter cold New York had become. Again, I didn’t engage with it. We enjoyed our time hiking, movies, drinking, and having sex.

We didn’t kiss outside the area of sex. If one of us kissed the other it was a clear message of “Hey, I’d like to fuck you now.” We both had free schedules and a large house to ourselves so it was easy to engage in this behaviour. 

One evening, while I was giving him head a pain shot through my mouth. I pulled back instantly clutching my cheek. “What?” He asked. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head not able to talk with the pain in my mouth.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head again.

“Okay. Okay. What can I do?” His concern was unimaginably sweet but I couldn’t help my amusement of his hard dick standing there while I winced. “Medicine?”

I shrugged but after I opened my mouth an inch and excruciating pain rippled through my whole body I quickly nodded. 

Alex ran off to fetch some. I sat trying to dissect the pain. I felt around my mouth with my tongue and the pain just increased more. He returned to the sight of my body curled up on my side and my face scrunched up barely able to look at him.

He held my back to help me sit up. I struggled to open my mouth to take the pills. After I swallowed, he asked, “What hurts? Did you break something?”

I managed to mumble. “Mouth. Teeth.”

“Did you break a tooth?”

I shook my head.

“You still have your wisdom teeth, right?”

I nodded and pointed a finger, emphasizing that this was definitely that.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in this much pain.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Sleep make better.” I started to spread out on his bed.

“I think you should be able to talk more than Frankenstein’s monster.”

It made me laugh, which only hurt me more. It took me a while to fall asleep. He stayed up until I did.

*

My teeth were infected. Not only infected but impacted. They were laid on their side, unable to fully erupt, stuck in my gums, infecting them, and now my mouth. Of course, they had erupted just enough to begin slicing the side of my cheeks.

It was determined through the emergency dentist, Alex, and myself that I would not be going back to New York with my wisdom teeth. I couldn’t imagine going through airport security with that level of pain, I could barely make the car ride to the dentist.

On the ride back from the consultation where it was determined that I would need to get them removed as soon as possible but still had to wait until they had an opening, Alex joked, “Do you think my cum infected it?”

It was so gross and disgusting and made me laugh so hard that I forgot about the pain for a moment until it shot through me again. As I winced, he took one hand off the wheel and placed it on my shoulder, squeezing it and rubbing my upper back for the remainder of the car ride. I wanted to kiss him, kiss the hand that was the only comfort I had, but it hurt too much.

After I got them removed, drugged up, and gauze stuffed in my mouth to stop the bleeding, I talked in muffled words as the dentist told Alex the aftercare instructions. I felt warm all over him watching him listen intently to the dentist but also stare at me and my messed up swollen face. He made faces at me to make me feel a little better like I was a baby he was playing peek-a-boo with. I don’t remember anything I said but Alex said I was emotional and very funny. So, not much different than my regular disposition.

The hazy effect of the drugs began to ease up on the car ride home where I was able to at least follow what was going on around me. “I love drugs. Modern medicine is great.”

“Yeah, you’d probably be dead from the infection otherwise.”

I stared at Alex. “Wow, thanks. That’s really comforting.”

“Well, you’re not dead.”

“Thanks, Al. I didn’t realize.” I laughed. I don’t know if I found it funny or the drugs found it funny. “I would’ve had to have you use pilers to get them out.”

He grimaced before shaking off the thought. “Well, all of your wisdoms gone. What are you going to do now?”

I rolled my eyes. “Very funny, dad.”

*

In the days of recovering, we camped out on the couch. We talked occasionally but that was tough for me in the first few days. Alex did a good job of taking care of me. Better than I would have done that’s for sure. He made food and searched high and low for these freezy pops I like that had a tough time being located in winter.

As I began to get better and actually function independently with manageable pain, the question of when I would leave was raised. The unanswerable idea of what we were doing remained until the swelling in my mouth went down and I told him, “We should probably talk about it before I leave. You know, boundaries and rules.”

He smirked. “You’re very proper.”

I shamed him for making me laugh. It was always his greatest tool in distracting me. “I’m serious.”

“Shall we write up a contract?”

I rolled my eyes. “Alex.”

“Jane,” he sighed. He leaned against the back of the couch, placing his head on his fist. He looked too relaxed for my liking. I was mulling things over, stuck in distress and he looked fine as ever. “You’re going back to New York. I’m staying here.”

“So, we should…end it.”

“Is that what you want?” He was wide-eyed like he either didn’t want to believe me or didn’t believe me at all.

I almost lied. It would have been easier. It would heal the wound and not leave things festering to be hurt more. It would be closure but that would have been boring. “No.”

His mouth ticked up. “There it is then.”

I raised an eyebrow, still completely lost on our status. “Are you my boyfriend again?”

“Do you want me to be?”

I threw my hands up in the air. I pulled my hair into a bun feeling too heated to have it down. “Why do I have to make all the decisions?”

“Everyone knows you wear the pants in the relationship, Janie.”

“Sexist,” I quipped.

He smiled all-knowingly like he had a premonition of how this was all going to turn out and he was just waiting for me to realize it. “Do you want me to make the decision?”

I shrugged. I liked having my way but I no longer wanted to drag the person along with me, kicking and screaming. “I’d like your input. I care what you think.”

“I think you’ll go back to New York and I’ll stay here and in the next couple of months maybe I’ll visit and maybe you’ll visit or we meet somewhere. I could be your boyfriend then. If you wanted.”

“Like during those visits?”

“Yeah, and if during those times when you’re alone in New York if you want to go out with some other guy then that’s fine with me.” He was very matter-of-fact. Not one ounce of jealousy poured out of him and I realized that it no longer bugged me. It kind of turned me on more than a jealous Alex ever did. He trusted me. Go figure, that’s actually a good thing.

I smirked at him, inching closer. “Is this just your rule so you can bang a bunch of hot girls?”

“No,” he chuckled, “if I wanted to bang hot girls I wouldn’t be driving you to the airport tomorrow.”

I blushed because he was saying things like that and looking at me like that and I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to get on a plane tomorrow when I wanted to be doing just that. 

“And if at some point New York gets boring or too cold or if LA burns down or people talk about their cold-pressed juices too much then maybe we’ll end up somewhere together.”

The idea felt mature and practically and maybe a little flawed but it felt like a Sex & the City adult relationship. We both knew what we could give the other and this time expectations were set to prevent disappointment.

He kissed me for the first time since the surgery. We didn’t have sex after. He just wanted to kiss me to kiss me. 

*

a/n: i hope this isn't too alexa chung coded. anyway, i'm very proud of this chapter. maybe just because i wrote so much. so i hope you like it. happy v day.

[sokkastyles]

I don't think it's downplaying Yue or Kya's or Ursa's sacrifice to point out that they lack the narrative agency to really be ranked among the most heroic characters in the narrative. In fact, I feel like the writer included them on this list because of the deficit of truly heroic female characters in the show who play main roles. Neither of these women really had choices and their sacrifice is expected of them. They are written the way female characters are so often written, as beautiful plot devices. Even if you compare to the minor male characters on the list, like freaking Bumi, what makes them heroic is that they are acting and making choices. What makes the women heroic is that they died or were forced out, and their sacrifice is meant to narratively motivate other characters. Yue saves the world but she is not given a choice about it and doesn't do it through any special qualities of her own, she does it because she was destined to by birth. Yue as a character makes me so sad because she didn't have any choices in life, either. Had she lived, she would have been married to someone she didn't choose. And she gets to be idealized as a character who did her duty and never had a bad thought because she didn't live long enough to. Maybe if she had lived longer, she would have found herself stuck in a situation like Ursa's, and we all know what kind of criticisms Ursa gets for not magically solvong every problem in her children's lives. At least the writer of this listicle doesn't criticize Ursa, but he doesn't have much to say about her, either, except that her "devotion to Zuko is very touching."

I just came across a Top 10 most heroic Avatar characters and Zuko wasnt one of them. Their reason Was apparantly that "Zuko only turned good in S3 and couldnt be seen as a hero before". Idk that left a very bad Taste in my Mouth especially considering that Bumi made Nr7. What are your thoughts on this ?

Lol I read the article and I think the bad taste comes from the idea that being a hero means you have to have a spotless record? It's the problem I have with most Zuko discourse that usually comes from people trying to diminish his importance in the narrative. I mean, Kya, Ursa, and Yue also make the list but like, they are barely in the narrative and their roles are mostly to be innocent and idealized and then die or disappear.

Well, then, I vote the papaya Katara ate in the fortune teller episode. It gave its life for that girl even thought it was hated.

I don't get the logic of "someone who only appears briefly can be a hero, but Zuko wasn't a hero long enough." Yue appears in two episodes. Zuko may have started out as a villain, but he was fighting the baddies and demonstrating qualities of compassion and sacrifice by episode 3. I'd say what got him banished itself was an act of heroism and that Zuko was actually a hero long before he himself knew it, and even when he is free to be a true hero he spends most of the time denying that he is one.

Not to quote that edgelord line about heroes from The Dark Knight, but if a character gets labeled as a hero just because they didn't live long enough to have their actions scrutinized while another character can't be labeled as one because they survived the world trying to beat their heroism out of them and came out stronger then idk what a hero is.

Here's what google has to say about the definition of a hero:

"...especially excessively or unexpectedly so."

In fact, I'd argue that one of the reasons Zuko stands out as a hero in the story is because we don't expect it of him. But it's a far more realistic and relatable heroic ideal than the idea that people are good or evil from birth and the hero saves the world because destiny says so.

The best heroes are the ones who do it even though it's hard, even thought destiny tells them that heroism wasn't meant for them. The whole thing about heroic sacrifice is that it has to be a sacrifice, meaning that they have to choose it consciously. It's not a heroic sacrifice if a character just suffers or has things taken from them.

I'll also provide one of my favorite definitions of a hero, from Quest for Glory 2. Hold onto your seats, because I'm busting out a poem from a computer game from 1990.

And they ask "What is a hero?"

Though the answer's very clear.

He's the one who faces danger

When the darkness hovers near.

He will face the fiercest foe

When another needs his aid,

He will dare to defy death

Even though he is afraid.

He works not just for glory

And he does it not for gain,

but because he knows that others

will be spared a greater pain.

He won't always follow orders

For he dares to answer "why?"

And unless he likes the reason

He refuses to comply.

He will brave the battle boldly

Even though he may not win.

He will face his fate unflinching,

For he is a paladin.

And they ask, "What is a hero?"

Though the answer's evident.

He's the one who faces death

Knowing that his life's well spent.

[just-null]

Wowie rly digging the yandere clone headcanons… how would each react if their darling tried to run away from them?!

You said tried so I assume this was a failed attempt!

Short answer: they get really upset and try making it your fault (shocker.) Ain't no way any of these mfs think they're the problem. Good news! you're mostly unharmed and alive.

This will just be purely writing bc i mostly had thoughts! sorry no drawing this time!!

[cw! mentions of potential harm to reader (no actual harm done), manipulation, toxic relationship dynamics (yandere flavor), obsessive behavior]

Sekido

You're always being hunted the moment the sun comes down and you don't return home in time. Reasons like that are exactly why he hates it when you part from him. 

This time is different.. he can't find you in your usual spots. There's no fucking way, right?

How could you.. No, how DARE you? Do you think that he's some joke? That his feelings for you are something that you can run away from like it's nothing? 

The second he's sure the sun won't harm him, he's already white knuckling his khakkhara, swinging at anything and everything in his path until he gets to you.

They know how to sense if you're near or not, hell, they probably know how your specific blood type smells like. 

Did you think cuddling up to you and memorizing every detail about you was for nothing? Don't be stupid. All he needs is a trace of you and he's gone in the blink of an eye.

You better enjoy running while you can because when he catches you, and he will, those legs of yours won't have much use after he's done with them. 

Sekido doesn't WANT to do this, but you honestly give him no choice. After he trusted you enough to stop looking over his shoulder, you do this? How can he ever put any faith in you again!?

On the bright(?) side, Sekido's rage wouldn't be solely on you, it'll ricochet onto everyone, especially the other clones and himself. 

They were supposed to be looking after you! But they can't do anything right, even a task as simple as this. 

And why did he think it was a good idea to trust them with something of big importance when all they do is fuck everything up!? Everyone's idiocy is rubbing off on him!

The entire time on his search for you, he's cursing and wanting to crush anything he can get his hands on, especially your bones. 

He doesn't even bother with speaking to the others, too busy spewing out all sorts of hurtful and frustrated comments about everything. 

The brutal thought that you’d rather run away than be with him isn't one he wants to entertain, but it's echoing in his head.

At least, once the other clones get there, Karaku and Aizetsu brawl with Sekido so you're unharmed while Urogi carries you overhead. 

Sekido's jealousy flares up when he sees you in Urogi's arms, making him even more pissed if that's even possible. Great, now he looks like the bad guy and the other three, the saviors. Fucking perfect.

There's a lot of yelling and a lot of blood, especially with Urogi making things so much more annoyingly difficult in the air. Karaku and Aizetsu aren't helping. Why is Sekido suddenly the problem?! You ran away!! 

But when he calms down enough, he's cursing at everyone through clenched teeth. Sometimes trying to convince the others that you don't even need your legs anyway!!

Once you get back home (or temporary prison until you somehow regain favor), Sekido will eye your legs while gripping his staff from time to time. 

Exactly why he's forbidden to be in a room alone with you for a while until he settles down..

He glares at you more often and grows colder than before. Arguments are more common where he twists your words just to have you talk with him and be angry within reason. 

Any other type of conversation makes him so irrationally upset that the others need to step in so that he doesn't lose his temper again.

Karaku

The calmest out of the group. He brushes it off as “you're playing hard to get” again, and if he makes a ruckus, you'll scamper back and beg him to stop like always!

Then it gets darker out.. and when Sekido left, he seemed pretty pissed. Like more than usual..... shit.

Karaku sprints after Sekido when it clicks that he's found you. His mind starts reeling, unsure whether he should laugh at the absurdity of your decisions or get pissed off because you didn't even bother to give a hint! 

Not like that would do anything aside from give you away but regardless!

Everyone needs to relax, this is obviously something they can sweep under the rug. This isn't that big of a deal and you're just having a fit, but things like these can get you hurt, y'know? 

They're fun and all, sure, just maybe give him a heads up next time, yeah? Sekido can't take a joke, you know this!!! Still.. There's a way Karaku can work with this.

He'll be able to swoop in, save you, be your hero, and remind you why staying with him is kinda important. Just in case you forgot~ 

You don't wanna be out and about without his charming grin and protective hold would you? Don't answer that right now, he has a feeling you'll say something wrong!

Yet.. what if you need a firmer hand to remind you of what Karaku provides? What if you got a little too comfortable being protected so you thought you'd be alright leaving them? Man, who knew you could be spoiled!

Because of this, he would purposely fumble, letting Sekido get near you just so he can stop him at the perfect moment. He purposely gets hit too and makes sure some blood gets near you. To remind you how that could've been yours.

When Sekido calms down, Karaku laughs in your face and would pinch your cheeks if you weren't up in the air with Urogi on the way home.

You should've seen your face! It was really cute~! Maybe getting scared is your thing? He'll note that for later.

He offhandedly advises you not to do things like that all the time, fighting Sekido always kinda sucks, but it's not like you actually had a chance of successfully running away so he won't chastise you too much for it. 

That's not his job, and his heart hasn’t pumped that fast in a long time.. not even in a fight! You're so amazing~~

And delusional if you think he's not going to milk this “heroism” thing back there for some extra affection points with you. 

Don't be so mean. he got his head blown off twice and jaw dislocated thrice, not to mention everywhere else on his body. Don't you think those parts of him need some extra loving? more than usual?

There's not that much Karaku can say after that aside from reminiscing like it was a funny story. He's not upset about it, mostly a little miffed you got kinda far without him noticing, but he gets over it. 

The usual routine starts back up for him when you're back home. It's like nothing happened, but he keeps a closer eye on you since everyone's so tense.

Urogi

If you're not home before the sun sets, Urogi's clawing at the walls with stress. He usually accompanies Sekido to go find you, but this time is different. Urogi could just barely tell you were around.. When Sekido bolts, Urogi's flying as fast as he can, trying to find you first. 

You're so far.. you must've gotten kidnapped!!!!!

The stress from before burns into anger, expecting to see someone having their hands on you while you're calling out in vain. How could he let this happen?! Damn sun! 

He darts through the skies even faster imagining it, and when he finally reaches you, you look.. fine? and alone. and looking at him like he's the danger. He's here to save you, dummy..

Urogi falls to his knees, burying his face against your stomach and finally wrapping his arms around you again. Your fists violently hit his head and yank fistfuls of hair back, but it doesn't phase him. 

Your comforting warmth is back, that's all that matters. And god, your smell.. it's almost making him dizzy. He missed you so much.

There's many holes to the story in Urogi's head as to why you're so far from home, but he fills them in with more convoluted delusions. It's just a peaceful reunion right now.. 

That is until Sekido finally arrives and starts swinging his khakkhara way too close to your fragile bones. 

Now he's back in defense mode where he scoops you up and tries flying out of reach. This is so stressful!!! There's lightning everywhere and he keeps having to dodge the multiple staffs thrown his way. 

He shields you with his wings as best he can while trying to stay in the air, so you don't get hurt during Sekido's outburst.

In the skies, it's much clearer to see the hurt behind the haunting glow of Urogi's eyes. Did you care about how he might feel? Did you miss him at all? Did you not feel loved enough? Did someone say something to you? 

As he maneuvers the sky, he holds you as tightly as possible, lightly digging his talons into your skin.

Being without you for a couple hours is agonizing enough on its own. If you HAD left him, abandoned, cold, alone.. he doesn't want to think about it. All that matters is that your kidnappers or liars or whatever influenced you are gone, and you're back safe with them!!! 

You.. you still like him, right? Of course you do, fate wouldn't force your paths together if it wasn't for a reason!

Coming back home is uncomfortably tense, especially with how violently Aizetsu kicked Urogi across the room, nearly through the wall, when he tried to lick your wounds clean. It really hurt! 

When you're patched up, Urogi is ten times as clingy if that's possible. He has his arms looped around you constantly so you can't stray too far, and if his hands are busy, he always has his wings!

As happy as he is that you're back, he can't help but cry into your chest sometimes. Everything is so tense nowadays, he hates it! How could you go and do something like that? Apologize immediately! Or at least hold him too? Doubt creeps in a lot, and your attitude isn't helping.. 

His mood swings are stronger. From sobbing uncontrollably into your clothes to being all smiles and radiating with joy the next just because you said something vaguely decent.

Aizetsu

The demotivation started to creep in the second you left. During the day, Aizetsu sits by the door, wanting to be the first one you properly greet. Sekido and Urogi usually bring you back and he'll be the one in your good graces without lifting a finger. That sounds nice.. 

But as the footsteps fade and the silence lingers, Aizetsu feels miserable the longer he waits... Hold on, silence?

Before he realizes what's happening, he's already dashing to where the familiar commotion is coming from. Dread sets in as his legs take him as fast as they can whilst being the slowest of the four. This doesn't feel like they're rushing over to you after a long day, it feels.. dangerous?

What did you get yourself into..? Why do you insist on going to places Aizetsu can't follow? Are you safe? He hates not knowing.

Usually you're the one who's fine. You deal with four demons almost daily! Please please please be okay. He can't fathom it if you were hurt. 

When he gets there, the puzzle pieces fall into place and Aizetsu gets even more depressed, but at least you're not hurt. Well, not if he interferes. His movements are sluggish, a perpetual frown plastered on his face as he tries holding Sekido down. 

Aizetsu wants to dissolve into the floor, and he does sometimes. Not wanting to fight Sekido off anymore, he slumps over. 

This could've been a regular day where you came home.. Are you serious? Leaving? How pitiful could you be to actually think you could get away? Or was it that you wanted to play some sick joke on them? Well, it's not very funny... It's terrible actually.

Aizetsu stays silent on the way home, walking with a bit more energy knowing you're near despite his heart ache.

You can feel the harrowing disappointment radiating off of him the moment you all go back home.

He's tired, annoyed, and so unbelievably upset. Aizetsu grimaced when Urogi got near your scratches with his tongue, so he “politely” ushered him away. 

Knowing a human's weak points is good in battle, but he started trying to learn how to heal them, specifically because he knew these types of things might happen.

As he cleans your scratches, he's actively scolding you for leaving in a cold emotionless tone. And by scolding, he's using manipulative language, trying to make you guilty for everything you did. 

He barely has the energy to live, but now that he finally found his light in the darkness, you want to leave? Is it so wrong he wants to hold onto what makes him even a smidgen happier than usual? He reminds you that he'll wither away without you, but he's not really too keen on dying just yet.

When he tries to get back into a routine, he just can't. He knows why you left, but he doesn't want to hear it. Even if you're sweet to him or not, he'll hold you from behind when you rest.

Looking at you is too much, but being away from you is even worse. Aizetsu compromises this way, but gets quieter, occasionally sniffling when he hides his face behind you.

There's too much going on and he's so tired.. If it weren't for the others, he probably would've held you so tight for so long so that you both would perish together.

Maybe that’s why he's only allowed to hold you when you're asleep. Just please don't do that again.. He NEEDS you. Please, please, please.

Safe to say you gave them a scare. When they double down on the protectiveness, living is ten times more difficult for EVERYBODY. when you lose their trust, it's pretty difficult to gain it back, but not impossible!!

Sekido and Urogi will always assume the worst if you're gone for too long while Karaku and Aizetsu give you a little more freedom until the others drag them along into their worries.

[aristaspark]

Another JWCT season 2 Kenlynn analysis because I'm obsessed and I don't know if the writers are geniuses, or if I'm getting worked up over a whole lot of nothing 😂.

So, bear with me.

Kenji's arc in season 2 is clear from the first episode: he's throwing himself at danger because of the losses he's suffered. He's broken.

But in all that sadness, he has one last glimmer of hope: Bumpy's egg.

He's the one the most attached to it, even more so than Ben. After all these losses, it's the first sign of something good happening in his life. It's the contrary of death, a birth, "someone" new he can love.

During the entire season he's the most concerned with the egg, obsessed with getting it back, almost dying for it (more on that later).

Now flashfoward to episode 8: he discovers that Brooklynn is alive.

When he finds out, he's confused, hurt, mad, shook to his core (but props to the animators, for a split second...you can see that he is just... so happy).

"She's alive?"

But the hurt and feeling of betrayal is too hard for him to grasp, so he pushes all his feelings away. He knows it's not the time.

And what does he do in order to push away his feelings about Brooklynn?

He focuses on the egg, as we established the only thing in his life which isn't tarnished or hurtful. And he desperately needs it right now, now that his whole world is crumbling down even more. This shift in his priorities is shown when he says this:

"The eggs... Brooklynn took Bumpy's egg..."

At this point, Kenji's motivations are still unclear, but this line suggests that his main goal, the thing the most important to him at this moment is the same as it was at the beggining of the season, aka getting Bumpy's egg back... not getting to Brooklynn.

So when he goes berserk, driving like a madman, running as if his life depended on it to get to Brooklynn, of course we have the feeling that he wants to see her, but he's also running to achieve his objective, which has always been to take care of Bumpy's egg, and it just so happens that Brooklynn is the one obstacle to his goal.

We can see he's desperate, but it's left to interpretation as to exactly why.

Until he finally catches up to Brooklynn.

It's Brooklynn's hand he grabbs, not the case. The thing he wanted the most is in his direct reach, yet he grabbs her hand. In this moment, he completely forgets about the egg, not even sparing it a glance, not mentionning it even once.

"Brooklynn..."

All that matters to him is that the girl he loves is there, in front of him, which he thought would never happen again.

We finally have the confirmation that the reason he was so eager to run to that airport wasn't to get the egg back, but to see her. And not to get mad at her, no, just to... get her back.

And then, Brooklynn leaves.

She leaves them, but she leaves him. It's him she looks at the last, his grasp she frees herself from, him who utters her name afterward.

They're still at the center of the scene, and the scene is a direct call back to the break-up scene (also... their colors are matching, it's like not even a little subtle, which tells me there's a reason Brooklynn wore a dark blue shirt the entire season...which is SO NOT her color).

Notice how even there, it's Ben who remembers to ask Brooklynn to give them the egg.

"Wait! Bumpy's egg... it's in that case..."

It's SO FAR from being something Kenji can focus on right now, now that Brooklynn is in front of him.

We then find out that before boarding the plane, Brooklynn has given Kenji the egg. Not Ben (who was the one who asked for it), not Darius, but Kenji.

...And Kenji looks the most heart-broken he has ever looked.

He has just gotten his hands on what he thought he wanted the most, his ultimate goal this season, the very thing he threw himself into fire for, into an ocean beaten by the storm... and yet he's not even looking at it, his eyes instead watching the plane take off with Brooklynn inside.

He's gotten what he thought he wanted, but at what price?

It's not to diminish his link to Bumpy's egg. As I've shown, he risked his life countless times for it. But it just goes to show just how much Brooklynn matters to him. In that last scene, it's made clear that the thing he wanted the most, was for her to come back to them, to him. But she didn't, and gave him the egg to make up for it, as some sort of consolation price.

But it's not, and it will never be.

[bumblingbabooshka]

My name is [BRUTUS] and my name means [HEAVY] so with a [HEAVY] heart I'll guide this dagger Into the heart of my enemy

Something about having absolutely no choice in who you marry. About being literally forced by the law to spill blood - to accept this stranger as your husband over a man you truly care for or accept the fact that the man you love might die because you put him in danger. Something about risking becoming the wife of a man you've never even seen before a few minutes prior because you know anything would be better than putting your beloved in harm's way. Something about the trust inherent in that decision and in the way she speaks of it after. Truthfully, T'Pring doesn't know the captain and she doesn't know Spock. Either one of them could have taken her as their wife but she does know Stonn. She knows that Stonn will remain by her side no matter what. They made a plan together. They have an agreement which T'Pring believes will be upheld even though the plan changed with the arrival of Kirk. Stonn will always be there, always, and Stonn will be hers. Something about the language used around T'Pring: Ownership, subservience, non-personhood. T'Pring is an object that Spock can win. She cannot reject him, she has no say in the matter other than having Stonn 'claim' her instead. Even when Spock leaves after being very clearly rejected by T'Pring he says "Stonn, she is yours." as if despite her clear rejection he still owns her and is must formally 'give' her to Stonn. But the language T'Pring uses around Stonn is a break from that: "There was Stonn who wanted very much to be my consort, and I wanted him." Stonn who wanted very much to be HER consort and she WANTED him. The language here is very particular - It's not, for example: "Stonn wanted me to be his wife" - he is HERS. And she WANTS him. There's a mutual affection there and a strong trust - a trust which seems to be well founded since Stonn (though silent) stands by her side at the end of the episode. <- That might seem small but if Spock would reject her for 'daring to challenge' (again, the language is not 'because I don't want you' but more of an implied disgust at her having the AUDACITY to reject him) then it's not a stretch to assume that it'd be considered an insult in the TOS Vulcan society to NOT choose Stonn as her champion after a prior agreement. Anyway T'Pring was a woman in an impossible situation within a society which saw her as more of an object than a person and she wanted Stonn and Stonn wanted to be hers and she trusted that he would understand if she had to publicly pick someone else to ensure his life would be spared and he did understand.

[zoennes]

30 NOVEMBER, 2019 • ZATERDAG, 09:41

[graff-aganda]

No no ikr. The ENT fandom is so quiet around here. And honestly I'm just excited to see art of my favourite dudes, because we rarely get fanart around here, and when we do it's usually Trip or T'Pol solely. Malcolm gets left in the dust quite a lot so I'm happy you drew him as well - and so well done too!

Anyway, ramble over, lol.

OMG... Well I think I can see why a lot of fanart is of Trip and/or T'pol (those two seem like they're doing some heavy lifting for the show/are just a lot of people's faves. I've got a few half baked ideas in mind for them myself.) but the rest of the crew as a whole do deserve more love I think! :]