#dug this up from....april. or may.

[wyrtig]

if you wanted to feel the warmth of another, you could've just asked nicely

[orchidyoonkook]

Under The Willow Tree | MYG

Title: Under The Willow Tree   

Pairing: Bad Boy!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (T) | One Shot, Small Town AU, S2F2L, Implied Age Gap, Slow Burn, Angst, Touch of Fluff, Darker Subject Matter, First Kiss, Silce of Life

Summary: The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

Warnings: PG16, some not necessarily positive non-specific religious discussions, people using religion in a negative may, plot twisty, cursing, kissing, semi-apparent abandonment issues, discussions of dead parents and guardians, mentions of alcoholism in a parent, mentions of illness in a parent, yoongi has tattoos and a motorcycle, motorcycle lessons, longing, mishandled emotions, catharsis.

Word Count: 7401

Release Date: April 10, 2023, 4:05PM

A/N 1: This happened due to a writing prompts post I shared sometime in late march. I’m quite proud of it considering I hadn’t planned anything so the entire story was written as I was writing. Very different than my normal writing process. 

A/N 2: Thank you endlessly to @borahae-k​, @katykatmeow​, @here4btsfics​ and @phthartic-fox​​ for beta’ing this. I love you all for your help, support and kindness. 

It happened under a willow tree. A weeping willow.

Your favourite willow, to be specific. Even though there’s just the one.

It’s by the pond deep in the woods behind your house, where you watch ducks swim through the long, wispy branches that just reach its shore. Where you sit at the base, waiting for the sun to set the sky ablaze with colour as it falls into the horizon for another good night's sleep.

The one under which you had your first kiss.

You’d been waiting. Wanting it to be special, with the right person.

But a brief brush of soft, pink lips with the last person you ever expected had you wanting more, more, more.

It’d been a few months since he started coming to the willow. You’d assumed for the same reason you did.

To get away. From anyone and everything.

There aren’t many places in your hometown that allow for privacy, and you imagined he needed it more than anyone. Somewhere far from the residents' judgmental stares that were always nothing less than smothering.

Hailing from a very small, very rural, religious town where everybody’s known everyone for generations, your community is one where you follow in the footsteps of your parents and grandparents before them.

Where your life is already decided for you at birth, whether you know it or not.

Copy. Paste.

Copy.

Paste.

You’re born there; either at home with a midwife or in the one floor hospital down the main road. Raised there; a hand-me-down wearing, bike riding, creek-playing child.

You go to school there; stuck inside the same four walls from the ages of 4 to 18. Get your driver's licence there; from the sheriff after a road test that a 9 year old could pass.

You graduate there; from the same high school your friends, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents went to. Get a job; in town or on a farm, the only two options there are. 

And marry there; before 25, lest you become a spinster, subject to the gossip vultures also known as your neighbours. Then have some kids before growing old and dying, your permanent resting place dug in the same graveyard as everyone else that came before you.

Copy. 

Paste.

It’s a suffocating fate that petrified you to your core. And you’ve known you didn’t want it for as long as you can remember.

You never liked their rules. Didn’t want to become one of them, to do as they do, live the way they live.

You’d skillfully escaped making any true friends as you grew older, but kept the people you could tolerate close enough to not be bored on weekends. They’re all temporary placeholders in your life anyway, people who sound like robots stuck in the same settings. People who would hold you back.

What’s worst of all is that you don’t share the religion they claim to be so hallowed and wonderful. The one that’s unwittingly forced them all into this life of monotonous repetition.

You dream of more. Of life outside this dreaded purgatory.

Of leaving.

But no one ever leaves. They’re stuck here, in this downwards spiral of life you’re so desperately trying to dig yourself out of. It makes you feel like a fraud, constantly pretending to be one of them. Always wearing a mask just to make it to the next day alive, unharmed by them and their values.

It makes you feel like there’s always a pair of eyes watching, waiting for you to mess up and reveal your blasphemous self.

You’re terrified they’ll discover the truth. Terrified of the ostracisation that will come the second they know you aren’t one of them.

You’ve seen it in real time. What they do to people who don’t conform.

Seen how they treat him.

Two years older. Bleach blond hair and a sleeve full of tattoos. A leather jacket he wears like armour with all black clothes to match. And last, but certainly not least, a motorcycle.

You daydreamed about that bike. Taking it and riding far, far away.

The busybodied people of your town never had a kind word to be said about him. Instead, choosing to call him any and every horrible name under the sun.

Beast, bastard, demon, monster, criminal.

Unable to understand him, understand anyone different.

They herd their children away from him in the streets; parting like the Red Sea when he walks by.

As if he were acid.

As if he was evil itself, and not just a young man.

You’ve never even heard him speak because no one dares to talk to him, worried any contact could turn them, seduce them into whatever his sick ways were.  

And you’re ashamed to admit you’re one of them…sort of.

You aren’t worried about speaking to him, you’re worried about what being seen speaking with him will do to you.

You’re someone whose only salvation from complete and total social isolation relies on fitting in.

And even if it kills you to pretend, you only need to do it for a little while longer.

You just had to make it to college. You’d be the first one in decades to go. Their mindset of ‘you have everything you need here so why bother leaving’  having not once in your life resonated.

You can deal with them and all of their beliefs about what you should do with your life for the short hours of school and occasional shifts at the diner, so long as you can escape to your willow tree, you’ll be okay.

The weeping willow in the middle of the forest behind your house is the only one in the area. You never understood why that is, but it’s your oasis away from everything you hate.

The tips of its branches sway rhythmically in the wind, and moss creeps up its trunk. It’s surrounded by dense, plush grass for you to sit on, and after all the years of sitting in the same spot, a little groove in the shape of your body has formed at its base. 

Its canopy protects you from the outside world, creating a space where you don't have to hide. Where you can proudly be yourself without fear. Where you spend as much of your time as you possibly can to keep your sanity intact.

No one bothers you here.

Your mum died years ago from an illness they never diagnosed, her plot in the town’s graveyard long since filled.

And your dad never notices you gone, too drunk in your house up on the hill to care.

So as long as there’s a constant supply of food on the counter and beer in the fridge, you’re free to do as you please.

Under the willow you do your homework and sketch. You take pictures and eat breakfasts and lunches and dinners. You listen to music and dance under the safety of its shade.

Under the willow you read great adventure novels, and dream you’re the protagonists whisked away on grand adventures. Anywhere but here.

Under the willow is your home away from home. Next to the pond, under the stars.

So it’s to your great surprise when an unexpected guest pries open the curtain of flowing foliage one spring afternoon. A bleached blond, leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding, guest.

You don’t see him at first, too focused on the sketchpad in front of you. He steps in, and watches you work quietly, waiting for you to notice him.

You fascinate him. Every other girl in town can be found at one of three places, yet you were never at any of them. Not at the restaurant sipping on a milkshake. Not at the library studying. And not at the church volunteering. 

You’re always elsewhere. 

And he’s finally figured out where that is. 

He was nervous at first. To follow you. You’d never spoken but that wasn’t anything new to him. No one in this town ever did. 

Not to him.

But you don’t look down at him like the others do. Or jump out of the way when he walks by. You don’t tear away from his gaze as fast as the others. You hold on, even if for just a second longer. 

Unknowingly, you’ve captivated him more than anyone else he’s ever met.

So he followed you to see where you vanish off to, not expecting you to go into the forest behind your house. 

For a half second he considered you dangerous, because what on earth could you be getting up to in a forest for hours? But as he trailed the sounds of your footsteps and saw the small clearing with the tree, it began to make sense.

After jumping ten feet from seeing something tall and dark in your periphery, you exhale a large breath when you realise you aren’t in any danger, and shake out the nerves. 

You’d normally worry he was there to hurt you, but something in you knew he never would. Never could. Maybe it was the look he gave as he regarded you. 

Soft. Wistful even.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, wary. The first words you’ve ever spoken to him.

Barely contained inside the limits of the willows perimeter, he shrugs, and takes a long look around your little sanctuary.

And as he does, you get your first real look at him.

He’s handsome. Stoically so. And for only a moment do you wonder about all the stories hidden behind his eyes.  

The ones now focused on you.

“Wanted to see where you disappear to. You’re never in town.”

So what if you were never in town? Why did he care? Wait—How did he know? Does he pay attention to you?

…Why you?

You didn’t think he cared to notice anyone in this town, let alone you enough to know you don’t follow the social expectations of someone your age.

To pick up on the fact that you’re never there at all.

It makes a million things run through your mind—Why does he care about where you go? What about you is so special? Does he even know your name?—before one resounding thought hits you like a ton of bricks.

Can you trust him?

No one else in this town does, but all of their reasons are superficial bullshit.

All you know is you don’t know the first thing about him, and that now he knows about the one place you feel safe.

“That’s intentional,” you say, cautious. Not giving away anything but not saying much either.

“Can’t blame you,” he responds, before checking out the rooftop of bright green and muttering, “Eyes and ears everywhere.”

Those four words alone are all you need. 

He gets it.

“Yeah.”

Maybe you can trust him.

Observing each other for a silent minute, there seems to be an unspoken understanding forming between the two of you.

And he shoves his hands in his pockets, asking, “Mind company?”

You think about it for only a second.

No. No you didn’t.

“As long as you’re quiet. I’m trying to focus,” pointing the eraser end of your pencil to the sketchpad on your lap. “The cattail leaves are the hardest to get the lines right.”

He nods, finally breaking free of his position at the branch's edge. Nearing the base of the tree, he crouches down, about a quarter of the trunk's diameter away from you. It’s close enough to still see each other, but far enough to not bump into one another.

And before nestling in fully, he extends a tattooed hand to you.

“Yoongi.”

An introduction.

“Y/N,” you return, putting your pencil down in the crease of your pad and shaking.

His hand is calloused, the ones you get from years of working with your hands. And strong, a firm grip. The kind you’d want to pull you up if you were dangling over a cliff. 

So many stories contained in a 3 second touch. Yet you find yourself wanting to know all of them.

Releasing, he settles in.

What surprises you most about the whole encounter isn’t his arrival, or speaking to him for the first time, or even the handshake.

It’s that when he’s comfortable, with one leg up for an elbow to rest upon, he digs a book out from the confines of his jacket.

Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island.

Your favourite.

Spring fades into a wonderful summer of late nights and early mornings. Of beautiful blue skies and vivid sunsets you appreciate a little more now that you have someone to share them with.

Yoongi comes almost, if not, every day to the willow. Always a different book in hand. Always one of the classics.

The Iliad, 1984, Jane Eyre, Moby Dick, Anna Karina, Dracula, Little Women, Frankenstein, Catcher in the Rye, and those are just the ones you can remember because you’ve read them too. Some of them more than once.

You never expected to have anything in common with the boy that sits next to you. But from the little you’ve spoken to one another over the months, you’ve found that you share so much more than just reading habits.

On a warm April afternoon he told you he reads because he loves it but also to escape the daily hell that is your town.

    “Mmm, what’s your favourite?” you’d asked.

    Yoongi was lying down with an arm behind his head, staring into the treetop. Brave New World sat opened and facedown on his chest, his hand resting atop it.

    “Pride and Prejudice.”

    That was the last answer you expected.

    “Why?”

    He lifts his head to look at you.

    “I thought the answer would’ve been obvious.”

After a cold drink on a hot June morning he told you his dreams of moving across the country. As far away as he could get.

    “Just have to save up enough money first.”

    You wondered how he made any. He definitely didn’t work anywhere in town…maybe waiting to inherit?

    Who knew?

    Both on a blanket you’d brought, Yoongi’s lying opposite and beside you, his feet by your hips. He used his balled up jacket as a pillow while you sat in your usual spot, capturing the way the branches swayed in your sketchpad.

    He’d taken to reading to you while you drew, including you in the grand stories he now knew you loved to read too.

    That day he had The Great Gatsby, a story you’d read about 20 times.

    You often dreamed of attending one of his parties. Of seeing the green light across the way, or having a conversation with Nick, why he stayed.

    “Are you anywhere close?” you asked, in reference to his saving goals.           

    “Getting there,” was all he gave.

And on a miserable, rainy night in the middle of August, is when you learned he’s all on his own.

    Sitting beside each other, you both huddled underneath his jacket for what little protection from the rain it could give. Water droplets fell from the tips of his bangs as he spoke.

    “My parents died in a car crash when I was 9, and then my grandma who took care of me, when I was 15.”

    You grieved for him as he told you his story.

    How he had to raise himself.

    Just like you did.

    “I’m sorry,” you’d replied gently. Softly. Knowing how it felt to have no one support you. No one to help you.

    Knowing how it felt to be alone.

    You understood.

    You did, you did, you did.

    Yoongi just stared at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. And you’d wondered if any of the water on his face was salty as he breathed out a quiet and heartbreaking, “Thank you.”  

    It made you question how many kind words he’d heard since his family passed.

    And also incredibly pissed off at the people in your town for how they’d treated him.

    How you’d…treated him.

    A silent promise was made then and there. Never having felt more embarrassed and furious with yourself than in that moment. You’d learned your lesson, and hoped that offering up your own piece of vulnerability might help him feel not so alone.

    Though you watched the rain turn the pond into a canvas of vibration as you did. Words dragged from the deepest parts of your soul, burning the back of your throat as they left.

    “My dad hasn’t been sober a day since my mom died. His eyes are turning yellow,” you said, hugging yourself to stop shaking, convinced yourself it was because of the cold.

    Even though it was August.

    “He doesn’t recognize me most of the time.”

    You closed your eyes, a familiar tang washing over your tongue as you licked the water dripping from your lips.     He gave no response, but an arm found its way over your shoulders and squeezed.

    He understood.

It’s the beginning of September. The air’s started to nip at your cheeks, and the ground crunches a little more everyday with all of the leaves falling underfoot.

The tips of the willows leaves have begun to turn the colour of the morning sun, and by the time mid October rolls around, it’ll look like golden hour every hour of the day.

Yoongi finally tells you about the job he has at a mechanic's in the next town over. He explains how they don’t pay him nearly what they should, but he doesn’t complain because every cent brings him closer to leaving.

Just him and his bike.

You turn sheepish.

“Can I tell you something?”

He sits closer after all this time, more comfortable around one another. Still not enough to touch, not crossing that invisible boundary line, but enough that you don’t have to turn your head much anymore to see his eyes.

Brown and endless.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take a deep breath.

“I kind of always dreamed of taking your bike to get away from here and never come back.” He gives you a look and you shrug. “Seemed the easiest route to take.”

A smile that starts as a smirk turns into a healthy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You demand. He has to calm himself down a bit before answering.

“You just uhm…don’t seem the criminal type to me, Cattails.”

There’s a flutter of something in your chest at the stupid nickname. For the drawing you did the day you met.

He continues, unaware of the goings on inside you. “Stealing? You? Nah. Not a chance.”

You open your mouth in mock outrage, scrunching your brow and bringing a hand to your chest.

“I’ll have you know I’d make an excellent criminal,” you lie to his face. He knows it too. 

But giving in, you detail the plan you’d always kept in your head for emergencies, heat slowly rising in your cheeks with every word.

“I’d take the key from you when you weren’t looking, duplicate it at the hardware store, and slip it back into your pocket before you ever noticed it was gone. Then go to your place in the middle of the night and be halfway across the country before morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he says with a raised brow you don’t trust.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a little too much faux confidence.

“And where do I keep my key, Y/N? Hmm?”

“Your jacket pocket,” you’d deduced long ago.

“Mmm,” he tsks with a shake of his head. “Nope.”

Oh. Well then it must be,

“Your pants pocket?”  

“Nuh uh, try again.”

Damnit!

You’d never thought much about it. How many places can someone keep a key on them without a bag and it not be in their pockets?

“Ummm, in your wallet?” Far-fetched but worth a shot.

“Ooo,” he blows through pursed lips before smirking at you again, but this one was different. It caused something very deep inside of you to turn to lava. “Good guess, but also no.”

Closing his book and setting it down, Yoongi straightens and reaches inside the collar of his shirt, retrieving a necklace you didn’t know he wore.

It’s small, the key, and almost silver. The colouring is tarnished from years of use, with worn teeth and some lettering at its base.

He holds it against a palm to show you.

“Why there?” You ask, wondering if there’s a reason aside from convenience.

With a sad tug of his lips, he answers. “Bike was my dads. I like to keep him close.”

A tender smile meets your own plush as you stare at the little key, appreciating it more after learning the importance it has to him.

And Yoongi watches you, viewing his ticket to freedom with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen, full of that same compassion and understanding you’ve always given him.

An understanding he didn’t think he’d ever see again from this place.

One he doesn’t know if he deserves.

Before you can respond, he’s taking the chain off and sliding it over your head, hand lingering for a second longer than necessary at your nape.

“Yoongi,” you hesitate.

It’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud.

You like the way it feels on your tongue. Warm, sweet. Like honey.

What you don’t know is he loves the way it sounds coming from you.

You falter. “W-what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“But it’s your key! Don’t you need it?”

“Nah, got a spare in the storage compartment of the bike,” he says, gesturing to the one you now hold in your palms. “This way you won’t have to go through the hassle of stealing it.”

“But I—”

“Keep it,” he cuts you off. “In case you need it more than I do.”

It never leaves your neck.

“You want me to what?” You ask as you walk towards the forest edge, Yoongi trailing on your left.

“Take her out for a spin. See if you even can. You’re the one who has all these grand plans but doesn’t even know how to turn it on,” he explains, referring to his motorcycle.

“Those were just daydreamed plans! I never thought I’d actually use them! What if I crash?”

He was kidding right? He must be.

For all the time you two have spent together, you’ve never spoken or been around one another in public. An unspoken agreement.

What happens under the willow tree, stays under the willow tree.

So to be out in the open? On his bike? You don’t know if you can. Or if you should.

But then you remember a promise you made not long ago.

“You won’t crash,” he says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“How do you know? Like you said, I don’t even know how to turn it on,” you hmph.

“Because I’ll be there.”

And maybe it’s the tone of voice he uses, or the fact that you trust him, you find yourself saying,

“Okay, fine.”

Minutes later you’re swinging a leg over the bike, and sinking on to the surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Where do I put the key?” You ask, taking it from your neck and handing it over.

Yoongi puts it in the side of the motorcycle, somewhere close to your knee.

“Here,” he shows as he turns it to the ‘ON’ position.

“Oh.”

What a weird place for an ignition. 

“Mhm,” he acknowledges, then points. “Put your hand on the brake, it’s the part that sticks out on the right hand side. Hold it firmly against the handlebar. Don’t roll the handle bar itself back though, okay? That’s the throttle.”

Doing what he says, you hold the brake tight against the handle bar, murmuring an ‘okay’ under your breath.

“Now hit that button there on the right to let the fuel pump start up,” referring to the button beside the brake near your thumb. You do so.

He checks a little gauge on the side near the ignition. Seemingly pleased, he continues. “And now hit the button on the left to start it.”

Following his words once again, the engine roars to life the second the button is pressed, purring powerfully.

You feel exhilarated and a little terrified. But he’s here. You know you’re safe.

Voice a little louder to combat the noise from the motor, he says, “Okay, now on the left handle bar, grab the clutch. I’ll show you how to move into first gear, and look at me,” your eyes meet his, “do not let go of the clutch.”

You nod, but for extra precaution, he clamps his hand over the one you have holding it. You watch as he bends to put your left foot on a pedal and presses it down till you hear a pop, pushing up the kickstand when he rises.

The bike is heavy, now that you’re the only thing keeping it up right, you can feel its weight. And you understand why they’re designed to be able to have your feet on the ground even when sitting. You’d probably fall over otherwise.

“If you’re uncomfortable you let me know, yeah? And if you get scared just do what you’re doing now with this hand,” he squeezes for emphasis, “it’ll take all the power away from the engine and you’ll just coast until you stop, okay?”

“Okay!” You say, more excited by the minute. Your toes and fingertips are starting to tingle.

“I‘m gonna let go and you’re going to very, very slowly let up on the clutch—not all the way. Just enough that you move at about a pedal bike's pace. Let me jog down the road about 50 feet or so, and then you meet me there. Hold tight to the clutch again when you’re about 20 feet from me and I’ll catch you. Sound good?”

Nodding one more time in confirmation, nerves crawl all over your skin. You can’t describe the new feeling fully, but the closest you can find to it is probably the beginnings of an adrenaline rush.

You watch as Yoongi jogs down the road, throws his hands up over his head, and gives you two big thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly release some pressure off the clutch and begin to move forwards. You know your feet are supposed to go on the metal foot rests below you, but you're so focused on not falling or crashing that you just stick them out so they don’t touch the ground.

Halting your left hands release at the speed he said to, you cruise along, wind picking up with your increased pace.

Holy shit!

You’re riding a motorcycle! 

You never thought you could, it was just a dream for so long. Something you kept in the back of your mind just for fun, but now you’re actually doing it! Your driving down the road on an actual real life motorcycle!? All by yourself!?

Turns out all you needed was a little encouragement and someone you trust to spot you.

Aiming for Yoongi, you clamp down on the clutch once again, cutting power to the engine. You drift right into his awaiting hands braced for the impact, and he slides a little on the gravel road before getting you to a full stop.

He presses one of the buttons you did earlier and the bike shuts down, allowing you to jump off.

You’re positively giddy.

“Oh my god did you see me?! I just did that! I just drove a motorcycle! Can you believe it?! I can’t believe I just did that!” You don’t even register what you're saying, too full of excitement to care.

Yoongi can’t contain his grin as he gets the bike standing on its own. Your joy is too infectious not to take part in, and he walks over for a high five to celebrate. 

But to his surprise, you bypass his hand completely and embrace him, throwing your arms around his neck.

It takes only a second before he’s enveloping you with his own, not letting the chance to hold you go by.

“Thank you!” You say, before letting go, not even realising what you did. You’re too busy catching your breath from all the rambling and jumping around, still filled with the remnants of your elation.  

Meanwhile, Yoongi can’t get the feeling of your body against him out of his head. How soft you were. How warm. The way you smelled like a mixture of your natural scent and outside.

And he’s asking, “You wanna to go for a ride?” before he can tell himself not too.

The question makes you pause. Was he serious? Because you can’t think of anything you want more.

Staring at him, your answer is far too gentle for someone who was just screeching with joy. 

“Really?”

He nods, still untrusting of his mouth, confirming with a ‘mhm.’

You don’t hesitate. You want to feel like that again.  

Not a minute later he’s giving you the helmet and securing it tightly. He also makes you wear his leather jacket to protect your torso, leaving him in just an oversized black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans.

Swinging a leg over, he pats the seat behind him.

And you’re glad to have the helmet on because without it he would most definitely see your inability to meet his eye. You can barely focus on anything aside from the sight in front of you and being wrapped in the scent of him. But then he gives a tattooed hand to help you hop on, and says,

“You have to put your arms around me and hold on. Otherwise you might fly off the back when we accelerate,” holding his hands behind him to guide yours. 

What? You didn’t think this far. He—you have t—Ummm, well... 

“Okay,” you answer, voice small, letting your hands be guided. 

Despite the loss of his jacket, he’s still deliciously warm, and the heat in your cheeks increases tenfold with your hands now splayed over his abdomen. 

Lightly defined muscles meet your fingertips through the thin material of his shirt and you do your best to memorize them as he turns on the bike and pulls away from the curb.

He starts slower than normal to make sure you’re alright, but when you give him the thumbs up, he speeds up to just over the limit and you hold tight.

You’ve never felt so free, loving the rush of wind that flows over your body from going so fast. It’s pushing a welcomed cold through the fabric of your clothes as your body temperature has only increased since getting on.

You could go anywhere, do anything. Nothing and nobody could stop you.

You want that. You want it so bad. And he gave you the key to be able to. 

Literally.

But now when you think about leaving, you think about leaving with him. Yoongi driving and you sitting right here on the back, nothing but each other, the road, and hope for the future.

Growing confident enough to release your grasp after a few minutes, you raise your hands in the air, and let the wind catch your fingertips.  A whoop of joy leaves you at this newfound feeling he’s given you. 

Then another, and another, before returning them to their place around him.

Yoongi can’t help but smile the biggest he has in years when hearing your squeals of glee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he feels it too.

Yoongi doesn’t come to the willow for almost a week.

He’s never done that since he started coming. Not once.

And you’re worried.

Where is he? Is he okay? You have no idea.

It’s not like you can go looking for him.

And you two aren’t anything anyway, so you shouldn’t even be this worried in the first place. If he’s safe, or in the bottom of a ditch somewhere.

But you can’t help it.

Just like you can’t help the feelings that have blossomed for him over the months. The feelings you didn’t want to admit to yourself for fear of him not returning them.

Yet there they were, and there isn’t anything you can do about them now.

They make you wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

Six days.

It takes him six days to return. Stomping in, and visibly pissed off.

“What’s wrong?” You ask once he’s close enough to hear.

“I’m leaving,” he says flatly, uncaring. Like you asked him what colour the sky was.  

And your stupid, silly little unrequited heart shatters.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. Taking off. Getting out of here. I can’t do it anymore.”

Piece by piece it falls from your chest and into the depths of your stomach.

“B-but why? What happened?”

“I got fired.”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, fired. I tried all week to fix this one stupid mistake I made,” he explains, smoothing over his creased brow with two fingers. “But it cost more to fix than to keep me around, so they fired me. I don’t have the amount of cash I planned for, but I have enough to make it work. And I can pick up odd jobs on the road if I need to.” He nears, extending a tattooed hand. “I just came to get my key and say goodbye.”

Your hand reaches for it, clutching it tightly. You don’t want to give it back.

Who the hell is this? Because you barely recognize him. It certainly isn’t the Yoongi you’ve come to know.

The wonderfully kind, classics reading, dream-sharing, motorcycle instructing, freedom key giving man.

The one who told you about his grandmother, and his parents. Who read you stories while you drew and ate meals together. Who taught you how to ride his motorcycle.

The Yoongi you fell for.

Your Yoongi.

The person currently standing in front of you isn’t him at all.

He’s the hard, cold exterior, crafted over years of verbal and societal abuse. The one everyone avoids at all costs when walking through town. The person he had to become in order to survive.

You don’t know this person.

And you hate it.

You hate it so much it decides to exit your body in the form of tears. Ones of sadness, frustration, and heartbreak.

He’s—he’s leaving. 

Actually leaving.

This place, it’s people.

You...

The few remaining pieces of your heart plunge to the floor, crumbling to dust as they hit. Nothing but a hollow, empty cavern remaining where it once sat.

“But I–you…,” the lump in your throat only getting bigger when you try to speak. You face away from him.

Don’t let him see you cry.

He’s clearly never felt anything close to what you do for him, so suck it up. Reign it in. You do it everyday. So why can’t you do it now?

You don’t get to feel this way!

Shove it back down, get it down!. Crush it all until it’s nothing.

Make it go away. Far, far away. 

Yoongi’s face is falling while you’re taking deep breaths to calm down.

In all of his rage and despair at his terrible week, he’s forgotten who he was speaking to.

His kind hearted, music-sharing, been through hell and back, kickass girl. The one he can call his only true friend.

He’s such an asshole. He hadn’t seen you for almost a week, which killed him in of itself. And then the second he does, all he‘s able to do is spew the frustration and misery he’s been feeling the entire time you were apart.

Nah, he’s worse than an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

But he freezes at the sound of a small, wet inhale.

You’re crying.

He made you cry.

And a regret bigger than the ocean drowns him.

“Hey, wait, please,” he says, rushing over, but you hold out a hand to stop him. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He reaches for you again, and again you stop him. You can’t let him comfort you.

Not when he doesn’t realise he’s become the only person in this whole godforsaken, judgemental hellhole of a neighbourhood wasteland you have.

Your grandparents are dead, along with your mum. Your dad’s an abusive drunk, too far gone to remember he has a daughter. You don’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins to rely on, nor do you have any real friends.

You have no one, aside from Yoongi.

And now you won’t even have him.

So you can’t let him comfort you. Can’t let him see you break.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

Because you don’t know if you’ll be able to put yourself back together without him if you do.

But a quiet, “Y/N, please,” imbued with pain you haven’t heard since a rainy August night leaves his lips. A last ditch effort to get you to look at him, to let him help. 

And it breaks you completely, bursting into a million tiny pieces to match your heart on the floor.

An unrestrained sob falls from your mouth, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Yours go to his neck as he drags you onto his lap, gripping tight. 

He holds you through every whimper and hiccup and stuttered inhale and shudder. Through every muttered ‘please don’t go’ and ‘please don’t leave me,’ that escapes, stroking a hand along the back of your head and down your spine, soothing.

He whispers, “it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay,” on repeat with the motion. Over and over and over until only occasional sniffles and deep breaths remain.

You hug him tighter as you start to shiver, the warmth created from your breakdown beginning to wear off. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to slide off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders. An instant cocoon of warm and comfort.

When his hands find their place back around your waist, he dares to speak.

“I got you.”

“I know.” And you do. Your voice is a little wobbly, as you’re unmoving from the embrace, but you most definitely do. 

This is your Yoongi. The one you’ve come to know. To trust. 

Of course he’s got you. 

You use one of your long sleeves to dry your eyes and under your nose. With the nearing autumn weather, you’ve returned to occasionally wearing them.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into his neck after a long beat of silence.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, Cattails?”

The return of your nickname has a grin threatening to emerge.

“For freaking out. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I sprung that on you in such a shit way because I was in an even shittier mood. And you clearly weren’t prepared to hear it. I should’ve known better, so don’t you dare be sorry about anything,” he loosens his hold to pull back and look at you. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

You look down, hiding, not wanting him to see you like this.  

“None of that,” he whispers, and brings a finger to your chin, tilting up.

It doesn’t meet much resistance.

Your eyes are still a bit swollen and patchy, but it’s the concern in his that makes you crack the smallest of smiles, if only to see his worry erased.

He already has enough on his plate. No need to add to it.

Not able to offer much more than a quirk of the lip, you’re relieved that it’s enough when he starts to wear one of his own.

It’s then you realise your position. Like the sight of it cleared your brain fog.         

You’re kneeling over his lap, sitting on his thighs, face inches from his. One of his hands is holding your chin up while the other rests low on your waist, your own still loose around him.

So close, yet so far away.

Because he’s leaving.

And that thought alone allows you to throw caution to the goddamn window. It’s not going to matter once he’s gone, and you’ve wanted it to be with someone special.

He’s as special as they come.

Leaning forward, you close your eyes and the gap between the two of you.  

Eyelids fluttering as your lips brush his. Soft, and gentle.

Like him.

You hold only long enough to make sure it counts before pulling back.

It’s funny, really.

It was just a few seconds, but you already find yourself wanting so much more with him. An unfamiliar but welcomed electric pulse finds itself running through your blood at the thought, and it makes you want his lips everywhere. 

Your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

Anywhere he can reach.  

Sparks pool inside you. Sparks and butterflies and fast flowing lava.

You let yourself relish in the glorious feeling for a single moment, before the reality of what you just did sinks in.

And then you’re scared.

Terrified, actually.

To open your eyes, see his face. His reaction.

What if he hated it? What if he’s never felt anything but platonic affection towards you and now you’ve gone and done this?

Sure, he’s leaving. But now that you think about it, does him leaving mean you’ll never see him again?

What if you just ruined everything?

Teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip, you take a peek.

For the second time today you feel your heart breaking, this time at the look on his face.

Is it shock? Or worse.  

Disgust?

Doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. Not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trying to get out of his hold, but he keeps you there. Unyielding. And you start rambling. “I shouldn’t have done that. You clearly don’t—It’s just that you’re leaving and I—“

Lips on yours shut you up.

It’s fervent and needy and passionate as he pulls you closer by the hips, desperately trying to get you as close to him as physically possible. Your nails drag over his scalp as your fingers snake through his blond locks. They elicit a delicious groan from his mouth that you consume with your own.

It’s the most intoxicating sound you’ve ever heard, and you want more of it. So you do it again, and again, and again.

He moves down your jaw and neck, sucking at the tender flesh near your pulse point, and your mouth drops open at the feeling.

You’ve always wondered, but…you didn’t know it could feel like this.

Every touch, every whisper, every press of his lips to yours feels amazing. He’s pulling pleasure out of places you wouldn’t have thought possible before him. And you never want to go back to not knowing.

The sweetest of whimpers leaves your mouth as he gently bites a soft spot, then soothing the glorious pain he created with the kindness of his tongue.  

Yoongi swears to any god who will listen that he’ll do whatever they want so long as he gets to hear that sound repeatedly and for the rest of his life.

He returns to your lips and says, “come with me.”

You’re so focused on feeling that it takes a moment for his words to land. “What?”

“Leave with me. Let’s get the fuck outta here, and never look back, the both of us. Together.”

Yoongi looks so serious but..

He—he can’t be serious can he? 15 minutes ago he was going on and on about leaving and needing his key back and saying goodbye.

And now?

Sensing your hesitance, he punctuates each of the next three words with a kiss. 

“Come. With. Me.”

It makes your answer arrive without really thinking. You don’t need to think. Not when you know deep in your newly reconstructed heart that it’ll always be the same whether you think about it or not.

So long as you’re with him, you know you’ll be,

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He questions like he can’t believe it. Can’t believe you'd agree.

You make sure there isn’t a single doubt in his head as you look him dead in the eyes and confirm.

“Yes, Yoongi,” another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

He pulls you into him for what feels like a million more under your shared willow tree.

Your salvation.

And you know they’re going to be the firsts of many, many more to come.  

Three days later, and two bags packed full of all your earthly possessions, you’re on the back of Yoongi’s motorcycle.

In those three days he’s prepared everything else you’ll need. He’s gotten a cute leather jacket and helmet for you, some reading materials for the road, snacks, drinks. A place by his side for the foreseeable future.

In the same span of time, you’ve given him a home in your heart, someone he can rely on other than himself. Talk to, trust, experience life with.

Something he hasn’t had in nearly ten years. 

Something he never wants to lose again.

He swings a leg over and you unclip the chain from your neck, handing him the key to the bike, to your now shared future.

Driving out of town—straight down Main Street—you watch as all the people you grew up with, who you almost destroyed yourself to fit in with, gawk.

Watch as they judge you for being with him, your best friend. For leaving, and not doing what they all expected of you.

For not being like one of them.

Because you’re not one of them. 

You never have been.

And just like the dust that flies behind the wheels, you feel weightless, not giving a single fuck what they think for the first time in your life.

You don’t have to anymore.

You’re free.

A/N 3: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

[ladyazurith]

Cater Diamond Analysis

Honestly, my first impressions of Cater were…not good. When I very first started playing Twist, I picked Idia as my starting character because I love Hades (not the Disney version but the classical Greek mythology version, though the Disney version is great he’s a terrible representation of Hades but I think everyone knows that) After playing the game Azul quickly became my favorite (That’s why my first Broken Mirrors story was about him) and just Octavinelle in general. 

When I first picked up Twist I kind of sped through books 1 and 2. At the time I was still knee deep in the MHA fandom and was playing the game because a friend recommended it (they’d followed the JP release) And didn’t really absorb much. Books 3 and 4’s release is when I really started to pay attention. My Ao3 page definitely reflects this given stories started appearing in April of 22. 

The first thing I really remembered about Cater was Beans Day and I was overall just annoyed with him because I wanted to spend more time with Jade. And Cater it seemed was the reason he kept leaving. 

Another thing is I have Cater’s Birthday SSR from the first year (it was the very first Birthday Card we got in the EN version) I do not remember pulling for it, let alone actually getting his card but it’s there so…*shrugs* 

It wasn’t until I saw a music video on YouTube set to Kill the Lights, that I even took a second glance at Cater as a character. The video made me compare him to Twice from MHA (I was again still attached to the fandom at the time) and I loved Twice, so I started digging more. Twice has an incredibly tragic backstory and it made me curious about Cater’s. 

After that I dug through all the information I could about Cater, both in EN and JP releases, I watched translations of all his available vignettes or others he was in, and events he was a part of. I’ve always loved picking characters apart and I found that Cater was far more complex than I first gave him credit for. There are a few key cards/events that I believe are essential for understanding who Cater is.

First is of course is Heartslabyul’s chapter of the game. I know a lot of people will point to this and say it’s why they don’t trust him or take him seriously, but context is key. Yes, he does “manipulate” the group into doing some of his chores.  But in the wider context of the story, Cater is often left doing a lot of extra work around the dorm. Picking up the slack, because of his clones and making up for the mistakes of others. (Trey’s CR Card is a good window into this, along with Trey’s Star Sending Card) And honestly, this is about the worst thing he does throughout the entire game. 

What is also shown is that Cater is very forgiving. He’s never actually upset with Riddle for the way he behaves. It’s not that he condones his actions, but he knows why Riddle behaves the way he does and tries his best to be understanding while also helping the 1st years navigate the situation and in a way protect them. (He even asks Trey if he’s okay with what’s going on when Ace and Deuce get kicked out) Even at the end when Ace gets on Riddle for his apology Cater chastises him. In the end, Cater is very conflict averse, he doesn’t really want to fight with people, and would rather everyone just get along (this is part of why he Kalim and Lilia all get along so well in the LMC) I think some people see his reaction in the manga, and take his reason for not wanting to step in wrong. Personally, I don’t think it had completely clicked with him that this wasn’t an altercation that could be ended peacefully. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. 

There are a lot of hints that Cater is fairly depressed under his happy come-what-may attitude. His Labcoat personal story is less than subtle about it, (Vil and Lilia straight-up talk about what the Mandrake Cater tried to hide meant), And even his CR card shows that he’s not really a fan of all the socializing he does, and finds it exhausting. He also isn't afraid of death, at least as his clones, in the Heartslabyul Manga he takes a spear to the chest to save Deuce, and in Chapter 2 he creates replicas of the Diasomnia Spelldive team and allows himself to be trampled. The level he's nonchalant about it is a bit disturbing, especially because he can remember what happens as his clones (he makes a comment about not being able to use them to study because the information can get jumbled up) and they have been stated to *be* him. (this is part of why I HC that Cater's clones can confuse Rook's UM because he can't tell a clone from the real Cater)

Another really important one is Cater’s Halloween SSR (and really the first two Halloween events), His SSR is one of the few times we get to see his thoughts so clearly. He’s excellent at hiding his true thoughts and feelings. The conversation he has with Lilia and Kalim about not being really close to anyone, and preferring to keep people at arm's length is heartbreaking because it comes from a place of moving around, being forgotten, and being hurt. Everything Cater does is an effort to get people to remember him, from his guitar to his magicam account. 

At the end of his SSR is a very touching moment between Diasomnia as Lilia comforts Malleus, Cater’s left to the side feeling completely bitter about all of it. Angry Lilia thought he could ever understand him when he had connections like Malleus, Silver, and Sebek in his life. Connections Cater doesn’t feel he can ever make. The follow up to this is when he’s still standing there and gets the call from Trey who yells at him because he’s not in Heartslabyul to help solve a problem there, and gets called a liar when he explains what he was doing. (People sometimes ask me why I don’t like Trey and this scene right here is part of that reason.) 

As for the rest of the first Halloween, the only time we really see him relaxed is in Lilia’s card. Every other time he’s working, solving problems, or helping other people. Even at the very end when everyone else was relaxing at the after party, he was off comforting the Ghosts who felt guilty about causing all the problems with their picture in the beginning, helping them feel better and bringing the subject up to others.  

In the second Halloween event, he was one of the possessed missing students. I don’t think everyone realizes this but all the ghosts made the ones they’d possessed act in the exact opposite of their true nature. (Vil who he was stuck with is a great example, he was crying acting like someone who had no self-esteem, but the things he was saying were in complete contrast to his behavior, which in reality Vil acts like a very self assured person on the surface but deep down he’s a doubt ridden insecure mess. Kalim is another he was angry and violent) 

Cater was forced to be cruel and malicious, which lines up with being the opposite of who he really is from the little bits we’ve seen. He often tends to go out of his way to help people. When they needed help in the final act of Endless Halloween when the other students appeared he was the first one to step up to help take care of it. In Silver’s card, he took the time to console him and give him advice but even his advice to live in the moment and don’t care about what happens in the future tells us a lot about him.

Even Beans Day and the fact he stuck with Yuu (something that first annoyed me) is an example of this. A lot of people saw “us” as a liability and ditched the MC in the very competitive game, but Cater didn’t he stayed, and in the end, they almost won. 

Other notes along the way are he never really talks positively about his family. He’s always complaining about how overbearing his sisters are. How they treated him like a doll. Bought presents for him that were meant for them, not him, etc. And I know what he says about his dislike of sugar and how it came from one incident as a child BUT that’s not very likely. I have a feeling it was more than *one* incident and a repeated dismissal of his own autonomy in his family BUT that is just a theory. Personally, I think he downplayed the event like he seems to do a lot of these things. It’s very clear he generally conceals how he truly feels about an incident. 

He even comments about how he doesn’t want to go home over winter break because he knows his sisters will just put him to work. In his second year birthday jacket card he talks about how his sisters take him shopping and force him to carry everything. Every time his family comes up it's never in a positive context. 

In his Silks card, it’s shown he has a problem buying things for himself. Jamil pokes him about it, while he’s buying souvenirs for other people, and in the end, makes Jamil pick something for him. We get hints that Jamil can see past the facade he puts up and that makes Cater nervous BUT we also know Jamil absolutely trusts Cater. He left Kalim in Cater’s care in Silk City, and even though Kalim doesn’t generally eat anything but Jamil’s cooking (not even his own) Kalim is the one that judges Cater’s culinary crucible meal. And the way Jamil conducts himself in Cater’s birthday interview. 

Cater also tends to treat people as people. He’s never really been intimidated by Malleus, not the same way other people are (outside Yuu/MC), and will talk to him freely. When realistically he has more reason than most to be afraid of Malleus. It takes a bit of stringing of different card stories and events together, but Malleus has knocked Cater unconscious with his magic before. Because in Malleus’s first Birthday card, he talks about the incident, where Lilia invited him to the LMC, to play music, but he accidentally knocked the members unconscious. We know that Kalim arrived late in his 2nd year and that during Cater and Lilia’s first year, they were very quickly the only members of the LMC until Kalim joined. Meaning when the incident took place the only available victim was Cater. 

I also know Cater talks about not having a lot of money/not coming from a wealthy family, BUT I know this isn’t true. While it's not likely his family is as rich as I’ve made them in my stories, they are NOT poor. First off they move AT least every two years, and that is NOT cheap to do. We know his dad works for a bank, but there aren’t many positions at a Bank on any level that would require the person to move so much. Bankers are some of the wealthiest people period (not the tellers or general employees but those wouldn’t require moving)  Looking into it, his dad is most likely an investment banker which make $$$. This is also backed up by the fact that he does chase trends that take an incredible amount of money, and he’s talked about doing things like going “Glamping” which costs upwards of 1-1.5k/night  Then again maybe his perception is warped by Kalim lol. 

As far as his relationships go. I do think his perception is a bit skewed from past experiences. Riddle seems to care an awful lot about him/considers him a friend. I think this is very much a case of Riddle taking Cater at face value, not having the social awareness to realize Cater is faking most of what he’s doing. While Cater is still stuck on the idea that Riddle is just another shallow friendship for him. 

I also think Kalim thinks more of their friendship than Cater does. I also always wonder how Vil can insist the only thing Cater wants out of him is fame when *Kalim’s standing right there* While Kalim isn’t famous in the same sense Vil is, he’s INCREDIBLY wealthy and it wouldn’t take much for him to leverage that for his own fame, but we don’t really see him doing that, yes he does make posts with Kalim but it all seems to be in line with his friendship with him and things they do with the club, and the time Kalim invited him to Silk City. There is no hint Cater takes advantage of him at all (which I think plays into why Jamil trusts him)

Speaking of Vil, the reason I ship Cater and Vil is very detailed and delves into the nuance of their interactions and relationship otherwise. I know it’s easy to point at Vil’s “What it means to be a Brand” R card Vin, where Cater talks about how attractive he is and talks about dating him. (I’m still mad they took that out of the English version) as a reason, and while it is part of it Vil doesn’t tell him he won't date him, he tells Cater he can’t afford them. (Which to me sounds like a shallow comment?!?! When he calls Cater Shallow, gets a bit on my nerves but that's another rant) 

But what really sells me that Cater’s feelings for Vil are real and not part of his fake facade is his Birthday Jacket interview. He picks Vil as his choice of sibling and then goes on to talk about why he looks up to and respects Vil. It’s not about his physical features, but other traits he likes and appreciates. He seems to understand Vil. And this is my take on it but I think part of why he likes Vil (either romantically or otherwise) is he sees a kindred spirit, someone who puts on a mask to face an uncaring world that expects impossible standards, and the need to always be ‘on’ and performing. Remember it's clear that Cater doesn’t enjoy what he does social media-wise and the like, but it's something he feels like he has to do.

Trey is otherwise not someone he’s super close to. To me, their relationship comes across more like coworkers at a stressful job, than actual friends. Cater himself has said more than once that he’s not close to *anyone* and Trey in the star sending even talks about how even after all the time they’ve spent together Cater still doesn’t seem to trust him with his true self. Trey tends to be very dismissive of Cater’s complaints and Cater in general. And straight up TO HIS FACE told him he’d always be closer to Riddle. (As someone who didn’t have childhood friends themselves, and even now struggles with friends that line right there hurt a lot. That the idea that if you didn’t make a friend when you were a child then you could never be close to someone more than they are to someone else hurt and made me angry. And did not help my opinion of Trey AT ALL  Length of time is not the only qualifier to a strong friendship) But yet tends to also be dismissive of Riddle in some cases?!?! And is willing to manipulate him so there's that. 

I did an entire write up of Lilia and Cater’s relationship, but a summary is that I find it one of the most unique and complex in the game. Often times Lilia tends to treat the other students like he’s a mentor figure. Not just Diasomnia, but all of them in general when he interacts. Cater however isn’t treated that way and seems to view him more as an equal, and has been shown to listen to and take advice from him when he’s otherwise shown to be very stubborn and determined. And it's possible he intended to stay in contact with Cater when he attempted to leave in ch 7. Cater tells him that he can hit him up on Magicam at any time which means Lilia hasn’t deactivated his account (Cater would likely know that) and Lilia doesn’t tell him he can’t like he had with other attempts to stay in contact, but he doesn’t say he will either so it's more up in the air. 

Idia…also seems to listen to him!?! Honestly Idia and Cater’s relationship also probably deserves their own post. I don’t ship them, mostly because I think they’d end up in a self destructive spiral. BUT I do think they could be friends, like really good friends if they could both get past some of their issues. They have a lot in common, especially when it comes to being lonely and detached certain everyone will just forget about them someday. 

Over all Cater is an extremely complex person, and really about the only character who we don’t know a lot about. Most of what we have on him is how other characters view him, (which is why I think there is a lot of misconception and distrust of his character for people because they buy into what they see on the surface and move on)  and a few scraps here and there into who he actually is under the surface which completely contradicts the persona he presents. 

I have a lot of headcanons for him, and while I noted a few here in this, I tried to keep this to most extrapolation from what we see directly in canon. I love Cater, and I hope this helps some people have a better understanding of who he is. 

[my-random-shit-blog]

I have dug up what may potentially be, one of the oldest pictures of what was later to become, The Play That Goes Wrong

-this pic is dated April 22nd 2008

(From Henry Lewis's Facebook,

which I was NOT stalking....)

[knifecalledlust]

someone dug up this post from february and i got some great new comments in the tags so here's another one for oversized johnny's jacket truthers - a sketch from april that i don't plan on polishing (unless?) so i may as well just post it

also every time someone calls my v cute, it gives me the motivation to draw her again, she's my cutie patootie babygirl (i promise she actually has some character to her she's just so important to me and i love calling her all these cute names)

[landwriter]

Heya, I love your writing and taste in things.

I’ve finished (and loved) everything you’ve posted <3

Are there any sandman fics that have tickled your fancy lately?

Thank you so much!!! I sadly do not have time to read near as much Sandman fic as I'd like, but I have scoured both my memory and my bookmarks on AO3 (all twelve of them) and dug up some absolutely wonderful stories - hope at least one or two of these is new to you?!

I am probably a bit weird in this, but I don't bookmark fics I love (which is really nearly all I've read) insamuch as fics that have done something in particular that I think is so well-executed or clever or inspiring that I want to be able to study it like a creature in its own right. Usually these are stories that have the traits I admire most in fiction: economy of language, being very fucking funny, making me viscerally uncomfortable, or outright haunting me.

I loved reading all of them but your mileage may vary! Caveat lector like more than half of these are smut and/or violent so please check the tags against your own preferences. Several long-winded recs with excerpts and explanations under the cut:

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The Birthday of the Beast | @slythernim | Dream/Hob | T | 3.3K

Father Almighty, though I have long not been your servant, I remain your unmanageable son. Here on Earth, closer to Hell than to Heaven, as I celebrate perhaps the least holy of holy days, I must imagine myself like unto Lucifer more than as Michael, that he and I might together make of the darkness a place for humanity to grow. He blows out the candles. 

Hob turns 666. Extremely fun fic by Nym that features incredible characterization within a very short space, Catholicism, Lucifer, and of course, gets a very special birthday gift. But you shall have to read the fic to see what it is. Read everything of Nym's, actually.

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New Mistakes | Anonymous | Dream/Corinthian | M | 3.2K

Dream slid his thumb into the Corinthian’s mouth, the one he shared with most, the one with which he commonly spoke. “Well?” he asked. “Are you fed?” The voice that came from his left-eye mouth buzzed like locusts. My lord, we are. The voice that came from his right-eye mouth dripped like honey. My lord, we can always be fed more. Dream pulled back, looking at the Corinthian expectantly. The Corinthian swallowed, running his tongue along his teeth. There was a faint blush on his cheeks, and Dream was unaccountably flattered. “My lord,” he said. “I wish to be good.”

Have read almost no Corintheus but this fic hits on so much that I find distantly intriguing about the pairing. Perfect dialogue, gorgeous rhythm. Wonderfully visceral. Absolutely bonkers nuts for repetition in threes, as I'm sure you know, and I love how it was used here.

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Lucy Locket | Anonymous | Dream/Hob and Dream/Hob/Corinthian | E | 17K

Five chapters (now with a new threesome added in late April, much to my delighted surprise!) of just fantastic roleplay smut that in-between all the sex is by turns incredibly funny and tender. Alternating Dream and Hob POV. As somebody for whom sexual roleplay has been my literal bread and butter on a professional basis, it shouldn't be surprising I am so fond of this fic - but it catches me out every time! Like a blow from behind, and I am winded. It is ridiculously hot and distressingly perfect all-through, and I would absolutely marry the author about it (sorry author if you're reading this). No excerpt because I cannot choose and will simply suggest that if you're up for kink that you go read it all at once.

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Public | @softest-punk | Dream/Hob | E | 1.1K

"Oh, darling," Hob murmurs, fingering the edge of Dream's delicate lace knickers. Dream feels his smirk against his jaw, bites his lip at the brush of a kiss under his ear. "You forget how old I am. I learned to fuck with an audience."

Every day I get closer and closer to needing to write Dream and/or Hob with vulvas; this may have been the fic that sealed the deal for me, I think. Ridiculously hot, and enshrined in my head forever for the line above. I learned to fuck with an audience. God! How good. A masterclass in the slutty drabble that nevertheless retains peak Dream/Hob characterization (I would argue that sex is in fact one of the best narrative vehicles for characterization and exploration of interpersonal dynamics...this bias is probably why nearly all these recs are so horny.) One day I will learn how to write proper smut in media res like this and not preface it with gratuitous plot.

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worship like a dog | @thewalrus-said | Dream/Hob | E | 2.5K

“Is it so inconceivable that I might love you?” Dream murmured, running his manicured nail down Hob’s cheek. Hob tried to speak, swallowed, and tried again. “No one ever has before,” he said. “No one but God.”

Hob is a priest. Dream is a demon, except he's not. Dizzyingly hot for so many reasons, with a delightful canon dialogue echo. And again, must stress this: Hob is a priest. Hob is a priest. Hob is a priest, go read it.

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Safehouse | Anonymous | Hob/Corinthian | E | 5K

“I need a room. One without a door.”

The best execution of the sex pollen trope I've ever seen, with the worst men. Very, very good fic with a brilliant premise and unerring execution. World-building is done in such brief but vivid strokes - it feels like a 50K fic whenever I remember it, and I'm always surprised how short it actually is. Haunts me in the best of ways.

---

As well - these fics are well-known and well-loved - but some stories that are utterly wonderful and contain lines that haunt me weeks, sometimes months later - stories that rearranged my soul, lurched me closer towards writing for Sandman, and warrant mention even though I am SURE you have read them, include:

@moorishflower's iconic and beautiful Odyssey fic, maybe sprout wings was the first fic I commented on with my AO3 account, and among the best fics I've ever read in any fandom; slightly deeper cuts from Heather's oeuvre (if, for some reason you are not reading everything already) that I am obsessed with and have reread multiple times: vowel shift, most vain devices, an act of faith. Genius stuff and unbelievably gorgeous language. Just go read it all, honestly

@softest-punk's Shelter is one of the first Sandman fics I ever read, and is beyond lovely; if you have not read their entire deep and profoundly lovely back catalogue, I recommend Catching Up (quintessential Cecil deep tissue emotional massage), Delayed (or: my favourite kink and favourite Endless); Ferrous (vampires! bad men! ahh! ooh!); and I would of course be remiss and ungrateful to not mention self-abandon, and the confounding effects thereof, a 10K fic that perfectly answered my general question of how the three lads would actually get together once the Corinthian and Hob had started fucking (as narrative foils that deserve such treats)

@xx-vergil-xx's Hounds is an ongoing epic that has singlehandedly caused me more emotions than humanity has language for; it is ambitious in scope and sticks every landing. The world is alive and lovingly-detailed. The language is a poem. It is so smart, so beautiful, and so well-researched and built. It is a TEMPLE unto itself, and appropriately worthy of worship

I will also suggest you read absolutely everything by @that-banhus because she literally cannot miss and writes the loveliest, cleverest worlds. All of it.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 13: June II

{{ Chapter 12: May I | Chapter 14: July II }} Chapter Directory

ayyyye we're halfway there folks, steamrolling into the second year

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, mutual pining, idiots in love, negative self-talk ✧ word count ➼ ~5.1k

You were looking for a new place to live back in April after your spat with Levi, but that intention was nowhere to be found now. You signed the lease renewal without hesitation. Part of you told yourself that it was because you just didn't have time to look for another apartment that was affordable.

A more realistic part of you was acutely aware that the decision (or lack thereof) was at least partially affected by the fact that you were growing much closer with your roommate. The idea of not being able to see him regularly gave you an odd discomforting feeling, especially after your chat on the Ferris Wheel. He really was the one major connection currently in your life and you couldn’t imagine throwing that away.

"Great," Levi grumbled as he filed the renewed lease away. "I'm stuck with you for another year?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you mumbled with an eye roll. "You know Hange snitched to me about how you were saying that I'm much better at cleaning than Miche was?"

You glanced over at Levi as he scoffed.

"Miche was okay at cleaning, just not being organized."

You placed both your hands on your hips and gave Levi a cocky grin.

"And I'm good at both, right?!" 

"Certainly weren't at first," he grumbled, which prompted you to stick your tongue out at him again, which he immediately waved off. He watched as you walked to and from the bathroom, throwing towels amongst various items like a bathing suit and sunscreen into a gym bag.

You dug through the bag, taking a mental note of everything that was in there to check if you had forgotten anything.

"You're not bringing a swimming suit?" you asked, looking at Levi over your shoulder.

"And immerse myself in the filthy ocean water that's filled with who knows what? Fuck no."

You were much more excited for this beach trip than you were willing to admit. Unlike the amusement park, this wasn't an official outing that you had to be responsible for. Some of the freshmen (soon to be sophomores) in the Honors Society decided that they wanted to check out the beach and you elected to tag along. What you didn't expect was for Levi to also tag along.

"You know you don't have to come," you noted with a serious expression. "Even if you don't touch the water, the sand's also messy and will get into your shoes and clothes."

Levi knew that you had a point. His surroundings were going to be filthy regardless of if he swam or not. He would never willingly find himself at the beach. The water was gross, the sand was messy, and the public bathrooms were generally disgusting. There were too many people and parking was always a nightmare.

The reason he was going was because of you, although he'd never openly admit to it. Hanging out with you has been enjoyable and he found himself missing you whenever you were gone. The prime example was how he had reacted over spring break. You were gone for only a few days and he found himself feeling resentful and grumpy over it, to the point that he ended up being enough of a dick to you to drive you to somehow end up at your ex-boyfriend’s.

"It's monotonous and dull here," he rationalized. "Maybe being around you and the brats you hang out with will annoy me enough to want to come back home and be alone."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you saying you're enjoying hanging out with me, then?"

"Tch," Levi scoffed, avoiding eye contact with you. "Of course not."

You continued to give him a skeptical look, not believing a single word that was coming out of his mouth, but you otherwise didn't push it. 

"Well, if you change your mind, you don't have to come."

"I'm driving."

"I can catch a ride with someone else!"

When you looked back towards Levi, you saw that he was clearly scowling at you.

"...Just shut up and finish packing."

~~~~~

“Surprised you came along, Levi!” 

“Trust me, I didn’t want to at first,” Levi mumbled with a scoff, throwing a side glance over at Nicolo. He had just learned that Nicolo was the point of contact for setting up this trip. His connection with Sasha led to the connection with you, which is how you found yourself here primarily with the freshmen instead of with the other officers of the Honors Society that you usually found yourself hanging out around.

Levi kept his eyes on you, although he wasn’t entirely aware of that himself. He watched as you splashed around in the water, throwing a blow-up tube over you. You struggled to get onto it at first, which tugged at the corners of his lips into a small, amused smile. He wasn’t feeling malicious about watching you struggle, he actually found it quite cute.

That smile got quickly replaced with a frown as he had that disturbing thought again about you.

“_____ drag you here?”

Levi peeled his eyes away from you, trying to push down the feelings of unease and confusion that were becoming more prominent within him.

“Something like that.”

Nicolo got distracted as soon as Sasha came up to him and called his name, carrying a paper bag that was filled with groceries and grilling material. From what little Levi could see, it seemed the newly formed couple was planning on having a grill-out later in the day. At least it meant that he'd be able to get away from the beach eventually.

As the two walked off, Levi was left on his own to stew in his own thoughts. He would usually never find himself here. He even adamantly dodged answering Hange when they asked where he was going on his day off, being more willing to let them theorize about whatever it is that he was up to over letting them know that you had successfully dragged him to somewhere like the beach. He had been here for a few hours at this point and had yet to even step into the sand.

He was avoiding the beach itself, but it did end up being awkward for him to be hanging by himself when he purposefully came to a social event. His reasoning in February was because he only went to make sure you didn’t find yourself in trouble again. He had no such reason now.

Levi found himself annoyed because he really was questioning why he bothered with coming. You had jokingly accused him of enjoying spending time with you, but that couldn’t possibly be the case. It was purely because he needed to get away from the school and apartment, and your trip just happened to be at a convenient time for him.

Part of him knew that was a lie.

As he watched you floating around leisurely on that blow-up tube, he felt this strange pull to approach you. However, you were in the water and he was adamantly against going anywhere near the water. Even the thought of stepping into the water filled him with a sense of disgust.

Levi sighed and groaned to himself. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to stay here. He didn’t want to go towards you either.

Noticing a local pub and the fact that it was a little past noon, he elected to simply get something to eat.

It wasn’t much better there, either.

It was crowded, the music was too loud, and it was too small of a space. At this point, he was more than grumpy enough to seriously consider maybe leaving and hanging out by himself in his car for the rest of the day, although he knew that you would give him nonstop shit about it if you found out about it—and knowing his luck, you’d definitely find out about it.

After finally getting to order and eat something that wasn’t completely covered in grease, he wandered around the downtown area, noting an ice cream shop nearby. While he normally wouldn’t be bothered to check it out, seeing the dessert shop immediately reminded him of you. The past few times that you had been upset over something, his first thought was to get you food as soon as he found out that you were food motivated. You obviously weren’t particularly upset about anything currently, but getting you food (or making you Matchas) had become one of his ways of spending time with you.

He scowled at the ice cream shop. He had insisted that he had come to the beach for himself and that it had nothing to do with spending time with you, but he knew that wasn’t true. It was also incredibly annoying that something as simple as an ice cream shop immediately reminded him of you.

Despite how tilted he found himself, he still ended up making his way towards the shop, unable to fight off the instinct of obtaining the one thing that never failed to uplift your mood.

~~~~~

It was hot enough that you were more than refreshed just hanging out in the water without a care in the world. You had just rolled into the water off of one of the blow-up tubes. You had originally elected to just sunbathe, but only lasted about ten minutes before you felt like the sun was frying you alive, prompting you to roll directly into the water.

You didn't particularly have a lot of stamina, so you were only able to swim without a floatie for about another ten minutes before you gave up and grabbed onto the blow-up tube and started wading towards land.

Once you finally got back to the shore, you tossed the tube to the side and began wringing out your hair before putting it up in a loose ponytail. You had left your bag near an umbrella for shade and dug out a towel to begin to dry yourself off, taking care to not get too much sand and water into the bag itself. 

You looked around and saw that Jean, Connie, and Sasha were still screwing around in the water. Eren and Mikasa had come along as well, but they were currently nowhere to be found. 

You didn't bring your usual group of friends with you. It's not that you wanted to intentionally leave them out, but you were starting to get sick of being the one inviting them to things. You were the one that was invited onto this trip, and for once, you weren't going to take the responsibility of who was coming or ensuring that everyone had a good time.

You couldn’t deny that you held some resentment towards them over what happened at the amusement park. You planned the whole thing, and got momentarily separated, and then they didn’t bother to check in with you for the rest of the day until they needed you for something logistical. You would be able to understand that it could have been a result of you also not reaching out, if this wasn’t a regular occurrence. It was excuse after excuse, and half the time it was you just making excuses for them. At this point, you didn’t even know if it was worth bringing it up or if you would just be met with defensiveness. You weren’t satisfied with being complacent, but you also didn’t want to put work into fixing a relationship if they weren’t also invested in repairing it.

By the time Levi had decided to actually step foot onto the beach, you had already set out a towel to sunbathe, propping up an umbrella behind you so that you had the option to take shelter in the shade in case it got too hot. Levi’s pacing slowed down once he got closer to you.

He could barely contain the discomfort radiating through his body when he saw you applying sunscreen onto your bare body. Your hands were currently roaming up and down your calves to your upper thigh, suddenly making your curves that much more obvious to him. It wasn't like he didn't see you in shorts (or even half-naked) before, but he suddenly felt the need to look away as if he was invading your private space. At the same time, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

Levi kinda awkwardly shuffled from side to side, unsure of what to do. He couldn't just stand there behind you without being a creep—plus, the ice cream would melt. 

He cleared his throat, prompting you to look up at him, your face lighting up once you saw the ice cream cone in his hand.

"Oh, thank you," you said as you took the ice cream cone from him, your cheeks heating up a bit. "Wanna sit?"

You scooted over to the side a bit to give him space to also sit on your towel. You pulled your knees up to your chest while quietly licking at the ice cream cone, the cold custard bringing a refreshing feeling to your mouth. It was perfect for a day as hot as today.

Levi tried his best to avoid looking down at you past your face. Your bikini didn’t seem overly revealing at the time, but now he felt like he couldn’t help but notice how it looked on you. Your hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which revealed the nape of your neck and the sunscreen made your skin shimmer. He felt heat rapidly rising to his face and he forced himself to look away and focus on the coldness of the ice cream instead to try to get himself out of that headspace, pissed that he found himself there in the first place.

You bit on your bottom lip, slightly anxious, as you looked at Levi, who was meticulously working through his ice cream cone, looking much more tense than usual. He wasn’t wearing a swimsuit, so he just had on a white t-shirt with some shorts on. His arms up to his upper bicep was exposed and it took every ounce of self-control within you to not continue staring at him. As usual, his hair fell perfectly over his forehead and his signature irritated scowl seemed oddly alluring. You slightly shook your head upon realizing the types of thoughts that you were having.

You shot a side glance at him, watching as he picked away at his ice cream. Upon closer inspection, you could see that he had elected for a waffle bowl instead of an ice cream cone and that he was using a spoon to scoop out the ice cream instead of shoving it in his face like you were.

When he finally looked over at you again, he immediately passed you a napkin. He had grabbed a more than generous bundle from the shop that he was just at.

"You're dripping."

"Oh, shit," you muttered as you took the napkin and wrapped it around the cone, checking to make sure the sugary liquid didn't get onto the towel. 

Your hand lingered on that spot on the towel for a bit, as if you were struggling to say something. Your finger gently rubbed the cloth back and forth for a while before your lips finally parted.

"Thank you for not being...weird after the other week," you mumbled.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in what almost sounded like a genuine tone as he finished his ice cream, but he knew what you were referring to—and you knew that he knew.

"...Nevermind," you said as you shook your head.

It seemed like neither of you really wanted to discuss what had happened—or rather, what had almost happened—on the Ferris Wheel.

You remembered the two of you chatting over your sudden grumpiness when you suddenly got the impulsive urge to kiss him. You had gotten so distracted that you could barely remember what it was that you were trying to say at the time: that Levi was the only really close and reliable connection that you had.

"...Just thank you for always being there to pick up the pieces, I guess," you mumbled. "I hope you're not too distressed about having to live with me for another year."

You looked up hesitantly at him. Your last statement was meant to be a joke, but there was a bit of actual anxiety present in your voice as well.

He glanced down at you.

"I think I'll find a way to cope with your annoying ass."

You shot him a half-hearted smile. You knew this banter was normal from him, but you couldn't help but doubt. You couldn't help but ponder on the fact that no one would reasonably want to live with you.

"Cut that out," Levi scolded with a groan.

You blinked at him.

"Cut what out?"

"You're pitying yourself again."

"What? No I'm not," you said defensively.

Levi shot you a skeptical look, not believing you in the slightest. 

"You're not as much of a pain in the ass as you think you are."

You scoffed at the irony of his comment.

"You still think that after you had to scout out the entire town for me that one night?"

"Yes."

He responded extraordinarily quickly, and with clear conviction in his voice.

You clenched your jaw and looked down and away from him.

"Do you not believe me?"

He never took his gaze off you.

"_____," he called out after you remained quiet for a while.

You let out an unsteady breath.

"I want to," you whispered. "I just feel like I'm always dragging you down or bothering you for something and there are so many times in which I regret texting you at night because I know you're busy and I don't want to be a burden. And-"

"You never shut up, do you?" Levi scolded, cutting you off. "You're not a fucking burden. Quit doing that to yourself."

He slightly shoved at you in an attempt to pull you out of your head.

You pulled away and looked at him, feeling your cheeks slightly warm up upon seeing that he was shooting you a subtle smile. You gave him a half-hearted smile in return.

"Maybe you're not as much of a dick as I thought you were."

He frowned at your comment.

"You thought I was a dick?"

"Mhm," you said with a nod. "When we first talked, remember?"

"Purged that memory," he said with a deadpan expression, implying that his first meeting with you was so terrible that he had to repress his memory of it.

"Ha, yeah right."

You hated the fact that your cheeks were warming up in his presence again. You hated the fact that you couldn't pull away from him even if you wanted to. 

And you absolutely hated the fact that you got this close to your aloof roommate that was insistent on being a dick to you right off the bat.

~~~~~

"You went out to get a sandwich?"

"Not touching that oil-soaked patty."

You looked over across the alley and saw that Nicolo was in the middle of teaching Sasha how to grill. He had brought his own patties that he had prepared earlier on in the day. Given the fact that everyone had been screwing around in the water all day, they were more than ready for burgers—except for Levi.

He was making a face of absolute disgust at the burgers. He was sure it tasted great—he knew of Nicolo's cooking abilities—but just the sight of the coat of grease over them made him scrunch up his nose in disgust.

Instead, he had walked over to a nearby restaurant to order a sandwich. You knew he had walked off to do that. What you didn't expect was that he was going to come back with one in hand for you too.

You didn't have a problem eating the burger, but the sandwich did admittedly look more appetizing than the burgers that everyone had begun digging through. 

"So?"

Levi raised an eyebrow at you as you spoke.

"So?"

"You regret coming yet?"

He looked at you without responding, unsure why you were randomly bringing up the question.

"I saw you smacking your shoes earlier to get the sand out."

Levi's breathing paused for a moment. He didn't expect you to notice that. He had made sure that you were out of sight when he went behind his car to get the sand out, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of an "I told you so". 

He grunted in response.

"Whatever. As long as it doesn't get in the car."

"Maybe I'll make you go swimming next," you mused.

"Don't you dare."

You chuckled at his reaction, taking a sip of your beer. You looked up towards both Nicolo and Sasha as you finished your sandwich and saw that Sasha had already picked up how to use the grill, despite having only been introduced to it around twenty minutes ago.

You knew all the way back in November that they were beginning to become a thing, so you weren't surprised when they arrived at the beach as an official couple. You watched them interact with each other and found your eyes flashing over towards Levi.

You mentally slapped yourself for doing so. The fact that you automatically looked at him when thinking about a "new couple" meant that those feelings that rose up at the amusement park were still there, and they didn't seem to be going away any time soon. Your housing situation would be made a hundred times more complicated if you ended up falling in love with your roommate. You continued trying to convince yourself that that wasn’t the case and that there was some other explanation for your feelings that didn’t involve a more intimate relationship with him.

It was Levi. He was supposed to piss you off and you were supposed to piss him off. Him being kind to you was a fluke. You just happened to have multiple flukes in a row. It couldn’t possibly mean anything.

You awkwardly shuffled around on the bench, trying to shake off the feeling. Levi immediately noticed that your body posture had changed.

"What?" he asked with a frown.

You looked at him with flushed cheeks. You weren't sure if it was from him or from the alcohol beginning to hit you. You'd prefer if it was just the alcohol.

"Nothing," you mumbled, shaking your head. "Just the alcohol settling in."

He blinked at you a few times with a raised eyebrow. He didn't believe you.

This had turned into a common theme between the two of you. Whether you were intending to or not, lying to him has become significantly more difficult as of late, and vice versa. The tension and mind games were killing you, but you weren’t willing to address anything, if you even knew what “anything” entailed of.

You grimaced as everyone began swarming the table now that the burgers were done and everyone had grabbed their food. The small table that you had been peacefully eating your sandwich at soon became chaotic and messy. Everyone chatting at once became incredibly noisy and it was wearing away at your nerves. You were soon no longer processing anything that was being said, your world simply turning into a haze that vaguely involved people running around and screaming something about summer break that you were too overwhelmed to fully tune in to.

Levi got up and placed a hand on your shoulder, sensing the tension.

"Come, talk a walk with me. It's-"

"-getting too rowdy?" you finished his sentence with a slight smirk. You shared the sentiment, however. It was much too noisy for either of you. Although Levi had pulled you out of your dissociative state, you felt it quickly returning.

He responded to your comment with an eye roll, but otherwise motioned for you to follow as he began to wander back towards the shoreline.

~~~~~

"Oh c'mon, at least dip a toe in!" you shouted back at Levi from the shoreline. 

"Fuck no."

You were barely in the water, just close enough for the waves to wash over your feet, but remaining dry otherwise.

The beach was starting to cool off now that the sun began to go down. The sky had a relaxing pink hue to it that was speckled with white clouds drifting about. It had gotten chilly enough that you had a thin, translucent pullover on so that you weren't wearing just a bikini. 

You tried to coax Levi to step into the water, but he adamantly refused. After seeing that he wasn't going to budge, you sighed and stepped out of the water, slightly bumping into him as you walked up next to him. 

He slightly pushed back against you with an annoyed look. He had invited you on a walk to get away from everyone else, not expecting you to try to drag him into the ocean. 

His frown lines softened as you looked up into his eyes and your cheeks heated up as he gave you "that" look again. It was the one you saw for the first time on that Ferris Wheel—a gentle, compassionate look that you rarely got to see from him. 

You broke eye contact, feeling your entire body begin to heat up just from being around him. You mumbled something under your breath.

"What?"

You shook off your nerves and spoke up.

"Thanks...for always being there to pick me up."

He sighed in irritation.

"Quit thanking me for it."

You had thanked him for the exact same thing repeatedly over the past day and while he wasn't necessarily sick of it, he knew how excessive it was. He was acutely aware that it had to do with a sense of shame or guilt, but he hoped that you'd eventually be able to just accept that it's okay to need or ask for help.

"I'm sorry if it ever seems like I'm not grateful," you mumbled. "I really don't know what I would've done without you this past year so..."

Your hand grabbed at your other arm in anxiety.

"...so I guess you're not as bad of a roommate as I thought you would be."

You had to end your comment with a joke. At this point it seemed to serve as a protective factor against whatever it was that was brewing within you whenever you were around him. You were hesitant to test the waters with him. It was why you didn't text him when you were on the bus ride back from the amusement park. 

You didn't want to screw up what you already had. You didn't want to mess up this delicate friendship that you had finally been able to forge.

When you finally gathered up the courage to look at him again, you saw that he never took his eyes off you the entire time.

He looked into your eyes for a bit before he spoke, as if he was also contemplating about the best way to word his thoughts.

"Did you mean it?"

"That you're not a shit roommate?"

He let out an annoyed tut.

"Not that, dumbass."

You tilted your head a bit at him, genuinely unsure of what he was referring to. 

"At the amusement park," he said quietly, and you felt your body freeze upon him bringing it up. "On the Ferris Wheel. Did you mean it?"

He was referring to what you had been saying about being close to him. You remembered musing about the fact that you didn't really have anyone that you could call family, or anyone that you could rely on to be there in case shit hit the fan—except for Levi.

Levi was always there for you, even if it seemed like he didn't want to be. Levi would drop everything to make sure you were okay. You could confidently rely on him. Whether you had wanted to or not, you had formed somewhat of a close bond with him, to the point that every minute that you spent with him involved you being incredibly confused over what your relationship actually was.

You felt your cheeks continue to heat up and you turned to walk away, pausing as your hand brushed up against his.

Your hands lingered near each other for a bit as the both of you stopped moving. You even felt his fingers slightly grasp at yours, although you could easily convince yourself that this wasn't intentional, but it still sent chills throughout your body nonetheless.

"Uhm..y-yeah," you stammered, "I guess I did...Is that okay?"

Neither of you pulled your hands away. The desire to get closer to him was destroying you, but you held agonizingly still as you anxiously waited for his response.

"Sure."

You looked into each other's eyes and you felt that same tension, that same alluring feeling drawing you towards him, that same temptation to gently plant your lips against his. Your face only continued to heat up as you stood next to him, fingers crossed with his, the both of you unmoving, waiting to see what the other would do.

Levi cleared his throat before finally stepping back away from the shoreline.

"Should head back. It's getting dark."

It took you a minute to reorient yourself to reality. 

"Yeah," you said quietly as you let out an unsteady exhale. "We should."

You lingered behind him a bit, letting him walk forward. You watched him from behind, appreciating the way that the breeze was blowing through his hair. Your eyes dropped down to the bottom of his t-shirt, where it slightly rose up so that you could ever so slightly see the bottom of his bare back. It wasn’t anything special, but just simply seeing his shirt rise made your body heat up in ways that you weren’t willing to admit to yourself. Besides, you still weren't sure how he felt. Part of you wanted to think that whatever was building up in you was reciprocated, but you were much too scared to act on it without explicit confirmation that he wanted it too.

Even if it was reciprocated, you weren't even sure if you wanted to officially go there. Things were too chaotic and you had never planned to fall in love with your roommate that you had hated so much a year ago. 

You weren't sure—but you couldn't deny that a deep part of you left you longing for more.

they're so stupid skjdfksdf #: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @alexkibutsuji @moonchild-angel

[violetlunette]

Runaway Chapter 8: Before the Grave

Summary: Malleus continues to sort through his emotions while Lilia finally receives news…

Previous Chapter

Master List

Ao3

Notes: *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

*Major Character death

They buried Silver in April.

Lilia wasn’t sure what happened during the time before. 

After hearing of his son’s death, Lilia’s heart and mind shut down. The world passed in a blur.

His body must have been on automatic, as somehow a funeral was arranged. (That may have been due to Kalim and Jamil, then later the Zigvolt family, whom Lilia vaguely recalled being around.)

It was held in Briar Valley, near the cottage where Silver spent nearly his whole life. He didn’t have much of a chance to spend it elsewhere.

The service had more attendees than he thought. Apparently, despite his stoic nature, Silver had made several friends. Lilia wondered if Silver knew that before he…

The crowds eventually dispersed throughout the day. Soon, the grieving father was left alone, more so than he had ever been.

Lilia stood like a statue before the grave marker, reading the words beneath the date as white rose petals from flowers left by mourners floated by, carried by the wind.

“Here lies Silver. Beloved child, lay to his eternal slumber."

The old fae vaguely wondered who chose those words. Then he decided it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. 

The world around him had lost its color, leaving only shades of gray and black.

There had been a lot of tears and other emotions of brokenheartedness, even from the forest creatures and spites Silver played with as a child. All except Lilia, whose despair surpassed grief and sorrow so far, his heart couldn’t comprehend the new and unwanted emotion. So, it shut down completely, leaving a hollow husk of a man behind.

His face was vacant, and Lilia was barely able to give even one-word responses. His mind was static, and his body ached in a way he hadn’t felt in ages. An ache that he knew wouldn’t be leaving him for the rest of his life.

His consciousness only came to life when he realized that Malleus and Sebek weren’t there.

He wasn’t surprised. With Malleus’ current emotional state, it was understandable that Malleus wouldn’t want to come, and Sebek would never abandon his prince. 

Even so, anger bloomed inside Lilia.

How dare they not be there? How dare they not come say their final goodbye to his boy?

Regardless of his heritage, Silver had always been loyal to both of them. He loved them.

So much that love destroyed him.

For them not to be here was a horrid insult to years of pure, unwavering devotion.

‘I suppose we get to see how much he meant to them. Eh, Silver?’ Bitterness twisted his features, and he began to inwardly seethe. The anger festered inside of him until all he wanted to do was rampage. Destroy everything and everyone. After all, how dare this world continue to exist when Silver was no longer a part of it? How dare people continue to live their lives when his son could not?

Bile built up in his throat. His teeth seemed to become sharper, like an animal's. He wanted to use them to tear this word asunder--

Then his eyes fell upon Silver’s birth date.

May 15th.

The day Lilia decided to visit Thorn Castle after 400 years of absence. The day he discovered Silver alone among the bramble, screaming at the top of his lungs for affection. The day he took the child as his own.

“I wish you never found him. I wish you never brought him into our lives.” Those were the last words Malleus had said to him concerning Silver. Lilia wished the same.

Lilia’s body trembled. He shoved his face into his open palms, where his fingers dug into his skin, as if ready to tear his face off.

If Lilia never found him, Silver could have been found by someone who could have loved him better than Lilia ever could. Silver could have had a better life—a life he deserved, filled with joy and more.

He certainly wouldn’t be six feet underground without even reaching adulthood.

Drip…

Tears fell from eyes as hot as fire as an invisible noose wrapped around his throat.

“Silver… I’m sorry… I—AUGH!” He choked on the last word as a sob was torn from him instead, forcing the man to his knees.

Silver deserved better.

He deserved better from Malleus, whom he loved as family and was willing to devote his life to.

He deserved better from Sebek, with whom he shared a dream to be brothers in arms.

He deserved to have a better lineage than the selfish humans he had.

Most of all, he deserved a better father than Lilia.

‘Silver, Silver, Silver…’ His mind chanted the name, hoping to call his precious child to him. However, all he got was a ghost of the teen in his head, carrying the same broken expression he had when he last saw his son.

Silver was a sweet, kind person who would never imagine harming another. He loved all around him and worked harder than anyone to become strong enough to protect others. And not many noticed this effort because of the sleep spell that plagued him.

Silver gave all he could to the world and more. The only thing he ever asked for in return was to remain by Lilia and Malleus’ side.

And yet, he was rejected by both.

First by his father, who was going to abandon him and leave the boy behind forever. Then Silver was tossed away by Malleus just for being born to the wrong people.

In the end, all Silver had was the final embrace of the sea.

Lilia fell forward in a defeated slump, sobbing over his son’s grave. He never meant to abandon him. Lilia never thought of it that way. He—he was just running away. He told himself he was doing it for his family, but in truth, he did it for himself. For pride and his own fears.

And Silver was the cost of it.

With an anguished sob, Lilia gripped the tombstone—the only thing he could take hold of—and called out to his son once more.

“Silver...Silver, please come back! I—I love you. I love you! I—I’m sorry! Please, please come back!” He didn’t care if Silver was a ghost, a zombie, or some other unspeakable form of the undead!

As long as he had his son back. As long as he could hold him in his arms again. As long as--

But alas, souls like Silver did not return to the world. Why would heaven ever release such a beautiful thing once it was in its grasp?

Lilia sobbed, sinking further down until it seemed he would sink into the soil. His hands clenched around the white roses that had been placed on Silver’s grave, scrambling the petals around him in his fit as pain burned through him, his heart tearing itself to bits as it screamed at him, “It’s your fault, your fault! ”

"Ahhh...!! Augh! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

What should he do now? What should he do? What could he do without his boy--

Scrch! Scrch!

Lilia turned his gaze up at the sound.

‘What the…’ He had to blink away his tears, not having the strength to move his hands.

The words on the grave were fading away, making a grinding sound as they did so.

Once the stone was blank, new words appeared.

A...P...I…

Letter by letter, new words came to be until a message was formed:

“April’s Fools! The real chapter will be posted next week.”

Lilia blinked. He blinked again, lifting his head to re-read the message, his lips voicelessly repeating the words.

. ..

. . .

.. .

. ..

. . .

… !

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

[rip-us-xoxo]

Infatuated- Draco Malfoy x Reader (REPOST)

Posted DECEMBER 26, 2020

Reposted APRIL 16, 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Request-Hi!! May I request a Draco and Hufflepuff reader with prompts 3, 7, 9 from the Christmas list? Maybe they’re in the great hall and she’s all dressed up for Christmas and Draco is just infatuated with her❤️❤️

A/n- I looove Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader imagines! Thanks for requesting, hope you like it! By the way, this is very stereotypical, but that’s because I fit the Hufflepuff stereotype to a tee so I am just using my own personal experience.

——————————————————————————

Warnings- None :)

——————————————————————————

Christmas, your favorite holiday. For more than one reason, there were cookies, present giving, and cute sweaters you can wear. But the best thing was that you got to do all of that with your boyfriend. 

It was Christmas break and your parents went on a trip to go visit your grandparents. You stayed behind because, one, you really didn’t like traveling, and two, Draco was staying behind at Hogwarts for Christmas too so you wanted to stay with him. 

You were one of the only Hufflepuff’s to stay behind for Christmas, most of them went back home to spend it with their family. But your lack of friends wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas spirit! 

You spent about two hours getting dressed for Christmas, your outfit consisted of festive leggings, an ugly Christmas sweater that lit up, festive socks, and finally, reindeer ears. 

You were visibly shaking with excitement while you were walking to the Great Hall, freshly baked cookies, courtesy of you, in your hands. You also had your bag slung around your shoulder, trying to take out a Christmas present you had for Draco out of it. 

Once you entered the Great Hall, you were struggling with everything in your hands. Draco, who was slumped over at the Slytherin table awaiting your arrival, noticed your struggles and hurried over to help you because the last time you dropped your plate of cookies you didn’t stop crying for hours which broke Draco’s heart. 

“Darling,” Draco panicked and held his arms out, waiting for something, or someone, to fall. You looked up suddenly, arms all tangled up, and smiled. 

“Merry Christmas, I brought cookies!” you beamed and held out the plate to him, the creases on your face from your smile making Draco swoon. “They smell delicious,” Draco cooed and took them from you before placing a kiss on your forehead. 

A few boys snickered at you both as they walked into the Great Hall. Draco sent a glare their way before looking back at you and smiling, you looked so cute to him at the moment. Your outfit, the fact that you baked cookies, and the gleeful look you had on; he was just besotted with you. 

“You are too adorable with those reindeer ears,” Draco commented and played with one of the bells hanging off of the antler that made it much more festive. A blush painted your cheeks as you looked down toward the floor and started rocking back and forth on your heels, “Thank you.”. 

You looked back up at him and looked over to the Hufflepuff table. “Well, I better go sit down,” you told him and started walking. Draco grabbed you by your bicep and pulled you back, “Nonsense. You’re sitting with me,” he scoffed and grabbed your hand, pulling you over to the Slytherin table. 

Once you two sat down, Draco immediately pulled you into his side and grabbed you a plate, putting food on it. He placed all of your favorites on the plate and handed it to you, “Here you are love.”. “Thank you!” you exclaimed and immediately dug in. Draco grinned down at you which made a few Slytherins snigger.

“Oh shut up, Zabini,” Draco growled and Blaise just shrugged his shoulders before chuckling again and talking with the others. He looked back over at you and placed his head in his hand, resting his elbow on the table just admiring you. 

He found everything about you adorable no matter what. It was like you two were made for each other. Draco protected you with everything he had and you helped him to be a better version of himself. You looked over at Draco to see him staring at you causing more blush to spread across your cheeks. 

“I’m just that adorable, aren’t I?” you joked, but Draco was dead serious. “Yes, yes you are,” he said and scrunched his nose shaking his head all cutesy, making you giggle. His heart thumped at the noise and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder before leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“You know what? I don’t want this feast because you look much more delicious right now,” he whispered, making your whole body go scarlet. “Draco, stop,” you giggled and hid your face in his chest. 

“Only telling the truth, darling,” he said, you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Oh my Godric,” you laughed and hit his chest before pulling away and going back to eating. 

“What? I am just infatuated with you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. So get used to it darling, or else you’ll be in for a wild ride for the rest of your life,” he told you before eating as well. You only giggled but your heart was going a million miles a minute. 

Did he just proclaim that you two were going to be together forever?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

xoxo

[beardedmrbean]

The stance by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) on face masks has taken many twists and turns throughout the COVID pandemic.

After initially claiming face coverings weren’t necessary, the CDC changed course in April 2020, calling on all Americans — even children as young as 2 years old — to mask up. 

That September, then-CDC Director Dr. Robert Redfield said during a Senate hearing that “face masks are the most important powerful health tool we have,” even suggesting that they might offer more protection than vaccines.

Those recommendations likely played a large part in 39 U.S. states eventually enacting mask mandates.

Now, a new scientific review — led by 12 researchers from esteemed universities around the world — suggests that widespread masking may have done little to nothing to curb the transmission of COVID-19.

Published by Cochrane Library, the review dug into the findings of 78 randomized controlled trials to determine whether “physical interventions” — including face masks and hand-washing — lessened the spread of respiratory viruses. 

When comparing the use of medical/surgical masks to wearing no masks, the review found that “wearing a mask may make little to no difference in how many people caught a flu-like illness/COVID-like illness (nine studies; 276,917 people); and probably makes little or no difference in how many people have flu/COVID confirmed by a laboratory test (six studies; 13,919 people).”

Next, the review compared medical/surgical masks to N95 respirators (or P2 respirators, which are used in Europe).

It found that “wearing N95/P2 respirators probably makes little to no difference in how many people have confirmed flu (five studies; 8407 people); and may make little to no difference in how many people catch a flu-like illness (five studies; 8407 people), or respiratory illness (three studies; 7799 people).”

The 78 studies looked at participants from countries of all income levels. 

Data was gathered during the H1N1 flu pandemic in 2009, non-epidemic flu seasons, epidemic flu seasons up to 2016 and the COVID-19 pandemic, the study authors wrote.

Doctor says review had some key limitations

The new findings seem to call into question the CDC’s enthusiastic embrace of widespread masking.

However, Dr. Marc Siegel, professor of medicine at NYU Langone Medical Center and a Fox News medical contributor, pointed out a key limitation: “The researchers focus primarily on randomized trials, but most of the studies that have been done on masks are population studies,” he said. 

“There are very few randomized trials on masks.”

In a randomized trial, researchers place participants in different groups and observe the results in a controlled environment.

By contrast, population-based studies measure outcomes in a “real-world” setting.

The study authors did admit to some limitations and a risk of bias, including the low number of people who followed mask guidance and the wide variation of outcomes. 

“The results might change when further evidence becomes available,” they wrote.

‘Be sure of consistency’ 

Dr. Siegel said he has never supported mask mandates. 

He believes that while masks might be effective on an individual level, they don’t work as well on a population level.

“If you’re going to mandate something, you’d have to be sure of consistency across the population, and that’s never happened,” he said.

However, the physician pointed out that the CDC never actually mandated masks — with the exception of a public transportation mandate in January 2021. 

“It was the state and local authorities that took the CDC’s recommendations and implemented the mandates,” Dr. Siegel said. 

“The recommendations may have been wrong, but the CDC doesn’t deserve the blame for everything. I think they were aware that masks may have value on a personal basis, but they got carried away with the politics.”

What do you think? Post a comment.

As of right now, no U.S. states have mask mandates in place. 

On Sunday, New York dropped its state-wide mask requirement in hospitals — leaving the decision up to individual facilities. Many healthcare facilities are currently still requiring them. 

[jasminegazer]

Chapter 10 Part 1

“For years, I have trained you.”

Her father began standing before his throne. Karai stood with her head bowed. She knew this was coming. But the shock and fear still found a way to creep into her.

“Perfected you. Raised you. Created a vision into what this clan could live up to.”

Her father’s cold voice became harsher and harsher as it rose on each word. He paced to the wall.

“And now . . .”

Her father punched the wall, immediately creating a spiderweb of cracks.

Shimata

Karai had never seen anything good happen when he was this filled with rage. She needed to think of something. Anything. Now.

“THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! BY SURRENDERING THE MISSION?! BY NOT ONLY LETTING THEM LIVE! BUT TO ALLOW THEM TO ESCAPE AS WELL. THOSE VILE RATCHET BARBARIC CHIKU-”

“There are more.”

A beat of silence followed Karai’s interruption.

“What?”

Oh shimata that actually worked. Keep Going!

“There are more mutants. Than the four terrapin creatures. From what I gathered they consider themselves a family. Cousins and siblings.”

Her father’s figure loosened from its original stature. Moving to have his arms crossed behind him, back facing Karai. “And? What importance does this have to your failure?”

Karai was fighting both her giddy relief and anxiety at this point. To massive beast clawing at the edges of her mask.

“So instead of raising alarm to all of the mutants by obtaining a small group, why not use my role more to our advantage? If I gathered enough information you could devise the perfect plan to obtain all of the mutants. TCRI will have so many mutants in reach that they are more than likely to leave the majority to your disposal.”

A long stretch of silence came before the two warriors. Karai was preparing herself for the worst. Any day could be the end so she had to be prepared.

“You have impressed me my daughter. You may proceed with the mission. I will contact TCRI.”

She let out a heavy breath of relief. That was close.

“But. You still disobeyed me. And therefore a punishment must be imposed to restore your honor.”

Karai hesitated before bowing once more. There was no point in fighting or begging for this to stop. She chose this path but she wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave it to head into the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He really let his anger out with that.

Karai hissed as she covered a bruise forming on her cheek. This was the least of her problems. She had plenty of other injuries. Plus 2 weeks of being suspended from field work.

That meant no school. No kickboxing. No hanging out with April. . . Nevermind. That still wasn’t an option until she apologized. But hey. She only had to wait 2 weeks for that awkward conversation. Yaaay

Speaking of which, Karai might as well have put her mask back on before she walked into her shared room. But no she was too tired for that and could use a discussion with Jennika no matter how restricted the seriousness of the tone could be.

She was already half way to her bed before her sister noticed her arrival. She was fiddling with her guitar. A common sign that quite the show had happened while she was gone.

“You will not believe how low Lieutenant has fallen. I saw him sparring with like 2 newbies, straight of the street, and they beat his ass so go-”

Jennika stopped mid sentence as Karai dropped to sit on her bed. Her wide smile of mischief was swapped with a look of concern melting from rage to annoyance. Jenn threw done her guitar carelessly.

“Ano meinu no musuko.” Karai’s roommate grumbled as she dug around for their first aid kit. They always made sure to have one in case of training or . . . situations. Like this.

Karai didn’t need to handle another situation right now. Especially if it put Jennika in danger. “Hey. Don’t bring my grandmother into this.”

Jenn turned her head furiously. “Unless she was like you then I don’t give a shit.”

“And if she was?” Karai playfully countered.

“Then screw me. At least she probably wasn’t half as reckless with her body as you are with yours.” Jenn flicked her forehead. Karai didn’t mind. She managed to lighten the mood.

Instead of focusing on Jenn’s poor medical technique, she started to pick that the fabric of the mattress. It was soft and firm.

. . .

“Jenn.”

Her sister hummed in response.“Thanks for breaking the tension. Felt like I was bouta choke on it.”

That got a chuckle out of both of them.

“I . . . I need you to call me a different name. When we’re out doing missions.”

“Is this because of the talk that got you and dad into this whole situation?” Jenn dramatically jestured to her face at the last bit.

Karai was honestly a little shocked. Her sister was blunt to say the least. But not usually when it came to situations. One of the few topics where she kept her opinion to herself. Karai was used to and thankful for that.

It wasn’t much of a topic one would like to discuss.

“Can we not talk about it?”

“Who said we would?”

Karai really did try not to let the feelings show but somehow they snuck onto her face. Jenn seemed to notice, seeing by the way her face detensed. She let out a frustrated sigh.

“Whatever happened, all I know is the only reason you’re here is because whatever you did that upset him was important enough to you to make you do it and find excuse to get you out.” Jenn pressed her forehead against Karai’s. “As long as you’re still smart and careful enough to keep getting out alive enough to be fixable then I don’t need to ask anything.”

Karai smiled as she leaned into her sister. “Watashi?”

“Anata.”

They sat for a while. It was dangerous to have moments like this in public. Compassion can be used easily as a tool against you in a ninja clan. Especially one as prestige as the Foot. So they saved this for their room. When they needed a place and person to let the walls fall down.

Jenn broke the silence by getting up to pick up her guitar. “So.” She clapped on the word. “What do you want me to call you? On the field?”

Karai thought about that for a minute. Looking around the room before landing on her bed. An old ichimatsu doll rested in the corner. Supposedly from her mother. She remembered blurs of being quite attached to the thing. But could never hook onto the memory of how the silky hair had become stained from blood.

“How about Miwe?”

Jenn snorted as she flopped back on her bed, guitar in her lap. “Alright! I like it. You ready to hear about what happened while you were gone now, Miwe.”

Karai chuckled at the thought of such antics. “Sure. I’ve got time to kill.”

Previous Masterpost Next

ONE MORE PART AND WE’RE DONE WITH THIS STORY!!! Ah I had so much fun writing the sisters ever in the Foot (yes they are sisters and no they aren’t a ship). As well as sprinkling in a little lore. Stay tuned for the last part.

Cowabunga turtle fanz!

[pyropsychiccollector]

Ace Attorney: IF (... Part 5)

To briefly give some background, Mia Fey used to work at the Grossberg Law Offices. Marvin Grossberg was an old friend of her mother, and Mia was grateful for the starting off point in her career as a lawyer. ... But even if Marvin helped her out of a sense of obligation to the Fey's, Mia was not blind. The old man carried a great deal of guilt that only compounded over the years.

And why wouldn't he feel guilty? Fifteen years ago, the police tried contracting the services of a medium to channel a victim to unearth the truth of an otherwise unsolvable murder. They kept the medium's identity anonymous and kept the whole affair a secret, and yet the media found out about it. Why? Because someone sold out the medium, giving the information to someone that in turn sold it to the media outlets and profited a great deal from the humiliation and ruination of the Fey's.

Marvin was promised a great deal of power and wealth for leaking that information... And instead, a noose was tied around his neck and he was blackmailed into serving the man who tempted him. Mia learned about this betrayal through her independent investigations, and while she would never quite forgive Marvin for causing her mother and family a great deal of grief, for her mother going into hiding from the public... The fact remains Marvin was a friend of her mother's, and he had given her the chance to become a lawyer. Marvin made a mistake, and he was still paying for that mistake like a great many people were. Mia was dedicated to bringing down the man that blackmailed Marvin, and that was a tall order because of how powerful the man had gotten in 15 years.

She studied and worked diligently under Grossberg Law Offices for a couple of years... And then she spread her wings to form her own law firm. Of course Diego came along for the ride, letting his little Kitten handle all the managerial headaches. This was Mia's dream, and she was blossoming into a fine lawyer~...

And yet... (人◕ω◕) Diego knew full well the man that his Kitten was pursuing. He was a dangerous man, one that toyed with the police, the courts... All because he had them in his pocket, whether through bribery or blackmail. His "network" dug up any corrupt dealings of anyone that was anyone, and then the man used that information to his advantage.

It was a risky venture to go after a man like Redd White... But Diego supported his Kitten. Because Mia had no dirty laundry that White could use against her. His Kitten couldn't be bought. She wouldn't be scared away from this investigation. It was heartwarming and alarming at the same time how driven Mia was to bring White down... They would need to be careful, but Diego was rather confident in their eventual success. No one else had the guts to even try. ... Even Edgeworth Law Offices was wary of Blue Corp. They might've been conducting their own investigations in secret, but they weren't telling Fey and Co. Law Offices anything on that front...

They sorely underestimated their opponent. White was sick and tired of Mia's snooping, so he resolved to make an example out of her. The man plotted to kill Mia while she was meeting up with her sister... But to his chagrin, the kid showed up for the meeting first; Mia was running late.

... Not that Redd White cared all that much... (人◕ω◕);;; Setting Mia up for murder would get rid of her just as well. He already absconded with all the dirt she dug up on him, what little actually hurt him, so killing Maya and arranging for Miss April May to catch Mia discovering the body was a pathetically easy task.

White was so certain of his victory. (人◕ω◕) Mia was devastated, Diego livid, and the police acted quickly to arrest Miss Fey as they were supposed to. Diego wasn't in a place to defend Mia in court as he was considered a suspect in the murder, too. That was the police's unfortunate stance.

But that's alright. (人◕ω◕) There's more than one law firm in this city, and not all of them are in White's pocket or too scared to move against him. Diego was shocked Ray Shields responded so quickly, never imagining their senior was keeping an eye on the situation. After having nothing to say about Blue Corp for months, Diego figured Edgeworth Law Offices would stay far away from this case.

No, Ray isn't that heartless. (人◕ω◕) To be honest, Diego wasn't wrong about his assessment. Ray was pretty leery of Blue Corp. He knew full well that Mia was poking around some freaking dangerous bigshots, Redd White gave Ray the heebie-jeebies. (人◕ω◕) His caution came out of a sense of keeping a promise to Gregory to keep the law firm alive; if he tried making big moves against White, he just knew Miles or Sebastian would get targeted.

Which... sucks because that very thing happened to Mia and her sister. ...... (人◕ω◕) Ray knows it's inexcusable that he didn't form a united front before now. He allowed Mia to get in over her head, and it was Maya who paid the price. Ray knows nothing will ever make up for allowing someone else to suffer the tragedy he did in losing Gregory... But he's willing to defend Mia to the last, and just maybe take Redd White out if they're lucky. (人◕ω◕)

Mia doesn't blame Ray for what happened. He didn't murder Maya in cold blood, and she even remembers Ray cautioning her a few times... albeit in his quirky, "is he joking?" manner. Diego is similarly sober and grateful that Ray is here for them now... The coffee aficionado feels more culpable for what happened to Maya because he felt looking after the sisters was his responsibility. (人◕ω◕) ... But Ray acknowledges they could've been working together before now, so the man acknowledges his failings. He's here now, and Mia and Diego are willing to let Ray handle their defense.

... Even if Ray's teenage ward/assistant doesn't instill the most confidence... (人◕ω◕);;; Sebastian is better than he would've been, in another timeline. He's not nearly as confused with words, and he's nowhere near as arrogant... But Sebastian is... excitable. (人◕ω◕);;; Hardly knows anything about law, yet he wants to help his dad with an important case like this. Because it'd make him cool and give him something to brag about at school.

.......... Not the most idealistic reasons to defend somebody, but Sebastian's heart is in the right place. ... Sort of. (人◕ω◕);;; He is just a 15-year-old. What did you expect?

Ray knows what he's doing, and he was young like Sebastian once. (人◕ω◕) The kid hasn't even picked up his paper-eating habits! That's something, yeah? (人◕ω◕)

Regardless, they have Mia and Diego's blessing to handle the investigation. Miles had his hands full with another case, so they would have to handle this one on their own. Not the easiest task when the police are so dismissive and cold. But Ray expected no less when Redd White was at the center of this circus. (人◕ω◕)

They get a small break when the lead detective takes pity on them. (人◕ω◕) Manfred found Redd White irritating, but knew that he had to obey the man in some capacity because a few ingrates in his office were in the man's employ... But he wasn't about to assign his daughter to this case, or handle it himself. No, he'd get the blue monkey to take care of it. Manfred held no expectations for Phoenix Wright, and if he upset Redd White... Oh well. (人◕ω◕) That's why Calisto was in charge of the initial investigation.

By now, Calisto adapted to her new life. (人◕ω◕) Alba and Coachen were dealt with, and Interpol was chasing down the remnants of the smuggling ring. She didn't have a lot to fear these days in spite of how imposing that ring used to be. (人◕ω◕) This wasn't her ideal life or anything… But Calisto was used to plodding along, dealing with disappointment, and she could have far worse bosses than Badd. The Chief of Police was one example. Calisto knew her kind, and Damon Gant was… Well. He was eerily similar to Alba. (人◕ω◕)

But did Calisto inform Badd of her misgivings? You bet your sweet ass she did. (人◕ω◕) If there was departmental rotting, Calisto wasn't going to jeopardize her new life by keeping quiet because it was too troublesome. Badd would chew her out for not saying anything, and he might think she was keeping other dark secrets and watch her like a hawk… Thankfully, Badd was aware of Gant giving off such vibes and was keeping an eye out already. But he was grateful for Calisto's transparency. Proved that despite the attitude she would have at times, Calisto was genuinely on their side… Or Badd and Faraday's side, at any rate. Everyone else…ehhh, they were working on it. (人◕ω◕)

No one could deny Calisto did her job as an investigator. (人◕ω◕) She knew from the minute that she was assigned to the Fey murder case that Blue Corp's mitts were all over this. The police had orders from up top (not from Gant, but from pretty up the ladder) to handle this as quickly as possible and ensure everything pointed to Mia. (人◕ω◕) Calisto wasn't an idiot. She knew this was a frame-up. And since Badd was busy with other matters, it fell to her to conduct a proper, thorough investigation. Not that she could just tell the defense they were after the same thing. (人◕ω◕) Calisto did have her orders, and she at least had to give the impression she was following them; any officers reporting to White would definitely be dealt with after this case. (人◕ω◕)

But in the meantime… She could be genuine in her deadpan behavior over Shields debasing himself to be granted rights to investigate. (人◕ω◕) The man had no pride, begging and pleading… Offering sweets… And those damn hugs he kept offering were pissing her off. (人◕ω◕)*** Eventually she shared a bit with him. Pointed him in the right direction of where to look without outright saying it. By the end, Calisto is pretty sure Ray at least had an inkling she wasn't like the other bullheaded officers. Finding good help was so hard these days. (人◕ω◕)

Being assigned to work with Phoenix Wright was… Calisto was gonna be honest, she still thought Badd was screwing with her. (人◕ω◕) He wasn't a bad guy, but even with that Von Karma diva whipping him into shape, Wright still had a long way to go as a prosecutor. Calisto could somewhat respect his drive to pursue the truth… But the bonehead missed the point that prosecutors were supposed to DOUBT others. He was way too chill with just assuming an arrest was made erroneously. (人◕ω◕) In the end, though, Calisto was assigned to the big lug. As annoying as it was to screw his head on straight for the most simple tasks, Wright did listen to and trusted her. Not a whole lot of people were willing to do even that much after hearing about her past. And of course Wright was briefed on that. It's not that Wright didn't care what she used to be; he cares more about what she was now, if she had "learned" to be a better person…

Calisto didn't much like how condescending that made Wright sound… But after a few weeks, she got the gist of the kind of man he was. Wright always wore his heart on his sleeve, and he had this bizarre faith in people intermingled with his strong sense of justice. He was…a character. But Calisto could work with this. There were far worse prosecutors she could have been working with. God help her, she probably would have locked that Von Karma diva in a broom closet from their first day together. (人◕ω◕) Wright was a big, strong, idiot of a man, but he LISTENED to Calisto and actually asked to hear her assessments. On both cases and people. (人◕ω◕) He didn't agree with everything she said, but that cut both ways so it was fair.

… He was also amusing to mess with. Not as cliff-faced as Edgeworth, nowhere near actually, but when he reacted to things he did not disappoint. (人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)

All of that said, Calisto and Phoenix were pretty sure how this case SHOULD go, but they needed to keep up appearances so Calisto made sure to have a good, long strategy session so Wright wouldn't embarrass himself in the trial. (人◕ω◕) She needed Wright to carry himself better than that lecherous, lazy attorney. She would not stand to be the only sane, rational person in that courtroom. (人◕ω◕)***

Well, it goes about as well as any of them could hope. The judge was clearly pressured to declare Mia guilty, but the defense accumulated enough evidence and testimony to point the finger at Redd White, who of course did everything to dodge and pressure Phoenix to stop giving the defense chances to counterattack. Not that Phoenix listened, but you know, the miserly, power-crazed CEO tried. (人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕) Having the knowledge she did, Mia got the man to confess to his crimes. Kinda stole the show from Ray, but he wasn't complaining. White honestly thought it didn't matter if Mia was still alive, but he was very wrong… (人◕ω◕)

Arresting White was a simple matter, now that his confession gave the police and courts free reign to raze him and Blue Corp. (人◕ω◕) It'd be up to Wright to wrap up that case, but once White got the Guilty he deserved, the big blue idiot found himself very popular. A lot more cases sent his way and a lot more friends that used to be under White's thumb showering him with gratitude. (人◕ω◕) It was a step in the right direction for the rookie prosecutor. Even Calisto thought so~

As for Mia… She still took the loss of her sister hard, but she would carry on. Prosecutor Wright helped find the truth, as did Ray and Sebastian. White was convicted, and now Mia and Diego could keep the office running. They, too, would receive a lot more business for helping end Blue Corp's reign. (人◕ω◕) Life wasn't perfect, it would be hard without Maya, but Mia knew life would get better. (人◕ω◕)

[raisin-shell]

April Showers

TMNT Bayverse/turtle of choice/ NSFW /SMUT/Language/18+

The candle light flickered across his handsome face, the wind picking up a bit harshly but you paid it no mind as you stared lovingly across the table into your handsome turtle beau’s eyes. He had arranged everything for this perfect evening for the two of you, a candlelit dinner, just you two under the stars… nothing to heavy as he always knew your stomach would be in knots when he’d do things like this. He also knew you well enough to have brought some wine to help ease the tension. He knew he gave you butterflies in all the right places and he knew tonight was meant to be something special. Uncharted. One step further than either of you had gone before. Both you and he were very nervous and so far things had gone so perfectly that both of you had began to let your guard down.

All was well and fine until the rain clouds started rolling in… fast. Your beau looked over at you in panic, knowing going back to the lair would surely ruin this one chance for this special moment to take place. At least not now. The rain came as he continued to sit there, candles now dampened and unalived as the droplets began to downpour. He reached his hand out to yours, you figured he would lead you to shelter but no. Your beastly mate lead you towards the center of the rooftop as the thunder gently rolled across the sky.

“What are you doing?!”

You demanded with this crazy look upon your face as your turtle man guided your hand into his and rested your arm around his neck.

“I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain. So, may I have this dance?”

A grin on your face began to quickly spread as you pressed your body against his and you both began to sway back and fourth. The droplets of water began to soak both of you beneath the nights sky. Neither of you cared for in that moment it was just the two of you closer than you’d ever been. His hand lifted to your face just as a slow thunder rolled in, tilting your chin to his as his eyes shone into yours.

“I love you. More than anything. I’m so thankful to have you in my life.”

His husky voice cooed as his lips wet with rain locked tightly with yours, the rain starting to pick up but nothing could stow the warmth between the two of you. Lightning began to crash off into the distance, neither of you wanting to depart from the moment. His hands began to wander as did yours, traveling over his toned muscles slickened by the rain. He on the other hand was more than ready to get you out of your clothes, peeling your top from your body only to break the kiss to pull off the garment.

The candles were stowed by now, only the dim moon lit sky could guide your eyes but your bodies were doing the guiding for you. He made quick work of your jeans, tugging them down and lifting you up to a straddle around his hips. Still twisted and tongue tied and not in the least worried about getting struck by lightning on top of a skyscraper, he walked you over to the wall of what should have been a utility room. Who cared it was flat and solid and from the bulge in his pants he was needing you right then, right there.

Lightning flashed once again as he loosened his trousers, letting his throbbing member bob free against your lower tummy. His fingers eagerly slipped to your puffy folds, still covered in fabric both soaked from rain and your own arousal thick in the humidity in the air. A deep churr rumbled from his body as your hips rolled against his advances. He tucked your panties to the side, gliding his steeled cock between your slit as he swallowed your moans and the rain began to pour. Your legs widen, welcoming his entry as his bulbous head pressed past the tight ring of your core. A low moan escaped you as your lips tore from his, feeling his massive manhood stretch you open slowly spreading your velvety walls and bottoming out.

Your nails dug deep into the pebbled skin of his shoulders as he allowed you to adjust before retracting himself from you almost fully. His eyes met yours once more as another I love you left his lips before he slid himself back in, plunging deeply as cries of pleasure began to ring louder from you than the thunder in the sky. His arms tucked beneath your legs, spreading you open further as his hips continued their vigorous pursuit, pounding, stroking and stretching your pussy with each thrust. Your legs began to quake, head thrown back as the burn in your belly slowly tingled into a sudden burst of ecstasy that ripped through your entire body.

You fell limp, face being sprayed with droplets of water as he slowed his pace and centered himself. His hips jutted forward with so much force another shrieking moan ripped from your throat as he continued to pound deeper and faster within you. You could feel his cock thicken even more as his brow furrowed and for the first time for that evening his eyes clenched shut. Teeth barred and muscle strained, he pumped every last drop of his seed deep inside your cavity, filling you to the brim.

In the distance the storm kept brewing, traveling faster towards the two of you. You scrambled for your clothes as the two of you made your way back to the sewers, both soaking wet and flushed red. No one had to know it was your first time having sex. No one had to know it was your first time doing so in the rain.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @nittleboo @aurora-the-kunoichi @imthegreenfairy88 @leosgirl82 @angelicdavinci @queendice98 @fyreball66 @tkappi @dai-su-kiss @dragonslover1 @hagelpaimon @isitdonproof @janna-the-breaker @just-straight-up-chaos @mean-green-imagines @lady-maria-the-wolf225 @lady-ella1 @nexuschampion @selfless1978 @verothexeno @waterstar2016 @xanadu-702 @angelcatlowyn

I’m rusty. Be kind please I haven’t written anything in forever and I’m nervous 🙏

[saintsenara]

this piece was written for @ladiesofhpfest monthly minis, focusing on andromeda tonks.

grief is a theme which has been prominent in my reading and writing lately, and one aspect of grief which i am particularly drawn to at the minute is the fact that grief can often make the grieving quite unpleasant. the rage of grief, its vindictiveness and petty cruelty, are subjects which i think this fandom often shies away from. after all, nobody likes to think of their faves being horrible in their sorrow.

but i think andromeda makes a good case study for this feeling. i'm always struck in deathly hallows by how there's such a potent undercurrent of anger and disapproval in the way she deals with harry and hagrid. i like the description of her looking haughty - above and beyond the visual comparison it draws between her and bellatrix - and i like her complete lack of interest in doing anything other than talk about tonks and her fear for her.

i've written a lot about how i think someone in andromeda's position would understand the risk which tonks has taken on by joining the order (i'll die on the hill, written about in several of the pieces i did for the fest this summer, that she is aware that bellatrix has convinced voldemort to leave her and ted alone, which then becomes forfeit). and so here i'm thinking about just how furious she'd be when her fear and rage and warnings about that risk were proven to be completely justified - set around dirge without music by edna st. vincent millay. because andromeda does not approve. and she is not resigned.

Spring did not amble into summer that year, as it usually did.

It did not drift with mellow ease from April’s pale into May’s gold, lying idly on the grass in Richmond Park with the cracked-sugar coating on mini eggs on its fingers. It did not wake up one morning and put all its jumpers into storage, then fish them out again three days later when there was still a chill in the morning air. It did not spoon mint sauce onto its Easter lamb and watch as the tendrils of the broad beans curled themselves around their frame.

Death was squatting in her house, disarraying the furniture and stretching the sleeves of her cardigans, a winter’s dirge in his horrible voice and a sepulchral damp trailing in after him whenever he opened the door.

And although she had prided herself for years on her skill as a hostess, she was growing furious with her unwanted guest.

May was a month of rain and of rage.

For all the others - the other mothers in the club she had not asked to join, whose company she loathed, whose losses she refused to comprehend - it seemed that May was a month of silence.

She could picture them, sitting mutely by empty beds, the ephemera of childhood clutched in their white-knuckled hands, as if it will help clear the fog. She could see them searching through the gloom for the glittering past; the memories of summer’s haze which parents cast unthinkingly away, believing that there will never be a time when they will have to beg death to let them remember the way a seven-year-old face looked on a particular May morning.

She could picture them, sitting mutely by the fresh-turned earth of newly-dug graves, spring’s white flowers - apple blossom and yarrow; baby’s breath for their unbreathing babies - laid before headstones slick with the unseasonable squall. She could see them letting the rain mingle with the tears on faces rubbed raw, until the one cannot be distinguished from the other in the drops falling to the earth.

But she could not sit. She could not search or cry.

She could only spit; and snarl and scream until her teeth clashed through the dry and splitting skin of her lower lip and blood pooled in her mouth.

While death laughed at her.

They had never been able to work out where Nymphadora’s talent - the clay suppleness of tendons and bones, the shape-shifting malleability of skin and marrow - had come from.

Ted had been a solid man, substantial in the way that bookshelves are: never rickety; never uneven; smelling of wood polish and leather. He contained a hundred thousand little treasures; he was a source of knowledge, a place of solace on rainy days; a best friend in the aftermath of a lonely childhood.

And she herself was solid, in the way that music is: the tempo can be varied but the notes remain the same. One sister can strike out on her own, but there is a refrain which follows her, the same funeral dirge which lilts in the air after her sisters, letting the careful listener know that these three women are one and the same. No matter what one was pretending.

Nymphadora had none of her father’s solidity. She was an opal: gaudy and colour-changing and brilliant, but with a softness beneath it all. She was fragmentary and fractured. She had wanted her jokes to be laughed at. She had wanted to be taken seriously.

She had wanted to be loved, in all her contradictory, flesh-and-blood glory.

She lay now beside her lukewarm lover in the earth.

She did not speak to her daughter when she visited the graveyard, its pathways washed with rain, a yew sagging against the church’s ancient walls. She did not speak to Ted either, though he mouldered next to his daughter. She did not leave flowers leaning on their headstones. She clenched her fists until her nails pierced the dry and splitting skin of her palms, and blood dripped over her wedding ring to the ground.

She was too angry at them both; at how they had clearly been in cahoots to turn themselves into food for the worms, and leave her pouring tea for death and keeping the radiators blasting. This is how it had always been - Ted’s gentleness turning into permissiveness when it came to Nymphadora throwing herself from the tops of trees or telling old ladies who reprimanded her on her knicker-baring miniskirts to go swivel, and she was forced to become the strict one, the one who disapproved of burping and pot noodles and joining the Aurors.

Neither of them had ever listened, adventure twinkling in their identical eyes and schemes whirring in their swashbuckling minds. They thought her silly - nervous and elegant and a lover of order. In their unkinder moments, they thought her rigid, icy, cruel. She could still picture Nymphadora at the breakfast table - sixteen and sulking over being told off for overindulging at a party and being sick all over the hydrangeas - and how it had felt to know her eyes were raking over her mother’s heart-shaped face for the fragments of Narcissa and Bellatrix that a quiet life in a Muggle suburb could not erase.

But look at that. She was right and they were both dead. And she was furious.

She did not speak to her husband when she returned to the house, where death was laying on the sofa instead of babysitting. There were crumbs on the coffee table, the gingery shards of a whole biscuit now snapped and softening. Like Ted - with his hair the colour of saffron cake and his eyes like spring water - would be in the damp of May’s earth.

As a child, her after-dinner habit had been bridge - a constant torture since Bella would never pay attention long enough for them to have a really good game. As an adult, it was coffee and chocolate liqueurs on the sofa with Ted.

As a widow, it appeared to be screaming.

The morning dawned as grey as all its cousins; May was a month of rain and of rage. Death clattered around the kitchen, leaving eggshells on the floor and teabags staining the worksurface with their tannic drool. The disorder made her skin itch.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her face prickled and pink from a shower which had scalded her. The heat was a comrade; the water was boiled up to a flesh-burning point, her blood was hot enough to eat her marrow, turning her from the inside out into mulch. Somehow it all evened out.

Ted and Nymphadora were competing over who could decompose the quickest, laying in the graveyard and giving thanks for all the damp. It would putrify them all the quicker. Still, how shocked they would be when victory was snatched from them before their sightless eyes. If there was a prize for shattering first, the person they’d left behind would win.

Her day was one of half-drunk coffees and constant movement. She could not sit, there was no way of relaxing with a magazine on the sofa when death was leaving so many crumbs. There was no way of staying in the house when there were so many fragments lurking on shelves and in wardrobes. Ted’s jumpers curled up like newborn kittens in a drawer; his mismatched socks were lined up like limp orphans in the laundry basket.

A hairbrush, entangled with bright pink strands, lay on the stairs. She had told Nymphadora to take it up with her the last time she went to bed. Her daughter hadn’t listened.

She was so angry at her.

[stranger-rants]

Runaway Max Annotation Series

This is part of a series I am doing on Runaway Max by Brenna Yovanoff. To see previous posts including the annotation guide, check the [#rm annotations] tag on my blog. These posts will follow the general formula of summary, annotations, quotes, and any thoughts or analysis I want to provide based on my own interpretation of the text. You can use my posts as references in fandom discussions.

Runaway Max Chapter One

Max skateboards through downtown Hawkins. She falls off her skateboard, scraping her knee. Billy pulls up in his Camaro to take her home. He looks bored. Max thinks back to their first meeting.

This one is longer, so it is going under a read more.

Annotations:

1) Background

Max is skating through downtown Hawkins in October (Halloween season). She enjoys playing Dig Dug at the Palace Arcade. Based on her statements it appears Max met Billy in April, though this is not made explicitly clear / the phrasing is a bit weird.

2) Family Context

Max used to play games at the Joy Town Arcade with her father in California. After the divorce, her father moved to L.A. Susan dated a series of losers, and Max says she "disappeared into the personality of every guy she dated." The men she dated either left or they were kicked out. Max says, "Neil was different." Neil was a guard at the bank where Susan was a teller. He would call her Sleeping Beauty, and actively romanced her.

3) Unreliable Statements / Limited P.O.V

Max says that Billy looks at her like she was "something he wanted to scrape off him," and she pairs this with claiming that he always looks bored around her. We don't know the reason as to why Billy is picking Max up, nor does he explain what he is thinking or feeling then. Max says she believed that "the Hargroves were here to make everything better - or at least okay," which not only sets her up for disappointment but makes every interaction with Billy out to be an evaluation of his worth to her and vice versa.

4) Evidence of Abuse / Neglect

There are already numerous red flags. Neil compares Susan to Sleeping Beauty, which Max interprets to mean that she's "stuck." So, she would be easier for Neil to control. Billy is also described as "sleepy" with moments of sudden alertness. This may indicate dissociation and/or (C)PTSD in Billy. Neil is very controlling. He controls when and where Susan and Max meet his son. He gets rid of things in Susan's own home that he doesn't personally like. He glares, waiting for Billy the first time Susan and Max are set to meet him. He also refuses to stop calling Max, "Maxine."

5) Neil / Billy Associations

Max was expecting Billy to be more like Neil - "a preppie football type."

6) Max & Billy Relationship

Max was excited to have a brother. She thinks he's cool, or rather "rad" - especially his earring. She says she thought getting a brother was going to change her life. Billy talks to her in a cool casual, sarcastic manner and Max tries to gain some approval from him by talking about cars.

He calls her "Maxine" in a sarcastic manner to contrast with Neil who says it more seriously. He also gives her the name "Mad Max." He says Max is "just a kid," but it is explicitly mentioned that Billy is in high school. So, he's not that much older. Based on the timeline, there's about a five year age gap between the two.

Their canon meeting in the show is at a much younger age, and they've known each other longer. In the book, they've only known each other a few months before moving and Billy didn't meet her until after their parents got engaged.

7) Other Valuable Insights; Potentially Useful Information

Max talks about having seen the Terminator. Billy dressed up as the Terminator for Halloween in the show. Does this mean Billy took her to see it?

8) Billy's Characterization

Billy drives fast, and Max compares Billy to his Camaro - "fast and hard edged like a car." Her opinion of the Camaro shifts from thinking it's a cool car to thinking it's like a monster. This is similar to how her opinion shifts about Billy over time. He goes from "looking like a movie star" with his sprayed hair and an open shirt, to looking perpetually bored and sleepy and giving Max a look she interprets as disdain whenever she's around him.

Thoughts:

Billy is given limited opportunity to express his own thoughts and feelings narratively outside of Max's lens, which is one of the biggest problems when people insist on using this book as a reliable source on Billy's characterization. Everything is implied, and for any reader unwilling to give Billy dimension it is easy to write off every interaction as evidence that Billy is an awful person.

However, I don't think the text so clearly characterizes Billy as this horrible person even if the author intended it. The author and/or the reader could have bad intentions when it comes to talking about Billy as a survivor and a bully. Yet, Billy is almost by accident a complex, sympathetic character as long as the reader is putting the pieces together.

Billy is already disillusioned with Neil. Max is not at that point, but the breadcrumbs are there. She just needs to follow them to the source - that Neil is a controlling, abusive man. Everything about Billy screams, "something is very wrong here" but Billy is made to be the "wrong" because of his proximity to Max. He's fast. He's hard edged. He's unlike Neil. He's bored. He looks at her like she's nothing...

...yet he does attempt small talk with her upon their first meeting and refers to the Camaro as a "bitchin' ride," while sort of sizing Max up. He laughs at her attempts to impress him, but he's not cruel. There's something about their first meeting that says that Billy thinks all of this is some sort of joke and that Max needs to wake up and realize it, too.

Neil and Susan exist in their own world together, almost ignoring their children and making no effort to accommodate their meeting or help them adjust. I get the impression that they're being selfish, and they see each other as solutions. Max is optimistic because she's a child and she's not ready to fully acknowledge her mother's faults.

Billy is pessimistic because he's been living with his abuser for a long time and that abuse, which is unknown to Max at that point, informs much of his attitudes and behaviors. Max doesn't have the knowledge nor the understanding to talk about these aspects of Billy, and as a child we shouldn't expect her to. However, many of the readers of this book aren't children and we do have the resources, at least, to know better.

Readers should have more questions than answers at this point. Why is Billy picking Max up if he's so bored and annoyed with her existence? Why does Neil avoid talking about or introducing Billy for a long time? Why does Neil feel he has the right to rearrange Susan's home before he's even moved in? Why are they rushing to get married? Why does Susan "disappear" into the personalities of the men she dates? Why did Max's dad immediately move farther away? Did he abandon her too? Is Max unable to accept it? Why does she want Neil and Billy to make things better, especially if she really wants to be with her dad?

And so on and so forth.

[aureli-us]

some wip wednesday!

just wanted to share some of the skyrim project i'm working on :3 hoping to start posting in april (or at least put ch1 up before my ao3 draft dies lmao). open tag for anyone who wants to join, but here are some folks i know may have WIPs of any kind:

@kiir-do-faal-rahhe @helix-studios117 @nuwanders

Suddenly Miraak was below her on the ground, his eyes widening and the stench of fear flooding through his pores as he called her name; he was so distant, so slow. Her saliva slathered over her chin and dripped onto his neck, onto his pulse, quick and warm. She felt dirt push under her nails as she dug her hands into the soft ground on either side of his head - somehow his arm had detached from her, she felt it slip away as her back began to bend and crawl and her skin moved and bubbled and trembled, stretching so thin it turned white, and then a murky brown-grey. 

"Tharya," Miraak whispered, struggling for breath as her face twisted and snarled just above him, as her teeth lengthened and sharpened. "I'm here, elskavin. Don't. I'm here. Your family-" she screamed at him as he spoke, a scream that had a thousand different sounds behind it, augmented chords that pulled and plucked her voice into a gargling roar, and then a guttural howl.