#either is ageing or someone dying or some shit like that

[roseeecho]

It happens so often that someone tries to tell me that something is out of my control and I just stand there like "🧍‍♀️... I know something you dont"

[nathaslosthershit]

Tiny Notes (OP81)

Summary: Oscar was dying, sitting in his first business meeting after signing with Mclaren. Luckily, a pretty girl his age sat right next to him, and she was certainly not in the mood to pay attention to the meeting.

A/n: I think this is one of my most favorite things I’ve written- it was originally the start to my Franco fic (coming tomorrow) but early on I got the idea to change it to Oscar and went from there. Hope you all enjoy 🫶

Neither Oscar nor the eldest Webber daughter wanted to be at the meeting. Actually Miss. Webber herself would argue that there was no reason for her to be there as she didn’t have an official role at Mclaren. But when her grown adult father pouted like a little kid when she said she’d rather eat her own eyes than sit through a 2 hour long meeting with him just because he ‘wants to spend some time with his first mini me’, she stupidly gave in. Now, as she yawned for the 5th time in the past… god, 6 minutes, she could see her dad wearing a shit eating grin while watching her die of boredom. 

Even as a father, Mark Webber could be such an asshole. 

Oscar didn’t know why he was at this meeting. He knew he had to be there, he had just signed a contract to join Mclaren for the upcoming season, but he didn’t know why they needed him there, especially since he couldn’t understand half the words these businessmen were talking about. Assets? Net Loss? He was just here to drive cars.

Maybe he would have figured out the significance of the meeting, if there hadn’t been a beautiful girl his age sitting right next to him. He had already gotten used to the idea that the Mark Webber was his manager, who currently sat across from him, but now he was expected to pay attention when he was next to an attractive girl?

The meeting might have been boring, but Oscar couldn't say his first day at Mclaren hadn’t been memorable. 

“Isn’t that right, Oscar?” The man standing in the front of the room talking asked. Oscar just looked around, hoping he wan’t the Oscar they were talking to, but when everyone stared at him expectantly, he knew he was fucked. 

“I’m sorry, I didn-”

“It is alright,” The businessman laughed, “I was just saying we were honored to sign a new driver for our second seat, and that he seems very promising, isn’t that right?”

“Oh! Yes, I am good.” Everyone laughed at that, but Oscar hadn’t meant it as a joke. He hadn’t meant it in a egotistical way, he was just being nice by agreeing with the man speaking. 

Luckily, the meeting moved on and Oscar could slouch in his chair and try to disappear and die from embarrassment. 

He thought he was out of the clear, that everyone had forgotten about him and he wouldn’t need to speak for the rest of the… hour and a half. This meeting was brutal.

That was until someone nudged Oscar’s leg and he looked up from his hands in his lap to see the girl next to him had pushed the notebook in front of her over.

Have you been paying attention?

Oscar panicked, he hadn’t meant to make his inattention that obvious.

Instead of picking up the pen, he looked at her and nodded his head, hoping his face was calm and convincing her he had been listening

She was not fooled.

She knew who Oscar was, even before he had been introduced. They hadn’t met formally, her dad didn’t want them to meet after she made a joke about how grateful she is to see that Formula 1 has a ‘hot new boy toy’. She was obviously kidding, or at least she tried to convince her dad that she was. 

It's okay, I’m not either, she wrote again, pushing the pen towards him hoping he would reply and give her something to do while this meeting dragged on. 

I don’t know what they are talking about, Oscar replied, regretting it immediately, not wanting to come across as an idiot to her.

She laughed and Oscar felt his heart flutter at the sound. 

She was in the middle of replying that she didn’t know any of it either, when her dad waved his hand at them, grabbing both the young adults’ attention. 

‘At least act like you care, and stop writing to each other!’ he mouthed to them.

Oscar gulped and began to sweat a little, but the girl next to him just rolled her eyes and made an indecent gesture. She’s got guts, he had to give her that. 

But Mark didn’t do anything but try to conceal his laughter, somehow he wasn’t mad at the girl for disrespecting him. 

She began to pick up the pen when Oscar grabbed her hand to stop her, mouthing ‘he said we can’t’

He didn’t want his manager getting mad at him. 

Meanwhile Mark Webber’s eldest daughter loved to annoy her dad, but she knew he loved it too.

“He didn’t say anything about tic-tac-toe” she whispered softly into Oscar’s ear, giving him goosebumps and sending a chill down his spine. That shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did.

Get a grip, Piastri.

So they played tic-tac-toe, and other stupid games to pass the time, until it was finally the moment they were all dismissed from the meeting. 

Both the young adults actually groaned when they realized the meeting was over. 

Oscar didn’t get time to say anything to the girl as his teammate, Lando Norris, came up to have a quick chat. He liked Lando, he really did, but his timing was terrible.

Luckily, the brit could see Oscar was anxious to leave, and he could see who was making him anxious.

“Ohhhhhh, interesting choice, Piastri. Out of everyone you set your eyes on her? Good luck with that, mate.” Lando laughed as he patted Oscar on the back.

What the hell did he mean by that?

She had been waiting for her dad to grab something from his office, but she was also kind of possibly waiting for Oscar to come out of the room. When she looked over and saw Lando was the reason he was being held up, she scoffed.

Leave it to Norris to cockblock her. 

She turned around, not wanting to get caught staring, and impatiently tapped her foot as she waited for her dad to come back. No sooner than she saw him walking as slowly as he could down the hallway, which he was doing because he saw how impatient she was, she got a tap on her shoulder. 

“I just- wanted to say thanks for keeping me sane during the meeting.” Oscar said. “Oh uh, I’m Oscar, I'll be driving for the team next year.” He said awkwardly as he stuck his hand out.

Was it rude to imply she didn’t know who he was, or rude to assume she did?

“I know who you are, Oscar.” She laughed, shaking his hand. “I probably know more about you than 99% of that room.”

That confused him. “Can I at least get your name the-”

“Oscar, what was rule number one when I became your manager?” Mark Webber said, scaring the two of them as he snuck up behind the girl.

Shit, “Uh, don’t bring up Multi 21,” he replied, realizing he had just broken that rule by bringing it up. 

The girl giggled at that, and Oscar felt his heart stop. He also felt a blush creep on his face, one that Mark too saw and by his frown, Oscar could tell he disapproved.

“No- well yes, but the other big rule.”

“If I meet any of you or other racing drivers’ daughters, I am not allowed to flirt or befriend or speak or look or breathe near any of them.” Oscar didn’t understand why that needed to be a rule but he thought fighting Mark on it wouldn’t go well. 

“Damn, two rules broken on your first day, Piastri?” The girl laughed.

“What?” Was all he replied. Then he connected the dots. The glares and looks shared between the girl and Mark, her being able to flip him off and him not getting offended by it, the fact they walked in together.

Mark and his eldest daughter could see as Oscar reached his conclusion.

“Fuck I’m- I didn’t know that- Well you see-” There was no getting out of this.

Thankfully, Mark just laughed, “it’s alright buddy, just never speak to her ever again.” Oscar shuddered at the way his manager’s expression grew darker at the end of his sentence.

The two Webbers walked away from the young driver, arguing or joking with each other, Oscar couldn’t tell, when a paper slipped out of the girl’s hand. 

Oscar picked it up and went to tell her she had dropped it, when he saw what was written on it.

Don’t listen to him, he is an overprotective ass ;)

How had she known ahead of time that her Dad would disapprove? Before he could question it further, he flipped the note to see her number was written on the back. 

Thank god he was forced to be at that useless meeting.

[jaeedraszaerysz]

JON SNOW ☆ DATING HCS

SFW 💕💕

It would probably take him a while to trust you if you hadn't known him very long.

If you grew up with or close to the Starks he tried to befriend you before Robb did

He would always be scared that he would steal your heart away

You would spend hours mocking the men and women of the courts

When Robert Baratheon came to visit you both sat outside taking the piss out of all the Lords and ladies and any twat who dared speak low of either of you.

Tyrion Lannister defos assumed u were a couple and when you told him otherwise, he just shook his head.

Catelyn would probably despise you for being so close to him.

Ned would love you though, thanking the gods silently that the boy had someone by his side.

He would probably have kissed you before he left for the nights watch and spent his nights wondering whether leaving you was worth it all.

When you eventually found your way back to him it was rather chaotic.

You were probably interrogated by tormund on arrival

Atleast until Jon saw you, never forgetting your face.

You probably punched him square in the face and then proceeded to have a huge, westeros equivalent of Oscar worthy, makeput session infront of everyone.

Ghost, when not growling at random twats, would act like a second protector when Jon wasn't by your side.

Arya either loves you or hates you

Sansa is, just like her father was, happy Jon has someone.

Bran doesn't care. He's too busy wheeling around doing seven eyes Sparrow shit or whatever he called it.

You and Davos defos spend ages tryna talk some sense into him.

He always seems to be holding you in some way

Whether it be your arm, hand, waist. He would probably play with your hands or you hair often.

Is always bloody staring

Like never stops

His eyes are for you and only you

Takes. You. Everywhere.

Like no debates. He goes, you follow. Or vice versa.

He took you with him to meet with ramsay and if he made any comment whatsoever it was straight up a routine by now.

Death stare, holds onto you twelve times tighter, kills the offender within 24 hours.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him because he's happy you feel safe with him.

Head kisses.

Need I say more?

Everywhere anytime.

Head. Fucking. Kisses.

Walking past. Head kiss.

Sat next to him at dinner. Head kiss.

In an extremely serious situation requiring your full attention. Head kiss.

Dying. Head kiss.

It's like his fucking bread and butter.

When you first met daenerys it was bad vibes.

Like very bad.

No clue why she just doesn't sit right with you.

Either grows to love you or ends up hating you with a passion.

No in-between.

He dreams of having a normal life.

He would want three kids, two boys and girl so they could protect their sister.

Maybe another direwolf or four. One for each and one for you.

Can't sleep when you aren't next to him.

Teaches you to sword fight extremely early on in your relationship.

If you were ill or pregnant he would never leave your side.

Never ever ever never.

He's convinced that you could have a hundred children and you would still be the person he loves most in the world.

Would do anything for you.

Minors DNI below this line.

NSFW ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (implied female reader)

Worships you like no one else

Touching you always.

Passes it off for his hand on your back but in reality he's secretly caressing your ass, or will have his arms under your cloak, passing it off as a hug, and will gently squeeze your boobs.

Neck kisses.

His favourite thing in the world.

Loves to leave marks on you wherever he can.

Has definitely kissed every inch of your body

Gives no fucks about scars or hair or anything of the sort.

Boobs.

Lives laughs loves your boobs.

Will lay with his face buried in them at any time.

Minor inconvenience? Someone was being a twat? He's tired?

Boob pillow.

Will eat you out for hours.

Insatiable.

You have any problems at all? Sit on his face.

If he's had a bad day he will legit just stuff his face between your thighs.

His fave place.

Says that if you suffocated him it would be an amazing way to go.

Probably prefers giving but he will never say no to receiving.

His dick is probs like 6-7 inches.

Takes tormunds advice very seriously.

Loves to see how many fingers you can take before he stuffs you.

Will go for as many rounds as you need.

Always a gentleman, making sure your comfortable and that your satisfied.

Cockwarming he loves.

Cuddles afterwards.

He will slide out of you and pull you onto on him, pulling the blankets up and wrapping his body around yours.

Calls you love but with his gorgeous deep voice.

Has a sexy asf morning voice.

He's so whipped for you he can't function somedays.

[evasive-anon]

I'M DONE WITH THE LIES AND DECEIT JASON TODD DOESN'T HAVE RED HAIR

Or at least he doesn't have red hair in current canon or most of the continuity and y'all should get with it.

We've all seen it, there's a post about Jason and someone comments on the post and brings up how when Jason first appeared as robin he had red hair and he had to dye it black to be robin.

This is not true in current canon and only had a brief window of existence in the comics so lets dig into the different hair colors we've seen on Jason, they are as follows:

Blonde (Pre-Crisis, before 1985)

Black (post 1985, like 23-24 years of Post Crisis?? a long time)

Red (~2 years of Post Crisis 2009-2011)

Black (New 52, 2011-2016)

Black (Rebirth, 2016 onward, current canon)

Dropping detailed receipts below and god some of these panels are wacky:

Pre-Crisis/ Golden Age - BLONDE HAIR

First appearance of Jason Todd was a little blonde circus boy like a Great Value recolored version of Dick Grayson and if I have to live with that knowledge then we all do.

A lot of people claim this version of Jason also had red hair and for anyone who wants to say this blatantly yellow hair isn’t blonde compare it to Vicki Vale’s actual red hair which is orange:

Vicki Vale (orange)

Jason Todd (its fucking yellow)

The assertion that Jason dyed his hair to be robin are not entirely false in this version, in Batman (1940) #366 Jay did dye his hair black so he could pass as Dick cause he wasn't officially robin yet but wanted to help Batman. Dying his hair made him look so much like Dick it actually did trick Batman and the Joker which is weird since Jason's like a child and Dick is like legally an adult at point but whatever. Either way it wasn’t Batman making him dye it, in fact Bruce was unhappy about it.

Blonde Jason is obviously no longer canon and hasn't been since.

Post Crisis/ Batman New Adventures - BLACK HAIR

Jason was first shown with black hair when he stole a tire off the Batmobile. This iteration of Jason's introduction is the one we all know today and is considered by most to be Jason's *real* debut.

This comic run is no longer canon but is often used as the backbone for new canon content.

Post Crisis 2009 to 2011 - RED HAIR

OK, here is where all the red hair lore comes in. During Dick's Batman run with Damian as Robin the writer (fuck you, Grant Morrison) decided to introduce this shit:

This made not only made no fucking sense in Post-Crisis continuity, but also Jason look stupid as fuck.

For some reason people have snatched this panel and held on to it with all their might. Which like - I mean, the idea of Bruce making a kid dye their hair to be robin is super fucking funny but like, c'mon dude. There are so many real reasons to judge Bruce already lmao.

Jason kept having red hair until the New 52. Its no longer canon.

New 52 - BLACK HAIR

Giving you guys all caste Jay for this shot cause I still simp for that storyline, he deserves the magic fire swords fr.

He's back to black hair and we're almost to current canon.

DC Rebirth (current canon) - BLACK HAIR

We made it to current canon and his hair is still natural black bby. LETS GO.

[jamiesfootball]

“Roy?”

“Hm?”

“I don't want you to die before me.”

“The fuck?” Roy jerks right out of his half-slumber. He tries to sit up, but Jamie flexes his calves and traps Roy back down against the sofa. With a pillow stuffed against his chest in a death grip he looks pathetic, like someone's just told him his favourite puppy needs to be put down.

Roy huffs. “I’m not dying.”

“I know,” Jamie says sincerely. “But you’d tell me if you were, right?”

Roy rolls his eyes.

“Roy,” Jamie insists, and God help them both, but there’s real stress in his voice.

Roy pats one of the calves holding him down. “Yes. I’d fucking tell you. You’d probably be the first to know beside my sister.”

The muppet nods, at least not arguing with his being placed behind Sarah. Roy has a brief moment of deluding himself that that’s it for Jamie’s tangent into mortality logistics, before the prick adds with all the subtly of a hammer, “You’re almost fifty.”

Fuck.

The sigh that escapes isn’t entirely free of weight. His age isn't something Roy can ignore these days, not with how his body has started to hold him back more and more. Sure, he’s still fit. He’s able to do 5ks for charities without much effort, but not without restraining himself down to a steady job. His heart's in fine shape, a history of strict nutrition guidelines has left him with a habit of eating well. As far as his doctors are concerned, he’s fit as a whistle, with no pressing concerns that should keep him up at night.

But he feels old now, in a way he didn’t even five short years ago. When he looks around, the signs of his age reflect back. His hair isn’t as thick as it used to be, still thicker than most but he can feel the difference when he washes up at night. His skin’s lost some of its elasticity, a paper-like consistency creeping in around his joints. Strangers have started to hold doors open for him when he's out on his own. More than a few times now, he’s been asked by a fresh-faced juvenile if he qualifies for a senior discount.

It's not just him either. His niece is almost an adult, long weedy limbs beginning to steady into a permanent shape. She's looking at universities, her exacting list of demands narrowed down to an aggressive handful of final round picks. His little sister’s hair has gone grey, streaked and wild. It's been years since Roy's needed to step in to cover a last minute emergency. Sarah's become a hit on the lecture circuit, and years of extra shifts have given her a cushion of stability that she can rely on outside of her brother.

And Jamie, sulking at the other end of the couch, has crows feet the flutter from the corners of his eyes whenever he smiles. He’s not smiling now, but Roy can still make out the faint outline of them below the skin. The sight of them has become a familiar ache; when they first met, Roy already had those.

Somehow, Jamie’s still not the age that Roy was when they first met.

At some point he’s gone from patting the calf under his hand to holding it close, warm and heavy and familiar from hundreds of evenings spent watching the highlight reels on Sky Sports.

He gives it a quick squeeze. “Let me up.”

Jamie swings his legs off of his chest. Then he shimmies around, and before Roy can complain, he crawls over to collapse against Roy’s side. Roy lets his arm drop around his shoulder, holding him close with an ease that’s taken years to weave under his skin.

He wouldn’t trade it, not even for youth. Not even for more time.

“You realise it’s not fair the other way around, right? Me watching you die before me.” Awful, the way his throat goes thick at the mere thought. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere any time soon. Short of being hit by a bus, you’re stuck with me.”

Jamie exhales. He’s tense, and without thinking Roy rubs his arm.

“Not saying I wanna die any time soon either. I’m just saying, it’s shit you’re likely to kick the bucket first.” His forehead digs into the bone of Roy’s shoulder. “Don’t know what I’d-“

He cuts himself off, sucking in a breath.

While he tries to compose himself, Roy does the same. Still sounds rough to his own ears when he points out, “This conversation sucks.”

Jamie snorts, a little wet and more than a bit thick. “Your fault, you grumpy old bastard. What were you thinking, being born fifteen years sooner than me like that?”

“Probably that someone had to be ready to look out for your sorry arse when you showed up.”

Jamie wriggles, his arms snaking their way around- one between Roy’s back and the cushions, the other curled over his front like a safety belt, until they meet around the other side, one lapped over the other.

“Yeah,” says Jamie softly. He hugs Roy like if he holds on tight enough, he can give a few years back. “Thanks for that by the way.”

Fifty years pin Roy down against the weight of the living; mentally, he vows to do everything in his power to hang on for another fifty more.

“You’re welcome.”

[thechekhov]

Chekhov Reads Dungeon Meshi: CH46

D....dark Laios?

I mean, you DID consent!

The fact that ghosts can pass through walls and take other things with them... it kind of elicits another type of organism. Like, what can pass through cell walls? What other parts of the body can just yoink stuff from one place and bring it to another?

Congrats! It's all just been a dream!

I'm sorry what the SHIT?!?!?

Well, I-- .... yeah, I GUESS.

Though it looks more like one of those carousel horses.

I think this is probably still inside the dungeon. Very... DEEP. Inside the dungeon.

What? WHAT?! These things are like regular animals down here???

Oh, I--hm. I see.

Ordered by WHOMST?

Is this just an entire society of (humans??? ghosts?) that lives here in the dungeon deep? Is there still a king under the mountain? Are the rumors of the king dying not true at all?

........or are these people and descendants of adventurers who came in but were never able to leave? And the fact that Senshi points out that none of them are old.... are they ageing?

Laios, Senshi n--...... welp. There they go.

Bless this man and his absolutely non sexual obsession with monsters. But.

Izutsumi, who is a human-level intellect beastkin (though she's low on wisdom and patience....) is being very.... beast-ly and soft here. She's being magically compelled, presumably, to chill the fuck out.

Which means all these monsters are also under the same effect? Isn't that a little fucked up? They're basically under a permanent drugged effect.

Also. Hm. 'short lifespan' is....relative. Short lifespan compared to what? Immortality?

Orcs know this place exists....?

These people planting things for fun means they're absolutely trapped here like spirits.

Keeping up appearances for. Whom.

These poor people have no new incomers to talk to, huh.

Oh, I uh---- ................ hm. THat's not at all what I was imagining either.

Fashion is cyclical after all I guess....

Mmmmm. Mmmm-hmmmMMM.

WHEEEEZXE

Knowing I've finally hit these two absolutely iconic panels... amazing.

......I guess it can only do so much to make her docile...... she still doesn't like Laios.

Why does he look familiar...?

....so Derghal had a son. And a grandson. So then why is there a bid for the throne...?

Laios. Laios, is milking the minotaur the ONLY thing you did? Or was there more to it? Laios.

It's interesting. That bartender said he was 600 when he started his now-400 year old ale. So. That means they're 1000 years old.

That means that they're about as long lived as elves? Haven't gone mad yet. But that's still a long time.

That's kinda worse, yeah, but a loss of the self is a type of death, in a way...? So....

The most throwback of all time.

Actually, I feel like that's been there for a while, although it didn't always look EXACTLY like a lion's head. I feel like the little living armor he keeps in there made it that design? But how would it do that on purpose?

this is what it looked like some chapters back. Yeah, it's been sculpting into a lion's mane for a while now.... Ohohohoh playing the long game are we? 👀

Ah, it's not a wolf. How tragic for you, Laios. It'll never work out.

Also, damn, those wings sure be lookin like Falin's very non-dragon wings. What a wild coincidence. I'm sure that doesn't mean anything. :)

laughing hysterically. This poor guy can't get a break. He's been running from responsibility and inheritance for his entire life and it still catches up and trips him purposefully.

There is definitely a certain amount of tragedy there, yeah. These people aren't asking Laios for help because it's easier. They're legitimately stuck in a nightmare scenario. Unless you're someone who can get pleasure from other avenues, living all that time without the basic needs will drive a person mad. Elves live just as long, presumably, but they're still able to eat, I assume.

I'm honestly more surprised they're all as sane as they are.

.......King of Forgor.

[wobblesthecowgirl]

Bleed For You

Arthur Morgan One Shot

You are kidnapped by the O’Driscoll’s and Arthur does everything he can to get you back.

This was my first time being kidnapped.

After leaving camp to get a few groceries from Valentine, I was swarmed with O’Driscoll’s; easily six of them, and as strong as I was, I couldn’t take on six fully armed men. They quickly ragged me off my horse, causing me to drop my hat and purse, and hogtied me. My horse tried to follow, and unfortunately was shot without mercy.

They tied a dirty cloth around my mouth due to screaming too much, and punched me multiple times on the ride back to their hideout. Tears stained my face as I realised the severity of my situation. How could anyone find out where I was? I was going to end up dead or worse and no one would knew where my body was.

“Look! She’s crying!” One of the men laughed, pointing at me as their horses raced faster, the sun setting. Their chosen location to hide was an old, worn down cabin, the smell was atrocious as they had hung up meat on the walls like some kind of butchers. They aggressively took me off the back of their horse and grabbed a chunk of my hair to drag me inside, throwing me onto a chair and tying me up.

“Now then,” one of the men with a long scar on his face began, taking off the cloth that muted me, “we are gonna ask you a few questions about your little Van Der Linde gang, and you’re gonna answer them. If you want to leave here without any wounds.”

“I’m not dumb! You’ll kill me either way!” I shouted, choking back more sobs as they smiled widely, chuckling and slapping each other on the chest.

“We got a smart ass over here!” Another man scoffed before kicking me in the shin, causing a yelp to escape my lips. The sun had completely set now and the only light I had was the lanterns in the cabin. The scar man grabbed my hair again and forced me to look at him.

“First question. Where is Van Der Linde hiding?”

I responded to his question with a spit to his face before snarling, “I’d rather you just kill me now. I’m not ratting him out.”

He removed the spit from his eye, a large frown plastered on his face, as he swung back and socked me in the jaw, then again on the nose. I felt the warmth of my blood trickle down my nose, and the taste of iron filled my mouth.

“Let’s try that again. Where is your-“

“I said I ain’t telling you!” I shouted louder, struggling in my restraints. This went on for ages, more punches and a few cuts from a knife, and more refusal on my end. I knew I would end up dying here either way, so dying being loyal was far better than dying and potentially killing others.

“I’m not telling you shit!” I screamed, the blood had been smeared across my face at this rate, and my clothes had been torn to be able to cut my skin.

“That’s it! I’ve had it with this little bitch!” Scar man pulled out his knife again but this time for different intentions. However, as he approached me, loud gunshots suddenly fired outside. The handful of men who were torturing me quickly rushed to the window and their eyes widened.

“Shit, come on.” They grabbed their guns and rushed outside, as more gunshots alongside screaming could be heard from the now open door. Did someone come to rescue me?

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

When she didn’t return straight away, Arthur’s stomach dropped. Surely she was ok, she had just gone to get a few groceries for Pearson, a simple trip into town and back. So what was taking her so long? His leg was fidgeting as he watched the sun start to set, and he inhaled his cigarette faster than usual.

“Dammit.” He cursed as he threw his half used cigarette on the ground and stomped it out, before whistling for his horse.

“Where are you going, Arthur?” John asked as he watched the older man hastily getting ready to leave.

“I’m going to see what’s taking that woman so damn long.” He huffed as he snapped the reins to make his horse dash off, steering towards town. As he got closer, his heart dropped. There laid. Y/n’s hat, purse, and her horse she loved dearly, dead in a pool of blood.

“No, no, no.” He panicked, looking around for any sign that she could be injured or in the same state as her horse nearby. When he couldn’t find her, he didn’t know what to think. He noticed that her horses satchel had been raided for its contents, and he had the feeling she had been taken. All he had to do was find her. Don’t worry girl, I’m coming.

He followed some hoof tracks, silently thanking Charles for his lessons in tracking, and raced into some deep woods. He wasn’t a religious man, but kept praying he would find her alive, and ok.

He heard some men talking and slowed his horse down, before hopping off and sneaking towards the light, now being covered in the night’s darkness. He saw a few men stationed outside, a fire lit and drinking beer. There was a worn down cabin with light inside, and he saw a few men walking around inside it.

“I’m not telling you shit!” A voice screamed and Arthur felt his heart burst. That was her voice. In a fit of rage, he immediately began to shoot. In a few seconds, three of the men had clean bullet holes between the eyes, as more men scrambled to get to their guns but were too slow. Four more men came tumbling out the cabin, as they shot at Arthur , grazing his arm and torso. He managed to take down the three with guns, but was grabbed by the last man. He tore Arthur’s gun out of his hand and threw it, before punching him in the face. The pair began to punch and kick, leaving one another a bloody mess, and the man pulled out a knife that had dried blood on it. That was enough for Arthur to find the last bit of strength in him. Even when he got slashed and hit, he managed to get the last blow, snapping the man’s neck and killing him instantly.

He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly, then snapping back to his senses when he remembered what he was here for. He ran towards the open door and his eyes fell onto her. She was sat limp, only being held up by the tight rope, and her hair was a mess from being pulled and tugged. Her once neat clothes were covered in blood splatters and tears, and under those tears were fresh cuts that could get infected without the proper care. She looked up and her eyes filled with tears upon seeing who it was.

“Arthur…” she cried meekly, her nose had swollen slightly and her face was smeared in blood, across her cheek, around her mouth and under her nostrils.

“Oh, honey…” He ushered, making his way over and untiring the rope, holding her up with a careful hand. Once she was freed, he stayed crouched , so that he was eye level with her. Seeing her so hurt, he was angry with himself for not keeping her safe, for not finding her sooner.

Y/n raised a hand slowly until she found his bicep and held onto him for support.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Arthur wrapped his arms under hers and picked her up, treating her as if she was made of glass, before moving her into a bridal position. He walked out the cabin, keeping an eye out for anyone else, and whistled for his horse. His adrenaline was still high, his eyes darting around for others, then back to her to make sure she didn’t lose consciousness, and so forth.

She looked up at him with half open eyes, and whispered, “you’re hurt.”

He looked down at her and gave her a small smile.

“You’re worrying about me? After all that?” It was true, he did look just as bad as she did. His right eye had swelled up till he could hardly see out of it, his lip was cut, and blood was splattered on his white shirt. The only difference was that it wasn’t his blood. He held her closer once he got on his horse, one arm around her and the other on the reigns. Arthur took her chin in his hand and moved her head gently to inspect her wounds, then moved her arms and checked her all over.

“They hurt you a lot… but I think you’ll be ok.” He muttered before making his horse set off, slower this time.

“I’m so sorry, love. I should’ve gone with you or-“

“Arthur,” she interrupted him, and somehow managed a smile, “I’m ok. I’m so glad you found me, I thought I was going to die. But you saved me, be proud of that.”

He smiled back at her, leaning in close, and placed a long kiss on her forehead. She giggled, then coughed.

“Does it take me being kidnapped and nearly dying for you to be all lovey with me?”

He let out a laugh, his hand that held her closer began to rub her shoulder, “I’ve always wanted to, I guess I’m just hoping you don’t remember this tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I’ll forget , that’s not how this works.” Y/n patted his arm gently, as he leaned in closer to her face again, but this time hesitated.

“May I..?”

She nodded, still exhausted, but she couldn’t say no to something she had been wanting for a long time.

He placed a gentle and loving kiss on her lips, as she kissed him back softly. When they pulled apart she looked into his eyes which were full of tears.

“Don’t ever leave my side again, Missy.”

She rested her head on his chest, drowsiness washing over her as she mumbled, “I won’t. Thank you, Arthur.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to get my best friend sectioned?

This actually happened 2 years ago, but last night he made a joke about it that kind of seemed like he might still be mad at me about it. So. Anyway, ages and all are written as they were at the time.

For context, my (18m) mom took guardianship of my friend (17m), called “J”, after his grandfather passed, a few months before this happened.

Not going into specifics, but J has struggled with OCD and an ED for years, and I suspect when he’s an adult he’ll probably get diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder at some point.

(Update from the Present: no dice… yet.)

A close family friend of his passed away and it caused his mental issues (particularly the ED) to get a lot worse really quickly.

Even thought my mom was technically his guardian, she kind of relied on me to keep tabs on him because he’s usually pretty honest with me compared to other people. Like, if he’s not doing well, I have the best chance of finding that out.

So. His family friend dies, he gets worse, I report all of this back to my mom, who starts trying to get some sort of more intensive treatment lined up for him (difficult and time consuming because of where we lived at the time).

My mom tells me not to tell J, because he “talks a big game” about not wanting treatment or whatever and she firmly believes it’ll be easier if he doesn’t have time to stress himself out about it before it happens. Okay. So I don’t tell J.

Somehow, he finds out anyway, and also finds out that I knew and had chosen not to tell him, but doesn’t tell me that he knows. (Convoluted, I know, sorry.)

I pick J up from an after school thing one night, we end up talking about pretty heavy shit in the car for a /long/ time, and after the conversation died, he put a hand on my shoulder, leaned over, and kissed me. And like not a short kiss either. It was like a 3 to 4 second kiss.

Context again, I realized I was gay and that I liked J in a not particularly friend-like way when I was 13. I never told him and never planned on telling him. I told him a lot of things but I intended on growing old and dying with that one kept nice and secret. Even if he was some form of not-straight, which I was 99.99% sure he wasn’t, I didn’t think it was worth jeopardizing my closest friendship with romantic and/or sexual feelings that could at best confuse him or make him uncomfortable or at worst outright disgust him.

Anyway. We don’t talk about it, I end up going to stay for a few days with a guy (20m but not really relevant) I’d been sort of seeing/sleeping with for a couple months because I literally couldn’t be in the same house as J or I would probably implode.

Fast forward a week, I’m picking J up from a hospital 2 towns over because he ran away (? unclear really, haven’t discussed the particulars w him and I wasn’t staying at home at the time) and ended up having to go to the ER.

In the car (best time to talk to someone because they can’t run away), he apologizes for kissing me. I’m thrown off by that, because he hadn’t said anything up to this point and it honestly wasn’t even in the top 5 things I was thinking about.

I asked him why he did it and he just sighed and explained in this tone of voice that, I don’t know how to explain it, but had just the right lack of empathy or affect that I knew he was being 110% honest.

Condensed version: he found out I was reporting everything he told me to my mom (still don’t know how). He was pissed. He was aware he needed more intensive treatment, and he knew my mom was aware. He did not want treatment. He knew I had liked him for years. He knew that I was relatively fragile about it. He knew that if he did something (like kiss me for example) there was a good chance it would break my brain and I would freak out.

He essentially kissed me to decommission me for a few days so he could formulate a plan to run away.

FINALLY we have arrived at the AITA part.

After hearing all this, I tried very hard to come up with something rational to say, but ended up saying (essentially), “You’re fucking insane, and I’m telling my mother you need to be committed.”

I know I wasn’t wrong to be angry. But I also know from past knowledge and experiences that he had a deep fear of being deemed “insane” or unfixable or whatever, and also that he was really afraid of treatment in general.

Idk. I go back and forth on whether or not I was out of line, or needlessly escalating the situation, by threatening him. It was a much bigger threat in his mind than it was in mine, and so even though I know I said it as a reaction to a fucked up situation, there’s still the idea that I blew it completely out of proportion and weaponized his own mental issues against him.

So AITA for threatening my best friend by telling him I was going to get him committed to a long term psychiatric hospital?

What are these acronyms?

[its-phi]

okok obx4 part 2 spoilers !!!! like major so don’t read this until after you’ve finished or are okay with spoilers but it won’t make sense for you i don’t think.

i need to rant here bc no one i know has finished it.

i feel like this season , despite having some amazing moments, was just a bit lacklustre in a lot of areas. the relationships seems off and i feel like there was a massive disconnect between part 1 and 2. im going to go into more detail below.

so the things i really enjoyed:

- episode 6 had some of the best cinematography i’ve seen in a tv show in fucking ages! they way they included everyone’s reactions in the court scene whilst still focusing on jj was incredible. and then the scenes following that where the riot took place was so amazingly done i loved it

- i LOVED that we finally got to see jj actually let loose the way they described him in all the previous seasons. like we’ve obviously seen him act out and let loose but the raw emotions that jj produced was insane. he went full loose cannon and i for one fucking loved it.

- i really did appreciate the rafe and sarah reunion and i enjoyed seeing rafes character development (at the hands of sofia might i add). to see how she was the only one bringing him food on the boat and the small smiles they shared before the actual reunion, like when her and jb told pope and cleo about their pregnancy and she smiled at rafe. loved it.

- knowing that kie and her parents are at least on speaking terms made me really happy! and seeing her dad stand up for jj with the cops made my heart smile. they could finally see that just bc they might not like kies friends does not mean they aren’t amazing people that have so much care and love for each other.

- i am intrigued to see how they all deal with their grief and how the revenge plot pans out. i think there is going to be some emotional turmoil between jb and kie bc i have the feeling that jb holds kie partly accountable for jj’s death and i’m interested to see how they work through that.

okok now onto my anger with this season bc there’s a lot of it…

- we will start with the obvious here… jj. look i know there is so much speculation and assumptions surrounding rudy leaving or being written off the show and i’m not going to comment on that for the most part bc we will never know the truth. BUT i do think they didnt handle it the best either way. jj hated being alone and for the pouges to bury him in the desert… idk doesnt feel right. (yes ik logistically how could they bring him back to the obx? idk they have done more fucked up shit)

- the disconnect between part 1 and 2 was STRONG for me at least. it just felt really separated and like we just got over some major plot points in the characters between the two. like jj was having a major identity crisis and then we just kinda moved on. and i know is a pretty fast paced show especially with the amount of moving around they do but like huh?

- (this is a big one for me so strap in) THE RELATIONSHIPS OMG! they felt so off this season as a whole. and i don’t just mean romantically. i know it was to kinda set up jj’s death but the way all of the pogues had this significant drift between them and jj just felt odd and not like them. romantically speaking, jiara was lacking majorly. you’re telling me they had barely any physical interaction but they are meant to be together? it just didn’t feel right. if you’re with someone, especially someone you’ve known for as long as they’ve known each other, even with being less physical people, you’re going to hug and kiss and hold on to that person when they are dying or injured or even just going through everything jj was. didn’t like it. wanted more jiara scenes ( especially seeing them alone and how they interact when it’s just them. THE PREGNANCY TROPE? REALLY? after sarah was so visibly uncomfortable when jb brought it up previously… and i know it’s common when you lose a character you fill it with someone else but like what the fuck. it’s rushed and it’s so cliché. and it’s predictable. even without jj making that comment about naming their kid jj, it’s obvious they are going to honour him with that. cleo and pope are gorgeous and amazing and i love them. my only complaint is i want more cleo. she’s too stunning to not have more screen time. I WANT CLEO BACKSTORY IN DETAIL PLEASE.

- despite the feature episode and the part 2 episode being longer it still felt kinda rushed and like they were just skimming over things quickly. like i wanted some dialogue between jj and gr**f about luke and the abuse jj experienced but oh well ig. (i’m upset)

anyway, im kinda bummed with this whole season. i will watch season 5 but i’m not going to be anywhere near as excited. jj was such an integral part of the show for everyone but for me he really tied things together. the interactions all of the pogues had with him really made it so enjoyable and kept the lighthearted, teenager thing alive for me. like without him it’s gonna be hard to remember that they are still young adults that just want to have fun and live their lives to the fullest.

please discuss your thoughts and if you have any differing opinions let me know! i love hearing everyone’s thoughts on it all and am so open to discussions about it all bc at the end of the day it is just a tv show but it’s also so much more to so many people.

love you all

[rockwgooglyeyes]

concept based on the “what if?” of “what if Ivan didn’t go back with Till when they ran away and instead ended up with the rebellion?”

(also based on this post from @alalnsted)

note: this is going off of the assumption that they were in their early teens during their escape attempt (~13-14)

While watching Till run back to the garden despite being given a chance at freedom, Ivan comes to the conclusion that nothing he can ever give Till will be enough. If nothing Ivan could ever offer Till would compare to Mizi, and he only annoys Till, then he has no real reason to stay. Ivan believes that Till will be happier without him around bothering him constantly and he will be forced to watch Till be in love with Mizi, as well, so he chooses to leave instead. He thinks of it as a selfish decision, leaving his friends and his beloved behind, but he also thinks that they will be better off without him, so it’s not that hard of a pill to swallow.

After leaving, Ivan kind of just drifts for a while before crossing paths with Hyuna, who he recognizes from the Garden. Hyuna recognizes him too and scoops him up off of the street because he reminds her of Luka and if she can take care of Ivan, and he turns out fine, then maybe that will mean that she didn’t fail Luka (and that she didn’t fail Hyun-Woo, by extension)

Taken under Hyuna’s wing, Ivan grows up into someone a little more crass and brusque than his charming persona in canon- as Para (@shakingparadigm) said, his child self is actually really close to his real self, and his child self is blunt, quiet and stoic- and I think that if Hyuna, Dewey and Isaac were some of the figures he was growing up around as a teenager, he would end up presenting more authentically insofar as he would kind of lean into that more brutally-honest side that we can see when he's a little kid. He might be a little more sarcastic and outright rude but he would still have some of his more playful nature we see in his canon adult self (after all, Hyuna’s definitely easygoing and witty, and she, Dewey and Isaac definitely seem like they enjoy just fooling around and shootin' the shit together)

Ivan becomes the rebellion’s bookkeeper! He would still be able to fight and go on missions himself but he would mostly make sure that the money and the documents are in order, allowing the rebellion to execute more covert missions and stay on budget. I just think he’s more of a strategist/planner than someone on the front lines.

At his canon age of ~22 (I think), the new ALNST contestants are announced and he realizes that Sua, Mizi and Till are part of that group, I think he would probably panic. The human rebellion in and of itself seems like it is focused on dismantling ALNST as an institution anyways so having a mission surrounding the upcoming season makes sense but Ivan initially removes himself from it, because it’s personal and he doesn’t want that kind of attachment to cloud his judgment. Hyuna drags him into it, either right before Round 1 or after Sua dies (I really don’t know if I want to keep Sua dying in or not because as much fun as it would be to have Sua, the whole point of this AU is kind of to have Ivan and Mizi both grow on their own, separate from their partners. Ivan would get to do that pre-ALNST and Mizi would do it afterwards). Ultimately, they save Mizi. She and Ivan have a tearful reunion. Though she isn’t happy with him for making her think he was dead, she forgives him.

Eventually they save Till, too, but that’s actually less important tbh. I mean. Ivan and Till have a reunion and Till is glad to see that Ivan is still alive and that Mizi is still alive and he has to work through his own guilt and Ivan is kind of just . . . tired because he might still be in love with Till but at the same time, he came to terms with the fact that Till would never love him back a long, long time ago and he’s way past hoping for something like that

I'm thinking of writing something with this idea but if anyone has any notes or ideas in regards to this AU please let me know! I have some doodles for it that I'm probably gonna post later today or tomorrow . . . who knows though haha

[cyberpunk-20xx]

Hey hey

Hey

Johnny Silverhand's not cool

Johnny's disabled. Johnny had a military issued chrome forced onto him. Johnny treated himself like shit and probably smelled like shit too for it.

Do you think he got therapy for it? No I don't mean mental therapy I mean physical therapy, for the arm, I mean do you think he got physical therapy for a metal arm shoved onto a wound (I don't expect the wound was taken care of anymore than what was strictly practical no of course not), no no he wasn't given therapy, he wasn't given time to adapt, his trauma at losing a trustworthy friend on the field was just stacked with the trauma of just being weaponized even more before being put back on the field for a fucking pointless war, so that means-

I mean you know about amputation? No? No, right, of course not, it'd be weird, right? To know about amputation and implants and prothesis and the psychological impacts in detail you'd need to have read up on it, pretty obsessively at that, too, that's not normal, normal people don't do that, what kind of weirdo has hyperfixations about that because of OCD right? Right.

Well amputations are so fucking traumatizing even if they save your life. Of course they are. It's a part of your body. Your body is not supposed to see its insides and it's not supposed to lose parts either, your brain can't actually compute that, like let's say, cutting your nails?

They put a metal arm on him like cutting nails, they didn't care, he wasn't a person to them he was a tool.

He never got physical therapy for it. He never went to have it recalibrated or maintained. Why would he? I don't even think he knows what model it is. Do you think they bothered telling him? Do you think they gave him a little booklet for "how to take care of your new implant"? Ahahahah of course not that'd be so fucking silly and kind and thoughtful. Of course not.

Johnny needs his addictions. Do you think he has prescribed medicine for the chronic pains that the arm causes him? No of course not. Do you think he started drinking and taking Lace because it was fun? Because it was cool? Because he was gonna be a rockerboy? And he wanted to impress girls.

In the real world, as of 2020, the first cause of mortality in the USA is opiates, and the main demographic is white men, aged 30 to 60, roughly, a large amount of those men war veterans, cumulating psychological trauma even prior to the addiction, even prior to the army itself, cus the majority of people who join the military do it to escape poverty and a dysfunctional household. It's a well oiled machine because at worse they go back to the motherland and die quietly of OD or something else, or best case scenario they have kids! And some of those kids are boys, and out of middle class recrutes, a good part are from military families!

It's a system that works just as designed really.

America, abuse and neglect of your chronically ill and chronically in pain is part of your DNA currently.

Johnny's not cool. He runs hot, he's a fucking spoonie who ran out of spoons before he even joined the military so now all he's got is knives. Knives knives nothing else nothing but knives. Johnny's a man overheating on constant, he's been dying for years, he likely has fevers from his port inflammatory's issues due to neglect, he doesn't know how to take care of himself, he wasn't taught, it's not expected of him, no one in his entourage sees him as what he is, do you remember for one second someone treating him like he was disabled and needed accomodation?

Disabled people whose chronic pains are not given the deserved care are most likely to develop the hardest addictions to cope with it, with the physical pain, and the psychological consequences- namely, psychosis, psychosis is a common consequence for having your pain ignored because this kind of neglect breaks your psyche at its core, at its sense of self.

Johnny has all the symptoms of a man in pain but because American soft power made drug abuse cool people think he's cool for drinking and fucking and killing and coking himself up until he blows himself up. Johnny's not cool, he's a tragedy, he's hurt, he's self-medicating, no he's not going to go cold turkey because he loves Kerry or because he loves your V, love isn't going to fucking save him, if you just erase Johnny's addictions because you think love fixes that honestly fuck you, because I'm tired of people just treating addiction like a bad spot to bleach out of sight, like it's got no roots and it's got no continuation, to no longer need self-medication Johnny would need reparation and better treatment, especially if he's brought back with that fucking arm, why do people not get that he didn't reclaim the arm, he let it take over, for fuck's sake he canonically blames all HIS bad deeds on The Hand, that's not reclaiming, that's self-sabotage.

Johnny dies like a pathetic pawn in Blackhand's plan, and even among people who were supposed to be his own, he's not seen as anything but a hero or a monster. No inbetween. He's not a man to them. He's something to workship, and if he doesn't grant them miracles he's the Devil.

What a load of bullshit.

Fuck, Johnny's not cool. Johnny needed help but didn't even want it because he was so full of violence and hatred he killed himself. But he deserved better nonetheless.

[muses-with-afp]

In terms of weird-o Bleachy thoughts that rampage through my mind at various times, there is always this page from the TBTP arc:

And while this is a banger of a page in an arc full of them, my goober mind mostly telescopes in on this one panel:

Am I not supposed to wonder at this panel? Because here I am on a Friday wondering. More specifically, I am wondering: What am I supposed to take away here? And, what is it that I do actually take away here (today at least)?

As usual, I'll start by describing it because you have to start somewhere, I guess. This scene is a mostly pointless aside to the story, since I don't think we learn anything super substantive, plot-wise. What we do learn is that Byakuya is what passes for a "teenager" during this period, takes his training and role super seriously, and Yoruichi tortures plays with him on occasion.

The panel that draws my eye, however, seems to be communicating a few things at once: One, Byakuya realizes he has a guest. Two, that guest is Yoruichi. And three, Yoruichi greets young Byakuya tits out, which provides some color as to the nature of their relationship. I don't think either points two or three are revelations to the audience. Is anyone shocked the guest is Yoruichi? No, we've already spent some time with her in this arc and know she's definitely around. Also, is anyone really shocked that she and Byakuya have a teasing quasi-sibling relationship? Again, no, we've probably gathered as much since at least the SS arc.

For me, then, it's point one that scratches at the ole brain pan. What I am to make of Byakuya realizing he has a guest? Does he often receive guests at House Kuchiki? My guess is no. He looks sort of curious. The art isn't giving, say, razzle-dazzle anticipation, either (i.e., in that he is really keen on the guest being someone specific). I suppose you could squint really hard and say he might be hopeful as to who could be calling on him, but more in a diffuse "someone took time out of their day to see me" sort of way and less of a heart-skipping prayer that the guest is XYZ, who he's been dying to see again for ages.

I think this latter interpretation might be closer to the truth once the scene continues, and Byakuya goes from, "A guest for little ole me?" to this:

Which is just the zany shit I love to see from my Bleach characters. To be perfectly honest, I think Kubo does a pretty good job at nailing teenagers in all their ridiculous reaction formations and exaggerated responses to things (I say lovingly). However, I think that his relative curiosity ("A guest?") turned immediately to, "GO AWAY, YOU," could be read as he may have been excited or hopeful to receive a guest, one who is not Yoruichi. And, his overblown reaction to Yoruichi likely betrays the fact that even though she's a pain in his ass, he's pretty happy to see her.

So, what to make of all that. Well... perhaps we're supposed to take home the idea that perhaps Byakuya is isolated, even now. We get a hint of that at the very beginning of the scene:

Here, Ginrei (Byakuya's grandfather) notes that he is staying at the manor rather than the barracks, which implies that at least one close family member doesn't always come home. Given that Byakuya's father is the Vice Captain of Squad Six, it's likely his father has a similar schedule (i.e., periods of absence from the home where Byakuya lives). Combined with Byakuya's curiosity at receiving a guest and subsequent deflation at who that guest winds up being, perhaps we are supposed to understand that he's pretty lonely.

Now, before someone accuses me of going easy on Byakuya, I definitely think some of that loneliness is of his own making, given what a cocky brat he is to Yoruichi in these panels, a perspective that gets echoed by Kaien shortly afterward:

But, being a cocky brat is sort of a thing teens do on occasion. And, not having a lot of people to socialize with probably doesn't help with beating that quality out of someone learning how to behave appropriately.

Given how this arc shakes out in the end--with Yoruichi going into hiding to help a friend--the potential people left to call upon Byakuya dwindles further. Then, after his dad dies an unspecified amount of time later, it dwindles further still.

And so, on that thought, I end this post. Because what's Bleach without a little tragedy coupled with humor? (My personal favorite variety of Bleach.)

[hannigramislife]

for my own gratification bc i just ran into nie mingjue hate in the wild, would you mind making a post that defends my poor good boy? he worked so hard and got gaslit to shit before getting murdered terribly ;; literally everyone sat there telling him "youre being too harsh" and he's just responding appropriately. like yeah, if you witness a murder, ya kinda got to do something about that as a clan leader. its kinda your responsibility, even when you care about the person who did the murdering. he was also a really young when he took on the role of clan leader and idk, it just made me rlly sad to see people dunk on him cuz wtf he's literally just trying his best in an impossible situation WHILE being perpetually fucked over by his clan's own traditional cultivation cuz now the stronger he is as a leader, the closer he is to going literally insane and dying bc of it. (mingjue did nothing wrong i will die on this hill) ((sorry for going on a tirade, im just sad and defensive of my good boy rn))

Oh no! I'm so sorry you had to go through Nie Mingjue hate! Truly tragic. I went through that once when in the beginning of me reading the books, when I still had no proper opinions, and never again.

I'm more than willing to make a post about Nie Mingjue! I'm always down to talk about Nie Mingjue tbh, he's my heart and love and if I were to have been given the opportunity to be his right hand person, I would have simply never betrayed his trust and married him. Rip Jin Guangyao but I'm different.

Anyways, I, huhhh, actually think you?? Covered it all??? Pretty much?? Yet I will talk about it. This will be long and non-coherent, because I don't have the books rn to find quotes in them and honestly, I could write essays on Nie Mingjue either way.

Nie Mingjue is a central piece of the narrative, despite the limited amount of appearances he made, and the fact that he wasn't close to the main characters at all. The entire second part of the plot revolves around him- it happened because of him. His murder is a tragedy; literally, by greek standards, man has Cassandra Curse all over him, so I don't get how people can tell me, confidently, that his death was warranted. I've been told the man had asked for it, and this has mostly been by Jin Guangyao apologists.

So let me make something real fucking clear.

Nie Mingjue did not deserve to die. Let's get that out of the way, anyone can fight me on that. Nie Mingjue had more good qualities than half the people in this fucking story, despite his flaws. After his father was brutally murdered when Mingjue was only in his teens, Nie Mingjue stepped up as clan leader. We can only speculate the hardships that await someone leading a clan at such an early age. Yet, political challenges weren't the only thing he had to battle; Nie Mingjue knew about his clan's harmful cultivation, and he knew he was going to die young. So what did he do? His best. Literally his best, always. He was always giving 100% of his abilities, because that's who he was.

Let's talk about who Nie Mingjue was, shall we?

When Jin Guangyao, still Meng Yao then, describes Nie Mingjue, he finds himself perplexed, because Nie Mingjue isn't like other men. He is not frivolous, and he has no vices; Meng Yao describes how Nie Mingjue never showed an interest in arts, or alcohol, or women. All he did was train, and fight the Wens during the war. It shows that he had a one-track mind from the start, and has got a strict discipline; yet this strictly disciplined man, leader of a clan that prizes strength, continuously indulges his lazy and undisciplined half-brother, his one and only heir, despite not understanding his interests. We gather, pretty quickly, that Nie Mingjue is a bleeding heart for his brother, and for the ones he loves in general. We see the same softer side displayed in the presence of Lan Xichen, and of course, for some time, Meng Yao.

People seem to think Nie Mingjue took Meng Yao's betrayal too harshly. As if somehow seeing a man he thought to have been just and honest commit premeditated murder, then cover it up, was something he was just supposed to get over. To this day, I can't believe how Lan Xichen was so understanding of it. But not only did Nie Mingjue catch him in a cowardly act - Meng Yao proceeds to manipulate him, using the fact that Nie Mingjue cared about him, to stab him in the back. Or front, however it happened. I get that Meng Yao was in a difficult position, that he suffered at the Jins, that he felt backed in a corner; but Nie Mingjue was a man that had extended his help to Meng Yao before, and even then, he went to find Meng Yao in righteous fury, ready to help him again. To Nie Mingjue, the idea that Meng Yao "had no other choice" but to kill - to kill in the manner he did - it could have been nothing but a betrayal.

One thing that I personally highly respected Nie Mingjue for was the fact that he did not judge Meng Yao for his background. This is not up for debate; Nie Mingjue stood up for him, quite publicly, quite vocally, when Meng Yao was being insulted over it. And not only that, but he promoted Meng Yao to be his right hand man, just like that. Because he's impulsive, and to prove a point, but it was still huge of him to do. Not even Lan Xichen would have done that - In a society built on power dynamics between social classes, Nie Mingjue was one of the few characters who did not let that define his actions. It wasn't because he was born privileged (though he was) but because he he didn't let anything other than his judgment direct his actions. Nie Mingjue also never shied away from anything; if it had to be done, he did it, no matter the cost.

Nie Mingjue was decisive, and had an iron will. When Meng Yao killed the Nie disciples in Qishan, he wanted to kill Meng Yao. Meng Yao told him, paraphrasing, that "don't you understand that if I hadn't done that, it would have been your corpse up there?" and Wei Wuxian takes it to mean "Translation: I saved you so you can't kill me, because that would mean you're in the wrong." So Nie Mingjue hesitated for a second, then said: "Fine! I'll kill you, and then take my own life!" And the only reason he didn't, was because Lan Xichen was there. Otherwise, Nie Mingjue would have killed his former friend, then followed him to whatever afterlife awaited.

Nie Mingjue is often portrayed like he doesn't understand stuff, like he's stupid, simply because of his black and white sense of morality. That's not correct: Nie Mingjue understands motive, but he doesn't accept the ends justifying the means. Scratch that, he doesn't accept or justify either, if they're unjust. The murder of the Jin commander, the murder of the Nie disciples, not executing Xue Yang - how can Nie Mingjue possibly understand Meng Yao's decisions, when Nie Mingjue would rather die, any day, than live thanks to vile actions?

And then, Nie Mingjue starts falling into qi-deviation. We know that it affected his temper the most, and his judgement. I don't understand how it works, really, so I don't know by the end how much was Nie Mingjue and how much was the mess that the spirit made of him - maybe a combination of the two. But what is certain, is that the rapid qi deviation changed him.

But I could write a hundred more pages on him, meticulously going over every single scene he has ever appeared in, because I find him that interesting. I find him the most interesting, and the most appealing character, because in a story where the navigation of the cultivation world's complex politics and hierarchies with tact and diplomacy is crucial, Nie Mingjue stands uncompromising in his principles, choosing duty and honor over anything else, even when it's hard.

[babybruno]

Ok personal opinion, I feel like a lot of ppl HC Bruno as being kind of passive with his mom. Everyone is absolutely entitled to their own HC’s, but personally I have a hard time picturing him being like 100% chill with his mom after what she had done.

Think about it, from his perspective everything was really chill. His dad worked hard, his mom was very loving and caring, they all ate dinner together and all had a pretty chill time, then one day his mom just… decided to leave. Out of the blue, with no explanation, and just left and after a while stopped coming around completely. I feel like he’d would feel a certain way towards her after that.

I think he’d think one of two ways: being indifferent (not passive) to his mom, or holding some sort of resentment.

The first route would probably just be “I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing and I don’t really care and don’t want to see her”. He wouldn’t exactly HATE her, just be like “eh idrc”

The other route is him being kinda pissed, which is valid. I mean, she up and left, and in a child’s mind, maybe in some way he might blame her for what happened to his dad. His thought process might “if she didn’t leave, maybe he wouldn’t have had to work extra hard and he wouldn’t have gotten involved with those gangsters and gotten killed”. Keep in mind, Bruno’s dad got shot when he was like what, 12? I think it would be totally rational for him to think like that.

That aside, what kid WOULDN’T be a angry for a parent just up and leaving ? Imagine having what you would call a picture perfect family just for it all to like disappear in one day ? And remember, Italians are HUGE on family. I myself come from a very large Italian family, and if it’s one thing that’s incredibly important to them, it’s family. So with the addition of Bruno being a kid and his cultural perspective on family, why wouldn’t he be angry with her ?

On top of that, I always thought it was incredibly inappropriate to have Bruno decide to either be with his mom or dad. Then when he chose his dad, his mom cried and pretty much begged him to come with her. That’s detrimental. No wonder Bruno has such a self sacrificing attitude, he’s had to do that since age like 10.

No wonder he goes around and picks up all these lost abandoned kids and feels the need to “save” or “fix” them in some way, he tried to do that with his parents and couldn’t, so he’s probably constantly looking to “fix/save” someone to fill that void.

Bruno is a very caring and understanding person, but I feel like it would be reasonable for him to kinda be like “yeah wtf is ur problem mom???”.

Also just to throw it out there I refuse to read purple haze feedback but I know his mom does cry at his grave. Which is also like u had NO IDEA what ur son was up to ??? U didn’t know he was involved with the mafia ? Do u even care that he spent years at the hospital with his dying father and had to do some pretty dark shit in order to take care of him ?? And now bro is dead ??? All because u wanted to live in THE GOD DAMN CITY ??? Girly wtf ??

That also probably adds to his grief, knowing his mom wasn’t there for him when his dad was dying.

ANYWAYS I do not like Bruno’s mom :D

TLDR; Bruno probably had terrible mommy issues.

[chronically-ghosted]

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Next

🤍Masterlist

From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. 

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it. 

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips –  – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit – 

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering – 

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing. 

– sharp inhale then a cough – 

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call. 

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait – 

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking– 

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn? 

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars. 

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama. 

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit. 

They’ll eat it up. 

Fuck yeah, they will. 

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place. 

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man. 

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean. 

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.  

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh? 

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack – 

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now. 

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee. 

Not a good –

 

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine. 

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. 

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets. 

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways. 

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you. 

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We. 

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it. 

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens – 

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list. 

Goddamn Burger King . . . 

The front doorbell rings. 

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder. 

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because – 

“Uncle Dee?” 

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell – 

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave. 

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,” 

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.” 

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,” 

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected. 

He chews on his lip. 

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.” 

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls. 

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl – 

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile? 

And, holy shit, those tits –  

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico. 

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,” 

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt. 

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?” 

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.” 

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside. 

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation. 

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies? 

No. Not at all. 

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.” 

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.” 

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.” 

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.” 

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.” 

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.” 

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you. 

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.” 

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks. 

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact. 

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo. 

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over. 

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts. 

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet. 

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm. 

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese. 

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.” 

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife. 

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”  

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge. 

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread. 

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language. 

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top. 

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.” 

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them. 

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date — 

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter. 

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy. 

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again. 

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?” 

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering. 

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.” 

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages. 

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.” 

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner. 

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it. 

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting. 

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles. 

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when– 

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich. 

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.” 

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.” 

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain. 

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face. 

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?” 

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass. 

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies. 

Not that any of that would be happening with you. 

He wasn’t a complete monster after all. 

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand. 

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.” 

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips. 

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep —  try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.” 

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.” 

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch. 

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions. 

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.” 

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote. 

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips. 

“No fucking way, I love this movie.” 

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?” 

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day. 

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest. 

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!” 

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies. 

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands. 

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.” 

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees. 

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.” 

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that. 

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice. 

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones. 

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over. 

The movie goes on. 

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt. 

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves— 

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up —  it’s like you meant for them to be there. 

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down. 

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle. 

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again. 

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs. 

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.” 

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front. 

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks. 

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”  

You nodded, still not looking at him. 

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table. 

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails. 

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table. 

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.” 

Just the two of us. 

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you. 

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?” 

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile. 

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn. 

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter. 

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.” 

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place. 

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.” 

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling. 

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.” 

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be. 

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded. 

And you’re giving it to him, right now. 

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing. 

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled. 

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man. 

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf. 

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

[stephaniebrownslover]

HIII WELCOME MEE

FIRST I WANT TO SAY I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING STYLE. YOU'RE ONE OF MY FAVORITE CP WRITERS IN TUMBLR (Seriously, no joking)

Can you please write Kate x Nina's relationship for your main AU?

(Also it's one of my fav ship, I wanted to read my fav ships hcs by my fav writers)

I WAS ALMOST FORGET, HAVE A GOOD DAY/NİGHT :3

HIIIIIII AGAIN LOVELY PERSON!!!!

Bro. Bro stop saying things like this because I'm literally about to cry. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH

I really love and be surprised when people like my writing because of my self-esteem issues lol you have no idea how your kind words make me so happy and and make hate less from my writing style so thank youuuuuuu

I appericate you so much and and you're so sweet and nice and cool and awesome and cool and kind and sweet and and and

Okay I think I'll have an heart attack sorry if İ bothered you but I'm truly so grateful for your kind words<3333

I love NinaKate so much so of course I can do it for you even if I'm dying lol

(Ps: it wasn't seasonal allergies, turns out, it was the beginnig stage of pneumonia and bronchitis lol)

Also you can check this non-canon NinaKate headcanon post I made some time ago too!!

Okay but I can't get over how nice the words you say, really, I'm thinking about it since I saw the ask.

Sorry it's more like how they became friends and Nina and Kate lore but it would be so long that I had to split it into 2 parts. Hope you don't mind.

HAVE A GOOD NIGHT AND DAY TOO!!!!

Holy shit it's angst, I really didn't mean to...

NinaKate Romantic Relationship For My Main AU-Part I

Seeing each other for the first time

Nina has been known among the proxies since the night when Zalgo controlled her at the age of 15 and helped her find Jeff. Slenderman didn't want to take her with him because he didn't see any benefit to himself since Zalgo had reached out to her first, but he hadn't given the order to kill her yet just because he was curious about what would happen.

Nina was unaware that it was a ritual to summon Zalgo when she practiced one of the love spells she found on the Internet at the age of 13. Zalgo, seeing potential in her because of her obsessive love, followed her for 2 years, did not leave her alone. And since he decided it was the perfect time to take her with him, he took control of her body at the age of 15 and had her kill her own family.

Regaining control while plunging a knife into the heart of her younger brother Chris, Nina then felt so bad that she ran to the woods near her home. Zalgo led Nina through the forest, aiming to convince her that all this was Slenderman's and Jeff's fault and get her to the stage of wanting revenge. There she met Jeff, but Zalgo's plan backfired, as she hugged him and cried instead of hating him as he expected.

Kate had never seen the newcoming stray killer that Slenderman wanted to get rid of face to face before, but she had heard about the descriptions of her appearance and that she was a weird person in general. Since she was already someone who had been drifted away from humanity for a while, she had no reason to meet her, and these rumors didn't help either.

Kate, who was only 16 years old, had been a proxy for two years and had no one because of the fact that Masky and Hoodie were too focused on their own worlds and she didn't like them either. Rouge, Cody and Toby were not yet a proxy. So she was alone with Hoodie and Masky, who didn't even want to talk to her because they were afraid of her, and she wasn't looking for any human relationship.

She had experienced a hellish life until she was 14, but since she became a proxy, she has literally not been a human being. Although she had all the necessary human characteristics, she was not treated as a human, she did not think like a human, she did not feel like a human. That's why she was Slenderman's favorite proxy, since the whole purpose of her living was to fulfill his duties. The fact that she unconditionally accomplished everything he said made the others even more distant from her, but there was no problem for Kate. After all, she was no longer a human being.

It's been a month since Nina started staying in the same cabin with Jeff. Actually, she could have gone back to her old life since Zalgo destroyed the traces of that night, but Nina didn't know about it yet. Since no one else was trying to communicate with her, she thought that Jeff was the only important thing in her life, and she was holding on to him with all her strength. Although Jeff felt sorry for her at first, they started arguing because he was getting overwhelmed by her sticky attitude.

One day, when Jeff was drunk and really hurt Nina's feelings, Nina ran away deep into the forest to calm down. After walking for a while, she realized that she had lost. Moreover, this time, since both sides considered Nina worthless, there was no one to guide her through the forest. Nina was completely lost. She crossed to the foot towards a tree and let the tears flow, which she could no longer hold back. She was crying not only for this moment, but for everything. Most of all, because she was a bad person, and the fact she deserved all this.

Kate was returning from a mission. She was incredibly injured, and if people really cared about her, they wouldn't have let her walk on her own. Actually, Hoodie, with whom she had gone on, had offered to help her, but Kate's snarling with hatred indicated that she had responded negatively to his offer, and Hoodie's fear of Kate had caused him not to insist any further. After all, Kate knew that no one really wanted to deal with a non-human proxy who was at the age of 16.

That's why Kate was staggering through the forest alone, trying to ignore the pain and depth of her wounds. She just needed to get to Jack's cabin. Ann had just arrived, and Kate still didn't trust her. She had many reasons not to trust a zombie. Smiley hadn't started working for Slenderman yet either. So Jack was the only one Kate could go to, and despite her bleeding wounds, she was trying to get there as quickly as possible.

Kate, who was trying to walk, heard a crying sound. It... it was a human cry. She didn't know what she had to do. She kept walking, thinking that she didn't need to do anything because she knew she wasn't a human. But there was something in that crying sound which bothered her. This stranger's voice was filled with more pain and anger than she had ever heard before. Although Kate was not ready to face an enemy, she decided to check the source of the sound.

The person crying was none other than Nina, whose name was mentioned only with hatred and contempt.

Their first real meeting

Kate watched Nina for a while without making a sound. She did not know why she was crying, and frankly she had wondered what made her so sad. Because as far as she heard from others, Nina was a person who was cheerful enough to annoy and never got upset. And obviously, Kate was surprised to encounter a sight that was the opposite of the rumors she had heard.

Just when Kate decided she had watched enough crying and was getting ready to leave, Nina, who heard the sounds Kate was making, shouted in that direction. Kate would never normally have made such a fatal mistake, her injuries had made it difficult to control her body and she hated it. She hated being weak.

When Nina screamed again, Kate knew she had to do something. Her first thought was to quietly leave the environment, but she was not in a good enough condition to do so, and Nina was not an enemy. So, Kate thought it would be enough for her to just say hello and introduce herself.

When she appeared, Nina tried to suppress her sobs and stand up, but she fell to the ground since she sprained her leg. While Kate was only frowning at this situation, Nina was thinking about how useless and incompetent she was, which is why her crying became more intense.

Not knowing what to do, Kate slowly went up to her and held out her hand to her. On her first attempt, she had pulled her hand out regretfully before she even reached the halfway point, but when she saw how upset Nina was, she tried to overcome her hesitation. Kate was sure that she had been disturbed by the sound of her crying, and that she had been so kind as to make her cease her voice. However, in reality, it was just a proof that her humanity had not completely died.

Although Nina wanted to hold her hand, she suddenly saw how badly Kate was injured, and Nina immediatly pulled the hand she was holding out to hold Kate's and took support from the tree. She then stated that she did this because she did not want to hurt her any more, but was grateful for the offer of help.

Then nervously asked if Kate, who she knew was not the enemy, could take her back to Jeff's cabin after someone checked Kate. Nina didn't know where she was supposed to go, but she was sure that the person in front of her knew. She had seen the proxy mark on her wrist from her torn clothing.

Kate only responded with a shrug and started walking slowly. Nina also went after her, hoping that this was a signal for her to follow the proxy. Along the way, although Kate occasionally looked at Nina, Nina didn't mind it. Nina had noticed that she was an observant person, and she even thought it was cute.

After a walk, they arrived at Jack's cabin, where Nina randomly asked Kate questions to distract her own mind from sad topics, and Kate sometimes gave audible answers, while most of them were in body language.

Kate knocked on the door and asked Jack if he could take a look at her wounds. When Jack called her in, Nina was standing in front of the door because she didn't recognize him. But later, when she saw Kate making a movement signaling for her to come inside, she entered the cabin and closed the door.

After first Kate's wounds were taken care of, and then her own leg, Jack insisted they should stay here. He said it was too late even for a proxy and the killer to be roaming the forest, and explained that he had enough places. He also mentioned that Kate wouldn't need to come all that distance for her check-up the next morning.

Nina, who heard the word , only burst into sobs. Killer. That's how people must have see her now. As someone who takes lifes of innocent people for no reason. She knew that her idol was a murderer, but she had convinced herself that his victims were for a purpose. That's why she hated herself while glorifying Jeff in her eyes.

While Jack was trying to calm her down, Kate also bizarrely asked why she was crying. Nina was angry at being asked so clearly, so she yelled and told what had happened to her. She said how she had a wonderful family, but now they're nine floors underground because of her own stupidity. And what a terrible big sister she was.

While Jack was patting her on the back just to calm her down, Kate said it wasn't her fault. She even tried to explain that she was aware of what Zalgo had done, and that Nina was considered lucky to have survived with this much, as Kate was someone who had seen even worse.

Nina, on the other hand, was only more annoyed and asked how she was considered lucky. Her life was completely ruined, she had nowhere or no one to go to. Then Kate told her that the cops weren't after her, that she didn't have to live this life like herself. She sat down next to Nina and controlled herself, even though she wanted to put her hand on Nina's back.

Nina was surprised now. She asked Kate about her own story. Nina wanted her to tell her why Kate was here, why she was a proxy. And Kate just paused.

She said she didn't remember.

She mentioned that she had no memories of before the age of 14. Hearing this, Nina felt an incredible sense of pity for the young proxy standing in front of her. Nina may have had bad memories, but at least she had good ones too. She thought what a terrible thing it was to not know who she was. Not being aware of the existence of anyone who loves her. Not having a real life.

And quite instinctively she took hold of Kate's bony hands, which were like ice.

Kate didn't know what to do. She reflexively withdrew her hand, but she also knew that Nina had not done it for any malicious purpose, and her apology was a proof of this. Then Kate said it was okay for her to hold her hand and placed it back on her own lap. Nina grasped her hands tightly once again.

She told Kate that not having a past did not pose any problems. And Nina even got a little overexcited and said that if she wanted, they could build a future together as friends.

Kate, on the other hand, was literally shocked. While Kate was content with just nodding, Nina excitedly let go of Kate's hands and clapped her owns in the air. This was how their friendship, which was quite meaningful for both, began.

The beginning of their friendship

That night they stayed in the beds that Jack had made for them. Nina was acting incredibly protective of Kate's injuries, and Kate felt that day for the first time in years that she was worthy of being cared for as a person. Of course, this feeling was not long-lasting, but it was enough to create an involuntary smile on her lips. And that was enough for Kate for now.

Nina was constantly jumping from topic to topic while talking, occasionally not neglecting to ask Kate questions about her own thoughts. Nina realized that she was someone who didn't like to talk too much, and she didn't see extra talking as a problem because she knew that Kate was really listening her. 

Kate, on the other hand, was starting to feel more and more comfortable answering Nina's questions. Maybe this could have been due to her slowly creeping sleep, which came under the influence of medications. After saying goodnight, she finished talking. However, realizing that Nina may have thought that Kate was bored with herself, she offered that Nina could come to the proxy cabin for a few hours tomorrow if she wanted.

Nina instantly accepted this with the joy of having found a new friend. Although she was physically hurt while sleeping that night, she was emotionally relieved. A voice inside her was saying that they would both be good for each other.

Kate kept her promise. After the necessary check-up the next day, they set off for the proxy cabin. Nina was upset that Jeff hadn't called her even though she'd been away all night, but she didn't care about it as much as she usually did. Because she was no longer alone, she had a friend.

It was good for them that there was no one in the cabin. Both Kate didn't want to deal with others, and Nina wasn't ready to meet someone else yet. For a while they just hung out doing nothing and just chatted.

Kate then timidly asked Nina if she liked to play video games. Nina mentioned that she sucked at games and explained that's why she only watched other people play. Kate, on the other hand, in an even more shy manner, said that Nina could watch herself if she wanted to.

They played games for hours that day. They did not stop playing until nightfall came. And then Kate offered to take Nina to Jeff's cabin before it got too dark. Nina was actually staying alone in the same cabin with Jeff and Ben. Because they were considered one of the first inhabitants of the forest, and apart from the proxy cabin, other cabins had enough place for maximum 4-5 people.

Kate was very angry when she saw that Jeff was rude to Nina while dropping her off at the cabin, but when she saw that Nina was generally happy, she didn't say anything to avoid upsetting her. Then, when she was going to say goodbye to Nina and leave, Nina stopped her and gave her her number. Nina didn't have anywhere to write, so she asked if it would be a problem if she wrote in Kate's hand, and when Kate said yes, she wrote down her number. Then Nina asked for her own number and registered it.

After saying goodbye, Nina was waving enthusiastically to Kate from inside the cabin. Kate, too, shyly waved to her gently. When Kate turned around, she couldn't help but smiling.

When Kate came to the place where she was staying, she had a strange feeling inside. She wasn't sure what it was, but she liked it. Then, while she picked up her phone to check if there was any important message from Masky and Hoodie, she saw Nina's new message.

"Hiiiii, thx so much for helping me!!!!! Hop i can see ya soon sweetie :3333"

That day, Kate had found a real friend for herself. Maybe it could have been her first friend in her life. And she was glad of it.

Nina had found herself a true friend. Someone who really cared about her and doesn't use her for her own interests. There was a pleasant feeling in her.

Holly hell how long this shit is-

Also Nina's message might be out of character, English is not my main language and I'm not used to writing like that.

Sorry for shitty writing but I'm sick as hell