#finally reading this book even though I bought it almost a year ago

[prxtze-l]

Sunshine

Clarisse La Rue x fem!Aphrodite kid!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ If somebody told you a year ago that you'd be spending your summer at a summer camp for demigods after being chased by a cyclops, you probably would've shrugged them off as crazy. What's even crazier though, is finding out your presumably dead mother is actually the Greek goddess of love. I guess that explains the sudden glow up you had mid-winter break after you dreamt about a pink glowing symbol hovering above your head one night.

ᝰ.ᐟ warnings: probably ooc Clarisse, tooth-rotting fluff, I think that's all

ᝰ.ᐟ a/n: I've only read the first book so I'm sorry in advance if some stuff are wrong, I literally love her sm I can't even

‎♡‧₊˚🧸🎀

Stumbling on overgrown tree roots, you literally ran for your life as the ground shook with each of the cyclops's stomps. You might be wondering how you got here in the first place.

You were peacefully listening to music with your headsets on, admiring the passing trees as the bus' movements combined with your music began to lull you to sleep. However, it was interrupted when your body jerked in your seat when the bus abruptly stopped.

Opening your eyes, you saw the bus driver ushering the passengers out and naturally you followed. Turns out, the bus broke down and you all had to wait until the driver finished fixing what was wrong. Since you figured it would take a while, you began to wonder off from the crowd of passengers when you saw a butterfly fluttering in the wind. You clutched your backpack's straps and began trying to follow where the butterfly would go.

After wondering around, you eventually lost sight of the insect so you decided to head back... If it wasn't for the looming shadow you noticed when you looked down at your newly bought white shoes. Every hair on your body raised with alarm as you didn't even think to look up and started to run without even looking where you were going.

Your body was going on autopilot as you ran faster than you've ever had in your entire life (besides that one time someone thought it was funny to toss a cockroach at you).

Your legs started to burn from all the running and you contemplated whether you should just ditch your backpack to be able to run faster. But the rational side of your brain was screaming at you to not lose the stuff you've just bought. You spent the past few days staying with one of your old friends who lived away from you and you both ended up shopping for a lot of things during your time there.

Anyway, back to where we were. The cyclops started to gain up on you and you almost lost hope of ever getting out of there alive when a pine tree on top of a hill caught your eye. As if clockwork, you started to run faster with the little bit of energy you had left and started to run up the hill. When you reached the top of the hill, you saw a barn near a field of strawberries.

Your moment of awe was cut short when you heard the loud sounds of the cyclops. Every muscle in your body was begging for rest and you couldn't even run anymore as you collapsed near the pine tree waiting for your inevitable doom.

However, what you didn't expect was for the monster to come to an abrupt stop just a few feet away from your limp body. Huffing and growling in anger. You on the other hand was trying to process why the monster stopped. The sound of your heavy pants filled the suddenly quiet but tense atmosphere. Your eyelids felt heavy and it finally dawned on you that you had earned some scratches while trying to run through the forest and all the cuts and scrapes started to hurt. The last thing you heard before you lost consciousness was the sound of a war cry.

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

The next time you woke up, you were on a soft bed. It took a moment but when things started to register in your mind, you shot up from your laying position and started to whip your head in every possible direction trying to find any semblance of familiarity.

Your frantic movements paused when you heard the sound of the door opening. It was a tall girl, probably your age. "Morning, sunshine. I'm assigned to tour you today." she grumbled. You were probably gawking for way too long because she spoke again "well, what are you waiting for? We don't have all day. Don't worry about your stuff."

Without wasting time, you hopped off the bed and put on your stained white shoes (which you noted that you'll have to clean when you had the chance). You noticed your cardigan was hung on the headboard so you took it and put it on. Now that you had time to check over yourself, you realized that all the cuts and bruises you had were completely gone and that you were still wearing the shirt and pants you were previously wearing.

You ran to the nearest possible reflective surface. The bow you were wearing before was also on the desk beside the bed so you tried to do something decent with it. Clarisse, on the other hand, was surprisingly waiting patiently while you tried to fix your hair. 'Definetly an Aphrodite kid'

"Done. What do you think? Do I look okay?" You asked her, straightening out your cardigan.

She did a once over and she had to admit, you clean up good. "You look fine, sunshine." And with that, she lead you out of the barn house and began to tour you around the camp, also explaining things on the way because she had a hunch that you probably didn't even know anything. Clarisse wondered how you even survived for that long outside.

The tour ended when you approached a cabin numbered 10. "And here is your cabin, your stuff's already inside." You stopped fiddling with your hands (a habit you developed when you were nervous or shy). "Thank you, Clarisse." She introduced herself right after you both left the barn and in turn you also introduced yourself.

"Sure. Whatever." And with that, she left you to your own devices.

Your half siblings were pretty nice to you and you were grateful for that. You didn't know what you would've done if you weren't close with anyone. You hated feeling isolated.

Everyday was unique on its own, sometimes you were by yourself reading a book you brought with you or you were with your siblings, following them wherever they'd go. Sometimes you would even see Clarisse with her half-siblings whenever you'd pass by the sparring grounds.

You'll never miss a chance to wave at her everytime you'd see her. When she was alone, you'd always try to get closer to her. You've been trying to talk to her ever since you found out that she was the one who lead the attack against the cyclops that almost killed you. Also it wouldn't hurt to befriend someone other than your siblings. It started with her trying her best to shake you off but you never seemed to get the hint.

You were trailing after your siblings like usual when Clarisse and two of her half siblings approached your group. "Sunshine! With me, I said." She called out. You pointed to yourself to make sure you weren't assuming things. "Yes, you."

She and her siblings turned around and started walking towards the girls' bathroom expecting you to follow. You stood there for a bit before you rushed to catch up to them.

When you got the bathroom, all of you were in a standstill. You didn't dare to make a move, their imposing figures standing taller than you, making you more intimidated. Eventually, you broke the silence, "did I do something wrong?"

"Leave us." Clarisse told her siblings.

After they left, Clarisse started to close the gap between you until you were merely inches apart. "Why do you keep following me?" She asked in an irritated tone.

"I– I just wanted to thank you for saving me. I heard you were the one who lead the attack against the cyclops that chased me. Also I was wondering if we could be friends?" You internally cursed yourself when you stuttered.

Her heated gaze lifted slowly to a more relaxed one and she stepped away to give you some space. It seemed like she wasn't expecting you to answer like that. "Alright. You seem worth the trouble."

After that, you seemed to never leave her side. At that point, everyone always assumed you were near when she was around. Trailing after her like an excited puppy. After a while, she'd let you touch her, whether it was just brisk skin contact or you grabbing her arm whenever you were excited, surprising everyone.

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

You showed an interest in the bow and arrow after you saw some campers practice shooting when you and your siblings were passing by. You wanted to learn but you were too shy to ask anyone to teach you.

That was until one day, after breakfast, you approached Clarisse at her table. You didn't know anyone else that well you could ask so, you decided that Clarisse would be the best person, since your siblings didn't show any interest in the sports.

You waited until she wasn't talking since you knew interrupting a conversation was rude. You called her name. "Clarisse?" The conversation quieted and everyone's attention was suddenly on you. You felt embarrassed since you weren't used to the attention. "Yes, sunshine?" Clarisse faced you.

Swallowing your saliva, you tried to find your voice. "I wanted to ask if you could teach me how to use a bow and arrow?" You avoided her gaze since you felt your face started to heat up. Clarisse was not expecting you to ask her that. Usually new comers would ask Luke or anyone other than her, but you did.

"Sure. Meet me at the shooting range." Her and her siblings stood up from their table and walked towards the fire to burn their offerings. "Thank you!" With that, you ran back to your siblings trying to suppress a squeal. Truthfully, you sort of had a crush on Clarisse for a while now. Your siblings looked at you like you grew three heads when you told them. Although they still supported you anyway.

You didn't know if it was the way she always seemed soft towards you compared to anyone else, or when she would have that look of pride whenever she won at something, or maybe it was the fact that you'd always meet her eyes across any crowd. But one thing was a fact, and that was you being totally whipped for Ares's daughter.

With Clarisse, she had to roll her eyes at the way her siblings would often tease her about you. Everytime you and her would cross paths (where you'd always wave at her with that stupid smile that made her heart melt) her siblings would nudge her with knowing stares and smirks or make comments like "hey Clarisse, isn't that your girlfriend?" or the occasional "when are you gonna ask her out?" which she'd just huff at.

Later that day, you and Clarisse would spend the rest of the day in the shooting range where she taught you the proper stance and how to aim properly. She had to admit, you were a fast learner. You were doing fine on your own, she only jumped in to occasionally give you tips. Sometimes people would stare curiously at you two, however you were oblivious since you were focused on hitting the target and Clarisse would glare at them to which they'd leave you two alone.

By dinner, you managed to hit the bullseye. "I did it! Clarisse, did you see that?!" You were jumping from excitement. Clarisse was subtly smiling with pride. "Yep. You did it, sunshine." You ended up hugging her out of excitement and it's seems neither of you even realize what you did until you did and quickly pulled away.

You cleared your throat, "sorry." and looked down in embarrassment. Clarisse was still processing what happened as she just stood there. You two just stood there in awkward silence. "Uhm... It's getting late. Thank you for teaching me today." You gathered your courage and eventually placed a quick peck on her cheek. You ran away after that.

Meanwhile, Clarisse touched her cheek where you just kissed her. Your perfume still lingering in the air and a barely noticeable kiss mark on her cheek was present.

"You're gonna kill me someday, sunshine." She smiled to herself.

[demonvampire180writes]

As We Go Along - An Angsty BuckTommy Christmas Fic

Summary:

Rated G

Buck still bakes every time he thinks about Tommy. And he thinks about Tommy a lot. In fact, he thinks about him so much that sometimes the man manifests in the things Buck creates without him even trying. Especially with Christmas just around the corner. Canon Compliant

‘Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the lane, snow is glistening,

a beautiful sight,

We’re happy tonight,

walking in a winter wonderland.’

A 1950’s crooner belts out on the radio that Buck has turned down to two, barely enough to register. He’s more focused on rolling out the light brown dough he had cooling in the fridge overnight until it was nice and stiff. He takes handfuls of it out and rolls it into a nice, tight, ball before slamming it down onto his floured counter. The kitchen is an absolute mess; this is probably the eighth batch of cookies he’s made in as many days.

And he knows why. He knows why he keeps pulling out the kitchen aid. He understands why he keeps his phone close at hand while his heart pitter patters every time a notification goes off, even though he knows it won’t be… Him.

Buck shakes his head, refusing to go down that road. With the wooden rolling pin that… that he had bought for him, he starts the arduous process of getting the dough thickness just right. He goes over it again and again, determined that it be perfectly round because something has to go right. Once satisfied, he turns to look at the array of cookie cutters that he has and simply stares. It’s like his mind goes blank as he zero’s in on the traditional gingerbread man.

Reaching for it, he runs his finger along the blunt edge, mind wandering. It’s hard to believe that it’s Christmas already. Just a few months ago he had been imagining what it was going to be like to have a man by his side for the biggest holiday of the year for the first time. What was he going to buy him for a gift? Would they spend time with Buck’s parents, or his pseudo family at the 118? Would he… Would he have kissed Buck under the mistletoe, or told him that was why even though Buck knows he’d kiss him any time, anywhere?

Throat burning, he yanks himself away from those thoughts and gets back to the task at hand. With precision, he cuts out as many men as he can before rolling the dough up and beginning the process all over. He takes his time, going at it methodically, until he can’t make any more. The crooner on the radio is now singing about Frosty and his exploits.

When he glances at his counter, he blanches, realizing that he’s made way more cookies than he intended. Thank God firefighters loved cookies because he’s not sure what he’d be doing with them otherwise. Shaking himself out of whatever melancholy he’s headed straight for, he gently sets each cookie on a baking tray and starts placing them in the oven.

For the next hour, Buck is given a reprieve from haunting thoughts. He loses himself in a book he’s been working on for weeks - one that isn’t something he and Tommy promised to read together - only stopping to switch out trays. He sips at a Merlot Maddie recommended, enjoying the slight tartness. The smell of ginger spice and cinnamon fill every nook and cranny of the loft and it feels like comfort.

Once the cookies are baked, and cooling, filling every free spot on his counter, Buck makes himself something small to eat. He turns off the radio and trades it for the TV, heart squeezing each time he passes by some sports event. He hears something about the Lakers and almost turns off the TV because it’s too raw. Too much, too soon.

Finally it’s time for the decorating part, and Buck hasn’t a clue what he plans to do. Decorating has always been his least favorite part of the process. It’s too many decisions; too much pressure to make each cookie unique instead of just slathering different color frostings over the whole thing and calling it good. Buck hates making those kinds of decisions. But what does it matter? It’s not like he’s trying to impress anyone anyway, so who cares if he does just that?

He splits his little cup of homemade whipped frosting into six different color bowls and adds a few drops of food coloring to each one. Once they’re whipped and mixed in, he lets himself fall back into a trance-like state as he decorates. His mind is completely empty. He doesn’t think. He doesn’t feel. He just does. And it’s incredible.

Until he wakes up from the dream and looks down. The first tray is just like he’s planned - a single color of frosting slathered across the entire cookie. The next is made with a bit more care and effort, though still minimal. By the third, his little gingerbread army has more defined, discernible features. And by tray number four? Well, by tray number four Buck is seeing an uncanny resemblance to a hot firefighter pilot.

Buck is no decorator extraordinaire but trays five through seven are most definitely the man he lost. The one that was so scared he walked away before he could get hurt and shattering Buck into a million pieces that, just like Humpty Dumpty, couldn’t be put back together again.

Dropping his piping bag, Buck slides to his knees as tears cascade down his ruddy cheeks. Thunking his head against the cupboards, his body shakes with sobs as the rug of the world feels like it’s pulled out from under him yet again. How can it still hurt this much ? Why can’t the tractor beam be fading and letting him move on? Tommy wasn’t his first.

… But God how he wishes Tommy could’ve been his last…

Broken like he’s never been before, not even when Maddie abandoned him to be with Doug, Buck curls into a fetal position on the floor and leaves the floodgates open. He doesn’t try to hold back his voice as he lets all his hurt, and pain out.

On the couch, where he’s left his phone, he doesn’t see it light up. Doesn’t see Tommy’s text bubble as it comes and goes until a single word comes through. ‘ Evan. ’

The cookies never make it to the firehouse. They never make it past his lips. Even through all the pain, Buck can’t stomach the idea of hurting anything made in the image of his greatest love. And greatest heartbreak.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 6

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 845

Masterlist

Saturday can't come soon enough. I feel like this week has lasted an entire year.

Then it's finally Saturday morning. I'm happy to go to work today, because at the end of the morning shift, you'll be waiting for me. My reward for my work. You won't even mind that I won't have time to change out of my usual clothes - it's a deliberate choice on my end, because you like how I look. You told Nadia about it on Twitter just three days ago.

@MoonShadow_: waarom zijn jongens in boekwinkels altijd zo lekker 😭😭

Which translates to: why are boys in bookstores always so hot

I didn’t realize you were thinking this way, (Y/n). If I'd known, maybe I would have made a move already.

Candace wasn't nearly this hard to read.

Candace wouldn't have been worth all this waiting, though.

I'm not ashamed to admit that Candace was a wrong choice. I thought I saw something in her that wanted to be known by me, to be taken care of, but I was wrong. You, on the other hand, are unknown to almost everyone except your dear childhood friend. It must be so lonely. But when you're with me, you won't have to be alone anymore.

Ethan notices I'm distracted today, but he doesn't say anything about it. He's happy to take over the regular customer service duties if it means I'll run up and down the basement stairs carrying heavy books from eight to twelve. Ethan is the kind of guy who swears by a Kindle.

You'd never use a Kindle, would you? I can't imagine it. You buy books way too often to bother about something as asinine as digital reading.

Maybe if I tell you the Kindle is everything that's wrong with modern-day America, you'll laugh and agree with me. But then again, maybe you'll just think I'm a ‘gatekeeping dick’. That's what you called someone on Twitter when they said The Secret History was awful and that only insufferable, snobbish, self-absorbed, classist rich kids would ever think to read this shit. Don't kill me, (Y/n), but I kind of agree with the guy. One day you'll see my side.

I kind of agree with you too, though: the world needs to learn how to read again, it doesn't matter where they start.

I used to judge people for what they bought at Mooney's, but now I don’t anymore. At least they're reading. You're making me a better person that way. You're making me realize that even if people are just reading whatever bullshit they saw on TikTok, at least they're reading.

It's one pm, and you're late. I'm not too upset about it, though. You texted me about an hour ago.

YOU: omigod joe!!!

YOU: my boss is super pissed i forgot to send a client this important email

YOU: i gotta fix my mistake i might be like

YOU: 15 mins late

ME: Don't worry. Take your time.

YOU: 😅

I didn't reply to your smiley. What on earth am I meant to say to a picture of a smiling face? Besides, a smiley isn't worth nearly as much as your actual smile.

And there you are.

Only ten minutes late. It could have been worse.

You look flushed like maybe you ran here, and your hair is a mess so you've covered it with a beanie again, but you also look so happy to see me. I'm happy to see you, too.

You hug me.

“I'm so sorry,” you say. I'm not sure what you're apologising for, because I'm still trying to get over the fact that you hugged me. “I've had such a crazy morning.”

“You're not even that late,” I assure you, which is true. Candace used to be hours late, sometimes. Sometimes she didn't show up at all. “Do you mind giving me a minute? I want to wash my hands and stuff.”

I don't need a minute. I've been ready to leave for a while now. But I think you might need some time, and I can tell you won't ask for it.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “No problem.”

So I turn and I head to the bathroom. This means leaving you alone with Ethan, which may be risky. Ethan might say something stupid, or something about me. But then again, I don't think he'd ruin ‘getting some tail’ for me.

In the bathroom, I wash my hands and check my hair. I look how I always do after a shift at Mooney's, but I think that's fine.

You look beautiful, (Y/n). It's too soon to tell you something like that, but you do.

I emerge. You look calmer now. You're waiting in the office - Ethan must have let you in - sitting with your hands behind your head and your feet on the table. Stretched like that, I can see a bit of the skin above your jean shorts.

It's deliberate. You're taunting me.

“Hey,” you say. “All ready?”

You're wearing make-up. You don't usually wear make-up.

“All ready,” I agree.

[alexsoenomel]

Kiss The Girl (Joel Miller x Reader fluff)

Summary: A Friday night brought something sweet and unexpected. 

Warnings: reader is a smoker (because same), wine consumption, no use of (Y/N)

Word count: 1.7k

Note: I was indulging in my own scenarios and this happened. It is literally a self-insert fanfic about my favorite dilf because I needed comfort. Enjoy!

It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn't wish that he was your man. It would be a lie if you told your friends you didn't like anyone. There was someone – and that someone was living right across the street from you. That someone had a name – Joel. Joel Miller. His name would roll down your tongue like honey and would make your head turn every time someone would say it. His tall frame, broad shoulders, messy dark hair, and soft puppy-like eyes would make your eyes fixed on him and only him. There was something so captivating and hypnotizing about Joel getting into his truck every morning for work, you couldn't look away. You would sit on your porch, having your first cup of coffee in one hand, book in another, and with a cigarette between your lips, watching him between reading. Your roommates would usually sleep in, or be already on their way to the campus so mornings were perfect for processing your existence while also doing some reading in the morning sunlight.

The view was also nice; the view being soon to be a 35-year-old man with seemingly soft and kissable lips.

You would occasionally tutor his daughter, Sarah, mainly helping her with essays and assignments in English. Your heart would always beat a little bit faster whenever he would text you or call you to ask if you were available. Of course, even if you weren't available, you would clear your schedule because those few minutes of interaction with Joel were more important than whatever you planned to do that day. You knew you were desperate, but since no one knew how much, it was fine. His soft brown eyes scanning your delicate features and making your cheeks red were moments you would replay over and over again like a broken camera in your mind every night before bed, wondering if you had a chance with him. He didn't seem bothered by your presence like you were by his. He seemed to like chatting with you, listening to your every word but that wouldn't last long since he was always busy with something or had to go to work.

On a rainy Friday evening, your roommates decided to get completely smashed in the local club since finals week was over and you were finally free to breathe, but you were too tired and drained to join them. You were too tired to dance, too tired for small talk with random dudes who were desperate for sex, and too tired to be a designated driver, since your two friends liked to pretend to be Lords and chug alcohol like water.

You weren't tired of a cheap bottle of wine though, and a new book you bought a few months ago that has been collecting dust on the shelf above your bed. Also listening to the sound of rain pouring under the blanket in your favorite spot in the house that wasn't your bedroom

– the porch – was your way of having fun on that particular Friday night.

Since it was almost 10 pm, and your dimmed porch lights weren't enough, your little book lamp finally came in handy. You put a cigarette between your wine-stained lips, since cheap wine without nicotine wasn't wine, and lit it up. You inhaled the smoke, feeling the sour taste of alcohol slowly turn into an expensive Italian liquid gold – or so your taste buds thought it did. You were about to turn the page of your book when you heard the familiar sound of someone's truck. Joel Miller came back from work. You glanced at him across the street just as he was closing the door, inhaling another smoke, already feeling yourself getting nervous. Instead of staring and being a creep, you decided to focus on your book – if only you knew what happened in the previous line.

"Enjoying your Friday night?", you heard his voice from a distance.

You lifted your head to see your favorite dad approaching you. You swallowed nervously, taking a big sip from the wine bottle.

"Oh yeah," you said, wanting to sound proud. "How's work?"

"Same ol' same ol'," he answered you.

"Care to join?" You asked giving him the wine bottle. "Finals week is over and I'm celebrating."

You noticed through dimmed lights a small half smile on Joel's tired face. He took a bottle and sat on the chair next to you. "Was it successful?"

"Yeah, passed everything with overall good grades."

"Good girl."

Good girl.

You could feel your palms and legs under the blanket getting cold as your heart started running a damn marathon. His husky voice was smooth like a fine glass of old whiskey, and you were getting intoxicated. You took another smoke, before putting out the cigarette on the ashtray.

"Y'know that ain't healthy?" His eyes glanced at the ashtray before looking back at you.

You were in the process of lighting another cigarette. When nervous, you would become a chain smoker.

"My vice, I guess."

Joel took another sip of wine as you inhaled the smoke into the air. "What's yours, Joel?"

"My vice? I would rather not."

You knew he didn't like to share personal information so you let him be. It would be strange if he did.  

"What are you readin'?" He asked, looking at your book.

"Kiss the Girls by James Patterson."

"One of those romance books?"

"Not really," you chucked. "Thriller, someone is inducting beautiful talented girls all over the country."

Joel's eyebrows went up, not expecting that to come out of your mouth. "Interesting taste, darlin'," he said.

Darlin'

That one you heard before and it still made your body stiff as a statue from nervousness. You struggled to look him in the eyes; to try and see what was behind those beautiful brown orbs; to try and read him; even though that was almost impossible since Joel Miller was an old book full of dead metaphors. You desperately wanted to know if he would kiss you back if you dared to drunkenly place your lips on his. You wondered if he would cup your face while doing so…you wondered if he would lay in bed with you if you told him to stay.

"How's Sarah?" You asked, wanting to shake off the shyness that was slowly creeping in.

"Good, she got an A on her English essay, thanks to you."

You smirked remembering the deal you had made with Sarah. She noticed (kids always do), something was up with you since you would blush every time Joel would call you darlin'. She noticed you acting too friendly around her dad so naturally she decided to confront you about it.

"So, you like my dad, huh?" She asked you on a Wednesday while doing homework.

Your heart went in your throat when your ears registered her question.

"No, I don't." You lied.

"Yeah, darlin' you do. You're too obvious."

"Fuck!" Left your lips. You instantly regretted it.

"HA!"

"Please don't tell him!"

"I won't, but you have to write me this essay."

"Sarah!"

"I'm too lazy! Plus you don't want me to get an F and disappoint my dad, right?" She winked. Cheeky stunt she pulled.

"Fine!"

****

"I'm glad!" You told him. "She's a smart kid!" Yeah, she was alright…

The thing with Joel was certain parts of him were sealed shut, but only certain. He liked talking to you especially because you both shared the same love for music. He liked talking to you about your favorite songs, bands, historical music events, guitars… You knew he played guitar and you asked him numerous times if he wanted to play you a song; he would always decline. After a couple of tries, you stopped asking.

"You know, – you started, taking a sip of wine followed by cutting your life short by 7 minutes with a smoke – "I've always wanted to learn how to play guitar."

"Is that so?" You could see a half smile forming on his face before he took a sip.

"Yeah, but I never did. It was always something, school, homework, too broke to afford guitar lessons…too broke to afford a guitar."

"I can teach you if you want."

"That means you have to play in front of me, and you always say no to that."

"I can make an exception." His gaze was fixed on you and yours was on him. A pleasant science was lingering in the air as you both enjoyed each other's company. You were feeling tipsy while Joel was sober as a judge.

"That would be awesome." Alcohol in your system was giving you a warm hug, telling you to go for it, to say the unsaid, to do the forbidden. Your body was finally relaxed enough, but your mind was in a haze. You had a feeling you were going to do something stupid and you liked the idea of doing something stupid at that particular moment.

The undying need to know, to find out – it was simmering and about to explode.

You put out the cigarette, taking a deep breath, before leaning in and placing a kiss on his cheek. Joel froze for a second, not understanding what happened for a few seconds before his brain caught on. He gave you a soft look, admiring your courage before he returned the favor and kissed your drunken lips. It was a soft, gentle kiss just to make you wonder what it would be like to devour him whole. You wanted this little innocent pack to turn into something sinful – but it didn’t.

“A little bird told me your secret, honey.” He confessed.

“Of course she did,” You chuckled.

Joel’s fingers went in your hair, tucking one strand behind your ear. He found your red cheeks cute.

“You know, you’re obvious when you stare.”

“Stop lookin’ like that, and I won’t.”

Joel laughed. It had been a while since he did.

“DAD!” A voice yelled across the street. It was Sarah, standing in front of the front door of their house. “WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“COMIN’, BABY GIRL!” Joel yelled back and looked back at you.

“Go,” –You said – “And tell her I said thank you.”

“Will do!” Joel gave you a wink and left.

[accioprocrastination]

One Day At A Time (Part 1/?)

Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader

T/W: Angst, grief, death, anxiety

A/N: this is pure angst, I feel like you can tell I've been listening to Say Yes to Heaven on repeat since now it has finally been released. This part can be read alone

Summary: the aftermath of Jake being informed that his fiancée is never coming home from deployment.

Hangman is sat grouchy in morning training from being unable to book today off work. He's stuck here in a room full of people that don't know what happened four years ago.

He usually spends the anniversary of your death in bed, under a mountain of blanket, crying as he looks down at the ring he bought you the day after your final deployment. The ring you died before you could receive.

Every day it haunts him that he'll never get to speak to you again, that he'll never laugh with you, that you'll never see the ring; that you'll never have the life you planned.

Javy sits nearby giving Hangman the space he's asked for in years before. He's braced for Jake to act heartless today. He's ready to go around the Hard Deck with an unexplained apology to everyone on Hangman's behalf this evening.

Coyote doesn't expect him to spend the best part of the morning bating Rooster into a fight. Javy feels braced on the edge of his seat, waiting for one of them to finally snap and stand up to take a swing at the other.

The frown that has been glued on Hangman's features since he arrived on base is replaced with a mocking smirk as he's physically separated from Rooster by a wall of other aviators.

"I can't be here." Hangman mutters to Javy as they step outside for a minute.

"Just get through today, tomorrow will be easier." Javy reassures him as he stands there shaking his head.

Tears suddenly blockade his vision as Jake admits, "It's been four years and It feels like it was yesterday."

Releasing a shaking breath he continues, "I miss her so fucking much Coyote." Jake's voice audibly cracks as a few tears begin sliding down his face despite his best effort to blink them away.

Javy grips his arm. "I know." He states not elaborating in the knowledge that there is absolutely nothing he could tell his wingman right now to make that longing go away.

"You know she would tell you to apologise to Bradshaw though right?" Javy smirks.

Jake lets out a small laugh wiping the tears from his face. He knows that's true. You would hate him driving a wedge between anyone in his squad. Hate the possibility of someone not having his back in your absence.

"She would hate you not moving on too." Javy finally vocalises the thought he's not know how to phrase for the last four years.

*

That's how Jake ended up hooking up with someone he met at the hard deck that evening. Javy pulled him aside and warned him not to do this today. He knows that Jake only pulls women at the bar when he feels shit about himself today is almost certainly one of those days.

In all honestly, every day without you he's felt shit about himself. Javy's told him once before that he's a different person to who he was when they met in flight school.

Jake's thoughts feel cloudy as the girl he picked up this evening starts kissing his neck. All he thinks is that he wishes it was you that was towering over him right now. He shuts his eyes trying to picture the other girl as you.

Before either of them reach any kind of high the girl kisses him on the mouth something he has never let anyone do since you. He starts crying at his mental comparison - the kiss forcing him back into reality that he has let this girl into your bed.

"Are you okay?" She asks instantly detaching from him and jumping out of bed to get dressed.

"No." He bellows muffling himself with his pillow.

"Right... well I'm gonna go. Best of luck with whatever the fuck this is." The short blonde says before practically sprinting out the door.

Jake lies there clutching his throat as it constricts, gasping for air as a wave of panic washes over him. His hands shake with anxiety as he moves one to clutch his chest - he feels like he's having some form of cardiac problem.

If he hadn't met you and experienced your panic attacks, he's not sure he would recognise that's what this is.

Sobs uncontrollably rack Jake's body, until he's is too exhausted from sleep deprivation to fuel the worry. He sits down on the floor of your bedroom panting as he starts to break his hysteria.

When he stops crying he feels a headache gnawing behind his eyes and tries his best to ignore it. He finds a bottle of water in his work bag and downs it as he walks to the bathroom to go shower.

Standing under the freezing water he starts scrubbing his skin raw where she's kissed him. Only once his teeth are chattering from the cold, does he gets out and change the sheets of your bed.

Climbing underneath the covers, he does something he knows is going to hurt, he opens his photo app only to be instantly greeted with your smiling face looking back at him.

"I wish you were here baby... You should be here." he whispers stoking your face on the small screen, talking to you like you can hear him. His therapist told him if he wants to talk to you he should just talk it out.

"I miss you every minute of every day." His voice is barley audible at the admission.

"I'd give anything to know what happened to you." He says transfixed by the photo.

Missing your voice talking to him he switches to his videos and starts playing them one after the other. It's agony to watch you laugh with him.

He knows Javy would say this was self enforced torture but continues anyway.

He gets to a video of you shouting at him for recording you while you were doing your makeup.

Pausing it he starts telling you about his day instead of smiling at your smart ass retorts.

"I instigated a fight with Bradshaw today. It was stupid and I know I didn't mean anything I said. Sometimes I just feel so numb, so empty that I need someone to punch me just to feel something." He states.

"Everything is overwhelming me today now. I've made it another year apart from you and I don't know how I'm going to do another one. One day at a time is such a bullshit answer to this." Jake vocalises.

*

Javy is sat across town in the Hard Deck with the other aviators. "Why are you apologising for him, he's not here." Phoenix remarks looking around as Coyote approaches Bradley.

"He's had a stick up his ass all day Coyote, you don't need to defend him when he's not here." Bob chips in.

"There's a reason why he's been so... confrontational?" Javy pauses unsure if that is the correct phrasing he wants to use. "- Today" he continues.

"You guys need to cut Hangman some slack for today." Javy states.

"What's the reason?" Payback asks.

"He'll tell you when he's ready." Coyote says, "It's the anniversary of something traumatic that affected him. Be gentle tomorrow, if he lashes out he's just tired." Coyote doesn't elaborate any further.

"I'm gonna go check on him." He steps away from the group, not registering Fanboy following him.

"It's Nova right?" Fanboy pries.

Javy pretends not to hear as he walks to the door.

"I served with her when I was first stationed. I heard what happened to her. I knew she was dating someone called Jake but I didn't put two and two together until just now... I won't tell the others." He assures Javy.

*

The day before the mission they all independently venture back out to the hard deck and settle for drinks on the beach. The day after tomorrow they all go their separate ways - redeployed to different corners of the world.

"I'm sorry for everything." Jake says to Bradley, in earshot of the rest of the group.

"What's changed to suddenly make you feel guilty after the last few years?" Rooster raises an eyebrow at his fellow aviator.

"I've never hated you, you've just always been there when I'm at my worst... I think I lost myself and Javy is right I can't keep living in this stasis." Jake acknowledges that everything he's said to Bradley over the years is because of what grief has made him.

"What am I right about?" Javy asks Jake from where he's sat on the sand. Jake doesn't meet his eyes he just glances out at the waves.

"That I am a shell of who I was and I don't know how to get back." Jake says, voice sounding small but loud enough for everyone else there to stop and listen to his atonement.

"Every day I tell myself tomorrow will be easier, then tomorrow comes and it's not, so I take it out on whoever is in my line of vision." He confesses his thoughts to everyone, mainly talking to Javy.

"I am still so in love with her." Jake discloses shutting his eyes again willing his feelings away.

"I don't know how to fall out of love with her." He turns to Javy.

"You're never going to fall out of love with her. You asked her to marry you." Javy reminds him of his impatience. Jake had been scouting vintage ring shops for months for your ring but kept coming up empty, he couldn't wait any longer and asked you without one.

"If there's a girl out there that you care about, call her right now and win her back" Phoenix instructs Hangman, mildly concerned by how unnerved he's acting.

"You're one of the best of the best - call her." Rooster reiterates.

"S-s-s-sh-she was KIA." Jake stammers to inform everyone.

Part 2

[fortheunsungheros]

Out of curiosity- How much do you know abt ur fav character in The Outsiders?? My fav is Dallas, who was the sixth character to be introduced by pony in the book- hence my blog name lol

Dally’s full name was Dallas Tucker Winston (as we know)

was 17 (also as we know) and died just two months short of his birthday, which is November 9th, meaning the book begins in September on a Friday

got his disc memorized- you know the drill with him so I’ll keep it shortish: described as tow-headed with an elvish face, with high cheekbones and a sharp chin, small sharp animal like teeth and ears like a lynx, his hair was almost white it was so long, but he didn’t like haircuts or hairpins either so it went over his forehead in wisps and kicked out in the back in tufts along the nape of his neck and curled behind his ears. The shade difference between a greaser and a hood wasn’t present in Dally, he was a wild as a brumly boys, like Tim Shepard’s gang. He had pale icy blue eyes, cold with a hatred for the whole world- he didn’t have anything specific to hate. (So much for short- Read it 217 times since 7th grade)

gave pony the letter from soda and didn’t want to get beat tf up by Darry for giving pony the money and the gun

bought pony and Johnny food at Darry Queen :D

he showed up to the rumble with his arm burnt tf up and fought anyhow

Took Ponyboy to see Johnny because he knew he was dying in the hospital and wanted pony to seem him one last time too

he was born in 1948- since the book was finished in ‘65, I just subtracted 17 from there- so he would’ve been 76 this year :,(

on a lighter note, S.E. Hinton confirmed that he was most likely out of the gang to be scared of spiders- had me rolling 🤣

Lmao it got to the point where I gaslit myself into thinking he lived and Johnny lived based on a fic I read years ago and when I reread it this past month my whole reality with him shattered- please send help I can’t be the only one obsessed with a character to this degree🫠

Wow I think you’re more obsessed with this book than me 😭 HOW HAVE YOU READ IT 217 TIMES? I’m on my 3rd reread in the past 8 months or so.

But seriously wow! I’m glad I found someone who is as obsessed - if not more than me lol. Dallas is probably my 3rd favorite character (ik don’t come and find me lol) behind 2. Johnny and 1. Darry

Darry has always been my favorite character ever since I read the book for the first time. He just stuck out to me and I love his character so much. He also is played by Patrick Swayze and he is the finest man to ever walk the earth sooo. (Like seriously I’m obsessed with this man I’ve watched almost every movie he’s in please send help)

Even though Darry’s my favorite character I don’t know everything about him off hand lol. I’m just gonna make a list of everything I know off the top of my head about my favorite character (yes out of every book I’ve read he’s my favorite character, secondly being Katniss Everdeen if you would like to know lol)

• He’s 20 years old

• His full name is Darrel Shayne Curtis Jr (I say this at least twice a day idk don’t ask why)

• Don’t quote me on this but I think he was introduced last in the book

• He works as a roof repair man person

• His birthday is January 5th

• He’s the oldest brother (obviously)

• He is said to not be a greaser if it weren’t for his brothers and the rest of the gang

• Darry was a MESS when Johnny and Pony were at the church (DARREL STAYS UP ALL NIGHT LONG, TILL HE FINALLY FALLS ASLEEP BY THE TELEPHONEEE - Sodas Letter from the musical)

• Also he was the football captain in high school and was voted boy of the year

• Don’t ask me how I know this offhand (I need a hobby) but in the book Darry is one of the tallest if not the tallest greaser but Patrick Swayze isn’t crazy tall so in some of the photos you can see him standing on bricks to make him look taller lol

Okay that’s all I remember right now but I know more will come to me later lol. And also I sincerely believe also that the events in the book are fictional (well no shit) but like FICTIONAL in a FICTIONAL way. Like Ponyboy definitely just needed a good grade so made up a bs story lmao. I really have tricked myself into thinking both Johnny and Dally are alive and well and the gang is still partying in Tulsa.

ALSO thank you for this ask it was really fun to do!

[plenilune]

tagged by @ghstbird~

last song: it's one of those grey days in the almost-winter when I'm going back and forth between the Stranger's Watching Dead Empires in Decay and Cate Brooks' little EP Winterfest all day. have also been listening to a lot of Godspeed You! Black Emperor while reading and walking around.

last movie: not exactly intentionally but also following threads I just did in three days Stalker (1979), Fury Road (2015), and Angel's Egg (1985) and I am thinking Many Things about lone wanderers and water and the world after the end of the world and belief and unbelief and also, ambient music. don't know why I decided it was Waste Land Wnovember but honestly, based.

last book: oh god I'm reading like eight things right now... last one finished was Stephen King's The Gunslinger, which Corey has been trying to get me to read our entire relationship and idk why it took me this long, it's absolutely for me. (though maybe Not for the me of ten years ago? hmmm.) the library has like one copy apiece of all of the Dark Tower books for some reason so I have bought a beautiful battered 80s paperback of The Drawing of the Three secondhand and passionately await its arrival.

also I'm shouldering my way through Frederic Jameson's Postmodernism: The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism chapter by chapter. it is dense to absorb but actually very clear and it is making my brain shoot out little sparks whenever a passage finally settles. also Samuel Delaney's Dhalgren (again, lots of men with no names wandering waste lands and devastated cities for me lately, Who Could Have Predicted This).

last tv show: made a hellish pact with @endquestionmark and @weekenddracula which means I'm rewatching Firefly for the first time in like fifteen years. Analysis To Come,

last thing googled: "fluffy winter crows" shut the FUCK up did you know they grow little downy pantaloons to keep their legs warm DID YOU KNOW THAT

looking forward to: my next batch of library holds coming in. was going to be very bleak and say "next year, even though Things Will Get Worse, because at least my job at the grocery store will stop being turbo insane in that special holiday way" but it's not really like me to be that fucking bleak, I'm just very, very tired. hanging out with Corey's best coworker and her partner soon! going to see Hundreds of Beavers at the Esquire with a pal! I love Christmas really I just assume everything is going to be miserable and exhausting at the moment because retail has had a good crack at breaking my spirit. honestly, looking forward to my next proper morning off so I can re-bake the plum-pear linzer cookies I have from a favourite farmers market bakery in the freezer and do my proper tea service ritual with warm jammy linzer cookies for breakfast.

[shsenhaji]

An End of the Year Accomplishment - Finishing A Civil Campaign

I finally finished A Civil Campaign by Lois McMaster Bujold!

I'd started reading the Vorkosigan Saga a while ago, making my way through it based on the internal chronological order as outlined by the author herself.

Despite Miles being Miles, and all of the adventures being a bit more intense than I usually like to read, there is something very charming and compelling about how Miles manages to dig himself out of almost any situation (usually by digging a larger hole). The way it's written, alongside the amazing cast of characters, the entertaining plots, the great character development and worldbuilding, the themes and ethos of the series - all of that has kept me happily reading.

However, as Bujold had mentioned in this recommended reading order, there are a few good entry points into the series, including Komarr, which "makes another alternate entry point for the series, picking up Miles’s second career at its start. It should be read before A Civil Campaign."

Intrigued by this, along with a few vague spoilers about Brothers in Arms, Mirror Dance, and Memory (all of which I have not read yet), I decided to jump ahead in the series, as it were.

I bought the Miles in Love ebook bundle, which collects Komarr, A Civil Campaign, and Winterfair Gifts, and happily tore through Komarr as well as the first part of A Civil Campaign. Then I reached The Dinner Scene, something I'd heard a lot about, and...put the book aside for a while. A long while.

Luckily, I've recently been feeling drawn to the Vorkosigan Saga once more, wanting to get back into it, and so I braved The Dinner Scene once more. It took me some time - reading a few pages, skipping ahead, going back, pausing a few times - but I got through it! And of course proceeded to finish the rest of the book that very same day, feeling accomplished but also very emotional from the book's themes of love, solidarity, healing, honour versus reputation, and characters finally able - with the help of a supportive community - to take charge of their own lives.

I absolutely loved the second part of the book, and even though I'd wanted to save Winterfair Gifts (a novella where Miles and Ekaterin finally get married!) for later, I also finished it that very same day.

Not a bad way to send off 2023 at all! Now I'm thinking of getting back to The Curse of Chalion, which I started a few years ago, loved, but had to return to the library when I was only halfway through. I'm also looking forward to diving into Brothers in Arms in 2024 as well.

May your end-of-year reading goals be met as well!

[coraniaid]

98 + Fuffy

This one ended up being a bit longer than I was aiming for, sorry. A few years post-canon (but mostly canon compliant, except that I ignore the comics and that perhaps some people who die in Chosen or the final season of Angel are still alive here). Buffy POV.

Years later, she still has nightmares.

Bad ones: the kind that ... well, she's sat through enough college psychology classes in her life to recognize one of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.  And she was an active Slayer for almost eight years, after all.  She fought ancient demons and gods and monsters; she risked her life pretty much every night.  She saw friends die. Died twice herself.  No wonder she’s still a little messed up.  

But knowing why they’re happening doesn't ever seem to help.  She still wakes up in the middle of the night, and for a minute -- or five minutes, or an hour -- she's just a scared little kid again, too afraid of the things that go bump in the dark to lie down and go back to sleep.  Terrified by the weight of everything the world wants her to do.  By the thought of having to be the Chosen One again.  

Dawn's always telling her she should talk to somebody about them.  An expert, she means.  A specialist. 

But -- even if it wasn't ever real -- her false memory of that time in a clinic when she was younger is too strong.  She doesn't want to go back there.  Not ever.  Or to go anywhere even a little bit like it. She doesn't want to be a freak in somebody's lab -- poked and prodded and tested and restrained.  She just wants to be herself.  She just wants to be Buffy.

So she still has nightmares.  Sometimes she dies: drowning alone in the dark, unable to move or cry for help; tumbling from a tower in the sky; not strong enough to drag herself out of the grave before the dead soil fills her lungs and she suffocates below the ground.  And sometimes she doesn't die.  Sometimes the dreams are much worse than that.

The thing is, they never seem to happen when she expects.  Never when it feels like they should.  Significant milestones come and go without even a bad dream -- she’d slept right through the anniversary of that last, desperate fight under Sunnydale, not even waking up once -- and then other times, without warning, she'll spend a whole week unable to sleep at all, or waking up shaking and sweating every time she tries.

It all started after she decided to step back from the Slayer Organization she'd helped set up.  Half a year in charge of that was enough, she'd told herself.  Living out in some remote castle in Scotland, cut off from the normal world ... that wasn't who she wanted to be anymore. That wasn’t what she’d been hoping for when she said goodbye to Sunnydale.  She wasn't the one and only Chosen One any more, after all.  Maybe it was time to stop pretending.  Maybe it was time to grow up.

So they'd held a vote on who would replace her, made it all official. And then, when it was over – and after she'd congratulated Kennedy as sincerely as she could manage -- she'd packed her things up and moved back to California.  Northern California though, this time.  San Francisco.  SoCal still had a few too many unpleasant memories (the bits of it that weren’t literally underground these days).  

Once she’d arrived, she'd settled into that normal life she'd always told herself she wanted.  Went back to college.  Signed up to be an English major. Bought a house, with some of the old Watcher’s Council money that GIles had passed on to her.  She'd even gotten married, a couple of months ago, just a little while after graduating, however unreal that still feels.  Willow's been telling her she should look into grad school, but she’s not sure whether she wants to follow in her younger sister’s footsteps quite so soon.

So, yeah, everything's been going really well.

Except that, after a few months, the nightmares had started. 

That's why at 3 AM she finds herself downstairs in the kitchen, pretending to read a book, wondering if it would be a bad idea to go out for a run.  This is a pretty safe neighborhood, but still, she might get lucky.  Something supernatural out there might be too stupid to stay away. 

If she’d thought it would help, she’d be out there already.  But would it?  She doesn't really know. She doesn't know what to do.

And while she’s deliberating, a creaking floorboard reminds her that she's not alone.

"Hey, B," a familiar voice says sleepily.  "What's up?"

Buffy had never asked Faith to come with her when she left Scotland.  Actually, she'd kind of assumed she was leaving the Slayer Organization in Faith’s more than capable hands: the girls all still loved her, after all, all idolized her in a way they'd never quite seemed to treat Buffy herself.  (The same way she remembers Dawn treating her, the first few months after Faith arrived in Sunnydale, even if intellectually she knows that that’s not what really happened.)  She'd assumed it would be Faith, not Kennedy, who would be replacing her as leader.  Right up until the point she told Faith about her plan to go back to the States, and the other Slayer had just nodded and asked her when they were leaving and whether she’d already booked a flight.  Like it wasn't even a question whether she'd be coming with her.

She'd stuck with Buffy for four years since.  Not always sharing the same house, but always close by.  She’d listened to her complain about her course load, or bad professors, or unfairly difficult exams, or let her rave and enthuse about analysis of poems or novels which she isn't sure Faith has ever read.  It’s been good – really good, better than Buffy had expected – to have a familiar face around.  To not be doing this all by herself.  It’s been good for her to have Faith.

(The two of them are still going patrolling together most nights too, however retired they might be officially.  She thinks that that's an itch that never really goes away for anyone.  Though there weren’t many active vamps in the Bay Area even when she’d first arrived, and these days there are barely any.)

Faith’s stuck by Buffy for almost as long as anyone.  And now she's here with Buffy in the middle of the night, wearing a pair of Buffy's old pajamas and a concerned look on her face, and Buffy can't even bring herself to face her.

"Glory again?" Faith guesses.

Buffy shakes her head, wordlessly.  Keeps her eyes glued to the book she isn’t reading.

It's true that those are some of the worst of the recurring nightmares.  Everything about that year is painful, and worse in the dreams.  Dropping out of college, or being found out as a total academic fraud, as somebody who shouldn't even have been let into college in the first place.  Losing her Mom, again and again, for different reasons every time.   Not being able to save Dawn, or not being able to want to save Dawn.  Watching her fall, or forgetting her entirely: stumbling across her broken body lying on the ground and only seeing a stranger.  Thinking that she'd always been an only child and always would be.  Sometimes, in those dreams, it's almost comforting when the world drifts inexorably into hell.  

But those aren't the dreams she's been having lately.  That's not what's keeping her from sleeping.  It’s Faith.  That’s who she’s been dreaming about.  That’s why she can’t sleep.

"I killed you," she mumbles, putting the book down but still not quite able to make eye contact.

It all feels so real, even now. Even with Faith – the real Faith, not a dream – sitting only a couple of feet away from her, patiently waiting for her to explain.

"We were fighting, just like we ... before," she goes on. "Just before graduation.  I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop.  And when I ... at the end, you didn't fall.  I stabbed you, and you bled to death in my arms.  I killed you."

The other woman shakes her head.

"Don't know if you've noticed, but I'm tougher than I look," Faith says.  "Haven't even died once, unlike some Slayers I could mention.  And lucky for me, all the cool chicks dig scars."

She pulls her pajama top up slightly to demonstrate.  There’s still a pale scar there, yes, even after all this time.  Proof of what Buffy had done: not just in a dream, but in real life.  Something she’ll never be able to undo.  She reaches out, just for a second, as if she was going to touch it.  To trace the faint mark she’d left across her fellow Slayer’s skin.

"Did ... does it hurt?"

It's not the first time she's asked the question.  Guesses that it won't be the last.

"Sometimes," Faith admits.  "A little."

She used to pretend that it didn't, Buffy remembers.  But they’re more honest with each other these days.  They’ve had to be.

"You shouldn't be beating yourself about this, B," Faith says carefully, sitting down next to her.  "It was a long time ago, and you did what you had to do.  Like you said back then, I'd have done the same if I had the chance.  Hell, I did a lot worse.  I think we both know that I’m the one who should be apologizing"

Buffy remembers.  How powerless she’d felt, how violated, how justified she’d felt in her rage afterwards.  But she’d thrown the first stone, hadn’t she?  She’d crossed the invisible line first.  And in truth, when she thinks about things she’s sorry for doing to Faith, the scar is only the start of it.

"It's not just the fight," Buffy admits.  "It's … it’s everything about that year.  I could have ... I should have done so much more for you.  But I never knew how scared you were.  I never realized that you were so alone.  I think … I think I didn’t want to see it."

Faith frowns.  Gets that look in her eyes that Buffy knows means she’s fighting down the urge to say something impulsive.  

"I was scared," the other Slayer admits, slowly.  "You’re right.  And angry. All the time. And a little bit crazy too, I think, at least towards the end.  But I don't think you could've talked me out of it.  Not you, not anyone. None of it was ever your fault.  I think I had to figure that stuff out on my own.  Had to be honest with myself about what I felt, and what I could do about it."

"I should have tried harder," Buffy says stubbornly, not wanting to let this go. Because arguing with Faith, fighting with her – that’s always been easier, hasn’t it?  That’s always been something she could do.

She’d had a whole life of her own, back then.  A mom, and a sister, and a big house.  She could have tried to share it with her.  That would have been better, wouldn’t it?  But she hadn’t wanted to share.  She’d refused.  That was what she’d told her Mom, the very first night Faith came for dinner.  That Faith trying to spend time with her was creepy.

(That was one of the only nights that Faith had ever come for dinner, she realizes now.)

"You did try, Buffy," Faith says firmly.  "You were the only one who ever did.  You were the first person in my life who ever tried to look out for me, even after everything I did.  I'm not ever going to forget that, and you shouldn’t either."

Part of Buffy wants to believe that.  She does.  And she knows her friends would all agree.  Vocally, some of them.  But it’s too easy though, isn’t it?  Too convenient.  To make excuses, to find reasons why you didn’t have to help.  To make yourself seem better than you ever really were.

“You came to Sunnydale looking for me,” Buffy says, putting her hand on the table, brushing against Faith’s.  “You wanted to be with me.  And I tried to murder you.”

They’d never talked about it at the time, not openly.  But looking back, she must have seen it, mustn’t she?  How much time Faith wanted to spend with her, how little she cared about anyone or anything else.  How pleased she’d been when Scott Hope dumped her, how furious she’d been when she found out about Angel later.  How could Buffy not have seen what was right in front of her, unless she was trying to ignore it?

"You did what you had to do," Faith tells her again, more firmly this time. She rests her other hand on Buffy’s.  Squeezes it lightly, just for a second.

Buffy sighs.

"You always say that," she says, trying not to sound like she’s complaining. 

"Always will," Faith nods equably.  "Because it's the truth."

Buffy shakes her head.

"God, Faith, you were just a kid.  If I--"

"So were you, B,” Faith says.  “We all were."

She pauses, looks a little uncomfortable.

“Look, Buffy,” she says, “I dunno if it helps at all, but when I was in prison, the shrink we had at group sessions used to tell us that an apology had to convince two people.  The person you’d wronged, and the person you wanted to become.  So, uh.”

Buffy listens.  Tries to be patient.  Willow had pulled some tricks after Sunnydale – a bit of magic, a little old-fashioned hacking – and these days nobody seemed to remember that Faith was supposed to be behind bars.  But Faith remembers, she knows that, and she knows how hard it is for her to talk about that part of her life.  

“He used to have us write them down,” Faith adds.  “I guess there are a lot of unsent letters to you back in the big house that I forgot to take with me when I split. None of them were ever good enough anyway.  We were meant to write them down, and then try to imagine how the people we were going to write to might reply.  Try to put ourselves in their shoes, I mean.”

Faith fidgets a little in her chair, as though she’s having second thoughts about this speech.  Or maybe because putting herself in Buffy’s shoes was a large part of why she’d ended up in prison in the first place.

“The point is … maybe that’s stupid.  Maybe it was only ever a way to get some of us to shut up for a few minutes.   But I thought maybe we could try it.  Only, instead of you having to imagine how I’d respond, you could just listen to me.  Maybe copy what I said.  Say it yourself.”

Buffy nods slowly.  Faith was right: it does sound a little stupid.  But at the same time, she guesses it can’t hurt.  She manages a weak smile.  Nods her approval.  Waits for Faith to tell her when to start.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you more, when we were both kids, Faith,” she says, when the other Slayer gives her the signal.  “I’m sorry I didn’t let you into more of my life.  I’m sorry I stabbed you.”

“I hear you, B,” Faith says seriously, brown eyes focused on her.  Gestures for her to repeat it, to keep echoing her as she continues.  “I get what you’re saying.  And I forgive you.  I know you helped me as much as you could.  More than anyone else.  Way more.  And for what it’s worth, I don’t think I could have been happy back then unless I was the only person in your life, the way you were for me.  Unless you gave up on your mom and your Watcher and all your other friends.  And that wasn’t ever fair to ask of you.  That wouldn’t have been healthy, for either of us.”

Faith pauses, face serious, waiting for her to finish repeating that all back to her.  Leans in a little closer, like she’s sharing a secret.

“Plus,” she says, waggling her eyebrows, “You kind of looked amazing when you stabbed me.  Total smokeshow.”

“Faith!” Buffy protests, feeling herself starting to blush the way she had when she was younger.  “I am not repeating that.”

Faith smirks, and Buffy lets herself think.  it still seems kind of stupid, even without that last part.. She’s not naive enough to think it will fix everything. But at the same time, she thinks that maybe it was useful.  A little bit, anyway.  

“Thank you,” she says.  “That helped.”

For a minute neither of them says anything.  The only sound in the house is the ticking of the clock over the kitchen table.  Faith still hasn’t let go of her hand.

"Still … if I could go back and change things, I would," Buffy admits. "Back to the beginning, I mean. I wish that I--"

She doesn't finish the sentence.  You don't spend years of your life in touch with Anya, on-again  and off-again vengeance demon, without realizing it might not be a good idea to make open-ended world-changing wishes out loud in the middle of the night.  (She thinks Anya’s mostly human these days, but it’s hard to keep track.  Maybe she should write more.)

"It … uh.  It hasn't been all bad, has it Buffy?" Faith asks her, suddenly sounding almost nervous. "There's some things you wouldn't change, right?"

She’s looking at one of the rings she’s wearing, Buffy sees, on the hand that’s resting on top of her own.  A silver one. 

Faith's always loved wearing rings.  Has done ever since Buffy met her.  She’s got a whole collection of them.  This one is a little different though.  Brand new, something Faith’s been wearing all the time for weeks now.  This one Buffy helped pick out herself; a perfect match to the ring she's wearing on her own hand.  It turned out Faith was a bit of a traditionalist that way.

"You wouldn't change this, would you, B?" Faith repeats softly, staring down at the ring on her left hand.

"You know I wouldn't," Buffy says firmly.  "That goes without saying."

She pauses.  Faith’s looking at her expectantly.  Waiting for her to take the lead.

"But you want me to say it anyway, huh," Buffy realizes.

Well, she can do that.  She guesses it’s her turn to be the one doing the reassuring anyway.  Buffy steps up, leans in, wraps her arms around the other Slayer and kisses her softly on the forehead the way she knows she likes.  Feels Faith shiver slightly under her touch, leaning into it the way she always does. Remembers suddenly just how thin those pajamas are; how little Faith is wearing underneath. 

"I've made a lot of decisions in my life that I regret," Buffy says softly, "But you, Mrs. Summers, are not one of them."

Faith was a bit of an unexpected traditionalist about that as well.  Buffy had been all for both of them keeping their names, or hyphenating them,  sharing them, but the other Slayer had insisted.  Had, finally, admitted that she just didn't like her old last name at all, that there was a reason she'd never used back in Sunnydale, why it had taken Buffy so long to even learn what it was.  "Faith Summers, though,” the other woman had said quietly, "I think that's a name I could be proud of.  That's someone I'd like to be."

The ceremony itself, back in June, had been a pretty small affair.

They’d only allowed themselves a handful of guests each.  Willow and Kennedy; Xander and Andrew; Dawn and Amanda.  Faith had spent weeks threatening to invite Angel to play the part of her best man – especially once she realized just how mortifying Buffy found the prospect – but in the end she'd opted to be merciful and just invited Gunn and Fred and Wesley up from LA, plus Robin from wherever he called home these days.  Buffy has a feeling neither Angel or Spike minded missing out on this experience.  

And Giles had been there too, flying out of England for the first time in almost two years.  She'd been so pleased he could make it.  It was a little bit like ... well.  He was family, wasn’t he?

"Your mother would have been very proud of you today," he'd told her at the airport, when she’d rushed up to meet him and totally embarrassed him with a hug.  "Proud of you both.  As am I.  But then, I hope you already knew that."

And then – because of course nothing could go smoothly for long – they'd had to reschedule the whole thing almost at the last minute; pushing everything back by a week so they could all make an emergency trip to Cleveland.  

Even though she and Faith were pretty much retired now -- and even though Kennedy was too, as of last year, along with Amanda and Rona and most of the other former Sunnydale Potentials -- they still got called up for the main events.  For the real apocalypses, when the Organization needed its biggest guns.  This time it had been the Sisterhood of Jhe again, Buffy thinks.  Trying to open another Hellmouth, almost ten years after the first attempt.  Their timing had sucked, but at least she'd been able to take her frustrations out on a few big demons.  She's sure Faith had been a lot more vicious than usual in her Slaying too.  Between them, they hadn't really left much of anyone to interrogate afterwards.  Maybe it was a good thing that that wasn’t something either of them had to worry about anymore.

(Buffy had met Kennedy's replacement as head of the Organization briefly in Cleveland, while they were being briefed before the mission.  She was a nice kid called Satsu, who had been gratifyingly starstruck at meeting both of the original Slayers, but who had still kept her head enough to give them their orders just like everyone else.  It was good to know that the other Slayers -- the new ones, the ones young enough not to have retired yet -- were in competent hands.  And Buffy knows that they have been, all along, whether that means Kennedy or Satsu or whoever will come after her.  That's part of why Buffy doesn't regret her decision to step back from that side of things.  Not for a minute. Even if it has meant a few more sleepless nights.  Nobody can carry that much weight for long.)

And a week after Cleveland, that was it: Faith and Buffy, married. Not because of a wish, or one of Willow’s spells gone wrong, but for real.  Forever.  Legally binding, recognized by the State of California and everything (although a lot of awful people seemed awfully unhappy about that).  When Buffy had been younger, she could never have imagined any of this.  She'd thought that being a Slayer meant that anything like this was impossible.  That this was something only normal girls got to have.  And she'd never thought that she’d want it quite so much: her own parents’ marriage hadn’t exactly endeared her to the institution as a whole. Even a couple of years ago, she’d never have admitted to anyone quite how happy it would make her.  

And she is, Buffy realizes.  Even with the odd nightmares.  She’s sitting in her kitchen with the love of her life, waiting for the sun to come up and a new day to begin, and she’s never been happier.  She thinks her younger self would be delighted to know that, somehow, everything had worked out okay.

Maybe she's been looking at things the wrong way all this time.  It's not that the  nightmares started when she moved out here. It's that the waking nightmares – the real world nightmares, the kind with teeth and names and minds of their own – had become rare enough she finally started noticing the other kind.

"Look, B, I've got to get back to bed or I won't be any use for anything at work tomorrow," Faith says, fighting back a yawn, shooting an apologetic look at the clock on the wall.  “Guess I’m not as young as I used to be. Good thing I’m still wicked hot.”

Buffy nods absently.  She's still not sure what she's going to do next.  Whether she's heading off for that late night run, or ...

"I'll see you in the morning before I head out for work," Faith promises.  "Unless, uh."

Buffy makes a decision.  Stands up.

"Well," she says slowly, "I guess it wouldn't be very chivalrous of me to leave my wife alone all night, would it?"

Faith grins at her wolfishly. Just the way she had when they'd first met. Like a co-conspirator; a partner in crime. As if the two of them still had a secret that nobody else could share.  And for a second, it's like no time has passed at all.  Like they could still be dancing together back in the Bronze, just the two of them, or out on patrol looking for vampires in some forgotten Sunnydale cemetery that's long since been buried deep in a hole in the desert.  When it seemed like high school was going to last forever.  When they'd both only been able to focus on the present; on the immediate demands of the here and now.  Finding the next vamp, dusting it, and moving on to the one after that.

Buffy puts her arm around Faith's waist, fingers resting carefully just below her scar, walks with her towards the stairs.  Maybe they weren't so wrong, back then.  Maybe this is what matters.  Maybe this is all that ever did.  Just the two of them, just the present moment.  And when the other Slayer looks up at her, when she leans her head to rest on her shoulder, something in her eyes makes Buffy sure they're both thinking the same thing.

"There's my girl," she breathes.

[reality-inflicted]

This is a photo with more personal than artistic value (not saying that any of my photography has any of the former, but one can on the rare occasion hope that someone likes what I like). Somewhere in Nashville, Tennessee there is a little park. That park has, or at least it did about ten years ago, a little stage. On that little stage was the most askew little bench I've ever seen. And I loved it. I've never read a book about photography. I started out with a cheap ass little PoS-camera – i aimed it in the general direction of what I liked and I pressed the button. The camera did the rest.

After about a year or so i took money that I really didn't have and bought a small camera that I would bring with me on a trip to China. The plan was to write an article on the trip and to get it published and at least get some of the money back. I did actually manage to sell the articles (there were two of them), but the photos weren't taken with the new camera that I'd bought. On the second day of trip I got absolutely shit-faced in a drinking contest with a retired Major in the Chinese army and consequently lost the camera somewhere in a dark alley. Not a great success. I eventually bought a new camera for more money that I did not have. The last time I saw that it popped up was in a random plastic bag, a forgotten memento of forgotten times. I'd somehow managed to keep the camera though, which was a bit of a step forward I guess. As I geared up to go on my trip to the US, during which this photo was taken, i bought yet another camera I couldn't really afford. True to form I got shitfaced yet again on my second night, this time in San Francisco – a city notoriously unforgiving for drunken tourists. The camera, together with my headphones and some cash vanished. Luckily I'd managed to transfer the photos I'd taken previously onto an external hard drive (now sadly defunct and the photos – again – lost to time). I still had to buy another camera that I couldn't afford to document the remainder of my trip.

I have since lost that camera as well due to being shitfaced. As can be deducted I've had a very long and not very glamorous relationship with alcohol, however I am happy to report that I haven't lost anything to being shitfaced for quite some time now, which is always a bonus. I'd been toying with the idea of cutting down on the drinking before I went on the trip to the US (it will be ten years come December next year) but it would take about four or five more years before I finally felt shitty enough to go through with it. Alcoholism takes many forms – I was in no way drinking every day. But when I did it was always difficult to contain oneself to "just a few beers" resulting in increasingly self-destructive behaviour. What finally pushed me over the edge was the realization that I'd become that which I despise the most – my father. When he got drunk he turned into an absolute asshole and I started to see the same tendencies in myself or, rather, I came to accept that I showed those tendencies and I. Really. Did. Not. Like. That. One. Bit.

So I quit. I didn't drink a drop of alcohol for almost three years. Not that it did any good for my inherent ability to loose things. I still forgot headphones and laptops, but – increasingly – I noticed that I could find them again. In the hangover is a quiet despair, a disgusting apathy, that prevent you from handling even the easiest of tasks.

Today I have the occasional beer. Or a glass of wine with dinner once in a while. I can handle that – I know that some people can't and I place no judgement in that. I like to think, however, that I am at least a little bit of a better, albeit a bit more lonesome person. But that is ok. I like being alone. Like the bench above, all crooked like.

[etoiline]

1, 2, 11, and 18 for the book ask!

How many books did you read this year? Goodreads says 44, so far. I'm going to try to read some short stories before the end of the year, try to get to a nice round number, or at least a slightly more respectable one (to me, anyway). I will not make it to my Reading Challenge goal, for certain, and that is almost certainly due to spyscrapper brainrot (both writing for them and reading fic about them). Those two boys will not leave my head, even after a year and a half.

Did you reread anything? What? Said reading challenge data says I reread 13 books this year, and they're all stalwart favorites. I did series rereads of Jim Butcher's Codex Alera and Brent Weeks' Lightbringer purely for comfort. I also reread Mary Robinette Kowal's Lady Astronaut books because the 4th book is coming out next year (and because they're amazing hard sci-fi stories, you should definitely read them). Becky Chambers' The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet is another beautiful reread, somehow managing to blend plausible space science with delightful and emotional interpersonal drama. I reread the first book of the Percy Jackson series (and finally read through the rest of the series) because of @kennexara. And Andy Weir's Project Hail Mary got a reread because of news of the movie (also because it's a damn good book that, despite the most of it being between one human and one alien, is an amazing study of interaction). I am currently rereading book 1 of the Stormlight Archive, The Way of Kings, though it's anybody's guess if I'll manage to finish it before the end of the year to have it count as reread this year, because BrandoSando writes thousand-page behemoths, but I do intend to do a series reread before reading the 5th book, which just came out.

What was your favorite book that has been out for a while, but you just now read? I don't know about favorite, but I did enjoy finally getting around to reading the Percy Jackson books (the first series anyway, lol). I read the first one long long ago when I was still buying physical books in stores, but never got around to finishing them. To save Kennie the trouble of explaining everyone's relationships I finally checked them out of the library :)

How many books did you buy? I tend to read most of my books through my local libraries' Libby ebook lending programs, so I don't buy a whole lot of books anymore. I did, however, finally pick up the ebook copies of one of my favorite series ever, The Lighthouse Duet by Carol Berg. Those of you who like your fantasy with an entire helping of nature metaphors will probably appreciate these books. I like them so much that one of my bridesmaids carried the first book in this duology down the aisle instead of flowers. I also bought the aforementioned 5th book in the Stormlight Archive, but it won't get read for months and months. And I backed MRK's Lady Astronaut short story anthology/the 4th book kickstarter; though these books won't arrive until next year, so you can decide whether you count those as being "bought" this year. I also bought a few cookbooks and the deluxe version of the Jedi Survivor art book (who's surprised).

-> end of year book asks!

[kyndaris]

Legends and Lattes

While you, dear reader, may initially think this post is about Travis Baldree's novel of the same name, I am here to quickly disabuse you of that notion. In fact, I shall do you one better and admit I have yet to even read the book sitting on my shelf, begging to be read. Heck, I even bought the prequel not too long ago: Bookshops and Bonedust. And before you say anything, dear reader, I will get to it.

Eventually.

It just so happens my blog is not solely a book blog. Nor am I a BookTuber/ Booktoker by day or by night. So, you know, it's very understandable why I've not read through this, assumedly masterpiece of a tale. Plus, I also have a lot of other hobbies like badminton, videogames and my own actual writing. All of which detract from my reading time.

Then, of course, there's my dating life, which, albeit is slowing down because I've mostly given up on men. And well, the women are certainly not biting as often.

What's a 32-year-old supposed to do except pine for the love of a fictional character? Karlach, I'm looking at you for when I finally start playing Baldur's Gate 3.

As you've no doubt picked up on, this blog is yet another entry into my forays of dating. This time round, I met up with a woman (third time's the charm, maybe? We're still chatting on the occasion although the topic has shifted into more a creative enterprise). It started with her liking one of my Hinge prompts, and after thoroughly checking her profile (she had actually cropped up in a few of my recommends previously), I thought I would do her the courtesy of matching.

It was followed by a brief conversation on mythology before the two of us went down the tabletop role-playing game route where we both tried, and failed, at playing grifters stealing personal information. Now we're on a journey to stop the Goblin King. The dastardly creature has stolen her identity, leaving naught but an empty vault of where it should be. And because of that, I, the handsome rogue in this situation, must continue masquerading as a Nigerian Prince as we go forth to acquire a magical sword with the ability to track goblins.

So far, we've made it to a small town called Bree. Although we did try to ride towards Bag's End, a number of black riders passed us by and Keyleth - the codename I've decided to use in this instance to refer to my date - was insistent we put a stop to their evil plans. Not that we know they're evil.

They simply have business with a halfling and are being very difficult about anyone who might be in their way.

As you can see, dear reader, we are most assuredly not in Kansas anymore.

That said, we did arrange to meet at a cafe halfway between where we live in what is fittingly named The Shire for Sydneysiders like me. It should be noted that unlike me, Keyleth does not live in Sydney. Rather, she is situated in the coastal city of Wollongong. You'll remember it as a place I visited not too long ago with a group of friends as we tackled a dastardly difficult escape room.

At the time, though, Keyleth's path and mine had not yet crossed. A shame, truly, since there are quite a few choice burger places in Wollongong we could potentially visit if I didn't mind the long drive down.

The cafe was named 7th Heaven. To my dismay, there was no raven-haired bartender or a blond courier. What it did have were a number of brunch options such as my go-to meal in almost every situation: Eggs Benedict with a side of smoked salmon. Keyleth ordered a milkshake and Eggs on Toast, adding on top of it a rasher or two of bacon and some delectable avocado.

By the end, though, she'd barely touched it - having eaten only one piece of bread and egg, some bacon and hardly any of the avocado.

Keyleth was the first to arrive - most probably due to the limited number of trains and because she had further to travel. I arrived just shy of the appointed time at 10. When I arrived, I had not quite expected the shock of dyed red hair to greet me. After all, in all her previous photos - both on Hinge and on Whatsapp - Keyleth had sported long blonde hair.

Still, she was keen to give me a hug, though I was quick to advise I wasn't much of a hugger. Or even a physical touch kinda gal. Yes, I'm more willing to accept it from a woman but it's not something I tend to do. And it's certainly not one of my key love languages.

Once I had sat down, we chatted idly about how our week had gone. After putting in our order, we began the painstaking process of learning a little more of the other. Keyleth learned I was an only child, whereas I learned she had a sister. Some of our family dynamics were talked about before we moved to more dangerous topics: like my favourite musical and whether or not I am actually a theatre kid (spoiler alert, I am not. Yes, I've been to four musicals in the last four months but those are baby numbers compared to the actual musical nerds out there. Or so I hope).

We also chatted about the weird role-playing experience unfolding on our messages, with Keyleth confirming the Goblin King was none other than David Bowie from Labyrinth.

Then, of course, we also talked a little about our dating experiences. Given I was asexual and she was demisexual, it seemed prudent for us to address the very big elephant in the room of what an actual relationship would be like. Both of us were a little uneasy about jumping immediately jumping into relationships as we required time to get to know the people we would be committing a significant portion of time with. Lust is certainly not a thing either of us experienced at first sight. And in order to catch feels, a strong emotional connection must be created first.

I, certainly, have not been in an actual relationship of significance with another. At least in the romantic sense. I do like to think I have many meaningful friendships with the people in my life though it's anyone's guess if they agree. More than likely, they find me egregious or too sardonic for their tastes (in fact, I recently had a nineteen-year-old university student at my work place call me epigrammatic!)

We also bonded over how difficult it was to date cisgender men!

But while the conversation was invigorating, our brunch date did slowly come to an end. Given the immediate surroundings didn't have any other interesting diversion, we paid for our meals and headed back to the local train station. A little unfortunate but sometimes that is how the cookie crumbles.

After all, it would be the height of rudeness to remain at a table for several hours afterwards when all our food was taken away.

Will there be another date with Keyleth? I'm not quite sure. Our conversations were pretty easy-going, flowing from one topic to another.

It was certainly better than the date I had with Tip Top.

As always, time will tell if anything will come of it, but I'm hopeful in obtaining a new friend if nothing romantic blossoms from the encounter. Of course, there is still Dikottir.

And while we haven't exactly had a sixth date/ meet-up, both of us will have gone to PAX in Melbourne by the time this blog post goes up. So, keep your eyes peeled for that riveting entry. Or not.

In the words of the founder of feminism himself, Rhysand, "It's your choice, Feyre darling."

As an aside, I can't say for sure if that's an actual quote from the book but it certainly feels like something he would say. On that note, I need to stop reading books like ACOTAR. I mean, it's no Fourth Wing, so I'm glad for that. But it's definitely not the height of fantasy literature. I was hoping for.

Anyways, THIS WAS ANOTHER EPISODE OF DATING 2.0! WILL A ROSE BE FINALLY AWARDED TO A SUITABLE SUITOR? YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL WE COME BACK FOR THE NEXT UPDATE!

And now, back to the weather!

[hismercytomyjustice]

9 People You Want to Get to Know Better

I was tagged a hot minute ago by @ valentinaonthemoon and have been meaning to do this for ages!

Last Song: There Will be Sun from Groundhog Day: The Musical. The music for that show is SO FUCKING GOOD. I was trying to decide on a oneshot fic title and spent like 20 years looking through all my music before finally settling on this one. Wanna give honorable mentions to Daisies by Black Gryph0n & Baasik and Deal Maker by Tyto-Cat because I have been listening incessantly to both over the past few days. So fucking good!

Favorite Color: Teal! Though I also have a soft spot for rose gold.

Last film/show: Most recently have been rewatching Community. God, that show is such a fucking treat. Watched this compilation of best Dean moments earlier today too and almost injured myself by laughing. Also, shoutout to Jim Rash as a fellow, exceedingly rare native Charlottean! I've also been making my husband watch Gravity Falls after somebody corrupted me. I s2g that show just keeps randomly resurfacing in the back of my head like some kind of hypnotic cryptid. I didn't hyperfixate as hard as my friend did on it, but damn if I don't keep hearing its siren song when I least expect it... Rewatching it is def a delight tho. I'm seeing now why folks are so enthralled by the writing for it, now that I'm more aware of the foreshadowing along the way! Also omggg we're about to rewatch Summerween which I absolutely adored the first time!

Sweet/savory/spicy: Sweet!!!

Last thing I googled: Lmaooo. Fucking "jabba the hutt play doh set" because I watched Chris James's most recent Pawn Stars video and was trying to figure out whether or not the guy selling one had gotten fleeced.

Last Book: *immediately proceeds to forget everything they have ever read* Umm... I've mostly been reading fanfic as of late. But the most recent book I started was Beneath the Surface: Killer Whales, SeaWorld, and the Truth Behind Blackfish by John Hargrove. LPOTL did an episode on SeaWorld a few weeks ago and mentioned it, so I picked it up. As for the last book I finished... I think it was Assistant to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer. Really enjoyed it and have the 2nd one near the top of my fucking mountain of a TBR pile... I lost my mind and bought way too many books over the past few months...

Relationship status: Married for almost 5 years now! We were extremely lucky to get married right before Covid hit. So many of our friends had to cancel their weddings because of it. My anniversary is coming up next month! But I've been with my husband for just a few weeks shy of 11 years now!

Current Obsession(s): Hazbin Hotel. Hit me out of nowhere like a fucking sniper bullet. All because Spotify was like "hey, you like musicals, here's a few new songs for your daylist!" I knew literally nothing going into it except that the songs were catchy af and, well, I'm in too deep now... Spotify got me... Interview with the Vampire. This multi-fandom blog is actually a Assad Zaman appreciation blog in (a terrible and super obvious) disguise... Hands down one of the best shows I have ever watched. I am straight up feral over it. It is simultaneously hysterical and absolutely fucking devastating. Everyone involved in it is so passionate about the work too and it shows! I have written fucking essays on here about season 2. I can guarantee you when Season 3 drops, I am going to be even worse. I will never fucking emotionally recover from 2.05 or 2.07 BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT TO. Phantom of the Opera. I have been obsessed with POTO for...fuck...almost 20 years now? (jfc i am old) I saw the 2004 Movie back in high school orchestra, and I can still remember the instant I felt the hyperfixation take root. Masquerade. I wore the DVD out, I wore the soundtrack out (my little brother, who had never fucking seen it knew the words to the soundtrack). I read the book. I read Phantom by Susan Kay. I read The Angel of the Opera. I (fucking unfortunately) read The Phantom of Manhattan (hands down a waste of a perfectly good tree, I am still mad about this book literally 20 fucking years later). I researched the Paris Opera House. I wrote POTO fanfic… Ramin Karimloo is hands down my fave Phantom though. And I absolutely adore the Royal Albert Hall production. I'm so fucking glad they filmed it. Musicals. I have seen...so many fucking musicals live. Phantom of the Opera (4x), Les Miserables (2x), Wicked (2x), Mary Poppins (2x), Annie (2x), Hadestown, Six, Legally Blonde, Moulin Rouge, Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Hairspray, Beetlejuice, Hamilton, Big Fish, Mamma Mia, Anastasia, The Book of Mormon, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Dear Evan Hansen, Fiddler on the Roof, RENT, A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder, If/Then, Jekyll & Hyde, Miss Saigon, The Great Comet of 1812, The Bodyguard, The Color Purple... Those are all just the professional live shows I have seen. And I'm pretty sure I'm forgetting some! I've seen even more via high school/college productions. Not to mention movies/recordings. Or musicals I've only listened to the music of but haven't actually seen! Pacific Rim. My other forever obsession. It was the fandom I wrote my most fics for prior to Hazbin Hotel. My first fic on AO3 is one for Pacific Rim, lol. I s2g, those two bitchy, gay, neurodivergent scientists have lived rent free in my head for over a decade now... Those motherfuckers are constantly at each others' throats, but they did not even stop to question whether or not they would be Drift Compatible... They make me fucking ill. I have genuinely lost count of the number of times I've watched the movie...

Tagging: Absolutely no pressure at all, but tagging @asymmetricjest, @person-of-varying-obsessions, @theeladymystic, @gourmet-trash, @quartzthequat, @moonmaiden86, @ladyrevealedofcloak, @marionrav, and @batteredrugosa!

[devitalise]

IMO im sending this so early NOT because I'm trying to beat you (though it does feel nice 🤭) but I'll be offline during our usual end-of-month wrap-up + i SHANT make you wait long!!! HOW DID AUGUST GO! I read ur goodreads review on The Picture of Dorian Gray but I'm dying to hear more 👁️ + do u think you're gonna try and shift into ~fall vibes~ for reading now (whatever that means to you) or continue to go with the flow?

hi cas this was such a jumpscare getting this over a week ago but i'm glad you were able to beat me! of course there's a new autumnal vibe in the books i'll be reading i've even updated my discord profile (goodbye summer kendall you were great)

but i can go into more detail in the

august book wrap up

(2 days early but i'm not finishing a book in 2 days)

The Picture of Dorian Gray (The Original 1980 Uncensored Edition) by Oscar Wilde

well i read a book. there were some really interesting threads in this, i thought Dorian being a narcissistic weirdo was cool to read about, but other than the end of the book taking a much darker turn, i did't find much about this impressive. i don't like reading books expecting them to work harder for me to enjoy them, but i struggled to want to read this.

Must I Go by Yiyun Li

wasn't what i expected it to be, not really a fan of what it was. you give me an 88 year old woman who's survived her eldest daughter's suicide and raised her granddaughter and is looking after her greatgrandaughter and what do we do? we spend almost 200 pages of her dissecting the journal of some random man who ended up marrying his cousin and lived his whole life not knowing he had said daughter? why. i don't care! i don't care!!!!!!! and then when Lila (the character in question) did talk about herself, her mother having her dreams crushed in her marriage, her three marriages and further 4 children, it's just brushed over and kind of shrugged at. none of the "important" men in her life are alive and yet they took up so much of the book. whatever you keep dead people alive in your memory but other than being reminded how selfish and uncaring Lila was there wasn't much about this i felt positive about. wouldn't recommend, went straight in my donation pile.

Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay by Elena Ferrante

i finally did it. what a rollercoaster! i absolutely hate reading first person books when i find the character annoying. not to say a bad person, or morally defunct or anything. just plain old annoying. Elena Greco is annoying. fine in the first 2 as she's 10-22 years old and it's expected, but the third book sees her in her mid 20s early 30s and i genuinely wanted to throw this book at a wall. i struggle to see this as a tale of friendship at this point just because like. they aren't friends??? they're two women who at this point are bound by history and maybe that's the point but i want better for Lila and she remains the star of the show

The Story of the Lost Child by Elena Ferrante

i finished the quartet and feel emotionally wrung out. this was going fine but i think it's around 350 pages in there's a full blown "relationship" between Lila's 24 year old son and Elena's 15 year old daughter???? reading from the perspective of an awful mother was so jarring, too. really enjoyed the series, i just feel like i felt very untethered towards the end and i just wanted it to end

september / autumnal reads

i'm annoyed that i've ended up in such a white reading space so will be fixing that for sure. also need a romance, i haven't read one i've liked this year! something fun is overdue. i have some horror books picked out but that's not for a little while yet. i don't see myself picking up anything new (maybe?) so i'll just be picking from what i already bought, trying some contemporary reads that have been rotting on my shelf for the past year

[bloodstaineddarling]

august 2024 book wrap up

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer ☆☆☆☆☆

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor ☆☆☆☆☆

People We Meet On Vacation by Emily Henry ☆☆☆☆

Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid ☆☆☆☆

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn ☆☆☆☆☆

Once Upon a Broken Heart by Stephanie Garber ☆☆☆☆

I'm actually extremely surprised by how much I've read this month, given it literally feels like it sipped away like a bottle of wine. How is it already over? Probably, it feels that way because of my internship, which made me almost end it all, and Taylor's concert that I didn't even have time to get depressed about. And then suddenly, summer's nearly done. I hate how it always ends so quickly.

Anyway...

First, I read Twilight. I was obsessed with it about 12-14 years ago, but that was before my huge reading phase. Back in junior high, I was obsessed with everything vampire-related except for books (though I did read The Vampire Diaries at some point). I vividly remember sitting in a school corridor with my friend, who was reading Twilight, and me just sitting next to her, occasionally glancing at the book (I hated reading back then). Before the final movies came out, my mom bought me Breaking Dawn, so I read that (yes, without reading the previous parts. I was 12, okay?). So, I had to catch up. After watching all the movies (while making friendship bracelets), I downloaded those bad boys to my eBook, and I am obsessed. I knew I would be. Is it kind of dumb? Yeah. Do I care? Not at all. 5/5. Bella is so real. I need Edward badly. That’s all I have to say.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone - I’ve had a copy since I was like 12. I read it back then, but all I remember is not understanding much and a scene towards the end that broke me as a young girl. For some reason, I never continued. I had to go back and reread it because I was curious about what affected me so much. Now I know. I will continue the series. It’s a solid YA novel. I’m not surprised I didn’t get it at the time; I don’t think I had the imagination or brain power to comprehend it, even though it’s YA. It seems very different and unique compared to other things in this genre. Also, I love Prague as a setting. It’s not far from me and has similar architecture to where I’m from, so it was easy for me to visualize everything. Love it.

People We Meet On Vacation isn’t my favorite Emily Henry book. Still good, just not my favorite. I think her books hit harder when you can relate, and I am nothing like the main girl. Alex, though, is very much like me. I love friends-to-lovers stories, and this one was very well done. Unfortunately, every time I read Emily Henry, I get extremely sad for a while because this will never be me. I will be alone forever. Not relatable content, unfortunately.

Malibu Rising was okay. So much drama. Taylor Jenkins Reid writes her books as if she has already signed a movie contract, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Some things are meant to be books, and some are meant to be movies. This feels like it’s supposed to be a movie. If you’re writing a book, make it worth being a book. I don’t know if anyone understands what I mean. At the end of the day, it was solid. I liked it. (I started reading it on the 27th of August, which was really weird. I got scared. I didn’t know before.)

I finally finished Sharp Objects. I started reading it in July, and I just wasn’t in the mood, but I wanted to finish it before summer ended. I don’t have much to say. I liked it a lot. I watched the show when it first came out, but I don’t remember much, so I’m rewatching it now. I still kind of saw everything coming, but I didn’t mind. It’s a great weird-girl book classic. As a fellow woman with a complicated relationship with her mother, who feels depraved and disgusting and maybe has a drinking problem, I felt quite seen.

Once Upon a Broken Heart was cute! Was it the best thing I ever read? No, but I loved the vibes and Evangeline. I know people complain about her naivety, but I actually enjoyed it. I’m tired of all the fantasy female main characters being the same. It was a nice change to follow a character who is honestly just a girl who believes in fairy tales. I will be continuing the series.

[autumn0689]

Whoa… ANOTHER UPDATE???? Crazy, I know

A Monarch’s Solution To Desperation

Chapter 4

Characters: Paul Serene, Sofia Amaral, Jack Joyce

Rated: T

Tags: Emotional Manipulation

“You slapped him?” Serene rolled his eyes at Sofia.

“He spat in my face. I hugged him immediately afterwards.” Sofia walked back and forth, looking disbelieved

“Paul, you can’t do that! You can’t hurt him then comfort him immediately afterwards, you’re giving him mixed signals. He’s a teenager!” She took a breath from her rant as she turned to Serene fully

“You’re probably confused, Paul. Why don’t you just return him back to his parents and-“

“I am not confused!” Serene spat, his hands morphing as he feels his power rise up. He felt pain as his Chronon Syndrome began acting up.

Sofia helped Serene to a chair as she gave him his medicine. Serene breathed it in as he removed it, breathing normally.

“It’s happening more, Paul. Having Jack here- it’s hurting him! You need to let him go.” Serene closed his eyes as he opened them and saw two paths

He could keep Jack with him, though Jack will be distrustful. Serene could see Jack sobbing, holding a bloodied shirt and Serene saw Jack looking in horror, holding a pair of bloody scissors as he shook violently as Serene saw himself looking at Jack with approval.

Or he could let him go and-

Serene shook his head. He is keeping Jack with him. He didn’t even need to look more at the other option.

Serene stood up. Sofia tried to help Serene but he shook his head. He made his way to his computer. He turned it on as he saw footage of Jack. He didn’t want to place a camera, but Jack left him no choice.

Jack was currently flipping off the camera as he was shouting but Serene had the audio mute. He chuckled as he turned the audio on.

“-r stupid ass you fucking prick! Let me out or I swear I will find a way to rip out your dick and shove it right up your-“ Serene turned off the audio, cackling at Jack’s insults. The camera wasn’t as good as the future but it still was good enough for Serene

Serene still felt weird holding a Nokia again at times, but he still remembered how to use it, not that he ever had complications with it. He took out his Nokia as he dialed a number.

“Hello Paul.” Serene smirked

“Martin. I need a request. It’s about William Joyce…”

Serene was happy with the results. A fabricated death certificate, a picture of a very realistic dead body that looks like William Joyce, and Serene even has a shirt of William Joyce’s that he added bullet holes and blood onto it. He was going to show all of the evidence to Jack and hope that he will finally give in and believe what Serene wants him to believe.

Serene opened the door as he saw Jack reading Carrie. Jack had only been in Monarch for five days but Jack already looked right at home, calmly reading his book. It almost seemed cruel what Serene had to do, but it was necessary.

Serene threw the bloodied shirt onto the bed. Jack looked up as he noticed the shirt.

“What is…” Jack started but he dropped his book as he reached for the shirt. He felt the fabric as he trembled violently

“No…” Jack held the shirt close

Serene repressed a grin. He chose the exact shirt for a reason. Years ago, Jack wanted to make a gift for William, so he bought a white shirt and some fabric and Serene and Jack sewed the fabric onto the shirt. The constantly poked themselves but the end result read ‘William Joyce’. The shirt was two sizes larger than William Joyce but he wore the shirt often.

Jack held it as tears welled up in his eyes. Serene tossed down the photos and the fake death certificate onto the bed.

“Your proof.” Serene told Jack as Jack looked at him, grief overwhelming the young teenager as he gripped the shirt, sobbing into it.

Serene left the room, the wails of the young teen echoing even from down the hall.