#he actually has a proven motive to help people

[snakesafraidtodie]

Going back to Joker becoming a ghost unless he receives a Revenant's Retribution-

I can definitely see Jason being ok with the magical restraining order and special facility for a while. But then Joker has a near-death experience, (maybe someone tried to assassinate him, maybe he escaped and got nearly killed, or he tried to kill himself, or even just got ill) and Jason starts to get worried.

Because the ghost king said that the only way to prevent Joker from becoming a ghost is if Jason or his champion Bruce killed him first.

So. I can see this going two ways.

One, Jason has moved on with his life. He's healed, the lack of exposure to his murderer has done his mental health wonders. The Joker no longer holds so much hold over his heart and mind and soul. So, with more cold practicality than burning hot vengeance, Jason takes it as his civic duty to execute the Joker. He does so with little fanfare, taking him out simply and without drama, just the way the Joker would have hated. A quiet cathartic end, where Jason finds he has more to live for than avenging his death.

Or two, the option with more angst and strife. Only Jason or Bruce can save the world from being haunted by the ghost of Joker. Of the two of them, Jason is the revenant. They don't know what will happen to him if he fulfills his revenge. There's one record of a revenant living on after being avenged, but all accounts point to those that avenge themselves end up passing on. So. Bruce has to choose. For real this time. Does he kill the Joker to give Jason a higher chance to keep living? Or does he let Jason do it, raising his chance of dying for good?

Thinking about DP x DC Jason Todd being a revenant again. Here's my scenario. Jason gets called that by some ghost. He's like "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's heard the term before but he doesn't know any actual lore. He googles it. He scrolls past the Leonardo DiCaprio bear movie. He opens the wiki. Sees the words "animated corpse" and gets a chill diwn his spine. He starts reading the first section.

He closes Wikipedia.

That night he has a nightmare that his family buried him, again, this time with precautions. He wakes up in his own grave, full of stones, too heavy to move, to scream.

[jaggedamethyst]

disappearing act (jayce talis x f!reader)

2.7k words

content/warnings: jayce is in a strained relationship as a result of his work...and his sudden disappearance(s).

18+ minors dni; smut, rough sex, angst (my specialty), unprotected p in v, jayvik sprinkles, strained relationship, argument + lack of communication as a result, jayce being a meanie/dedicated scientist

notes: i feel bad that there's no addition to golden boy at the moment, so here's something else for the jayce girlies that i have been thinking about. once again, incredibly sad...but you love it.

full masterlist linked here

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The relationship you had with Jayce was one of the few things you could rely on. With his work, Jayce Talis may be considered brash—stubborn even. With you, though, he was the epitome of understanding. He watched you often, a careful eye on you. Relying so heavily on the products of scientific experiments, he seldom acted in a way that was proven to yield negative results. That was until he let the work consume him. 

You were always supportive, he’d said as much. You were there to offer an ear, reassurance, and love to the man who needed it so much. He often recounted the story of his mother being saved by magic, a new detail finding its way into the narrative every time. It was then that you understood Jayce’s need to expose the world to this technology. To afford people the opportunity he was so graciously given—to protect people they love. 

Tensions were rising in Piltover and Zaun. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening; Jayce told you as much as he felt was necessary. As a member of the council, there was so much to take on. You could see the stress. In the last few weeks he’d become distant, reluctant to even make eye contact with you. At the time you’d usually meet one another, he avoided you. So much was going wrong, yet you couldn’t find the right words. There seemed to be nothing you could say to comfort him. A feeling of failure sat within you, almost overwhelming the love you had for him. You started to question the man you’d often taken at face value. He wasn’t himself, no, he was something else entirely. 

You sat alone, jotting down notes. There was nothing of particular interest there—but you had to keep busy these days. You perked up at the sound of Jayce entering the room, your shoulders immediately slumping at the prospect of knowing him so well that you knew it was him without a look back. 

His voice broke the silence, “Hi.” 

That was all you really got from him, greetings in passing. This time, it was to pick up a tool he’d left. You sighed, waving a hand at him, knowing that if it was up to him he wouldn’t see you at all today. 

He spoke again, “Thanks.” He showed a specific sized wrench that he loved. You weren’t entirely sure how it got here, but you knew the gratitude he showed was true. If he took nothing else seriously at the moment, he’d always been nose-first into his work. His venture toward progress. 

You nodded at his thanks to you, resuming your work. 

He left his back to you, “I’m working with Heimerdinger again.” 

This surprised you. Both the mention of his former mentor as well as the continued conversation. “Really?” You spun around in your chair, back to your desk. 

He turned to face you, “He has a new protégée, this kid. I’m sure I’ve seen him before…around…but he needs help.” 

“So you’re helping him,” you smiled. It was earnest. There was a warmth there, a passing thought that he might return to himself—a man motivated by care. 

He nodded, “So what’s occupying your time? More of that meaningless writing you do?” He chuckled and motioned toward your open book. 

You twisted the corner of your lips, stunned by the way his words pierced you. For no reason, you might add. A dry chuckle left your throat, echoing his. You deliberately responded lowly, looking toward the floor, “Wouldn’t have to do meaningless writing if my boyfriend had actually been around for once.” 

It was his turn to curl his lip in irritation, “You know what I’m doing is important-“

“And yet there’s nothing to show for it.” 

“That is not fair.” He stepped further into the room, “It takes years to replicate and master the technology I’m working on. Viktor and I have been at this for years, surely you understand that getting it right takes precedent.” 

You nodded, understanding now. “Precedent over your relationship, got it.” You turned and slammed your book shut. His footsteps approached you and you stood in return, meeting his surprisingly close glare at you. 

“You know thats not what I meant-“ 

“Isn’t it, though?” 

“No, its just that…” 

“Just what?” 

He sighed, no words finding him. He couldn’t really explain what it was, exactly. Part of him felt as if you were right—that maybe he did think much less of you than he thought. That perhaps he’d become so accustomed to the havoc, the time with his partner, and the inconsistency of research. He searched his brain, landing on the fact that he was addicted to the high science bought to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you. It was simply that like you said, he wasnt around. 

“Maybe you should go.”

His mouth was agape, realizing he failed to answer. He tried to call out to you, your name leaving his lips in a plea. You just needed time. His brows drooped, a defeated look over his body. He backed away, before turning towards the door. He stopped at the door frame, grasping it, the closest he’d been to latching onto you. “I’m sorry.” Then, he rounded the corner and was gone. 

A few months passed. You didnt expect that when Jayce left, he’d seemingly disappear into thin air. When you found out that another boy, Ekko, along with Heimerdinger were also gone—you connected the dots. You weren’t sure what to do, if there was anything to be done. You weren’t dumb, but to Jayce or Viktor’s level of intelligence…you’d found yourself feeling inadequate. It was just your luck, too, that the one person who could help you was nowhere to be found. His partner, one you could tell Jayce loved so much—had vanished. 

There were a few times where you examined their work area. You searched for anything to make sense of the loss. There was nothing. Like clockwork, you would end your search in tears, frantically clawing at the leftover notes and tools. When you couldn’t sleep, you would sneak into Jayce’s bed. The scent of him enveloped you. The tears would come, again, soaking his pillows. You’d later grown disgusted with yourself—the lack of composure. Your sensitivity only removed Jayce further from you; his presence no longer lingered. The smell of him had dissipated. You were beyond devastated. The yearn to have the entirety of the world to open up and swallow you whole was immense. 

You resumed your meaningless writing. In the time Jayce had been gone, you went through two entire notebooks. You cried into a lot of the pages, leaving them impossible to write on. In others you poured out every emotion you felt—chronicling every detail. 

He often found you in your dreams. Few times, you’d offer your mind the comfort of loving him again. Most times, however, you would torture yourself with a recounting of your last conversation. You would try to change what you said, how little you did…but the outcome was always the same. He would always leave you. 

The sound of his familiar footsteps haunted you. Someone would approach you, the rhythm slightly off, but enough to get your hopes up every time. Tonight had been the same, people passing, none being the one you wanted the most. You laid in bed, gaze to the ceiling. You didn’t really have much on your mind, outside of Jayce Talis—again. 

Footsteps approached, again, not him. These were heavier, irregular. It sounded as if one of them dragged. Your face twisted, a disdain filling you. It was enough. You turned, angling your back towards the door and the sound of the unfamiliar footsteps. 

You arched a brow, hearing your door open and close. You angled your neck, not caring who it was but needing the time to yourself. “Whoever that is, please…go away.” 

There was a pause, then a voice. “Still stubborn.”

Your breath hitched, your body turning to confirm whether or not you’d actually well and truly lost your mind. It couldn’t be, not after all this time. 

“Jayce.” It wasn’t a question, as much as you thought it would be. It was true, he was there—albeit entirely different. His hair had grown longer, easily passing his ears. The twinkle in his eye was completely gone. His facial hair had grown. The man that you knew wasn’t here, this was the residual shell—a combination of leftover pieces of himself that had been discarded. 

You crawled off of the bed, scrambling to him. You observed him briefly, taking in the details of him, before jumping into a hug. The scent you loved so much, that comfort that long left you, rested beneath a swell of ash and grime. He reluctantly raised his hands. You waited for the feeling of him embracing you back, but it didn’t come. You felt his palms instead, grasping your face. His eyes peered into yours, a hand dropping so that only one held you now. As you leaned into his single hand on you, he maneuvered his thumb. He brushed over your lips briefly. His grip then fell just underneath your chin. He let his thumb squeeze into you, pinching your cheeks slightly before nudging your face. 

He wasn’t the same. You didn’t care. He moved toward you, causing you to lean into your bed. When the back of your legs hit the mattress, you sat down slowly. You looked up at him, not needing to exchange words with him. It had been too long.

All reason left you; you were sure that there was never any in this Jayce’s mind. You quickly reached for his pants, undoing the button and zipper as he simultaneously maneuvered for yours. You paused, only resuming when you were completely bare on the bottom. You could see him, pleading to be released from the confines of his pants. You reached at his waist, pulling his pants and underwear down. You were startled when they didn’t go down fully. Your gaze dropped, noticing the brace on his leg. The single pant leg had caught the metal. He huffed, the cold air finally sweeping against him. The sensation was enough to make him hiss—the slight drip of precum forming on him. 

He leaned you into the bed, circling your entrance immediately. There wasn’t time for prep, you two had already lost so much time together. He thought of you every day. At one point, he’d found a rock, etching what he struggled to remember of your face into the wall. Before he could think to eat, before he could save himself—he thought of you.

You deserved more than this. What he was about to do. But as he looked back at you and saw the pleading in your eyes, he knew you needed this. You needed him. 

Without further thought, he plunged into you. You gasped at the resistance—your insides tighter than normal. It burned, Jayce pushing all of him completely into you. The pain was nothing compared to the mental abuse you had endured. This pain was worth it, you reasoned. At least, now, the pain was inflicted by Jayce—here.

He started his pace into you. Tears collected in your eyes, from both the overwhelming emotion and the way his hips snapped into you. He yanked you back towards him, a slapping resonating through the room. His eyes closed, brows furrowed. You noticed this, reaching to rub his arm that rested on your waist. His eyes opened immediately, looking at your hand on him. The gesture more than he deserved. He pulled out of you then, reaching to pump his hand up and down himself. 

He spoke, finally, “Flip.” 

You did so without question. Your chest found the bed, head leaning to the side. The bed was a bit taller than you and it left you on your toes. You fought to stabilize yourself—wanting to do whatever it was that he needed. He spread your legs, ramming into you without warning. The force of him pushing into you had you whining. A yelp escaped you with every thrust, the feeling of him relieving a desire that had built up in you since he left. Your feet eventually lifted from the floor completely, your arms gripping into the blankets. Jayce had the entire bed and its posts rocking. The squeaking, groaning, and slapping was entirely disgusting and quite reflective of your relationship now. The ordeal was desperate, pulling at each other until you fell apart. 

You circled your hips into the firmness of the mattress. Your clit found the friction in exactly the right way. Behind you, Jayce found your hips, gripping at your flesh like you’d disappear if he didn’t. It wasn’t long before you came, face down ass up onto Jayce. You felt a pool of wetness escaping you, dripping beneath you. He sighed at the extra lubrication, speeding up even more. He worked you through his own release, filling you to the brim.

He collapsed onto your back. The feeling of his breath on your neck, the stubble on his jaw, and hair fraying onto your ear was entirely new. You remained motionless, afraid for the moment to end. It did, though, Jayce pulling out of you. He rubbed your ass briefly, before pulling his pants up and straightening himself. You pulled yourself fully onto the bed, grabbing your underwear and a throw blanket to lay over your bottom half of your body. 

An expectant look was on your face. You dreamed of the day he would come back—return to you. You hadn’t expected it to be so wordless. You watched the man inch his way towards his hammer. It looked different than you remembered, flurries of color attached to it. It was somewhat eroded, too. You frowned at that. There was a clear resemblance here, the disfigurement an emulation of the relationship between you being completely different than when you first met. 

“What happened to you?” 

He leaned down now, fatigue catching up to him. “That thing I was working on-“ 

“With Heimerdinger…and…Ekko-“ 

“Yes.” He paused, a choked sob bursting from him immediately. “I-I was lost. Lost you.” 

You tried to stand, move to him, but he raised a hand to stop you. The act was a warning, like he didn’t need you near him. As if he didn’t want you to get hurt. It made you grasp the blanket more firmly. 

He continued, “I have to finish this.” 

The thought crossed your mind. To ask him what it was he had to do besides be with you was on the edge of your tongue. Question why, you thought. Not even a second later you realized that despite his appearance, he wasn’t so different, really. Jayce was always on a mission. He chased a feeling you could never replicate for him. 

So you didn’t let the question linger between you. “Just come back to me.” 

He stood, glancing at his wrist. You noticed the shine of blue there, interlocking with his very being. He nodded, conviction in his words. “I will. I can’t fail…not at this.” 

With a hobble in his step, he moved toward the exit. 

You didnt call out to him. He didn’t turn around for a second glance. With every day that passed, you wished so bad that one of you had. You weren’t entirely sure if what Jayce did—disappearing again, was considered a failure. But you knew the man. It was for a reason. 

It took you a while to come to terms with what happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to visit the site for days. As the Sun rose one morning, yet another night of no rest on you…you slipped out of the bed. There was determination in your walk. You made the trek out to where the destruction was. There was machinery you’d never seen strewn all over the trail. You grimaced, following the natural line of sight. You saw it, then, Jayce’s hammer. You moved with determination. As you approached, you immediately collapsed beside it. There was nothing left of him. He was gone. Entirely this time.

You reached for the handle of the man’s creation, cradling it as if it were him. Your lips wobbled, a cry threatening to fall from you. You gasped for air. “No…” You shook your head, whispering, “Jayce…” 

[nolongerapileofashprobably]

The sheer development of botw/totk zelink…

Zelda didn’t originally like Link. She outright avoided him at all costs and wasn’t particularly nice to him. And despite her own efforts, Link’s own determination and devotion to his role finally wore her down to the point where she realized how wrong she had judged him.

Link was a prodigy, he had the sword that would seal the darkness already (had since he was a mere preteen) and was known for besting adults in duels as a literal child. She was born with powers she couldn’t unlock despite all the effort she put in. She thought he was simply handed his fortunes in life with no consequences, while she struggled daily to uphold her father’s expectations for her and neglect her own hobbies.

But when Link steadfastly protected her in a place she had specifically gone to in order to escape him, she sees the truth behind it all. Link is determined. He never backs down from a fight. He’s also reckless and she understands this as she chastises him and worries over his well-being. He’s knowledgeable about horses and has good advice, always willing to share it when someone (aka Zelda) needs to hear it. She learns bit by bit about Link until she outright questions why he doesn’t talk much. And he genuinely hesitates but decides that he can share this with her. She’s the only one he ever has. Because she asked.

And he tells her. The sword on his back brings a great responsibility and massive burden to bare. He feels the need to be strong and to be the stoic perfect knight to take on the role everyone expects him to play.

They become much closer after this and there’s multiple times we see Link actually neglect his role as her protector in order to just be there for Zelda as her friend. Once in the spring memory where he turns after Zelda berated her inability to awaken her power and the second when they’re literally running away from murder bots and he doesn’t force her to continue when she slips but rather kneels, listens, and comforts her.

And to find out that Zelda’s love for Link is the reason she awakened her powers and that it’s canonically proven through Kass’ song? Wow. And that doesn’t even BEGIN their story and how it ends in totk.

In botw, the Japanese original logs are written by Link himself and it’s revealed that one of his motivators in saving Zelda was to see her smile once again. Just. Remember that.

Of course the game end and we do see Link and Zelda planning on traveling to investigate Vah Ruta. And we find out in ToTK that the two are inseparable, so much so that without Zelda by his side no one recognizes Link beyond the characters that genuinely know him through the story.

They’ve traveled across Hyrule and helped numerous people, no matter what it was. They live together in Hateno, where they helped to build a school and even teach the kids there. They founded expedition and research teams, reformed a guard, and even found the time to ‘vacation’ at Lurelin where they would go up to Lover’s Pond in the evening.

Zelda and Link create a home out of Hyrule. It’s no longer a desolate, sparingly populated land. It’s being reformed. It’s being cared for. It’s their home. They lost theirs 100years prior but they’ve steadily worked to make it a home once again. They were healing. Together.

So losing Zelda again, being unable to reach her, and also losing his sword. . . It’s a lot. But the thing he knows he must do— Find Princess Zelda. Despite knowing exactly where Zelda is after you finish the Tears of the Dragon Quest, Link does not complete it. Because he hasn’t found his Zelda. The one that rambles on about everything and gets excited about history and new discoveries. The one that tried to make him eat a frog (albeit she was on to something). She isn’t home.

Meanwhile Zelda. . . Zelda goes on about Link, enough for Sonia to know all about him and his tendency to worry over Zelda’s well-being. And then we have memory eight that has Zelda practically gushing about him to her pseudo-parents and promptly being teased for it. Then, as Zelda finally understands why she is in the past, she ensures Link has everything he could need in order to win. Because to her, Link and Hyrule surviving is a must. She sacrifices herself to ensure that.

And yet. . . Link is determined to bring her back. Hyrule won’t be the home they’ve worked so hard to make it so without her. He can’t quit until they find a way to revert her back. So when Rauru and Sonia channel their power through Link, it takes a moment for him to understand by when he does… WHOOH boy does the determination SHINE in his eyes.

And he gets her back. He reaches her. Protects her just as she did for him in the form of restoring the Master Sword. And she immediately rambles.

We don’t get to see Link’s reaction to any of this. But then we end with “Link, I’m home” and a SMILE. Because that’s all Link wants. For Zelda to be safe and smiling.

Ultimately, they just want to be home. And home is with the other.

[richeeduvie]

Birds of a Feather || PART TWO

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

TWO: Take It From The Top Darkish!Aaron Hotchner x Reader

-- PART ONE -- RICHEEDUVIE'S MASTERLIST --

How you got onto the team. When it was over for him, and as tragedies and love stories go, it's always at the beginning. Aaron knew it even then, the way he was thinking about this woman who he just met - the way his head twisted slight attraction into...not so much more. Aaron can always convince himself, for the sake of you and team and his mind, that it's nothing at all.

But this is only the beginning, even then, he knew it was going to get worse as the months went on.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

5K WORDS

WARNING: Same as Part One. Slow burn? Mentions of death, violence, things of a graphic nature. Criminal minds stuff. pre-Jealous, possessive, and overprotective Hotchner. Entitled behavior. Toxic thought process, not behavior and relationships yet. OC!Hotch sorta cause I don't think he'd turn into this crazy of a person, but reader's just that hot lol. More tags to come maybe cause Hotch is only going to get worse. Maybe reader POV next part?

BCS AND SUCC SUCC GIRLIES I'M SORRY MY MOM IS MAKING ME REWATCH CRIMINAL MINDS AND SHE'S JUST GOTTEN SURGERY, YOU CAN'T BLAME A WOMAN WHO HAS GOTTEN SURGERY...You should be thinking Hotch Daddy any writing motivates me to write about Princesa chugging Lalo's cock down her throat, or a mewling Roman.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Six Months Earlier. Following The Day You Met The Team.

As you got around to reading about him, Hotch got around to reading about you in his hotel room, just an hour and a half away from his actual home. It was easier to ignore the way you looked in the station, the bright ray of life that was searing in your smile. It was also too easy to ignore how ridiculous it is to feel that way about a person, a young woman he just met. 

But the others saw it too. 

It didn’t take an FBI profiler to know that you have a habit of…brightening the world around you. When he didn’t know you all that well, it was a fact. Barely interesting at most. There isn’t a need for, and yes, it’s a juvenile description, but a bubbly person…bubbling when three women are dead and there’s supposed to be two more on the way. But it doesn’t take away from anything, the same way Garcia’s demeanor never takes away the fact that she gets the job done every time. 

It didn't take FBI agents to see what you were. Young, bright, and extremely talented when it came to your work. An ebullient woman at her most nervous. You were there helping them and in that, he saw his team become bright themselves under the way you spoke. Even when you curse a bit too much under your breath, the one thing they would learn goes against your wholesomeness, things like that and your general self-deprecation, your inward agitation, they all found it endearing. 

Aaron would not. He would not find anything platonically endearing as much as he did not find those sorts of things attractively endearing. But maybe now, it’s those things he takes as reason to see you as a person to protect, to shelter. 

In the six months he’s had you on the team, you’ve proven you’re more than capable of protecting yourself, that a bubbly, kind personality doesn’t mean defenselessness. With time passing, Aaron has slowly cared less and less about attempting not to see you as the opposite for his own selfish reasons. 

But if they’re there, he doesn’t know what the reasons are. If he can’t, isn’t it more likely for you to be more defenseless and in need of safety than you seem? But it shouldn’t matter, either way. He won’t do anything with it. 

Won’t act on anything. 

A profile (which is what people call them actually, he's sure) in the New Yorker is objectively impressive. Aaron can't beat around that. 

It was bare when it came to the personal aspects of your life, nothing much outside of your self-subsistent career. At the time, it felt disrespectful of a talented, well-meaning and investigative stranger to press thought onto the parts that detailed questions and paragraphs of your familial issues with your previous partner, family in general - bits of it went into questioning on how it affected your career, your desire to help people, even your obvious and innate skill on empathic investigation. Aaron wished he could say there was no reason to ask those questions. With morals? There was every reason not to go there, but in his career, he makes those relations day after day. 

No, he did not press on it. 

Name, age. A more detailed version of what you gave when you met the team. He did not press thought onto the little personal aspects that were given.  

‘In scribblings on blogs and smaller articles, there’s always the implication that the reason why Girl Sherlock is so motivated within her work is that said motivation is a result of her past issues surrounding her family, particularly with her father and ex-boyfriend, Anthony. When pushed on this, the young investigator makes sure to make no comment of substance.’ 

“There’s nothing there that would help people realize who I am and why I do what I do.” 

‘Out of respect, I do not ask further. Out of the need for the truth, more in-depth research done after the actual interview leads to records of her parent’s divorce papers. Family-wise, there is not much information that can be found besides the separation of the mother and father. But, it’s the multiple domestic violence charges against Anthony Bogosian that bring concern. There was no conviction. Though the assumption is that the general audience of her work as well as this profile is an audience not made up of private profilers, it doesn’t take much to assume that if Girl Sherlock was the recipient of abuse, it would explain why she especially takes to cases of a domestic nature.’ 

The actual day, the first one with you went smoothly. There would not be a chance where the team didn’t make a comment on you the moment you left the room. 

“I lost my red-bottom heel at a bar called Charm’s Chamber when I was twenty-six.” 

“I’m not that much older, but when I was twent-” 

“We know which degree you finished earning while at the BAU when you were her age, Reid.” 

Reid went silent after Emily’s needed interruption. 

“Three serial killers. Or…what she thought was three at first, doing all that? Bringing this here?” Derek’s leanback was a gesture to the table, the files. “It’s crazy, and were these all cases the FBI rejected?” 

Aaron saw the way J.J’s eyes and its blue shift were a flinch in a way. He didn’t blink as he stood to look at the board. “There were cases I thought took priority, I mean…I remember the Wyoming Skinner but we had-I mean…I don’t know how we, I didn’t go back on it-” 

“It’s not your fault, don’t dwell on it.” 

He could imagine J.J looking at him. “Yeah, J.J. I didn’t mean to call you out. It’s not your fault there’s too many psychos across the states, we’ve seen it. But I don’t know how I haven’t heard of her, a private investigator can have their hits, I know some who were former feds but this? I was reading up on her-” 

“Me too.” 

“I already knew.” 

“It’s crazy, man. It’s a real help anyway. But a big accusation, one killer with three northern state personas - with different signatures. But she explained.” 

That you did. Well and nervous. Aaron could see how you took Rossi’s word, but the bite of your lips, the slow-down of your fingers tapping unevenly on the table. 

“You can take it slow.” 

Rossi’s compassion for his team has always worked better than his spitefulness towards an unsub.

He turned away from the board. Then they were looking at you just outside of the station, on the ground squatting in search of a hairclip. 

“She explained.” 

He still doesn’t understand how you could’ve been so caught up in looking for it. And Aaron didn’t know the team thought he was going to say more. 

“...Hotch?” 

He turned away. 

They were all just looking at him. 

“But Morgan’s right, it is a big accusation. I think we’ll have to find more substantial evidence that can prove it could be the same unsub. I already have Garcia working on similar cases in Ohio and Montana in general, more vague research. We have to start big.” 

He turned back, your hair was falling over. He didn’t sigh, but he felt like he should’ve. You were getting your hands dirty.

“Should somebody help her?” 

It was Morgan again. 

“I’ll go, I’ve been meaning to ask her what she meant when she described her investigative method as ‘interpreting the evidence’.” 

Reid went quickly, leaving his messenger bag behind. Aaron turned back to the group, he watched Emily and she shuffled through the files. 

“Well, even though I think she meant her method was a glorified version of profiling, it’s all impressive. I mean…this is, I don’t mean to fawn…we’ve had good men and women in stations all over who knew how to do their job and do it more than well but she’s done all of this alone and she does it as if it’s a door-to-door salesman sort of deal.” 

Emily put that slight and dragging emphasis on every sixth to seventh word as she leaned over the table. 

He remembers thinking then, that maybe he did press a little. Aaron thought that Garcia most definitely could’ve done a better job finding out about your life than that New Yorker journalist could’ve done about you. 

“It’s obvious she’s very skilled. But we haven’t seen her out in the field.” 

There was silence that he didn’t know meant something, Rossi’s eyes meeting Morgan’s. J.J’s meeting Prentiss’s.

“Out in the field? I don’t think she’s even been out in the field, she’s a talented investigator with what looks to be a budget of seventy dollars, not an official agent in training.” 

Aaron pressed his middle finger to the tip of his thumb, eyes unblinking at Rossi leaned back in his chair. 

“Are we taking her out for investigational interviews…or to wherever the unsub drops the next victim if he has a chance?” 

They were all staring at him. Again. To him. 

“If she came out from San Diego to be here and if she’s been allowed on three cases where victims were being skinned, decapitated, brutalized, then there shouldn’t be the assumption she can’t handle what we’ll find here. She’s come here to make a stretched accusation, she’ll make herself useful. 

It came out harsher than expected. Not in tone, every word is punctual, calm as Aaron makes them, maybe slightly lower. But the words themselves were nearly demeaning. He didn’t know why. There was nothing about your cheerful, bloomed nature that he came to resent yet. Maybe it was how Hotch himself came to be, a man already cold and colder and closed off due to everything and everything, so a beautiful woman who smiled too much, who managed to get Doctor Spencer Reid on the concrete was someone his brain immediately chose to be more cautious around. Showing any other personality that wasn’t stoic, but not unkind would not be suitable. 

Maybe his subconscious was already trying to save himself from the beginning. 

“There goes his germophobia.” 

“It doesn’t take a lot to get a man doing something he’d never think to do for a woman he thinks is pretty.” 

Prentiss scoffed, arms crossed with a stare on Morgan. “He’s known her for twenty minutes.” 

“It usually takes less.” 

The women of the team shook their heads, a humorous and semi-truth from Rossi that Hotch guessed they agreed with, but Prentiss’s head gestured towards the station’s door. “She’s…bubbly. With the mouth of a sailor.” 

His exact description. He followed her stare to the doorway, Reid was there. He couldn’t fault the younger agent on his team for thinking you were pretty. It was amusing as well, to see Reid with his knees digging into the concrete. Good exercise for him, really - and it was even more amusing to see him so readily open…almost in admiration for Girl Sherlock. 

When Hotch thinks of this memory, it’s near-guilt. What he felt at the sight of you and you and Spencer was humorous amusement, it didn't feel that way. 

There’s less near-guilt when he feels like he should blame you. 

“Let’s move before she loses something else.” 

Aaron didn’t mean it as a joke, but with the way he saw the team react, it’s like he did - which usually when he does, they always act as if it’s the first time he’s ever made one. But they went, Rossi pulling on Reid’s ear on the way out. 

A smile from you to each profiled passing by, a clip now in your hair. 

Why couldn’t he look away?

A smile up at him. 

“Are you willing to come with us to the dumpsite?” 

Eyes widening and the smile up at him. A pretty girl who has nothing to smile about, but it was exciting to you, he guesses. Aaron can’t remember if it was ever exciting to him, the means of the job were always just a duty, even when he was younger. 

“Yes, I’d be honored - or…not…it’s dumpsite so not particularly excited that it’s happening, but-” 

“You’ll take the car with me and Rossi.” 

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

And like the stereotypical mimicry that exists when you stand in front of someone so open - objectively attractive, he nodded too. 

His eyes flickered. 

“Hotch…or Hotchner will do. But if you’re used to sir, I can’t stop you.” 

That was the first time he talked to you outside of when you met him. It was met with another smile. 

“No figure of authority has ever been able to stop me.” 

Hotch was sure you meant that to be a joke, and he gave it to you. It was funny. You’re a funny girl. You know how to light the room up even without an intentional joke, which you might find a negative - when your cursing or stumbled ramblings end in someone else’s laughter. But it’s not, it could never be. He’s sorry enough that he doesn’t give in more often, nothing more than a small, sly smile. 

Like the one he gave then.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Aaron flexed his hand in the hotel bed, it was 2:12am. In a few days, you were found to be right about the killers being a singular monster. One for no particular reason other than a dangerous mix of sadism and psychopathy. A man born in Montana who traveled the northern states for his job, and with each state - five women were to be killed. In all the Northern U.S states. Every single one. 

There was difficulty in finding him to be that one unsub because in his words….in his words, 

“I wanted to, I could. I did.” 

Michael Bakalova. The Akron Phantom, the Wyoming Skinner, the Northwind Killer. When the news broke of his capture, the outlets named him the North American Butcher. Those were names Hotch didn’t want to remember, he was to go against the news cycle and the grain and remember his victims because he knows there’s more outside of what they found. But he thought of Michael Bakalova and what he said when they caught him. 

Those women weren’t surrogates, not one was a target of his rage for a reason other than he wanted to, he could. He did. But in the brutality, there wasn’t any rage, no. 

Pure satisfaction, bliss. It’s what Aaron couldn’t find even after they caught him. But they found that sort of reaction in the kills with you at the station, team in a circle. Penelope on the screen. 

“I see we’re just letting any cutie waltz right into a case, huh?” 

“Garcia.” 

“Sorry, sorry, Boss! I’m Penelope.” 

“What did you find?” 

Aaron doesn’t know when he doesn’t have his arms crossed or straight at his sides. But you were there before you went to look for that clip of yours and your eyes would meet his. And Aaron…he’s lucky enough that he feels that it’s absurd that he prides himself in the way he doesn’t bash and turn away like a schoolboy. That pride acknowledges there’s something in his hands and chest when he looks at you, and feels it’s absurd is self-awareness. 

You always turn away first. He won’t ever be the first one to look away. 

��I like your pink pen edging into view.”

“She has a similar one.” 

They looked to him. You looked to him, eyes wide and bright. That’s all you, you can’t force that type of light to shine. Heaven knows he tried with Haley, for her. To let up on his serious nature, it was easier earlier in their relationship, it’s easy with Jack. But you make figurative gleaming seem like there’s nothing to it. 

But sometimes, in the dark, Aaron thinks about you and realizes that the light can’t be figurative, that he sees it on your skin and through your clothes. In your smile, it’s why he can’t look away. 

“...I didn’t pull that one out.” 

The fluffy blue pen that hid in your bag, Aaron could make the deduction that you, already nervous and having presumably little experience with federal agencies and this area of professionalism, that that pen would not be suitable, it would demean you by looks alone. And he doesn’t know why…to put it objectively, called you out. 

“It’s peeking out of your bag.” 

But Garcia’s presence let you know a pen that’s fluffy is more than okay. And…Aaron wanted that out of his presence too, though he still thinks that’s unnatural. It’s not possible when you’re you in the saw and he’s him in crossed arms. 

“Sir…I don’t know how to respond to that, because that has never happened before - so yes, what I’ve found-” 

Moth to a flame, bird into the sun. Something he’ll forget he thought about himself to convince himself that there are no feelings. There is nothing different about you. 

Michael Bakalova and his names and names made Aaron’s chest break back against his lungs every time he took a breath, it made him feel like he would drown in the sheets - but then he’d flex his hand and unfortunately, a breath would let up when the movement would trigger the memory of helping you over a step. 

“Thank you, Sir Hotchner.” 

It wasn’t a joke, you brought your voice to a lower tone. You meant to call him that with maturity. 

Amusing girl. 

Soft hands, kind squeezes so carefully that Aaron can assume that you think you’ll somehow hurt him. That’s not possible. Not just because you’re you, but he’s him…

What could you do that’d hurt him? Nothing, he’s sure. Maybe if he could think of things, he wouldn’t view you as defenseless as he does. But Aaron knows he’s wrong in that too. 

They couldn’t have done it without you. Ignoring the unfortunate name Girl Sherlock, you were extremely talented. Are. But then, to see you in your element and in the field. You were natural within the investigative questioning when it came to people relevant to the victims. The questions and insights you had at the dumpsites (Talent and passion didn’t defeat the fact they needed Michael Bakalova to kill another victim while they were on the case to find him, it never does). 

You were amazing. And the sun shined down on you well. You take light in well. 

“You can take off that coat.” 

He didn’t see the way Rossi’s head tilted his way, eyes slightly smaller. A thought growing in smugness. You smiled.

Aaron looked at the grass under his shoe, there was mud on leather. There was dirt on your knees. Why are you getting yourself dirty when you don’t have to? What’s so important about a clip that you brown the softness of your hands? Where did you learn that that was okay? That it was okay to take the help of strangers? Reid, a good, overzealous and well-meaning stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. 

He stared right into you, unsmiling. His suggestion was genuine and unhumorous, but you brightened under the sun nonetheless. 

“It’s cold. That’s Virginia's fault. Not mine. But thank you. And this, obviously it’s miles - across state lines but I’m telling you, if you look at the dumpsites in Wyoming, Ohio, and Montana. It’s nearly the same. Country-like backroads. They’re all distant from each other, but it’s an area he feels comfortable in. That couldn’t be just chance.” 

“But change in signature, that means we need to make up for that assumption with more evidence.” 

His head followed yours as you looked around. 

“It has breaks in between, there’s no physical evidence to say he’s just picking a method of kill and torture to have fun with it…but it’s not like it’s different with each victim. Five decapitated one state, five skinned in another.” 

You were looking towards a tree, and it would’ve only been you to know that that tree made a difference, you were there three states before. 

“What is it?” 

“..I’ll be back.” 

He remembers the way he and Rossi looked at each other while you were off with a confused-looking police officer. 

“So this is what Arthur Conan Doyle was going on about.” 

“Dave.” 

“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sorry, Sir Hotchner.” 

Aaron nearly glared. Rossi and him slowly made their way towards you. 

“Think of it, we’re Scotland Yard. Have you talked to her officially? Besides when she greeted us and when you asked her to come with us.” 

“What do you think there is to talk to her about? Officially and alone?” 

“I don’t know, I think she’s an interesting case. I like her, she’d be a good fit. Reid can give you a detailed recommendation, apparently.” 

“It’s a lot, and she’s just a consultant. We’ve had those before, she is…unique. It’s admirable, but it’s a stretched suggestion.” 

“You’ve used that word twice today, and I do understand. But I don’t know why you would say it as if you haven’t been observing her like this case is her pre-BAU assessment.” 

Aaron stepped over a leaf. “Have you taken to her, David?” 

“...Wouldn’t hurt to have another nice newbie agent around. Work on the lectures and lessons through someone who needs it.” 

“You mean a fan?” 

“Oh, she knows you too. Remember?” 

He wouldn’t indulge Rossi with a slight smile and softening on a brow with that one as they met up with you. 

“Before I ramble on again, I apologize for the rambling and the murder exposition vomit back at the station. I don’t mean to toot my own horn - or use the word toot but I am proud of my work…but you guys are the agents, I could’ve just thrown you the papers and you would’ve gotten here with me.” 

“Nevermind that, kid. We’ve had worse. Speaking of which, if Reid comes at you again with his tangents, don’t be afraid to tell him to stop. Or walk away.” 

Aaron remembered Reid’s ramblings, ones that were fascinating, not in topic - but to see Spencer believe you’d be interested in what he had to say, another person around his age with interests he knew…from your online, blogging persona. The team saw you. 

“Nightmare on Elm Street was actually inspired by Wes Craven reading the news. Throughout 1981, the Los Angeles Times ran a series of articles about otherwise healthy Laotian refugees who had mysteriously died in their sleep, apparently after experiencing violent nightmares-” 

“Reid.” 

He saw you. 

Of course, he didn’t give you a gun and let you on a chase through streets for a serial killer even though he’s sure Rossi would’ve let you if given the chance. 

He didn’t let you anywhere near Michael when it came down to catching him. And that was right, what he said gave him reason to let you on a plane back to San Diego, despite the team’s (Rossi’s knowing eyes, Reid not so obvious obvious platonic gushings over you) want to let you have at the BAU, despite Hotch himself knowing if he give someone a chance, it’d be you. But Hotch tries to forget about what he said, because he didn’t let you go home to San Diego. And he’s finding himself more of a fool every time he convinces himself that it was for the team. 

It was for the team. 

But the one who brought the case together for the team sat at the police station, waiting patiently to see if the case she worked so hard on for months, through victims and victim’s parents, loved ones. 

“It’s over?” 

He nodded. 

“It’s over.”

And in the fluorescent lights of the station, he saw your smile as he did and has and will a thousand times over. But it wasn't genuine. The cases you worked so hard on, the passion you put in to bring families closure - not out of government duty with a team that’s family, but instead alone…there was no closure for you. You weren’t satisfied. 

You were like them at the end of every other case. 

“I have to stop through Wyoming. And Ohio. And Montana. I need to tell those families in person, they’ve probably already caught the news but…I think it’ll do good. Or maybe it’s selfishness, because I know I have to.” 

His head lowered slightly. “It’s not selfish. Those families came to you, you became attached to their closure. You deserve to let that in with them as much as families do.” 

You nodded, but then you disagreed. “Maybe a little less than them?” 

Aaron took a pause. You asked like he would change his mind on what he just said. 

Amusing. Taunting. Teasing. 

Maybe he was thinking your smile was cheekier than it was, because what would it mean that you would do that to him? That you liked him then? No, not you. Not a young, beautiful woman who sees he doesn’t smile or laugh because it’s not the job, it’s not just him and he won’t indulge you. Not when you just met him and you know he’s a widower with a six year old son. 

It’s that, or it’s just that you were having your fun. He wouldn’t appreciate that. 

Not at all. 

He didn't think of his slight smile through then. He couldn’t, you were in front of him - he wasn’t in bed flexing a hand. 

“Maybe a little less, then.” 

And there was silence between the both of you, but the world around kept itself busy because the team was all over, exhausted. There was still paperwork to do, reporters everywhere. But Hotch can’t remember how it just got to be the two of you. 

He pressed his middle finger into his thumb, trying to mimic a heartbeat because it was fatuous, the way his heart sped up. 

You’re just a talented woman that would make a great profiler. But he would have to think logically. He did in the moment. Maybe it’s an exaggeration to say he knew from the start that you would be on his team, there were slew of issues to expand on. One, the fact that you weren’t an FBI agent. You (according to your New Yorker profile) had no law enforcement experience to begin with. You didn’t live in Virginia. You were twenty-six. Reid was barely thirty but he had five degrees or so to make up for it. And heart. 

You had heart. He could see it, smile or not. 

Aaron remembers making the choice to turn his head away from you. 

“So…is the BAU hiring?” 

It snapped back. So quickly to the point where it caught your smile dropping. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was-that was a joke-” 

“Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

“...Really, I-” 

“It’s alright. Let’s go back.” 

And his hand just hovered over your back. It’s not like he’d feel the way your back curved under the coat you wore for the whole case. Hotch didn’t, still doesn’t want to realize that he would’ve let his hand touch, actually touch if it was anyone else - but with you, this woman with her hair behind her ears - the one who waited patiently at the station and watched aimfully as Michael Bakalova passed her and into a cell. It felt like it would’ve been disrespectful. 

The thoughts towards you aim differently than everyone else, even then. His touch would make his heart beat quicker and he would think about the one moment where he did touch you. Over and over in his hotel room, then in his own bed. 

And it was as if the thoughts would’ve shifted further down if he did touch the small of your back. 

But Aaron should’ve, because it didn’t matter anyway. The thoughts shifted down nonetheless, and they do with every passing night and smile. Your smiles have to be natural, effortless - unknowing and naive to what it does to him, which wouldn’t be your fault, his face and stern lines never give way. 

But if the smiles aren’t, the giggles, the head tilts, if they are not naive and defenseless and in need of protection and are instead purposeful flirtations, moments where you revel in making him suffer and harden…Aaron will not appreciate it at all. He will not tolerate that sort of behavior. That won’t get past him. 

And he wouldn’t put punishing you past him. 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

Then you smiled at him. 

He led you up to your hotel room, a fortunate coincidence that you took the same hotel the tema did, Aaron didn’t have the means or awareness to think those kinds of thoughts. 

He was trying to remember when he saw a face he couldn’t stop staring at. Maybe never, but hopefully not never. Maybe Jack. and for the sake of Haley, for the sake that at that moment, you were supposed to be just a woman, hopefully not never. 

“Have a nice night.” 

“You too, Sir.” 

Nice wasn’t what he would describe the night he had before they left for Quantico. You, Aaron, both were lucky they didn’t have to catch the plane. He closed his eyes, opened them - stared into the ceiling with one hand flexing and fingers tapping together, the other hand lying flat on his stomach. 

What were you wearing to bed that night? 

He thought something along the lines of that before he dug his nails into his palm with the curl of his fists. 

What was the point of not touching you if it meant he would think those kinds of things? He tried. 

He thought that. Michael Bakalova. 

“I wanted to, I could. I did.” 

He pressed his hand into his forehead. Aaron needed to think of anything else and quickly. 

2:44am. 

The team was right, he was right against the surface logic and challenges that would ensue the minute he would put you with the BAU. You would be an asset to this team. You were an amazing consultant. You would be an even better agent. Of course, that would be if you wanted to join in the first place. 

That not being the case would only be the case if you were just having fun - flirtations and head tilts. He said he wouldn’t tolerate that. You were to join the team, there was no doubt about it. 

He knocked on your door in the morning and dreamt about opening it in silence in the night.

[hopelessoptimisttea]

Thank you for your reasoning, it's very helpful! You've told me so much, and I appreciate it.

Remember when Champ bragged to Eggsy that a Statesman had a success in the stock market? I think he did the same thing when he met Harry, who had recovered. That is, Harry must have known that a Statesman’s income depends on the sale of alcohol. Their share would increase significantly if infected people actually died. And this is one of the reasons that Whiskey mentions at the end. That is, the Statesman had a motive to derail the mission and this could be one of the factors for Harry. During a conversation with Merlin, he says that a Statesman may have his own dark agenda.

Additionally, his former boss, has proven to be a traitor, which may make him more cautious when interacting with another spy organization.

I also think Harry might have been confused by how badly Whiskey was prepared for the mission. First, why didn’t he take extra ammunition with him?

Second, I don’t understand how Whiskey was going to use the pistol against guns Gatling. At this pressure, he couldn’t even climb out of the window to aim. And the film will show that later. He doesn’t need bullets, but ammunition that will allow him to destroy several enemies at once.

The actions of Whiskey can be partially justified by the fact that he never worked for Poppy and really wanted to get out alive. But he had already played his cards, and his actions might have made Harry very suspicious.

About Harry from TGC.

I like that he suspects Whiskey, accurately assessing just one gesture.

I like that he doesn't allow himself to be rude to Eggsy, even if Eggsy is rude to him.

I like how Harry advises Eggsy to choose love because he wants his boy to be happy.

I like that Harry is ready to protect the puppy at the cost of his life.

I like how Harry orders Merlin to give him the can in order to die in his place.

I like that Harry constantly puts saving Eggsy above his own life.

And I'm impressed with his decision to blow up a donut to use it as a shield and knock the gun out of Whiskey's hands with his own lasso. 

I think this guy's intelligence, powers of observation, and sensitivity are underestimated.

[saerins]

PREV: #002 PLAYING DOMINO 𖧧 #003 THE FIRST RIPPLE 𖧧 NEXT: #004 THIS SPARK, IS IT REAL? ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — ever since the first meeting, you’ve proven to be an anomaly. and yet again, sae finds himself out of character, doing things he didn’t think he would.

content: itoshi sae x female reader. angst/fluff, profanity, physical/verbal abuse, violence, mentions of infidelity, broken homes, unrequited love, manipulation/gaslighting. word count: 6.7k

༝༚༝༚ more yn and sae for this chapter yay !! ty to all of you who are reading this heh mwah you guys are my motivation <3 let’s hope i keep this pace up so some of you can get the tea faster :p

somehow, the fact that you’d managed to help land an interview with itoshi sae has given you some perks at work. (you’d let sumi take the credit for it, but considering your voice is on the recording, it was hard to deny your involvement.) the best of it all? sumi’s right; mr tatsuji is so absolutely pleased that he barely bothers to visit your department to chide any of you.

that way, at least if your personal life is a mess, your career is not. (for now.)

after three days of staying over at eita’s, you’re finally lugging your feet back home today. besides, he has a date and you’re not about to play third wheel when he inevitably comes home with her.

that’s otoya eita for you.

he insisted that it’s fine and if he really wanted to get some that he’d bring her to a hotel, but you’d really rather not get used to putting up at someone else’s house. especially when, technically, you do have a place to stay.

as you unwillingly (and slowly, painachingly) trudge back to your apartment, you can’t help but revisit your messages with sae. ever since you told him you’d let him follow you if he made a private account, he hasn’t responded since.

were you just in over your head? maybe he was just bored and was passing time by texting you. maybe he didn’t really mean it. maybe someone else took his phone and texted you just to make fun of you. 

time to time, you still think of the night you met, how his eyes fluttered close, how he stayed rooted in position, how you would’ve actually done it out of curiosity if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a public place with cameras littering every few inches of space.

you sigh, locking your phone and tossing it back in your purse. in the end, maybe itoshi sae really is just someone for you to admire from afar. maybe that’s for the best; you can’t imagine how it’d even feel like dating someone who has such a big spotlight cast on him.

the evening air is chilly, the lights of the nearby shopping mall a warm golden, the sea of people walking past you soon to drown out. if you didn’t know better, you’d think you’re living a privileged life—being able to live in such a nice district, with a better-than-average apartment that had been fully paid for since you were born. and if life had been kind to you, then maybe you’d like living at home more than you do now.

but as it is, going home only serves as a reminder to all your problems. unescapable, unavoidable, unbearable. and maybe it’s not such a good move for you to depend on eita a lot to be your escape, to help you forget about all of it, at least when you’re with him, but you can’t help it. escapism feels nice. it’s nice to be around someone who knows about it and still accepts you, even though you and him don’t see eye to eye about it most of the time. 

your stomach’s growling, and the macarons at the bakery’s display that you walk past are both nostalgic and tempting. but you can’t afford that.

something as simple as a box of macarons.

hang in there for the long term, you tell yourself. one day, you’ll get everything back. 

not ten minutes later, you’re at your own doorstep, hesitating to even enter. through the door you can hear the sound of the television. it’s loud and playing some drama that always airs at this timing. you’ve heard the same voices so many times before.

it’s funny to think that these sounds used to feel like home to you.

either way, you have to get this over and done with, so you slot your key in and walk through the door, carefully toeing off your shoes as though being quiet would make you escape her notice.

“and where did you go off to the last few days? can’t even come home and be a dutiful daughter and eat with her own mother?”

it hasn’t even been five seconds. 

all that ever awaits you at home now is the vile spit of your mother’s. it’s laughable because all she says is nonsense. you haven’t eaten on the same table together in years, even if you have been living under the same roof.

some part of you can’t help but be defiant. you know it’s a bad idea, but she’s out of line, and yet you’re still helping her. and you can’t figure out why.

“how about you be a dutiful mother and stop spending all your daughter’s money and go find a job?”

there’s a sharp sound that bounces off the walls of the living room quicker than you can expect it, and it takes you five seconds and the sting on your cheek to realise your mother had just slapped you with all her might.

not an ounce of hesitation or regret. there is only fury in her eyes as she looks down at you, summoning every bit of disdain she can muster. 

of course, how could you forget? this is what you get for talking back to her. it’s been a while since she’d last laid a hand on you, so maybe you’d gotten cocky, thinking she wouldn’t do it again.

“is this all you’re good for? you’re not using that filthy mouth to jack people off so you’re using it to spite me?”

there’s a lot you want to say.

you want to talk back to her again, to say that she’s the useless one out of the two of you. the one who doesn’t work yet gambles all day. the one who spent all the savings and insurance money so she’s fully depending on you month to month.

you want to tell her that you’re not some whore who goes around fucking everyone you see. she always hated eita, but that’s because he knows she’s no good. that’s also why you never tell him if she lays her hand on you. you don’t want to get them into any altercations. you also want to tell her eita’s taken better care of you than she ever has, and you don’t even have to jack him off for it.

but you stay silent.

because silence is the most comfortable you can get with her. no matter what you say or do, it will never suffice for her. she wants money, and she’s only angry because you haven’t been home to give it to her. it’s why you lock your own door every time you head out or go to sleep. you don’t want to find your own belongings gone by the time you’re back. neither do you want to find her snooping around your room in the middle of the night.

both of which have happened before.

taking advantage of your shock, she yanks your purse out of your hand, fishing for your wallet and grabbing all the cash she can find before tossing it back to you.

there’s no mercy in her eyes as she glares at her own daughter, the one she carried herself in her womb for nine whole months and once sworn to love. and now she blames the same little girl for ruining her body and refuses to take responsibility for her.

“listen, be a good girl and just give me what i ask for okay?” her tone is nothing but condescending and threatening. “if you’d just behave yourself, i wouldn’t have to do shit like that. think a little, would you?”

the demon that is your mother speaks as if you’re in the wrong, sighing to herself as she lights a cigarette and walks away, stuffing your hard-earned money in her purse before making for her room and slamming the door as she completely disposes of you for the day. she already got what she wanted, after all.

utterly defeated, you completely forget about your hunger, retreating into your room, locking the door behind you and falling to the floor. your vision blurs and your cheek still stings. you wonder if it’ll leave a mark like it did the last time.

your phone vibrates once.

blurry vision aside, you can tell it’s eita from the name alone. his talk to me if you need anything, okay? is bright on your phone screen, the only light in this room because you don’t have the energy to turn on the lights. you’re not feeling exceptionally hopeful today. the dark seems just right.

you’re thankful that you have a friend like him. you probably don’t deserve how nice he is to you. but you don’t want to talk to him. you don’t think you want to talk to anyone.

maybe just one person.

but he’s six foot under and inaccessible to you.

you’re not sure when you made it onto your bed—your head’s a mess. it always is when you speak to her. that’s why you scream into the pillow, willing your energy away, trying to drown your thoughts with your voice, dreaming of the day you can break free from this cycle.

thunder, pitter patter, raindrops against the windowsill.

the lightning helps you make out the time from the clock on the wall above your door. 

1am. your lips are chapped and the tears are dry against your cheeks. you’d subconsciously slept on the right side, your left still aching from earlier.

slowly, you get up, legs crossed and sitting on your bed, your earlier distress dissipated just slightly, mind a little clearer. (and always questionable.) your phone’s dead and you honestly don’t really care—what you do care about is your stomach’s incessant growling.

it wouldn’t take a genius to know that your mother cleared out all the food in the kitchen. it looked barren earlier from what you could see, maybe just a couple slices of bread and some condiments. you wouldn’t want to start cooking in the middle of the night either, lest she wakes up and you have even more to deal with.

the rain starts to lighten up by the time you’re out of the house, comfortable in your oversized windbreaker. you walk slowly, your slides already soaked from walking in the rain. it’s a nice cooling temperature, the wind in your face making you feel refreshed, like everything that’s horrible could be just a dream.

if only.

a light ten-minute walk later, you’re browsing through the aisles of the convenience store, wondering which brand of processed food is worthy to be your dinner. you hover between the cup noodles on the shelves and the sandwiches in the chiller, taking your time because home is not a place you’re exactly aching to go back to.

can you even call it a home at this point?

eventually, you waltz out of there with a warm tub of noodles, palms relishing in its warmth and your nose inhaling every last bit of its aroma.

dinner could be better, but you suppose you can’t complain when you’re trying your best to save up. after all, it’ll be a pain if your mother figures out the stash of savings you’re hiding. the last thing you want is for her to steal that away from you. then how would you ever move out on your own?

shaking your head as you settle down on a park bench on the opposite side of the road, you decide to throw those thoughts aside for now. it’s not a current problem that you need to mull over right now and destroy your mood. no, right now, what you need is just a peaceful night.

what’s past (earlier) is past.

even though it’s easier said than done when your tears start flowing one by one, and suddenly these noodles are saltier than you remember.

“sure you can’t come?”

sae looks at bianca through the passenger side window, her pout ever present. “nah, i’m tired. besides, if i oversleep who’s gonna drive you to the airport, huh?”

bianca grins at him, seemingly pacified. she reaches a hand into the car, perfectly manicured nails in full view before she clenches it into a fist, holding just a pinky out. “promise you’ll see me off tomorrow?”

there’s something between the lines that sae doesn’t get, nor is he sure he wants to. in all honesty, he’s not even sure why a promise is wanted here but he sticks out his pinky all the same anyway, because he’s pretty sure he won’t miss the alarm when it rings.

“yay, see you!”

“see you,” sae echoes as she bounds towards her friend’s place, ready for a last night of catching up over a game of cards before she flies back to america. as she disappears from his view, he wonders why she even tried to invite him in the first place. they’re her friends, he’s not really needed there anyway.

tuning out of those thoughts, sae drives off, already planning the remainder of the night. it’s 1am, and it’ll be near two by the time he makes it back to his apartment. that leaves him around a six hour sleep before he has to get up and send bianca off.

now that he’s thinking about it, since when has it become routine for him to send her off every time?

before he can even gather his thoughts about it, he steps on the brakes abruptly, wondering what the hell is wrong with some people to not be looking at both sides of the road before they cross, nearly pressing on the honk before something tells him not to. it’s distracting; the fact that the passing silhouette looks familiar and yet not at all.

against his better judgement, he pulls over by the side of the road, deciding to trust his gut. it’s late at night and there’s no reason for it but is that really you sitting on a park bench eating cup noodles past one in the morning? alone?

sae steps out of the car, mask on, pulling his hat down and his hoodie over his head to conceal himself, though some might argue he looks like he’s about to kidnap someone like this. he’s painfully aware this is dumb, and there’s no point to this, because what if it is you? it’s not like he has any reason to talk to you.

he stops midway, checking his phone and scrolling to your messages, his okay still sitting in the text box, unsent. fuck, he didn’t even realise until now. it didn’t help that he had a hectic schedule back to back for the past few days either. he never got around to creating that private account. he’ll just have to do it later.

a fleeting thought comes to him, wondering if you thought he was just pulling your leg about wanting to follow you. sure seems like it to him.

but he continues walking towards that park bench, towards that girl he thinks might be you, without knowing whatsoever what his next move will be. all he knows is that if that really is you, he’d rather say hello than say nothing at all.

even if it means making a detour that would undoubtedly make him endlessly tired the next day. for some reason.

and call him crazy, but as he draws closer, even without seeing your face, he knows it’s you somehow.

there’s something off about you, he doesn’t know what it is yet, but he can feel it. maybe he’ll find out. maybe he’ll try.

“hey, rude girl.”

just by the way your body stiffens up, he knows you recognise his voice. you choke on your noodles, coughing a little and rubbing your face before you whip your head upwards to face him, your eyes going wide with surprise.

“itoshi sae?”

why doesn’t he like it when you call him by his full name? it sounds weird, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“what are you doing here? do you live in the area?” you ask, setting your almost-empty cup of noodle on the bench. your voice is a little hoarse than he remembers, and your eyes are slightly puffy. there’s a faint swollenness on your left cheek, something he can see you’re desperately trying to hide behind your hair. it’s not really working.

he shakes his head, hands in his jacket pocket. “no, i was just dropping my friend off.” his eyes shift from you to the noodles. “supper?”

sae notices your eyebrow twitch ever so slightly, your nostrils flaring a little before you grin at him. “yeah, i missed lunch so this is me making up for it,” you giggle, offering a thumbs up.

is it bad to say he doesn’t believe you? you’re alone in the middle of the night on a park bench eating instant noodles with a slightly swollen cheek. yet you’re in front of him acting like nothing’s wrong.

this is already far from what he’d usually do. if you were anyone else, he would’ve just drove past and forgotten in a few days that he ever saw them. but as it is, here he is, standing in front of you, car parked illegally by the curb, just to verify that it really is you for no apparent reason.

still, he’s glad he did. you look like you’ve gotten a year’s worth of bad news judging by the state you’re in. and sae usually doesn’t cater to people, expects people to tell him what they need, not make him guess, but he’s already guessing what you might need.

your stomach is still growling, though you’re trying to hide it by slumping on the bench, arms over your stomach. sae has no idea why you feel like you have to hide, or who probably slapped you in the first place, but he finds himself disposing of your noodles before he’s grabbing you gently by the hand, tugging you along with him.

“hey, uh, where are we going?”

despite your shallow hesitation, sae feels your fingers curl around his palm. his heart skips a beat. he stops in his tracks, turning back around to face you. there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring inside him when he looks into your eyes.

his free hand comes up to remove his cap, putting it over your head and pushing it down to fit better. he doesn’t have a mask for you, but it’ll do. something tells him you don’t really want other people to see your face right now. and while the circumstances are different, he supposes he understands how it feels.

maybe you think he’s doing this because he’d rather not be papped with a girl, rather not have any more dating rumours. he’ll let you keep thinking that. he’ll keep acting like he doesn’t see the wound you’re desperately trying to hide.

for now.

“i’m hungry, eat with me,” is all he tells you before he resumes dragging you along behind him, calloused hands wrapping over your own.

sae’s not hungry in the least. he’d eaten probably three meals worth of food with bianca before this since she’d dragged him to a korean barbecue joint.

but you’re hungry. you’re starving and you’re not acting like it and you don’t say a thing about it—he doesn’t really get you.

he wants to.

maybe that’s why he’s doing all this. maybe that’s why he lets you in his car, drives to an izakaya he knows all too well. maybe that’s why he keeps stealing glances at you in the car, and maybe that’s why he feels a little warm inside when he catches you smiling to yourself.

as you sit silently beside him as he drives, your fingers fiddle nervously with each other. never did you think that you’d end up in sae’s luxurious car tonight of all nights. as if it wasn’t apparent enough before, after seeing his car, this definitely looks like a life that’s far beyond your reach.

you wonder if sae is the type of person who likes cars. it’s never indicated anywhere if he is. you recognise the brand; you don’t know the exact model but it’s a maserati, wrapped a matte black, at that. the interior leather seats are comfortable, and his air freshener smells nice.

on top of that, he’s driving you to someplace because he’s hungry too. talk about luck and coincidence.

you were thinking of just taking a short walk before going back home, but you’d take his invitation over that any day. you’re not sure where he’s taking you, but your feet are tapping in anticipation, though you hope it’s not anywhere expensive because you’re definitely not dressed the part.

beside you, sae’s not exactly dressed in anything fancy, but with looks like that? he would look expensive dressed in anything.

“quit staring,” sae mumbles, and you hurriedly avert your gaze, embarrassed at getting caught although you snicker a little when you catch the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “what are you laughing at?”

you try to suppress a grin, biting on your lower lip. “you’re not as uncaring as the internet makes you seem,” you ponder out loud.

sae accepts your train of thought. he’s well aware that’s how he comes off in real life too. “and?” it’s a red light so he stops the car, turning his head to look straight at you.

is he asking you what you think of him?

you feel your heart skip a beat. he’s pretty, and he’s staring at you with those clear teal eyes of his and it makes you want to drown in them for some reason. he’s not as unfeeling as he comes across, and for him to bother taking you with him just to eat must mean you don’t fall into the category of people he finds to be just a waste of time. 

you want to know what this is.

“i don’t know, you’re like a cat,” you shrug, reverting back to your unserious self. “but i’ll let you know again once i get to know you better, itoshi sae.”

he looks away, the green light barely seeping through his windows. he doesn’t understand. “if you even get that far, that is.” (he likes how you already assume you’ll get to know him more. are you looking to spend more time with him?) 

you grin, making an internal bet with yourself. “just you wait,” you tell him, confident in your abilities. “i have a habit of growing on people.”

(sae chuckles internally, because he doesn’t doubt you. you already are.)

“are you sure this place is open?” you ask, discreetly tapping lightly on your cheeks, deciding that maybe you look just fine now. and it doesn’t seem like there’s a soul here anyway.

once sae parks his car into the lot, you take his cap off and look around, the sleek stand-alone three-storey building looking completely closed on the outside. there’s no other cars parked here—surely they’re not still open?

sae takes his keys out of the ignition, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. he looks nonchalant for the most part. “don’t worry, i know the owner, let’s go.”

you shrug to yourself, placing his cap neatly on the dashboard before getting up. he waits and observes as you get out of his car, making sure you’re beside him before he starts walking towards the restaurant. you notice him matching your pace, with you shamelessly adjusting it just to check.

before he enters through the doors, he looks at you, “there’s no one else around. just the owner’s nephew who’ll be cooking for us.”

the shopkeeper’s bell chimes as he makes his way inside, holding the door for you, and you wordlessly enter, even though you’re wondering why he feels the need to tell you that. is it because you look like a mess and he thought you’d care?

it’s cosy and warm inside, classical music filling the air, every table wiped spotlessly clean that they’re shining as the lights from the ceiling bounce off of their surfaces. there’s nobody you can see here, are they in the kitchen?

sae puts his fingers around your wrist this time, walking you through the restaurant, meandering expertly like he’s been here a thousand times. your eyes fall to his fingers; they’re gentle yet firm, and you’re only hoping he doesn’t realise how fast your pulse is right now.

in the end, you find yourself seated across from him on a tatami seating in a private room, browsing through the menus that are already placed on the table.

“order anything you want,” sae says, not looking up from his menu.

you hum in excitement as you start to really look at all the options you have. “oh? if you say it like that i’m not gonna hold back, you know,” you joke around, though sae doesn’t really sense it.

he just shrugs, “sure, go ahead.”

sae ends up regretting it though, not because you’re shamelessly spending a lot on his card, but because he finds out you’re the type to over-order. by the time the food is all cooked and sent to the table, sae’s eyebrows twitch, eyes flicking over across the room to look at you, grinning from ear to ear.

“both of you must be starved, huh?”

you look to the side, only now noticing the guy in the white chef’s coat that came to deliver the food. he has curly light brown hair, with eyes a shade or two darker. a grin is plastered on his face, and by the way sae speaks to him, it seems like they know each other quite a fair bit.

“oh, by the way, this is naruhaya,” sae introduces to you, and the guy holds his hand out for you to shake. “this is y/n.”

“nice to meet you!”

naruhaya’s beaming, a contrast to sae’s usual stoic expressions, but he’s back to small talk with the latter in a second. you leave them to it, until your ears perk up when he mentions a certain model’s name.

“hey, weren’t you with bianca earlier? where’s she?”

bianca—that name isn’t unfamiliar to you. after a crash course from sumi (because somehow she decided you need to know more gossip about itoshi sae after getting to know him in person), you had learned that she’s the model that sae is most rumoured to actually be with. and you’ve seen her from the pictures sumi shoved up your neck—she’s beautiful.

was she the friend he was dropping off earlier?

“meeting her other friends. anyway, sorry to keep you open.”

naruhaya waves it off with his hand. “it’s fine, i was gonna stay and try to whip up some new recipes anyway,” he says, before shooting you a knowing look. what exactly it means, you have zero idea. “i’ll leave you two to it, enjoy!”

once he leaves, you begin to dig in, lathering your meat with sauce, unashamedly inhaling your food because that earlier stint with your mother was entirely too much and you need to destress.

somehow, with sae being as nice as he is, you feel a teeny bit guilty for trying to dupe him into that interview. but you doubt that if you’d asked him normally that you would be here with him tonight so maybe there’s some merit in being reckless like that.

“what’re you smiling about now?” sae sighs, taking a piece of meat and putting it over his rice. “pleased that you’re getting a free meal or something?”

partly. but mostly, you’re pleased that you get alone time with him somehow. maybe it’s stupid, and maybe you sound like half of the female population in the country, but you can see why people ogle over him. if they got to know him like this, then you’d have no doubt that he’d manage to charm their pants off.

though, something tells you he doesn’t treat people like this often, let alone someone he barely knows.

“mhm,” you agree, shit-eating grin on your face because there’s no way you’re going to be so upfront about it. the last thing you want is to ruin a friendship when it’s barely started.

yeah, maybe that’s what you want—friendship. is it weird if you say that itoshi sae gives you the feeling that you can trust him? the last time someone made you feel that way was eita. but somehow, this time, it feels different in a way you can’t explain.

as you’re both digging in, you ask him whatever you’re curious about; how he got into soccer, what his life was like growing up, everything under the sun, only because he entertains you like he did that very first night.

“you ask a lot of questions, are you gonna ask me to get another interview approved or something?” he asks, deadpan as he slurps up the soba.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “no. i just want to know you.”

sae stills at your honesty, this being one of the rare times you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. thump, thump, thump—it’s weird how you make him so aware of his heartbeats when you’re with him. it’s weird how he feels the same way.

then, he sees a familiar sight, you reaching your hand out across the table, your pinky pointed towards him. “i promise you, no hidden agendas this time.”

he swallows the lump in his throat, hooking his pinky with yours before he knows it, the inexplicable emotions only growing by the second.

even though he’s curious about you too, something tells him that you won’t answer him seriously. not tonight. so he keeps it to himself. he’ll find a chance to ask you next time.

if there is a next time. 

he’ll just have to make it happen.

halfway through the dinner, you have about a quarter of the food left and sae looks like he’s about to burst. he didn’t really look hungry to you, eating slowly all the way. you probably ate at least twice as much as he did. 

“you sure you were hungry?”

“not anymore,” sae deflects, putting his chopsticks down. he looks at you, leaning back and staring at the leftovers in awe. he almost snorts from how dazed you look. “i’ll get naruhaya to pack these, wait here.”

“thanks,” you call after him, knowing just how much of a food coma you’re going to be in once you’re back home.

sae stares at his phone as he navigates through the corridors to find the kitchen; it’s already 2.30am. time passes really fast with you for some reason. usually it’s a bore to sit with people he barely knows, they normally can’t keep a conversation. either that or he doesn’t really click with them. (as evident in the many times he was put in the same room with friends of friends and all that was there is awkward silence and forced conversations.) 

not you though.

you’ve always been interesting. you’re intriguing, and a little bit more daring than he’s used to. you’re not that shy, by what he could tell when you so effortlessly reached across the table and snapped a picture of the both of you eating, telling him you want to give him something to remember you by.

as if that’s your last meeting.

he looks at the picture in his photo album. a subtle smile tugs on his lips, and there’s a flutter in his heart that he can’t seem to ignore.

maybe he’s jumping the gun but… he thinks you could be worth any amount of sleep he’s going to lose.

naruhaya enters the private room alone, armed with takeaway boxes, and you smile sheepishly at him as he does. sae must be in the bathroom if he’s here alone.

“sorry, i think i ordered a little too much,” you apologise, rubbing the back of your head. “but it’s all really delicious, really.”

it really is. you’ve never had meat so tender before, and you’re almost sad thinking you’ll probably never get to eat this again. not with the price tag on it. 

“relax, i believe you,” naruhaya hums as he carefully places the leftovers in boxes. “so, how’d you get to know sae? photoshoot?”

you narrow your gaze at him, pressing your lips into a faint smile. “if you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working,” you joke, before shaking your head. “no, no, i’m not a model. i’m just a friend of a friend.”

naruhaya blinks at you like he’s surprised. “whose?”

“eita. otoya eita. why?”

“oh, it’s nothing. just… surprised sae brought another girl here for once,” naruhaya laughs nervously, packing the boxes into a clear bag. “usually it’s either oliver and gang or, well, bianca. but i haven’t seen her here in a while, actually.”

you get the feeling that sae and bianca are really, really close. 

“i think he just came here on a whim,” you brush it off. “we only met a week ago so i doubt you’ll see me here again anyway.”

naruhaya’s mouth forms an ‘o’, before it reverts back to that knowing smile again. both of you hear footsteps against the wooden floors of the izakaya, so naruhaya takes this chance to whisper in your ear.

“i think… you must be pretty special then, huh?”

before you can even ask him what he means by that, sae strolls through the door, oblivious to the earlier conversation, gaze pointed to you. “ready to go?”

you nod, taking the bags from naruhaya as sae escorts you out of there. “bye, naruhaya! i love your cooking!”

he laughs as you wave enthusiastically to him, and he winks at you right before sae turns around to look at him. “oi, sae, bring her over anytime, okay?” to which sae only waves it off, leaving you to wonder if you’ll ever actually see naruhaya again.

“you keep those,” sae tells you after the both of you get into his car, referring to the takeaway boxes. he’d told naruhaya to give you some extra meat, just in case. if he remembered right, eita once said you have quite the appetite.

he pulls out of the parking lot after you give him your address, driving the speed limit all the way back. he’s honestly kind of tired, and he can see that you are too. won’t hurt to make it back a little quicker than you came. 

“sure you don’t want some?”

“i’m fine, i’ll be busy for the next week or so anyway. i won’t even be home.”

there’s a hint of disappointment in your chest when you hear that, though you chide yourself for your wishful thinking. what makes you think you can run into a celebrity so easily anyway if he is in japan?

“oh, you’re gonna be away? try not to miss me.”

sae chuckles, softly, at the way you can be so unserious—it’s something you hear for the first time, and you feel the flutters in your heart going wild. there’s something about the way he looks so gentle like this, away from the cameras and the public eye that makes him so much more alluring than usual.

“i’ll try,” he says, though you know he’s just playing along.

usually, you don’t feel this type of way around people. you’ve never felt like this before so you can’t even think of ways to explain it. as you sit in the passenger seat, you can’t help but feel a certain attachment growing. it makes you think foolish things like i want to see you again and wonder about even sillier things like would you want to see me too?

but you’d never actually tell him that.

when your apartment comes into view, you grab at his cap on the dashboard, putting it on your head yourself this time, looking into the side mirror. “hm, think this looks better on me, what do you think?”

sae’s a little stunned at the sudden question. you have a way of making him exasperated—in all the good ways. “wanna keep it?” he’s guessing that’s where you’re headed. not that he minds. 

“oooh, then maybe i get to sell it for a buttload of money. especially when i tell people it belonged to you,” you smirk, and sae finds himself wondering why your guard is up so high.

he starts driving a little slowly, starting to feel the reluctance brewing inside him. “it’s yours now, do whatever you want with it.” he knows you’re not actually going to sell it anyway. he might not have known you for long, but he thinks you’re not that kind of person.

he’ll bet on it.

you don’t say anymore about it, and he catches you with a blank stare straight ahead, aimed at your apartment.

does it have something to do with your family? was that why you were unhappy earlier?

sae can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know more about you. but you snap back to your usual self before he can do anything about it.

“anyway! don’t worry about tonight, i won’t tell a soul that a superstar like you took a nobody like me out for a romantic supper in a private room,” you tell him, winking as you place your hands on the door handle, ready to go.

sae nearly laughs. “can’t you say thank you like a normal person?” because by now, the both of you are comfortable enough to understand that nothing is ever said in hostility. you take it as his banter.

somehow, your hand finds itself back onto your lap, and the words haven’t left your lips. there’s no music in the car, so it’s just you and sae and the air between you, a tension looming in the air that you can’t ignore. there’s just silence as you observe him from your position, your head inching closer, ever so slowly it feels like you’re not even moving at all. you can see how sae’s gaze flickers from your eyes to the tip of your nose and then to your lips, and you think of how he looks almost like he did that night when you got close to him.

except this time, you’re really tempted. you’re alone, just the both of you, and he’s been really nice and you’re really tempted to feel how soft those lips are and what he tastes like. but that’s too much, and yet somehow his eyes feel like they’re telling you different. would he mind?

your fingers pull the cap down from your head, covering both your faces as there’s barely any space between you now.

maybe just something tame.

in one swift motion, your lips press against his cheek, a hurried thank you rolling off your tongue before you bolt out of the car and back to your apartment, hoping that sae doesn’t think you’re a complete psycho for doing that. 

back in the car, sae freezes in position even after you’ve long vanished from his sight. his heart’s still beating wildly in his chest and he wonders what the hell just happened.

and then he finds himself questioning when it could happen again.

why does he want it to happen again?

before he starts the drive back, he does three things.

one, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and creates that account he forgot about. two, he sends you a follow request because he doesn’t think he can handle this curiosity anymore. and three, he opens your messages, breathing shallow as he tries to make plans for the first time.

an hour later, after you’re showered and your heart has calmed down, you check your phone, charged to full now on your bedside table. there’s a few messages from sumi and eita that you missed since it had been dead since before you left the house, and then your heart skips a beat when you realise that sae’s name is there as well.

for the first time in a long time, you go to bed feeling like a giggly high school girl who’s been asked out by her crush. and for the first time in forever, sae receives your message and finds that he can’t sleep now—wondering why he felt so relieved to finally get a text back, and wondering what this frantic rush of his heart really means. 

extras !

no, sae did not get up late to meet bianca the next day. he did look extremely tired though, which made her suspicious and ask why—sae did not reveal anything, just said he couldn’t sleep. partly true.

sae was right; if he’d asked yn about herself that night (particularly anything pertaining to her family), she wouldn’t have answered seriously. there’s a reason why she won’t so easily divulge her family issues & doesn’t want sae to know about it.

yn genuinely believes that sae did not notice anything off about her and that he honestly thought she was fine.

otoya did end up bringing his date to a hotel. after she fell asleep, otoya went out to the balcony to call yn and make sure she’s okay since she wasn’t responding.

yn’s mother knows that yn and otoya used to fuck (and still thinks they are), and that’s why she used her choice of words “jacking people off”. she has been treating yn like that for the past few years.

random fact #1: otoya used to purposely get yn in trouble all the time in school so that they could spend time in detention together. that’s how they started getting close.

random fact #2: sae has, in his head, considered being together with bianca before because the guys asked him about it.

taglist! @yuzurins @saeskiss @raphsimp @lust4rin @mxplesyrvp @chieeeeeee @yumekolovesyukimiya @kunirayuna39 @auranny @sereniteav @gskill @saesgrl @riseena @rikijbol @sagejin @shironagi

[ifortom]

Bad Decisions - T. H. (3)

frat!Tom x Reader - Fake dating AU

Chapter Summary: Friendships are made, questions are answered, and hearts race.

MASTERLIST

W/C: +5K

• DAY 3

"Hey, newest hot topic on campus." You heard it as soon as you left the classroom.

Amber positioned herself by your side as you walked down the university hallway.

"Hey! Is that what people are calling me now?" Amber laughed lightly.

"Well, being seen swapping spit with one of the star players comes with certain consequences." She said, slipping her arm through yours. "Where are you headed now?"

"Uh, I thought I'd grab lunch and then probably head home. I need to catch up on some things I let slide over the weekend." Amber smirked.

"I bet you made good use of that time." You looked at her, wide-eyed. "Oh, stop it! I bet you and Tom spent the whole Sunday snuggled up together."

"Actually, I was nursing a hangover. He suffered having to listen to me complain and swear I'd never drink again."

"That won’t be the last time you’ll have to deal with a hangover if you keep going out with us." She smiled. "Can I join you? I’m starving, and I’ve got some assignments to do too. I’d love the company. Plus, your genius brain could help me out, if you’re up for it, of course!"

You pretend to think for a moment, pouting as if you're contemplating her idea, even though you already know the answer.

"Hmm, I don’t know..." She stops abruptly and stares at you, her caramel eyes pleading. "Alright! No need to look at me like a lost puppy," you say, laughing.

"My lost puppy eyes have gotten me far in life. Where are we going?"

"I was thinking of going to Joe's, do you know it?" She shakes her head. "No way! You're about to try the best carbonara in the world. Let’s go!"

"I have to admit, I haven't eaten this well in a while." Amber said while rubbing her belly.

"I told you."

Despite what people say around campus, Amber is one of the easiest people to talk to that you've ever met. Maybe it helps that you share a lot of mutual interests, but the way she keeps the conversation flowing, never letting an awkward silence settle between topics, proves once again that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

The girl with long red hair has a strong personality and big dreams. College wasn’t one of them, but for her parents, she pushes herself harder each day to keep going. She told you that ever since high school, she's had a passion for music and even joined the choir, but she always heard she had no future in it. Harsh words from people who should have been supporting her.

To her parents, a degree has always mattered more than genuine happiness.

She didn’t go into much detail, but she said she joined the cheerleading team to stay at least a little closer to what she enjoys. She knows the girls she hangs out with don’t have the best reputation, and as a result, she carries that same label. But she says she doesn’t care, that she’s happy with what she does, has fun, and has met some lovely people.

You don’t completely agree with the last part, since several people she hangs out with have proven not to be so great after all. But Amber has more contact with them than you do, so there’s not much to discuss.

During lunch, you gave her your full attention, but at the same time, you wondered why she wanted to spend this time with you. It wasn’t something you had imagined would happen. To you, she was just another girl you made friends with at a party, someone with whom you’d never exchange words again, like so many times before.

But Amber also seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, asking about your major, what motivates you, and your interests.

She walked you back to your apartment and sat down on the floor near the coffee table, with a book and notebook open as she worked on an assignment. You sat down next to her, focusing on the page in front of you.

An hour later, Amber slammed the book shut and poked you with the tip of a pencil.

“I’m bored.”

"You know that phrase is something I hear regularly? In this same position."

"Do you have a lot of study dates?" She says, raising an eyebrow.

"It’s Tom, actually. We spend a lot of time studying together, and after a few minutes, he gets tired and says he’s bored."

"You two spend quite a bit of time together, don’t you? That’s how you got close."

"Yeah, you could say that. We worked on a project together and became friends. It ended up being a routine for him to be here."

"And now you’re dating."

"Oh, we don’t have a label yet. We’re... testing things out."

Amber watched you for a moment before speaking.

"Can I be honest?" You nodded. "It isn't strange to see Tom bringing a girl to one of those events and joining our group for the night. But most of the time, it doesn’t go beyond that. One night. You're his friend first and foremost, and you know how he behaves."

Amber sighed and looked at the table in front of her, her gaze unfocused.

"I don’t want you to end up like one of those girls. I know we barely know each other, but I like you, and I pushed aside my ego to get closer to you because... you seem real. It’s ridiculous, but I don’t know what I’m saying anymore."

"Amber, it’s okay." Your hand found hers and held it. "Take your time."

"I and Tom are friends. He’s one of the few people I can really talk to, you know? Like I said, the people I hang out with aren’t bad, but Tom is genuine. He doesn’t hide, and he is who he is, even if people talk about him." Her eyes returned to your face, and you finally noticed the tears forming. "And he talked about you. He told me how much you support him and what you do together, how you talk about everything and really listen to each other."

"I never had the chance to get to know you before, and my fear was that you would treat me poorly because of who I am, even knowing you wouldn't do that." She took a deep breath to regain her composure. "And when you showed up at the party and I got to talk to you, I understood Tom. I understood why he keeps you around. And today you took me to lunch at a new place, brought me to your home, and helped me with an assignment that isn't even part of your course. And we barely know each other."

"Amber, I did that because I like you too. It’s all good!"

She sniffled and released your hand, bringing them to her face to dry her tears.

"That was intense, and now I’m embarrassed." She started to get up, and you followed her. "I need to go."

"Amber, wait. You don’t have to leave."

"Y/N, I need to." She quickly packed up all the materials she used back into the bag she was carrying. "That was more than I expected."

Knowing you wouldn't be able to change her mind, you just watched as she gathered her things.

"Amber, wait." You tried one last time as she approached the door to leave. She paused but didn’t look back. "Do you want to go shopping on Friday?"

Her shoulders trembled slightly, and she turned to you with a shy smile on her face.

"I would love to."

Tom was sitting at his desk in his room while you were lying on his soft comforter on the bed.

"Were you two out to lunch together?" he asked.

"Yeah, she asked if she could join me, and I didn’t say no. It was actually pretty nice."

"Until she freaked out in the middle of your living room."

"It wasn’t a freak-out." You sat up on the bed defensively, staring at him. "She vented. I didn’t understand much, but the emotional weight of her words… it was a lot."

"Amber is pretty straightforward."

"I don’t think so. She still has a lot bottled up inside her, and I don’t think she’s going to share it anytime soon."

"Y/N, she’s not a patient. Don’t overanalyze."

"I know that," you replied. "She said you two are friends. Has she talked to you about her parents?"

He raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Let’s stop right there. That’s not our business."

"Ah, okay, sorry." You flopped back onto the bed, arms spread wide. "But did you know she said you talk a lot about me?"

"Did she?" He stood up from his chair. "What did she say?"

"Nothing too specific. But I think it’s problematic because you’ve created a fantasy of me for her."

"Me?"

"Yes! I’m not that special, and the way she talked… you really need to watch your words or it’s going to seem like I’m the center of your universe."

"Ha! You would like that, wouldn't you?" He gets up from the chair and sits on the edge of the bed.

"That's your life wish, Holland. Not mine," you joked back.

"So you think you’re that special, huh?" he says.

"I know I am. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be right here now, and you wouldn’t be talking about me to other friends."

"You hurt my feelings talking like that. I don't have such a cold heart." he says, placing his hands over his chest.

"Aww, poor thing. Tommy gets his feelings hurt when he hears the truth." You reply, pouting and sitting again to face him properly.

"Why are you so sassy, huh?" He says, laughing and leaning closer.

"Life taught me to be this way."

"Stop that," he says, chuckling. "A few hours with Amber and you’re already just like her."

"We're friends. We have a date together on Friday!"

"I don’t know what to think, but I’m glad."

"Yeah, it's going to be fun," you smile.

"So, I've been thinking… actually, I heard some comments today about last Saturday."

"Yeah, I heard about it too. Apparently, you can still be the talk of the campus at any occasion."

"Oh, Y/N, you know not everyone cares about that. The ones who talk the most are the ones close to you or who want to be."

"I know, I was one of those people, remember? You can be sure I didn’t care at all about what you did or didn’t do until we had to work together."

"Yeah, if it weren't for social psychology, we might never have even exchanged a hello." That wasn’t exactly true. "Anyway, it turns out everyone thinks it was just that. Just a fling."

"Hm, what do you suggest?"

Tom smirked and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Time to make it Instagram official."

"How do you want me?" you asked, and he stared at you, a new smirk appearing. "Not like that, you perv! You know what I meant."

He laughed and got up, offering his hand to help you up from the bed.

"I'll lead you," he says.

You both walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window in his room, the sunset bathing the space in natural light. Tom positioned you in front of him and wrapped one arm around your shoulders.

"Okay, now turn your face to the left. Pretend you’re distracted." You did as he asked.

Tom's free hand held the phone in front of both of you.

"Got it. I think we have the picture for the official announcement," he said a moment later, pointing the phone to catch your attention.

In the photo, Tom's face was resting on your head, his arm wrapped around you while you pretended to look at something in the distance.

"Tom, do you think this is good?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"This looks so forced."

"What a lie. I've never taken a more perfect couple photo." You put your hands on your head when you heard him say that.

"Thomas… you've never taken a couple's photo in your life!"

Tom might have posed with countless girls at parties and other events, but none of them carried any deeper feeling.

"Well, it's what we have." He clicked a bit more on the phone screen. "Done, I even tagged you. Are you going to repost?" He said just as you heard the sound of a notification coming from your phone on his bed.

"We should have taken another one."

"Y/N, then it will look forced. It needs to be natural."

"Ha, and you think this is natural?"

"Stop complaining."

You huffed and returned to his bed, grabbing your phone and opening the app.

"Hey, it's okay if you don't want to repost it because you didn't like it…" he says lightly.

"That's not it, Tommy." You meet his gaze, lowering your phone. "It's just that all my acquaintances are going to see it. And it will be real. My family, friends from home. I know that was the plan and what we agreed on, but I just don’t know…"

Tom moved closer to you and cupped your face in his hands.

"Hey, any time you want to stop, that's fine! I’ve already told you I’m not going to force you into anything. Just say the word, and it's over."

You let out a breath and rested your head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you in a comforting embrace.

"You too, Tommy. At any moment." You said, your voice muffled by his shirt pressing against your face.

A few seconds later, you slipped out of his arms and reposted the photo, blocking and silencing your phone immediately afterward.

"See? That wasn’t so hard. We’ll deal with the consequences later." He laughed softly. "Now let’s go, we need to get there early if we want to leave early."

Even though it was a Monday, Tom had managed to convince you to go out with some of his friends to celebrate the start of the new game season. The only condition you had set was not staying out too late. They had decided to meet up at a bowling alley for the night.

When you both arrived, Harrison and his date for the night Jessie along with Tyler, and his girlfriend Mabel were already there, having reserved a lane for the game.

Harrison started the game, followed by Tyler and Mabel, who asked her boyfriend for help with the only move needed in bowling. Next up was Jessie, who made the same request to Harrison—good first-date strategy.

"Ok, smartiepants, your turn," Tom said turning to you, pointing to the lane.

You got up from the couch in your section and walked over to the platform to choose the ball you'd use.

"Tommy, you're not being very smart right now," Tyler said, pointing in your direction.

"What do you mean?"

"Be a gentleman; your girlfriend is about to bowl. Don't you think you should help her?"

Tom laughed loudly. "My girl? Oh, she doesn't need help. She knows what to do."

And as if you sensed his words even without hearing them, you knocked down all 10 pins in one go, making him shout in celebration.

"That's what I'm talking about!"

The night continued, and Harrison emerged as the winner of the game, receiving victory kisses from Jessie. Before heading out, everyone decided to grab a quick snack at the same bowling alley.

After a while of laughter, you said goodbye to the group and everyone went their separate ways.

"I have to admit, these people aren't so bad." You say as you buckle your seatbelt and Tom starts the car.

"Yeah, Tyler and Harrison are my closest friends, which is why I wanted you to come tonight. I know some of the guys on the team can be jerks, but a few of them are worth it."

"The girls were really nice too, even with their performance of not knowing how to play and getting all cozy with the guys," you say, laughing.

"I don't know about Jessie, but Mabel has been with Tyler for a while, so it's likely you'll see her again," he replied.

"Hm, I wish Amber had come," you said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

"Haz said she was busy, that's why she couldn't make it."

"I see…"

"Hey." Tom called your attention, placing his hand over yours. "Don't think too much about it; that's Amber for you. She has a strong personality and is very intense. And she gets scared by things she can't control."

A few minutes later, Tom parked in front of your apartment.

"Have you checked your phone?" he asked, and you shook your head in response.

"It's been on silent since we left your place."

"Y/N, I'm here for you. You know that."

"I really appreciate you, Tom. I know you have your reasons for being part of this craziness we've gotten into, but seriously, thank you."

"Anytime, smartiepants." You smiled at him.

"I'm going now."

Before you could open the car door, Tom held your hand. "Wait, Y/N."

"What?" You looked at him.

"I need to ask you… about the party, what happened at the party." he said. "I don't… what was that?"

"Tom, I'm not understanding."

"We… we kissed."

"Oh, about that." You looked away. "I know you didn't expect it, but… when I came back from the bathroom with Amber, everyone was saying you had gone somewhere with Taylor, and when I went to look for you, I bumped into her, and she started saying all sorts of things, and I wasn't exactly in my most sober state either."

He didn’t respond and let go of your hand.

"I know we hadn’t agreed on anything, but it felt like the right thing to do at the moment. I needed to prove that we were together there."

Tom continued in silence, staring at the road ahead.

"I'm sorry. We talked briefly about this, and I thought…"

"So it was an act?" he asked. "Just to prove we were together?"

"Well, yes. It’s not what we usually do when we’re together," you replied uncertainly. "But Tom, if that bothered you, let’s set some boundaries. It's funny because you joked about it yourself and…"

"No, it's fine. You don’t need to. Just… I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" he said.

"Alright, drive safe," you said before getting out of the car and watching him drive away.

As you lay down and finally allowed yourself to check your phone, you felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Notifications began to pop up on your phone, and you quickly realized that the repost of the photo with Tom had generated a lot of attention. Messages from friends and acquaintances started flooding your feed, and you couldn’t help but smile at the positive reactions.

Your sister replied with a simple "WTF?"

You couldn’t avoid feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Your relationship with Tom was becoming more real every day, and it brought a whirlwind of emotions.

Among the messages, one notification caught your attention: a direct message from Amber. “I saw the photo! I’m so happy for you. Let’s talk soon?”

You smiled as you read the message and felt relieved. But one notification, in particular, caught your attention even more.

Sean: Seems like I wasn’t wrong after all.

Seeing that message from Sean made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t expected him to reach out, especially not like this.

TAGLIST: @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @un06 @lnmp89 @hoodharlow @let-me-luve-you @erule @smoofine @smile2345 @itsdoni @helen-on-earth @kagtobis @appleypi @jennifersworldsblog @marajillana @hufflepuff-n-fluff @aol19 @milasexutoire @watarmelon212 @miniaturetreecollectorfan-blog @twsssmlmaa @drquinnzel0217qqqqqqqqqqq @purplerose291 @princessria127 @jackiehollanderr

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

sooooo that girl content? 👀

What do you think is the ‘checklist’ to be one?

Waking up at 6 AM or earlier every morning no matter what, and going to bed earlier as a result

Daily Bible and prayer time for at least 30 minutes, preferably longer. And intentionally pray multiple times a day

Self-discipline

Consistency

Routine and habits

Delayed gratification

Daily exercise

Highly limit social media- assess where it adds actual value to your life and cut everything else out ruthelessly

Asking who you want to be. Then seeing what steps you need to take to get there. Then do it.

Blocking out distractions

Saying no to people

Have a clean space

Drink water and eat healthy foods

Only have friends who bring actual value to your life. You don’t need thirty friends. A handful of ride-or-dies is all you need

Having a simple effective beauty routine. Rather than jumping on beauty trends or obsessing over your appearence, figure out how to enhance your natural beauty and stick with it. Genuinely teach yourself to love the way you look and be confident in it without becoming vain.

Treating yourself with the value and respect that God sees in you

Having beauty (inner and outer) and intelligence be your default setting

Keep your cards close to your chest, only share required information with people you trust

Always be learning. If you’re in school, achieve academic excellence. If you’re not, still be learning things each day and filling your mind with knowledge. Read books and articles, and listen to podcasts and watch informative movies and videos

People will always be smarter than you and wiser than you. Surround yourself with those people and ask them to teach you

Intentionally look for the beauty in everything and be thankful for it

You can always grow and improve more in every area

Set yearly, quarterly, monthly, weekly, and daily goals and break down the steps to achieve them and follow through. Focus on the proccess

Devote yourself to the things you love

Focus on the mindset > the aesthetic

Stop consuming self-improvement content and actually doing the hard work that self-improvement requires

Don’t tie yourself to anyone’s opinions but God and people who also follow His will

Work on your dreams. Actually work on them, don't just dream about them. If it seems impossible, do whatever you have to do to make it achievable

Kick laziness and procrastination out the window

Intentionally set aside time to rest and make sure that the time you rest is actually restful and fills you up. And when you’re not resting, you’re working.

Make a list of your priorities, in order. The ones at the top are what you spend the most time on, and things that aren't on the list don't deserve your attention

Hold yourself accountable for what you do every day. Celebrate your wins, and acknowledge your losses. What do you fail at, figure out why, and then take the steps to make sure that it won't happen again

Take care of your outer physical body and your mental health

Quit the excuses. There is a difference between having an actual legitimate reason for not doing something and just trying to beg off how you've failed yourself.

Develop a good work ethic

Do not shy away from hard conversations that make you uncomfortable and force you to change the way you think

Do small acts of beauty and self-care each day that only take a few minutes, but make you feel good and excite you

Forgive yourself for your past mistakes and failures but don't let it happen again

Be kind and humble and loving to everyone. But people who haven't proven themselves to you haven't earned anything from you

Motivation is wonderful. Find it, use it, harness it. But it isn't constant. Be able to work just as much with it as you can without it

Praise God for the work He has done in you and the prayers He has answered. What you have right now? That just used to be a pleading cry for help. Thank Him for it, it came from Him and not you, and make sure everyone else knows it.

Develop speech and debate skills

Develop a workout routine that covers all the bases and that you genuinely enjoy doing. The goal of working out should not be to punish yourself or your body, but to love to move your body and get physically stronger and more capable.

No screens for the first or last hour of the day

And finally, submit everything that you do to the Lord and ensure that it is His will. And if you are ever unsure if He wants you to take a course of action or not, just step out in faith and see what happens.

I know that this list sounds exhausting and utterly impossible. But it isn't. It has taken me three years from the time I decided to start caring about myself in this way and becoming a hard-working disciplined 'Christian That Girl' to today, but I am here. Every single thing on this list I actively do, I'm not just listing it to sound better than I am. I'm not perfect at it and I mess up sometimes. But I do intentionally do each and every one of these things. And guess what? I started seeing results from the immediate things after days. And a lot of these longer term things are only a few months of hard work away.

At the end of the day, if you don't have something you want that you could've had, that's because you chose comfort in the moment over success in the future. Of course, life and tragedy happens, but for way more things than you realize, YOU are in control of your life and everything that you do has consequences. It is up to you to decide if they will be positive or negative. Don't look back kicking yourself saying 'I wish I had spent my time doing that.' Instead, look back and say, 'Praise God I spent my time doing that.'

[vellichorsmystique]

Tea in a Bar

⭒ Husk x gn!reader

⭒ w.c. ~1.9k

⭒ Meant to be read as a sort of pre-relationship ficlet. Just a silly little drabble I needed to get out of my system. Mainly fluff, implied (?) angsty undertones at some point, there is comfort.

⭒ No use of y/n... I mean Alcohol is mentioned? So fair warning for that, reader themself doesn't drink anything of the sort in this specific fic. No spoilers in terms of the Hazbin Hotel series.

⭒ A new sinner in the hotel only means another headache for Husk to endure as he listens through drunken rambles. However that doesn't appear to be the case as this specific sinner tends to just bask in his presence. There's not much to go on, and as much as he should be wary of them, he can't help but be intrigued.

The newest guest is strange. The thought brazenly bounces around Husks skull, as he discreetly flashes a few wary glances at the figure sitting at the bar top. He elects to ignore the fact that today's version of “discreetly” translated into occasionally looking up (to oogle) from the glass he had currently been wiping dry before peering back down. He also decides not to fixate on the truth that this is the same shot glass he had picked up an hour ago. 

It’s uncanny really, how can you sit there so serene, eyes closed in something akin to bliss? Husk is openly staring at you once more, mouth slanting into some sort of neutral frown, as you shifted in your spot on the flimsy stool. Every night without fail since your first appearance at the hotel, you seemed to have made it your personal goal to purposely confuse him. Why? He has absolutely no clue. His proof? Non-existent. 

That wasn’t even the infuriating part, it was merely the fact that your actions were definitely not motivated by some extrinsic goal, it wasn’t like you actively had it out for him. Husk prided himself on his exemplary skills of reading people and while there was this air of mystique that surrounded the likes of you (all too comfortably familiar to the source of his chained ire) you weren’t trying to usurp his current life. At least not in the moment that is. 

Before he can grumble internally about the stupid predicament he found himself in he becomes all too aware of the warmth of your scrutiny. Damn, sure he was doing a piss poor job at sneaking peeks at you, but he didn’t actually think you’d catch him. However something about the mirth swimming your eyes clues him in on the embarrassing fact this probably was not your first time catching him. Your lips curl into a light smile, the corners barely twitching at what he assumed to be withheld laughter. 

“Is there something wrong?” Your words are less of a question and more of a tease which only prompts a withering glare in your direction. Almost foolishly he hopes it’s enough to ward you off, it’s not of course, and he’s proven once more how futile it is for a sinner to do something as silly as hope. Unperturbed by his nasty stink eye, you rest your head in your palm and raise a brow in goading fashion. Ear twitching he goes back to dutifully swiping the glass held in his paws. 

“Nothing, just stuck wondering why there’s a fucking weirdo sitting at my bar?” You have the gull to wave him off with a bark of laughter. 

“Me? Weirdo? Unlikely,” His brow furrows at that as he flashes you an unamused look. 

“More likely than you seem to think, who sits at the bar hours on end, and doesn’t order anything to drink,” He tried to keep up with the insult, however as he rasped out the words, he couldn’t hide the genuine curiosity that filtered in the latter half of his statement. Your laughter subsides, and you idly trace a fingertip on the grains of  the bartop, lips quirked in gaiety. 

“Touche, but I raise you this, who uses a dirty rag to clean their glasses?” Subject change, of course, he honestly shouldn’t be surprised. 

“That–’ and he raises the shotglass higher more forcibly twirling the gunk filled rag around on the inside, ‘is very much intentional,” 

“Hmm, and that is exactly why I don’t get drinks here,” Grinning you leaned back on the stool, palms flat against the wooden top as you loosened some sort of crick in your neck. Your tone is too pacifying and he doesn’t buy it. Nose scrunching he rolls his eyes, before resting his forearm on the bar, brows raised knowingly at you. 

“But that’s not the reason,” And there it is, the enigmatic grin that should probably push him away instead of drawing him in closer. Something swims in the depths of your eyes, something that one day he’ll decipher, but for now whatever you're hiding under lock and key stays indiscernible for today. 

“No it’s not,” You echo demurely. He groans, he was too sober for all of your mental gymnastics. The conversation lulls for a moment or two before you tilt your head towards the array of spirits and liqueurs  behind him.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any sort of tea?” Tea? Seriously? He doesn’t waste breath looking, instead just briskly focusing on his task at hand.

“No, this is a bar– not some sort of fucking cafe,” Sighing almost wistfully you slide off the barstool, and he regards your actions in surprise. 

“What a shame, it’s getting late anyways I think now is a good time to start turning in for the night regardless,” He grunts, blinking slowly, was that what it took to get you to leave? Tail cutting through the air, he shrugs his shoulders brushing the thought away. It’s not like he cared that much…. 

“Oh and Husk?” Your voice takes a suspicious lilt that has his ears twitching. 

“Despite your choice of dish towel I’m pretty sure that shot glass is clean enough, you’ve been holding it for what– an hour now?” He slams the aforementioned glass on the grainy top as your laughter fades, but the worst part is he’s not even annoyed by the fact you were aware. Yeah… you were a really fucking strange guest here. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

You take longer than normal to come sit at the bar. He ignores the discomfort that prickles at the realization. Just when he decides to go ahead and begin the methodical process of closing everything up for the night, he hears the lobby doors open. The sound echoes in the expanse of the empty lobby, and finally through slitted irises he can make out your silhouette tiredly plodding through. 

Back and shoulders hunched, you look withdrawn, a total one-eighty from your normally exuberant personality you always seemed to have when you pestered(read: visited) him. Footfalls heavy, the bar stool croaked when you finally settled over it. Yawning, your upper half pitched forward, and you pressed your face into your crossed arms on the table. 

“‘llo Husk,” the words are a mumbled and muffled mess emanating from the crook of your arm where your head was buried. If it weren’t for the ear he had angled in your general direction he probably would not have picked up on it. Frowning, he glanced down at his paws. Today was different, you never seemed like the type to “showcase” your more or less weak spots where others could see? Something in the sinner’s chest seizes up. Was this an inadvertent form of trust? Deciding not to dwell for too long on the implications for such an idea, he instead coughs out loud into his fist. Rather dramatically. 

“The fuck’s up with you?” And he hates the fact you’ll notice the bite gone from his voice. Almost petulantly your shoulders rise and fall, a vague impression of a shrug due to your current position. 

“Alright, not in a talking mood then, fine,” He gets it, and he wasn’t going to push or prod your boundaries just to satiate the itch of curiosity. Peripherals catching the tell tale sign of movement his slit pupils lock onto your own irises from where you angled your head to the side in order to properly look at him. Expression almost distraught, he can only watch the way you tug your lip against your teeth internally battling over something. Before you sniffle and rasp out quietly. 

“I just… don't want to be alone in my room right now,” The admission is point blank, no allusions, or disarming smiles to disguise the truth. Some remote part of his brain will probably play the vulnerability of this moment on replay when he’s alone in his bed, with a pillow to bury himself into. For now, he elects to breeze past the info, mentally tiptoeing around whatever aftershocks your bombshell just resulted in. 

“Well if ya don’t want to talk, then maybe you’ll want a drink instead,”  Your expression twists, and you move to sit up some sort of reply building on the tip of your tongue, before he is turning his back to you. When he’s facing you once more your eyes widen to see not a shot glass in his hand, but a teacup. It’s humorous really, the cup disproportionate to the size of his clawed fingertips, still he holds the most likely plastic chalice like it’s fine china. 

All too soon the cup is waiting to be sipped from in front of you, and Husk is left to tap a claw rhythmically as he waits for you to taste test it. You hands wrap reverently around the drink, and you bring it up closer in order to properly take a whiff. As you nurse the steaming cup in your grasp he can make out the light aroma of apples and some more floral notes. With his freehand he scratches at the fur on his nape, prickling as he awaits your verdict. 

“It’s uh…”

“Chamomile,” You softly answer for him, still entranced by the liquid.

“Yeah, that,” When you finally look at him your eyes are wide and mouth parted ever so slightly; you were looking at him as if what he just handed you was a free get into heaven ticket, and not some mediocre tea he had made in wait for you to arrive. He breaks eye-contact, blood roaring in his ears as goes back to tapping some sort of melody on the wood. You finally bring the vessel to your lips savoring the taste of the tea, and a syrupy sweet grin inches across your expression. Husk finds the grin to fit better than that frown from earlier. 

Tea long since finished, he found himself caught in idle chatter as he scrubbed away the days worth of muck and stains. This time armed with a moderately cleaner rag thanks to your insistence. Tone impossibly fond you spiel your thanks once more.

“Really Husk, thank you, the tea was the perfect pick-me-up,” 

“Ah, quit blowing it out of proportion. I didn't do much,” You only laugh once more at his vehemence in not accepting your gratitude. Humming thoughtfully, you straightened up as an idea struck. 

“You know…Chamomile is absolutely divine when mixed with Vodka,” Husk sends a prudent glance in your direction. Though you can practically see the interest he has in the idea with how he paused everything he was doing. Almost in accusation he raises an offending claw. 

“I thought you didn’t drink?” the cheeky grin you reply with almost has him roll his eyes. 

“I never said I didn’t, I just prefer my spirits mixed with tea. They tend to mesh deliciously,” The corners of his lips lift into a barely there crooked grin as he shakes his head. 

“No I guess you didn’t” he echoes in reply.  Before you leave, much later compared to the past, you mention something about green tea and whiskey. A combination he would have to try tomorrow when you would decide to visit the bar. Distantly he found himself looking forward to what would undoubtedly be more visits from you. All for the tea and booze of course…. And maybe just maybe you too.

⭒ end notes: guys I'm so rusty-- ignore any and all spelling/grammar mistakes it's almost 3am as of posting, and I have a 9am lecture tomorrow. Honestly HH has like become my new hyper fixation so maybe I'll write some more stuff for it we'll see. If not, guess I'll see ya'll again in nine months when I'm suddenly struck with the urge to write something </3 /hj I definitely want to be more active and make more indulgent things so I look forward to it!!

[kristsingto]

Thinking about the Mock-Trailer for The Ex-Morning

Pathapi is said to be the Best Reporter of the Year in the beginning. How. I want to know his career accomplishments so badly? I need to know how he got here!

I’ve been considering why Pathapi acts the way he does in the beginning. Has he always been like, since his university days? Or was it perhaps heartbreak and the passage of time that’s made him more like this? 

Aou is being made to play the exasperated best friend in Be My Favorite and the rival with coffee thrown on him in The Ex-Morning. Someone give both characters a raise. And a boyfriend!

I looooove the trope of the arrogant, whiny jerkass in a successful position who gets humbled. And that paired with him rebuilding his reputation with his ex-boyfriend of all people? I am so ready to see Pathapi’s character arc, and the things Tamtawan makes him do in this trailer makes me think he’ll get more in-tune with the spirit of good reporting and why it’s so important.

How does Tamtawan know and decide to come back? Obviously, he wants to help Pathapi and is still in love with him, but why did he leave? WHY DID HE LEAVE? Later in the trailer, when present-day Tamtawan leaves, it’s after he’s told “Tam. You have two options now.” What are the two options? The way Tamtawan leaves and the look on his face makes him look regretful, but what exactly is motivating him trying to leave here? Why did he leave in the first place? Does Pathapi know? His face looks half confused rather than just heartbroken!

What has Tamtawan been up to? I am intrigued.

The SOTUS reference in their university days flashback? I am obsessed. They were so sweet in that one frame, it makes me wonder how they fell in love. How different were they? How much of the same remains in them? How did they fall in love? Oh my god!

The transition from Pathapi being awkward with shirtless only-clothed-in-a-towel Tamtawan to taking his own shirt off and asking if Tamtawan has an ulterior motive to fluster him is hilarious to me. I love how forward Pathapi is here! And Tamtawan getting flustered is amazing. Oh my god, I love this trailer. It balances a comedic tone, angst, tension, etc all in one show. Can’t help but adore it.

“You’re still the same selfish jerk.” I need to know what happened! I said this above and I’m saying it again. I am intrigued.

Uni Tamtawan pulling Pathapi by his tie? I am obsessed.

The umbrella scene is both so very P’Lit and so very much a SOTUS reference, it delights me. I wonder how many SOTUS references we’ll have in the show proper.

I wonder if the car accident will coincide with the climax of the show.

That! Last! Scene! I suppose this is a scene when they’re hooking up but not properly together, seeing as they’re flirting, shirtless, and probably just had sex, but still won’t admit they still like each other. This sounds great to me.

I’ve mostly not talked about the meta elements here, because I feel it’s less about the contents of the actual trailer and more about the nature of the series as such a KristSingto RPF-type plot. Anyway, I love it. Everything about the meta of this series is perfect to me, and exactly what I wanted. This show is SO fun to think about when you know about the lore of KristSingto in real life. I’m half expecting Tamtawan to have hazed Pathapi at this point!

Side note that is not a side note: I LOVE THEIR ACTING! I love their characters!

Is this vers? I’m going to say it’s vers or Top Krist until proven wrong, because that last scene? Well. Let’s put the KristSingto into the KristSingto.

I love the small cast and the focus on KristSingto! I just need to say this. I am so excited for this comeback, in-part because it really is just Tamtawan and Pathapi’s story.

Tamtawan is supposed to mean “follow” and “sun” whereas Pathapi means earth/soil/ground. Coming off of KongArt, where Arthit is obviously “sun,” and KristSingto, who compare themselves to the sun and moon, this seems so definitely meaningful. Aof and Lit, I need to know what you’re cooking! 

The coals scene is sooooo perfect, both for the characters AND KristSingto themselves. Again bringing it back to the meta of it all, but, oh my god? This is perfect? Aof wrote a screenplay that was KristSingto RPF? On that note, I keep thinking about the idea of KristSingto channeling their feelings from the irl work-partner “break up” and it makes me go a little crazy. Especially with Krist talking about all his efforts to bring Singto back, and how he over-thought it when Singto left. And even more so seeing as they say they’re basically playing themselves.

The lyrics of the song used in the trailer are so fitting, I am now looping it and thinking about Pathapi and Tamtawan forever and ever.

I noticed that Tamtawan goes by “Tam” but did I miss it for Pathapi in the trailer, or do we get no indication of his nickname? I’m curious.

The “Begin Again” for the new Peraya Party speaks to both KristSingto and their new characters, and this is again making me go, oh god it’s true they’re just playing themselves.

I said my ideal KristSingto BL was a vers exes-to-lovers that parallels reality. Evidently, I was not alone.

Is it just me, or do the Pathapi + animals and Pathapi + soil degradation water scenes feel a lot like certain episodes of Friendship with KristSingto? Just me? Maybe it’s just Krist. I love him so dearly.

So much is revealed in this trailer, but that somehow makes me more intrigued about what is not being revealed to us?

Krist still goes for the top lip and Singto still goes for the bottom lip when they kiss. This kills me every time. I am so excited to see lovey-dovey Tamtawan and Pathapi!

[inbarfink]

I really just love “Turnabout Reclaimed” as, like, the Big Moment of Phoenix’s Return to the Courts. Specifically because the whole thing in the ending where it’s like

I mean, you know, not 100% literally. It seems like Marlon Rimes did go to jail for a little bit, but it is still thanks to Phoenix presenting Evidence in Court that he got off relatively easy and found his happy ending just a few months after that.

Because, like… As a Murder Mystery, ‘Ace Attorney’ as a series obviously cares about Finding the True Culprit and Bringing Them to Justice - that is the climax and the implicit motivation of like 90% of all AA Narratives… But it’s also very important to me that Phoenix Wright is often much more emotionally involved in the idea of defending innocent people, rather than simply just stopping the bad guys.

Like, obviously this isn’t universal for his character. With the plots of AA cases centering, like I said, on Catching the Bad Guys, there are plenty of times where Phoenix declares or thinks about his desire to Prove the Bastard Guilty….

But it feels like it’s much more common for him to focus on just proving the innocent guilty and saving them from going to jail for a crime they didn’t commit, and it’s just that Proving the Bastard Guilty is the only way to do it within Japanifornia’s Legal System. And he’s not just more likely to think of it in these terms compared to other Murder Mystery Protagonists, but also compared to other Ace Attorney main characters!

Like, this is what being a Defense Attorney means to Phoenix! Between the Class Trial and his life mission to save Miles Edgeworth and the Dahlia Trial and taking on Maya’s defense… it has always been to him not just about finding the Truth or bringing people to justice, it has been first and foremost about helping people, saving those who have no one on their side! This is Phoenix's core value.

(I would say the one AA Character who is just as dedicated to Defending the Innocent above all else like Phoenix is…. Athena, who is also heavily featured in “Turnabout Reclaimed!)

So it only makes sense that his Grand Return will end with a reaffirmation of his ideals. First, through the entire case Marlon insinuates and then states directly that Phoenix cannot save both Sasha and Orla at the same time. He has to choose, the human or the Orca. And Phoenix managing to prove them both innocent is him proving and reaffirming that he really cares about defending everyone who needs his help. And then when he goes out of his way to help out Marlon, to save him from the harsh punishments of the legal system and his own guilt, that just reaffirms it even farther - that Phoenix Wright is a Defense Attorney so he can defend anyone who needs his help.

And it also works interestingly as a mirror to his downfall in “Turnabout Successions”. Like, it seems like Zak hid the Actual Diary Page from Phoenix even though it wouldn’t have just foiled Kristoph’s schemes, it would have helped Phoenix prove him innocent with his hand behind his back…. Because he was afraid that if he was proven innocent in that manner, then his lawyer would work to make sure Valant would be found guilty instead.

He thought that if this trial were to go ‘properly’, then he would have to choose, himself or Valant, he can’t save both at the same time. And indeed, since Kristoph created that Fake Diary Page before he was dismissed as Zak’s lawyer…

It seems like pinning the blame on Valant was indeed his plan. And although Zak sensed (or rather Perceived) his Bad Vibes, he still didn't have full trust in Phoenix either. He hid the true evidence of his innocence and planned the Disappearing Act because that was the only way he could see both himself and Valant going free, he couldn't believe his Attorney would ever fight as hard to prove Valant innocent as well. And these two decisions played an incredibly huge part in Phoenix Wright's disbarment.

So in a way, Turnabout Reclaimed, being another case focused on shows and performances and other ‘murder mystery’ where no one was actually murdered, where Phoenix defends and saves not just two different Defendants but also the ‘culprit’ - guilty of trying to frame someone but not of trying to kill the victim … shows us what would’ve happened if only Zak had put his trust in Phoenix fully and just told him what happened outright from the start. It is not just a reaffirmation of Phoenix’s values, but also a rejection of Kristoph’s dirty tricks and of Zak’s cynicism and lack of trust in Phoenix Wright.

Or basically….

[dcdreamblog]

Speaking of Infinity Inc, didn't half of those guys go evil or something (Northwind, Silver Scarab, Atom Smasher, Brainwave Jr., the aforementioned Obsidian, etc)? What was up with that team?

What a very rude way to phrase that when you're talking about people's trauma. I'm going to assume well meaning ignorance and answer this as professionally as possible.

First of all, as much as you might think otherwise from how I casually communicate. My profession doesn't like to throw around the term "evil" lightly. It's too easy. When we study supervillains or other extranormal criminals to simply label them "evil" is to at once dismiss their humanity and also let them off the hook for their actual motivations. Supervillains aren't evil. They're greedy, or bigoted, or arrogant. These are human beings. They make choices. Often not good ones but to ignore the root of the problem is to allow it to keep sprouting under our feet. The four people you cite. That is Norda Cantrell, Hector Hall, Albert Rothstein and Henry King Jr respectively, not counting Obsidian. 2 of them made choices that the majority (including me to be clear) disagree with and the other two were swept up in circumstances outside their control. The controversy surrounding 3 of these men has to do with, of course, the Kahndaqian Revolution and following Black Marvel Crisis.

(A photograph taken from the body camera of a deceased Bialyan mercenary. Showing Cantrell, King and Rothstein on the right side alongside Black Adam, Eclipso and Nemesis)

I'm sure most people are familiar with the broad outline. The superhuman Black Adam engineers a violent revolution against Kahndaq's military dictator Asim Muhunnad with the unwitting help of the Justice Society. Installing himself as Kahndaq's unquestioned and beloved ruler, Adam assembles these so called "Champions of Kahndaq"

Rothstein and Cantrell are there by their own free will. Having become disillusioned with the moral limits placed upon superheroes in the general community, namely the limit on killing their opponents. Cantrell because of a violent attempted genocide on his people, the Feitherians and Rothstein because of trauma related to the death of his mother causing him to murder the villain Extant to return her to life. After the confrontation between the JSA and Black Adam, Rothstein was medically dead for a short period. Brought back to life by Adam's lightning and returned to America for treatment, Rothstein had begun to question Adam's motives and especially his dictatorial attitude. Pleading guilty to his international crimes he received a pardon after rejoining the JSA in their clash against Adam regarding his attempted genocide in Bialya. As of this moment he remains a member of the modern JSA in good standing having paid his debt to society and having proven his valor in standing up against his former ally at risk of his own life. I cannot force you to forgive him but to call him evil is to undersell the complexity of his motives and actions. Cantrell, as of this time is still loyal to Adam mostly due to Adam's support for turning part of Kahndaq into an autonomous homeland for the Feitherian people. I have complicated sympathies for that situation but would also not call it evil. King's membership here became much more complex than it appeared. King struggled for years due to guilt associated with his father, the original Brainwave and their shared powerset and mental illness. Like Obsidian, King was affected by the collapse of Infinity Inc and his support system. Exacerbated, it turns out, by a his brain being infected by the alien parasite Mr Mind, feeding on King's telepathic abilities and exacerbating his violent urges. When Mr. Mind was removed from his brain, King was placed under the care of his mother and has been retired ever since. Again, not evil, not even truly making choices in his own right mind in this case. Simply a vulnerable young man being taken advantage of by a nonhuman creature. And the Silver Scarab, AKA Hector Hall is a bit of an old example to bring up. Because all of that mystic hullabaloo that caused him to attack his teammates also wound up killing the man seemingly for several years until he was resurrected in possession of his faculties and is now the person active under the identity of Doctor Fate and he has been for an extended period by now. The superhero life is traumatic. I can only imagine the kind of stresses it places a person under, especially teenagers who are laboring under the expectations of legacies that overshadow everything about their lives. To simply say they "went evil" like it was a switch on the back of their head is to undercut the actual stories that these people went through and the lessons that we might learn from them. Or simply the acceptance that our fellow humanity, even super-humanity, is fragile and vulnerable even when we have the best of intentions for ourselves and those we care for.

[julianalvarez9]

you are in love / christian pulisic

author's note: saw @dinonuggiesforliferz asking for some fluffy christian and thought that i could try to write something to unlock my writers block so here we go 🤭

summary: the four times he wants to say that he loves you, and the one time he finally does.

word count: 1.9k

01.

christian and you had been dating for almost two months now, after having met through mutual friends. you had nothing to do with the thrills of the fame he had been so accustomed after all these years in the spotlight, and he couldn't be more infatuated by the breath of fresh air that your presence brought onto his life. today was the first time you came to the bridge, after a bit of begging and a few failed tries from your boyfriend. of course, he understood your motives and why you didn't want to risk being seen there, due to the spark of rumors it would light up, so he didn't push you to it: but you knew he really needed your support for this match, and you couldn't say no to that.

the adrenaline that comes with the win fills your veins, and you rush to the tunnels following the team a few minutes after they finished clapping for the fans that came to support them. you wait for christian outside, making small talk with the people that were at the box with you, other girlfriends and families from the players. one by one they start to come out: you see them greeting their loved ones, some even rushing out to leave the building for some well deserved celebrations after today's achievement. you don’t quite know all of them yet, but you can quickly recognize mason, ben and kai, some of christian's most close friends, and they kindly join the conversation you had going on while waiting on your boyfriend.

the first time the the sensation comes, christian feels it on his cheeks, and the way that they warm up at the sight of you talking so freely with his mates. he doesn't get it at first, why he can't contain the smile that's painted on his face and the wrinkles of happiness adorning his soft eyes. he walks up quickly to you and embraces your figure from behind, lips coming to kiss your temple: an indirect form of saying the three words without actually verbalizing them. you hum at the warmth his body brings, and reach your cold hands into his hot ones to find some kind of heat in the cold london weather. even if christian doesn't quite understand what he feels yet, mason smiles at the sight of you two, because he knows.

02.

the day had been sunny to begin with, prompting christian and you to take a walk to the park near his home. the stroll was peaceful, not a minute of uncomfortable silence between you two while he talks about his day and how training went, and then the conversations drifts into your studies and your family. at first, you hadn't sensed the little rain droplets kissing your skin, and when you became aware of it, it was too late. you should have seen it coming, already familiar with the changing weather in london, but you're too busy trying to catch christian, laughs and agitated breaths filling the empty streets after everyone had seemingly looked for refuge from the pouring storm. even if you did it as quickly as you could, matching his pace had proven to be rather impossible due to him being a literal top athlete, and the two of you reached the final destination completely drenched.

your boyfriend quickly hurries you into the bathroom so you could take a warm shower, and even when you tell him that you wouldn't get sick if you stay in your wet clothes, he has already closed the door before you can say anything else. christian leaves a change of clothes for you to use, and you sigh contently when you can recognise the smell of him in them. by the time you go back down, the rain has already stopped and he's wearing nice, dry clothes, eliciting a smile that you can’t help but show at the sight of the man in front of you, drying his wet hair with the towel at hand.

christian feels it again, now on his chest. the view of you swimming into his clothes way too big for your figure tugging at his heart, pleading him to say the three words he's been forcing to keep to himself. he shuts the thought quickly, before it can cloud his judgment and convince him that muttering his feelings would be the right thing to do at the moment. it's not like he's purposely hiding them from you, but he fears it's still too soon, and he doesn't want to risk it. "you look good," he forces himself to say instead, drowning out the other three words he wants to let out. you snort at his compliment, blurting out "you only say it because i'm your girlfriend" and stopping yourself right before saying the remainder of the sentence. you only say it because i'm your girlfriend and you love me, you want to conclude, but neither of you had categorized your feelings into love previously, and since you don't want to assume, you have to remind yourself that it's only been three months. don't scare him off.

"i say it because it's true," christian finishes, planting a kiss on your forehead and closing his eyes in the process, pouring all his affection into the little gesture.

03.

it's one of the few weekends he's got free, and you had invited christian to spend the afternoon at your house, watching movies and cooking dinner together. the evening had proven to be just what you two needed after a few weeks of not seeing each other due to his busy schedule and the hectic exam season you had in college. unfortunately, you were still sleep deprived after days and nights of studying nonstop to ace your tests, so after the delicious dish you two had made from scratch and the second movie of the night, you fell asleep on christian’s arms. he noticed almost instantly that you had dozed off when you failed to comment about the last dumb joke that the protagonist had said, and at first, he debated about what he should do; whether to let you sleep it off or wake you up. he also didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, being the first time that he would stay the night at your house, so he decided that the best choice was taking you upstairs, to your bedroom, and he would sleep in the living room.

christian feels it on his fingertips, digging softly into your skin while carrying your figure up the stairs. when you notice the movement, still drowsy with sleep, you protest against it, murmuring something about being too heavy for him to carry but he denies, tucking you tighter against him. when he finally reaches your bedroom, kicking the door softly so he can make his way in, he lays you carefully on the mattress. christian looks at you adoringly, eyes full of love at the mere sight of seeing you so peaceful on your bed, and that's when he feels it slipping past his lips, the three words he's been trying to say for a while now. 

“stay,” you mutter, voice almost inaudible, before he can say anything. your eyes are still closed, but you show signs of consciousness while holding his hand, the one he had been previously stroking your cheek with. “i don’t want to sleep alone tonight”.

04.

christian was never one to enjoy going out if it was just him. he was always dragged by his friends, who had recently found out that if they convinced you to go too, the probabilities of chelsea’s number 10 to be at the bar increased by 100%. he doesn't really like to drink or dance either, but just being seated by your side with a beer in hand doest it for him. hearing mason and ben speaking nonsense and making everyone around laugh definitely helps, even more when he gets to hear you giggling too.

he doesn’t remember a time where he had seen you drunk, but he’s amazed at the sight. the inhibitions that made you appear shy to others were melting off by the alcohol, and you were cracking jokes that made everyone around cackle with laughter. it doesn’t last long, though, and christian finds out that you're the cuddly type of drunk, but he doesn't mind it either. he finds it funny how you insist on telling him that you're only a bit tipsy, and even if he pretends to believe you,  the giggles that escape your lips at hearing the dumbest puns only confirms your slightly intoxicated state to him.

christian feels the three words at the tip of his tongue while you two hop onto the car that will take you back home. he doesn't say them this time, because he wants you to know that he really means it, and it's not a result of the alcohol cursing through his veins. tomorrow, he promises to himself, and hides it back where it came from, the soft spot on his heart reserved for you only. the words linger at the back of his mind, living there as a form of reminder for his sober self. you kiss his cheek on the back of the cab while giggling softly like a schoolgirl with a newfound crush, and the soft gesture only reassures what he already knows.

05.

the rays of sunshine are the ones responsible for waking christian up the next morning. he doesn’t feel quite as bad as he had thought he would, but still, he curses himself for not closing the blinds the night before and making him wake up way too soon. it takes a second for christian to remember that you’re lying beside him, and he slowly turns around to see your beautiful face once again. except, you're not there, and the sheets beneath his fingers feel cold, making him frown in confusion. had you gone back home without waking him up? were you gone?

he hears sounds coming from the kitchen while he’s making his way downstairs, and the brightest smile shows on his lips when he sees you plating what he guesses is breakfast. when you lift your eyes you see him, leaning against the doorframe, his perfect dark curls everywhere only accentuating  the fact that he had just woken up and instantly left the bedroom to look for you. “i made us breakfast,” you shyly say after coming close to his figure and getting on your tiptoes, planting the softest kiss on his lips. christian feels it lighting up his brown eyes then, warming them into a caramel shade, only for you to see. that’s when he feels the words erupting from his pores, and realizes there's no point in hiding them any longer. "i love you," he says, warmth spreading all over his body not only due to your own, tightly pressed against his, but for the relief he feels after finally mumbling the three little words he's been trying to say to you for way too long. he has finally said it, and though he doesn't expect you to say it back, his heart grows twice its size when you actually do, the three words muffled into his chest, where your head rests. 

"i love you more, sweetheart".

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog Ch6-7: Living Armor Double Feature

He looks so SAD... I'm so glad he'll get to eat it before this is over!

[flashbackforward to Marcille conducting Falin's resurrection ritual]

...girl.

actually, this DOES seem ooc in retrospect. Marcille is so fierce in defense of "ancient" magic. Is the magic that would be used to animate armor somehow more evil than what is on average required for dungeon creation and maintenance?

.

I"m not going to screenshot every motif of the winged lion, but it sure if big and impressive in the archicture of this living armor hall. The lead armor also has a leonine helm. My understanding is that this furry fucker is the demon that's somehow at the root of all the trouble here, sating desires presumably in exchange for feeding on souls. So my question is: was he always a guardian and symbol of the Golden Kingdom and the people in it were always being played, until suddenly the Mage made a Deal that made it all much worse? Or did a demon come in a usurp the local mythology/symbology? OR did the lion demon drop in and the dungeon looks like this because of it, because it helped build this place... I just saw the Golden Country episode and they seemed to believe the lion was a traditional symbol and guardian of their kingdom, but ngl I don't 100% trust the memories and/or perception of a bunch of trapped incarnate ghosts.*

*I know they're still alive, but for all intents and purposes, they're ghosts.

.

Understanding as a path to compassion, acceptance, appreciation, respect, and even alliance? Sure, whatever. Have you tried understanding as a path to KILLING IT AND CONSUMING IT FOR YOUR OWN GAIN!

.

I love the periodic implications that there's academia about all of this. Laios isn't alone! He's just a rare field researcher!

.

"It's definitely not cursed, I can tell!" -the calm words of a man whose word you can and should totally trust that his cool new sword isn't cursed.

Srsly though I love that for all intents and purposes Laios got a magic sword as a narrative reward for his first big breakthrough in careful scientific observation-based understanding of a monster in order to kill it and eat it. Except instead of magic (as proven!) it's got a creature in it...which WOULD make it "cursed" in the eyes of many, who hate and mistrust monsters, but to Laios it's a potential friend! Though later re: Ann the kelpie he says that monsters can't be trusted because they have their own, inhuman instincts and motives, he's clearly willing - nay, eager - to extend trust here. Even if he just wants to observe the mollusk, keeping it in his sword for that is a pretty big leap of faith. He needs his sword to survive, and moreover to save Falin.

In an ideal world, the wings on the hilt would get enchanted so it can literally fly to his hand when called. Laios deserves to have a loyal trained flying mollusk sword.

.

I like that not everything they make tastes good (here: living armor mollusks steamed in the armor). It's obviously thematically important that it USUALLY tastes good, even great (thanks to Senshi!), but it's realistic that sometimes attempts at food just suck.

.

THE WORLDBUILDING IS JUST SO GOOD /sobs

[isagrimorie]

I just want to bite into Ahsoka and Huyang's discussion re: Sabine and the Jedi.

First, I love how Ahsoka is protective of Sabine.

Sabine: Well, I discovered that according to Huyang I’m the worst candidate to be a Jedi out of every Jedi he’s ever known.

Ahsoka: You said that?

Huyang: It's true. (Savage!)

I love how annoyed Ahsoka is at Huyang for getting in Sabine's head.

And then later, I love that Ahsoka and Huyang pick this discussion again:

Ahsoka: Well, what you said didn't help.

Huyang: I only spoke the truth. The Jedi Order would not have accepted her! She is not an acceptable candidate!

Ahsoka: By their standards.

I love this because it is true, that Sabine wouldn't have been chosen to become a Jedi by the High Council. At the same time, Ahsoka mentions that the Jedi Order doesn't exist anymore. Still, it also feels like when Ahsoka says: "By their standards", this echoes what Anakin told her when he decided to accept Ahsoka as a Padawan.

Anakin: You're reckless, little one. You wouldn't make it as Obi-Wan's Padawan. But you might make it as mine.

(THE MUSIC BTW. I didn't realize it was the start of Ahsoka's theme and then it starts playing when Ahsoka walks away from both Anakin and the Jedi Order, and then it plays a more somber tone when Ahsoka and Vaderkin fight in Twilight of the Apprentice).

Obi-Wan very nearly didn't become a Jedi Padawan, Anakin was too old to become a Jedi learner, Ahsoka was too reckless, and Sabine would never have passed the first set of tests.

Unconventional Lineage indeed, or as we like to call them fondly, the Disaster Lineage.

But also I keep thinking back to what Ahsoka said in the first episode: "These days there are few who could wield the Force."

This seems to greatly sadden Ahsoka. There used to be thousands who could use the Force, not just Jedi, but Nightsisters and various non-Humans. Now they're a fraction of a fraction, and I feel this is one of the reasons that motivates Ahsoka to teach Sabine.

So some aspects of her culture can survive.

Huyang: Standards which were proven over a millennium.

Ahsoka: And failed.

This seems to be a controversial statement but also she lived it. She witnessed how much the war ate at the Jedi. It's been a question she's pondered since she was 14 when Barriss spoke about her concerns about the Jedi becoming soldiers.

And becoming so closely entangled with government interests that it seemed to supersede even the Jedi Order's own codes. Of course, the Jedi should and did help protect people in the war but it didn't help that they became the Generals and the Face of the war.

Ahsoka came by her complicated feelings for the Jedi honestly. And I'm so interested in how much she wants to put all that she knows about the philosophies and teachings up into the light for scrutiny. To poke and ponder, and maybe tweak.

If there end up two schools of Jedi somewhere out there in the universe, one traditional and one non-traditional I'm all for it.

(You could say it's a schism kind of like when the Roman Catholic church and Greek Orthodox church did their own thing. In Martial arts ways -- having two schools of the same style but different philosophies. Two Dojos!

Like the Saotome School of Musabetsu Kakutō Ryū or Anything Goes Martial Arts and the Tendo School of Anything Goes Martial Arts. Except it is the Skywalker and the Tano School. And then the two heirs of the school marry to unite the schools! Okay, okay I'm getting way too anime about this).

But also Ahsoka tells Huyang:

"I don't need Sabine to be a Jedi. I need her to be herself."

And I think it also boils down to this -- it's why she also doesn't care if Sabine doesn't fit the box of a Jedi because Sabine can be anyone she needs to be.

I have to say again, I am actually happy Ahsoka has complicated feelings for the Jedi. I was worried she was just going to be Zen Ahsoka, the way she was on Rebels.

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

Hi!! Could I get some hcs of The 03 turtle boys with a gender neutral friend reader who’s a news reporter like older versions of April is, where the reader vaguely hints at oh I think Casey’s kinda cute so the turtles decide they gotta play wingman to their friends….!!

Thank you so dearly if you do end up writing some hcs for this scenario 💜

Okay I’m just gonna say, I love this and also I love that there are other people who like Casey LMAO (I love that giant ass himbo.)

Your Faithful Wingmen!

🖤🏒2003 Casey x Reader🥅💀

Word Count: 895

CW: gender-neutral reader, platonic relationship w/ the turtles, more fluffy and silly. Also BOOM, instead of headcanons, I figured why not do a whole fanfic of it, maybe sometime in the future I could make a part 2 to this, but I’ll save that for when proper motivation returns to me 😭

🖤🖤🖤

Being a News Reporter with big dreams, you were always looking for something new, something BIG that could rocket you into public recognition; and it was hard. You were just a local News Reporter doing smaller jobs, and it frustrated the hell out of you, understandably enough. Though it was a terrible idea to start looking into some serious stuff that not many covered, such as these break-ins and fights going on with mutants and these weird ninjas…

Going to investigate one night led you to being captured by the Foot Clan, and you certainly thought you weren’t gonna make it out. Luckily, you were proven wrong when four mutant turtles and a guy in a hockey mask saved you. Once everything cleared, your life changed forever, for the better of course.

Meeting the turtles, Casey, April and Splinter was probably the best thing that ever happened to you, not only that, doing a small News Report on ‘Mysterious Heroes’ definitely got you recognized, though some people thought you were crazy, most were definitely intrigued. 5 mysterious men in the night fighting ninjas? In New York? Things had gotten interesting.

After finally being skyrocketed, your private life has gotten more entertaining. Four mutant turtles as your friends? That’s sick! They were all fun to hang out with and they all had their own thing going for them, like Leo, the leader in blue trying to keep his brothers out of trouble, Raph, a turtle with major anger issues but has a soft heart, Donnie being a literal tech genius and a mechanic, and then there’s Mikey who was just the definition of chaotic good, the dude was crazy! April, she was a smart woman, and she was also easy to talk to, and you always felt comfortable with her. Splinter was like a father to you, and he had definitely helped you when you had some mental struggles… And then there was Casey. Oh, Casey was stupid and stubborn, but he had a good heart, and for some reason, this HIMBO, he ended up making your heart flutter and your face red. Somehow, this man, the man you sometimes bumped heads with and drove you up the wall, was the one that made you feel this way.

To say that nobody noticed was a lie, and guess who the first one was to notice? Yup, Raph. He was the one to notice that you were crushing on his good ole pal, Casey Jones, and was he gonna keep it to himself? Well, actually yeah, he was planning on it, until Mikey himself realized and went and told just about everyone, he’s a bit of a blabber mouth. Luckily, the turtles stopped him before he could go and tell Casey, and instead, Donnie suggested an idea…

Why not set up a blind date? Leo at first wanted to stay out of it, but with the continuous pestering, he finally gave in. Donnie was the one to devise the plan, Mikey and Raph would be the ones to bring you and Casey on this blind date, while Donnie and Leo worked on getting some hockey game tickets… Was a hockey game really the most romantic date? No. But would it bring Casey in? Absolutely.

And so they got to work, Leo and Donnie got the tickets, and Mikey got you, informing you that you were going on a blind date, and Raph dragging Casey, telling him he had a hot date at the hockey game. When you finally met up with your blind date, you were certainly shell-shocked when you realized it was Casey, and Casey, surprised you were his date.

Being given the tickets, the turtles wished you off as you and Casey would head off together to this game, albeit, you were an awkward and nervous mess while Casey was cheering for this game…

The turtles were certainly hoping for the best, and they were excited when Casey slung an arm around your shoulders and led you into the place to watch the game.

Internally, you were flustered, but happy, and Casey was the one to start up the conversation. “So… The turtles set us up on a date.” He starts, “Do you think they were just matchmaking or?” He glanced down at you, curiously, and you thought to yourself, ‘Well, I never told them that I liked Casey, but maybe they noticed? Or maybe Casey’s right…’ you looked back up at him, “Maybe? Either way, I’m not complaining.” Casey looked a little surprised, but smirked soon after, “You saying you like me, sweetheart?” Your face went red, but you took a deep breath and hit him back with the, “Well… Maybe I do? That a problem?”

Casey’s face softened as his cheeks reddened, his smirk turning into a smile as he stared down at you, “Not at all, maybe I do too.” As he led you to your seats and sat down with you. You were both quiet for a moment, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable at all, you were just both kind of thinking, ‘Wow he/they like me!’ And to say that you were both cuddling before the game started would be the truth. That didn’t last long though, since well, once the game started, Casey was getting excited and jumpy, and all you could do was laugh and cheer with him.