#his tapes really really should’ve been playing in the background

[wchswift]

Under the Lights ༉‧₊˚ 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader Summary: A sweet and peaceful Christmas with Dean. Content: fluff, mostly soft moments, family, first Christmas at the bunker, I hate Mary but she is mentioned briefly, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 2k A/N: almost christmas and im so excited!! I really love christmas and lately these are the only ideas I can think of to write lol. i just love soft and happy dean so I thought I'd write a cute one shot about him having a good christmas bc all i wanted was to spend these holidays with him

mdni 𖤐 18+

Dean leaned against the doorway, the faintest curve of a smile playing on his lips. The sight of you, utterly absorbed in decorating the tree, tugged at something deep in his chest. The soft glow of the twinkling lights painted your face in golds and silvers. You were on your toes, reaching for a high branch, determined to hang an ornament in its perfect place. From his vantage point, Dean couldn’t help but grin. The way your nose crinkled when something didn’t sit just right, the soft hum of Christmas music as you worked—it all made the bunker feel a little less like a fortress and a little more like home.

The table behind you bore the chaos of your efforts—ornaments arranged and rearranged, tinsel spilling onto the floor like silken threads of moonlight. It was chaos, yes, but it was yours, and Dean found it impossible to look away.

“Sweetheart,” he finally said, his voice warm and teasing, breaking through the soft hum of Let It Snow playing in the background. “Not to rush a masterpiece, but you’ve been at this tree longer than it takes Santa to finish his route.”

You turned, giving him a mock glare, your lips pressed into a pout that was as endearing as it was teasing. “It has to be perfect, Dean.”

“It already is,” he countered, stepping closer, his hands casually stuffed into his pockets. “Lights, ornaments, a star on top—what more does a tree need?”

“Your enthusiasm,” you shot back, turning back to adjust the ribbon for what must have been the hundredth time.

Dean chuckled, moving to your side, sliding an arm around your waist, and pulling you against him. “My enthusiasm’s here,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. "I'm just more contained about it."

You let out a soft sigh, letting yourself lean deeper into his warm embrace as you closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the comfort he provided. "I know, Dean," you began, your voice gentle but filled with understanding. "But I also know how excited you get about these celebrations. Deep down, you wish for that typical family cliche, and you and Sam truly deserve it. I just want us to have a memorable time together… Could you please enjoy this too and get into the mood with me?"

You turned your face to meet his gaze, your eyes sparkling with hope and sincerity. Your tone was calm, and the warmth of your words seemed to hang in the air between you. Dean, ever the skeptic, tried to roll his eyes in playful defiance, but a smile broke through despite his efforts. The corners of his mouth lifted, and he leaned in, planting a quick, soft kiss on your lips before surrendering to your encouragement, as he usually did.

The sound of boots against metal echoed through the bunker as Sam descended the stairs. His voice rang out before he even reached the bottom. “Dean, what’s going on in here?”

Sam paused, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in the sight of his brother atop the map table, duct-taping garland to the ceiling beams.

"Decking the halls, Sammy. What’s it look like?” He replied, still focused on the lights.

“It looks like a fire hazard,” Sam deadpanned, crossing his arms as he took in the mess of lights, ornaments, and tinsel scattered across the room.

You emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of cookies, just as Dean hopped down from the table. “Sam, you should’ve seen him earlier. He tried to hang stockings with fishing wire.”

Dean shrugged, unapologetic. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "So, this is your new thing now? Christmas?” He muttered though a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh, come on, Sam,” you chimed in, setting the cookies down on the table. “It's the best time of the year. Even hunters deserve a little holiday spirit.”

Dean grabbed a cookie, pointing it at Sam. “She’s right. Stop being a Grinch.”

Reluctantly, Sam joined in, helping you and Dean finish decorating the bunker. By the time you were done, the usually cold, utilitarian space looked warm and inviting. Lights draped across the walls, the centerpiece Sam had crafted out of pine branches and candles sat proudly on the map table, and the tree sparkled in the corner.

Dean stepped back, hands on his hips, surveying the scene. “Not bad for a bunch of hunters, huh?”

Later that evening, the bunker had settled into a cozy stillness. Sam had retreated to his room, leaving you and Dean sitting by the softly glowing tree. The faint crackle of a vinyl record Dean had unearthed earlier filled the air, Bing Crosby crooning about dreaming of a white Christmas.

You leaned back against the armchair, watching Dean as he entertained himself by drinking his hot chocolate. The moment felt right, so you reached beside you and pulled out a carefully wrapped box tied with red string.

“Okay,” you said, your voice tinged with both excitement and hesitation, “before you make a big deal out of this, I just want to say that it’s practical.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose as he took the box, his lips twitching into a grin. “Practical, huh? Not sure what that means coming from you.”

“Just open it,” you urged, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.

Dean unwrapped the box with care, his grin softening as he revealed a thick leather-bound journal. His fingers brushed over the cover, and for a moment, he was quiet, his thumb tracing the edges of the pages.

“It’s, uh…” you started, your voice softer now. “I noticed you don’t really have a place to write things down—your thoughts, memories, whatever. So I thought… maybe you could use it. For good stuff. Things you want to remember. Not like hunting stuff or anything like your dad's but something good? Or whatever you want I don't know...” you rambled, feeling anxious.

Dean opened the journal, flipping through the blank pages. Inside the front cover, you’d written a small inscription in your neat handwriting: For all the moments you want to hold on to.

He stared at the words for a long beat before letting out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You know me too well, sweetheart.”

“I just thought,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “after everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to have something that’s yours. Something that’s just… good.”

Dean closed the journal and set it carefully on the table beside him. Then he turned to you, his green eyes impossibly soft. “You always know what I need before I even know it myself.”

Before you could respond, he reached behind him and pulled something from his jacket pocket. “Okay, my turn.”

He held out a small box, its edges worn, like it had been carried around for some time. “It’s not new,” he said, almost apologetically. “But I’ve been meaning to give this to you.”

You opened the box slowly, revealing a simple yet beautiful silver bracelet. The charms hanging were clearly chosen by a hunter, it was small and subtle, but unmistakable.

“It was my mom’s,” Dean said quietly, his gaze dropping to the bracelet. “She always said it was for protection. I’ve kept it all these years, but… I think she’d want you to have it.”

Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your eyes as you looked at him. “Dean, I… I can’t take this. It’s too important.”

Dean shook his head, reaching out to take your hand. “You’re important,” he said simply. “And if anyone deserves to have it, it’s you.”

You stared at the bracelet, overwhelmed by the gesture. Then, without a word, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. He held you tightly, his hand cradling the back of your head.

When you finally pulled away, you slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, smiling through the tears in your eyes. “Thank you, Dean. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will,” he said softly, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the record player. And as you leaned back against him, the bracelet resting cool against your skin, you felt a sense of belonging that you hadn’t known you were missing.

The warm connection from the gift exchange flowed naturally into the next day, making every interaction lighter, and more meaningful.

The kitchen was a flurry of activity as the three of you prepared dinner. Dean insisted on taking charge of the main course, proudly presenting a vegetarian lasagna for Sam and you.

“See? I’m not just a pie guy,” he said, grinning.

Meanwhile, you and Sam teamed up to bake cookies. It started out innocent enough, but it quickly devolved into a flour fight when Sam accidentally knocked over the mixing bowl.

Dean walked in just as you lobbed a handful of flour at Sam, only to hit him square in the chest instead. He froze, staring down at his now-flour-covered shirt. “What the hell, guys?”

Dean just watched you and Sam burst into laughter, trying to stay mad.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, brushing flour off his jacket. “Real funny. Guess who’s cleaning this up?”

“Not me,” you and Sam said in unison, making you chuckle again.

Dean shook his head, a grin appearing on his face despite his attempt to remain irritated.

Later that night, the three of you gathered in the living room, your plates cleared and the remnants of the day’s chaos tucked away. Sam stretched out on the other armchair with a book, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he occasionally glanced at you and Dean by the tree, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders.

The bracelet he’d given you caught the soft glow of the lights, its charm resting lightly against your wrist. You found yourself absently touching it, grounding yourself in the weight of what it meant.

Sam finally closed his book, setting it aside as he stretched his long legs. “You know,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “You two actually did a pretty good job. I think this might be the first time the bunkers actually felt… normal. Like a real home.”

Dean snorted softly. “Took long enough, huh?”

Sam smiled, his expression soft. “Yeah. But I’m glad we got here.”

Dean raised his mug in a mock toast. “To surviving another year and not burning the place down with Christmas lights.”

Sam rolled his eyes but lifted his mug too. “Yeah, yeah... To family.”

You lifted your own mug, smiling as you echoed the sentiment. “To family.”

The three of you sat quietly for a while, watching the lights twinkle on the tree. Eventually, Sam excused himself, muttering something about research, leaving you and Dean alone again.

Dean nudged you gently, drawing your attention. “Come with me for a sec,” he said, his voice low but insistent.

Curious, you followed him as he grabbed a thick blanket from the couch and led you up the large stairs of the bunker. He stopped at one of the heavy iron doors, twisting the wheel to unlock it before pulling it open to reveal the wide, open expanse of the night sky.

The cold air hit you first, crisp and biting, but the sight of the stars made you forget it almost instantly. Dean draped the blanket over your shoulders and pulled you close, his warmth a welcome contrast to the chill.

“Figured we could use some fresh air,” he said simply, his voice quiet.

You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as you gazed up at the stars. They glittered against the inky blackness, impossibly bright and infinite, like tiny promises of hope scattered across the sky.

“We really did it huh?” Dean murmured, his voice low and warm.

“Did what?” you asked, tilting your head to look up at him.

“This,” he said simply, gesturing back to the bunker. “Christmas. The whole thing. It’s not half bad.”

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, resting your head back against his shoulder.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The world felt distant here, the weight of hunting, loss, and responsibility held at bay by the vastness of the universe.

Dean’s voice broke the silence, soft but sure. “You know, I never thought I’d get something like this.”

You turned to look at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “Something like what?”

He gestured toward the stars, the blanket, the faint glow of the bunker behind you. “All this. A night where everything’s quiet. Where it feels like we’re not just surviving.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “You deserve this, Dean. You deserve nights like this and so much more.”

He looked at you then, his green eyes shimmering in the soft glow of the starlight above. A gentle smile played on his lips as he spoke, “So do you,” his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb grazed over your knuckles, sending a warm thrill through you. "Thank you." With a tender sincerity, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and lingering, filled with a depth of love and unspoken emotions that seemed to wrap around you like a cozy blanket, leaving you breathless in the stillness of the night.

The two of you stayed there, wrapped in the quiet and each other, until the cold became too much to ignore.

As you made your way back inside, Dean caught your hand, stopping you just before you reached the main hallway.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and rough around the edges. “Merry Christmas.”

You smiled, leaning up to give him a peck on the lips, your heart full. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

And in that moment, with the warmth of his hand in yours and the quiet hum of life around you, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time: hope. This was home—messy, chaotic, and imperfect. And it was everything you needed.

a/n: oh my god, I had so much fun writing this :) I don't know if I liked how it turned out that much, but I thought it was cute enough to post...

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[drakedoo]

My thoughts on the fnaf movie. ⚠️spoilers ahead, if you haven’t watched the movie yet, I urge you to watch it and then come back and read this⚠️

Hey, so I just got finished watching the five nights at Freddy’s movie and let’s just say it was pretty good. I don’t normally put out my thoughts on movies that I watch or reviews on them but I thought this would be a little fun and like I said if you haven’t seen it yet, I kindly ask you to go watch it and then come back here and read what I have to say so that I don’t spoil the fun for you. If you read this without watching the movie, please do not get mad at me for spoiling it because I did warn you and asked you to watch it first . Without further ado, here’s my thought on it.

Things I liked about it:

At first, I had my doubts with Matthew Lillard, playing William Afton, but he did an amazing job, especially at the end. I really enjoyed his take on our beloved villain of the story.

I found it really cool that one of MatPat’s lines is “but that’s just a theory.” because it references his oh so popular phrase that he always says on his channel.

The animatronics designs. I love how they look almost like they just stepped right out of the video game and look absolutely amazing and say what you will about them having red eyes, but I really didn’t mind it.

Foxy humming. There are parts were foxy hums while he hunts, and it brings back a detail from the game

The miniature doll of balloon boy popping up every so often in cabinets and scaring the shit out of Mike. He did what we were all thinking, and turned that fucker around.

The game poster in the background of the office

Some of the 2016 Halloween store, costume masks hanging on the prize counter wall, and a few Funko plushies scattered here and there

Mike’s little sister having the same legal name as me because it just felt refreshing and a little bit joyful, hearing, my name, said, over and over in one of my favorite things in the world

The animatronics, helping Abby build a fort in the pizzeria. I just found it really adorable and cute.

The living tombstone song playing during the credits. It brought a lot of nostalgia back to me.

Spring lock failure scene

OK now that I got through the things that I liked and enjoyed in the movie here’s the things that I wish could’ve been different and didn’t necessarily like or find necessary

I wish they there was more scenes at the pizzeria and a little more time with the animatronics because they were so cool, and I wish the movie was a little longer because it kind of just felt rushed at some parts.

I wish the spring lock screen was a little more than what we got and had a little little more dramatics I guess, like, for example, more violent thrashing, and more blood but I mean it is also a PG-13 movie so they can’t really have a lot of blood and gore

 I wish they actually played Toreador March at some point like they did in the trailer

Scott Cawthon should’ve been the one on that training tape

 I feel like Vanessa could’ve been written better . No hate to the actress though, because she was just doing her job and going off of the script.

I know we all wish we could’ve seen Markiplier since he’s the reason the game really took flight mainly but since he had scheduling conflicts with the iron lung movie, he’s working on unfortunately he couldn’t do it but it would’ve been really cool to see him in it.

So I had a lot more things I enjoyed and liked rather than not. I’m just happy we finally got a five nights at Freddy’s movie after many many years, and many many trials and errors, and rewrites. Mind you, this isn’t going to be exactly like the games because the movie is an entire new story and lore, with some five nights at Freddy’s game lore, mixed in(there’s so many different five nights at Freddy’s universe lores) if I had to rate it, I’d probably give it an eight or nine out of 10 because I actually thoroughly enjoyed it and it made my inner child really happy because in a weird way, Five Nights at Freddy’s saved my life because the lore and the games and the fandom, was my escape from my reality in school(I was what you could call a Carrie White in junior high and high school) and it really helped me find my passions, which was cosplay because some of my first cosplays were five nights at Freddy’s. So finally getting to see the movie we were promised is amazing and made 12 to 13 year-old me really happy.

Anyways, I’m gonna go to bed now because it’s almost 5 in the morning so peace out✌️

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Disturbia: Bo Sinclair x f!pregnant!reader

Part 2

Part 3

Part 1

Warnings: None

A/N: oh we did our research babes. Also so sorry for the wait, was working on my two other fanfics too. But here it is!

“We’re gonna measure that stomach of yours now, see how that baby is growing.”

You lay back and watch as the woman’s dark curls bounce behind her as Dr. Fredrick makes her way across the small room to grab a measuring tape. She rounds the bed.

“Okay, you have gotten this done before by other doctors but I just wanna reiterate for consensual purposes. I measure from the top of the pubic bone to your uterus. Is that okay?” The woman tilts her head a bit, you watch her kind brown eyes and smile.

“Of course.”

You watch as she pulls the measuring tape with zero slack. She smiles gently before leaning back up.

“Just as I thought, perfectly healthy, 24 weeks, 24 centimeters.”

You’re smile reaches from ear to ear, she helps you sit up and you hop off of the bed.

“You’re all good to go! Lab results will be in, in a few days so just call us back for those. You have a paper for foods for healthier nutrition and exercises, the number for the childbirth preparation classes, and your information for what preferences you have during birth. They’ll see you out front to schedule your next appointment. Should be four weeks from now and at that point we’ll check everything again and get your whooping cough vaccine okay?” Doctor Fredrick guides you out the door.

“Yes thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

“Have a good rest of your day now.”

-

You watch as the clouds roll in and pull your jacket over yourself more as you walk back to Bo’s truck. He sits in the divers seat, thinking. At least you assume so by his hand being over his mouth and him looking in the distance leaning against the window.

Bo has been that way in the past month you’ve known him. Always thinking.

You open the door and get in the seat. Heavy metal plays in the background. Bo’s shaken from his thoughts. You buckle yourself in and smile. “Everything’s going good! I’m so happy! I mean I did get nervous a few times I know I hadn’t seen a doctor in two months but a lot can happen in two months of a baby growing!” You explain, you set your papers in your lap and fold your hands over them looking out the window.

“That’s good, glad your baby is doing alright!”

There’s a tinge of fake enthusiasm in his voice. You don’t think about it too much and try not to roll your eyes.

You just assumed Bo didn’t like to talk sometimes and that was okay. But also this past month he’s gotten into more of an attitude. Either that or your hormones are too much and you’re getting more emotional. Either way he should’ve been more considerate with you.

Though, you were staying with him and you’re under his roof. So you don’t say anything. You stay quiet about it anyways because of your baby. Something about Bo just screamed that he liked to argue and shout. Which arguing and shouting isn’t good for the baby. Which means you gotta stay quiet to not cause that.

“Gonna make lobster rolls tonight hope that’s alright with you.”

You nod your head.

-

“Did you have a good day at work? I forgot to ask today.” You walk up to the house, Bo directly in front of you holding his keys.

“Yeah, actually got a couple and their kids who stopped by. Husband helped me a bit while the wife and kids went to the wax museum. Dead battery.”

You nod.

“Good! I just cleaned up a little in the house. At least where I could reach. Then watched a bit of TV.”

The door opens. You smell cooked food and scrunch your brows. You and/or Bo didn’t leave something on the stove did you?

You peak around Bo and one man stands in the kitchen. Long dark hair, he looks to be the same height as him. The man’s head turns.

Both of you look startled at each other. He wears a mask and that scares you and this is a man you have NEVER seen before inside a house you’re staying in.

“Goddamnit Vincent! I told you I’d cook for you while she was here. Get!”

You watch as Bo swats the man away from the stove and you tilt your head in confusion.

Now where have you heard that name before. You scowl and follow Bo into the kitchen. You look at the masked man, the mask resembles Bo’s face and looks like it’s made of- WAX! The wax museum.

“You do the art in the House of Wax don’t you?” You ask looking up at him.

The waxy mask looks down at you and nods. You smile at him. “Well it’s very nice to meet you Vincent… have you been here this whole time?”

You look between the two brothers. Bo was now at the stove and you and Vincent sat between the pool table room and kitchen.

“Yes, we-I didn’t want to make you feel unsafe. Having a masked man walking around the house is normal for us. Not so much for anyone else.” Bo explains, you tilt your head and smile up at Vincent.

“Oh you wouldn’t have scared me. I’ve seen worse. I apologize for Bo having to keep you away. Where are you living?”

You walk to the kitchen table and gesture for Vincent to sit to the left of you as Bo always sits on the right. He sits down with a loud thud making Bo jump a bit. You let out a small laugh.

Vincent starts signing and you blink on confusion.

“Oh! I don’t know much ASL! Let me get some paper real quick. I’m so sorry!” You get up and grab a pad and paper that you started to keep in the kitchen for grocery lists and hand it to him.

He writes down one word: basement.

“Oh! I didn’t even know you had a basement. Don’t you get lonely down there?” You ask. Vincent shrugs.

“He’s- uh, always been more of a loner type ya know. Doesn’t really talk to people.” Bo chuckles a bit and tosses some buns in the oven. Vincent nods in agreement.

“Ah, that’s okay. My mama was like that too. Didn’t really talk to anyone, except my daddy and me.” You shrug.

Bo walks over and sets plates in each of your spots. Vincent immediately picks up his food and leaves. You stop him on the way out. “Before you leave, I just want to say that you don’t have to stay in the basement all the time anymore. I’m so sorry that I was the reason you couldn’t come up. This is your house after all. You shouldn’t have had to accommodate for me. I- I mean I never even told Bo to stop smoking even though it’s bad for my baby. Cause that isn’t right it’s not my house.” You explain.

“Just… thank you. I appreciate what both of you have done. Even if I didn’t know you existed Vincent.”

You look at his face with a gentle smile. He gives a quick nod and leaves, probably going into the basement again.

“If you needed me to stop smokin’ I could’ve sweetheart.” Bo says a little aggressively. You shrug.

“It’s not my place. I would’ve if you were in my home but you aren’t. I’m in yours it’s just not polite.” You explain again. Bo laughs a little.

“I mean I guess. But I’ll keep the smoking to a minimum ‘round you and the baby. I apologize for not doin’ so sooner.” Bo takes a bite of his food.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

-

“Vincent why don’t you stay up here a bit. I mean Bo won’t let me go into the basement cause it’s dangerous but I’d like to watch you work on your art… not exactly a lot for a pregnant woman to do around here. Already organized all the rooms I’m allowed in.”

Vincent seems to hesitate. It’s not that he isn’t allowed upstairs for extended periods of time. It’s just that he hasn’t been for years and it almost feels wrong for doing that. He also hasn’t been watched by anyone when he makes his art.

Vincent doesn’t hate hovering and he knows you won’t do it but he’s so nervous. Then an idea sparks.

He nods his head finally and you smile. You’re still a novice at signing and understanding signs so he pulls out a pen and paper he decided to carry on him after you two met.

“Will you let me paint you?”

You take the paper from him, your eyes light up a little and you can’t help but smile bashfully.

“Oh! Of course!”

You feel Vincent’s energy spark up a little and he takes your hand guiding you to one of the chairs in the living room. He moves things out of the way and moves the chair up towards the middle of the living room. Vincent gestures for you to sit down and you do so.

He’s quick to leave the room and you look at your belly rubbing it as you wait. You wonder how Bo is doing. Recently you noticed he’s been getting up early and staying out late, so you don’t see him often. For two weeks you’ve been eating dinner alone and you wonder if it had to do with the baby and smoking. You hope not. You miss him so much and the little conversations you two had. He talked so much yet told so little.

But you enjoyed his voice so much, you enjoyed those small smirks and smiles, the way he’d take his hat off and run his hand through his hair, his face crinkling in focus whenever you would talk.

You sigh and frown a bit. You want to see him again.

Vincent is back up stairs after a few minutes, easel, canvas, and other paint supplies. He messily gets set up before sitting in a fold out chair that was sitting against the wall in the living room.

“You can talk.”

You smile. It’s like being back at the hair salon. Speaking of, you look at your hair and feel it before sighing. You really need to go.

“Well let’s see. What to talk about.. Well Jonsey and I took a nice walk around the property today. Just enough until I felt tired, wasn’t very long. Then we came back to the house and took a nap, she’s the best at snuggling!” You chuckle at the thought of the dog being near your stomach as you slept. Vincent nods in agreement.

“Yeah I love animals, I always dreamed of working as a veterinary assistant. It’s unfortunate I had to stop, but I might go back to school after the baby is grown a little. Gosh speaking of dreams I had a crazy one last night!”

You continue to ramble and rant for hours until your stomach grumbles. You look out the window and realize the sun is gone. “Oh! It’s probably around dinner time. Do you want me to make you something too? I mean you’ve been working hard on your painting and stuff I’m sure you’re hungry too!” You say getting up, you watch for Vincent’s reaction and he nods at you. He follows you into the kitchen.

You pull out a pan.

“I’m thinking grilled cheese and tomato soup. I dunno kinda feeling it for dinner. That alright?” You look up at Vincent. He nods his head as he opens the fridge to take some juice out for himself. He grabs a glass and pours some in then shakes the bottle at you. You shake your head buttering your bread and putting some cheese on the slices.

“No, just some water will be fine.”

You set the sandwich in the pan and go to grab a pot. The dishes cling against each other as you try and pull it out. Vincent grabs the milk jug and then pours you some filtered water (you bought it for yourself and the twins had been using it ever since). You take a can of tomato soup out of the pantry and crack it open, it falls into the pot with a ‘plop!’ You fill the can with milk and mix it with a spoon and pour that into the pot too before turning on the stove for it.

You flip over the grilled cheese. Vincent hands you the water and you take some sips of it leaning against the adjacent counter to the stove.

“Have you talked to Bo lately?” You couldn’t help but ask. Vincent shakes his head.

“Hmm, does he do this a lot?” You furrow your brows, a pit forms in your stomach.

Vincent nods.

You frown and sigh. “Well if you do see him. Don’t tell him I said this but, I do miss him. I dunno it’s silly. I haven’t even known him for that long. But he feels like a best friend to me. So do you of course!” You smile and flip the grilled cheese to check how it’s doing. You set that on a plate and start another one. “I know I say it a million times but I really don’t know what I’d do without you guys. I really don’t, I mean I could’ve been dead by now if it weren’t for you two deciding to take me in. I really appreciate it.”

Vincent gives you two thumbs up and you laugh. You go and grab two bowls from the cabinets, then two spoons from the drawer. You stir the soup and wait until it bubbles. You flip the other grilled cheese while you wait and cross your arms.

“I think I’ll make him lunch and bring it to him tomorrow. Only issue is I can’t walk from here to the gas station… Sorry to ask but do you think you can give me a ride?”

“Well I can give you a ride.”

You look at the kitchen entrance and see Bo. You smile gently at him. “Oh that’d be nice but I normally sleep later than you. I’d hate to keep you waiting or to have you come back up for me while you’re working.” You pour soup into two bowls and take the second grilled cheese and put it on a plate. You hand a bowl and plate over to Bo then take the other one and give it to Vincent.

“Well I’m sure-“

“Bo we’ve had this discussion before I don’t want to ruin you two’s routines cause of me, it’ll be fine. Actually I’ll just drive myself. It’ll be easier on both of you.” You conclude, setting another sandwich in the pan.

“Whatever.”

The night is silent after that. Bo finishes his meal and heads upstairs and Vincent finishes his but waits for you to finish yours. You set the stuff in the sink and before you have a chance to turn on the faucet and start the dishes Vincent points out the kitchen. You sigh and leave heading towards the living room.

You look at the easel in the living room and go around to look at Vincent’s painting. The sink starts running in the background as you observe what he drew and has so far painted.

You sit in a long lavender gown, it’s completely different than what you wear now (which was just some maroon dress and a black cardigan). Your holding your stomach and smiling with your head tilted. The shading wasn’t quite done yet but it was getting there. The painting was absolutely beautiful. You’d thank Vincent tomorrow and compliment him too.

Right now though, you’re too tired. You need to get to bed.

[luxshine]

“Yo  a ti, Cas” Or how mexican dubbing gripped us tight and raised us from Despair.

Ok. So I promised a big meta about the dubbing thing and so while I don’t have all the answers YET, here’s a bit of perspective on the differences between Despair and The Truth.

  First, a little background. I am a former professional dubbing translator. While I worked on anime series from Japanese to Spanish, rather than in live action ones from English to Spanish, the process is not that different. Also, I worked in Mexico, where Supernatural is dubbed, so that’s why I can make the assumptions I make. Finally, my specialization in college was translation from English to Spanish, so I guess I know what the hell I’m talking about.

  So let’s start on HOW you translate something for a dub. Back in the day, you got a ton of VHS tapes with the episodes on them with time codes, and, if you were lucky, a shooting script. This is to say, it was not a transcript of the actual words said in the episode, but the script BEFORE the actors, directors, and everyone else had a hand on what was said and changed. And thus, anything adlibbed? Is not going to be in that script which, at least for the anime side of things? Was a nightmare as the script was usually “And here X actor can say whatever they want” and I had to go and listen to the scene ten thousand times. Now a days, you get either a video file or a streaming link, and sometimes, the shooting script. If you get a script, btw, you can also not get a script in the original language. I know that the person who had to translate Sprited Away to Spanish was working off a German script, not the Japanese one. So yeah, some things can be lost in translation there.

  THEN you get to translate. BUT you can’t just translate word by word. You have to adapt it so that it will sound like something a person will say, and sometimes, literally is not the way to do it. And in particular, Mexican dubbing has a reputation to uphold as the “Neutral” dub that is send to most Spanish-speaking countries in Latin America, so we can’t use certain words (I don’t have the list at hand, but I remember that I couldn’t use “Llanta” for Tire, and so I had to use “Neumatico”. And no “sweaters” or “hotcakes” or stuff like that), AND we have to match the lips of the original video. Which is like, the worst nightmare ever because of what we call “labiales”, that is to say, the letters where lips close.

  I can’t tell you how much we all loved when a character gave a long winded speech with their back to the camera due to those damned closed lip letters.

  All this is to say that sometimes, the line could be “We are all in this together for good or bad”, and the translation become something more like “Estamos en esto, por las buenas o las malas” (We’re on this, the good way or the bad way) or “Estamos juntos en las buenas y en las malas” (We’re together in the good and the bad), depending on the translator, dub director, and voice actor.

  Depending on the client, that is, the original owner of the series, sometimes they will review the translation once it’s all dubbed and edited. I know that in the Avengers movie, a Disney rep was present on the cabin and forbade any changes from the script, which resulted on a couple of awkward lines in the end result. I don’t know if that’s the case for Supernatural, but I honestly doubt it. Still, translators can’t make huge changes for the dialogue. One couldn’t just ADD a relationship that wasn’t there, no matter what.

  (As an aside, due to the very conservative mindset of some tv stations, it’s more common that gay relationships become more ambiguous, by changing “I love you” to “Te quiero” which can be more of a filial love than a romantic one. And well, that one case in Sailor Moon where a gay character was changed into a woman because the dub director honestly thought the character was a woman. But that was in the nineties)

  Now, let’s go to how Castiel’s speech was translated.

  The original, according to Superwiki, went like this:

  Castiel:  You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.

Dean: Why does this sound like a goodbye? Castiel: Because it is. I love you. Dean: Don't do this, Cas. Cas.

  And the translation, as it was aired, went like this (And people, you have no idea the war flashbacks transcribing this gave me, so I hope you appreciate it):

  Castiel: Eres el hombre mas amoroso sobre la Tierra. Un hombre sin egoismo; el hombre mas generoso que haya visto, y que jamas vere. Sabes que desde que nos conocimos y desde que te saque del infierno, el conocerte me ha cambiado. Porque a ti te importa. Y a mi me importa. Me importas tu. Y me importa Sam, me importa Jack, me importa todo el mundo. Y fue por ti. Tu me cambiaste, Dean.

  Dean: Porque suena esto a despedida?

  Castiel: Porque asi fue. Te amo.

  Dean: Yo a ti, Cas. (The empty appears and Billie opens the door) Cas…

  Castiel: Adios Dean

  Dean: No!

  Ok. So… At first glance, they’re pretty much the same until we get to the I love you. BUT let’s dissect it a little bit.

  Cas begins with a “Eres el hombre mas amoroso sobre la Tierra” which is not how I would’ve translated “The most caring man on Earth” since “caring” is more like “Cariñoso” rather than “amoroso” which would be “loving”, and yes, there’s a difference. Plus, “el hombre mas amoroso” sounds a bit clunky, so Personally, I’d have gone with “Eres el hombre mas cariñoso en la Tierra”, that would’ve given us more time for the rest of the speech, but I wonder if the translator choice for Amoroso instead was more due to the fact that “amor” (love) is more clearly romantic than “care” (cariño, in a sense, more on this later) and so it foreshadows the end.

  Again, with the literal clunkyness we have “Un hombre sin egoismo” (A man without egoism) which sounds weird no matter what language you speak, and it should’ve been “Un hombre dadivoso” (A giving man) or “un hombre desinteresado” (a selfless man) although the second could be mis-construed as “a man without interests” so “dadivoso” would’ve better. But the more puzzling is that the Spanish separates the selfless man from the next, which is REALLY confusing as the English is “the most loving man”, which would be “el hombre mas amoroso” making it quite redundant, so the Spanish changes it to “the most generous man”, “el hombre mas generoso”. To add to this, Cas continues with “that I have seen and I will ever see” instead of “That I know”, because it’s far more poetic. And loving.

  So yeah, Mexican Cas is basically saying that Dean Winchester is made of love and puppies.

  Ahem.

  The next part “You know, ever since I pulled you out of hell, you’ve changed me” is more or less word for word, and the only thing that changes is that the English sounds more like a question and the Spanish one is an affirmation. YOU KNOW that ever since I pulled you out of hell, you changed me.” Little verb tense play, that doesn't change much except Cas’s resolution to say what he has to say.

  And then we get to the part that made me squeal out loud. Because we go from

  “Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you”

  To

  “Porque a ti te importa. Y a mi me importa. Me importas tu. Y me importa Sam, me importa Jack, me importa todo el mundo.” Which at first glance is the same, but NOPE.

  First change: The original is in past tense “I cared”. Spanish version is in present tense: “I care”.

Which is a little non important thing except when you remember that simple present means “immutable absolute truth that won’t change with time”

  Second, the choice of word for care.

  I mentioned before that Care can be Cariño, as in filial, non romantic love (Or romantic love pet name, as it can also be Darling. It’s one of THOSE words). Other translations for care include “cuidado” (as in attention, concern, keeping, and worry), and of course “interesarse” (Which also can be care), “preocuparse” (care, bother, trouble, mind, fuss), and yes, “importar” but “importar” ONLY translates to English as a verb as “import”, “matter” “amount to” and notice how none of those words include “love”.

  Mexican Cas is not saying “you love the world, and so I do”. Mexican Cas is saying “The world matters to you, and thus it matters to me, but my feelings for the World (and Sam, and Jack) are not in the same league as my feelings for you.”

  And then Dean asks “Why does this sound like a Goodbye”, just like in English, in present tense…

  And Mexican Cas replies in PAST tense. “Porque asi fue”. And THIS is important because it means that everything he said before WAS the goodbye, and not what comes next. All the rest? Is in the past. “Because it was”. Not “Because it IS”. And the next part? Is their future.

  I love you.

  Te amo.

  Simple present. No ambiguity like “te quiero”. Spanish Te amo is for romantic love. Not brotherly, not family, not bro-mantic. ROMANTIC.

  It’s like “I’m IN love with you” (Although that’d be “Estoy enamorado de ti” and I doubt that would’ve fit in the time Misha spoke)

  And of course, the answer. “Yo a ti, Cas”. Not “And I, you” as I’ve seen it before (And I also thought it was, until transcribing the scene) but a simple “I, you, Cas.” Which ok, pretty cave-speak, but the meaning is pretty clear. Dean Winchester loves his gay angel.

  It is also telling that the empty doesn’t appear until AFTER Dean confessed, so no, Mexican Cas is not “happy with the saying”, he had to get to the “happy with the having”.

  And when Billy appears, it does seem as if he wants to say something more, but Cas is a love-sick selfsacrificing dumbass and so we all get our hearts broken.

I did get in contact with Dean Winchester’s mexican voice actor, and am waiting for answers to a small interview I did with him which includes the question “did that And I you, Cas” was in the script, and am trying to contact Castiel’s mexican voice actor. So I will be updating you on that. But I hope this clears up some of the questions about how Mexican dubbing made Destiel Canon :D

[taytrashmouth]

You can sing!?

18 Anarbor (I do not own this song)

Eddie Munson x female reader.

You had been friends with Eddie for a about a year and dating for about two months.

He had been trying to catch you singing, he had heard you singing softly to yourself in the kitchen once and it sounded amazing but you had stopped the second you realised he was there.

You were very shy, and scared of people hearing you sing but Eddie caught you whispering lyrics to yourself, humming, tapping your foot constantly.

Eddie came over to your apartment one day uninvited with the key you had hidden under the mat to surprise you with some flowers.

He heard the shower on and decided he would wait but as he walked down the hallway to your bedroom he heard you, he heard you singing.

He put the flowers on your bedside table and rushed to find your tape recorder and pressed play, recording your angelic voice singing the words to some Madonna song.

He heard the water turn off and your singing was reduced to a hum, he retrieved the tape from the machine and fetched your flowers, going to sit on your couch.

You walked out from your room in an oversized t-shirt that Eddie recognised from his own wardrobe, he had been looking for that shirt for weeks

Your head turned to the couch and you screamed as you saw someone sitting there, quickly realising it was Eddie.

“SHIT! Ed’s oh my god. You gave me a heart attack asshole!” You sighed, calming down.

“You can sing.” He smirked.

“What?”

“You. Can. Sing.” He shrugged putting the tape on to play, your voice echoing through your apartment.

Your cheeks went bright red out of embarrassment and shyness.

“I can’t believe you sing and you didn’t say anything!” Eddie exclaimed walking over to you. “These are for you babe.” He handed you the flowers as your rendition of material girl played in the background.

“You gotta join the band.” He announced.

Your eyes widened. “No way! Eds I can barely talk to other people let alone get on a stage and sing in front of them.” You half laughed.

“Pleaseeeee y/n” Eddie begged, falling to his knees.

“I-I don’t know, I can’t Ed’s I’ll ruin your show.”

“Not possible, not with that voice.” Eddie pointed to the mix tape that had reached an end.

“Compromise?” You asked.

Eddie raised an eyebrow as you fetched a tatty notebook from the coffee table.

“I-I wrote it, a song, it just looks like words but I think it’s pretty good….I based it off of a conversation we had, you were drunk.” You rambled.

“You wrote a song?!” Eddie exclaimed and you blushed again.

“I’ll sing it to you, and only you….and you can have it, if you want.” You explained.

“Deal.”

You had sat on the couch, legs crossed and eyes closed, taking deep breaths as Eddie waited to hear your voice again.

Eighteen, crazy

pulled up in your daddy’s car

you wanna move in with me

Guess we’re off to a heavy start

Your voice started slow and nervous as you eased into the lyrics, eyes staying closed as Eddie watched in awe and wonder.

Should’ve seen this coming from a mile away

Eighteen, crazy

I know what you want from me

I know what you want from me

You wanna piss off your parents

date me to scare them

Show them you’re all grown up

If long hair and tattoos are what attract you

Baby then you’re in luck

and I know it’s just a phase

You’re not in love with me

You wanna piss off your parents baby, piss off your parents

That’s alright with me

You continued singing until there were no more lyrics, your voice loud and confident now that you were in the moment. Eddie couldn’t help but fall for you more.

You caught your breath as you finished. Blush coating your face once more as Eddie’s lips met yours before you could open your eyes.

“I guess that means you liked it then.” You laughed.

“You’re joining the band, no buts, no ifs, no I’m scared, you are too good not to.” Eddie exclaimed. “And that song is perfect!”

“You really think so?” Nerves built in your chest already.

“I know so!”

Over the next few weeks you had eased into singing with the band, showing the guys how you wanted the beat to be and thats when your gig at the hideout arrived.

You let the guys play their songs for about an hour before it was time for your song, Eddie called you to the stage and you closed your eyes as you walked onto it, it was only like 30 people but to you it felt like hundreds.

You felt sick, like you were gonna freeze and ruin the show, throw up or something.

“It’s okay.” Eddie whispered to you as you heard the beat start to play from around you, the music loud as it took over your body.

Your combat boot tapped the stage to the beat, black ripped jeans swaying as you got ready to sing, you had a corroded coffin shirt on, tucked into your jeans, paper clip earrings and your hair in a high ponytail as you gripped the mic with both hands.

You started to sing, and as soon as you did your nerves almost evaporated and your eyes opened, your dark eyeliner almost helping you feel more confident.

You were loud and sang like you had never heard yourself sing before.

You saw Eddie’s smile from the corner of your eye as he moved over to you playing guitar as you sang to him, to the band, to the bar, to everyone.

The young girls in the back were dancing while everyone tapped their feet and nodded to the music.

So if long hair and tattoos are what attract you baby than your in luck

You pulled Eddie in by the shirt collar, creating a comfortable tension, matching the lyrics as you let go walking from one end of the stage to the other feeling confident and like a new person on stage, nobody knew who you were but you seemed so sure of yourself.

As the song ended you caught your breath with a smile, stating a very shy and small thank you, into your mic to the audience who was applauding which earned a small chuckle.

“Fuck y/n that was- wow.” Gareth smiled.

You smiled, feeling so happy.

You turned to Eddie who was staring at you in absolute awe.

“I love you.” He breathed out and pulled you into a kiss, passionate, dipping you as he did.

You quickly found your feet and shyly waved as the audience clapped and cheered again.

Wiping your smudged lipstick and laughing, as you all walked off stage.

“Love you too Ed’s.” You smiled now that you were behind a small curtain.

“Ahh, but I know it’s just a phase.” He shook his head and you playfully pushed his shoulder.

[ohmyjinsus]

the right reasons

yang hongseok x gender neutral! reader

recent college grads nonsense idk || 5.9k

** there is some drinking in this (they are of age, after all), but no swearing uwu**

finally, a fic not inspired by a taylor swift song, shocking, I know (I listened to cruel summer on a loop while I was writing this though, I think y’all will see why)

summary: when your best friend, hongseok, decides to audition for bachelor in paradise after graduation, you don’t want to believe it ….. mainly because you’re in love with him, even if you haven’t realized it yet

“Do you think I should apply?”

You look up. The two of you are watching The Bachelor in his apartment. Hongseok’s the only other person you know who’s into it. Once you found out, you immediately agreed to watch it together. Ordering takeout and making fun of the contestants has been your tradition ever since you met 4 years ago.

“I’m confused,” you say. You were checking your phone during the commercials.

“Bachelor in Paradise,” Hongseok replies, gesturing to the TV. “They’re casting for next season, there was an ad.”

“That came out of nowhere.” He doesn’t look phased.

“We’ve graduated now,” he says. “I don’t know what else to do with my life.”

“You have a point,” you reply. It’s been one month since all of you finished university. Lots of your other friends had jobs lined up beforehand, but you and Hongseok still have no idea what you’re doing.

“Right?” He grins. “I could go on, I’d have something to do, then I’d come back and I’d have a bunch of new Instagram followers and I could do sponsorships or something.”

“You realize that sounds crazy, right?” You grab a french fry from the box on the coffee table.

“It’s not!” You roll your eyes. “Think about it y/n, I’m smart, funny, attractive, nice-”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong, and wrong, but okay.” He laughs.

“I’m exactly what they’re looking for on these shows.”

“But you want to go on for the wrong reasons.”

“Shhhh,” he tells you. “Nobody needs to know that.”

“What’s your story then?” You ask.

“I grew up seeing my parents being so in love,” you make a gagging noise, but he keeps going. “And now, I want that kind of love for myself. The apps are just no good, and I need to find a special someone to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jesus christ,” you mutter. “You didn’t mention anything about your personal journey to find love.”

“Oh right,” he says. “Now that I’m finished university, my main focus is to settle down, get married, have kids, and I’m on my personal journey to find all of that.”

“Amazing,” you fake clap for him. “You’re a shoo-in.”

“There’s no harm in applying, right?” He shrugs. “I doubt it’ll lead anywhere, but it could be fun.”

“I guess so,” you admit. “Your chances are slim, but you never know.”

“What do you mean?” He says, offended. “Have you seen me in a swimsuit?”

“Shut up.” You throw your napkin at him, but you’re laughing.

Hongseok offers to grab you another drink, so you tell him yes. He doesn’t mention anything else about the show for the rest of the night. By the time you’ve gone home, it’s completely slipped your mind.

===

When Hongseok invites you over 2 weeks later, you assume he just wants to hang out and have dinner. You’re shocked when he sits you down on the couch and says he has news to share.

“You’re dating someone.” He shakes his head. “Someone died.”

“No,” he tells you, laughing. “I love how those are your first two guesses though.”

“What is it?”

“I got a call yesterday from the Bachelor in Paradise producers...”

“You’re joking.” You didn’t expect that to go anywhere. You just assumed Hongseok would send in his audition tape and never hear back. The possibility of him actually being on the show makes you feel uneasy. “Really?”

“Yes, y/n, really.” He sits down on the armchair, facing you. “They want to meet me in person next week.”

“Oh my god,” you say. “Congratulations.”

“You don’t sound that happy,” he smirks. “Are you jealous?” You shake your head right away.

“I’m just surprised.”

“You didn’t think they’d want me?” He asks quietly.

“No, of course not,” you reassure him. “You’re kind, and funny, and attractive, why wouldn’t they want you?”

“Exactly,” he grins at you.

“So are you gonna go?” He nods.

“Why not? The worst they could do is say no.”

“That’s so exciting,” you tell him. He seems very happy about it, and the last thing you want to do is bring him down. As his best friend, you should definitely be supportive.

“Will you come with me?”

“What?” You glance at him.

“Downtown, for my interview,” he clarifies. “I have to take the train down and meet them there, I don’t really want to go alone.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little bit,” he admits. “I’d just feel better if I had someone with me.”

“What about Changgu?” Hongseok shakes his head. “Shinwon?”

“You’re my first choice.” That catches you off guard. “We can make a day of it,” he suggests. “We can go to that bakery you wanted to try on Queen, and we can go shopping, get dinner, it’ll be fun.”

“Sure,” you say. Going on adventures with Hongseok is always a good time. “How long will your interview be?”

“They didn’t say,” he replies. “I just know it’s at 10 on Wednesday.”

“Cool,” you pull out your phone so you can put it in your calendar. “So if it goes horribly, I can cheer you up, and if it goes well, we can celebrate.”

“Sounds good.” He smiles at you. “Thanks y/n.”

You nod but there’s a small part of you that’s anxious. You decide to ignore your feelings for the time being. Your day with Hongseok is going to be great, you should focus on that and enjoy your time together.

===

Hongseok meets you outside the train station the morning of his interview. The first thing you notice is how nicely he’s dressed. As he gets closer to you, you notice he smells really great too.

“I should’ve dressed up some more,” you mutter, glancing down at your own outfit. You’re dressed like you’re going to class, while Hongseok’s dressed for a first date.

“You look fine, don’t worry.” He heads towards the entrance, so you follow close behind.

You were right to have Hongseok come early, as the train is at the platform the second you get there. He follows you to the back of the car, and sits down facing you.

He hasn’t seen you in person since he asked you to join him on this trip. Apparently he went on a shopping trip with Changgu yesterday. That’s when he got his current outfit.

“No wonder this cardigan is so nice, you couldn’t have picked out anything like that yourself.” Hongseok rolls his eyes at you, but he’s smiling.

The train leaves soon after. Hongseok watches out the window like a little kid. He keeps his eyes on the station until it’s all the way out of sight. And you keep your eyes on him until he catches you looking.

“Are you nervous?” You ask him. He shakes his head, but you notice his leg bouncing up and down.

“It’s just like a first date, right?”

“Exactly,” you reassure him. “And you’re great at those.”

“Are you sure?” He asks. “You’ve never been on one with me.” You don’t know how to respond to that. You almost want to tell him to take you on one. But you’re just friends, you remind yourself, you can’t do that.

“You’ve dated more people than I have,” you point out. “You’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The two of you sit in silence for a little while. Hongseok goes on his phone, so you focus on yours. You brought your AirPods so you can listen to music or watch a show while Hongseok’s busy with the producers.

“y/n-” You look up. Hongseok looks like he’s about to ask you something, but he hesitates.

“What’s up?” He shakes his head.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” He asks you. You know that’s not what he was planning on saying, but you go with it.

“While you’re busy, I’ll get us breakfast,” you tell him. “There’s a café across the street, let me show you.” You sit down next to him so you can show him your phone. When he leans over to get a look at the screen, you’re suddenly aware of how close he is. You push it out of your mind.

By the time you’ve planned out your day, you’ve arrived at the train station. The two of you grab all your things and leave the train. Once you’re out of the station, the interview location isn’t too far away. There’s still 20 minutes before Hongseok’s meant to be there. He’s adamant about getting there early though. Although he won’t outright say it, you can tell he’s nervous. No wonder he brought you instead of one of his other friends; they wouldn’t let him live this down.

Once you get there, there’s a line of all the other candidates running through the main hallway. You and Hongseok join the end of the line.

“You don’t have to stay,” he tells you. You shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you say. There’s a check-in desk a few metres ahead of you. “I’ll stay until you get past there.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Thanks.” You bump your shoulder against his.

He’s brought his application package with him, so you ask to look it over while the two of you wait. There’s tons of pictures of him, some of them shirtless, which you quickly flip through. Then there’s copies of all of Hongseok’s identification. At the very back, there’s the printed copy of his application. You move that to the front, flipping through to make sure he didn’t leave anything blank.

He never asked you to look over his online application before he handed it in, so you’re interested to see what he had to say. There are the stereotypical questions about his career, education, background, and all of that. But there are also some more personal questions further down.

Why do you want to be on this show? Are you prepared to get engaged at the end of the season?

Hongseok’s answer is cookie cutter perfect. He knows he’s the prime candidate for this kind of show. Kind, good-looking, easy to fall for. He’s played to all his strengths in his application. You know he’s lying about being prepared to propose at the end of the show, but everyone does that. His answer comes off as genuine though.

The line moves up a little bit while you flip to the next page. It’s all about his dating history. You’re shocked at how invasive these questions are. Then again, if it’s for reality TV, it has to be.

The first section asks for a detailed dating history from the past 5 years. You’re familiar with all of that. He’s never told you about any ex-girlfriends, or anyone he’s currently interested in. He’s a casual dater, and you’ve never seen him tied down for too long. The maximum amount of dates he’s been on with one person is 3. You haven’t seen anyone get past that point. He seems to get bored easily. You’re honestly surprised he’s been friends with you for this long.

Despite all of his casual dating history, he’s made it clear he’s ready to settle down now. You thought he was just making this up to get on the show, but the more you read, the less you’re sure. Maybe he’s just persuasive.

The line moves a little bit more. Now there are just 3 other people ahead of you. Hongseok’s on his phone again. You figure you have enough time to skim the rest of his answers.

Have you ever been in love? is the next question. You know the answer is no, so you’re surprised when there’s a couple paragraphs written underneath it.

I have, but I was never brave enough to act on it. You try to read the entire section as quickly as you possibly can, but your brain doesn’t work that well. You grab some words here and there, years, class, close friends but not enough to fully comprehend.

“C’mon y/n,” Hongseok says to you. “We’re next.” He holds his hand out for the folder.

You glance down at the page you’re on. Although you want to read the rest, you also realize you’ve stumbled upon something incredibly personal. Granted, Hongseok may wind up sharing this on national television, but for now, it’s none of your business.

“Here,” you close it and hand it to him.

“Thanks.”

Hongseok gets checked in soon after that. It takes about 5 minutes for them to verify his identity and double check his application. Finally, they direct him to a room down the hall where he’ll meet some of the producers. They tell you you can’t go beyond this point.

“Good luck,” you say to Hongseok, not sure what else to say. He smiles.

“Thanks y/n.”

Some of his hair is falling in his face, so you reach out to quickly brush it out of the way. When you pull away, he’s looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. It feels surprisingly intimate.

“Text me when you’re done,” you tell him, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “You’ll be great.”

He nods, and the two of you go your separate ways. You know you’ll see him again in an hour, but it still feels weird to say bye to him like this. You hope nothing changes if he does wind up on this stupid show.

You walk out the doors onto the sidewalk again, thankful for the fresh air. You pull your AirPods out of your bag, so you can listen to some music. As you walk along the street, you can’t help but think of Hongseok and what he might be saying to the producers in there.

You tell yourself you’re curious just because you’re best friends. But you can’t get that look on his face out of your mind. You have no idea what it means. You’re just really close friends, right?

You turn the music up, hoping to distract yourself. It works until you pass a small playground. You can’t help but think of Hongseok yet again.

The two of you met during your university’s orientation week, but it wasn’t until halfway during the semester that you actually spoke to him. You knew you were taking some classes together, but you never really thought about it until then.

Speaking in class was something that always terrified you, but one of your professors was adamant that everyone do it in order to get full marks. It took a while for you to work up the courage to raise your hand that day in October. When you were called on, you hesitated for a second, before sharing your answer. You don’t even remember the question anymore, you just remember your professor outright laughing at you. You’d been so sure you were right, but your professor made it very clear that you were not. Right away, you threw all your things into your backpack and ran out of the lecture hall. Your heart was beating so fast and you had no idea where to go. You wound up outside, walking as far as your legs could possibly take you, until you found a park off campus. As soon as you sat down on the swings, you couldn’t help but cry.

It was one thing to get an answer wrong, but to have your professor react like that was humiliating. You were never going back to that class ever again. You’d drop the course, or only show up on test days, whatever it took to never see that godforsaken man ever again. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice when someone sat down on the swing next to you.

After that day, you and Hongseok quickly became friends. You still can’t believe he was kind enough to follow you out of class like that, but he always tells you it was nothing. As you think back to it now, you can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him. Maybe he is more than a friend to you.

You head to the playground and sit on the swings alone, thinking back to some of your other memories with Hongseok. He’s always been there for you to lean on, and you’ve always done the same for him, like today. You remember feeling this way when he’d specifically asked you to come with him. At this point, you’re about 90% sure you have feelings for him. You don’t know how you didn’t clue in earlier.

You stay there until your phone buzzes. Hongseok’s done sooner than you expected. He says he’ll meet you at the café where you wanted to get breakfast. You respond, saying you’ll see him there soon.

You didn’t walk that far, so it only takes about 5 minutes of speed walking to get back there. When you spot him waiting outside on his phone, you can’t help but smile.

The two of you head inside, while you tell him what you got up to. You say you found a park bench and wound up doing some work there. He rolls his eyes and tells you you should’ve found something more entertaining to do.

After you’ve got your food and sat down, you ask him about the interview.

“It was okay,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “I think they liked me.”

“What do you mean think?”

“It seems like they believed me when I told them how passionate I am about my journey for love.” You smirk at that.

“Are you sure you weren’t speaking from the heart?”

“Of course I was y/n,” he says, jokingly. “How dare you insinuate I’m applying for the wrong reasons.”

You’re still unsure if he’s joking or not. After your earlier revelation, you’re praying he is.

He tells you some more about the interview and the producers. Apparently they asked even more invasive questions about his dating history, like his body count. That makes you cringe.

“If they offer you a spot,” you ask, “which I’m not saying they will, but if they do, would you take it?” You expect him to say yes right away, but he ponders it for a second.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “What do you think I should do?”

You want to tell him to say no, and to stay at home. Preferably so you can spend more time with him, and then maybe he’ll realize he’s into you as well. But you can’t say that, of course.

“I think it could benefit you,” you tell him, honestly. “But it’ll also change your life in multiple different ways, and that’s something you’d really have to think about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” you hesitate, taking a sip of your drink. “Assuming you wound up in a relationship by the end of the season, the odds of it working out aren’t that high,” he laughs at that, but doesn’t disagree. “Anyone you date after that will always see you as that guy who was on Bachelor in Paradise. You’ll probably have a wider range of people to choose from, but a lot of them will be fake too, so, it’s up to you.” You shrug.

“All valid points,” he replies.

“I don’t know if you’re ever planning on settling down,” you admit. “But if you do, it’ll affect that and whoever you wind up with.”

“I would like to settle down someday,” he says quietly. You glance across the booth at him. “What?”

“I’ve never really thought about you in a long term relationship. It doesn’t seem like your type of thing.”

“It could be,” he tells you, “with the right person.”

You just nod, afraid you might say something stupid if you open your mouth.

Once you’re finished eating, the two of you head out to the closest subway station. You have a list of stores you want to visit, and Hongseok happily follows along. He helps you pick out some gifts for your friend’s upcoming birthday and some clothes. He winds up buying some things for himself as well. You joke that he’ll have to buy an entirely new wardrobe if he winds up on national television. He promises to take you swimsuit shopping with him if that happens. That makes you roll your eyes, but you’re blushing the whole time.

You stop for lunch at a random fast food chain, then head to that bakery you told him about the week before. The two of you get some extra goodies for your roommates as well.

Finally, it’s almost 7 o’clock and you decide to go to a decent sit down restaurant for dinner. Earlier you told Hongseok you were in the mood to drink tonight, so he promised to take care of you. He lets you pick where to go, so you choose a restaurant with a rooftop bar. You know he likes to take nice photos for his Instagram feed.

The food is good, and the drinks are even better. You only have a few, but you can feel them getting to you. Hongseok’s extremely entertained by you. Normally you’re not this talkative, but you’re asking more questions and telling him more random things than usual.

You wind up telling him the truth about how you wound up at the park this morning. He’s surprised you lied, but you refuse to tell him why. Instead he just smiles and tells you it’s cute you thought of him. You wind up blushing profusely, hoping he doesn’t notice. The two of you reminisce over some other memories from early on in your friendship. You’re surprised he remembers them as well as you do. Maybe that means something.

When you’re finished eating, you stay a little longer. Hongseok has 2 drinks as well, but he can handle his liquor much better than you. It seems to have no effect on him at all. By the time you leave, it’s almost 9:30.

The second you step out of the restaurant, you’re met with a crowd of people. As you awkwardly navigate yourself around them, you’re separated from Hongseok. Once you’re free, you glance around, afraid you might have to call him. Thankfully, he’s waving at you from a couple metres ahead. You run over to him and immediately interlock your arms.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling you in the direction of the train station. You could have taken the subway back, but Hongseok suggested you walk instead, as it’s not too far. It’s dark out now, but it looks nice with all the street lamps lit up.

“I forgot to ask something about Bachelor in Paradise,” you say as the two of you head down the sidewalk. “Did they mention when they’ll get back to you?”

“In two weeks or so.”

“Will they let you know if you get rejected?” Hongseok smirks at that.

“Do you want me to get rejected?” You know he’s joking, but you can’t bring yourself to smile.

“Yes.” You mumble, mostly to yourself. Hongseok must not hear you.

“I was scared earlier,” he says. “But it might be fun. It’s a free vacation, technically.”

“Yeah, for the cost of your sanity.” That makes him laugh too. You rest your head against his arm.

“Do you think I could actually find someone worthwhile on there?” He asks quietly. “I know the premise is to date multiple people, but maybe I could find something real.”

“Hongseok-” You almost want to punch him. You wish you could yell at him, here on the sidewalk, and tell him off for not realizing there’s been something real right in front of him for the past 4 years, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. “Please.”

“I know, it sounds ridiculous, but you never know.” You two turn the corner and wind up right in front of the train station’s main entrance. “Crazier things have happened.”

You don’t know if it’s because you’re tired, or slightly drunk, or what, but you pull your arm out of his and turn to face him.

“Hongseok-” He glances into your eyes. This time, he notices something serious is happening.

“y/n, what is it?”

“Please don’t go,” you say quietly. He takes a step closer so he can hear you better. “Just… don’t do it.”

“I mean, I haven’t made up my mind yet,” he says, awkwardly. “But I thought you wanted me to do what’s best for me.” You shake your head.

“I was wrong,” you tell him. “I can’t do it.”

“You can’t do what?” You freeze. You wish you hadn’t used that choice of words, but at this point, there’s no turning back now.

“I can’t stay here and watch you on TV, dating other people, kissing other people, being with other people.” You’re not dumb, you know what the fantasy suites on that show are for, and imagining Hongseok in one of them with somebody else makes you simultaneously want to cry and throw up.

“I don’t understand.” You groan. You were hoping that would’ve been enough to get your point across, but of course, your best friend isn’t that smart.

“I’m going to be so jealous.” You hate yourself for even saying it, but it’s true. Hongseok reaches out, taking your hands in his. “My heart can’t handle it.”

“y/n,” he says. “You’ll always be my best friend, regardless of what happens-”

You pull your hands away from his. You don’t understand how he’s not getting it at this point. Granted, you’re not thinking clearly because of the alcohol, but he should be able to read between the lines.

“That’s not what I meant,” you tell him. “I don’t just want to be your best friend.”

“What?” It seems like it’s starting to click now. But just to be sure, you decide to outright say it.

“I’m in love with you.” It comes out louder than you intended, but the second you say it, you know it’s true. Even though the realization only, truly, hit you today, you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute, but it doesn’t matter. “Hongseok, I love you.”

“You do?” He asks quietly. You nod, too scared to say anything else. “I don’t know what to say.”

You wait, not sure what to say either. Both of you just stand there, awkwardly staring at each other for a few seconds. Panic starts to set in at that point, maybe you shouldn’t have said anything.

“y/n-” You can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s going to turn you down. You really shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“It’s okay.” You cut him off right away. You don’t want to hear him outright rejecting you, not now. “It’s okay.”

“y/n, I-” You reach over and press a finger to his lips. Maybe he’ll just brush it off as you being drunk, that’s what you’re hoping for anyway. You wish you could take it back, but that would be the next best thing.

“Really,” you force a smile. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.” You glance at the time on your phone, realizing your train will be there any second. You don’t want to think about the awkward train ride home.

“Here,” you tell him, gesturing towards the entrance to the train station. “You can take this one and I’ll wait for the next one, it’s okay.” Maybe if you say it enough times, it’ll be true.

“y/n, I can’t leave you waiting here for an hour on your own.”

“Fine, I’ll take a cab,” you tell him. “Just go, before I make a fool of myself again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he walks through the doors, so you awkwardly follow him. “Nothing’s changed.”

That hurts more than an actual rejection. You could tell he doesn’t have feelings for you too, but for him to dismiss your feelings like this stings. You can’t stand sitting next to him in dead silence on a 30 minute train ride. You can feel the tears starting to form in your eyes, but you try to ignore them.

Once you’re both on the platform, the train is already there, waiting.

“I’m going to go down there,” you say to him, pointing to the far end of the train. “Don’t follow me.” You hope he can’t tell your voice is about to break.

“Okay,” he replies, right away. That hurts too. You expect him to say something else, but he jumps into the first car.

You wait until he disappears from your sight before you turn and walk all the way to the other end of the train. Once you’re inside, and you’ve found a seat by the window, you take out your phone. You were hoping there would be some kind of text from Hongseok, but there’s one from your roommate instead.

Hongseok called me and said the two of you are out right now and he was going to take you home but something happened ???

You roll your eyes. You really don’t want to get into this right now. But you text your roommate back and say yes, that’s all true.

he asked me to pick you up from the train station, he said you’re arriving at 11 or so, I’ll meet you there

You immediately respond saying that isn’t necessary.

y/n, he said you’ve been drinking…. he’s worried about you getting home by yourself

The second you read that, the tears start to fall. You hate him so much. How could he have no reaction to your confession, but still worry about you like this? It doesn’t make any sense.

You respond and tell your roommate you’ll be there soon.

As the train pulls out of the station, you rest your head on the window and close your eyes. This train ride is so much different than the one this morning. You honestly wish you hadn’t said anything at all. Now you’ve probably lost your best friend forever.

===

Three days go by without hearing anything from Hongseok. At this point, you don’t know what there is to say. You spent a long time wondering if you should be the first to reach out, but you’ve said all you need to. If you’ve ruined your friendship by telling him your feelings, then that’s on you.

You really don’t want to make things any harder for him. You knew he was trying to get on the show, so you really shouldn’t have said anything to begin with. You hope he still makes the right choice for him, regardless of you confessing.

On Saturday afternoon, the doorbell rings. You expect it to be one of your roommates, as they tend to forget their keys often. When you open the door and see Hongseok, you’re stunned.

“Hi y/n,” he says, smiling. Seeing his face makes you want to smile too, but you can’t, considering all you’ve been thinking about these past few days.

“Hi,” you reply. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” he laughs. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Why are you here?”

“I came to say sorry.” You frown. “I was thrown off guard so my reaction may have come off the wrong way, and I’m sorry for that.”

“What do you mean the wrong way?” Now Hongseok looks nervous.

“How did you feel?” He asks you. “When you told me you’d take a different train, why did you say that?”

“You were rejecting me,” you say. “I didn’t want to sit in a train with you for 30 minutes trying not to cry.”

“You cried?” Hongseok looks like he’s about to cry himself, just hearing that. “I’m so sorry y/n.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, shaking your head.

“I withdrew my application.”

“You did what?” You’re shocked.

“I called the producers and told them I wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I hope this isn’t because of me,” you say.

“Of course it’s because of you.”

Hongseok’s looking at you that way again, the same way he did downtown, right before his interview. Maybe he wasn’t rejecting you after all. You suddenly feel really nervous.

“I did some thinking,” he explains. “I did want to be on the show, but it was obviously for all the wrong reasons.” You smile at that.

“So you changed your mind?” He nods.

“I want to stay here, and be with you.” That makes your heart rate jump.

“For the right reasons?” You ask, jokingly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner,” he replies. “y/n, I love you too.”

You practically throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms are tight around your waist as he hugs you back.

“What if I had changed my mind?” You ask, pulling away a little bit. His arms are still around you.

“I knew you wouldn’t,” he rolls his eyes. “And I have a surprise for you, so that would’ve won you back.”

“A surprise?” Hongseok smiles, letting go of you. There’s a small paper bag sitting outside your front door, to the side, that you hadn’t noticed before. He grabs it, and pulls out your favourite cold drink.

“Here you are.” You say thanks and take a sip. “I have food as well, I was thinking we could go to the park.”

“The swings?”

“The way your eyes just lit up is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.” You roll your eyes at that. “But yes, the swings would be great.”

“Let me grab my things,” you tell him, stepping back into your apartment to get your phone and keys.

“This is going to be such a fun first date,” Hongseok says, as you lock the door.

“Date?” Technically, you knew that’s what this is, but it’s still shocking to hear him say it out loud.

“Yes… If that’s okay.”

“You didn’t bring me a date card though.” Hongseok laughs at that.

“This isn’t Bachelor in Paradise!”

“Well, no, but a card still would have been nice,” you say jokingly. The two of you walk down the hall to the elevator.

“Next time.” You nod in agreement. “Can I offer you a kiss instead?”

“I’m sorry what-” Before you can say anything else, Hongseok takes your hand and plants a kiss on the back of it. “Oh.”

“What did you think I meant, y/n?” He asks, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t worry about it.” The two of you step into the elevator and he pushes the button for the bottom floor.

“As your boyfriend, it’s my duty to worry about you.”

“Boyfriend?” You mean to tease him, but you’re more soft than anything. The word sounds so nice to say.

“Well yeah,” Hongseok says. “You love me, I love you, it only makes sense.”

“You should say that more often,” you tell him, as the elevator stops. He follows you as you step out.

“What?” He asks. “That I love you?” You can’t help but blush.

“Yeah,” you reply, absolutely smitten.

As Hongseok opens the door, and you step out into the warm air, he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I won’t let you forget it.”

[carrotmakar]

All The Things I Didn’t Say

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: Exactly 3,443

Summary: You and Harry get into a fight and the things he never told you tear him up inside.

A/N: This is my first ever Harry fic, I hope you enjoy it! (Sorry if it sucks I tried) ~also thank you @fancyxholland for beta reading this, I cannot thank you enough love:)~

Masterlist

Request anything here but be sure to read my guidelines

Add yourself to my taglist here 

*

It had been weeks since you last talked. You had been doing everything in your power to avoid the green eyed devil, scared that one simple glance in your direction could make you fall for him all over again. And that wasn’t something that you were ready for. You weren’t able to willingly put yourself in that position again.

You weren’t going to allow him to demolish your heart like he did the last time you saw him. You were still broken from then, and you really don’t know if you could handle another heartbreak, especially not this soon.

You hadn’t slept right since you split, not being used to his side of the bed being cold all the time. You washed the sheets and everything that smelled like him almost instantly after he left the house. You couldn’t bear to smell him all the time. You knew that keeping the scent of him lingering in your house would make you latch onto him even more than you already were.

You hadn’t eaten a proper meal in what feels like forever, your body barely having enough energy to get you to the bathroom. 

It was safe to say that Harry left you broken. But can you really blame it all on him? Was it really justified of you to do so?

Maybe. He was the one that went off on you, yelled and screamed and hit every place he knew would tear you apart.

But maybe not. Maybe it was your fault. You hadn’t paid attention to him, not noticing that he was clearly hurting. You tried to push him into going out when he oh so clearly didn’t want to.

There was also the fact that you kicked him out, told him to get out of your face and to not come back, without even letting him explain himself. 

You found yourself in front of the tv most days, not really paying attention to whatever was playing, just needing the background noise now that you didn’t have Harry to hum to you or to strum his guitar while working on new material. 

Every single time you found yourself there, you let your mind wander. Let yourself believe that maybe he was missing you as much as you were missing him. That maybe he was thinking about you.

You were aware of the fact that wasn’t healthy, that the last thing you  should be doing while trying to get over him was to let him run rampant in your mind, but you couldn’t help it.

He was your everything. He had been since the moment that you met him, his green eyes seemingly brightening every dark corner of your life. He made you feel like you could breathe fresh air for the first time ever. It was like you had always been breathing the same, a little labored but unnoticed because that’s how it always was, but then he came into your life and showed you everything that you had been missing.

It was worse now than it was before. This time, you knew what you were missing. The laboring breaths from before meeting him were coming back, but this time that’s all you could focus on. You were so used to feeling complete that it physically hurt to not be around him. To not have him to keep you company. To not be able to kiss his lips or hold him close. 

Your life felt incomplete, so yeah, at times, you let your mind wander to the times when it felt like you weren’t going to fall apart from the slightest breeze.

*

God, he missed you. He pasted on a smile and acted like nothing was wrong around everyone, posing for the media, but the second he got home, everything was different. 

Usually, he would either do his own hair - him being a fully capable adult and all - or you would do it for him, letting him enjoy the feeling of your fingers raking through his locks.

But now, the way his curls were done was a completely different story. He either had his hair stylist come over before he went out anywhere, or - more often that not - he went around looking disheveled.

Even though he had tried his best to hide it, those closest to him saw. Mitch caught the dark bags under his eyes. Sarah quickly caught onto the fact that when he was crying during rehearsals, it was because all of his songs were about you.

You had been his muse.

You were the inspiration behind everything that he did, and he no longer felt like he could function. You had been gone for all of a few weeks and he was falling apart, unable to pull himself back together.

The songs had stopped being written, the interviews had stopped being scheduled, his whole entire life came to a screeching halt. All because he no longer had you. 

Not that he could blame you. You had every right to make him leave, to look at him and tell him to never think about you again. He was the one who took out all his anger at you, the one person he didn’t want to lose his cool to. 

He had tried, he had done nothing but try for the entire time that you had been apart to do exactly what you had asked. To forget about you, to not think about you in the slightest.

He really did. But things didn’t work out that way. Every time that he had tried to write a song, he had ended up writing you a letter. There weren’t many, seeing as he had soon realized that they were going nowhere. 

He knew that you didn’t want to talk to him, that you didn’t want to hear a word that came from him. If you really wanted him back, you would make the first move, that’s how you are, how you always have been. 

So he wrote them and laid them on his desk, allowing them to haunt him every moment he was in their general vicinity.

*

All you wanted was to hear from him. It had been weeks, if he really wanted you back he would have reached out, Harry wasn’t the guy that just sat back and waited for things to come to him. He knew what he wanted and he went after those things with his eye on the prize, never stopping until he made his goal.

Which means that his goal wasn’t to get you back. Maybe he just really didn’t want you. 

You couldn’t blame him for it, you had been distant and ignoring all his signs probably weeks before the fight. You made him think that you didn’t care and he was completely justified in wanting something else, something better, with someone that actually deserved him.

You knew him, however, he was going to make sure that you had moved on before he did, wouldn’t want to date someone else while you’re still heartbroken. The only problem with that is that you don’t know if you’ll ever be okay without him. Not a single part of you can see yourself moving on.

So you do what you do every time something goes wrong. You fake the happiness. You fake the fact that you’re okay. You plaster on a smile and hope that it’s believable enough to make people stop worrying.

A part of you knows that this won’t be enough this time, though, so you go the extra step. You block his number. If he tries to text, it won’t go through. That’s the only way that he can get ahold of you. He never used Instagram, knowing his messages to you could easily get lost in the thousands he gets from fans every single day.

It takes you a pretty long time, and a whole lot of willpower, but after you do block his only means of contact, it feels as if there’s a weight lifted off of your shoulders. It’s a lot easier to pretend to be happy if the thing that’s making you upset isn’t looming over your head.

Everything had been foggy since you made Harry leave, but this made at least one thing clear. You were going to be alright, at least a little more than you had been for the past few weeks. You may have to fake it for a little while, but the first step to feeling better had already been taken.

*

He was not going to be alright. His friends kept telling him that he would be, that she was just another girl in a sea of millions more. But that wasn’t true. They all knew it wasn’t true. They just wanted the old Harry back. They wanted their friend back.

The guy that used to go out every weekend with his friends and celebrate, if nothing else, surviving another week, was gone. Left behind was the shell of a man that was broken into a million pieces and being held together by the scotch tape that he called his fake smile.

He had gone out with his friends tonight, though. He had wanted them to have some fun and knew that they felt bad for doing so if he couldn’t have fun too. 

He had filled himself with alcohol, taking shot after shot until your face was blurry in his mind. He had poured liquid courage into glass after glass until he found himself composing text messages to you and sending them. The only things left in his mind were what you would say and him hoping that his autocorrect was working well tonight.

I miss you, shouldn’t have blown up. I also should’ve contacted you earlier, was stupid not to God I love you so much, I can’t sleep without you, feels wrong laying in bed without you curled up next to me

He took another look at his phone, fighting to get through the blurr to see if you had received them. And to his horror, they weren’t going through. You had blocked him. 

So he had his next drunken idea, he was going to send the letters. Actually, no, he was going to take you the letters. 

But there was still one more that he needed to write.

*

You weren’t a good actor. You really tried, but your forced smile didn’t go unnoticed by your friends. They knew you, probably better than you know yourself, so when they look at you and give you smiles of pity and try to get you a new guy to hookup with, you know that you’re not doing well at convincing them in the slightest.

You can’t even bring yourself to contradict them. They’re right. You miss Harry. You miss his hugs and the way that his scent would cling to anything that he touched, even for a second. You missed the way his seafoam green irises would stare into your eyes as if you were the only person in the world. He would listen to you as if your words were more important than anything that he had ever heard.

Why didn’t you do the same?

Why didn’t you pay attention?

Why didn’t you see that he was hurting?

Or did you? Did you see it and just chose to ignore it, too caught up in your perfect little world?

At this point, you couldn’t say, the only thing that you know is you want Harry back. You can’t breathe without him. You’re no better now than you were when you made him leave.

You just wanted him to come back to you.

*

Y/N,

Hello, Um, I’ve never written a love letter to anyone but you, and this is the first one I’m writing with the intent of giving it to you, so I apologize if this sounds crazy.

I miss you. So fucking much. I never knew that someone could miss another person this much. I miss you when I’m trying to sleep and you’re not there to cuddle up with me. I miss you when I’m cooking and you’re not there to sit on the counter and taste test for me. I miss you when I’m getting ready in the mornings, wishing that your fingers were working their way through my crazy hair and not my own.

But most of all, I miss driving with you. I miss having you in my passenger seat. I miss having you there to pick the music and keep everything light and airy. I miss holding your hand and drawing random patterns on your knuckles. I miss the way you would study each of the tattoos that you could see every single time that we would get into the car. You would look over them, trace each little line like it was the first time you had ever seen them.

You make me feel like art, even when I don’t feel so hot. You make me see the best in life.

I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. I shouldn’t have blown up at you. I should have sat down and talked to you like good boyfriends do. I should have just stopped getting in my own head and opened up to you.

We’d never fought like that. Sure, we’d argue over the miniscule things, but we never let it get this bad. I shouldn’t have let it get that bad. I should have manned up and told you why I was being distant towards you.

I never meant to hurt you. I really didn’t. But I know that I did break your heart. I could see it in the way you looked at me.

I’m not asking that you take me back, that would be pretty narcissistic of me, thinking that if I ask, you’ll just welcome me back with open arms.

I don’t expect that of you. I broke your heart. I know that.

All I’m asking is that you give me the chance, at some point, to let me put it back together.

(Hopefully) Yours,

H

He sealed the envelope and worked up the courage to drive to your house. He didn’t even know if you’d be there. Or if you were, if you’d be there alone. You could have easily moved on from him. It wouldn’t have been hard for you. Any guy would be blessed to have you in their life. 

He just hoped that you had been missing him even a fraction of how much he missed you.

Before he could overthink it too much, he grabbed the envelopes, sought out his keys, and made his way to the house you used to share.

On the drive there, he left the radio off, not being able to concentrate on anything else besides the worry that you hated him.

You couldn’t hate him. Could you?

Harry couldn’t remember the drive to your house being so long. How did he have this much time to doubt everything?

He was not like this. He never doubted himself. He always had faith in himself. He knew that people liked him, and he took a certain amount of pride in that. 

But he was none of those things around you. He was anxious. He wanted you to come back to him. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, you would give him a second chance. 

It’s going to be fine. She’ll read the letters and you’ll at least get to see her face one more time, Harry says continuously to himself as he walks up to your door and rings the bell.

*

You hadn’t invited anybody over. You don’t know who could possibly be at your door. Unless it was those girl scouts coming back to sell their cookies. Little do they know that you don’t even like them. Harry’s the one with the love for them. He’s the one that buys every box that they have on them every time.

You groan and pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the door to break the news to the girls. You expect a few hurt faces that’ll guilt you into buying a few boxes and giving them away.

What you don’t expect is to find the curly haired man when you open the door.

You open your mouth to speak, but he stops you, “Look, I know. You don’t want to see me. I just- I need to give you these. I-I’ve been trying to leave you be but,” he reached his free hand up to run through his unruly curls, “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I know, I messed up, I don’t deserve to even be here right now.” He pauses for a moment to take a deep breath and you try to speak again but he’s faster. “I don’t expect anything, I just ask that you read these letters. It’s all the things I didn’t say. I know that doesn’t make up for it, I just want you to read them. Please.”

“H…” you breathe, trying to find the right words.

“Anyway, yeah. Um, here.” he hands you the letters and turns around, “I’m going to give you time to read them. If you wanna talk, you have my number. If not, I get it.”

You watch him walk for a moment, wondering if what you’re about to do is a good idea. But honestly, you don’t care. You miss him way too much to let him walk away again.

“H, wait!” he stops but doesn’t turn around. “Come back, please. I miss you. I just- I’m sorry.” He turns around and slowly makes his way towards you, as if moving with caution.

“Really? Are you going to read the letters still?” He looks nervous, waiting for you to confirm or deny whether you’re playing with his heart.

“I’m still going to read the letters, I just want you here with me.” 

*

He can feel himself relax, his mind slowing down the marathon it had been running since he began his journey to your house. 

You were going to read the letters. You missed him. Maybe you would give him a chance.

He hoped so. God, he hoped so. He wanted you back so bad that he would do literally anything in the world to have you back in his arms.

He would spend his entire life making it up to you, whether you were his or not.

*

You open the first letter and begin to read.

Y/N,

So I know we’re not talking, but everyone says maybe this will help me. My therapist says maybe this can make it easier for me to sleep. So here I go.

I’m such an idiot, I messed up the best thing in my life. I see you in everything that I do and everywhere that I go. I’m trying to give you your space. Trying to let you have whatever you want. I’m trying so hard darling. But it’s so hard.

I’m not used to sleeping in a bed without you in it. I’m not used to not having you to curl around and the scent of your shampoo to breathe in. 

I can’t leave the house without thinking that you should be coming with me. I can’t drive without wishing that you were in my passenger seat.

I can’t do this without you. I don’t know how I ever lived without you before, and I definitely don’t know how I’m going to do so now.

I guess I’m going to try to sleep now.

Yours

Harry

You look up at him with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong?” He questions.

“You haven’t been able to sleep.” You crawl from your place on the couch over to him, looking at him for consent before cuddling into his side.

“It’s alright, darling. I deserved it.” He squeezes you closer to his body and you can feel every muscle in your body relax. “You still have more letters to read.” He whispers.

“Can I read them tomorrow? Missed you too much to be reading anything when I could be looking at your face.” You mumble, causing him to chuckle and look down at you.

“We can do whatever you want, darling.” He says, granting you a small smile.

“Good, because I wanna cuddle in our bed and actually get a good night's sleep.” You yawn, sleep already coming easier to you now that he was back.

“That sounds good to me, love. Come on, let’s go to bed.” He picks you up, carrying you to your room. And that’s when it hits you.

You have Harry back.

Permanent Taglist: @spideygirl2003, @jackiehollanderr, @scarletsoldierrr, @thewayilookatbacon,  @lost-in-the-stars03, @kisses-holland, @josiemara, @god-knows-what-am-i-doing, @fanficscuziranout, @babebenhardy @write-from-the-heart @slytherinambitious,  @parker-barnes-af, @akila-stilinski

Harry Styles Taglist: (empty as of right now)

[chaotic-noceur]

pedro boys + IKEA headcanons

warnings: swearing, food, javi’s has one line of suggestive content

a/n: so this is what happens when you put @din-damn-djarin  @ezrasarm and I in a group chat together when two of us are bored and one of us has just been to IKEA... enjoy! (We had too much fun writing this)

Din Djarin

Agreed to do it because it sounded like a cute couples activity

But then you actually do it 

He can’t get his gloved fingers in between the creases

The Allen key keeps falling out of his hand

He can’t see anything through the bucket on his head

He storms off eventually saying he’ll fix it later

He comes back to find you sitting amongst the scattered mess

Yodito’s in your lap, turning the Allen key with surprising ease

Din swears he’s cheating with the Force

Don’t get him started on the actual trip

You drop Yodito off at the kiddies playground thing

Din goes running back not even 5 minutes later because he is sTrEsSeD™

You lose Yodito in the maze anyways

Several times

Din loses 10 years of life every time he realises

But he keeps showing up in empty flower pots

...and levitating stuffed animals into the cart

Din doesn’t have the heart to put them back

You get back to the ship with a bag full of toys

Din swears you are never going back there again

But when he realises you didn’t actually get everything you needed

He refrains from slamming his head into the nearest wall

☾☾☾☾☾

Ezra

Is indifferent about the actual shopping part

Loves spending time with you though so he will go anywhere you take him

Is personally offended that the books in the showroom are props

Throws an excessive amount of scented candles into the cart

*deep inhale*

“Ezra. Babe. WE DO NOT NEED MORE WE ALREADY HAVE 20”

“But this one smells like ‘afternoon escape’, we need it”

Will ramble about the “dire importance” of this candle until you give in

Knows exactly how everything should fit together

But “I CAN’T DO IT WITH ONE ARM GODDAMNIT”

*hurls the Allen key across the pod*

Takes to hovering over your shoulder as you assemble it

Makes everything more complicated with his fancy vocabulary

You’re getting annoyed but he can’t help it

“No that goes there” “The other way”

“DO IT YOURSELF THEN SINCE YOU KNOW EVERYTHING”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips

The teasing smile on his face drops instantly

You’re stuttering out an apology before either of you can move

“I- I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” He giggles 

This time you’re the one who wants to chuck an Allen key…

...At his head

“You should’ve seen your face!”

☾☾☾☾☾

Frankie Morales

Going to IKEA with Frankie turns into an entire day trip

He refuses to let you leave until you get meatballs

It takes you 3 hours to get to the checkout

Because he gets distracted by everything

“Come feel this bath mat!”

“Do we need new knives?”

You try out every piece of furniture in the showroom

He doesn’t let you touch the tape measure because “it keeps giving me paper cuts”

You end up buying twice as much stuff as you originally planned on getting

Insists that everything will fit in his truck 

It does...barely (but only if you end up sitting on one of the boxes...no one has to know)

Swears that he doesn’t need help carrying anything

You step in when you see him dragging a box through the door, clearly labelled ‘fragile’

He’s good with his hands so he loves building it

It’s like therapy for him

If he’s in a good mood, he tosses the instructions out because “I can fly a helicopter and shoot a target a mile away. I don’t need instructions.”

10 minutes later, he’s digging through the garbage looking for it

He tries to pretend he’s just emptying the garbage bin

But you see right through him and hold the crumbled sheet up with the biggest smirk on your face

☾☾☾☾☾

Javier Peña

Does not have time for this bullshit

Hates the concept of IKEA

“Who turns a furniture store into a fucking maze?!”

Is complaining the whole time about how you don’t need new furniture

“Your couch cushions are basically two layers of fabric.”

Wants it to magically assemble itself

“I paid 60 dollars for this and it isn’t even built?!”

But also refuses to let you touch anything 

Loses his patience in 0.5 seconds

But would rather be shot dead than read the instruction manual

“I take down entire drug cartels for a living. I can build a fucking couch.”

Spoiler alert: He cannot.

“Get these out of here” *instructions go flying out the window*

“How did you lose all the spare screws?!” “I’ll give you a spare screw” he grumbles

You both wind up binge eating pepparkaka (IKEA ginger snaps) on the floor shamefully because you couldn’t figure out how to put the legs on your chairs

You also may have called Steve to help

Steve can’t stop laughing at your pathetic attempts

Until he tries it

He ends up calling Connie

She gets the whole thing done in 10 minutes flat

☾☾☾☾☾

Marcus Pike

Loves the idea of building IKEA furniture with you

Because he thinks it’s the boyfriend-ly thing to do

He insists that he knows what he’s doing

But in reality, he hasn’t got the foggiest clue what’s going on

“WHY ARE THERE SO MANY PIECES?!”

“tHeRe aRe nO wOrDs iN tHe iNsTrUcTiOnS?!”

He also has no spatial awareness which means not only can he not figure out how the pieces fit together, but he also keeps tripping over everything

He just about wiped out on a piece of cardboard

“How are you an FBI agent?! You have no stealth whatsoever!”

You try really hard not to laugh when he can’t figure out why the Allan key won’t fit

(He was using it backwards)

“They trust you with a gun?!”

Eventually you can’t stand watching him struggle anymore 

You delegate him to DJ-ing while you take over

It takes you hours to assemble what should have taken you half an hour at most

But you’re not even mad about it

You’re having too much fun

He won’t stop dancing around you like a dork to ABBA 

(Which isn’t distracting at all)

☾☾☾☾☾

Oberyn Martell

Would not be caught dead building IKEA furniture

He has people to do that for him

“We don’t need more furniture Dove”

Refuses to entertain the thought of going to IKEA

“IKEA could not compete with Dorne’s craftsmen”

You end up sneaking out with Ellaria

Ellaria is on ‘distract Oberyn’ duty while you assemble the chair as quickly as possible

He figures out something is going on when Ellaria does everything imaginable to stop him from leaving

He’s not complaining but his curiosity has peaked and he will not be kept in the dark about the events taking place in his own castle

You hurl the newly assembled chair across the room when the door flies open

It splinters apart on impact with the floor

He’s smirking at you from the doorway

“I did warn you my love”

A week later, Dorne’s best craftsman is going head to head with you, Ellaria and another box of IKEA furniture

The entirety of the royal staff are watching as the competition unfolds

They’ve placed bets on who would win

You and Ellaria work seamlessly to assemble your “pathetic excuse for furniture”

He’s lying if he says he doesn’t find it a little attractive

You both refuse to talk to him for a week when he picks the Dornish furniture

☾☾☾☾☾

Whiskey

Loves going IKEA shopping with you

You make your first trip a few weeks after moving in together

You’re just putting plates into the cart when he freezes

Images of your future together start falling into place in his mind and he panics

He never thought he’d find something like this again… not after his late wife

This is real now

“Earth to Jack,” you call, waving your hand in front of his face

When you ask him what’s wrong, he chokes out a ‘nothing’

You don’t push it, he’ll tell you when he’s ready

He burns the instructions as soon as you get home

“Darling, I’m part of a secret intelligence agency. I can handle a few nuts and bolts.”

He lives to regret that statement as soon as he lays out all the pieces

But he’s too stubborn to ask for help

You can tell he has no idea what he’s doing but you go along with it

You hand him misnamed parts and tools when he asks for them and you breakdown cardboard boxes when he tosses them carelessly to the side

The radio’s playing in the background but neither of you are paying it any attention

Three hours pass before he proudly presents his masterpiece to you

“See that wasn’t so ba-“

It collapses to pieces the moment he tosses the Allen key he had been using on top of it triumphantly

He swears he’s reading every single word diagram next time

You’re dozing off in his arm on the mattress on the floor (the bed frame in a dozen unassembled pieces around you) when he tells you he loves you for the first time

“I love you too.”

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

aight aight, real shit; let's say you got the chance to rewrite the entirety of gossip girl exactly how you want. make a brief description of what would happen in each season. (you can decide whether there's a fourth season or not)

oh i LOVE this ask, and i am so flattered to be asked this, haha. i have SO many thoughts, i’ve been thinking about this non-stop, but i’ll try to be as brief as possible. also, disclaimer, i don’t remember all the seasons equally clearly. like i barely remember s2. haha, whoops.

season 1: i love this season as is, for the most part. i think the tone of it was actually very serious and involved? like the show was actively trying not to be frivolous with heavy topics, and the way we were getting to see the characters seemed like they were trying to bring out character depth and the complexities of their lives in very deliberate ways. nate’s whole thing with his parents gets so much focus, and it’s not something the show glorifies, it’s something that is meant to make you uncomfortable and worried for him. 

i would have nate be less of a dudebro, jenny & nate’s friendship being a little more solid, dan being a little more involved in jenny’s problems + helping her find her space, vanessa/nate to happen earlier - after nate breaks up w/ blair and realises she looks happier, i would have him not try and get back with her (lol, dude, the fact that she’s happy after breaking up with you means you probably shouldn’t be dating her.) more exploration of eric’s mental health. more dan and blair friendship. i would keep chair the way it is this season. i would not have a derena breakup - i’d have them take a break after the georgina reveal and get back together during the summer after talking about it and deciding to be more honest & open with each other. and, what the hell, i would have lily not blame serena (???) for being taken advantage of in the whole pete fairman situation. serena wasn’t sober, she was 16, that dude was in his 30s, georgina was taping her w/o her consent. how is any of this serena’s fault??? i hate lily’s reaction so much.

season 2: i... don’t remember enough of this season, sadly. it’s been too long since i watched it. i would majorly change jenny’s arc here, though. eleanor stealing her dress was majorly, majorly fucked up, and i think jenny should’ve done something then and there. also the whole thing with ‘lily is a mother to chuck’.... i would’ve loved it if lily had been like that to jenny. the girl needed it, and lily would’ve actually been able to help jenny establish connections in the professional world and whatnot. i think jenny should’ve transferred out of constance - not necessarily homeschooling maybe, but gone somewhere else. unlike dan, she didn’t even want to get into an ivy, she wanted to make it big as a designer. so. that. 

oh nate my love. i’d get this trainwreck of a boy some therapy. while i hate that the catherine thing happened, things like that do happen all the time, and i’d be interested in sort of handling the aftermath of it in a responsible way. i would not have... a lot of serena’s arc and decisions (from what i can remember) were really random in this season. i’d have her break up with dan at some point. and vanessa would need a new subject for her short film, and she’d choose serena.

nate doesn’t really date anyone, this season. but he and jenny open up to each other abt having gay crushes on people who treat you like shit - jenny’s thing with agnes - nate rescues her when they’re taking those pictures in her flat and let’s say she doesn’t go back to agnes. instead of kissing her, nate talks to her instead, and tells her about carter, tells her about chuck. and jenny talks about her feelings for blair, her feelings for agnes. and both of them sort of go... “it sucks, but all we can do is try not to become the kind of people we hate, right?”

dan pines for nate. majorly. massively. obviously. i think the only person who really notices is blair, and this would lead to new hijinks and shenanigans. also!! i do not want chair in s2. maybe it can go there for a bit but definitely not to the extent in canon. i want blair to have the same moment of being unable to deny her cruelty / needing to be accountable that she did in that ‘age of dissonance’ play. and. this sounds fucky but i want the dan/rachel stuff to stay as it is, and later, in s4, for dan & serena to talk about rachel & ben respectively and be like ‘hey, this was a fucked up thing to happen to us, wasn’t it?’ 

i would also like to get to know blair’s “minions” better as people. i mean. they all seemed hella fascinating to me, and the show’s decision to make them superficial and unidimensional was very depressing.

season 3: hot garbage, throw canon away. when chuck goes away to paris or wherever, let him not come back. goodbye, dude! dan, blair & vanessa friendship at nyu is so, so important to me. also im losing my mind always at how vanessa and serena catch dan on that walk of shame and they’re both like ‘college is a time for experimentation!’ and nobody does anything even slightly bisexual (unless you count that threesome later, which, blah.) a serenessa / date dynamic in college would’ve been great. dan transferring to columbia like blair does and rooming with nate and just, the gayness of it all. dan & blair become really, really close, and d&b&v watch movies + go to art exhibits together and are all SO DAMN PRETENTIOUS. serena finds it sexy, nate finds it terrifying. 

the william stuff would be interesting if he were actually held accountable. like that man has no right being a doctor, and medical malpractice needs to be brought up. and jenny’s whole arc this season makes me so sad. i think it would’ve been interesting if she’d been a ‘queen’ and ruled alongside eric, and just, the two of them forcing people to be nice, sort of like they try to do with people who are mean to nelly in s2 i think it is? but also.. jenny out of constance is very good, and i think i mentioned that earlier, haha, whoops.

season 4 : serenessa breakup, for whatever reason, probably to do with the william fuckery, because i think vanessa would react in similar ways to nate (”serena, i know he’s your dad, but we have to do the right thing” / “it still wasn’t your call to make” / “he’s a certified doctor, serena, a man like that has no right -” / “god vanessa, you really don’t get it, do you?” ). uhhh i would actually... if i had to choose i would honestly go blairnessa >>>>> dair. i love how blair & vanessa can keep each other on their toes and hold each other accountable. like? blair’s classist or racist and dan’s just like, *smiles*. vanessa would actively be like ‘hey, stop that.’ (this is one of the few actual criticisms i have about d/b as a relationship, RIP.) 

(edited to add: yeah, i think blairnessa WOULD be a sustainable relationship, more abt that here! )

yes to the milo arc, but dan gets to keep milo (his friends threaten georgina and go all ‘you made him sign the certificate. don’t make us take you to court’ because i love these morally grey assholes but also because g DID trick dan into thinking milo was his and dan was ready to reshape his whole life around that kid which is more than georgina was willing to do. plus endgame: jack/georgina are not parents i want milo to have.) i would also have more of a rufus & dan fallout over the milo thing. i think rufus would be really nasty about it all tbh.

the dair arc for blair and vanessa! let the juliet stuff happen, but let it be less awful + let it be seen as Bad + let serena get help & not forgive her for it. let serena NOT date ben after, what the hell. i want d&s to talk about their shared feelings for high school teachers and to realise, in retrospect, as adults, that what happened was crossing lines. let blair and vanessa suddenly drop dan and do the movies + galleries stuff on their own. and dan’s like ??? but he’s busy being a parent with nate supporting him. dan’s drama is very much parenting things. there would be some nonsense involving nate’s family pushing back, because ‘we stood by while you dated him, nate, we thought it was a phase. but raising a child with another man? this is unacceptable.’ i would like nate to get disowned by the family, and need to find his own feet. and to get a REAL SHOT AT HAPPINESS away from that terrible environment.

season 5: i want this to be a good serena season. let her find her calling doing creative things. let her and carter travel the world. let her just be whoever she wants to be. let her and vanessa patch their friendship up. let her have an open relationship with carter, let her have a lot of sex with a lot of random people and not feel guilty about it. let her really really blossom. i want more eric! maybe he’s in london with jenny, and she’s working on her fashion stuff, and he’s realising that he really wants to be a counsellor. 

some time-skips, maybe. i really want to see dan’s whole thing of being a parent. sending milo to kindergarten and spending the whole time milo’s gone on edge and anxious about everything that could go wrong, while nate comforts him. let nate try to get a job because he no longer has a trust fund, and navigate everything that comes with that. let vanessa be there for him. why the fuck am i phrasing my sentences like this - can you tell that i studied physics once?? oh well.

blair & vanessa handling a lot of things. vanessa meeting harold!! vanessa’s parents being disapproving of blair, but ruby standing up for her. blair & vanessa planning their future properly. blair & vanessa babysitting milo and talking about kids. 

and there can be drama too, there should always be drama. but i would like wholesome stuff at the centre of it too, you know? the ivy/lola nonsense can go on in the background, i don’t actually care that much. as long as ivy doesn’t go around fucking people’s fathers for no understandable or discernable reason, i don’t really care lkdhlfdkhg. (it was just so inexplicable and so random!)

season 6: uh, i don’t know. this was a bad season for everyone in canon, except chuck. i would throw it all away. i would actually love if we had pre-series rufly instead: every time those two bring up their past together i’m like 👀 because it sounds like a dream. or focus entirely on jenny and eric and their life. i am obsessed with jenny and eric being... sort of queerplatonic, sort of like, best friends. there’s no romance and no sex between them (eric’s canonically gay, and jenny’s a lesbian because i said so) but i think the way jenny and eric are is very, very life partners in a way that isn’t romantic OR sexual. so they’d have a little place together and would support each other. and just. what are they up to now? also. kati, iz, penelope, hazel, nelly... what r they doing now? one of the few things i actually liked about s6 as it was was that nelly was that reporter and that she’d found her people in yale. nelly yuki getting a happy and fulfilling ending and being a successful woman was so good and we actually got a little bit of that. i’d like more of that, for the rest of the girls, you know?

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio 18/?

Part 17

CW for: -Canon-typical violence, body horror and gore  -Some characters talk about the not so great mental state they were in, including suicide ideation.

"Where are they? Elias, if you-" Jon's rather pathetic attempt at a threat is cut off by Elias' gleeful cackle.

"Calm down, Jon. Gerard's merely a bit... lost in thought. As for Martin, the door is open, if you want him back."

"What door? Elias, what did you do?" Jon snarls, pouring the compulsion thick into the question.

"I cashed in a favor. Or rather, a wager." Elias smiles. "You've grown fairly powerful, haven't you?"

"Elias-"

"You'll find Martin right where you put him." Elias' eyes gleam dangerously, his smile still sharp on his face. "In the Lonely."

XVIII

"Nah. I convinced them I'm not suicidal, mostly because, you know, I'm not? Anyways, they're letting me go this weekend. I'll call you when I'm settled, we'll have a sleepover that doesn't involve eye gouging, how about that?" Melanie smirks in his direction, and Gerry rolls his eyes.

"That's my preferred kind of sleepover."

"You have very low standards," Tim mutters in the background.

"I mean yeah." Melanie shrugs. "He's dating Jon."

"I'll take offense to that," Georgie laughs, closing the door to the room behind her after coming in.

Gerry lets his head fall back against the glass, closing his eyes to feel the rattle of the car as the tube makes its way through London's entrails. Melanie's looking well enough, her injuries healing at a slow, human pace that Gerry can't help but to be hopeful about.

"So you don't feel the need to go back?" Tim asks, leaning against the corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest. It may be a bit risky to bring an avatar whose powers manifest as fire into a place with so much oxygen and defenseless people, but Tim looks calm for once, no hint of orange in the depths of his dark eyes. "When I left, I started feeling the withdrawal right away. Not like... at first it wasn't pain, I just 'wanted' to come back."

"Nope!" Melanie grins, popping the 'p' with such satisfaction that Gerry can't help but to chuckle along with Georgie. "The only place I want to go to is home."

"Aren't you lucky," Tim says a bit sullenly, but when Gerry looks over he's got the slightest hint of a smile on his face, albeit a sad one.

Tim is sitting two seats away, but Gerry can still feel both the heat -the burns on his skin throbbing in ghost pain- and the conflict emanating from him. Maybe this is why Jon used to feel so comfortable around him, Tim wears his heart on his sleeve and there's no guessing at what he's feeling, regardless of if that feeling holds something good in store for you or not.

"What is it?" Gerry asks after a few more seconds. He doesn't turn to look at Tim, but they both know his words are aimed at him.

Tim's voice, when it comes, holds all the fragility of diamond, hard and sharp and waiting for something to hit at just the right angle to crumble to dust. "Do you- I wonder if this would work on Martin."

Gerry snorts, his tentative good mood wiped away like so much dust under the rain. "Are you asking me?"

"You care," Tim says. It's not a question, and Gerry doesn't bother denying it. Thinking about Martin feels eerily like waiting outside of a locked room, kept barely alive by a voice not done justice by the magnetic tape in a recorder, hoping, praying that the coffin will open, that he will come back, for someone else if not for him.

He keeps hoping the story will end the same, but he knows better than to dare think he'll be lucky twice.

"I don't know that breaking Martin from the Eye is our biggest concern anymore." Gerry sighs. "He told Jon no when he offered."

"...So? Are you just going to leave it like that?" Out the corner of his eye, he sees Tim scowl something fierce. "Jon said the fucking same, are you two just going to sit there and make eyes at each other while he turns?"

"We're trying, alright?! Jon's running himself ragged trying to Know enough that Martin doesn't have to depend on Lukas anymore, and I can keep telling Martin he's more important than the Extinction, but he's too damn stubborn-"

"He said you broke into his flat just to make him talk-"

"Well, you live with him. If you can't bring him back, why-"

"Oh, shut up!" Tim groans, crossing his arms over his chest and throwing his head back to look at the roof "Shut up, for real. You're pissing me off, and we're underground, you're going to make me blow up half the city."

Gerry rolls his eyes, a resigned huff escaping his lips. "Sometimes I wish I'd convinced you to stay behind when we went to get the Dark Sun. I don't know what Lukas did to him, but I doubt he would've done it I'd you'd been here."

"You know what? I do, too." Tim remains focused on the roof of the car, his fingers tapping against his arm in an incessant rhythm that leaves melted indentations on his skin. "I should've stayed where it mattered."

They don't say much after that. What else could they add? He can deny it until he's blue in the face, but they both know Manuela Dominguez burned because Tim still holds Jon dear, whether he likes it or not.

Still, Tim's words weigh heavy in his mind as they climb up the steps to the street and start the short trek to the Institute. It's- he's right. Whatever they promised Martin, this has gone too far. Martin might be ready to sacrifice it out of some misplaced lack of self worth, but nothing is worth his life, not even saving the world. And if he has to break into Martin's office and convince him of it, well... it won't be the first time, at least.

He starts on the stairs up towards the Institute's upper floors, only to stop when he notices Tim is no longer following. When he turns around, Gerry finds him standing at the bottom of the stairs, his face turned towards the door and his eyes overtaken by the bright orange of the Desolation.

"...Are you okay?" Gerry asks, arching an eyebrow.

Tim scowls at whatever it is he's looking at, but lifts a hand to stop him when Gerry makes to walk back down. "You going to see Jon?"

"Martin, actually," Gerry admits. Tim nods.

"Fine. You do that. I'll be down at the Archives." He gestures to the stairs going down instead.

It is a bit odd, but there's something else tugging at his mind right now. Something feels off today crawling under his skin like a many legged being. He wonders for a moment if this is the Spider pulling at him, before he resolves that one way or another it won't do to dwell on it. He feeds the Mother of Puppets either by fearing the manipulation or by fighting against it; the best he can do is be prepared for whatever it is he's being pushed into.

"-ou are. I was starting to fear you'd gotten cold feet." Gerry freezes before turning the corner to enter the corridor that takes to Martin's office. Lukas' voice is light and amused enough that Gerry wants to rearrange his face, mostly because he knows there's only one person in the Institute Lukas really talks to.

"I haven't," Martin says, and he sounds like a gray afternoon given a voice.

"Wonderful! I'd hate for you to give up after so much hard work, when we're already at the finish line. We can go down, then."

Martin doesn't answer, not even when Lukas lets out a satisfied chuckle. Gerry leans around the corner as soon as the familiar static of the Lonely starts ringing in his ears, and he's just in time to see the last of Martin's back disappear into a wall of fog.

The finish line.

Gerry frowns; the Eye won't volunteer any information about what Lukas is talking about, not even when he tries to Look, but if this means that he's done with whatever he was pushing Martin into, then this can't be good. Should he go look for Jon? Would the Eye let him know where they-

"You're looking real unhappy there, dear." Helen's voice doesn't really make him jump as much as merely draws him out of his reverie. "Did you lose something?"

"Someone." Gerry huffs.

"The pessimism... you've been hanging with Jon too much, I'd say."

"If you happen to know where they're going-"

"They're real funny," Helen chuckles. It makes Gerry a bit dizzy, but he merely lays a hand on the wall to steady himself. "They kept saying they needed a map, like there aren't better ways to get to places."

Gerry freezes, the implications of the Distortion's words deafening in his mind.

"Helen?" he asks almost shakily. If he can reach Martin and ask Helen to get the others- "Is it a door that they needed?"

Helen merely stands there before him, her smile curling into itself and her door partly opened behind her.

Gertrude would eat him alive for being so stupid, so selfish, Gerry thinks with a bitter sort of amusement. What gives him the right to stop Martin from saving the world, just because of anything he or Jon may or may not feel?

Probably nothing, but maybe it's high time he tries being self-centered for once, he decides before he walks into the Distortion's corridors.

-----------------------------------

It had taken him a few blocks to place the feeling, but when he finally did Tim found it laughably easy to put a name to it.

At first it feels like a prickle at his nape, the feeling of being watched, and he ignores it because it's far from an uncommon occurrence at the Institute. It's only when he feels the urge to hasten his pace that it clicks in his mind, even when it doesn't feel quite the same as when he first caught sight of Jon ducking behind a corner on his way home.

The Hunt is insidious, playing at your most basic instincts as it chases you to where you'll be easier to strike down. Now that he's recognized it, Tim finds it all too easy to shake it off. Instead the Desolation sparks to life inside his chest, aching for a good fight, for destruction, for the delicious sorrow that lays promised by the bond between the two hunters.

It's a bit funny how they don't notice when he flips the tables, coming back through the Institute's front doors just in time to see the back of the old man disappearing into the alley behind the institute; how very Hunt-like, to underestimate the 'prey'.

They head straight for the door that leads down to the Archives, and Tim feels the burning in his chest grow hotter.

Daisy wasn't lying when she said they were opportunistic, but she failed to mention just how fatally uninformed they were. He still feels the sequels from yesterday, and Jon was trying not to hurt him. Even if they reached him, what chance do they hope to have against the Archivist on his home turf?

He waits until their steps have faded down the stairs, before pushing the door open again and slipping in himself, and he wonders if maybe in another life he wouldn't have shared a patron with them, with how fervently he tracked the Stranger, and how easily he falls into the role of the hunter now.

Jon did kill the thing that took Sasha, and he's not too fond of owing favors.

-----------------------------------

Dying is not so terrible, Daisy thinks. Or maybe it's Basira -as always- that makes it tolerable.

It's cold by the entrance to the tunnel, but the cot itself is warm enough that Daisy doesn't shiver -she doesn't think she has the strength for it- in Basira's arms.

She doesn't smell the scent of tears or despair, and it only hurts a little. She wasn't expecting Basira to cry, or be devastated. In fact, she was counting on it. One of the things she fell in love with was Basira's stability, always a safe port to come home to in the middle of the storm that is Daisy's rage.

She's looking down at her on her lap, lightly brushing Daisy's hair off her face. All the hair was brushed away long ago but still Basira runs her fingers softly over her cheekbones, her forehead, her closed eyelids, and it feels like drifting off to sleep on a sunny windowsill.

It's far too peaceful an end, for all the pain she's caused.

"Basira-" she starts, only to stop a second after, her eyes shooting open at the sound of running feet and hurried breathing, the cloying scent of fear like a shot of adrenaline straight into her expiring heart.

"Jon?" Basira asks, her body tensing under Daisy's in preparation for- for what? "What's going on?"

Daisy chokes back a strained laugh. Of course something else would happen now that Basira has finally run out of excuses to let her die.

"I'm- I- Daisy?" Jon's voice is shaky, and the scent of fear intensifies. It makes her want to howl that she's not only unable to assuage his distress, but that she's a part of it now. "What is- the Hunt-"

"Jon, what do you want?!" Basira snaps.

Jon flinches. "Martin, I- he left me- I don't think he's coming back." There's a tape recorder in his hand, and what makes Daisy sit up on the cot is that he looks like he sounded in the Buried, lost and trapped and all devoid of hope.

"Where's Gerry?" she asks. "He's good at finding Martin. Bringing him back."

"That's- I don't know," Jon says shakily. "I'm- I tried to See him, but- I think he's inside Helen? I don't know- he doesn't feel like he's in danger, but-"

"And can't you See Martin?" Basira arches an eyebrow. "If you can See inside the Distortion-"

"I'm- I can't usually do that." Jon huffs almost angrily. "I can sort of See inside Helen because Gerry's in there, like-"

"Like you're looking through him?" Daisy supplies, when he seems to be out of words. Much to her despair, she feels reenergized already, like the mere idea of a goal is enough to fuel the embers of the Hunt inside her. She can feel Basira's eyes on the side of her face, and she knows she's already plotting, scheming some way to keep her around longer.

"Exactly, yes." Jon nods. "And only barely enough to feel that he doesn't think he's in danger. But when I try to See Martin, it's- it's like- like two mirrors in front of each other. I know it doesn't make any sense, but-"

"Nevermind that." Basira climbs to her feet in a smooth move "We can find him."

Daisy doesn't miss the use of the plural, nor the way her glowing green eyes fix on her with that look she knows all too well. It's a look that beckons her to follow, a siren call she has little to no hope of refusing. She heaves a sigh before she stands from the cot as well, smacking Jon on the shoulder.

"Couldn't wait until I was buried to drag me out again, could you?" she asks.

Jon gives her a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry."

Daisy shrugs. She'll stick around just for a few more hours, just for them.

"Let's find those two."

-----------------------------------

There's a body below the institute.

This is, of course, not the first time this has happened, Martin thinks, and the thought almost feels amusing. The handle of the knife Peter placed in his hand after the whole explanation about the Panopticon feels almost vulgar in its suggestion that violence is the only way to save the world.

"I must admit, he's not at all as surprised as I expected he'd be." says a voice that Martin still hears in his nightmares from time to time. When he turns around, Elias is standing across Peter, the two of them framing the door like guardian statues. He looks immaculate, his suit clean and freshly pressed, his tie perfectly knotted at his throat. Martin arches an eyebrow, wondering if he factored in enough time for grooming when breaking out from jail, and Elias chuckles. "Speaks wonders of your job I suppose."

"A natural, I told you. Now Martin, if you'd move along please?" Peter says without taking his eyes off Elias. The smirk on his face speaks of familiarity, the kind of look you give someone that you know will be incensed by it. "I didn't count on us having an audience, but I guess I should've known."

"Can't a man watch his own death?" Elias' lips curve upwards like the edge of the blade in Martin's hand. "Also, you must admit it's much more.... poetic, this way, Peter."

"I'll concede on that." Peter turns towards Martin again. "What's keeping you?"

"This is you, isn't it?" It's not that big of a leap, the Panopticon, Jonah Magnus, and the Eye's biggest servant. Elias' widening grin is answer enough. "Will the others survive?"

"I'm surprised you care." Peter says, and Martin rolls his eyes.

"I-"

"He doesn't. But he knows he should. Again, impressive." Elias shrugs, and for all that Martin stands over his body with a knife, he couldn't look less bothered. "But in the interest of truth-"

"Oh, you care about that now?" Peter cackles in the background.

"The answer is, I'm not sure." Elias raises his voice a little. "But making an educated guess, most of the ones you used to care about should fare just fine. Tim and Melanie are well out of my reach. Your new allegiance should protect you from the worst of it, like the Hunt should miss Tonner, if she wasn't so keen on starving herself. I'm not sure about the Detective, ever the rogue variant, but thanks to our patron's little present, Jon is powerful enough that he should survive as well-"

"Don't call him that," Martin mutters quietly to himself. He doubts Elias is listening, anyways; he's much too fond of his own voice.

"-egular workers of the Institute will be affected of course, though there is no telling just how grave the damage will be. But I know you don't care about that, and you know that too, don't you Martin?"

He's... really irritating, Martin decides.

"I do." Whether he means he does care or he merely knows he doesn't, Martin isn't too sure himself.

"Always very self-aware, yes." Elias has the gall to nod like a proud mentor, and Martin rolls his eyes. "I would say then that the only variable to factor in is whether or not you want to kill me."

"I really do." And for so many reasons, too.

"Then go ahead, Martin." Peter steps forward, and Martin sees Elias watching him from the back like a snake about to strike. It's actually pretty funny, that they're both so sure they've cornered the other. "Kill him, and help me save the world."

"I don't think I will, actually." Martin shrugs, tossing the knife aside with a careless flick. The delight he feels at Peter's confused frown is muted, but it's definitely there.

"I- what?" Peter stutters. Elias' grin grows even sharper behind him. "Martin, this is not the time for games, the world is at stake here, and-"

"See, that's where you messed up. All those details that didn't add up, the insistence that I was some sort of- of world savior? Far too grand for me." Elias breaks down in cackles, and Martin covers his flinching by crossing his arms over his chest. "It really wasn't that hard to see through all the bull you were trying to serve me."

"Serve- Martin, I never lied to you. The Extinction is coming and-"

"I don't doubt it." He waves the matter away. "But this is not about the Extinction, is it? It's just whatever pases for a game between you two, using people as your betting chips, and I don't want any part in it. I'm out."

"But you said-"

"What you wanted to hear, mostly." Martin shrugs again; the feeling of perverse delight growing more and more alive in his chest. Who knew that pettiness was an emotion just as effective against the Lonely?

"You projected too hard on dear Martin, it seems," Elias says after his laughter has subsided. Peter looks fit to boil, his pale face sporting ugly red blotches as he rounds up on Elias.

"This is your doing," he says. Elias' carefully knotted tie crumples in Peter's clenched fist. "How-"

"It wasn't him." Martin interrupts again, feeling more tangible by the second out of sheer indignation. "It was me, always me. I came to you because Jon was dead and it seemed like the most useful thing I could do for the others was letting you do your thing. I thought it would even be a good way to get killed, but you lost any hold you might've had the moment Jon woke up." It's almost cathartic to let everything out after so much lying. It certainly is rewarding to watch Peter's face lose more and more color with each word. "Suddenly I had a reason again, and it was very easy to pretend I was going along with your schemes, if it meant keeping him safe. You had me for a while when you started dropping hints about the Extinction, but it was just too much, you know? I'm not exactly a- a 'chosen one', or a hero, but it was the best way to figure out what your end game was."

"But- I can feel the Lonely around you, it's-"

"Sure, it's there. Always has been, maybe. But if this is the final test, then- then I guess failed." The silence that blankets over the Panopticon after his words is so dense Martin can almost taste it. He wonders if the other two can hear the frantic beating of his heart.

"You- no." Peter shakes his head. "This- you have no idea what you've done, you've doomed-"

"I did warn you, Peter." Elias speaks, sweet and cloying like festering rot. "Now, sore loser is a terrible look on you, so get on with it."

"Get on with what?" Martin scowls, trying to ignore the shiver that bleeds down his spine when Elias' amused smile turns towards him. "I thought he couldn't use the Panopticon."

"That ship has sailed, I'm afraid." Elias shakes his head, tutting under his breath. "Really, one way or another you shouldn't have anything to fear, Martin. If your allegiance to the Lonely's strong enough, you should be able to walk right back out. If it's not... then you just have to hope Jon's allegiance to you is strong enough."

"I'm- what?" Martin frowns. Why would Elias want Jon to go get him from- oh. Oh, crap, how could he have been so stupid?! He steps back, when a tendril of fog begins to wrap itself around his ankle. "Wait, I-"

"I'll do it." Martin feels his blood freeze in his veins, when he whips around and finds Gerry standing by the entrance to the Panopticon, his hand wrapped around the knife Martin discarded just a few minutes ago.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Peter asks, his hand still extended towards Martin, but the fog momentarily at ease. Martin takes a few more steps back, trying to get his thoughts into some semblance of order because this is not good. Gerry shouldn't be here, he can handle the Lonely, but he can't leave Gerry alone with these two-

"If you want him dead so badly, I'll kill him, and use the damned thing for you." Gerry steps towards the body with knife in hand, and Martin has a split second to appreciate that Elias no longer seems so amused, even getting closer to the body himself. "Let Martin go."

"You don't have any bonds with the Lonely." Peter arches an eyebrow, but he's starting to lower his hand. Fuck, this- this isn't good.

"Does that really matter? I could hardly be more marked by the Eye. I'll use it for you, just let Martin-"

"Are you crazy?" Martin snaps, whipping around to face him again. "Get out of here, I-"

"Peter." Elias hisses in the background, and Peter grunts.

"As much as it'd please me to use the Eye's own gifts against it-" Peter starts, every word sounding like a forced pleasantry. The edges of Martin's vision blur with thick, white fog that pulls at his core almost as much as his mind reels from it. "-I am a man of my word."

"What- wait-" Gerry takes a step towards him, reaching a hand to grab at Martin's shoulder.

"Say, Gerard," Elias' voice cuts in, loud and laced with static as he steps between Gerry and his body. "Have you ever wondered how your father died?"

Gerry's face goes contorts in pain as the memories are forced in, and Martin flinches in sympathy.

"Go away!" Martin snaps, before whipping around to face Elias. "Cut it out, I'll go in-"

"The marks, Martin-" Gerry grunts. "Stay-"

"You were sleeping while she butchered his body. A spirited woman, your mother, but not the finest planner-"

Gerry shakes his head like trying to shake the foreign thoughts loose, a thin stream of ink running down his philtrum, staining his lips black.

"Like you'd fucking know- Martin? Martin, look at me!" He orders, like Martin isn't already doing so, like he isn't actively trying to give in to the pull of the Lonely -if he goes, they'll leave him alone, they have no other reason to keep him-

"She did love him, you know? Or she loved his devotion for her at least. It's quite funny, actually. Good old Eric fought so hard to break free of our patron, and he never once stopped to wonder if he wasn't running into something worse. His end was quite gruesome, even for one of Gertrude's assistants." Elias' eyes gleam with dark amusement when they meet Martin's, and the threat in them is clear. "He thought her steps sounded different that afternoon, but he was only starting to get used to getting by on his remaining senses, and she'd been so gentle and caring to him lately-"

"Stop..." Gerry snarls "I don't care, I never knew him, you can't-"

"Oh, but you could have. If he hadn't been so arrogant, if he hadn't tried to plan so much smarter than he was. You should be careful which of your parents' footsteps you want to follow, though I suppose both trails are marked in blood."

"Elias, stop!" Martin shuts his eyes tight to not see Gerry's pained expression, focusing on the cold, slimy feeling of the fog that resides within his core, but he can't- the Lonely's refusing to come to his call, and Martin wants to scream, because when Gerry warned him so many months ago that he'd ruin his plan, Martin wasn't expecting it to be by making himcare so much for him. "Peter, just- do it already!"

The man's face is veiled in satisfaction, and Martin has no doubt that he too knows Martin won't survive the Lonely like this, and the act is as much a fulfillment of the wager with Elias as it is his revenge for Martin unraveling his plans.

"Martin!" Gerry throws himself forward, and Martin feels his hand pass straight through his front.

The last hint of color he sees before the grey takes it away is that heart-wrenching mix of green and blue.

-----------------------------------

Martin's trail is a soft green against the dirty stone floor of the tunnels. Not as easy to follow as Daisy's, and mingled with a sickly grey one that smells of salt and absence.

"These tunnels don't make sense," she grunts after taking a left turn for the sixth time in a row.

"They change." Jon sniffles behind her, his footsteps light and hurried in contrast with Daisy's heavier, determined ones. "I feel a sort of- a pull, towards the center. I'm guessing that's where Martin is?"

Basira doesn't respond, sure, Jon could've come down here himself, but then Daisy would've given up, would've died in her arms without the interruption, without the goal.

"Do you feel Gerry?" Daisy asks. There's a light growl to her voice that wasn't there before, and it makes Basira stop a little. "Is he alright?"

"He's- I think he found Martin. It's like the two mirrors thing, whenever I try to See any of them." Jon wipes a hand across his brow, letting out a soft, sheepish chuckle. "I'm- I feel blind."

"We're being followed," Daisy says calmly, and Basira spins around on her heel. The Hunt doesn't manifest with light, there is no eerie glow to her warm brown eyes, but Basira sees her fingers curled in the shape of claws, and the stiff line of her back just as clearly, the blood simmering under her skin, not yet boiling but very much threatening to. "Are you going to come out, or will you keep hiding like rats?"

Basira's gun is on her hand in an instant, and she pulls Jon behind her, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins at the familiarity of falling into step with Daisy.

"Must admit- I'd been hopin' you'd be dead by now." She doesn't know the old man that comes from behind the corner they just turned, but she can guess who it is just by the distortion to his features, his too-wide grin full of too-sharp teeth, his eyes that reflect the light of their torches in the way no human could. "We wanted to have Jonny boy for ourselves for a bit."

"We got a few statements we'd like to give." And if that's Trevor Herbert, then this must be Julia Montauk, of course.

"You didn't dare go against Daisy and me last time," Jon pipes in from behind Basira, and she contemplates turning around and strangling him herself, because of course Jon will hear danger ask for him by name and be a smartass about it. "Now there's three of us. Doesn't sound too smart."

"But see, we're well out of your dear Archives now, Jon dear." Julia takes a step to the side that Daisy mimics, keeping herself between the groups. "And your guard dog here looks like a famished mutt. I like our chances, actually."

"Brought this on yourself, really." The old hunter cracks his neck, running a red tongue over his teeth. "We'd have let you live, you were going around stopping rituals even, but you just had to go and take that page out."

Basira feels more than she sees Jon's patience dwindling. There's static in the air sure, but there's something in her connection to the Eye that reacts to him getting ready for a fight.

"Easy, Jon," she mutters, her gun trained on the old man's forehead.

"We're wasting time. I need-"

"Go, just follow your call," says Daisy, without moving an inch from where she's facing the other woman down. Basira can See the blood rising hotter and angrier inside her, and Daisy's almost back to looking like herself, the light back in her eyes, the steel in her spine, the slightest hint of a smirk as she stares Julia down. "We'll take care of this."

Jon hesitates for a moment; Basira can see the struggle in his eyes, going from Daisy to the hunters to her-

"Just go!" Basira snaps. "You know what's going on here, go find out what's happening there!"

And well, maybe it is underhanded, to use his worry for those two against him, but if it gets him to leave...

"I'll come back," Jon says hurriedly.

Basira nods. "Or I'll find you. Go!"

He rushes down the tunnel; Basira wonders, daring a look over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of his awkward race around a corner, is this the last she sees of Jonathan Sims?

"That's cute!" Julia snarls, calling her back to attention. The faint orange glow behind her is easy to miss, but Basira recognizes it easily enough. "You're getting very high and mighty there."

"This one is not even a full avatar," Trevor gestures at Basira with a chuckle, and it feels both relieving and insulting. "You can't take the two of us alone, not in your state."

"I don't know. What was it you said a moment ago?" Tim speaks from behind them, causing the two hunters to whip around to face him. His eyes glow like two angry embers; Basira remembers this Tim not from the night before the Unknowing, but from the warehouse up North. "I like our chances."

-----------------------------------

The pull at his chest is not foreign to Jon, though it feels as different as day and night from the one he followed to find Gerry when the hunters came the first time.

It's something built into him from the moment he opened his eyes as the Archivist, something that ties him to the Archives, to whatever it is that lays at the middle of this labyrinth, and Jon despises it.

Still he follows it, heading to whatever fate awaits him willingly, for them.

The chamber he finds himself in is enormous, the walls made up entirely of cells with thick bars covered in rust. At the center, stands a tower made up of blackened stone, the very top domed in clouded glass, and the Beholding drops a word in his mind with all the ceremony of an artist revealing their Magnum Opus.

The Panopticon.

"So good you could join us, Jonathan." Elias's voice hits him like a hammer to the chest, and only then does Jon notice him standing at the base of the turret, his arms crossed behind his back and smiling beatifically in his direction. "Was it hard, finding the place?"

"Not- not too much." Jon steps closer carefully. He still can't See Martin or Gerry, but Elias being here -how did he get out of jail? Was he ever really trapped there?- is not a great signal.

"Because I called you." Elias nods. "I thought you might want to pick up what you lost."

Shit.

"Where are they? Elias, if you-" Jon's rather pathetic attempt at a threat is cut off by Elias' gleeful cackle.

"Calm down, Jon. Gerard's merely a bit... lost in thought. As for Martin, the door is open, if you want him back."

"What door? Elias, what did you do?" Jon snarls, pouring the compulsion thick into the question.

"I cashed in a favor. Or rather, a wager." Elias smiles. "You've grown fairly powerful, haven't you?"

"Elias-"

"You'll find Martin right where you put him." Elias' eyes gleam dangerously, his smile still sharp on his face. "In the Lonely."

"W-"

"As much as I'd enjoy a chat, I'd advise against dallying. He was in a bit of a state when he went in. Not too suited to survive in there, even after all these months." Elias takes a step aside, clearing the way to the stone stairs that curl up around the body of the tower. "Good luck, Jonathan. I'll be seeing-"

Whatever he was going to say next, Jon doesn't care to know. He rushes past him, climbing the stairs as quickly and as carefully as he can, keeping away from the edge because he wouldn't put it past himself to simply trip and snap his neck.

The interior of the turret is mostly empty, but his eyes pick up on three details immediately. The first is the dessicated body sitting at the center of the eye carved on the stone floor. He Knows who he is, and who the man outside isn't, but right at this moment, he couldn't care less.

The second thing he notices is the door to the Lonely, like a tear on dark fabric leaking out a soft silvery light and heavy wisps of fog that drift down to the floor.

Gerry's crumbled next to the body like a puppet whose strings were cut off. His arm stretched out towards the rift, and he's bleeding, a puddle of acrid-smelling ink under his head.

Jon rushes to his side, falling to his knees beside him and turning his head as carefully as he can.

"Gerr- I- can you hear me?" he asks, his heart beating so hard he's worried it'll punch a hole right through his chest. Gerry's eyes are wide and glassy and Beholding green, and his papery white lips move around words Jon cannot hear, but he's alive, and that means they have a shot still.

"I need- Gerry, I- you have to wake up now. I'm-" This is- he's so bad at this. How do you call a person back? I'm sorry but I love you, please don't go? "I need you, please."

-----------------------------------

"Told ya!" The old man smirks, his sharp teeth painted red with the blood flowing from his nose after Tim's headbutt. His claw-like nails sink into the flesh of Basira's neck, and the whirlpool of activity in the tunnel comes to a screeching halt. "This one is not quite done yet. Let's see if she bleeds like a monster or like a human."

If one thinks about it objectively, Tim's cockiness wasn't necessarily unjustified. He merely failed to factor in the part where he technically doesn't want to blow up the entirety of London to get rid of two hunters, or turn Daisy and Basira into a pile of ashes.

"That's enough," Daisy growls, loosening her grip around Julia's neck. The woman slashes at her face as soon as she's free, the knife leaving an angry red gash across her cheekbone and nose.

It makes something hot an angry burn at his chest, that even with all this power, he's still useless to stop this.

"How sweet." Julia shoves her off, climbing to her feet with a slight limp in her step. Tim feels a dark pang of pride at the angry red burn on the side of her face. "You're not the monsters we wanted, but it's okay, we don't discriminate. Let's see that throat, old man."

"Basira?" Daisy calls out. She's still on her knees, still watching her own blood drip down to the dirty floor of the tunnels.

"Yes?" Basira asks, then chokes a little when Trevor presses his nails a bit harder.

"Will you find me?" Daisy's starting to shake, and Tim takes a step back even as the Desolation in him beckons him forward, because the sheer amount of sorrow and rage coming from her is intoxicating.

Another wave of loss, of suffering hits him just as hard. Tim darts a glance at her, but there's nothing in Basira's face that betrays the pain simmering inside her.

"Anywhere."

Daisy's form splits open.

It's like watching a flower blossom in a timelapse video, or a moth emerge from its cocoon. The creature that comes out is long-limbed and sharp-fanged, and its fur shimmers with a faint coat of blood as it leaves behind the useless skin of Daisy Tonner. They watch it in stunned silence as it raises to its full height, its hunched back grazing against the roof of the tunnel, a cavernous growl squeezing out from between jaws where the hide is stretched too thin, pierced here and there by sharp yellowed fangs, its eyes like two pinpricks of light at the end of a cavernous tunnel fixed on the hunters before it.

"...Fuck," Julia mutters. Tim is inclined to agree.

Then the thing that was Daisy takes a step towards her, and the room explodes in activity again. Basira is shoved to the side as Trevor rushes to step between them, and it's all Tim can do to throw himself over her, as two and then three beasts slam each other against the walls of the tunnel, raining down dirt and debris that digs into Tim's waxy flesh.

It feels like hours before the howling fades away, before the tearing of flesh under claws and fangs leaves behind a silence so haunting it very nearly drowns the roar of the Desolation inside him.

"G- get off," Basira orders, pushing a hand against his chest. Tim scrambles to his feet and offers a hand that she ignores, her eyes focused on the soggy skins left behind in crumpled lumps by the beasts. "I- shit."

"Eloquent." She's looking down one of the tunnels, the one that reeks of hatred and pain, and Tim knows very well the sort of debate brewing in her mind. "Are you going after them?"

"Are you?" she snaps, whipping around to face him. Her face is carefully blank, and Tim doesn't point out the red rims of her eyes, or the pain emanating from her in waves. It doesn't take a genius to understand she's pinning her own hesitation on him. He doesn't know much about Basira, but he might understand that it's easier for her to handle weak people than to be weak herself.

Is he going after them?

He could probably find them, following the claw marks and the rage. If they make it far enough from anyone that could get caught in the crossfire-

"Why were you down here?" he asks, though he thinks he might know the answer already. Jon is many things, but he wouldn't abandon them so easily.

"Jon was still holding on to you when they found you, you know?" Sasha -no, not her, not anymore- had said, and Tim had believed her immediately, just as he believes it now.

"Martin and- they're missing. We think they're at the center of this- this mess." Basira's voice is almost frail as she continues to look down the corridor the monsters disappeared in.

"Can you find them?"

"Yes." The word comes immediately, mournful and without hesitation.

"Well- let's- let's get to it. Somehow I doubt Daisy needs us that much right now."

-----------------------------------

"You're making a right mess of me," he says. He's standing next to the table, watching the proceedings with something that almost feels like interest. "I thought you had more experience at this."

"I was feeling experimental." She shrugs. Her arms are covered in blood to the elbow, and her chest and face are also splattered red. "I felt like it had to be special."

"Very romantic," he says dryly. "What's going to happen to Gerry?"

"Gerard will be fine." She enunciates the name clearly and firmly. They never did settle that argument, but she pretty much just won, he guesses. "He's got the potential."

"He's two years old."

"He's my son." She saws angrily, until the bone finally breaks. "You brought this on yourself, you know?What were you thinking, pulling your eyes out?"

"I suppose I did. I thought you'd be happy that I was free." He shrugs again, before extending a translucent hand to push a lock of blood-soaked blonde hair behind her ear. It passes right through. "It's nice to see you again."

She pauses on her work, her eyes -he always did love that perfect mix of green and blue- fixed on the carnage dripping down to the kitchen floor.

"You knew how I was," she says finally. "I never hid that from you."

"You didn't."

That's not an apology. It's not an excuse. It's not enough for this man who sees himself dead on a table and asks about his son first, why do they both look so satisfied with it?!

The saw is heavy in his hand, and slippery with the blood that stinks the whole room of iron. Gerry tries to drop it, tries to step back, this is not him, up to his elbows in the blood of the one he loves-

"Gerry?" Jon's voice washes over him like cool water over a burn; Gerry thinks he might cry, when he blinks away the image of his parents and Jon is there, looking down at him in concern. "I'm- you're- how do you feel?"

"Like shit." Gerry lets out a dry cackle that's just this side of hysterical, before the gravity of the situation catches up to him, and he sits up so abruptly Jon has to throw himself back to avoid getting head-butted. "Fuck. Jon, we- Martin-"

"I know, I- Elias told me." Jon bites at his bottom lip. "I'm- it looks like we're completing the card after all."

"...Looks like it," Gerry says. It leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, but there's no other way to go about it. Jon's not going to leave Martin in the Lonely, and Gerry's not going to ask him to. He climbs to his feet with a groan -he definitely bruised something- and Jon follows suit. "I'm- I don't know how well it'll go, Jon. You were able to use me as an anchor in the Dark, but I don't know if you can just- just pull Martin out. The person has to want to come back, usually."

"Let's find out." Jon takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the rift to the Lonely for a moment. He looks over his shoulder at him, and there's an odd intensity to his eyes, not the eerie power of the Archivist, but merely the one befitting a man in love. "Are you ready?"

"I- what?" Gerry blinks a couple times, before his own words come back to him from so long ago, whispered against Jon's lips with more devotion than any prayer he's ever uttered, the threat of an apocalypse looming over their heads and in his heart the firm intention of walking into the Dark for this man. "Oh."

"...I don't mean to force you to-" the little yelp Jon gives when he leans in to kiss him might just be enough to turn him immune to the Lonely, Gerry thinks.

"Let's go get your Martin back, then."

[derivativealigner]

I rewatched the second season of South Park and took so many notes that I had to split them into two parts. Like seriously, I took so. many. notes. And pictures this time. I started rewatching just in case I’d find some cool little facts to sprinkle into my fanfic but I went way too far and now there’s a million facts under this cut (including gay stan, a domestic violence psa, and craig fucking dying)

Stan doesn’t like hospitals, he finds them gross and he gets sick 🤮. Also the hospital in South Park is called Hell’s Pass hospital. Early seasons have the name as Hells Pass but it gets fixed later

Cartman has to sing all of Come Sailing Away by Styx if he hears a part of it. After he says this, Kyle sings the first part and Cartman has to sing the rest. Kyle does it again later, which is kinda mean

Cartman’s mom tries to abort Cartman, who is an eight-year-old child and thus cannot be legally aborted. Later, after she slept with Bill Clinton to change the law and make 40th trimester abortions legal, it turns out she meant adoption

Kenny sacrifices himself to turn on the generator to the hospital and save Dr. Mephesto’s life along with others. He says “I’ll fucking do it” then does it and dies, absolute legend

Cartman gets way too into his deputy role. He goes undercover, pretends to be a prostitute, says “Respect my authoritah!” a lot and beats people up with his police stick

Kenny’s brother first appears when Cartman responds to a call about a disturbance at Kenny’s house. Apparently there are like 10 adult family members in the house at that time. Kenny’s dad has a black eye because Kenny’s mom punched him. She says he can’t hold a job

Token sits in the classroom in season 2

Cartman starts hating hippies in this season, like a lot

Chef tells the boys that the right time to do drugs is in college

Ike’s name is Ike Moisha Broflovski and he was born in 1996, making him 2 years old in 1998 when this season aired

This is probably obvious but yeah Kyle and Ike are circumcised

Kyle says family isn’t just blood, it’s who you care about, and he says “That’s why you guys are more than just friends, you’re my family. Except for Cartman.”

Craig’s finally sitting in the classroom in S02E04

None of the boys like dodgeball

Clyde gets a dodgeball to the face and he cries :( and he’s the only one who cries by the way

Pip throws a dodgeball in Kyle’s face and breaks Kyle’s nose

When Kyle’s mom tells the boys about conjoined twin myslexia (which isn’t a real term) and says anyone might’ve absorbed their dead twin in the womb, Stan and Cartman run away screaming but Kenny and Kyle stay to listen. Kenny even leans in to look at the book “Freaks A-Z!” that Mrs. Broflovski is reading from, and when she leaves, Kyle grimaces and Kenny laughs

Stan’s mom (Sharon) calls Kyle’s mom (Sheila) when Stan is all freaked out and trying to put an icepick through his brain, and Sharon tells Sheila to get run over by a truck. Sharon is pretty mean in these early episodes

Mr. Broflovski doesn’t really listen to what Mrs. Broflovski is saying, bad husband >:(

South Park’s team is always called South Park Cows no matter the sport

The school nurse, Nurse Gollum, went to Colorado State University

I just realized Butters exists. I think he appeared before S02E05 but I didn’t notice but yeah he’s there with the dodgeball team, injured

Here’s a picture to make up for my disgusting anti-Butters bias

Kenny’s dodgeball uniform number is 69 obviously. Kyle is 7, Stan is 4, Cartman is 325

Sheila smacks Gerald in the face so hard he falls off his chair, lots of violence perpetrated by women in this show. Remember, don’t do domestic violence no matter your gender, it’s not cool

I realized after this whole Butters thing that I should’ve made more notes about Pip, so I’ll make a note about his anger issues now. When people call him French, he gets angry and throws dodgeballs at them

The boys launch a jelly roll at Ms. Crabtree and make her crash the bus. They do it just for fun

The kids somehow go to China in the school bus

Cartman references Moby Dick, but he probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about

Kevin Stoley gets named in S02E05 and has his first speaking role when he says he has Chinese parents and after Cartman hears it he immediately says something racist. smh cartman, what a problematic fave

Cartman says “I love you guys 😊” but Stan and Kyle just stare at him and he goes 😐 “Eh, screw you guys 😠”

If Jimbo and Ned really fought in Vietnam, they youngest they could’ve been in 1998 is early forties, which means in the latest seasons they would be early sixties. Btw they met in Vietman

Jesus and Pals is a recurring TV show in seasons 1 and 2. Jesus just kind of lives in South Park

I just remembered that Terrance and Phillip are really old in canon, it’s so weird, like how can South Park canon still be changing, it’s been 20 years

Also the early seasons are casually racist who knew

Kenny flashes his ass on a tape the boys send to Jimbo and Ned’s TV show, which airs and at least 12 people see Kenny’s bare naked ass

Cartman really doesn’t like hippies in these early seasons. He throws a chair at Ned and yells, “Take that, hippie!” (Ned is in a catatonic state and did nothing to provoke this)

Jimbo and Ned live together I guess. Jimbo’s gonna take Ned home and show him some hardcore porn to snap him out of his catatonic state, good husband unlike Gerald Broflovski

Saddam Hussein is in hell and has a Canadian accent and is Satan’s lover in S02E06, I guess he died in Canada in the first episode this season but I wasn’t paying much attention since that’s the Terrance and Phillip episode that pissed a bunch of people off in 1998 because the audience wanted to know who Cartman’s dad is instead. It was kind of a boring episode so I understand why everyone was pissed, but it is funny that Matt and Trey did that so I’m not mad about it

Aww look at them!!! We’ve got background Style, the vaguest inkling of Crenny, and Cartman/Cake

I’d take more screenshots but it’s a pain since I’m watching legally and stupid legal websites block screenshots so I have to find youtube videos instead ughhhh piracy is the answer kids

Apparently there’s a huge waterfall and canyon somewhere close to South Park, maybe? At least in Stan’s dream

Mary Kay Bergman was an incredible voice actor. How the hell did she voice all the moms, Wendy, Shelly, principle Victoria, the mayor, Nurse Gollum, and fucking Ms. Crabtree??? Holy shit what a queen

Kenny has some feelings about death. He reimagines the episode where death boops him to death and in his version, he beats death the fuck up, then has ice cream and is happy 😊 But again, this is in Stan’s dream

S02E07 kind of establishes that nobody remembers Kenny dying because when Cartman tells a story where Kenny dies, Kyle questions how Kenny could’ve died then when he also died just a few hours ago when a giant monster took him

rip craig, he falls out the bus and into a canyon

But it’s okay because it was all Stan’s dream so everything in the episode is questionable. Everything after this is no longer a dream

Pip’s parents are dead and he has to go to summer school while everyone else is having a nice summer break

Officer Barbrady and the mayor are having sexual relations, I’m sure this is the most interesting note I’ve made so far. Idk I’m just writing everything down, this is how I enjoy things, I have no off switch

Ew summer bus stop, cursed

Kyle casually sings little tunes every once in a while, how cute

This is pretty obvious but Kenny likes dirty jokes, he laughs when Cartman innocently says he loves Chef’s salty chocolate balls (which are chocolate candy). Nobody else laughs

Cartman says “Screw you guys, I’m going home” or variations of it a lot in this season

So Stan throws up when he likes someone, right? Well, he’s watching an indie movie about two gay cowboys who start making out and he throws up, which is either a terrible homophobic joke or confirmation that Stan’s a little gay. I know which one I prefer

Kyle says Mr. Hankey is his best friend after Stan. Like I know it’s definitely canon that Stan and Kyle are best friends but it’s still nice to see confirmation, it’s very precious. Also Kyle is best friends with literal shit, so cute 😊

Kenny deaths:

S02E02 Kenny sacrifices himself by connecting a generator wire, which electrocutes him but brings power back to a hospital

S02E03 A tree falls on Kenny and crushes him

S02E04 Kenny falls in a grave and the gravestone falls on him

S02E05 The Chinese dodgeball team throws a ball at Kenny and he gets splattered against a wall

S02E06 Two guys pull on Kenny and tear him in half, as in one has the head and one has the legs

S02E07 A big scary monster plucks Kenny out of the school bus and carries him away. Also in Cartman’s fake memory of Fonzi jumping over cars, the motorcycle hits Kenny and crushes him against a brick wall. Kenny gets smashed against walls a lot, doesn’t he?

S02E08 Flashback: Baby Kenny has a firecracker and it explodes, sprinkling little baby Kenny parts everywhere. Later in the episode, current day Kenny dies when a giant firework snake bumps him off a stage and under a fence, which then crushes him.

S02E09 Kenny is playing with a yoyo outside a movie theatre when a bunch of people come outside and trample him to death. They say “Oh my God, I found a penny!” and “You bastard!”

I’ll post part 2 of season 2 in a couple days. I’m having way more fun writing these stupid notes than I thought I would (also gnomes is coming up soon and i am fucking ready for tweek)

[hqprotectionsquad]

Hello! can I request a hc of Oikawa, Bokuto, Kuroo and Ushijima’s reaction to their s/o who’s titled as the goddess of volleyball who also won the nationals but unfortunately fainted or fell sick right after the competition. Sorry for my grammar and if the idea is quite weird 😅 Thank you in advance thoo! I hope you have a nice dayy! 💜

Oikawa, Bokuto, and Kuroo reacting to his S/O getting hurt during Nationals

A/N: hi! thanks for your request! i basically took in the request as the s/o’s team is going to nationals or is also going, and then took it from there! so not exactly the same, but slightly more realistic! also i expended all of my energy on the three of them and i don’t have any more brain power to think of ushijima 😭i’m sorry!!!

Oikawa

He’s definitely supportive of you no matter what.

Oikawa shows up to the end of your practices with your favorite snack. (He also eats like half of it before he even gets to you because he just came from his practice.)

“Hey Y/N-chan, I got you your favorite snack!” He says as he holds out the plastic bag to you.“You definitely ate part of it.”“WhaaaaaAAAt no! Why would I ever do that?”

You’re really appreciative of everything he does for you because he is oh so whipped.

Since his team didn’t make it to the spring nationals, he takes his loss in stride. Yes, he’s upset, but it’s nothing he’s not used to. ;-;

He loves the fact that you’re so excited to experience this new thing since it’s your first time going to nationals!

You two have been to Tokyo once as a special date, but to experience it together as a participant and their supporter is really awesome!

Oikawa takes the opportunity to know what it’s like to be an audience member and not on the court. Sure, he has watched games but usually to analyze them. He isn’t saying he won’t but he definitely wants to try to take a step back.

(He also uses this time to eat. I mean, they have so many food stands! He slips away to find a street market and dig in while you’re in practice.)

Your matches go splendidly and you’re more than thrilled when your team earns a place in the finals.

“Y/N! I’m so proud of you!”

But the match isn’t going as well as you had hoped to.

As your team’s libero, you’ve grown accustomed to smacks to the face and hits that hurt your ribs for days.

However, one of the last spikes in the game takes you out of commission as it totally knocks the wind out of you and you can’t get the air into your lungs without the medical team bringing you to their wing.

At that moment, Oikawa wanted to rush the court and help you even though he isn’t experienced like the nurses are. He just felt so helpless, who wouldn’t?

For whatever reason, significant others aren’t allowed in until after the athlete should be okay to go on their own, but it’s Oikawa. C’mon. The man knows how to get through anything and everything that’s in his way.

"Y/N-chan, what did I tell you about taking it easy, now look what you did to yourself.” He scolds you teasingly as you are resting on the nurse’s bed. He whispers a bunch of cute little things to you while your eyes are shut. He knows you can’t hear him, but he says these things anyway.

When you wake up, he leaves so that you have some time with your parents.

And when he comes back, the first thing you do is wrap your arms around him so tight that he forgets to breathe.

“You’re breathtaking.” His eyes flicker at the pun and you smack him a good one. “Ow, Y/N-chan! They should’ve put you back in the game, you’re fine now!”

Bokuto

The two of you are dating long-distance, so although he couldn’t be there for all of your games, Bokuto made sure he sent texts with lots of love before and after each one.

However, he made a trip to your part of Japan and he was there when your last play was the one where it decided you were heading to nationals!

Bokuto was extremely surprised at how amazing you blocked the ball and it went straight to the floor. Your teammates crowded around you and all jumped for victory.

But was he surprised that your team was heading to spring nationals? Of course not! Your team is one of the most hardworking teams out there.

He takes you out to eat after your match, as a good gentleman should.

“I can’t wait to see you in Tokyo next month! You’ll finally see where I live!”

When your team arrives for the spring nationals, Akaashi holds him back from meeting you before you settle in.

“What?! Why can’t I see her once she comes in?”“You’re going to bother her team.” (cue emo Bokuto)“But—” “You’ll see her later.” (cue happy Bokuto)

He finally takes you out on that date he’s planned since months ago. Minus all the ice cream you were going to eat together, so now he’ll have to eat it by himself. (He’s not really complaining.)

When your matches begin, he’s in the crowd as often as he can. He arrives as early as you do, making sure he gets a seat super close so he can take photos. (Yes, Bokuto is aware he’s also competing at nationals. He still does it.)

Bokuto on snapchat: “THAT’S MY GIRL 🥵😭SO GOOD BABY!” (He is definitely that cringy, but I feel like he doesn’t know he’s being cringy.)

The worst thing is that some of your matches coincide with one another, but you make sure to catch up afterwards. It doesn’t bother you as much as it does Bokuto, but you know in an ideal situation, you both would be able to support the other full-time.

What’s even worse is when your team arrives to the semifinals, you’re over for the game because of a rough shot right to your fingers. The nurse talks to you as she tapes your fingers.

“Luckily, nothing is dislocated—”“So I should be good to go back in then?”“You didn’t let me finish. I don’t recommend you going back into the game if you think you’ll continue onto the finals. You have a better chance then because your hands might be semi-healed.”

You return to the court, but on the bench. Head hung, but you’re hopeful for the rest of the game, as you cheer on your teammates.

The game came out close and your team had the upper hand this time around.

“(Y/N)! We heard what happened!” Bokuto rushes up to you after both of your games are finished. Akaashi trails in the background and silently provides his condolences for your fingers. “Are you okay?” Your boyfriend hugs you gently, which could leave one with their mouth open, but he has always made sure that his hugs never hurt you despite his stature.

“I’m okay! I should still be able to play in the finals in two days. How did your match end up?”“Ah, we ended up losing. I’m still recovering from it. Right, Akaashi? Tell (Y/N).”“Yeah, he’s still working on it. Clearly.”

Bokuto and Akaashi are in the crowd for the finals. They originally sat but every time you blocked the ball, Bokuto would raise to his feet and start cheering for you. The people in his section kicked him and Akaashi out for disrupting. Now they’re standing by the railing and Bokuto doesn’t even have to get up because he’s already—you guessed it—standing.

Your team was not the better six this time around, but lucky for you, you have Bokuto and Akaashi to comfort you with hugs (Bokuto), handshakes (Akaashi), and ice cream.

Kuroo

Kuroo's been excited for you and your team since the start.

"I know you guys are going to make it to nationals. Have you seen your team? You all are much more talented than some of the people here.""That's not very nice to say, Tetsurou.""I'm just saying the truth. I'll be at the match."

Kuroo's usually busy, but hearing that he'd be at the match makes your heart squeeze.

You're the outside hitter/wing spiker of your team and you love know that any time you get a shot in, Kuroo's cheering for you in the crowd.

After the match, he’s waiting for you outside of the court with a small bouquet of flowers. (From where he bought those, you have no idea and he has no intention of letting you know.)

“You did amazing, I’m so proud of you,” he says while squishing you in a tight hug. You can’t breathe anymore, but who really cares for necessary human functions?

“Thanks for the love, Tetsurou. Let’s go out to eat!” He has to choose the restaurant because you can’t choose; everything looks good to a hungry athlete!

You two have never been at a tournament together, competing together, so please forgive him when he spends his break with Kenma because he forgot that you had a match.

It's really exciting because Kuroo is the captain of the host representative team and even though it doesn't mean he's the king of the world, he's the king of your world.

To experience Tokyo at this bustling time alongside your lover is beyond words. To have him by your side instead of through a screen is so much better.

Your last match is unfortunately pretty rough. You dug for the ball, just as another girl had. You heard a crunch and you couldn't tell who it came from.

This is the only match Kuroo could attend and he winces in pain seeing the collision on court. He soon realizes that it's you and exits the top floor to come down to the court floor.

You're able to get up after the medic stretches your limbs and it doesn't seem like there's anything wrong from a first glance. They take you in for a full exam.

Kuroo isn't ready to freak out, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't suppressing any feelings. He needs to be strong for you. He plays games on his phone to distract himself, sends a few texts to the team to let them know he'll be late to dinner.

You come out with a smile that grows wider seeing him. "You were here the whole time?"

"Of course." Don't mind him, he's crying on the inside because he feels like he's so lucky to have someone who is actually sunshine. "You were amazing out there, and I don't want to hear anything about your cute ass complaining you didn't do good enough."

[3centsofbutter]

Memoirs of a medic - BNHA part 3

Part 1 (Start from the beginning)

Chisaki Kai / Eri 

Part 3 - Final 

“The heroes are outside the base, we have to go.”

It was a regular Thursday morning. It was well in the middle of spring and the sun hung high in the sky warming the earth underneath it. You had attended to the garden earlier that morning to bask in the sunlight and returned back inside to get on with some paperwork. Eri sat opposite you, studying basic kanji from one of the books you used to use when you were first brought into the Hassaikai. 

Irinaka burst into the room at 8:29 in a clear state of distress. They were here. 

Kai had told you that a few days ago, Eri had escaped and stumbled upon some UA students and had made a scene since then, the compound had been on high alert. A small part of you desperately wished they could have taken her there and then which could have spared the absolute chaos that was about to ensue. Eri mentioned the UA students offhandedly and from the way she spoke of them in such high regard, you couldn’t help yourself but feel a pang of sadness. As much as you knew that a life outside of the clutches of Kai was what she deserved, but your creeping selfishness wanted to stay by her side and watch her grow. Your loyalty laid with Kai, but you secretly wished the heroes could win just this once. 

“Eri let’s go, the time has come.”

You scooped up Eri in your arms and fast-walked behind Irinaka to Kai’s office. His desk was clear of everything save for the tiny potted plant on the corner of the table. Hari stood beside Kai with your backpack at his feet and nodded in acknowledgement to your entrance. The main few of the eight bullets had been instructed to pack their bags beforehand in the likelihood of this specific event. Your backpack wasn’t filled with much, you never found yourself indulging in materialistic goods or finding sentiment in any of them. You packed only a few things that couldn’t be replaced, the framed photo from your dresser, a leather-bound journal, a stack of white envelopes, and Eri’s doll. 

BOOM 

An explosion shook the whole room heralding the beginning of the raid, it was time to leave. The plan was to use half of the eight bullets to hold off the heroes and police while you made your escape through a hidden exit on the other side of the base. It was best to prevent conflict especially while being in possession of Eri and potentially risking everything Kai had worked for. The walk passed in silence with only the thump of footsteps and occasional echoes of explosions and rumbles filling the background. They were walking at an awfully slow pace, seemingly unbothered by the commotion above them. 

At 8:42, things got interesting. 

“Excuse me.” 

Someone had gotten here quicker than anticipated. 

“Can I ask some questions?”

It was the boy, the one Eri had described. Blue eyes, blonde hair, bright red and yellow hero suit that stuck out as an eyesore against the dull concrete walls. He was young, around 18-ish you guessed, probably in his third year of high school you presumed. He was so young. You found it sick that society glorified hero work and enabled children such as him to risk his life like this for a fabled utopia. It was a pity he was going to meet his end here. 

Your eyes flitted to Kai to gauge his reaction. He seemed unbothered, face blank of emotion. 

“You shouldn’t have been able to get here this fast,” Kai drawled, his voice was flat and lazy, completely unresponsive to the situation. 

The boy was clearly dishevelled, he was panting and sweating profusely. He must’ve run all the way here. 

 “I took a shortcut, I’m here to rescue that girl.”

You almost felt sorry for him, he had let go of Eri back then oblivious to the situation she was in and gave her back to her captor. He must’ve felt the guilt weigh down on him once he found out, now hastily throwing himself at national criminals in an attempt to repent his guilty conscience. He should’ve just taken her then. 

“This girl doesn’t want you to rescue her, she doesn’t see you as a hero.”

You could feel Eri uncomfortably shuffle in your arms.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Kai sighed and turned to continue walking. “It’s not getting through to you, is it? I’ll make it simpler.”

“Die.” 

The boy charged at Kai falling to the ground instantly. Sasaki’s quirk sloshed was in effect, ruining his sense of balance and causing him to stumble around in a drunken state. 

Hari tugged at your sleeve, “Sasaki and Nemoto will keep him busy, keep moving.”

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the scene, falling into step behind Kai. You knew firsthand how unpleasant it was to be under the influence of Sasaki’s quirk. You never enjoyed drinking and he continuously cemented that concept whenever his presence was near. His control over his quirk was only decent when he was sober— which he never was. You flinched at the sounds of gunshots and tightened your grip on Eri. You prayed his death was short and painless. 

“CHISAKI!”

He appeared from under the ground and swung at Kai’s face, failing to land leaving only a slight graze. Before you could even process the situation, his foot connected with your face, sending you flying against the wall. 

“Yasuko! Hide, I will find you when this is all over.”

You scrambled to your feet assessing the situation. Eri was in the hero’s arms and Kai was preparing to attack. He flexed his fingers, a habit he had picked up, a small ritual before using his quirk. He hid his left hand behind his back, hiding it so that only you could see. He held up three fingers and pointed downwards.

‘I’m going to use my quirk, don’t get in the way.’

It was the code you both used when you were younger on the streets. You had to leave before you got caught in the crossfire. You picked up your backpack and hastily retreated down the corridor. You hid in one of the empty rooms and slumped against the wall heaving a sigh of relief. Kai was going to be fine, he always would be. It would only be a slight nuisance to patch him up afterwards. 

The ground rumbled underneath you, a sure sign that Kai was using his quirk, the whip-like cracks of gunshots could be heard periodically courtesy of Hari’s pistol. You checked the state of the contents in the bag, thankfully nothing was harmed in the process. You lightly touched your cheek noticing it was very much swollen. 

The boy had trained his quirk exceptionally well for someone his age, his finesse and determination was unlike anything you had seen before. He was someone to be admired, a striking resemblance to All Might: the retired symbol of hope. He was young and naive, sheltered from the crippling effects of corruption and desperation, as most heroes were. He would’ve made a great role model for Eri, saved her from Kai as fairy tales and stupid marketing would suggest, cape billowing in the wind as a copyrighted theme song played over replays of the final blow. Heroes were never there for you. You had found out the hard way when one of them showed up as your customer and ignored your silent pleas of help as they got drunk off of a temporary high. They were cowards who dressed up in tight suits to instill false hope and ignored those who really needed it. What says they would be there for Eri?

BOOM 

A loud crash shook the room. Knocking over the giant oak bookshelf on the opposite side of the wall. You could instantly tell it wasn’t Kai, his quirk was fairly quiet and didn’t cause large crashes like that, the reinforcements must’ve caught up.

You scrambled out of the room only to see that the entire floor had been turned into one giant arena with a jungle of concrete spikes — courtesy of Kai — towering above you. You could only vaguely make out a giant hole in the wall, presumably the source of the crash and the vague image of a body crumpled on the floor. 

It was Kai. 

His clothes were caked in dust, skin covered in scratches and pink welts. The boy and Eri were a few metres away being tended to by the pro-hero Nighteye. The boy had sustained quite a bit of damage being barely able to stand and very visibly exhausted. Eri was fine save for a few scratches here and there, at least the pro heroes wouldn’t hurt her which left your main priority to be Kai. Just as you were about to run towards him, the pro hero Eraserhead and his green haired companion lept in the air and prepared to attack. They were zeroing in on him at an alarming speed, about to serve the final blow. Before you could even react, Kai’s voice rumbled throughout the makeshift arena. 

“GET UP, CHRONO!”

A strand of silver hair sliced through the motionless bundle of white fabric, extending like tape, cutting Eraserhead on the arm. You thanked your lucky stars Hari was alive and most importantly Kai was too. The heroes fell to the ground giving Kai a brief moment to regain composure. His hand slammed on the ground forming another wave of giant spikes across the room separating him from the opposition.

“You did a good job didn’t you, Neomoto? We can’t lose the fight here, not like this…”

His hand reached out, grabbing Nemoto’s mask which disintegrated like wet sand under his touch. He kept going, merging into his face as if it were a hologram. His other hand covered his own face melting into his beaked mask. In a flash of light, an explosion happened. The gust of wind hit you like a whip, causing you to stumble backwards from the force. Your arms instinctively covered your face to protect from the dust and rubble being flicked in all directions, seemingly the only time the mask Kai forced you to wear came in handy. You could barely make out the silhouette of the two bodies as they were shrouded in a whirlwind of debris. It was almost a blessing in disguise as what you could see was something that was most definitely inhuman. 

Both bodies were ripped apart into ribbons of flesh swirled around each other, slowly merging together building a body layer by layer. The bones, the organs, the skin welded together like a cursed puzzle piece. Glaring red eyes glowed like torches through the smoke screen as a second pair of arms ripped through his back. The dust cleared revealing the abomination that was Kai. Black crack like lines painted his face and the skin on his arms were darkened and lined with spikes resembling sharp rocks. You didn’t even know if you could consider that thing to be Kai. This wasn’t the boy who saved you from your father, this wasn’t the boy who stole bread for you when you complained you were hungry. This wasn’t the Kai who shared the ratty blanket with you when you slept on the streets. This was a monster, and he had been that way much longer than you would’ve liked to admit. 

The green haired boy launched a broken-off spike at Kai’s body. The concrete shattered like glass upon impact, reforming back into spikes just as the boy launched a follow up attack almost piercing through the soles of his shoes. The boy was lucky that his flash hero suit was made with situations like this in mind otherwise his whole leg would have most definitely been smashed into pieces. Nighteye leaped in pushing the green haired boy to the side, narrowly missing the spike Kai had sent towards him. 

If nighteye was there, that meant the blonde boy was alone. 

You weaved your way through the rubble and saw the boy propped up against the wall a fair distance away from the fight. His hero suit was bloodied and torn and he looked as if he was barely able to move. Eri was further away from the boy, possibly left there in a hurry as Nighteye went to assist the green haired boy. You cautiously approached him being careful not to underestimate him even in his handicaped state. 

“You have fought well, young man. May I know your name?”

He stared at the mask on your face, a clear sign of your affiliation with Kai. “I am lemillion to the likes of you scum. I don’t take compliments from villains like you.”

Your face soured at the label, “I don’t go by that term, I prefer yakuza.” Your hand hovered over the knife strapped to your thigh. “Tell me your real name, or this is the last face you’re going to see.” 

“Mirio Togata.”

His face showed no sign of lying, a good egg he was. A fault of heroes had to be their strong sense of morals eventually resulting in the downfall of many of them. 

“Mirio, I have a knife strapped to my leg, I can end your life faster than you can think. Give me a reason why I should let you live.”

His guard was still heightened and his distress was visibly showing on his face. The fear of death was synonymous with all humans it seemed. He didn’t speak for a moment, hesitant to come up with an answer. You almost thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all until he finally spoke. 

“Someone like you may not understand, but I want to live to see the relief on people's faces after I save them. I want to be able to save at least a million people and be the hero people can look up to and feel safe in my presence.”

He was so hopeful that it hurt. 

“You could have ignored her, saved a million people instead of dying for one. Why does she matter so much to you?” 

His face hardened with determination. 

“What type of hero am I if I can’t save one helpless girl? I’d die for her no questions asked if that ensured her safety.”

“Chisaki, join us in the Shie Hassaikai. Your future is one with potential.”

Slate grey clouds darkened the afternoon sky. A heavy downpour of rain had soaked both you and Kai’s clothes and chosen to seek refuge outside a brothel. The man had approached Kai after watching him materialize an umbrella from scraps you had scavenged from the dumpster. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd. Unlike the usual suit and tie businessmen and raggedy drug addicts that frequented the brothel, he donned a black kimono, a rarity in general even out of the red light district. His silver hair was slicked back neatly and a large carved, jade ring wrapped around his finger. He looked like royalty. 

“How do I know you’re not gonna sell me into human trafficking or something, old shit?”

“Boy, look over there.” He pointed to the flashing neon lights of the brothel, “I own that brothel. I own almost 30% of the businesses in the red light district. This could all be yours one day.”

Kai’s eyes immediately glistened with interest. He wouldn’t have to sleep on concrete anymore, he wouldn’t have to worry about his next meal, and he wouldn’t have to worry about braving the winter. He would have somewhere to call home. But the thoughts dissipated as quickly as they came. 

“What about Yasu? Can’t leave her out here on her own. I told her I’d protect her forever y’know.”

The man shook his head. “We never brought up women in our clan, its tradition.”

You tugged at Kai’s sleeve. He deserved a life in comfort whether it was with you or not. He had done so much for you already. “You can go, I’ll be fine. You can’t pass up an opportunity like this.”

Kai, very much irked by his response, held up both middle fingers to flip off the man. “Then change tradition. I ain’t going nowhere without her ya heard! Take your gedo sandals and shove them up your ass.”

“Why does she matter so much to you?”

“She’s all I got, I’d die a hundred times over if it means she is out of harm's way. Ya can’t take me without her. We’re a package deal ya got it?”

The man sighed and looked at the boy. He stood defensively in front of the girl. She didn’t look like much but appearances were deceiving. He was loyal, an honorable trait. With a little bit of guidance, he could be a great leader. 

“Fine, let us go.”

This boy looked so different but he had those same eyes Kai once had. Hopeful and kind, shining with compassion and determination. He was uncorrupted, a pure soul, the family Eri deserved to have. You had done so much wrong in your life, allowing Kai to succumb to his pride, staying silent while he committed heinous crimes, letting him hurt the innocent, there were too many sins to count. But it was time to do something right for once. 

You took the rucksack off of your back. 

“Take it.”

He was taken aback. “What?”

“Please, when Eri is old enough give her the contents of this bag. You can look through it if you are suspicious.”

“You mean— “

“Yes. I can’t guarantee that Kai will lose this fight but I entrust Eri with you. Please take care of her, be the hero she needs.” 

The bag contained a leather bound journal, your personal diary that you started when you finally learnt how to properly read and write as encouraged by your father. It documented every single tear, laugh, and worry since you were 12; a stack of white letters, For each birthday of Eri’s since you met her, outlining everything that you wished for and regretted, how much you had wanted a better life for her, everything you ever wanted to tell her if you had gotten the chance; the photo from your dresser as something she could remember you by; and the handsewn doll Eri loved that you had made for her because she cried every time Kai’s goons would buy her something new. 

You looked over your shoulder to the main fight. Kai was growing weary, his transformation wasn’t enough to fend off the pro heroes. It was drawing to a close. You looked back at Mirio. 

“Please tell her I loved her… love her for me.”

“I will.”

Nighteye broke off one of the giant concrete spikes and hurled it towards Kai’s weakened body like a javelin. He sat kneeled on the ground desperately panting for breath. The bottom half of his mask was broken off and his jacket torn in pieces, the shreds decorating the ground around him. His body was drenched in blood, some his own, some others. Hari had disappeared earlier to deal with Eraserhead and all of the Eight bullets were either dead or in the hands of the police. No one was there to save him anymore. 

“Tell her I’m sorry.”

Your body moved faster than your brain could react. The effects of the ability enhancing drugs were kicking in right on time. Time was moving in slow motion, you leapt into the battle scene, your hair extending outwards towards Kai’s body pushing him out of the way. The spike skewered your body impaling you square in the chest. 

An unknown woman had thrown herself at sure death to save a criminal. 

“MOM!”

Eri screams bounced off the walls of the building bringing the entire room to a standstill. She ran from her hiding spot stumbling over loose rubble collapsing beside you, sobbing into the crook of your arm.

Kai’s transformed state instantly melted away into goop around him. He was dumbfounded. Just seconds ago he had prepared himself to face death but was given torture way worse. He gently picked up your figure and held you in his arms. 

“No, Yasuko, what have you done.”

“Kai, I’m sorry.” Your voice was hoarse and slurred. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. 

“Yasu, I can fix you, y-you can’t go like this, I need you.”

“You know, I always wanted to be called ‘mom’.”

He caressed your cheek. 

“Y-you can be if you stick it out. It’ll be like old times, just you and me.”

You chuckled, the laugh reduced to only short, laboured breaths of air. “Stop this nonsense, Kai. Let me rest. Maybe we’ll meet again in another life.”

You never doubted you were a bad person, the bad things you had done heavily outweighed the good. You had never believed in a life after death or reincarnation, always in fear that what awaited after you closed your eyes was eternal punishment. But if there were, you prayed the shinigami would be kind and grant you an eternity to watch over Eri, and see her grow into someone you never got the chance to. 

“I love you, Cyclamen. I always have and I always will.”

“I love you too, Kai.”

Your eyelids grow heavy savouring the last moment you could feel. The heaviness of Eri on your chest, shirt wet with her tears; Kai’s calloused hands cupping your cheek, feeling the warmth of his body from being held so tightly. The pain in your chest seemed to melt away in their presence. An unfortunate death yet envied by many, surrounded by the people you loved. 

The cyclamen, a flower symbolic of sincere and everlasting love, finally gave in to the weather after drowning in the heavy rain for many years, weathering out the storm until it couldn’t any longer, leaving behind only broken petals in its place. It’s ethereal beauty preserved in what it had been despite the circumstances, its body now nourishing for the garden that is to bloom the coming spring. 

In the chaos, there was peace for a brief moment.

Masterlist of all my stuff

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long to write. Got caught up with online school and all that. Excuses excuses I know. It was really hard to write so please forgive me. I hoped you enjoyed reading all of my nonsense, a slight break from all the romance oriented stuff lol (nothing wrong with that, love me some Bakugou). But yeah, thanks for sticking through, it really means a lot.

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 37)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2604

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You watched your husband and Cat put on skates and go out to the rink and for a long while they just skated, saying nothing. Spencer couldn't skate at all, and Cat was skating all over the place. She caught up to him and held onto his arm to help him skate and you watched from the side with burning in your eyes and stomach. 

It’s a very good thing Dexter taught you to keep your emotions in check. You’d been here before though. Jealous. First with JJ, and it took a long time for s Spencer to convince you there was nothing there. Then with Max, and that had yet to be addressed, and now, a psychotic killer was wheeling your husband around a rink and he was actually smiling.  

Why is it when Cat Adams takes him on a random date, he can smile and have fun, knowing the hell she put him through. But you and him were at each other’s throats for months when he found out you were a killer. You were his wife. The love for you should’ve shone through everything else. 

So what was the difference? Could he not forgive you for the lying? You knew he was jealous of Dexter but now… Now he’d had three women that made you question your entire marriage in the course of half a year. You had been nothing but open and honest about your entire relationship with Dexter since he found out.

Did he really not see how any of this would affect you? The constant attention given to max/ The slight flirting he was doing with Cat? He didn’t have to flirt. Cat knew it, you knew it, Spencer knew it. He just had to play the game -- he didn’t have to enjoy it. 

Cat mentioned that if you weren’t here, she’d request a song from the DJ and make out with Spencer right now. They skated some more and she acknowledged that Spencer would try to get inside her head, so he asked about her baby. She said she didn’t want to talk about it. He said he was trying to use the hormonal effect against her. 

“Oh, really? Um, waht about sex?” She skated towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, he wrapped his hands around her waist, and you stiffened. “Why don’t you use that against me?” 

Real date or not, it’s never a pretty sight to see your husband that close to another woman. 

She slightly pushed away from him and he had trouble staying upright. She made a face of disgust and slapped him so hard that he fell over. 

Your eyes went wide with rage. She skated over to where you were, trying to skate past you, but you grabbed her hand in a swift motion, almost too fast for anyone to see and you bent her hand backwards, threatening to break her wrist.

“If you ever touch my husband again, I will kill you. And my method won’t be as humane as a needle in the arm,”  you darkly vowed as she bent backwards, wincing. “Are we clear?”

“Jeez, you weren’t this jealous last time,” she responded.

In the background, you could hear Spencer and Luke shouting your name. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” Spencer cried out, skating towards you.

You applied more pressure, any more and her wrist would fracture. She was nearly on one knee by now from the way you were pushing. 

“Are we clear?” you asked again. 

“Yes!” 

You released her and stood straight up again as Spencer skated over to you. He gave you a look of anger but you returned it to him. 

He spent the next few minutes talking to her, telling her how he couldn’t get her out of his mind and you wanted to roll your eyes. She asked if Spencer thought about her when he kissed you and he said sometimes. The next thing she wanted was to see where you two lived so blissfully happily. 

So, within a matter of seconds, everyone was loaded up into the SWAT van and everyone went over to your home. Spencer got out his keys and started to unlock the door before she stopped him.

“Did you really mean what you said?” she asked. 

“”Yes.” 

“Prove it,” she ordered and you just rolled your eyes. He’d refuse. You knew he would. 

But faster than you could blink, Spencer’s hands went to her hair and his mouth collided with hers. Your eyes went wide in shock as your stomach dropped. Fake or not, your husband was kissing another woman, in front of you, on your porch. He was kissing her hungrily, in a way he hadn’t kissed you in a long time. 

Luke glanced at you, gauging your reaction, seeing as just a few minutes ago you nearly broke her wrist and threatened to end her life. You couldn’t watch, but you couldn’t look away. 

She swung your front door open to reveal a woman in your house and you frowned. 

What the hell was this?

Spencer and Cat broke apart and you looked at them, then looked at the girl. 

“Max, what are you doing here?” Spencer breathed.

Of course it was fucking Max inside your house. Of course this day was going to get worse and worse. 

Luke ordered that someone get Max out of here but Max said, “No, no, no, she’ll kill them if I leave.”

“Kill who?” you asked as you stepped inside the foyer of your home. 

“My father and my sister. Look I got a call from some woman with my sister screaming in the background. I was told to come here, that there would be a key taped underneath the porch swing. Spencer, what is happening?!””

“We recovered your father, but your sister is still missing. Look I say we put cat in her cell and we regroup,” Luke suggested

“No. Bring her in here and leave us alone,” Spencer quietly ordered. He then set it up so that the team would hear all of you the entire time, instructed Max on what not to say, and they let Cat come back in. 

Fantastic. You were in your home with a woman that was monopolizing your husband’s time and a psychotic killer that was obsessed with him. 

“We’re all here, what do you want to talk about?” Spencer demanded as she walked in. 

“So, so much.” She eyed Max and said, “She’s cute. I see why she turned your head away from your wife.” 

“What are you talking about?” Spencer asked as she walked in your home, touching things and looking at the art and decor. 

“You’re married?” Max asked as if she didn’t know and your face whipped to Spencer. You were dying to know why that would be a bit of news to Max. 

Finally, she stopped walking and turned to you. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your husband?” 

“No.” 

“Why not? You nearly broke my arm for slapping him. Is he free real estate? Speaking of which, he kissed me, so you can’t kill me.” 

“No, but I’d hope you’re not stupid enough to think the kiss was real.” You cocked your head. 

“Are you going to hurt my sister?” Max suddenly asked, taking a step forward

“No. Not if she follows instructions. It could be a learning experience for her.” After a moment, everyone got settled in in your living room. “Normally Spencie and I, we play games, but tonight, I’ve brought you all here to make a point. Y/N, you should know the truth about your husband.” 

“I already know everything there is to know about my husband,” you evenly said. 

“Oh, really? Did you get the mail today?” 

“Yes, why?” 

“Go check your mail.”

You got up and looked and found an envelope that was addressed your name, but no address or return address.  

“Open it,” Cat ordered. 

You peered at her, wondering what the game was. You opened it, and a stack full of photos came out. One was a picture of Spencer carrying Max through a sprinkler system at the park. Another was the two of them laughing over coffee. Another was her hand on his in a booth at a restaurant. 

“So? I knew they were spending time together,” you asked, throwing the photos on the coffee table as you looked down at Cat. 

“You knew how much, but you didn’t know how. Does that look friendly to you or flirty? Not to mention Max here didn’t even know he was married. Hid the wedding ring and then never mentioned you. How does that make you feel?” she pressed. 

“Fine. That doesn’t mean anything. I never came up. He tries to avoid talking about work, and I’m part of his work.”

“Don’t be blind, Y/N, you’ve never been stupid, dont’ start nowy. It’s not a cute look. Not mentioning his work is one thing, but you, his wife? Hmm, it appears our spencie has been a naughty boy.” 

“He isn’t ‘our’ anything.”

“Sure he is. Just because I didn’t get a picture of him kissing Max over here doesn't mean it hasn’t happened or that it won’t. He kissed me without hesitation to save her family.”

“He did that to save two people, it doesn’t matter who they are.” 

“But it does. See, I know the real Dr. Reid. He’s not this bookish genius that saves the day and has all the answers.”

“Oh, yeah? Who’s the real me, Cat?” Spencer prompted. 

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls, and hisses that he’s going to kill them,” Cat said. 

“That was a very different situation,” Spencer said. 

“No it wasn’t.” 

“What’s she talking about?” Max asked. 

“Why don’t you explain it? She won’t believe it coming from me,” Cat said. 

“Two years ago Cat kidnapped my mother. Just like tonight, she got under my skin, and--.”

“You threw her against a wall?” Max asked, clearly appalled. 

“Don’t skimp on the details, Spencie,” Cat instructed as she paced around. “She should  know everything, as your mistress.” 

“I’m not his mistress,” Max responded. 

“She was pregnant at the time, and I knew that when I hurt her.” 

“And, the next day, I miscarried. The end.” 

“That’s not true,” Spencer retorted quickly, a look of concern washing over him. 

Oh, he was concerned Cat miscarried, but not about him committing infidelity. Nice to know where you stood. 

“It most certainly is true. Check my medical records. So now you both see. Max, you see that Dr. Reid is actually a lot darker than you thought. He’s married, he’s a liar, and a cheat--”

“I never cheated,” Spencer corrected quickly.

“No, but you thought about it and you didn’t think twice about kissing me to prove a point.” 

“What is this?” Max asked, jumping up. “What is this sick twisted game you three are playing?” 

“Okay, fine,” you said, your voice hard. “You want to break up my marriage with vague photos, fine, but why take Max’s family. What do they have to do with this?”

“Because I want to show everyone what happens if you involve yourself with Spencer Reid. See, Maxine here should know that this is what life is like for anyone who knows him.”

“So why not abduct me?” you challenged. 

“You’re already married, it’s too late to show you anything new, except what he’s done with Max here. You should be thanking me, Y/N. No woman will want to get near Dr. Reid.”

“Thanking you? You’ve put two innocent people's lives in danger,” you responded, your teeth gritting together. 

“You’re being very ungrateful. I’m saving Maxie from the inevitable danger she’ll get in with Spencie and I’m trying to show you that he’s just like every other scumbag guy out there. He’s out for himself and that’s it.” 

“I can't believe you didn’t tell me you were married,” Max responded, clearly upset and now you realized you had a reason to be too. What had they done that would cause concern for being around a married man? 

“See? Men are pigs,” Cat spat as she kneeled in front of Max. “You’ve been hurt before like this. Been the other woman. Tell me about it. I could have little sis and Juliette go over to his place and take care of him.” 

“Just give her what she wants,” Spencer encouraged. 

“He’s just saying that so I’ll call and they can trace it.” 

Max jumped up, ended the landline phone call that was keeping the team in contact, and begged Cat to get confirmation her sister was alive. But Cat insisted on a name and a story first. So Maxine started in on a story about a man she knew that made her feel special, made her feel like she was on top of the world, only to find out he was married with two kids. So when she confronted him, he got violent, and she hit him over the head with a vase that killed him. She told 911 it was self defense, but she went there looking for a fight, a way to hurt him. 

Cat entered the phone number, the text, and everyone waited on confirmation that her sister was alive. She said, “See? There, now everyone is miserable. Maxine is right back to being the other woman. Spencer has broken two women’s hearts. Better than their neck though, right Spencie? And Y/N sees her husband as the cheating, lying, psycho he is. I mean, in one night, we’ve determined he could kiss me easily, on your front porch no less, and with Maxine here…” She shook her head before looking down. “Oh look. Proof sis is alive.” 

Maxine grabbed the phone and dashed out of your house and showed your team the photo. You and Spencer didn’t speak as Cat was reloaded into the SWAT van and you drove to the prison. 

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?” Cat asked. 

“To prove I’m a monster, just like you,” Spencer said, his eyes meeting yours from across the van. 

“No, silly,” Cat retorted before resting her head on his shoulder. “I just wanted to see you again.”

Your eyes flashed with pain and heartbreak as you stared at her. 

“You ruined my marriage and the only friendship I’ve had in a long time, just to see me? You could’ve just written me a letter.”

“Would you have written back?” she asked. 

He didn’t respond and the rest of the ride was silent until you reached the prison. They oepned the doors, and began to unload Cat. 

“You know, just because those pictures didn’t show Spencer kissing Max, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t cheating,” Cat said as she got out of the van. 

You frowned as you said, “What do you mean? Of course it does. If you couldn’t get one picture of them being physical--”

“Don’t forget who your husband is, Y/N. His love language isn’t physicality. It’s books...poems...museums… He’s a lover of the mind. You might want to ask Maxine just how many gifts she got from Spencie here.” She glanced at Spencer before looking to you again. “It’s been a real pleasure. It’s too bad I won’t be there to see the divorce finalize. Best date ever.” She gave you her signature crazy look, and then they walked her away. 

It was only you and Spencer in the back of the SWAT van now. 

“Y/N,” he started softly. 

“Don’t,” you warned through gritted teeth.

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

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​​​

@magpiegirl80​​​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​

@iamwarrenspeace​​​​​​

@marvel-imagines-yes-please​​​​​​

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification​​​​​​​

@thejemersoninferno​​​​​​​​​​

@rda1989​​​​​​​​​​

@munlis​​​​​​​​​​

@thefridgeismybestie​​​​​​​​​​

@bubblyanarocks3​​​​​​​​​​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​​​​​​​​​​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​​​​​​​​​​

@feelmyroarrrr​​​​​​​​​​​

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​

@damalseer​​​​​​​​​​

@heyitscam99​​​​​​​​​​

@yknott81​​​​​​​​​​

@thelittlebigirl​​​​​​​​​​

@glitterquadricorn​​​​​​​​​​

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm​​​​​​​​​​

@alyssaj23​​​​​​​​​​

@sea040561​​​​​​​​​​

@princess76179​​​​​​​​​​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​​​​​​​​​​

@sarahp879​​​​​​​​​​

@malfoysqueen14​​​​​​​​​​

@ellallheart​​​​​​​​​​

@breezy1415​​​​​​​​​​

@marvelmayo​​​​​​​​​​

@paintballkid711​​​​​​​​​​

Spencer Reid

@camigt1999​​​​​​​​​​

@ultrarebelheart​​​​​​​​​​

@lenawiinchester​​​​​​​​​​

@esoltis280​​​​​

ITCM

@arganfics​​​​

@zozoleesi​​​

[puckinghell]

tyson barrie seems like the dude who thinks Christmas music should start in like fucking September. so 22 with him feels fitting.

i hate the holidays more than anything in the world and you drive me nuts because you love the holidays more than anything in the world and this is why we aren’t friends (enemies to friends to lovers hello)

—

It’s September 3rd when “All I Want For Christmas” by Mariah Carey blasts through the hallways, and you’re ready to commit murder.

“Barrie!” you yell, banging on his door. “It’s fucking September!” 

The door opens and reveals Tyson, standing there in sweats and a Christmas jumper, with an annoying smirk on his face.

“Hello, roomie,” he drawls. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” 

You cross your arms and glare at him; it doesn’t have the desired effect, as Tyson just laughs.

When Morgan came to you because one of his friends needed a place to live, and weren’t you looking for a roommate, you offered your spare room up without really getting any information on the guy. Morgan has been a long time friend of yours, so you figured, if he liked this guy, you would like him too.

Except then Tyson Barrie moved in with a lot of noise, and never stopped making noise after that. 

He’s just… So there. Always talking, always listening to music, and he has people over way too much. Usually pretty girls that you meet early morning as they try to sneak out of the apartment, and never see again. 

And now this.

“You can’t be playing Christmas music in September,” you tell him.

Tyson frowns. “Why not?” 

“Because…” You pause. You know why not, but you can’t really tell him that. “Because it’s September!” 

And when Tyson asks: “What do you have against Christmas, anyway?” he sounds so genuinely confused that you almost tell him.

Almost. 

“None of your business,” you snap. “Just keep that shit down.” And then you stalk back to your room.

Christmas is the worst, and you should’ve known a person like Tyson would love it more than anything. It’s gonna be a long four months.

—

After that day, Tyson doesn’t play Christmas music again and you think, relieved, that he got the message. You don’t see him around the apartment as much anymore: you work long days and he spends half his nights at the rink, and the other half out wheeling girls.

You stop dreading going home so much.

It was stupid to let your guard down.

The first thing you see when you open the door to your apartment, one evening late October, is a string of Christmas lights draped over the window sill, and then you notice the soft melody of some whiny Christmas song in the background.

“Barrie!” you call out. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Tyson is standing at the kitchen counter, using a roll of ducktape to tape another string of Christmas lights around the counter, and it takes everything in you to not smack the stupid thing out of his hand. “I’m decorating the apartment.” 

“Decorating the apartment?” you echo, dumbly. “For Christmas? In October? Tyson, fuck, it’s not even been Halloween.” 

Tyson crosses his arms, stares at you defiantly. “It’s just lights, Y/N,” he says, and he sounds properly annoyed, now. “How are you offended by lights?” 

You stare at the yellow lights surrounding your window and swallow back tears. It’s not like you can just tell him, but currently, you don’t feel like you could say anything without letting him know how much this is getting to you, and that’s not what you want. 

“Just take them down,” you finally say, and your voice is surprisingly steady. “Please?”

Something deflates in Tyson’s stubborn eyes, but you’re out the room too quickly the notice the pensive look on his face.

—

The entire month of November, there’s nothing Christmas related happening in your house.

It’s a surprise: every day when you get home, you expect there to be something, anything, but there’s not. Instead, Tyson seems to tread a little more carefully around you, seems to quiet himself down whenever you’re home.

You don’t like it as much as you thought you would. 

One day, he’s cooking in the kitchen, but when you walk in he takes his food only half cooked and eats it in his room.

Another evening, he’s watching a movie on TV, and when you kick off your shoes by the door he’s turning off the TV and disappearing to his room.

You notice he doesn’t play music out loud anymore, not even in his room, and he doesn’t have people over either. 

“I can just come to you,” you overhear him say, one time. “No, here isn’t good, my roommate is home tonight.” 

It’s stupid. This is what you wanted, your peace and quiet back, and yet, every time he leaves the room without even looking at you you feel your heart sink a little deeper into your chest. 

The thing is, when he moved in, you really thought this was going to be great. You really thought your lonely nights were over; he’d always be there, to hang out with and have fun with. Morgan even told you: a friend of Tyson’s is never alone when they don’t want to be.

And you know you don’t open up to people easily, and maybe you weren’t as excited about the things that Tyson wanted to do in Toronto when he just got here, but you thought you could still be friends.

Until he started bringing girls home and it hurt you more than you’d ever admit, so you decided it would be better if you weren’t friends at all. 

That night, you come home after a long day of work, and Tyson is on the couch watching a Christmas movie. You know the movie, because you watched it last Christmas, on Christmas Eve while you were drowning your sorrows in ice cream and hot chocolate as you laid in bed alone and wallowed. 

Tyson starts standing up, and you just snap.

“Fucking hell, Tyson, you don’t have to leave every time I come in the room, my lack of Christmas spirit isn’t contagious!” 

Tyson stops dead in his tracks, turns to you, and blurts out: “I just don’t want to make it worse.” 

Now you’re confused. “Make what worse?” And then Tyson goes bright red and you understand. “Morgan told you, didn’t he?”

Tyson lets out a breathy “yes” and you sigh, making your way to the couch and dropping down on it with a groan. 

“My dad loved Christmas,” you start, very skillfully avoiding Tyson’s eyes as you talk. “Really got into it, every year. He’d start with the songs and the decorations the day after Halloween, and then we’d get our tree a week or so later. My mom would always tell him that if he got it so early, it’d be dead by the time Christmas came around, but he would do it anyway and then it would be dead by Christmas and he’d get a new one the day or so before.” You let out a humorless laugh. 

“Then, the Christmas I turned 11, he went out to get the new Christmas tree and he never came back. I didn’t see him for 7 years, and when I turned 18, I got a Christmas card from him. He lives in Edmonton now, with his new family, and his new wife, who he apparently had been cheating with on my mom for a year before he left.” 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Tyson mumbles, and it’s not until he carefully wipes at your cheek that you notice a tear is rolling down. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have put up the lights if I’d known.” 

“How could you know?” you tell him, truthfully. “I didn’t tell you. It’s not your fault. I just… Holidays are a tough time for me. But you clearly love them, so don’t let me hold you back, okay? That would just make me feel worse.” 

Tyson sighs. “You already don’t like me, associating me with the holiday you hate isn’t going to help that.” 

And that, well… 

You always thought Tyson didn’t really notice, that you weren’t always super friendly towards him. And you always assumed if he did notice, he didn’t care. But his voice is genuinely upset, now, and for some strange reason it makes your stomach flip; and not in a good way. 

It’s not his fault that you’re too scared of liking someone, that you push yourself to hate him instead. And he shouldn’t have to pay for it.

“I don’t hate you,” you tell him, because of that. “I know I haven’t always acted like it, but I… I would like to be your friend, Tys.” You turn to him and are surprised to catch a small smile on his face. You smile back. “Just maybe start Christmas in December, like a normal person, okay?” 

“Okay,” Tyson promises, and he squeezes your knee quickly before throwing himself back into the couch. “There’s this new thriller I want to see…” 

—

It’s December 10th and there’s no Christmas decorations in your house. 

Things have been going well with Tyson: it’s finally like how you imagined it would be when he moved in. You have dinner together at least twice a week, watch Netflix on the couch, and he always makes you laugh by sending you weird memes over text, even if he’s in the same room. 

Your crush on him has gotten substantially bigger, but you’re handling it - kinda - and it doesn’t have to get in the way of your friendship, so you’re content with that situation.

And since you’re his friend now, you guess you have to do something for him, today.

“Tys!” you call out, as soon as you step in the door. “I need you to help me get something from the car!” 

Tyson comes out of his room, wrapped up in a hoodie and wearing some ridiculous fuzzy slippers that you’re pretty sure Nate sent him from Denver. 

“But it’s cold outside,” he whines, sidestepping you when you try to shove him. Instead, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and presses a wet kiss to the side of your head.

He’s been doing that lately, greeting you with hugs when you come home. It’s stupid, because it makes you want things you can’t have, but you’re not strong enough to tell him not to do it.

“I promise you it’s worth it.” 

Tyson shoots you a look, but he dutifully starts making his way downstairs. 

When he finally comes back up, his eyes are shining with excitement and his nose is red from the cold. Behind him, he’s dragging a giant Christmas tree.

“You got us a tree?” he yells from the door, and he sounds so happy that you decide it was worth the ten thousand pine needles that are now surely in your car. 

Tyson puts the tree up, sets up the lights, but when he’s ready to start decorating he calls you over.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood for decorating, Tys,” you try to get out of it, but Tyson has grabbed your hand and is dragging you towards the tree. He stops right in front of it, and takes an ornament from the box at his feet.

He hands it to you. “Come on,” he says. “This is our first Christmas together, our first tree. We have to decorate it together.” 

And it’s… too much, the excitement in his eyes, the fondness in his voice, too much to say no to, so you dutifully put the ornament in the tree. Tyson hooks an arm around you from behind.

“One ball at a time,” he jokes, and you can’t help but giggle as you lean into him. 

—

It’s December 22nd and Tyson is leaving tomorrow.

“You can come with?” he offers, for the millionth time. 

“I told you, I’m not gonna ruin your family’s Christmas with my sour mood,” you tell him. You’re curled up on the couch with a blanket, watching Home Alone - the only Christmas movie Tyson has been able to force you to watch, cause it’s just that good - with the tree standing tall behind you. 

Tyson is sitting at your feet, one hand wrapped around your ankle. You can tell he’s overthinking stuff, because he’s got a deep frown etched into his forehead. 

“I don’t want you to be alone on Christmas,” he says, finally. He kinda just blurts it out while the McCallister family finally get reunited with Kevin. 

“I will be fine, Tys,” you tell him fondly. It means a lot that he cares, but you don’t want him to ruin his Christmas over it.

To be honest, so far December hasn’t nearly been as bad as all the other Decembers. Tyson has convinced you to like, in no particular order, Christmas lights, Christmas drinks from Starbucks, gingerbread men, and ugly Christmas jumpers, especially when Tyson is wearing one himself.

It’s only the tree, really, that kinda leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but it made Tyson happy enough that it’s worth it. 

“I know,” Tyson says softly, “I just wish Christmas would be more than just fine for you, you know?” 

“You should be proud,” you laugh, “every year before this Christmas has been torture but now it’s fine. That’s an improvement, you know, and it’s thanks to you.” 

Tyson has a weird look on his face when he looks at you, and you’re just about to make a stupid joke to get out of the awkward silence, when suddenly he’s leaning forward. 

“Tell me if this isn’t okay,” he mumbles, and you say nothing. Finally, his lips touch yours; tauntingly softly, and you reach forward to pull him closer.

The kiss is everything; it makes your world spin and slow down at the same time, makes something warm and comfortable settle in the pit of your stomach. 

Eventually, Tyson pulls back, just enough that you can see him smile.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he mumbles, and then he drops his head in your lap and focuses on Home Alone. 

“Merry Christmas, Tys,” you tell him. 

And you think that maybe, this year, and every year from now on, it will be. 

[justinstolemybike]

sigh. season 3. here we are. 

i watched the first five episodes and... i felt so uncomfortable. it was bad. not all bad but... pretty bad. so bad, that it wasn’t enjoyable for me and i didn’t care to watch it all the way through, so i read other spoilers and i am not sure if i will watch the final season. but with it being said that i did not watch the whole thing, this can’t be a full review. so, here comes my first glance. spoilers obviously. 

instead of weaknesses and highlights, lets just say likes and dislikes. likes first.

LIKES

- tyler’s storyline. last season, i was skeptical of how they would handle his rape and emotions about it, but i am relieved they gave his character proper care and devin druid did a magnificent job. my only gripe is that i wish they had him do something other than boxing to channel his anger. like, i understand why he would be learning self defense but i would like to see him do something less violent?? 

- jessica’s reclaiming of her body. at first the whole intro to the sex toys was weird but it actually was really touching (no pun intended) to see jessica begin to love her body and love sex again after what she’s been through. also, female masturbation is so underrated. nice to see it encouraged. know your bodies, ladies. 

- the classic jensen tour. i’m surprised they still allow him to do the tours. like, none of the exchange students from the last time reported him? oh.

- chloe and the abortion. as a character, i don’t care for chloe, i’m sorry. she’s not a character to me, just a plot device. also, she gets no cookies for lying for bryce in the trials (i know abusers and victims have a twisted dynamic and that’s why that happened but nah chief) but i do like how they showed that some pro-life clinics will mask as abortion clinics and manipulate women into coming and trying to get them to keep their babies. totally real and fucked up.

- bryce was held socially accountable (kind of) and i think that makes an interesting point about rape culture. in the real world, jail doesn’t scare men in power because they can buy their way out. they don’t care about women and what they feel, obviously. what’ll really fuck sexual assaulters up is when they have no friends and no one likes them. that’s what they (kind of) showed with bryce this season. and he died which, yes fucking rad awesome wow.

- i know that justin also had a kind of darker storyline (with seth, i think? you can tell me if i’m wrong but don’t be rude) but he was a lot of the comic relief it appears and brandon flynn was great at it.

- alex and jessica broke up. hallelujah.

- justin is a abuse survivor. makes sense with his background. 

- monty died too AND went to jail. cool amazing beautiful.

- tony is still ferociously loyal and apparently there was a scene where clay and tony said they loved each other. rise clony. rise up from the ashes.

- “i write fanfiction” - clay jensen.

DISLIKES

-ani. ani, ani, ani. i can understand why people find her annoying and she was probably the biggest reason i was uncomfortable watching but i didn’t hate her. she just... didn’t make sense. the things she did,the things she said, how she was involved and everyone just takes to her and loves her immediately, no questions asked, no buildup necessary... none of it felt natural or believable. a new girl comes in and it’s just a coincidence that clay gives her a tour and she decides to go up to jessica and says shes amazing and lives in bryce’s house and connects herself to the house of horrors that is the tape club (which was so dumb on the tape club’s part by the way, as she could have snitched and destroyed them all) instead of just finishing out her high school career in peace considering she moves around a lot and she starts college in a year and half and probably won’t talk to any of them after that. no, she’d rather potentially go to jail for a bunch of fucking strangers and criminals and rapists. sure, okay.

and for someone who just fucking got there to basically insert themselves in the traumas of these kids and make things worse in some respects and do some fucking shitty things (not listening or caring when she heard about bryce being a GODDAMN RAPIST, accusing jessica of SLEEPING WITH HER RAPIST, accusing clay of being the killer, yelling about chloe’s pregnancy in the street, the list probably gets longer) and think they’re allowed to pass judgment when THEY JUST FUCKING GOT THERE. LIKE, WHY IS SHE SO INVESTED? WHAT DOG DOES SHE HAVE IN THIS FIGHT? DOESN’T SHE NEED TO STUDY OR SOMETHING? WHY IS THIS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANYTHING ELSE SHE HAS GOING ON IN HER LIFE?

now, i get what the show was trying to do here. they wanted another, fresh perspective/narrator and i guess a love interest for clay (a wayyyy too convenient love interest, ‘she loves robots and drawing and not minding her business too! swoon!). but they could’ve had both of those things without adding someone to the payroll. honestly, i don’t think they needed a narrator at all but if they really wanted one, they could’ve added an ACTUAL ADULT detective, with no biases so they can be completely reliable to the audience and their investment would be justified. for love interest, yall already know how much i love and miss sheri. she could check clay without sounding patronizing and had chemistry with him and actual nice, romantic history. she could have been his second cop and they could have reconnected and become a couple and... we could’ve had it all, rolling in the deeeppp. 

it’s like with ani, the show wanted to kill two birds with one stone but they missed them both and i think the backlash on her character says it all. i’d just like to remind everyone to give the actress who plays ani respect and courtesy because it’s not her fault. 

- was it just me, or does it seem like the tape club has learned nothing from what they went through? they’re still keeping secrets and trying to hide shit and keep it all inside and i’m like..... but.... this behavior is what got ya’ll fucked up in the first place? and i totally understand it’s about protection and whatever but.... it also feels like an excuse to not be held accountable for wrong doing. like, alex killed bryce. although he had all the reasons to do it and i’m glad he’s dead, he killed someone fam. that’s not okay. and his dad is wrapped up and it’s just... i just... i dont know. then, there was the whole “let’s not tell on tyler so he doesn’t go to jail” thing and i have mixed feelings about that. i think they should’ve turned him in and got clay’s mom to rep him for rehabilitation and therapy instead of a jail sentence. they’re hiding the guns and trying to trust tyler and luckily that worked, but how long? what if someone fucks with him again and it’s too much for them to help him with? 

- speaking of help, clay needs it. oh my god, does that boy need it. they were so focused on getting tyler professional help but, clay’s out here putting guns to his head and having night terrors. he needs therapy more than anyone. honestly, what i would have liked to see, wayyy back in s2, is as soon as justin saw that, he wouldve went to clay’s parents and got him back on his meds and seeing a counselor. he’s been through so much trauma and guilt and he’s tired of his own fucking hero complex. it’s enough man. 

- they tried to have their cake and eat it too when it came to clay stopping tyler from shooting up the school. they tried to be like, clay shouldn’t have done that but oh, he was so brave and what a great guy he is for doing that. no, that doesn’t work. clay should not have confronted tyler in that situation. period.

- zach was disappointing because i agreed wholeheartedly when he said that they should have called the cops but... he didn’t. he was blaming them for letting tyler go free but he was too. damn, zach.

- it’s like they give clay a new lackey every season and.... ok, i guess.

- i also thought it was kind of weird that after everything they’ve been through, they still walk on eggshells with each other? like i guess because now we’re dealing with murder but... i would think they would trust and care for each other a lot more than to accuse each other and spy and interrogate and not just simply ask... like... this season made me not understand the tape club’s relationship. like are they friends? allies? allies trying to be friends? friends out of necessity? do they know? 

- bryce does not deserve to be humanized. that’s all.

- monty does not deserve to be humanized. that’s all. also, it’s so disappointingly predictable that he’s closeted. 

- the new characters (ani, caleb, chloe, winston, cyrus ) i still don’t care about. plot devices, all.

i may edit and retract some things, should i decide to watch all the way but i’m tired.