#how does v communicate with him exactly? how do some thoughts get across and others dont? it must get more difficult to keep their

[pentaghast]

and how much of v's memory does johnny have access to? how much can he see? if johnny lives then is v completely gone? they must be, but johnny would've already seen their memories before, so how real did they feel to him?

[zutarawasrobbed]

ALTA Live Action Season 1 Initial Thoughts (Spoilers)

I just finished the season, and holy shit!

Quick things that need to be addressed/debunked:

“Sokka is no longer sexist”

I dont know what people were talking about when they talked about Sokka’s “sexism” being removed. It’s still there! But not in the overly exaggerated comical way it was in the original.

In fact, it’s more in line with ancient practices of indigenous tribes where men are seen as protectors and providers while women are expected to nurture. It’s not the same “boys are better than girls” narrative in the original.

Additionally, Suki still beats the fuck out of Sokka and humbled him really quick. They’re super cute by the way. And I love Suki’s “I like my men a little stupid” vibe. She’s great.

“Aang doesn’t run away like the original!”

That is not true. He does run away, but not because he’s trying to get away from the temple but instead to get some air because he feels overwhelmed. He’s more like taking a quick break and planning to come back. It’s not exactly the same, but almost. It also is done in a way where his guilt feels more justified.

“Katara doesn’t talk about her mom anymore like the original”

This is true… BECAUSE THEY SHOW INSTEAD OF TELL. I was honestly not prepared to see the death Kya in such graphic detail and how Katara was in the room hiding when it happened. It’s honestly really sad and more heartbreaking.

Plot:

The timeline seems to be ambiguous compared to the original series where it was “end of current year.” In fact, they repeat “three years” a few times, which makes me think if the series get greenlit for more seasons, it would be over a three year period.

Jet is still villainized but given more nuance and not a simple "good v bad" way like the original.

Zuko’s story about how he got his scar has additional lore that makes him come across as even more selfless and compassionate. The additional context of the platoon he advocated for in the war meeting, becoming his current crew, really added to the story.

Eradicated the nepotism baby plot point with Pakku only training Katara when he finds out he used to date her grandma. Instead, Katara proves herself and ends up teaching the other male fighters the techniques she learned from watching other benders use their elements and mimics them.

This season doesn’t have Aang learning any waterbending, but rather facing his trauma and the consequences of his actions. He get roasted by all his past lives. Which is an interesting choice, but I think it works well in how they executed it.

This season seems to actually be Katara focused and her journey of learning waterbending which I honestly loved because it really hits home the element of “water” being the story of an untrained waterbender learning her element. But, I do think Aang could’ve learned a little bending. It felt a little off.

Katara ends up advocating for all waterbending women and ends up leading an army of both men and women during the siege. She’s really bad ass and is given the title of master without being formally trained by Pakku. She made herself a master.

I think the timeline is a little wonky because of how much they had to fit in with the limited episodes they had.

Kuruk is given respect! I loved that.

June actually seems into Iroh which I thought was a funny but cool way to flip the script from the original.

The relationship between Zuko and Iroh is really beautifully executed. I love the depth they added with flashback scenes and their bond prior to the Agni Kai. It also wasn’t as frustrating watching Iroh and Zuko’s dynamic because Iroh communicated with Zuko in a way he could understand with straight answers rather than seeming to actively sabotage him with cryptic puns and shenanigans like the original.

They changed the love triangle with Yue Hahn and Sokka to be very healthy. They gave Yue autonomy and a choice in her relationship- which- again- is much more in line with indigenous cultures. Also, Hahn and Sokka’s relationship is really supportive and full of respect and no ill will.

They way they handled grief and the realities of war with the loss of life was very well done and really drove home the point that this is a war and these are child soldiers.

There’s a lot more but these are my initial thoughts. Will probably post more later.

Shipping:

Kataang is all but removed. Literally DOA. There is no indication of a crust on either side. It’s painted like a sibling relationship, which is like the original, but this time everyone seems to be on the same page. But, I swear the writers had to have read ZK fics because damn.

They canonized a popular Zutara theory/hc about the cave of two lovers and how the crystals would light up once it went completely dark instead of a “kiss” activating the crystal glow.

Speaking of the Cave of two lovers. They keep the Oma and Shu story with red and blue coloring. Making it come across more as foreshadowing than a direct link to the present tunnel story.

Sokka is put in Aang’s place with Katara in the tunnels and turned it into a story about the love of family and sibling bonds. Aang wasn’t even present.

Zuko and Katara share a meaningful look when they first see each other and continue to have a Katara centric scene followed by a Zuko centric scene and vice versa.

The scarf scene. I will not be elaborating further. If you know, you know.

Zuko and Katara fight scene in the North is epic. He still taunts her with almost the exact same dialogue but it’s so sassy- I love the banter.

Suki and Sokka were really cute and the actors had great chemistry. I think Yue and Sokka was really rushed and didn’t really feel anything about them, honestly. But I attribute that to lack of episodes to develop all that plot.

[jils-things]

Idk if you ever mentioned it (or i was just not a follower back then) but how did you come across idv 💭 also tell me when/how you started to like freaky Campbell bc i like hearing those stories 👊

YAY LOREEEE YES YES OF COURSE i love telling stories as well so this is perfect HEHEHEHE (im v sorry this is so long. this is what 5 years does)

so i joined idv when it was still quite new! november 2018, i checked. my best friend (who is also a selfshipper here, just inactive atm) asked me one day if id like to play with her this game! she only got into it recently and wanted someone to play with so she thought of me. without much hesitation, i did (i was immediately convinced with the dbd styled gameplay) so ive been playing idv with her non stop (we even played together recently after i went back to it for norton hehe)

norton wasnt even there when i first joined! there used to be a small roster of survivor and hunters and i remember either she or i get leaks on new survivors and we talk about it! norton was the second "new" survivor at the time that i got introduced to, i think that was on march 19 (which is also his birthday). at first, i was simply excited to get new survivors so of course i was like "yay!! this prospector looks awesome!" (foreshadowing. /j). i think one of my initial thoughts of him was "dang, that is definitely a design i fuck with" (his miner's hat really gives a lot of character! i still believe that today).

i was pretty much neutral at first. i just go yay cool guy is here in the game lalala (same attitude when the other "new" survivor came out)

one day my friend was designing an oc to pair with a random character (i dont think it was a yume thing, she just wanted to ship with someone because why not) and i wanted to join her as well, that's when I conceptualized irene - she was initially a shell collector :D like my friend, i wanted to find a survivor to pair her up with and without hesitation I just went. yeah. norton . nortons the one (as i said, his design really resonated with me and imo he was like, one of the actually "good looking" survivors to me at the time. its hard to say that now because we have characters like luca, aesop, edgar, mike etc etc LMAO)

so i was like yeahh! irene x norton real :D at first it was just a very lighthearted thing for me to do (as in, i wasnt very. 'HES SO CUTE LALALA") but i think it was when i tried to google fanart of him to draw at the time - that's when i was like "ooh... he kinda cute tbh..." but mostly just kept it hidden

at that time, i didnt really accept being a yumejoshi yet - i was super casual abt it and didnt think much abt liking him (i thought he was just a handsome blorbo to me). also because i was very preoccupied shipping him with emma (whom i very much projected into hehehe)

so after some time this becomes an on and off thing where i like him, and then ignore. like him, then ignore. cue the dormant years

then timeskip to maybe like, my 1st year in the yumeblr community, i missed him and this time i was becoming more head over heels for him for a brief time so i drew him and irene (irene was still a shell collector there too.) it was short lived

then uhh, time skip to a little more recently last year -- fools gold was becoming a thing! I don't know fucking HOW, BUT THAT TRAILER/NEWS CAME INTO MY YOUTUBE TIMELINE EVEN IF I DID NOT... TOUCH IDV? AND, FUCKIN HELL, I THINK I BECAME A NEW PERSON THAT DAY 😭😭 LIKE SEEING FOOLS GOLD WAS A WHOLE ASS RESTART BUTTON BECAUSE SUDDENLY I WAS IMMEDIATELY DOWN HORRENDOUS

AND AFTER THAT, I JUST. BECAME. WHAT I AM RN. EXTREMELY GIDDY AND SILLY ABT THIS DUMB HOT ROCK FUCKER LMAOOO but again it didn't last long? (medium lived ...?) cuz of steven. but also my friends (yk the fuckplace server) were constantly teasing me abt norton in general at this point so i couldn't exactly get him off my radar but i kept quiet. its worth mentioning that irene was still a shell collector too but i was starting to debate whether i should redesign her or not

and then, skip to the present. what got me to like, really selfship with him and just fully commit to liking him for Months now even -- was because of the stageplay which my aforementioned friends kept encouraging me to check (and when stageplay norton came up. i basically had the same reaction w fools gold but more positively and more lovingly SKAKWKKASKA) and that's when i fully retconned irene's lore to really align with his lore.

its worth mentioning that during norton's early years in the idv community - we did not know his personality and lore. the only keyword we had was "gloomy" but that didnt stop me and my friend from misinterpreting his attitude to be friendly and goofy (and irene was... believe me or not. a fucking Hater.. he was the goofy. she was the Not goofy one. its scary to look back on). and im so serious when i say the fools gold trailer changed the whole game for me because thats when i actually KNOW: 1) his personality 2) his lore 3) he is not a goofy Guy and i revamped irene's entire lore to align with his - making her the rich happy girl to his poor emo boy

so yeah. Meta Constabell Lore /JJJJJ

[aggressivelyclueless]

ouija board

in which it gets out of hand. . . but only a little

warnings: v spooky

(heads up this one’s kinda long, whoops lol)

(@qoinq-qhost u were looking for more danny being a lil shit? vvvv)

Sam was just about ready to get the seance rolling.  Thundery and weeping outside, candlelight inside - it seemed like a good night for it.  This time around, there were four of them: her, of course; Felicity, from third-hour, had brought the board; her bestie Star (who Sam had almost uninvited, as she hadn't been deemed goth enough, but she owed Felicity a favour and letting this slip was it); and Star's boyfriend-of-the-week, Jake (also not goth, and very much on thin ice).

They sat clustered together on the full-moon rug in Sam's room, a jumbo bag of Chex Mix forgotten on the floor by Jake's backpack.  Only the little brown bits were left.  "You're host," Felicity was saying, scooting up into a proper cross-legged sitting position and centering the board on the carpet between them.  She produced the most important piece - the polished wooden planchet - and dropped it into Sam's waiting palm.  "You start."

Star opened her mouth, almost thought better of it, and then asked, "Are we going to get a demon?"

"That's not how this works," said Felicity, shooting Sam a look to keep her quiet.  Felicity had the tolerance for questions like those, and the patience not to be cross.  "We're not summoning demons.  We're communing with the dead.  There's a difference."

"Is it still going to be scary?"

Sam bit her tongue.  With luck, it would be, and she wouldn't have to deal with Star's antics next time, whether they were at her house or not.

"I don't know," said Felicity, "Maybe.  We've never done one at this house before.  We might not get a ghost at all."

Sam shrugged, setting the puck down in the center of the board and keeping her first two fingers on it.  The others scooted closer, getting comfortable, and followed suit.  The candleflames throughout the room were perfectly still.

"Is there anyone here with us tonight?"

For a moment: nothing.  She glanced up into the empty air, as if she could spot a slinking shadow on the wall or a flickering shape hovering by the ceiling.  She couldn't, even though she wanted to.

Then the slight pull of the token under their collective fingers, and the drawn scraping sound as it crawled slowly across the board: YES.

So they weren't going to come up empty tonight.  She glanced over at Star, wondering how intense things would get before she'd bail.  Sam was certain that, at some point, she would, or maybe she was getting her hopes up.  Star didn't exactly look like goth material.  All things considered, this was probably the wrong scene for her.

But she had owed Felicity that favour.

"Why are you here, spirit?" Felicity asked, shifting a little in place.  Right to the point.

The planchet under their fingers was still.  Sam knew the rules better than anyone: if the ghost chose to answer, it would have to tell the truth.

The ghost chose not to.

Star's eyes darted to Felicity, but there was a hesitation before she spoke.  When she did, the words were wrung-out and barely there.  "Ask him if he's friendly."

"You ask him," said Jake, nudging her with an elbow.  Between the four of them, he was the least invested in the endeavor, seeming more bored than anything.  He shrugged, trying to scoot his letter jacket a little higher on his shoulders without having to take his fingers off the puck.  The jacket refused.

"Okay."  Star took a deep breath, turning her eyes back to the board.  The planchet, for the time being, rested on YES.  "Ghost," she said, somewhat uncomfortable at directly addressing the dead, "Do you mean us harm?"

Immediately, she could feel the wooden puck go cold under her touch.  It slid off YES, veered partway across the board, and went still again.  The chill at her fingertips vanished.

"Don't like the looks of that," muttered Felicity.  "Sam, you think we should call this one off?"

Sam gave it a moment of consideration.  "I don't know.  Maybe, but not yet.  Let me try once."  She cleared her throat.  "Spirit - will you tell us your name?"

The planchet didn't have to think about it this time.  Star could feel the cold tingling in her fingers again as it moved, slowly but deliberately, and spelled out: JAMES.  She frowned.

"What's your purpose here, James?" Felicity ventured, but the ghost revealed nothing.  The silence stretched on; finally, she sighed.  "Doesn't like me much, does he?"

"I don't know," said Star, which she thought sounded better than a flat-out no.  It didn't do any good; Felicity was already looking a little put-out, and Star reached up with her free hand and patted her on the shoulder.  "Don't feel bad.  We still like you plenty, even if that silly ghost doesn't."

Sam fought back a groan of distaste.  Whatever Felicity saw in Star, Sam was seeing none of it.  She wanted to tune Star out, didn't want to see her so distracted as if communing with the dead was a mere game.

If things started to hit the fan, Sam was sure she'd never want to come again.  In fact, she was starting to count on it.

But would provoking the ghost be worth it?  "James," she said, still contemplating it, "Why are you here?  What is it you're seeking?"

The puck meandered for a moment, as if conflicted.  It rested on the empty part of the board between F and S, turned around, and aimed mostly toward H.

That was when Star jerked her hand back, as if the planchet had burned her.  All of a sudden she seemed to be paying attention; Sam wondered if she had finally realized what, exactly, they were dealing with.  Whether she did or not, it was too late.  She'd disrupted the connection.

Sam had never seen it, but she'd heard the stories of what happened at sessions when someone did that.

Every single candle around the room went out at once.

"Star, what the hell," said Felicity, "Remember how earlier I said you couldn't do that - "

Star's already-high-pitched voice was pinched.  "Sorry, sorry!  It's just it got cold all of a sudden, I thought he wanted me to - "

Sam scowled in the dark.  "What are you talking about, no it didn't - "

"It did so!  Just now!"

"Oh for fuck's sake, I knew we shouldn't have invited you - "

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

The flash of lightning through the window made the ghost into a spindly and angular silhouette, floating in the air by the glass and jolting Star and Sam both out of their argument.  The planchet on the board, still under six fingers but by now forgotten, shot out from under them and flew across the room, bouncing off the side of the desk and skittering somewhere under the bed.

Oh, it was hitting the fan now, all right.  "This is your fault," Sam hissed through her teeth, glowering in Star's direction, but already her mind was racing to find a way to appease the disturbed spirit.  She'd held plenty of seances before, but generally found audience with lesser or fragmented dead.  Only twice had she been forced to close a session early.

Never had she met such an angry spirit before - and not only was it angry, it was in her room.

"Ideas," Felicity snapped, in an effort to keep Sam from boiling over, and in the same effort to keep Star from tears, "What do we do?"

"Run, maybe?" said Jake, but the sharp and thunderous BANG from the walls around them cut him off.  His eyes darted to the door, but it slammed itself shut before he could get up to his feet and make his escape.

"Hold on a sec, guys," said Sam, "Jake, sit down, we're not done yet - hang on, I said!  I got a flashlight."  She groped for her backpack, brushed over one of eight plushy spider feet, and yanked it unceremoniously into her lap.  Half-unzipping it, she produced the promised flashlight and clicked it once, twice, a handful of times in quick succession as nothing happened.  "Shit.  Shit shit shit - "

"There," Star whispered, her eyes fixed on the shadowy side of the room behind the bed.  She pointed with one manicured finger, making the rest of them turn to look.

The ghost was only there for an instant, hanging in the air as a smoky and ill-defined shadow against the hazy grey light from the window, but flickered away an instant later.  The pounding rain outside almost masked the haunt's staticky and echoing laughter.

Felicity put a hand over Sam's and tried not to squeeze it too hard.  Her fingernails dug in a little anyhow.  "Do you think we can still close this out?"  She didn't sound too hopeful.

"No," said Star, with a sudden and bone-chilling certainty.  "He's staying."

Sam looked over at her, agape.  How can you know that? she wanted to say, but her mouth had gone dry and she couldn't force it to move.  Star's eyes were on her; just for a moment, Sam swore there was a glint of something behind their usual blue-grey, but it was there and gone before she could be sure.

"We're staying," she said again, and this time Sam heard the echo in it, and this time the glint of green in her eyes lingered.  The ghost had her, appearing as a dark and swaying wisp in the air behind her, hands on her shoulders, keeping her still and calm.  Her eyes - the ghost's seyes - were on Sam, and a sudden, absurd thought struck her:

Isn't James his middle name?

The knot of rising terror in Sam's gut broke, and cold tingling relief poured over her.  For a moment she let it, willing the adrenaline to fade and the pounding heartbeat in her ears to settle, and then shifted gears.

That sonofabitch, I'll kill him for this one.

"No, you're not."

Star's head and the shadow's head cocked to one side in unison.  "No?"

Sam was locked on the spirit but her voice was directed at Felicity (and Jake, but to a lesser extent).  "Come here."

Felicity hesitated.  "What, are you serious - ?"

"Come here," Sam snapped, setting her first two fingers on the center of the board, ignoring the fact that the planchet was still misplaced somewhere under the bed.

"I don't like this," Felicity whispered, but followed Sam's lead regardless.

Star's fingers came out and rested gingerly on top, and Sam was certain that, underneath the veneer of shadows, the ghost was smiling.

"You listen to me, James," Sam commanded, with a seriousness that made Felicity and Jake both flinch, "You'd better get out of here."

Star's mouth turned up in a smile.  "And why's that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll banish you into next week."

"Sam," Felicity breathed, "I don't think that's such a good idea - "

"I'll do it," Sam reiterated, cutting Felicity off.

The smils on Star's face widened.  "Promise?"

Then the fingers on the board were moving, overcome by a pins-and-needles sensation that turned the board to static beneath them, and came to rest solidly over GOOD-BYE.

"See you then. . . "

Sam looked over and Star looked back at her with those big blue eyes.  She didn't seem distraught but Sam had to wonder how much of what had happened she'd remember.  She'd heard on several occasions that those puppeteered by the dead didn't tend to recall the influence, and Star wasn't horribly upset.

Still - she felt that ghost had crossed a line somewhere.  Crashing a seance, fine.  Overshadowing at said seance, even if he'd picked the least-favourite attendee?

That didn't sit right.

"You okay, Star?"

Star blinked once, twice, then cocked her head to one side and smiled.  "Of course I'm okay," she said, as if she hadn't been overshadowed at all, but the next thing out of her mouth, spoken with the utmost certainty, sent a chill down Sam's spine.

"He wasn't really going to hurt me, you know.  He let you win."

- - - -

Sam shut the door as the others left and then rounded on the ghost.  "I know you're still here.  There's no way you'd dip after a stunt like that."

(Damn right I wouldn't) said the shadowy thing under the bed, hauling himself out of the darkness a moment later.  In the light from the ceiling fixture overhead, the shadows fell apart, relenting to his more human texture and shape, and he shook the dustbunnies off once he got up to his feet.  In his hand was the forgotten token that went with Felicity's board, and he held it out to her.  "This is yours?"

Sam grabbed it from him, and only then did he get the impression that she wasn't entirely happy with him.  "You could have given me a heads-up, y'know."

"Hey, I was in the area, thought you could use a hand.  For goth cool points, or whatever."  Danny shrugged, leaning back and half-sitting on the side of the bed.  "I mean they do think you can scare off a real ghost now."

"And what the hell was with you overshadowing Star?" Sam went on, and at last the dopish grin at the corner of Danny's mouth vanished.  "So, okay, maybe I didn't want her to come.  But that doesn't mean you get to - "

"Wait, wait, hold on," Danny put a hand up in concession, "I didn't - well, I mean I did, but.  Listen for a sec, okay?  You don't like her, fine.  But I think something's up."

"Something's up," said Sam, nonplussed.  She crossed her arms, leaning back slightly in the desk chair and making it creak.  "You overshadowing people as a joke is what.  And whatever you were telling her in there, guess what  She remembers it now."

"That's what's up," said Danny impatiently, "I didn't tell her anything."

That made Sam pause.  "What?"

"You heard me.  But that's not it, let me say something else too.  I swear I'm not making this up: she saw me the second I drifted in the window.  I'm invisible and she's looking right at me.  The whole time.  It was like she was watching me."

"Bullshit," said Sam, wanting to believe it was.

Danny shook his head.  "You heard what she said.  After you banished me into next week."

"That you let me win," Sam recalled slowly.  In the moment, it had struck her as dumb-chills naivety on Star's part, but the way that Danny talked made it sound like she was serious.  Perhaps she'd just wanted to think that Star was that stupid.

"She knew it, and I didn't tell her.  I'm dead serious, Sam, she practically invited me to overshadow her.  I didn't even have to go all the way in her.  You saw it."

Sam had most definitely seen it.  "And what does this mean for the rest of us?  Or for you?  You're gonna tell me - what, she's going to miraculously guess you're half-ghost too?"

"I don't know - but you saw her the same as I did.  She wasn't scared of me.  Hell, I gave you guys a name and she was the one that didn't call me by it.  Like she knew it wasn't quite right."

"I get it," said Sam, thinking that maybe she would have been just as well off not calling him that either, "But what are we supposed to do about it?  Are you saying we should invite her onto the team?  Or what?"

Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair and letting it come to rest on the back of his neck.  He shrugged helplessly, his gaze picking out dustbunnies and imperfections in the floorboards at his feet.  "I don't know yet.  Keep an eye on her, maybe.  See if she starts saying things.  She's not as stupid as she looks, Sam.  Low bar, I know, but the last thing I need right now is somebody else to have to watch out for.  I know you don't like her.  I'm not asking you to."

He met her eyes then,  and the earnestness in them struck her.

"Just, don't let that put her in the way, okay?"

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[eunoiastarz]

more adhd balthazar propaganda requested by my beloved @sunriseat9am <3

adhd symptoms I noticed throughout his scenes:

rejection sensitive dysphoria:

I’m going to use 6x21 as my crutch for this because look at him

also in 6x03 when cas chooses the winchesters over him

hyper sensitivity:

almost every scene we’re faced with balthazars walls of an ‘I don’t care’ attitude which I think is just masking for his hyper sensitivity. I mean the 6x21 forest scene says it all, for a minute or two he stops masking and elevates his voice while using rapid hand gestures to vent his frustrations. I can also use 6x03 again as an example with how he begins pacing during the rougher parts of the conversation in order to hide his face from cas. and again, the way he blankly stands there while cas raises his voice, his own tone getting much softer.

mood swings:

balthazar to change frequently through emotions. he goes quickly from anger in the 6x03 holy fire scene to being utterly defeated within a few words. the 6x21 forest scene where he goes from frustrated to calm in a matter of seconds, and the 6x21 confrontation scene with sam and dean he goes from annoyed to panicked before composing his false attitude enough to fly off. just watch and you’ll see how he never keeps a consistent emotion during scene.

hyper activity/ excessive activity/ fidgeting:

balthazar is never not moving and when he isn’t it’s only ever for a few seconds. we also know he goes out to parties a lot and constantly surrounds himself with any chaotic activity he can find. this isn’t even mentioning the 6x15 scene where he’s talking to himself while rushing around bobby’s house, completely ignoring anyone else.

irritability/ low frustration tolerance:

truly this could just be because he finds sam and dean extensively annoying as he should, but I’m clocking him. he just hates them so much without a concrete reason. he doesn’t hate cas for trapping him in holy fire, but then again sam and dean have ruined a lot for him.

impulsivity/ lack of self restraint:

he doesn’t example many impulsive decisions, the only instance I can find is him impulse to save cas in 6x03 despite what it will cost him, but I think he’s impulsive in the way he speaks. he says a lot of out of pocket things depending on how who he’s talking to is making him feeling in the moment. adding on ‘honey’ after challenging raphael just because he knows cas will save him and telling dean he considered ‘ripping out his sticky bits’ just because they were annoying him was out of impulsive in my opinion.

dismissive behaviors:

watching through his scenes I noticed how dismissive he is of his own feelings and situations he doesn’t want to be happening. he fidgets more in these scenes and puts up and entirely different personality while either laughing it off or trying to change the topic. when he starts getting dismissive it’s also when his mood does a whole 180 within seconds. the entirety of his opening 6x03 scene is what I’m using as proof.

always relating things back to his interests:

I think his interest in movies is pretty obvious (titanic, the godfather, etc) so when he explained the current situation to sam and dean in 6x15 by using the movie the godfather, unsinking the titanic after watching the movie was his plan he was finding ways to relate through what he knew.

poor planning:

to me balthazar never really fully thought through everything he did, kind of like I said early he acts on impulse at times; in 6x03 when he damaged raphaels vessel to save cas, betraying cas and working with the winchesters, telling sam to kill bobby. when castiel even comments that he came back in 6x03 looking for an explanation of why, balthazar gives some off handed comment on the spot of how he’ll have more time to flee. I don’t think he ever saw through to what would happen as a result of these things all he thought in the moment was what he really cared about.

stimming:

stimming isn’t something he does much in canon, but I’m counting the times when he gets frustrated and starts pacing/ talking with his hands as him stimming.

persistent repetition of words or actions:

once again this isn’t something he does much but I noticed how he always holds his glasses the same exact way and drinks them whenever gauging what exactly he wants to say next. he also repeats words directly or summarizing things over and over to get his point across.

Now for the fun hc stuff!!:

(some or these are repeated from my hcs post and some are from my girlfriend who has never watched the show at all but is the resident adhd haver of our household so <3)

when he was younger sitting around in intelligence was very boring so he learned how to do tricks with his blade. it became a way of stimming to him so he could focus on whatever he was being taught. no one in intelligence appreciated it though. cas actually gets his spinny blade thing from him.

his character description in script says that he’s slightly manic (an attractive charmer who appears slightly manic on the surface but carries a great sadness) so I think that when he finally left heaven it was on impulse during a manic episode. he knew he had to leave, but I don’t think without that adrenaline he could ever bring himself to leave his garrison.

most definitely canon and confirmed that he has sensory issues and the reason he wears a v-neck all the time is because if he wears a collar any higher he feels like he’s being chocked.

old love songs are always playing throughout his house because it’s subconsciously helps him focus and he finds the quiet off putting.

his jacket? There is the part of the end of the sleeve thats really smooth because of how often he rubs it when he is panicked or just unsure of himself (a personal favorite from gf <3)

whenever him and cas are talking he’ll stim by messing with the belt of his trenchcoat.

whenever he can’t remember something he looks around the room and snaps his fingers while mumbling under his breath trying to figure out what he’s supposed to remember.

flashback to my post that said quote “adhd balthazar propaganda flappy hands” because so true past me

he wears a lot of jewlery so I like to think he stim with it <3 he messes up and fixes his watch over and over again. during long conversations he’s tugging his rings on and off to make sure he focuses on what’s being said.

going back to the sensory issues he can pet a cat normally but never backwards because he hates how it feels yes I’m right.

he sways all he time without noticing, especially when sitting. he sits cross legged only. (this one from my gf <3)

he’s overexcitable!! he’s loud and has no volume control!!! he just wants to have fun with things!!

he hyperfixated in cas for a bit and would tell him everything. (from my gf and no I don’t know how he never watched the show yet was on the nose with this one. they’re just a genius i guess)

I’ve noted before that I think he only likes wine so I think he stims sometimes by twirling his wine glass.

his first ever hyperfixation was frogs <3

he’s bored very easily with people and places hence why he flys all over the world.

he repeats his own stories a lot with the same amount of excitement which always bothered other angels outside of his garrison. it’s one of the reasons he learned to mask better.

despite being perfectly fine in loud crowded areas he gets easily overstimulated in high stress (mental) situations.

he hyperfixated on movies after being exposed to them on earth. it’s how he learned about modern human culture and finds it the easiest way to relate/ communicate with them.

he’s the most sociable out of the garrison but somehow had the least friends.

he doesn’t understand other people’s emotions at all. he can’t tell how people feel about him in anyway. sam and dean hate him but they still call him for help. he thinks he’s cas’ best friend but cas has never chose him once. he tries to act like it doesn’t bother him and pretends to be self centered to avoid having to ask the question. anna used to be the one to help him with things like this since she always had a good grasp on communication, but obviously she isn’t around anymore.

he’s a perfectionist, to him all things are about presentation. I’m using his introduction and the raphael confrontation scene as my proof.

balthazars always either humming or singing under his breath which everyone but his garrison finds annoying. they used to, but they’ve just become well adapted to his quirks.

he’s repressed his personality a lot. being loud and excitable in heaven was highly frowned upon, so in order to survive he tries to mask as much as possible

[tearblossom]

Orbital Station Scene Analysis: Part 3

Lmao here we go again. Ready to fall even deeper down the rabbit hole that is this scene with me!? This one scene functions simultaneously as my source of joy and depression and I watch it more than I would care to admit. So, naturally, I have even more to say about it! It’s going to be long. Sorry.

Part 1- https://tearblossom.tumblr.com/post/645095661644251136/scene-analysis-this-is-just-what-i-personally-feel

Part 2- https://tearblossom.tumblr.com/post/645776311115186176/i-was-thinking-some-more-about-the-final-scene

In this one, I’ll be going into more detail explaining the emotional mask that I believe Takemura is trying so desperately to keep on during this scene (and undeniably fails at several times, with it coming off entirely upon the scene reaching a certain pivotal moment) and also pointing out the instances that I feel the mask slips occur. Honestly, it’s pretty easy to tell for reasons that I will explain. I’m going to reiterate the fact that I am not a facial expression/body language expert. This is just one human being looking at another human being and trying to figure them out. This is just my personal interpretation of this scene. Prepare yourself for many, many screenshots and gifs. Also, I will be using the same video sources as the other two posts because I don’t have my own footage. 

https://youtu.be/ra-Ij1KU8r4

https://youtu.be/PUmQqVOq5oY

I failed to mention before the reason that Takemura even had to put up the cruel facade in the first place because I didn’t want to state the obvious and insult everyone’s intelligence. We all know the reason but I’ll just say it here anyway: Arasaka. 

Arasaka is listening to Takemura’s every word so he literally cannot say shit to V that would hint at any sort of affection for him/her and absolutely nothing that would indicate any growing uncertainty in said corporation. Words mean nothing here. He has to speak through his eyes and expressions because that is all he has to offer, the only cards he has to play. That is why the meaning of this scene can be so easily missed and flies over so many people’s heads. I do not fault anyone that may have missed this on a first playthrough or even those that are still unaware of it whatsoever because Takemura is very, very convincing at first (his face becomes an open book once the contract gets brought out but we’ll get into that later) and besides, to truly understand something that involves emotions as complex as these caused by equally as complex reasons or anything involving subtext really, takes multiple viewings to truly appreciate.

In summary, what I believe is happening here is that during the entire scene up until the contract gets brought out, his mental state is constantly teetering on the edge of a cliff so to speak. He is trying so hard to fight his sentimentality and control his emotional responses not only to V’s misery and pain but also his own wavering faith in Arasaka because they are watching, listening, and monitoring. And he succeeds extremely well at first but it gets harder and harder for him to maintain the mask. The closer he physically gets to V, the harder it is to pretend, to hide. His eyes alone betray him on several occasions but eventually the whole facade just crumbles and he falls. And when the contract comes into play is when he truly, honestly looks at V and the communication through his eyes really begins.

Here is the key thing- it is the most important visual clue to understanding when things happen: When Takemura is feeling any doubt or his emotions begin to overwhelm him or he fears that they might, he promptly averts his eyes to get himself under control and readjusts the mask that has slipped. 

He looks away from V during these moments!

(Just to clarify, I don’t think that every single moment in the scene that he looks away from V has this deeper meaning behind it. When people talk it’s completely natural for them to turn their heads, avert their eyes to look at other things, etc. These are just some moments that particularly stood out to me as signs pointing to my little theory.) 

Okay...let’s start deciphering this conflicted, broken mess of a man.

Scene starts. Takemura is fiddling with the Rubik’s Cube. He puts it down. Expression cold as ice.

mask on full display in all of it’s glory

They talk about Saburo being back in the body of his son and have this exchange of words:

V: “Saw Saburo Arasaka’s back. In Yorinobu’s body.”

Goro: “Yes. Justice has been done.”

And then it happens for the first time...

(Could this be...doubt perhaps? Has justice really been done?)

Moving on- he walks over to stand behind the chair across from V, telling them of their imminent death.

Goro: “I will be blunt - the surgery did not help. You will be dead before winter.”

And then he proceeds to make this face immediately after...

(Lovely, isn’t it? Just full of sympathy. His mask game is strong. But don’t worry though because V wins in the end BIG TIME.)

Understandably, V gets very upset upon hearing this news.

V: “How... how’s that possible? Arasaka’s got the best and the brightest.”

And then something happens again. Whatever could it be, I wonder!

But wait, there’s more!

(He couldn’t even wait until he finished talking before looking away! It’s getting more difficult for him to look at V with a straight face every second! Also, his expression here is the most broken looking yet.) :(

He must not reveal what is hidden behind this emotional wall that he’s worked so hard to build up specifically for this meeting because the room they are speaking in may just as well be made of glass with Arasaka’s unrelenting gaze, an ever-present entity, on the other side of it. He will do so soon though, when he offers V salvation. The contract raises the stakes. The rules change. He feels the wall breaking and there isn’t anything he can do about it and he knows it.

IT’S CHAIR TIME, CHOOMS!

He looks away another 6 TIMES! Leaning more and more over that edge. Feast your eyes...

IT’S CONTRACT TIME, BABY!

Oh, shit!

It’s happening!!

He does look away here but there’s no mask on when he looks back...only despair.

It’s gone.

TO SIGN OR NOT TO SIGN

The disguise is off now. From this point onward, Takemura looks at V with his true feelings on display. This is where the ability to read the emotion portrayed solely through one’s eyes really comes into play because even though he’s not trying to hide anything anymore, he still can’t say what he really wants to say. We have to feel it through his expressions. His thoughts are so loud during these final moments of the scene that we don’t even need words to know what he’s saying.  

REFUSE TO SIGN

SIGN

HOLY GRAIL MOMENT!

(I’m literally going to copy and paste what I have in my part 2 analysis about this section because I explained my thoughts on it about as well as I am able to there and have nothing else to add. My apologies for repeating myself but I feel the exact same way about it so it still applies here.) 

These reactions make perfect sense because we’ve always known that he cares deeply for V and never stopped. He just couldn’t hide it! But even with this treasure trove of emotional mask slips and unintentional displays of affection, I still wasn’t sure exactly how deeply he cared for V. In other words- if he was actually in love with V or not.

Is he already in love or is he still in the process of falling in love? Is it just a friendly love? (hell no! I knew that was definitely not the case but I still had to ask just so I could cross it off the list!)

And then the two of them walked to the door and said their parting words.

V: “Gonna see each other again?”

Goro: “I believe we will.”

V: “So… see you.”

Goro: “Visit me in Kagawa - I will show you what is real food.”

And then…

he proceeded to make these faces…

HOLY

SHIT!

(The mask isn’t just gone now- it’s burned, splintered, shattered, exploded in a million pieces, disintegrated!)

This man just had the biggest revelation of his entire life: the realization that he is in love with V. These are looks of love and I will not be convinced otherwise. I’m not a facial expression expert or anything, only stating my humble opinions here, but are you seeing this!?

He realizes the truth and it catches him so off guard that he has to look away. He contemplates these newfound feelings and tries to sort them out in the few seconds that he has left with V. And he does. He accepts them. He welcomes them. The gentle, knowing look he gives V when he looks back at them is saying just this.

He also knows that he is now fucked because his love for V is going to complicate things so much more than they already were. Now that he is fully aware that he is in love, these feelings are going to directly conflict with his duties to Arasaka later if a situation arises that places V and Arasaka on opposing sides and I think we all know that is most definitely going to happen at some point.

And now he has to see the love of his life die and just leave this place and go on with his day. Damn. This is turning into one of the saddest love stories I’ve ever seen. Something major is going to happen in the dlc that is going to force his hand one way or another: V or Arasaka? I hope that Arasaka somehow fucks up so bad that it makes his choice easier but my heart breaks imagining the amount of conflict and torment that await him.

The Beginning and The End

[the-darklings]

coa one year later & self-reflection

(*drags out a creaky metal chair and plops down on it heavily*)

Hi. It’s me, ya boi skinny--

Wait, wrong one. Do over.

Hi, it’s me, Kat, and I’m not dead. Clearly. Today being one year anniversary of COA has kinda put me in a reflective mood, so I guess I decided to sit down and just...talk about some things, thoughts and feelings I’ve been bottling inside for a hot sec. Especially given how radio silent I have gone on here and people deserve a bit of perspective. 

And before anyone starts worrying, it’s all good, and I’m still around and currently in good health for the most part. 

So, let’s take it back to the start. Regardless of how dramatic it may sound, we need to go back a year for that. 

By technicality alone, COA actually turned one year old on October 12th. That’s when the first part was posted. However, the reason I’m treating today as the aforementioned birthday is simple: I had no intention of this story ever being more than a short two-parter. I told this to the discord gang already but COA was only going to have two parts. V was going to die in Tokyo and the rest of the story follows glimpses of John throughout the movies and it’s her ghost that haunts him. Skipping ahead, it was going to have a bittersweet ending of John eventually dying, having completed his task, only to be greeted by V, Daisy and Helen in the afterlife. A peace of sorts. Then, I realised that, well, no. I have more to say on this world and intrigue about this placeholder character V kept growing. 

November 1st happened and I made a very last minute call to continue COA but with the added pressure of doing it during NaNoWriMo 2019. And boy did I. Most of the story was figured out during that very intense month. I posted Part 2 on this day a year ago because I was so eager to share it. Perhaps, in retrospect, a bit too eager. 

For those of you who may not know this, I work as a writer full time for my actual every day job. I’m the main writer for an original webcomic called In the Bleak Midwinter on Webtoon.com and have been for almost two years now. Getting what is essentially your dream job is amazing. I’m very lucky on that front but it also taught me stark realities of having your job and only hobby overlap. It’s a dangerous creative mix. Especially because I was not used to being constraint in what I create or the feeling like I have to please anyone else. Writing as a job is a whole other avenue of creative exhaustion. I love my job a lot and am very, very lucky to have it but it doesn’t change the fact that those initial stages made me fall back on COA a lot for creative freedom that I craved so desperately. To an unhealthy degree looking back on it now. 

But going back to November last year. NaNo time. I did it. Finished on the 24/25th I believe. A juicy final count of 52k+. All while maintaining a weekly update schedule for a fic that usually hit around 10k per update, if not more, even during those early days. Add writing an original story on top of that. Writing every day for hours on end (we are talking 10-12hr days) without any time for other hobbies or time for myself in general. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Losing weight and sleep in the process. I think the thing that convinced me that I should continue doing so is the fact that the outpour of support for COA ended up surpassing anything I ever expected or even dared to hope for. I’m not a huge numbers person but the outpour of love and just sheer investment in the story and characters blew me away. John Wick fandom is on the smaller side and has been going through downtime when I posted COA so my expectations were...well, small tbh. I like keeping expectations low to avoid any disappointments in general. But I’ve also always had an issue of being a massive 0 or 100 kind of person. If I love something, it consumes me. In this case, it brought me as much joy and freedom as much as it was steadily pushing me towards the ultimate crash. 

That being said, I can’t thank you all enough for every comment, like, reblog and message and fanart. You’re the reason I got this far. With your support. It brightened some really dark days for me.

But. 

To be frank, it’s never been about you guys. I never wrote or pushed because I felt like I had to appease anyone. That creative mindset is pure poison and I long since learned to let go of it. I kept pushing and kept working myself to the bone because I liked it. I liked how reading peoples’ responses made me feel. I liked the addictive nature of reading all the comments and theories after an update. I loved the idea of brightening peoples’ days and giving them something to cheer them up after what might have been a shitty day. Even if that was at expense of my own time/well being. But for a long time, it wasn’t. I love writing a lot but facts remain facts. 

It was beyond unhealthy and burnout wasn’t a question of if but when and that when was approaching at neck-breaking speed. 

So we come to the end of November. Part 4 has just come out. People were invested and I was invested alongside them. I was just finishing up Part 5 which (back then) was the biggest single chapter I’ve ever written and god I still recall my sheer dread because that was the beginning of Santino being established as a LI. Looking back on that now, it’s downright hilarious how worried I was about the reception of him and V together after John.

So honestly, I hit burnout at around Part 8. Because that’s the first time I recall struggling with writing a chapter. Part 8 came out on December 28th. I had a brief break for holidays. But my mistake was not taking longer back then. Because I continued writing with a barely healed burnout. Followed by almost a year of struggling and continuously creating through that state. It wasn’t like I eased off the pressure, either. Oh, no. The chapters grew in size, the world and the characters with it. AUs amassed quickly and while I adore every single one - again, I didn’t know how to pace myself well enough.

I’m spiteful though. The more the chapters struggled the more I pushed against the burnout. By the time Chicago arrived, however, I knew I was in trouble. I ended up writing 43k+ in a span of 2 months, I believe. And while to some it may not seem like a lot given the time frame, it’s a lot when you’re burnout to a crisp & writing an original story for work + deadlines. Which I was burned out and then some. Chicago was something I was looking forward to writing for months. I have built it up since Part 4. It was a long time coming. So while I’m still proud of it, I would be lying if I said that some scenes were not sacrificed for the sake of keeping to my invisible schedule that no one but me actually cared about. You guys have always been patient. I never felt pushed into anything. It’s always only ever been me doing the harm. 

Chicago was the downwards spiral for me mentally. I felt like I was failing to live up to my own expectations. That people were drifting away from it. I was plagued by the thought that the story I poured so much into was falling apart and growing weaker. Which this has always been an issue with me: I am my own harshest critic. Always have been. In fact, I’m a downright mean little fucker when it comes to just tearing at myself. I know writing is for fun - and it is - but I still like the idea of being proud of my work which only made everything worse despite the love each update received. 

This takes us to the beginning of June. Specifically, June the 2nd. Or, as I like to call it: Kat Makes Another Impulsive Decision but This One Actually Works Out For the Better. On this day, I created the COA Discord server. And damn, I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting when I did ngl. I did it for fun and as an escape more so than anything. But somehow it ended up being the best decision I made in a long while. I know some of you are reading this. So love you lots, dorks. It’s such a privilege to be able to call so many of you my friends even outside of COA now. That little community has given me some of the best memories from this year and helped me to crawl out of my own metaphorical pit I was stuck in. Mentally, I’m doing much better than I did beginning of this summer. Which could be summed up as a constant self-hatred cycle and a feeling of inadequacy. 

That, however, does not mean my burnout magically disappeared. If anything Chapter 17 just put a nail in the coffin so to speak. 2020 has been a shitty year just across the board for obvious reasons I don’t need to go into here but that can only partially be attributed to my mental state. Chapter 17 was...exhaustive. To say the least. But I was determined to stick with my vision and not split it up. I was also starting to be a bit more forgiving towards myself in terms of how long I may take to write it thanks to guys on discord though the feeling of failure and worry never quite faded fully. I’m proud of Part 17. Truly. But that was also when I hit rock bottom creatively on COA. It drained me completely. 

I tried writing Part 18 for weeks after, day in and day out, not getting past the first scene and hating every word I wrote. So I took a deep breath and stopped. Figured I let it marinate and wait instead of trying to piece one of the most crucial chapters in this story like some Frankenstein monster two sentences at the time.

So my solution was simple: give myself some distance from it and write other things. Get my spark back. Of course that’s always a good idea. Having multiple creative escapes is the best thing you can do for yourself creatively. There was just one tiny little problem. 

I was still burned out. Still am. The problem went deeper than just being burned out over COA. I was burned out over writing itself. 

Which is an issue for a person who only has writing as a creative outlet.

I don’t have any other way to express myself. So I was stuck in a runt, trying to write because it’s the only thing that makes me genuinely happy even when I really shouldn’t have. And let me tell you. It’s a shitty fucking feeling. My burnout worsened. I had a thousand ideas but every time I tried to get them down it felt forced, fragmented, and weak. Repetitive and dry. Now, this is also in part because English isn’t my native language, so my vocab is limited as a result, but I hit that sweet rock bottom in that regard, too. 

So, I worked on V (but in her OC form Clara), Lucien and The Elites. All those characters have grown so much since you last read about them. I have multiple original projects planned down the line that will feature all of them existing in their own world, with their own stories and no longer constrained by JW canon.  

Which, finally, takes us to the end of October and beginning of November 2020. 

I was convinced that the best course of action was to do NaNo again but with an original story this time (involving V). Suffice to say, it took a grand total of maybe 5-6 days and hating every second of writing it while also feeling like this project I’m so passionate and excited to write (still am) is just...going down the toilet to be blunt, to realise I may have made the wrong call. 

Still, the stubborn ass that I am, I pushed through. Convinced I can get into it if I just keep going. The realizations that I am sharing with you right now won’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for a rather curious turn of events about a week and a half ago.

I recently bought a gaming laptop, all in preparation for Cyberpunk 2077 dropping ofc. But, in the meantime, I kept recommending a game to a friend on the COA server. That game? Far Cry 5. (It’s a blast to play btw, just a side note.) And playing it brought back all the feelings of nostalgia from the days when I used to write for that fandom. So I revisited some old work. Checked the stuff I never published and that has been sitting ducks in my docs for months and hoo boy. Let me tell you it was a vibe check of the worst kind. 

The stark difference in the prose and the ease with which it flowed was...startling. It made me remember why I love writing so much and how proud I used to be of what I wrote back in the day. Which is not to say I’m not proud now, but it was just such a sharp dip in quality it was impossible to ignore.  

So I didn’t.  

I paused NaNo, moving it to another month. I paused writing for everything but work, which with our season coming to an end I will also get a rest from soon, too. I kinda paused in general. For the first time in a while, I finally forced myself to switch off. Rest. 

The reason why I haven’t been on here is simple: guilt and not having energy to be on here. I like making my blog a safe space for everyone. Similar to escape it has become for me. I couldn’t pretend I was fine when I wasn’t. I felt obliged to perform and being here became exhausting. I haven’t been checking my inbox. Haven’t done much of anything except occasionally dropping by and reblogging a random post so people know I’m alive.

And that’s that, folks. That’s where I am currently. Resting. Completely exhausted mentally but resting. Getting my energy back. 

So where does that leave us, huh? If you read this far, dunno what to tell you. Thanks, I suppose. It’s still odd to think people actually care about my existence sometimes.

I know what you’re likely thinking, too. So does this mean COA is never gonna be finished? What is gonna happen to it? Are you abandoning it?

The answer: no. 17 out of 25 chapters and 250k+ in, I’m too far in not to give it a proper conclusion. Not because I owe it to anyone other than myself. I want this story to be a stepping stone for my future as a writer. I want to prove to myself that I can get this done and finish it. As of right now (as you can no doubt tell with how long it’s been since last update) it’s on a soft hiatus while I rest. This rest? Not sure how long it may last. Right now, my plan is till mid December at which point I will reevaluate. Ideally, I finish the year with an update. But my New Year’s resolution is to finish COA. That timeline has become a little more murky now but, again, ideally it’s within the first quarter of 2021. Will that happen? I don’t know. And I don’t want to make false promises, either. 

All I’m saying is that it will be done. I’m just no longer sure how long, exactly, it may take me to reach that Epilogue. I don’t expect many people to stick around for however long it may take me, but if you do, thank you. Truly. I really and deeply mean that. 

So what’s on the cards for this blog in the meantime? Well, CP77 is coming out in under a month (if it doesn’t get moved again lmao rip) and I expect that to be my soft return to posting my writing on here again. We will see where the muse takes me, if at all. Regardless though, I’m excited. 

One doctorate thesis later, here we are at the end of this really long rambling session. I hope that this has given you some perspective on things going on behind the scenes. I spared you some of the gorier details but I think this post has been long overdue. I suppose I, myself, was just too unwilling to face these things despite knowing about them deep down for a while now. I’m too self-critical not to notice but acting on correcting this behavior has been a whole other matter clearly. 

Thank you for reading this post, my writing in general, and supporting me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m still around. More is on the way in the future. I’ll be seeing you all real soon. And all my love to all of you. 

Love,

- Kat.   

[roads-rise-to-meet-me]

Character Bio: Valkyrie

Saw this fun looking thing going around and decided I wanted to do it myself!  Tagging @johnnysilverhandsimpressivecock​ and anyone else who scrolls on by and wants to take part! 

General

Name: Juliette Serrano Aliases/Nicknames: Valkyrie. It was the alias she started going by exclusively when she arrived in Night City; a result of her not wanting to let herself get too close to her work. Eventually, it became more like her real name, and even after she started rolling Nomad again, it was what she preferred to be called.  Gender: Female Age: 27 (As Of 2077)  Birthdate: 7/11/2050 Place of Birth/Hometown: Valkyrie’s exact place of birth is unknown, as she was born into a Wraith camp out in the Badlands somewhere.   Sexual Preference: Bisexual  Occupation: Night City Mercenary/Nomad 

Appearance

Eye Color: Brown. She does have Kiroshi optics, but voted to keep their natural color instead of changing it to something else.  Hair Color: Blonde  Height: 6′0 Scars: Too many to count honestly. She has scars all over her body; the result of everything from stab wounds to road burn. The most prominent, however, is the one across her forehead, and she didn’t have that when she first arrived in Night City. That wound was sustained on the night of the botched heist at Konpeki Plaza from a large shard of broken glass. 

Favorite

Color: Sky Blue  Hair Color: She tends to be attracted to people with a darker hair color, but it’s far from a requirement.  Song: Valk’s favorite artist of all time is Tom Petty, and her top song from him has got to be Mary Jane’s Last Dance. After that comes every other song Tom Petty has. She enjoys Samurai as well, and listened to a lot of their music in her teen years.  Food: She enjoys nothing more than whatever food she can cook over a campfire, especially since she can control exactly how much burn it has. Valkyrie likes her meals scorched.  Drink: Cinnamon whiskey is Valkyrie’s alcohol of choice, but if she isn’t in the mood to get drunk, she really enjoys lemonade. 

Have They?

Passed University: No. Valkyrie has a high school level education at most. She was mostly educated within the Bakkers clan, but sometimes if there was a public school nearby, her adoptive mother would enroll Valk and her brothers there to try to get them to socialize with other kids outside of the camp. It didn’t really work out that way though, as they preferred to raise all kinds of hell within the school and sleep around with the other kids.  Had Sex: Yes. Valkyrie can be best described as being hedonistic, so she’ll actively seek out anything that can bring her pleasure. Often times, it’s another person.  Had Sex In Public: Yes. It’s actually more of a surprise when she has sex in private.  Gotten Pregnant: Yes! Twice actually! Neither time was planned!  Kissed A Boy: Yes.  Kissed A Girl: Yes.  Gotten Tattoos: Yes. Valkyrie has some pretty extensive floral and geometric tattoos across her chest, upper arms, and back.  Gotten Piercings: Yes. She had some when she was a teen, but she stopped wearing them in years ago. By now they have more than likely closed up.  Been In Love: Yes.  Stayed Up For More Than 24 Hours: She’s done this many times. The entire time she was in Night City she very rarely got any sleep, and was often running on stimulants and fumes. 

Are They?

A Virgin: Absolutely not.  A Cuddler: Yes. Obnoxiously so. Valkyrie is very big on physical affection and contact. If you just need someone to crush you with their full body weight, Valk is your girl.  A Kisser: Yes. Again, she loves physical affection.   Scared Easily: Not really. Valk is actually fairly bombproof. But if you’re actively attempting to scare her, and catch her off guard, you can still expect her to jump a few feet in the air and yelp.  Jealous Easily: No. Valk in a relationship always feels pretty secure, and is trusting of her partner.  Dominant: Valk is a complete and total switch, but she definitely leans more towards dominance.   Submissive: If you earn it, yes. But don’t think you’re gonna be spared from her being a brat.  In Love: Yes. She’s very happy with her SO.  Single: Nope. Happily taken, and is more than content in being exclusive. 

Random Questions? (TW Self Harm/Suicide Mention)

Have They Harmed Themselves: No.  Thought Of Suicide: No.  Attempted Suicide: No.  Wanted To Kill Someone: Yes, and she has killed before, but that has mainly been because it was a part of a gig, in self defense, or in defense of a friend or an ally.  Have/Had A Job: As a merc and a Nomad, Valk’s entire life has consisted of her doing gig type work; performing hits in the city and construction or smuggling jobs out on the road. She’s also worked on a few farms for their planting and harvest seasons, and much prefers that over anything else.  Have Any Fears: Valk only really thrives in a communal setting, and thus has major issues with abandonment and loneliness. She doesn’t take it well when she loses someone she’s close to. She can also get a little claustrophobic when she’s in an enclosed place for extended periods of time. 

Family?

Sibling(s): Valkyrie has one biological brother, and three adoptive ones.  Parent(s): Valkyrie’s biological parents were a couple within a Wraith camp, and she knows absolutely nothing about them. The people she calls mom and dad are the husband and wife that adopted her as their own when she was brought as an infant to the Bakkers camp.  Children: Valkyrie has a son and a daughter, Kaito and Signe-Lynn. Valkyrie decided she wanted a kid after she got married, but Kaito was a honeymoon baby, and she had not been anticipating having a child that early on. After he was born, Valkyrie had decided she was content with just one. But 18 months later, fate proved to have other plans, and Signe-Lynn came along as Valk’s second and final child.  Significant Other: Goro Takemura! It was a rocky and uncertain road getting to marriage and two kids after everything the two of them went through, but Valk considers every second of the struggle to be worth it...And she thinks he’s even more handsome these days with his hair down, a riding jacket, and a little bit of dust.   Pet(s): Valkyrie ended up taking in Nibbles after V moved in with Kerry, but the cat quickly became more like Goro’s pet. Valk’s companion is a male Afghan Hound she ‘liberated’ from some stuffy corpo’s penthouse. Now Flash has more room to run than he knows what to do with, and his favorite pastime is sticking his head out the car window and letting the wind ruffle his long flowing locks. 

[stilinskitpose]

Pining over him // Peter Hale

Pairing: Peter Hale x female reader

Warnings: nsfw , smut , slight daddy kink, hair pulling, choking, unprotected sex, tonnnn of dirty talk and just a lot of sexy sin (plotless kind of)

Characters: Peter, Derek, Stiles, Scott, implies pack, y/n

Summery: The young reader has been fantasising about the feeling of being with a real man for a while now, a real man being no other than the notorious Peter Hale. However, it’s hard to be taken seriously when Peter thinks you are no more than an annoying little teenage girl.

Word Count: lost count it’s a ton

Authors Note: This is my first time posting on tumblr, let alone posting a smut imagine soooo I don’t know how this will turn out. I’m just going with the flow of my hormonal teenage instincts ;)

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“Y/n, did you even listen to a word that I just said?”

The deepness of the voice made you snap out of you staring at the entertaining spider that was crawling up the corner wall of Dereks loft, which caused you to jump suddenly on your squished position on the coach, trapped between two clowns, Scott and Stiles.

The quiet yelp you let out made Stiles stiffle a snort causing you to elbow him in the shoulder. The fucker deserved that. You let out a content sigh and an evil smile when you heard a sound of pain from your annoying brother from another mother. What can I say, the pain he feels makes me wither in complete pleasure. I snort at my chain of thoughts and look up to see a confused Derek Hale.

"Yeah sorry, I was just-", Trailing off mid sentence thinking of a viable reason for not listening to the former Alpha. Thinking it would be funny to tell them about the entertaining spider that just crawled under the crack of the wall on the other side of the spacious loft.

“There was a spider” You answer timidly, grimacing at yourself for sounding so stupid in the room full of your pack. Derek looks at you quizzingly, you giving him the most innocent look you could muster, he sighs before letting a small smile come across his features from your utter randomness.

“I was just telling you how we need to keep you somewhere safe incase the Darach decides to pay you a visit” Derek says quickly, you sigh in annoyance hating being treated like a defenceless little girl. You understood that you weren’t anything supernatural or anything but you would think Derek would have a little faith in you since you were so handy with a frying pan from being in a near death experience with the twin Alphas not so long ago. You chuckle subconsciously at the memory.

A mutter of agreements are heard from around the loft from your oh so fellow pack members. Betrayed and defeated, you try voice your opinion on the matter.

“What? No” You probably looked like a kicked puppy. You definatly felt like one. You continued “I’m not some helpless human Derek. Stiles is more helpless than me!” You whine flicking Stiles in the head which he repeated the action harder on me causing me to poke him in the ribs.

“Why has this suddenly turned into bash Stiles day? You know I have feelings too” Stiles offendingly says, his arms spazzing at his sides to try and prove his point.

“When am I ever nice to you” you scoff jokingly earning a chuckle in agreement from him before he went back to listening to the arguement infront of him wishing he had a bowl of popcorn to go along with it.

Derek ignores Stiles and resumes telling me that it’s for my own good. Blah blah.

“Where will I even go anyway? It’s not like I have a line of people waiting to protect me from the looming and pending doom of death itself” You replied, words laced with exaggeration.

“I’ll look after her, it’s not like I have anything better to do”

The husky voice came from the corner of the room shadows dancing across the body of the person that is wanting to ‘look after her’. What am I, a dog? Y/n replied in her head afraid to reply that response out loud since the deep voice belonged to a man she have been shamefully harbouring a crush on for some time now. Peter fucking Hale.

It’s not like she was afraid to converse with him, it’s just that she was terrified of making a fool of her self by stuttering out a few syllables before halting and staring at his piercing blue eyed that made her legs buckle submissively from the dominance they give off. She doesn’t know how he does it, makes her feel like her skin is on fire whilst her heart pounds faster than humanly normal. Without even meaning to aswell. It’s like he was a complete natural at turning her into jelly without even noticing. It riles her up to no extent.

Your eyes widen in shock and your heart beat began to rise much to your dismay, knowing that he probably knew the effects he had on you, since he had spectacular werewolf senses, made you want to crawl into a ball and wither away in embarrassment. But he never made any indication that he knew either from being completely oblivious or because he wanted to salvage that slither of pride you had left for yourself. You prayed the first. But you doubted it since Peter isn’t exactly known for being the nicest human in the planet.

You knew you were probably over exaggerating and stressing about this whole situation way to much but you just couldn’t comprehend what you would do if Peter found out the way you feel since he is abit older than you, being still only a junior in highschool yourself and him being a fully grown mature man that you wanted to pounce on all the damn time. Jesus I need to get laid, preferably by the man invading my dreams at night but desperate times cause desperate measures.

“Look after me? I’m not a child, I don’t need watching over, I have things to do like watching the last season of The Vampire Diaires even though I’m shitting scared to because Stephen dies” You ramble a butt load of word vomit wanting to shut up but your nerves were your worst enemy in situations like these.

“Hey don’t aim your anger on me I’m just volenteering to keep the weak and innocent out of harms way, that’s character development if you ask me” Peter replies smugly as his gaze burns into the your own. You muster up a harsh glare at Mr Hottie before pivoting to face Derek who was evidently waying the little options he had.

“Your not seriously considering this right? You hate him, everyone hates him” I bitterly state, relunctanly turning around to meet Mr Hotties patronising gaze. The evident smirk plastered on his handsome face tells me that he’s enjoying being the cause of this conflict. Mockingly sending a small wave as if proud of the past he has with the pack before him.

Everyone once again agrees with my statement causing Peter to let out an annoyed sigh before saying “I thought we all got over this anger that has been directed towards yours truely, It will give you wrinkles if you frown at me like that sweetheart”, he humours the situation by sending a wink in my direction. Ugh.

“It’s not like we have a lot of options right now y/n, as much as I don’t like it we need as many people focused on defeating the Darach. It will only be for a few days at the maximum. I promise. Please?” Derek had is puppy dog eyes displayed making it very hard for me to deny him, so I bit my tongue and agreed.

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Derek had dropped me off at Mr Hotties apartment with my bag laying heavy on my shoulders ready to stay for a few nights. This whole situation is bitter sweet if you ask me. Bitter because you didn’t know if these few days will hold a wave of awkwardness between the two of you and a lack of communication since the both of you have never had a proper convosation other than yesterday when he offered to keep you hostage in his apartment. And sweet because you’d have eye candy for a while. I was not complaining. It’s a win win situation.

You stroll around the apartment amused “I’m not going to lie I have always wondered if you lived in a secret lab or in an underground network of tunnels or something like that but this will do I guess ” you snickered and joked. Peter lifted an eyebrow and smirked saying “I’m not a complete animal darling”. My stomache filled with butterflies at his statement and I cleared my throat looking around the apartment once again.

Peter leaned on the doorframe and cocked his hip against it whilst his arms were crossed. Damn. He gave me a once over eyes lingering on the exposed area where my mid thigh length skirt lay. “Aren’t you a little young to be wearing that?” I frowned and looked up at his defined features past his broard strong shoulders.

“I’m nearly 18 I can wear whatever the hell I want” I scoffed. Peter held his hands up in mock surrender before strolling into the kitchen with his back facing me. I could see the defining back muscles from the outline of his green v neck and the way his bisceps flexed when reaching into one of the cupboards for two mugs. His hands. Oh holy Jesus his hands. The muscular and veiny hands gripped onto the coffee mugs send a wave of arousal downstairs. My mouth turned into an o shape as I imagined all the things those hands could do to me. All the filthy things. A girl can only take so much! As my eyes began to travel down the werewolf in front of me I started to bite my lip at the way his jeans hugged his cheeks as they clung amazingly against his thick legs that held rippling muscle. I have got to ask him what his leg day routine is.

A hand started to wave across of my face as if trying to get my attention, I averted my eyes away from the goodies to see Peter staring at me with a wide smirk along his smug face.

“Are you okay there y/n? You look a little flustered. Something on your mind?” He walked towards me untill I could feel his lips skimming the top of my ear. I gulped in suprised as my eyes widened and started stuttering out an excuse.

“Oh u-um I was just— nothing” I hung my head to look at my feet awkwardly as they began shifting from nerves.

“Hmm okay let me show you where you’ll be sleeping” he his voice rasped against my ear which sent shivers around my body.

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He knew exactly what he was doing. I mean how couldn’t he? It was like we were playing a game of cat and mouse. More like werewolf and human. I snorted out a chuckle at my pathetic joke as I lay down on the bed in the spare bedroom that Peter allowed me to use. Glancing down at my lack of clothing, an oversized t shirt that said ‘bugs life forever’ and a pair of white lace panties I let out a heavy sigh clocking my head untill it reached the my phone saying it was 2:45am. My throat was dry from overthinking earlier with Peter, how he got so close to me, pressing his body against mine. Why would he even do that? He thinks I’m an annoying teenager. A child.

Wanting to wet my parched throat I hopped towards the kitchen quietly, attempting not to wake Peter from his room and not bothering with putting on sweatpants as I didn’t suspect anyone to see me in this state. I reached my arms out to the highest cupboard in the kitchen, straining my arm at the height of it and huffed when I couldn’t reach it. A deep voice made me freeze in my position and slowly turn around.

“Did I say you could use my kitchen without my permission?” I gasped as I saw his shirtless form, rippling muscle clouded his chest with light scattered chest hair in the centre that led towards the waistband of his sweatpants. Atleast someone thought about wearing sweatpants.

Holy Jesus for I have sinned. “I didn’t think you would have a problem with it since you offered to imprison me inside the walls of your apartment” I muttered angrily starting to once again reach for the glass that I am determined to get. Little did you know that Peters eyes wandered past the hemline of the oversized sweatshirt you were wearing that was hiked up from you stretching to reach the glass, this eyes lingered on the exposed skin of your thighs and the white lace panties that hugged the underline of your firm ass. Having these sudden dirty thoughts that clouded his mind from his previous dream feels wrong since you are much younger than him. But Jesus did it feel so right to him.

The feeling of someone pressed against you from behind startles you. You move to spin around when a deep voice interrupts you. “I’ll get it for you, don’t strain yourself darling” Peters voice seemed strained as if he was trying to keep himself together as you let out a choked sigh at how close proximity you both were to eachother. As he reached up to grab you a glass and handed it to you, your response make you regret the day you were born. Started from your hands brushing you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Thankyou daddy” Both his and your eyes widen at your statement.

Oh my god. Did I really just say that out loud? Judging by his expression, I’m pretty sure I did. Shit. What the fuck is wrong with you? Someone please just kill me right now. A werewolf could come up to me right now and kill me and I would say thankyou.

This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with others

As he was about to say something but you step back abruptly and close your eyes from shear embarrassment.

A husky voice made you jump on the spot, “ say it again” His eyes glazed over in pure hunger as he watched me like I was his prey and he was the predator.

“I-I don’t know w-what your talking about” my voice sqeaked in pure humiliation

“Say it again” he repeats himself before stalking his way towards you and wrapping his hand round your throat as he squeezed lightly sending an electric feeling of pleasure towards your core. You whimpered at the contact and threw your head back at the sight of this heated haze that bore into yours and so he could reach more of your exposed throat.

“Yes, you do. Say it again. I won’t ask a third time.” He growls and you can feel yourself begin to dampen at his forceful tone.

“Thankyou daddy” You coo.

Fuck.” He curses before lunging forward and taking your lips with his. You immediately open your mouth to his probing tongue and moan when it brushes over yours. Peter pulls away from your wet lips and traces his tongue down your throat as his lips begin to suck along the side of your neck surely leaving marks as he does it making you whine and shudder in pleasure. His impossibly enormous hands glide their way to my chest before capturing my breasts through my sweatshirt starting to kneed and pinch my nipples as he held intense eye contact with me.

“These-” he stopped to grasp them harshly before tearing the fabric of my sweatshirt off making direct contact with them this time with his warm and inviting hands that made me choke a whimper as I was being dominated by the man that I have pined over for as long as I have known him. “Are mine” he finished with a growl flashing his blue luminous eyes. His lips began to assault the hardened nipples, swirling his warm tongue round the bud then biting them teasingly.

“Say it, say that you are mine little girl” he demanded as his hand reached down to cup my pussy through my white lace panties.

“Oh god- oh god yes! I’m yours” I managed to stutter as I became a moaning mess as his magic fingers circled around my clothed clit before he moved them aside and plunged two fingers inside my tight walls.

Barely forming a grammatically correct sentence from the immense feeling of pleasure that I was going through, I reached down bravely to palm his prominent bulge that twitched under my palm.

He growled as his hands ran down your back, grabbing your ass between his hands touching outline of your pussy through your thin lace panties. He pushes you back into the kitchen until you feel your back hit the kitchen table. Peter pulls back away from your lips and flips you around, bending you over the table.

Shocked from the turn of events you let out a yelp, “What are you doing?” you moan and cry out as his hands pull down your panties, kicking your legs open with his feet.

“Giving you what you want baby” He husks as his hands pull down your shorts, kicking your legs open with his feet. You hear him unbuckle his belt before shoving his hand between your legs. “Your soaked” he groans before shoving his cock deep inside your pink and wet pussy.

“ Did you not think I’d notice how you feel about me baby? Your arousal always in the air for me to smell all the damn time I’m around you baby girl, you don’t even realise how hard it was to resist the urge to fuck you everytime I saw you” You purr in content at his sinful string of words.

“Peter please” you beg. He slaps your ass hard causing you to let out a loud moan. “That’s not my name” he glares. Realising what you meant it took you no time before pleasing him again.

“Daddy! O-oh fuck yes!”

“That’s a good girl, I’m going to fucking ruin you” he growls in your ear making you whimper. His dirty words only spurring how turned on you are.

“Please don’t stop what your doing” your desperate gasps are all that he needed to fuck you untill your screaming his name.

He begins to ram his cock in and out of your pussy as you let out a stream of loud and sinful moans, pounding you into the table, making the table legs squeak against the hard floor. He reached round to grip your hair as the other slings around your throat holding you in place as he begins to whisper dirty words into your ear that makes you eager to feel your pussy pulsate around his hard and thick length.

“Who knew you were such a naughty girl y/n? Desperate to feel my cock inside you, I bet you like it when I fuck you don’t you? Huh? Rough and hard?” You managed to humm before it turned into a stuttered moan as you felt yourself beginning to quiver and your legs to shake he continued to pound you with his cock.

Suddenly the feeling of a knot forming below your stomache makes you stutter out a moan “ holy shit, yes, yes!” You scream as you come undone around him as he continues to pound you through your orgasm. A stream of grunts follow after yours as he came inside you, milking your walls with his hot cum.

“Wow, that was unexpected” you grunt as you try and catch your breath, leaning against the kitchen table.

“You started it, calling me daddy and all” he teased whilst he send you a smirk.

“Well I’ll call you daddy as much as you want next time” you reach out to pull at his short hair leaning to give him a subtle kiss on his lips that lingered.

“Darling, next time I plan to fuck that warm little mouth with my cock” he growls.

That can definitely be arranged

[aghostlybao]

🏳️‍🌈 boggie

anon, thank you so much for responding to my post!! i give you bobby's first ever pride, boggie style!

multicolored steps to bravery

warnings: none. however, if you do find anything you think are triggering then pls send me a msg and tag the reblogs accordingly. thank you!

 navigating through one’s gender/sexuality is confusing and overwhelming, especially when you’re at an age where society expects you to have an established sense of self. it is absolutely okay to remain uncertain of what label, if any, suits you best. and it is also okay to change the label you’ve chosen to identify yourself as somewhere down the line or to forgo labels altogether. 

or bobby watches his friends grow && celebrate their gender/sexuality with pride while he ends up even more confused && thinks that he's running out of time to figure out where he belongs.

writing below the cut. excuse my grammar, english is difficult af but i hope you enjoy it

                           

multicolored steps to bravery

There were times Bobby felt like an outsider, an audience witnessing the growth of his friends rather than growing with them. While Alex found out about his sexuality at 12, Luke following right after, and Reggie two years later, but Bobby at 18, still didn’t know where he belonged in the gender and sexuality spectrum. And every year, as his friends went through heartbreaks, his own experience never went past an awkward peck on the lips during a spin-the-bottle game when he was 13. While they grew confident and proud, showcasing their gender and sexuality, and becoming supportive figures to the younger students at their high school since sophomore year; Bobby reeled back and firmly smiled as others labeled him as the token straight friend of the group.

But at 23, Bobby finally found the courage to join his friends at the annual pride festivities, while still being 100% unsure of his identity. Bobby lounged on the living room sofa, feet nonchalantly propped up on the coffee table, and munched on sliced green apples dipped in sriracha sauce as they put the finishing touches to their outfits.

Reggie stole the fruit out of his hand, “you okay?”

“Yeah, Reg.” He happily fed the bassist another slice, “just sleepy.” Bobby was grateful that Reggie remained quiet about the obvious lie that came out of his mouth.

Reggie did a 360-degree turn on the spot and wiggled his fingers when he came to a stop. “What do you think? Willie painted the back panel,” he turned away and showcased the very artwork he was talking about, a bass guitar in the colors of the bisexual flag. “Julie added the studs!”

His own outfit, dull and monotone, wasn’t even worth comparing against their elaborate looks.

Bobby tried, really tried not to entertain him not belonging, or that it affected him every time a stranger screamed in delight, gave them high fives, and with some going as far as giving hugs because of the colors that adorned their bodies. But it was difficult not to when they were bouncing with so much excitement that it made his head spin. Reggie’s presence didn’t even register until his hand received a comforting squeeze. “You okay, Bee?”

When had he stopped walking? Bobby mechanically smiled, forcibly making the outer corner of his eyes crinkle. “yeah dude, just got lost in my thoughts. We should catch up with them.” Neither of them moved from the spot.

Right before them were rows of pride flags varying in sizes and colors to represent the entire LGBTQIA+ community. The growing crowd turned into a blur of multicolored identities, from Alex and his partner, Willie in their rainbow splattered dungarees with the demisexual flag painted on one of Willie’s pant leg to Luke’s arms covered in swirls of pink, yellow, and cyan. And Reg, Reggie’s leather jacket customized with magenta, lavender, and royal blue studs, and the hand-painted bass guitar in the same colors was a stark contrast to his full black outfit.

“Reg?” Bobby still didn’t have the answer to the question he’s been asking himself since Alex came out to them at 12, “I don’t think I’m straight... or gay, or bi, or pan…” He continued when Reggie took hold of both his hands, a silent encouragement to keep going. “Actually, I have no clue what to identify as, not the way all of you do. I-I thought I was asexual but then I found out about its sub-identities, then people started referring to me as the token straight.”

Bobby rolled his shoulders back, lifting his head to return Reggie’s gaze. “I was hoping I’d have it all figured out by now but I’m thinking that it may never happen.” He briefly searched for any sign that he should stop talking but Reggie met uncertainty with a soft smile. “I like you.” He dropped to a squat, groaning in frustration. Talk about finesse. He swore under his breath, “I had this entire confession planned out, and I fu-And you’re laughing at me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ve never heard you speak for long or look so scared. Remember that rottweiler living across the school and Luke dared me to go pet it?”

“Yeah, you cried and fainted.”

“Exactly!”

“I don’t get it…”

“That’s how I feel towards you!”

“You’re... scared of me?”

Reggie crouched down in front of him, beaming, “yeah! Wait. No! I was in the beginning, you were super cool and I told the guys that it was unfair how you owned the ‘haven’t slept but still hot’ look while I looked like a turtle every morning!” Halfway through his ramblings, the two of them had changed their position and comfortably sat crossed-legged in the middle of the street. Bobby was far too entranced to care about the looks of annoyance being thrown at them.

“My point is,” he pursed his lips, “I like you too, Bobby.” To prevent Bobby from countering, Reggie pushed his cheeks together, making him look like an inverted version of a pufferfish.

“And before you ask, it’s good enough for me. We don’t even have to put a label on it!”

“I don’t know... being called your boyfriend sounds nice.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, Reg.”

“Okay, boyfriend.”

“Ew.” Bobby quickly stood up, cackling as Reggie chased him through the multicolored crowd.

[parisofpeoplez]

Hello I'm back again trying to get this out of the way so that I can MOVE ON GOD. I have soo many feelings from Vincenzo finale and I feel emotionally exhausted, so I'm going to try and sort my thoughts out here. This is going to be very long and chaotic....

I had started watching this show sometime in March and caught up with the episodes in the week before episode 13-14 aired. That's when I discovered the fandom on Tumblr. I've never been a part of such a fandom and it elevated the whole experience so much more and let me just put it out there first and foremost - y'all are the most intelligent, funny and creative people I've ever come across.❤ Living in today's reality where we can't even meet our friends, having a collective community experience with you all was honestly such a comfort. I will forever be grateful to this show for giving me this experience ❤❤

I've been trying to look at the positive sides of the finale but it's difficult to do so. Not saying there's aren't any, I just feel the not-so-positive ones outnumber the positive ones imo...

I've become so attached to this show that I've even surprised myself. Props to the writers and creators for creating characters and giving them such good development arcs. I truly came to see the Geumga plaza gang as a family. Blood is not what makes you a family and they proved this till the very end.

Hong Cha Young my queen....I absolutely adore her. I've never come across a female character like her in any show. I love her quirks (like even the way she walks with a bounce in her steps is so extra!) and I love her strength. She was ready to go all out to make her father's murderes pay, which is probably why I have sort of mixed feelings about her character in the last episode. On one hand I do know that her want for revenge against them is what started it all, and she deserved to kill Zumba Snake and Han-seok. But it is one thing to want to kill someone, and another thing to actually do it yourself. In the initial eps, we saw that she made Vincenzo promise not to kill anyone, but went back on it with 'promises can be broken out of necessity'. And yet, she ended up staying at Vincenzo's place out of fear that he would actually kill. She might have went back to making peace with the fact that Vincenzo is bound to kill and yet, when she witnessed one of the cryatal balls dying (idk his name), she had to take the time to remember why she was doing what she was doing, and why she had been supporting Vincenzo all along. As viewers we would have been satisfied had she been the one to kill Myung hee (since she was the one who gave the order to kill Cha Young's dad), it would honestly be completely out of character for her. She's a ruthless, cunning lawyer, but not a killer. Which is why I completely understand why the writers decided not to go that way.

On the other hand, Vincenzo has grown up in the Mafia, this is what he has learnt his entire life and what he's best at. He understood that it would have long lasting emotional impacts on Cha Young if she killed. He didn't want her to suffer like he does, which is why he offered her an out in ep 19, warning her that they will now become monsters, and delivered the final blow to Myung hee and Han-seok.

I am satisfied with Vincenzo being the one to kill them. But what I am not satisfied by at all is how Cha Young was essentially side lined in the finale, and the fact that Han-seo sacrificed himself in the end. They could have written Cha Young being involved in some way. The entire sequence in the beginning of ep 20 could have been so much more impactful, had they taken a slightly different route. I still do not understand why they didn't make Han-seo push/kick Han-seok's hand so that that last bullet ends up somewhere that is not a human body. I am as annoyed as I was when Gu Seung ju died in CLOY. I know that they had been foreshadowing his death all along, right from the moment when Cha-young and Vincenzo have that conversation about how underdogs more often than not end up dead (or something along those lines, I can't recall exactly), and then more recently in the last eps, but still it would have been a great twist for him to actually be alive, and reveal it later in the episode like they did with Mr. Lee. (Please Mr. Lee's potential death sub plot was just....NO. It was unnecessary to give him a fatal wound and make us believe that he was dead ESPECIALLY after they killed Han-seo). At the very least, even if they did want to kill Han-seo, they could have written it better and given some sort of closure to his character. I will forever mourn his loss...

Coming on to the deaths of the antagonists. Choi Myung Hee's death was.....something. To be very honest, I don't really know how I feel about it exactly. Not saying I hated it or that she didn't deserve it. I liked the whole bit about making her dance one last time. I just really don't know how to feel about actually watching her burn. As for Jang Han-seok's death, I think it was a bit too gruesome for me to digest (he deserved it tho) but I really liked two things about it - Vincenzo taking his watch and the crow. Now THOSE were satisfying.

As much as I hated it when Vincenzo had to leave, after thinking about it, I feel it was necessary. The police were after him and they literally did not have the time to fabricate any sort of evidence that would gurantee him to walk a free man. Even if they had tried to do it, it would've been a gamble. Vincenzo had to leave so that he can come back to Cha Young later and not end up behind bars instead. Yeah I know he was going to retire initially but after Luca's visit, he realised that he can't leave his family in Italy alone. The Mafia are his family after all. He's grown up and spent his whole life amongst them, he can't just leave them to defend themselves, esp when their boss is his incompetent brother. He had to take care of them first because that is what they do, they look after their own. Even though he offered the enemies money, it would only keep them away for so long and there would always be more enemies.

I'm not gonna talk about my thoughts on Chayenzo since I already made a long ass post about it (x)

I did not mean to ramble on so much but oh well! I couldn't sleep last night with so many thoughts running around my head and I needed to vent them out, so here we are lol. These are just my ramblings on the last episode, not the whole show. It is still one of the best shows ever created and I don't want to let the ending ruin that for me. It will take some time for me to accept it tho. Not in the mental state to go for a re-watch but I probably will at some point when I'm not feeling so emotional (is it the PMS? It v well could be lol) and when I do, I will be v conveniently only skipping to the kiss scene and ignore the rest of ep 20 lol (It was an amazing kiss scene okay).

[nowhereclosetoit]

Even More Gay Shit in “The Goldfinch”

Specifically, Chapter 6: i-iv, because that showcases some of Theo’s finest internalised homophobic hours and some of the gayest shit surrounding Boris.

So, I was rereading “The Goldfinch” and I forgot how fucking gay Theo’s dumbass is in parts i. – iv. at the beginning of Chapter 6, like, it fucking SENT me. After reading some of Theo’s finest examples of internalised homophobia and general headassery, I decided that I needed to collect the gayest selection of quotes from this specific part and analyse them and their gayness accordingly, because once again, it’s lockdown, God is dead and I killed Her with this fucking essay.

Theo’s internalised homophobia and feelings towards Boris are depicted especially strongly at the beginning of Chapter 6 – The Wind, Sand and Stars due to the introduction of Boris’ girlfriend, Kotku. Theo clearly portrays Kotku as a threat to his and Boris’ relationship, without ever giving a valid (heterosexual explanation) answer why: a) she poses such a threat to their “friendship” – oh no wait sorry their “there was not exactly a word for Boris and me”-ship, or b) why he’s so upset by her being in a relationship with Boris. He tries to rationalise this by saying that it’s just Kotku that he has a problem with and that there were “Lots of other, better girls our own age [that] liked Boris”, however, it’s clear that he has a problem with anyone taking Boris away from him.

Theo is overly harsh of Kotku and we never receive an unbiased presentation of her. He’s always trying to make her come off worse than she probably is and make it sound ludicrous that Boris is in a relationship with her, specifically. To try and justify this behaviour, he often follows comments like these on with something that sounds reasonable and rational – this also helps to highlight his ignorance to his feelings for Boris as this clearly depicts his jealousy towards Boris being close/in a relationship/spending time with someone that isn’t him.

Theo’s problem with Kotku can only be explained through jealousy, there is literally no other way to interpret why he hates her so much, after all, if she treats Boris well and makes him happy, why should Theo, his supporting bestest friend have a problem with that? (Because he’s fucking jealous).

I’m going to work through each segment of the chapter through quotes I’ve picked out to fully show how fucking ridiculous this part is – it sends me every fucking time I read it so I need a log of all the gay shit.

Summary of the points I’m trying to make by showing you all this:

Theo clearly presents his relationship with Boris to have grown closer since the last chapter, so close in fact that they “were so attuned to each other” that they didn’t need to talk to each other to communicate properly, and that Boris knew “just where [Theo] was weakest, the spot under the blade where he could dig his fingers”. He’s set the scene to depict this intimate and intense relationship they now have after spending almost a year living together and spending all their time together. The closeness of their relationship can clearly be paralleled with that of a romantic relationship from these descriptors alone but are intensified by the following.

The quotes highlighted above in green clearly show Theo’s jealousy towards Boris now spending more time with Kotku than he is with Theo. Obviously, it’s natural to miss your friends and to want to spend time with them if they’re spending more time with other people or their partner, but the way Theo depicts his feelings here can only be read as jealousy.

If this wasn’t enough, Theo makes Kotku seem like she’s really boring (“The name Kotku…makes her sound more interesting than she was”, “she’d lived in Clark County, Nevada her whole life”), a horrible person (“the glare she slid over me was anxiety provoking”), and unattractive, despite not really getting to know her and give her a chance.

Theo also tries to tell us that he cannot remember Kotku’s real name and puts her down so that it comes across like she meant and her presence in his life meant nothing to him. He does this constantly throughout the chapter. (We should keep a running count of how many times he says something like “Kotku…or WHATEVER her name was, I can’t remember because she was so BORING and INSIGNIFICANT to my life, that I just simply cannot remember her name! Oh but I can by chance remember the exact outfit Boris was in a whilst proclaiming his undying love for Kotku, he was also running his hands through his hair which I totally don’t have a boner for!”.)

He even goes as far to hit Boris “hard” because he was “in no mood” to hear about Boris’ feelings for Kotku. That’s jealousy, baby!

ii. – And this is over 3 pages

Summary:

He’s pretending not to know Kotku’s name again, and also reinforcing that “or whatever” part,

Shows his #jealous streak again as he says Kotku “virtually assumed ownership of Boris”, like bitch, calm the fuck down,

Shows even more jealousy,

Key word – “embarrassed”, keep note for later as this appears when Theo has to head on deal with some gay shit and does not want to deal with said gay shit so he feels embarrassed and that’s on internalised homophobia,

Says he found Kotku “disturbing” and the reasons as to why he did find her disturbing, Boris liked – shows how he’s gay! Because he hates women! Unless they’re Pippa or his mom! Jokes! Or is it…

And there’s even more bullying towards Kotku who is yet to do something offensive to Theo.

iii. – 1 page

Summary:

I think these ones are pretty self-explanatory,

AND!!! There’s the last quote which I think is really interesting because it’s an example of Theo comparing activities he does with Boris that he would, hypothetically, do with a girl on a date, like…ok bro. That’s fucking gay. He does this again somewhere too, but I can’t remember where.

iv. – Ok, so, this is the big one where he owns up to his totally no homo shenanigans, there’s a lot to unpack from this entire part, strap yourselves in.

(For the key in this part, assume anything unhighlighted corresponds to the yellow on the chart, as there was too much of it and it looked really ugly so I removed it.)

Mini Summary Before the Really Gay Shit:

Theo is an oblivious dumbass who totally likes Boris in a very homo way, so much so that he fucking despises our queen Kotku. He also is obviously clouded by internalised homophobia because he cannot realise that he does in fact like Boris.

v – What I’m going to look at here is what the fuck is going on and why Theo’s explaining it in the way he is.

My thoughts are going to be in bullet points here because there’s SO much to analyse.

Theo clearly shows how he’s fucking head over heels for this Boris bitch. Just read like all of it.

He tries to describe it like he doesn’t care that much, and I mean, you can just tell that the motherfucker’s lying. Like seriously, dude. Like the whole part where he’s like “I didn’t want BORIS to get the WRONG IDEA! Wouldn’t that be fucking gay? HAHAHAH, not me! I’m heterosexual!”. He’s saying he wants to “make things clear” with Boris to “make absolutely sure he didn’t have the wrong idea” and personally, I think this is either because he’s completely fucked with internalised homophobia or he’s just dealing with the “rejection” from Boris because Boris is from Kotku. Maybe he’s saying this to make rejection hurt less?

I also want to talk about Boris’ possible side in this whole thing. We never see Boris’ point of view of this shit because this entire book is just Theo wallowing in self-pity (dude, get a fucking therapist, I’m begging you). Do you think that Boris maybe got with Kotku because he knew Theo was fucked with internalise homophobia and thought that maybe meant that Theo didn’t vibe with the shit they were doing? Or, do you think he did it because HE was dealing with shit like, “Oh, boy! Do I like girls? Or….like what’s happening here?”

IN CONCLUSION:

This was just an excuse for me to gather all the gay shit and write down some thoughts. That’s IT! I am ILLITERATE at this point tbh.

[lollercakesff]

Home Bound

Survive. Escape. Go home? To what home?

Jyn and Cassian escape from Scarif and settle on a small planet in the outer rim where the traditions are vibrant and the Rebellion barely scratches at their front door. Years pass, they live. But then the scratching at their door gets heavier, and heavier, and soon there’s a knock that calls them back into the service. They go because to say no would go against their very fiber, but when everything they’ve come to know disappears, how do they remember what they’re fighting for?

Survive. Escape. Go home. Right?

A gift for the Rebelcaptain Secret Santa gift exchange for @youareiron-andyouarestrong​!

Read it all on AO3!

Part One:

Step 1: Survive.

Step 2: Get off Scarif

Step 3: Get back to Yavin V

Step 4: …. Step 4?

They make it through steps one through three and he doesn’t understand how exactly it happens. One second he’s on a beach and the sky's alight and the heat is almost unbearable but for her body wrapped around his… Next, he’s tucked in a medbay bed on a ship with his hand wrapped up in Jyn’s, her grip tight despite the soft breaths filling his room. He doesn’t know what’s supposed to come next and for once, maybe he’s okay with that.

And so he pulls her hand closer and ignores the twinge in his spine as he wraps himself around her, unwilling to let the heat from before eat him alive like his mind is convinced it will.

---

They settle on Calabriana, a small planet in the Outer Rim where nobody knows their names. The anonymity was a requirement after Scarif, after the desolation of Yavin V, after Hoth.

Cassian and Jyn had stuck around the Rebellion after Scarif to fight and it had been years of it, endless days of missions that had picked at their open wounds until one day - a day like any other - Cassian had come back to his bunk to find Jyn curled up in his cot, shivering and vacant.

“Jyn?” Cassian breathes, hesitating at his door. It wasn’t that she was here, in his room, which made him pause. Nor was it finding her in his bed, even though they never explicitly talked about that . No, the panic in his chest wasn’t any of those things. It was the look on her face, the way it didn’t flicker to life like it normally would. Something was wrong. “Are you alright?”

She doesn’t respond, not verbally at least. All she does do is close her eyes until her brow furrows and her breathing seems to stop under his inspection. It's enough to bring him to her side, his hand coming to her cheek as he drops to his knees beside her.

“Come back to me,” he whispers softly, the words unfamiliar on his lips.

They had always been her words, murmured into his temple after a bad dream, after a mission went sideways and she had to come find him. Her fingers on his chin, her cheek pressed to his brow so he didn’t have to hide his pained expression.

“Jyn, come back,” he repeats and her eyes blink open, flickering up to meet his. He exhales a shaky breath and slides his thumb along her jaw. “Do you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head and he follows as she pulls him into the bed, her small frame tucking into his chest as though she was set to disappear into him.

An hour passes. Then two. It’s late when she whispers what she needs, the feeling resonating within him like a ricocheted gunshot.

“I can’t be here anymore. I need to leave. Come with me?”

He doesn’t think before he utters his reply: “Yes.”

It’s two days later that they’re boarding their ship, the half-repaired K2SO droid packed away and their small bag of worldly possessions fastened in the hold.

Leia had come to say goodbye, as had Draven and Bodhi and Kes. Their small farewell had gone mostly unannounced. The heroes of Scarif disappeared into the sky, almost as though their lives in the Rebellion after Scarif were but ghosts haunting hallways. Maybe they had been.

---

Life on Calabriana was hard. Not in the sense of working themselves to death or being required to go on high risk missions every day like an endless rotation of pain and misery. No. It was hard in the way that living a quiet life after so much suffering was hard. It was the silence, and the calm way that life moved like a snake in the grass, weaving and slithering through time until it rounded in and tried to consume itself.

At first, Cassian was sure they’d made a mistake. His hours helping build a home were well spent, yes, but the nights were almost unbearable. There was no intel to keep his mind occupied when the nightmares wouldn’t cease, no halls to endlessly walk until he fell asleep on a crate or in a corner hidden from view. On Calabriana, there was only silence and the creak of the floors under his feet, Jyn’s bedroom door always closed as he debated raising his fist and disturbing her sleep. He doesn’t, at least not until one day she pulls it open and reaches for his hand, drawing him into her room and into her bed.

Neither of them say it out loud but every sleepless night from that night on - and even some in between - ends with finding solace in one another’s arms. And then one night, as Cassian hovers in her doorway as she readies for sleep, he straightens and finally pulls himself together.

“I don’t want to sleep in my own bed anymore,” he admits, cautious and low.

“I thought we already gave up on that idea,” Jyn answers evenly, pulling her work top over her head and tugging one of his old shirts from her drawer to use as a nightshirt. The hem hovers mid-thigh and he forces himself not to stare even though his whole body lights with the familiar draw of her.  

“Really?” He counters and she lifts a brow in reply. In another second she’s standing before him, hands on her hips in challenge.

“Really. I asked you to leave the Rebellion with me and you did. I never really understood why you thought you needed to sleep in another room but I wasn’t going to push you. Figured you’d come around eventually.”

“You mean you were already at this point and I’ve been the one holding back?” The thought surprises him, all of the signals for the reality of their arrangement finally falling into place. Oh .

“Maybe,” she smirks and he sighs, reaching for her hips and drawing her close to his chest. The kiss is anything but chaste and in the morning when they wake - wrapped around one another like vines on a lush jungle planet - they don’t talk about how things have changed and what it means, instead choosing to simply share a room like it was a practical merging of resources.

---

Sharing a room becomes sharing a life. They work the fields together, go to town together, and when the nights are particularly cold with the seasonal change they cling and make their own heat together.

Their first few months on Calabriana pass uninterrupted by guests until one night there’s a knock on their door, a stricken look passing over Jyn’s face as Cassian gets up from where he’s settled with a story and his tea. He hesitates at the door, sucking in a breath, before he pulls it open to see a small crowd of humanoid beings huddled outside in elaborate colourful costumes. The sight makes him uneasy until one takes a breath.

And then they start to sing.

It’s maybe only five minutes. Maybe ten. Before the group nods and bids their farewells, walking off into the night as Cassian shuts the door and turns back to face Jyn who looks just as confused.

“Local greeting committee?” Jyn offers with a shrug. Cassian nods and returns to his seat, picking up his reading and trying not to think about the odd encounter.

A few days later and Jyn and Cassian venture to town, their eyes wide as they come upon the village now lit with endless flickering lights and colours all strewn about the streets. All around them people are rushing from shop to shop, arms loaded with bags and bright smiles on their faces.

“What's going on?” He asks the supply clerk nonchalantly, his attention turned towards his chip card as he swipes it across the reader.

“It’s the season of Jule. A time of gathering and well-wishing. Have you never experienced a Calabrianan Jule before?” Cassian shakes his head and glances over to where Jyn is running her fingers along a scarf on display, her lips quirked up in a small smile. “Well, it is a wonderful time to be here. You must attend the feast. Three days from now in the market - bring your partner and gift her that lovely piece she’s admiring - it’s tradition.”

“How much for it?” Cassian asks by way of thanks. The man adds the cost to his bill and promises to wrap the gift up ahead of the festival.

Cassian doesn’t know what he’s promised to attend - was the feast a sacrificial ceremony or truly a happy occasion, he wasn't sure - but he isn’t concerned. None of the research he’d managed to dig up on this planet had talked about ritual sacrifice, so they’d probably be fine.

He hoped, at least.

---

The day of the feast, Cassian has to challenge Jyn to a competition to get her out of the house. She's too busy lounging like a Lothkat, curled up under a blanket as she enjoys her tea and hides away from the chill that has settled outside.

"I'll do the dishes for a week if you win. If I win, you have to come with me to town later," he offers, tweaking her toes with his fingers until she grins and pulls them out of his grip.

"Fine. Get the dice."

He wins by sheer luck, or at least that's what he tells himself as she rolls another snake-eyes. Two hours later and they're back in town, coming upon the small community at dusk. The lights flicker across the growing darkness and Cassian swears he can see stars in Jyn's eyes, her look of awe beautiful and serene and so far from the haunted look she'd worn the day she asked him to leave with her.

"They say there's a feast," Cassian says easily, starting to lead them forward and through the small alleys towards the market. Jyn sticks to his side and keeps her hand curled in the fabric of his pocket, holding on as they weave between groups of people, little families sprawling across swaths of space.

"A feast of what, exactly?" Jyn counters evenly, though there's no harshness to her words.

"Not sure. But the guy at the shop said we should come and I figured… if we're going to settle here we might as well try to follow some of their customs to blend in. Unless - "

"No, you're right. We can keep to ourselves but I think eventually we need to engage a bit. Good call," she adds. Cassian laughs tightly and reaches for her hand, pulling it into his own.

"Don't congratulate me yet, we've still got to survive tonight."

They arrive into the bustle of the market and are stopped short by the sight they come upon. It's like Home Base after a victory, the crowd thriving and music filling the space around the shouts of excitement. A giant tree fills the center of the square, its bows filled with lights and ornaments that sparkle and glint in the changing light. Around them, children chase each other and adults fill tables with food and drink and laughter. It feels foreign to stand on the edge, looking in at a community that wasn't theirs.

"You made it!" The clerk greets, lifting himself from his table and beckoning them over. Cassian clutches tightly to Jyn's hand and seeks her approval with a glance, her returning squeeze urging them forward. "And you've brought your lovely partner. Sit! Join us!"

They're settled into seats at the crowded table and handed cups and a bottle of something tangy. Jyn seems to evaluate the substance before pouring herself some and dipping a finger in for a taste. Cassian watches as she frowns and then softens to an easy smile, eventually lifting to take a sip. With her approval, Cassian pours himself a cup and let's the man - Hinar, as he introduces himself - bring them up to speed on the celebration.

Twelve nights of celebration. Food, family, friends as a theme with occasional gifts given to each other on the last night. An ancient tradition brought from across the universe and combined into one massive festival celebrated around the small planet.

The whole thing awed Cassian, the joy and the brightness and the welcoming nature of everyone around them. He'd never seen Jyn laugh so freely and the lightness of it was contagious, filling him too and loosening his tension for the first time in months. This was a planet still untouched by war, its few resources and minimal population making it unattractive to those looking to bleed a planet dry. They would be safe here, he was sure of it, or at least that's what he told Jyn as they wandered home a bit tipsy and a bit light on their feet.

"I think we could build something here," he murmurs as she leans into his side, the navy scarf he'd gifted her wrapped loosely around her neck.

"What do you mean?" It's not accusatory and he thinks that's good, right?

"If… if you wanted to make something out of the rest of this life. Together. I think we could do it here."

She slows her pace as they linger in the yard, her gaze finding his in the low light.

"Are you asking me to - "

"Yes. Whatever we want it to be. But I want to build it. With you."

Her eyes stay locked onto his, the colours swirling in the low light as she chews the inside of her cheek. The silence is almost deafening and he nearly takes it back, the proposal burning the back of his throat.

But then she lifts up on her toes and reaches her arms around his neck, drawing him down towards her waiting lips.

"Yes," she whispers later into his chest, her body perched over his as he slowly comes down from his release. Her sweaty sticky skin slides across his and she wraps herself around him, their breathing coming into sync. “I want to build something. With you.”

He thinks maybe this was what Step Four was about, all those months ago.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Flatbush & Atlantic: part vi

Part vi is here! As always, I love hearing any kind of feedback, so reblogs and inboxes are so welcome!

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

part vi

January 30 

Cass was distracted as she walked into the arena, distracted as she found Mat’s family, and distracted as she sat down. Fiona’s words were weighing on her, and she didn’t know what to do about them. It didn’t help that she hadn’t seen Mat since that morning, he had press and practice and some fan stuff with the league. It was maybe ten minutes before puck drop, and Cass didn’t know where her head was at. She was picking at a loose thread on the hem of her jersey when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she was surprised to see that it was his mom. 

“Are you okay, love? You look distracted.” She asked, concern clear on her face. 

“Yeah?” Cass responded, almost like a question. 

Nadia gave her the “mom” look, the kind that pierces through your soul and knows all of your secrets. “I know you don’t know me all that well and I won’t make you talk about it if you don’t want to, but I can tell something’s on your mind, Cassidy. And I have a feeling it has to do with my son.”

Cass let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah. It’s just...everything’s piling on top of each other, and it’s hard to sort out what’s important and what’s just...static, if that makes sense.”

She nodded wisely. “What kind of things?”

“Outside opinions on us, on Mat and I’s relationship. People thinking that they have a right to make a judgement one way or another. People thinking that I don’t belong here, or with him, because of who I am, and how I look, and what I do.” Cass paused from her monologuing for a moment. “And it’s not always done out of spite. I’ve got a friend at school who just texted me basically asking if I’m sure that my priorities are in the right place. And I know she means well, she’s a wonderful person, but it’s just…” She trailed off.

“Tiring,” Nadia supplied. Cass nodded. “Well,” she began, “Obviously I’m not an expert. I’ve never been in a relationship with a professional athlete, and I’m not you. But I know what pressure feels like, and I know Mat.” Cass gave a watery chuckle. “And I know that my son is head over heels for you. He thinks the world of you, he really does.”

“But, all due respect, it’s not like I’m his first girlfriend or anything.”

“True,” she started carefully, “but I’ve also never seen him like this. I won’t insult your intelligence and say that there haven’t been other girls, because there have, but he’s never been this wholeheartedly invested in someone before. Did you know that you’re the first one he’s introduced us to since he moved to New York?”

Cass shook her head. “No, I didn’t. He never told me.”

“And why would he? Mat’s a good man and he’s got a good heart, but sometimes he can be remarkably dense. Doesn’t always notice what’s right in front of him.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed that much,” Cass said, laughing. 

Her thumb ran across Cass’s shoulder. “I guess this all just goes to say that you’ve got to talk to him. He cares about you, a lot. He’ll listen. And if he doesn’t, you send him to me, okay?”

Cass smiled. “I will.” The players had just come out, and the anthems were about to start. Cass rose from her seat, hand over her heart and Mat on her mind. 

The score at the ten-minute mark was 3-3, and Cass had to constantly stop herself from chewing her nails down to nubs. The 3-on-3  format made it easier to keep track of the puck, but there was so much open space on the ice it was sometimes impossible to tell where the players were trying to go in the first place. There were three minutes left, and Mat had just nabbed a pass from Konecny. Skating down the ice, he caught a breakaway. Faked to his left, skated to the right, and poked it right past Vasilevsky in the far corner. Half of the arena exploded, half sunk to their seats and groaned. Cass cheered loudly, cupping her hands around her mouth and hugging the rest of the family. He skated over to the side, hi-fiving the guys on the bench before taking his seat for the next shift. 

Metro division ended up winning 8-6, and Cass shot off a quick congratulations text to Mat, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be able to read it until after the final. She half-payed attention to the Western conference semifinal, only enough to know that the Pacific division won. She couldn’t even say by how much. 

The final was close, much closer than the first game had seemed, with no more than a single goal separating the two teams at any time. Late in the game, it looked like the Metro team would be able to run away with it, but Tkachuk sniped from the blue line, pulling Pacific ahead and giving them the win. She followed his family down to the hall where everyone was waiting, internally cringing at the thought of how Mat might be taking the loss. He had gotten better, a lot better, after they had made it clear that communication was a priority and something that needed to be worked on in their relationship, but he wasn’t perfect, and neither was she. 

So needless to say, she was more than a little surprised when he came out of the locker room with a smile on his face, embracing his family and giving her a kiss on the head. The group walked outside as they said their goodbyes — Mat’s family had an early flight back, Miami to Vancouver wasn’t exactly an in-demand route — and Mat’s sister hugged Cass, turning to her brother after and sternly telling him “don’t screw this up. She’s way too good for you.” 

It was pretty late, and a beautiful night, and most of the fans had left, so Cass and Mat walked hand-in-hand back to the hotel. “What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” Mat murmured. So I guess we’re going to have this conversation now, Cass thought, on the sidewalk in an Islanders jersey in the middle of Sunset, Florida. 

“You really can read me like a book, can’t you?” Cass asked softly.

Mat shrugged. “That, and the fact that you keep glancing between me and the street. Might have been a little bit of a giveaway.” 

“The interview from the other day’s been on my mind. I know it seems kind of stupid and childish, but it’s getting to me. What he said about me not being a ‘typical’ hockey girlfriend.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Mat said dismissively. 

“I know that, you know that, but it’s the perception, Mat. Either that I don’t support you or your career because I have my own things to deal with sometimes, or that I don’t occupy the ‘place’ I should by pursuing education and a career. By pursuing a male-dominated career, especially. I’m worried I don’t…” She took a breath. “I’m worried I don’t live up to the expectations everyone’s setting for me.” Cass was annoyed, not at Mat or at the interviewer, even, but at the situation. At the thought that she had to continually prove to people that she was enough and she had earned her place. 

“Fuck expectations,” Mat said abruptly. “I want you. All of you.” He stopped for a moment. “I’m so, so proud of you. I know I’ve said it already, and I hope you don’t get tired of hearing it, because it’s true. You have this incredible future ahead of you, and you’ve worked so hard to get to where you are. Everyone sees it. You’re going to do such good work, whether it’s bailing dumbass hockey players out or defending immigrant kids. You’re made for this.” Cass had gone into law school thinking she wanted to go into immigration law, motivated in no small part by the fact that Alejandra, her best friend down in Texas, was a DACA recipient. She had legal status for the time being, but it broke her heart to think that she could be forced out of the only country she had ever known. And when Cass was pissed off about something, she wasn’t the type to keep her mouth shut. 

“People will want to write you off,” he continued, “because maybe they’ve never seen anyone do what you do, but that just makes it all the more incredible and impressive that you are able to do it. To have it all.”

Cass let out a humorless laugh. “Have it all, sure.”

“What else happened?” Mat asked, getting the sense that there was still something she was holding back. And he was right. 

“Fiona sent this text checking up on me,” Cass said, not quite sure where to start. 

Mat’s eyebrows furrowed. “But isn’t that good? That she wanted to catch up?”

“I mean, it would be,” Cass sighed, “but she was saying without saying it that she’s not sure my priorities are in the right place since I’ve started seeing you. Almost like you’re...I don’t know. Distracting me from school or something.”

“But—” She cut him off.

“Don’t be mad at her. She means well, I know she does,” Cass replied sharply. Even frustrated, she was still protective of her friends. “And she’s right in the fact that I’ve had more things taking up my time now, and maybe I’m not spending quite as much time at school or the library or wherever as I used to. But that’s fine. Right? Because I’ve been working hard, and I’m still getting good grades but this is making me worried that everything I’m working so hard for isn’t going to pan out—”

“Are you happier?” Mat asked abruptly. 

Cass turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Are you happier now than you were before we met?” She could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. He was nervous. Mat had taken a gamble asking her the question, and he wasn’t sure of the answer. 

“I am,” she said softly. 

Mat squeezed her hand. “Then what else really matters?”

They arrived back at the hotel some twenty minutes later, dropping their bags on the floor and grabbing a change of clothes. There was a party at a bar downtown, and everyone was invited. By everyone, that meant all the players and whoever they decided to bring along. “I don’t actually know who booked the place,” Mat said, pulling one leg through a pair of black jeans. “Segs, maybe?” Out of anyone she had met that weekend, Tyler Seguin renting out a bar would surprise her the least. It was kind of sweet, she thought, zipping up her ankle boots, that the teams could check each other on the ice and then go celebrate together after. Being in the hockey world was really just like having a weird, dysfunctional family. 

“You ready to go?” Cass asked, grabbing a jacket. 

“After you,” Mat said, opening the door. They met a handful of others in the lobby, and the group grabbed a pair of Ubers over to the venue. It was packed by the time they got there, most of the players hanging out in the roped-off section  towards the back. Mat helped her up, grabbing them a pair of what she’s pretty sure were whiskey sours, and introducing her to everyone they ran into. She couldn’t keep track of all the names, there was Nathan MacKinnon and Seth Jones and the Tkachuk brothers and a half dozen other players she didn’t recognize. “Please, for the love of God, shave the mustache,” she said to Auston, sipping her drink and staring at him judgily. “It’s not a good look.” He waved her off good-naturedly, and she smacked his shoulder as she walked back to Mat, wrapping her free arm around his front and kissing his shoulder. 

“Let’s dance, chou,” Cass said, shucking off her jacket and leaving it on a spare chair. Mat smiled, taking her hand and guiding her out to the dance floor, where a mix of hockey and decidedly-not-hockey couples were gathered under the bright lights. Ah, sweat, the great equalizer. 

“Do you think any of these Florida men are, you know, Florida Men?” Mat asked over the noise. Cass threw her head back laughing, remembering their first real conversation. 

“Absolutely. We’re going to get pulled into their gator cult.”

It was Mat’s turn to laugh. “I’ll protect you.”

“I’m swooning,” Cass replied. “You’re my knight in shining armor, Mathew.” 

Cass sat down her second drink of the night onto a nearby table, draping her arms around his neck. His hands snaked around her to the back of her waist, pulling her up against him, pulling her closer. She couldn’t even say what song was playing, some dance remix of a top-40 hit that the DJ in the corner was more than likely butchering, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was Mat’s hands on her and how he made her feel. For once in her life, Cass felt like she didn’t have any pressing responsibilities. For one night, she didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was 24, and she was going to party like she was 24. 

Cass leaned up to Mat, kissing him, whimpering when his tongue slipped between her lips. In a normal context, Cass never would have done something like that in public, and maybe it was the alcohol talking, but she finally couldn’t care less what people thought of them. “I don’t think the girls behind us know I speak Spanish,” she murmured, his face still so close she could feel him breathing, “because they’re all talking about how hot you are.” Mat laughed, letting his hands down a little more than was respectable. “Soy mexicana, hablo español,” she said over her shoulder, raising one eyebrow as the girls blushed and hurried off. “Now where were we?”

They kissed for what felt like hours, until her lips were starting to get puffy and she needed to come up for air. “I’m going to get another drink. You want anything?” 

“Gimlet?” Mat asked hopefully, giving Cass a peck on the cheek as she made her way to the bar. Waiting among the throngs of people vying for the bartender’s attention, she threw her hair up in a high pony. It may have been January, but it was still Miami and they were still in a club — it was hot as hell. Five minutes later, she had finally shoved her way to the front, ordering Mat’s gimlet and a mojito for herself. Cass scrolled through her Instagram feed as she waited, sensing someone who she assumed was Mat off to her right side. 

“Hey,” she said, looking up, expecting to see her boyfriend. It wasn’t her boyfriend. The men was a little taller than Mat, blond instead of brunet, and any other time, she probably would have been all over him. She wished she hadn’t started a conversation.

“Hey,” he said, resting an elbow on the bar. “What’s your name?” 

“Cassidy,” she said, flashing him a tight smile. He didn’t deserve the nickname. 

He nodded. “Cool, cool. That’s a beautiful name. I’m Justin. Can I buy you a drink?” He was clearly a few in himself, not enough to be drunk but more than enough to engage in a spectacularly poor decision-making process.

“I’ve already ordered one, thanks.” Cass was trying to negotiate, walking the fine line between politeness and interest, hating that she had to talk to someone she didn’t want to just in the interest of safety.

 “You from the area?”

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, willing the bartender to come back with the drinks. “No, not really. Just visiting. Leaving tomorrow,” she said, hoping that that would be enough of a hint to get him off of her back. As it turned out, that would be simply too big of an ask. 

“Then I guess we’ve got to make the most of tonight, huh?” Gross, she thought. She wasn’t leading him on, wasn’t doing anything more than making polite conversation so he wouldn’t get even more pissed at her, so what gave him the right?

“Listen, Justin,” she said, finally turning and facing him. “That’s not my style. And I have a boyfriend.”

He cracked a smile, clearly not buying it. As subtly as she could, she tried to find Mat, but she couldn’t. Maybe he had gone to the bathroom? And she didn’t want to leave without having gotten their drinks, cocktails didn’t come cheap and she didn’t want to throw her money away. “It’s okay, babe, you don’t have to play that game with me. He’s not here.” 

“I’m not interested.”

“Hey, come on,” Justin said, inching closer and growing more aggressive by the second. “I was just trying to be nice. Don’t have to be such a bitch about it.” She took a deep breath, about to flag down the bouncer and tell her that this guy just wasn’t taking no for an answer, but she didn’t have to. 

“What’s going on here?” That voice, she recognized. That voice was Mat. Cass let out a sign of relief, gladly moving to the side and letting Mat step in between them. 

“This the boyfriend?” Justin asked with disdain. 

Mat arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m ‘the boyfriend,’ but it shouldn’t matter. She’s not interested, and you’re having trouble respecting that.”

Justin huffed. “Fine, She wouldn’t have been worth it anyway.” Cass had to grab Mat’s wrist to stop him from going after the guy. 

“God, I wanted to punch that guy,” Mat said, running a hand through his hair and visually inspecting her. “You okay? Did he do anything?”

She shook her head. “No, thank God. A little shook up, but nothing serious. He just didn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

He kissed the top of her head, grabbing the drinks from the bartender, who had just slid them over. “You good to stay?” He wouldn’t have blamed her if she wanted to leave.

Cass shook her head. “No, I’m good. Liquor me up.”

“As you wish,” Mat said, handing her the glass. 

The two made their way back to the cordoned-off section, where Cass downed the entirety of her mojito in under 10 minutes. She wasn’t in a sipping mood. Then someone from the Pacific Division — maybe they were on the Sharks? — bought the whole room a round, then she finished half of Mat’s Whiteclaw. Then somehow, she was goaded into body shots. 

“You cool with this?” Mat asked as she scrambled up onto the table. Cass nodded quickly, trying to control her giggles. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” Cass said, scrunching the bottom of her shirt up, trying not to think about what her mom would think if she saw her right now. 

Someone had obviously made a run to one of the bars, returning with a bowl of limes and a saltshaker. She tried not to think of how good it felt when his tongue ran over her stomach, licking up the salt, tried to distract herself when his head was ducked just above where her shirt barely covered her bra, throwing back the tequila, and definitely didn’t want to think about his lips just barely touching hers to grab the lime wedge. He threw away the wedge and bro-hugged a few of his onlooking friends, collapsing over Cass in laughter and kisses while he helped her off of the table. 

A little under an hour and a few more drinks later, most of the group had finally decided to call it quits. To put it technically, everyone was shitfaced. A few people luckily still had the wherewithal to call Ubers, and they split up with Instagram handles written in eyeliner on hands to cars grouped by hotel. It was her, Mat, Seguin, and someone’s little sister packed into a white Honda Civic, Mat lazily kissing Cass’s neck, shoulder, anywhere he could reach. They tipped the driver  — very well — before stumbling into the elevators, saying goodbye to Tyler, who was the floor below them. She barely managed to wipe off her makeup and brush her teeth before falling into bed with Mat, who immediately draped his arm over her waist and pulled her into his chest. Even drunk, she wasn’t complaining. 

---

Jan. 31 (sun)

 Cass groaned, her head pounding as she looked she rolled over in bed to grab her phone, looking at the time. 9:22. Great, their flight was at noon, so there wasn’t any time for self-pity before they needed to leave. Mat was up too, rubbing his eyes with a grump look on his face. He leaned over, giving her a kiss good morning. “How are you feeling, babe?” He asked. Mat’s head wasn’t hurting too bad  — he knew he could hold his liquor just fine  — but he had never seen Cass drink as much as she had last night. 

“Ugh,” Cass moaned, pressing the heels of her hands to her temples. “It was so much fun, but I’m never doing that again. I don’t think I’ve been this hungover since the SAE color party junior year.”

“Oh yeah,” Mat mused, “I forgot you were a sorority girl,” he said in sing-song. 

Cass huffed. “I was president, thank you very much.”

“Does my sorority girl need an Advil?” Mat asked. 

“Your sorority girl will punch you if you keep saying that, but yes. Advil would be much appreciated.”

Mat padded away, returning from the bathroom a moment later with the bottle in his hand. He shook two out, grabbing her water bottle from the nightstand and unscrewing the cap. “Here you are.”

“Thank you,” Cass said, flashing him a small, begrudged, but genuine smile. “You’re really too good to me, Mat.”

He kissed her shoulder, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “You deserve it.”

---

Feb 13 (sat)

 Cass’s hair was thrown up in a messy bun as she padded through the aisle of the grocery store. Shopping duties rotated every week, and it was her turn for errands. She handed her card over to the cashier, pulling out her bag-of-bags and beginning to separate. Fridge. Fridge. Pantry. Freezer. Pantry. Errands had always been somewhat of a soothing activity for her; Cass liked just being able to listen to her music and drive around and go into stores for a reason, not just to kill time. As much as she loved spending time with Mat and her roommates and her friends at law school, the constant human interaction could get draining sometimes, and the precious few free hours were alone time she craved. Loading all the bags into her trunk, she set off for the CVS. The bathroom was running out of soap, she needed a box of tampons, and she had gotten a call that the refill on her birth control was ready. 

It was also the day before Valentine’s, which hadn’t always been the best time of year for Cass. It seemed like most of her Valentine’s Days had been filled with sitting alone in her room or binge-watching Bachelor reruns with friends. Or, in the case of her junior year of college, it was crying in her bedroom at the sorority house over the fact that Alex, her boyfriend of a year, had broken up with her two days prior because a relationship was just “too much work.” And Cass was all in favor of self-reflection, but that didn’t mean the rejection stung any less. They had been together for almost a year, and even though she had had other boyfriends before, he was the first one she loved, the first one she really saw a future with. So, needless to say, her track record wasn’t the best. Which she told Mat, that she didn’t want anything elaborate or extravagant, especially since he was leaving for a roadie the day after and would have to get up early. 

But they say love makes people do crazy things. And Mat didn’t want her memories of a day that, commercialized as it was, was supposed to be about celebrating love and commitment and admiration for your partner. And anyone who knew Mathew Barzal knew that he was stubborn as hell with a heart of gold. But if Cass didn’t want anything big, he wasn’t going to do anything big; as much as he would have been absolutely willing to rent out the entire damn Empire State Building just to shout from the rooftops that he was absolutely, unequivocally in love with Cassidy María Cabrera Shaw, but her comfort came before anything. He’d bend over backwards to make her know how much he cared. But this was also Mat Barzal, and Mat Barzal never did anything halfway. 

So it really wasn’t a surprise at all when, just as Cass pulled into her parking spot and killed the gas on her car that her phone lit up with a text from Mat. Picking you up at 5:30 tomorrow. Dress like you’re going to a diner. 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Resentment Ch. 1 (Ethan x MC)

Summary: After 2 months of not seeing each other, Ethan and Naomi do not have a pleasant reunion.

A/N: So...I’ve been writing this for the past 2 weeks. Open Heart 2 is ripe with angst and untapped drama. Tbh, this is my 5th draft, and I kept deleting and writing, and deleting and re-writing this, and I had to step away multiple times, as this was probably be one of my more draining fics to write. But anyway, if you’re still reading this long winded ass note, thank you lol. And enjoy, as always!

Tags: @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @doroshi-desu @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @dr-nancy-house @adrian-motherfucking-raines

~v~

Seeing Ethan Ramsey again nearly knocked the wind out of her. It feels like she saw a ghost. But here’s here, at Donahue’s, strolling through the garden as if this is any other night. As if he didn’t disappear off of the face of the earth for 2 months.

Naomi didn’t plan on having such a visceral reaction to seeing him, but she has little to no control over her body these days. Her heart speeds up, beating twice as fast, a cold sweat breaks out, starting at her forehead, and there’s the flip of her stomach and unmistakable taste of bile rising in her throat.

‘Do not throw up,’ she silently begs herself. ‘Do not throw up. Please, keep it together, Valentine.’

The chant doesn’t work, the nausea hitting her hard, like a wave crashing against the shore. She jumps out of her seat, ignoring the looks of confusion from her friends, and makes a beeline to the restroom, pushing past the other patrons at the bar. She barely makes it into a stall before she’s on her knees, emptying the contents of her stomach into a dirty public toilet.

Naomi isn’t sure how long she’s like this, embarrassingly clutching the toilet, but a knock at the stall door breaks her out of her trance. “It’s occupied!”

“It’s Sienna,” the voice on the other side says softly. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

The door swings open slowly and Sienna attempts to squeeze into the small space. It’s a tight squeeze, but she manages to make it work.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Naomi mumbles weakly. “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Yes I did,” Sienna argues. She helps Naomi to her feet and pulls at the roll of cheap toilet paper. She bunches it up and wipes the corner of Naomi’s mouth. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”

“I feel like I’ve just seen one,” Naomi quips back. “Let’s just say I did not expect to see Dr. Ramsey here tonight.”

“You didn’t know he was coming back?” Sienna asks. “I thought you two were close.”

Naomi thought they were close too. But she got ghosted. It was jarring, going from sleeping with Ethan and openly flirting with him, to him being her boss again, to him disappearing and cutting off all communication within a span of 3 days. “I thought we were too.”

“How do you think it’ll be, working with him tomorrow?”

“I have no idea what to expect,” Naomi replies honestly. “Hopefully the rest of the team is nice.”

Sienna lifts Naomi up, helping her stand on her feet again. They exit the stall and Naomi washes her hands furiously like she’s about to perform surgery.

They walk out of the bathroom, Sienna with a protective arm around her friend’s waist. The rest of their friends are now inside, at their usual booth.

They all stare at Naomi, and she hates it. Now they’re probably going to think of her as the weirdo who threw up upon seeing her boss (an ex-lover, though not everyone is privy to that information).

“You just missed the wildest shit,” Bryce says, almost breathless. “Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Thorne nearly got into a fight!”

That was the last thing Naomi expected to hear. “What?”

“Thorne was being a real creep, and he tried to feel up some young girl. He touched her and she broke his hand!” Elijah exclaims. “He got loud and rowdy, he pushed her down, and Ethan came out of nowhere, swooping in like freaking Batman. I thought he was going to snap Thorne’s neck at one point.”

“Where is the girl?” Naomi asks. 

“She ran out of here as soon as she could.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Naomi murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Are you okay?” Bryce asks. “I’ve never seen you get sick before.”

“Whatever virus is fermenting in your body, please keep it away from me,” Jackie says, not even giving Naomi the chance to respond.

“Jackie!” Sienna tsks in annoyance. “Have some compassion.”

“She’s either drunk or it’s the stomach flu,” Jackie says with a shrug. “She’ll survive a little teasing.”

“It’s okay, Sienna,” Naomi insists. She loves her friend’s protective nature, but it really isn’t necessary. “You don’t have to go into mother hen mode.”

“Fine. But I’m making you soup after work tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

Reggie announces last call, and the gang starts talking about their post-bar plans. Be it getting food, going downtown, or just going home. Naomi drowns out the conversation as her eyes settle onto Ethan. His back is turned to her and Naomi notices that he’s the only one left at the bar while Reggie is cleaning up.

“Does last call not apply to you?” Naomi asks, getting his attention.

“Reggie and I go way back. We have an arrangement,” Ethan says simply.

“An arrangement.” Naomi rolls her eyes as she repeats the words. “Is that what you call a friendship?”

“I don’t have friends. But...I wouldn’t mind you joining me if you were so inclined.”

Naomi weighs her options. She can go home and put this night behind her, or she can stay out with Ethan. And actually talk to him.

She turns back to her friends. “You guys go on ahead. I want to check in about tomorrow with Dr. Ramsey.”

She doesn’t believe that excuse for one second. And if her friends don’t believe it either, they don’t say anything. Sienna just tells her to not stay out too late, before they all leave, going their separate ways.

Once they’re gone, Naomi joins Ethan at the bar. She looks at, really looks at him. He’s still the same handsome guy, just more...rugged. He’s much more tan than she remembers, it looks like he’s gained weight—muscle, not fat—and he’s sporting an entirely new look.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a brand new Ethan Ramsey,” she muses.

Ethan looks down at his green jacket, a vast departure from the sweaters and button ups he usually wears.

“This jacket’s been through a lot with me,” he explains, toying with the sleeve.

“I like it.”

She doesn’t miss the way he perks up at the compliment, almost as if he was hoping she’d say something. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Duly noted. And the beard?”

Ethan doesn’t know why he needs her stamp of approval so badly, but the validation she gives him feels nice. He likes to know that she thinks he looks good.

“It looks good on you,” Naomi answers honestly. Ethan scratches the beard, his fingers flying towards it unconsciously at her words. He nods, soaking in her praise.

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

Naomi looks around as an almost awkward silence settles between the two of them. She’s now actively aware of the fact that it’s just the two of them, alone.

“Why don’t we move this outside?” Ethan suggests, some of the tension dissipating. “It’ll be winter before we know it. Might as well enjoy the weather while we can. You want something to drink?”

Naomi’s stomach flips at the mention of alcohol. “You know what I want? A cup of ice water.”

Ethan’s eyebrow quirks up at the answer. They’re in a bar and she wants...water? He shrugs but heads behind the bar, nonetheless. Grabbing a Pilsner glass, he fills it to the top with ice and he also finds a bottle of water. He hands them off to Naomi. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They make their way outside. It’s so quiet now that everyone is gone. It feels peaceful. Ethan drops down in a chair near the fire pit and Naomi joins.

“I can see why you like it here.”

“Because nobody’s annoying me?” Ethan jokes.

“More or less,” Naomi concedes. “It’s peaceful.” Ethan nods in agreement. “So...how was it, being in the Amazon?”

“It was quite the experience. It kept me on my toes.”

“Fighting an epidemic in a different country sounds...thrilling. And scary. You’re brave for doing it.”

Ethan snorts. Naomi always manages to see the best in him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. “That wasn’t bravery.”

Naomi looks down at her lap. “You didn’t keep in touch. Two whole months without any form of communication seems extreme, don’t you think? Especially after everything that’s happened with us?”

“Everything that happened between us is exactly why I didn’t contact you.”

“192,” Naomi says. 

“Huh?”

“192. That’s how many times I’ve called you in the past 2 months. I also sent 75 texts and 30 emails. You could have responded to at least one of those.”

Hearing the numbers out loud makes Naomi feel ridiculous, like a stalker. And Ethan just feels...awful. He remembers his chest going tight every time he saw her name flash across his screen. He remembers the restraint it took him to not call her back, or reach out in any way. He needed to stay away. It was for the best, for both of them.

“Naomi, if we’re going to work together on the diagnostics team, we need a fresh start. Your professional development is too important to jeopardize it with whatever...what is was that we had.”

Ethan probably would’ve been better off taking this glass of ice water and throwing it in her face. The callousness in his voice chilled her to the core. “That’s how you’d describe it? As ‘whatever’?”

Ethan sighs heavily. Of course his relationship with the younger woman meant something to him, but if he was going to be her boss, they needed boundaries. There had to be a line.

“Pouring my heart out to you on multiple occasions and vice versa, secretly saving our boss’s life, you bringing Mrs. Martinez’s son to my ethics hearing, the sex, it all just culminates to a...whatever. What? Is what we went through just a casual experience in the life of Ethan Ramsey?”

“Of course not, but Naomi, I can’t go down this road with you again. We need to have a reset if things are going to work.”

She doesn’t know why the word ‘reset’ makes her laugh, but it does. She laughs, hard, almost maniacally, until her sides hurt and she can barely breathe. Ethan says nothing, staring at her in confusion.

“You know what, Ethan? Fuck you.”

That catches him off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me loud and clear. Fuck. You. You’re a coward. And a runner. You run at the slightest hint of something being hard, or if you have to face your own emotions and vulnerabilities. You run off, drinking yourself silly and keeping your head in the sand, and then you come waltzing back as if nothing happened, but guess what? Life still happens. There is no reset, no do-overs, no pauses. Time still moves forward.”

Tears prick the corners of her eyes and she wills herself to not cry in front of him. He doesn’t deserve any more of her vulnerability. She doesn’t know why it hurts so much, but it does. The idea of him moving through life as if what they shared was minuscule and insignificant burns. It causes a sharp ache in her chest she didn’t realize she had the capacity to feel.

“While you were in South America, ignoring the almost 400 pieces of correspondence I sent, I was still here, still dealing with shit, still caring about you, worrying about you and your safety every fucking day. I don’t have the luxury of turning my feelings on and off whenever I see fit, and I don’t get to delude myself into thinking I can turn back time.”

How many times are they going to play this game before she realizes she’s always going to be the loser? She and Ethan get close, he rejects her but leaves just enough space and opportunity to keep her hanging on.

Naomi wraps her arms around her midsection and slightly curls into herself. Not even her own embrace is soothing at this point. The rejection stings, and she feels...stupid. Why does she keep holding out hope for Ethan, hoping he’ll want her the same way she wants him? Why does she keep coming back, waiting diligently like a little puppy, nipping at his ankles for the slightest bit of attention? Maybe she’s just a glutton for pain.

“If you want to hit the reset button, you can do it by yourself. I’m not playing that game with you.” Naomi abruptly stands up, clutching onto the back of her chair for stability. “Goodnight.”

Panic settles in his chest. He doesn’t want things with her to end like this, with her hating him. He wants her to stay. He wants to take back everything he just said. “Naomi, I–”

“Save it!” Whatever he’s about to say, whatever line it is that’ll feed her just enough false hope to keep hanging on, she doesn’t want to hear it.

After gathering her belongings, she turns on her heel, looking for the exit. Her entire body is rigid, defensive and ready to strike at any given moment, and she feels like she’s going to throw up again, which is something she truly does not have time for.

She’s fully prepared to walk away from him with whatever shred of dignity she still has, but she stops herself. She turns around, facing Ethan again.

“I called you a lot while you were gone. I left countless voicemails until your mailbox was completely full. Did you listen to any of them?”

“I haven’t listened.” Ethan feels ashamed by the answer, and he refuses to meet her big doe eyes, opting to look at the ground.

Naomi doesn’t dwell on the answer. She shakes off the hurt, and powers through.

“Last Wednesday, at 5:21 am, I called. You obviously didn’t answer, and I left a message. I’ll set the scene for you because I’ll never forget the moment. I was sitting in my bathtub, crying, almost hysterically. It was the type of crying that gets Meryl Streep and Viola Davis Oscar nominations, the kind that makes you feel sick to your stomach. But I live with 3 other people, so I had to sob into a face towel until the worst of it passed. And then I called you. Logically, I knew you probably weren’t going to answer, but I figured one last Hail Mary couldn’t hurt so I did it anyway. 

In the voicemail, I practically begged you to talk to me. To answer at least one of my calls. It was so...desperate. And pitiful. The old Naomi would rather get buried alive than to ever be so emotionally available and needy, but I didn’t care. In that moment, I needed you, I needed solace that I thought only you could give me, but I know now that it won’t happen. You’re way too emotionally stunted and unavailable.”

She inhales, something shaky and full of vulnerability, and every bone in her body is screaming out to just shut the fuck up and turn away.

“But you didn’t answer, you didn’t acknowledge it, and I was just absolutely gutted,” Naomi continues. “Because had you answered that call, or called me back some time that day, I would’ve told you that I’m pregnant.”

With that confession, Naomi visibly deflates. It feels like a crushing weight has been lifted off of her chest.

But Ethan feels the exact opposite. Unable to move, he gapes at Naomi. “You-you’re what?”

“Pregnant. 9 weeks, 5 days. It’s the size of an olive at this point, and before you ask, yes, it’s yours.”

Paternity hadn’t even crossed his mind at this point. He’s still stuck on the fact that she’s pregnant. 

“So while it hurts to know what you want a reset, and to pretend we didn’t share anything, it is also literally impossible to do so,” Naomi says with a humorless chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’ve received the message loud and clear. See you at work tomorrow, Doctor. Oh, and congratulations.”

Ethan watches as she leaves, even though he calls her name, asking her to stay. His chest feels tight like someone is squeezing him from the inside, and he struggles to inhale. The revelation stifles him, and he can’t get his bearings.

Unable to do much else, Ethan falls back into his chair. Despite trying his damnedest to get things back on track, it feels as if he’s made everything so much worse.