#humans are wrong. im certain that we were never meant to live like this. it's all insanity. the worst part it. 99.99% of ppl are part of it

[lavellander]

hello im feeling extra “touch the stove”-y today so. i was looking for any dialogue where solas just straight up lies and (of what i could find online/transcribed, obv) i didnt find anything that was 100% untrue. he’ll completely avoid the question, change the subject, give part of the truth, etc etc etc, but nothing was just Entirely A Lie

what really gets me is that there’s a handful of convos where someone infers something from what solas says, and he will even point out that he didn’t directly say that. like, he tells people how to see through his shit, lmao

here is an embarrassingly long ass list of examples, all sorted by what kind of not-lying he’s doing lol, just bc i am unhinged<3

*note that some of these are cut from longer bits of dialogue or have been split up from one conversation into different categories*

literally just Not Answering The Question lol

Dorian: How much “will” do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade. Solas: Hmm.

Dorian: Solas, have I offended you? Solas: If you have, why would it concern you?

Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I’m sorry? Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman? Dorian: Is it a Dalish thing? Don’t you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement? Solas: No.

Dorian: Let me get this straight, Solas. Dorian: You’re an apostate – neither Dalish nor city elf – who lived alone in the woods studying spirits. Solas: Is that a problem for you?

Solas: [has a whole tactical moment about the red jennies lmao] Sera: Where d’you get all this, then? Solas: Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade? Or do you wish to learn something?

Vivienne: You must be pleased with what was revealed at the Temple of Mythal, Solas. Solas: Why should those ruins please me, Enchanter?

changing the subject before he backs himself into a corner

Gatt: I don’t see any tattoos, but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle? Solas: No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What’s so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter.

giving the truth, but not the whole truth

Blackwall: Skyhold. How did you find it? Solas: I looked. Blackwall: Now you sound like Cole. You looked? Solas: This world is full of wonders for those who seek them.

Blackwall: You spoke of seeing death and destruction. Did you fight in a war? Solas: There are struggles across Thedas at any given time. I doubt you would have heard of it. Blackwall: An elven skirmish? Solas: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Cassandra: Solas, have you always lived alone? Out in the wilderness, as an apostate? Solas: For the most part.

Cassandra: Have you ever encountered templars before? Solas: Only at a distance. I am an apostate, after all. Cassandra: And they never caught you even once? Solas: I am a very careful apostate.

Dorian: We found elves, living ancient elves, at the Temple of Mythal. Does that bother you, Solas? If Inquisitor allied with the Sentinels: Solas: I am pleased we were not forced to kill them, if that’s what you mean.

Iron Bull: You’ve got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints. Solas: That comes from being self-taught. Solas: I discovered most of my magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Vivienne: So, an apostate? Solas: That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.

Solas: You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life. Iron Bull: I’ve always liked fighting. What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth? Solas: You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.

from cutscene at beginning Inquisitor: [mentions the anchor closing a rift] Solas: Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.

from cutscene at beginning Solas: [to a Dalish Inq] You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here? Inquisitor: What do you know of the Dalish? Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. Inquisitor: [Crossed paths? dialogue choice] Solas: I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.

from “I’d like to know more about you” convo in Haven Inquisitor: What made you start studying the Fade? Solas: I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.

actually telling the truth but no one picks up on the gravity of it

Solas: [...] I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same. Cassandra: You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope. Solas: I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumphs and tragedies this world has known can all be traced to people.

Cole: No, inside. I don’t hear your hurt as much. Your song is softer, subtler, not silent but still. Solas: How small the pain of one man seems when weighted against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples.

Cole: You didn’t do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more “innocent” than your own Tevinter in its time. Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe.

Vivienne: You must be pleased, apostate. With the Templars dissolved, your rebels will be most difficult to pacify. Solas: My rebels? Am I an agent for their cause, whispering poison into the Inquisition’s ears? Solas: How comforting. Vivienne: You enjoy seeing yourself as a villain? Solas: No more than any other clever man who wonders what he could do if pushed.

Vivienne: [about the Temple of Mythal] Now you know the elves were once a mighty nation. Solas: I always knew, Enchanter. The Temple of Mythal is just another reminder of what was lost.

(in the Emerald Graves): These forests have changed much since I was last here.

during the Fade!Haven cutscene Solas: It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change. Inquisitor: [romance option] “Felt the whole world change?” Solas: A figure of speech. Inquisitor: I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt. Solas: You change... everything.

pointing out that people assume he means things he did not directly say

Cole: There is pain though, still within you. Solas: And I never said there was not.

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had.

Iron Bull: We’ve got the alliance with my people. Given how much you love the Qun, I figured... Solas: I might scold you? Berate you for your decisions? Iron Bull: Hey. The Chargers died as heroes for the good of the mission. Solas: I never said otherwise.

Sera: Don’t you start. Solas: I’m reasonably certain I said nothing.

Vivienne: [talking shit about grey warden mages] Solas: I never claimed mages should be above the law, Enchanter. Vivienne: No, darling. You merely implied it, while offering no viable suggestions for improvement.

after infamous “side benefits” dialogue Warrior Inquisitor: You find my muscles enjoyable? Solas: I meant that you enjoyed having them, presumably. Warrior Inquisitor: Ah. Solas: But yes... since you asked.

diminishing things he does actually know by saying he he “believes” or “thinks,” or that things were vaguely “said” or “told”

Solas: I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie.

Dorian: That orb Corypheus carries... are you certain it’s of elven origin, Solas? Solas: I believe so. Why do you ask?

Solas: It is said that we lived at a pace that sustained us for... ages.

making it sound like he’s talking about something/someone else, but it’s just him lmao

Cole: Do you know a lot about wolves? Solas: I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.

Solas: No man can kill so many people without breaking inside. To survive... those you fight must become monsters. Iron Bull: The ones that kill innocent people, yeah. The rest... I don’t know. Solas: The mind does marvelous things to protect itself.

during In Hushed Whispers Inquisitor: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did. Solas: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.

misc

this one i wanted to include because it’s the only circumstance (that i came across) where someone directly asks solas to lie and he literally says he can’t

during the fucking crestwood breakup scene Inquisitor: [angry option] Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. Inquisitor: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on! Solas: I’m sorry.

*also note that most of these are banter transcriptions from the wiki; some are cutscene / other dialogue posted by either @/daitranscripts or u/karinini on reddit; it’s not all his cutscenes obv, but I’m not about to look up every single one individually sdlkfj*

[mythicamagic]

As usual... I can never just choose one... soo here are my top choices you choose one. Lol

1. Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?

2. The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.

3.that ship has sailed. i’ve had my one great love already

4. we’re just…friends.” “friends don’t do this type of shit!

5. Did you just slap my ass?” / “Actually, I firmly grasped it.” 

Why did I decide 2 of the hurt/sad/angst.. idk.. i suppose im glutton for punishment. Dont hurt me too bad if you choose to do one of them myth.

Decided to do a part two for - this ask. 

I chose;  The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.

---

The air felt crisp and clean, biting at Kagome's cheeks as she wound her scarf tighter around her neck. Winter markets were so much fun. The vast array of cute little items on display made warmth light up her chest, even as the candy and children's toys reminded her of a certain fox she'd left behind in the past.

Kagome smiled at Ayumi as she prattled on about something or other.

She shouldn't feel guilty. Shippo had barely visited the village in the last year she'd been there. Everyone had moved on. Including herself, somewhat. She'd been so wrapped up in her whirlwind romance with a certain Daiyoukai- the feudal era had been irreparably damaged as a home for her the second they'd broken up.

But she missed her friends. Dearly.

She shook herself. It was too late to go back on her choice now. The well had sealed shut for good.

Ayumi stopped to grab some hot chocolate from a street vendor, allowing Kagome a moment to warm her hands, rubbing them together.

Snowflakes gently danced about like powdered sugar, kissing Kagome's face as she turned- almost bumping face-first into a muscular chest. Fresh scents of wild forests and thunderstorms filled her nose, and she stiffened.

He smells the same.

Kagome bit the inside of her cheek, blue eyes narrowing. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Haven't the faintest idea of what you mean," he arranged his features into mild innocence, which was near impossible due to his smiling eyes.

"Riiight," she muttered, wishing Ayumi would hurry up.

Sesshoumaru gazed down at her, a pink gift bag in hand. Kagome grit her teeth, hating that she wondered who it was meant for.

"I did not intend to run into you here, before you accuse me of anything," his silky voice caressed her hearing once more. It sounded so lulling, designed to draw her back in. "Did you take my gift home with you or did you throw it away?" he asked, deceptively casually.

"Home. But don't think that means anything- it's not the plant's fault you're trying to worm your way back into my life."

The Daiyouki smiled to himself, obviously absurdly pleased. He began pursuing the street vendor's items right beside her, gazing at children's toys with a touch of gentleness in his steady gaze. Kagome was prepared to ignore him- until he leaned down, breath fanning 'accidentally' over her cheek as he picked up a doll and straightened.

"Do you remember Rin? And the other children-"

"Don't," Kagome said, unable to move away. She hated the thrumming of her skin so much. The way it cried out. Hated him.

Her skin flared alive, body humming with hunger. Like a shot of adrenalin to the heart, Kagome dipped her chin into her scarf to try and mask her escalating breathing due to his proximity. When they'd had sex- so many years ago- it hadn't been like human lovemaking.

He'd wired new pathways within her system via his youki. Sometimes she felt like it still lived inside her, having made a home for itself. They hadn't mated, but she felt irreversibly changed by it.

Kagome made a faint noise, squeezing her eyes shut.

Resist him-

"Kagome?"

Oh thank God.

"Ayumi, let's go," she said abruptly, facing her friend with an urgent look in her eyes.

Ayumi tilted her head slightly, eyeing Sesshoumaru curiously. "A-alright?"

"You do not need to leave," he turned, exuding a magnanimous air. "I am the one who intruded on your time, please continue," he gestured to the market, ensnaring Kagome's gaze with his own. Unblinking, unable to hide his more animalistic habits even after so many years.

"I hope to see you some other time when my presence does not disturb you," he said softly, walking away.

---

When entering work that Saturday, Kagome could already sense the buzz in the air. Someone had generously donated some priceless artefacts to their museum. The previously undiscovered finds that shaken everyone due to their rarity and mint condition. No one could stop talking about it.

Kagome's blood ran cold the second the items in question were described to her. Pushing through the crowd that had gathered, she stared in horror at the display case.

Itching for a fight, she immediately stormed to his office downtown, opening the door to reception and letting herself in. "Is Sesshoumaru here?" she burst, stopping in front of the secretary's desk.

"Mr Taisho?" the woman blinked, obviously thrown by the petite, angry miko currently glaring at her and using his name so informally. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No. Just tell him Kagome is here."

She was let into his office soon enough, trying to keep a lid on her crackling reiki. Sesshoumaru glanced up from his computer. "Miko? What a pleasant surprise."

Kagome slammed an article atop his desk. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped.

He raised a brow, briefly flicking his attention to the contents. A photo of red and white silks, coupled with polished spiked armour sat in a display unit. "Something wrong? It was just a donation, given in good faith."

"Donated to my workplace!" Kagome seethed, groaning and burying her face in her hands. "Don't you realise I'm going to have to see your things now every day? I've worn those clothes! I've slept in them as pyjamas! Are you trying to mess with me because you want me back?"

"That's a little dramatic, dear one, I'm not trying to 'mess with you.' It was just a donation," he rose from his seat, face inches from hers. "And if I wanted to romance you, I'd go about it much differently."

"Don't 'dear one' me," she snapped. "You could've donated that stuff years ago- or to a different museum. But no, you had to give it to mine."

"My gift was not meant to distress you, but," he rounded the table slowly, fingers dragging over the wood. "It does make me worry, seeing you so worn thin. Is something else going on? Separate from...us?"

Kagome stiffened, avoiding eye contact. Things with her boyfriend had been strained as of late, and the Daiyoukai's sudden appearance back into her life wasn't helping matters.

"There is no 'us.' I'm frustrated and exhausted, that's all. Don't make things even more complicated by asking about that stuff."

Sesshoumaru lingered close, and Kagome didn't shy away. The one person she couldn't bear to be near was also the only being who could offer some semblance of comfort to her due to his familiarity.

"This one meant to give you something," reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a business card, handing it over. Kagome immediately froze, staring at the name. "You miss him," Sesshoumaru murmured. "The kit lives in Kyoto now with his wife and children. Call him."

Tears pricked her eyes, and Kagome bowed her head. Full lips crumpled into a wobbly line.

"If there is something I regret more than our parting, it is that you felt compelled to leave. The fault lies with me."

Shaking her head, a saddened laugh bubbled up her throat. "It was my decision to break up, and it was my decision to leave the Feudal Era. Don't...blame yourself for that part."

"You did not do anything wrong," a long-fingered hand reached out, blunt nails losing their glamour. Sharp claws stroked dark curling hair back from her neck. Kagome's breathing hitched. "When we were together- you did not do anything wrong. We were both so young. It was foolish of me to act as I did, but I think it is now... that we are in the right place for something more."

Kagome shivered, body warming to him. Intuitively, the brush of fingers on her neck made her foolishly anticipate a kiss- sorely disappointed when it didn't come. "I'm not," she forced herself to say. Seeing the disappointment darken his brown eyes, she sighed. "I miss you," Kagome admitted quietly, turning away to escape from his touch. "I miss how... we were. I'm terrified of that, though. I was...under the impression we'd be together. Permanently. Then you had to go and tell me you needed 'pure' heirs to continue the family bloodline."

She laughed bitterly, loosely holding her arms. "The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I'm still in love with you."

"You are frightened that I will hurt you again."

Kagome nodded mutely. She then forced a giggle, giving a weak smile. "Besides, you may not like me as I am now. I'm more jaded than before."

"I like what I see very much," moving closer once more as though experiencing a gravitational pull, he stopped inches away. "I have missed you too," he muttered quietly, genuinely. She could feel him inhale her scent through her hair. "Very much."

Her mouth suddenly became dry. "I'm with Natsuki-"

"Leave him," a rush of passion entered his voice as Sesshoumaru swept closer, backing her into the desk. The wood dug into her thighs, their hips meeting. "This one is not interested in being 'the other man' in an affair. Nor am I interested in watching you remain with someone less than ideal," he snorted, resting his hand over her wrist and grazing his thumb over it.

"Y-you don't know anything about it!"

"I could smell your scent. It was not bright and cheerful even before I re-entered your life the other day. His feels...murky on you. Unhappy."

Kagome swallowed thickly, glancing away. "Observant as ever," she admitted softly.

"Or perhaps you did a poor job of hiding it," backing off a little- he rested his hip next to hers beside the desk, remaining near but barely touching. And yet everything felt so close. "You've changed. But you're still the same at your core, miko," hot breath fanned over her neck, teeth ghosting over the shell of her ear. "If you permitted me, I would not be reckless with your heart again, as I was in my youth."

Her palms traitorously slid up, sliding over firm muscles- running across his chest. He felt warm. His heart was beating fast. Was he nervous? Such a thing sounded impossible.

She bit her lip, secretly longing for the sensation of silks under her hands again instead of the modern cotton of his shirt.

"I don't know that I believe you," Kagome met his gaze, rewarded with the golden glow of his eyes instead of human brown.

"I've gotta go," she said reluctantly, forcing herself to pull away. "I need to be at work."

"Very well," he hummed, unmoving. "But if you...need something. You know where to find me."

He sounded almost desperate for an excuse to talk with her. Giving a curt nod, she let herself out of his office with a long breath, shaking her head. Sesshoumaru's static youki haunted her steps for the remainder of the day.

[fairycosmos]

can't believe you actually put that into words. i feel the same only i haven't ever even been capable of mantaining relationships or making friends but yeah. i feel like my brain does not work properly. i can't process words or even react normally. there IS a standard and basically everyone around me can function and i can't. it's just like you said. i feel like i am simply not fit to live. i can't function like a human being. i don't know if it's the trauma or some of us were not meant to live. i feel like i am never in myself or being myself like i am just a vessel and i don't even feel a connection to my body. also like you said like even the way i stand is wrong. like i am so out of it. it's all literally like you said. i can't even pretend or fake it and it takes all of my to even try to speak or make a facial expression too. i am absolutely certain i cannot live. like this is going to have to be over soon because it also can't be fixed. you just put all of this into words better than me but you are so right about everything. i don't know what are we supposed to do chloe? it's awful living like this everything is overwhelming and confusing and unbearable

:(( literally unbearable, that's the only word that keeps coming back to my mind, it's the only thing that comes close to describing it. i am really really sorry you can relate because it is is the worst fucking feeling but at the same time i have to say it's a bit of a relief to hear that someone knows what i mean. i'm so embarrased at my complete lack of ability to exist sometimes. facial expressions, completing simple tasks, emotional regulation etc it all escapes me. same, it's like there's quite literally a wedge in my mind stopping it from functioning. conversations are so hard, everything is. keeping up the facade. even when i'm just standing there, it feels so wrong. what you said about being a vessel, it's very much that. just the constant feeling of inhabiting some strangers skin. i am so clunky. i don't know what people want. and i feel like this has been talked about before in a, i don't know who i am, sort of way but it's not even that for me. i just don't know how to "be" in the first place, in the way that is deemed acceptable by collective society anyway. there 100% is a standard, yeah, idk why we pretend there's not. and most ppl seem to meet it. even if it's acting they meet it, and i don't know how. seems like they're all in on something i'm not?? i don't think it's that some people aren't meant to live, though i get feeling that way out of frustration, i do all the time. but we're all just here by accident, some ppl are just more.......compatible w their own brains maybe?? im phrasing that weird idk. i am glad you're here and i mean that in the least patronizing way. and u definitely shouldn't have to suffer so much just to make other ppl happy but just wanted to say it's a good thing you're alive and you do deserve better than what you've been through and i don't think it's impossible to think that better experiences r waiting for you. i think it's a mixture of trauma, mental illness, certain disorders, also just living in a world like this not 2 sound like the joker or whatever. a lot of that pain can't be fixed but it can be soothed, at least when it comes to trauma and mental health, adulthood CAN be a process of recovery, at least i'm hoping. well idk for me at this point w the whole money and therapist and working thing but for a lot of people, it can. i hope the opportunity for that falls on you soon and i really hope you just do what you can to take care of yourself above all else. ur messages make me feel a lot less alone, seriously. my inbox is always open and im always sending u sm love and gratitude <3 check in w me any time we will be neurotic and panicked and sad together

[shattered-catalyst]

OCD Subtypes for the RPC

Part 1 is here

Well well well, we are back for Part 2 of the Roleplayer’s Guide to OCD.

Fellow Ocd Folks, I see you in those tags and I'm going to do my best to ensure those obsessions are represented here- BUT understand that physically it is not going to be possible to list every single one because I am one person.  Regardless its incredibly brave of you all to rb and add things in the tags, I know its hard to talk about this shit and I see you. I see you.

Resultantly I typed this out and posted it in formatting to assist with accessibility in mind; if you cannot read it still ( I tried Im sorry!) i recommend the copy and paste method or getting the chrome extension bee-line reader.

 There will be grammatical and spelling mistakes. Im sure spacing is odd some places, but you have to understand doing this is extremely anxiety provoking for me so Im just getting it done when I can.

Remember to use your critical thinking; not everyone has the same symptoms/compulsions/triggers and all that.

OCD is fluid. Its like liquid mercury. One day its a handful of subtypes another day its another different serving.

If you are in general squicked about certain topics even by mention read ahead with your own judgement. Remember us folks that have OCD have many disturbing and distressing experiences so if you are writing a character who has OCD and you can’t read about it just don’t give them that obsessive thought/ compulsion. Make sure writing is still a safe and enjoyable hobby for yourself first and foremost.

But ethically and morally I cannot and will not leave out the more disturbing bits. You have the ability to scroll by, I and many others do not get the chance to escape triggering content that our own mind creates.

So read ahead with your best judgement or at least skip around the squicky parts and educate yourself on what OCD is so people quite using it as a Obsessive Christmas/Corgi/Cat Disorder thing. Alright? Cool beans.

Okay so you made it passed post 1 and got under the read more. Give yourself a gold star for diving into this monster of a document.

Below is a crash course it is not meant to replace actual psychoeducation, personal research, or google. Honestly most of us do our research extensively but because OCD is treated so horribly by social media, media, and society in general.

I wasn’t sure where to throw these together because the education tools to learn fully about OCD are very specialized and thus very restricted. I found that many people DO have these experiences with OCD though so I will represent them throughout. I’ll also sprinkle some of my own experiences so you can get a good reference of a person who has the disorder and not just a randomly generated person.

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So OCD is made up of Obsessions, Trigger, Intrusive thought, Misinterpretation/feared consequence,Somatic and Psychological Anxiety, and Compulsions/Rituals.

Your character may not be able to list all of these. In fact if they aren't in ERP therapy they may not be able to puzzle these things out. But YOU as the writer should know them. Your character won’t be walking around talking to just ANYONE that they have OCD. Remember a huge aspect of OCD is it’s Shame.  The disorder makes us feel intense shame regarding our intrusive thoughts, as a result OCD goes undiagnosed for years especially if it has pediatric onset.

  We won’t tell anyone what we are experiencing or why we are doing x y or z. We act like nothing is wrong because to emotionally react is to admit to yourself- and therefore the world- that you have had this intrusive thought and are therefore by virtue a horrible person.[For further information I would suggest also researching PANDAS].

It may be noticeable if your character has an intrusive thought. They may wince or grimace or roll their eyes certainly, but they won’t open up to Joe at the cafe about how their brain is constantly torturing them. I apparently have a very noticeable eye twitch.

 Depending on the nature of the intrusive thought it will get more or less of a reaction out of me. Its usually dependent on how distressing the intrusive thought is and/or if its a new one.

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You see OCD doesn’t sit still. It never looks the same. You’ll have your long haul intrusive thoughts that are with you for years but then you’ll have weird ass ones that just appear and demand their voice be heard yelling about cars hitting people or squirrels getting eaten.

Some people have similar ones! So while everyone is different there will always be someone out there with an intrusive thought similar to yours.

 For instance; I bonded emotionally with a lady on reddit because we both have intrusive thoughts during storms that animals and the homeless are dying. We were both horribly relieved to find another person and also distressed that every snow or rain storm brings horrible images and whispers to your mind that while you are warm and snug in bed someone is freezing to death. And its all your fault.

Some days are better than others. As with all mental illnesses it isn’t CONSTANT ALARM BELLS. Some days it will be all alarms and other days it will be like a gentle whisper on the breeze. You can almost not notice it. Almost.

Obsessive thoughts run the gauntlet from ‘i will/could have/may/may accidentally harm etc’ something that you hold of value. This is any obsessive thought that you have: you think about repeatedly and not by choice, it is very anxiety provoking, it is unwanted, and unwelcome.

 Mine run the scale from ‘squirrel will be murdered’ to ‘being responsible for harm’.

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. In short, compulsions and rituals are not fun. they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder. 

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To emphasize from post 1: magical thinking and the faulty link between thoughts and actions are hallmarks of OCD.  Magical thinking can be anything from contamination to if I turn around three times or stare really hard at something the bad thing wont happen. Sounds weird and is weird and we know it is thats why its a disorder and not a delusion.

The faulty belief that thought=action is the biggest hurdle it is incredibly difficult to grasp, at least for me maybe some of you that have done further ERP can attest, that the mere concept of a thought not being the same as an action is completely and totally mind blowing.

Free will? Yeah thats terrifying. IDK about anyone else but free will is absolutely terrifying; what do you mean i could do anything i wanted?

Thats how you face OCD(WITH A TRAINED THERAPIST). You give in to ambiguity and the unknown. Its breaking that link between thought and action. Its incredibly difficult and draining. A five minute exposure leaves me in shatters for a week and two five minute ones had me ripping my nails past the nail beds with anxiety.

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Just a reminder: Do not have your character expose themself or expose folks with OCD to a trigger to “ help us get over with”. That is literally forcing someone with a mental illness into a break down and is not helpful. In fact its worse because a person knows about this intrusive thought and they tried to make it real. More shame and some trauma. 

If you have OCD, more likely than not a family member or significant other has tried this with the purest of intentions. But it never works like that. Theres a reason that therapists get special training for this. If people want a post on ERP I can make one at some point. 

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Actually let’s drag me with the squirrel thing as the example- fellow OCD Folks get out a pen and paper and try breaking down one of yours;

Obsession:Squirrel will be murdered

Trigger: seeing a squirrel

 Intrusive thought: Graphic images of a squirrel being murdered by a hawk/ impaling depending on the day

Misinterpretation/feared consequence: Squirrel will be killed and its all my fault

Somatic and Psychological Anxiety:intense anxiety, palms sweating, heart racing,

Compulsions/Rituals: Must stare at the squirrel to prevent bad things from happening, 

Now imagine if that is every time you see a fucking squirrel. You have somehow become completely and totally transfixed on a squirrel and nothing is going to pull your attention away or the squirrel dies- which your mind is giving you lovely images of btw.

Cute right?

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Below are the subtypes with general information/example thoughts/ and how some of these have impacted me socially because apparently some people dont understand that mental illnesses impact their social lives?? yall...

Social: This can range from ‘ i am constantly thinking i did something wrong so i have to ask for reassurance that we are still friends’ to completely unrealistic worries. Maybe its an intrusive thought that ‘ your voice is annoying them’ . There’s reassurance seeking, internal and external checking.

 It makes friendships extremely difficult and exhausting. You’re not trying to get to know someone with an annoying frat boy egging on anxiety in your brain. This can also manifest as having strict rules for yourself and ethical codes. 

My therapist likes to say she could give us (folks with OCD) a pile of hundred dollar bills and come back and they’d all be returned. Because OCD makes you so strict and morally confined. Which ISNT fun. Like I dont get pleasure over having to memorize the entire Code of Conduct!

Social Media: Its the bane of human existence some days and a lifeline the next. But what if everytime your follower count was an odd/even number it sent you into a panic attack. What if you spent all your time with intrusive thoughts that somehow someone misinterpreted a post or that someone is going to be harmed by a post you made about tapirs. 

You may be forced to block people to get your number down or keep pornbots on your blog to keep your number what you like (see there is a use for them! We sacrifice those before actual users!) You may be refreshing your page every second because ‘what if you miss a message’. It's going to look a lot like ‘check check check check reassure yourself double check your posts check check check reassure check check FALSE MEMORY check your post etc’

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Clothing/Body Image: When its not Body Dysmorphia it can be OCD. Sometimes this looks like I obsess about a body part and therefore I choose my clothes/hairstyles to hide those.  Some personal examples: as a kid I was sure that mind readers exist ( THIS IS AN OCD THING TOO I was so relieved to find that out) and that if i didnt wear  a particular hat they would see all these horrible thoughts and it would be revealed what an awful person I was. So I wore the same dumb ass bucket hat for a year (or more I cannot remember but it was a long ass time).

I was once so fixated on being given a compliment on my eye color that I wore sunglasses (even at night) to a summer camp. And if any of those teen girls in that cabin that stood up and mocked me in a crowded lunch hall by singing ‘i wear my sunglasses at night’ you all owe me 40$.

Even younger still I had intrusive thoughts. Like say, if anyone noticed I was female that i would be kidnapped so I chopped my hair very short. I altered my appearance to be very androgynous and even switched to walking more masculine. Because omg if your hips move someones going to kill you thats just how it works. ( It doesnt help I later figured out I was a lesbian)

Your wardrobe may be impacted by OCD and yes so can your body image.

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Also yes the fear of mind readers is also a thing; i always thought I was somehow faking OCD because yes that is also a…..

Faking: Do you value telling the truth? Do you detest lying ? Boy Howdy do I have some news for you. OCD is going to try and convince you that YOU LIED. Whether it was on a chastity pledge to get a free sandwich or in a conversation you just HAD. This links a lot with false memory OCD.

Another aspect is OCD makes us doubt we have OCD and tries to convince us we have any other diagnosis under the sun and we are obviously faking our OCD.

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Sexual Orientation OCD; It is as it is called. Sexual Orientation OCD is what happens when your brain goes ‘hold on what if you’re not this orientation what if you are THAT’. It doesn’t matter where on the LGBT umbrella you fall you will have OCD trying to convince you otherwise. From compulsive staring at members of the same/opposite gender to compulsively reassuring or checking with yourself to ensure that ‘ no no you are in fact THIS orientation.’ 

This can range in behavior from binge watching porn, staring compulsively to check that there is OR is NOT attraction,self checking past experiences and memories, analyzing your clothing and your lifestyle in painful and intricate methods.

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False Memory OCD; False memory OCD is basically your brain sitting you in a noir interrogation room, handcuffing you to a chair grilling you. It demands that you did *insert bad thing here*. This can range from anything from something Harm based to pretty much *anything* from other OCD subtypes. Which is quite delightful really.

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Sensorimotor OCD; Sensorimotor OCD is obsessive body responses. These can be ‘ I have to cough really hard and really feel it right in my chest and if I can’t get it right I have to cough until I do’. This can be counting your heartbeats. Trying to check yourself that you in fact have a heart and checking and reassuring that it is still beating. It can be hyper-awareness of swallowing or even swallowing repeatedly. It is anything with selective attention; ie its an automated process but your OCD is forcing you to be aware of it.

Your OCD makes you aware of the sensation of, say, breathing, and then it convinces you that if you stop paying attention to it you will stop breathing. So now you’re horribly aware and focused solely on breathing and breathing alone. It keeps me up most nights with the pounding anxiety fueled by the pressure of ‘if you stop focusing on breathing you will stop breathing completely’ or waiting to feel that last heartbeat in your chest. 

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Existential OCD; You ever feel existential ? Existential OCD is like having a very aggressive existential crisis that turns you into NEEDING answers IMMEDIATELY. This can look anything from hours panic scrolling the net to panic inducing anxiety because you don't know what happens after death. The thoughts are like foghorns on a misty sea.

This sounds basic and the only example i can give is as a teeny tiny 7 year old I had a panic attack in bed screaming that ‘ what if im a dinosaur and im asleep and i wake up and my whole family is GONE’.

To be fair I did like dinosaurs a lot.

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Harm OCD; This is pretty self explanatory but I will give more details. Harm OCD is OCD demanding that you will/could/can/may have/might harmed yourself/others/any living creature and that you alone are responsible. 

This means anything from getting anxious driving over crosswalks because ‘what if you dont see one and hit someone and its all your fault and you hit someone go back and make sure you havent hit anyone’ to ‘im holding a knife so im going to accidentally stab someone’ to ‘ i didnt see my cat this morning and now im at work and think she must be dead and i am responsible for her demise.’

 It can be as simple as ‘if i use a pencil i will stab myself in the eye’ or as complex as ‘ i may accidentally say a slur’/ ‘ i am going to say this horrible thing out loud if i cannot control myself.’ It can also be images of terror or racist/sexist/ableist jokes in your mind that repeat like a broken record.

(Please note from section 1 that this is extremely anxiety provoking and not something you would do. OCD preys on what we respect the most.)

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pOCD; Tumblr listen the fuck up because I am tired of seeing people get called shit on this website for having this mental illness. People who experience pOCD are not pedophiles, they do not get any pleasure or benefit. The thoughts and images are meant to induce harm to the person experiencing them. Children are normally the trigger for this and the resulting images can be very graphic. Again you aren’t attracted to children- thoughts of them getting harmed hurt you so your OCD makes you see them.

Know this so you can advocate for folks with pOCD in real life. Remember we are here. We are suffering and we are terrified of your children.

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Poisoning others/or in your food; Life isn’t medieval anymore but sometimes OCD demands we have a food taster or that we obsessively worry that we may kill someone with our cooking. Personally I struggle with colorblindness so I am constantly fretful over cooking any sort of meat so it’s difficult for me to cook it.

 However this also comes as; obsessive horrible thoughts of your cooking kill someone or that you have somehow/accidentally poisoned someone’s food (even if you haven’t touched it or been within a foot of it ) or that someone has poisoned YOUR food even if no one has touched it except you. You’re going to be picking apart your food or unable to eat out at all.

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Emotional Contamination: It’s similar to magical thinking and this terrifying prospect of mind readers. Emotional contamination can manifest as anything from intense worry over somehow gaining someone else’s negative personality traits.

 Or that somehow by interacting with any role of someone horrible will make YOU somehow also responsible for the horribleness.  There is usually a person or a type of person that is a trigger, but it can also be location based.

 This is one subtype where magical thinking and superstition are apparent.  

For instance; as a teen if a male was in my space or had physical contact;like shaking hands,giving a high five, being in my room etc. I would have to go around and physically touch all the objects that I perceive they may have also touched as a way to cancel out their presence. 

This includes wiping off myself to negate even the touch of family members. It really hurts peoples feelings, my father was especially hurt by this.

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Physical Contamination: This goes beyond physical dirt and grime. Most of us dont have spotless homes because if you’re having a fist fight with your brain everyday cleaning falls by the wayside just like it would for anyone else. Physical contamination holds 2 things: physical contamination obsessions AND compulsive cleaning behaviors/rituals. We believe that a small amount of a contaminate can cover large surfaces.

 Oh, and did I mention its not JUST dirt/germs/viruses. The list is expansive but heres a mixed bag of what they can be: sticky substances,dead animals,glitter (FUCKING GLITTER),negative words or language,colors, numbers, surfaces in general, food, people, and activities.  There is also a hyper responsibility to protect yourself and others from ‘contamination’.

Strangely there is a magical separation between the contaminated world and the ‘clean’ one. Spaces designated as clean would be a bedroom/bathroom/workspace where you are most active. That space is where the compulsions and intrusive thoughts occur. Its not I MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Otherwise I would be working cleaning houses because why the hell not amiright?

A real world example from a colleague would be a young man with physical contamination OCD is struck with such intrusive thoughts about cleaning that they refuse to allow anyone in their room or any animals in their home. But they are not able to even flush the toilet, take out the trash, wash dishes, or do garbage because of their intrusive thoughts.

The most famous would be compulsive hand washing but I feel it is important to also note OTHER aspects of physical contamination because everyone sees the hand scrubbing stereotype. 

Other compulsions include intricate rituals, not touching the floor (i played X-treme the floor is lava during college. I couldnt let my feet touch the floor because it was ‘dirty’),excessive showering (2-8+ hour showers guys, 8 hour showers. Thats what we’re talking about.)

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Relationship OCD: This comes as no surprise that yes you will have intrusive thoughts that you are somehow harming/ will harm/ may accidentally harm your significant other. Whether that be by physical or emotional means. It can look like ‘ I may have lied to her about how much I love her’, ‘ i may not actually love her and I may be leading her on’, and ‘ I must be corrupting her’. These can extend to certain physical activities with false memory OCD as a cherry on top. A great finishing garnish to leave you feeling absolutely dismayed and unable to trust your own perception.

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Scrupulosity: Religion! Whatever that may be! Its a thing with OCD.  With Scrupulosity obsessive thoughts run all over the board from; you committed a sin and forgot about it you monster to having to pray continuously/ a certain time/ until its right. What is right?Ask OCD that’s the only person who knows. 

We are fairly certain my grandfather had OCD because he went to church for every single Catholic Mass. Every single day. Every. Single. Day.  That’s not a healthy amount of attendance(I'm calling you out posthumously because I care Robert!). This can also look like: praying a certain amount of times. Praying until you do it ‘right’. Confessing every single potential sin. Cataloguing and dwelling over ‘sinful’ things. 

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Symmetry or Just Right OCD: Symmetry OCD is the runner up for ‘most likely recognized on tv shows’ award.

Symmetry OCD convinces you that if *insert thing here* isnt symmetrical or ‘just right’ (a magical position or number of objects that makes 0 logical sense) that something bad will happen.

This can range from the known; rearranging things. But it also looks like buying more objects until you reach the right amount and even throwing out objects if theres ‘too many’.

It can range from ‘the walls are percievably not straight so now i avoid that room at all costs otherwise i will be trapped traveling the edges of the wall with my eyes otherwise it will fall in and murder us ALL.’ to ‘ this historical bust is one inch off to the left and now all i see is visions of it breaking against the ground.’

So that is what I have time for. 9 pages on subtypes and basic information. If you find yourself wanting me information all of this is easily accessible online. So go, be free and dont ever compare people to Monk again. Write Batman and Scott Summers with OCD. Give us ACTUAL representation and not throw away joke lines. We are here. Our suffering isnt funny. We deserve representation too.

[possiblypeachy]

Helloo, so i loooved your last sam drake fic. & I wanted to ask you if you could write a really angsty fanfic about sam with a younger female reader, like 20 years younger (she would be 23) ? I know its a huge age gap so if that makes you uncomfortable you can leave it out but make it hella angsty still (with a fluffy ending) ? thanks in advance ❤

btw im an infp too ;)

infps rise up!! 

thank you muchly for the request! i had to make some interesting google searches for this and i always count that as a win in my book!

y’know when your brain feel like a static TV? yeah, that happened to mine while writing this so i apologise in advance if this is in no way what you asked for :( HOWEVER i do hope you enjoy nonetheless! i do love sam; he’s just a little bastard :,)

warning: this details a heavy injury + a hospital trip so please don’t read on it that makes you feel horrible or anything! also, the reader is younger than same (as requested) but it’s not a like huge aspect of the plot.

if others like this too, feel free to request something from me! 

― ❊ ―

You had always been interested in the hidden corners of the world. For a species that boasted about being the most intelligent, humans knew so achingly little about the world in which they lived. So, when you decided adventure called to you more than any kind of degree could, you put out a few ads in a couple of places and a certain Drake wrote back, enlisting your help with… artefact recovery. You hadn’t expected so many gunfights or bruises or those dreaded mosquitos but you certainly didn’t regret the job, coming away with a few pirate-branded gold coins and a 40-something-year-old partner-in-crime.

You probably could’ve set up for life with those coins alone-- lived a quiet life in a suburb somewhere, joined a dating app and found the love of your life, adopted a puppy, maybe-- but when Sam had called you a month or so after your Madagascan escapade, that same excitement in his voice that you’d become so accustomed to, you didn’t even need a few days to consider before asking him when the next flight was.

Now, to say that going on this rodeo was a good idea could’ve been a lie; you were still young and sprightly, and many would beg (if they even got the chance) for you to reconsider-- oh, but you have such a long life ahead of you, why are you taking it for granted?

Screw them. You’d seen more beautiful things in the past year than they would in their entire lives. So what if you had a couple of scars and scrapes to prove it; it simply adds character.

Well… perhaps this particular scrape would change your perspective on that.

You and Sam had encountered one of those forsaken puzzle things; a series of statues and corresponding paintings behind them. Each held a dagger and held their hand out to shake, a conniving little smirk etched into the grey stone. You had been so achingly confident of the answer-- nothing had gone wrong so far and you were feeling chipper. So, when you called out to Sam that you’d solved it before him, that cocky little quirk to your lips that made him huff out a laugh and shake his head, you didn’t expect his face to drop so quickly, eyes darting from your smile to your abdomen.

There was a sudden, burning pain, and you lurched forwards toward the statue, placing one hand on its shoulder to keep yourself upright. Everything seemed to blur when you looked down, the jewelled dagger now withdrawing from your gut covered in blood. The statue looked as if it had never moved, if you discounted the bloodied weapon it held and the small pool that had accumulated at the base of it. Your free hand, shaking, came down to try to stop yourself from bleeding, fingers almost immediately red and warm. “Sam--” His name was coughed out, the tension it caused making you cry out in pain.

He had seen your smile drop, your eyes widen, the blood bloom across your shirt. He had watched the statue withdraw, that grin it held now dangerous. Oh, fuck. This couldn’t be happening. Sam had promised everyone-- he had promised you that nothing like this would happen. Of course he had fucked it. 

He was already there. He had been there immediately but, beyond the pain and shock, you hadn’t realised. “Holy shit! (Name)?” His hand came to your shoulder and, at the contact, you nearly crumpled, as if his touch had brought you back to reality. Unfortunately, along with that came the more acute realisation of how much fucking pain you were in.

“Oh, fuck! God--” You curled over and vomited. Fuck, it hurt. The movement made you grab at your wound more, muscles trying to tense but just searing with pain instead. Lifting your arm to wipe your mouth felt so much more difficult, lethargy already settling in it seemed.

Sam muttered something to himself, tucking his shoulder under yours and using his arm to help keep you propped up. “We’ll be alright-- you’ll be alright. We just have to get back to the car and--” he cut off, swearing, at least you thought; everything sounded like it was underwater-- muffled and slowed. 

You let your head drop a little, face contorted in pain with each step you took. This wasn’t supposed to happen-- this was never supposed to happen. These trips were meant to be all beautiful vistas and treasure. You didn’t mind the occasional gunfight and, while being punched square in the nose didn’t feel great, you’d let it happen more if only to walk into more of these preserved pieces of history all over the globe. But, this? Fuck this. You should’ve been more prepared.

“Everyone said--” you groaned again and, when you were finally able to muster the strength to look at Sam, he glanced down at you with such panic in his eyes that it almost made your chest churn more than your stomach, “They said this shit would be bad for me.” The laugh you gave was painful and you regretted it immediately, stumbling over your own feet when you tried to hold your abdomen-- as if that would provide some kind of relief. It did not. 

Sam furrowed his brows, moving you slightly to make sure you didn’t slip from his grip. “No, no-- it’s alright! You still got life in you.” He tried to laugh but it didn’t sound like him and that just made you spiral a little faster. “There are still places that are out there waiting for you, okay?” Sam’s voice was rushed, like he was torn between trying to comfort you and just trying to get you both the fuck out of here. 

The light of the outside was blinding, the sun bright and unyielding overhead. Sam fumbled with the keys in his back pocket and then there were the telltale beeps of a car being unlocked. The sound made him flinch but you were beyond that, wanting more than anything to just sleep. It was hard to focus on anything else, actually.

Sam bundled you into the back seat and you groaned at the way your body had to twist and curve into the backseat. Every breath hurt; it was like reliving the injury each time you inhaled. Your hand was blood-covered now but your shaking had died down. It took too much energy to shake-- Hell, it took way too much to even lift your eyelids again after each blink. 

When the driver’s door slammed, you jolted slightly-- like someone had dragged you out of the very early stages of sleep. “Sam,” you began, voice quiet; it was as though you were in another universe entirely, “are we gonna…” you trailed off, forgetting where you were. It was strange: you felt like the pain was subsiding. It was almost… peaceful. 

The car lurched into motion and you saw him glance at you through the rearview mirror. You thought he might’ve been saying something to you, his free hand reaching back to get your attention. Black encroached on your vision and your head lolled backwards briefly but you pulled it forward again soon after as though it were attached to some kind of bungee rope. Is this what dying felt like? 

Maybe you were okay with this. It was calm-- quiet, even. It was almost like the pain had become an afterthought-- a dull thrum in your abdomen. You would miss this, though: the adventures. You would miss the fact that everything seemed more colourful in other countries. You would miss the sweet tang of sea air and how free you felt on the open sea. Despite the blur in your vision, you tried to focus on Sam and his helpless mumbling. Tears welled in your eyes. God, you would miss him too. 

The next time you blinked, your eyes stayed closed.

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A steady beeping woke you up. That and a horrible white light beating against your eyelids. You tried to groan but even that was difficult with how… disused your voice felt. A chair creaked to your right and then--

“(Name)?” 

It was him.

“Sam…” Trying to sit up was like an instinct but a hand came to your shoulder to keep you down. It was then that you finally opened your eyes, pupils struggling against the light. “Did you find the treasure?”

He breathed out a laugh-- almost like relief. “If you count shitty hospital coffee and the most uncomfortable chair ever as treasure, then yes.”

Your brows furrowed. “Hospital?” The strain on your voice made you cough. This was a bad reflex on your part. An ache flared up again in your lower stomach, and your arm flew there to support the injury. Now, everything was starting to come back. “Ah, shit. I remember. God.”

Beside you, his lips pursed. “Yeah. Almost got bested by a statue, honey.”

You gave him a look and he smiled. Despite his words, the normalcy of it all was comforting. “I may be bed-ridden but I’ll still hit you, old man.” There it was: that smile of yours. He struggled to even feign offence with how relieved he felt at seeing it. In fact, if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, he might’ve welled up a little. “Sam?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He rubbed his face before leaning onto your bed. “I was just worried, is all.”

He looked like he had done more than worried; the dark around his eyes told you of that. Quiet fell over you for a few moments and Sam took to rubbing your leg over the array of hospital blankets piled atop you. It was nice, comforting, and for a time you just allowed yourself to be. 

That was until he swallowed loudly-- nervously-- and withdrew his hand. “(Name), I, uh--” he cleared his throat-- not because he needed to but just so he could have a couple more seconds to think about what he was going to say, “I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I know that you’d disagree, but I’m not sure you should--”

You groaned as you shifted yourself up the bed, cutting him off. You knew what he was going to say: that you shouldn’t come on the next trip with him. That would turn into only the occasional call between the two of you, asking about his most recent escapades-- if had any spots open on the crew next time, to which he would decline. Then, there would only be texts-- a barren waste of white space between messages and timestamps that began to highlight the weeks and months between each text. “Don’t, Sam.” His brows furrowed and you pointed a finger at him, accusing. “I know what you’re going to say and I’m not going to listen to you.”

He pursed his lips briefly then pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “You could’ve died. You can’t just fuckin’ die--” he leant forward so his ranting wouldn’t disturb any other hospital dwellers, “You can’t die yet; you’re-- what?-- twenty-three?”

“Oh, fuck off, Sam! I’m not a child; I can handle myself!”

In one gesture towards your injury, he had messed up. “Obviously fuckin�� not!”

Silence. Your mouth was agape and he flinched back immediately. For how many times people told Sam to think before he spoke, he hadn’t seemed to have learnt. When the words settled in, you leant away from him, back into the cushions behind you. “I think you should go.”

He blinked once. And, then again. “What?”

You couldn’t even look at him. “Get out. I’ll call a nurse if i need help since I obviously can’t look after myself--”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, (Name)--”

“How did you fucking mean it then, Sam?” He stood from the chair and it creaked-- the only noise in the room. You didn’t even want to give him the chance to give an excuse. “Or, am I too much of a child to understand what you mean?” In the middle of his pacing, he turned to face you, simply staring despite your ceaseless ranting. “Sorry that I’m such a huge fucking inconvenience to you! It’s not like the same kind of shit has ever happened to you or anything, huh?” He watched as your eyes began to well, face etched with frustration and betrayal, words spat out of your mouth like they put a bad taste there.

He had to cut you off or else you would carry on; you shouldn’t feel like this right after… everything that happened. God, he was such a dick. He shouldn’t have brought this up-- not now at least-- and now look at you: almost crying because of him in a hospital bed thank to stab wound that you got because of him and-- “I don’t want you to get hurt again because I fuckin’ care about you, (Name), okay?” It was his turn to rant now and your turn to stare at him. “And-- and, I have no idea what I would do with myself if you-- if you had fuckin’--” the noise he made was a mix between a sigh and growl, like he was annoyed at himself, then he leant against the end of your bed. A few moments passed; you didn’t know if you were supposed to say something to him during this or not but all you could fathom doing was to just stare at him, dumbfounded. Then, he breathed out a simple: “I’m sorry. For being a dick.”

You swallowed, gaze flickering away from him briefly. Then, you huffed out a laugh-- a terrible mix of amusement and disbelief. “Glad you can recognise it, Sam.” He blinked at you, then shook his head; that certainly wasn’t the response he expected. Something more biting-- venomous--perhaps, but not that. You gestured back to the seat that he had pulled up beside you and, with some degree of caution, he sat down again. You held out a hand and he took it, rubbing a thumb over the underside of it, touch light on your skin. “You can’t prove that this isn’t the painkillers speaking but,” it hurt to lean closer to him but you thought he was worth it-- even with the deer-in-headlights look he had, “I care about you too.”

It was then that he smiled-- grinned, even-- and you finally heard him laugh again. “Oh, I’m definitely holding that against you, (Name).”

“Will you hold this against me, too?” You pulled your hand away from his, only to place it on his face instead, thumb tracing a line over his cheek. His eyes flickered down to your lips, obviously unsure on if he should close the gap, that worry still bubbling in his lower stomach that he was daydreaming again. So, you did instead, the ache in your gut less pressing than your want to kiss him. It was short but to say it didn’t make your heart soar and a faint colour flush Sam’s ears would be a lie. You hand stayed there after, fingers reluctant to move away-- to lose him; the thought scratched at the back of your mind.

He let out a sigh of relief-- a little ‘hoo’ noise coming with it. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted that.”

[nobody-knose--archive]

i’ve been aching to commentate spirit phone’s commentary for ages. glad i finally got around to it, this was an ejoyable experience. liveblog below the cut

-i'm like half certain i've heard this commentary before. maybe not the whole way through & it was probably actual years ago

-nice hearing stuff like this. in-depth personal view of the album-making process. makes it seem like more of a real thing i could do myself someday

-neil cicierega real person momence

-i could probably go real in depth about neil cicierega/tally hall parallels specifically concerning like. the arc of their musical careers. but i won't, here

-wild how i legitimately don't care much about micheal jackson

-didnt we get a bunch of spirit phone stems from the needlejuice release/his patreon? we could probably hear the funny track he speaks of here in that

-i love hearing musical artists, especially neil cicierega, talking about the meanings of their songs. like, not only has this song been claimed to hell & back by the tumblr gays, but with later ones i just can't see where he gets these ideas from. also, claiming there's any one meaning or plot to a song just seems silly to me

-shoutout to neil reusing a midi from like, 1998, that he made at 12 years old, whose entire melody was reused for the main verses of everybody loves raymond. loved finding that out on my own 2 years ago. now it's common trivia in this fandom. not bad times

-it'd be neat if neil did individual trans tracks here like he did with view monstel, those things are half of why i consider it my favorite album

-it's a lot easier to ignore the creator's intended meaning behind a song when he can't even remember it. thanks neil

-seesaw effect

-and there's my joke all but 1 of my followers wont get. moving on

-what kinds of movie theater lobbies has neil been to where there are arcade machines. i mean im not one to talk but that does sound rather strange

-why do songs' titles even need to be taken from the lyrics. ive never seen that as any sort of requisite. it's like titling any form of prose you can just give it whatever name ya like

-"this part sounds pretty cool right"

-is neil's vocal range only mildly better than mine? with training i could change that

-oh i haven't processed any of the last 25 seconds hold on

-god. a shit ton of vocal modification in this song. it's like neil returned to his roots but with quality this time

-i, as an ace/aro, have never related more to an allohet guy in my life. what is the point of eyes!

-professional humming/whistling takes skill. it's different from the recreational or casual stuff. i'd know

-there's a name for the way sound (especially music) gets distorted when moving past you and i can't remember it but it's probably what neil's referring to here in the way he recorded the intro

(- update: it's the doppler effect no need to tell me cas already did)

-as someone who hasnt seen the rugrats or take me there by blackstreet i'll just say it sounded like a bouncy music box melody. nice to hear a song that messes with the typical scales though. lydian & diatonic.

-that's a rather specific thing to be glad about, but given what he talked about in his last full audio commentary about the jew harp i suppose i'm not surprised

-i know that tmbg song now. listened to it & saw the music video too. yep they're different alright

-where the hell does neil get all these instrumence from anyway

-huh. hadnt heard this part of the commentary before making my oc concerning this song but i like to hear neil's approval concerning part of my interpretation

-i love how ive heard a billion different tellings of this mellified man story from lem dem fans talking about this song and neil's is by far the wildest

-good god that does only make it worse neil

-i love making liveblogs of lemon demon albums. with the fullerenes or tally hall i cant name a specific dude to take out my woes on generally but with lemon demon i can just say neil all the time. i like being on a casual first name basis with this dude ive never interacted with once ever

-is sweet bod the one other than cabinet man with a demo in the bonus tracks? i forget

-holy shit the boston molasses disaster someone call up soapy if it doesnt already know, it'd love this

-two thousand nine. god i miss the fiddle solo. the ver with it is truly the best one

-he pronounces it jeff? i've always read it as gef with a hard g. that's what i get for knowing words that are never spoken aloud

-that's a fun meta interpretation of this ghost story that's over a century old. i like that

-i've noticed neil generally does the same synths across a whole album. it's especially more clear in the earlier ones, and does mean i occasionally mix up songs between clown circus & live from the haunted candle shop

-ah! ancient aliens! my least favorite track on this album. i cant even claim to have the least interest in a popular one i've just generally not liked this one much from the beginning. so im curious to see what neil's got to say, i think ive been in ~new commentary zone for a while now

-anyway. newest update on the loolin not realizing a song's funky time signature front: i think this one's in 6/4. or at least switches a lot between time signatures. granted i dont listen to it very often for the reasons stated above

-see the way neil describes it. eldritch horror upon being visited by the unknown at a time when humanity'd hadn't even yet had a chance to imagine such a thing occurring. should be right up my alley. but the sound itself & many of the lyrics simply turn me away.

-must i specify i don't dislike it? spirit phone is neil's best album it not being my favorite doesn't mean i think it's bad yadda yadda nobody should be surprised by this it's not like anyone in these fandoms reads my liveblogs <3

-granted i think this is. the first bit of spirit phone content i've made on my blog ever. so who knows things can change <3

-the transitions in spirit phone are much less view-monster transition tracks & more extended outros. view-monster's were a bit more intro than outro sure but they also seemed directed upon making a 2-way rather than 1-way bridge between tracks. or something like that

-.............soft fuzzy man is an incredible nickname for a cat. i'd steal that if i werent afraid of introducing my relatives to lemon demon

-jirls

-an underlying metaphor is good enough. the literal side of the lyrics are fun. nothing but agreement here neil my good man

-the transition into as your father i expressly forbid it from soft fuzzy man is the best one in this album

-buddy you ask if a musical idea has been used before odds are the answer is yes in this day & age the question is has it been used in the way you're using it. like sure this soul jazz record from the 60s that was sold out in kansas stores for a week used this bassline that youve found yourself copying. but seeing as youre using it in some angsty garage rock ballad type tune does anybody actually care

-doesn't everybody like to say things in an unhinged manner from time to time

-imagine having a guitar dad, i say, with my dad being a folk accordion/fiddle dad, which is infinitely worse in every way

-i think he was in an actual folk band at some point. idk the 90s were weird

-iron my life?

-m-more intimate? there are a lot of ways i'd describe this song but intimate isn't one of them. granted as your father is negatively intimate so from there i guess you've got nowhere to go but up

-...still glad to see his interpretation kinda supports my oc at least

-the way he says characters in songs shouldn't worry about death really strongly makes me think this is some sort of. thematic continuation of stuck from dinosaurchestra, even if there's no real death in there. interesting. would also mean that the dad from these past 2 songs is named carlos betty (no last name)

-i literally never assumed this was a flute solo. piccolo at best. it's pretty clearly a recorder

-my mom plays the recorder. i wonder if she can play recorder better than neil cicierega

-we can throw a party in honor of the crushing weight of responsibility! i simply won't be the one throwing it because i have enough on my plate already <3

-what the hell does "a sense of intent" mean

-i've never heard rush before however i disagree with neil's understanding of 6/4. 6/4 is meant to have emphasis (onbeat or another term i can't remember) on the 1st & 4th beat of every measure, which is greatly different from a measure of 4/4 then a measure of 2/4. it's why his 5/4 always sounds weird, because while it's recognizable in sequences of 10/4, it's more 2 measures of 4/4 with one of 2/4 tacked on the end. that's also how it's different from 3/4. i don't know much music theory but what i do understand i will fight to the death about

-"canonized" that's. a very interesting term to use when referring to a former president

-from now on i will interpret every love song directed at some unseen "you" to be inviting me to marry them for tax purposes. thanks neil for being an aromantic icon

-ah hell yes hell yes man-made object is my favorite goddam song on this album

-short & sweet & good damn vibes. neil's thoughts on it all are only making it better

-wild how he uses very few vocal effects for a song that he clearly is straining his vocal range for. go off neil

-the qualifier of man-made is a wonderful thing. oldest or biggest thing? oldest or biggest man-made thing? what a incredibly important specification. a world of possibilities lie between the two. oh i love it

-just gets me thinking yknow! what we consider weird/impressive in another species, in our own species- what kind of equivalent to that would there be from an outsider looking in? are there alien versions of the significances we place upon things, that we could never imagine? the limits of the human imagination mean we could never conceive of something else in the world that isn't, in some way great or small, just like us- and are we wrong for thinking that? such a juicy topic i wish there were a name for it because it's kinda hard to explain concisely

-spiral of ants. my second favorite song from this album, in fact. a good one to experience

-the vocals are just another instrument. they really truly are. i wasn't going into this commentary expecting to feel solidarity for neil cicierega in this chili's tonight on more than one occasion but here i am.

-like, his whole stance on interpreting songs is something i agree with almost entirely. you can take it at face value, you can dig to their very depths, you can listen to songs without caring what the lyrics mean whatsoever, and those are all fun. & yeah while any of these people can be annoying as one of the types who enjoys gliding on the surface more than anything i find those who dedicate themselves to figuring out the whole meaning of a song over anything else to be both slightly scary & slightly annoying <3 keep up the good work

-i want to make songs for my siblings the way neil makes songs for his sibling(s)

-spinch

-neil really shouldn't be allowed to be this funny like this whole album youre thinking golly! he's just a normal man this neil cicierega! and then he starts listing the cat hacks jokes & you remember he's had ridiculously consistent viral success with all his humorous endeavors and holy shit it's neil cicierega in action talking about his music. god bless you neil

-you're welcome, no problem, my pleasure. good eveternoon, radio audience!

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; but “sentimental boy” is my nom de plume

word count: 1916

pairing: connor/gn!reader

genre: slight fluff; hurt no comfort

summary: it has been a year after the android revolution. humans and android alike settled down, an olive branch was offered as a sign of reconciliation. with newfound peace came along newfound love, and many open roads to choose from. this was no different for the rk800—connor. surprisingly or unsurprisingly, he decided to continue working at the dpd, this time as a bonafide detective. but he has also accepted the thrilling uncertainty of life that deviancy has brought; the same strings that brought his lover in his life.the same ones he hated and cursed, the same fates who ripped it all away.

a/n: everytime i convince myself i came out of my dbh hyperfixation i just look at connor and i become lovesick again.

gosh i know i should be finishing my other fic or work on the prologue script for my vn, but,,,,,,, i just had a sudden hankering for connor angst,,,,

written during a sleep deprivation induced moment of epiphany,,,,, (purple prose cuz im extra af uwu)

I’ve never written angst before so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it

maybe if you asked him one year ago whether he’d consider returning someone’s feelings, romantic feelings, he’d reply to you with a placid smile and a polite « i’m sorry, i wasn’t programmed to reciprocate romantic interest. ». he remembered that he’d sneer at them internally. now thinking about it, long before he questioned his obedience towards her, he already showed signs of deviancy.

you did what you were designed to do.

memories from his past would still torment him erratically, doubts would resurface on particularly dark days. but you were the light that cut through that haze. this wasn’t a “fake deviancy”. it couldn’t have been. not when he is holding your body so close to his, warmth radiating off of each other, two heartbeats—similar, but different—thrumming together. all the softly whispered and adoringly announced « i love you »’s; all the quick and coveted pecks and all the feverish and passionate kisses. no, he was alive, he was sure of it—alive and absolutely enamoured by you. all semblance of doubt ebbed away when you entered his life.

whenever he’s around you, he feels more alive: you make him feel everything, all the little precious things. tenderness and adoration when he shares tranquil mornings with you. he feels more alive when he’s with you, all the little habits and routines too endearing: the sweet post-it notes scattered over your shared flat; scribbled upon it are encouraging words or sweet nothings. conflicting work schedules meant that moments spent together were scarce, but that made them even more valuable and coveted. captivation, was another emotion that he felt around you. your mannerism, your dreams and interests, your physical attributes and quality of voice. logically speaking, you were just another human, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. you’d live and then one day, you’d die. as if you never really existed. but he wasn’t being logical. how could he be? when you were right there in front of him? you made him irrational, and he found that new aspect in life thrilling. confusing at first, but exciting. he was eternally grateful that you let him experience all these beautiful emotions with you. he was grateful that you allowed him in your short journey that you called life.

he was happy, absolutely content, with his shared life with you. you were both in perfect places in your respective lives: you both had a stable job, loving family backing you up, and a fulfilling love life. what seemed to be a mismatched couple at first turned to be 2 pieces of the same puzzle finally finding their place. life for the both of you couldn’t be better.

but along with the many exquisite moment that your romantic endeavours brought you, the android didn’t only taste the sweet delicacies of life; no matter how idyllic a moment may be, there were times when he had to taste the astringent and sour desserts life offered.

anger. that was an emotion that he felt. but that’s not accurate, no… it was frustration and shock and betrayal, all the unsavoury feelings in the world. perhaps it was due to his inexperience, maybe his lack of exposure to these negative sentiments, that caused him to snap the way he did. to hurt you the way he did. but it happened and there was no turning back the clock.

no matter how much he begged and cried for it.

he was proud that you got the job offer in canada, he really was. and he, like any other caring boyfriend would, offered to accompany you there, an offer which you gladly accepted. that was the plan. but plans were difficult to follow. crime waits for no man, working for the law meant that connor must always be available for duty. no excuses, he was an android. but connor wasn’t just a simple android detective, no, he had a much more important role: he was the link, the messenger, between jericho and the police force. he was the crucial communication between the two forces. so when jericho contacted him about threats of anti-android attacks, he had to make an appearance at their base. the meeting coincided with the day you were meant to travel to canada. it was a simple trip really. it only took a few hours by train, stay in canada for 2 days (it was the weekend), and then return back to detroit, probably arriving in the late afternoons to their home.

but you were looking forwards to traveling with your wonderful partner after « [we] spent so much time apart ». the day he told you the urgent change of plans, connor was tired, overwhelmed. you were frustrated and expectant. a fight was bound to have erupted. accusatory statements, along the lines of: « you don’t actually care about me! it’s all about work and work and work! » and « i can’t believe how selfish you’re being right now! » in between shouting and yelling and frustration and anger and contempt–

you both went to bed exhausted but spiteful, still not forgiving each other. in hindsight, he felt so utterly pathetic, so unbelievably childish, for being that cruel, and uncaring. he didn’t want to be like him again. so many glares and insults were thrown at each other, tears threatened to spill, LED flashed and shone a true red, doors were slammed. he felt awful, plain and simple. you both lied in the same bed, under the same cover. so close yet so excruciatingly far apart. back facing the other’s, no one said a word.

you woke up before him. bitter and unhappy. no morning kisses, no whispered « i love you » to wake your other half. you wordlessly got yourself ready, grabbed your bag and quietly snuck out. no post it notes were left. no sweet promises or encouraging words. you could do this work trip without him. you were independent. you didn’t need a tin can to chaperone you everywhere. so you left. plain and simple. gone. since you woke up and left earlier than planned, you boarded an earlier train. how lovely and convenient. the carriages were mostly filled with androids. perhaps they were trying to immigrate to canada like the others. who knows. you paid no mind and absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, obsessively checking your messages to see if connor realised. to see if he apologised. because frankly, at that point you were tired of being mad and just wanted to spend the day in his arms. but prideful and petty as you were, you weren’t willing to apologise and admit your mistakes first.

connor roused from stasis a few moments afterward, less bitter and more regretful. he wished to right his wrongs but the normally warm presence beside him was not there. his system was slowly booting back up when his audio sensor picked up an incessant ringing from the living room. he jolted up and rushed out to pick up the ringing phone call and waited for the other side to speak up.

the room was so utterly quiet, a silence so suffocating engulfed the room, that you could hear a pin drop. the voice on the other side asked whether this was indeed your house and that he was indeed connor anderson. he swallowed dryly and answered with a soft, « yes ». running a quick check in his database, he matches the caller’s voice with a certain nathaniel edwards. first responder. he allowed his HUD to display the news. if androids could get pale, have all their blood drain from their faces, his would have certainly done so. he stood, rigid and motionless, consumed by shock and horror.

the news and the first responder’s words blended into one as he gripped the phone tighter: « this morning, at 7:48 am the train from detroit to toronto was caught in a devastating turn of events: the train soon caught in fire and exploded as it made its way over the border. it has been confirmed that there has been 0 survivors. it is unclear whether this was an unfortunate accident or the result of anti-android terrorism. »

the other person’s voice poured through the speaker but he wasn’t listening. he stared blankly in front of him. no way, he thought, it couldn’t have been… the only sign that the android was registering the other man’s input was the now constant red LED.

« sir? sir. i’m sorry to bring this— – no, this isn’t right… you must have the wrong number, he interrupted. there were probably others with your name… maybe they were mistaken... – sir that’s not possible, w— – you must have gotten the wrong house… not… it-it couldn’t have been…» but he knew how improbable it was that they got the wrong number. he was built to be logical, to believe statistics. the statistics told him you were dead. long gone. he hoped and prayed that you stayed back, didn’t get on the earlier train. the statistics told him you did.

he choked out a response, quiet and defeated. you were gone. he’d never get to see you again. « i… i’m sorry… i-i don’t understand… – we tried our best to find them sir, but… the fire was too severe… if we gain any new developm— – you didn’t save them. »

still in a daze, he must have hung up on the poor man and unceremoniously dropped the phone. its clatter the only sound in this deafening silence. the reality of it all comes crashing through and he collapsed, ugly sobs escaping him as the denial faded away to make way for the pure and unfiltered grief. he felt lost. for the first time in a long while since amanda he felt so utterly and completely lost. no more shining beacon during his dark and stormy nights. no more valued affection and coveted kisses. no more notes and no more smile to come home to.

he laughed bitterly, devoid of any humour. it was funny, just how cruel the fates were: made human life so fleeting. lachesisonly gave them such a short eternity. and when he thought you both found your missing halves, bound to another by an invisible string, atropos cuts it. a small snippet that is so easily ripped away from you. he belonged with you, he felt at peace with you. he was able to be what he struggled to be for the majority of his miserable and artificial existence. with you, he was able to be happy.

but now he’ll have to get used to not coming home to a warm embrace. he’ll have to get used to going into stasis alone, in the cold bed. he’ll have to get used to his aching heart being greeted by an empty house. every cold and lonely  nights. it’s ridiculous how human he felt because of you. and he was both thankful and spiteful for it.

sadness and bitter regret ripped through him when he remembered that he didn’t  share goodbyes before he left. he remembered how he couldn’t have apologised to you and tenderly held you. he regretted not being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him for the last time. ra9 only knows the things he’d do and the things he’d sacrifice, just to have you in his arms again.

instead he was faced with the bitter reminder that the last thing he’s ever said to you, your last memory of him, was a contemptuous and scornful « i wished i never met you ».

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[baddyzarc]

4b/7 Ruins: Legend of the Dragons

1 2 3 4a x 5 6 7  

Part 2 of Mizael’s Ruins

Alright, I’m going to get into some deep lore in regards to the Zexal Universe and how Jinlon and Mizael and even Kaito fit into it.

To begin, the Universe was created by the Numeron Dragon eons ago. By doing this, the dragon used all of its power and will die as a result. Sad that it will never be able to witness its creation grow (which, you aint missing much, buddy), it shedded a single tear. This teardrop contained the Numeron Code, or the dragon’s knowledge, emotions, and the ability to rewrite the Universe. The Numeron Code landed on Earth. In the Zexal Universe, this was the event that created the Moon, which is also where the remaining fragments of the Numeron Dragon (in the form of “Number 100: Numeron Dragon’’) reside. Fearing that it’s powers would be used for evil, the Numeron Dragon hid the Code and placed a key on it.

According to Astral, the location of the Numeron Code is revealed when Numbers 1 to Numbers 100 is collected because of how it relates to his memory. But this causes some problems when it comes to the plot, but I’ll explain that later.

To awaken the sealed Numeron Dragon and obtain “Number 100″, the Numeron Dragon embedded a riddle into a stone tablet that Kaito found in the cave near Mizael’s ruins:

“Dragons of light and time, clash at thy place of birth. Then shall the eyes of the galaxies awaken for the first time, opening a gate to a new world.”

This riddle is rather straight-forward especially with the imagery used. The time dragon is “Number 107: Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon” and the light dragon is “Number 62: Galaxy-Eyes Prime Photon Dragon”. The place where they clash is the Moon (this is given to us via Jinlon), and the “eyes of the galaxies” is not the eyes of the Galaxy-Eyes Dragons, but of the Numeron Dragon itself.

By fulfilling the conditions of the riddle, the Numeron Dragon is able to reawaken for a brief moment to fix whatever shit its children got themselves into “open the gates to a new world”. I take that this means it grants the usage of the Numeron Code upon the winner. 

But the phrase that interests me is “clash at thy place of birth”. 

Now, this states that Tachyon Dragon and Photon Dragon were created on the surface of the Moon and they need to fight to awaken the Numeron Dragon. This may seem like an odd choice because we’re under the presumption that Tachyon Dragon was made by Don Thousand or that the Number Cards (including “Number 62: Galaxy-Eyes Prime Photon Dragon”) were made by Astral when his memories scattered. 

But I think you have to consider how the Moon was made in this show, what the dragons represent, and what the Numbers are.

Okay, to keep it simple, in real life 4.5 billion years ago, a huge rock crashed into Earth, pushing a bunch of debris into space. The debris conglomerate together over time to form the Moon; as such, the Moon is primarily made of Earthly materials. This is slightly different from Zexal’s story, with the Numeron Dragon’s teardrop playing the role of the huge rock. The outcome is more or less the same.

Alright, so from here, we can start to theorize about Photon Dragon and Tachyon Dragon’s relationship to the Moon, and how Dragluon plays into this. After all, Dragluon is one of the dragons of the stone tablet despite not having a place in the riddle.  

So what is the role of Dragloun exactly? And how did the Numeron Dragon anticipate the fight between the Barians and the Astrals (aside from being an omni-force). 

For starters, Dragluon goes all the way back to the “three worlds” that Zexal has.

The Three Worlds of Zexal is sorta like Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Heaven for Astral World, Hell for Barian World, and then Earth as the, well, the Earth. The land of the living where your actions decide your fate. 

However, from Don Thousand, we know that the Heaven and Hell bits aren’t true. Not exactly, but Barian World and Astral World appear to function like it. The actual descriptions for Astral and Barian World is a little simpler than Heaven and Hell.

Order and Disorder, Cosmos and Chaos, these are the true depictions of Astral and Barian World rather than Heaven and Hell (although it does have a very nice ring to it). And at the center of things is the middle man, a balance of both—Earth. You can’t have two sides of a coin without the edge, and the Earth is the glue connecting the opposing sides. And for the sake of simplifying this, I’m going to call the “power” of Earth as Parity. 

Parity is what happens when Chaos and Cosmos meet. This could be most easily seen in the Zexal Morphs, which are a combination of Astral, a creature of the Cosmos, and Yuma, who is confirmed to be a fragment of Don Thousand, of Chaos. Blues and Reds respectively.

I also want to note that the three primary colors are often associated with heroes, while secondary colors are often associated with villains (these are trends, not a concrete black-and-white concept). 

When Astral and Yuma work together, they glow the last and primary color, yellow, for their Zexal Morphs. But when they are in disequilibrium, they glow the secondary color purple (also the color you make when you mix red and blue). This shows that there could be a distinct relationship between how Chaos and Cosmos interact each other: the outcome could be very good and improves upon the characteristics of each. Or it could lead to relentless self-destruction.  

Of course, sometimes a door is red because it’s just red. Nasch’s main color is purple and Don Thousand’s final form has a yellowish glow, so perhaps all these colors have zero correlation to the characters at all. These are just some observations I made when it comes to depicting each world with their respective colors.

But this may be what the Numeron Dragon meant when it was afraid that the Numeron Code could fall into the wrong hands. Not Barians or Astrals specifically, but the people of the Cosmos or people of Chaos abusing the Code’s powers to wipe each other out. This is exactly what Eliphas wanted to do because he saw Chaos as impure and limiting as well as Don Thousand for about the same reason.

To prevent this travesty, the Numeron Dragon sealed the Numeron Code away with the final key to it being itself, or “Number 100: Numeron Dragon”.

“Thy place of birth” may not mean that the dragons were literally born on the surface of the Moon, but it may mean that the impact that made the Moon also led to the creation of Chaos and Cosmos and Parity. By extension, this is where the dragons were truly born. Think of it as a stardust type of thing. Yeah, we humans are born on Earth probably by another human, but our atoms and molecules and elements? Those were made up in space. Tachyon Dragon was made by Don Thousand, but the Chaos he used to forge Tachyon Dragon was made on the Moon.

But onto the Numbers since all the dragons are Numbers and they get complicated so bear with me.

Okey, disclaimer and anyone is welcome to challenge my stance on what exactly Numbers are because they are absolutely limitless. We have Astral’s memory Numbers, Over-Hundred Numbers, those bug Barians Numbers, Imaginary Numbers, Mythyrian Numbers, Chaos Numbers made by Shark, Yuma, the Arclights, maybe Number XX yeah that guy remember him,,, 

and the only explanation we get for them is that they amplify emotions and take on the form of the beholder’s desires. At least, the first 100 Numbers do. Anyways please do, I like reading interpretations on what these things are. 

So I’m going to try to explain how I see it. 

My first statement is that Numbers are not a direct product of the Astrals ot Astral. My guess is that Numbers are a general manifestation of power made with either Chaos, Cosmos, or Parity. The Original 100 (aka Astral’s Memory Numbers) is made by the Numeron Dragon, as opposed to the ones made Don Thousand, for example. This explains why the Numeron Dragon is “Number 100”. If it is included as one of Astral’s memories, it’s kinda blasphemous ngl. 

My conclusion came from a certain flaw in the show’s logic (which is fine bc its yugioh but im trying to knot things together here). The show states that Astral knows where the Numeron Code is, so when his memories got scattered, the location scattered with it in the form of the Numbers. However, it is never stated how Astral knows its location. Like, who told him that? Eliphas? The only creature that should know is the Numeron Dragon, and it’s dead. A possible explanation is that the Numeron Dragon placed the coordinates of the Numeron Code in the first 100 Numbers, and since Astral had the Numbers, he knew where it was. 

But yet, why are the Numbers so dangerous if they were made by a benevolent God? They’re made by a God, for starters. They’re supposed to be ultra powerful and unfit for mortal hands. 

And if the Numbers lead to the Numeron Code, it may be that the Numeron Dragon didn’t want someone who couldn’t handle the 100 Numbers to be handling the all-powerful source code. 

We also know that the Numbers tend to absorb a handful of stuff. The Mythyrian Numbers took in the Guardians and “Number 96: Black Mist” had a piece of Don Thousand stuck on it. It is likely that the Numbers absorbed Astral’s memories, so when they scattered, they took his memories with them rather than the other way around.

Furthermore, Astral’s Airship is kinda of an enigma. Like, what is it? Who built it? Why can it do things like store all 100 Numbers as well as track down certain Numbers. If the Numbers are just Astral’s memories, how are they able to fit into the slots on the Airship, which isn’t part of Astral memories?

To go along with the Numbers being separate from Astral, it’s easy to say the Astral World built the Airship to harness the Numbers’ powers and knowledge. So it is likely that the mechanism behind the Airship was how Astral was going to find Numeron Code.

But simply put, Astral World probably collected most of the first 100 Numbers before the Barians did, created Astral and the Airship using the Numbers with the goal of fighting Don Thousand or going to Earth to find the Numeron Code so they could wipe out Barian World. Kinda like Silvally but he kills Barians. His original battle with Don Thousand and Kazuma’s meddling caused Astral to lose all the Number Cards he had (and since his only purpose and identity is tied to the Numbers, he lost all of his memories as well), allowing the Barians to scramble in to try to collect them before the Astrals can. This is why some Numbers were in the hands of the Barians, like “Numbers 80: Madness-Draped Supreme King - Rhapsody in Berserk” and “Numbers 58: Flame Pressure Demon - Burner Visor”

The Number Cards do not belong to either party; it just happened that Astral World managed to get them and use their powers first. This becomes important when we talk about Jinlon later.

The biggest plot hole that I can pick up is because of “Number 100: Numeron Dragon”. Astral definitely should not have that one. Astral might’ve gotten 99 at the very most, then lost the Mythyrians, Numeron Gates, and some other cards to Don Thousand, then the rest when he crashed into Yuma. 

It is possible that he never had all 100 Numbers, but who knows.

But back to the dragons:

“Number 100: Numeron Dragon″ can only be obtained when the “dragons of light and time clash” fight each other on the Moon. 

Mizael said that since the condition requires a Barian (or a Chaos) dragon, then the Numeron Code belongs to the Barians. 

And he’s about half right. The condition does requires a Chaos dragon, but I say that it also requires a Cosmos dragon and a Parity Dragon as well.

Cosmos and Chaos took shape in the form of Photon Dragon and Tachyon Dragon. Tachyon Dragon is obviously a creature born from the powers of Chaos while Photon Dragon is harder to pick up, but it is directly stated that it uses the power of the Astrals, or Cosmos.

And why as dragons? Ehh The Numeron Dragon is a dragon, and what better way than to battle in the image of the Creator. (also dragons are sick af)

The most peculiar concept is that the last Number can only be accessed when the Cosmos and Chaos are actively fighting against each other, and it’s strange to think that the Numeron Dragon would set up the situation where the strongest object in the Universe can only be achieved through war. 

But this is exactly where Dragluon, Jinlon, and Parity fit into this legend.

Dragluon (and Jinlon by association) are the representatives for Parity. 

Dragluon is often represented with the yellow colors of Earth in a similar manner of base-form Photon Dragon using the blues of Astral World or base-form Tachyon Dragon using the reds of Barian World. These are the three dragons representing the Three Worlds.

Unlike the other two, Jinlon/Dragluon is like a neutral observer. He is the balance sitting between Kaito and Mizael to watch the battle unfold and judge it.

It isn’t a coincidence that Dragluon is one of the dragons required to awaken the powers of the Numeron Dragon. If the dragon representing the balance between the two other worlds was not present to witness the battle, it is unlikely that the last Number would reveal itself, thus locking access to the key and Numeron Code. 

Also, the Moon itself is composed mainly of Earthly materials. Since the Earth is represented as Parity, the Moon is a neutral ground for the clash between Chaos and Cosmos. It does not favor the victory of one or the other (Jinlon got involved in the duel to awaken Mizael’s true memories, but other than that, he did not interrupt the flow of the duel between the Galaxy-Eyes. Mizael’s resolve as a Barian Emperor did not change with this encounter). 

Although situational, the presence of Parity also explains certain phenomenons that occurrs in areas where it’s presence is the strongest, particularly at Mizael’s ruins/Dragluon’s home and the Moon. Astral’s ship stopped working, Orbital 7 (whose energy supply runs on Barianite) couldn’t function properly, and Mizael cannot tap into his Barian powers.

The Moon appears to have the same effect on the characters until they enter the battle-zone, where the clashing parties are allowed to fight. Parity neutralizes the effects of Cosmos and Chaos. 

As to why Jinlon ascended into the role as the Mythyrian Number and the representative for Parity, I have a small theory for that. 

Jinlon is a divine dragon who is much older than the show made him out to be. I reckon that he was one of the first life made by the Numeron Dragon (image of god, you know) and he stated that he witnessed the original battle between Astral and Don Thousand. 

His choice of wording here is telling. He shows obvious disdain towards the war on both sides, and I think this intensified after his encounter with Mizael. 

Going back to the origins of Mizael, I want to talk about the colors of the Three Worlds once more. Now, I truly do not know if this is intentional, but the flashback to Mizael’s childhood has heavy usage of the blue, red, and yellow color palette.    

When Mizael fled from the massacred village, the village lighted up due to the flames burning his home to the ground down while the surrounding sand was blue due to the darkness of the night. In this sense, Mizael is running from the source of his anger and sadness into freedom and safety, or from disorder to order. But the deeper he went in, the desert proved to not be the safe place he desired. The desert shifted between the intense Barian reds and Astral blues as Mizael transversed the landscape. 

And Mizael was dying during these scenes. It’s almost as though he’s being persuaded into two worlds; either ascend with grief to become a Barian, or let it all go to become an Astral. 

It was Jinlon who came to save Mizael. Like, I feel like I’m repeating myself a lot, but Jinlon appeared to Mizael with the colors of Parity. He engulfed Mizael in it and prevented him from entering either of the worlds too soon. Jinlon is a being who exists outside of Barian and Astral World’s conflicts. 

This is why he became Dragluon. Jinlon is already a creature of Parity with or without his association to Dragluon, and thus his death and closeness to the Mythyrian Number + Mizael resulted in his attachment to “Number 46: Ethereal Dragon Dragluon”, the ultimate dragon representing Parity. 

To that whole bit with the Astral’s Numbers, this is why Dragluon being made from Astral’s memories, as well as the other stuff I stated, doesn’t make much sense. (Maybe without the meddling of Don Thousand, instead of becoming an Astral when he died, Mizael may have shared a fate similar to Jinlon and been reborn as a creature of Parity given how often he is associated with the yellow colors. Maybe, just thinking).

As a neutral force, Jinlon leads the dragon-tamers down what they think is the correct path for the future. 

Aside from being convenient to the plot, Jinlon spends time with Kaito and Mizael. And likewise, Mizael and Kaito are characters who tether dangerously close to the line between Cosmos and Chaos. Kaito starts off as a heartless, cold killer, after all, and Mizael is strange for an antagonist; even going as far as fighting Don Thousand, the actual villain of the show (but most of the barians are like this for a reason that I’ll explain once I get to Vector). Although Mizael is massively arrogant and despises humans, he also commended the Arclights for sacrificing themselves, and he puts his true heart and loyalty out for the Barians. To add onto this, after acquiring his true memories, Mizael is adamant that he is still a creature of Chaos, and so he fights for Barian World despite his past leading him to be an Astral.

Yes, this isn’t a single case either. Alito was the first to recognize his past as a true Astral, yet he continues to fight for Barian World. Nasch is the strongest case for this, as he willingly chose to be a Barian. Chaos is not synonymous with evil. 

But back to Mizael. Mizael is someone who is dead-set on being a Barian no matter the circumstance. He fights for Barian World from what he knows of that world. He knows that his people aren’t evil (look, Barian World got Iris, alright) and he knows that Barian World is where his cherished allies and companions live. He lived as a Barian Emperor for possibly thousands of years. His commitment and love for dragons is also his most commendable trait. Mizael is a man who puts his trust in dragons, good or bad. Despite being a creature of Chaos, he also bears certain Cosmos traits. 

The same could be said for Kaito too. Kaito is supposed to be of the Cosmos as indicated by his usage of Prime Photon Dragon, yet his passion is much weaker than Mizael. Bluntly put, Kaito is selfish. The show states this. He uses Photon Dragon not out of respect for dragons but because it ended up being the easiest path to save Haruto and Dr. Faker. He lacks the heart that would make him a true Astral. 

The characters change. 

Mizael sheds a tear for an enemy, a repulsive human of all things, and Kaito wants them to meet again one day not as enemies but as friends. 

They represent both worlds, but they can meet in the middle too.

This nuisance is why I think Jinlon exists as the creature guiding them towards this fight. He brings out the Parity between Cosmos and Chaos. He not only finds two souls that represent both worlds, but also how both worlds can intermix. 

And hey, Kaito won the Moon Duel, essentially winning the future for Astral World. But it was Mizael who made it out alive. In a way, there was no true winner of the Moon Duel.

I wanna get back to this image right here.  

I could talk about how Tachyon Dragon is based on tachyon particles, which are hypothetical particles faster than light, and how Photon Dragon represents light through photon particles, or how Dragluon is based off of gluons, the elementary exchange particles that are essential for the force binding neutrons and protons together, the atoms that make matter and life possible.

But you know um. I’m actually not that smart and am not qualified to talk about those relationships.

Yet, I think it’s telling that the three dragons representing the Three Worlds emit a yellow glow as they awaken the Numeron Dragon.

When the Numeron Dragon made the Universe and the Numeron Code, it did not want a clash between Cosmos and Chaos to see who deserves to survive. It didn’t want its creations to destroy each other. It wanted them to clash on the Moon so they can prove that despite the war, despite the hatred, despite the meddling, both sides are capable of finding Parity, that peace is possible between them, that Kaito and Mizael can meet eye-to-eye and sympathize with each other.  The dragons were no longer fighting as Cosmos or Chaos but as Parity.

The Numeron Dragon will only grant access to the Numeron Code to the persons that are worthy of it. In the end, Mizael and Kaito were both worthy of obtaining “Number 100: Numeron Dragon” because they proved themselves as people capable of Parity. 

Call me a dreamer, but I think that’s why the final fight belongs to the characters that represent the Three Worlds. Nasch of the Barians, Kaito who wields the power of the Astrals, and not Yuma or Astral but Zexal III, the strongest combination of Chaos and Cosmos. 

These three worlds are able to work together to defeat Don Thousand, a person who would’ve used the Numeron Code for only destruction and personal gain. 

Kaito and Zexal III (although I’m not sure if this is different from Yuma and Astral as individuals, ceremonial duel and all) is explanatory in their stance on Parity, but Nasch is the outlier since he would’ve used the Numeron Code to destroy Astral World, or maybe he has some other motive if he had won the duel. Nasch saw the destruction of Astral World as a necessary evil for the survival of Barian World, but he also seemed okay with losing. It’s possible that he might’ve found a different way for all worlds to coexist had he won. So does the duel with Nasch afterwards ruin the duel with Don Thousand? Who knows. That depends on what value you see from that duel. 

(And not to get into a rant, but part of me wished the final boss was a Dark-Zexal-esque Morph between Eliphas and Don Thousand, the corrupted combination of two Gods with selfish intents fighting against Nasch, Zexal III, and Kaito. Like mmmm) 

I derailed quite a bit from talking about Jinlon and Mizael and the Ruins, but I find it so fascinating how much these two characters reveal about the world of Zexal.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Touch

Summary: Jaebum knew what you meant to him from the first time he saw you. That didn’t stop him from wanting to touch you to confirm you as his soulmate. Though touching you made him lose you from his life. Would he find you again?

Pairing: Im Jaebum x reader (ft. Park Jinyoung)

Genre: soulmate au / angst / romance

Warnings: Doctor Park apparently cannot help himself and reappears >_> (none)

A/N: So here it is, the long awaited, final spinoff to the Destined world. When I introduced Officer Im in To Love You, a lot of you wanted to know more about his journey with his soulmate. I dubbed her Kat in that story, which makes this special because I’ve written this story for my wonderful friend @listlessmaenads‘s birthday… I’m sorry it took so long, but I hope it is worth the wait.

Word count: 7408

This is part of the Destined world. You can read this without the knowledge of the series, but to tie it altogether, I recommend reading the others in the series linked below.

Destined series: Destined // To Love You // Forever 

It was ironic. Everyone would always talk about when you met your soulmate. There was hardly any discussion of what would happen after, outside of the typical happily ever after scenario.

Because you were meant to be with your destined partner forever.

Perhaps the lack of information was why Jaebum struggled now. There was nothing to tell him what to do without you. Sure, he wasn’t completely naïve. There were people who met their soulmates and lost them through accidents or poor health. That was just life. At least then, the remaining partner is left with a final answer. Your soulmate wouldn’t come back to life and you would continue in this world in the best way you saw fit.

But you hadn’t died. You were still out there somewhere.

That was why he struggled. How was Jaebum meant to go on without you in his world, when you had so easily become everything he lived for?

“Y/N, don’t go over there!” a voice called out sternly and Jaebum stared at you on the other side of the fence to the kindergarten play yard, your own eyes desperate to see why everyone behind him sounded so happy. This wasn’t your first time standing there watching as all the children played together energetically. Sometimes you would cry, begging the adult who would come to collect you that you wanted to play too. You were always dragged away, screaming and kicking until you were no longer within his sight.

And each time Jaebum would come over to the fence, wishing he had some way to break you free from your confines and help sneak you into the playground.

He couldn’t play when he saw you looking so miserable.

Over the weeks, he had learned a little more about you. If he was quick enough to reach you before the adults did, he would talk to you or offer you gifts. He once gave you his favourite rock that he had been carrying around in his pocket ever since he found it. And in return, you gave him one of your cat-themed hair clips with a smile.

“Keep it safe for me,” you instructed as you slipped it through the fence and tossed it into his open palms, smiling brightly. “One day, I’ll come in there and then I’ll take it back, okay?”

You never did make it into the kindergarten grounds, but when Jaebum started his third year of school, he recognised you immediately as you walked into his classroom. And as your eyes nervously scanned the faces within the room, when you settled on his, you smiled.

Jaebum grinned back at you and that was the start of your budding friendship.

“So you can’t come to my birthday party?” he asked sadly, and you didn’t respond, lowering your head instead. Jaebum didn’t like when your long hair fell like a veil over your face and he instinctively reached out to shift it aside, but you were faster, scooting away from his touch and blinking back your emotions rapidly.

He winced and tried to cheer you up. “It’s okay. I could bring you some birthday cake to school.”

“You would do that for me?” you asked, staring back at him wide-eyed.

“Of course!”

“Why?”

Jaebum frowned. “Because we’re friends.”

A small smile crossed your lips and you repeated the word several times over, liking the sound of it rolling off your tongue. “We’re really friends, right?”

“I just said we are.”

“One day, when I ask you to, would you help your friend escape?” you asked earnestly and despite his age, Jaebum knew you were serious about it. He watched as you pleaded with him silently, your eyes begging him to agree.

He nodded, smiling at you. “I’ll do anything to help you, Y/N.”

Over the years, Jaebum realised that your family weren’t mean people as he once believed of them to be; rather you were from the richest family in this town. It meant that you were treated like a prized possession and subsequently denied the same experiences Jaebum had in fear you would be tarnished in some way. He was actually surprised you weren’t home-schooled with how strict your family were about everything when it came to you. Every day you were chaperoned to and from school, with zero time after the end of the school day to hang out with friends. It made it hard for you to keep up with the happenings of the people around you and eventually, led to you shutting off from attempting to remain on friendly terms with most of your classmates.

Except with Jaebum, of course.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“No, I think annoying you will suffice.”

You couldn’t hide the small smile that graced your lips, though you moved away from him when he tried to flick a crumb from your lunch off your uniform. Some things had never changed. From the first time Jaebum met you as a child, to now as middle-schoolers, not once had you actually touched him. Or anyone for that matter. You had an exemption from team projects and had successfully avoided physical connection with anyone. He had asked you about it once, and you had mentioned you would be in grave trouble if your parents ever found out you had allowed yourself to touch another human.

“But why? Are they scared you’ll meet your soulmate and run away?” he had joked but the sincerity in your expression made Jaebum realise that was exactly it.

Now and then, he wanted to test the barrier between you. Surely, you couldn’t spend the rest of your life not touching another person. And so, as usual, whenever Jaebum found you alone in the library, he leaned in closer to you, the lack of space not allowing you to move away.

“Jaebum,” you warned as he stared at you, his eyes falling captive with soaking you in.

Just as he had done as a child, his own habit of getting lost staring at you hadn’t changed once. He could do this all day long. In fact, his grades last year had suffered from his inability to stop staring at you.

You let out a huff of air. “Jaebum, you’re doing it again.”

“Does it bother you?” he murmured and you blinked a couple of times, chewing on your lip in thought. He leaned in even closer and for a moment, he actually thought your bodies might brush up against each other with the close proximity he now held. It made him anxious, as if every cell within his body was on high alert. Jaebum never knew why he was so fascinated with the idea of being the first person you reached out for, but it was a goal all the same. He yearned to hold your hand and let you know it was safe to do so.

Reality knocked on you both, or in this case rang, the end of lunch bell signalled the afternoon classes were about to begin. He leapt back in fright, whining when he smacked his leg into the side of the table you were both seated at. You seemed just as afflicted as he was with his pain before giggling lightly. “Serves you right.”

“Don’t laugh at my pain.”

“Why not? You were pushing the boundaries.”

Jaebum stared at you. “Do you plan on never touching anyone?”

You didn’t reply, avoiding his gaze. Jaebum stepped into your view, walking backwards towards your classroom. You held out a hand towards him and shook it. “Move before you fall.”

“Why, if I trip, will you just let me fall?”

“What is wrong with you today? Can’t you respect my wishes?”

A wry smile crossed his lips. “Are they really yours?”

“Jaebum, come on, stop it.”

“I’m doing nothing wrong!”

You attempted to step around him and he sidestepped to block your escape, his chuckle outdoing your grumble. You glared at him. “You’re not funny.”

“Not trying to be.”

“Why does it matter so much if you touch me or not?!” you asked exasperatedly and he stopped moving altogether, your stop unstable as not to bang into him. You teetered on your heels, eyes wide with your lack of balance.

Jaebum put his arms out to catch you before you fell, though you staggered back, avoiding his offer and instead heavily banged into the wall beside you. He groaned as if he felt the pain himself.

Neither of you spoke for a minute, both staring at each other as the emotions flooded you. He could see how bothered you were, but fear outweighed your annoyance. He was surprised and hurt by your avoidance, and his chest felt restricted from your open rejection.

It was more painful this time around. Especially since he knew what you were to him. Jaebum was certain of it.

Collecting himself, he shrugged and turned on his heel, stalking away from you. “Jaebum!”

“Don’t bother, maybe I’m wrong.”

It was the longest period of time since you had re-entered his world that Jaebum had gone without talking to you. Part of him felt it was petty, and it probably was. He had respected your wishes for so many years now, so why could he no longer accept it? He didn’t want to admit it mattered to him whether you let him touch you or not. Because it did mean something. When you were in pain, and he experienced a similar sensation at the same time had been enough to start cementing the idea in his mind. Some nights, Jaebum would lay upon his bed and think back to the very start, of when he would rush over to the kindergarten fence to greet you. He had no real reason to. He hadn’t ever been a curious child; he just went with the flow and did what the majority of his peers would. And none of them came over to see who you were.

Just him.

He had been fascinated with you for years.

Fascination had its limitations without further knowledge though and Jaebum was frustrated. It irked him that you would openly avoid him, the one constant in your world. If he didn’t know how much you cherished his friendship just by gazing into your eyes to see the warmth they held for him, he would have given up by now. Just like everyone else had. You were too closed off from the world for most people to handle.

And even if, to him, you felt like an open book some days, Jaebum was starting to realise he had limited access to how you truly felt. It hurt more than it should and that was the real reason he hadn’t spoken to you in three weeks. He was embarrassed that he had given you every part of himself and received little in return.

That was why he ignored your calls out to him, bowing his head low to avoid you seeing his emotions rise on his face as he did so. It pained him to witness the sadness in your eyes, and if he didn’t see it, the ache in his chest wouldn’t get any larger than it already was. There was no real winner in this situation, your misery, whether he saw it or not, would cast over his world like a gloomy day took away the sunshine.

But Jaebum was learning about his pride. He needed to stand up for himself before he fell at your feet completely.

For another week, Jaebum managed to avoid you until you confronted him finally, not letting him pass you by. “Are you really sulking over this?”

He didn’t reply, merely jutting out his jaw in petulance, annoyance rising in his chest at your term. Jaebum didn’t see it as sulking, he had a right to be offended, hurt by your lack of trust in him.

As if you read his thoughts, you leaned down so you could catch his gaze, softening your expression a little. He couldn’t help but stare back at you greedily. Had he really not looked at you over the last month? You didn’t look as bright as you once did and his chest ached heavily.

“I trust you with my entire life, Im Jaebum.”

Glancing up properly, he swallowed roughly back the multitude of feelings that rushed to the surface from your sentence. Jaebum wasn’t ready to smile and give in to your whims, even if he wanted to. It was hard to force back the immediate elation, to challenge you instead. Yet he managed to shrug, seemingly nonchalant. “Sure you do.”

“You don’t believe me?” you asked, half-whispered, and he had to close his eyes before your first tear rolled down your cheeks. “You’re the only person in my life that I know I want to be around forever.”

He couldn’t answer this time, not because of annoyance, but the lump in his throat from hearing your shaky voice had rendered him unable to. You seemed to notice this and coughed back the rest of your emotions, clearing your throat before continuing.

“I think you’re my soulmate too.”

Your announcement rocked Jaebum’s world and for a moment he was stunned, before he propelled himself forward, eager to find out if you truly were. Touch was all that was left on his list to cement your connection and it still eluded him as you took a step back, heaving a little with his sudden approach. You shot him a smile. “I know we’re soulmates, Jaebum. Which is why I need you to trust in me. Give me some time to figure out how to deal with the impending consequences of when I let you touch me.”

“What consequences?”

For a moment you didn’t respond, though your cheeks had flared up with colour. Whatever you were imagining now had him uneasy, kicking the toe of his shoe slowly across the tile of the floor. He started to think of what would happen after connection and his boyish fantasies of kissing you flooded to the forefront of his mind. His face felt hot now. “Oh, uh… oh.”

You giggled and nodded slowly. “I don’t think holding your hand would be the best thing for me to do right now. Even though I want to. Because I think if I did, I wouldn’t be able to let go. And with how my family is…”

You stopped for a moment, the wash of concern erasing your happiness. After chewing your wobbly lip for a moment, you braved him a watery smile. “I just don’t want them to take me away from you.”

Jaebum knew he would wait for as long as he had to now. You were right, even if he craved it like no other, physical connection wasn’t needed to confirm what his heart and mind already had.

You were his already.

With the promise of adulthood almost around the corner, your relationship shifted dramatically. Surprisingly, neither of you had succumbed to teenage desires, though there definitely had been some close calls. Perhaps it was due to your extremely limited access to the outside world still, with school being your only escape from your home on the hill. Jaebum had exclaimed that it should be a crime to keep someone captive when there was so much to see and experience. And whilst you would always joke about being a princess locked in your tower, Jaebum was never able to become a knight in shining armour for you.

Until one afternoon.

“What did you just say?” he uttered, eyes blown wide at your suggestion.

Your recklessness was evident in your gaze, and you stifled a giggle. “Let’s go now.”

“Where, to Art class? That’s where-”

“No.” You shook your head, stepping closer to him and halting his ability to breathe. “I want to go somewhere other than classes. Let’s ditch the afternoon.”

“Are you the Y/N I’ve known for years now or did something possess you?” he wondered and you rolled your eyes, stalking down the hallway towards the exit. Jaebum jogged to catch up to you, fingering his car keys within his pocket. Being at school without you there didn’t appeal to him anyway.

However, he stopped once you were both standing by his car, looking at you hesitantly. Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t as if you were two delinquents who did this often. Nor was he some honour roll student who followed the school rules like some mantra. No, he was just a regular student who could make exceptions for you.

“Open the car, Jae.”

He wanted to ask you if you knew the implications of what was about to occur. As he unlocked the doors and climbed inside, he knew this wasn’t some spur of the moment rebellion. You had clearly been planning this. Jaebum had just been blind to what occupied your thoughts for some time.

Any hesitation evaporated as soon as he ignited the engine and pulled out of the school lot.

Jaebum took you to the beach.

If there had been one place he wanted to take you to first, this was it. The weather wasn’t all that warm, which meant there was no one else around. You smiled before you stepped out onto the sand, soon dancing through the dunes and over to the water. You played together as children would, frolicking around and kicking water at each other. Your laughter was swept away with the wind and soon the air was sending a chill down each of your backs. Still, you remained at the beach, now walking side by side along the edge of the water in silence.

Words weren’t needed right now. It was the first time he had ever been alone with you. No fellow students, teachers, parents, it was as if this endless beach belonged to you both. The waves crashed and rolled in closer to you both, a threat lingering further out at sea. The impending consequence on the horizon. It was too far out for it to be a sole focus now, up here where the waves were gentler. And without any warning, he felt it.

Your hand slipped into his effortlessly, as if it was made to fit seamlessly against his. He held it instantly, feeling more purpose within that action than anything else in his life. The shy smile that crossed your lips spread his own out wide.

And by the time you were heading back to his car, lips on lips were all you and he could think of.

“We should go before we do something more.”

“We should do it all today,” you refuted, your gaze flitting from his eyes to his mouth for the umpteenth time. Jaebum’s followed suit, wondering if you would taste as good as your cherry lips looked.

“Is there something I should know about? Some magical clock ticking over our heads rushing us? Will you be locked away for good after this?”

He shouldn’t have joked about it and when you laughed and shook your head in response, it was careless of you not to consider that there was another hand in this relationship. Already suffocating out the air that had started to overflow on this day.

Still, the focus was there. Why were you so eager to kiss him? Just holding your hand had every sense alive within him. What would happen when his lips met yours? He craved the knowledge, yet didn’t actively reach for it either. He had gotten all too used to waiting on your permission to move across this board. He followed his queen around as the knight he had been destined to become.

“Don’t you think we’ve waited far too long?”

“Might I remind you, I was eager to do this a long time ago.”

You smirked. “I remember. I thought becoming a teenager would make you more reckless though.”

“Are you claiming I’m tamed?”

Shrugging, you giggled as you turned away from him, moving towards his car. Jaebum followed, as he always did. Yet this time, he stopped you from getting inside, entrapping you against the door with a hand on either side of your head. You chewed your luscious lips with anticipation and a groan rumbled from within his chest.

“I can be reckless too,” he informed, pressing his lips firmly on yours. Sparks flew much like your hair was within the wind. He let his hands fall from the doorframe to smooth down your tresses, slipping to the nape of your neck as the kiss deepened.

His soul was hungry for more and you weren’t holding back from offering it. Your hands gripped tightly to his shoulder blades, burning the skin that laid underneath them with your touch. It was overwhelming and when he finally pulled away, it wasn’t for anything more than a need for air.

Your eyes were shot and your lips were swollen. In his mind, you had never looked this beautiful before. Tenderly reaching up to cup his cheek, you smiled. “I love you, Jaebum.”

“I’ve always loved you,” he replied, kissing you again and again.

When the wind had settled, so had you both, climbing into his car and driving around aimlessly. The skies turned multihued, striking colours before your eyes and then the night enveloped the sun, littering the heavens with stars. You found a place to eat, and the skill to do so whilst never letting go of one another. And then you directed him to a place just on the outskirts of town, surprising him of your knowledge when he had been certain you never left your home except for school.

Smiling, you jumped out of the car and headed towards the abandoned home, entering it as if you owned it. And like usual, Jaebum followed you in.

“Should we be in here?”

“Should we go home?” you countered and Jaebum tilted his head to the side, giving in to your smile yet again. You grinned and placed down your bag. He hadn’t noticed you bring it inside, nor had he seen how full it was today. Unzipping it, you pulled out a blanket and laid it down on the floor before sitting on it. “Whilst you played in playgrounds, I spent my time up here. This is my grandmother’s home.”

He looked around the vacant space for more answers, frowning as he sat down beside you. “Why has it been let go?”

“She wasn’t the reason for our wealth. My mother was born poor, and my grandmother was ill when I was a child.” Leaning back on your arms, you seemed lost in fond memories of what this place once was. “My happiest moments were in this house.”

“You mean, you haven’t been happy with me?”

Looking over at him, you shook your head. “Not until today.”

Jaebum could understand. The shackles around you meant experiencing true feelings would have been hard for you. He was certain you had never smiled as much as you had done so today. Staring around at the darkened living space, he pointed to a clear colour difference on the wall. “What was once there?”

“A family portrait.”

He asked more questions and you answered them, your bodies naturally getting tangled in the process. With your head resting on his shoulder and his arm holding you to his side, the questions slowly stopped mattering. Kisses began again, the addiction ever present with every caress of his mouth on yours. Desire licked at his abdomen, and tightened his pants. Jaebum groaned when your leg inadvertently passed over his affected area and you sat back, blinking slowly.

Embarrassment heated his skin. “It’s just that uh, well, you do things to me.”

“Should I do more?” you offered, and the intense gaze you held weakened his resolve. Were you really insinuating you went all the way tonight? Glancing away, at the house you had brought him to, he understood why you were both here now.

Jaebum brushed the hair away from your face. “Tonight is all we have?”

“I won’t let it stop here, but if there is a chance that this is our only open window for some time, I want to do everything.”

“I wasn’t as prepared as you have been, you should have given me some warning,” he admitted and you smiled encouragingly, reaching over for your bag again. You retrieved a foil package and he shot you an inquisitive look. Your cheeks flushed with colour. “I made sure I had everything for today, just in case.”

Jaebum took over from there, ensuring you felt everything you possibly could whilst the night grew darker outside. And just before dawn, you drove back in silence, Jaebum finally pulling up outside where you lived. He didn’t want to let you go, his gut instinct reluctant to even stop the car.

You smiled and leaned over to kiss him. “We don’t end here.”

“I’m just worried. Maybe we should run away. If we leave and never return, no one can tear us apart.”

“No one can now anyway,” you assured, kissing him again. “Not after how we spent tonight.”

He couldn’t hold back his smile, nodding once in agreement. You heaved a deep breath before you finally let him go, slipping out of the car and into the gated residence.

You weren’t at school the next day. Nor the following day either. In fact, for an entire week, you held no appearance in his world, as if the night shared together had somehow snuffed you out of his existence when daylight came. He drove to your neighbourhood often, watching for movement within the home.

Yet there was nothing.

Jaebum didn’t go to school on Monday. He couldn’t face it without you there. And when the doorbell rang, he didn’t shift from his bed to answer it either. It wasn’t until his Mum entered his room and handed him a package that he stirred away from his heavy thoughts. “Were you waiting on something?”

Glancing at the handwriting on the box, Jaebum sat up, taking it immediately from her and opening it hastily. He stopped moving altogether when he saw the contents. Inside laid a rock he had once carried with him every day as a child. And beside it laid a note.

Find me.

“Get in here!” a voice instructed and the sounds of a drunken protest filled the early morning within the station. Jaebum chuckled to himself yet didn’t look up to see what was going on, his gaze glued to the computer system in front of him.

Much like it always was.

“Why are you apprehending me? I am not someone who needs to be brought here!”

“That’s what they all say and yet it’s for your own good. A night in the cell will sober you right up and you won’t think of causing such a scene again,” the officer scolded tiredly, the sounds of the small cell in the corner opening and shutting following his words. And then the constable came over and slumped into the chair beside Jaebum. “Has it been busy?”

“Only a dispatch for a traffic offence but the neighbouring station picked it up instead.”

“I hate working the graveyard shift on a Saturday,” his colleague mentioned with a groan and Jaebum merely smiled. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the proclamation and it wouldn’t be the last.

However, Jaebum had no issues with working through the night. Sometimes, it would be busier than tonight and whilst he preferred being parked up at the front desk taking down complaints and sorting out minor disputes, getting out into the neighbourhood was welcomed when he felt the dread of being unsuccessful settle into his chest.

“Listen here!” the drunkard demanded and Jaebum quirked an eyebrow before turning to face the apprehended man. He was surprised to see someone of similar age within the cell, his tousled designer dress pants and shirt looking out of place behind bars. The raven haired man pointed a finger directly at him. “I need to find her okay? I won’t stop until I find her!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’ve been saying that over and over but you know what? You can’t find someone who you don’t have in your phone to ring, mate.”

Jaebum glanced at the fellow officer. “Who is he looking for?”

“Beats me, he’s been ranting on about lost love the whole way over here. I reckon he’s broken up with his girlfriend and gotten drunk over it or something.”

The man in the cell laughed a little too much in response. “How dare you address my soulmate as a mere girlfriend!”

Jaebum couldn’t help but look back at the man. He looked broken, despair filling his features as he crouched down in the corner by the bed. Cupping his face within his hand, he began to cry, rocking back and forth in his position.

“I miss her! I should have told her I wanted to be in her life. I would do anything to find her!”

Jaebum slowly turned to the screen in front of him. Records and previous searches stared back at him, your name in various forms attempted without any leads. He hadn’t found you in years. Not when he was without power had a trace been left to follow and after working hard to become a police officer, ten years after your disappearance from his world, Jaebum was still without you.

He wondered if he would ever find you.

After some time, the station grew silent, bar the heavy snoring of his partner. Jaebum needed a break from the chair he had been seated in for all too long and headed into the staff room, making himself a cup of coffee. Nights like these were hard to get by. When it was quiet, he would search for you. The data was endless, but whenever he felt he was close, the details wouldn’t match. He was certain by now that your family had changed your name, making it impossible for him to find you.

Why had they taken you away? What harm did he pose to your life? Still, after all these years, he couldn’t understand. He thought back to his childhood belief that your family were cruel people, not having anything else to go on. They had plucked you up, using their wealth and status to disappear without a trace.

Pouring a second cup of coffee, Jaebum dejectedly headed back out into the main floor of the station, his eyes going towards the man in the cell. He was no longer crying or protesting, instead, he remained silent on the floor, staring at nothing in particular.

His brooding felt similar and Jaebum cleared his throat to garner his attention. “Park Jinyoung?”

Holding out the coffee, the man got up and thanked him softly for the beverage through the bars. Jaebum didn’t shift away, watching as he drank some of the bitter drink and attempted to think of something to say.

Jinyoung beat him to it. “Have you ever felt as if, no matter what you do, you can’t get back what you let go of in the past?”

“Every day,” Jaebum responded, and Jinyoung glanced up at him in surprise.

He then sighed heavily. “I’m sure you’re not as foolish as I once was.”

“Well, getting drunk over your pain is something a lot of people experience in life. A police officer isn’t immune to it either.”

“I let her go before even giving it a shot. You’d think I would have been able to move on by now, yet every day my heart aches for her.”

“Some people just affect you for the rest of your life,” Jaebum mentioned softly and the man nodded in agreement. “It’s been some time since I saw my soulmate too.”

Jinyoung swallowed his mouthful and then frowned. “Did you lose her?”

“Not in the way most people do.”

“She’s still alive?”

Jaebum nodded.

At least, he was certain you were. Now and then, he would feel the emotions he would whenever you were in pain or upset, though they were dull in comparison to when he was able to see you every day. It led Jaebum to believe you were still out there, the only fuel he had left towards his endless search of you.

“How do you find someone you only know so little about?” Jinyoung wondered, his dark gaze turning earnest. “Can you find someone by a name?”

“In theory.”

“As an officer, shouldn’t you be able to access a database that lists the majority of society on it? Everyone has a record, right? Social numbers, health identifiers, shouldn’t they lead you to the person? An easy search, right?”

Jaebum chuckled, shrugging bitterly. “People can change information. If they don’t want to be found, they can remain that way.”

“Of course, this world is twisted after all.”

“Is your soulmate alive too?” Jaebum questioned and Jinyoung nodded. The man proceeded to tell Jaebum of his ill-fated meeting, the premature departure of his destined partner from his world and the consequences thereafter. He sympathised with the doctor, knowing some of the pain that he carried around daily.

It was the same Jaebum carried for you.

In return, Jaebum explained his own situation and by the end of it, Jinyoung felt more like a comrade than anything else. Jaebum’s shift ended when he opened up the cell, and instead of parting ways, he offered to buy breakfast.

Jinyoung looked up through his meal midway. “Even if it’s a small chance, you’ll actually search for her for me?”

“It’s my duty to serve the nation and help them with their needs,” Jaebum mentioned with a grin, Jinyoung’s lips curling up with renewed hope.

“Anything is worth a go. I need to right my wrongs,” he admitted and Jaebum nodded. After a few more mouthfuls, the man looked up again, his smile spreading over his lips. “I have a way to find someone as well, you know.”

“I’m listening.”

“Medical records have personal information on them. I’m not saying I’ll find anything, but I can certainly look it up. Here, I’ll give you my card. Message me all the formations of Y/N’s name and her date of birth. I’ll check it once I’m at work tomorrow.”

The elation of making his new connection with Jinyoung was short-lived. Jaebum had known better, but the hope he felt over another possible path forward had lent him too much with no return.

Not that he had been successful with finding Jinyoung’s soulmate either.

For the following months, the pair met regularly. It was comforting to finally have someone who understood the pain Jaebum held within his chest. Jinyoung became a good friend to him, ready to build him back up when despair hit and encourage him forward with new plans. Neither of them was any closer in their search but their friendship was positive for Jaebum. It meant he wasn’t alone.

And when he got close to finding you, it meant he had someone backing him up for once.

“I think I may have a lead on a name,” he told the doctor over the phone, pulling up the file he had stumbled across earlier in the day. “Her birth date matches and her national health identifier number is also documented which is odd since she gave the officer an international driver’s licence. It looks like she had an altercation a month ago with a traffic offence after arriving back in the country. Could you look it up in your system for me?”

“Of course, what’s the number? I’ll take a look as soon as I’m done doing my rounds.”

Jaebum had texted Jinyoung the information and waited almost two hours on edge for the response.

It was another dead end.

Seven months passed by without much process on either soulmate. Both men were tired and decided to take a small break from their searches. A week away at the beach in his hometown renewed their focus, though Jaebum couldn’t help but feel as if he was seeing you wherever he went. Quick glimpses of what he imagined you would look like now out of the corner of his eye would occur at least once a day, though every time he turned his head, he would never find you there.

Jinyoung had admitted to visions of his own lost love, and Jaebum wondered if now was his turn to experience the phenomena. He was certain you were nearby, though he didn’t know how to seek you out.

“Let’s go door knocking. We can come up with some plausible reason for a cop and a doctor to be asking around, right?”

Jaebum rolled his eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m trying to lighten your mood, you know.”

It was Jinyoung who found a lead in finding you first. Not even a month after returning to work, he had rung in a rush, his breath heavy down the line. Jaebum’s shifts were different than his friend’s and he groggily pulled himself away from another dream about you. “What did you say?”

“I think I found Y/N.”

Sitting up with a start, he listened to the doctor prattle on about a building collapse that happened in Jaebum’s hometown. The injuries ranged from critical to minor, and when he was checking over the list of patients admitted, the file Jaebum had been looking up months ago with the medical number had matched up. The hospital there had been overwhelmed with the injuries so a lot had been transferred to his hospital in the city.

Jaebum barely heard anything else the doctor had to say as he yanked clothing onto his body and rushed out the door. He arrived at the hospital as fast as he could, running through to the emergency room and checking the faces within the beds. Not a single one matched yours, and he dropped into a chair outside the department, flinching when a hand rested on his shoulder.

Jaebum looked up, exasperated. “Where is she?”

“She has been discharged already, she had a gash to her arm and originally there was concern she had hit her head. However, results came back clear and she was good to go.”

“Already? My chance to find Y/N is over just like that?”

Jinyoung shook his head, holding up a piece of paper. Before he allowed Jaebum to take it, he gave his friend a stern look. “I’m not buying this defeatist attitude from you at all, Officer Im. If you give up, what hope do I have left? Here, my gift to you.”

“An address?” he hoped and the doctor nodded, handing it over. Jaebum held onto the paper as if it was somewhat precious. This was closer than he had ever been and he realised he was shaking with emotions.

“Don’t hate me if she’s not Y/N,” Jinyoung fare-welled and Jaebum numbly walked himself out to his car, getting in behind the steering wheel.

He sat there for some time, partially because he believed he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to drive, but also because he needed some kind of plan. All these years, he had been so adamant on finding you.

Now that he potentially had, what was the best step forward? Just show up on your doorstep and hope the part of your soul that craved his would recognise him immediately? What about your family? It had never dawned on him until now that you could have reached out to find him as well. You knew everything there was to him. Apart from moving to the city so he could become a police officer, nothing had changed.

Eventually, Jaebum arrived on the outskirts of his home town, driving passed the old lot where he had once spent the night with you. He was surprised to see the home had been knocked down since the last time he was here, the rubble being cleared away by contractors. He knew that the building collapse had been on the beachfront however, though it felt as if the removal of the derelict home that had once stood there held some significance right now. Driving to his destination, Jaebum pulled up outside the townhouses that lined the marine parade, looking towards the number he required.

He knocked on the door, waiting on the doorstep for some time without an answer. Were you not back from the hospital yet yourself? He didn’t know what form of transportation you had taken, and figuring he should come back within an hour, Jaebum headed across to the beach instead.

It was cool, the sunny weather that had enticed both him and Jinyoung here last month had washed out with the warm sea, replaced with chilly winds and crashing waves. It was comforting walking along the beach he had once spent an entire afternoon with you. As he trailed up towards the gulf, he thought back over every moment you shared together, from the first time you touched, to your hand slipping out of his that last time. That day had never left his memory, not once. He wouldn’t allow the details to fade over time, keeping it alive as if it had happened the day before. He could almost feel you as he turned back for the beach entrance now, your kisses lingering in the freezing air that hit his face.

As he neared the spot where he had parked up that day, his heart began to thud unevenly. Was it from the memory of pressing you against his car? Inadvertently, he had parked in the same spot as he had that day, though his car was different, it had attracted the attention of someone.

Stopping, he watched as the woman peered into the vehicle curiously, her lips pouting softly. When she turned away, he noticed the bandage on her arm.

Your arm.

“Y/N!” he called upon the wind, and it travelled to you, sending your hair flying about your face. You spun around, eyes widened by his voice. Jaebum started to move, the sand dunes slowing him somewhat, climbing back up to the parking lot where you remained frozen.

He panted when he finally stopped in front of you, now blinking rapidly to ensure he wasn’t hallucinating. Every time his eyes reopened, you were still staring back at him, stuck in the position you had been left rendered speechless within. Jaebum shifted first and you moved back, your eyes searching his.

“Y/N,” he repeated, this time with a smile. He stared down at you for what felt like an eternity. You had aged just how he had imagined you to, your teenage years far behind you, yet you still looked youthful. Your hairstyle was different, and you had lost some of the weight in your face.

You were still beautiful.

“Jaebum,” you breathed and he felt himself grinning, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. It made you roll your own, the humour evident in your tone that followed. “You’re doing it again.”

He didn’t miss a beat, the words he once spoke to you as a child falling out effortlessly. “Does it bother you?”

Leaning in closer, you shifted back into his car, leaving little room for escape. He chuckled. “Will you avoid me touching you now as well?”

“It’s been so long, who knows where those hands have been,” you quipped, though he saw the way you steeled your breath in anticipation. Your hands were at the ready, and when he reached out for you, it was instantaneous. His lips found yours, his hands were in your hair and you were pressed against him as if no time had passed from that afternoon. The kisses were even better than how he remembered them. You tasted sweeter, if that was even possible, and his mind reeled from the explosion of your combined yearning.

His plan of taking it slow and talking it out with you was well and truly gone. He didn’t need to know where you had been or what had happened over all these years.

At least, the knowledge wasn’t as pressing as he thought it had been.

It could all wait until later. Right now, he could only think of how you felt being back in his arms.

He had finally found you. And this time, he wasn’t going to ever let go.

_________________

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[ladybugsfanfics]

Shut Up And Kiss Me [10/?] | Tom Hiddleston x reader

pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

style: part 10 of ?

wc: 2.8k

warnings: pining, halloween, bad references, 

summary:  You and Professor Hiddleston have been colleagues for many years now, and through those years the hatred for each other has only grown. Now, as a new school year starts, you’re being told that you have to share a classroom or a class. Neither are happy about the outcome, but knowing you’ll never come to an agreement, you let the class choose for you. Team-teaching is rare in 2019, but it is a lot harder to do when you can’t stand the person you’re doing it with. 

A/N: so I have a part this week, but I think I might stop the weekly updates. A lot of things are going on at once and I’m not sure I can get out a part a week. I think I might be able to get out a story or an update of a story each week but I don’t think much more than that and I have so much other shit Im working on that I want so share with you guys. I let you know of my decicion, and i hope you enjoy the part ^_^

If you want to be tagged, please send an ASK ^_^

Previous | Series Masterlist | Part Eleven

Since Friday, Tom’s mind has been set on the kiss. It has been set on the kiss in the bar. The one in the shadows where no one could see them and his heart pounded in his chest. The one where afterwards, so certain that Y/N just wanted to because she wanted to have some recollection of it, he had stood up and walked away as if it meant nothing. 

Even though it meant everything. 

He can recall every minute of it. Every second of what happened before and after is drilled into his brain after countless reenactments. 

The slight fear in her eyes as Benedict smiled and told Tom what he needed to do to jog her memory. The way she downed two shots in a matter of seconds and then shook her head a little as if it would get the taste away. The burn of his hand as she took his in hers, the touch scorching hot. The nervousness that floated in her beautiful eyes as she told him what was going on. The way his gut hurt when his lips met hers. The way his skin heated under her touch. The fireworks that erupted in every part of him, rooted in his stomach but exploded outwards into his veins. 

He remembers it all. And it felt just as hurtful as the kiss during the play. 

Tom got to kiss her twice, both times with the knowledge that, for her, it wasn’t something with feelings. It was something she had to do, and something she wanted to because she didn’t remember the first time. 

---

As Tom rings the doorbell, he vows to kill Benedict when the night is over. Not only does he have to wear a costume, he said yes to going trick or treating with the kids. Kit and Hal will make fun of him, so will Benedict and Sophie. 

At least, when the door opens and Y/N stands there in a costume, he feels better about it. She’s wearing a wine red, short dress with gears placed neatly around. The corset accentuates her waist, and the fingerless gloves makes her her arms look longer. Tom’s gaze stops at her legs, where she’s wearing kneehigh boots and flashing  a lot of skin. 

Tom’s heart drums in his chest and he has to tell himself not to stare. His gaze travels up again, which is when he notices the tophat. Gear-goggles placed neatly atop it, giving the steampunk vibe Tom supposes she’s going for. 

“Didn’t know you were coming?” she says and lets him in. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

“The same to you,” he replies, “Benedict didn’t mention it.” 

Y/N smiles. “You won’t see much of me though. I’m going trick and treating with the boys.” 

“I thought I was going trick or treating with the boys?” 

Y/N’s brows crease. She doesn’t reply, only closes the door and walks into the living room. Moments later, Tom hears her annoyed tone as he follows after. She’s standing in front of Benedict, voice low but annoyed. “We agreed. We had an agreement.”

The older man shrugs with a smile. “I can’t recall that. When did we make this?” 

Y/N gives Benedict a playful punch in the arm and glares at him. She moves from him, glare still set on Benedict, and sits down by Kit. With one last glance at the kid’s father, a glare Tom is very glad he’s not on the receiving end of, she smiles and turns to Kit. 

“I honestly don’t understand how you can actually enjoy having her hate you,” says Benedict when Tom stops next to him. 

Tom shrugs. “It’s not too bad.” 

His best friend sends him a look.

He sighs. “It wasn’t that bad. Currently I wish things were slightly different.” Tom shakes his head. “When did you ask her to go trick or treating?” 

“Saturday?” 

“So, same time as you asked me?”

Benedict nods. “One adult per kid.”

Tom pats Benedicts back. “I think we’ll handle it.”

 ---

They walk down the street listening to Kit chatter. Tom holds Hal’s hand, the boy keeping himself a little ways from his brother’s constant talking. Y/N holds Kit’s hand, listening intently to the words the four year old says and smiling fondly at him. Something about the way she seems to beam whenever he does and replies to his talking as if the boy was her age, it makes a smile creep into Tom’s features. 

He tries to push down the extra sense of fluttering in his gut, but it’s hard. He can feel the nerves shoot around, telling him that he needs to be alert and that every minute they spend together is a step further. Yet his mind contradicts this, showing every scenario where she doesn’t like him. There are many. 

Yet, seeing her with Kit, he can’t keep his mind from going that way. It shows him pictures of what she would be like with her own kid. It shows him pictures of her smiling and laughing as she holds a baby. It shows him scenarios of dates they go on, or just sitting on the couch cuddling with a movie. 

Tom takes a deep breath and diverts his attention back to the two kids running to ring the doorbell of a house. He stands next to Y/N as they watch the kids, racking his brain for some way to start a conversation. 

“Did you remember to say thank you?” she asks as the two boys return. He lost his chance. 

Kit nods and Hal shakes his head. Y/N smiles and shakes hers, too. “Remember to next house, okay?” 

The boys nod, and Kit goes back to his chatter. 

Most of the night continues like that. Whenever the kids go away and get some more candy, Tom racks his brain for a conversation starter, but whenever he’s close to one or about to ask her something, the boys return and Kit takes up her attention. 

To be honest, Tom doesn’t really know what to do. There’s something he would like to say that he won’t ever say, and there’s something he would like to ignore or have go away as soon as possible. Those are the same things. 

Even worse, during classes both on Tuesday and earlier Today, their students kept diverting the subject. They got to teach something, and then as it bordered territory, the students shot out with the questions they wanted to. 

It is clear that the kiss during the play did nothing to stop the students from ‘shipping’ them. Rather it made the whole thing even worse. And it hasn’t made Tom’s life any easier. 

The clock ticks away, and finally the words come from Y/N. “Okay, last house and then we make our way back, okay?” 

Kit looks a little sad at that, but still nods. Hal nod furiously and decides not to join his brother to get some more candy. Instead he turns to Y/N and holds up his arms, clearly asking for her to carry him. With a sad smile, she does. The two year old lies his head down on her shoulder and, if Tom isn’t mistaken, closes his eyes.

“I bet Kit’s just as tired, he just doesn’t want to show it.” Y/N turns to Tom, the smile on her face turned to something less sad and more soft. 

Tom nods. “Probably.” 

God, he spends so much time trying to come up with a conversation starter and when she does first he can’t even make sure the conversation lasts? He’s an idiot.  

Kit comes back with a smile on his face and hops right back into his chatter. Now he seems to include Tom in it. Though Tom only half listens, nodding at the right places and catching Y/N’s soft laughter whenever it slips. He smiles himself whenever her smile brightens. Her eyes sparkling, her lips parting showing off a set of white teeth, her cheeks a tint of red. 

And as his eyes travels a little further he remembers that she’s barely wearing clothes. He takes in more of the little things. Like the slight red of her nose, the press of her lips together as if to keep her teeth from clattering, the way she shifts a little as she walks. 

He steps around Kit, whos walks between you, and over to your other side. Shifting off his jacket he doesn’t say anything as he moves a sleeping Hal from your shoulder and places him in his own arm, handing you the jacket in the movement. Tom feels the wind on his arms as he’s taken off the warmth, but he also feels it in him that Y/N needs it more. 

She gives him a smile and mouths thanks. 

“I thought you don’t like each other?” 

Kit’s voice startles both of them, and Y/N gives him an amused smile. 

“Well, kiddo, sometimes, even if you don’t really like someone, you try to be a decent human being. And either way, we’re making it to friends now. I’d say we’ve gotten there, right?” 

The smile and look she sends Tom when she turns her head to see him has his heart beat faster. He wants them to be friends, so of course he nods. But he would like them to, maybe at least try, be more. He makes a silent prayer of that happening in the future. 

For now, he takes the friends. “Yes. It’s called making progress.”

 ---

They arrive back at Benedict’s around nine. Neither Sophie nor Benedict comments on the fact that Y/N has Tom’s jacket on, but if they believe he doesn’t see the look they give each other, then they are very wrong. 

During the hours Y/N and Tom went trick or treating with the kids, the two parents have managed to change into costumes themselves. Benedict is dressed as Sherlock Holmes and Sophie as a female version of Watson (at least, that’s what Tom presumes based on the costume contents). 

“Babysitters here?” asks Y/N as the two takes their coats.

“Came half an hour ago,” replies Benedict and hands her a coat as well. Something twists in her face for a second and she shrugs out of Tom’s jacket and hands it back to him, taking the coat Benedict hands her without hesitation. Tom supposes the one she puts on is hers. 

“Then we’re ready to go, right?” 

They nod and walk out into the cold evening air. A taxi waits on the curb and they all get in. Tom in the passenger seat in the front and the three others in the backseats. He finds himself happy with the choice seeing them crammed together. Yet something churns in his gut at the thought of being confined to a crammed space next to Y/N. 

He needs to get out of his head.

The trip to the bar takes little time. It’s being rented by one of their mutual friends (work) that decided it was time for a coworker Halloween party. 

Music floats in the air when they open the door inside. A bartender stands at the bar, or rather leans against the back. Only one person sits by the counter, but he isn’t ordering anything. There are some people on the dance floor, rocking out to Bohemian Rhapsody. 

Tom looks to his friends, notes that Y/N mimes the words to the song and also makes a silent conversation with Benedict about where to go. They find Eddie in the bar, though Tom can’t guess as to who he is. 

“Are you dressed as Newt Scamander?” asks Y/N, and when Eddie proudly nods and beams at her and continues the conversation by talking about Harry Potter and everything that has to do with it, Tom slides into a seat with a deep sigh. 

He wishes he’d dressed easier. Even with the costume being easily recognizable in what era of time, that doesn’t mean anyone will notice he’s dressed as Hamlet. Apparently, Y/N doesn’t. 

“Hey, guys,” says a voice. Tom takes his gaze of the chattering coworkers across from him to look up at the owner of the voice. He meets Emma’s gaze with a smile. Out of their many coworkers, Emma is one of his favorites. They don’t have that much time to talk, but she’s definitely has many ideas and interesting topics to talk about. 

Y/N, seeing the younger girl, gets out of her seat and gives Emma a big hug. “It’s been too long since I saw you. How’s the project going?” 

The sociology professor smiles and nods. “It’s really good. The students are engaged, I’m engaged and we’re making progress. A lot of progress. Wrote an article not long ago about equality that they posted actually.” 

“I’m so happy for you.” Y/N gives her another hug and looks like she just met her number one celebrity. Tom can see why. 

“Thank you.” Emma turns to everyone else. “So, I noticed you come in and I have some information about this ‘party’.” She uses air quotations around party. “The bathroom is up the stairs, the dance floor is where you see some dancing and the bar you’ve probably noticed. Fire escape routes are posted on the walls, but just for safety, it’s the door you came in and you can break through the windows. Also a fire escape on the second floor, so if you’re in the bathroom you can still get out. Other than that, there’s one free drink on me. Nothing over ten pounds. I hope you have fun and I love your costumes.”

Emma smiles at them all. Tom takes a minute to check her costume. A cloak of some sorts which hides a black sweater where small peeks of a white shirt pops out, with a red and yellow tie. She wears a skirt and her hair is curly and huge. Tom can’t pinpoint exactly who she’s being. 

Y/N can, though. “I love yours, too. Hermione, right?” 

“Knew you would get it.” She smiles. “Anyways, I hope you have fun and don’t hesitate to come talk to me through the evening. I brought some other friends and they don’t really know anyone so I’ll probably mostly be with them.”

“Your age, right?” asks Y/N. 

Emma nods. “You wanna meet them? Pretty sure you’d get along.” 

“If that’s what it takes to catch up with you, of course.” And then the two women walk away, making a detour by the bar before sitting down at a table with three other people. 

Neither of the four left at the table say anything, until Sophie breaks the silence by asking anyone if they want to get something to drink. Tom volunteers to join her in getting the drinks. 

“So,” says Sophie as they walk, her voice a little lower than for normal conversation. “What’s the deal with you and Y/N?” 

Tom rolls his eyes. “There is none.”

“Are you sure? Because Benedict told me about the kiss and that she doesn’t remember it, but he said she wants to.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and ignores the feeling that floods his veins. “They both mentioned it, yes. But I don’t think that has anything to do with it.” 

Sophie shrugs. “Seems like there’s more than one reason she wants to if you ask me, but what do I know?” 

Tom nods. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Sophie, but I can tell you that we are making progress into friends.” 

She smiles at that. “Appreciate it. Especially thinking of Hal and Kit, they love both of you and after that day you babysat Kit asked questions I would rather avoid.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She waves it away, but Tom still feels a little guilty. He casts a glance Y/N’s way. Her head is thrown back in laughter, a big smile on her face and when she recovers she speaks with glee and enthusiasm. He only notices that when she teaches, mostly other than those times she seems grumpy. 

He tries to ignore the stab to his gut, but it’s not easy. Either way, they’re becoming friends. He wants to be her friend. He’s always wanted to be her friend. Finally, he’s making progress. 

It only took five years, some hate, and a push from their superiors. 

It only took five years to glue the million pieces of his heart together. It’s still not whole, but it’s getting there. 

Finally.

permanent tags:@devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

tom tags: @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert @satanskatze @timetravelingsociopathicwalker

tags:  @plooffairy @just-the-hiddles @jennytwoshoes @lokissidehoe @fruitfly123 @princetale @scorpionchild81 @noplacelikehome77 @winterisakiller @lostsoldieronahill @nonsensicalobsessions @cherrygeek86 @louhpstuff @olyamoriarty @sunshinein17 @kthemarsian @kumikowi @secretcupcakekitty @buckygrantbarnes @josis-teacup @runawaygiirl @januarycalendargirl @funny-fangirl @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpiomindfuck  @dr-kayleigh-dh @inmyworstlies @twhgirl @maah-chan @florencia93c @i-am-a-mes @o-deya @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @cantaloupewatch @carpediem-spero @createdbyanintensenerd @beananacake @lysawayne @nightrose64 @bradfordbantams @feyre-thehighlady @thundermaximoff @lys-syl @beenthroughalot

[drkcnry67]

oops sorry wrong boy toy

title: oops sorry wrong boy toy... (drabble)

pairing: lucifer!sam x reader

rating: pg-13

fluff sq: in vino veritas

h&H sq: lucifer!sam

share the love: fever dream

tags: illusions, vivid dreams, dreams that feel and look so real that you believe they are but get awoken by something else in reality that shakes you out of the dream. other than that nothing really else maybe the warning of some potion usage

created for @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @spnfluffbingo​ @heavenandhellbingo​

share the love list    fluff list    h&H list

this was reality wasnt it, you were under the impression that nothing had gone wrong, when infact everything was wrong. this seemed so real it was uncanny. 

you, your boyfriend Sam and his brother Dean had gone to stop Lucifer from rising, to stop the apocalypse from happening. in fact that is exactly what you all thought had happened. 

this day happened to be the 2 month anniversary of you all stopping the apocalypse, the boys were out on a hunt you on the other hand were soaking in a nice hot bath.

till something or someone pushed you down and ran some more scaldng hot water. it was a few hours later when the boys returned to find water all over the floor and you passed out unconcious and salding hot in the water. 

Sam was freaking out, Dean was trying to clean everything up. but both of them looked round there was no signs of forced entry, no signs of hex bags or anything. then they saw that you were making something. they knew better than to touch it. 

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

meanwhile, you were unaware of what was happening on the outside, you were focused on what you were witnessing on the inside. 

Sam: babe, why dont we go find something fun to do... i mean you know like a normal couple...

YN: sam when have we ever been normal... we hunt monsters for christ sake. besides i think we can have lots of fun right here. besides i feel like we just had date night...

Sam: are you having de ja vu. cause if you are then whats the issue...

You had to second guess yourself, something seemed a little off, Sam didnt seem like himself. he kept speaking about normal, normal wasnt what either of you were accustomed too. 

also sam never ever called you babe, like never... he always called you angel... he never ever called you babe. something was seriously wrong thats when you watched the scenery shift around you and Sam, things got really really hot. 

you started sweating feeling like you were gonna pass out which you did waking up still sweting a few moments later except now hanging above a pit of boiling hot lava. 

Sam or what looked like sam standing above you..

YN: sam what are you doing?

lucifer!sam: nope wrong boy guess again?

you took no time to think on this everything suddenly made sense.

YN: lucifer...

lucifer!sam: in the flesh, i cannot tell you how amazing it is to be out of that cage. there is a certain sense of accomplishment i feel right now, i had hoped you wouldnt figure it out for a while longer but something inside me wanted to have a bit of fun. so hows this for fun.

YN: this is a dream.. this has to be a dream...

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

on the outside, Dean, sam and Cas were all hovering over your still scalding hot to the touch body. Sam was "frantic".

But Dean started to notice Sam mumbling to himself. He pulled Cas outside with him to "help get something out of the impala".

Cas: what's wrong Dean we should be finding out what happened to YN.

Dean: that's not sammy

Cas: what are you talking about?

Dean: that's not my brother in there he keeps mumbling to himself the Sam I know wouldn't doesn't do that.

Cas: I have an idea to wake YN. I need to be alone in the room when I do this cause it's not gonna be pretty. Something is causing her body to go into fever shock. That's why she is too hot to touch. The fever needs to break which means I need to go in and pull her from whatever is holding her in. you just need to keep “sam” distracted and out of the room while i save YN. 

Dean: we will go get some alcohol.

Cas and dean walk back inside the hotel room, “sam” is kneeling beside your still form as Cas and Dean approach, Cas goes to place a hand over your forehead, using his angelic grace to scan your mind. 

Cas: i know how to save Yn but i need to be alone for a few moments. like no one else can be in the room. its not gonna be an easy thing to watch nor will you guys be able to withstand watching this, humans can go blind from seeing this process. by the time you guys come back inside YN should be awake.

“sam” got up and looked at your body. none of the 3 boys except maybe castiel knowing what was occuring inside your head. 

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

speaking of which, you are still suspended over a boiling hot pit of lava, lucifer!sam is ranting about his grand plan to start the apocalypse, to deal with the world itself once the apocalypse is in completion. 

Lucifer!sam: are you still listening?

YN: yes unfortunately... but i thought we were in my head i thought we would be able to do what i wanted. 

Lucifer!sam: that unfortunately is not true, we are not gonna get into too much detail. now pop quiz beginning with what did you and the 3 idiots use to open the door to the cage?

YN: the rings of the 4 horsemen.

Lucifer!sam: very good. now who else is supposed to be apart of the apocalypse. 

YN: michael but he wants dean for his vessal. dean is not keen on that idea at all. now i have a question for you: how did you get my boyfriend to say yes to you using his body?

lucifer!sam: easy i threatened to take away the one thing that he loves the most, you... i threatened you... i was really surprised cause i knew you were pregnant the second i saw you, that is why i threatened you, thats why he said yes. 

you suddenly went into a state of shock... you were completely clueless. wait did he just say Pregnant?????? you were not sure you trusted your voice or anything. 

YN: what did you say? did you just say im...

Lucifer!sam: pregnant yes... Sam is right here inside my brain in a cage, he is screaming for you to hear him... i might be willing to let  him speak to you one last time, but after that im taking him and we are going to bring on the apocalypse and no one can stop us. 

YN: what's that light?

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

On the outside Dean and "Sam" went out to grab some disposable cups and alcohol. While Cas stayed behind to wake you up.

Whatever Cas was doing seemed to be working. He took one look at your current situation and could only reach in and pull you out as fast as possible.

Once he did that you were back in your own body. You sat straight up and woke up. You hugged Cas.

Cas: are you okay?

YN: I'm fine kind of. Umm where are the guys?

Cas: getting some alcohol.

You had sat up a bit before continuing to speak.

YN: can you tell me if you hear anything irragular in my belly... Like anything at all.

Cas places one hand on your belly, light begins to flow from it, you look at your belly then at Cas then back at your belly

Cas: is it Sam's?

Yn: yes but I don't want to tell him yet. That's not Sam... Not our Sam anyway. i have the perfect thing to use to find the truth but we all 4 need to be here for it. 

Cas: they should be back soon, anything i can do to help in the mean time?

you and cas go to where your workstation is set up and you get to work finishing the potion that you were working on. you also get into a silk gown and house coat while cas mixes something for you. 

Cas: the boys are just approaching the door. we will see if this works. what was your purpose for making this in the first place?

YN: to find the truth if we ever needed too. but i am sure thats not our sam. i am also sure that if im correct and thats not our sam then what sam had told me to do will need to be done. in the event that something happens to Sam in anyway shape or form, Dean is to become more than just a best friend to me. in that event i am to live my life hunting and killing every disgusting monster out there. but with a baby on the way i dont know if i can do that. 

cas was about to reply when the boys walked in. both of them entered the room fully before they saw you. beforre they could speak you ushered for them to sit down...

YN: before you both speak yes im awake yes im fine. but there is something i want my lovely boyfriend to test. i have made something that in the future i am hoping will prove useful in interrogating. will you test it honey bun?

Sam: of course babe!

that set something off in cas and dean... for they both knew that sam never ever ever called you babe. but you brought the small vile to “sam” who drank it. after a few seconds you decided to test if it was working.

YN: im now gonna ask a series of questions but only Sam is allowed to answer. 

both dean and cas were in agreement.

YN: lets begin. what is the numericle date of our anniversary?

Sam: 04.19.2006

YN: how did we meet? 

Sam: we saved you from a vampire den after that we were hooked with eachother. 

YN: you said something to me the day we stopped the apocalypse what did you say?

Sam: you are the most amazing woman i have ever known and i now know for sure that i want to spend the rest of my life with you however long it may be. 

you now had to ask one final question and you knew that this one would have to be envoked by the incantation that goes with the potion. 

YN: what is your name? in vino veritas!

the second you said that he kinda twitched and thats when he spoke. 

Lucifer!sam: lucifer the ruler of hell the son of god that has been locked up in a cage for the last however long cause some of my people in hell decided i wasnt fit to rule the dark dominions. 

dean held his hand towards you while keeping a hand held trained on his brother’s form. well at least what looked like his brother but was not his brother. 

Dean: but how i thought Sammy wasnt gonna say yes to you, you dick bag. plus how did you get out of the cage... there wasnt anything to release you. 

Lucifer!sam: actually you did, when you used those rings it opened an exit from the cage. you were mis informed on what you did and what were actually doing. that was meant to set me free... so when sam and i started arguing he agreed only cause i threatened to do harm to YN and her baby. oh well time to go start the apocalypse.

that was what set the moood in the room, your shock was real and yet something else no one expected was how protective Dean and cas suddenly became of you. this lasted several moments. 

lucifer or sam or whoever that was had disappeared. he was laughing when he did. that became your new life. 

Dean: i guess we all have a new mission or 2. one of them is to save sammy whatever it takes. the other is to protect YN and my brothers kid. 

once you hit 3 months along you were only allowed to go on salt & burns as well as assist the occassional possession and haunting. 

~but that is another story for another time~

[houseki-no-suffering]

The gems’ economic system

yet another analysis no one asked for, but you know me at this point

so, the lunarians seem to live under some sort of capitalistic system, the admirabilis seem to have a feudal/subsistence one or something like that, what about the lustrous? 

these rocks dont produce food and there is no state, which makes everything trickier. so here’s my best attempt at classifying something that was probably never meant to be classified

disclaimer: despite studying some of these things and having a good bg in sociology, i’m not a political science or economics major. take this post with a grain of salt and correct me where im wrong. this is just for fun. 

i’ve already touched on the gems’ social and political systems. the simplest, roughest scheme i can write for an economic system is this one: 

what is produced and in what quantities? 

how is it produced? by whom? 

who benefits from what is produced? how are produces distributed? 

in the gems’ case:

tangible goods (tables, chairs, paper, clothes, swords...) and services (provided by doctors, teachers, scholars, statisticians/strategists, fighters, librarians...)

by all of the gems, sensei included, through natural resources, labor and human (well, gem) capital (im oversimplifying here, bear with me)  

produces are distributed equally to all of the gems and sensei according to need, with great emphasis on not wasting goods (both tangible and intangible). goods are primarily produced according to need (tables and chairs, paper, swords), more rarely for leisure (books, hibernation clothes).   

additionally, an economic system also has:

Methods of control over the means of production: the gems do not seem to know private property and, except for sensei’s leadership, there is no actual state. we can assume all goods are held in common 

A decision-making system and coordination mechanisms: these are not economically specific in the gems’ case. sensei decides who does what and, after that, the laborers plan and decide over their craft (ie peridot decides who can and cannot have spare paper), always supervised by Sensei and/or Euclase (or Jade) 

An incentive system: it’s usually moral persuasion (the social prestige that comes from being a fighter, praise from sensei for a job well done etc.)

Actors (all of the gems since they all produce goods and services) and regulators (the single gems responsible for a task, authority figures like sensei, Euc/Jade)

A distribution system: hard to tell cause the gems do not use money, there is no form of income for their work and no taxes because there is no state. 

A mechanism for establishing rules, norms and standards: once again, this is left to the single gems and to Sensei, sometimes to Euc and Jade because they are authority figures

Economic systems are classified according to the property of the means of production and by the main mechanisms of resource allocation. 

since the gems do not have a concept of private property and goods are usually held in common, the means are socially owned. so capitalism et similia are a huge no-no.

i tried looking at economic systems with socially-owned property according to resource allocation, but the fact that the gems do not produce food and do not possess a state (they’re only 28!) complicates the picture. 

is theirs an economy of subsistence? they have no money, no trade, lack of surplus, they have bronze-age technology, there’s a huge pressure not to waste resources and energies.

but how do you define what counts as subsistence when you have a society that’s made up of 28 individuals and one leader, doesnt produce or need food and doesnt have other societies to interact with and create a market? these rocks dont produce just the bare essentials they need to live because, well, they’re barely alive. they feed on daylight.    

still, you could argue that the lunarians showed the moon gems new and cooler ways to feed on daylight, as if the earth gems were barely scratching the surface of what they could be able to do, produce and consume with better technology or by trading with other cultures. as a result, the moon gems adapted themselves to a new (capitalistic) economic system. 

a lot of elements fit and you could make a case that it’s an economy of subsistence, but since i’m pedantic, i’m gonna go over a few other systems just in case. 

for example, an economy of subsistence doesnt really do justice to how much these gems are culturally and socially expected to conform and be all the same. communism and socialism on the other hand are, at least in theory, built on the utopia of equality. 

goods belong to the working class, everyone works toward the same goal (ie fighting the lunarians), all people are equal, which results in a few issues about (among other things) individuality, independence and self-fulfillment. 

yet both systems contemplate the existence of money and private property (especially socialism). also, socialism and communism seek to abolish social classes, while gem society has them (ie the fighters and the diamonds are elite classes).

since they lack a proper state, money and a market, it seems to me that the gems’ socioeconomic system can also be compared to a participatory economy or some form of anarchist economy, like anarcho-communism or inclusive democracy. 

here’s a brief overview, i did my best to sum it up but if i made some mistakes dont hesitate to tell me:

participatory economy: people come together for all decisions, they determine which goods to produce and which goods go to whom. it’s like self-management but your say in a certain matter is proportionate to how affected you’ll be by the decision. focus is on transparency and little hierarchy to encourage cooperation.

anarcho-communism: no state and no private property, money is abolished, guiding principle is “From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” Goods are used, not owned, and each person works whatever job they find most fulfilling (which is similar to how Sensei assigns gems a job according to their temperament) 

inclusive democracy: this i included cause it can only be actualized in a small, self-sufficient community, like that of the gems. once again, no state, no money, no market, so no privileges and no accumulation of wealth. however there is a form of currency, labour vouchers, and it gets complicated. The idea of micro, self-sufficient community (domos) is v close to how the lustrous work tho, especially when private and public life kind of become the same thing.

it seems to me that the gems’ system is a mixture of a bunch of different systems. it looks like subsistence economy (social classes, lack of surplus, primitive tech) with a hint of socialism and communism (sameness, no property etc) and the stress on equality and lack of structure that comes with anarchism. 

one major thing is that, even if there is no currency, personal value is still assigned (or at least perceived) according to how much you can contribute to society through work. 

to wrap this all up: is it legit to speak of economic systems when the gems dont have private property, currency, food, or a market? ehhhh. they still produce and use stuff so why not. still, classifying their system is pretty tricky. let me know what you think and how many things i got wrong

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 13 - Confidence in Progress

Author’s Note: Here we are, posting more With Time! I love the response to the akuma in the last chapter, it was a ...unique thing to write. Anyways, without further ado, here's chapter 13!

Chapter Summary: Marinette talks with Fu quickly. The Quantics and Co. bake cookies.

First | Previous | Saturday

Marinette knocks on the door, waiting for the Guardian to open the door. 

She doesn’t have to wait long, she’s allowed in quickly, “Ah, Marinette, we’ve been expecting you.” Master Fu speaks calmly.

“You have?” Did she mess up that bad?

“When Wayzz and I saw that The Revealer lasted so long, we were certain it would not be long before Tikki or Plagg fell ill. It would seem Tikki is the first.”

“Given Plagg’s nature to take longer breaks, that is no surprise.” The turtle Kwami shows up above Fu’s shoulder. They walk into the same room where Tikki first got healed. Marinette lifts her Kwami gingerly from her bag and gives her to Master Fu, who nods and begins.

After the ceremony is finished, Tikki munches happily on a cookie in front of Marinette.

“Master?” She’s been debating this for so long, postponing and procrastinating as long as she can, but being here already, she has no more excuses. “Yes, Marinette?”

“I can’t call on Rena Rouge or Carapace anymore.” Given how she reacted to simply seeing Alya and Lila, there is no hope that she can work efficiently as a team with them anymore. She studies the floorboards, unable to meet his eyes. She failed to choose heroes well. He’s going to be so disappointed.

He sips from his tea calmly, “Why is that?”

“I- you told me to choose someone I can trust, and…”

“And you no longer you feel that your choices are worthy of that honor.” She would have phrased it a little differently, more along the lines of fearing the wrath of a betrayed friend, but maybe she can think of it that way instead. It feels better that way.

“...yes.”

“Very well. It is understandable to come along bumps in the road. You are a smart heroine, Marinette, I will trust your judgement.”

“But what if I choose wrong again? How many ‘bumps in the road’ will there be?” She doesn’t want to mess up again. Not after last time.

“Perhaps you should consider the actions of a hero. When I looked for people to become the holders of the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculouses, I considered their actions. You, as well as your partner, proved yourselves to already being capable of heroic acts, without the jewelry.”

“So I need to find people who… already act like heroes?” She finally meets his eyes, and finds nothing negative in them.

“Indeed. Being heroic does not require magic jewelry.” He pours more tea for himself, “You mentioned that Rena Rouge and Carapace would not be fighting anymore, but what of Queen Bee?”

That didn’t even occur to her. She’d not even considered Chloe, because the blonde had been less involved in the actions leading up to Marinette’s transfer. No, that isn’t entirely right. She’d been involved, but in a positive way. She’d been the one to bring her home on Thursday, calming her down in the bathroom.

She’d even apologized for her past actions. 

“I- I think there will be a new holder for the Bee miraculous as well.” “But…?”

“But I think that having the miraculous has helped Chloe change. For the better. I think that if I needed back-up and she was available, I would choose her. I trust her - more that Rena and Carapace.”

“So in the event that you require the assistance of the Bee, or if the new Bee holder is unavailable, you would allow Ms. Bourgeois to take up the title temporarily?” Master Fu looks to her for confirmation.

“Yes. I would.” She nods.

“I will inform Trixx and Pollen.” Wayzz floats up from his snack. Marinette feels bad, he and Nino seemed to get along well.

“I’m sorry, Wayzz.”

“It is quite alright, Marinette. I was aware from the start that the arrangement may not be permanent. I do regret that Nino made the choices he did. Perhaps this will be a learning experience for him. I can only hope.” 

Marinette smiles weakly at him and he flies to the Miracle Box. Her phone dings in her pocket.

“Perhaps you should be on your way. Unless there is anything else?”

“No, Master.” She starts toward the door, “Thank you.”

Once outside she glances around quickly before looking to her purse.

“How do you feel, Tikki?” The little Kwami looks a lot better, she’s sitting in the purse looking up at Marinette with bright eyes holding a cookie in her paws.

“Much better, thank you!”

“It wasn’t a problem, you were sick, I couldn’t leave you like that.” What if there had been another akuma? Tikki would have felt even worse after that, and that would be terrible.

“Why am I any different than you?” She knows the Kwami is thinking of her behaviour on Saturday, overworking herself to get her to the point that she got to. Marinette shakes her head. 

Why is it different? It just is. Tikki is the Kwami of Creation and Marinette is just some human girl. But she’s Ladybug, she’s a hero. Maybe it isn’t that diff-

Tikki makes surprised squeak and ducks back into her bag, Marinette glances up and sees Adrien coming this way. She’s still standing in front of Fu’s place and there’s no way she could leave without catching his eye.

He hasn’t noticed her yet, due to how intently he’s looking into his bag, seemingly talking to himself. Once he reaches the massage shop, he stops and looks to the door. He finally notices Marinette and pauses, staring at her in slight confusion,”Oh, uh, hey Marinette. What are you doing here?”

“I- uh, um, tea! My… maman! Yes, my maman wanted some tea and sent me here! For the tea!” she smiles convincingly, “Wh-what about you?”

“My uh, Chinese tutor, uh wanted me to come to him today, so… yeah.” 

She nods, that makes sense.

“Actually, Mari, how are you?” He cocks his head at her slightly, looking at her caringly.

“What?” Did she worry him somehow? How did she do that? Why did she do that?

“I, um, happened to be near your school during the akuma attack. I saw Alya and Lila… it looked like you had noticed them too? I just, uh, tried to distract them. They’re back at Fr- school now.”

Right. Alya. And Lila. Do they know? Do they know where she goes now? Are they going to find her? They’re going to find her at school tomorrow. They’re going to confront her, her friends will find out just how much she sucks, they’ll hate her too, because of course they would that’s what she des-

Adrien puts a hand on her shoulder, interrupting her spiraling, “Marinette.”

“R-right. Um, I’m good. I-I’m fine.” He looks at her doubtfully, but before he can say anything more, she continues,”Anyways, I should get this tea! Back to Maman! And you, probably need to uh, get tutored! For chinese! Ummm… yup! Bye!” She turns and hurries away, waving over her shoulder at him as she goes.

The rules. The rules. She can’t just disregard the rules.

 Rule #6: If asked, you’re doing good

 She’s good. Absolutely fine. Perfectly great. No need for anyone to worry about her. Her phone dings again. 

Right! She’d completely forgotten that someone had texted her. She’d ignored someone. They were probably worried about her now. Stupid.

 Rule #11:  Adrien, Claude, Allegra, Allan, and Felix have been nice enough to put up with you, don’t make them regret it.

 Or it’s her parents, who don’t have a choice in enduring her stupidity. Either way, she’d ignored someone for longer than necessary and now they’d either been forced to check with her again or they were finally letting her know that they’re done with her nonsense.

 Kid Mime: hey if u want to come over when ur dun u can!

Kid Mime: were mking cookies

 HE LOVES US: I fear they may burn down the building.

HE LOVES US: ...

Felix: Marinette, excuse me for a moment to exact revenge on Claude.

 The Mom Friend: dont worry

The Mom Friend: there fine

 Oh. They weren’t mad. They didn’t hate her. 

Yet.

Maybe she should go? They wouldn’t hate her for it if she’d been invited. They were making cookies, that would be fun. 

You’d get in the way. You’ll be that killjoy that gets too specific about the recipe.

“You should go!” Tikki has made her way onto the girl’s shoulder, “Cookies are fun!”

Tikki likes cookies. She would go for Tikki. That’s okay, right? It’s not selfish if you’re going for someone else?

 Patiserie Princess: im on my way

 ---

 As soon as she knocks on the door, it opens and she is whisked into Claude’s kitchen, where chaos is likely about to ensue. There are, presumably, all the ingredients necessary out along with a few measuring cups. There’s a bowl on the counter that might be meant for mixing all the ingredients, but it’s probably too small. The stove has a pot on it but the stove is off. Claude already has some flour on him, despite the flour being closed. Allan is taking out a few more ingredients, while Felix sits at the counter with tea, content to watch for now. It’s probably a good choice considering his black clothing would display any and all flour that lands on it.

Something is placed on her head. She looks up to see Allegra beside her.

“Thank goodness you’re here. Claude decided I’m in charge and I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve got the hat so you’re in charge now.”

“M-me?! Are you sure I should?”

“You live in a bakery, and regularly assist in baking goods for sale. Of all of us you will be the most capable of directing us in creating baked goods.” Felix sips his tea as he says this.

“Yay! Marinette’s here to save us!” Claude throws his arms in the air as Allan puts the last of the ingredients on the counter.

“Hey, ‘Nette.” he looks at the chef’s hat, “So what do we do?”

“I don’t know, uh… where’s the recipe?” She still wasn’t convinced that she is the best to be in charge. They’ve never seen her as a leader, are they sure they want her to do this?

Allegra hands her a sheet of paper printed from a website. Marinette skims it quickly. It’s pretty good, but being raised by two bakers she makes some small adjustments in her head. Used to correcting recipes at home, she grabs a pen and quickly scribbles them onto the paper. Something in her switches, and she steps back with a mindset she hasn’t used in her civilian life since before. Her friends see the different expression - a new one for them - and smile.

“Alright, so first we’re going to need to melt the butter. Allan, I’m going to need to you turn the stove to a medium heat and keep an eye on it. Once it is boiling, stir it constantly until it is an amber color. At that point let it cool for twenty minutes.”

She hands him the two sticks of butter and turns to Claude and Allegra, “You two should measure out and mix the dry ingredients.” She hands them the corrected sheet, “And you’re going to want a bigger bowl.” She approves their new bowl, taking the old one with her as she clears a space a little away from the others to cut up the pretzels.

While they’re all distracted by their tasks, there’s a knock at the door. Felix stands and opens it, allowing Adrien into the kitchen. He starts to speak, but stops abruptly as he takes in the scene before him.

At this point Allegra and Claude have finished mixing and are just talking. Marinette has mixed the chocolate and butterscotch chips and pretzels together in a bowl. She’s standing at the stove with Allan and they’re talking as well. Felix has returned to his tea and none of those involved in the baking have noticed him yet. A timer beeps and Marinette straightens.

“Alright, the butter is cool now. Allegra, can you put the eggs and vanilla in with the butter? Allan can you do the brown sugar? I can mix it, and Claude, you can mix in the stuff in the other bowl when we get to that point.” Marinette is entirely in her element, having been raised on recipes that were probably more complicated than this one. She knows what to do and is easily directing those around her to include them all in the process.

Adrien hasn’t seen her so comfortable and confident - especially when directing others - in, well, a while now. It’s nice to see. He decides against interrupting and sits next to Felix to watch.

Father wouldn’t allow him to join in such a messy activity anyways.

Soon enough, the cookies have been put in the oven and Marinette sets the timer for them. She takes the hat off her head, “There! All done! I told you that it wasn’t that complicated!”

“That’s ‘cause you actually knew what you were doing!” Claude exclaims, hugging her.

“I am still certain that without your presence Claude’s kitchen may not have survived this experience.” Felix stands to put his mug away and the others finally notice Adrien.

“Oh hey, Adrien. When’d ya’ get here?” Allan sits at the table with the blond.

He shrugs, ”A little bit ago. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You could have said something, if you want to join.” Marinette has yet to flip back to her normal state of mind. She’s channeling her Ladybug mindset for public situations.

“Father wouldn’t have wanted me to.”

At this, Marinette gets a defiant tone and her expression changes to yet another new one for all but Adrien, “Well y-” She cuts herself off abruptly, remembering herself and slouching slightly, “Well that’s unfortunate.”

“I think that you should do what you want. He’s not here to stop you.” Allegra sits as well.

“Last time I tried that we were chased through Paris by a mob of fans.” The others are confused, but before any of them can question further, Marinette drops her head to the table.

“Ugh. I still can’t believe I was in my pajamas that whole time. How did I forget to change into my clothes before leaving the house? Aaaaaah.”

Adrien snorts at that and Claude slams his hands onto the table (but gently), “Storytime?!”

“It was on the news…” Adrien supplies, wondering if that would jog their memories - if they’d seen it at all.

“Don’t remind meeee…” Allan pats Marinette consolingly. Her head is still on the table.

“It’d still be more fun to hear it from you guys.” Allegra leans forward excitedly.

Adrien shrugs, deciding to start with the news footage. He pulls it up on his phone and puts it in view of all of them. Marinette sits up to watch it, cringing every so often.

“Anyways that’s just the early stuff-”

“So not even all of it, you didn’t even see my brilliant disguises.” Marinette covers her face with her hands.

“It turned into an akuma attack eventually.”

“You got dropped off the side of a building…”

“He what?!” Allan interrupts them, “Were you okay?”

“You guys lead very eventful lives...” Allegra adds.

“Ladybug caught me. Also her cure would have fixed anything anyways.”

“Still.” Allan shakes his head. Marinette’s point goes unspoken. What if it didn’t fix everything? What will happen when she inevitably messes everything up and can’t reverse the damage? People shouldn’t trust Ladybug so much.

“I don’t think that our lives are that eventful…” Marinette tries to draw their attention away from Ladybug. It’s hypocritical, but as much she wishes they wouldn’t trust her hero alter-ego so much, she fears the day when everyone realizes how useless she really is.

Well, maybe useless is a strong word.

“The lives of spectacular people are always eventful! That’s what happens when you’re talented Mari!” Claude throws his arms in the air excitedly and she blushes.

“Well, if the heroes of Paris recognize ya’ by name your life has gotta’ be at least kinda’ interesting…” Allan chimes in.

Marinette shrugs noncommittally. She wouldn’t mind telling them those stories, but they involve her old classmates and to think about them too long would make her feel bad - which would be against the rules - one of the newer ones.

 Rule #12: Don’t do anything that could attract an akuma to you.

 She’d already messed that up earlier, but she hadn’t seen it coming. Alya showing up with Lila had been a surprise.

You should have realized that she would have shown up at an akuma attack you idiot.

To be fair though, Alya was only part of the problem, it was Lila’s presence that had really pushed her over the edge.

No. No excuses. The whole point of her rules is to have her accept these things as facts. If they’re facts, then she shouldn’t feel bad, thereby making her safe from akumas. She can’t just follow them whenever she pleases - that’s not how rules work. She’s been breaking the rules a lot recently, especially when she got sick. Maybe it would be for the best if she re-read them tonight. For the sake of reminding herself.

She’d memorized them, so she hadn’t read them in almost a week.

“What should we do while the cookies are in the oven? Board games?” Claude suggests.

“Sure!” Allegra clears the table to make room for whatever Claude drags out of his room. He brings a few different things out. It’s impressive just how many things he manages to carry at once.

“Okay! I got Jenga, Suspend, Sorry, Sleeping Queens, Dixit, Coup…”

“That’s a lot of games at once, Claude.” Allegra looks at him doubtfully, “Do you two even know how to play some of these?” She looks at Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette nods, but Adrien shakes his head.

“The only board game I’ve played is Monopoly. I hadn’t even played that until a few months ago…”

“Welp. Claude’s gonna’ introduce ya’ to all of his.”

“You bet I am!” He punctuates this statement by dropping everything at the end of the table.

Eventually the group settles into their games, and when the timer goes off, Marinette takes the cookies out to let them cool, turning the oven off before joining back into the game. They play a couple different games for a few hours, eating the cookies while they play. Marinette slips a couple in her purse for Tikki.

“These taste like friendship!” Claude declares.

“They’re pretty good.” Allegra says, then notices Adrien hasn’t had one yet, “Do you want one Adrien?”

“Well, uh,” he rubs the back of his neck, “Do you think I’m allowed to? Father…”

Before the rest of them can respond, Marinette hits her palms to the table, looking at Adrien intensely, whispering conspiratorially, “Rebel.”

The group laughs when Adrien eats a cookie quickly, seemingly having been entirely convinced by this.

Eventually it’s starting to grow dark outside, and it’s time for them to leave. Claude shows them out.

“Farewell, friends!” The other five smile, waving goodbye as they leave. Once they’re outside Marinette wraps her coat around herself tighter, hissing at the cold.

“You gonna’ be good ‘Nettie?” Allan cocks his head at her.

“M’ house isn’t that far.” The girl sticks close to the rest of them, which doesn’t seem like it would do much good. Her miraculous condition makes her extra sensitive to heat in the winter though, so for her it’s a little better - she can sense their body heat. It’s entirely unconscious, but she always can tell where a heat source is. It’s not super useful when she’s too tired to move, but at least it means she typically falls asleep on the warmest person.

“We’ll walk with you - just to be safe.” Allegra wraps an arm around the shorter girl’s shoulders, who leans into her.

They carry on their conversation as they walk, dropping off Marinette first. She goes straight to her bed, as does Tikki. Before Marinette can sleep, she forces herself to sit up, remembering her promise to reread the lists.

After she reads them she thinks that maybe it had been too long since she read them last, seeing as now she felt bad and that is the whole thing she’s trying to avoid. 

She goes to sleep afterwards, because she’s still tired. She can think about the lists again in the morning.

---

Author’s Note: That definitely wasn't an excuse for her new friends to put her in charge of something while still allowing her to stay in her element. No,of course not. They're just helpless in the kitchen.

The recipe is here, if you're interested. I baked it with a friend a bit ago, and it was fun. They turned out pretty well, but I feel like a bakers' daughter such as Marinette would have adjustments to make.

Did I give Claude some of my own favorite games? Yes, yes I did.

Thanks for reading, and constructive criticism is welcomed in the comments below! The comments are my favorite part of this!

First | Previous | Saturday

[pointedly-foolish]

[ вut "s��ntímєntαl вσч" ís mч nσm dє plumє ]

word count: 1916

pairing: connor/gn!reader

genre: slight fluff; hurt no comfort

summary: it has been a year after the android revolution. humans and android alike settled down, an olive branch was offered as a sign of reconciliation. with newfound peace came along newfound love, and many open roads to choose from. this was no different for the rk800—connor. surprisingly or unsurprisingly, he decided to continue working at the dpd, this time as a bonafide detective. but he has also accepted the thrilling uncertainty of life that deviancy has brought; the same strings that brought his lover in his life.the same ones he hated and cursed, the same fates who ripped it all away.

a/n: everytime i convince myself i came out of my dbh hyperfixation i just look at connor and i become lovesick again.

gosh i know i should be finishing my other fic or work on the prologue script for my vn, but,,,,,,, i just had a sudden hankering for connor angst,,,,

written during a sleep deprivation induced moment of epiphany,,,,, (purple prose cuz im extra af uwu)

I’ve never written angst before so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it

maybe if you asked him one year ago whether he’d consider returning someone’s feelings, romantic feelings, he’d reply to you with a placid smile and a polite « i’m sorry, i wasn’t programmed to reciprocate romantic interest. ». he remembered that he’d sneer at them internally. now thinking about it, long before he questioned his obedience towards her, he already showed signs of deviancy.

you did what you were designed to do.

memories from his past would still torment him erratically, doubts would resurface on particularly dark days. but you were the light that cut through that haze. this wasn’t a “fake deviancy”. it couldn’t have been. not when he is holding your body so close to his, warmth radiating off of each other, two heartbeats—similar, but different—thrumming together. all the softly whispered and adoringly announced « i love you »’s; all the quick and coveted pecks and all the feverish and passionate kisses. no, he was alive, he was sure of it—alive and absolutely enamoured by you. all semblance of doubt ebbed away when you entered his life.

whenever he’s around you, he feels more alive: you make him feel everything, all the little precious things. tenderness and adoration when he shares tranquil mornings with you. he feels more alive when he’s with you, all the little habits and routines too endearing: the sweet post-it notes scattered over your shared flat; scribbled upon it are encouraging words or sweet nothings. conflicting work schedules meant that moments spent together were scarce, but that made them even more valuable and coveted. captivation, was another emotion that he felt around you. your mannerism, your dreams and interests, your physical attributes and quality of voice. logically speaking, you were just another human, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. you’d live and then one day, you’d die. as if you never really existed. but he wasn’t being logical. how could he be? when you were right there in front of him? you made him irrational, and he found that new aspect in life thrilling. confusing at first, but exciting. he was eternally grateful that you let him experience all these beautiful emotions with you. he was grateful that you allowed him in your short journey that you called life.

he was happy, absolutely content, with his shared life with you. you were both in perfect places in your respective lives: you both had a stable job, loving family backing you up, and a fulfilling love life. what seemed to be a mismatched couple at first turned to be 2 pieces of the same puzzle finally finding their place. life for the both of you couldn’t be better.

but along with the many exquisite moment that your romantic endeavours brought you, the android didn’t only taste the sweet delicacies of life; no matter how idyllic a moment may be, there were times when he had to taste the astringent and sour desserts life offered.

anger. that was an emotion that he felt. but that’s not accurate, no… it was frustration and shock and betrayal, all the unsavoury feelings in the world. perhaps it was due to his inexperience, maybe his lack of exposure to these negative sentiments, that caused him to snap the way he did. to hurt you the way he did. but it happened and there was no turning back the clock.

no matter how much he begged and cried for it.

he was proud that you got the job offer in canada, he really was. and he, like any other caring boyfriend would, offered to accompany you there, an offer which you gladly accepted. that was the plan. but plans were difficult to follow. crime waits for no man, working for the law meant that connor must always be available for duty. no excuses, he was an android. but connor wasn’t just a simple android detective, no, he had a much more important role: he was the link, the messenger, between jericho and the police force. he was the crucial communication between the two forces. so when jericho contacted him about threats of anti-android attacks, he had to make an appearance at their base. the meeting coincided with the day you were meant to travel to canada. it was a simple trip really. it only took a few hours by train, stay in canada for 2 days (it was the weekend), and then return back to detroit, probably arriving in the late afternoons to their home.

but you were looking forwards to traveling with your wonderful partner after « [we] spent so much time apart ». the day he told you the urgent change of plans, connor was tired, overwhelmed. you were frustrated and expectant. a fight was bound to have erupted. accusatory statements, along the lines of: « you don’t actually care about me! it’s all about work and work and work! » and « i can’t believe how selfish you’re being right now! » in between shouting and yelling and frustration and anger and contempt–

you both went to bed exhausted but spiteful, still not forgiving each other. in hindsight, he felt so utterly pathetic, so unbelievably childish, for being that cruel, and uncaring. he didn’t want to be like him again. so many glares and insults were thrown at each other, tears threatened to spill, LED flashed and shone a true red, doors were slammed. he felt awful, plain and simple. you both lied in the same bed, under the same cover. so close yet so excruciatingly far apart. back facing the other’s, no one said a word.

you woke up before him. bitter and unhappy. no morning kisses, no whispered « i love you » to wake your other half. you wordlessly got yourself ready, grabbed your bag and quietly snuck out. no post it notes were left. no sweet promises or encouraging words. you could do this work trip without him. you were independent. you didn’t need a tin can to chaperone you everywhere. so you left. plain and simple. gone. since you woke up and left earlier than planned, you boarded an earlier train. how lovely and convenient. the carriages were mostly filled with androids. perhaps they were trying to immigrate to canada like the others. who knows. you paid no mind and absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, obsessively checking your messages to see if connor realised. to see if he apologised. because frankly, at that point you were tired of being mad and just wanted to spend the day in his arms. but prideful and petty as you were, you weren’t willing to apologise and admit your mistakes first.

connor roused from stasis a few moments afterward, less bitter and more regretful. he wished to right his wrongs but the normally warm presence beside him was not there. his system was slowly booting back up when his audio sensor picked up an incessant ringing from the living room. he jolted up and rushed out to pick up the ringing phone call and waited for the other side to speak up.

the room was so utterly quiet, a silence so suffocating engulfed the room, that you could hear a pin drop. the voice on the other side asked whether this was indeed your house and that he was indeed connor anderson. he swallowed dryly and answered with a soft, « yes ». running a quick check in his database, he matches the caller’s voice with a certain nathaniel edwards. first responder. he allowed his HUD to display the news. if androids could get pale, have all their blood drain from their faces, his would have certainly done so. he stood, rigid and motionless, consumed by shock and horror.

the news and the first responder’s words blended into one as he gripped the phone tighter: « this morning, at 7:48 am the train from detroit to toronto was caught in a devastating turn of events: the train soon caught in fire and exploded as it made its way over the border. it has been confirmed that there has been 0 survivors. it is unclear whether this was an unfortunate accident or the result of anti-android terrorism. »

the other person’s voice poured through the speaker but he wasn’t listening. he stared blankly in front of him. no way, he thought, it couldn’t have been… the only sign that the android was registering the other man’s input was the now constant red LED.

« sir? sir. i’m sorry to bring this— – no, this isn’t right… you must have the wrong number, he interrupted. there were probably others with your name… maybe they were mistaken... – sir that’s not possible, w— – you must have gotten the wrong house… not… it-it couldn’t have been…» but he knew how improbable it was that they got the wrong number. he was built to be logical, to believe statistics. the statistics told him you were dead. long gone. he hoped and prayed that you stayed back, didn’t get on the earlier train. the statistics told him you did.

he choked out a response, quiet and defeated. you were gone. he’d never get to see you again. « i… i’m sorry… i-i don’t understand… – we tried our best to find them sir, but… the fire was too severe… if we gain any new developm— – you didn’t save them. »

still in a daze, he must have hung up on the poor man and unceremoniously dropped the phone. its clatter the only sound in this deafening silence. the reality of it all comes crashing through and he collapsed, ugly sobs escaping him as the denial faded away to make way for the pure and unfiltered grief. he felt lost. for the first time in a long while since amanda he felt so utterly and completely lost. no more shining beacon during his dark and stormy nights. no more valued affection and coveted kisses. no more notes and no more smile to come home to.

he laughed bitterly, devoid of any humour. it was funny, just how cruel the fates were: made human life so fleeting. lachesis only gave them such a short eternity. and when he thought you both found your missing halves, bound to another by an invisible string, atropos cuts it. a small snippet that is so easily ripped away from you. he belonged with you, he felt at peace with you. he was able to be what he struggled to be for the majority of his miserable and artificial existence. with you, he was able to be happy.

but now he’ll have to get used to not coming home to a warm embrace. he’ll have to get used to going into stasis alone, in the cold bed. he’ll have to get used to his aching heart being greeted by an empty house. every cold and lonely nights. it’s ridiculous how human he felt because of you. and he was both thankful and spiteful for it.

sadness and bitter regret ripped through him when he remembered that he didn’t share goodbyes before he left. he remembered how he couldn’t have apologised to you and tenderly held you. he regretted not being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him for the last time. ra9 only knows the things he’d do and the things he’d sacrifice, just to have you in his arms again.

instead he was faced with the bitter reminder that the last thing he’s ever said to you, your last memory of him, was a contemptuous and scornful « i wished i never met you ».

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my art tag or my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

[garbagequeer]

hey hello im writing a piece for laptop ensemble that involves sampling and i need the most repressed/tender/yearning quotes you got. just as gay and heart wrenching as you can. but also no pressure I know youre a stranger on the web I just feel like you post that kind of stuff a lot thank you bye

hope this isnt like too late school keeps me busy :( (also can you put a read more on asks? guess i’ll find out). i ended up choosing many quotes from the same texts cause im indecisive as shit but i’ll bold my favorites from those in case that makes it easier for you!

anyways first of all you can never go wrong w richard siken as obvious as that is. these are both from you are jeff

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.

Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and that’s okay, it’s a love story 

this one’s from planet of love (the format got fucked bc tumblr is not actually a finctional website but :/ )

I have a megaphone and you play along,                                                                 because you want to die for love,                                                            you always have.     Imagine this:You’re pulling the car over. Somebody’s waiting.                      You’re going to die                                            in your best friend’s arms.             And you play along because it’s funny, because it’s written down,you’ve memorized it,

from litany in which certain things are crossed out 

I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you’re            really there.Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live?                                                       Let me do it right for once,

sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell                                    and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.            Especially that, but I should have known.You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together            to make a creature that will do what I sayor love me back.

We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too,            smiling and crying in a way that made meeven more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I                                                                                just couldn’t say it out loud.Actually, you said Love, for you,                             is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s                                                                                                 terrifying. No one                                                                        will ever want to sleep with you.

from snow and dirty rain

I had a dream about you. We were in the gold roomwhere everyone finally gets what they want.

that scene from when harry met sally where sally says:

One day I was taking Alice’s little girl fro the afternoon. I’d promised to take her to the circus, and we were in a cab playing “I spy” - you know, “I spy a lamppost”, “I spy a mailbox” - and she looked out the window and there was this man and this woman with two little kids, and the man had one of the kids on his shoulders, and Alice’s little girl said “I spy a family”, and I satrted crying, you know? I just started crying, and I went home

(like anyone else sometimes cries when u see a family doing something nice? is it because i want to participate in a sense of family of my own but have been excluded as a gay person from it’s portrayals and it makes me go :^( cause i dont feel there’s room for me there but i want there to be and i just have to long for this nuclear family heteronormative way of life that i’ve been made to believe is idylic? is it because my parents got divorced and my dad’s an ass and my mom is just a very angry lady and i want to re-do my own childhood? who knows. should we ban movies? yes we should!)

from maurice (ultimate source of tender)

“There was something better in life than this rubbish, if only he could get to it, love, nobility, big spaces where passion clasped peace, spaces no science could reach, but they existed for ever, full of woods some of them, and arched with majestic sky and a friend”

‘Did you ever dream you had a friend, Alec? Nothing else but just “my friend”, he trying to help you and you him. A friend’ he repeated, sentimental suddenly. ‘Someone to last your whole life and you his. I suppose such a thing can’t really happen outside sleep’

we are all so lucky i don’t actually own maurice in english this would just turn into me quoting the whole book

ee cummings voices to voices, lip to lip

the thing perhaps isto eat flowers and not to be afraid.

from virgina woolf’s letters to vita

7 september 1925

january 21 1926 vita writes

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this—But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it …

and on january 26 virginia writes back

Your letter from Trieste came this morning—But why do you think I don’t feel, or that I make phrases? ‘Lovely phrases’ you say which rob things of reality. Just the opposite. Always, always, always I try to say what I feel. Will you then believe that after you went last Tuesday—exactly a week ago—out I went into the slums of Bloomsbury, to find a barrel organ. But it did not make me cheerful … And ever since, nothing important has happened—Somehow its dull and damp. I have been dull; I have missed you. I do miss you. I shall miss you. And if you don’t believe it, you’re a longeared owl and ass. Lovely phrases? … 

from virginia’s diary, about vita on december 21 1925

I like her and being with her and the splendour–she shines in the grocer’s shop in Sevenoaks with a candle lit radiance, stalking on legs like beech trees, pink glowing, grape clustered, pearl hung.

from virginia woolf’s to the light house

What device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the object one adored? Could the body achieve, or the mind, subtly mingling in the intricate passages of the brain? or the heart? Could loving, as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge, she had thought, leaning her head on Mrs Ramsay’s knee. Nothing happened. Nothing! Nothing! as she leant her head against Mrs Ramsay’s knee. And yet, she knew knowledge and wisdom were stored up in Mrs Ramsay’s heart.

Love had a thousand shapes. There might be lovers whose gift it was to choose out the elements of things and place them together and so, giving them a wholeness not theirs in life, make of some scene, or meeting of people (all now gone and separate), one of those globed compacted things over which thought lingers, and love plays.

there forced themselves upon her other things, her own inadequacy, her insignificance, keeping house for her father off the Brompton Road, and had much ado to control her impulse to fling herself (thank Heaven she had always resisted so far) at Mrs Ramsay’s knee and say to her—but what could one say to her? “I’m in love with you?” No, that was not true. “I’m in love with this all,” waving her hand at the hedge, at the house, at the children. It was absurd, it was impossible 

(fun fact: the spanish translation adds something that i’d translate as “one could not say what one meant / what one wanted to say”, which i really like and i was disapointed to find out isnt on the english edition)

It was love, she thought, pretending to move her canvas, distilled and filtered; love that never attempted to clutch its object; but, like the love which mathematicians bear their symbols, or poets their phrases, was meant to be spread over the world and become part of the human gain. So it was indeed. The world by all means should have shared it  

from the great gatsby

I didn’t want to go to the city. I wasn’t worth a decent stroke of work but it was more than that—I didn’t want to leave Gatsby. I missed that train, and then another, before I could get myself away (…) Just before I reached the hedge I remembered something and turned around. ‘They’re a rotten crowd,’ I shouted across the lawn. ‘You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.’ I’ve always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever gave him

from kafka’s diaries

may 27 1911: Today is your birthday, but I am not even sending you the usual book, for it would be only pretence; at bottom I am after all not in position to give you a book. I am writing only because it is so necessary for me today to be near you for a moment

parts from a from a letter he wrote to oskar pollak on february 4 1902

When we talk together the words are hard; we tread over them as if they were rough pavement. The most delicate things acquire awkward feet and we can’t help it. We’re almost in each other’s way; I bump into you and you - I don’t dare and you. When we come to things that are not exactly cobblestones or the Kunstwart, we suddenly see that we are in masquerade, acting with angular faces (especially me, I admit), and then we become sad and bored. Does anyone make you as bored as I do?

then I fall silent and you fall silent and you become bored, and I become bored and it’s all like a stupid hangover and there’s no use lifting a hand. But neither wants to say this to the other, out of shame or fear or - You see, we are afraid of each other, or I am.

Of course I understand it. It’s boring to stand for years in front of an ugly wall and it just won’t crumble away. Of course, but the wall is afraid for itself, fro the garden (if there is one), and you get out of sorts, yawn, have headaches, don’t know where to turn

You often talk with her, not only for the sake of talking. You walk around with her somewhere here or there, or in Roztok, and i sit at my desk at home. You talk with her, and in the middle of a sentence somebody jumps up and makes a bow. That is me with my untrimmed words and angular faces. That lasts only a moment, and then you go on talking. I sit at my desk at home and yawn. I’ve been trhough it already. Wouldn’t that separate us? Is that so strange? Are we enemies? I am very fond of you

from his leters to milena

Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.

jane wong. from clearing

We want to believe everything has meaning.Plums blossom over a power grid

and I am in love again. The shame of it.

from leslie harrison’s [sirens]

I’m not Penelope married to faith married to waitingbound in fine soft strands of silk dyed and stretchedin my world longing has teeth and fins has a tastefor blood longing is a room built entirely of knives

Lorde’s melodrama tour interlude

Don’t you wish you could go inside a heart, see the strings and atrium’s, everything beating and bleeding. It’s kind of funny, I spend almost every minute thinking about love. Being guided, and divided by love. But I’ve never seen it. It’s just a rumour, a comedown, an afterglow. I wanna see it, in colour. In the summer, I can almost picture it

from Andrea Long Chu’s on liking women

One day, you tell yourself, it will give you what you want. Then, one day, it doesn’t. Now it dawns on you that your object will probably never give you what you want. But this is not what’s disappointing, not really. What’s disappointing is what happens next: nothing. You keep your object. You continue to follow it around, stash it in a drawer, water it, tweet at it. It still doesn’t give you what you want—but you knew that. You have had another realization: not getting what you want has very little to do with wanting it. Knowing better usually doesn’t make it better. You don’t want something because wanting it will lead to getting it. You want it because you want it

ada limón, In a Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me

But love is impossible and it goes ondespite the impossible. You’re the muscleI cut from the bone and still the boneremembers, still it wants (so much, it wants)the flesh back, the real thing,if only to rail against it, if onlyto argue and fight, if only to missa solve-able absence.

i dont think i need to get into mitski songs because you probably already know but basically pink in the night/come into the water/once more to see you/in happy when she says if you’re going take the train so i can hear it rumble one last rumble/in i want you from the first verse to the first time she goes “i just need a quiet place where i can scream how i love you” (YES the card thing is very important)/the first verse of i will (w emphasis on everything you feel is good i f you wold only let you)/abbey/strawberry blond

sufjan steven’s futile devices obviously predatory wasp of the palisades you know the drill 

was going to find some twin fantasy lyrics but i started thinking about famous prophets (minds) and like. emotionally left my body so. i wont be thinking about it or any other songs anymore it makes me too crazy

from frances ha

It’s that thing when you’re with someone and you love them and they know it and they love you and you know it but it’s a party and you’re both talking to other people and you’re laughing and shining and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes. But not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual, but because that is your person in this life and it’s funny and sad but only because this life will end and it’s this secret world that exists right there. In public. Unnoticed. That no one else knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us but we don’t have the ability to perceive them. That’s what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess.

from ellen lee’s notes on twin fantasy that i revisit constantly

there’s no going back to deliver these words to the ones they were really meant for. That’s how heartbreak feels, I guess. It feels like your heart in between the teeth of someone who’s looking away. When you’ve lost your loved object, what happens to all the things you have to say to them? When they’re turned away, what happens to all the things that you couldn’t, but desperately need(ed) to, say to their face? He dissociates himself from his own romance until it becomes a fantasy. You have your bleeding heart, you have a finite set of memories — when nothing new enters and you’re unwilling to let go, then you have a fantasy. The loved object enters into you and transforms.

the journey home by dermot bolger(havent read this at all dont really plan to/dont know a thing about it either i just came across this shit like 2 years ago and i still think about it)

I wanted to hurt him; I wanted just to touch him. What I wanted I’m not really sure. If he had stopped and opened his arms I would have walked towards him; I would have sat on the kerb all night with him

adam b, sweet i have a (really gay) heart

i feel like my body is the extension of a lake. i feel really badabout not telling you the truth, sometimes. i feelreally small next to you. tall boys remind me of bean stalks.i wish i had your legs. i wish i could know your handsbefore i even touch them

aaaand i think that’s all i could think of and track down, hope this is actually helpful and not too long (i am indecisive no kidding). also ksjdfg it’s nice that you thought to ask me this and i did have fun going over all these quotes so thank you 💖💖💖

[demytasse]

[Shinra & Shizuo] Inebriated Idiocy

     The situation required contemplation of certain moral ramifications, as brief as that consideration might last.

On one hand, alcohol was said to be the window to someone’s truest thoughts; bring about their most genuine feelings and unconscious desires. On the other hand, Shinra was an intellectual that keenly understood the human psyche; he knew better than to believe societal nonsense. In actuality, alcohol only lowered someone’s inhibitions enough to vocalise thoughts exactly as they formed; this included, but wasn’t exclusive to situational opinions, primal reactions to anything remotely sexual, and sober observations that hadn’t been sussed out.

So honestly, Shizuo letting himself into Shinra’s apartment with an odd request might have coincidentally been his own influence, the other day asking for blood and marrow samples in jest, yet again. Which the tease seemed to continue its bumble ‘round his friend’s absent mind.

    Not having much going on up there must explain why it’s still relevant.

His drunken stupour was no different than a conclusion from a simple dream; what was sorted alongside other curious tidbits gained while conscious, and that scientific proposal hadn’t been determined trash or data just yet, despite it being the same ol’ same old.

That being said…

    “What other opportunity would I have short of drugging him myself?” Shinra hummed; gathered vials and tools, bounced through his preparation. “Morally speaking it checks out if I didn’t administer the drug. After all, he came to me pre-doped! Haha." 

He glanced over at Shizuo who somehow managed a cool guy pose upon the examination table, simultaneously a blathering mess — slurring incomprehensible words and half-baked thoughts. All to which seemed on par with what Shinra normally mocked, so it assured that no bad karma, nor bad blood would arise.

    ”…it was the least I could do,“ Shizuo concluded what had been internal dialogue.

    Shinra focused on his assembly, "hmm~? I didn’t catch what you did." 

    "Drink.”

    “Then that wasn’t the least you could do, right? That would’ve been not drinking, since doing nothing is the less than something active.”

    Shizuo looked annoyed. “Meant I didn’t drink randomly, asshole. I did it ‘cause…” he spaced, pinched his nose. “…ugh, there’s a reason. Just…whatever.”

    “That’s fine, Shizuo. Your oldest friend doesn’t need an excuse for your impromptu visit. Especially since you’re granting me the honour of—”

    “Tom!” A heavy hand slammed on the table.

Shinra jumped — juggled a device, caught it by the tubular tail before it hit the floor.

    “E-ehh?” his pulse refused to steady.

    “Tom’s birthday. We went for drinks. 'Parently Vorona’s a heavyweight.”

    Shinra laughed, kind of embarrassed for his friend. “I don’t think that’s actually the term you’re going for…" 

    "She cheated.”

    “How so?”

    “She’s Russian.”

    “You’re honestly the type to play into stereotypes, Shizuo?”

    He groaned, “she shoved vodka on me. 'Don’t handle it well.”

    Of course, it’s some oddball connection, nothing offensive.

    “And she knew that?”

    “No.”

    “So it was more that you couldn’t handle the defeat!”

    The drunk grunted. “Ya wanna die?”

    Shinra waved in mercy, “no no! Let’s just move on!!”

     Though the more Shizuo spouted trash fragments, the more difficult it was for Shinra to sway his conscience that this was alright, as maybe the blood alcohol level was higher than he’d anticipated.

Every step of drawing blood was a joke to Shizuo. He laughed while his sleeve was rolled up, mocked the concentration Shinra wore while he struggled to stick the needle in; knocked the doctor’s glasses askew like a young brat that thought himself a slapstick comedian. 

    Unamused, Shinra adjusted his frames with a latex-free wrist. “Please stop.” 

    “I kinda felt bad. Told ‘im thirty was just a number,” he disrupted the blood-pull with a messy gesture.

    “Shizuo, why are you so animated?!”

    “He said he was twenty-seven! Whoops.” 

    “Yeah, you’re an idiot, we get it,” Shinra paused between a third attempt.     “Probably, haha.”

It was then that he noticed how flush his patient was; how boyish his crinkled features were, and how Shizuo’s jovial nature was too foreign to be anything but drunkenness. Blurredly he watched the other above half-mast lenses, but a thought with prescription clarity hit him in result of the study — the vision of a perturbed Celty demanding that her held out PDA be read.

    //It’s taking advantage of Shizuo!//     //!!! N-n-not in that way, p-pervert!//

It wasn’t actually Celty’s textual wisdom, but his own beratement spoken through her beautiful voice, that of course he’d long ago created for her in place of having none to speak with. It was a flurried dissuasion he wouldn’t follow without her image affixed, whether in physical or mental form.

Thus Shinra was defeated by his own imagination. 

    “Come on,” he sighed, “I’ll set you up on the couch for the night." 

    “Oh…uh, sure.”

Shizuo stumbled off the table and stabilised when a hand supported his back to send him along the path to the living room. As Shinra motioned his follow, he spotted a rolled bandage that he’d previously readied. 

His decade awaited experiment may have been a bust, but he had an idea that might give him a chuckle the next morning.

—

    The recovering drunk studied a cross at the crook of his elbow. It screamed at his memory bank in vibrant fuchsia; with consternation Shizuo recognised the bandage as he recalled swaths of highschool peers wore them after donating blood; an annual fashion accessory that Shizuo never got to sport — only ever able to bling the trash cans with broken needles.

That indicated only one thing in the present: he’d been pin-pricked by an advantageous prick, and he was hardly impressed with how Shinra tagged him without any recollection.

    "Oh! You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be,” the devil spoke at the doorway, audaciously donned his goofy grin, with a coffee mug in hand.

    “Shinra…” he growled, “wanna explain this?”

    “I’m curious to hear what you think it means! I wouldn’t be shocked if you’re either right or wrong.”

The silence grew stronger, Shizuo’s annoyance grew palpable, and for a split moment Shinra mused over the spontaneous prank.

    Perhaps I got tipsy off the atmosphere last night and made my own drunken regret…

Which he externalised as a solo ‘eep!’, a wild scramble upon slippery slipper footing; an aerial trail of coffee in his wake. 

To the carpet’s relief, the liquid was suspended mere inches above it, encapsulated in shadow. With luck, Celty formed it within a second’s notice as she was hastily passed by two scuttling idiots.

    “I’m innocent! Innocent, I swear!”

    “Like hell ya are!”

Celty puffed out air too exhausted for the early hours. 

    At least it’s spilt coffee and not blood spill.

—

    It took a few laps around the apartment for the duo to wind up on opposite couches in a truce. Celty, their moderator, sat close at Shinra’s side to prevent a young death.

    “You see, Shizuo, as you claimed you were in full control of your faculties, so I kindly decided to fulfill your request.” Shinra rubbed at a wallop injury at his crown. “which seemed a fair assumption since you weren’t acting any less intelligible than usual." 

He was forced to squint while Celty futzed with the bent plastic and metal of his glasses. 

    “Lucky you, I’m perceptive enough to notice little details which proved that you were, in fact, inebriated. I stopped before I collected any samples.”

Whether or not Shizuo’s grunt was an invitation for the rest of the schpeel, or if it was an indignant ‘fuck off’ made no difference.     “Feel free to leave a tip for my better judgement. I know it’s not customary for doctor visits, but I’m never too humble to decline monetary praise.”

A shadow placed glasses back on his nose, but he immediately let them slip back down when a glare across the table was in clear view. The hangover effect must of have worked mental lapses between Shizuo’s comprehension of insults, thus he remained in a slump with exhausted shadows below his cold eyes.

    "Yanno, that better be the treatment you give Celty, or so help me…”

    “A-ah, she can’t get inebriated in the first place, or drink for that matter—”

    “So you’d take advantage of her if she could??”

    “No, no! Never! If anything I want her to reveal her own desires to have me sweep her into fits of romance…” he darted his eyes from Shizuo’s disgust.

    ”…buuut I better let that topic be laid to rest.“

—

    "Honestly…I almost wish he’d just done it.”

    //Really?//

    Shizuo nodded in between takes of smoke, “maybe it’s about time I figure out what makes me…me. You know, so I can control myself better…or something.”

    //That’s a noble thing to do, Shizuo…//

He shook his head, wasted half of his cigarette when he extinguished it on the deck railing before he brushed ash into his hand.

    //Maybe do it when you’re sober, though. That way you can feel good about the decision to better yourself and not have it be a drunken decision you accept.//

    “You know,” he smiled, “I like that.”

It wasn’t odd that he agreed with Celty, it was that he wanted his abnormality to be experimented on by his dysfunctional friend; that he was finally ready to face the facts and learn how to work with his condition. Despite that realisation, it was best to ask Shinra with sobriety.

    “Might make him pony up the cash for my blood, though. It’s a hot commodity, right?”

Celty chuckled with a bob of her shoulders.

—

    “And that’s why I always trust my doctor’s instincts over Shizuo. In this case, causality didn’t result in my casualty and I can rest in peace standing six-feet above ground and not under it! Hmm…I should pay respects at the nearest shrine for good measure.

    “At anyrate, I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to showcase Celty’s handiwork of my repaired glasses, a token of her dedication and love for all to appreciate! Even if they’re imperfect, they’re perfect to me. So let’s think of this as a public service announcement, kids: don’t drink and make hasty decisions!”

—

AN: Shinra breaking the fourth wall is one of my favourite things; it’s delightful. (O´▽`o)~♡

Based on one of the headcanons I wrote for Shizuo in a character meme, except it’s a little goofier than when I wrote the HC. Probably because I made it primarily from Shinra’s perspective. \(=~=)/ Thank you, @monopsys for the inspiration to actually write this!