#i don't even care if it's handmade and none of the money is going to rowling or you're donating the proceeds to a trans organization

[swarnpert]

if i go to pride this year and i see people selling fucking harry potter merch i'm gonna flip my fucking lid

[vermilionsun]

[Anon request (2/2)]: “Since MC is broke, what do the LIs think of them showing affection through gifts, even if they haven't got money? I can imagine they make simple, inexpensive things like paper flowers for Leander or friendship bracelets for Ais.”

Yes yes yes~ - I don't think they'd care much about the price tbh

Ais

✩ "Hm… what is this?" Ais asks as he's handed a hand-made bracelet.

"It's a friendship bracelet I made for you," the MC replies with a smile. "I hope you like it."

✩ He's dumbfounded.

✩ Ais looks down at the bracelet in his hand and takes a moment to examine the colorful beads. He is surprisingly gentle as he handles the bracelet, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns. "You made this? For me?"

"Yep."

✩  High possibility there’s either a birb or bone charm in the middle (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻

✩ He's definitely the type to believe there's a reason behind every action someone takes.

✩ "It's handmade, huh? Why waste your time on something so pointless for me?"

✩ The MC's smile falters slightly at Ais's words, but they quickly recover. "It's not a waste of time if it's something I enjoyed making for you," they say softly. "If you don't want it, I'll take it back—"

✩ Meanwhile, Ais had already fastened it to his wrist.

✩ "Who said I didn't want it?" Ais interrupts, his eyes softening as he admires the bracelet. "You think I'd let you give me a gift, then just take it away so easily?"

✩ "I just don't understand why you would go through all this trouble for me." The MC chuckles, a hint of blush coloring their cheeks. "I wanted to show my appreciation for all you've done for me," they explain.

✩ Ais looks at the bracelet on his wrist, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, sparrow. I'll treasure it."

Leander

🗡 After yet another magic show of luck-filled lilies, Leander notices the MC sitting at the bar, busy doing something just out of view. He puts on a charming smile and takes a seat next to them. "Oh, what do we have here?"

The MC presents him with a few napkin-made lilies.

🗡 Leander's eyes widen in surprise, and he smiles as he picks one up, delicately examining the folded paper and twirling it between his fingers.

🗡 Leander is a man who enjoys both the big (̶A̶i̶s̶)̶ and the small (̶M̶h̶i̶n̶)̶ things in life.

🗡 "These are amazing," he exclaims, genuinely impressed. "Did you fold these yourself?"

🗡 "Impressive. I can't say I've ever seen napkin origami this accurate before."

🗡 I̶n̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶o̶m̶e̶n̶t̶, h̶e̶ r̶e̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ w̶i̶s̶h̶e̶d̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ a̶ b̶r̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ p̶o̶c̶k̶e̶t̶

🗡 He takes the small flower and gently tucks it behind the MC's ear, his hand lingering just long enough for them to feel the warmth of his skin at the uncovered base of his palm.

🗡 "Thank you for this lovely gift," he says with a soft smile.

Kuras

✞ He just blinks down at the object in confusion. "A bookmark?"

✞ He takes it, carefully inspecting it and smoothing his fingers over the glossy surface, intrigued by its unexpected smoothness.

✞ The bookmark is a deep shade of amethyst, with hand-painted gold designs etched into the surface. As he turns it over in his hands, he notices a small inscription on the back.

✞ Curious, he squints (bad eyesight gang, let's go) to make out the messy script that reads, 'For the most fascinating doctor.'

✞ "Ah."

✞ Speechless.

✞ For the first time since the MC woke up at his clinic after the Soulless' attack, his smile falters. A strange look flickers across his face—something caught between guilt and sorrow—there one minute and gone the next.

✞ "Do you not—"

"No, I like it..." He quickly reassures them. "Just a little startled. I'm not used to receiving gifts."

✞ Same song and dance. A̶n̶d̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶s̶ i̶t̶.

✞ "It's... a very nice bookmark."

✞ Careful. He forces his gaze back to their eyes, to their friendly, expectant expression. His hands absently smooth out the wrinkles on his white coat as he tries to find the words to say. But none of them are appropriate.

✞ T̶h̶e̶y̶ a̶r̶e̶ s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ s̶o̶ y̶o̶u̶n̶g̶. S̶o̶ o̶p̶e̶n̶. S̶o̶ n̶a̶ïv̶e̶.

✞ He shoves down the guilt that claws its way up his throat, hiding it beneath an impenetrable facade. When his eyes flash up to the MC's, the gold swirls in his irises as he forces a smile—steadfast, unwavering. The one he has had centuries to perfect.

✞ "Thank you," he finally manages to say, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.

Vere

✦ Vere, sitting across the table, observed the MC with a coy smile as they moved a broken-in-half pencil along the edge of the sheet of paper, brow furrowed in concentration, eyes focused intently on the task at hand, wavering only to glance up at Vere. Often. Very often.

✦ "What're you drawing there? Don't tell me you're sketching me."

A guilty smile overcomes their lips as they lift their eyes to meet his pink ones.

✦ Vere chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Oh, how predictable. You can't help it, can you? I've just got such a captivating presence. But I must say, I'm flattered to be your muse."

"…It was supposed to be a gift."

✦ Vere pretended to be wounded, feigning a look of hurt. "Oh, how dare you! You'd just give away art portraying my stunning and irresistible beauty so easily? I'm wounded."

"For you."

✦ Vere pauses for a moment, allowing the words to sink in before bursting into laughter. "For me? Well, in that case, I accept your gift with grace and humility. I suppose I could find room in my collection for one more sketch of myself. After all, they are my favorites, just like you."

✦ "Carry on with your sketching, my talented artist."

✦ Truth be told, it turned out mediocre at best.

✦ Vere looked at the sketch, his expression a tad puzzled amongst the amusement. He held the sketch up to his face, examining it closely with a raised eyebrow.

✦ "Well, well, well... You certainly have a keen eye for detail, I must say." He chuckled softly, glancing up at them with a sly smile.

✦ "If you don't want it, you could just say so—"

He quickly snatched the sketch from their hands. "Oh, no no no, I'm keeping this. Consider it a token of your affection towards me."

✦ Vere has an expensive taste; that's a known fact. But he was willing to overlook the lackluster quality of the sketch purely out of vanity. He didn't need to know that the sketch was hastily done and far from impressive. As long as Vere believed it was a masterpiece, that's all that mattered.

Mhin

🕊 They are definitely a foodie. Please gift them sweets, if possible.

🕊 Mhin takes the bag, eyeing it suspiciously. Then, they peek inside, revealing a handful of sweets.

🕊 "A gift?" Mhin echoes, looking up at the MC, their face betraying a hint of bewilderment. "What's the angle?”

🕊 Mhin hesitantly picks up one, studying it like a puzzle to be solved. Then, they warily take a bite. A moment later, a small flicker of surprise and pleasure washes over their face. 

🕊 T̶r̶u̶t̶h̶ b̶e̶ t̶o̶l̶d̶, t̶h̶e̶y̶ h̶a̶l̶f-̶e̶x̶p̶e̶c̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶ p̶o̶i̶s̶o̶n̶e̶d̶

🕊 Mhin crosses their arms defiantly, but their Mhin's voice softens a touch. Despite their hard, distrustful veneer, there is a hint of vulnerability in their eyes.

🕊 "You... really just wanted to give me this? No hidden motives, no expectations?"

🕊 "I..." Mhin falters. Then, something strange happens: a corner of their mouth twitches up, as if fighting away a smile. "I don't understand you. But... Thanks, I guess."

🕊 In the more-than-likely scenario that sweets are expensive expensive in Eridia, I offer you the alternative: Hand-made dagger cat charm.

🕊 They look at the charm in their hand, confusion dancing across their face. The words fail to come to them; instead, their face turns into a frown.

🕊 “What is that supposed to be?”

🕊 A huff of breath leaves their lips as they reluctantly take the charm. They are clearly unimpressed. "You made this? Why would I need a charm? I don’t need luck; I trust my skills and my instincts."

🕊 "If you don't want it—"

They snatch the charm from their hand, almost possessively. “I didn’t say I don’t want it. I just...never mind.”

🕊 They attach the charm to their dagger, secretly basking in the warmth that spreads through their chest.

🕊 "Thank you," they finally mutter, refusing to meet their eyes.

🕊 Now, when they grip the weapon, a sense of reassurance floods over them as their fingers brush over the charm, despite their attempts to hide it.

🕊 Though they may not need luck, having a reminder of someone who cared enough to make them a gift was a comfort in itself.

[judasgot-it]

Headcannons: What kind of lover are they? (Sigma, Mushitaro)

Continuing this series a little cause these characters get NO love and they're among my favs.

SIGMA

He's the type of guy to spoil his lover rotten since he really dreams of a TV style romance. It's borderline silly sometimes, but his person would be someone who would be as cool as he is - possibly cooler. No amount of money can buy the easy style and fashion that him and his lover have.

He'd be the BEST omg

Type of guy to send his lover money and be like "buy yourself something nice" and it's like 2k

This man spoils but he also has the mindset of looking rich and being rich cause he doesn't wanna be poor

He smells better than handmade leather

He probably expects his lover to look good enough to walk around the casino though so he does have high expectations - he's a career guy. Also he cares about that place a lot (before you know....)

Although he's the type to be like "you don't want me...I've killed people" stfu bro you're favorite food is cookies

He's like a killer Teddy bear compared to the rest of the BSD cast tbh

He'd be a sweetheart but he needs praise and 100% if he has a lover they're in on all of his life drama too

You probably know more about him than he does himself lol

Will try to protect you from anyone he knows is weird and a killer - dazai, fyodor, nikolai, even the hunting dogs (he has serious beef)

Honestly he'd be a great BF but you'd need to carry a gun on you 24/7 or something so sigma feels better with him not around

He is probably needs security the most out of anyone

MUSHITARO

Certified loser, this guy really just wants people he can depend on and won't betray him considering his past. He'd never cheat, he just wants to enjoy the day to day with his lover even if he seems like a sour apple all the time.

He's a fucking loser (no offense, just a fact. The washing machine manual did it for me) so this guy is guaranteed not to cheat tbh

Like. He has 2 friends if you count ranpo and poe and maybe anyone associated with the detective agency. And none of them are touching his weird astrology obsessed ass (I love him)

This guy would date someone and is loyal be default, plus if he opened up then like. Bro idk how he's moving on from that

Marriage. Point blank. He wouldn't move on from a breakup at all

Also as depressed as he is ik he'd probably enjoy day to day life instead of focusing on the long term anymore. You can't be assured of the future, so he'd always go get whatever sweet treat you want

Honestly he'd be an amazing bf tho like this man APPRECIATES the people in his life

If you're in. You're IN

He'd be chill about it like. Probably would do a whole lot of stuff like sight seeing and all of that. Maybe he'd be sour about it, but he'd enjoy being forced outside of his shell

Inside he's a sweetheart and would think about his lover a LOT

Probably gets them their favorite snacks on his day to day

Cries during sex tho he can't help it

[little-pup-pip]

Hey! I just wanted to let you know, while I think the moodboards you make are super cute and I do love them a lot, they're super disheartening to see.

All of them, are pretty much just stolen content? You don't bother crediting or sourcing anything on them, so they're basically all just photos/art that doesn't belong to you :(

The small artists who create the deco pacis, the plushies, the photography, deserve to be credited and not have their stuff stolen. Especially when they are products the artist is selling (deco pacis, crochet, handmade collars, etc.) they deserve that attention and credit.

/nm but I've just seen SO many people not caring to source their posts. I really encourage you to credit the posts you create.

Hello hello!! First off, I want to tell you that, for the most part, you're right! This is actually something I think about a lot, and I get where you're coming from. Most of the things I post are uncredited pictures, and I'm going to explain why in the best way I can. But ultimately, it's up to you whether this explanation satisfies you or not (if you have suggestions on how to fix it after reading this whole thing, let me know)!

For context, most of the stuff I post are pictures directly from Pinterest, a site that is notorious for being awful at crediting creators and making it difficult to find the original creators of things. I wish Pinterest was better at allowing people to trace the origins of images, and I would love it if I could find the original creators of every picture I use. Unfortunately, it is genuinely impossible to find the people who take most of the pictures on Pinterest a lot of the time (because Pinterest will show you the most recent saver of a picture rather than the poster, and if you do manage to find the poster, you never know if someone reposted a picture, so the person who you think is the creator actually is not). It's really not a matter of "I don't bother to"; it's that often I can't (this is why I try to avoid using art not made by companies because I'd drive myself crazy trying to find the artist)!

I also want to point out that none of the stuff I use is "stolen"! If you look at Pinterest's terms of service, every picture posted there is entirely free to use, sort of like a stock image, and I have to assume that the posters know that. (Legal talk and a simpler version pictured below)

Additionally, I do show products, but often not by small stores or creators. Most of them are literally product advertisements from large companies that will not take any financial hit from this at all. If you go onto Pinterest and look up something like "blanket," you'll find that it's almost completely large corporations! And that is almost entirely the selection of product pictures I use, especially for my petre boards, as I don't think I have any handmade collars in any of my boards, just commercially made ones!

The pictures that are from smaller creators, such as products, as you stated, can easily be traced back to the creators by downloading the picture and using the Pinterest or even google image search; sometimes, there's even a watermark to make things easier. And, if you ask me, I'll find the creator for you if it's possible!

As a small side note, I never take credit for pictures that aren't my own, and I don't make any money from this. I'm not receiving anything that the creators aren't, except maybe views. And, if people asked me to remove pictures they didn't want on other people's accounts shown on one of my moodboards, I would. I have never had that happen, however, and when people do recognize pictures that they made in one of my moodboards, they have only ever been happy to see them. Here are two examples (check the reblogs)!! Example 1 Example 2

Ultimately, this is a grey area for content, and Pinterest has no better alternative. This debate is also nothing new! People have been making moodboards long before my time and will continue to do so after I stop. And I'm not saying I'm perfect or that other moodboard creators take the same precautions as me, but I am doing my best to make moodboards in a conscionable manner! If you can't get behind it, that's okay!! I would also be happy to discuss this more with you if you want!

[leffee]

will there be more sims stuff?

Probably not because I actually stopped playing quite a while ago and have 0 interest in returning to it as for now. There's only so long you can play without any expansions before getting bored I suppose, and I am not spending so much money on a single expansion. However, I can show you a few more things from my save with Vinnie ans Sunil :D.

So first of all, they have slaves in the basement, one of them is a child. As you can see it looks horrible, on purpose, it has only the worst-quality basic necessities (the toilet and the bathtub are literally handmade out of wood) plus a bunch of random things that I got one way or the other and had no use for them but wanted to keep. The basement is directly connected to the house but the door is locked for them, however Vinnie and Sunil can come and go as they please.

Outside they have some graves of the people they have killed, mostly via the pool you can see there. Why is there a bed outside? It was for a child that was born by one of the basement slaves and I didn't like it so it slept outside, it kept the bed there even after becoming an adult.

Speaking of killing people, this is a picture-based painting Vinnie painted after they killed someone and Grim Reaper and Sunil started hanging out (idk what happened with the other painting, it's all black and I don't remember what it was)

Now, their lineages. As you can see, they have a lot of children (Sunil way more than Vinnie) but none of them with each other. Why is that? So they can spread their precious genes in the neighbourhood without having to take care of the little feckers. Does that mean they cheated on each other? Not really, it wasn't like that you see, it was purely for the sake of, as I said, spreading their genes. They love each other still ^^. This was just bussiness

Now this, this is a house they built for the basement slave they banished because they didn't like him and wanted some fresh meat in the basement instead. However, the house (it's underground, you can see the hole and stairs leading to it) does not have any doors.

And normally when you go to visit someone you only get access to their house once you knock on the door, but since the guy doesn't have any doors you can only see inside of his house by going into the pov of your sim, having said that his house inside looks like this

it consists of poorly placed counters, wooden bathtub and a public bathroom.

They have also planted death flowers in front of all of their neighbours' houses, as a sign that they are next, here's an example but they did it everywhere (I know, it's all in Polish, but you just have to believe me it says death flower)

And few Vinnil stuff as a bonus

Here is also Vinnie talking to a lemon tree because I made him insane

Yeeee

[razorsadness]

In the grand tradition of me, I started this journal entry ages ago, but then more stuff kept happening before I could finish it. Let’s see if I can get it all down—

I’ll start with the hard things.

There's my perpetual broke-ness; trying to prepare for the impending holidays while not having a lot of money to buy gifts. And that's fine for my friends and most of my family members—they appreciate handmade gifts. But for my kids? Well, I'm hustling every day to have enough money to buy them some gifts. (It's especially difficult because C.’s birthday is four days before Xmas, so we have to buy gifts for that, too.)

There's a struggle I'm having in regards to my mom; I've written about that extensively in my private journal and don't feel like rehashing it here right now, because it makes me too upset.

And D.'s been struggling again, with anger, and with (lack of) focus. I’m not sure if we need to increase the dosage of his meds or what. I hope that he gets into equine therapy soon (he’s on a waitlist), because my cousin S.’s daughter M. tried years of different meds and talk therapy for her depression and anxiety and PTSD, and none of that has helped her as much as equine therapy has. In the meantime, we’re trying to limit his video game time, because even though gaming is his favorite thing, it also brings out his rage like nothing else.

There are my own mental illnesses and disabilities, which can make even good days turn pretty shit.

And there have been some writing rejections, which have sucked on two levels. One being that these were paying publications, and I fucking need the money. The other being that getting rejected just fucking sucks. (At least rejections no longer send me into a I'm never writing again spiral like they used to; though they do occasionally send me into an I’m never submitting again, fuck traditional publishing, I’ll self-publish everything from now on spiral.)

But then there’s so much good (or at least happysad) stuff, too. I’ve been writing a lot; mostly poetry but also some prose. I’ve been working on my Rimbaud translations again, and now I finally know what I’m going to do with them. I’ve been reading a lot—new and new-to-me stuff, plus rereading some of my perennial favorites. Same with music and television/movies—I’m spending about equal amounts of time on discovering new things and rediscovering old favorites. I’ve been doing as much as I can both dayjob-wise and side hustle-wise and activism-wise, but also trying to take it easy on myself when I need to rest. Speaking of rest and self-care, I’ve been drinking less coffee and more tea. (Even caffeinated tea is better for me than coffee; too much coffee makes me jittery and anxious, whereas caffeinated tea does not do that, no matter how much I drink. Also, I’ve been having a lot of stomachaches lately, and coffee makes them worse whereas tea actually helps.) And speaking of dayjobs, P. has started actively applying for work again. I’ve been spending a lot of time in my favorite places here in Racine, and thinking about how much I love it. It’s funny, for a lot of years I thought I’d rather live anywhere other than here. Even when I did move back, I thought it was only temporary. But sometime in the past eight years (around the time I became Poet Laureate) it started to feel like home, and I will be sad when I do leave it.

On the 9th, I drove down to DeKoven (a place I have written about a lot over the years, including in one of the pieces in my most recent zine), to the art gallery there, to set up for our art and poetry event. It was a perfect fall day; leaves wet from recent rain, a chill wind off the lake. I helped hang the art and set up the sculptures; I also hung my poems on the wall next to the pieces which inspired them, and added relevant decorative embellishments with oil pastels. I remembered how much I like being involved in the actual set-up of an art show. And I got to see some folks I hadn’t seen in a while, and also met a few new people, including a gorgeous woman named K. It was her birthday; she was wearing a gold glitter jacket, shedding sparkles everywhere, and she brought cupcakes and sparkling grape juice to share with everyone. By the time I left, it was full dark, and there, over the lake to the south, was the skyline of Kenosha, glittering gold in the blue-black.

Two nights later was the art and poetry event, so it was back to DeKoven, hat on my head and boots on my feet, jazz on the radio. It turned out to be one of the best nights I’ve had in a few months. I drank a La Fin du Monde; one of my favorite beers since I first tried it in Montreal twenty goddamn years ago. All the art was amazing; all the poets writing in response to it wrote amazing stuff. I love poetry readings like that, where everyone has very different styles but they are all so fucking good.

I got to see two more old friends for the first time in quite a while—J.E. and N.R. N.R. is one of my favorite people ever, like he is just the type of person who makes friends with everyone and is chill with everything. We were both drinking beer, and laughing about how back in the day we would’ve been smoking weed, too, but how now we can’t do both at the same time anymore or we just get sleepy. During the intermission, J.E. and I stood outside smoking cigarettes, and we talked about everything. I asked how he was, and he said, “Well, I don’t want to die most days anymore, so I’d say I’m doing alright.” And then he said: “I hope that’s okay to say, it’s just, you’re this person I trust that when you ask me how I’m doing, I can be honest about it, no bullshit.” And I said: “You’re absolutely right.” And then I went on to talk about how sometimes I still think ‘I wanna die,’ but it’s not really that I want to die, it’s that I want my life and/or the world to be completely different, and he totally understood what I was saying. Then we talked about parenting, the great parts and the hard parts, and we talked about living in poverty, and I just. I know I’ve mentioned it before but I’m so glad that we are friends now. As fucked up as we both were when we first met back in 2008, I’m so glad that after years of not talking to one another, over the past almost four years we’ve become close and now I consider him not just a casual acquaintance but a good goddamn friend.

I got a bunch of compliments on my poems/performance, including people saying my stuff reminded them of the Beats but that I’d surpassed them, and the poet who was set to perform after me saying “how am I supposed to follow that?!” I met a bunch of new amazing people that night, too. Like P.W., a Romanian man who was one of the artists that had work as part of the event; he had the sexiest accent and looked super sexy, too. I’m pretty sure he’s a bit younger than I am, but he’s fully silver-haired, and gorgeous. Like T., who was one of the artists and one of the poets, and he was wearing an amazing shirt—a button-down with a print of ink pots, fountain pens, and notebooks. And K. was there, too, because she was one of the poets, and her words were fire, and she was gorgeous in a tight dress and tall boots and a beret. After the performance part of the night was over, I hung out for a while, finishing my beer, talking with people. T. and I talked about God, and the mycellium network, and mycellium-as-God; we talked about Beat poets and bisexuality. He has such an interesting story. He’s in his 60s. He married a woman in his early 20s, and always knew he was also into men, but they were monogamous and he loved his wife very much. She died about five years ago, and he still loves her (I could tell just by the way he talked about her), but now he’s dating a man for the first time ever in his life, and loves his current partner very much, too. He also told me he found me fascinating, and wanted to write a poem about me. I talked with P.W. again for a bit, he said he’d like to paint me sometime if I’d be interested in modeling for him, and uh, well. I didn’t commit to anything, because I felt a spark of attraction and though I wasn’t sure if he felt one, too, I knew if he did it could turn into a complicated situation.

Then I went outside to have a cigarette. J.E. was already outside smoking, and P.W. and K. joined us, as well as K.’s friend that had come with her to the event. K. was out of cigarettes, so I rolled one for her. J.E. said: “I’m not gonna lie, your ‘Blue’ poem was kinda long, and I started getting a little sleepy while you read it.” P.W. said: “I didn’t think it was too long. I liked listening to you read it. If it did make me feel sleepy, it was in a good way. Like a beautiful lullaby.” Which, well, wow. We all stood quiet for a minute, smoking; smelling the shit smell wafting from the wastewater treatment plant. K. and her friend left.

Then this very drunk young woman walked up to us. She was swaying slightly on her feet, holding a plastic cup of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Turned out she was there for her sister’s wedding reception, which was being held in the great hall part of DeKoven. “Most of the people there other than my girlfriend are super boring and straight, but I didn’t want to stand alone while I smoked, and I saw your hat,” she pointed at me, “and decided to come over here. You’re not straight, are you?” she asked me. “No, no I’m not,” I said. “I knew it!” she said. “No straight person could pull a hat like that off so well!” Then: “Anyway. I’m L., I’m gay, and I have a useless English degree.” J.E. and I laughed, and said: “Join the club! We have useless English degrees too!” She said: “No, you don’t understand, mine is with a concentration in creative writing, so it’s extra useless.” “Us too!” we said. She went on to talk about how she’d tried to write fiction but her stories sucked so she gave up and now just worked in customer service. J.E. said: “Have you tried writing poetry?” But he said it in this sort of creepy, Waits-y growl, like he was some criminal or pervert in a trenchcoat, lurking in a dark alley, like: “Hey, kid, you wanna try poetry?” So I just fucking lost it at that. When I’d stopped laughing, J.E. and I both tried telling her in all seriousness that well, of course most writers, including ourselves, do non-creative writing work to pay the bills, but that we still write. We told her that, in fact, that’s why we were there that night; we’d just done a poetry reading. Then the topic moved on to where we were from/lived. L. said she was from San Diego originally but now lived with her girlfriend in Brooklyn: “But not the cool part. The part that sucks.” Soon after, a very dapper, short butch woman came running over: “There you are!” she said to L. “Oh, hey everyone,” L. said, “this is my girlfriend.” Then, to her girlfriend: “I came over here because of her hat,” she said, pointing to me again. “It is a great hat,” said her girlfriend. “Thank you for taking care of my lost puppy,” she said. “I was in the bathroom when she disappeared and I got worried.” “We should probably get back to the reception,” L. said, rolling her eyes. “You guys should come crash it! There’s plenty of free beer and wine!” And they walked away. I considered it for a split second; that’s the kind of thing I would’ve done in a heartbeat in my younger days, and it has been a very long time since I’ve done anything that spontaneous and wild—but it was already 9:30 and I had to get home to put C. to bed.

“I should probably get going,” I told J.E. and P.W. “Yeah, we’re gonna leave soon, too,” J.E. said. “I’m crashing at P.W.’s place because he only lives a few blocks from here, and I’m too drunk to drive all the way back to Kenosha.” “You could stay there, too,” P.W. said to me, “I mean, if you don’t feel safe driving far.” The smile on his face told me everything I needed to know: Yep, he felt something, too, and may not have been offering his house as a crashpad for wholly gentlemanly reasons. Again, I considered it for a split second. Again, something I would have done in a heartbeat in my younger days… “Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. I’ve only had one beer and I don’t live that far away.” I waved goodbye and walked to my car. A little sad that I wasn’t crashing a wedding or crashing at a relative stranger’s house, but mostly just buzzed from the great night, the art and poetry and all the beautiful people I met. I remembered, for the one millionth time, how much happier I am when I can get out in the world and be among other people.

Two days later, C. and I went to the library. Everything was beautiful, the lake and the wind and the golden light. They were having craft day in the kids’ department, doing a Diwali craft, so we stayed for that. They showed a short video about Diwali and then had the kids do a modified version of Diwali sand art—glued onto plates, rather than just free-form. C. had a lot of fun with it. That day was also D.’s birthday, my first baby is twelve now, which is wild to me. We celebrated at my parents’ house. D. really loved his disco ball piñata; I’m so glad we were able to make that happen. Two days after that, C. and I met my mom downtown. It was another gorgeous day, sunny, warm for the time of year; we walked around, went into some shops, I took photos of jukeboxes and cigarette machines sitting in the window of a closed-down store. And another two days after that, P. and I took the kids to Mound Cemetery, to visit the Native American burial mounds, as well as to see some of the old graves. The next week and a bit was work, activism, the dailinesses of life, taking food to my favorite neighbor. Then Thanksgiving, which was less stressful than holidays with my parents often are, though not without some hiccups because I don’t think there can be a holiday without some kind of stress.

Two days after that, I drove to DeKoven again; I was meeting some of my poetry friends there so we could record our videos for next year’s Woodland Pattern Poetry Marathon. I had to run a couple errands first, and on my drive through downtown, I saw a group of young (late-teen or early-20s, I couldn’t tell) punks, and they reminded me so much of myself and my friends at that age, and it made me so happy that there are still punk kids stalking the streets of midsized midwest cities, looking simultaneously tough and awkward. N.R. and J.E. were at DeKoven for the recording session, along with S.K. and J.P. N.R. had brought a small cooler full of beer, and so he and J.E. and I each drank one. In between recording, the five of us talked about relationships and food and publishing and poetry and various other topics. After I’d recorded my poems, both of which mentioned ghosts, we talked about ghosts. J.E. asked me if I believed in ghosts. He said he’d had weird experiences that could’ve been ghostly, but he wasn’t sure if he wholly believed or not. I said I’m kind of the same way—I’ve had experiences that I can’t explain away with a more ‘rational’ explanation, but I can’t say with 100% certainty that they were paranormal experiences, either. “I guess you could say I’m a ghost agnostic,” I said. Then I mentioned that DeKoven and the area surrounding it is supposedly one of the most haunted places in Racine; I said I’d had weird experiences on the grounds in the past but never any in that particular building. Less than thirty seconds after I said that, we all heard a noise in the room above us, like footsteps walking across the room, and then a door opening and shutting, softly. There was no one else in the building at the time. It was really as though a ghost heard our conversation and was like: “Oh, you’ve never had an experience in this building before? Oh, you’re not sure you believe in ghosts? How about now???” After we’d finished recording, we all hung out for a bit, and then I got ready to leave. N.R. said: “I’d like to hug you, if that’s okay,” and it was, and I was pleased because I love hugging my friends, but there are times when I’m not in the mood, and it’s nice when people check. When I left, it was dark, and I saw the waxing moon and Saturn, both rising over the lake. My parents were watching the kids for the afternoon/evening, so P. and I got to have an at-home date night. We had good sex and then cooked a great dinner.

The next day it got a lot colder, and snowed, and we had a cozy-at-home day; I spent most of the day drinking tea and reading, and also made some cookies. The day after that I felt under the weather—not an illness, just a flare-up of my recurrent issues—but I took it easy, with more tea and reading. The day after that, my period started, much earlier than I was expecting it. Over the past couple years, when my cycle changes due to stress or illness, my period now starts early; when I was younger, stress or illness always made it late. I don’t miss the pregnancy scares, but I do hate that I have to bleed even more frequently now. But it wasn’t so bad, no cramps this time. And that evening, P. and I got to have a delicious holiday stout at the pub where we went to pick up dinner for us, the kids, and my parents. The night after that, I got the news of Henry Kissinger’s death, and said good fucking riddance, it was nice to hear about a death that in no way made me sad.

And then, within five minutes of waking up on Thursday morning, I saw the news that Shane MacGowan had died. And I just…I don’t know how to explain all the things this has brought up for me. I’m working on a longer piece for my newsletter, about Shane and The Pogues, but in the meantime, I’ll just say… I mean, I already had a bunch of Pogues songs saved as drafts on my blog, and I’d already been listening to them a lot, starting in mid-November. November and December are Pogues months for me. Because of the weather, but also because of certain November/December memories which are attached to Pogues songs. And Filia and I were texting about it, because she gets it, understands why this is so devastating, was just as devastated, and I miss her, I will always miss her. And of course it got me thinking about Joe Strummer’s death, twenty-one fucking years ago, how she was the one that broke the news to me, over the phone, after I’d just gotten home from visiting her, and somehow Shane’s death feels close to Joe’s death. I don’t mean time-wise, obviously; I mean, in terms of how sad it makes me. Or something. Fuck. And I said on my main blog that Filia is the only person I know IRL who gets it, but of course that’s a lie. Because there’s also fucking Derry. He fucking knew Shane, like, personally (not super well, but still), and the night he first kissed me is one of the November nights attached to a Pogues song (see: A Foggy Night in Lakeview, the lyric essay/mini-zine I wrote about that night and “A Rainy Night in Soho.”), and. Well. We’ve already opened up the lines of communication between us again in the past year and a bit and I knew that if I didn’t email him he was going to email me anyway, so I sent him a message. He responded later that day, and I miss him, I will always miss him.

The rest of the day wasn’t terrible. I made that Saint MacGowan art piece. It was a warmer day, so C. and I took a long walk around the neighborhood. We picked up nature treasures, and saw the silliest doggo, who barked at us and then kept bringing toys up to the window and shaking them, as though it wanted us to come inside and play—and when we of course did not, he’d go get another toy and bring it over, as though it was the toy that was the problem and not the fact that he was inside and we were out. Later, I made a delicious tikka masala for dinner. Then, I rearranged my altar, lit some candles, turned on The Pogues, and said a slainté for Shane. I was having this conflicting feeling about drinking that night, given Shane’s lifelong struggles with addiction, and my own past struggles with it. Part of me thought about never touching a drop of alcohol again; part of me wanted to get shitfaced. Ultimately, I did neither. I drank one Guinness, and the shot of Jameson I’d been saving for some unspecified occasion—Thursday night was that occasion.

The next day, I got double-vaxxed. CoViD and flu. The pharmacist that administered the vaccines was cute and kinda punky looking, and the vaccines themselves didn’t feel too bad. But I started feeling woozy within in an hour of receiving the vaccines, and felt like death warmed over for about 48 hours afterward. Sweats, chills, body aches, fatigue, brain fog, painful swollen lymph node in my armpit, the whole bit. I took it super easy Saturday; just laid around in bed drinking tea, reading, watching documentaries, and crying a lot. P. made stir fry for dinner. Yesterday I still took it pretty easy, and I felt mostly better by late afternoon. We roasted a chicken and some potatoes and asparagus for dinner; a simple comfort meal that was perfect for a chill-damp Sunday night.

I have jury duty this week (which is the reason I got double-vaxxed), and I’m hoping I don’t have to go in. I called in last night about today, and there are no new cases going to trial, so I’m off the hook for today at least. Today is National Cookie Day, and the kids want to make gingerbread cookies, so that’s my main plan for the day. Next Saturday is the last BONK! ever, and I’m so fucking sad about that, you have no idea. It has been going on for fifteen years. I have been a performer and an attendee so many times. I have given some of my best performances there, and seen so many other amazing poets and musicians. It makes me want to start my own performance series, just to keep something like that going in this town, but I have no idea how to go about it.

Other things from these past weeks: Intense, vivid dreams. Some hot ones—I’ve recently had sex dreams about both [redacted] and [redacted]. Others that wreck me when I wake up and realize they’re just dreams—like the one I had last week, in which Jack Terricloth was still alive, and Maggie and I were still friends. Memories of old friends and lovers—those gone from the world or just gone from my life, and those still alive and in my life (but the memories of how we were, back when). Moments of intense, unbidden nostalgia; of slipping in and out of times past. A certain hat or pair of boots, a certain smell or taste, a certain song, and suddenly it’s 1999, 2003, 2004, 2007, 2008, 2010, 2015, 2019. Moments of the DJs on my favorite radio station playing songs that are deeply relevant to either my mood or what I’m thinking about, as though they’re reading my mind. Watching possums in the yard. Melancholy weather—when it got colder and snowed, everything was beautiful for a few days, but then it warmed up slightly, and now it’s that late November/early December season. “Locking,” Kurt Vonnegut called it. Or, to misquote Sylvia Plath: the best of autumn gone, the new winter not yet born. Cold, but not cold enough to snow. Mist and fog and rising damp.

And my heart breaks every goddamn day. From the pain of life and the world, but also from the beauty.

[againtodreaming]

Hi dear :))

For the ask game:

Chamomile, camelia, orchid, ivy,

(Sorry not sorry you didn't set a limit-)

Hi Misfortune!!! Tysm for the ask <3 (and i will never set time limit on these things ;)) ALSO!!!! THE BIRD IS SO CUTE!!!! 😍💖 Back to another episode of "Mila tries and fails to answer questions in less than 10 sentences"

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

I mean, it depends? It's a case-by-case basis thing.…ok, I'm lost so let's go back to the words I wrote when I was trying to outline my answers to see if I can figure out how to elaborate the logic behind that. 

[Meaning. Useful. Emotion.]

Like…well, that? Not sure how to explain it. Like my uncle last year gave me a hammock bc it was on sale and like, why would i even want a hammock 😭 Even if i did want it, there is no place to put it in my house!! I can’t even use it.  It’s useless and minimum effort bc like, he knows I like to draw and write and read. Like, buy me office supplies at least! Those are cheap too and I will actually use them. He bought me the 6th book of a fantasy series when I was a kid and ok, idk why he only got me the 6th book of a series I had never heard of when I didn’t even have the 1st 5 books but at least I enjoyed reading it even if I was somewhat lost with the plot. And last year he bought me some cheap notebooks for Christmas I think which I did like bc I love notebooks and can always have more so it’s like. If u are not going to put some thought or effort into the gift and make it meaningful, like, at least give me smth I will actually use. If not it feels like such a waste since it will be just shoved somewhere in a closet never to be seen again. But another example, my aunt. She rarely buys me stuff bc money, but when she does they are things she likes that she thinks I will like which I love!! And even when she doesn’t buy me stuff, she makes really pretty illustrations for me. Or even my younger siblings!! There have been a lot of times they have given me handmade crafts (or drawings) they made and like, okay, most of them were not exactly what u would call pretty, but their intentions and the effort they put into it is what mattered!! Or a great-aunt who knitted a scarf for me. I haven’t seen her many times in my life so we don’t really know each other well, and I don’t care much for scarfs, but she didn’t have to give me anything but she wanted to and decided to make a scarf herself which I appreciate a lot plus I will probably need to use a scarf during winter, so you know, useful too.

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

@irritable123 you also asked orchid: 

None I think? I mean like…What is perfection?

Ended up going to the dictionary:

perfect (adjective): complete and correct in every way, of the best possible type or without fault

So like, perfection doesn't really exist? Bc like, are we judging it under whose parameters? It doesn't exist. It's all subjective. Unless maybe we add religion to the discussion but that's a whole other thing and I haven't had religion classes since primary school (it wasn't even a favorite class so I didn't really care for keeping the notebooks after the school year either) and that was only Catholicism, so not knowledgeable enough either to even try to debate that. So, back to the point, songs. Perfection has never entered my mind when judging anything but my own stuff and I know nothing about music (can't even remember how to read the music sheets and I know I knew that in primary school, like that's the most basic thing, we probably learned it in 2nd grade or smth) so I don't have enough (not even the basic) knowledge to even try to judge it on a technical standpoint either. If we are going to judge perfection using my own likes as parameters……..can't be done either. I just listen to whatever I'm in the mood for? I just add every new song I like to the same playlist I have since I was like 12 or 13 years old and favorites come and go. I do have more specific playlists in youtube but it's mostly categorized by the fandom of each AMV and a couple for WIPs and one that's like, comfort music. And I speed up almost all of them up every time I listen to them (reason why I prefer to listen in Youtube rather than Spotify but I'll accept Spotify when I need to use my phone for background music), so even if I did consider a song perfect, would it even count when I prefer to listen to it in the speed up version? 😅😂

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

....look. I can remember the most random details about my childhood, most emotions and summarizing strokes, but ask for specific memories and I'm lost (unless u are asking for a few negative ones or random snapshots). So like, trying to be accurate here but no idea how correct I am being aasdfghj

Okay I was always described as: shy, quiet, kind, and creative. Smart by adults. Which like…I mean, they always told me that I became really talkative after I knew someone for a while. I don’t know if i have become more talkative after all the moving countries plus growing up, or maybe it just feels like I’m more talkative bc most of my childhood friends were really extroverted and more talkative (they usually talked to other people for me…I was REALLY quiet with people I didn’t know, even if they were classmates) (just you know, shaking my head for yes or now and 1 sentence answers at the most) (i did talk a little more with some classmates after i got familiar with them and if i liked them) than me so maybe I just didn’t notice it?? And okay, social confidence has always been super low, but I was fine in general in other aspects. Then moving countries and like, confidence in every part of myself dropped below zero. I didn’t even feel capable of washing vegetables for a time (idk!! but in my brain i could surely find a way to mess it up and wash it wrong and then everyone would maybe get sick and and and yep i couldn’t)  and I’ve been doing that since I was probably like 5 years old so like omg 😭🤦‍♀️💀 Then, this last year the confidence levels have started rising to more normal levels, wouldn’t say they are very high, but they are good enough to function. Somehow, definitely better with social situations than when I was 13 so that’s at least an improvement. I've become a lot worse in academic stuff, mostly bc depression and anxiety and at first the foreign language thing and well, the zero confidence for anything so I just haven’t been doing anything in fear I will mess up. Like, I’m sort of all or nothing with stuff 😅 Been doing well this school year so far but like, the classes have been easy so far so like yeah, we’ll see how it goes. I don’t know, I just used to be more active, present, useful, productive, I actually did the stuff I wanted when I was younger. But most things, it’s just…I mean, aside from being more mature and self-aware (from so much overthinking lol) I don’t think I’ve changed much? Same interests, same likes, same values, same personality. Things got added but that's it i think? It’s just how the way I act that has changed a bit but trying to get back into doing the stuff I used to so it’s like, the want is still there, it’s just my willpower that’s a work in progress ig? Not sure what more to add in this section so just stopping here 😂

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

Happy = this one is usually obvious (pretty sure at least, my sister says i'm usually easy to read; also, i don't really bother trying to hide my emotions except in some occasions). The more happy, the more energetic i get, the higher and faster i talk (although this one also happens when I'm annoyed), and I just get really...I don't energetic, I want to do stuff, have fun, more optimistic, laughing a lot, more social, affectionate

Annoyed. Depends on levels? As I said, higher and louder and faster I talk. I will either be complaining a LOT or staying really silent, with some trying to not be snarky comments with varying levels of success if someone directs any question to me or if the annoyance just gets too much (i usually try to retreat before that happens tho). Also, dramatic.

Upset..right, remember me saying that i don't really like to hide my emotions unless it seems necessary? It's this section (sometimes annoyance, like it, depends but mostly here bc I can complain a lot but a lot of it is mostly out of principle). Depends on the level and category of upset really, and how close someone is to the situation. And if it's useful to share. Like, if i think telling someone will help my problem, I will probably share but if not, I'll just keep quiet and deal with it myself. Or if it's too recent. A lot of stuff is old news by now even if they are still problems so sharing those is easier than new stuff that are still doing their obligatory rounds around my head. If I feel like it's...idk, justified or inconsequential for me to be upset I will be upset. Either complaining about anything minor that has suddenly become annoying bc of my mayor annoyance, or complaining about whatever thing i'm being forced to do, or silent or taking turns doing both and just with no wants for anything and just like, no energy for anything and wanting to be alone and not wanting to talk or do stuff or anything. If I'm hiding it...it's not actually hiding bc it's not like I'm actually making an effort to hide it but just like, no complaining and I will not make efforts to behave happily or anything but I will also not express that I'm upset? Like, you can ask me whatever and I will just lie and either deny feeling upset, downplay it, attribute it to whatever else or just shrug and shake my head in yes or no and try to escape the conversation. Like, just will be more quiet and subdued. I actually don't know how good I'm at lying bc I really dont like lying but also, the few times I have lied nobody has said anything about it so ig they believe it? Or are they just giving me the benefit of doubt??? Like no idea, I don't lie enough to have much data. Also, half the time I'm upset about smth I can be more passive aggressive but, unlike my sister who will be doing passive aggressive comments each time she seems me, I will be so passive about it that the only one who ends up knowing about it it's me which is both frustrating and relieving and embarrassing so...yep. I just don’t like fighting ig. Can't do silent treatment tho, my sister does it and it's like ugh. I hate it. Plus I don't like being upset, anger requires so much energy and feels awful and it's my least favorite emotion, and the sooner the conflict is over the better. Tend to fidget a lot with my rings or hair-ties or rocks (if i have them near) or strands of hair when anxious. Also, almost forgot to mention this part but if I'm upset about smth and the people I'm talking with are not related at all with the problem, I usually don't mind talking about it

Tired....i mean tired? Quiet, subdued, maybe complaining, no energy to want to do anything, stressed about all the stuff I have to do.

ps: no idea how obvious i am when i'm upset when i'm not trying to make it obvious. bc sometimes people notice and sometimes they don't?? even when i think i'm pretty obvious?? So like yeah, no idea

[neoarchipelago]

Blood Red Marker and Binary Code (John wick x reader one shot)

AN: where was I even going with this? Idk, Anon, I hope you enjoy it ! 

Request: John comes to the reader with a marker, they both love each other but none seems to realize it.

Word count: 3 910

Warnings: cursing, alcohol?

____________

You walked through the enormous hall of the Louvre. The wonderful stone walls, the beautiful ceiling, everything was perfect. The sound of your heels on the floor made you feel powerful, your black dress hugging your curves perfectly. It was after all handmade by one of the best tailors in Paris. You walked through the empty halls, watching every sculpture, every painting that adorned the walls of the museum. You had recently finished a contract and instead of accepting money, that clearly you were tired of having, you asked for another reward. Something unique, that only you would have the right to live, you and maybe Beyonce in her clip, having the Louvre at night only for you. 

You've always enjoyed it, you spent hours watching the numerous pieces of art that made your mind travel through history, time and space. You enjoyed the fact that your work made you able to witness such things with such privileges. You watched as you spun around in the middle of such perfect masterpiece, you felt blessed, you felt powerful like a goddess. That was your name in the underground world. The Goddess. You knew how to fight and you were good at it but that's not how you earned your nickname. You were the best hacker in the world. Nothing could escape you, you were omnipotent. You knew everything, saw everything you had proof and files about everyone in the world, even the High table. Even the most confidential files of the underground that were kept written by hand had to, at some point, be sent through computers linked to the satellite. 

You sighed closing your eyes for a second. You listened to the deafening silence of the building. You only opened your eyes to sit down on a bench, and then closed them again. Yes you were lucky. You had been an assassin for quite a while now. Your phone suddenly rang as you opened your eyes again. You took the phone in your hand and softly smiled at the name. 

"Caleb, why aren't you in bed yet?" You asked a soft smirk on your lips. 

"Oh come on (y/n)! It's not that late!" You chuckled at your brother's whining tone. 

"You have school tomorrow, you have to go to sleep. I'll be home in a minute alright?" You said as you stood up. 

"Wait, I called cuz I need to tell you that someone's here, he wants to see you." You froze and you heart dropped. 

"Who's there Caleb?" You said in a cold tone. 

"Your friend John Wick, remember the one from a few years ago?" 

Your breath hitched and you closed your eyes. How to forget a man like John exactly? He was quite unforgettable. 

"Alright, hand him the phone will you Caleb?" 

You heard the phone being passed to someone and you closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath at the sound of the voice you heard.

"(y/n)."

"John. I need to ask you. Are you here to kill me, or my brother?" You said in a cold voice. 

"No. I'd never..." You sighed of relief. 

"Alright, i'll be home in 5 minutes." You spoke, cutting him off.

"I'll be waiting." 

You hung up and walked back to the hall of the museum, the sound of your heels on the floor echoing through the halls and staircase, the only thing breaking the peaceful silence. 

You reached your car, a jaguar F-type, that of course you weren't driving but you had someone driving it for you. After all you've been through you earned it. You smiled at the man. Anyone would have been weird out by him, a tall slim man, with half long hair to the side and completely cut short on the other, tattoos and piercings, and wearing a white shirt with rolled sleeves and a black waistcoat. 

''On part déjà madame?" He asked with a smile yet a confused look. (Are we already leaving miss?)

"Oui Jay', je dois rentrer le plus vite possible, tu peux faire ça pour moi s'il-te-plaît ?" You asked as he opened the car door and you sat down. (Yes Jay, i need to go home as fast as possible, could you do that for me please?)

"Je pensais que vous ne me le demanderiez jamais madame!" He answered with a naughty smile as he closed the door, and you rolled your eyes. (I thought you'd never ask miss!)

He sat down on the driver's seat and turned on the car making it roar. You decided to put on your seatbelt because clearly you might have asked the devil to play with fire. The fast start made you groan but you had asked for it after all. The ride home didn't took long, firstly it wasn't that far and secondly Jay had taken your request very seriously. You felt a bit nauseous when you stepped out of the car, but a few deep breaths and you were back on your heels. Jay' threw the keys to another one of your assistants, and opened the building door for you. You had bought an apartment here on the 6th arrondissement de Paris, in a luxurious building, where the two last floors were yours. You reached the elevator with Jay' and he introduced the key that allowed you to push the button to your apartment. 

You took another deep breath as the elevator made his way up, and looked at Jay' who gave you a wink. You smirked at him. When the elevator doors opened into your hallway you didn't hesitate a second, stepping in, the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floor. You could hear people talking in your living room, and made your way to the two open french doors. You froze at the entrance watching, amazed, the scene that displayed before you. Your little brother Caleb was on the couch, sitting next to John Wick, THE BABA YAGA, playing Mortal Kombat on PS4. You leaned against the door frame, folding your arms and arching a brow at the scene. Jay' suddenly appeared next to you and you shared a look before softly chuckling. Caleb was a sweet boy, he'd make even the worst killer on this planet turn into a child. 

You cleared your throat making your brother jump and John turn to you. Your eyes met his and you tried to avoid blushing as you quickly looked away. 

"I thought I told you to go to sleep Caleb?" You asked while arching a brow at the boy. 

"I know I know, but wait, I just want to finish this with J-" before he could finish his words the screen displayed a large, red 'Game over'. Caleb groaned at the unfairness of the fight before turning off the console. You smiled softly at him as he passed next to you, mumbling a 'good night' to you and John. You took a few seconds before looking back at John, who had now stood up and was staring at you. You felt his eyes roam over your body and you couldn't deny the heat it raised through you. 

You could easily remember how you two had met, in the bar of the Continental. You remember the mess you were in and how things unfolded after that. 

You stepped inside of the living room as Jay' vanished quickly. You got closer to John.

"John…" you said staring at him. 

"(Y/n)." He said sharing your look. 

"What may I owe this pleasure exactly?" You said with a smile. 

He smiled back at you. Jay' entered the room, a wine bottle in hand, and two wine cups. He put them down on the marble and gold coffee table in between the couch and the fireplace where the TV hang. 

"Merci Jay'." You said nodding as he left the room, closing the two french doors. 

"Take a sit, I feel like we have a lot to talk about." You said turning back to John, this time with a serious tone. 

He nodded as you both sat on the couch. You poured two glasses of wine and took yours in hand. John was hesitant and you started to worry when he refused to take his and stared at you. No words had been exchanged yet and you felt the air getting heavier. John reached for his pocket and your breath hitched at the sight of the marker he put down on the coffee table. What exactly were you expecting? That he would never ask for a returning favor ? That he was here for you perhaps? 

The last thought made your heart ache. John would never be here just for you. After all… you were the only one in love here. You looked at him in the eyes as you sighed. He still looked as perfect as the day you asked for his help. Your heart fluttering at the thought. 

"I'm sorry (y/n)." John's raspy voice brought you back to reality. 

"Don't be. That's the deal of having a marker I suppose. It had to happen one day." You said taking a sip on the wine and leaning back on the couch. 

"Your brother has grown." He said again, with a smile. 

You couldn't keep yourself from smiling back. 

"He has, hasn't he?" You said sharing a look. 

"He looks a lot like you." He added.

"Like me?" You said in a chuckle. 

"Yes. He's determined, kind-hearted." John listed as you blushed at the compliments. 

"He is the most important thing in my life John." You said in a whisper, looking directly into his obsidian eyes. 

"I know. I remember." He said in the same tone.

It had been a few years after all those awful events. You were even younger then, alone taking care of a small blue eyed boy that you were trying to keep safe. You and your brother were orphans, and you had quickly put your talent of hacker into the underground world to win as much money as possible. Many appreciated your work and you had won a lot of clients but you also made a lot of enemies. At some point it had become too dangerous to even leave the Continental where you and your brother had a room. He had been a target to get revenge on you and you would have done anything to keep him safe, even get a marker with the Baba Yaga. 

You had met John, who had accepted your marker and helped you get rid of any enemies that wanted you or your brother dead. You remember how you two had become friends, your little brother adored him and you had felt your heart beat faster when you looked into his eyes. You had spent many months together even after that, as friends. Taking care of your brother as you were slowly building your empire. Eventually your paths had gone separate ways, and your heart still aches at the thought. You couldn't deny the feelings that had grown for him since the first time your eyes met. 

The way he made you shiver under his gaze, the way he made you feel safe. You remembered the way it almost felt like you three were a family during those moments. It felt like the world was alright. And then he had vanished, saying he had work to do. You weren't angry at him, after all you knew him for being the Baba Yaga, and you didn't expect him to change at all. 

"So tell me. What do you need me to do?" You asked, pushing away every thought that roamed your head. 

John sat a bit more straight and took a more serious tone. It made you almost shiver to hear his husky voice. 

"I have a contract on a target here in Paris. But he is in a very high security building. Cameras and alarms everywhere." 

You nodded. 

"You need me to help you get through those?"

"Exactly. Is there any way for you to help me through it?" He asked, watching you intensely. 

You thought for a minute thinking about the different possibilities and plans you could go through. It didn't sound that hard, it was perfectly manageable. You nodded to him.  

"When does it need to be done?" You asked again taking a sip of your wine.

"Tonight." 

You slightly choked on your beverage and remembered how John could sometimes be impatient. You sighed, throwing him a dark look. You still had to help him as best as you could. 

"Alright. Follow me." You said standing up. You quickly took off your heels though, after all your brother was in bed, and it was no point on waking him up. You walked out of the living room, being greeted by Jay once again. 

"Aide moi s'il te plaît. Je dois équipé Monsieur Wick avec une oreillette."(Help me please, I need to equip mister wick with an earpiece.) You said, walking to the far end of the hallway, to the door on the right.

Jay followed you nodding as John stood right behind as well. You looked at the digit pad and threw in a your code as the door finally unlocked. 

You stepped into your little cave, your perfect little place. The room was dark, only lit by many screens who displayed various places, people, maps, entire files or even some had just some 0 and 1 running across the screen. A desk was set with a comfy chair, and various monitors were neatly spread across the room with other types of electronics. You sat down on your chair, taking a glance at John who was looking around the room.

"John?" You softly called. 

"Yes?" 

"I'm going to need the address of the building."

He nodded as he walked towards you. You gave him a pencil and a notepad for him to write down the address for you.  You quickly started to do your thing, looking for the IP addresses nearby that location, any possible entry or information on the security the building was provided with. 

"What are you doing?" John asked. 

"Checking if I can grant your wish tonight. I'm checking the difficulty of a possible breach, if the security is high or low. If I can do it tonight or if i'm going to need a bit more of time." 

John stayed silent, but you were too focused on your task to even notice him staring at you in fascination. Jay had noticed, and was smiling from the corner of the room. 

After a few minutes you managed to get enough information on the security system and overall it wasn't so hard to break in. 

"Alright. Let's do this." You said turning your chair to John. Jay approached him, ready to equip him with the necessary attire. 

"You will have this device on you. It's an earpiece. You will be able to hear everything I say, and I will hear you as well. I will guide you with my view on the cameras, as I break down the system bit by bit, or otherwise they'll notice me. Do not advance if I don't give you the order to. John. Are you listening to me?" You asked slightly exasperated. 

"This looks like the matrix. Was is that?" John asked pointing at the black and green screen that had 0 and 1 running all over.

"That is from the matrix. That is my live screensaver John." You said slightly amused. 

He looked at you slightly frowning as you snickered. 

"Are you ready?" You asked. 

"Yes." 

"Do you have your guns?

"What kind of questions is that?" He asked smirking. 

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless. You took a deep breath as Jay nodded your way again, notifying you that John was equipped. 

"Alright. Let's get started. Shall we?" 

010101 •

John had finally reached the building when you heard him speak through the device. 

"I'm here." 

"Alright. Give me 5 minutes and you can walk in." 

You took a deep breath and got to work. You were used to this, but somehow you were slightly shaking as your fingers pushed the keys on the keyboard. John's safety was in your hands. 

"You can go." 

You watched through the many screens, John's path through the building as you, step by step, hacked the security system and the cameras to make it look like nothing was happening. You watched John get rid of every security guard you could warn him of as he slowly made his way up to his target. Your heart was beating unusually fast for the task, as you were more anxious than any previous contract you had worked on. You couldn't deny how seeing John work was turning you on maybe just a bit. He looked powerful. But you quickly shook that feeling away, now wasn't the moment. 

Reaching the level where his target was situated, he stopped right after stepping out of the elevator. 

"Alright. This has much more cameras John. You're going to need to wait a bit longer…" you spoke, getting to work immediately.

"I don't have time (y/n)." You heard him say. 

"Be patient please…" you tried. 

"Thanks for helping, but I got this now." 

You froze as you quickly looked at the screen, seeing John take off the earpiece and… run. You gasped. 

"You...PERFECT IDIOT!" you yelled to yourself. 

It took you a second to react after your sudden outburst of anger. You still managed to get your mind focus on your work. Thanks to John you had to change the plan. You quickly took the task to completely shut down the security system and cameras, leaving perhaps enough time for John to leave the building. One by one each barrier of the security system shut down and finally the entire building was now completely out of security cameras. You left a small virus as a gift, making sure that it would take time for even the best hackers to fix everything. You were out of breath without even really knowing why. You looked around at the room, at the mess you had created. Even you couldn't see where John was now. You just stared in silence, before whispering a few last words. 

"I don't know what would I do if something happened to you John…" 

You stood up and left the room. There was no point in staying there anymore. You heard the distinct sound of the door locking itself behind you. You leaned against it for a second, taking a few deep breaths. Should you go check on him? Was he alright? Was he even going to tell you if he was? Or was he simply going to vanish? You shook your head and walked to your room. You were definitely getting sick of being into that stupid dress that seemed to have lost all it's charm to you in the mere time of an evening. You got into pajamas, some shorts and a matching top. 

You found yourself unable to lay down at all. You just walked back to the living room where you sat on the couch, sipping on that bottle of wine from earlier. The minutes seemed to stretch like hours. You glanced a few times to your phone, hoping for a message at least. You didn't know how to feel. Angry, furious, anxious, or break down into tears. You wanted to kill the man but also kiss him as if it was the last thing you'd ever do. Tears began to overflow when Jay walked into the living room. 

"Madame?" 

"Oui Jay?" You spoke trying to hide your current mood. 

"Monsieur Wick est en bas et désire vous voir." (Mister wick is down stairs and wishes to see you) 

You jumped up when you heard him speak. 

"What?" You asked in disbelief. 

"I let him in. Just in case." Jay said, his voice tainted in a heavy accent, and a smirk on his face. 

You stared at the spot where Jay stood a few seconds ago. John came back? The marker had been fulfilled though. Why? You were lost in thoughts when John's figure finally showed up at the living room's entrance. Your actions spoke faster than your brain and you found yourself throwing him the nearest pillow as tears finally began to fall down your cheeks. 

"What the fuck (y/n)?" John asked, slightly confused by the attack.

"What the fuck? I'm not going to yell because Caleb is sleeping, but you are the biggest idiot I've ever had to meet, do you know that?" You spoke out, trying to sound as angry as possible without yelling, frowning as the tears soaked your cheeks.

"And yet you still wouldn't know what to do if something happened to me…" 

You froze staring at him wide eyed. How in the whole world had he heard you? 

"How..?" You asked confused but unable to move as he stepped forward, still holding the pillow.  

"The device still worked. I had taken it out of my ear but put it back in when I realized you put up a mess in their system."

He spoke as he kept walking to you.

You were staring at him, feeling him get closer and closer. 

"John…" you tried. 

"How long? How long have you been feeling like this?" He asked, now only a few inches from you. 

"What, that I've known that you are an idiot?" You whispered, trying to throw the last remains of your pride at him. 

He simply smirked and wiped one of your tears with his thumb. You closed your eyes at the feeling, too afraid to open them again as you spoake again.

"Since you helped me a few years ago…" 

You knew he was going to reject you, but there's nothing you could do to avoid it now. 

"Silly girl." 

Yes you were stupid, but hearing him say it hurt more than you thought. It was however completely confusing to you when you felt his lips on yours. You forgot how to breath for a moment, or even how to react. His arms had wrapped around your waist, letting the pillow fall down on the ground with a soft 'thud'. You finally responded to his kiss when your mind started to embrace reality again, your hand reaching to touch his cheek. You felt him pull you in closer as he softly bit your lower lip, making you gasp. The taste of his tongue made you feel dizzy, as the passionate kiss seems to sweep you off your feet. You didn't exactly know how long it lasted, but when you pulled apart you were both slightly out of breath. It took a minute before anything was spoken. 

"I never thought you did…" he whispered. 

"Why not? You are the one who got away…" you said, feeling your heart ache at the memory.

"I did… because.. I was getting too attached to you and caleb. And I didn't think you would ever see me the way I see you." His words made you smile. 

"And how do you see me John?" 

"I… love you." You smiled even brighter at his words. Cupping his face with both of your hands. 

"You really are an idiot John, cuz I really love you too." 

John immediately pulled you back in for a kiss that you have been craving for way too many years. Perhaps this time he'd stay.

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@thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska