#i forgiver her because talking is acutally really hard

[bethanydelleman]

it’s funny you just answered a different ask about S&S, because I’ve been mulling one over that I’ve been meaning to drop in your inbox. I listen to S&S on the regular - it’s become one of my fav comfort stories. But I’m always disturbed by Brandon talking about how relieved he is when he finds Eliza 1.0 dying of tuberculosis. I know he cares for her, both emotionally and in the sense of providing excellent care for her at end of life. But I do wonder.

What if she wasn’t dying when he found her? Would he still have loved her and wanted to marry her? Or would her life as a sex worker, her illegitimate child, the drop in her social status, and the fact she was his (then still living) brother’s ex-wife make that a non-starter? After everything that happened, did Brandon harbor some Captain Wentworth-like resentment against Eliza, irrational though it may be? And if he had rescued her and married her, could they have been happy with how much both had changed since they were first in love?

Obviously it’s all conjecture, but I think Brandon would have done for Eliza 1 the same he did for Eliza 2. Bankroll her into a nice cottage in the country and maybe visit on holidays.

First, I want to address that he's "happy" that Eliza is dying. We in Western society are very uncomfortable with death these days and agree to extraordinary measures just to retain life without considering quality of life. What Brandon is saying is that Eliza Brandon had no further chance at quality of life. The relief that he feels that she will die soon is because she's suffered so much and he wants her to find peace:

So altered—so faded—worn down by acute suffering of every kind! hardly could I believe the melancholy and sickly figure before me, to be the remains of the lovely, blooming, healthful girl, on whom I had once doted. What I endured in so beholding her—but I have no right to wound your feelings by attempting to describe it—I have pained you too much already. That she was, to all appearance, in the last stage of a consumption, was—yes, in such a situation it was my greatest comfort. Life could do nothing for her, beyond giving time for a better preparation for death; and that was given. I saw her placed in comfortable lodgings, and under proper attendants; I visited her every day during the rest of her short life: I was with her in her last moments.

I have had two relatives embrace their ending because their suffering had become intolerable. It is a source of relief, as much as it may be mixed with sorrow. I don't find this paragraph disturbing at all, I've lived through it and he's right. And remember, he's a Christian and he believes that she is going to heaven, so she is only being released from this mortal coil to go somewhere far better.*

Anyway, here's the thing, according to British law/morals at the time, Colonel Brandon was not "allowed" to marry Eliza Brandon. Your brother's wife was considered your sister, so while these marriages did occasionally happen, they could be voided if anyone brought a suit against someone and they were definitely frowned upon. (Remember Emma saying that her and Mr. Knightley weren't really brother and sister, that refers to this law).

If they did marry, their children may be considered illegitimate, which would make it hard for them to inherit if Delaford is entailed. And you know if a cousin stood to inherit, he'd challenge the children's right to the estate.

Because it was considered immoral, I have a hard time seeing Colonel Brandon marrying Eliza even if she had been healthy. His chances at marrying her ended not when she fell from status, but the second she married his brother. If he had found her healthier, he probably would have provided her a home and cared for her as his sister, but not considered marriage as might as he may loved her still. I don't think he resents her at all, he's very forgiving in his speech.

Anyway, I hope that helps!

*I have worked in medicine for a while and I know that medically assisted dying is a hot button issue, I don't want to debate it on this here Jane Austen blog. Having experiences relatives refusing treatment after living in severe pain for a long time, I understand Brandon's explanation here. That is what I'm saying.

[starrynight0612]

I am about 50% certain she said “powderplay” and even if she didn’t I really don’t care because the images in my head are giving me life. 

[wizkiddx]

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 7

Severus looks back on everything that went wrong.

tw: non-consensual kissing/harassment, trauma responses

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 7 .:Things Unforgivable and Things Left Unsaid:.

Graduation day at Hogwarts was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure for you. Instead, it marked the day you decided that whatever it was between you and Severus Snape, friendship or otherwise, it was over.

Or at least that's what you had thought. Of course, the universe just loved making things more complicated for you. You were working with Charlie in Romania when you had gotten word that Severus defected from the death eaters and was now working as a double agent at Dumbledore's behest. He continued teaching Potions at Hogwarts, and was even indited as a member of the Order. If anything, that only solidified your decision to go to America instead of staying in London. You didn't even know what to think. Of course you trusted Dumbledore, confusing as the man was, but you didn't know if you could really trust Snape again. You had worked towards forgiving him; over time you moved past what happened, but it was difficult to really say it was 'resolved' when you quite literally haven't spoken a word to each other in over a decade. You didn't even know where to start.

For the entirety of your seventh year, you didn't speak a word to Severus. It was hard to imagine that such a tight knit trio like the one you, him, and Lily had formed could crumble in an instant, but that's exactly what happened.

The end of your sixth year at Hogwarts was a quarter Snape would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was when everything fell apart. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1976  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, running to the top of the hill where he and the rest of the Marauders had Snape held upside down.

“What are you doing?” you said, immensely hurt and trying to keep your voice steady, “You said this would stop, you promised. . . you swore.”

“(Y/n), I. . .” James trailed off, immediately feeling guilty. As he turned to you Snape dropped to the ground, attempting to scramble to his feet but finding his ankle twisted.

Sirius moved towards you to say something but you put your hand up firmly.

“No,” you said, “not a word out of you, Black.”

Sirius stared at you, wide-eyed, shrinking back as you called him by his last name for the first time in a long while. Not Sirius, not Pads. Black. As if your whole friendship had just been reset.

“And you two,” you said, addressing Remus and Peter, “how could you let this happen?!”

All four boys looked at you in shame, none of them daring to verbally respond.

Suddenly, Lily came running up the hill, having fallen behind you in your quick pace.

“Severus!” she panted, rushing over to him, “are you alright?”

Snape was in an angered daze, not even registering the words being said around him. The blood rushing through his veins felt like lava, his heart pounding in his ears, his chest, his tongue. His face burned with humiliation and hatred. Pure fucking hatred for James Fleamont Potter. For Lily to see him like that. . . for you to see him like that, pathetic, helpless, in need of your help once again. He wouldn't have it. He was a master of the dark arts now, he didn't have to fucking take this. He would curse Potter into the next century, he would—

“Severus!”

Snape's eyes snapped open, not even realizing they were closed. The world came rushing in around him and he was suddenly acutely aware of Lily's hand on his arm. He reeled back at her touch as if he'd been burned.

“Don't touch me!” he screeched, startling the redheaded girl. Her eyes were filled with concern, but all Snape could see was pity.

“Sev—“

“I don't need any help from you, you filthy Mudblood!”

And everyone in the clearing stilled.

The color drained from Snape's already pale face as he realized what he'd just said.

“Lily. . .” Severus whispered; pleading, desperate.

“Don't come any closer,” Lily said, her voice stone cold as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I'll kill you,” James said lowly.

“Prongs, no—”

“I'll kill you, you slimy bastard!” James growled, Remus moving quickly to hold him back.

You stood in the middle of it all, staring at Severus. Severus, who'd always told Lily that blood status didn't matter. Severus, who you and Lily always stood up for no matter what. Severus, who you thought you had feelings for up until this exact moment.

Without even thinking you stepped forward, grabbing Lily's hand.

“Let's go, Lils,” you said, your expression unreadable as you looked down at Severus. Lily squeezed your hand back gratefully, fighting the sobs racking her chest as she turned around and took off with you.

“(Y/n), wait—” Snape tried to get up but found himself shoved back down to the ground by Sirius.

“No,” he said sharply, “you don't get to say anything to either of them, you hear me?”

“I—”

“What?” James spat, “you're sorry? Well sorry doesn't cut it! You say a word to her after what you called her and you'll wish you'd never have been born.”

Snape's head hung low, that wish already present in his mind.

“Leave him,” Remus said, this time not out of mercy, but malice; letting Snape wallow in his own misery as he left with his friends, looking for you and Lily.

Soon, Severus was left alone. Just as he began, and just as he should have never hoped for anything different. Was this it? That's how it was going to end? One mistake, and the only two people he'd ever cared about were ripped away from him.

No. He decided he had to apologize properly, consequences be damned. If those Marauders wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp afterwards, that was fine by him. He just needed to talk to Lily one more time. To tell her how deeply sorry he really was.

He took off down the hill, sprinting towards the castle and completely ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He rushed through the grass, ignoring the looks he received from the other students walking by. He ran past the oak tree, through the castle gates, flying through the corridors and cutting across the courtyard when he skid to a stop at what he saw.

Lily and James stood in the center of the garden, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips captured hers. Her eyes were still wet with tears, the tears that he had caused. Severus didn't do a thing. His presence remained unknown to them as he slunk away back to his common room, heart silently breaking.

He was too late.

Nothing was the same after that.

Lily insisted that if you wanted to remain friends with Snape, as she now referred to him, she wouldn't hold it against you, but she made it very clear that she would never forgive him herself. But it wasn't as easy as wanting to stay friends with him or not; he'd changed that day.

After some time to let things settle down you tried to approach him, but he only became more and more hostile towards everyone, including you. You hardly saw him anymore. The only time you occasionally spotted him was when he was walking around school with Malfoy, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Avery, unable to look you in the eye lest you see the utterly crushed expression on your face as he fell deeper and deeper into the dark side.

You held your books tightly to your chest as you made your way to Hagrid's hut for one of your last Care of Magical Creatures class. You were being paired up with a few lower classmen to teach them the ropes for feeding all the creatures Hagrid kept in the meadows. You were a tad late, having been preoccupied at lunch, speedwalking to try and arrive on time when you saw a flash of silver-blue light emit from inside the forest. You could hear warbled shouting and laughter coming from the same direction, and your instincts told you to run.

However, because your nerves were on high alert, that also told you someone in there was in danger, and you couldn't just walk away from that. You drew your wand, abandoning your books by a rockface and moving towards the commotion, the distorted shouting soon becoming words.

“Oh come on, you little runts, you lot can do better than that!” you recognized Mulciber's voice.

A young girl shrieked as a giant acromantula barred its fangs at her, its front legs raised and poised to attack. Her friends were huddled in a corner, more students who couldn't have been older than second or third years, being forced to watch by Avery and Wilkes.

“How's this for Care of Magical Creatures, eh?” Mulciber taunted as he walked over to the other students, pulling a young boy out from the group.

“No!” the girl cornered by the spider cried, “please, don't!”

“Aw, how cute,” Mulciber drawled, “is this your little boyfriend, huh? Shame.”

The boy screamed in fear as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankles, forced to hover right above the spider just out of its reach. You wanted to wretch as you watched the scene unfold, unable to keep yourself hidden any longer.

You leaped into the clearing, a quick flick of your wrist relieving Mulciber of his wand. You did the same to Wilkes as he turned to you.

“Well well, why am I not surprised?” Avery scoffed. Right behind him stood Severus, his expression vacant.

“Grab this, and get to Professor McGonagall immediately,” you shouted to the younger Gryffindor students, tossing them a gold galleon. As soon as they touched the coin, the portkey shot them all back to the castle.

“Why are you always the one spoiling our fun?” Mulciber sneered.

“Someone's gotta do it,” you said, putting up a brave front although you were under no illusion as to your situation. You weren't fourth years anymore, and you were alone this time. They'd been studying the dark arts for the past two years. You knew you were outmatched, even with your dueling skills.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be a bore.”

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to see Rosier, an easy grin set into his face. Your heart dropped.

“So you too, huh?” you chuckled bitterly, “and here I thought you were one of the few good ones left.”

“You're not really that naive, are you?” he tutted, “you had to have known I would be inducted eventually. Might even get Barty to join us, even if he is a little nutty.”

You went for a stunning spell but found your wand spinning out of your hand before you even saw him move.

“Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?” Rosier said, “you're not the only one versed in non-verbal magic, (Y/n). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we've surpassed you. Lucius will be furious, but I like you a lot, so I'll re-extend his old offer for him. Join us.”

You had no wand, no backup, no way out of this, but you stood your ground nonetheless.

“Eat shit,” you seethed. Rosier glowered at you, taking a few menacing steps forward. He grabbed your jaw firmly and you grit your teeth.

“I don’t think you heard me—”

He reeled back as you spit right in his face,

“You bitch,” he growled, wiping his face in disgust, “clearly no one ever bothered to train you.”

Without your wand you were really only left with one option, ready to defend yourself by revealing your animagus form, but you never got to take the first step forward.

“Imperio!”

You stopped in your tracks as a veil of what could only be described as pink fluff drifted over your mind. A smile immediately appeared on your face, and a giggle rose in your throat.

Severus looked at Rosier with horror, the rest of his crew looking among themselves uneasily.

“What do you think you're doing?” Snape hissed, “are you trying to get us all expelled?”

“So what?” Rosier said, “we've used the killing curse loads of times.”

“On insects, you loon,” Snape shot back, hoping his concern for you was masked enough.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your precious (Y/n), Sev.”

The nickname made his stomach churn. You used to call him that. Lily used to call him that. No one else did. No one else got to.

“Release them,” he said, raising his wand, “now.”

“Put that away,” Rosier's eyes narrowed, a smirk sliding back onto his face as he got an idea, “hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?” you answered, your voice dripping with honey.

“I don't think Severus likes you being under this spell,” Rosier said, “but you like it don't you?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded, your head feeling like it was floating, “it feels so nice.”

“You know what else would feel nice?” Rosier goaded, “if you gave our friend Sev here a kiss.”

Severus' heart dropped to his stomach.

“You're sick, Rosier,” Snape said, his voice close to tremmoring.

“You don't have to act like you don't want it,” Evan chuckled, “we've watched you putz around (L/n) like a fool for years. Besides, they want to. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?”

“He's right,” you said, your voice deceptively melodic, “I love you, Severus. I've always loved you.”

And in that moment, Snape had never hated himself more. Because he didn't care that Rosier was making you say the things you did. He didn't care that you were under the influence of a curse. All he could hear was the words he longed to hear spill from your lips, over and over like a skipping record.

I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus.

He played the words on repeat in his head. His heart was beating almost painfully in his chest, so much so that he hardly even noticed you slowly walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck like Lily had done to James. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, his selfish desires held him in place.

It had lasted a fraction of a second, but he didn't pull away. It was the greatest regret of his life that he didn't walk up to Rosier, break his nose, and curse every single person in that clearing instead of doing nothing, knowing full well you had no control over your actions.

When his eyes drifted open and met yours and his stomach twisted into ugly knots, fear and panic wracking through his spine. Your eyes were completely empty, irises a vacant white, and in that moment it felt as if he were kissing a corpse.

Suddenly the color returned to your eyes, and fear immediately filled them. Snape grunted as he was shot away from you, unable to move when he hit the ground. The other Slytherins looked around for the assailant, but they had no time to react when every single one of their wands was pulled from their hands. McGonagall stood there, expression the same as ever but clearly brimming with fury.

“(L/n), come,” she said, ushering you over and taking you protectively in her embrace, “we'll get you to Madame Pomfrey.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she regarded Snape and the rest of their group, “As for you,” she said, “Mr Filch, secure them in the dungeons until the Headmaster calls for them. And put all of their wands in the lockbox.”

“With pleasure,” Filch said, almost blending in with the trees behind her.

“Are you alright?” McGonagall asked you as she helped you back towards the castle.

“No,” you said, honestly, “n-no, I don't think I am.”

“No amount of apology could ever equate to the remorse I feel that this happened to you, (L/n),” she said earnestly, “I am truly sorry. This was completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that the proper measures are taken for their punishments. Expulsion would suit just fine, but even if the Headmaster disagrees, I will personally ensure you never come into contact with any of those boys again.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice sounding hollow in your own ears.

You didn't remember walking the near half-mile to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey's words felt so far away, as if she were speaking underwater. You just remembered laying down in the hospital wing bed as she checked you for any lasting damage, and as soon as she'd turned her back you'd just wept.

________________________________________________________

That night, Snape found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, leaned over the sink and watching the water rush into the drain. His hands clutched the marble sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white, every breath catching painfully in his chest before he forced it out to take another shaky inhale. He was an idiot, he knew. There was no fixing this. Not really. First Lily, now you. Was he just predestined to lose everyone in his life?

He paused. No, he didn't deserve to think like that. Everything that had gone wrong was his own doing.

When he heard the door to the bathroom open he whipped around, ready to curse whoever dared to interrupt him until he saw you standing there, your eyes red from crying and the Marauder's Map clutched in your hands like a vice. He was half certain you were a hallucination, but as soon as he pulled himself to the present, he rushed to apologize. You had to know how horrible he felt about what he did, even if you would never forgive him. He made the mistake of being too cowardly to properly apologize to Lily, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

“(Y/n), I'm—”

“I know you're sorry,” you said callously, “and I know you mean it. That's not the issue.” you took a breath to collect yourself before you continued. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. Maybe this wound really was too fresh right now. You thought you'd be able to handle this conversation, but your prior feelings weren't making this any easier.

“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, “Better, why did you do nothing? You were my friend, Severus.”

Whatever was holding back the flood of emotions in him, it snapped at your words.

Were. Past tense.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” Snape said in exasperation, though it came off more as anger directed at himself. His hands threaded through his messy black locks, his eyes nearly manic. You'd never seen him unravel quite like this. He was desperate to fix this, to keep you in his life. “No, I wasn't thinking at all, (Y/n). I couldn't, not when you were . . . not when I. . .”

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

“Not when I've fancied you for years.”

Snape knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The expression on your face made his stomach twist, and he knew there was no taking back what he said.

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes, “Severus Snape, don't you dare say that. What, do you think that just makes this all okay? You're an oblivious idiot, you know that?”

Your heart ached so bad it felt as if you couldn't breathe.

“Do you know how many times I wished you would have kissed me?” you said shakily, not bothering to hide the hurt in your voice.

Snape was sure his breathing had stopped, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard that right. Did you really feel the same way about him? But reality hit him in the face when he saw your expression. This was no heartfelt confession on your part.

“For you to just. . . for it to happen like that,” you said, still struck with betrayal and disbelief, “If you've ever respected me, you never would have let that happen. I was under a curse, Severus. And you took advantage of that— of me. All because you were too much of a coward to just tell me how you felt. And then you go on and say you've liked me this whole time as a last ditch effort to save our friendship? How the hell did you expect me to react?”

He had nothing to say to that. He blamed himself entirely. Every verbal blow you struck he gladly took, he would have sat there still as stone if you hexed him, but you refused to draw your wand at him. You just stood there, staring straight through him with unbelievable hurt in your eyes.

“I can't do this, Severus,” you said, “please, just. . . just leave me alone. I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, but right now I can't even begin to think about that. Not now.”

You looked like you wanted to say something more, but your mouth snapped shut, and Severus saw the finality in your eyes. He stayed glued to the spot where he stood long after he watched you leave, his eyes trained on the door you'd slammed shut.

If you thought Snape had made himself scarce after what he said to Lily, after what he did to you he practically vanished. He no longer sat underneath the tree that had become so symbolic of your former trio. He no longer roamed the Slytherin common room, or even the Great Hall for meals. Instead he would walk through the forbidden forest alone, or hole up in some empty corridor purposely hiding but hoping you would walk up to him. You never did.

The people who did find him in the few days that followed were the newly named Marauders, though incomplete as they arrived without you. As he glanced down at the parchment in Lupin's hand he had no questions about how they'd located him. Snape grimaced, not bothering to get up from his seat beneath the stone pillar. Anything they did to him was what he deserved.

James stepped forward from the group first. His expression was unreadable, but Snape saw the way his jaw was set firmly in place, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The Slytherin had expected Potter to come at him guns blazing, sending a flurry of verbal attacks and hexes his way. However, James Potter simply stared down at his former enemy with a look that met in the intersection of barely contained anger and utter disappointment.

“You didn't deserve them,” he said coldly, his voice oddly level.

“I know,” Snape glared, but not feeling very self-righteous.

“No, you don't,” James said, his voice rising steadily, “you will never know what you put them through. You sat there while your lunatic friends used an Unforgivable Curse on them, and you took advantage of them. I don't care if you know, I'm going to throw it back in your face, because it's what you deserve.”

“I think it's clear that (Y/n) doesn't wish to speak with you any longer,” Remus said, “if for some inconceivable reason they want to in the future, they'll approach you. Don't you even think about going about it the other way around before they're ready and willing to talk. If they ever are.”

“It's settled, Severus,” James said simply, “you're officially not worth our time anymore.”

Snape blinked up at him, trying to recall a time when Potter had ever called him by his actual name.

“Don't get us wrong,” Sirius glared, “the only reason we aren't throwing you to the Womping Willow is because we know the last thing (Y/n) would want is her friends getting expelled because of them.”

“We'll leave you alone now,” Peter said grimly, “just like you've always wanted.”

And they were telling the truth. They left him completely alone, not speaking a word to him after that; 'they' now including you and Lily, which destroyed him more than any amount of bullying had before. He watched from afar as you grew closer and closer to the Marauders. . . no, you were a Marauder. It was only natural that you became almost like a family in your seventh year. You, James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had become as inseparable as Snape thought you, him, and Lily were, but he'd ruined that. He had ruined every good thing that had ever happened to him and pushed away every important person in his life.

The last time he saw you was graduation day. Everyone was running around excitedly, dressed in the ceremonial jewel-toned robes of their respective houses as they awaited Dumbledore's speech. You had been sitting with your group as usual, now having carved out your own spot at the Gryffindor table, when you noticed that Snape was nowhere to be found.

You frowned, wondering why he of all people had to slip into your mind on a day like today.

“You alright, Fangs?”

Sirius' voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I'm fine. . .”

His handsome features contorted in concern, but that easy grin slid back onto his face as he nudged you with his shoulder.

“What, you worried you're gonna miss us?” he smirked, “this isn't goodbye, you know. We'll all see each other at the Order meetings—”

“Which you always seem to talk about at an extraordinary volume,” Remus shushed him pointedly. Sirius brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.

“(Y/n), are you sure nothing's wrong?” James asked from across the table.

“I'm alright, Prongs,” you said, “I just. . . you know what? I just remembered I left something in my dorm, I'll be right back.”

Your friends exchanged worried glances as you got up from the table, taking off towards the Slytherin common room. It wasn't a total lie, but your intentions went against your better judgment. After today there was a very, very good chance you would never see Severus again. What he did wasn't okay by any means, and it would take more than an apology or a simple conversation to forgive him, but you needed closure at the very least. Not for him, but for you. You deserved that much.

You swiped the map off your bedside table and opened it fully, your eyes quickly picking out Severus' name near the cellars only a few rooms away from where you were. You took off quickly down the hall, reaching the intersection where all the dungeon's corridors converged when you spotted him. Your heart stopped.

His left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, as was the person's standing across from him, their back to you. Even though you couldn't see the second person's face, you recognized who it was immediately.

Evan Rosier.

He wasn't on the map before. . . how had he gotten in?! He'd been expelled after the day he cursed you. Did he somehow find a way to bypass the anti-apparition charm?

You felt your breathing hitch, fear creeping under your skin. There, on both of their arms, was a tattoo of a skull, a serpent weaving its way through the mouth and eye sockets in an undeniable pattern.  You stopped breathing all together. You knew Severus had fallen into the dark arts, but to actually be a death eater? To be proudly showing off that awful display of radicalism along with the person who had used an Unforgivable Curse on you, who had invaded your free will and taken over your body. . .

Severus must have felt you even from the opposite side of the hallway, because something pricking at his skin told him to look up, and when he did he wished he never had. You were looking at him for the first time in over a year, your eyes full of terror. Rosier followed his gaze, but when he looked over his shoulder there was no one there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus sighed, trying to push the less than pleasant memories out of his head. He knew by now he was likely the last person left in the house besides you, Harry, and Sirius who were all staying here. Something like hope had sparked in his chest when he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on your lips as you saw him for the first time since graduation. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you he knew he deserved nothing from you, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right if you would only give him a chance after all this time. In truth, he missed his friend. With Lily gone, you were one of the closest things he had to that left.

Against his better judgment, Severus made his way up the stairs, silent as a thestral as he headed for your room, but he stopped in his tracks when he reached the top. Sirius' door was cracked open the slightest bit, and what Snape saw inside made his blood run cold. You were sitting next to Sirius on his bed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. As you craned your neck to look Sirius in the eyes, that's when Severus saw it— the way the Marauder looked at you. The way his face seemed to light up, the spark that returned to his gray eyes, the utter adoration in them.

And just like that, Snape was a seventeen year old boy again, transported right back to that courtyard garden, watching Lily and James share their first kiss on the day he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart shattered silently, though his departure was not so quiet as he took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. He grimaced at his own feelings, ones he knew he had no business owning.

As he was about to open the front door to leave, his instincts suddenly screamed at him to turn around, and he was just barely able to cast an invisibility charm as you began to come down the stairs. He held his breath as he looked at you. He knew he had no right to think so, but you were still beautiful like this; dressed in pajamas, hair disheveled, eyes still sightly puffy and red. He saw you look around, knowing you had no doubt heard his rather noisy descent of the staircase, and he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. Your eyes searched what should have appeared to be the empty space in front of you, but he saw you look him in the eyes, and he knew that you knew.

“Severus?” you called his name out softly, and the sound felt like a strike to his face.

He wanted nothing more than to say something to you, talk to you, hold you. But his mind flashed back to the way you had been with Sirius, and his words died in his throat. He said nothing, trying to remain unphased at your hurt expression as you turned around to walk back up the stairs. As soon as your back was turned to him, he left, unable to bring himself to do anything more.

Once again, he was too late.

Read chapter 8 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius​

[n0bamak1s]

lazy days - maki zenin x reader

request: “Could you maybe do a maki x reader fluff? Like maybe just a lazy day playing video games or something like that.” - @mvddison99

summary: after you shut off her alarm clock so she can get some rest, maki reluctantly agrees to a lazy day with you, and ends up enjoying it much more than expected. (genre: domestic-ish fluff, slice of life)

warnings: some swearing but it’s mostly just pure fluff!

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i did NOT plan to make it this long lol i’m just a sucker for writing maki! i didn’t really explicitly state what the reader and maki’s relationship is so it can be read as an established relationship or not depending on what you like! i had a ton of fun writing this so hopefully y’all like it! :)

maki zenin doesn’t do ‘lazy days’. not willingly, at least.

when you’d told inumaki of your plan to shut off her alarm clock to get her to sleep in and take a day off, he couldn’t help thinking you must have some kind of death wish to do that. you’d argue that you were staging an intervention in the name of self care. he knew the reason you’d gone to him with your idea was because he couldn’t talk any sense into you.

he also knew that you actually just wanted maki to take a day off so you’d have an excuse to hang out with her in your pajamas all day.

despite the countless times gojo would use a day off as an incentive during your missions, when you finished you’d always be greeted by the same sheepish smile and excuse as to why your day off would be pushed back. for a grown man, he sure was childish when it came to planning stuff. in contrast to the groans of disappointment that came in response from you, inumaki and panda, maki never seemed phased by the extra days you’d spend sparring in the blistering sun. while gojo moved his hands wildly as he apologized, she’d simply shrug and swing her weapon of choice over her shoulder with a bored expression on her face. gojo always seemed relieved when she’d interrupt his plea for forgiveness to a group of teenagers to ask him when the next mission was.

over the past two weeks or so, you’d begun to notice the semblance of exhaustion around maki, one you weren’t even sure she was aware of. her glasses emphasized the purple tinted bags lining her eyes, and her nose was dusted with a sunburn that was oddly reminiscent of that momo girl from kyoto. they were subtle changes in the way she carried herself as well, in the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly when she rested the wooden ends of her weapons on them. it was such a slight difference that it seemed only you could know so quickly.

so it’s not hard to imagine the joy that flashed across your face when you realized your plan in unplugging her school issued alarm clock had been successful. before then, you’d only woken up before maki once, due to an early morning mission with inumaki. that day, when surprise flashed across your face at the sight of maki awake at just 6 a.m on a saturday, now seemed a contrast to your current state. the clock read 10 a.m as you were interrupted from mulling over your breakfast with inumaki and paves with the sound of steps shuffling against the floor, followed not soon after by maki, clad in baggy plaid pants and a loose fitting tee shirt. you watched as she stretched her arms above her head, making her shirt ride up slightly from the waistband of her pants. a part of you felt as if you’d gotten lucky to see her in that moment, with her green hair cascading past her shoulders, and her yet to be brushed bangs messy as they slightly masqueraded her eyes like a sheepdog overdue for a trim. as she rubbed her eyes into focus, her gaze landed on you, clearly trying to stifle a smile for whatever reason.

“what’re you so happy about?” her voice was raspy as she straightened her posture.

oh, you were definitely lucky to see her like this.

“sleep well?” you raised an eyebrow with a teasing tone. she could practically hear the smug grin threatening to stretch across your face. had it not already been obvious who the culprit was, that would’ve been a dead giveaway of the way her stolen batteries from her alarm clock were collecting dust on your bedside table. she sent a lazy glare your way, but there was clearly no malice behind it.

“if i say i did, will you leave me alone?” her tone was almost playful as she stepped towards you, bending her knees to be at eye level with you while you sat. she probably didn’t notice that she wasn’t nearly as intimidating with her old pajamas and messy hair.

“no can do.” you no longer held shame in the catlike grin on your face. “gojo is finally letting us have that day off he always promises, and i’m not letting you use some excuse about being ‘too busy with training.’” those last few words were spoken with a monotone infliction in a weak attempt to poke fun at her almost robotic training schedule.

a roll of her eyes, but she made no point to move from her position. when she crouched down to your sitting form, her eyes remained focused on you despite the sleepiness still swimming in them. your noses were mere inches apart.

“and if i do?”

“i already told gojo to lock up the weapons, plus everyone else is occupied with relaxation.” you feigned sheepishness.

“oh noooo, i’m sure it’d be impossible to make it past his advanced security system.” her voice oozed of sarcasm and her head tilted slightly, a smirk daring to sneak past her lips.

the staring match you were unaware you’d been putting so much effort into was interrupted by a groan from inumaki. he made a face of disgust in your direction as you both turned to face him. if he could, you were sure he’d mutter something annoyedly about you two needing to get a room. your face contorted to send some sort of distorted glare his way as he got up to leave the room.

maki cleared her throat awkwardly, now acutely aware of the distance (or lack thereof) between your faces, courtesy of inumaki.

“by the way, if you don’t take a break, gojo says he’ll just make you take one during our next mission!” the grin on your face stretched almost cartoonishly at the dejected look in response to your declaration.

she was standing now. “i’ll do it, but only because you’ve already set my day back by a few hours, and so i don’t miss anything important later.” though you didn’t miss the corners of her mouth turning up as she averted her gaze.

to her surprise, you let out a soft sigh of relief in response. “thank god, my last resort would have been to make you go to training with the kyoto students instead.” she cringed wordlessly in response as she pulled a cup of yogurt from the fridge.

“what do you want to do so bad that’s got you so pushy anyways?” she sat with her legs spread apart as she ate her breakfast.

a mischievous gleam danced across your face. “well i was cleaning out my dorm the other day, and i may or may not have found my copy of mario kart.” your voice was triumphant, as if you’d just found the cure to a disease.

she looked thoroughly unimpressed in contrast to you holding down heaps of excitement. “never played it.”

your gasp of shock felt as if it could have woken up the whole school.

“maki…” your voice sounded accusatory, like a parent saying that they’re not mad, ‘just disappointed.’

“well it’s not like the zenin clan is exactly known for their expertise on video games, are they now?” she spoke matter-of-factly.

“and they’re clearly not known for having fun either, now you’d better eat up so i can beat your ass.” your competitive tone seemed to awaken a rivalry within maki, whose eyes suddenly became sharper with determination. you stifled a chuckle at the drive that came from your simple teasing.

“i wouldn’t get so confident just yet, no offense but i don’t think you’d be that hard to beat.” she teased, matching the mischievousness in your eyes, as she finished her cup of yogurt.

“oh it’s on maki!”

as you bounced down the hall to your dorm with maki in tow following breakfast, you took note of panda walking by, who seemed to do a double take of maki. she met his gaze, once again trying to look threatening despite her cozy attire. panda seemed unaffected by her glare, simply sending you a sneaky thumbs up, not going unnoticed by her.

“did everyone know about your little plan?”

“not everyone, per say. if i told megumi he’d have been a total buzzkill and told you.”

“oh how tragic that would have been.” without looking over your shoulder, you could tell she was rolling her eyes, but she did a bad job at concealing the smile that was evident in her voice.

“i know, where would you be without me?” you wiped fake tears from your eyes dramatically as you swung open the door to your dorm.

“not playing mario kart, that’s for sure.” she shrugged, feigning exasperation as she slumped on your bed. it was oddly domestic, this side of maki. it was the side of her with her hair undone, with her usual stiff uniform swapped for baggy pajamas, with her back flat against your rock solid dorm bed as she stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed over. it crossed your mind that you’d like to see her like this more.

but in case you didn’t get that chance, you were determined to make this moment last.

after a few moments of annoyance at how slow your wii loaded, and annoyance from maki at your complaining about it, considering that thing was clearly on its last legs, you were met with the flashing of the mario kart title screen. maki sat up to be met with your face brightening into a smile, making it hard for her to stop the matching one on her face. she found it hard not to get excited from the enthusiasm you had about this game, it gave her a sense of comfort that made her feel like she’d never have to worry about battling a curse again.

you handed her a controller, your fingertips brushing against her hand as you did so. her eyes flickered to yours with an impish delight to them.

“you’re going down.”

“oh?” you raised an eyebrow as you turned to click through character selections, shamelessly feeding into her competitive streak. after scrolling through the characters just long enough to annoy maki, you decided you’d play yoshi. she let out an over exaggerated sigh of relief when you’d finally decided, before turning her attention to do the exact same thing.

“rosalina, huh?”

maki glanced at you, before averting her eyes back to the screen. “what can i say? she’s hot.”

you put a hand to your heart dramatically. “oh maki, how you wound me. sorry i can't be her.” your little act was eerily similar to how the first years would act whenever there was even the possibility of megumi interacting with a girl.

“you’ve been spending too much time around gojo.” she scoffed at your antics while you waited for the crappy old wii to load the selection screen for tracks.

should i choose rainbow road just to fuck with her?

spoiler alert: you absolutely did choose rainbow road just to fuck with her.

you knew she’d never played before, so even if you did win, it’s mostly because you chose the most difficult track. but the competitive side of you didn’t seem to care. before starting the game, you moved so you sat next to maki on the bed, parallel to the tv screen. you guys sat shoulder to shoulder, yet maki still seemed totally relaxed.

“you’re going down.” she smirked, turning to face you, the second time that day her face was just inches from yours.

“i’d like to see you try and beat me, newbie.” you tilted your head towards her, a smug look painting your face as you leaned over to place your hands over hers, instructing her of the basics as you guided them over the buttons and joysticks of the controller. after all, it would be just cruel to make her go in completely clueless.

“thanks.” her eyes remained focused on her hands a few seconds after you’d removed yours from atop them, before her gaze travelled to meet yours. there was an uncharacteristically soft look on her face for just a moment, before she looked back to the screen. “but you’re gonna regret this when you eat my dust.”

“whatever you say, maki.” you muttered as the screen began to flash a countdown.

3…

2…

1…

START!!!

forget all that soft shit, you were gonna beat her ass.

your dorm room was filled with the sounds of the wii controller buttons being mashed, along with the background music of the game.

“SHIT!” you didn’t have to glance at her screen to know she’d swerved off the road and fallen, so you just smiled triumphantly in response.

when she was on the road again, you could feel her lean against your shoulder slightly as she turned. in your peripheral, you noticed how a few strands of green hair brushed against your shoulder as if it were yours. maki, on the other hand, seemed completely focused on winning the game, making her ignorant to how she practically leaned into you.

you were confident enough to know that you pretty much had this game in the bag as you kept your lead peacefully for quite a bit, that was until a certain smug looking girl next to you managed to score a blue shell.

“DAMN IT.” you watched as yoshi spun helplessly after being hit. “look at how sad he looks, you monster.” you glared ludicrously at her, to which she just snickered, but your feigned anger was quickly interrupted by the sound of the music speeding up.

FINAL LAP.

“already?” you were exasperated to see how close maki had gotten to you. looking to her, she remained with a determined look on her face, funnily enough, it was similar to the one she’d have while sparring.

you didn’t want to have to play dirty but…

ah, who were you kidding, you totally wanted to play dirty!

“hey, maki.” your voice was husky from strain of your cries of distress when you fell behind. you leaned into maki the same way she had earlier, with your leg practically on top of hers, and your head leaning oh so casually on her shoulder. she seemed to stiffen for a moment.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

jackpot.

swerving with your controller, you’d managed to knock her rosalina straight off the track, giving you a clear path to the finish line. you knew that making her all flustered just to get ahead had to be some kind of cheating, but you couldn’t deny it was so worth it to see the way her face flushed from a mix of embarrassment and anger at losing.

when you reached the finish line, it was hard to contain the laughter that came bubbling up out of you. before you could help it, the repressed giggles turned into a full on belly laugh as you leaned onto her shoulder for support.

“you should’ve seen your face maki!” you managed to get out between laughs. she simply pushed you off of her, though it was clearly as soft as possible. she held onto your shoulder so you were forced to be at eye level with her.

she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, you lifted your head to make eye contact, your mouth in a tight line as you tried to hold back more laughs.

“you’re pretty good for a newbie though, you know.” you leaned into her touch, too focused on her to tease her over the animation of yoshi with his gold trophy playing on the screen.

“yeah and you’re pretty good for a cheater.” she scoffed, but it only elicited more laughter from you, gripping on the hands she had on your shoulder for support.

she wanted to keep up her front of mock seriousness, but the way you melted into her in this moment left her no room for her mock anger.

it was rare that you saw maki zenin laugh, but in this moment, it just felt so natural to you. it seemed to rise up out of her, like a soda can being shaken up before opening, it came out unrestrained as her shoulders shook ever so slightly.

you’d have to make a note to get maki to laugh more often.

“so…” you finally composed yourself, leaning your head on her shoulder, she looked at you without an ounce of the surprise she held earlier, as if you guys did this all the time. “do you wanna play again?”

she grinned wolfishly. “hell yeah.”

[kthynes]

the caller you have reached (chris evans x reader)

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: chris was trying to drunkenly call the woman he loved and wanted to get back with but instead he reaches you, a shrink.

warning: swearing (sailor level), brief mentions of mental health

**IMPORTANT disclaimer: I won't be dabbling into the hard hitting topics of mental health in this short only because I'm not a certified health professional and so I can't be providing a written, unbiased, often characterized diagnosis towards any sort of mental health disorder because really, those types of sensitivities need proper care and output. With that being said, I do want to emphasize the notions of seeking help and not being afraid to seek help when needed. It's hard, but we all fight a battle and no battle is big or small or better or worse.

If my followers or readers do feel the need to privately chat with me, I'm here and I can you lend you an ear. Otherwise let's be kind and uplift another while we can. No harm in doing good and being better, that's for sure!

-end rant-

This short is dedicated to the following lovelies:

@princess-evans-addict

@mrs-djokovic

@slut-for-chris-evans

@saltyflowermakertaco

@bitchyslut99

@patzammit

@itskikiyooo

@maximeevansblog

Being a working adult is dreadful but the work you do is the most fulfilling kind of anarchy. You are a therapist, you work to heal and you work together with people who willingly reach out to you and your facility of care. There is that balance, the altering nuances in between that allows you to do what you do best. You advocate for good prosperity of mental health and accolade of teachable moments that fosters a safe space for your clients, not patients, but the people who deserve to be heard and not be medically categorized.

Your salubrious passion keeps you grounded. In your lifetime, you've seen the imperial impacts of poor mental health and it has been a detrimental drive in how you retreat and give back to a small found community.

"Okay." You exhale to yourself while leafing through another client chart. You're working off the clock, stuck in the renaissance of your homey office space while the outside world turns pitch black.

In the appropriate fields you jot down important takeaways from your last sit in session with heavy concertation and reasoning, you try to congregate a treatment plan all before you cellphone cries for you in venturous fashion.

"Hello?" You answer without checking the caller ID, tucking the device between your ear and shoulder so that way you could work and talk.

"Jenny!" The man boisterously shouts. "Jenny baby please talk to me! Let me make it up to you, let's just do this right, please. I'm fucked up here."

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong number." You infringe sounding like the posh, automated answering machine lady.

"Oh what the fuck Jenny — oh cah'mon don't do that, don't be like that baby." You re-verify a local number and it doesn't belong to anyone you know of. So you wonder who this man is but choose not to press further instead you tell him what is right from the knowing wrong.

"I'm not Jenny."

"Seriously?" He yells, forcing you to hold the phone away from your ear. "That can't be... This is—" He recites the number that is similar to yours but the last two digits are off.

"You got 42, not 53." It's an easy mistake to recall, a swipe of a drunken thumb could've mixed that up, so this time around, you're forgiving. Not that it happens often.

"Oh no. That's—" The mystery man trails, something about his voice discerns you, it's familiar but in a hindbrain way that you can't put a finger on. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Wait hold on, hold up, is this Jenny's assistant, Nina?" You exhale sharply sometimes it takes more than one try and a side of convincing to get your point across and your passiveness was certainly to blame.

"No I'm not her assistant either."

"Then who the hell are you?" He exasperates. You make the snide mistake of telling him your name and he buffers for a bit.

"Oh. So you really aren't anyone of my concern then?"

"No." You mildly retort. "I wouldn't want to be anyways."

"Okay well I'm not sorry then because I'm here trying to reach my girlfriend and I can't get to her because I have you on the line being a smartass." With that accent of his you can tell he's a patriotic Bostonian. One of your own kind and that furloughs your need to engage in this mindless drivel, it wouldn't get you or him anywhere. At least that's what you tell yourself before shutting him down.

"Well then maybe you should learn to listen first, how about that?" You snap, dropping your pen before you note down angry nonsense into your actual work.

"Hey nowwww!" He yells as if he's trying to be Hank Kinsley.

"It's clear that you're drunk."

He brushes you off on the other end, enigmatic in what he wants you to know. "This is Chris Evans, you're talking to Chris-motherfucking-Evans, you hear?"

"I do now." You say tersely.

"Good." He huffs. "Good... Cause you know I'm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and this is what I get. This is what I seemingly deserve, god you women I swear..."

Your face changes. You don't agree to be a lending ear but somehow Chris forces you to hear him out.

"I told her Y/N. I TOLD her that I wasn't ready to take the next step but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with her. And now she throws it back in my face by getting with some other guy she once dated back in high school. And somehow, I'm supposed to be ok with it and move on, as she tells me. How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?"

"I, um, I don't know what to tell you." You sigh somberly.

"Of course you don't!" His Boston twang begins to nerve you as there some remitting frequency of it. Hearing him obnoxiously go off, reminds you of all your shrewd New England exes who were his exact counterpart when soused. A ludicrous memory that you relive again with time and perfect harmony.

"Listen lady all I'm saying is that I fucked up. I know I did alright? I mean it doesn't take much denominational math and the plot of Lost in Translation to get that. I get it!"

Jesus. You whisper the lords name in vain as you lean your forehead against the palm of your hand while your elbow rested on top of the desk.

"So, let me get this straight, you think yelling at a random woman will help get further?" You question a little acutely for his liking.

"I don't know but it sure as hell takes off the heat, sweetheart." Something about a man calling you sweetheart grinds your gears and now your molars.

"Okay, alright, let's talk." You begin, sitting up a bit and tearing out a blank page from your memo pad; you were doing a late night consultation, a small hash out.

"Schuwaaaaa." Chris enunciates the word sure and to much of his mayhem, he’s sprawled out on the curbside, somewhere in the nowhere land of L.A. He contented but also upset and you were simply crashing his little pity party.

"What is it that you want from Jenny?" You professionally prod. "How about we start there."

"Wooooah, what is that we're doing here?” Chris gets mildly defensive with you. “I dunno you like that. If we're gonna talk then you'll have to get through my publicist first because right now I plead the fifth.”

You exhale a deep and fulsome breath. No one troubles you like him. It's sanctimoniously unnerving.

"I'm a shrink, my job isn’t meant to incriminate my clients well-being, or anyone else’s for that matter.” You address calmly. “So, if you do require some solicited advice then we can keep this call under strict confidence. You have my word, Mr. Evans and the paperwork that will follow shortly after this call.”

Silence. There is some shocking silence which is brief before you're catapulted with disbelief and more cackles. "Holy mother fucking shit. You're kidding me?"

"I can run you by my credentials if you’d like?” You mention stiffly.

"God I’ve reached a cuckoo hotline!" Wrong. That's a horrible thing to say and you'd think a man like him would've been more sensitive about his choice of words, inebriated or not.

"Far from it."

"Tell me something, alright? How many grown, adult men come crying to you?" Chris is edging with curiosity even though his eyes are betrayingly reddened after crying into a bottle of Dewars 18. He doesn't make that known to you and you never cared to ask.

"Enough to know that they cry." You simply state.

"Huh. So this is just another Tuesday for you then.” Chris scoff, the bottle making it to his lips and then swishing back down again.

"Comes with the territory except I don't tolerate drunkenness." You motely add. "Can you keep the bottle aside for the time being? Just until we're done here."

"That's understandable and oh yeah sure, sure, I won't touch it." You can hear the glass bottle 'clink' when coming into contact with the pavement.

"Now tell me about Jenny." You softly inquire.

"What do you wanna know? How we fuck or how we met?" Chris giggles like a naughty school yard boy.

"How did you two meet?" You slam the words urgently, nearly spelling out the cause.

"Oh! Oh. We met on the job." Chris chuckles punitively.

"Okay and did you guys connect instantly or was there a slow build up?" You involuntarily took notes for any PR rep of his that wanted solid evidence that would preside this call, cover your bases and your poor ass along with it.

"Instantly. Our chemistry read was off the charts." He explains with a slight hiccup. "Sorry."

"Great. So it was more so a work relationship that later grew into something more correct?"

"Pretty much."

"So when did you start developing feelings for her?"

"Um I'd say..." Chris tucks his chin, burps and then excuses himself before continuing. "Just before we wrapped up filming. But then I think somewhere in between all that I realized that she was my kind of girl, my... better half."

"And what made you come to that realization?"

"Well for one she has this infectious laugh that would have you laughing with her, there's that sound of beauty and pureness to it. And then with that, there were all the little things she'd do for me that made me think, like damn she's the one, she's it for me and that for better or for worse, I'd need her more than she'd ever need me."

Chris gets sad and you feel for him. Your pen stops moving when you were about to prescribe him some mind memory exercises. He was human. Humans hurt. Humans make mistakes. Humans stray but they also love. That's all Chris did. He loved with all of his heart to not expect the same love in return.

"You know Chris, we don't always get the love we deserve and sometimes its sucks. Sometimes you wanna kick it back with a bottle of Dewars 18 and shake your fists in the air." Chris quietly perks up at your choice of alcohol that you didn't know he was forcefully downing. He fashions a small half smile that you don't see but hear faintly. "But there's also a time and a place and things happen, people come apart, people get together, people do people and there's that fine line of letting life run its uneven course."

"I mean you sometimes have to not be okay to be okay again and I know that from my many years of helpful healing. It gets okay, never fully better and I think that's just how it is. You acknowledge your pain, your trauma and then you go on while being mindful of that transition."

"Wow."

"Hey, um, look, I actually have to get going. But if you can, just down the rest of that bottle and get yourself home."

"Are you sure?" Chris gawks.

"I mean you were already halfway through and it's not like I can physically stop you, right? And besides this is what I'm prescribing to you. I want you to acknowledge your pain, drink away your sorrows and then smash that bottle so you can be relieved from that trauma and hurt. After that you need to fix up and start new, have a mature conversation with her, if you can and then have your feet hitting the ground again. Don't fall into the routine of heartbreak even if it becomes too hard, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good." You sniff and start to put things away. "I know you're a good guy Chris, from how you are on TV and in interviews, I'm amazed by how articulate you are. You have the right mindset so I have no doubts that you'll fall back in any way. But if you do, please don't hesitate to reach out, I might have to hand you off to another cohort but nonetheless it can be worked out even if it does feel like you might be sparring on your own. You'll get the help you need."

"Great, thanks." Chris responds in his conscious state of thought. He feels pathetic with himself and that doesn't have you galling over the fact, instead you let him be.

"Do you need me to order you an Uber? Cab? Call a friend for ya?" You laugh easily and Chris hears it clearly, smiling in return.

"An Uber would be nice. I'll try to share you my location."

"Sure, on me and that'd be great."

"Thanks."

"No problem... And your ride should be here in two minutes, just look out for Raul in black Elantra." You inform him after checking your phone.

"Nice."

"You have a goodnight now Chris."

"You too." The line cuts and you're given a piece of your life back. You gather your belongings, flip off the light switch and make your way home. There's some truth and some brokenness in every situation. You knew Chris was going to be OK even if he didn't consult you afterwards. For you, there was no need. He's a smart man and he proves this over a prolonged period of time when he finally finds himself back on the market and then eventually in a relationship with a faceless and very loving woman from his own hometown.

He was finally happy, making you serendipitously glad that you were the caller he had reached.

[ariendiel]

Hey, I hope this isn’t a super annoying question but you’ve altars got such beautiful and positive content - what helped make a Noah route more enjoyable in the actual playthrough? Any advice you can impart?

Not annoying at all! I love these kinds of asks, so thank you! 💗 I'll make this my detailed guide to how I make the Noah route enjoyable (to me at least), but without playing it as a burn-the-villa route because I actually don't enjoy my MC being mean... Hope it might help some of you at least!

Please note this all requires projecting a lot of feelings etc. onto MC, which I think is a requirement for most routes to be fair. I'll add this post to my masterlist and will replay the game soon-ish (and for the last time) to make sure it all makes sense with any possible changes etc.

My guide to a nice* Noah route

Day 1: Choose Noah, I never minded that Hope "stole" him (it happens) but it does help if you – like me – want to create a "what if?" storyline in your head while playing. I've also never been a Bobby stan**, so I don't mind being in a friendship couple with him and just reject him. ** If you're a Bobby stan, probably choose someone else.

Don't flirt with anyone else at first, that way he will approach you during the evening and you can chat for a while before Hope comes to, uhm, collect him.

Day 3: Since MC is in a friendship couple with Bobby, and not really interested in anyone else here, flirt with and couple up with Rocco. The sympathy you get throughout Roccogate, while also forgiving Marisol, is quite nice – especially because you get protective Lucas.

Speaking of Lucas, I tend to flirt with him during etc. but then purposefully don't save him so that MC is again left feeling like there's no real option for her (Bobby is her friend, Rocco grafted on someone else, and now Lucas has left). This helps in the build-up to Operation Nope. Choose Henrik here if he's your preferred part of Lurik.

Day 7: Help Noah win the Mr. Love Island competition (I'm still salty they changed it so that Bobby is the one to approach MC initially. But just imagine Noah is the one doing it).

Day 9: Choose Noah for your Villa date. At this point, I headcanon MC and Noah as very good mates who increasingly look longingly at each other. Nope is rapidly falling apart, and book boy is feeling lost. The date is also just lovely in general. Hope picks first at that recoupling though, so pick Bobby.

I would recommend coupling up with Bobby here, but this time because he actively will encourage you to participate in ON. Like, you can project onto him whatever motivations you like, but it definitely makes MC kissing Noah feel a bit more... valid?

Day 10: Kiss Noah during Operation Nope (I don't like to be too enthusiastic when they plan it though, feeling pity for Rahim especially).

Day 11: If you don't like Jakub: Go on the date with him, and hate every moment of it. Break up with Bobby, saying your head's turned.

Day 12: Listen in on the conversation between Noah and Priya, it's quite cute I think – and makes it clear that Priya is quite bitter Noah is into MC and not her. This, I think, is why she later is the one to purposefully tell Hope in front of pretty much everyone that Noah is into MC and wants to couple with her.

That night, when the big argument happens, there are a few dialogue options I'd recommend over others: 1. Suggest coming up with a compromise. 2. Suggest giving Noah space to think. 3. Admit you like him, but say you won't act on those feelings. This way, Noah won't snap, Hope will forgive Priya, but not you, and at least to me it feels like MC is genuinely just tired of the whole thing and Hope yelling at her. Note: I haven't played the game in a while, but will do so soon to make sure these are all the same as they were over a year ago.

Day 13: Disaster recoupling! Noah will pick you, and just enjoy this for as long as it lasts. Literally it is so lovely to be coupled up with him and you get to learn quite a lot about him. Kiss him before going to CA.

CA: Ugh, just get through it. I prefer to stay loyal to Noah throughout, mostly because suddenly MC's girl"friends" don't think she wants to be serious with him and at least this way it proves them wrong.

Day 17: Noah switches to Blake. This man's a notorious over-thinker, and a combination of insecurity and Blake playing the game made him switch. Don't think too much about it, other than take note of how he switched to the girl that managed to "mimic" MC in how she behaves, rather than the one that looked like Hope. It's the little things, really. Say you're happy for him, and just enjoy how genuinely sad and apologetic he is, but also how he almost certainly thinks he's completely blown his chances with MC for good.

Day 18: THE PAIN. Everyone ignores MC and her feelings completely, instead working together to get Hope back with Noah for some bloody reason. The worst day on a Noah route, but you can tell Noah isn't really into it, and by this point it's hard to tell if Hope is just playing the game or not (I choose to imagine her knowing she has to be with Noah to have a chance at winning. I love her, but she's competitive and wants to win).

During the recoupling, I usually choose to save Jakub and stay with him in a miserable couple until the end. But choose whoever you're not really interested in from here on out.

Day 19: Fail the ‘Mister and Missus’ challenge. Your partner, or Jakub at least, will be genuinely mad at you for it. If you have low enough relationship points, Noah will make you breakfast the next day. ❤️

Get through these days and the gossip-sneezer drama as best as you can, ignore Hope and flirt with Noah when you can. Honestly, the chemistry and building (s*xual) tension between him and MC is so good if you're into him.

Admit to Chelsea you're into him***, that way you get to chat with him on the roof terrace, say you like him. *** I can't remember the day this happens on, but will check later.

Day 22: Flirt with Noah that morning, and notice how Hope is acutely taking note of it, because not much later she'll corner MC and ask her who she fancies. Here, you can't say Noah, the game forcing you to say someone else (I say Jakub because my poor MC is coupled with him and it feels like the "right" choice, but choose whoever you want to couple with). After you say a name, Hope will literally sprint out and tell this person, before quickly going to Noah – most likely to tell him about how much MC fancies [insert name here]. This, combined with literally everyone expecting it of him, is why Noah blows his last chance at being with MC and chooses Hope at the recoupling.

I think we mentioned it quite a bit in our Noah character analysis (here), but note how his speeches when choosing Hope get less and less emotional and more robotic as time passes.

Don't do any gem options with your partner by the way, and don't kiss them etc. Treat it like a simple friendship, and nothing more. It makes it a lot easier to imagine that they're only really with MC and laying it on thick at times because they're in it for the money.

Day 24: Whoever you sent home out of Lurik comes back, you can swap to them without hurting your chances with Noah if that makes it easier to steal the money. I still don't like to outright cheat or flirt with them though.

Again, just enjoy and take every single moment you get with Noah to flirt with him. He flirts back and is so very clearly into MC it hurts.

Day 28: Say no to being your partner's girlfriend (if you haven't flirted with them much up until here it's super awkward and feels forced). Noah won't have asked Hope to be his girlfriend either, so neither of you will technically cheat later, as they're pretty much just formally coupled up. Agree to chat with Noah on the roof terrace that night, and straight out admit you like him – don't go for the kiss... yet.

Day 29: Just get through the prom knowing that all Noah and MC, depending on how you project, can think about is the other. Hook up on the roof terrace that night, and accept that Noah won't just run back in and break up with Hope right away (it doesn't make much sense to do so, and Noah is not one to act rashly).

Day 30: Steal the money. Go talk with Noah and Hope first. Noah breaks up with Hope and you get that wonderful pool scene with him where he says "I love you".

Good luck, and let me know how it goes or if you have any questions! Now go get that sweet pixel librarian 📚

[king-maven-calore]

5,6 or 7. Angst. Mareven

ok ok, so I had to be in the right state of mind to write this, sorry for the delay. This fits as part of a fic/request that I started writing and may never finish bc damn it hurts so much.

This is uhm... marecal fam y'all should keep your distance🚫🚫

Some days were easier than others. Wasn’t that the way of life? Some days Mare’s figure was a mere shadow at the corner of his eye, disappearing whenever he tried to focus on her. Others, she would linger, muttering snide comments at the Cygnet’s handle of political affairs. Needless to say, she had a great deal of disdain for them. Being married to Iris, he had a right to attend the meetings where such matters were discussed. He wasn’t trusted enough to have an opinion though.

Maven was a prisoner in all but name, in a foreign nation, doomed to roam the halls of The Royelle, chased at every minute of every hour by the ghost of the woman he loved. The dead woman he loved... because he had killed her. Tricky how that worked, that her ghost had chased away the echo of his mother’s voice inside his head, and instead made it her task to torture him.

“You know that plan will only get silvers killed and red deserters for the Scarlet Guard,” Mare chirped with a bounce to her step.

‘Task’ wasn’t the right word, when she enjoyed torturing him so thoroughly. If this was his punishment, it was also her paradise.

“Acute observation,” he sneered, keeping his head down until he reached his chambers. “Thank you for stating the obvious.”

Word on the Lakelander court was that he was mad. A fallen king who often got caught talking to empty air and gazed at nothing, full of longing and loathing in equal measure.

“Obvious, and still you kept your mouth shut.” Her tone changed to scolding and she materialized right in front of him. “You could’ve stopped this.” Her eyes the color of trees in autumn, dead and cold, drilled holes in his.

He sidestepped her and kept walking at a brisk pace. Days such as these, when he could see her so clearly, he could also touch her. It was never a pleasant sensation. Today she looked the same way she had when he branded her in Harbor Bay; hair in a tight braid that fell over her shoulder the braid had come undone when she’d wriggled in pain on the floor when he used Cal’s torture device on her. She was wearing unassuming jeans and a shirt he’d moved out of the way so easily to burn the M on her skin. The spot was unscarred now. A pity. No matter how many times he re-branded the letter, she would just show up without it the next day.

Taunting him. Daring him to commit his sin all over again. Well, joke was on her. A tiny part of him would always sing at seeing her writhing on the ground beneath his hand, it was proof he could too, make her feel something.

“I couldn’t stop anything. They won’t listen to me.”

Maven closed the door of his chambers behind him and started yanking off the layers of heavy black clothes covering his frame until he was in his pants and shirt. It was getting hard to breathe.

“You can be pretty convincing when you want to be,” Mare spat in his face. “Do something, your highness.”

“Why should I?” He gripped her elbows with enough force to bruise. He hated how real, how warm she felt.

She’s not real. She isn’t here. Two sentences that held no weight by now. Not when his heart missed a beat and his skin prickled at the point of contact.

“I have no interest in my wife’s kingdom, or its citizens,” he gritted out pushing her until her back hit the wall, covered in scorch marks the palace staff didn’t bother to clean anymore. “Red or Silver. Their lives mean nothing to me.”

“Nothing ever mattered to you but your precious crown, right.” Mare laughed darkly; her eyes even darker as she glared at him. He loomed inches above her. “How miserable.”

She made it sound so small and simple. An existence reduced to a circle of iron... but it wasn’t true. Underneath the incomprehensible obsession with the power, there had been other things. Phantoms of things erased and squashed with surgical precision: curiosity for art and theatre, affection toward his father and brother, a taste for certain board games, love for two Reds.

The latter, rather than being squashed like the others, had morphed into this; staring into the fascinating, beautiful, horrible face of a phantom that felt more real than his own. He loved her so much he wanted to kill her all over again.

He didn’t realize his hands were burning until Mare’s shirt caught on fire. She remained unfazed, unharmed by his fire, still glowering.

“Not the only thing.” Maven’s voice was strained. “You mattered to me. I told you that.”

“And yet...” she added dryly, without feeling the need to complete the last part. The evident. The tragedy. His last, unforgivable crime. Ripping her away from the world and attaching her to him in return.

Forgive me, I beg of you. But some words could kill if spoken out loud, and he knew these ones would end him. And he was afraid of the darkness that followed, ironic as that may be for someone who had so comfortably inhabited darkness his entire life. One was a familiar comfort, while the other was the black dot at the end of a final paragraph. He refused to end it like this.

“I love you,” he gritted out through the noose tightening around his throat.

“No,” she whispered easily, without even pausing to consider his words. The flames were up to her collar now, licking at her neck. “You don’t. I believed you did, once, in your own way. But I was wrong because you don’t willingly murder the one you love, Maven.” Her eyes glinted with amusement, reflecting the orange light of the fire. “I loved you. I even chose you before you decided to throw it all away.”

Past tense. His gut recoiled like he’d been electrocuted, even though the ghost had no sparks. The room spun, the air scratched its way down to his lungs, his clothes asphyxiated him.

“Then leave me.” He pressed his face to her temple roughly, pushing her against the wall. “Go with him!” he growled like he was gurgling on venom. “Leave me! Leave me alone like all the rest!”

His screams would surely be heard across the palace but he did not care. Mare was all he had left... but not really. He’d made sure of it.

“LEAVE!” His throat hurt and the wallpaper behind Mare started raining down on them in hot embers that clung to their hair and clothes.

She shook him off and murmured in his ear, sweetly, as warmly as if she was pressing a knife to his neck and drawing out silver blood in rivers. “You thought you were the only one capable of hunting? I’ll haunt you even after your body is buried and left to rot.”

And then she was gone. He was left staring at the burning wall, carpet, and ceiling. Behind him, he heard the chandelier drop on the burning mattress. Maven fell to his knees grasping at the now empty air and screamed his throat raw for the first time, burning it all until the room was nothing but ashes, surrounding himself with fire to fight off the dark and the cold that permeated all things.

He let it all out because he did care, deep down he still cared. It was finally starting to push to the front of his consciousness and it was like a dam breaking, like birthing humanity, or himself, he did not know. The chaos and the pain were too great.

No one came to check on him.

When he woke up on the floor the next day, so tired not even 10 years of sleep could have helped, Mare was standing over him. Arms crossed and a quirked brow.

“Are you done?”

Leave it to the Little Lightning girl to shit on a perfectly good dramatic moment.

“Mare, dear,” he sighed, feeling slightly grateful for her presence. “I’m only getting started.”

[scribbles97]

Half a Hope

Post Season 3 fic, based on a comment made by Colonel Casey in Break Out.

I make no apologies for where this ended.

@gumnut-logic thank you for the cheerleading as always!

They had seen each other in passing, she had been there when they had landed on the Island. Jeff’s first thought had been how old she had looked, but a glance in the elevator doors had reminded him of just how old he himself had gotten.

Val had smiled and waved, promised she would visit as soon as she had dealt with the Hood and his new team.

He had put it down to exhaustion that he was disappointed that she hadn’t stayed.

Then it had been forgotten about though, written out by time with his family and a move to hospital to ensure a proper recovery. Tests and reports had filled his days, discussions of what he had missed and what he had to face before normality would take over again. After eight years alone it was a lot to take in.

He wasn’t proud that he had once snapped at his mothers well meaning fussing.

He was grateful that she had at least understood.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, he looked forward to his moments of peace when everyone else had gone home. He appreciated the chance to simply switch off and block out everything around him. The doctors and nurses were done for the day, bland dinner served and pills dispensed, he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed for the evening.

The lightest of taps on the door was enough to draw his attention, pulling him back from the edge of relaxation.

“I can come back.”

She had whispered it, but compared to the noise of space, everything was loud.

“No,” He grunted, pushing himself upright in the bed against muscles that protested, “come in, Val, it’s good to see you.”

Her smile widened as she slipped quietly through the door, hesitating by it as she shook her head.

“It’s really you,” Whispered again, “you’re really home.”

He grinned back, “In the flesh.”

“Forgive me for being sceptical,” She shrugged, “It’s kind of been a while.”

“Too damn long,” He replied, resting his head back against the pillows, “Come and sit.”

She glanced over her shoulder, “The nurse sai--”

“Damn the nurses,” He waved her towards the seat again, “I know what I need, and it’s for you to tell me the unabridged versions of what I’ve missed.”

Even her laugh was quiet as she skirted the room, pulling the chair closer before she took a seat. Her eyes seemed brighter in the lights, her smile softened from the hard tight look she had thrown across the tarmac to him weeks ago. She was still noticeably older than he remembered, grey streaking her hair, and laugh lines creasing the corner of her eyes deeper than he remembered.

He couldn’t help but think how it suited her.

“So,” She murmured, crossing one leg over the other as she sat forward, “Where shall I start?”

They had talked for hours that first evening, and if it hadn’t been for the mental and physical exhaustion pulling him towards sleep, he was sure they wouldn’t have stopped. Her hand had been warm and comfortable on his shoulder before she had left, the first time she had dared to reach out to him.

Part of him didn’t want her to leave, her company easier than anybody else's.

Val didn’t fuss or fret, didn’t treat him like the old man he felt he was. She seemed to know though, just what he needed, how to speak in the low tones that didn’t disturb him, how to keep company without having to even say anything.

He loved his family, but they were all so eager to have him home, sometimes they seemed to forget and he had to remind them.

Val seemed constantly, acutely aware.

After the first night they had talked often. Everything and nothing coming to mind in equal measures. Some conversations were important, Janus trying to force Val out of her job and the boys into submission. Others were less so, simple time fillers when the silence was too much.

On the dark nights, when sleep wouldn’t come and his burdens were too heavy for his sons to shoulder, she was there. Occasionally in person, more often in text. She had put it down to being a light sleeper, used to being woken at the slightest call for her attention. He hadn’t questioned, simply grateful for the company and the outlet.

When he returned to the Island and was forced to watch in person as his son’s risked their lives time and again, she was there to reassure. There may have also been a degree of ass kicking when he had questioned himself and the organisation he had created. Her tongue was sharp as ever, not a single word minced over her thoughts on the topic.

She always had been damn good at setting him straight.

It was what she had done after Lucy. After he had all but abandoned his family and set himself on a downward spiral, Val had been the one to drag him back up and shove him down the path he needed to follow.

“What’s got you smiling?”

He shrugged, glancing down to his bourbon as he swirled it, the ice clinking on the sides of the glass. He didn’t drink much any more, more conscious of his declining health than he had ever been, but it had been a year since he had walked out of that hospital and he was sure the one drink was warranted.

“I owe you some thanks,” He sighed, drawing his gaze from the sun setting far on the horizon and back to her, “For keeping me going since I came home.”

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments before she was looking away. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to notice how her jaw clenched and her own smile fell, but he did, and it worried him.

“Val?”

She didn’t look back, instead taking a sip of her drink, eyes fixed on the pool below the deck.

“Val.” He stated, frowning as he sat straighter.

Both of them knew the tone, each had spent enough time in the military to know when a statement was a command. Neither could ignore it.

Swallowing her drink she didn’t look back to him, “You said the same after Lucy died.”

The statement only confused him more.

“Val what--”

“Be quiet.”

He did as she asked, still frowning as he watched her. The trust was strong between both of them, and he knew better than to push. She would speak when she was ready.

Still, it made him worry. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been blunt with him, when her words hadn’t cut straight to the core of any issue. To see her so clearly conflicted seemed wrong.

She had told him to be quiet, but she hadn’t stopped him from reaching out to touch her arm where it rested outstretched towards him. Her breath sucked in sharply at his touch as she closed her eyes.

“All I needed was half a hope.”

Words no longer needed whispering for him, but it seemed it was all she could force out as her eyes snapped back to him.

There were tears there.

“They didn’t tell me.” She whispered with a shake of her head, “I was the last to find out you might be alive.”

This he hadn’t known.

Anger burned somewhere deep in him at the thought of her being in the dark.

“I thought you were dead, and I didn’t know what to do Jeff because I finally understood it all.”

The hand of the arm he had reached to twisted, taking his fingers and squeezing them tightly as she swallowed.

“I finally understood what you felt when you said a part of you had died with Lucy.”

His heart clenched at the thought, long buried feelings and emotions bubbling up. It was a time in his life he never would forget, the pain indescribable and most certainly not anything he would ever wish on another.

Val had watched him through it all, a quiet shoulder of support at the start when the ache of loss was at its worst.

Who had been there to support her?

“I would have done anything,” She continued softly, “if there had been the slightest indication that you could have been alive…”

Catching her hand in his before she could pull away, he held on tight. It was far too late, the damage already done and no doubt seared deep, but he was there.

“You couldn’t have known.” He murmured, “Val there was no possible way for you--”

“I should have!” She snapped, cutting him off as eyes glistening with unshed tears turned on him.

Colonel Evangeline Casey didn’t do scared.

Jeff could count on one hand the number of times he had seen her well and truly afraid.

It was undoubtedly what he was seeing in that moment though. Equal parts hurt and fear as she watched him, unable to look away.

“How?” He prompted softly, thumb smoothing calmly over the back of her hand, “How should you have known Val?”

She shrugged as she shook her head, eyes finally breaking away to look at his hand over hers.

Equally as soft, “Because it was you.”

Another question was on the tip of his tongue, desperate to figure out what had brought all of this on. She beat him to it though, the words coming tumbling as if the dam had broken.

“Because it was you and Lee and Lucy and me, and when Lucy was gone nothing seemed right any more. Lee couldn’t cope so he left the world behind, and then it was just us. You and me against whatever the world decided to throw at us after that, and the world threw some wicked curveballs.”

He could guess she wasn’t talking of the challenges of starting International Rescue.

“Because you’re you,” She shrugged, voice twisting tight with the words, “You were my best friend's husband, and then she was gone and hell it seemed so wrong. Who else did I have though? Nobody else seemed to get it like you always did, and part of me really hated you for that because it made everything so much more complicated. How could I really hate you though? You didn’t even know, and I knew, I always knew your heart would only ever belong to Lucy.”

The tears had tracked down her cheeks, barely visible in the soft dusk light. Jeff could see them though, them and all they stood for.

With a sniff, Val looked away, dipping her head as she closed her eyes and swallowed the last mouthful of her drink.

“Didn’t stop me though,” Her eyes darted back, holding his as she pursed her lips, “Didn’t stop me from loving you.”

TBC?

[innepttia]

Just a bunch of ficlets while I try to work through my writers block.

---

Void black eyes tracked her movements. Her shoulders back, spine straight, absolute command rolling off her with every step. Black armor, splattered with multicolored blood, rage filled eyes locked onto the asari mercenary in front of her. He would savor this savage memory later.

Thane didn’t pay attention to the mercenary, or maybe he couldn’t see her. Amonkira demanded he pay attention to Her chosen one. Kalahira whispered that this human was a messenger, and the message was atonement.

He only had eyes for her . Her presence was overwhelming. Whatever she said to the asari, he couldn’t hear. Those strange human hands, so deadly and fragile, moved to grab her pistol. It was a clean execution, and Thane could hear Arashu sigh in relief.

Shepard turned away from the kill and his breath was ripped from his lungs. Her face was hard, her duty complete for the time. His grip tightened on his rifle with the unnecessary need to protect. Protect what? He didn’t know.

Thane fell in line with Garrus behind the Commander as they made their way back to the ship.

“Well that was a shitshow,” Garrus stated. Shepard snorted.

“You could say that again. I don’t really appreciate doing Aria’s dirty work, but...” Shepard trailed off for a moment. “I do like keeping the streets clean.”

“Sure, because the streets of Omega are so clean,” Garrus snarked back. Thane couldn’t help but feel disdain for the turian’s irreverence. Shepard glared over her shoulder at Garrus, who only laughed in return.

The loud thump of bass in Afterlife greeted them.

Garrus and Shepard paused. They exchanged a look.

“We’re probably going to get some drinks after we check in with Aria,” Shepard said to Thane. Everyone on the ship knew Thane abstained. “You can join us, or you can head back to the ship if you’d like.” He wanted nothing more than to stay at her side for forever, but he knew he would spoil their fun if he hovered.

Thane gave her a small bow and left them.

Life Support was a welcome reprieve. His lungs ached less, the tingling in his scales dissipated as the humidity in the air decreased significantly. The sharp pain in his heart was almost entirely erased as the doors  swooshed  shut behind him. It was a bittersweet relief.

His mind, and in this moment his cursed eidetic memory, replayed Shepard’s hand resting on Garrus’s sharp talons. The soft smile she shared with her teammate. Thane didn’t think he was jealous but he hadn’t felt that feeling in over a decade so he couldn't be sure.

He was standing, staring through his rifle display, stuck in that memory loop of her hand touching Garrus when the doors opened on a soft breath. Thane turned. For a moment he thought Arashu stood in the doorway, but his vision cleared and it was only Her warrior angel instead. The smell of alcohol filled the room, though he knew the humans on board couldn’t smell it as acutely.

His Siha was drunk.

It wasn’t the first time, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last time. He hid inside himself for ten years; she drinks as much as she can to forget. Thane wouldn’t judge her for treating her demons in such a way.

The silence between them stretched and Shepard still didn’t come in.

“Do you need something?” Thane finally asked. She made a strangled noise, the look of conflict crossing over her harsh features.

“ You ,” Shepard whispered. Thane felt his heartbeat skyrocket. Suddenly the things he attributed to her being drunk, maybe meant something else. Her breathing was hard, her pupils dilated, hands shaking slightly by her sides. He took a step forward, but she wavered and turned away. The doors to Life Support closed behind her retreating form and he had a staggering moment of uncertainty. Should he follow her? Did she mean it, or was it just the alcohol talking?

He knew he shouldn’t take advantage, but the dark part of him told him to go to her, and gods forgive him, he did.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Worthy of a god - Xichengclipse 2020 Day 7

This is entirely thanks to @ruensroad who humored me a lot and gave me so many great ideas for the prompts of ‘Loyalty’ and ‘Honesty’ because I had zero ideas for this. But then along came a savior and gave me this wonderful inspiration!

When Jiang Cheng wakes up, nerves are already churning in his gut.

Today is the big day. The day the gods come down to earth to choose their disciples. It only happens once a year and only those who are eighteen are eligible to be chosen. If no god chooses you on this day then there won’t be a second chance.

Jiang Cheng knows that there is a chance Chifeng-zun will choose him; he is the god of war and rage and ever since Jiang Cheng was old enough to scowl there had been talk at Lotus Pier, how well he would fit with that.

But Jiang Cheng also knows that there is a bigger chance of no god choosing him at all.

It is his biggest fear, especially since Wei Wuxian would stand right by his side during the ceremony.

Jiang Cheng eyes Wei Wuxian who is getting ready right next to him and dread pools in his stomach. Wei Wuxian will probably be chosen by multiple gods and then a fight will break out amongst them. Somehow Jiang Cheng will get dragged into this, he will end up at the centre of it, and in the end the whole thing will reflect badly only on him.

His father will be quietly disappointed, his mother will be loudly furious and his sister will simply smile her kind smile at him, while tending to Wei Wuxian’s injuries and congratulation Wei Wuxian for being chosen.

It has happened before, and it will happen again, too, because Jiang Cheng never knows when to just let his brother dive headfirst into danger.

But the fact still remains; Wei Wuxian will get chosen despite the commotion he will no doubt cause and Jiang Cheng probably won’t, since he will cause too much trouble defending his brother.

“Are you excited?” Wei Wuxian suddenly asks him, bumping their shoulders together and Jiang Cheng scowls at him.

“What’s there to be excited about?” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “I’m not the one who will get chosen,” he quietly tacks on, but Wei Wuxian still seems to hear him, because the excited smile slides right off his lips.

“Of course you’ll get chosen,” Wei Wuxian tells him, with so much conviction in his voice that even Jiang Cheng almost believes it for a second. “You’ll get a wonderful god, you’ll see.”

“Right,” Jiang Cheng huffs out. “Because the god of war is such a wonderful prospect,” he bitterly tacks on and then chastises himself for it.

He really shouldn’t be badmouthing the gods on any day, but this day especially.

“He’s not so bad,” Wei Wuxian tries. “Remember last year? How he laughed so loudly it sounded like thunder claps? Clearly he’s not all rage,” Wei Wuxian tries and Jiang Cheng has to admit that Wei Wuxian might be right.

Chifeng-zun is not entirely bad, Jiang Cheng knows that, but even though he never allowed himself to think about which god he would choose if he had the choice, he knows that he wouldn’t go for Chifeng-zun.

“Come on, it will be fun!” Wei Wuxian jolts him out of his thoughts and drags him outside, where half of Lotus Pier is already waiting for them as it seems.

Jiang Cheng takes one last deep breath and then he follows his family.

~*~*~

The ceremony itself is boring. There’s a lot of talk, reminders of how the disciples should always be the most obedient and helpful for their gods, before the signal is fired off and the gods actually show up.

Jiang Cheng inwardly wonders why they get to skip all the boring parts but then he’s blinded by the first light announcing the arrival of the first god and he found out long ago that it’s just easier to keep his eyes closed until all of them have arrived.

The gods that show up on this day vary from year to year, but the big ones, the ones that are the most powerful, are always there.

Chifeng-zun of course, but Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun and Lianfang-zun are always amongst them as well.

There is another exceedingly boring portion where each god gets greeted individually before all the disciples that are eligible this year are called forwards.

Jiang Cheng steps up right next to Wei Wuxian and while Wei Wuxian beams at the gods, Jiang Cheng can’t help but to lower his gaze and worry the hem of his robe.

If he doesn’t get chosen this year, he’ll bring dishonour on his family, and his mother will never forgive himself. If he doesn’t get chosen and Wei Wuxian does then his mother will expect him to forever hate Wei Wuxian for taking this opportunity away from him and Jiang Cheng knows that he never could.

Jiang Cheng desperately wishes this day was over already.

When it’s time for the first god to choose, a hush falls over the crowd. All eyes turn to Zewu-jun, because he always gets first choice, mostly because it’s been centuries since he took his last disciple.

No one knows what exactly he’s looking for, who he is waiting for, but so far he never took anyone with him.

He’s the god of loyalty and the capacity of self-sacrifice and Jiang Cheng supposes in this time and age it must be increasingly difficult to find a selfless person like that.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t care much for the gods, if he’s being honest, but there is always something lonely in the corner of Zewu-jun’s eyes, and Jiang Cheng finds himself hoping that this year he’ll find someone to keep him company.

Zewu-jun gets up from his seat, and everyone is waiting for the annual head-shake they got so accustomed to, but instead Zewu-jun leaves his place.

He must have found someone worthy enough.

There’s a beat of dead silence over the place, before an excited murmur goes through the crowd. There are speculations, Jiang Cheng can tell, but he keeps his eyes on the ground, hoping that this goes over fast.

Jiang Cheng only lifts his gaze when white shoes step into his line of sight and then don’t disappear again. Still, Jiang Cheng is slow to react until Wei Wuxian elbows him into the side and only then does Jiang Cheng lift his head.

Zewu-jun is standing directly in front of him, looking right at Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng swallows.

He wonders what he could have possibly done to upset this god—because this is the only possible explanation for his strange behaviour—and he falls into a deep bow.

“This disciple apologizes,” he gets out, acutely aware of all eyes on him and then he’s being lifted out of the bow by gentle hands.

“For what?” Zewu-jun asks him, and his voice is softer than Jiang Cheng imagined it to be.

“For—,” Jiang Cheng starts and then he helplessly works his jaw because he can’t think of anything to apologize for.

He doesn’t know what he did to upset Zewu-jun after all.

“For upsetting Zewu-jun,” he eventually carefully says and is completely taken off guard when Zewu-jun smiles at him.

“But you have done the opposite,” Zewu-jun tells him and his voice runs like a shiver down Jiang Cheng’s back. “You are delighting me.”

Jiang Cheng can almost feel how Wei Wuxian is vibrating out of his skin next to him, but Jiang Cheng feels strangely detached from himself.

“I’m what now?” he blurts out and when he hears a scandalized gasp from behind him, he slaps a hand over his mouth, his face burning with mortification.

“Xichen, you’re scaring the guy,” Chifeng-zun suddenly calls down to them, and Zewu-jun laughs lightly at that.

“That was not my intention,” Zewu-jun gives back over his shoulder and then actually slightly bows his head to Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng wants to die on the spot.

“I would choose you as my disciple,” Zewu-jun says, finally explaining what’s going on here, even though it barely does anything to make this situation more understandable.

“But you’re the god of undying loyalty and the willingness to sacrifice oneself,” Jiang Cheng blurts out, because this cannot be right.

“And you are the perfect disciple for me,” Zewu-jun gives back, endless patience in his voice and Jiang Cheng has to swallow at that.

He never dared to hope for anything like this, but standing here, in Zewu-jun’s gentle light; it already feels like he’s home.

“If you would have this unworthy disciple,” Jiang Cheng finally gets out, bowing low again like the custom demands, but he’s yet again stopped by a hand catching his wrist.

“There is nothing unworthy about you,” Zewu-jun assures him and then goes back to his seat.

He has made his choice.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he takes in anything past this point; he’s dimly aware that Wei Wuxian got chosen by Hanguang-jun, the god of everything that is right and the bearer of light, but apart from that the whole afternoon escapes Jiang Cheng.

He regains a bit of his senses when it comes the time to say goodbye to his family for now, for Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian won’t be allowed to return to the mortal plane for the first five years of their training, but even that mostly flows past him.

He only becomes aware of his surroundings again when it’s time to leave with Zewu-jun.

“Are you sure you’re not making a mistake?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask Zewu-jun because he still has a hard time wrapping his head around this.

“Are you questioning my judgement?” Zewu-jun asks him, his voice mild, but Jiang Cheng still blanches.

“I am questioning my worthiness, Zewu-jun,” he quickly gives back and watches in awe as Zewu-jun’s face softens.

“I have waited a long time for someone like you, Wanyin,” Zewu-jun says as he cups Jiang Cheng’s face in his hand. “And my disciples call me Lan Xichen.”

Jiang Cheng swallows at that, because it’s a great honour to call a god by their old name and he can hardly believe that he’s already being granted that honour.

“Will you accompany me?” Lan Xichen asks him, his voice low and almost intimate. “Will you stay by my side?”

It is unheard of, that a god asks their chosen disciples for their opinion, and yet Jiang Cheng doesn’t doubt for a second that if he should say no, Lan Xichen would let him go without a word.

Jiang Cheng looks at this god in front of him—his god, should he choose so—and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what he’s doing but he’s slightly raising up on the tip of his toes, reaching out to cup Lan Xichen’s face in his hand in turn.

He sees how Lan Xichen’s eyes go wide, but how they stay soft and gentle, and Jiang Cheng nods.

“I will stay with you” Jiang Cheng promises his god—means it with everything that he is—and is stunned, when Lan Xichen briefly leans into his hand.

“Let’s go home, then,” Lan Xichen says and takes Jiang Cheng’s hand in his own, to safely guide him up into heaven and into their new home.

This now comes with a sequel

{Buy me a kofi}

[impalementation]

Do you think the trio were good as villains? (As foils, as obstacles etc) I know people tend to dislike them in general

Anonymous asked:

Why do you think “the trio” make sense as the antagonist of season 6?

i’m combining these two asks together, since they’re both about the trio.

i love the trio as villains. they might even be my favorite villains in the whole show. angelus and glory are both classic, and easily my favorites after, but the trio just get under my skin—much like season six in general—in a way those classic villains don’t. adding a cut for length.

i think a lot of what i like about them was covered in these two excellent posts by @comradesummers, so i’ll probably end up repeating some of what she said. i’ve also talked about the trio before myself, so there’s a good chance i’m repeating my own past posts as well.

but to put things in my own, new words. the reason i love the trio is because of how many levels they operate on, and how interesting those levels are.

on one level, the mundane nature of the trio and their villainy parallels the depressing, irritating banality of adult, real-life problems that the season spends so much time exploring. it’s very deliberate that after a season in which buffy defeated a god, she finds herself antagonized by a cringey trio of boys her age. the writing emphasizes the lameness of the trio enough times that you know this choice was on purpose.

scenes like:

BUFFY: I'm just saying, all the things that have happened lately? Okay, the, the bank robbery, the jewelry heist... XANDER: The exploding lint. BUFFY: I-is it me, or do these things seem really- ANYA: Lame? BUFFY: (shrugs) Well, I was gonna go with unusual, but, yeah.

or:

DOCTOR: Buffy, you used to create these grand villains to battle against, and now what is it? Just ordinary students you went to high school with. No gods or monsters...just three pathetic little men...who like playing with toys.

the fact that buffy dismisses the trio, but eventually finds herself in danger of them, echoes the way that she struggles to “defeat” the problems of adulthood that she thinks she should be able to handle. as she says in “flooded”:

BUFFY: Okay, it's, it's bills, it's money. It's pieces of paper sent by bureaucrats that we've never even met. It's not like it's the end of the world. (she thinks about that for a moment) Which is too bad, you know, 'cause that, I'm really good at.

the fact that the trio is so “ordinary” and “lame” adds to that season six feeling of having been rudely brought to earth. of the magic of childhood being left behind, and having to deal with problems you can’t build a myth around. there’s just something so real and brilliant to me about how wrong it feels that these are buffy’s antagonists. because of how well it evokes that wrong feeling of: this is what adulthood is? these are the problems i have to deal with? it seems so easy, so why is it so hard?

the second level of the trio relates to the first level, in that they represent the mundane dangers of real-life misogyny. season six is all about making the metaphorical literal (ironically, as a metaphor for how the transition from childhood to adulthood can feel), and so there’s something very fitting that in a show that has spent a lot of time creating horror from metaphorical, supernatural misogyny—it suddenly becomes literal. no more swim team jocks becoming rapacious fish monsters, no more frat boys sacrificing girls to a snake demon, no more vampires cornering victims in dark alleys. and okay, the trio is still doing spells and such. but besides that, everything about them is so normal it becomes disturbing. they are simply boys who feel disempowered in their own lives, and think this entitles them to play with other people, particularly women, because they barely see those women as people in the first place.

there is also something crucial to the fact that the trio are the villains that are most like the writers, and who the writers probably conceived of as their audience. it’s on record that many of the nerd debates that the trio have were lifted directly from debates the writers would have amongst themselves. the writers were also on fan boards, and well aware of the fact that their show was popular with very nerdy people. which means that when they made nerdish avoidance and entitlement a villain in season six, it was another way of bringing the show to earth. by making the trio into some of the show’s mostly subtly, yet acutely, horrifying antagonists there is an implication that: misogyny and wrongdoing is not something that only oafish athletes and distant authorities are capable of. it is something that anyone can be complicit in.

which is also why the third level of the trio, the fact that they act as mirrors of all of the other characters, works so well. because season six is when the show makes some of its most beloved characters do very bad things. the protagonists become aware, just as the audience does, of their potential for complicity in evil. and i think this is a very very important aspect of becoming an adult for the show to capture. to me, becoming an adult means becoming responsible for yourself and your moral choices in a way you aren’t quite, when you’re younger. bad choices are a bit cuter when you’re younger, a bit more forgivable. you’re growing, right? but at a certain point that stops working, and you need to own your choices. and that means being able to recognize that you’re capable of being the villain, so that you can choose differently.

so over the course of season six, all of the characters get tempted by irresponsible and easy ways out. sometimes they give in, and sometimes they don’t. but no matter what, the trio is there to help frame the actions of the protagonists. so for example, while the trio robs banks and steals diamonds, buffy takes a difficult job, and doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity to blackmail the doublemeat palace. or the fact that buffy is giddy at being turned invisible in “gone” is framed as troubling in part because the trio are giddy at the idea of invisibility as well. and of course: willow, spike, and buffy, and how they behave in intimate relationships, all get paralleled with warren and the trio. what tara says to willow in “tabula rasa” for example, is much like what katrina says to the trio in “dead things.” (TARA: “violate my mind like that? how could you willow? how could you after what glory did to me?” WILLOW “violate you? i…i-i didn’t mean anything like that, i-i just wanted us to not fight anymore” / WARREN: “i just, i wanted us to be together” […] KATRINA: “well this is not some fantasy, it’s not a game you freaks! it’s rape” JONATHAN: “what?” ANDREW”: “no..we didn’t…”). or buffy’s “tell me you love me” exchange with spike in “as you were” is almost word for word what warren says to the mindwiped katrina in “dead things.” and of course, there’s the fact that spike and warren both assault the woman that they claim to care about in an attempt to get them back.

does this mean that all of our protagonists are irredeemably evil? of course not. the reason that warren ends the season flayed and burnt alive is because he repeatedly commits to doing the wrong thing. while the scoobies and spike don’t, because as flawed as they are, they still ultimately try to make better decisions. but it doesn’t mean that they’re not capable of harm. and specifically, the kind of harm that comes from not seeing oneself as truly capable of it. spike thinks he doesn’t hurt buffy, willow thinks she’s just trying to fix things, jonathan and andrew think they’re living out a comic book. this is why i also love how the season lulls you into a sense of complacency with the trio. you think the show might be playing their hijinks straight, and validating their less-than-savory plans as funny, until “dead things” pulls the rug out from under the season and shows what the writing has been doing with them all along. that wake-up slap of katrina saying “rape” is like the slap of willow’s breakdown in “wrecked” or xander leaving anya or warren shooting tara, or—and this takes us back to the central metaphor of the season—buffy being brought back from heaven. that slap of “childhood is over, it’s time to be responsible now, and it turns out you’re fucking up at it.”

this honestly is just the surface of what i could talk about with the trio, and it’s already long enough as is. and when a villain has that much thematic richness in it, i just can’t help but love it.

[wizkiddx]

in your own way

so someone sent me this idea and I thought it was really cute and wanted to do it as a blurb but then I got all confused so it’s very shite and I can only apologise. also I am not no genius so pretending to be one was literally just putting words together they make no sense ahaha

Summary: tom gets self conscious of his intelligence compared to you

        (bit of angst but mainly fluff ;))

tomhollandxreader

The doorbell ringing through the couch grabbed the attention of all five of you, your heads all whipping towards the door the round to each other. You’d already got the pizza (had demolished it too) and nobody had ordered any desserts - at least that you knew of. It had been a rather tame evening, your four uni mates all stuffed into you cosy but homely studio flat. Lix had just moved to London and had wanted some help with a new project that she couldn’t afford to cock up at her new job. So, assembling the ‘dream team’ back from simpler days, you were all crouched down over many print outs - trying to puzzle your way through how the plans could be redesigned to make the invention much more ergonomic. 

“Don’t stop working!” The four around you all just groaned in return, Josh lightheartedly slapping your leg as you skipped over him.  Laughing at their exhausted and almost beaten brains , you jumped up and hopped toward the door frame, picking a discarded pizza box off up the floor and onto the countertop on your way.  As you reached the door you tightened your hair in the scrunch before painting a welcoming smile on your face and opening the door. Whatever you had been expecting, it was definitely not what you saw. 

Warm brown ochre eyes, a mischievous grin and a bunch of beautifully arrange yellow and white flowers.

“TOM!”

Squealing his names, your body apparently decided to ignore the flowers he was grasping to his front, still choosing to throw your arms around his neck and pull him close - the precious petals squashed between your two bodies. 

“God I’ve missed you!” He grinned into the side of your head, only stopping to press multiple kisses to the side of your face till you arched back and met him with your own lips. 

“Thought we were meeting tomorrow? You asked against his lips, with a little smirk - you could have a pretty good guess as to why. He had just returned from a long shoot abroad and had planned on spending the evening with his parents and brothers, then in the morning the idea was for you to go get breakfast together. You would never dream of competing for his affection against his family, so had been more than happy to give them a day with their eldest back before you saw Tom. It was still early days in your relationship anyway, you actually only been a couple and in the same country for a matter of weeks, but of course the time he was away you made time for the long distance phone calls and FaceTimes. 

“Mhmm well I just kept imagining you in a cold lonely bed and it’s not like I’m gonna let them all hop into my bed for quality time is it?”

“Well you are close!” Giggling back, Tom playfully gasped before releasing his one arm from round your waist - both of you chuckling at the crumpled flowers. You stepped aside to let him in, in all the excitement forgetting you weren’t alone until you turned around and were met with four pairs of beady eyes staring at you. Because yes perhaps it had slipped your mind to mention to them you had a boyfriend of six months, especially forgetting to tell Josh - who you had a complicated history with to say the least.

Cursing under your breath, you watched Tom freeze up, clearly shocked by the fact you had company too. He hadn’t met many of your friends, purely because you and him were still on the downlown. Not that that particularly mattered with these 4, you were more than certain they would have no idea who he was - as Lix had said before ‘superhero movies are just stupid peoples version of research papers. Innovative and exciting, except papers don’t require the variables to beat each other up to keep their audience entertained.” 

So tom’s reputation wasn’t the issue in this situation…. Instead your ex boyfriend meeting his replacement. Josh could be cruel too when he was jealous, even if it had been a year and a half since you’d called your brief relationship quits, it was evident he still wasn’t completely over you either. The amount of drunken calls asking for a hookup was evidence of that. 

You’d been almost transparent with Tom, he knew this name ‘josh’ was your ex, he was aware you were still friends and hang out. He didn’t know about the 3am booty calls but that was just to protect everyone, no other hidden agenda. He’d always regret it in the morning and beg for your forgiveness so it appeared very much to be a subconscious thought only copious amounts of alcohol could release.

“Sorry I didn’t know you had-“

“No no” You interrupted Tom, grabbing the flowers and placing them on the counter, ontop of the pizza boxes, before reaching out and squeezing his hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, let me introduce you guys.”

Following that preceded an awkward taking turns of hand shakes and small talk, though you were acutely aware of Tom’s tightening grip round your waist when the blue eyes boy introduced himself as ‘Josh’ - and in fact every time he spoke thereafter. 

The small talk was nice enough, the group of you all resumed your positions on the floor with Tom now squiggled between you and you painfully awkward ex flatmate Will. In fact it was all going oh so well till Lix opened her big bloody mouth. 

“So Tom, what do you do?” 

He immediately tensed against your side, you saw his eyes widening with shock. Instantly reading him, you realised Tom was shocked by the fact they didnt know. 

And he was! He assumed they hadn’t mentioned it purely out of respect, not wanting to make the situation awkward. They were, as you’d summarised to Tom before, nerds. As you were - no nerd shaming here. But this type of people were normally primed marvel superfans, or at least had some sort of awareness- so he was surprised to say the least. 

“Oh uh I…. I’m an actor”

“Oh really?” Josh’s eyes widened and he smirked. You knew , you knew what was coming. “So you convinced Y/n that drama’s a good thing? She used to absolutely hate everything when we had to do it at college.”

“I hated drama classes, that doesn’t mean I hate the whole entertainment industry dickhead!” You tried to joke, tried to lighten the mood. 

“Uh well she’s supportive of my stuff and I’m supportive of hers it doesn’t mean I have to like neuroscience either.”

“Neurobiologist. You’re a neurobiologist right Y/n?” For fuck sake. Will had no intention behind it at all. He was just oblivious to people and was so upfront at times it was painful, even if underneath it all he was the sweetest person you’d ever met. Watching Tom out the corner of your eye swallow thickly as he tried to compose himself you quickly worked to diffuse the situation. 

“Yeh but it’s kind of the same thing isn’t it? I say either or a lot!” Josh took a swig of his half drunk beer before nodding at Tom.

“Acting though… it’s impressive. I definitely wouldn’t be able to persevere through all the rejection though, seems cut throat to try and make it in.” There Josh goes. Tom shifted, his hand dropping from you side and his eyes fixed on the beer bottle you’d given to him as he smirked. 

“Yeh well the rejections hard when I was younger but I get that less now. Now I get to reject the parts I don’t like which makes it all so worth it.”

Josh’s face morphed just slightly in pain, as the penny somewhat dropped. Apparently Tom wasn’t the aspiring actor working 3 jobs between failed audition as he had assumed. Just as you were getting bloody desperate, a literal light went off in your head, shooting your back straight as you rifled through the haphazardly spread papers in front of you -  the groups focus now away from the obvious tension between Tom and Josh. 

“Y/n what do you need?” Lix asked slowly realising you might’ve just found the answer and not wanting to disturb the thought process. After asking for a pen and triumphantly ‘ah’-ing when you found the right plan you looked up with glee evident in your eyes first to Lix, then Will, then Sophie, then Josh. 

“We’ve been missing the whole point the whole bloody time. Look!” You jabbed your pen at an intricate diagram “It’s so bulky because we’ve been going on this assumption we need a battery and recharging ports but if we take that component out-“

“Then you just need a transformer for there” Will joined in with a sparkle in his eyes, him being the first to click where you were going with this.

“Exactly! And then size is no longer an issue and by placing an external detachable unit-“

“Y/N YOU GENIUS” “fuck that’s good” Lix exclaimed an dsimultaneously Josh much more inwardly praised your ingenious. 

“We got it!” Laughing back, you encouraged all of them to join in with, noting down all the necessary inputs and outputs and components necessary to form a vague redesign. 

Though it felt no time at all, the 5 of you consumed in mumbling through thought processes and logic of trying to actualise your theory, in reality it was almost 45 minutes before Lix leaned back with a relieved sigh. Announcing that you’d saved the day, she called time on the night, relieved that she could sleep worry free that night. You made light work between all of you of clearing her stuff up and saying goodbye to all of them with brief hugs. In all honesty, you were so in the zone you’d completely forgotten about Tom, who you were only alerted to when Lix went over to the kitchen to say bye as well. He’d obviously been there for sometime, clearing up all the greasy plates and pizza boxes, the flowers now sat in a vase in their full glory - or at least what was left of them after the crush injury. 

This wave of insurmountable guilt washed over you, realising he’d come here after only spending a couple of hours with his family after a long haul flight home to fall asleep with you in his arms. Instead, he’d faced your rude ex, been ignored for the majority of the time he was here and he’d done the washing up. You fucked up. 

Choosing till you’d finally ushered Will and Josh out, promising Will you would go and see their new shared flat soon, you closed the door slowly - knowing this wasn’t going to be simple. 

You walked up and leant against the kitchen counter, watching him place the last two mugs in the top drawer of the dishwasher before pushing it closed and then closing the appliance door too. 

“Thankyou for doing all this. You really didn’t have to.” He didn’t make eye contact, moving about the kitchen to wash his hands in the sink opposite. “And I’m really sorry I-I was gonna usher them out but the I worked it out and kind of got overexcited.”

“Mhmm … for an hour?” It was a rhetorical question and although he said it very quietly you knew he was demanding an answer. 

“I know I know I’m a shitty girlfriend, I should’ve sent them away as soon as you got here. I am so so so sorry.” That statement was left in silence for a few, painful moments.

“I was the one who showed up here. Don’t worry about it.” It was muttered and god only know you were still very worried about it. 

“No Tom I was a dickhead you have a right to be ang-“

“It doesn’t matter!” If it didnt matter, why the hell was was he answering so grumpily.Turning back around to you with a sigh, he spoke with shoulders slumped. “Look… lets just go to sleep yeh? I’ve had a long ass day.

He wasn’t in the mood to talk, you weren’t about the force him too - so with a small nod you half heartedly agreed. You knew you would have to address it at some point, but apparently now wasn’t the right time. 

So without much more conversation the two of you got ready for bed, even if the atmosphere felt jilted and cold. It was rehearsed, this wasn’t not the first time he’d stayed over so like a rehearsed scene the two of you got ready and then wormed your way underneath the sheets. You waited for him to make the first move, which of course he did. Pulling you into his bare chest which you happily obliged to, your leg wrapping round his as you nuzzled into his chest. Both softly whispering ‘goodnight’ your eyes closed as you tried to sleep.

Except it didnt work and wasn’t going to. Mainly because Tom’s heartbeat was thundering right under your ear. So you were hardly surprised when he whispered in the quiet. 

“Do we work?”

“What?” You arched up, a hand on his chest as your head hovered over his - your eyes burning into his in the dim light of the street lights. He sighed heavily, shaking his head and trying to avoid your gaze.

“I just- we have so little in common” 

“That’s not true.”

“It is. I have no idea about even what you do! Seeing you with all of them tonight… you were enjoying talking about stuff I could never ever understand!”

“I don’t have a clue about scene direction or physical acting does that make you dislike me?”

“No course not!” He argued huffily, making you sit up in frustration and reach over to turn the bedside light on.

“Then will you please explain what is going on?”

“Just… just look I know intelligence is attractive and-and well you are and I’m not.” 

That physically hurt you hearing him be so self conscious in front of. Clearly, you had made him feel like pure shit this evening and that guilt would surely eat you up later - but right now the focus was purely on making him feel assured of his own mind-blowing talents. 

“Tom…it’s not intelligence that’s attractive! You know…” You sighed, how the hell were you going to explain to him how much you LOVED HIM.liked him, you hadn’t said that yet. “You know when you’re reading a script that’s good your mouth move along as if your living and breathing every single word. And you completely are oblivious to anything around Tom, I always thought if someone crashed into the house you wouldn’t notice cos your so into it. And then when your finally finished with it, no matter what time of the day or night, you’lll be like this excited puppy running in to tell me all about it. Or-or when you’ve visited a children’s hospital and you phone me bouncing off the walls, full of stories of how these kids inspire you….” Trailing off, you looked intently between both of his two brown eyes. “Thats passion right? And ambition?” He nodded minutely. “Thats what’s so bloody attractive. For all I care, you could be a supermarket shelf restocker if that’s what your passionate about and you would still be the most incredible person to me. I love your passion you idiot, I don’t care if you don’t know stupid facts about astrophysics or where in the brain control movement of your big toe! In your own way your so bloody clever and I love you because of you and your passion you idiot.” 

“Seriously?” You nodded profusely at his whisper, now cupping both hands round his cheeks. “You seriously think…. I’m like a puppy?”

There was your boyfriend again, grinning from ear to ear as you giggled at him.

“Yes you most definitely are.” He gasped in fake shock, before pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours. Now straddled over his body with the duvet weighing down on your back as you tasted the minty toothpaste still fresh on his lips. After a short while you once again settled back down on his chest, feeling much more warm than mere moments ago, and confident that Tom was reassured and happy once again. 

The silence lasted long enough for you to be slowly drifting off before a deep rumble had you blinking your eyes open, eyelashes dragging against his shoulder as you tried to focus on his voice.

“By the way…” Tom dragged it out, making you hum in encouragement as you listened to his slightly hoarse and sleepy sounding voice “in your big soliloquy just then… you said you love me?” You froze, desperately trying to claw a good answer or cover up. Completely failing, you went for the next best and oddly relevant statement. 

“I don’t know what solliquarity means because its an actory word so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Solliliquy darling… but for the record, and I hope you understand this… I love you too.”

[toushindai]

do you ever see a conversation so good that you HAVE to meta about it?

post-credits spoiler below.

Persephone: Tell me something, Zagreus... sometimes I fear... do you hate him? I mean your father. Regardless of his intentions... it sounds like he made your life extraordinarily difficult. All his pent-up fear and anger... you bore the brunt of it.

Zagreus: Do I hate him...? Mother, I don’t know that I hate anybody, really. The tales of him and the Olympians rending their immortal Titan parents to bits... I can’t relate to how they must have felt. But, I resented him, for sure. And... I don’t know if I’ll ever get over that, entirely.

Persephone: I understand. I think that when Hades told you he asked no forgiveness, he understood as well, and meant it. Well, for all his failings, I’m thankful that he did not teach you how to hate. For your own sake, if not for his.

Zagreus: Sometimes I think he tried.

*

...oof!

I haven’t talked about it much but I really love the pain that’s still present in the relationship between Hades and Zagreus post-credits. I am infinitely glad that Hades was made a sympathetic character without negating or denying his abuse of Zagreus or expecting Zagreus to swiftly forgive him, and I think that they exist in a state of mostly uncomfortable truce, Hades trying to be better (sometimes failing, or I suppose frequently failing if you zipped through the game and are getting most of his not-specific-to-post-credits dialogue interspersed with the post-credits stuff) and Zagreus feeling how he will feel about all of it. Zagreus probably offers the occasional olive branch, just because of who he is as a person, but even that is probably awkward.

This conversation is more of the same, but I also find it revelatory about Persephone. Because here’s the thing... I don’t think she should be as relieved by this answer as she seems to be, in much the same way as I don’t think she should have managed to stay convinced that the eternal winter was just a local issue for as long as she did.

Look, I myself have people-pleasing tendencies, though I hope they are not quite as persistent as Zagreus’s. So when I hear Zagreus answering Persephone’s question about hatred this way, I hear echoes of my own difficulty with, for example, directly telling someone I care about that I’m angry with them. If asked, I will downgrade the emotion to “frustrated.” So that’s what I, at least, get out of Zagreus’s use of the word “resented” here. He’s hedging. (To say nothing of the absurdly high bar he sets for the definition of “hatred,” and how he halfway meets it anyway--he may not be chopping Hades into bits permanently but he is, you know, fighting him to death on the regular.) I don’t think that Zagreus is intentionally lying to his mother, but I do think he’s softening what he feels--looking at it through a gentler lens, even--in order to not hurt her, to lessen the fear that she’s just confessed to. And probably in order to be “good,” in her eyes.

And even so, his concluding line here makes clear the depth of the pain Hades has subjected him to. It’s less, I think, that Hades did not teach Zagreus hate and more that Zagreus has fought hard not to learn hate. He is someone--he has chosen to be someone--who does not dwell in hatred, who offers friendship to just about anyone and will only withdraw the offer if you truly mistreat him consistently (Hades, Alecto, Theseus); someone who, when Hades explains his actions, even without asking for forgiveness, extends empathy anyway--I think, honestly, without being able to help himself. And there’s something to be said, maybe, about the uncomfortable experience of feeling empathy when you’re not done with your anger yet, and this is the story I want to keep writing about Zagreus and Hades post-credits.

But all of this... I think Persephone misses it, here. I think she lets herself be relieved by what Zagreus says. The conversation ends with Zagreus’s line, but I wonder what her response to that would be? I know mine was to say “OOF” very loudly, because to me, it negates any reassurance that Zagreus’s earlier line could have offered. It indicates that Zagreus was uncomfortable with the question, uncomfortable at being asked to reassure, uncomfortable with the conclusion she reached. Zagreus told her that things with Hades were not as bad as they could have been; I think part of him fears that what she heard was that things were not that bad. His last line calls attention back to the fact that even if Hades was not as bad as he could have been, he’s still the worst part of Zagreus’s life. And, again, based on the dialogue here and the fact that the conversation continues no further, I would say that Persephone didn’t hear all of what Zagreus feels.

Like I said towards the beginning of the post, I see Persephone’s missing the point here very much in line with her professed desire to believe that the eternal winter around her cottage was just around her cottage. In either situation, there’s further information available. Persephone could have wandered and explored, while she was living on the surface. She could have not asked Zagreus for this reassurance to begin with, or noted that there are shades of hatred that may be less destructive than that which drove the Olympians to chop up the Titans, but no less acute. But she didn’t. This is perhaps a tendency of hers, one she would be better off facing eventually. And in this conversation, I think she failed Zagreus--not to the extent that Hades has, but in a common, everyday way. And I like that glimpse of not-perfection. I like the post-credits world as a story of a family, trying. Not always succeeding.

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 8

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

A/N: I really wanted to write Sonny and conflict with his family in Transgender Bridge so this chapter includes transphobia via his mom and then talk about past homo- and transphobia in Sonny. I think Sonny’s acceptance of things is really interesting, especially given he seems like he’s from a traditional/conservative family. 

June  2015

“Hey, doll. Can we wait and do dinner? I know it’s an anniversary dinner, but this was a bad one.” She didn’t like how his voice sounded. He’d been keeping her in the loop, and there’d been a spirited, to say the least, discussion at the Carisi family dinner that Sunday. His mom had fought him regarding Avery, a transgender teenager, over the phone. The case had been everywhere it felt like, and the traditional Carisis felt that Avery wanted attention. Sonny, for his part, was confused, but between Amanda and Victoria’s reminders he didn’t know a single guy who would wear a dress for no reason, he’d come to realize it wasn’t a choice, just like being gay, straight, or bi.

It was hard for him sometimes. Despite the fact Victoria had always been open and accepting, a result of her mother’s influence and LGBT family members, Sonny was raised that all of it was wrong in the eyes of God. That said, as he grew, he saw how much harder it was for Victoria’s aunts. It started to dawn on him that he didn’t choose to want to be in his body or be attracted to women. Why would he assume someone woke up and chose something that didn’t make their lives easier? He also came to believe that God did make them exactly as they were, and human influence had bastardized the love everyone part of His message. When he stood up to his mother, Victoria was pleased to see the growth in him; usually, he’d have let it lie. 

“Of course it can wait. What happened?”

“She died,” he said, voice tight. “The boy that pushed her is being tried as an adult, but Tor, her parents don’t want it. He’s just a kid. He even drew her this comic apologizing. He got scared because she was different.”

She knew what he wasn’t saying. As good as Sonny was, as much as he’d grown, they’d both been easily influenced at one point. When they grew up, it was easy to get swept into easy homophobia and transphobia. Sonny had said things she knew he regretted as he learned more, and they both knew how easy it would’ve been for him to get swept up in the crowd at that age, trying to prove he was tough and manly and straight.

“How about I pick up the pizza ya like? We can stay in? I’ll tell ma I don’t feel good. I don’t think that visit is what you need right now.”

“Thank you.” They said their I love yous, and she quickly scheduled pick up for the pizza and tucked his favorite treats from the cooler into a box. When she got home, she straightened up the apartment and threw his favorite pajamas in the dryer so they’d be warm when he got home. One pizza and beer run later, Sonny came through the door, and he was visibly exhausted. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, taking his coat. 

“You pajamas are in the dryer.” He let out a grateful groan, changing into them before coming back and dropping onto the couch, arms out over the back. She sat beside him, handing him a beer and opting to sit in silence as he nursed it. Her Sonny was a big softy, but she also knew he’d talk about things when he was ready; that was a change she could rely on. He wrapped his arm around her, caging her against his chest as he laid back. His eyes were closed, but his brow was heavy and his mouth set in a frown. Carefully, she smoothed his hair, and he pressed into her hand. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible. 

“Any time. Thank you for telling me what you needed.” He nodded, rubbing her back. 

“I saw a pink box.”

“It’s an assortment. I got all your favorites. And the pizzas.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I’ll call ma tomorrow to get us out of going there. It’s just you and me all weekend, okay?” 

He nodded gently, cheek pressed against her forehead. This case didn’t sit well, and in this moment he was deeply grateful not to be the ADA for this case. He understood logically where they were coming from, but he was also acutely aware of how little Avery’s parents agreed with trying Darius as an adult. Their daughter believed in forgiveness, and he was a kid. His colleagues liked to pretend they’d always been the cops they are now, but Sonny remembered being sheltered and ignorant. If Victoria hadn’t been there to tear him a new asshole when he was 13 and started using slurs he didn’t fully understand, he could have gotten swept up in this type of accident. Lord knew his mother didn’t think this case was anything but bad luck for the boy. She thought Avery had finally gotten the attention she wanted. That had set him off at dinner, and he swore Mia was proud of him, sitting by Victoria as he defended where this may have been coming from.

Sonny, God made him a him. He doesn’t make mistakes.

Or, ma, maybe all those things you like to call trials? Maybe transitioning and dealing with this kind of ignorance is a part of her trial. No teenage boy would wear a dress if it weren’t real. Avery is a girl, and if you can remember Aunt Rhonda’s new name every year when she gets married again, you can at least call Avery she.

I’m just saying, any of my grandkids pull that, we’ll be taking them somewhere. That’s attention seeking behavior, and needs to be taken care of.

If Victoria and I’s child ever comes out and you are anything but supportive, you will not be a part of their life.

You can’t do that. I’m your mother.

I don’t know ma. Making your own blood feel less than? Sounds like real attention seekin’ behavior to me. Needs to be taken care of.

He let Victoria guide him to the car afterwards, but he hadn’t cancelled the next family dinner. Knowing Avery had died? He couldn’t do it. Meeting her had taken a logical belief that trans people were the gender they identified as and made it more serious. He’d known his mother felt that way, but he’d never heard her articulate it like this. Before the separation and therapy, he’d have bottled up how wrong she was, tucked it away to keep the peace. Now? He couldn’t do it.

“Thank you, Tor. For all of this. And for calling her. I’m still so angry.”

“I know, Dom. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I meant what I told her. If our kid is gay or trans or something else that exists that I’m sure I don’t know about, I don’t care. They’re our baby and I’ll love them and I’ll take them to whatever store to get whatever they need or whatever doctor. I’ll beat the ever living shit out of anyone who makes them feel like they're wrong for how God made them.”

“You’re going to be an amazing father.”

“That should be the bare minimum though, shouldn’t it? Loving your kids no matter what?”

“It should. But that can be hard, you know? Like your mom. She exists in that really conservative vacuum. I’m proud of you for changing when you learn about things, not ignoring it and doubling down.”

“That means a lot, doll. People act like I’m supposed to have been born knowing. Our priest was open minded, and I met you. Otherwise, I may not have turned out like this. And that was scary to realize?”

“Bella, Theresa, and Gina all did it too. You’d all have grown.”

“What if our kid is gay or somethin?”

“We’ll love them. If your mom can’t handle it, we’ll keep them from her.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah. we’ll get close to my family or something. Or have holidays with Amanda and Liv.”

“Good,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t want to, but I won’t subject them to their grandma actin’ like that. The world is so shitty. I want family to be supportive.”

“I know. We’ll be okay. And who knows? Maybe you snapping makes her reevaluate. I had to yell at you to make you start reevaluating things. We didn’t talk for awhile month. That’s years in thirteen year old time.”

“True,” he chuckled, rubbing her back. “One can only hope. You’d have liked Avery. Into photography and comics.”

“She sounds awful cool.”

“She was. And she was so kind. Like she was hurt, but the last thing she did was forgive him, Tor. Can you imagine? He drew her a comic, and she forgave him. Then she died.” He was facing the ceiling with his eyes closed as he talked. 

“Do you want me to be there?”

“Maybe come by at lunch?”

“I’ll be there, okay?”

“Thank you, Doll.”

“Thank you for sharing how you’re feeling.” 

@cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

[pebblysand]

It’s me again! You gave such a thorough reply that I wanted to first say thank you and second elaborate on devastating and maybe also expound on why i love castles so much.

So honestly what i most appreciate in post-dh hp fanfics is the exploration of what happens after the war- particularly the trauma and healing process. I’ll be frank in that I’m probably projecting my own mental health issues but that’s neither here nor there.

Castles strikes me as particularly interesting and unique because it delves into Ginny’s trauma from the war as much as Harry’s. Very often in other post-dh fics we see that Ginny is the stable one, she is Harry’s anchor, they show her understanding and forgiving him without question. Which I understand and love but your fic sheds a new light on other possibilities. When I say devastating i mean the internal turmoil, the truth that recovery and healing and growth are agonizing processes. (This is me projecting again, that last three years have been A Lot). And i really appreciate that, personally and narratively. The ordeal of healing and healing alongside people you love and at the same time hurting and being hurt by those same people, and the harsh reality that none of this is linear is something that I just find so compelling in your writing.

Man that’s the most coherent I’ve been in a review in AGES - not just feral screaming. Needless to say, I am very very excited for your update and I will literally wait however long it takes, because you can’t rush genius.

Aw thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad this fic is resonating with you. This is going to be long, so buckle up under the cut.

Thanks again for what you've said, I truly appreciate it. Without blowing my own horn too much, I will say that castles does seem to "speak" in that way to a lot of people in terms of trauma and healing, which as a writer is immensely flattering. I think as authors, all we ever want to do (or at least all I've ever wanted to do) is to write things that are faithful to human emotions and human experiences (as Sally Rooney puts it, we want to write books about "people"). When we get that right that's honestly the most rewarding thing in the world.

To tell you the truth, though, I never really set out to write about that. To give you a little bit of backstory on Castles, it's a story that's been more of less brewing in my head since I was 14 years old, which is when DH came out. I remember sitting there at the end of it and even then I couldn't stop thinking about the 'what now?' question. Obviously there is the epilogue (and I will come back to that in a bit) but I always had a question mark drawn on the direct aftermath of the battle. I think most HP fans have their own little corner of obsession, right? Like, some people are obsessed with Marauders, some with Next-Gen, some with the Death Eater side of the fight. The Post-War world has always been mine.

I believe that the reason for that, as much as I hate to admit it, is that as humans, when something bad happens to us, we have a very easy way out: death. I'm obviously not trying to encourage anyone out here to kill themselves and if anyone who reads this is having thoughts along this line, please seek help, but the truth of the matter is that in the human experience, death is always a possibility. We could choose it, embrace it, and end our own suffering. Yet, like Harry at the end of DH, most of us don't. For the most part, we tend to hang onto to life. Because, truth be told, it's full and wonderful and deserves to be lived, despite the fact that, objectively speaking, it's bloody hard. And, as a writer, that's the space I want to be in. I want to understand and describe why we make that choice, every day, to get up and carry on, rather than giving up. I find that absolutely fascinating. I'm not a writer for the sensational stuff (some people do that much better than me), I want to write the quiet and the silence and the dirt and the blood that's dried and the grief and the powering through and the not giving up. To me, choosing life despite trauma is the epitome of bravery which, as a Gryffindor, is probably the character trait I value most in people.

Obviously, from a narrative perspective, this interest of mine lands itself to a post-war exploration very well. There's an old interview of JKR where she says she insisted on the epilogue being included at the end of book seven (even though she knew it was going to piss people off) because she wanted to show that they made it through. That, as I put it in Castles, 'They lived, for better or for worse.' And, in that interview, she talks more specifically about soldiers and PTSD, and says that 'getting over that kind of war, that's the hard part.' I remember watching that interview and thinking: yes, exactly. And, that's the thing about the epilogue. It's not so much about the content of it, the who-ends-up-with-who rather than the symbolism of it. It's not only about the fact that they fought in a war and won it, it's about the fact that they fought another war afterwards, a quiet one with the world they were trying to rebuild, along with rebuilding themselves, and they won that one, too. It's about showing that bravery isn't always this sparkling, flashy thing. It's also overcoming the silences and the grief and the struggles and making it to the other side.

And, so, yeah, I suppose that leads me to write about trauma. Although that isn't the initial endeavour, it's certainly part of it. And as you pointed out yourself, that road is full of ups and downs because "living" is fucking fantastic, but it's also fucking hard. I find the phrasing you used about Ginny typically being the "stable" one in other fics particularly interesting. I'd never thought about it that way, but I see what you mean. And, the thing with Castles is: none of them (and I mean H & G but also Ron, Hermione - hell even Kingsley) are particularly stable or unstable. To me, they just are. They exist and they live and they try to put one foot in front of the next the best way they can, with very little sense of plan or strategy. They sort of make do, which to me is the only realistic way I can envision the post-war world. They're kids who've just lived through the apocalypse. It's unrealistic to me that any of them would hold all of the answers, or even come close to having their shit together.

To me, it was and is very important to show all sides of that spectrum. Although they likely all wouldn't have suffered from acute PTSD, they would certainly all have struggled with something. Not everyone deals with everything the same way, and I want to show feelings of guilt, and bravery, and confusion, and fear, and determination which are all as unique as the individuals who experience them. I also wanted to show that not everything has a clear-cut explanation for it. For example, when Ginny breaks up with Harry in chap3, she says some truly horrible things. But, what she does say is also the one percent of everything that lies under the surface. She says she breaks up with him for Reason A but it's actually Reason A. 1, A.2, B, C, D, etc. Because, truth be told, that is what happens in life. People rarely give you a neat little list of all the reasons they do something, especially if, again, they've just lived through something huge. Often, you only truly find out the real reasons for people's actions months later, and often, that's because they themselves don't even know, haven't made sense of it in their heads. So, of course, I think it's incredibly important to write all of them as going through something, because to me anything else would be deeply unrealistic.

And, truth be told, I've thought about this extensively every time I've re-read the books in the past. Throughout the years, I started countless drafts on this topic, which I often gave up and left unfinished, until now. I think what motivated me this time is honestly the pandemic. I re-read the books during the first lockdown, then set out to find The Perfect Fanfiction which would deal with all of that. I'd never been in the Potter fandom before and thought to myself: 'there's like a million fics in that fandom, someone must have written this.' And, to this day, I still sort of believe that? Like, I've had a lot of comments in the past year telling me that they like or dislike Castles because it has a unique "tone" and a unique "mood" as well as themes but I'm always like "really? someone else must have written this," haha. But, despite spending a lot of time looking, I never found it so I suppose that's when I decided to write it, haha.

And, here we are, lol.