#i know this is hard for some americans to grasp but sometimes it's not about you and your opinion isn't always needed or even wanted

[wingsofhcpe]

protip, if you're an American and you see European people fearing for their futures and even their lives after these election results, maybe the correct response to it is NOT to accuse them of fucking up YOUR safety plan to move to Europe if America tanks.

Just saying.

[cerisereids]

𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 (𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲)- 𝗮.𝗵. [𝗽𝘁.𝟭]

part two, part three, masterlist

wc- 3.9k

pairing- aaron hotchner x fem!rossi!reader

summary- down on your luck after a huge betrayal, you return to live at your father's house with your tail between your legs. you're humiliated, thoroughly convinced nothing good could come from returning home. then you meet aaron hotchner.

warnings- sfw, age gap (27-mid 40s), i'm spreading the italian american agenda w rossi!reader, reader lowkey has daddy issues but they're working on it, alcohol use, i picture this as s6 aaron, penelope is the bestiest bestie

a/n- divider from @reveriesources!!! and the literal biggest thank you on planet earth to @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi for being the best and helping me sm w this!!!

your bag hits the ground with a dejected thud. the nippy air of a virginia winter bites at your cheeks and nose as your neck cranes upward, absorbing the mansion standing before you. you haven't been back here since you were 17, and 10 years later, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up just from looking at it. a sneaking feeling creeps up your spine like a spider, you can't help but feel as if the house is staring back at you, mocking you. a sigh escapes your pursed lips, and you wipe your hands over your face before mustering your strength to pick your bag back up.

the rest of your old life has been stuffed into every spare inch of your car, waiting to break free from the confines of the compact vehicle. you're too scared to touch any other bag than the one in your white knuckle grasp. once you unload, unpack, your retreat back to your father's house becomes real. you're not ready to accept that quite yet.

you take a deep breath, slowly inching closer and closer to the porch steps. as you climb them, the light tap of your jimmy choo sneakers against the cobblestone transports you back in time: you're 16, you're sneaking in at 3 am, you don't have a care in the world, you're naïeve.

as you enter the house, you feel like a ghost of your old self, watching the scene from above. you're struck with disbelief as the same mix of vanilla and sandalwood floats through your nostrils. you gasp, glassy eyed as a flood of emotions washes over you like a tsunami. the sight of your father's living room, untouched over the past ten years- save for a new couch and some artwork- it wrings your heart out like an old dish rag. you wipe at the corner of your eye as you pull your phone out, dialing your father's number.

“principessa!” he bellows over the line, your eyes once again filling with tears at the sound of your childhood nickname, “are you settled in?”

“hi dad,” the corner of your mouth turns up at the sound of his voice, guilt preventing a full smile from forming, “yeah,” you rasp out, wiping a single tear from your cheek, “yeah. yep. i just got here, haven't unpacked yet though.”

“don't worry about that, principessa,” the pet name flows off his tongue so easily, it's hard to believe you went years without talking, “we're almost done with this case, when i'm home i'll help you move your things in. you still want your old room?”

“uh-yeah. yeah, that works. thanks papà,” you smile weakly, even though he can't see it.

he breathes out a chuckle of disbelief on the other end of the line, you haven't uttered a lick of italian in years, “alright, principessa. sleep well tonight, we should be home sometime tonight,” his voice is soft, quiet, so you know he's still at the local police station of wherever usa.

you both grow quiet, tension crackling over the line, “ok, i will. try not to work too hard,” you attempt to make a joke, but your breathlessness makes you feel like your mother 20 years prior, receiving one of your father's infamous 'it'll just be a few more days,’ phone call.

“i'll see you when i get back, okay?” is how he responds before you hang up, and you're left in the lonely, familiar silence of the house you grew up in.

as you take in the sights of your childhood, your bag falls from your shoulder once more, this time clattering against the rich mahogany floor. it falls open just slightly when it lands, and from your peripheral, you see it. the very reason you're here in the first place. you lean down to pick it up, a paperback book wobbly in your hands. your book.

you flip through the pages, your years in new york flashing like a montage in your mind. your first day at nyu, parties with fair-weather friends you naïvely trusted, graduating- ready to take on the world with your ideas and stories. you wanted so badly to fill the shadow your father unknowingly cast upon you.

you remember the pressure after graduation, nearly backbreaking. your post-grad years spent schmoozing publishers on rooftops, turning a blind eye to the deceit thickening the air. you remember the years spent hunched over your laptop in coffee shops all over the city, confessions from the deepest corners of your heart spilling onto the page.

most importantly, you remember the sting deep in your chest as you watched the news that morning. your best friend, on national television, with a new york times #1 bestseller. you remember how your face burned in fiery fury as her slender fingers curled around the book like claws. your book. the very one you're holding in your hands.

the sharp ring of the doorbell pierces through your daydream, and you glide over to the front door. you check the peephole before opening, a habit instilled in you by your father, and open it accordingly.

“hello?” you ask the very colorful blonde woman standing before you.

“hi!” she chirps, manicured nails clacking against the stiffness of her bag as hooks it around her shoulder, extending her hand for you to shake, “i'm penelope garcia. i work with your dad!”

you nod, now understandingly, as you shake her hand and smile, “hi penelope, my dad has told me lots about you, it's nice to meet you,” the niceties roll off your tongue smoothly, a rare silver lining of your time in new york, “how can i help you?” you inquire, leaning against the door frame.

“well, they are almost done with the case, they caught the bad guy and now they just have to do some paperwork. that means they don't need me anymore, so your dad asked me to check on you!” she explains, quickly patting the tips of her fingers together in an excited cheer, “please tell me if there's anything you need, if you need help with unloading your car..” she explains, listing off each action item by counting on her fingers.

“oh! well, that's very nice of you, penelope,” you study her for a moment, unsure if you feel comfortable putting this poor woman out like that. she doesn't seem to mind, though, and you're absolutely exhausted. the pile of bags stacked door to door in your car looms over you dauntingly, you suppose it wouldn't hurt to have some help. she seems fun, too, especially for an fbi agent.

finally, you move to the side to let her in, “come on in and set your stuff down, lemme grab my keys and we can start with my car, thanks!” you call your thanks over your shoulder as you pad over to the side table by the door, fishing your keys out of the bowl.

many stuffed suitcases and empty beer bottles later, you and penelope sit giggling on the floor of your childhood bedroom. it turned out that, like her and your dad, you and penelope worked incredibly well together. you were able to work out an incredibly efficient unloading system, one which involved gossiping about anything and everything while you aimlessly carried bags up the spiral staircase.

over the span of three, sweaty hours, you and penelope- who you've now tipsily dubbed 'penny', unpacked your car, as well as your lives. your stories of new york mixed with her anecdotes of the job- many including your father- eventually led you to the fridge in his garage. your eyes lit up when you spotted the 12 pack of peroni nastros. jackpot.

“i had no idea your dad even drank beer,” penelope states, her alcohol induced state causing her to find this face a lot more shocking than it really is, as she intensely studies the fifth bottle of peroni to pass her fingertips.

“he normally doesn't,” you laugh in drunken disbelief, tipping the bottle to your lips, the fizz tickling your throat, “makes sense that the one beer he would have is a peroni,” you roll your eyes gently, not that you're complaining.

“he talks about you a lot,” she remarks sweetly, her eyes glossy from the alcohol but still loving all the same, “he's very proud of you, an-and i don't know what happened to drive you all the way back here from the big apple-” she adjusts so she's kneeling in front of you, a hand placed on each shoulder, piercing you with an intense gaze, “but your father is proud of you. and i mean it!” she sticks a finger up, wide eyed, “jus'becus' allm-mywords are slurring together...i-it doesn't mean i'm a liar!” she hiccups out, and you ponder her words.

“he talks "bout me?” you beam at her, the sweet warmth of validation pooling in your stomach.

“all. the. time! with the cheesiest grin on his face, too. shows the team pictures all the time,” she downs the rest of her beer and goes to grab her sixth, the last bottle of the pack waiting for you, condensation wetting the cardboard box it sits in.

“oh god!” you throw your hands up to cover your face, "that's so embarrassing!" you squeal, pressing your fingertips into your heated cheeks.

“no! no, not at all!” penelope says, brows furrowed with such genuine concern it makes you giggle slightly, “we love seeing it. plus, it helps us all out that you're friggin gorgeous!” she shakes your shoulder as she says it.

“oh my gosh penny, stop!” your cheeks flame even hotter.

“no! it's true! you should hear what derek says about you when rossi isn't around!” she jokes, “spencer, too. he's not nearly as flirtatious as my derek but it is impossible for him to be subtle, especially when it comes to beautiful women,” she rolls her eyes playfully and you cackle.

“oh my god, that's insane,” you gasp out, nearly folded in half on the floor from embarrassment, hands once again masking your face, “boys never liked me growing up. i would sit here, in this very room, crying my eyes out over it. thank god for puberty,” you joke, a gentle smile painting your lips. you shock yourself with the vulnerable anecdote, you're not sure you've thought about that in years. something soft settles in your stomach, coating that old wound, and it's not the beer.

“cheers to that!” penelope raises her beer bottle to you, and you clink yours against it before you both take a swig.

“do you have a picture of the team? it's been a minute since my dad sent me one,” you sit up now, crisscross on the floor, both hands fidgeting with the beer bottle in your lap.

“yeah! one sec...” she trails off as she searches her camera roll, “ah!” she exclaims before turning her phone towards you.

you take a moment to absorb the photo, to take it all in. it seems to be the conterence room, or so you infer by the boxes of files scattered across the expansive table. it's dark out through the windows, and they all look exhausted as they wrap into each other, tired smiles shining bright anyway. you zoom in on your father first, a smile spreading over your lips. he's developed that same lazy eye in his right eye that all the older men have in your expansive italian family. guilt cinches your heart as you recall how much time has passed, how long you've gone without visiting.

“who are the guys that think i'm hot?” you murmur out the side of your mouth, giving her a side eye that makes her cackle.

your eyes widen once she points them out, “damn...” is all you can say, your alcohol induced haze causing you to gawk at the, admittedly, incredibly attractive men on your father's team.

“i know, right?” penelope laughs, “derek is mine though, sorry!” her voice rings out her fake apology and you laugh, recalling a story or two from your dad about them.

“he is all yours, my love,” you smile at her, “who's everybody else? i need to put names to faces here,” you settle in next to her, now both of you leaning against your bed, still in the same spot 10 years later.

“oh! so this is jj,” she drawls, pointing to a blonde woman, “and emily...and that's hotch, he's the big boss man, very serious fellow,” she explains using a faux seriousness and it makes you giggle again,

“and of course you know your dad, and our two lover boys over there,” she points out derek and spencer again with an eye roll. you laugh, but your eyes linger on hotch. he stood tall and strong in the middle of his team, not a strand of dark hair out of place, clad in an extremely well-fitting suit and a tired, but proud, smile. he's gorgeous. you can't help but wonder what he thinks when your dad shows them your photos, now completely uninterested in derek and spencer. “and meeee!” she holds her arms out in grandeur, snapping you out of your daze.

“the best member!” you point at her accusingly as you say it, raising your beer to your lips and finishing it off before grabbing the last bottle.

“i know!” she jokes, and you just can't seem to stop laughing.

“that's a sweet picture, you guys seem like you're close,” you remark gently as you lay back on the ground again, legs curling in penelope's lap. the fact that your dad has been well taken care of all this time sways your guilt just slightly.

"we are, your dad is a great agent, 'n an incredibly valued member of our team," she blinks at you, "are you close?" she asks gently, testing the waters.

"um, more so now than ever, i guess," you laugh, "he divorced my mom when i was really young, so i didn't hear from him much growing up," penelope's mouth crooks to the side as you speak,

"he reached out when i was in high school, though, and he had this room remodeled so i could stay here. i hated being here, though. i was so mad at him," you roll your eyes, "i was the poorest little rich girl there ever was," you inwardly cringe at your past petulance as you take another sip of your beer. that is a scar alcohol is going to heal, just for tonight.

"hey, you were young! you were angry!" she shouts, already advocating on your behalf even though you've only known her about three hours,

"i'm sure he understood, don't be so hard on yourself, sunshine" she nudged your leg with her hand and you smile.

"i think you might be right, penny," you sit up again, taking another sip of beer "i took off for new york the second i graduated, i wasn't even 18 yet," you shake your head, your gaze planted on your legs laid flat in front of you.

"did you go to school out there?" she inquires.

"mmhm," you hum, emptying the last drop of beer, "studied english and creative writing at nyu, didn't really call him that much my first few years out there," you admit regrettably, "we talked more the older i got, though. i started to miss him, so i came here," it wasn't a lie, it just wasn't necessarily the entire truth. you knew penelope could tell, too, you know better than to lie to an agent, you lived at your dad's in high school for god's sake.

"well, at the end of the day, love saves us all, honestly," she drawls out, and you remember how drunk the two of you are. it snaps you out of your daddy-issues-somberness, and you double over in laughter.

"maybe we should try and sober up," you gasp out, the two of you bursting into another round of giggles, "come on," you whisper, like you're two teenagers trying not to get caught at a sleepover,

"let's get some toast and some water and some motrin," you hiss, wide eyed, like you just had the best idea on the planet.

you scramble over one another on your way to the steps, and penelope is so concerned about the frequency of your giggles.

"what's so funny?!" penelope asks as you two descend the stairs. it didn't take long on your journey for you to start laughing again, at nothing in particular, just your sheer, utter, drunkenness.

"i don't know!" you whisper back over your shoulder. taking your gaze off the steps proves to be a mistake as you miss one of them, nearly plummeting down the wooden staircase. penelope slings her forearms underneath yours, saving you from certain spiral-shaped doom.

"oh my god!" you squeal and you both burst into another fit of giggles. you regain your balance before finally getting down into the kitchen.

popping two slices of bread in your dad's way-too intricate toaster, you move about the expansive kitchen to the fridge, grabbing butter and then some knives to spread it with. once you close the refrigerator, you're greeted by two men in the dimly lit kitchen, go-bags hanging from their shoulders.

"oh my god!" you scream at the top of your lungs, the items in your hands immediately slip from your grasp, clattering to the floor.

"what!!!" penelope comes running in from the living room, draped in your father's microfiber linen blanket. she turns a brighter light on to reveal your father standing with another man in the kitchen, quirked eyebrows mirroring each other almost exactly.

“oh, my god, you guys!” she exclaims, hand over her heart as you drop to pick up what you've spilled, “you cannot just do that!” she scolds them, before taking the bags from each man as she inquires your father about the end of the case.

your eyes linger on the taller man standing next to your father as he chats to penelope. it's hotch. the man in the photo. the man in the photo. you can tell it was a long case, with the way his tie and suit jacket are folded neatly over his forearm, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. his brown hair is slightly messy up top, like he'd been running his fingers through it. he's even more beautiful in person. your heart picks up its pace, giddiness swarming throughout your stomach like butterflies. then, the reality of the situation hits you like a freight train. why is he here? now? while you're this drunk and sweaty? a loose cardigan is draped over an old tank top, sweatpants hanging low on your hips.

you turn towards the kitchen counter, gaze turned downward, though you could feel his eyes burning a hole through the side of your face. you make a weak attempt to spruce yourself up, dusting away the flyaways falling from your bun and quickly applying some tinted lip balm. you sneak a peek at him, drawing your gaze to the side just slightly, before looking back up fully.

he's already looking at you when you turn to face him, his deep, brown eyes sparkling in the low light of the kitchen. the contact makes your heart drop into your stomach, twisting and turning your insides like you've been on a rollercoaster. his playful gaze, the small uptick of his lip in the most tantalizing smirk, they tell you he knows exactly what you were doing. fucking profilers.

“principessa!” your father gushes once penelope releases him from her metaphorical clutches. you reluctantly rip your eyes away from the man across from you and flash your father a demure smile.

he strides across the kitchen, past hotch, with his arms outstretched. you mirror him meekly, having lost every last bit of confidence in front of this newfound audience.

“hello, papà,” you murmur quietly into his shoulder, relaxing just slightly in his hold. it's been a long time since you'd hugged your father, you didn't realize how much you'd missed it.

“my, my...” he trails off, holding your face in his hands, “is it possible you've gotten more beautiful since i last saw you?” he punctuates his question with a loud kiss on the forehead, followed by one on each cheek. it was how he greeted you every time he saw you, something his nonna passed to his mamma, who then passed it to him, which he has now passed to you.

“i get it from my mamma!” you chirp, walking back over to the golden brown bread popped up in the toaster.

“you're very funny,” he waves a finger at you while you all let out small bouts of laughter, “did you girls enjoy yourselves tonight?” he smirks at you and penelope, still quite intoxicated.

“you have amazing beer,” you point the butter knife in your father's direction as you say it, and you receive yet another round of laughs. your eyes snap toward the quiet, high pitched chuckle coming from your right. the smile immediately falls from your face when you lock eyes with him, not of disdain, but of the sheer, gut wrenching pull you feel towards him. it almost aches.

“oh! let me not forget...this is aaron hotchner, he's our unit chief,” your father claps the back of the tall brunette beside him, who then reaches his hand out for you to shake.

“hi,” he says gently, with a smile to match, “you can call me aaron,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, but direct all the same. you catch the way his obscenely large hand dwarfs yours, and you have to stop yourself from gulping akin to a cartoon character. if he'd held onto you any longer, hearts probably would've formed in your eyes.

“hi, aaron, it's nice to meet you,” you coo, your sweet, gentle gaze poring into his wide, dark eyes.

“you as well,” a ghost of a smile paints his lips as he sticks his hands in his pockets, “we've heard so much about you at the unit, it's nice to finally meet you,” there's a glint in his eye as he scans over your face, letting his gaze drop ever so slightly to your neck. he corrects himself soon after, his eyes snapping back to yours before they could go any lower.

“likewise,” you smirk, that one look igniting a flame low in your belly. you silently revel in the tiniest hint of red grazing his neck, just for a moment, but that moment is cut short before you can tease him any further.

“so, what brings you here so late at night, sir?” penelope reenters the room with your father in tow, and you hadn't even noticed they left the room.

“oh! i-um i need to borrow a globe from david,” penelope and your father both raise a brow to the way he fumbles over his words, and you hide a shit eating grin by taking a bite of your toast.

“a globe?” you inquire, passing penelope's toast to her, which invokes a happy squeal from the blonde.

“for my son,” he quickly explains, gaze falling to the floor as he backs away just slightly, “he needs it for a school project. shall we?” he hastily exits the room, your father following suspiciously in tow.

“what was that?” penelope whispers through bread crumbs, her eyes wide.

“i have no idea!” you hiss back, “but that was something, right?”

she nods, eyes wide, “i don't think i've ever heard the word 'um' leave his lips before tonight!”

“oh my god,” you groan, plopping your head in your hands.

[angsthology]

Pay Attention to Things That Most People Ignore ☆ LS2

logan sargeant is most definitely not most people. it was time he started learning how

characters/pairings; daughter of poseidon!reader, chiron, mr. d, son of apollo!logan, theo (oc), son of athena!oscar.

warnings; monsters, typical pjo-type violence, logan is hopeless but that’s okay! some chb innacurracy sorry i havent read the books in a while, err very rushed writing im sorry, LAWD this is a mess i tell u 😭 perhaps i hate it — 3k words.

a/n; is the title... an all-american bitch lyric? yes. why? im not good and titles and i went to that song in instinct... for no reason. also this was based on a request — though i do admit its a little bit different as i would (hopefully) be making a part 2 hehe. by now im realizing how this title prob has nothin to do with the story

Over the years, she’s come to accept her life. Did it hurt when it felt like her entire life ended? Of course. Does it still hurt when she turns on the television to see them basically rubbing it on her face? —Whatever.

In theory, she probably could’ve gotten away with it had she not been a daughter of one of the big three—thanks a lot, dad. —but it was proven one too many times that it was not safe for her or any of the other kids. If it didn’t put anyone else’s life at risk, she would’ve disobeyed her mother, she really would (she was a child, she really hasn’t grasped the full concept of what other people would feel).

But, you know, oh well.

It’s sixteen years later and she still has that lingering grudge in the back of her head as the screen plays another Grand Prix — another Grand Prix she could’ve probably been a part of.

She tried, she really tried so hard to forget about it, to let go of it, but again, it was proven to be way too hard to let go of something she had an actual chance of, an actual good chance.

Though it might be hard to let go, she couldn’t really complain much about the life she actually had now.

Sure, it gets pretty lonely sometimes being a forbidden child, there weren’t exactly much of them (that are known and living at camp). But she had everyone else, despite practically being an only child at camp, to her everyone else there were her little siblings—of course, that probably has something to do with the fact that she was the oldest camper and the one who has been there longest.

When she heard a set of the all-too-familiar clops her heart dropped from its current fast-paced beating.

She quickly closed your laptop shut, cringing when you heard how loud of a sound it had made. That was it. She didn’t even try hiding her disappointment in herself. She slowly emerged from under the blanket with her lips tightly-wound shut, bracing herself with whatever the Centaur will have to say, her mind playing a quick telepathic farewell to her laptop.

“Hello, Y/N.”

She sighed, “Chiron.”

“Where and how?”

She swallowed the pre-existing nerves in her throat, “Mr. D.”

He hummed in response, so she continued.

“A pack of Heineken and two bottles of Jack Daniels.”

“Hm, good picks.” She responded lowly under her breath with a small ‘yeah’ as Chiron walked closer to the head of her bed near the bed-side table—his hooves making clopping noises each step.

The silence was taking too long to her liking so she just went to get it over with, “So, you’re gonna take it away from me?” she paused, then mumbling under her breath for herself, “—it’s probably another Red Bull win, anyway.”

Apparently, it was loud enough for the Centaur to hear, making him chuckle.

Surprisingly, he didn’t mention anything else about the laptop, “Who do you support?”

Hearing the question quickly made her look up from her fidgeting hands to see the smile on his face, she screwed her brows in confusion as she continues to look at Chiron for—something. Then, realizing that he was still waiting for an answer, she shook her head.

“Uhm—well, uh—”

“You think that Lando will ever get a win?”

That seemed to loosen her up, “Ugh, Gods, I hope. I’m getting exhausted over here—you know, sometimes I really wish I could ask the Oracle about it.”

He chuckled then which made her crack a smile.

When it died down, Chiron looked at her smiling face. He couldn’t help but frown a little, he knew how she felt about racing, he knew how she still feels about it.

“Y/N.”

She looks up at him, “Yeah?”

“So, I am aware that your birthday is nearing…”

“I mean… why wouldn’t you be? I’m here all-year-round.”

Chiron cleared his throat at her interruption, giving her a look.

“Sorry.”

He acknowledged and continued, “I am also aware that it lines up with a certain event…”

She raised an eyebrow it that, almost guessing what that said ‘event’ was.

“So,” he stopped, initially had her thinking he was just pausing but when he left out the door of her cabin she raised her hands as if saying ‘what gives?’

Seconds passed and it seemed like Chiron wasn’t going to come back any time soon so instead she stumbled off of her bed to quickly catch up to the Centaur that was headed to a building—the girl almost caught up to him, almost following him into the building but he was already back out in a good few seconds, stopping her right in front of the set of stairs, raising both her hands in question once more, “You just left. ‘So’, what?”

“I have it arranged that you will be attending the Miami Grand Prix.” He smiled as he handed her a lanyard.

She swore her eyes looked like it could’ve popped out of their sockets in a matter of seconds. She couldn’t believe what she was holding; a paddock pass. She couldn’t believe Chiron had done this for her considering how careful of a man (well, half-man) he is especially with her being a forbidden child. This was about to turn into the best birthday yet.

When she looked up to the smiling Chiron, her mouth still hung open in shock but her arms immediately wrapped around the man’s body in a bone-crushing hug.

She didn’t know how many ‘thank you’s that spilled out of her mouth but next thing she knew he was hugging her back with a chuckle escaping his lips.

After a few more ‘thank you’s from her, she pulled away smiling at him, “I thought you’d rather keep me here forever, why now?”

He cleared his throat, “Well, you are turning twenty-one, not many of you reach that kind of age—don’t tell them I said that—so I’d like to make it a bit more special.”

Still smiling, she looked at the paddock pass in her hand again, “You don’t know how much I appreciate this, Chi. Thank you, again.”

Being there felt… odd… unnatural.

She always thought if she were ever walking through the paddocks she would be walking as a driver.

What was even more odd was she felt her senses tingling, like she was being watched.

It was a bustling crowded place with many more interesting people compared to her, so it was weird to her that she felt like she was being watched of all people.

But alas, she brushed it off. It didn’t feel like anything bad—if it were, she would know—so she’s just going to have to save that thought for later.

She had to remind herself why she’s here; daydream in real-time of what could’ve been.

Yeah, she weren’t really keen on letting that go.

That is, until she was into her head she failed to notice the person—and group of people that came with said person—she was running into.

Before she knew it, a strong arm was holding her back with too much force for her liking, the action itself almost kicking in her self defense instinct until the person she did bump into pushed the hand away.

He was now talking to her, she assumed, but she was too focused on the person who had pushed her away.

Something about him felt… off. He was what she would count as freakishly huge for a normal human being, her eyes couldn’t help but recalculate the large man over and over until eventually the person that has been trying to get her attention snaps her out of it.

“Sorry, that’s Theo, he’s like that. I swear he doesn’t mean any harm.”

The scowl she hadn’t realized that made it’s way to her face slowly dropped as she slowly move her gaze to the person that was talking to her.

When their eyes met, she swore she saw a flash of something pass by his expression.

“Yeah,” she finally let go of this ‘Theo’ person and found her words, “Sorry I bumped into you.”

“That’s fine.” There was a brief silence across them until he cleared his throat, “I’m Logan, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know. You drive for Williams.” She replied flatly.

He cleared his throat again, scanning her for the shortest moment, “Do I know you?”

She looked to his eyes again with a small squint. “Most likely not. Good luck, bye.”

Before he could say anything else she was already speed-walking away. And for some odd reason, Logan found himself watching her walk away before getting pulled away himself just in the same time as the girl turned around to give a watchful eye.

It was getting annoying. This was supposed to be a weekend to enjoy but she could not help but feel that uneasiness creeping up on her. Over the years she had somewhat mastered the ability—well more the ability mastering her—of sensing bad things, whether that was events or creatures alike.

So, to simply put that together, that’s how she found herself sneaking around the Williams garage. Not hospitality, garage.

From years of quests here and there, many hours of weapons training, and not to mention capture the flag schemings with other campers, she had mastered the skill of being sneaky. It really did work well in her favor.

What she didn’t expect was to be completely entranced the moment she got into the busy garage; it was the first time she was seeing a real life-size F1 car in real-time.

Everything was so enchanting to her, it felt like she was reliving her childhood dreams all over again. When she had gone through with her plan, she didn’t really register the fact that she was going to go face to face with an actual working Formula One garage.

She really tried to stay focused on the task at hand but it really was in her blood to be unfocused.

“Hey!”

Somehow, just somehow, she had heard his voice over the loud noises around her and just somehow, she knew he was addressing her.

Immediately, she tried to hide or duck behind something—anything just so she didn’t have to face him.

Before she knew it a hand was gripping her upper arm and pulling her somewhere quieter and she was met with green eyes that looked at her with suspicion.

“Are you like a fan or something?”

She was taken aback by his words.

“…what?”

“Are you following me?”

“What—no. I mean not you specifically—why did I say that.” she whispered the last part to herself. If she was being honest, she hasn’t really been brushing up her skills in socializing with anyone else that weren’t the campers.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! I—”

Their conversation—if you could’ve called it that anyway—was interrupted by the same man she had been suspecting from earlier.

“There you are.” It was the first time she was hearing his voice and just by that she already knew that they were going to be in big trouble. His voice was low and unnerving, saying the words as if he’s been searching for them not for worried purposes rather unfortunate ones.

Logan didn’t seem to have the same feeling as her as he looked more relieved among other things to see the man. “Theo!” he greeted while throwing his hands in the air, “What’s up, man?”

Fortunately for Logan, Theo wasn’t exactly paying attention to him instead looking at the girl in front of him instead.

When he noticed he tried to interfere, “Oh, no, don’t worry about her, she’s not harmful.” He then realized he didn’t exactly know this girl so he looked at her with questioning eyes, “You aren’t, right?”

Except her focus didn’t waver from the big man that looked at her with a stare that tried to kill.

Logan, still clueless, looked between the two back and forth in confusion until Theo said something that really caught his attention.

“Daughter of Poseidon.” Theo growled.

Logan’s head couldn’t snap towards her faster.

“Shit.” She mumbled under her breath.

Before they knew it, she had grabbed a hold of his hand and running away with it, Logan still very much in shock at this new information he attained.

Through empty places and crowded ones, the girl forgot that the man she had ahold of weren’t just anyone but a very real and hard-to-miss Formula One driver. Sure, he was a rookie but a driver nonetheless.

But she couldn’t care less about the attention she was gaining; she was far too busy running for her life than think about cameras and the public.

“What the hell was he talking about? Poseidon?!” she didn’t answer his panicked question so he continued instead, “Are you a half-blood too?”

The ‘too’ in his question was what finally caught her attention but still, she didn’t answer him, only cursing herself for not noticing one when she saw one.

Just when she thought they had lost them, the monster once disguised as Theo was standing there at the end of the opening, she and Logan had slipped in.

Next thing she knew she was fumbling around trying to fight off the apparent Giant that was Theo.

“What the hell are you doing there, mind a little help over here?” she yelled over at Logan who was pretty much… useless in the corner.

He continued to panic, looking for anything he could use to get the Giant off of her.

Suddenly, while she was struggling to get the Giant’s grip off of her, the force stopped as a cloud of mist poofed where the monster was once before. She quickly scrambled herself up and was met with a figure in McLaren clothing holding a gold-dust colored weapon pointing at her.

“Oscar Piastri?!”

He didn’t answer her, dagger still pointing at her direction, “Who are you?”

Putting her hands out in defense she explained herself, “I respect that.” she commented, “I’m Y/N L/N, I am the daughter of Poseidon,” then she cautiously pointed at the Australian, “I’m assuming you’re a half-blood too.” she nodded at him, “Who do you belong to?”

Oscar then slowly lowered his weapon, his trust building by the minute, “Athena.”

Then both of them turn to Logan simultaneously.

“No!” he got defensive immediately, “I want to know what just happened!” he pointed accusingly.

All of a sudden, it just finally hit Oscar, “Poseidon?!”

The sea god’s daughter made a face and ignored the Australian, “What do you mean what just happened? Typical demigod stuff!”

The look on his face made her double-take, “You… do have occasional encounters with monsters here and there… right?”

When Logan’s expression doesn’t change, she turns to Oscar.

“I have this for a reason.” He said slowly, showing her the dagger. “—and, well, if I’m being honest, that has never happened before.”

“Shit.” she shakes her head in disappointment then pulling out her phone, “I need to make a phone call.”

She left the two men by themselves and went ahead as the line rings a couple of times before getting an answer.

After a brief conversation—that will continue later for details—the girl locked her phone and walked towards the two drivers.

“You’re coming with me this summer. It will not be up for debate and don’t worry about your… duties, I have it covered.”

Logan was quick to stop her explanations, “Wait—what—no! At least explain what the hell that phone call was about. You can’t just drop all that on us and expect us to be okay with it.

She rolls her eyes, “I’ll explain later, right now, you two have a job to do.” They didn’t object to that, the three of them walking out the pretty-hidden space the Giant had decided to corner them before.

Oscar stopped just outside, “I can take care of myself if anything else decide to come out and attack me, you should probably go with him. And uh, I actually need to talk to you,” he pointed at her, “—later. Not exactly letting you off the hook that easily.”

She didn’t complain.

The two walked in silence, every once in a while getting stopped for a picture and such, until Logan speaks up.

“Apollo.”

She turned to him, eyebrow raised.

“My dad.”

“Oh.” She paused then comments, “Fitting.”

He didn’t know what it was in her voice, it didn’t sound exactly like a compliment but he wasn’t sure if it was an insult.

Whatever, he shrugged it off.

After that, they both went into their own train of thoughts.

Without noticing, they both sucked in a breath in unison.

“I’m sorry for—”

“I think you should—”

The two quickly stepped back from whatever it was they were going to say, heat rushing up their necks. They kept walking on the awkward silence that fell upon them until Logan re-focused his attention and remembering what she had said—well, what she almost said earlier.

“Wait—‘sorry’? What were you apologizing for?” he turned to her who was now ducking away from his eyes, her own focus stayed on her fidgeting hands.

She made a noise before finally finding her words, “It’s just—this always happens, you know. I’m a forbidden kid, I attract the worst kind of trouble there is for half-bloods. And earlier; I had brought it to you and Oscar.” he was going to say something to ease her guilt but she beat him to it, “I’m just glad that monster didn’t hurt any of you.” She threw her hands in the air, “I mean, it’s qualifying day for Gods sake! —maybe I shouldn’t go to the race tomorrow.” She mumbled the last part to herself, though not quietly enough that the driver didn’t hear.

Logan was taken aback by her statement, giving him an opening on his almost-offer.

“What—no! Why not?” he asked.

“Look, it’s bad enough that there’s two demigods in one place; adding a forbidden kid in the mix won’t really make it any better. I still want everyone to have a safe race. Who knows what kind of other monsters I could attract.”

From every point of view Logan could gather, it was simply a fact that this girl knows about their world far more than he did, far more than Oscar did, so he couldn’t really be the voice of judgement in whatever she had to say. But… he wanted her to stay.

It calmed him down for some reason, knowing someone shares the same—if not, worse—fate as you.

So, he tried to find a reason, a good reason to make her stay. Of course, he wasn’t a pro at this half-blood thing so he offered something that he was familiar with. He gave her a more… human reason.

“I think you should stay.” He blurted.

“Logan—”

“Dude—is it alright if I called you that?”

“Uh, go nuts.”

“You deserve to have some fun, watch a race! I’ll even have you as an official Williams guest!”

She hummed with a smile creeping up.

“And if you’re worried about trouble, that’s fine. We can always handle trouble! We are all trouble-bound any way, better face them now than later! Plus, I think it’d be good if you could teach us the basics early.”

She felt the warmth spread through her chest. It’s been a while since she felt someone so welcoming that wasn’t anyone within Camp Half-blood. It was nice. He was nice. Almost made her forget that she was in the place she was meant to be in.

Her heart felt wholesome, but didn’t make it show, her mouth couldn’t stop the comment from escaping her mouth instead.

“You really want me to stay, huh?”

[chaosfairy18]

Spelling lessons

A short (2k) fic with the idea that I posted recently of Dutchy not being able to understand English spelling (and being annoyed about it) and then accepting some help from Specs

It has some Decs (DutchyxSpecs) at the end because it was too cute not to (Also Dutchy's name is Zacharias and Specs' Victor, there is only a small scene that is relevant, but it can't hurt to say)

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

English spelling might be Dutchy‘s nemesis actually.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t write, he’d learned back in elementary school in the Netherlands, he knew the alphabet, thank you very much, and he also knew how to speak German – they lived close to the border – and even read most of it because it just looked similar, he could at least guess the meaning if he had to and since he knew how to speak it, it wasn’t too difficult to grasp reading or writing, all in all.

French was harder, but since there had been some people speaking French in his little town, he’d also learned speaking that.

He might have been an annoying kid, always hanging on their lips and asking for more words, more things to learn, but it was just too interesting to him.

Now he couldn’t really write much in French, he’d learnt a bit back then, but it wasn’t enough, not really.

Then he’d gone on that ship to America with his aunt and uncle. The time they had took to get to America was more than enough to grasp the basics of English, especially due to its similarities to French, Dutch and German. The men and women Dutchy had spent every day learning the language from mostly hadn’t been able to read though, and it wasn’t like he had to learn that. He knew how to read, it couldn’t be that hard.

After being basically ditched by his aunt and uncle he’d quickly found the lodging house – after all he had learnt the language and could ask around where a boy with some money could find work or a place to stay – and Kloppman hadn’t believed he was only there for less than a day, though he was even more impressed when he correctly guessed his accent and started talking in German which was still easier than English though it wouldn’t take long until he didn’t care what he spoke.

Now all that was well and good if it weren’t for the fact that he had to sell newspapers that had headlines. See, these newspapers were sometimes available in Dutch or German, but of course most were in English and for some reason the Americans or the Brits had decided to make their spelling the most confusing thing in existence. If he heard one of the other newsies say the headline, he knew exactly what it meant, but combining that with the letters he saw on the board? It felt impossible, even now.

Maybe it was his pride in knowing languages that kept him from asking anyone for help, maybe it was that he avoided the language classes in the lodge and instead took the ones on math, but at this point he was almost dead set to not comply with this idiotic spelling in newspapers.

That didn’t mean he could read the headline any better.

“What’s it say?”, he asked Skittery, pretending he was just cleaning his glasses and therefore couldn’t see it right now.

Skittery, who had been reading a novel of some kind as he was standing in line scoffed and snapped his book shut, obviously annoyed. “It says ‘learn to read, idiot’.”

Dutchy froze as he was just about to put on his glasses again. What had he just called him? He could read, in two (and a half) languages even, he could even write and speak more languages than Skittery could probably name, and he dared call him an idiot-

“Says the guy that fell into the river last week.”, interrupted Specs, subtly pushing Dutchy away from Skittery before he really could let the situation escalate and call Skittery names in 4 different languages and whatever else he had picked up over the years.

“That don’t make me an idiot, clumsy maybe. And I got shoved.”

The tall boy quickly got engrossed in his novel again, only looking up if Tumbler was running around him, otherwise ignoring them.

“You aren’t an idiot.”, was the first thing Specs said to him, all quiet as if it was a secret.

“I know. It’s not my fault English is so-“

“You can’t keep not learnin’ because you don’t want to, Dutch.” Specs pushed his hands in his pant pockets. “I could help you, if you want.”

Dutchy’s first instinct was to bite back that he didn’t need help, but maybe he did. And Specs was his closest friend, it wasn’t like he was making fun of him. “If you’re offerin’.”

“You could read books if you learnt. Spoil the ends for Skitts.”

He snorted, hitting Specs with his elbow. “You’ve seen me read books.”

“Not in English.”

“Fine. I’ll let you help.”

They got their papes from Wiesel – every day Dutchy had to bite back a comment on it was actually Weasel because he knew how to read that word – and split up to sell, Specs saying he’d come by later to start their ‘lessons’.

Of course, Specs had to keep his word, one unsold pape and a book in hand, bowler hat and vest already discarded somewhere in the bunk room. He wouldn’t get out of it then.

Shame.

Dutchy let himself be dragged to the roof, the evening sun making the temperatures comfortably warm rather than sweltering. Specs dragged some crates to the middle of the roof, and they sat down around them, the newspaper and book placed on them.

“So, you can read the alphabet fine, right? That’s the same.”

“Again: You’ve seen me read a book and write my name.”

Specs rolled his eyes. “Yes, just wanted to make sure.” He opened up the first article of the World. “Maybe it’ll help if I read it to you. You know the words, then you’ll see the spelling as I say it.”

Shrugging, he moved a bit closer to Specs so he could properly see the line he had his finger under to indicate what he was reading. He didn’t want help like this, but since at a first glance he could only read the shorter words in the article he probably did need it.

Sadly.

“Man with parachute leaps from Brooklyn Bridge-“

“Wait that’s how you spell bridge? Where is the e coming from?” He could live with silent letters, at least if there was an explanation for them.

Specs pinched the bridge of his nose. “I dunno the rules, Zach. Just- read with me, okay?”

The rest of the article was interesting enough – the man had used a modified umbrella to jump of the bridge and had only barely survived – but Dutchy wasn’t sure how much he was learning yet. Some words he knew and recognized, others he was completely stunned as to where that spelling could come from and if he could remember them.

“I don’t think it’s working.”, he sighed after the third article.

“We just started today. Rome wasn’t built in a day and all’at.”

Dutchy bit back his retort and just kept listening to Specs read, trying to recognize words he’d heard today before.

Of course, the lessons didn’t stop after a day. Contrary to what Dutchy had hoped for, Specs was very good at remembering it every evening and dragging him to the rooftop, going through more articles or through a chapter of a book.

And even worse: He had to admit it was working.

Especially in papes there were headlines that came again and again, so he recognized almost everything on the chalkboard every morning now, there were just a few words that he had to quietly ask Specs about.

That also meant that he began to slack a bit in their lessons. It was working, but he didn’t like admitting to being wrong, so he still sat there – he was Specs’ friend after all and he was going through a lot of trouble to teach him – but he wasn’t listening to his every word anymore, instead looking up to see his dark eyes trace the words and his mouth open again and again.

At first it wasn’t that intense, just looking at his friend a bit before going back to the tiny black words, but the more he looked at him, the more he had to admit that he was fascinating to watch. His eyes were dark, even in the light, pupil and iris not much different in colour, almost as dark as the coffee they got from the nuns in the morning when they were lucky.

Specs didn’t seem to notice whenever he wasn’t paying attention, so it happened more and more over the days.

And not just in their lessons either. Dutchy’s gaze was drifting to Specs more and more frequently while selling, eating in the lodge, standing in line at the distribution centre and when they got ready for the day in the morning.

As already stated, Dutchy wasn’t an idiot, there weren’t a lot of reasons why he would be drawn to his friend so much. It was obvious, really, and the last few lessons he had spent his time half listening to Specs – he always looked so sad if Dutchy didn’t get any of the words they already went over – and half planning to show his affections to him.

Reading out loud a chapter of one of the few romance books they had down in the lodge didn’t work – Specs was only happy that he had gotten through it with almost no stumbling over words – and the extra touches while selling together didn’t seem to work either.

Maybe he’d just have to be direct about it.

The next evening they sat on the rooftop of the lodge again and Dutchy let Specs talk a bit, attempting to explain why a specific word was spelt how it was – because of course after Dutchy complained that he didn’t get the rules he had looked them up and asked Kloppman because he was invested into helping his friends like that – and only getting distracted by the way his lips moved and his eyes shone just a bit brighter than usual.

It seemed as good a time as any.

Dutchy made Specs trail off by tilting his friend’s chin up with his finger and leaning in close. “Maybe for today I can teach you something, Victor.”

The other’s eyes grew wide and taking his quickly reddening face as confirmation Dutchy kissed him for a short moment, smiling as Specs chased after his lips just a bit when he leaned back.

“So you’re okay with that?”

“Very.”, croaked out Specs, still not completely convinced this was actually happening.

Smiling wider, Dutchy pulled his glasses off – he’d felt them press into each other uncomfortably in the first brief kiss – and leaned in again, just trying out how Specs’ lips felt against his, how it felt like to hold his jaw as he did so, how he reacted when he moved his hair out of his face.

Everything was as good as he’d thought, Specs also getting more comfortable throughout the minutes, he almost wasn’t burning red anymore when they separated again, Dutchy leaning his forehead against Specs’.

“Hope you liked the lesson.”, he whispered, glad he’d begrudgingly accepted the offer for spelling lessons weeks ago.

Specs looked at him like he’d just taught him all the secrets of the universe. “Yeah. I’d love more. Only if you-“

He gave him a peck on the cheek. “Of course, darling.”

That made Specs burn up again, putting his head in his hands and groaning. “You can’t just say that!”

“I can call you whatever I want, darling.”

Specs curled even more in on himself, ears completely red. “Stooop.”

Laughing more about his friend’s state, Dutchy leaned in closer and put an arm around his waist, closing his eyes and enjoying the heat of the evening sun and his new partner next to him.

[skitskatdacat63]

Tysm for the tags @fernando-jpg and @rubywritten !!!!

F1 Asks:

Who is your favorite driver?

Fernando and Seb! They come as a pair. Do not seperate :)

Do you have any other favorite drivers?

Yep! But mostly retired drivers </3 I love Mark and Jense! And then for current drivers, I like Oscar, and Max a bit as well(I can't help but feel loyal to him bcs he was my first fav)

Who is your least favorite driver?

I dislike being a hater on main but....#3 and #4. Also tbh I feel neutral to dislike about most current drivers, other than my 3 guys, so!

Do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

I'm mostly driver motivated, I think I'd follow Fernando anywhere, and probably Oscar too. I like and support teams as well but mostly just because my guy is there! It's like, I love Aston, right? They support Fernando, they're willing to do so much for him, they love him, the vibe is really good. But if he decided to blow up Aston tomorrow, I'd be like "I'm right there with you!!"

If you like teams, what team do you pull for?

+ HOWEVER! I am an RBR devotee. Like it's not even that much about the drivers, I like Max a lot, but I think I'll always keep my eye on RBR as long as I'm into F1. I just love the history of the team and their vibe. My fav team of all time will always be RBR 2009-2013, just so special to me 🥹 Not that I was actually around for it but, the way they evolved from a team that was mostly there to bring fun to the paddock to one of the most successful teams of all time, as well as being a fucking energy drink company in a sport full of car companies, is just so cool and inspiring to me. And I love the red bull golden boys so much(Seb and Max beloveds!!!) And I also have an addiction to red bull....But I got into them first so I have a special connection, even if I don't root for them all the time. Them and their aesthetic makes me happy :) they are F1 to me :)

How long have you been into F1

Probably over a year and half by now? I wish I could say I've been into it longer but unfortunately I am an American shjfkgkg

What got you into F1?

I've mentioned this several times before but. I read some oneshot in my prev fandom that was an F1 AU. And I was just like, enthralled. The first time I read it, I had to keep looking up stuff, and I kept going back to it. And then I went on the author's blog, and saw they talked about DTS and how to get into F1. So I tried watching DTS and it was alright I guess. But there happened to be an actual race that same weekend, so I tuned in, and was so into it!! Ah man there's nothing like that first race tbh. I knew only one driver, Max, and I rooted so hard for him and he won 🥹 it was just fun back then not knowing enough to be stressed and having pure focus on one guy. I'm happy where I'm at now, but that first race was cool :,)

Do you enjoy fanfic/rpf?

Yes of course >:) I think I probably looked at the ao3 page for F1 before even watching my first race actually, it's very habitual for me when joining a fandom. I draw rpf and write my own AU lore stuff, and meta and all that. And I think I check the ao3 page at least once a day 😭 its an essential part of my fandom experience

How do you view new fans?

Hmmmm sometimes I feel like an old person, even though I haven't even been here that long. I think F1 has such a learning curve and barrier to entry compared to most fandoms. Like you have to learn so much about racing and the drivers as well until you feel like you actually have a good grasp imo. So I guess it's weird for me to see new fans bcs im like, oh god was I like that back then 😭 I'm happy to see new fans ofc!! But it's also like, good luck on your learning journey 🫡

If you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why?

I am not a good leader, I think we'd crash and burn if I took over a team 😭 they'd be like "Catie! What should we do???" and I'd have a nervous breakdown. Go back in time to be TP for McLaren and be like, be careful who you invite to your garage at the Miami gp LMFAO

Are your friends and family into F1 as well?

Yes! My brother was into F1 before me(what a bastard for not getting me into it earlier.) Which is hilarious though because I pay for the F1TV account that he leeches off of. Like, damn who's the real F1 fan 🥱 I got my dad into it last season, and it was a very gradual process. He's a huge Fernando fan though, which is really fun, and sometimes he's much more positive abt the sport than me hahaha. He likes Fernando bcs they're both old men, and getting to see Fernando succeed last year is what pulled him into the sport. Some of my irl friends know of F1 but I don't think they watch all the races.

Are you open to talking to other fans/friends?

Of course!!!!! I am always desperate to talk to new people, feel free to hit me up always :D I will talk about anything F1, Fernando, Seb, Vettonso, etc related whenever :) I remember I got an ask a while ago last yr that's like "are you open to being friends/mutuals w strangers." It's like, um, yeah??? Its a lot of fun to be on here, I love making connections

Hmmmm ive seen a lot of people do this already so don't mind if I tag you and you've done it already aahh. But I will tag @suzuki-ecstar @sansebastinae @boisinnot @astronomical-light @thatdemonbish

[retrieve-the-kraken]

Young Royals Season 2 play-by-play analysis

Alright, moving on to episode 2. I realize that a lot of what I did as I wrote my thoughts down was copy down a lot of the quotes, for future reference (both for analysis and for fic-writing), but I’ve deleted all of the standalone quotes, for space. I also hope that, by the end of the year, I will have a more advanced grasp of Swedish and be able to compare the script in Swedish and the dubbing/subtitles and get a better understanding of cultural context (in the meantime, I’m thankful for Swedish-speaking or Swedish-adjacent users who share their wisdom and knowledge with the rest of us).

EPISODE 2

Wille standing at the doorway, listening to Simon play the Hillerska melody on piano… the melody that he taught him how to play in that very same room… and feeling so distant… He’s not allowed to come near, he should give him space… Simon was on a date last night with someone else… he looked happy…

”If I wasn’t an adult I wouldn’t have been allowed to move here, my mum wanted me and Simon to drop out after his… s-sex video…” Awkward silence. The video is never going away. Everyone knows the truth. (It’s traumatizing still that everyone refers to it as a sex video, as if it were his fault, his and Wille’s for getting filmed, like they should have known that they could get caught, like it wasn’t a massive breach of privacy and also child pornography, like it wasn’t two kids involved, it’s victim-blaming).

Simon singing Feliz Cumpleaños to Sara and then talking about pabellón… makes me wonder why we never hear Sara speak Spanish, not even a word, while Simon speaks fluent Spanish, switching between both languages without problem. Meanwhile Sara understands it because both Simon and Linda say things and she responds, but in two seasons she hasn’t said a word in Spanish. Frida Argento, who plays Sara, probably speaks at least some Spanish, since she had been living and working in Barcelona, Spain, before working on the show. But maybe her accent is too strong…? (I doubt it; even hearing Edvin speak Spanish, I noticed that his accent is not as heavy as, for example, Americans speaking Spanish. In fact, Edvin pretty much nails the Venezuelan accent.) Or maybe it’s because Frida would have a Spanish accent instead of a Venezuelan one…? Or maybe (and this is, in my opinion, the most likely hypothesis) Sara, despite understanding and speaking Spanish as fluently as her brother, doesn’t like to speak it because it’s like showing that she’s an outsider, that she’s a second generation immigrant. She might not be proud of her heritage because she wants more than anything to fit in. (It would make sense, I’ve known quite a few people like that, who grew up in a foreign country and didn’t want to speak their native language because they didn’t want to feel like outsiders, and it’s particularly common amongst young Latin Americans; even Omar Rudberg himself talked about that in that show Taste Buds when he and Edvin Ryding eat Venezuelan food, that if his mother hadn’t forced him to speak Spanish, he would have only spoken Swedish, because he wanted to fit in, he decided that Swedish was cool and Spanish wasn’t, and now he’s glad that his mother forced him, and he’s so proud of it, and now he’s trilingual, but not all Latin American immigrants are so lucky). So maybe Sara could very well speak Spanish but it’s a conscious choice that she doesn’t.

“At least he doesn’t need to be rescued all the time.” Sara holds on to the concept that Wille is this disaster person (which he kind of is) and that Simon is constantly the knight in shining armor, sacrificing himself to protect/save him. That happened one time, Sara!

Did Henry just hug Simon during the game? More Henry/Simon bonding, please.

Wille not knowing how to handle his frustration over Simon “moving on”. Poor baby. First breakups are hard.

“I’m just trying to be honest about my feelings. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Ooooh ho ho Simon, you asked for it, and Wille delivers.

That whole silent exchange between Simon and Felice… I need them to be friends soon. I need Simon to put behind past grievances (the way Felice treated Sara at first, his jealousy over her and Wille kissing, etc), and realize they could be besties. (At least we get a little supportive interaction on ep 5 and 6).

How fast did the information that Wille is being forced out of Hillerska spread??? Fucking August being all “He hasn’t been well.” Fuck you, asshole. Fuck you and your satisfied grin that you’re “trying” to hide.

The snow globe breaking will never not hurt my little heart… and Wille’s face, and his trembling fingers trying to put it back together…

“At least you don’t have to be the Crown Prince.” Need more flashbacks to Wille and Erik, please. Is Wille wearing the same orange sweater that he wears on his first day at Hillerska? That he was wearing earlier in that scene and took off (conveniently leaving it behind for Simon?) If it is, then Wille wears that sweater more often than we expected, so it’s kind of strange that by the end of the season he hasn’t noticed that he’s missing it (but it’s okay, he had other things in his mind).

Kristina being so manipulative. “Your father and I love you just the way you are”, how sweet, “but if you are the first one in our family to choose to live in an unconventional relationship…” Oh well so much for that… the way she says “choose” and “unconventional”… “You should be able to choose when to come out… BUT not yet.” She’s holding on to the hope that he will get over this, she still thinks that this is just a phase, just an unfortunate romance.

And then she just says “okay” and hangs up on him. She’s so frustrated with him. But she doesn’t even try to be his mother for one second. She doesn’t even say goodbye. You’re supposed to be the fucking adult here, Krissy. You’re the fucking queen, and your teenaged son is going through a lot of shit because of you, so be a fucking adult.

Wille is so shocked to see a crowd gathered. The embarrassment continues. Poor baby. It’s like he’s everyone’s favorite drama, but it’s his fucking life. It’s so unfair.

“I talked to my mum and told her that I can’t be king or prince if I can’t be allowed to be who I am.” I don’t think Wille even cares what that means. I mean, he doesn’t care about labelling himself at all, it’s just a matter-of-fact to him, ‘whatever I am doesn’t matter, the point is I’m in love with this boy, I should be allowed.’

“They support me,” yeah right. “We will discuss things when I turn 18, what I want.” Sure thing, baby. Your mum just wants to postpone the discussion until your will has weakened. A discussion doesn’t mean they will agree with you at all. It’s so sad to me that he doesn’t know it, that he still trusts her a bit. He’s willing to do anything to get Simon back, even agree to such bullshit conditions.

“I think it’s really great that you feel like they’re supportive and stuff but…” Yeah, Simon doesn’t buy it either. Your mum doesn’t want you two to be together, those are empty words.

“I can’t be your secret again.” Here it is. He uses the word ‘secret’ again to refer to what they used to have, before the video, before everything. But it wasn’t a secret, really, it was private. But when everything blew up, and Wille denied being in the video, that’s when their relationship became like a dirty little secret. That’s why Simon says that he doesn’t want to be someone’s secret, when Wille comes back from the interview and apologizes but says that nothing has to change. But that wasn’t really Wille doing that, that was his mother who convinced him, that was her manipulation. But Simon still doesn’t understand that, he doesn’t understand that Wille truly was given no choice, he was scared into doing it. And Wille doesn’t understand where Simon is coming from, because he so desperately just wants to be with him, he just wishes Simon would agree and be with him on his terms and that’s it. At this point Wille has not reflected at all on what Simon asked him before the break. He hasn’t put Simon’s needs ahead of his own yet. He hasn’t accepted the part he has played in their relationship breaking down.

Stella is so frustrated with the heteronormativity of the game… “What if it’s not a guy?” And Fredrika, without even having to think about it, says “it’s a game for girls!”, implying, ‘Of course it’s about guys, why would it not? We’re all heterosexual women here.’ Nooooo, Fredrika…

“It depends on how you count”. Well at least she has a slightly more open view on what constitutes sex.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna… no way. Yeah… no…”. Maddie, queen of privacy. I love you. She doesn’t want the girls gossiping about Wille and Simon, and she’s definitely not going to start gossip about herself. In this house we stan Madison McCoy too.

That whole conversation, about sex vs penetrative sex, masturbation…

Sara’s invasion of Felice’s privacy, how the heck did she get into Felice’s phone, and her checking out the entire conversation between Felice and Wille… why Sara, why… I can understand some of the other terrible decisions that she makes during this show, which often relates to her being neurodivergent, but there is absolutely no excuse for going through someone else’s phone. That is pure sneakiness.

Simon smelling the sweater, then looking at the fish tank as he does, allowing all the memories flood him, getting inspired to write about it, letting it wash all over him… then seeing himself in the mirror and becoming angry at himself. He’s so frustrated at himself for holding on to these feelings, for not being able to get over Wille…

And every time that happens he just goes for the easy option, which is try to move on with Marcus… try to drown out the thoughts, the feelings with noise (Marcus). He wants to distract himself. But that’s all it is, a distraction. It doesn’t work like that, baby.

He’s psyching himself to try to replace everything with Marcus, everything he’s ever felt for Wille. The memory of holding pinkies during the horror movie? Let’s set up a horror movie and see what happens. But he’s so desperate he can’t even wait, so he kisses Marcus, just goes for it, just do it, hopefully it will be so good that Wille who? And it’s like… zero chemistry… Simon just keeps pushing, hoping that it will suddenly be there, just zap! But no, baby, that’s not how it works… And he knows this, by the way he looks sort of guilty and ashamed when Marcus stops him. That’s not you, Simon, that’s just your desperation talking. And as much as I detest Marcus, I do appreciate that he at least didn’t follow Simon’s lead, he stopped him. And I do feel a bit bad that Simon tried to use him like that (not because it’s Marcus, I would feel bad for any guy in this situation, as perfect as he could be). That little peck and then Simon following with his lips, then Marcus putting his arm around him and Simon just looking so tense… yep, he definitely feels absolutely no chemistry, but he’s just going with it, like really hoping it will come… fake it till you make it…

Sara wearing so much purple this season… the color of royalty… like it’s wishful thinking.

August being confused about Sara kissing him at first, then giving in, then his little smile and laugh when she leaves… August has self-esteem problems, and this girl has paid attention to him, not once, not twice, but three times. She’s helping him, and she seems to want him, physically at least. He’s catching feelings. At this moment he doesn’t really care that she’s lower class, that’s just a thing he has been conditioned to care about, that he’s allowed to be a big part of who he is and how he conducts himself. She sees him, and for someone who has a very low opinion of himself, due to how he perceives himself physically, due to the fact that he’s broke but he can’t talk about it, due to his need to be outstanding and the addiction that he has as a consequence, due to what he did to his own cousin and the precarious position that he’s in because of that, that’s just what he needed. Plus he’s living in fear of the social and legal consequences of what he did.

We get to see more about how Wille’s anxiety manifests itself. Picking and fidgeting are so common unconscious tics.

“My brother… he, um… I, I became Crown Prince…” there’s a heartbreaking post about how Wille deals with his grief, and another even more heartbreaking one about how the only time that he actually said the words “my brother is dead” was to August, he was sincere, expressing his feelings, and then August betrayed him, and he hasn’t been able to say it again since.

I love Boris. He’s so patient and good at his job.

I really relate to the way that Wille knows that he has severe anxiety, and wants to be able to fix that, but is embarrassed or apprehensive to talk about it. We see him pick up the brochure and browse through it, then pretends to put it back but actually takes it, hoping no one saw. I relate to that because for the longest time I thought I should be able to fix the problem on my own, and because it was difficult for me to seek help without feeling judged. The pressure that Wille feels due to his position, due to what has been embedded in him by his mother, doesn’t allow him to be open about these things yet, but he knows there is a problem and he needs to fix it. It’s just so hard to see that often, when it comes to mental health, the most effective way to “solve” it is to seek outside help. You seek medical attention for any other health problem, why wouldn’t you seek it for a mental health problem too?

The secret coup. Yikes.

“I mean, if he’s moved on so quick, what did I mean to him?” Boy is so emo. He’s not the jealous type, he’s the moping type. He cannot for the life of him be rude or mean to the guy who just went on a date with his ex, he’s just awkward and in pain…

Felice’s commentary is so bestie commentary. “You’re better looking than him.” “You need to spend more time with Simon, show him that he can trust you.” I’m not saying that she’s wrong (about the first comment, at least), but it’s so funny to me how this shows how much she’s into her bestie role. She’s doing the exact same thing that Rosh and Ayub are doing for Simon, and that is… giving bad relationship advice: whilst Rosh and Ayub are pushing Simon to get a rebound (not seeing that Simon is not the rebound kind of guy), Felice tells Wille to get closer to Simon (not realizing that the best advice, the thing that worked out in the end, was for Wille to give Simon space, let him go). At least things turned out well despite all the bad advice…

Felice is also doing much better now that they’re friends, now that there’s not that awkwardness from when she was trying to attract his attention (more on that later, of course, because of that scene). It’s like they were always meant to be friends like this, if Felice hadn’t been brainwashed by her mother to do everything in her power to get with the prince.

This friendship feels a bit one-sided at the moment. Felice is doing everything to be supportive to Wille in his circumstances, but hopefully if Felice needs his support in season 3 he will be there for her too.

“We deserve the privileges that traditions gives us…” uuugh, such entitlement… that whole sentence sounds so oxymoronic. Nobody really deserves privilege, it’s only given to them (privilege, in this context, is being handed things because of status and money and whiteness and maleness, etc, not because they were earned by hard work, dedication, good values and qualities, etc…)

“And who should I congratulate on that thankless, shit assignment?” It’s funny that August points out how “awful” it is to be prefect, yet he wants it with his whole being. Just like he wants to be a royal so badly, despite everything that it entails. But he doesn’t really truly think of how bad it is, even though it might be. Because being in a position of power to him means holding power, it’s just as simple as that. Being on top, being in control, being the authority. He doesn’t really think about the sacrifices because he’s not willing to sacrifice anything.

“Fucking Brutus, man.” Really, August? You’re calling someone else Brutus? (And then Wille appears on cue, like on a Shakespeare play. Fantastic).

“Congrats, he’ll be a thousand times shittier than I’ve ever been.” I mean, he’s not wrong, but it’s funny to me that he doesn’t say “shittier than you think I’ve been”, so he admits that he’s been shitty as a prefect. (Unless that’s not what he said in Swedish, but I’m guessing it’s not far off.)

The whole hair pulled back thing, I don’t remember them doing that during the first time that Sara slept over in Manor House (unless that was a special occasion, but doubtful). Maybe it’s different when it’s lunch and when it’s dinner?

“Some kind of socialist nonsense.” Jesus Christ, Vincent. He IS much worse. At least more outspoken.

I think it’s cute how Simon could have arrived and stood at either end of the group, but he went for the center, right next to Wille. He either did that automatically or on purpose, because it feels to me that it would have made more sense to stand at either end, to go under the radar since he was late.

“Why do you care?” Duh, Simon. Why would he not care???? That’s like asking why is water wet… Just because things happened the way they did, doesn’t mean that Wille is not still crazy about you… But Wille can’t be honest about it without shoving his lingering feelings for Simon onto him, so he has to make up an excuse.

“So you mean like cheating?” A recurring theme in the series has been Simon cheating to get ahead, and then it not paying off at all. He cheated when he made a deal with August to get the alcohol for the initiation party in season one, getting involved with his dad, and then August didn’t pay him back. He cheated when he tried to get private tutoring and then he didn’t have the money to pay for it. He cheated when he stole his father’s meds to give to August to sell, and now it’s a massive thing hanging over him, threatening him. And Wille cheated for him by throwing Alexander under the bus to protect Simon, which brought a whole bunch of other problems. Simon cheats to try to get ahead, because he’s always at a disadvantage, but the privileged kids will always still be ahead of him.

Wille knowing that Simon is not telling the whole story about how he knows Marcus. But don’t worry, Wille, you don’t know the whole motivation behind that.

Nils realizing that Vincent is a despot… Should have campaigned for himself.

Wille smiling all hopeful, thinking that surely he is in Simon’s good graces for helping him get a spot on the team… then going and sneaking a glance at Simon’s phone. Bad Wille, bad! First Sara and now you??? (At least he didn’t get into Simon’s phone, which again, how did Sara manage to get into Felice’s…?)

August feeling his blood freeze at Jan-Olof’s message. Karma, bitch? If only…

(Resisting the urge to rewatch the show from season 1 again…)

(Hmm, I haven’t actually done a play-by-play rewatch of season 1… maybe i should…)

(No! You’re supposed to be writing! Stop procrastinating!)

(Okay…)

[cottoncandy-cult]

Seeking Comfort

Trigger Warnings: Not sure if this is necessary as Say isn't really crying or breaking down. just woke up that morning feeling kinda blegh and she tries to go about normally cause she can't figure out what could be wrong. This one will only have the brothers as Emma would usually be the one, she went to with this kinda stuff cause she felt like she was overreacting, but sometimes Emma isn't around or is busy. Those few times she goes to her brother's.

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

Mikey

It had been a regular morning when Sayuri woke up, it was quite early and usually only her grandpa or Emma would be up. But Emma was away with her friends on some kind of birthday vacation, and grandpa went with Shinichiro to the dojo. She could tell when her eyes opened that it was going to be one of those days, she had a suffocating numbness in her chest that made her want to cry. Yet she physically couldn't, she pouted as she stared at the ceiling, trying to will away the feelings that were so intensely there yet absent. After a solid half hour, she slipped out of bed, her footsteps were almost silent as she walked to the door that connected her room to Mikey's. She knew he was still asleep, but she also knew he wouldn't mind if she came to join him. So quietly she made her way to his bed, in her arms she clutched onto a little dragon plushy Shinichiro had won for her at a fair. She approached his bed side, standing there for a moment and watching the male drool on his pillow. "Mikey~... Please wake up for a minute." She spoke softly, trying to gently rouse him from his sleep. When it did nothing, she reached out to the hand that wasn't tucked under the cover, lightly tugging on his finger.

"What's'it Say?..." He slurred sleepily; one onyx eye peeking open. Though his nose crinkled when he saw the odd expression on her face. She was distressed, even if she didn't seem to be panicking. "I don't feel right Mikey..." She pouted at her brother, watching him slowly move into a sitting position. "What do you mean? Do you feel sick?" He swayed a little in his sleepy state, reaching out to check her forehead. "I just feel bad... I feel like my lungs are being squeezed and I wanna cry but at the same time I can't cry... I don't feel ok, and I don't know why." Her voice cracked here and there, he could see how she was borderline crying, yet the tears just wouldn't escape. Mikey understood, he struggled with his own emotions for some time and still does on occasion. The blonde scooted back on the bed, petting the warm spot he had previously been laying. Sayuri was quick to crawl into bed, still cuddling her dragon as Mikey lies back down and tucks them both in. Mikey tugged her close and tucked her against his chest, one of her little hands reaching out to grasp his white shirt. He rested his head against the top of hers as he sighed quietly. "It's ok, not everyone feels ok and happy all the time. These emotions are completely natural, if you feel like this then come to us. Sometimes people just feel down and need comfort and that's ok." He repeated the words his grandpa spoke to him long ago, rubbing her back gently. "Let's take a nap, when we get up, I'll take you out to try some American food." The little girl gave a slow nod, thanking him quietly and quickly finding it hard to stay awake. She fell asleep in the comfort of her big brother's presence.

Shinichiro ft. Takeomi and Shion

Sayuri came down the steps after pulling herself from bed, it was kind of quiet and she wasn't sure where everyone was. But then she slowly tuned into the dull droning's of the t.v. from the living room, looking past the banister she saw Shinichiro watching a show with Wakasa and 2 of his other friend's. She took in the sight of the new two and began to weigh her options, one looked older than her brother with black and blonde hair smoking a cigarette. The other seemed around the same age as Shin from what she could tell, but to her surprise had hair similar in color and style to hers. She tilted her head, curiosity cutting through the dull ache that was still softly thumping in her chest. She didn't get to watch for long though before Shinichiro spotted her, he gave her a smile and extended his hand out to her. "Hey there, Say, I haven't seen you all day." She approached her brother who sat on the couch against the left wall and faced the window that showed the front yard, the other two males looking at her over the back of the couch with wide eyes as she walked over to her brother. Taking his hand, she let him lead her to the space between him and Wakasa, the lazy male giving her a lazier smile. "You seem tired kid, thought you were just waking up for the day." Wakasa tossed out the passive comment, he like some of the others had been to the house enough to figure out how the little girl usually behaves. "I'm not tired... just..." She pouted; she still wasn't sure what words to use to explain. She wasn't tired in the sleepy sense of the word, but she wasn't sure what other word to use. "Is everything alright Say?" The two males watched quietly from across the room as Shinichiro sat up a bit straighter, rubbing her back as he watched her features. "Just woke up feeling weird again... Can I stay with you all for a bit?" She looked up at her brother with big minty blue eyes, making the male smile and nod.

"Sure, you guys don't mind, do you? Afterall now you can officially meet her before Mikey brings her to the base." The dark-haired boy looked to the two that quietly watched across from them, both men glancing at each other before shrugging wearing their own lazy grins. They had seen enough pictures of her and heard enough stories floating about the base that they had been kind of curious about all of the fuss, Mikey had a habit of spamming the group chat with updates almost daily. Meanwhile Shinichiro and Izana usually only posted candid pictures they thought their little sister looked especially cute in, like when they took her to the petting zoo for the first time and she got so distracted feeding a baby goat she hadn't even realized how awe struck she was. Sayuri turned to face them, looking at both men raising one of her small hands up in a slight wave. "It's nice to meet you, you can call me Say." The men smiled towards her, the one with striped hair leaning forward some so his elbows rested on his knees. "Nice to finally meet you in person kid, I'm Takeomi. The guy stealin your style is Shion." This made the bottle blonde roll his eyes, elbowing his friend in the side. "Hey now, I think it's better to say great minds think alike." This led to the two throwing joking insults at each other, this made the little girl feel a bit better than she had when she first came down. Once they all started to watch the movie the little girl started getting drowsy again, the atmosphere was pretty comfy, and she felt her head bobbing as she tried to stay awake. Though before she knew it her brother was laying her down, so her head rested on his lap, with a soft yawn and a rather adorable 'big stretch' she began to doze off with her legs across Wakasa's lap. The older male didn't care, simply patting her shin without looking away from the movie. No one noticing how Takeomi or Shion smirked to each other, they could see how and why she managed to hook those she had met around her little finger. If what they had heard or seen was an indicator for things to come, she'd be having guys from the base tripping over each other to get her snacks soon enough.

Izana ft. Rin & Ran Haitani

Izana had been in the backyard with the haitani twins, the two having come over to discuss some sort of bonfire with the white-haired male that would happening on the edge of town later that week. During a lull in conversation Izana had noticed Sayuri coming into the kitchen, her head wasn't held quite as high as usual, and her hair was a little messy. Tiny bare feet drug across the floor as she went to get a juice box from the fridge, the twins noticed Izana's concerned stare and followed it to the little girl. "Is everything okay Izana?" Rindou tilted his head, the girl looked fine to him if not just a little tired, but he also didn't know her the way her brother did. Though that doesn't mean Ran didn't notice, being a big brother himself he knew how to read a younger sibling's movements and posture and he could tell the girl wasn't feeling it today. "Yeah, one sec. You guys haven't met Say yet I don't think." He didn't wait for a response and entered the house via the sliding glass door, seafoam eyes looking up at the tall male as he approached her with a soft smile. "Hey there Say, everything alright?" He kneeled down, running his fingers through her hair to brush it out a little. His smile fell when she simply shrugged, looking away as she held her juice box with both hands Infront of her. "Just another weird day..." This had been what the siblings started calling her off days, it was the best way for her to communicate that she just wasn't feeling herself.

Izana nodded, continuing to pet her head. "I see, you want to come outside with me and my friends? You aint got to talk but the fresh air might help you feel better." The little girl shifted her eyes to her brother, then leaning slightly she peered past him to the two males at the outdoor table. The one with long twin braids gave her a wave, chuckling a little at her head tilt before she returned to her normal posture and gave her brother a nod. "Alright, the wind does feel nice when it comes through the window." This made Izana chuckle as he nodded, lifting her up with ease. He knew they'd have to stop carrying her around eventually, but he figured he'd wait til she was too big for it, he was kind of hoping she wouldn't, but he knew even if she didn't outgrow it physically, she probably would mentally. But for now, the little girl was content in her brother's grasp, letting him carry her into the comfortable spring day outside as he sat at the table with her on his lap. "Hey there princess, it's nice to meet ya." This had been Ran, extending his large hand to her and chuckling at her much smaller one gently took his in a polite gesture. "At this point your brother's may as well bring you by the hang-out so you can meet the rest of us." Rindou grinned at how that seemed to perk her up, she had been super excited about getting to go with Mikey to his friend's hangout spot. She knew it was technically a gang base, but she felt there was no reason to clarify with her siblings, finding it funny how hard they try to censor and explain some hard things. "Mikey is thinking about bringing her soon on one of his days since Shinichiro has to go out of town for a martial arts convention and I have some work I need to get done." Sayuri smiled some as she sipped her juice box, the topic had helped to boost her mood. "It'll be fun to hang out with everyone at once, usually I just get to see Draken, Kaku, Hina or Waka." These had been the 4 that had hung out the most around the house, she didn't always hang out with them but if they ever went and got or ordered food, they'd get some for her or would even invite them to come with them to certain events and places. The little girl relaxed against her brother and the trio spoke about what it was like at the "hangout", learning that another of her brother's friends was pretty rich and had bought a large multistory building for everyone to hang out and work from. She also got to learn some of the wild or more embarrassing stories about her brother's and their friends, the group never failed to make her feel better.

[burningvelvet]

still continuing my shakespeare journey - got halfway thru love's labour's lost 1975 but have sadly comprehended none of it so may have to restart it in another format/version.

the thing with shakespeare is that its so much better to be able to see/listen to his works since they were meant to be performed, but if you come across a lesser performance then it can really negatively tinge a piece you would have otherwise liked. conversely a superb performance can really put you on to a play you otherwise would have been lukewarm about.

and for these reasons, along with my gen z attention span, genetic adhd, & struggling sometimes with older british dialects & EME (even though i've taken classes on historical english linguistics, shakespearean studies, and renaissance literature, & have immersed myself in classic anglo lit for years, & am a native english speaker albeit an american, etc.) — my shakespeare journey has been more bumpy than expected.

but i hope it will be worth it in the end, and that by studying his work i'll improve my overall writing/reading abilities, particularly when it comes to poetry & scriptwriting, but also storytelling in general. and this, not by mere passive absorption (which i have to combat the urge toward), but by active studying, & seeking to discover what it is that has given his works their legacies in the canon, for whatever it be worth. i think tradition has its place. i believe in learning from the greats, and i agree with that quote about how one must know the rules before they can successfully break them - & would add that too many attempt to break without knowing.

i've been casually watching the famous "working shakespeare" acting workshop series wherein they assess the language. there are exercises dor actors re: script analysis, understanding the diction, etc - & i've been practicing some of that to build my grasp on language in general. some actors like samuel l jackson, toby stephens, robert sean leonard, victor garber, claire danes, blyth danner, etc. are in it - its on youtube. i'm also going to look into playing shakespeare, acting shakespeare), shakespeare in italy, and looking for richard. these are all famous films/documentaries about understanding shakespeare & his works.

it can be so overhwelming to dive into shakespeare, as i previously mentioned - but the relieving part is the wealth of information which exists to aid in the experience. i knew an actress (we did a play partly about shakespeare, lol) who had said that she found a copy of shakespeare for dummies to be really helpful, undignified title aside lmao. there are so many databases & websites & books & all freely accessible online. the sad thing is that some of the live performances are really hard to find, but that's an issue with theatre overall.

but my university's digital library (even though i graduated, i still have access) has a lot of databases including some shakespearen-centric, national theatre, & royal shakespeare theatre stuff. so if any of you are uni students or alumni i recommend you to use your lib databases to find whatever learning resources you can - you already paid for it all with your tuition money anyway!

[spookfished]

big media roundup (july edition)

hellooo again welcome to my media roundup, where i talk about things i read/watched/played this month! (…and by last month i mean AN ENTIRE MONTH AGO. WOOPS in my defense i got sick [better now]) in july i downloaded tachij2k, which im going to be shilling forever as the best way to read manga on android (apk on github here) this also means that ive been reading like, a Lot of manga lol so i split books + comics into two.

books:

vita nostra by Marina and Sergey Dyachenko: a metaphysics-ish novel about a girl who is blackmailed into going to a magic school. sort of a subversion where (unlike many magic school books) it basically is all about learning and stuff? im kind of a sucker for books written by married couples i think its really cute and also kind of fascinating... um i sort of disagree with its approach to pedagogy but its also sort of about the blood sweat and tears part of learning,, where i usually quit beforehand LOL. got that eastern european hopeless and drudgery (?) but idk i would definitely recommend

the great believers by rebecca makkai: historical fiction that swaps between an art curator-y guy living through the aids epidemic in chicago and his friend in the present who is trying to reunite w her estranged daughter. i really liked this!! super devastating obviously literally scooped me like a melon. very well researched! i hadnt really grasped like. the sheer terror and paranoia? that happened during the aids epidemic before..... thats my lack of contemp history knowledge but it was good i learned a lot. liked the theme of sort of surviving through tragedy and even after.. and the line drawn between the lost generation (war) and yales own exp (EDIT: found sth i wrote after reading the book which said "people are living their own intricate and mundane stories and then the stories of the world smash straight through them")

assassin of reality (vita nostra sequel): sasha knows what she will become--has embraced it, even. but theres always something that can be lost, and the institute still has a heavy hand over her.<or sth like that??? the reveals of the last book kind of make it a hard act to follow and the book definitely felt a lot more abstract... ik some people complained about the romantic subplots but i feel like it gives stakes and grounds everything else, yk? it gives you a thread to hold onto otherwise i mightve given up LMFAO that being said i did enjoy it :3 wondering if what happened to the authors will change the vibe of the next book... :(

you exist too much by zaina arafat: literary fiction about a bisexual palestinian american woman who struggles with her addiction to unattainable love, which has led her to cheat in several relationships. this book didnt really resonate with me.. um i actually ended up writing like 500 words of review for this but its pretty negative. so if youre interested check it out here https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/970847361775591466/1147613251933306921/image.png

movies/tv: room with a view: a young english girl travels to italy and finds love there--but has to choose between that love and a 'proper' life. ok this was fine. idk it was cute and funny sometimes but didnt leave that much of an impression sorry :T

past lives: two childhood friends reconnect, lose touch, then reconnect again. aughjjj those two silent minutes where they were waiting for her ride were so freaking agonizing. really good acting pretty film i just enjoyed it a lot in general! :3 i didnt like the boyfriend that much at first but the conversation they had in bed made them feel like a real relationship, you know? wish theyd had a 3some though maybe it will happen in past lives 2: paster life. idk its like most of the time we dont grow up to be who we thought wed be or do what we thought wed do... but is that really so bad? cant you still be happy? *clutches my head

nimona (movie): adaptation of the comic above! um this was fine i think i was a little disappointed bc the jokes felt a little overplayed/didnt really land? and i was mentally comparing it to the comic but then rereading i was like oh these jokes dont really hit for me either.. so who am i comparing this to LOL i think it would have meant a lot to me in middle school, so maybe it will mean something to middle schoolers now. also ppl fought really hard for it to be made so i feel like i need to give it more credit. my mutuals meta also made me appreciate it more :3 https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/687877902200471552/1126752893312184390/image.png barbie movie: not going to recap the barbie movie sorry. i actually watched this twice it was really fun :3 i wouldnt necessarily say it was a Cultural Milestone or anything but it was cute to see everyone dressed up for the movie.. plus i love velveteen rabbit type storylines. i think ken got the right amount of screentime (its not his movie!) but i loved his dance number and the battle scene :3 and the outfitss idk im not super caught up on the movie scene but it feels like there have been a lot of ugly movies recently. i enjoyed it

the rehearsal: a "reality" show about nathan fielder, who believes that any difficult situation can be rehearsed--and has the budget to put that belief into practice. ok like last year or sth everyone was like omg this show was sooo good but i didnt really get what it was about? but its actually really so interesting.. and the whole blurring between fiction and reality as well as the audience not really knowing which parts are staged and which parts are 'real' is so fun! i was a little bit disappointed when it diverged from the episodic format but that ended up paying off bigtime and was really like idk heartbreaking and funny and all of that. very recommend 👍

video games:

super mario odyssey: (replay)super fucking mario yay!!! in the long run, odyssey didnt have as much like. cultural staying power as botw did (they were both switch launch titles) but its still soooo imaginative and pretty and dense! i love platformers love 2 run and jump.

visual media: he was my brother: psych horror manga about a young girl who tries to grow closer to her recently-deceased brother's partner. omg i had so much fun with this the art is so atmospheric and delightfully creepy...REALLY mind the warnings though. i think i ended up reading all of it in one sitting lmfao

nimona comic (reread): classic villain ballister blackheart is looking for a competent sidekick, but what he gets is nimona, a shapeshifting weirdo kid with secrets. i remember trying to reread this and going wow.... is nimona not as good as i remember? am i old? but it was actually just like early webcomic weirdness nimona is still pretty good! yay :3 i still like the comic better but i respect how they are adapted to their respective mediums and also come from different phases in the og authors life

The story of how I came to know my favourite announcer has a side to her I would have never imagined: oneshot f/f w the premise in the title. whether i write down stuff like this is pretty hit or miss lol and i had to look this one up to rmbr what it was but the art is so cute...simple plot but i enjoyed it :3

crossplay love otaku x punk: romcom where two highschoolers fall in love with the other's crossdressing alter ego (m/m?). i really liked this one actuallyyy its so silly and im also a sucker for love square shenanigans. ok also now that someone else said they think hana/shuumei is endgame so im thinking about it. not the right perspective for this but the crossdressing isnt really overly fetishized or like seen as bad or anything? also ppl make some really funny faces in this

breathless momentum (vol 2+3): r two womanizing musicians find love... in each other!? this is also another one of my favorites :3 the leads are so fun and also music yay music! i really appreciate when a romance is still able to present an interesting story even after the couple has gotten together..

damekoi r: sequel to "please love this useless me," (damekoi is like.. useless passion? i think) which is about a woman in her 30s who spends all her money on her college boyfriend and goes into debt and falls in with her shitty former boss. omg it was soooo cute like i already said its a romance set after the main couple has already gotten together. which is my favorite. but these guys are really fucking weird so they still have a lot of problems. having Another Man who fits michikos type and isnt totally evil come in to destabilize shibata and kurosawas relationship doesnt feel cheap bc their relationship is already not very stable? lol i think the first one is worth checking out if you love pathetic women

mr villains day off: a gag manga about an alien supervillain on his days off. ok this one is pretty much just centered around this fluffy guy who likes to look at pandas but its extremely not very deep but its very cute... i like it... i also like pandas

how do we relationship/so do you want to go out, or (reread): f/f slice of life/drama manga about a girls first lesbian relationship in college. ok this is like "the" yuri manga for me i would recommend it to any fans of femslash its like sort of very realistic feeling? in the way that a relationship can sort of degrade slowly through lack of communication and being different people i think its really great 👍

ichinose familys seven deadly sins: psychological drama. an entire family wakes up with amnesia from a car crash. they dont remember themselves or each other, but pledge to stay together and relearn how to be a family and try to find their memories again. but is it really worth digging up the past...? man this one really goes off the rails. but like in a fun way? has an interesting arc going on rn about like... what allowances do we give, what are we willing to forgive in a stranger vs a family member. pretty interesting!

oshi no ko (catchup): psych thriller about the twin children of a famous idol trying to deal with the legacy she leaves behind. ive been talking about this manga for a while to my friends lol its kind of like riverdale in that its sort of very good, sort of very bad--but overall just super engrossing! which makes sense in a way bc its about the entertainment industry but also about the relationship between an idol and their fan... um not so sure about recent developments though lol. a little bit scared to see where things go

blue period (catchup): a delinquent boy used to going with the flow decides to go to the top art school in japan. yeah blue period is really good. hope this helps 👍lets all never go to art school ever ok ^_^

still sick: f/f about an office lady who finds out her coworker writes and sells yuri doujins (like illustrated fanfiction?) on the side. its a classic! was nice to finally get around to finishing it :3

liar satsuki can see death: thriller about a girl who can see peoples deaths and tries to prevent them--except everyone thinks shes just a liar. ok this is notable bc it has the exact same like adventures and gaybait as shounen but its all girls instead. its good light entertainment! sometimes is um kind of horny for sth about high school girls so ymmv on that one

farming for love: m/m romance about a pharmacist who moves to the country after a bad breakup and meets a ~strong but silent farmer~. pretty average, but fun if youre into that kind of thing! not sure if i would really recommend it lol

chainsaw man 2: set after the events of chainsaw man proper, its an action shounen focusing on asa mitaka, a girl who kinda sucks :3 chainsaw man is so fun yayyy im happy to be reading it again excited to get hit by some more bricks! asa is a wonderful protagonist and fujimoto continues to write comitragedy (?) in a way thats kinda obscene but also very cool 👍rip single father denji

skip and loafer (comic): slice of life about an ambitious but awkward girl who comes from the country to start her high school life in tokyo!!!! and some guy i guess. omg ok this is like the slice of life manga for me rn (the anime is really good! finished recently check it out) its just really warm and nice. autistic girls win always lol truly a comic that makes you feel like there is love in the world

no home: webtoon drama about two guys who are trapped together in a haunted dorm. ok this comic makes me really depressed but its also about people who make each other better despite their best efforts. and also violence and hatred its really really good 👍sad about recent updates though.. i guess maybe the characters werent really meant to be friends in the long term

this took me like two weeks to write and now im in a different state LOL so um if you got to the end...thanks for reading!

[not-available-for-comment]

Ok, so Firefox’s pocket suggestions have been trying to get me to read a list of “8 life-changing nonfiction books selected by top authors” and while I don’t really feel like reading that article, I think it could make a cool prompt. Nonfiction tends to have a rep for being dry or trite, but I think it can be powerful and engaging as well. I probably don’t have near enough followers to be doing a book rec post, but whatev, I like talking about books, we’re doing this.

Prompt: List 5-8 Life-Changing Nonfiction Books

In no particular order:

1. The Wisdom of Whores: Bureaucrats, Brothels, and the Business of AIDS by Elizabeth Pisani (2008)

This is probably the book I’m most scared to go back and read, because I suspect parts of it did not age well. I think she’s released an updated edition and I’m interested in revisiting that one. That said, as someone raised in a very conservative environment, this book completely revolutionized my thinking on harm reduction strategies like needle exchanges and free condoms from the cOnDONinG bAd beHaViOr bullshit I believed when I was younger to “oh look, a way to keep people alive and healthy”. She also had some eye opening comments on the “rescuing women from developing nation brothels” charities that were so popular in the 90s. I still think about the insights in this book often.

2. The Geography of Nowhere: The Rise and Decline of America’s Man-Made Landscape by James Howard Kunstler (1993)

I don’t know if I can even describe how foundational this book was for me when I first read it in my early 20s. Kunstler describes the way cars have usurped human comfort in American architecture, land management, and city planning in meticulous detail. It made me look at my environment with new eyes, and appreciate alternatives I had barely even grasped, in spite of having traveled internationally. I don’t recall Kunstler’s book explicitly speaking to the disabled community’s concerns with anti-car rhetoric, which have gotten increasingly relevant over time. But I still highly recommend the book as an excellent introduction for USians interested in improving our lived environment and anyone else who wants to know What The Hell Happened With The US And Cars.

3. Ratio: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking by Michael Ruhlman (2009)

I’ve never been an intuitive cook: the kind of person who can look in the cupboard and throw together a dish based on what I can see. I actually started out baking almost exclusively, because the precision of baking recipes helped keep me from going astray. Ruhlman’s book was the first to help me crack the cooking code. Ironically, I’ve made very few of his recipes, which tend to have an overly fussy, professional chef ring to them. But learning about the basic ratios and techniques that went into popular western dishes helped me start to understand how cooking worked. It’s been 10 years since I read Ruhlman’s book, and I still often cook with a recipe. But sometimes I don’t. And his book is part of the reason why.

4. My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness by Nagata Kabi (2009)

I’m sure this one isn’t new to a tumblr audience, but it deserves its excellent reputation. This graphic memoir is hard to quantify accurately. It is, of course, an important work on the experience of being queer in Japan. But it’s also a searching, thoughtful, and sometimes brutal examination of the self, a coming of age story that is unsentimental but insightful and, I think, ultimately hopeful. I bought the book several years after it came out, at a time when I personally felt like a failure and a disappointment to my parents, and devoured it and felt less alone. Highly recommend to everyone, regardless of sexual orientation. (Note that it does at one point describe the author’s eating disorder.)

5. Too Much and Not the Mood by Durga Chew-Bose (2017)

This book revolutionized the way I thought about personal essays. This is not “I had a mildly risqué experience as a young white middle class cis woman which I will now recount to you for money.” Nor is it really my much-beloved genre of creative nonfiction that combines rapturous descriptions of the taste and scent of peaches with rigorously researched discursions on the history of the state of Georgia. No, this is a creative explosion, raining color and candy, flashing by your face too quickly to be fully registered but delightful all the same. Chew-Bose writes stream of consciousness, but one loaded with sharply observed images and quicksilver thoughts, tangents to tangents to tangents, some circling back and some not, personal memory and constant cascades of cultural commentary threading together into universal but deeply personal tapestries. If you have any taste at all for either essays or virtuoso writing you MUST read this book.

I think that’s a good stopping point for me. Curious to see if anyone else does this prompt and if so, what they pick.

[zumpietoo]

Racist Continues....

Actually, I thought it was better than most of the numbers in the ep. Tho, yeah, they sucked ass

I strongly suspect Racist dislikes Josie cuz, again, she’s racist....and I do say this as somebody who certainly doesn’t think Assleigh is all that, BUT....she’s still miles ahead of where Crotchi always is and MM frequently is. And really? Douchie’s godawful song where he’s oogling everybody? That song sucked ass....only thing worse in season 1 was him and Vermin singing Kids in America (I song I had liked previously)---oh and his “talent” show act.

Kinda obvious she only liked that song cuz there was a white boi on stage.

I hated that ep, too....but “good authority”???? By which you mean, “yourself”? Actually, I did like (even if Vermin was involved) when they covered I Feel Love and Sugar, while lacking a bit of energy, wasn’t abysmal (and I think that was moar the bad cheer routine, dug the marching band providing a cool, musical layer, in fact)....

Also, pretty sure you “didn’t like them” cuz “black”.

Ummm....yes it is. And because #nohey#3 4U......and because you’re a fucking racist....let’s just call it done. 

Cole has a lovely voice (and sounds amazing) and ERINN???? Trained, polished was the lead in her senior year musical (The Wiz) at HARVARD.....an actual good college, you miserable bigot. 

That a few lines were altered to fit the scenario is hardly an issue....and neither Cole’s nor Erinn’s fault. 

Sucked, but better than Cherry Bomb

THAT’S your objection. Also, why do you hate MM/Pussy so much? Is it cuz her character likes black girls? 

Errmmm....your shipper goggles are on hard, now, huh? I didn’t hate Walking in Space entirely, actually LIKED MM and FB singing together 4jeebusjason. Oh AND....while this pains me to say, some of his numbers in American Psycho, honestly, were legit good.

Also, again, what’s her sudden obsession?

Again, noooo.....and thanks for confirming, “yes, it’s because I’m a total racist AND a total butthurt shipper, pissed over not getting my way and being wrong”.

Actually, a LOT happened in season 5. By “no plot” you mean Barfie fucked, totally didn’t grasp where shit was headed, #nojizzy4U and Jabi....

Oh sweet jeebus.....dude, WTF do you think Disney did? They’re entirely about training.....god you really ARE PedoT, sometimes, huh? (when she pretended Cole knew nothing about the industry he literally grew up in, but Assleigh, courtesy of a tech school, did)...

Actually, Adam’s costar (and actual Tony WINNER), Idina Menzel, most assuredly “belts” stuff.....plus Wikipedia would tell you, Pascal is hardly (or at least not originally) “trained” himself.....

He went to a poly university and played in rock bands with his friends. Nothing whatsoever wrong, but, if you’re such a devoted “nerd”, you’d know this shit. 

Also, he’s definitely alternating between kinda speaking/and working hard....so, noooo....Racist. Also....apparently you ignore when your fave white/white passing characters sing on Plaiderdale....

But he’s a white boi from Long Island, so I’m sure you wet your panties over that

ETA: she seems to overlook that what they’re singing that’s on film, isn’t what we even hear, cuz that’s studio recorded, so not even the same as it live....most likely the director suggested Cole really “go for it”

[grandhotelabyss]

Did you ever read anything by Sir Walter Scott or James Fenimore Cooper? A lot of writers cite them as an influence but they have a reputation nowadays (earned or not, idk) as turgid unreadable garbage.

I read Scott's Waverley in graduate school so I could familiarize myself with the "founding" work of historical fiction and better understand the key theoretical text on the genre, Lukács's Historical Novel. (I wrote a dissertation chapter on Walter Pater's Marius the Epicurean, which is nominally a historical novel, but not really. It's more a modernist novel of consciousness and a lyric essay on the rise of Christianity out of late antiquity. I'm not sure grasping "the historical novel" as some abstract concept is very important to understand it.)

If you read Waverley through the eyes of a graduate student, there is much in there of cultural-studies interest. The story qua story—the defeat of the Scottish clans at the Jacobite uprising and the triumph of modernity, symbolized by the titular hero's romantic choice of the bland, blonde, domestic Rose for his wife over the raven-haired warrior-queen Flora—is moving, majestic, and elegiac. I see why it was such effective entertainment for about a century's worth of readers.

But yes, by our standards, the narrative method is hard to endure: the diffuse discourse of a digressive, prolix, sometimes even facetious storyteller who blunts the emotional impact of the tale. It's no Cormac McCarthy. It's not even, to cite Scott's contemporaries, Jane Austen or Stendhal. "Turgid" is a good word for it. Still, I know I have to read Ivanhoe someday!

And it's also true that Scott's inception of the historical novel, with its portrayal of history as an organic continuum encompassing the whole of society and not just an inert background for the acts of great men (as it is, for example, in Shakespeare), can't be overstated for its influence, including on the development of the realist novel with a present-day setting. Scott is behind Balzac, Hawthorne, Dickens, Tolstoy, George Eliot, etc.

As for Cooper, I think everything I said about Scott applies to him, too, with even the narrative materials being similar—replace the Scottish clans with the Native American tribes—but I confess I've only read as much Cooper as was excerpted in the Norton Anthology.

[seasideretreat]

It's nice to do things

The Native Americans congregate in natural places to meditate on the grandeur of the Great Mystery. That's all terrific. Native Americans seem more than mere pagans. Most of them are probably Christian these days, anyway. But they're different even in their Christianity. They speak mystically. Poetically. The things are interesting: we know good things, and it is all tremendous, but there ought to be some entity of things that we can realize that is not quite as promising, even though we realize weird things sometimes, and the world is crazy; obscurely, we realize good things and make sense of the entirety of the world, somehow, and there's a bunch of great entities to discover. There's something to be ascertained through reflection, but life is hard in this way and nothing can be known for certain. I don't know, we do things but there ain't no resolution to the endless work we ought to do; and the essence of the world is forgotten in the charade of nothingness that makes us wanna go out and destroy the happiness of ordinary existence, which is just an amalgamation of crazy things that mean nothing. Something ought to be done about the endless cascade of nonsensical things that clutter up our daily life, but there ain't nothing to be done in the endless infinity of the infinite world, that flows around us like a curtain and makes us feel the meaning of life in little things, and in the totality of pure existence. Everything is difficult. What ought we to do in the totality of horrifying tendential pure necessary existence? I don't know. The essence of ordinary things is weird, the hope for new things is revealed in pure tendencies of ordinary behavior, that go nowhere and that wish to suppress our reality with ardent force and meaningless tenacity, that make us wanna return to the old age of simpler things and simple pleasures. Wherever we turn, we see the essence of the world reflected in the crazinesses of ordinary existence: there's something idiotic about pure life, that is lived in the shadows of pure existence, without any reality, without any essence. There's a reality in the essence of the world, that we can grasp, but somehing is lost in the vacinity of pure time, that we cannot fathom, that we cannot see: the Native American spirit controlling our fates, telling us what the old world really is, and making us wonder about the nature of ordinary life, such as it floats around this country, not knowing what is ordinary and what is interesting. Good things come to us in good time. We don't realize what the world really is. Everything is crazy. I don't know what to say or what to make sense of in the generality of life, since everything is excruciating and nonsensical - we are but idiotic individuals that do nothing right, we cannot make sense of anything, and the world is absurd.

[buttterknifeee]

Date with Destiny- Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: you guessed it bitches its the prom episode with everyone's fav guy Robin (S2 Ep6)

Pairings: Robin!Dick grayson x reader

Word count: 4218

A/N: hey yall I love writing for this series bfgkfhg so if you want my inbox is always open to request!!! love yallll~

Nights in Jump City are the worst time of the day; the sun is long gone and the wind constantly bites at your skin. But it depends on what you're doing to decide whether you like it or not. Sometimes it’s not as bad; that’s when you’re hanging out with your friends, maybe going to a carnival or out partying all night. Sometimes it’s worse, like you being forced to chase after some villain who decided to only operate AT NIGHT. Unfortunately, the latter is true for you tonight.

You slump over in the backseat of the T-Car while Cyborg and Raven sit attentively at the front.

“Why can’t I sit in the front?” you whine, staring at the two Titan’s heads.

“Because I’m the only one that knows how to drive this car and Raven needs to use her telekinesis so we dont die!” Cyborg yells, focusing on the target, who happens to be a guy with a spider for his head that stole a bunch of jewelry.

You groaned and poked your head out the window. Starfire and Beast Boy were up in the air, Robin close by on his motorbike, and you were all chasing the half-arachnid. You stretched out of the vehicle and made punching movements at the criminal, ocean water from the bay twisting over towards him, mimicking your movements. The jets of water just barely nicked him before crashing into the sides of buildings, the teenage spider continuing to scuttle across the city.

You turn your attention back towards the road as the spider guy created a webbed barrier in front of Cyborg’s car and Robin’s motorcycle. You and Cyborg gasp, but Raven calmly holds her hand up towards the road. It cracks, creating a ramp for the four of you to jump over the webs with.

After making the jump, the half spider looks at the car. He shoots webs at you, and its splats on the car windshield.

“I can’t see!” Cyborg yells, swerving the car over to the side. You lurch forward as you finally come to a stop, thankful that Cyborg had installed heavy duty seat belts.

“I don’t see why you can’t let me drive,” you mumbled, stumbling out of the car. You aimed your hands towards the car and a jet of water sprung out from a fire hydrant, cleaning the silk from the windshield.

“I already said it, I’m the only one who knows the inner workings of the T-car! Besides, you don’t even have your license.” Cyborg said, stepping out of the car calmer than before.

“I do too!- You know what, we’ll talk about this later. Right now we need to find the others.” You say, taking in your surroundings. Then out of nowhere, Beast Boy popped out from behind the car.

“Uh hey guys! Kinda got lost back there!” he grins, dusting off silk strands from his arms.

“I’m going after them!” you tell the other Titans, sprinting off into the direction Robin and Starfire went. You flick your wrist as you run and water from the fire hydrant trickles out and forms a wave that you could ride on, like an aquatic skateboard.

You catch up to the two as Starfire gets shot down by the spider teen’s webbing. You make eye contact as you pass her, unsure whether to help her free.

“Just go!” she yells, already beginning to rip the webs thanks to her brute strength. You nod and race forwards to catch up with Robin. You find his abandoned motorbike and look up to see him chasing after the villain using his grappling hook. I’m trying to help him, but I can barely catch up to him, you grumble as you will the water to shoot you into the air, almost like a hydro-cannon. You bounce from roof to roof, inching closer to the Boy Wonder and his pursuit with the villain.

You were right under Robin when the spider-guy shoots some type of laser at him. Suddenly, he freezes up, and begins to fall, knocking you down with him.

“C-can’t… move,” he grunts, on top of you in mid air.

“YEAH NO SHIT” you yell, still stuck under him. Ok ok, options… you think, time seems to slow down around you. I can’t make a geyser because that’d take too long. I like Robin but not enough to break his fall, hmm…

You notice the grappling hook in his belt. You yank it out and shoot it at the wall you just fell from, wrapping your other arm around Robin. Your arm feels like it was about to fall out of its socket as you abruptly stop, hanging in mid air with Robin safely in your grasp. Starfire catches up with you, having broken free from the webbed trap. She helps you down and brings you to where Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Raven stood.

“He is okay?” Starfire asks, holding Robin in place while you catch your breath.

“He will be. The venom’s effect is only temporary.” Cyborg says, examining the Boy Wonder, who was still frozen in a climbing position.

“Getting away...we have to...go after him!” Robin musters, but almost falls over doing so.

“You mean, we have to go after him,” Raven corrects him.

“Yeah, you gotta wait until that stuff wears off,” you say, knocking on his frozen arm to prove your point.

“But-” Robin begins, but Beast Boy cuts him off.

“Dude, we can handle it. The guy's got a spider for a head. Not like he's gonna be hard to find.” he said. Robin didn’t say anything, which was code for a reluctant agreement. Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy agreed that they would go after the spider thief, while you, Robin and Starfire return to the Tower to get Robin sorted out.

Later at the Tower, you watched in utter horror and amusement as Starfire shook Robin while holding his feet. He hung upside down, making random yelps of pain as she did… whatever she was doing.

“Um Starfire?” you say. “You know I have healing powers… I could just heal him if we need to.”

“Nonsense Aquagirl!” she chirped as Robin groaned. “There are few problems that Tamaranean acupressure will not solve. Don’t you feel better Robin?”

“Uhhh yeah, thanks.” he said, getting back up to standing position. “Now we can focus on our other issue.” He pulls out his T-communicator.

“Titans! Any luck on finding our jewel thief?”

“We found something worse,” you hear Raven’s voice from the communicator. A live cam of the scene pops up on the living room TV screen. They were at the bridge near Jump City’s Bay; hundreds of cars pass there per minute. You noticed something was near the bridge cables, and upon closer inspection, you realized that it was thousands of moths gnawing at the bridge support. As more cables broke, the bridge grew more and more unstable, cars beginning to slide around.

“Titans go!” you hear Cyborg say, and the three of them run towards the giant cloud of bugs. Unfortunately, they were no match and could barely put a dent in the population.

“Uh, we’re gonna need backup.” Cyborg says to the communicator. You were already out of your chair and adjusting your wrist gauntlets.

“We’re on our way,” Robin says, the three of you making your way to the door. But a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Don't bother. Even if you defeat a few of my children, you won't be able to stop me from releasing the entire swarm.” the villain you recognized as Killer Moth said, his face appearing on the screen. “Unless you want your city reduced to a moth-eaten wasteland, you'll do exactly as I say.”

“What do you want?’ Robin asked, brows furrowed.

“My demands are simple. The city will declare me ruler, the Teen Titans will surrender, and Robin…” he starts. You flinched at the mention of the Boy Wonder’s name. What could he want to do with Robin? To step down as a hero? Admit defeat? Reveal his identity???

“... will take this lovely young lady to her junior prom.”

Huh?

“Hi Robbie-Poo!” said a girl who appeared on the screen next to Killer Moth. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, was wearing pink pajamas, and although you had just met her, you could already tell that she was a bitch.

“Um… What was that last part again?” he asked, clearly not expecting that demand.

“Um Robin?” you ask. “Who’s this girl and why’d she call you… er, you know.”

“Her name is Kitten,” Killer Moth gloats. “And you will take her to prom.”

“This prom is the matter of a duel, yes?” Starfire asked, not very assimilated in American culture. “Robin eagerly accepts!”

“It’s not a duel, Star. It’s a date.” Robin patiently corrects her.

“Oh”

“Robin! You can’t do this!” you say, looking at him through his masked eyes. “Isn’t that right Starfire?”

“Oh yes!” she agrees. “You mustn't accept!”

“We’re gonna need a minute,” Robin sighs, pulling the two of you away from the center of the room. You stare at him, arms crossed.

“This is so stupid.” you begin. “What kind of villain makes a superhero go on a date with some girl? And what kind of parent names their child Kitten? There’s no way you’re actually going to go to a dance with some random chick!”

Robin doesn’t say anything about your comments, but opens his T-communicator again,

“Cyborg, report. How bad is it?” he asks.

“Bad! We can’t hold 'em much longer!” Cyborg yells through the communicator. “If you’re gonna do something, do it quickly!” You stared at the floor, knowing what he’s gonna have to say to Killer Moth’s demands.

“I have to do it.” he grimaces. You stayed silent as Starfire reacted.

“WHAT?!” she yells.

“It's the only way to save the bridge. The only way to give us enough time to stop Killer Moth.” Robin explains. Starfire looks at you and back at Robin.

“But you do not even have the feelings for her!” she protests, looking straight at you.

“I’m sorry, but I have to, as much as I don’t want to. And I really don’t want to.” Robin says, walking back towards the screen.

“So do we have a deal?” Killer Moth grins, as much as a person with mandibles can.

“I’ll take the girl to prom.” Robin says grimly.

“Don’t tell me. Ask her.” Killer Moth says, referring to the blonde girl still pasted on screen. Even though you couldn’t see Robin’s eyes, you could tell that he was rolling them.

“You’ve got to be-”

“Do it!” the villain yells. Robin sighs.

“Kitten, was it?” he asks.

“Meow,” she replied. You almost threw up when she said that. You could see Robin reacting in the same way.

“Right. Will you...go with me to the prom?” he said, his voice showing his utter disgust.

“Oh, Robbie-poo! I thought you'd never ask!”

I can’t do this you thought, as the screen finally blipped off. Robin calmly pulled out his T-communicator and projected it onto the screen. Raven picked up, Beast Boy and Cyborg crowded around her. You could see in the background that the moths were no longer gnawing at the bridge. He told them that he bought them some time, telling them to find out what he has planned. Then he shows them a picture of Kitten.

“Who is she?” Raven asked.

“She is a manipulative gremlock not worthy of Robin's time.” Starfire pouts.

“Yeah, she's a bitch too.” you add.

“She's got some kind of connection to Killer Moth. Find the connection, and I bet you'll find him.” He said, turning to you and Starfire. “Aquagirl and Starfire will join you to help with the search.” you rolled your eyes; Is he seriously going to do this alone?

“Hey, what about you? Aren’t you going to help us?” Beast Boy asked.

“I can’t. I have a date.”

.

You and Starfire were going to prepare for your mission when she shoved you into her room. You’ve forgotten how pink all her furniture is, from the curtains to her pillows. She whips out her T-communicator.

“Starfire what are you-” you begin, but she shushes you.

“Starfire to Raven,” she says into the communicator. “Please note that I will be the only person joining you, as Aquagirl will provide Robin backup on his date!”

“Um… okay.” Raven says, then hangs up.

“What??? I’m supposed to help you guys, remember?” you protest. “And I thought you had a crush on Robin??” The alien girl took you by your shoulders.

“Aquagirl, my feelings for Robin have long dissipated, but I am sure you still have the feelings for him!” she chirped. “Do not worry, four Titans are more than enough to defeat Killer Moth! You should go to the prom of non-duels!”

“B-but what do I even wear? Prom dresses were not on my shopping list.” you argue.

“Oh do not worry Aquagirl, you may borrow mine!” Starfire opened her closet to reveal a rack of sparkly dresses, all in different colors. You eyes glittered in awe.

“Ok, I’m in.”

You spent the next half an hour getting ready for the prom. You picked out a blue dress with black lace and black gloves that went out to your elbows. Your suit was camouflaged underneath, just in case you needed to ditch the dress.

“Oh you look wonderful!” Starfire cheered. You blushed, looking at yourself in the mirror.

She flew you over to the prom location, which was on a boat. Water, you thought. Perfect. You looked at Starfire.

“Thanks again for, uh, everything.” you said sheepishly. She smiled.

“It is the no problem!” she says. “I will see you afterwards!” And with that, she flew off into the night. You sighed, holding a corsage for Robin in your hand. You hear the sound of a motorbike. Robin appeared in view; he was still wearing his mask, but his usual outfit had been replaced by a tuxedo. He was still stoically frowning, probably due to not wanting to be here, but something about him just makes your heart skip a beat.

You walked over and tapped his shoulder. He flinched at your touch, but calmed down as he realized that it was you.

“Aquagirl?” he asked, eyeing you up and down.

“Um, just call me (y/n) for today, don’t want to raise eyebrows.” you winked. You pinned the flowers onto his lapel. “It’s my first prom, so I got you a corsage.” It’s true; this is your first prom. You were supposed to go to your junior prom this year, but of course, being a superhero kinda distracted you from that.

“Aqu- (y/n)...” he began. “You’re supposed to be helping the others track down Killer Moth.”

“Well, you said that our job was to investigate that b- uh, girl. And there’s no better way to do it than up close.” you grin. “Besides, Starfire insisted that I backed you up, you never know if you need saving, right?”

Just then, you heard a loud honk from a car. You turn to see a pink limousine pull out. Out stepped an even pinker girl, Kitten. Her headband, dress, corsage, and heels were all an obnoxious pink. She scoured the scene until she found Robin, fiercely waving at him.

“Yoo-hoo! Robbie-poo! Your Kitten has arrived! Me-ow!” she yells. You both physically cringe at her words. Robin leans over to you before he leaves.

“On second thought, maybe I will need the savings.”

You purse your lips as Robin leaves, reluctantly linking arms with the girl. You open your T-communicator.

��Cyborg,” you say. “Robin just entered the boat with Kitten. “How’s it looking on your side?”

“Poor guy,” he says sympathetically. “We just reached Kitten’s house. Going in now. Nice dress by the way.” You grin.

“Thanks man. I’ll be watching him just to see if he needs any help.”

“Got it. Cyborg out.” the screen blips to black and you close your communicator with a sigh. Time for prom.

You awkwardly shuffle onto the boat, making sure to stay a few meters behind the two. Luckily, no one noticed that you didn’t go to their school because they were so distracted by Kitten’s yelling.

“OH ROBIN!, YOU’RE SUCH A GENTLEMAN! NOT AT ALL LIKE MY WORTHLESS EX-BOYFRIEND FANG!!!” your fists clenched as she moved closer to the Boy Wonder, all over his arm. Why did we let her take Robin to the prom again? I’d rather see that bridge collapse than whatever this is.

You stationed yourself at the punch table, pouring yourself a drink. The two were talking at the table. You knew Robin didn’t want to be here in the beginning, but what if he changed his mind? What if, somehow, he falls in love with Kitten, and then you are never gonna have a chance with him?

“OF COURSE ROBIN I’D LOVE TO DANCE WITH YOU!!!” Kitten yelled, the two of them moving towards the dance floor. Your cheeks burned with anger, and maybe a little bit of jealousy. You clenched your fist again, and the sickly pink punch from the punch bowl shot into the air. The couple next to you who was about to get some punch slowly walked backwards away from you. But you didn’t care. You stomped away from the punch table.

You were leaning at one of the clothed tables as you glared at Robin and Kitten dancing away. You don’t even know why you felt so angry; maybe it was the fact that they’ve been dancing for 10 long minutes, or the fact that Kitten’s resting her head on his shoulder, or maybe the fact that you’ve never held Robin’s hand before and she is!

You notice him looking at his T-communicator while he was dancing, relieving you of the idea that he was actually enjoying the dance.

“Kiss me,” you hear Kitten say, and you froze.

“Sorry, I don’t like you that way,” he smirks. “As a matter of fact, I just don’t like you.” YES, you thought, smiling from the table.

“WHAT?!” the blonde girl shrieks.

“Killer Moth’s being taken down as we speak. We’re done here.” He pulls away, tucking his T-communicator into his pocket.

“No we are not!” she yells, ripping the corsage off of her dress. The petals fall away to reveal a cylinder, push-button controller. “Daddy’s not calling the shots tonight, I AM!!!”

“Daddy?” you and Robin said at the same time, in shock. So that's why Killer Moth made Robin go to the prom with her.

“And unless you want me to let those bugs out for a late-night snack, you better pucker up!” she makes kissy noises at Robin, her lips inching closer and closer. Robin put his finger out at them as if to shush her.

“Not even if you paid me,” he said, pushing her away and grabbing the controller out of her hand. They fight over it, and you wonder whether to jump in and help. Suddenly Kitten turns her focus away from Robin.

“Fang?” she smiled. You turned to see the jewel thief from before climbing onto the boat, spider head and all.

“That’s your ex boyfriend?” he asked, staring in shock.

“Get your hands off my girl!” he yells, knocking Robin down with his spider leg, Kitten snatching back the controller. Ok, time to act you thought, holding up your hand. A jet of water sprung up from under the boat and hit Fang, sending him flying backwards.

“And keep your legs off my guy!” you yelled, not even sure if you and Robin were on that level yet. “You alright Rob?” you ask as the Boy Wonder stands up.

“Best I’ve felt all day,” he smirked, ripping off his suit to reveal his costume underneath. You smiled; you two seemed to be on the same track in terms of disguise. You ripped your dress off and your costume uncamouflaged, revealing the familiar blue and black swim gear you always wear. You yank off your gloves to show your gauntlets underneath, the spikes swing up into place. You both look back at Kitten and Fang to find them making out; mandibles and all.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you mumble, getting into a fighting position.

“You know…” Robin says, bring the couple’s attention back to you two. “You two make a really bad couple.” Fang charges at the two of you, shooting his webs and venom. One of the webs hit you, sending you to the floor. You used the spikes on your gauntlets to cut yourself free while the spider villain goes after Robin. You finally free yourself as Kitten watches the action.

“Isn’t it romantic? They’re fighting over me!” she swoons. Your cheeks burn hot with anger. Now that you're out of disguise, it's the perfect time to beat her up.

“You’re not worth anyone’s time to fight over!” you quipped loudly, causing Kitten to start screaming at you. She tackles you, and the two of you fall onto the table.

“What the-” you grunt, the air knocked out of you as you crash into the food. You roll over and pin her to the table. You try to reach for the controller, but Kitten smacks a cream pie in your face. She pins you down this time, but you extend your leg to her side and swing, sending her flying across the table. She lands flat on her back, stretched lengthwise across the table. You lunge at her, but she grabs you and dunks your head into the punch bowl. You almost burst out laughing; she was trying to drown you, and you could breathe underwater.

Your eyes glow blue from underneath the punch bowl as the beverage explodes in the girl’s hunched over face. She screams, and you push her into the chocolate cake. She lands on the floor, her pink dress now stained with chocolate frosting.

“YOU.. RUINED… MY… DRESS!!!” she screams, clicking the controller. You gasp in horror, she’s crazy. She runs at you again, screaming and you dodge her, using your water powers to shoot the controller out of her hand. The controller rolls away, right towards the bottom of Robin’s foot.

“Consider yourself dumped.” he said, breaking the controller.

“NOOOOOOO!!!” she shrilled. You rolled your eyes and punched her square in the nose, her falling to the ground.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” you grin at the Boy Wonder, who looked at you in awe.

.

The other Titans rejoined you as you watched Kitten, Killer Moth, and Fang get pulled into a police van.

“Nobody dumps Kitten! Nobody! You're going to pay for this, Robbie-poo! YOU'RE GOING TO PASAY!!” the blonde girl screamed while being pushed into one of the vans.

“So, no second date?” Cyborg jokes. Beast Boy was sitting over the edge of the boat holding one of Killer Moth’s moth larvae. According to them, the controller Kitten had allowed them to turn into moths, but when Robin broke it, they all turned back into harmless giant bugs.

“So what becomes of Killer Moth’s larvae population?” Starfire asks.

“You know...now that nobody's making 'em all mutate-y,.these things might actually make good pets.” Beast Boy said, poking at the larvae's belly.

“Don’t even think about it.” Raven says, staring in disgust.

You and Robin walk towards some of the students to apologize for ruining their nights when spotlights turn on, the bright lights moving across the floor. The two of you braced for impact. The announcer began to, well, announce.

“And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...the king and queen of this year's prom are...Robin and (y/n)!” Your eyes widened at the announcement.

“I’m back on duty so it’s Aquagirl now! Sorry!” you yelled awkwardly.

“Well um then Aquagirl-” Robin begins, but you stop him.

“I mean, you can call me (y/n), if that’s what you want,” you offered, slightly blushing. He blushed back.

“Oh! Ok, then (y/n) it is.”

“So how about that dance, Boy Wonder?”

“I guess one more dance wouldn’t kill me.”

.

Robin led you towards the middle of the dance floor. You put your arms around his neck and he put his arms around your waist. His hands were gentle, and was only lightly touching your back, as if he was ready to pull them back at any time.

But he was smiling; something he barely did all night. You both laughed as you awkwardly shuffled across the floor; it's like you had two right feet and he had two left feet so it canceled out. You pulled in a little closer, he hugged you a little tighter. You stared at his masked eyes, imagining them looking back at you.

Suddenly you heard a whistle and whipped your head to see the rest of the Titans nonchalantly watching you two dance. They grinned, waving hello. You rolled your eyes and whipped your hand at them. A small geyser jumped up and landed on the Titans, drenching them. You and Robin laughed, then resumed your dance.

Nights in Jump City are the worst time of day, but with Robin, it’s a whole lot better.

[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

[alexglitches]

TWST Boys Voice HCs : Scarabia, Pomefiore and Ignihyde Edition

ive been at college waiting for my 3pm class to begin since 9 AM, it has been 5 HOURS

and i got bored and i made some more voice hcs so here ya go!

mashed em all together :)

Kalim Al-Asim : Because of where the Aladdin movie takes place (aka Aghrabah), the Land of Hot Sands is like Saudi Arabia. I can see Kalim having a rather thick Arabian accent and it makes people not really understand what he’s saying. He attempts to tone it down but he can’t help but let it out, especially when excited. He’s hyper and all over the place, and his voice reflects that perfectly. It’s high pitched yet still masculine and his voice alone invokes some sense of childlikeness.

Jamil Viper : Jamil is much better at masking his accent but it does slip out, very much so when he overblots. He sometimes acts as a translator for Kalim when people can’t understand him. His voice is low and sultry, and works very well alongside his unique magic. After his overblot, he speaks his mind and is very blunt. His voice is what makes him, him. It's sly and deep and just makes you feel like falling asleep face first on the floor whenever he speaks.

~~~

Vil Schoenheit : Because of the fact that he grew up alongside Jack, it sorta makes things easier for me. He has a straight up american accent, no hint of canadian whatsoever. His voice is beautiful, just like him, and I’m 100% sure he would have fans begging on their knees for him to do ASMR. He has a deep and prideful voice, he cares for himself for everything and that includes his voice. He makes sure it’s in tip top shape and never strains it, ever.

Rook Hunt : Even though he grew up in the Afterglow Savannah, this man has a whole ass french accent. His voice isn’t as deep as Vil’s, but it’s not high pitched like Epels. His voice is just- hbdjhbdjihbsdnjs (don't mind me, just fangirling over my fav). His accent is pretty thick, but he’s understandable. Yes he can speak french fully, but knows to tone it down because people can’t understand him, but it does sometimes slip out.

Epel Felmier : The boy who inspired me to do this in the first place. We got a good grasp on his accent already so I don’t have to make up much, but I’m still gonna try and expand on it more with my personal hcs. He lives NORTH north in Pyroxene and has his Canadian country bumpkin accent. Of course, nobody understands him because of how thick it is so Vil forced him to hide it. With his accent on, his voice is kinda deep and gruff, but without his accent, his voice is lighter and quite strained because of how much he fakes his voice. After he finds out what Vil means, he definitely uses his two voices to fuck with people.

~~~

Idia Shroud : Has a greek accent and you can pry this headcanon out of my cold, dead hands. His voice is deep and gruff and very quiet. He’s almost inaudible. He gets louder when he’s excited, especially when he talks about things he likes. He stumbles over his words sometimes and can ramble for hours if he wants to. When he is working back at HQ, he speaks louder and tones down his tirades, he speaks all business-like and polite, with a hint of smugness.

Ortho Shroud : Also has a greek accent, but can have any accent he wants, but he defaults to that. His voice is high pitched and childish, and if you listen hard enough, you can hear a slight robotic whirring as well. He can make his voice sound however he wants, but what I put is his default.

~~~

whoooooooooo! all i got left is diasomnia and i got a pretty good idea of what theyd sound like now ^^

Hot Sands : Saudi Arabia

Pyroxene : North America

Isle of Lamentation : Greece

Village of Harvest : Northern Canada

Afterglow Savannah : Africa

but rook has a french accent tho-