#i'm very open about my stances. i complain about it. a lot.

[genderdryad]

i feel like i shouldn't have to plaster "mspec/male 'lesbians' dni" all over my page but here we are

[onlyseokmins]

perfect, now spit in my mouth • h.v.c.

Pairing: chwe vernon x afab!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), established relationship!au, lyricist/composer!au

Warnings: swearing, lots of spitting/spit kink (😭), fingering (fem. receiving), tiny bit of praise kink ig, lil bit of degradation but it prolly breaks nonnie's heart tbh, breeding kink too uwu, mentions of male receiving oral lol, wap lmaooo, tiny bit of temp play but not really - you'll see, wee bit possession heh, reader likes to tease and vernon is extremely whipped :3

WC: 2.6k

A/N: vernon and black eye = spit kink so nothing new but i wrote it so it is smth new 🤷🏻‍♀️ ajskdfd no but 🥳 a very extremely happy belated birthday @junkissed i love u lots heh i hope u enjoy this since i had to change up my original plans and i'm so sorry it took a while 🥰 oh and this is also for the other feral dollies out there ily all

If there was one thing you loved about Vernon, it would be his awkwardness. It was what drew you to him.

Light coughs whenever you giggled at one of Seungkwan's silly jokes. Stifled clearing of his throat at the rare chance he got to speak with you. The abrupt avoidance of eye contact when he was startled by your sudden appearance while lost in his own world. And a jittery departure at times you got too near — one might think he actually disliked you.

But those close to him knew the truth. And whether Vernon acknowledged it or not, you were someone close to him. And also a person that could read the man very well.

The light brush of his trembling fingers pressing against your back when guiding you through a crowded market. A protective stance at your side in his leather jacket, eyes narrowed as if to dare anyone to mess with you. As if you needed to be guarded.

But the furrow of his eyebrows while doing it was too cute for you to complain.

Vernon's awkward behaviors happen so often that they might as well just be normal anyways. A gummy smile and the characteristic wrinkles of his nose were enough to make up for any peculiar habits around you. 

Especially after you say yes when he works up enough courage, stuttering while asking you to finally be his. Fumbling for the matching couple's bracelets he'd worked several double-shifts for in his pocket. Brown eyes sparkling and reflecting the same joy in yours even after he drops the box in a puddle. Not like you had any plans on saying no, though.

Those chocolate-colored eyes stare down at you now in wonder as Vernon holds himself above you. His left hand placed by your ear is decorated with the silver circlet holding your birthstone while wrapped around his neck, your right arm's accessory jingles with its amethyst charm. The pair of one-year anniversary gifts pierced in your earlobes sparkle in the low light of your shared bedroom, complimenting your cherished bracelets.

He's no longer as weird with you as before. As in, his fleeting touches now linger comfortably and he can almost read you just as well as you always have him.

Yet he still questions with pure wonder. As if he can't quite believe you're actually real in his arms and on his bed. Like you didn't give him the best suck of his fat cock for the hundredth time.

"You want me to what?"

"Spit in my mouth, baby. Did I stutter before?"

"N-no, I just — " 

His eyes are blown wide, mouth still hanging open from when you first posed the notion. You put your hand on the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"Sometimes you treat me too gently. You can be a little rough, you know I like it."

"What if you break?"

"I'm not that fragile, goofball."

"I know but what if you hate me?" Vernon whispers, though his eyes do not leave yours. They shine, showcasing all his vulnerabilities. "I like you so much I think I'll die if you do."

"Silly, then stop thinking so much. It's not like I'm asking you to slap me and call me a whore." You smile coyly. "Although it's not like I'd be opposed to such things." When he whines your name you laugh. "Okay, okay… a later time then."

He flops his forehead on your bare shoulder. "I can't believe you."

"Can't believe you'd write something like "I'll spit in your mouth" and not do it," you pout and he lets out a defeated sigh.

"You know most of those lyrics weren't like… literal."

"Then what's the point?"

Your boyfriend can see how your eyes flash with teasing mischief so he shrugs in an attempt to put up a strong face. "I… draw inspiration from all kinds of experiences. Before, during… our relationship."

"… What about after? Are you planning to break up with me at some point?"

"Uh, wait — "

"Omigosh, then do you plan to murder me in the near future?"

"No, what? All I meant was I write things that aren't about you, sometimes."

"I know that," you assure him in his panic. "Sooooo," you drawl out, switching gears and pushing him onto his back so you can sit on top. You're both shirtless but have your undergarments on. "If we were to fuck often in the studio, would you write more songs about me?"

"God, baby," he groans, hand flying to your hips, "do you think I'd even have the time to think with you bouncing all loud and gorgeous on my dick? What's gonna happen when I lose my studio rights?"

Pleased at how Vernon's body is so reactive — cock hardening again and twitching sensitively in his boxers at the obscene thoughts — you grind down lightly. "Then we fuck even more. All day," you lean down and whisper right in his ear, "and all night." 

"Shit, you're so dirty. So good to me. All for me."

"Of course," you swivel your hips, fingers brushing up the sides of your body, "all yours." 

His gaze follows the colors of your pretty manicured nails until they settle to cover your breasts. They still shine with saliva and feel a little sore from him worshiping them earlier. You grab at them with a light squeeze and press down harder against him, taking in every reaction. The way his eyes roll back at how much you're soaking through the thin fabric of his boxers makes you feel like a god.

"Even when "I'm on my worst behavior"."

"You are so not using my lyrics in bed."

"Hey, I did earlier 'cause they do make great dirty talk so "don't stop me now", Vernonnie." You wink when all the poor man can do is roll his eyes. "See, "how you like me now"?"

He urges you back over to your previous position. "I do love you but if you want me to spit in your mouth, I think I'm gonna have to be on top."

You simply hum, the sudden electrifying zing in the air making you quiver in anticipation. Vernon is aware of this — pinning your arms above your head, fingers rubbing reassuringly along the band of your bracelet.

"That wasn't an answer."

"That wasn't a question?" you bite back, thrilled when he squints to shield the way his gaze darkens.

"When I tell you to speak, you do."

The gasp of surprise that rises in your chest comes out as a moan. Despite his uncertainty, the commanding tone makes your head spin joyously. Heat rushes through your entire body and releases in a hot mess between your legs, soaking your panties. 

You're sure Vernon will very quickly and gleefully find out once he finishes sucking little love bites in a trail down your stomach. His warm breath lingers at your waistline, pausing until you raise your head to look at him questioningly.

"My pretty baby hasn't listened yet. Guess I'll hang out here for a bit. Thought we were done for the night anyways."

Your jaw drops as he continues to just press kisses on your tummy. "What the hell, Vern?"

"Don't you think you should behave to get what you want?"

"Don't you want to find out how wet I am for you?"

He shudders and you think you've won but he's uncharacteristically stubborn tonight, refusing to yield. "Only… only good… whores are rewarded."

You moan breathlessly. Shamelessly. Your boyfriend has barely touched you tonight besides some casual foreplay beforehand. Yet you feel zero embarrassment at how much your body aches in want for him. "I'll be a good whore for you so… please, please touch me!"

Vernon lets out a curse, hastily taking off your panties. He groans in delirium staying focused solely on your leaking pussy that's begging for him. Looking you in the eyes, he gulps to steady his resolve despite how easily distracted he is by the desperate flutter of your eyelashes.

"You really want me, baby? Think this little cunt can take me?" A choked laugh escapes his throat. "So goddamn wet for me already just like the lovely darling you are."

Your reply is cut off by a harsh sound in his throat before he spits right at your pussy. Hips bucking up at the feeling of warm liquid sliding down into your hole and only continuing to jerk upwards as he stares, not even blinking. Like a cat. Licking his lips agonizingly slow at the way you clench pitifully around nothing, his saliva mixing with your arousal.

"But not wet enough."

That's a fucking lie. You both know it. And you both don't care.

You can't help but leak more and more, threatening to leave a puddling mess all over the mattress. But he won't let that happen. You think you might burst into flames when your boyfriend's lidded eyes drag across your writhing body to meet yours, a heated fire swirling in chocolate irises as he spits into his palm without losing your gaze.

You've seen him do it before. Normally when he's about to wrap his hand around his thick cock during a mutual masturbation session when he can't use your wetness to coat him instead.

But now, he catches your dripping mess right before it falls. Smearing it with an accompaniment of saliva all over to coat your pussy lips. Fingers brush across your slit to fiddle with your clit, before spreading a shiny trail on your pelvis.

"So pretty… " Vernon mumbles, marveling at the debauched visage of your desperation. 

Your fingers pinch at your nipples, thighs trembling because his hand lays so close to your clit. Able to feel heat radiating from him paired with the cool metal of his bracelet, the slight pressure above your pubic bone causes you to whine in frustration.

"Do something, Nonnie. Anything. Please."

Begging snaps him out of his trance, back to the present moment and the end goal he has in mind. Fingers slide down tantalizingly slow to tease at your entrance — gathering up more of your arousal — before easing just as painstakingly slow inside.

Groaning at the same time you do, additional filthy and wet noises fill the room when he sets a harsh pace to drive his fingers into your pussy. Months of practice allow him to quickly find the spot to stroke that has your toes curling, body writhing with the need to grab onto something. Vernon's eyes dart to how you grab at the bedsheets in an unforgiving hold.

Nervous you might somehow tear them (definitely not the first time), he reluctantly removes his hand from your warmth. Mildly amused at the way you release your death grip only to pound a fist against the mattress, the jingle of your charm sounding sweet despite your apparent vexation.

He ignores your laser beam glare, entranced by the clear strands that stretch as he spreads his fingers. Smirking with his tongue running along his upper teeth, he turns back to you and waves the digits tauntingly.

"Open."

You obey without hesitation, granting him access to stick his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around them, more intent on reminding your boyfriend of the way you sucked him off earlier than how you taste.

It doesn't matter if that pleases him or not. Because soon he's pulling his fingers away, not leaving you empty for long. Stripping down, he's back hovering over you before you can whine. Holding his cock with one hand, he taps it teasingly against your cunt only to lose reason and throw his head back at the incredibly loud, wet slapping noises. Quickly returning his focus to not miss the droplets that spray out to coat both of your thighs as he does it.

"Want me to fuck this tight little hole?"

"Mhm, of course."

"Whose pretty pussy is this?"

"Belongs to you, baby."

He spits again so it lands right where the head of his cock spreads apart your pussy lips upon its entrance. You might've told him to save his saliva to spit in your mouth but you're too blissed out by the whole insane situation. 

"Arms around me, love." Vernon's freed hand lands to cage you between his arms as he slides in with more ease than expected, filling you up completely that it knocks the wind out of both of your lungs. "So fucking wet for me, ah."

Your inner walls pulse and contract around his cock as usual, yet it's a different feeling than normal. Rather than tightening so hard around him that he can barely breathe, it's more of a slick suction that makes his head spin. His cock is quite literally drowning in your pussy. If he thought the sounds of fingering you were filthy, the amplification of wet slaps as his hips snap furiously is somehow even impossibly filthier.

"'m not gonna last long." Your boyfriend would probably feel pathetic for the lack of stamina but the scratches along his shoulder blades inform him that you're just as far gone. "Gonna fill you up, nice and full just like you like it, baby."

As your mouth opens in a reciprocating moan, Vernon finally does what you desire. He spits, proud of his perfect aim into your mouth. You swallow without being told, eyes rolling back in delight and carving crescent moon shapes into his skin. That's all it takes for you to cum, shaking as you cling to him.

"More," you pant out, "do it again. Please!"

If he could speak, he would tell you how absolutely gorgeous you are. Instead, he does as asked, in awe of how readily you take every piece of him. You already have his heart, his soul, and his love. He's given his release after you've begged him to fuck you raw — and well, now you've taken his spit. 

Gee, how romantic.

Vernon's pace hastens, intent to give you all of his cum before overstimulation sets in. Your legs wrap around him, reading his mind — or more like your body instinctively craves to be filled. He chants your name like a mantra before giving in and spilling inside, shuddering as his hips have no choice but to press tightly against you with the aid of your rather cute koala grasp.

"Fuck, you're so hot."

He buries his head inside the crook of your neck, laying his whole body weight on yours and refusing to budge. You hum, letting your head clear as your hands run up and down across the marks you left on his back.

"Told you I wouldn't break."

"Hm, do you still love me?"

You let out a huff of air, feeling his lips curl up. "Adore you, you idiot. My love is as strong as my trust in you."

"What would I do without you?"

"Said you would die."

"I would," Vernon affirms with conviction, "what would I do without anyone's mouth to spit into."

You feel absolutely no remorse delivering a light slap on his ass. "And now maybe you won't."

"Hey! You promised!"

His jolt upwards causes you both to grunt, a reminder that he's buried inside of you still. Testingly, you clench gently around him and he groans in protest.

"So, you'll do it from now on?"

He shrugs. "If that's what you want. You know I'll do anything for you."

Of course. That's another thing you love so much about him so much.

"Perfect, now spit in my mouth again, baby."

You take the opportunity when he cocks his head to the side to tug him down, fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. He melts against you when your lips press against one another, readily opening his mouth when your tongue prods for entrance, now understanding what you mean.

After a long, lazy makeout session causes you to part for air, you brush your nose against his. "I don't know what you were so concerned about when we swap spit all the time."

Your name falls out of his mouth in a flustered stutter before you shut him up again with another smooch. As you giggle against his mouth, Vernon presses harder into the kiss — whether out of embarrassment or revenge — you aren't sure but you relish it. Enjoying the intimate moment with the love of your life.

onlyseokmins: January 2023 ©

Taglist: @joshibambi @pandorashbox @rubyscoups @woozluv @darlingvernon @charcharfairy @httpswonwoosglasses @yeosayang @buffhoshi @horanghae8star @noraehey @misssugarlips @onlymingyus @tinkerbell460 @aceofvernons @dejavernon

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Crosshair and Omega's dynamic

Spoilers for episode 4

Out of all of Omega's relationships with the Batch, I have to say my favorite is the one with Crosshair (and it's not because I'm biased towards him). Even though they only had like two full episodes to work off each other, they do it so well. It's peak sibling relationship. But why I think it works so well is because of how they work off each other. In my eyes, Omega and Cross see each other as equals or at least on similar levels. This is evident with how they guide each other when fleeing from the Empire. There's no clear leader between them, the pair listen to each other depending on the situation.

Crosshair's skills are basically fighting and playing lookout. Both are very handy to have. Whenever a fight breaks out, Omega lets Crosshair take the lead and he works to protect her and himself. That's not to say Omega can't hold her own, but when the going gets tough, the tough get going (credit Lion King 2 for that cheesy line). Cross also takes a natural protective stance around her. While she does the technical stuff, he keeps watch. He might say it isn't part of his skill set, but believe me, it is.

Then, we have Omega. She's much better at hustling and seeking alternative ways to get things done. It's true that blaster fire will draw more attention to one's self. Thus, Crosshair lets her guide him in situations where they need to be more low-profile. Omega is also better with social situations imo. She's a smart kid who learned a lot from her other brothers and Cid. I love that the show gives both characters to exercise their unique skill set while not undermining the other.

The other reason why I love their relationship so much is because of how it's changed Crosshair. In the months that he and Omega have been imprisoned, he's truly grown to care for and respect her. First off, he uses her name. The only other people he does that with is Hunter and Wrecker. Secondly, he follows her lead with almost no question. He does complain and make comments. BUT, he still follows her. Crosshair in season 1 mocked Hunter for listening to Omega. Little did he know that he would follow her over 6 months later (yes, I did the math).

And then there's the emotional piece of it. Crosshair is so open with Omega in his body language, facial expressions, and words. She brings out the best side of him and I am here for it. Compare that to when we first meet him in Clone Wars. He's quiet, hangs back, and usually wears a stern look on his face. Now look at him with Omega. He's much more talkative. His face emits so much emotion from being fed up to genuine concern. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves Omega. He encourages her and openly voices his concerns. I myself struggle with opening up to others about certain except for a few people. Seeing Crosshair opening to someone who he feels comfortable with is truly beautiful and heartwarming. Between Mayday and Omega, you can see just how much Crosshair has changed.

Finally, the imperial officer casually calling Crosshair Omega's dad and her not saying anything proves that Crossdad is real. It's so on the nose, but it's so obvious that Crosshair cares for her and is good at keeping her safe.

[alexiafeyblogpost]

Rise From The Ashes 1/? (Alexia AU)

"(Half of a month has passed since Lady Maya and I had left the Wright & Coop Law Offices. ... And exactly, a month and a half since I returned here at the personal request of the aforementioned to come and take care of Phoenix. She I was afraid that our absence could do him some kind of harm. And boy was she right, because when I arrived, I could see that I was in a totally depressed state. Although I kept this information to myself, I didn't want it to happen if Lady Maya realizes that our absence was hurting Phoenix, she will abandon her responsibilities again to come and take care of him.)”

"(I've been doing the best I can to take care of him. But you can't really help someone who doesn't realize they have a problem... And all of that has now led to him getting sick from poor diet and dehydration, so he is now in bed with medications to combat these two problems.)”

"(If Phoenix is indisposed because he is sick, then who is in charge of the legal offices? I think the answer is quite obvious. Well, although I am only giving some advice to people who come to ask for guidance with legal processes that they are doing. I am not an attorney, but I have a lot of knowledge about this little world that I have taught myself while listening to Lady Mia teaching Phoenix or reading it myself.)”

"(But like I said, I'm not a attorney. So I haven't taken any cases, much less had one prepared for Phoenix to take on, since it doesn't seem like he's in a very good position to take them. And yet... I still can't believe I did that crazy thing when that girl came to the offices...)”

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

February 22, 09:45 A.M. – Wright & Coop Law Offices.

“Oh… Why do I still bother to come here every day? What I charged for the small consultations I'm doing, they're not worth coming at all…” Alexia mutters to herself.

The girl looks around the general office, remembering the recent adventures that have taken place. Although she doesn't want to admit it, she can see why Phoenix felt so depressed being here, the place feels too lonely and quiet without Maya's constant contagious joy to brighten their morning.

“Well, I can't complain too much. At least I am left with the consolation of keeping 70% of the total payment for these.” Alexia murmurs, walking towards the central desk and leaving her bag on it. “Although I'd be lying that participating in a case would make my morning more exciting.”

While sitting on the chair, she accidentally knocks over a box that was sitting near a door.

“Oh… this I think is from Lady Mia…” Alexia murmurs, as she picks up the fallen box. “If it's the one next to this door that leads to the room that Mia used every time, she stayed up all night while she worked on a case.”

“(Maybe looking won't hurt. It's not like I have anything else to do until someone comes to the offices with some legal query.)” Alexia thinks before taking out the contents of the box. “Wow… But what do we have here?”

It seems that they are the clothes that Mia wore when she was a lawyer before she had to forcibly retire. Even her law degree is next to them.

“(*Thoughtful hum* They seem to be my size… at least thanks to my height, and not so much because of my… no, forget I even thought about that…)” Alexia thinks to herself. “(Should I try them on? It's not like there's anyone stopping me, and like I said, there's no one coming until further notice.)”

After a few minutes, Alexia could be seen with a change of outfit, one that is much more formal compared to the one she was wearing a few moments ago.

“*Giggle* Hey, it doesn't look bad on me, not bad at all.” Alexia comments with a small smile. “In addition, thanks to this attorney badge, I see myself as a fully-fledged lawyer.”

Her little personal fashion show was interrupted the moment someone kicked open the door. Alexia quickly got into a defensive stance, prepared for whatever came her way. Although what she didn't expect to see was a girl, maybe a little younger than Maya, but definitely older than her... or that's what she believes at first glance.

“Ah! There you are! Finally! Where have you been?! My sister’s trial is tomorrow!” The angry girl exclaims, puffing out her cheeks in annoyance. Alexia just looks at her with confusion marked on her face.

“…Uhm…Who are you?” Alexia asks uncertainly.

“It doesn't matter who I am! “It only matters who YOU are!” The girl exclaims in response. “You are the famous defense attorney, Mia Fey!”

Alexia just stares at her, an expression of complete disbelief on her face, the girl looks back at her with an annoyed expression on hers. Seconds passed as they kept their gaze on the other girl. Or at least that was until it seemed like a bit of enlightenment fell on the girl’s head.

“Oh, uh... You're not Mia Fey, are you?” The girl says embarrassed. Alexia shakes her head.

“I'm sorry, but Ms. Mia Fey no longer… works here.” Alexia responds as she rubs her arm.

“S-So... You are... the coffee girl?” The girl asks curiously.

"Oh no. I'm Alexia Fey... I'm the junior coworker of the defense attorney who's running the show, Phoenix Wright. But, at the moment, he is indisposed due to health issues." Alexia responds politely.

“Wright… Fey…” The girl in the science gown mutters to herself, clearly trying to remember. "Wait! Are you THE Alexia Fey!? The Alexia Fey who solved the Gregory Edgeworth murder case!?”

“Um, yes, that's right.” Alexia responds politely. “(Although that was only the easy part of the last day of the trial, the one who handled the defense in the most complicated part was Phoenix. I only solved the simple part.)”

"(Although knowing how simple the case itself was, I'm surprised that they had never solved it. It would almost seem that they didn't solve it because they wanted not to solve it...)" Alexia thinks, still somewhat confused.

“That's a relief then!” The girl exclaims excitedly, interrupting Alexia's reflection. “You are better than anyone!”

"Excuse me?" Alexia questions confused. But this one she looks surprised, when the girl, out of nowhere, takes her hand in hers.

“Y-You're an attorney too, right?” The girl says hopefully, shocking Alexia by the conclusion the girl came to.

“(Me? An attorney? But where did she get-?)” Was Alexia's thought, until she looked at how she was dressed. "(Oh... that explains it... and having this attorney badge doesn't help not having that impression neither...)"

“I-I'm sorry... I'm afraid we are not accepting cases at this time.” Alexia answers seriously.

"What!? B-But you're Alexia Fey, right? One of the two undefeated defense attorneys at these law offices?” The nervous girl says.

“Look, I simply cannot accept any new cases until further notice. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to try somewhere else.” Alexia answers, looking away from her. She didn't want to look at the hurt look that girl was giving her... it hurt her to a certain extent... it reminded her of her...

"Please! I’m running out of time!" The girl begs desperately.

“I know, but…” Alexia says, in an attempt to refuse.

“Please, you have to help me! S-She’s, my sister!” The desperate girl alleges. Tears peeking out of the corner of her eyes.

It was for a fleeting moment, but Alexia could swear that behind the girl, she could see Maya's image appear for brief moments.

“(L-Lady Maya...? Could it...?)” Alexia thought in surprise, before closing her eyes tightly. “(Forgive me Lady Mia… it seems I have more in common with Phoenix than I thought…)”

"... Alright. I will listen to you." Alexia growls, covering her face.

“R-really!?” The girl says hopefully.

"Yes of course. Why not?" Alex comments like someone who doesn't want the thing.

"Thank you so much!" The girl exclaims ecstatically. “Oh! By the way, my name is Ema, Ema Skye. I am a scientific investigator.”

"You? A scientific investigator?” Alexia questions. Ema nods her head, clearly looking excited.

"That's how it is!" Ema exclaims proudly, but she is confused when she sees how Alexia looks at her, raising an eyebrow. "There is something wrong?"

“No, it's just that you look a little... very young. “Innocent” I would say.” Alexia comments looking at the girl.

"Young? But this year I will be sixteen years old!” Ema responds with a big smile.

“Oh, I see…” Alexia says to herself before the words register in her head. "Wait! Are you only fifteen right now!?” Ema nods with the zebra in confirmation.

"Yep! And I will be formally assigned to Forensic Sciences in three more years. My work is becoming quite well known… At my age, no less!” Ema reports happily. Alexia gave an internal sigh at Ema's last statement.

“(Do I really look THAT old compared to her? Everyone thinks I'm even older than Lady Maya, and I'm 11 years old...)” Alexia thinks, intrigued. “(Although, at least with my appearance I could outwit others… I hope so.)”

“Um, so what exactly is your current position?” Alexia asks.

“Well, legally speaking… I guess you could call me an “eleventh grader.” But I'm more than ready to do my job! At my age, no less!” Ema responds proudly.

“(Great, another future professional in training…)” Alexia thinks with a half-smile, before speaking; “So, do you want to be a scientific investigator when you grow up?”

“E-excuse me? I’m not a little girl, I let you know!” Ema says annoyed. Alexia will admit that she looks absolutely adorable when she’s angry.

“Young or not. Even so, it's still good to have a goal in life. As unusual as it may be.” Alexia says winking at him. Ema blushes slightly, before giggling.

“Well, I think research should be done scientifically! Don't you believe it?” Ema says happily.

"Oh yeah." Alexia comments, agreeing with the girl. “(I sure can't blame her for her lack of enthusiasm. Waiting to take the career you've always dreamed of is a rewarding feeling.)”

“If this case is handled scientifically, I am sure my sister's name will be cleared!” Ema exclaims excitedly.

“Of course, the accused is your sister.” Alexia comments thoughtfully.

“I've been doing research, you know! I'm developing a new scientific case investigation method! I’ll show you when I’m done!” Ema says, sure of herself.

“I’m looking forward to the moment.” Alexia says, stroking the little doctor's hair. Which she received with joy.

“So, with the introductions over.” Alex says, getting serious. “How about you talk to me about the case you have for me? You said the trial is tomorrow, right?”

“My sister didn't do it! She wouldn't stab anyone with a knife! She would never do it!” Ema exclaims nervously.

“So... it's a murder case.” Alexia murmurs thoughtfully.

“I don't care if there is a witness who saw her do it! She did not do it! I know she didn't do it! It’s a scientific fact!” Exclaims Ema annoyed.

“*Snort* And there is a witness…” Alexia murmurs, massaging her forehead.

“J-just talk to her! You have to talk to her!” Ema asks pleadingly.

“Sure… I guess I will.” Alexia mutters, crossing her arms.

“I promised her I would bring Mia Fey, but…” Ema mutters depressed.

“(That's interesting... How would this young lady know Lady Mia? Will she know her through her case or personally?)” Alexia thinks interestedly, before speaking; “Your sister wanted you to come for my… big sister, Mia Fey, right? Do they have a connection or something?”

"Oh yeah. Ms. Mia Fey was with her at school.” Ema responds with a small smile. “They were in the same class to be specific.”

"Oh, I see. So, she went to the same school as Mia.” Alexia comments surprised.

“She always told me to go to Ms. Mia Fey if she ever needed a defense attorney... And, well... I need one.” Adds Ema smiling. “And you being her younger sister, I'm sure you'll do it just like her.”

“*Giggle* It's very kind of you to help your sister like this. You two must be very close.” Alexia says with a small smile. But her smile fell when she saw Ema's expression, since she was one of sadness.

“H-Hey, is something wrong?” Alexia asks worriedly.

“Well... Actually, when she gets like she is now... I kind of hate her.” Ema murmurs sadly.

“(Huh?)” Alexia thinks in surprise.

“But... But she's my only family.” Ema adds, hugging herself.

“Your only family? What about your parents? Do you work from afar? Divorced? Dead?” Alexia questions.

“Dead. They died in a car accident when I was quite young.” Ema responds, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your parents.” Alexia says putting her hand on the little doctor's shoulder. “But we can still prevent the loss of your older sister. So, we should go to the detention center and talk to her to find out what's going on. What do you say? Will you come with me?”

“Uh… Yes! I’m right behind you!” Ema exclaims excitedly.

[soloyolo89]

Dating Eddie Munson HeadCanons (Part One)

SFW! Tooth Rotting Fluffy Nerds in Love - Besties to Lovers

(This is my first ever headcanon type thing so please be gentle but def please also let me know what you think! More to come! Maybe even Smut! *LE GASP!* Anyway, I'm very happy to be a part of the Eddie Munson Stan Fam. <3) P.S. Any formatting tips/help would be greatly appreciated because Tumblr is a freakin' mystery to me. I wanna make my posts pretty like ya'alls! <3

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

*You probably met in some unlikely place like the middle of the woods or maybe the video store - you are probably not his usual type but in this case it's likely a good thing!

*Prepare yourself for lots of DnD/High Fantasy references being applied to everyday life. You’re the Arwen to his Aragorn, but he only ever goes so far as to directly say when he’s very high or  very drunk - usually only to his closest friends (though you might have overheard him once!)

*He painstakingly taught himself Elvish as developed by Tolkien for Lord of the Rings. Sometimes he speaks it in his sleep (you’re learning if only to see what he whispers about - also, he smiles in his sleep and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen.)

*You are never cold because Eddie is 100% a gentleman and if the air is even somewhat chilly, you find yourself draped in his denim or leather! He even had a custom fleece lined denim jacket made for you for your birthday - it has a large Corroded Coffin patch on the back and you wear it constantly. He always takes your hands in his and even puts them into his pockets to warm them if he senses they’re too cold or notices you shivering. Without being asked to he blocks you from the wind, using his own lanky body to keep you from the harshness of winter in Hawkins. (He only complains a little but you know he is just being dramatic from the love in his eyes and the dimpled grin on his face).

*Speaking of Eddie being a gentleman - he opens all doors, pulls out your chair, and in his book ‘Ladies are always first.’ He treats all women with respect because that’s just how he is, but he is especially attentive to you. While he isn’t smothering or what one might consider ‘clingy,’ he does take a protective stance over you mostly because he is aware that dating the ‘Freak of Hawkins’ would likely paint some sort of target on you. Whenever someone says something or gives you the side eye, he always makes sure any flack falls onto him and not you if at all possible. And sometimes he’s not around when girls giggle at you and talk behind their hands and ask what it’s like to be violated by a Freak. They ask personal questions that borderline violate - Eddie isn’t a violent man but he didn’t say one crossword to you when you punched out Stephanie Lotterman for saying Eddie should be dead for what he did to Chrissy. He just kissed your busted knuckles and asked if you wanted ice, casually offering to give Steph’s boyfriend a matching black eye after he called you a whore.

*(He didn’t tell you everything about the Upside Down likely as a way to protect you, but he explained what happened with Chrissy in particular during the earlier part of your relationship. Everyone backed him up and you weren’t involved in that but you believe him - you believe all of them. The fear in their eyes and the way they talk about it - plus some of the unexplainable things you saw during that time…you just….believe them. Also…you saw the scars. You tended to them and kissed them and felt his breath hitch when you did.)

*You spend a lot of your time in Eddie and Wayne’s trailer - Wayne all but adores you and gives you plenty of privacy though he does occasionally join you two for dinner because they both absolutely adore your cooking. It’s been a long time since either of them have had good, home cooked meals and it shows. You watch a lot of bad horror movies and epic fantasy - read a lot, listen to tons of music in his room. You frequently trade books and mix tapes and give him feedback on his campaigns. Occasionally you even play with the Hellfire Club though you’re mostly a stand in because you’re still learning - but you’re happy to be the one to fetch drinks and snacks and help clean up at the end of the night because you’re terribly fond of the entire group. (Henderson is lowkey your favorite though.)

*You were absolutely not prepared for how utterly hilarious and charming Eddie is. He frequently has you doubling over with laughter - once he even made you genuinely concerned that you might pee yourself in the movie theater because of his quick witted snark. You realize the source of his humor is his perceptiveness and keen sense of people - he’s unique, no doubt about it.

*He took you on a picnic for your first “official” date. Skull Rock, a local makeout spot. Maybe not that romantic of a location but the effort he put into it was. There was music, flowers, and all your favorite snacks and drinks. Even candles! The set up was nestled on the very apex, away from the ground, making it less likely to have uninvited critters invade your meal. The view from up there was spectacular, especially at sunset. You could see all of Hawkins and its surrounding woods spread out beneath you. It seemed so small from this high up. The little lights that were houses and businesses were all but swallowed by the fierce green around them. Eddie’s eyes wandered idly between your side profile and the view. Eventually the stars came out and witness your first awkward, slightly sporadic kiss. Eddie made the first move, his lips a livewire against yours. He later admitted he felt like if he hadn’t kissed you in that moment he might have vibrated out of his skin. He admitted also that it was different with you. There was some sort of something between you - magnetic. Electric. It thrilled him. And terrified him.

*You felt very much the same.

*You were dating for six months before you had “the talk.” You wanted to wait - not for marriage, because you weren’t that religious, but for…well, the feeling it was right. Eddie was so patient, so understanding the entire time. No pressure. He respected your boundaries, always, and never went past a certain point. There was definite want in his dark eyes, though they were also tinged with slight hesitation. He was afraid of hurting you - he was more experienced than you, though most people your age could easily claim that because you were still a virgin at 19. 

*He was also respectful about smoking weed around you - he didn’t pressure you to drink or smoke, or try anything else either. You did eventually ask to try a joint and found you liked it, though you were not always in the mood to or able to smoke. Weed made you so relaxed and giggly it was practically impossible to hold a serious conversation or do anything near productive. Mostly you just snacked, laughed, talked about nonsense, watched garbage tv, or cuddled well into the night. 

*You were very sick with the flu the first time he told you he loved you. He’d come over with store bought chicken noodle soup and what must have been the entire cold & flu aisle at the local pharmacy. He’d whispered those three little words against your hair while he kissed your temple, thinking his little guitar strummed lullaby had put you to sleep. It had, but not deep enough to miss the confession.

*The look on his face when you sleepily grumbled them back was priceless.

[shdwtouch]

i like that you are always such a loving presence on the dash <3 i don't have much love to give, myself (i rarely feel love), and i feel awkward receiving it as well, so i prefer to send compliments on anon because i don't. i don't want the attention. i don't want people to see me as someone who is loving, because i'm not, and i get worried people will then expect it of me. anyway ignore this if you want no worries at all, but i do want to say it's nice to see someone with so much genuine love to give. <3

( as a note / for context, I received this the other night when I responded to the first unpopular opinion ask ! and as a note to anon, if you see this, I have included a response to your second ask under the cut <3 )

daw, thank you !! ; w ; I do try. like, I really do. I just. live by the resolve that I would never want people to feel like I have. I've felt... really low. been in really dark places, especially while in the roleplay community. and I honestly wouldn't wish that on anyone. everyone deserves love, support, and kindness. everyone deserves to feel seen and valid and wanted. it's... kind of awkward sometimes, honestly, but knowing that people see what I say and feel its intent makes it all worthwhile ! I try to be as accommodating and open-minded and, well, empathetic as I can. to say things I think people need to hear / see, and with the hope that my saying anything at all has helped another person say it, or not need to say it all. <3

as for you, I think that is valid ! and part of why I feel embarrassed sometimes, because I know that my flavor of love and support isn't one that everyone will enjoy. but I think that what you do is fair. and... to be completely honest. I think you situation is incredibly special. to rarely feel love but having the inkling to voice it anyway for the benefit of others... that is the sweetest thing I can think of. true, selfless love. because you aren't giving it because you expect anything in return, or because you want people to see you as a loving person... but because it is needed, or wanted. that is. incredibly wholesome, and you have my respect. just know that your kindness and love, even if anonymous, is valued and appreciated.

on the flipside, to know someone doesn't love or show kindness easily... but receive it from them ? that is truly special. intimate, even. and I hope the people around you know how incredibly special your care is, for that reason. (also, I don't meant to burst your bubble, and granted this is based on your anons alone, but... I would say you are a fairly loving and kind individual. I think the people around you would understand your position / situation and be immensely touched by the love you show them in spite of it. but I also understand your fears of it becoming expected, so I'm not judging you. it can be... exhausting when your love is expected by someone, even if offered freely. and I can definitely empathize with that anxiety on days I don't feel very supportive or don't have the spoons to offer the level of support I usually do.)

at any rate, I do appreciate your message. thank you, anon. ; w ; you have made me feel very valid and worthwhile in my efforts. <3

no no no ! that post had nothing to do with your message, I promise. I actually had a conversation with someone (that wasn't even really related to the post, tbh) that made me realize the post might have inspired insecurity in those who had read it, and I wanted to address that because I definitely didn't want anyone to feel bad for not sending positivity. I also realized after rereading the post that I had taken a very personal stance, and that might have implied a failure or fault in the part of my writing partners, which wasn't true. I think it can often be said we complain about what we lack before we first consider what we already possess.

and I don't want you to feel bad either ! that was not my intention. see what I have written above heheh I have a lot of respect for you and the love you show despite a lack of social energy, and I greatly appreciate you sending these messages, truly. <3

[grassangel]

Thoughts on GO2

Spoilers ahead

So I might just be a bit pleased with myself that I read Bad Grace, oh, 15 years ago? Which I always muddle up with Manchester Lost, but is definitely the superior fanfic because it's actually kind of likely. And given the ending of GO2? Very definitely likely that like Bad Grace, the second coming of Christ is going to be a girl and she, like Adam, will agree that Earth's quite nice actually. (And be implied to get together.)

Which will make some fans complain that Gneil has been reading fanfic on the sly, but like. that's the hallmark of good fanfic: working with the same ingredients and stirring in a similar fashion landing you a similar dish. And the Good Omens fandom is over 30 years old, there's been plenty of time to experiment with technique and ingredient combos.

And possibly also why Gneil has emphasised he can't read fanfic, because yeah, this does happen often enough that writers/authors will tread the same path as fic writers and have to prove their independent working.

Am I a bit miffed that the third act isn't Heaven, Hell and humans waging war against God? A little. But I suppose my personal second act headcanon of Heaven & Hell vs humans as the official third/final act is good too.

Anyway, I did feel the six episodes was a bit too long for what Gneil admits is pretty much a bridging season to get everyone into position for how the sequel would have started. Even if having s1: 6 episodes, s2: 6 episodes and s3: 6 episodes all lined up read like 666 is very funny. I did like that we finally got a bit more of Crowley Questioning things, Aziraphale's awful 'the poor have more chances to do good!' stance and showing, if not saying, that demons are from angelic stock. (I might have been mentally shouting 'Angelic stock!' every time I saw Crowley in his heavenly disguise before watching this season.)

There was a lot of 'Aziraphale and Crowley through history' - which yes, we all loved the cold open in s1, but I at least liked it because it was a depiction of The Arrangement and how it came about - and these bits in this season were decidedly NOT about The Arrangement. (Though again, I did like how we were shown Crowley is skeptical of this whole 'God's plan' thing.)

I would have appreciated more layering to the narrative and more parallels to Crowley and Aziraphale. Yes, we got Maggie and Nina, Gabriel and Beezlebub, but both of those pairings barely featured. Personally I'd have included Beezlebub in the Job sequence to further ram home the whole 'equal but opposite' thing. I'm surprised there wasn't a flashback to Jane Austen's heist with pointedly familiar people, and I would have rather had that than the WWII sequence, which rather lacked the opposite, but equally incompetent, heavenly snooping. Maybe have Nina and Maggie going around after Aziraphale and Crowley talking to the other shopkeepers about Nina's stance on the lights. Have a bit more demonic grumbling about Beezlebub - whether about her being a hardass trying to track Gabriel down or her not doing much since the Armagedidn't. Also, more of the fly and Jim being protective about it.

Because yeah, the last episode didn't quite feel earned. It would have felt more fitting to keep the general last 10 minutes, but like how Maggie and Nina aren't a certain thing, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't either so what is the point of the kiss? Like keep Aziraphale's notion of turning Crowley 'good' (please read that in the same way Michelle Gomez said 'good' in an extremely thick Scottish accent as Missy) and his extremely misguided belief that Heaven is good because they're heaven, but less kissing and more appealing that they're the same and humans don't need either demons or angels to do good or evil. (I personally love to hate Aziraphale being an asshole, and that was possibly the truest to the book part of the series.) (And while I do love a 'Crowley turns back into an angel' fic, I pretty much only like it when it's incidental/he does too many 'good' things/God decides to fuck around.)

No notes given on Muriel. I love her and want to be her friend.

[myviewsreviews]

My fear of social media

I am going to say a lot of frightening to say and deeply self focused crud. I am afraid being on here. I think a lot of people are, in one way or another. The vast majority of social media interaction is passive, consuming the output of others. That makes sense and the world would be less bright if there weren't a huge swarm of small or even almost nonexistent accounts liking posts and being a portal to the worlds of others for people out there for every million follower juggernaut. But I think at least a chunk of the reluctance, at least for people like me, is that it's scary to be out there. To put yourself out there actively. What if you have The Wrong Opinions and regret inflicting them on a wide audience one day? What if you're just cringe to someone and they decide to hurt you?

I took a trivializing stance on cyberbullying as a kid. Mostly because it was the only form of bullying the school system seemed interested in while I was acquiring quite foreseeable and preventable PTSD at the hands of very much physical interactions. I thought it was wild that someone could have interactions that weren't mandatory in some way, like being hearded out to the people who would then hold me down physically while brutalizing my body and mind over and over, and then expect me to take seriously their being upset at how those interactions turned out. I didn't interact with my peers willingly, or the teachers, the medical professionals, my own family, any of the systems that hurt me personally out of a desire for connection. It was because you don't get a choice sometimes. So, "oh no, there's words on a screen in my home I can turn off and never interact with again" seemed close to the way my own struggles had been characterised at times (just ignore the unignorable) but with a real way out. A real way to trade something I had never known (connection and freedom) for a safety that finding was my only life goal.

Now I'm an adult, it's easy to see how that was... A colander genuinely not understanding what a broken bucket has to complain about holes. People need people, I needed people then, so deeply and darkly that it was hard to identify fully, obfuscated by the size of the obstacles between reality and ideal. Even those of us with robust real and close friendship circles are part of a wider world, want on some level to have strangers see us see them in return. It's scary to open yourself up. And not wholly irrationally, having someone hurt you hurts you (insightful, I know, but it has to be said because so many people gloss over that when it comes to others), it's stress, it's a window by which trauma can enter your life. Sometimes people's online presences, deservedly at times but oftentimes not, hurt their lives in very tangible ways as well as the stress of knowing you're hated. It's not irrational to fear being hated, it's a fundamental part of most people's psychology.

I want to add material to the internet, it would be nice, but "it's foolish to open yourself up to others" is ingrained in more of us than I suspect, bucket or colander.

2/10, almost failed a chemistry class where all results had to be posted on my uni's forum, going to try harder

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #130

Is there a person you talk to everyday? Mom and Girt without fail. I'd say most days some messages go between me, Mazzy, and Tez.

Does one of your parents ever complain to you about the other parent? My mother will take any opportunity to talk shit about my dad, yes, meanwhile Dad NEVER has while I've been with him. As a matter of fact, all my dad ever has to say about her around us kids is that she did a damn good job raising us/is a wonderful mother. I honestly would not be surprised if Mom, meanwhile, would prefer him dead with how she handles the topic of him. I know I don't know everything about why they split, but how she is about Dad nearly a whole decade after they split is kinda ridiculous. It's uncomfortable showing in any way that we care about him in her presence because she VERY obviously hates it.

If you have a webcam, do you take more pictures or make more videos with it? I've never used this webcam and historically have also avoided using them at all costs. I only ever really have for virtual appointments.

Who was the last person you wished a “Happy Birthday” to? Actually Kelsee today; she's the daughter of my favorite teacher. Basically an impossibly sweet human being.

Last person you kissed, are they into any type of sports? Which ones? No.

Does your best friend have a job? Yeah, he's worked at the same place for very nearly a decade.

Do you ever visit people at work? Thus far I've brought lunch to Girt at work once, and I plan to keep doing that occasionally forever. I just don't do it a lot now because his work is rather far and Mom has a super shitty car that doesn't need to drive that far, but also I don't have my own income and am not having Mom pay for it. The one time I did do it was with gifted money.

When you move out your house (or if you already have moved out) do you plan on still visiting your parents' house? I fully intend to invite Mom over for dinner like once a week, and I'd absolutely come back here if she wanted me to for something. It breaks my mom's fucking heart how Ashley and Nicole are, generally acting like she's no longer important, and I'll fucking die before I let her feel like I've left her behind, too. I'd still visit Dad too, probably occasionally invite him over. It's a hard situation to imagine just because I already very rarely see him.

What is one thing you hope never changes about you? How much I care about people.

Who was the last person you were mad at? Me.

Why did you break your last promise? Honestly, I feel like the only real promise I HAVE broken (that I remember, I'm sure it's happened more than just once, realistically) is the one I made with Sara, to keep her straight-up diabolical political stance a secret. I broke it because I don't protect the feelings of Nazis/very literal Hitler fangirls. I never should have kept it secret in the first place.

Has anyone ever told you that you were really pretty? Yeah, somehow.

Do you listen to a wide variety of music? Not really, but I've been more open to pop music in recent times... granted, they're primarily songs I grew up with lmao, but still.

What holiday are you looking forward to next? So I'm not very big on the 4th of July just because I'm not this country's biggest fan, but it's more appealing knowing I'll probably spend it with Girt's family, like last year.

Did you ever go through a phase when you didn’t want to take medicine? My problems have always been just being upset over how many medications I've been prescribed during certain periods. There have been many occasions in the past where I've gotten verbally pissed off and even cried over just how many medications I was waking up to and having to take before bed. 100% convinced my memory and focus problems hold DEEP roots in just being so grossly overmedicated by the time I was just a young teenager, and it remained that way for a very, very long time. Thankfully, I'm more at peace with the number I take now; I'm not happy about it, but it's absolutely nothing like it used to be.

Do you love popsicles? They're fine.

Do you like your smile? No, entirely convinced I look high as shit and I know I have a lazy eye when I do smile.

Was the last book you read good? Yup, it was. Jesus, I need to start reading more again... I've been on the same book for SO fucking long.

Does sunlight make you feel happier? Yes, it absolutely does. This was something I learned around the time I started recovering from the breakup and my worst level of depression: I used to be the person who kept the shades closed, lights off always, and just live in the dark. Then I started keeping my shades open and just in general stay in decently-lit rooms, and it made a pretty profound impact on my happiness, eventually. It's why I'm not even big on rainy days anymore; they used to be my favorite, but nowadays I will absolutely feel a difference if it's gloomy outside.

What helps you fall asleep? Fucking nothing. I finally almost cried last night over just how atrocious my ability to fall asleep has been lately; I'm regularly not falling asleep until early morning hours. I just lay in bed for hours on end tossing and turning and being completely fucking miserable. Thankfully I'm starting a new medication tonight that is meant to help me fall asleep... I just hope it works, because historically, meds meant to assist in good sleep have had zero effect on me. I'm one of those people that isn't even knocked out by Benadryl, and you always hear about how that'll knock you flat on your ass.

Do you have stomach problems? Yes.

Do you enjoy editing photos? Yeah, that's basically mandatory to be a notably successful photographer lol, as much as many people don't like to admit.

What was the last photo filter you used? I think it was this one called "Honey" that's on my phone for a picture I took of Girt's sister's dog Onyx.

Do you live a simple life? I'm sure it looks like it on the very surface to people who don't know me well whatsoever, but you realize pretty fucking quickly it's astronomically far from "simple."

What was the last song you listened to on repeat? "Rein raus" by Rammstein.

What are three of your favorite toppings for a pizza? Pepperoni, sausage, and jalapeno are all good.

What are three of your favorite ingredients for a salad? Besides the lettuce, I'm assuming? Cucumbers, bacon bits, and uh... that's it lmao I am MEGA basic with salad. WELL I will say I do absolutely love the jalapenos that are in Olive Garden's salads, like that's my favorite part of the whole thing haha, but idk if I'd enjoy them in every salad.

Do you express yourself better out loud or in writing? Oh there is ZERO competition here, my ability to express myself in writing is indisputably WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY better than my capability to do so verbally. I can barely make a normal sentence when speaking.

Do you sing in the shower? No.

What are three random things you are good at? Writing, taking pictures I'd hope, and understanding animal body language, generally.

What is one thing you’ve been waiting patiently for for quite some time? Finding a job, I guess. Though I've been less patient about it lately. I've been doing daily (and I do mean daily) checks online for around three months now for various job titles I feel I could realistically do, and I'm just not getting lucky at all.

What are three of the most painful things you have ever stepped on? Uh idk, honestly.

If you could choose three US states to visit, which three states would you pick? Alaska, Arizona, and one of the states Yellowstone is part of; I'd have to research more about each state.

What color is your camera case (if you have one)? It's black.

What are three things you like that start with the same letter as your middle name? MEERKATS (are you even remotely surprised), music, and mountains.

Which do you use more: Facebook or Instagram? Facebook.

When was the last time you swam in a pool? Today actually; I did hydrotherapy today at PT because there were no land slots for this week when we were scheduling. Well, I guess I didn't really swim because I couldn't get my tattoo wet (it's a saltwater pool), like both my feet never completely left the bottom, but still.

Who or what do you worship? Nothing; I'm not even really a "hail thyself" person just because I think it puts too much divine worth on just us insignificant humans. We're nothing special in the grand scheme of the universe and I think that mentality feeds the ego too much.

Do you know a Ted? Yeah, that's the name of one of my childhood friend's dad.

Have you ever swam in one of the Great Lakes? No.

What is one thing you wish were more easily accessible? ADEQUATE FUCKING HEALTHCARE.

Have you ever chopped something with an axe? No.

What is one mistake you’ve made that you hope to never repeat? Hand my entire identity and worth over to another person.

What was the last thing that kept you awake? My brain doesn't know how to shut the fuck up whenever I try to sleep; that's the primary problem, and it's been that way since I was a literal child. My brain is just always, ALWAYS going, even when I try to tell myself to just concentrate on sleeping. Then there's also the fact my tattoo is starting to scab, and just because of the location, I can really feel the scabbing pull when I roll around in bed, and that obviously hurts.

If you have pets, do they sleep in your bedroom at night? Roman generally does, and sometimes Cookie decides to sleep in my bed instead of Mom's. Venus' terrarium is also in my bedroom.

Can you sleep with background noise or does it keep you up? Only if it's something on the quieter side and monotonous, like a fan. I definitely struggle with like, a TV being on.

Who was the last person to cook you a meal? What did they make? Mom made popcorn shrimp and white rice tonight.

Who was the last person you cooked a meal for? What did you make? I made eggs once when Sara was here.

Who is your female celeb crush? (If applicable) Y'ALL I fucking hate wrestling and find the acting cringy as shit, including whom's I'm about to mention (I know because my niece and nephew like watching????), but Rhea Ripley could RUIN ME and I would thank her

Who is your male celeb crush? (If applicable) I don't think I'll ever be able to explain my level of attraction towards Richard Kruspe even though he could literally be my dad h e l p

Do you have a favorite Marvel character? Probably Deadpool.

Favorite DC character? Harley Quinn.

Who has been your favorite actor to play Batman (live-action)? No opinion, I haven't even seen them all.

Who has been your favorite live-action Joker? Heath Ledger was MADE for the role imo, even if it did cause him a lot of harm. I probably also just have a bias because Heath Ledger's Joker was Jason's favorite thing on the face of the planet.

Has a horror film ever actually scared you? Which one(s)? [TW: RAPE MENTION] There's only been one that has, and that's only because it fed off my pregnancy phobia: The Rite. Doubt it's spoiler material with just being a big part of the plot and it's an old movie now, but a woman is raped by either a demon or just straight-up the devil and it's EXTREMELY fucking gross, like I could not handle it. I still wouldn't watch it to this day, I'm pretty sure I didn't even finish watching it when Nicole had it on. Like obviously I don't believe in supernatural impregnation but I still couldn't handle it.

What was the last horror movie you saw? Well Girt and I startedThe Black Phone but didn't finish it, I've told this story enough.

What was the first horror movie you remember seeing? What did you think of it? Hmmmm... it might have been the OG Paranormal Activity movie. At least, that's the first I remember. I liked it; I tend to like "paranormal evidence" horror films, the ones that seem like they actually happened and can't be explained. I find those much easier to put yourself into/imagine them happening to you.

Name a few historical figures you find interesting. Why? I don't care enough about history for this lmao.

What is your favorite historical film and why? The Boy in the Striped Pajamas because it tears my fucking heart ENTIRELY open every time I see it. I'm crying without fail.

Do you usually enjoy historical films? Not usually, or at least they're not the sort of movies that I seek out.

Name a sequel film (any franchise) you like better than the first film. Why is that? Shrek 2 lmao, the first movie is absolutely legendary and I love it but the second is just more fun to me.

Which do you find most interesting: Greek, Roman, or Norse mythology? Why? Greek. I think it's just because that's what I know most about, though. I will say what I know of Norse is awesome too; it has total potential to be my favorite if I actually knew more about it. All I do know comes from the two most recent God of War games, and while I'm quite sure it is a rather accurate representation of key roles and events, I'm definitely not sure.

Which tale from whichever mythology you listed above do you find most interesting? ... You're making me realize I actually don't remember a lot of Greek mythos lmao, it's been too long since I was in mythology class. With Norse though, I think Jörmungandr as well as Sköll and Hati's lore are very cool.

Do you collect anything? What was the last item you added to that collection? Meerkat stuff is my primary collection; I think the last thing I got relating to meerkats was a shirt. I also collect Silent Hill merch, but I can't recall what the last thing I added on was.

What is your favorite vampire movie? I don't really have one.

Your favorite fictional couple? This is BASICALLY impossible, but I thiiiink I can pick one: Woo Young-Woo and Lee Jung-Ho from Extraordinary Attorney Woo, like that is just a STRAIGHT-UP wholesome, genuine relationship that warms my fucking heart to mush.

Do you have a favorite historical couple? Nope. Again, just don't know enough about history or care enough to dig into their personal lives, especially.

[original-siphon]

The Boy Next Door

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warning: Smut.. Idt anything else.

A/n: I merged two requests. This is set during the beginning of Voyage of the Dawn Treader time, when (in my opinion) Edmund looked the most handsome. Oh god I can die for this man 😭.

Also I'm planning to make another part of it.

P. S. Apologies for poorly written smut :")

Request by @zadri and anon

____________________________________________________

It was late November, when your family moved to Cambridge, to the house right beside the Scrubbs'. Your father had bought the house now, so you had to go along with the plan, even though you were quite reluctant moving there. Even after lots of arguments and quarrels with your father, he wouldn't change his mind. So here you were now, unloading your boxes from the truck and moving them to your bedroom.

You whined as you climbed up the stairs, this house wasn't bad, but you'd miss your old one very much. More like you'd miss your friends from there, because being a teenager was hard. Being the new girl in your neighborhood and trying to blend wouldn't be that easy. Your father noticed your constant sighing and mumbling and asked at last, "Y/n, honey, are you okay?"

What were you supposed to say to that? He knew you weren't, your weekly arguments about moving to this place made it pretty clear. So you took a seat on the lowest step of the stairs quietly, and eyed the man before you.

"I know you didn't want this, dear," your father spoke softly, "but I can't let you complain about it anymore. What's done is done. We've moved here now. So I suggest you give this place a chance rather than not."

You fidgetted with your hands, looking down. He was right. This was your life now. At least you have to try to make the best of it. So you nodded at him, and got up to your bedroom to unpack.

You had an enormous amounts of clothes. You sighed, "Why does this has to be so hard."

You decided that the two boxes that are still left can be unpacked later and went to stand in front of a window of your room. It didn't have a very good view like your other window, but you hadn't explored this window yet so you stood in front of it, looking outside. From there, you could see a bedroom of your neighbour's house very clearly. And that's when it happened. A boy, not much older than you, came in and started undoing his shirt buttons. He had brown hair and eyes but right now you were far more focused on his bare chest. He wasn't paying attention to his opened window, didn't even pull the curtains. But right before he undid the zipper of his pants, he looked to your direction, locking eyes with you. You could tell he was as flustered as you were, but none of you moved, you kept staring at each other. It was his slightest movement that brought you back from your stance and you nothing but jumped away from his gaze and ran further inside your bedroom, where he couldn't see you anymore. You collected your thoughts as you sat yourself on your bed. You just moved. You couldn't just stare at your hot neighbour undressing in front of the window. Emphasis on HOT. Yes, that he was. You shook your head, removing the thought out of your head. It was dinner time anyways so you should join your family downstairs and get your mind off of it. You pulled on your feet, and brought yourself to climb down the stairs.

Dinner was quiet. You knew you were, after what just happened. You couldn't stop thinking about it. About him. Putting your dish in the sink, you thought if he'll still be in his room when you got back to yours. You could just peek once while putting the curtains on of your window, no harm in it, right? So without any further delay, you climbed back up to your room to work through the plan. You went up to the window, tugging at the curtain, and looked sneakily at his room. He wasn't there. You felt a wave of disappointment that you shouldn't have, but took it and yourself to your bed, and hoped to sleep. Which you did, after the long day that you had.

Next day, you woke up hearing chatters down in your living room. You cleaned up quickly to go downstairs and see what the noise was about. As you were on the last step of the stairs your mother greeted you, "Good morning, Y/n, dear. The Scrubbs are here!" Scrubbs? As in the people who live next door? The boy you saw naked belonged to that house! You chuckled lowly, hiding your embarassment and hoping that boy didn't come to visit. "Good morning, mum, Mr and Mrs Scrubb." You felt awkward, and scanned the room sleekly. No sign of the boy, thank goodness. Comfortable now, you sat next to the girl who seemed a little older than you. She was quick to talk to you, "Hi, I'm Susan Pevensie," she said as she turned to face you, "I'm here to visit my siblings and cousin." You smiled at her, she seemed pleasant, "I'm Y/n Y/l/n, nice to meet you." Siblings and cousin she said? That boy must be her brother then. Own brother clearly, her hair and eye colour resembled very much. "You're coming to our place for lunch, Y/n. The neighbours should get to know each other well, right," she stated and asked, you couldn't figure what to say, when she continued, "and you'll be delighted to know that I have a brother of about same age as you. I hope you become friends." She smiled at you sweetly, which you returned, but right now your mind was running a hundred miles. She must be talking about him. The boy you're dreading to meet. You knew there will come a time where your parents and the Scrubbs were going to get acquainted. How could you do something so stupid? Not even one day in the neighborhood and you already built complications.

Another hour passed as your parents and the Scrubbs talked, Susan and you exchanged a few words as well. Then they left. Which meant only one thing, lunchtime was soon. You huffed and said, "Mum, do I have to go?"

"Well, obviously, Y/n," your mother replied, "the invitation is for all of us."

"Yeah, well," you muttered, "can't I just like not go this time?"

"Darling," you heard your mother speaking sternly, "you heard Mrs. Scrubbs, didn't you? There are kids of your age, you'll like it there! And if nothing, Susan seemed good. She'll company you. Don't stay holed up in your room when you have a chance to mingle is all I'm saying."

She was right. You couldn't stay alone forever, you had to make friends. And Susan did seem good. You nodded as your mother asked you to get ready, before going back up to your room.

You opened your closet, to pick something to wear. You wanted to seem good enough and make an impression while meeting your neighbours, mostly on that boy, but you weren't going to accept that. You'd rather stay in denial. Especially after what happened last night, denial was your best option. You pick a floral dress, gorgeous enough but not too vibrant. Subtle was your suit. Slipping it on, you climbed down the stairs to see your parents ready. So yes, you were doing this, and doing this now. Your heart raced, mixed with social anxiety and embarrassment for obvious reasons. But you shook it off, plastering a smile to your face. Yes, you were ready to do this.

A twenty seconds walk and a knock on the door revealed a very pleased Mrs. Scrubb, "Come on in already, we were just awaiting your arrival," she smiled at you all and then faced inside of her house, "Honey, the Y/l/ns' are here!"

She stepped aside and gave you all space to come inside.

It was a beautifully decorated house, neat and clean, and had a very homey feeling. Before you could comprehend, you were taken to the dining table and seated on one of the chairs. One by one, the members of the family came up to take seats. You knew Susan, but not the girl that followed beside her. Your curiosity was visible, maybe that's why you heard Susan chiming up, "Y/n meet my sister, Lucy. And that is my cousin Eustace," she took a chair beside you as you followed her gaze to a rather young blonde boy. And right behind him, came the boy you saw last night. "And that is Edmund, my brother." You locked eyes with him, and your face heated up. You could tell that even he was quite embarrassed, looking at you, and from that look, you knew he wasn't expecting this. What was more unexpected was that the only empty chair left for Edmund was the other chair beside you. Since he came in the last, all the other chairs were occupied already.

You internally groaned as Susan said from beside you, "Y/n, Edmund is the one we were talking about earlier."

"You- you were talking about... me?" Edmund startled from the chair he now sat in.

"No," you spoke lowly, "Susan was just telling me that she has a brother around my age... " you trailed off, knowing that you indirectly referred last night's incident.

"Oh, I thought," he quickly stopped. No wonder he thought the same thing.

"What did you think, Ed," said Susan again, plainly curious, "You're not that special that we'd have a proper discussion about you." Her sisterly teasing relieved you of enough tension now, so that you were actually concentrating on the lunch and the conversations. Though during, you and Edmund never shared a glance or a few words. It was undeniably embarrassing for both of you. You thanked God too early, because suddenly it was Mrs Scrubb's turn to say, "Edmund, why don't you show Y/n around? She's new, you've been living here for a while. She could use the company!"

While her words were nothing but sincere, you couldn't help your eyes getting wide at the idea. Edmund of all people? Couldn't she ask Susan? For God's sake.

"That sounds lovely," your mother didn't miss the chance to grab the idea, "Y/n really could use some company right now."

"So, Edmund?" Mrs Scrubb asked, expecting a positive answer anyways.

"Sure," Edmund spoke finally, "Whenever Y/n's free," he tried to sound as nonchalant as he could.

"Y/n literally has nothing to do for a few days. I'd really prefer her to be out instead of just staying holed up in her room." Your mother was practically embarrassing you right now. You had to say something.

"That's right, I'm free even this evening. Would that work, Edmund?"

"Sure," he coughed, "today... evening it is."

You could feel his unease, even you were uneasy.

"Susan," you turned to face her, "won't you join us?" You were hoping so hard and begging God that she agreed.

"I would've, surely. But I am leaving for America tomorrow." You heard the genuine disappointment in her voice. But you were surely more disappointed.

"That's okay," you said under your breath. Edmund and you it is. Great.

"So what are you guys waiting for?" Mrs Scrubb chirped, "It is already evening, Y/l/ns' wouldn't want their daughter to return late. Get the evening started already."

--

You had left with Edmund now, for a walk, but much to your discomfort none of you talked. He occasionally sent awkward glances to your way, but nothing more.

"Listen... I'm sorry," you didn't know from where this sudden urge to apologise came, "I shouldn't have.. looked." You fidgetted with the long sleeve of your sweater, awkwardness settling over once again.

"Well I was the stupid one," he broke the silence, "to undress while leaving the curtains off."

He awkwardly chuckled, "In my defense, I didn't know people had moved next door."

"And in my defense, I didn't know other people even lived next door," you lightened up by now, "doesn't really matter as a good excuse though.. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologise over and over again, Y/n," he chuckled again, louder and lighter this time, "it's really okay."

You fell silent again, but somehow it was more comfortable than before. But then he broke it again, saying, "I do have to ask one thing, I can't help but."

"Oh," you glanced up curiously, meeting his eyes, "what is it?"

"Did you like it?" You didn't know what he was talking about. Liked what? The confusion that etched on your face was visible, urging Edmund to ask his question clearly this time.

"What I meant was, did you like what you saw last night?"

What? How could he be so blunt? Just a minute back he was all red as a pumpkin just looking at you, now he's what, flirting? You couldn't register, shook your head again before asking, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you very well know what I mean. You couldn't take your eyes off as much as I remember." His reply was not what you expected. The incident that had you both so embarrassed all day, and he's being suggestive about that now. Well obviously you couldn't deny, you were attracted toward him from that very moment.

Before you even realised, Edmund had you cornered in a secluded lane. "Don't be shy now, just tell me if you liked it."

You heard him, talking like that to you, so your mind wandered into dirty places. "Yes," you breathily said, "I liked it." Your response had somehow fuelled Edmund's burning gaze on your body, and his face now had a smirk dancing on it, "Do you wish to see more?" And with that, his arms slithered around your waist. "Y-yes," your voice shook, still you managed a response out with whatever strength you had, "I do." He let go of you at that, his sly smile never leaving his face. You were somewhat disappointed at the loss of contact, but quickly perked up when the boy before you said, "Then let's take this to my room."

--

The plan was simple. While the families are busy with their chitter chatter, you and Edmund would quietly get in his house, and sneak to his room. And when you're done, you'd just climb down the stairs as quietly and pretend you just came back. It was challenging, but you two managed to pull it off. You were now successfully in Edmund's room, unbeknownst to anyone of his or your family.

"Well, you have a nice room," you said looking around. But Edmund out of nowhere grabbed you by the waist and said pulling you in, "We don't have much time for this chitchat," he breathed into your ears before biting it softly, "Plus, you seen my room before."

This has you all hot and wet, and you started letting your hands roam around his body. "Edmund... please," you begged, unsure for what. You felt him pulling you even closer, your breasts were now mushed against his chest. "Use your words, doll," that nickname made you even wetter, if that was possible. "Please... make me cum," you blurted, voice so shaky that it came out as a loud whisper.

"Sure thing," he smirked, liking the effect he had on you. And with that you were pushed onto his bed, legs parted and his hips in between. He held your hands up with one of his hands, while he used the other to cup one of your breasts.

"So full and plump," he squeezed it gently and pried off the fabric of your dress, and then your bra. You were aware now that your breast was bared to him, the heat in your core grew at that point when you couldn't take it anymore, so you ground your pelvis to his through the clothes.

"Getting impatient now, are we?" The tease in his voice was audible, it was also visible on his face.

"You said we didn't have much time. Can't blame me if I wanna make the most of it," you didn't hide the urgency in your words, you couldn't.

"You've got a point," his brown eyes had now turned fully dark with desire, "let's get on to it then."

His hand started working your dress buttons off, and in no time it was discarded to the floor. You managed to unbutton his shirt in the meantime, and had both of you half naked, coddling each other. He dropped his hand lower to your body, touching your core through your panties while assaulting your neck with wet and sloppy kisses.

"Don't be a tease," you whimpered, pleasure was already getting better of you. He took it has a signal and pushed the crotch of your panties aside to finger you. "Only one finger inside, and you're already a mess," he said against your collarbone, "what would you do if I added another?"

That he did. Two of his fingers were inside your core, making a come hither motion against all the right spots. His thumb brushed across your clit, getting you tightened around his fingers.

"Not yet, doll," his warm breath fell on your cheeks, "pleasure's best when it's mutual."

You opened your eyes to look at him, not even remembering when you closed them in the first place. The built up pleasure was too overwhelming to be not focused on. Your eyes met as he pulled his fingers out and to his lips, licking all of your juices.

"Tastes better than I imagined."

"You imagined?" Your curiosity was genuine.

"That's right doll," he smirked, "I imagined it all night long yesterday, while I got myself off."

That had you going nuts now. Your desire for him grew to the point where you couldn't stop yourself from saying, "Edmund, fuck me now."

He heard you, seemingly understood you. So he wasted no time in discarding of his pants and boxers. His hard-on sprung out and your mouth fell agape. You couldn't help but stare at the size, and imagine it filling you up in the best ways possible.

"I won't make you wait anymore now," he aligned his cock to your core, running his tip through your slit up and down a few time before gently pushing in. You moaned vulgarly, finally getting what you anticipated all the evening. He started riding you, keeping one hand under your neck while the other held you by the waist, keeping you in place during each one of his thrusts. Your hand roamed his back, occasionally scratching him ever so slightly, as you started buckling your hips to meet his. After a few of his slow thrusts, he picked up the pace, hitting every part of your insides with each motion. His pace kept increasing, as he grunted against your neck with each thrust. Even you were a moaning mess now, you could feel the coil in your lower belly tighten. "I'm close," you say between your moans.

"Even I am, doll," Edmund said, "but you let it go for me first." That was enough to have you come undone on him. You felt ripples of pleasure rolling out of your core as he kept going faster, until he pulled out. Hot white liquid spilled on your breasts, and above you he was panting, eyes closed, beads of sweat decorating his beautiful forehead.

--

Moments later, you helped each other get dressed, comfortable silence settled between you. "I wish we didn't have to hurry," said Edmund while buttonning his shirt and met your eyes, smiling a bit, "we could've had another round."

"I would've enjoyed that," you said, smiling back , "definitely." You both were dressed, you were just fixing your hair when Edmund pulled you in from behind. You turned your face to look at him and he kissed you gently on your lips. It was a simple peck, nothing more, which confused you.

"So you give that sort of kiss after you just fuck a girl?" You couldn't help but speak up your thoughts.

"I've never done this before," he said quietly, "I felt nervous to kiss you."

His revelation confused you more.

"You've never had sex?" You turned in his arms, now completely facing him.

"Yes," he said, looking deep into your eyes, "but it was usually after I dated the girl."

You tilted your head at that, "I'm not expecting anything from you, Edmund," you said, kissing him softly, "I hope you know that."

"But I don't want you to think that way, Y/n," his brows knitted, "I would love to be more than a one time thing. If you're okay with giving a try."

Your smile grew bigger at his words, "It's quite worth the try, I'm sure."

You locked lips again, but it was sweet and gentle, you didn't believe something that sweet was possible after the filthy time you had.

"Glad you live next door, Y/n," he winked, smiling suggestively, "we're gonna have so much fun."

And it was no secret anymore that the feeling was mutual.

[luvsjimmyreed]

Jimmy Reed: On Gwen Berry and Yeonmi Park

Yeonmi Park: If [Gwen Berry] did the exact same thing at this very moment, if she was North Korean, not only herself will be executed, [also] eight generations of her family can be sent to political prison camp and execution. And the fact that she’s complaining about this country, the most tolerant country, she doesn’t really understand history.

Jimmy Reed: Uh, look-a here, my friend. What exactly is the point here that you're trying to make? That folks here in the United States shouldn't exercise their freedom to protest, because people in North Korea can't? I think you are going at this a bit... backwards. Wouldn't it be much better if both Americans and North Koreans have a freedom to protest in their own countries? Also, don't you think compulsory displays of patriotism is a bit authoritarian? Now, I have a lot of great sympathy for you. It took much courage for you and your mother to flee North Korea, and I tip my hat to you for that. Everything I am saying to you right now... well, I'm saying this to you in love. I think it is... awesome... that you are advocating for freedom of all those still in North Korea. However, it shouldn't be a contest of who's... more oppressed. Less bad does not mean good or acceptable. In fact, we should all be united in... working to oppose oppression wherever we may find it. So, my friend, I beg of you to rethink your stance. Injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere. I'll be happy to have a conversation with you, if you are open to that. Feel free to hit me up, and let me know where I can contact you.

[ecclais-fouoras]

SOFTER ON THE INSIDE

Ch1

Warning ⚠️ mention of self harm and scoliosis (a bit of blood)

Wilhelmina venable was a women everyone feared. She held the outpost with her strict rules and her iron fist.

Everybody was sitting at the dinner table eating their cubes.

Everyone feared her except for you, venable was interesting and honestly very attractive.

Gallant started complaining about the food as always followed by coco and you could again feel venable get annoyed at this.

"Come on you can't keep serving us this shit !"

"He's right ! I'm starving and you give us that crap !"

"Stop it coco She's not our enemy for God sakes ! Eat your cube damn ! Your alive !!! You are actually ALIVE when the rest of the world is rather dead or dying. So stop being the ungrateful spoiled bitch you always were and try to at least learn something new for once like how to be a better human being !"

She stood up from her chair and tapped her cane on the ground before she could protest you mumbled "sorry miss venable"

As you sat back on your chair.

"Miss vanderbilt, mrs gallant sit down and eat those damn cubes before I think about punishing you both"

They got back on their seats and ate in silence.

After dinner you went to the Library for a bit before going to bed.

You were drawing on some handmade paper with charcoal and you heard ths soft thud of Venable's cane on the floor.

You immediately pulled down the burned material and cleaned up your hands on your dress.

Your long purple dress was now a bit dirty and you couldn't help but feel like a dear cought in headlights.

"What are you doing in here miss y/l/n

And why are your clothes dirty"

"I'm sorry miss venable i was just drawing in hear and since I don't have any material i had to be a little creative but it turned out to be quite messy"

You said softly.

"Well i suppose you are allowed to draw but you will clean up after your mess"

"Yes of course i will, is there any particular reason why you came here?"

"Can't i just enjoy a little reading in the library"

"Oh..of course i just...well of course you can"

"That's awfully nice of you miss"

She said in a sarcastic tone.

She sat down on the couch and you went back to drawing. She noticed a jar field with red liquid that you seemed to be using as paint with a brush made out of hair and wood. She really admired your inventivity, and how you came up with solution to everything.

"What is that ?" She asked pointing the pot and you got really nervous suddenly.

"...what do you mean?"

"What is the red liquid and where does it comes from ?" She asked in a strict tone

"...it's... blood"

"WHAT !" She was shocked and kind of disappointed you had always been her favorite and now this !

"Wait I CAN EXPLAIN !" You said your voice filled with urgency.

"Of course you will, i expect yo..."

"It's mine !" Before she could finish her sentence you cut her off.

"I'm sorry what ?"

"It's mine, the blood in the cup. I didn't have any paint, and i couldn't get anything to make pigment powder. Since I only have black and grey i figured that red would be more interesting and put some egg yolk and blood in a jar." She was confused.

"Is this your period blood?"

"No it's blood, blood"

"Where did you get it then"

"...well...i just had to make a small incision on my ankle"

"....and why on your ankle miss y/L/n ?"

"Well it's the place that bleeds the most with the littlest pain, and it's also easier to clean and hide..."

"And How Would you know that"

There was a longer pause between you two.

"I expect an answer y/n"

"... I...I just do"

"Try harder, I am not buying it "

"I...I used to self harm...I just...now i know how it bleeds and how much does it hurts"

"..i had no idea I'm sorry"

"It's fine I'm okay now, it took me the apocalypse but i figured if the world is ending with us i should try to stay clean"

"Can I see your drawing ?"

"Yes sure bit i thought you were trying to read ?"

"Yes i wanted to but the couch is uncomfortable"

"Yes that's why I sit here it's better...here have a seat"

You said as you patted the place next to you.

"Here ?"

"Yes, well of you want to of course."

"I do"

There was something in the air between you two and you could feel it.

"When did you start this ? It looks really good, were you an artist before ?"

"Yesterday, and well not as a job but I did practice a lot"

"Anyways you have a lot of talent."

"Thank you, do you want to draw too? I can give you one of the paper sheets i made"

"No thank you"

"Okay"

You two sat there for a few hours until it was time to go back to your rooms, you offered to take her and she kindly accepted. As you were before the door she read a message that was on the door

"I can't help you tonight i had to go and clean something "

"Shit" she cursed behind her breath

"What was that ?" You asked softly "is everything okay ?"

"Yes" she replied coldly, it was odd especially since she had been sweet to you the whole time.

"I can tell there is something wrong, can I help ? You do so much for us, i just want to give you a hand in return"

She didn't say anything as she was considering letting you in, after all you had been nice all along, she could try and trust you. Could she ?

"You can trust me you know. Whatever it is i won't tell them"

She opened her door slightly and pulled you in. Suddenly her stance had changed, she was more tired, more vulnerable, and cute? Yes definitely she looked so sweet.

"..well..this is embarrassing, i"

"Don't be embarrassed around me miss venable, everyone needs a little help every once in awhile, it's also nice to see you like this"

"What do you mean like this ?"

"Well I mean without anyone else to bother us, and you know...like you're normal self"

"I'm not normal y/l/n"

"Please call me y/n, and You are... I mean normal as in being yourself... without trying to scare everyone"

She giggled softly and a smile crept up your face.

"See just like this"

You both stared at each other before you could ask her what she needed help with.

"So you need me for something ?"

".. yes..you see usually miss mead helps me change since I can't pull the zipper of my dresses in my... condition"

"Sure okay...so just turn around and I'll unzip you" you began to make her spin but she stopped you

"Wait..you need to know...i have scoliosis...it looks disgusting.."

"Do you want me to close my eyes if it'd make you more comfortable ? The last thing I want is to hurt you by trying to help. But know that I won't judge you, especially if it's about a physical appearance you can't help with. You know our bodies is what keeps us alive, i spent all my life trying to destroy mine in everyway possible because the feeling of being inside of it was to unbearable. But it turns out my body is what makes me feel, smile, laugh, smell and love. I would not be there if she wasn't. So i had to learn to be kinder to myself"

Her eyes were watery as she took your words in. It was so out of character for her, she always seemed to have everything together but in reality she was a big softy struggling with self image.

"Oh no please don't cry, i don't want to see you be sad." You said as you held her cheek, it was a bold move but she didn't seem to be mad about it.

You decided to stay in front of her to unzip her, and reach behind her to find the hell of her dress.

She flinched lighltly as you dragged it down her spine, and she didn't have time to catch her dress as it fell at her feet. She wore this purple lingerie gown underneath and you couldn't help but stare at her body.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. Leave now please"

"Don't be sorry it's fine, here" you picked her dress up and covered her with it.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of Wilhelmina, you are breathtakingly beautiful"

You left as you pecked her cheek and smiled at her while she looked at you stunned and blushing.

God what were you doing to her ?

[lem0nn-juice]

carrd link(updated: 7/13/2024)

I just post about whatever I'm hyperfixed on and rb random stuff

Main brain rot(s): Black Butler, The elusive samurai,Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun, etc etc

Despite not having a specific dni this account, along with my other ones aren't proship friendly, I don't like y'all at all. This also applies to people who thinks Grell is a man. If you're either of those please take a shower you reek ^_^

As stated in my bio I do like to complain and rant a lot, unfortunately this includes talking about proshipping, shotacon and things of that nature. If that makes you uncomfortable or simply annoys you then feel free to mute the discourse tag( or the "lemon rants" tag if you don't want to see my rants in general)since that's what I will be tagging those kinds of rants as, or just save us both the trouble and block me all together. Despite me ranting about these topics a lot I have no interest in doing anymore serious debates and discussions with those types of people, if you send me any dumbass of stuff I can and will be putting you on blast and making fun of you. Don't want that to happen? Don't interact with me or send your unwanted inputs and opinions, I don't care.

My text posts: lemon rambles

My asks: asked and answered

All discourse/ posts I think would make people uncomfortable are tagged with: discourse until I can find a better tag to use all anti sebaciel posts will be tagged with..well anti sebaciel

If you're interested in joining my black butler server feel free to shoot me a dm. Keep in mind that I do have the rights to refuse to send the invite to anyone who asks.

I feel like I have to say my full stance on sebaciel for any newcomers so here we go:

I'm NOT a sebaciel shipper nor do a support it( as you can probably tell) however I'm aware the ship is very popular and will not go anywhere therefore I can't be bothered to care if people ship it.

My main problem is with the shippers because of how toxic and hypocritical they all are, and how much misinformation they spread.

Despite me not liking the ship I can't be bothered to look through every account to see who dose and doesn't ship it so there's a good chance I may accidentally interact with sebaciel accounts and posts( mainly if they don't specifically state if they ship it or not, if they sate that they ship it then they're getting blocked) so if any of that makes you uncomfortable then block and move on to save us both the trouble.

Okay that's all! My ask box is always open if you have any questions or concerns. Please reframe from dming me unless it's important 😓 if you wish to chat your best bet is to join one of my servers. And please, PLEASE kindly let me know if I accidentally rb something gross( I'm not referring to fandom related things), I have a hard time telling sometimes.

[yourfatherlucifer]

Federal Agents | Levi Ackerman AU

Warnings: none

Levi A. x F!Reader

———

"Agent L/N, you need to focus your footing," a voice shouted over the grunts and attacks.

"I'm trying, sir! My legs are too short, It's kind of hard to focus my footing when I can't even kick your head!"

Another failed attempt but only because her opponent was far too tall.

Her lieutenant sighed, pushing down her leg, "That's enough for today, agent." The tall blonde male ran a hand through his hair.

"I understand you're new, but I need you out on the field soon, especially now," He sighed again, "Alright, come with me. I'm going to introduce you to my best agent here, he is going to be your captain."

The e/c woman shrugged her shoulders, "I just got out of the actual police field, why do I even need more training?" She questioned.

"Because, the criminals and suspects you'll be going after are going to be a lot tougher than you'll expect."

"They're masterminds, we're notified if the police can't handle the case." Erwin explained,

"We're the best of the best, that's why they call us the Survey Corps."

"So, who is this 'Captain' you're telling me about? Don't tell me this person is a geezer, cause you know me." Y/N shook her head.

"His name is Captain Ackerman, Levi Ackerman. He's a very neat person, like's black tea and coffee, he is short, but extremely tough and agile." Erwin smirked while talking about his fellow colleague.

"Y'know, he used to be a criminal as well, before I swiped him off the streets and recruited him."

Y/N wasn't so sure about this idea anymore.

((I really have no idea where I am going with this, I really don't know the ranks of FBI, I know with Police but- I don't know how FBI works, so bare with me please. Thanks.))

When Erwin knocked on a dark blue door, Y/N didn't even realize they stopped walking. She tensed up, kind of nervous.

"It's open, come in," yelled a deep voice from the other side of the door.

Erwin smiled and opened the door, "Go in, Y/N, I'm right behind you."

Levi looked up and scoffed, "What is it now, shitty eyebrows?"

The blonde chuckled, "Again with the names. Anyway, Levi, you're gonna be training this rookie. She came from the best station, the best among her officers."

Levi glanced over but rolled his eyes, "And? Doesn't mean she's good, for all I know, the officers could've been jackshit, eyebrows."

Y/N sighed, "I don't consider myself even a good officer, but I was chosen to work as an FBI agent, here. So that must mean something, Sir."

The tension between her was gone as she spoke bravely. One of her many traits.

Before she knew it, she was on her knees, cradling her shin, "What the fu..."

She quickly looked at the slightly taller man, "Watch your mouth rookie, lieutenant eyebrows, you can go now."

The blonde nodded and left the dark haired mans office.

Y/N stood up, glaring at Levi.

"Then don't judge me before you get to see what I can do." She gripped her pants because she didn't have a shirt on.

She was wearing a dark gray sports bra and sweatpants. You could see her slight four pack. abs.

"We'll see, rookie."

-

After hours of ruthless training, Y/N was still standing, and already in her stance again for the millionth time that day,

"So you aren't giving up, despite the countless beating you've recieved? You haven't pinned me once, keep going, rookie. Try again."

Y/N breathed heavily and dashed towards Levi, but decided to trick him, by acting like she was lunging foward, when in reality, she lunged to his side, wrapping her arms around his waist, and her head under his arm.

She lifted Levi up, but he kneed her in the stomach, causing her to let go and stagger back, "AGAIN!"

Y/N huffed in frustration. She lunged toward him, but dove between his legs, she quickly stood up behind him, grabbing his wrist, holding it up.

Her hand on the back of his neck as she kicked the inside of his knee with her own.

As he was falling down. She pushed down on the middle of his chest, to guarantee he fell down.

It all happened so quickly, Levi didn't even realize she moved until he was grabbed by the arm. He was in a position where he couldn't get loose, at the moment.

When he landed on his stomach, she grabbed his arm, pulling it backwards before she kneeled down onto his back. Putting all her weight into the knee that dug into his back, immoblizing him.

"And you're pinned, Captain Levi, not the rookie now, huh?" She released him, holding her hand out for her superior.

He rolled his eyes before standing up with the help of his new colleague. "Well, you did good, rookie."

He smirked.

Y/N groaned in response, "Seriously, sir? Good?"

"Yes, you did good, is that not a good enough praise for you, brat?" Levi glared.

"Yeah, it's fine, but, we've been at this for five hours. I'm tired, and more than likely stink." She complained.

Levi let out a quiet chuckle, "Fine, hit the showers, Rookie. I'll see you tomorrow."

——

Aye, wow, okay, I hope you guys enjoyed this. Remember requests are still open. I DO A BUNCH OF DIFFERENT ANIMES

[sunseteyes]

I just found your blog and I'm loving it! I'd be very happy to request Tanjiro x Reader with a usually sort of ditzy, kind-hearted Reader, but when they get into a battle, she becomes an elegant, serious fighter! How would he react to seeing her fight? Oneshot or headcanons, whatever seems easier for you! Thanks so much, and have an amazing day!

TANJIRO WITH A DITZY READER

wow thank you! i like your blog too! it’s so organized unlike mine >< anyway, i decided to make this a short oneshot instead so i hope you’ll like it! (also, this made me remind of sheele from akame ga kill ah she was my best girl ><)

Tanjiro gets concerned about you whenever you’d head off into a solo mission or whenever he sees you getting treated at the butterfly estate for slipping somewhere and so on. He’d never been with you in a mission so he couldn’t judge how well you are as a demon slayer, however considering your rank, he ought to not underestimate you.

So when he gets paired up with you on a mission, he’d be excited to see you in action and he doesn’t even know what to expect.

“(Y/n)-san! You’re assigned to this mission too?” his smile would be warm and welcoming, much like how you would for him too everytime you two pass by each other or when he get to chat with you.

You’d mirror his smile and enthusiasm, beaming like a sunshine. “Tanjiro-kun! Yes, I am. I’m glad to join you today.” You were about to meet him halfway when your own sheathed katana fell to the ground, which you seemed to be holding for quite awhile.

“Oh!” you’d pick up your katana and find Tanjiro already in front of you, a troubled look crossing his face before it vanished quicly.

“Have you found any information yet, (y/n)-san?”

You’d blink up at him, lookng confused for a moment, “What informa-Oh! Are you talking about the demon? Uhm, yeah I’ve talked to a few villagers and they confirmed that children have indeed been being taken each night.”

Tanjiro nods in understanding, “I’ve also passed by a little boy earlier and he said that his friends and him had been hearing some sort of music every night. Then most of his friends have vanished just last night. I think that can be a clue to how we could find the demon.” He’d be explaining but when he’d see your smiling and bright face at something behind him, he’d think that you’re not taking it seriously.

“(Y/n)-san? Are you listening to me?”

“Hm?” your gentle gaze would go back to his and your sweet smile would ease any kind of possible irritation or confusion in him. “Of course I am, Tanjiro-kun.”

He’d feel troubled but he’d choose to trust you instead. He can’t possibly reprimand you not after all the kindness you’d shown him ever since you two met. And besides, if danger would come, he’d be there to provide you support and protection. He’d hope that the demon would not be one of the twelve demon moons or difficult to capture, so as you two could finish this mission without serious injury or any casualty. He’d hate to see you getting hurt.

So when nighttime came, the perfect time to investigate and finally put an end to things, Tanjiro would do his best to keep an eye on you. Whereas you would look relaxed and was much more focused on asking Tanjiro if you could help him carry the box instead so he could move easily for the incoming fight.

“No, it’s alright, (y/n)-san. I always carry around Nezuko so I’m quite used-“

Your katana was already sheathed and had sliced the presence that was behind him, not even moving an inch from where you were.

And when you did move, you’d bolt to the scent he had caught—the same rotting kind of smell demons have. His eyes were still wide open as he follows your movement with his gaze, your haori and hair dancing across the wind as you chased after the mysterious form lurking beneath the shadows, almost catching him off guarded if you had not reacted the way you did.

Then he catches the look on your eyes; gentle but with an emotion that he had never seen from your irises before. Focus? Drive? It was surprising enough that it made his feet stuck on the ground for a few seconds before he followed suite to your chase.

He’d realize how fast your reactions were, probably much faster than his. Despite your usual confusing cheery and airheaded attitude, which were enough to cause him to worry of your well being.

All of his misconceptions about you will vanish then, moreso when he’d watch you fight against the demon, your movements almost as graceful as a dancer would—much like his father, he’d think. He’d even regard how differently you’d use Breath of Water than he or even Giyuu would. It would be as if you were one with the water, an elegant gentle wave that were willing to eradicate the impurities of the demon you’re faced against. He’d be awestruck, to the point his mind would only pulled away when he heard your voice call him.

“Tanjiro-kun,” you were suddenly in front of him; kind smile but a serious and relaxed stance, unable to look at him for your eyes would be stuck with the demon’s form, cautious and careful. “-please take care of the children. I think they are somewhere around here. Don’t worry, there’s only one demon that’s doing all of this.” he’d take note of how your voice was also unusual to your usual high-pitch, this one is much calm and cool, almost like your demeanor had changed into the opposite of your usual self. He’s not complaining either way.

Nezuko wouldn’t even need to wake up and help Tanjiro because he’d be assured that you’d take care of the demon yourself, and that trust would be an enough presence for Nezuko to sense and be assured herself.

He’d then oblige with your request and quite sooner than he expected, you had defeated the demon and he had already freed the children that were being hidden by the demon’s blood demon arts.

“Wow, (y/n)-san! I did not know you were so strong and focused! Your way of fighting with the Breath of Water was so beautiful!” he’d praise you and be true with his words. You deserve it anyway. You had not pnly surprised him but he was also amazed that he’d trust you more than he did before. It would make him be reminded to never judge someone just because of their few qualities, especially if they’re a demon slayer that’s ranked higher than him.

When he sees that you’d be back with your usual attitude; slightly blushing from his words, a cheery and unguarded stance written all over your body, he wouldn’t even complain or feel concerned. What he knows, is that he’d like to see your future battles and possibly provide better support than he did that night.

this took longer than i imagined but i hope it did not disappoint! tanjiro is someone who tends to learn a lot of things every other battle he faces so i kind of applied it here haha anyway, please feel free to send requests~ also, this will be my last post for today i’ve posted a lot lmao

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter ten

genre: angst

pairing: season ten spencer reid x female oc

warnings: panic attack, talk of maeve and that whole situation, death, mention of drugs and relapse

word count: 9.8k

summary: spencer gets to see another part of amelia’s ugly side and amelia gets more than she bargained for when she steps onto her balcony

also i just wanted to say that the panic attack described in this chapter is based off of my experience with panic attacks. nobody has the same experience, but this is based off mine. also part two, i don’t know how medication for panic attacks really work, what i wrote is literally based off my experience with migraine medication. so if it’s not accurate, then i apologize. i also apologize for taking so long to write this. school was a lot and my mental health sucks. but it’s here now!! enjoy

AMELIA

"Yaz, if you don't stop moving, I'm going to purposely poke your fucking eye out!"

"It's not my fault! Quinn keeps nudging me!"

"No, I'm not!"

I roll my eyes at the two girls in front of me, flicking my wrist to put the final touches on Yaz’s makeup. "You two need to shut up." I then grab Quinn’s shoulders and force her to move against the wall, right next to Yaz. They continue to quietly bicker with each other.

"So," Frankie speaks up from across my studio, lounged back in a bean bag chair, fiddling away with a camera of his own, "Lia, you're coming up on one year with your genius doctor FBI boyfriend, right?"

"Mhm," I hum, too focused on painting my friends' bodies to give a full and coherent answer.

"Do you guys have plans yet? Dinner? Movie? I don't even know what you guys do as dates. In fact, I don't really know much about this guy at all. Are we even sure he exists?" Michael teases, waving around his bottle of beer. Quinn squirms away from my grasp to take a sip of his beer and only comes back when I tug on her hand. 

"No plans yet," I mumble, biting my tongue for a moment as I focus on getting the swirls of blue and yellow just right. If the painting isn’t absolutely perfect then I’ll never be happy with the way the pictures come out. And if I’m not happy with the pictures that come from today then that just means I wasted my time today. "We don't make plans in advance, really. His job doesn't allow for that."

"His job doesn't allow for that?" Dani scoffs. "Stupid excuse. Horrible excuse. Men are trash. How can you be sure that all the time he’s spending ‘at work’ and not with another girl? Or maybe another guy? I don’t know, I don’t judge. Maybe he’s-"

"Dani," I hiss, twisting my head to send her a pointed look, "he's an FBI agent. He hunts down serial killers for a living. He travels for work on a whim and it’s not a big deal. He’s not gay and it’s rude to speculate about someone’s sexuality, especially if you’ve never met them."

"But don't you want him around him more?" Frankie jumps up from his seat and throws his arm around my shoulder, effectively pulling away from my work. He thinks that grabbing me will diffuse the situation, bring some humor, keep me from getting too upset. But it actually does all the opposite and I can feel a ball of heat growing and swelling in my stomach.

I’ve been friends with this bunch since college. We all went to Carnegie Mellon together and even lived in a house together in junior and senior year, but they aren’t always the best of friends. Clearly. They can be quite judgemental and exclusive when it comes to people outside of our friend group. Jenna and I commonly find ourselves sharing looks across rooms when one of our friends says something rude or stupid. They’re not the best, but we’ve been through so much together and they are all I have.

I push Frankie away from me as best as I can. "Do you guys just not like him because he's a federal agent?" The room goes silent and that's enough of an answer for me. I scoff, moving across the room to grab some more paint and squirt it into my palette. I wind up putting too much on my palette and groan, screwing off the top of the paint tube and trying to scoop the extra paint back in. The longer I try, the less gets back inside the tube and the more my frustration starts to grow, the more tears well up in my eyes. "You're complaining about my boyfriend who you've never met just because he works for the FBI. Ridiculous. Unfair."

"We get arrested all the time and all we do is spray paint empty brick walls," Dani protests, and, again, judging by the silence of the others in the room, I know that they have no problems with what Dani is saying. "It's bullshit! We should be able to express ourselves creatively without having to do art in the middle of the night and worry about being thrown in a holding cell."

"First of all; express yourself creatively on a canvas, not on someone’s property. Second; I can promise that you’re not getting arrested by federal agents. You’re getting arrested by cops and my boyfriend is not a cop," I growl at my supposed friends. I don't get angry easily. In fact, I'm a very patient person and I've been told that by many people on many occasions. My first instinct is to never get mad. Anger doesn’t get anyone anywhere. I prefer to have conversations instead of screaming matches and to hear out the other side's argument. But this is different. This is Spencer we’re talking about. I love Spencer more than anything and since meeting him, I know I'd do anything to protect him, even if that means arguing with my friends on his behalf. It’s not fair for them to be making these judgments about him. "You get arrested by Virginia Police so if you wanna hate anyone then hate them. Don't you dare all go hating my boyfriend for no reason. Don't hate him when you've never met him."

I throw my palette onto a table, not caring about paint splatter, and grab my phone, leaving my studio and heading into the fresh air. My heart is pounding against my tightening chest as I lean against the brick wall and slide down to an incredibly uncomfortable crouching position, tucking my head between my knees. The stance almost instantly makes my back ache and my neck sting but I ignore it. Maybe I deserve the pain. My breathing quickly gets more and more shallow and my head goes light. I try to lift my head to bring sunlight into my eyes, but my head seems far too heavy to move. I reach for my phone and it slips right out of my fingers when they tremble too much for me to get a grip on the thin metal. This feeling is helpless, painful, too familiar. I can’t seem to get a grasp on myself and I’m spiraling out of control more and more by the second. Every gasp for breath turns into a sob and every attempt to move my head turns into overwhelming shame when I notice people passing by are staring at me and whispering.

It's almost perfect that my phone starts to buzz on the ground and I manage to open my eyes enough to see that Spencer is calling me. I attempt another deep breath to calm myself down but it doesn't work and it only makes my grip on reality dwindle. It's getting harder to breathe and my eyes are stinging with tears. With every pounding beat of my heart, my chest gets tighter and tighter and tighter until it feels like someone has successfully squeezed my lungs flat. 

The buzzing of my phone should bring me back to reality but it just makes it worse. It’s an annoying, persistent sound that just won’t stop. It won’t stop. It just won’t stop. I want to answer, I need to answer, but I just wish the sound would stop. The way to get it to stop is to answer. Just answer. It’ll stop if you answer. You’ll feel better if you answer. I slam my hand down on the ground and grope the floor until I manage to grab my phone and bring it up to my ear.

"Hi, love," Spencer's chipper voice comes through the receiver, none the wiser to my current situation. He's been away on a case since early yesterday morning, having woken me up while getting dressed, kissing me goodbye, and leaving my apartment to get to the BAU. I would kill to have him here right now. Maybe he could talk me down and reteach me how to breathe. Maybe he could reinflate my lungs and kiss my hands until they stop trembling. 

I try to answer, but nothing coherent comes out. I let out a strangled sob, my fingernails digging into my knee so hard that I worry I might draw blood. My inability to communicate is frustrating and that ball of heat in my stomach rises up to my chest. The trembling overpowers me and I almost drop my phone again. 

"Amelia? What's wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me," Spencer says quickly, and it's only followed by more choked wheezes from me. "You've gotta breathe, okay? Take really deep breaths for me. In through your nose and out from your mouth.”

His instructions seem simple enough to do. Just breathe. That’s all I have to do. It’s simple. Just breathe. I open my mouth to try to speak to him, to tell him what’s happening, even though I’m pretty sure he can tell, but all that comes out is fragments of words and whimpers.

"It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t need to speak. In through your nose, out from your mouth, remember? Can you try that for me?" I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there for, on the phone, trying to focus on my boyfriends’ voice as he tries to calm me down. It feels like I’m sitting for a few hours, but my tiny grasp on reality lets me know that it’s been ten minutes at the most. I just do what I can to focus on Spencer and what he is telling me to do and how I can calm down. I clench my fists and finally succeed in doing what he tells me to after a while, breathing heavily in through my nose, my chest burning as the heaving comes to a gradual stop. I breathe out and then repeat the process a few times. “There you go. You’re doing so well. I’m right here for you, okay? Take all the time you need.”

He continues to tell me sweet nothings and encourages me to breathe until my breathing has regulated and my head lays slack against my knees. Spencer lets just a few moments of silence go by to let me collect myself before he speaks again. “Are you feeling a little better now?” I gather enough energy, the last of it, to hum a confirmation. "Where are you right now?" Spencer asks next. Even just his voice calms me down. Maybe it's his experience with his job but he sounds so calm right now. Nobody in my life has ever been able to remain so calm during one of my panic attacks, leaving me to cry and heave and occasionally faint in private. But Spencer's voice sounds so soothing and calm and low that just him speaking helps me more than anything. More than any useless, overwhelming, smothering hug ever has. 

"Studio.”

"Okay. You should get home and get some rest. " 

"Mhm.”

"You shouldn't drive. I don't know if you did, but either way, please don't drive. Take the train or call someone to drive you home," Spencer pleads. "I was calling to tell you that we're on our way home. We closed the case and we're leaving in a few minutes for the airport, but don't wait for me. You need to go home and get rest. Panic attacks are really taxing and you need to re-energize. I'll come over when I get back but you need to get home."

"Amelia?" I hear Jenna's voice approaching me but I don't even bother to look up. "Are you okay?" 

I've exhausted my energy on speaking just those few words to Spencer so when Jenna gets close enough to me, I just lift the phone up for her. She crouches down beside me and grabs my phone, wedging it between her shoulder and her ear as she pushes my hair out of my face. I try to lean away from her touch but I can’t get very far. "Who is this? Oh, hi, Spencer. This is Jenna. She's right next to me. I can definitely bring her home. Don't worry, I'll get her home and I'll stay with her until you come around, it's no problem. I'll take her phone and let you know when I get her home. Okay, bye."

I finally lift my head and look at Jenna, watching her tuck my phone into her pocket, giving me this stupid, pitiful smile that I’ve seen far too many times in my life. A half smile that says, it sucks that you’re going through something but I only kind of care. "Mr. Genius says I gotta bring you home and keep you safe until he comes over and I don't feel like ending up in prison, so let's go, babe." I don’t have it in me to correct her to day Doctor Genius instead of Mister Genius. Jenna holds her hands out to help me up.

I bring my shaking hands up to hers and let her pull me to my feet and lead me over to her car, feeling weak and useless as she pulls the seatbelt over my chest. I pout as she dotes over me, humming casually to herself just so she can make this situation not so tense, but it just makes it seem like she doesn’t care. "Okay," Jenna says, hand poised on the passenger side door, "I'm gonna go kick everyone out of your studio and then we'll get going. Sit tight."

///

"Hi, Spencer, I'm Jenna,"

"Hi, Jenna. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping on the couch. She didn't even wanna go upstairs to bed so she asked me to put on a record and she just passed out on the couch."

Everything sounds foggy as I wake up what I assume is hours later in an uncomfortable position, curled up on my couch. My head is pounding and my eyes feel puffy and I'm now regretting not forcing myself to get into bed. I would have much rathered waking up with my duvet wrapped around me and my head on Spencer’s pillow. Waking up on this stiff couch with my toes virtually frozen and my head twisted uncomfortably on the armrest isn’t how I wanted to wake up post-panic attack. 

I open my eyes just in time to see Spencer setting his go-bag down beside the coffee table, sending me that same stupid, pitiful smile. "Hi," he whispers, coming to sit on the floor in front of me. He raises his hand to drag his fingertips along my cheekbone and the soft touch makes my eyes flutter closed. I’ve gotten used to being without him when he’s away on cases, and having Spencer with me makes all the separated days easier. I know that the moments like this make up for the times I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, because I can’t sleep if his arms around me and if I can’t hear his heartbeat. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mm," I hum, but it's not much of an answer, not a satisfying one, at the least. 

"It's good that you got some sleep but you gotta have something to eat too. Do you want me to order something?" I nod slowly at his suggestion that I couldn’t care less about. I just want his hands on me. "Okay, I will. Sit tight, I'll be right back."

A whine falls from my lips as I reach my hand out for his, hoping to keep him from leaving. I just need his touch and his love and his affection to feel better. I don’t need sleep or food or anything he could possibly suggest that helps a person relax after a panic attack, based on this study I read. I love his facts but I just want him to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it will. The boiling hot baths I usually take after a panic attack never do the trick. Nothing does the trick like physical affection does.

"Don't go," the words could barely be considered words, especially not after I mumble them through almost closed lips.

"I’m not leaving," Spencer crouches down again and presses a kiss to my forehead, and I’m sure he realizes that a kiss was the wrong move because I just keep trying to pull him closer. “I just wanna order you something to eat, okay? Let me bring you upstairs and get you in bed and then I’ll call for something. Is that okay?”

Spencer is sitting up on his knees before I even try to answer because even though he's posed a question, he doesn't need an answer. He knows how to help me from the studies he reads and he knows what needs to be done and he's relatively stubborn. So despite how my body feels heavy and how I wish I could just melt into the couch cushions with my arms wrapped around my boyfriend, I force myself to sit up. Spencer scoops me up and carries me up the stairs, setting me down in bed and tugging the duvet all the way up to my chin.

Spencer goes a bit overboard with tucking me in, but I don’t mind, as long as his hands are on me. And he is happy with his work, he finally takes off his peacoat and sets it on the edge of the bed. "I'm just gonna go run downstairs and order something and make some tea, okay? Did you take your medication?" He turns away from me and goes towards the stairs, digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Huh?"

Spencer halts himself from walking down the stairs, turning his chin over his shoulder. "Your medication," he turns his body towards me. "You know, for your panic attack?"

I shake my head, eyebrows furrowed so much that it makes my headache worse. "No, no, I don't have any."

My fuzzy brain can't exactly decipher the look on Spencer's face, but he turns his back to me yet again and rushes down the stairs. I let out a hum at his confusing reaction, but it turns into a disappointed whine as he gets further and further away from me. So, still in my post-panic attack state, I reach for Spencer's coat for some sort of comfort.

As I tug on it, something falls out of the pocket. I blindly reach for it and have every intention of tucking it back into the pocket it came from, but the cool metal of the object heightens my senses, as if the object brings me back down to earth. I hold Spencer's jacket to my chest as I lay back down against my pillows, looking down at the metal circle in my hand. There's a triangle on the front- or maybe the back?- with a Roman numeral one on it, with the words unity, service, and recovery around the three sides. I turn it over in my hand and find a compass rose with only north labeled.

"Amelia?" My head pops up when I tune into Spencer's footsteps on the last stair, his phone in his hand and his untied converse in the other. He drops his shoes on the floor and then leans against the wall, his eyes traveling down to the floor instead of on me. I can feel his shame from all the way across the room and how his embarrassment starts to consume him. He instantly shuts himself off from me and it’s so disheartening to see how easy it is for him to do so. 

"It fell out," I hold it out to him, despite our distance. "What did you order?"

Spencer doesn't move as I hold the medallion out to him, but all he does is tuck his hands in his pocket and study the patterns on his socks. "You don't wanna know what it is?"

I drop my hand against the bed and sigh, having used too much energy to keep my arm up for longer than two seconds, nuzzling my cheek against Spencer's jacket and trying to get a whiff of his cologne. If he won’t come to me then I’ll have to get a piece of him in my bed, even if it’s just the scent on his jacket. I need his comfort. "I know what it is, dove."

He takes a long breath and then walks over, taking the medallion out of my hand and shoving it in his pocket. "Pizza. I'm gonna go change and I'll be right back."

I hadn't even realized he had brought his go-bag upstairs at some point, but I only see it when he carries it into the bathroom. He doesn't shut the door all the way and I find myself wondering why. Maybe he doesn't want to completely shut himself away from me because he can tell I need him close. Or maybe because he didn’t want to rebuild his emotional walls around me, and closing the bathroom door would separate us. But I don’t have the time to come to a clear and coherent hypothesis before he has returned.

He's in a tee shirt and plaid pajama pants when he returns, dropping his bag onto the floor and letting out a heavy sigh. I watch him as he walks around the bed to grab his shoes and begins the process of shoving them into his bag, even though he doesn't need to. He knows he doesn’t need to clean his stuff up immediately. But I notice his medallion in his hand, squeezed between his pointer and middle fingers, and it makes me call out to him. His head whips over to me and I realize I have nothing to say. I need him beside me but he clearly has so much going on in his head and in all the time we've been together, I've never seen his medallion. That makes me nervous. Is this why he's acting like this? Is he thinking about getting his hands on a drug that will ruin his life?

I have nothing to say. But Spencer is staring at me, waiting for me to ask whatever question he thinks I’m needing to ask, as I clutch his jacket like my life depends on it, eyes half-closed as I start to struggle to breathe again. I open my mouth but nothing comes out and a tear drips down my cheek.

Spencer moves to kneel on the bed, pulling his jacket out of my hands and replacing the fabric with his body. "Hey, I'm right here, Lia, just breathe. Sit up for me, sweetheart," He places his hands on my waist and helps me sit up, coaxing my head between my knees. He somehow knows exactly what to do, despite not being able to see me during my previous attack. He knows just how softly I need to be touched and what volume to speak at without overwhelming me. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm right here, don't worry. I don’t want you to get worked up again." I manage to nod, and he kisses my forehead as a reward. Spencer just keeps holding me and whispering praises, tucking my head under his chin and rubbing my back with a feather light touch.  “There you go. There’s my girl.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but it’s more for myself than for him. 

“Yeah, you are,” he affirms. "Will you talk to me about these attacks and how I can help you?" His sweet voice is so buttery and smooth that I get lost in it, eyes fluttering and almost completely missing his question. I just want him to keep talking, to read me poetry or tell me random facts that I’ll probably never need to know. I just want him to talk, and talk, and talk, and break me away from the prison in my mind. I just want him to distract me.

“Um,” I lean into his touch when he brings his hand into my hair, scratching me behind my ears like a cat. But when I manage to open my eyes and look at him, he’s giving me such a serious look, one that says he means business, and I know that there’s no room for jokes or wit. “I don’t know. I’ve mostly dealt with panic attacks alone. I just let them happen and wait for them to be done.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise but he quickly tries to hide his reaction, clearing his throat as a distraction, but it’s nowhere close to this distraction I had hoped for. “So you don’t know any coping mechanisms or take any medication for panic attacks?” I shake my head no. “Have you ever gone to a doctor or a therapist about this?”

Definitely not the distraction I was hoping for. I reach for the duvet and pull it over my head, deciding to ignore him. I manage to crawl out of Spencer’s lap and curl up on my pillow with my back to him, earning a defeated sigh from my boyfriend beside me. He takes a breath to speak but then the doorbell rings and I can only assume that means that dinner is here. Without a word spoken, Spencer climbs off the bed and goes to answer the door. I hear his chatting quietly with the delivery person before his sock-covered footsteps echo back up the stairs, and he returns with a pizza box.

Spencer just casually suggesting I go to a doctor or a therapist is so obnoxious and annoying and I truly can’t remember a time in our relationship when I was this mad at him. He talks as though a doctor's visit will solve all my problems and if taking a pill will turn me into the healthy, stress-free, mental illness-free girl that I want to be, but never have been, and never will be. I spent my childhood taking care of myself and my brother and I can keep doing that as an adult. I’ve gotten this far in my life, farther than I thought I would, so I’m not going to fix something that isn’t broken. 

Spencer sits at the foot of the bed and sets the pizza box in the middle of the bed, not saying a word as he opens it up and separates the slices. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes as I tuck my legs underneath me. I reach for a piece of pizza and lean over the cardboard so I don't get the bed messy. If the bed gets messy and crumby then Spencer won’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing that there’s particles of food all over the duvet. He seems to be on the same train of thought because he refuses to move the piece of pizza in his hand away from the box. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d be telling him how cute he is and finding his cleanliness endearing and suggesting that we eat at the table downstairs instead of my bed. But the tension is so thick that I could cut it with a knife, and I don’t have the energy to ease it. But apparently, Spencer does.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer asks casually, keeping his eyes down as he takes another bite of his pizza. "The way you talk,” he pauses and considers his words very carefully, “you've clearly had panic attacks before."

"It's not a big deal."

"Amelia," the stony, serious tone of his voice makes my head pop up. He looks annoyed, as if he doesn't believe what I'm saying. I haven’t yet learned that lying to a profiler is useless. "You had a panic attack on a public sidewalk and it was so bad that you went nonverbal. Panic attacks happen to a lot of people but they're serious and debilitating and you should get treatment for them."

"Don’t tell me what I should do. I don't need treatment," I answer far too quickly. "I know you have your degree in psychology or whatever but I don’t need to hear it. I’ve taken care of myself for this long and I actually happen to think I’ve done a pretty good job at it, so I don’t need medication or therapy to interfere.”

Realization flashes on Spencer's face and he puts his piece of pizza down, leaning his elbows against his knees. "Seeking out help doesn’t make you weak."

I scoff and roll my eyes into the back of my head, but maybe that's just to avoid eye contact or to repress the tears that burn at my ducts. "That's not what this is about."

"I didn’t mention anything about my degree, Amelia,” Spencer snaps. “And all I’m trying to do is help you. You can go to a therapist and discuss coping mechanisms and figure out why you even have them or go to a doctor and get medication that will regulate attacks and maybe you'll get something to take after you get attacks, it'll be so much-"

"No!" I shout, cutting him off, my hands balled into fists as I struggle to rein in all the nasty things I want so badly to say, but that I know he doesn’t deserve. "I won't! I'm not! I'm fine without it! I've gone my whole fucking life like this and I don't need to be fixed!"

I decide it's the appropriate time to throw a temper tantrum and scramble off the bed, not even bothering to grab a jacket or a blanket or shoes or anything as I stomp down the stairs and throw open the door to the balcony. It's colder than I remember it being and the air instantly seizes up my bones, but I ignore the feeling as I close the door behind me. I lean against the railing and let a few tears silently slip down my cheeks, not bothering to wipe them and instead letting them trail down my neck and dampen the neckline of my crewneck. Fresh air used to always calm me down, but now, being alone on a balcony after fighting with Spencer, the air only feels suffocating.

A few minutes pass before I head the door slide open and Spencer steps out. I expect him to speak right away, to use his profiling skills to defuse the situation, but he doesn't. He drapes a blanket over my shoulders and as frustrated as I am at him and at the world and at myself, the tiny gesture makes me feel better. I'm craving his touch yet again and I wish he would just wrap his arms around me, but yet again, he doesn't. I tug the blanket as tight as I can around my shoulders and imagine it's his arms. His arms that are so close to me but feel like they are miles away.

"I've been a hypocrite." Spencer's voice is quiet, but not in the same way as it was during my attacks. No, before he was quiet for my sake. But now he seems quiet because he can't bear to speak any louder. Like if he hears his own words, he will combust and break down. "I kept something from you too."

I turn around and find that he's sitting down in one of the armchairs, another blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I, yet again, notice that his medallion is in his hand. But he's not trying to hide it, he's staring right down at it.

"Does it have anything to do with your medallion and why it was in your pocket?"

"Partly," he answers, and then looks up at me, pretty brown eyes already glistening with tears. If I wasn’t so upset, if Spencer wasn’t so upset, if the tension hadn’t carried outside, I would have poked his perfect nose and told him how cute he is when the tip of his nose gets red from the cold. My eyes are just focused on the medallion though, being passed between his fingers with expertise and never slipping out. "I'm clean, I promise. I wouldn't risk breaking my sobriety. I have too much to lose now. I've got you, and my job, and my team- my friends, Henry. But, um, yeah, there's something that I didn't tell you and I know that I should."

Partially born from my own selfish need for affection, coupled with Spencer's broken down state, I go and sit on his lap. He happily lets me do so, draping one hand over my thigh, holding the medallion there. I rest my head on his chest and wait for him to feel comfortable enough to start his story. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest and I stare down his hand, tap-tap-tapping on the arm of the chair. His nervousness is just as palpable as the tension.

"So, um, do you remember when we first met? You always like to point out how you're not the profiler here but did you happen to notice how nervous I was?"

"Mm," I hum, racking my brain for the memories of our first few coffee dates. I remember his strained smiles and his stuttered out words. I think back to us spending Christmas together and how, later on, he just blurted out an invitation to be his girlfriend that lacked finesse and confidence. He has always been nervous around me, but I always just thought that he was nervous with new relationships. It never crossed my mind that there was a reason other than anxiety. "Of course. The first day we met, I don't even think you took your bag off, right? I just thought dates made you nervous."

"Well, yeah, that's kinda true," Spencer sighs and when he tilts his head down, his lips brush against my temple. His warm lips bring a shiver down my spine and he holds me tighter against his cold body. "The truth is, about two years before I met you, I had a girlfriend, her name was Maeve. Our relationship wasn't really conventional. We, um,” he pauses and shifts his weight, “she was a geneticist and I saw her when I was having migraines, but then we started dating. We never met each other though."

His constant past tense is alarming. Was.

"We talked on the phone. She had a stalker from before I met her and she wanted to make sure that I didn’t get wrapped up in it. And we had to be safe so we only talked on pay phones. Only on Sunday's and never from the same phone twice. I thought I, um, I thought I loved her and then-" Spencer lets out a breath that sounds defeated, tired, helpless. He drops the medallion into my lap and his hands fly up to cover his face, another shaky breath falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t be telling you this when you're in such a fragile mental state. This is a lot of information and-”

"If you want to tell me then you can. I’m not a fragile little girl, I can take it. But if you don’t think you can then that’s okay too. I don’t need you to show me all the skeletons in your closet because you think you’ve been hypocritical.”

Spencer drops his hands, revealing his quivering lips and wet waterline. I return the medallion to the palm of his hand and close his fingers around it. "I mean,” he lets out the tiniest, saddest chuckle, “I was being hypocritical, being mad at you for keeping information a secret when I was doing the same.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” my slight teasing gets a more genuine laugh out of him, and he drops his forehead to my shoulder to hide it. “But it’s okay. I understand that there’s some things you don’t wanna share immediately.” 

Spencer keeps his head down, his hand in a tight fist around his medallion and the other on my waist, keeping me close. I can practically feel his fear and anxiety and his overwhelming pain through the tips of his fingers digging into my skin, and I want so badly to take it from him. I would gladly shoulder his pain so he doesn’t have to drag it around behind him like a suitcase with a broken wheel. But as badly as I want to, I can’t help him the way I want to and so I just need to comfort him to the best of my ability. 

"She got kidnapped and shot in front of me," he blurts out quickly, the memory obviously too painful to say gracefully. "I realized she was gone so the team investigated and we found Maeve and the unsub brought me inside where she was being held and had me see her for the first time ever and then killed herself and Maeve right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it."

Sometimes I don't know what to say to Spencer. He sees the worst that society has to offer, and the worst took away the first woman that he loved. I don't always know how to comfort him. Sometimes he just wants to be held and would rather not verbalize his feelings. And although I don’t love it when he decides to not talk things out, cuddling and giving out kisses is easier than arguing with him and trying to get him to talk about things he doesn’t want to. So physical affection is easier. But right now he doesn't seem to want to be held and I don't know how to help him. He didn't want to tell me this but clearly, today hasn't gone how either of us has wanted it to go. I've been spontaneously panicking and he's now confessing that his girlfriend was killed. None of this is right.

It takes him a few minutes to start speaking again, but when he does, his voice is quiet. "I almost relapsed after that," his head finds home on my shoulder again, and his other arm wraps around my waist. He holds me tight against his chest, adjusting the blanket around me to make sure I’m always covered and warm. "When I first got clean, I brought my medallion with me everywhere I went. I couldn't leave the house without it. I brought it with me on cases, to the store, everywhere. Then time passed and I could leave without it, and I was really proud of that. But then Maeve died and suddenly it was like I was right back at square one. I couldn't go anywhere without it. I needed the reminder of all my hard work and dedication or else I would've easily relapsed."

"Is," my voice is shakier than I wanted it to be, "is there something that's making you wanna relapse now?"

"Stalking cases," he answers, and that's not at all the answer I was expecting. I’m not really sure exactly what kind of answer I was expecting, but it wasn’t stalking cases. "They're common and they're not always violent so we don't always investigate but when we do, I hate it. It’s like torture on those cases, just having to relive what happened with her. Hotch doesn't even let me take part in takedowns of stalking cases because we both know I wouldn't be stable if a hostage situation happened. So,” he tucks his head into my neck this time, and I can feel his lips on my skin, leaving light kisses to make up for the heavy topic, “yeah, that’s what I was keeping from you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, dove. I understand.”

I turn my head away from him and stare out at the city. The sun is setting and the sky is painted a pretty pink and purple, mixed together in a way I wish I could achieve in my work. But the people below pay no mind to it. They speed-walk to whatever their next destination is and keep their noses tucked in their phones, or to wave their hand for a cab and bark out orders and throw money at the person who spends their lives being chauffeurs to rude politicians and businessmen. Nobody cares to look up and admire the beauty around them, beauty that they won’t see some day. They don’t look up at the unnatural colors in the sky or check to see if the clouds have taken the form of a shoe or a candy wrapper. They just walk, and walk, and walk. They don’t care. Nobody ever cares. 

"I'm sorry," I choke out, tears suddenly pouring down my cheeks. I reach for Spencer’s hands, intertwining our fingers but keeping his arms around my waist. I don’t want to be without his comfort and his arms and his warmth. He seems to feel the same because he pulls me even closer somehow, my body completely flush against his. "I love you, Spencer, and you-” I hiccup, “fuck, you didn't deserve any of that."

"You're all I need in this life, Amelia. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again but now I have you and," I can feel his hands shaking in mine, and although it’s hard to tell if it’s from the cold or from anxiety. "I just love you so much. Please don’t leave me."

"I’m never gonna leave you, Spencer Reid. Ever. I'm not going anywhere," I whisper, but I can't tell who it's a reassurance for. "I love you."

///

SPENCER

///

THE NEXT MORNING

///

No amount of nights turned into mornings at Amelia’s apartment could get me used to being woken up to sun beams in my eyes.

I scrunch up my face as the sunlight flows through the windows and almost blinds me. I roll over and reach towards Amelia's side of the bed, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead of a fistful of her. I let out a disappointed sigh and force my eyes open, popping one lid open to confirm my sad realization that I'm waking up alone. Now I'm understanding how Amelia feels when I have to leave for cases.

I can feel the heat blasting and it makes it bearable for me to exist in only my pair of pajama pants, so I don't bother to put a shirt on. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and check my phone, just to make sure there isn't a spontaneous case on a Saturday, and there thankfully isn't anything yet. So I run a hand through my hair that is probably wild and climb out of bed, making the trek down the occasionally terrifying floating stairs.

I pause on the last step when I peer into the kitchen, the dumbest smile appearing on my face when I locate my girlfriend. She's sitting on the counter in the kitchen with her legs up and crossed at the ankles, dressed in only an oversized white tee shirt and pale blue wool socks. Matching, unfortunately. She's wearing her normal butterfly necklace, I can see from here, but she's missing all of her piercings- nose ring and earrings. Her natural curls are out in full force and are only contained by one of her patterned scarves, wrapped around her head like a headband. She's holding an apple in one hand and she has a book resting in her lap but I can't quite see the spine to read the title. But this is one of the moments I'm thankful for my fancy memory, as Amelia calls it, because she looks so effortlessly stunning and perfect and beautiful that I'm glad I'll remember this moment forever.

I watch her for a moment. She wiggles her toes every few seconds and then takes a loud bite from the apple, flipping the page and darting her eyes across the lines. Effortless. Remarkable. I'm often blown away by her simple beauty. I wonder how she does it without trying. How she renders me speechless. How she makes me feel like a teenager in love. How she makes me feel like a lovesick puppy, galloping around at her feet with stars in my eyes. How she makes me feel like she's completely out of my league. How she makes me feel like I'm the luckiest man in the whole world.

When I decide that I have to get my hands on her, I step off the stairs. She still doesn't notice my presence, I credit that to my bare feet on the hardwood, and she only looks up when a floorboard creaks. She lifts her chin and reveals her stunning dimples, ocean eyes wide for me. "Morning!" she quips, tucking a bookmark into the page and setting her book aside. "Wasn't sure you were ever gonna wake up."

"I don't like waking up alone," I brush my fingertips along her leg as I walk closer, eliciting a shy giggle from Amelia. No matter how many times I touch her, she still gets shy about it. I peer over her legs and my eyebrows raise. "You're reading Rossi's book? What's that about?"

Amelia giggles, picking up the book and inspecting the cover. "It's more of a courtesy, actually. I bought all three books of his the other day and I'm planning on ripping out all the pages to use for a piece of art for my next exhibit. But I figured I'd read them first before I destroy them, you know? He saved my life as a kid so the least I can do is read his books before I destroy them."

"Hmm," it's not really at all the answer I was expecting. I watch her face as she plasters on a shy smile, kicking her feet like an excited child and clutching the book to her chest. I don’t have the heart to ask her any more questions about her decision to rip up Rossi’s books because I don’t want to wipe that smile off her face. "Interesting. Breakfast?"

"Not before you give me a kiss," Amelia's delicate voice balances out the horrors Rossi illustrates in his book as she brings her lips to mine. "If you're cooking, I don't care what you make."

"Sounds like a plan,” and just as I didn’t have the heart to question her art, I don’t have it in me to go further than an inch away from her lips before she decides it’s okay. So that leads to kissing for far too long, the book tumbling out of Amelia’s hands and onto her lap, my hands holding her jaw. Her lips are different in the morning, slightly chapped and not yet bleeding from being chewed relentlessly. But, for some reason, I prefer them like this. And I definitely prefer chapped lips to glossy lips that get all over my face and takes a makeup remover wipe to get rid of. I quickly flip through the last few images of Amelia in my head and notice she hasn’t worn lip gloss in a while. Maybe that’s for the better though. She won’t have to hear me complain and watch me rub at my lips and grimace when my hand gets sticky too.

“Okay, okay,” Amelia giggles, grabbing my hands and pushing them away, “let’s not get carried away. I am hungry.”

“Then why didn’t you make breakfast yourself?” I sass, turning on my heel to start collecting breakfast ingredients and feed my hungry lady. 

“Haha,” she snickers sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me. And a comfortable silence falls over us as I start cooking, occasionally glancing over to watch her thumb through the book. It etches a hopefully permanent smile onto my face.

"I do have a question, though," Amelia fiddles with the corner of a page, curling it between her finger and keeping her eyes down. I hum lazily in response, mixing pancakes batter, far too focused on making sure I get measurements correct to be able to make eye contact with her. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but your medallion- well, it," she sighs, obviously not able to find the words for what she wants to say.

It’s not my favorite topic of conversation so early in the morning, but I guess the sooner Amelia asks her questions and gets them out of her system, the sooner we can stop having conversations about my demons. "You can ask whatever you want to.”

"It's not a bad question, I don't think," she responds, and turns so her legs are swinging over the edge of the counter, facing me. "I'm just curious what the compass on the back means. It seems odd to me. I mean, the front says recovery and all but the back has a compass? I've never heard of these medallions having a compass on them."

"The designs differ," despite the relatively tame question, I busy myself by trying to create perfect circles with the batter on the hot skillet. She could've asked me about my experience with drugs and how it feels and she could have unknowingly triggered me, but no. She just wants to know about the compass. I guess that’s better than making me relive relapse or make me remember what a high feels like. "I've obviously been clean for more than a year, so the other medallions I have for other years have different designs on the back. But I always liked the one year medallion the best."

"Will you tell me why?" She presses gently, pulling her knees back up to her chest. I've seen her do this plenty of times, shut herself off from conversations, I mean, and I hate it when she does. On normal days, when she shuts herself off from conversations, I do what I can to put her at ease and get her to open back up. But if anyone should be shutting off from this conversation, it’s me. "You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Getting to one year is really hard," I admit quickly, keeping my eyes off her as I move the pancakes from the skillet to a plate. "So when I finally got to one year and I got the medallion, it was a huge accomplishment for me. And the compass? It’s just a thing that my program preached. North is always regarded as the right way to go, even though that’s not really true in theory, but I never pointed that out. But my program had us pick someone or something to represent north for each person. So that way, if anyone was ever going through withdrawals or cravings, we could think of that thing we chose and it would give us the motivation to get through a hard time. The thing would give us a reason to go north, the right way. Basically, the way to recovery. The way to go back home.”

“And what did you choose?”

“My job,” it’s such an unenthusiastic answer, no light or happiness in my voice. “My job was all I had at the time, but my job being my north never felt right. It was never really motivating. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to get past a year. I had nothing to look forward to.” 

"One more question," Amelia speaks, softer this time. "Can you come here?"

I look up and find that Amelia is resting her chin on her knees, giving me that same cute smile from before. I nod, scooping the last pancake off the skillet and putting it on the pile before walking over, dragging my feet. Amelia drops her legs and holds out her arms, wrapping them around my shoulders the moment I get close enough. I instantly melt into her embrace and tuck my face into her neck, feeling her fingers on the back of my neck, tracing small shapes and letters.

"I know that I didn't know you back then," Amelia whispers, warm breath tickling my skin, "but I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you're strong enough to keep your head up and stay clean. And thank you for trusting me with all this information. I love you so much."

My body is filled with that familiar warmth that I only feel when Amelia is around, and I can't stop the smile that comes to my face. The tears in my eyes dry up quickly at the praise. "Thank you for loving me."

"I always will," she pulls away and slides her hands up to my face, pointer fingertips tracing my jaw and up to my cheekbones. She swipes her finger across my bottom lip and then brings it up to my nose, poking it gently and giggling under her breath. She’s deep in thought, I can tell from the look on her face. "You know,” she smooths down my eyebrows and then her fingers follow my hairline all the way down to my jaw, “I’ll be your north," she suggests. "I know you always tell me that talking to me when you're on cases helps, but I wanna help you with everything, with every aspect of your life. I wanna help you with the ugliest parts of your life, and not just the ugly parts of your job. I'll be your north. I'll be your reason to come home and I'll be- I'll be like your guiding light. I'll be your lighthouse. I'll just," her hands halt on my cheeks and her legs twist around my waist, bringing our bodies flush, "I'll be your north."

My heart is pounding as I smile at her, the tears that had just dried up coming back tenfold. She's smiling her stupidly gorgeous smile but not even making eye contact, just staring down at my lips as she lets her brain settle from all the words she just vomited and as she holds herself back from her obvious impulse to actually kiss me. So I lean forward and peck her lips, untangling our limbs. "I'll be right back," I ignore the sting in my chest at the disappointment clear on her face as I pull completely away from her hold. But I kiss her cheek for reassurance before I disappear back upstairs, grabbing my go-bag.

I return to the kitchen with last year’s Christmas present in my hands and open up to the page I'm searching for, walking up to my girl. Her back is to me, pouring more batter onto the skillet to finish up breakfast. But the moment she puts the bowl of batter back on the counter, I swing my arms over her head and bring the sketchbook in front of her to show her a journal entry.

"I didn't always use it for sketches," I explain as she grabs the book from me, "but I use it. A lot. Read that entry," Amelia goes radio silent as she reads, and I rest my chin on my shoulder to read with her.

Amelia is my north. I always thought that I'd be alone for the rest of my life and I'd never fall in love again. I thought I had been scorned too hard and I'd never recover. But Amelia gives me a reason to want to go home. She gives me a reason to not make that reckless decision that comes to my mind in the field and she gives me a reason to not go out in the middle of the night and go searching for a new dealer. She gives me a reason to live and maybe it's wrong of me to rely so heavily on another person who could leave me just as easily as everyone else in my life has, but I don't care. She gives me a purpose and she's the reason I come home every day.

It's the little things she does that make me love her. I love seeing her face pop up on Garcia's video chats and I love seeing the snacks she leaves in my desk and the notes she leaves for me and how she always makes a point to clean my apartment when she's over. I've never met someone quite like her.

I didn't think I'd ever find a person to personify "north." I always thought that "north" would remain this mysterious entity that I would blindly chase after my entire life and remain following towards a life of recovery, or a life of constant relapse and pain. Or that I would just continue lying to myself and saying that my “north” was my job. But now I know that Amelia is that "north" that will always be by my side. As long as I have her, then I'll never have to chase after a nameless, faceless goal. I'll always have my north right beside me.

Amelia sniffles as she shuts the sketchbook, setting it gently on the counter. "Okay, fuck you for making me cry."

I toss my head back laugh, grabbing her waist to turn her around, taking the job of wiping her tears. "I’m sorry, love, that wasn't my intention."

"That was really sweet, dove," Amelia disregards her tears, throwing her arms around me and pressing her face into my neck. “I’m never gonna leave you, Spence. I want you to believe that. I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” I clutch her waist in my hands as if that would keep her from leaving, “sometimes, I just feel helpless and unlovable and when I feel like that, I come to you.”

“Good. You’re not unlovable. I am so insanely in love with you and you’re never, ever getting rid of me.”

“Good,” I echo, pressing my lips to her shoulder and trailing kisses up her neck. “You’re-” Amelia’s stomach growling silences me, her cheeks turning pink as she ducks her head away. “Okay, alright, the mushy love fest is over. Eat some breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, turning in my arms to dish out pancakes for us, “I’m just really hungry and I wasn’t gonna make anything until you woke up. But the bottom line is that I love you and I’m always gonna be in your apartment, cleaning shit you don’t want me to and annoying the hell out of you.”

“Yeah, you definitely annoy me when you leave the curtains open and I get blinded in the morning.”

Amelia turns to me with the cutest smile, holding a plate of pancakes out for me. “At least you get to wake up next to me in the morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I lean over the plate to give her what seems like the millionth kiss to the morning, “waking up next to you is pretty amazing.”

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