#im not going to see the tide turn where we have to start pretending that X and Pearl dont have their merits just bc the 3rd movie was bad.

[marklikely]

basically my opinion is that X (<- the movie) is a mixed bag some parts of it are mindnumbingly awful and some parts are great and the only reason i overall like it is bc it ended strong. Pearl is shockingly good like just a really well done movie that also adds a lot to improve the thing its a prequel for. Maxxxine is like if X still had all the bad parts but there were even more of them and its good parts werent as good and² it did not end strong it mostly ended in a whimper after a really confusing 3rd act. so yeah

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

so like. gotta preface this by saying that i DONT ship steddyhands. but ages and ages there were a whole buncha posts (proabably more than those three) where i jokingly whined abt how all the steddyhands content i see gets stede's characterization wrong. and out of silly, petty, joking, well-meaning spite over a harmless fandom disagreement i was like "im going to write my own summary of a steddyhands fic of how it SHOULD go." but then bc i do not like izzy and i do not care about this ship i forgot about it for a long ass time. but i was clearing out my drafts and slapped a few more paragraphs onto it and now here's this fucking monster

this is by no means a completed fic. but by god is it way longer than any fucking summary should be. like it's literally 5k. this is a 5k summary of what would probably be like a 100k fic. someone kill me

———

so for starters, this would have to be THE SLOWEST of burns (and there's no way i'd put that much time and effort into a fic for a ship i don't even like, so that's why this post is all i'm gonna write). izzy has to go through so much change before stede would even think about izzy as anything more than "that asshole that ed keeps around for some reason" (and also before im comfortable with ed being vulnerable around izzy haha "i shouldve let the english kill you" conversation my detested)

izzy would have been in love with ed since they met (but he doesn't know it). he doesn't even let himself admit he's attracted to him. ed always knew that izzy was interested, but he didn't want to be wanted the way izzy wanted him (he's not gonna be izzy's daddy dom, basically). stede and the gang have stolen a new ship and have been chasing them down. meanwhile, the vibe on the Revenge has been mostly just... sad. not gratuitously violent or a living nightmare. they do raids and stuff, but everyone still surrenders at the sight of blackbeard's flag and ed is bored. he sits in his room either crying or drinking. the rest of the crew do normal boat stuff. izzy is like... aware that the energy is low. but he has no idea what to do about it so he pretends everything is fine.

so the story starts at the reunion. stede and his gang finally catch up to the Revenge while ed and his crew are getting their asses handed to them by some european navy ship, the french or spanish or something idc. stede's crew is able to turn the tide of the battle. in the middle of all the chaos, stede and izzy run into each other. stede demands to know where ed is, izzy says ed doesn't want to see him. they fight, both physically and verbally. lotta insults are thrown on both sides while they wave swords at each other. at some point they have their swords crossed and faces close, glaring and growling homoerotically at each other, but then they hear ed shout in pain. he gets shot or stabbed or something, and instantly izzy and stede are both working in sync together to save him. stede uses his new sailor muscles to carry ed while izzy clears a path to get back to the Revenge. ed, barely holding onto consciousness and delirious from blood loss, sees stede for the first time and is like, "you came back..." stede, of course, replies, "never left." ed laughs and calls him a liar. izzy is dying inside.

they get ed and everyone else back onto the Revenge, the crew reunites, lucius is alive, roach stabilizes ed's condition.

while ed is unconscious (which lasts like 2 or 3 days), it's unclear who is running the ship. izzy is ed's first mate, but stede's crew outnumbers ed's. the crew tries really hard to get stede to just throw izzy overboard, but jim (who's struck a weird friendship with izzy since the marooning where all they do is practice fighting and never talk abt their feelings ever), is like, "ed might be mad if he wakes up and we killed his first mate." and stede (even though it's clear that he also kind of wants to throw izzy overboard), is like, "ugh, i suppose jim is right... and he did help me save ed. let's wait for ed to wake up first before we make any rash decisions."

so izzy, realizing how precarious his situation is on the ship (and realizing that if ed wakes up and wants nothing to do with him, he's doomed), starts acting like a cornered rat, hissing and spitting at everyone all the time (except for jim, who keeps training with izzy in stoic silence). he's especially harsh to stede, talking abt how much ed doesn't want to see his face and insulting stede's masculinity and trying to get stede to leave before ed wakes up. stede snaps back a little bit, but mostly he just rolls his eyes and ignores him bc he's just focused on worrying abt ed. stede spends the nights sleeping in a chair next to ed. izzy tries to sneak into the cabin at night to kill stede at some point, but jim stops him and reminds him that everyone is just looking for an excuse to chuck him overboard

when ed wakes up, he and stede kiss and make up. stede initiates family therapy where the whole crew and ed air out their feelings about the marooning and have a heart to heart. touching dialogue is had. izzy is in the corner glaring and scowling and also freaking the fuck out the whole time, but he doesn't say anything. eventually the crew heads out to go. do pirate stuff idk. and then ed asks for stede and izzy to stay for a second.

he thanks izzy for saving him, then he's like, "listen izzy, we both know that this hardly the first time you've saved my life. you and i go way back. we were good mates once. do you think we could be mates again?" and izzy, through gritted teeth, watching stede out of the corner of his eye, is like. sure, boss. whatever you say. and ed is like "i want you two to get along. you're both important to me," and stede and izzy (glaring daggers at each other) are like. okay.

then ed is like "okay now just izzy alone" and stede is like "are you sure?" but eventually ed gets him to leave. and then ed gets more serious and he's like "izzy. if you kill stede. you will never see me again" and izzy is like "youre not gonna feed me more toes?"

and ed is like "no. i will leave you at the next dock. and then i will burn the whole world down. i will bring hellfire straight to london and wage war on that shithole of a country. i'll slaughter every naval soldier who tries to cut me down. and when im finally overrun, i will go down in a blaze of glory so spectacular that they'll tell stories of it for years to come, until the sun burns out at the end of the world. and you will have no part in it. you will be stuck on some tiny island here on the other side of the world and nobody will know or care who you are. that's what's going to happen if you do anything to stede."

izzy is shaking. he's like. alright. anything else? and ed's like "yeah. i'm sorry about your toe. won't happen again." and that actually makes izzy almost cry. that there's nothing he can do to make ed look at him like that again, all attention on him, putting him in his place. there's nothing he can take from ed to make ed pay attention to him. if he wants to be close to ed, he has to give something to him. something less tangible than his own toe.

(and izzy thinks what he gives to ed is his sword and his undying loyalty to his captain, to blackbeard. he doesn't understand, just yet, that ed already has a sword, and that ed doesn't want loyalty to blackbeard. izzy doesn't get that giving ed a break is more than enough for ed to want to keep anyone around)

so yeah. this threat works. izzy gives up on trying to kill stede.

so ed is still in recovery for like a month. he's not able to move around a lot, so he's just kinda lounging around the Revenge being grossly in love with stede. he's always in a robe + leather pants combo, tits out and vibing. the crew raids some ships, including a naval vessel that was caught off guard. ed doesn't go on the raids, obviously, and stede stays behind with him, and the rest of the crew members don't trust izzy enough to let him join them. the crew pull off a bunch of weird fuckeries and have some very successful raids, but every time they come back with furniture and books and fabric and stuff, izzy rolls his eyes and grumbles some shit about "real pirating."

during all of this, izzy keeps trying to get ed alone. his new strategy is to try and be buddy-buddy with ed and peer pressuring him into tough masculine pirate violence (which always worked for jack whenever he came around), and also just hope ed gets bored of stede. but stede is like, at ed's side 24/7. the only time that ed is alone is when he's taking naps in the captain's cabin (bc again, he's recovering from Ambiguous Wound With Vague And Innaccurate Medical Properties), and stede literally makes ppl guard the door to let ed sleep. when izzy runs into stede alone, stede tries to initiate friendly conversation for ed's sake, but eventually izzy says some shit like, "i've been by ed's side for years before you, and i'll be by his side for years after. he'll get bored of you, eventually." and also he insults stede's masculinity a bunch, obvi. stede just sighs and is like, "well, i tried," and then he just gives izzy the cold shoulder from then on out

one of the nights when he's training with jim, izzy just keeps getting his ass handed to him and eventually jim is like "goddamn, i get your heart is broken but you're really sloppy tonight" and izzy is like. WHAT. how dare you. i don't have feelings. and jim is like "buddy you haven't slept in a week." and izzy's like "how can i sleep when everyone on this fucking ship wants to kill me!" and jim's like, "i don't want to kill you." izzy rolls his eyes but he's like "thanks," then jim's like "yknow, if you stopped being such a dick they'd probably stop wanting to kill you" and izzy is like "oh so i should just do what all you guys do? sit around braiding each other's hair and having group therapy sessions and spilling my guts to everyone while i'm all wrapped up in a silk gown?" and jim is like. "buddy, do you see me spilling my guts in group therapy or wearing a silk gown?" and izzy's like, "okay, but you're not like the rest of them." and jim's like "you're right, i'm not. just like lucius isn't like the rest of them. or how the swede isn't like the rest of them. or fang, or ivan, or frenchie, or anyone else on this ship. we're all different people, man. we don't have a problem with differences. we have a problem with people who do have a problem with differences." izzy is like "the fuck does that mean." jim is like "yeah, i can tell you're gonna have a hard time wrapping your head around that one, so im just gonna go to bed now. same time tomorrow?"

the next night, ed doesn't come up with stede to listen to the bedtime story. while stede is distracted, izzy sneaks downstairs to finally talk to ed alone. ed is like. trying to prepare some kind of horny surprise for stede (lingerie, probably. something that's kinda feminine), so we get that avatar scene where zuko goes to talk to sokka and sokka thinks suki is the one who entered the tent (only ed is like, almost entirely naked and in the middle of prepping himself), and ed greets izzy like, "oh babe, you're back early! i was going to surprise you, but you can come here and help me finish getting ready~" or some shit idk. izzy is incapable of human speech for several seconds, and when ed realizes that this is not stede he very nearly dies of embarrassment. he covers himself up while izzy is just. choking on air. overcome with rage/lust/jealousy at the sight. he stands behind a chair to hide his absolutely raging boner

when ed's got one of stede's robes on he's like. haha. heyyyy buddy. haven't seen you around much. how have things been? and izzy is like. things have been great. super. im trapped on a boat full of people that want to kill me. ed is like, oh no, they're still going on about the killing you thing? maybe we should have stede mediate another group therapy session, i know laying everything out in the open really helped me get—

and izzy cuts him off like "how the fuck are you falling for this?" ed is like. "?" izzy continues, "you're letting everyone see you at your weakest! they're going to kill you!" ed is like ok they could've done that literally at any point while i was feverish in bed. or at any point since then, really, i'm not exactly at the top of my game right now. izzy's like, "they're gonna turn you in for a bounty!" ed is like bro they literally had the opportunity when we raided that british naval ship two days ago. izzy just starts working himself up into a frenzy while ed is like, calmly pointing out where izzy's logic is flawed, until eventually izzy says some demeaning shit about ed's masculinity, and ed's face cracks for a moment, then suddenly stede (back from storytime) literally APPEARS FROM NOWHERE and just. DECKS izzy. wrecks the little man's ENTIRE shit. breaks his fucking nose.

izzy is like. in shock. so is ed actually. (both of them are also. very turned on.) and stede is like "i've let you say this shit about me. but you do not get to say that shit to ed" (but like, better written and more in character, lol). stede then gives a whole speech where he is just letting out every bottled up response to all of izzy's insults for the past few weeks, talking abt "how dare you speak to ed that way, the only reason you're alive is because ed somehow still has fondness for you, even though you've done nothing to earn that fondness. if you really knew ed as well as you say you do, you should be happy to see ed opening up and becoming more comfortable with himself and his crew. ed enjoying fine things doesn't make him less of a pirate, he's still just as much the brilliant sailor he's always been. even now, while ed is recovering from his wound, he's been helping the crew read the weather and predict storms and plan raids, and all you've been doing is sulking around and making everyone miserable! i'm not going to have my men kill you, izzy, because ed still, for some reason, cares about you, but if you don't stop being such a prick, you can get the fuck off my ship the next time we head to port. now if you'd kindly fuck the hell off, im going to make love to my co-captain, who looks really good in that lingerie."

izzy leaves. is having a hard time having coherent thoughts. by chance he runs into jim, who's like, "hope you're ready to put up a better fight than you did last ni-hooooly shit what happened to your face?" and izzy is like. what? and jim's like "bro im getting roach stay here." and izzy just sits in the rec room (or wherever they are) until jim comes back with a very sleepy-looking roach, who takes one look at izzy's face and bursts out laughing. that's enough to get izzy to stop staring blankly, and he tries to snarl at roach, except that when he moves his face it hurts like fucking hell. and roach is like, "alright, alright, hoo boy! wish i could've seen whatever caused this." then he's like, "so i need to pop your nose back into place. it's gonna hurt like hell though, so i should probably go get some laudanum–" and izzy's like "no it's fine just do it." and jim's eyebrows raise and roach is like, "uh... are you sure?" and izzy's like "just fucking do it!"

so roach does and izzy screams through gritted teeth. then roach cleans his nose with rum or something, bandages it, gives izzy the rest of the booze, and goes back to bed, leaving jim and izzy there alone. izzy starts drinking. jim sits next to him and holds their hand out for the bottle, and then the two of them just drink in silence until the bottle is gone. then they go to bed without saying anything.

then izzy proceeds to have The Most Confusing Wet Dream Of His Entire Goddamn Life. he keeps seeing ed in lingerie, stede's face twisted in righteous anger, random flashes of stede fucking ed, izzy fucking ed in the lingerie, izzy wearing the lingerie and getting fucked by stede, izzy calling stede daddy, stede and ed fully clothed asking izzy to talk about his feelings, stede slapping izzy and spitting into his mouth.

izzy wakes up with the worst case of morning wood he's ever had in his life. he proceeds to have a very frantic masturbation session. as he's laying there afterwards, he keeps thinking abt ed in lingerie and stede breaking his nose. and he absolutely cannot wrap his head around the fact that ed bottoms. this is also the first time izzy's ever consciously thought about having sex with ed. he's literally been so repressed that for years he would just jack off to like, remembering the smell of booze in ed's beard or some pathetic shit like that. he'd think about, like, fighting with ed and getting pinned down and being totally at ed's mercy. but now when he thinks of those old fantasies, instead of ed pinning him down, it's stede?????

izzy stays in bed the whole day. nobody comes to check on him. he hears the sound of the crew going about their day, stede's voice calling out commands on the deck. he jerks off again at some point in the afternoon. night falls. he can't make out the words, but he can tell from the cadence of stede's voice at what point he starts reading to the crew, and at what point they all go to sleep. he waits for ten more minutes to pass, then he heads to the galley to get food.

jim is waiting literally right outside his door. izzy is not spooked at all (this is a lie).

jim's like "hey man, we never got to spar last night. let's go." izzy's like, "i haven't eaten anything all day." and jim's like, "so you're saying you can't take me?" and izzy snorts and follows them to go practice murdering people

jim very much goes easy on izzy, but izzy is too hungry and tired and confused (and horny) to care. they fight or whatever, jim wins every round, then they're like "man im starving, let's get a snack." the two of them go get food. after a while, jim's like, "so, what'd you say to piss stede off so bad?" and izzy's like, "how did you know it was him?" and jim laughs and says, "the knuckles on his right hand were bandaged up today, and he didn't seem too worried about you spending all day hiding in your room."

izzy takes a long drink and doesn't respond for a while. then he says, "you're dating the guy with the hat, right?" jim's like, "i'm the guy with the hat." and izzy's like, "you're a guy?" and jim goes, "ehh..." and tilts their hand side to side. izzy, deciding to move on, is like, "i mean the one with the orange hat. and the blue earring." and jim's like, "it's teal." izzy's like, "whatever." and jim's like, "yeah, we're dating. why?" izzy takes a minute before asking, "what do you like about him?" and jim is jokingly like, "dude, the whole reason i hang out with you is so i don't have to talk about feelings" and izzy, instead of laughing with them like he usually would, just kinda snaps, "would you just answer the question?" jim looks at his face for a long moment, assessing, then says, "i like that olu's kind. he cares about people so easily, i don't know how he does it. he's patient with me, even when i'm being difficult. he tells me when he's upset, but not in a mean way, just in a, like, 'i don't want to be mad at you, help me fix this' way. he can be really clingy sometimes, but he'll hold himself back if i ever need space. he just... accepts me. all of me. even the parts i don't accept."

and izzy is like. staring into space. and after a second jim says, "also he does this thing with his tongue where he–" and izzy is like "OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH THANKS." jim laughs at him a little bit. and after another long pause izzy's like, "you know they almost made him captain?" and jim smirks and is like, "yeah, i heard about that. when they almost threw you overboard?" and izzy's like "yeah. then." and jim says, "yeah, i'm not really surprised. like i said, he's good at caring for people. he'd make a pretty good captain." and izzy's like, "are you mad that he's not captain?" and jim shrugs and is like, "eh, i'm not one for politics." but izzy presses, like, "but he'd be in charge of the whole ship. he'd be the one telling everyone what to do. he'd have all the power here!" and jim's like, "hey man, i don't really give two shits about 'power.' im just trying to get by in this world. all i want is to hang out with my partner, throw knives at stuff, and sometimes watch my crew put on talent shows." and izzy, getting kind of frustrated, is like, "but doesn't it bother you that he's weak?"

before izzy realizes, jim has a knife against his throat and is glaring directly into his eyes. "i let you say a lot of shit to me, pendejo," they growl, "i let you talk shit about this crew, about my captain, about how none of my friends are real pirates. but you do not get to tell me that olu is weak." izzy's eyes are wide at first, but when jim finishes, he snorts and says, "look, he's not as bad as lucius or stede-" but jim cuts him off. "there's more to strength than having power," jim says. "there's more to being strong than just making everyone afraid of you. and whatever it is that you think makes stede and lucius weak" and izzy is like "i fucking knew you'd turn on me too. now everyone on this stupid fucking ship wants to kill me" and jim just gives him the flattest, most unimpressed look before just walking away. they say "get over yourself, izzy" as they go.

izzy goes to bed. has another wet dream. and when he wakes up he's like. fine. fucking fine. i'll try and find some way to live on this stupid fucking clown ship full of shitty pirates.

he apologizes to jim. jim just stares blankly and walks away, but then later is like "we're gonna spar tonight, right?" so izzy knows he's forgiven. he gives the most uncomfortable, gritted apology of his life to stede, and stede's like "oh, it's not me you need to apologize to. go speak to my co-captain." so izzy goes to the captain's cabin and ed is in his usual leathers and izzy is like. trying so hard to make himself apologize but he can't get the words out and eventually ed's like "it's fine, mate. i'll tell stede you apologized, okay?" and izzy's like. alright. thanks. and ed's like "you did kind of have a point, about if the crew wanted to mutiny" and izzy perks up like yes we're going to start running this ship the way real pirates do but then ed is like "yeah, stede wouldn't stand a chance. im still recovering, can you give stede sword lessons for me?"

izzy. does not want to give stede sword lessons. but ed's like "alright i guess i'll tell stede you didn't really apologize and you can get off at the next port. or you can just apologize for real." and izzy really has to think about it but eventually he's like. fine. i'll train your stupid fucking boyfriend.

ed watches for the first half hour of their first training session but someone's gotta captain the ship so from then on out it's just stede and izzy sword fighting in the jam room for a couple hours a day. this leads to angry sexual tension that builds and builds until they angrily make out. and stede is like freaked out bc he loves ed and he would never be unfaithful so he of course goes to ed and tells him about it thinking ed is gonna be heartbroken. but ed is like "i mean, it doesnt really sound like you want the same thing with him tho?" and i guess ed is like "wait if you top izzy i think that'd be kinda funny actually. also that sounds pretty hot. do you wanna top izzy? can i watch?"

so next time they do sword fighting practice ed watches and it escalates to horny shit and then when izzy's like trying really hard to hide his boner, stede is like "what do you say, darling?" and ed is like "pop the question, babe." and then they ask izzy if he'd be okay with stede fucking him while ed watches. izzy tries to bluster his way out of it but then ed is like "damn, was looking forward to it" and izzy is like. ok. fucking. fine.

and then it's really hot and everyone's into it. izzy hates that he's into it but for several days he keeps coming back for more (he tells himself he's only doing it bc it's the only time ed pays any attention to him but like... it's not just that). they do that for like a week or a week and a half. ed gives commentary the whole time, mostly just talking about how hot stede looks. the most he ever says about izzy is stuff like "yeah izzy doesnt he feel so good stretching you out" or whatever

until one day while stede's fucking izzy ed says some shit about "who's the namby pamby now?" and then stede freezes and is like. ed. did izzy say that to you? and ed is like uhhhhhhhhhh maybe? and then stede pulls out of izzy and is like "get the fuck away from him" and izzy (who was having a fantastic time) is like "daddy no" and stede is like "i am not joking get the FUCK out"

and idk. ed tells stede about izzy threatening to kill him while he was heartbroken over stede. and stede is SO fucking mad. maybe stede didnt even know abt the robe era he just thought ed came back to the revenge and went full kraken right away. and this actually makes stede feel more guilty abt leaving bc the thought of ed crying in a blanket fort and eating all his marmalade because he hurt him is even worse than thinking ed just got angry and painted his face. and the fact that izzy said that shit to ed while he was heartbroken like that makes stede SO fucking angry.

and then stede's anger makes ed realize that actually that was really fucked up and he actually finally tells stede about the toe thing and stede is like "i wouldve done the same!!" and they cry together. and then stede and ed dont talk to izzy for weeks and ed starts to emotionally heal from all that. he had stopped wearing stede's robes after the night izzy walked in on him fingering himself but he starts wearing them again. and then he starts actually trying to form a cohesive Look and they steal fancy clothes for ed now and stede pampers ed and takes care of him and ed gets to relax and not worry about people depending on him or on how people perceive him. and he and stede together get to be more confident in themselves than theyve felt in forever

and in the meantime i guess izzy just starts acting like a normal crew member and he very much hates it and the crew is very much giving him shit (someone makes him swab the deck through the entire night) and he wants to be mean to them so fucking bad but like, he knows one wrong move and he's off the boat forever and he doesn't want that. so idk i guess eventually the crew lays off him and invites him to sit and drink with them and stuff. izzy doesn't really get any of them, but jim will sit down next to him and drink next to him and izzy decides that actually maybe this crew isn't entirely useless. they still get on his nerves tho

then one night crew is also like "so uh... why are the captains not fucking you anymore" and izzy's like "YOU KNEW??" and theyre like "buddy you were SO loud. we all heard you call stede daddy" and izzy actually almost has a panic attack but idk someone (lucius?) is like "dude nobody is judging you. it's okay."

and izzy realizes theyre right. nobody is judging him. they want gossipy details but they don't actually care. and that's a big "oh" moment, that he could do things the wrong way (get fucked by someone less masculine than him, maybe even talk about his feelings) and these people wont judge him for it. so izzy gives them a very censored version that basically boils down to "they remembered what an asshole i am and they want nothing to do with me. and they're right"

and uhhhh maybe izzy and lucius hook up too. and then izzy starts crying after and lucius is like "oh god what's wrong" and izzy's like "i miss them. i miss ed. i miss bonnet. why the fuck do i miss bonnet??" and lucius is like "aww did izzy the spewer catch feelings?" and izzy's like "fuck. fuck. i fucking did jesus fuck." he also admits to himself finally that he's been in love with ed for years. (the feelings izzy thinks he has for stede are just His Cock Feels Really Good In My Ass)

and. idk. i guess weeks after all this character development has happened for ed and izzy and stede, izzy jumps in front of a bullet for stede. which leads to stede and ed both thanking him when he wakes up. which leads to izzy apologizing to ed and being like "you dont have to forgive me." and i dont think ed totally accepts the apology but he and stede do start talking to izzy again. ed more than stede maybe. i think stede is a huge prick to izzy and izzy sometimes snaps back but mostly he just sighs because like, yeah. that's fair.

and then i think ed and izzy happen first this time like i think they're reminiscing about old times and ed is like "do you realize how unhappy i was though?" and izzy is like "i didnt before, but i can see it now. you look younger than you have in years. i'm glad you found someone who knows how to love you better than i do" and ed's like wait WHAT. and izzy's like "? what?" and ed's like "you love me??" and izzy's like "yes?? obviously?????" and ed's like "i thought you just wanted me to fuck you!!!" and izzy's like "i mean THAT TOO" and ed's like "do you still love me??" and izzy's like "god only knows why, but yes! obviously!" and then ed asks "do you still want me to fuck you?" and izzy's like "yknow, that's actually a harder one to answer! i dont really know!! i just know that i love you and youre hot!"

And Then They Make Out

and this one is a harder convo for ed and stede to have, not because of the infidelity but stede is like "you remember how he hurt you though?" and ed's like yeah. and im not ever gonna forget that. but i think i can move past it. and stede's like okay fine but i have one condition. he has to watch you bottom for me first

so they do that. bc stede is like "i need izzy to know that the way we make love doesnt make you any less of a man." and izzy is into it obviously, this is not how he ever imagined ed would enjoy sex but he can't deny that ed looks good, and suddenly the "you look younger than you have in years" makes sense. like he can tell ed is loving this and suddenly trying to connect this man with the version of Sexy Blackbeard that izzy was pining after for years just doesn't make sense. izzy can no longer picture ed doing hardcore kinky bdsm dom shit to him.

also izzy's been on the receiving end of stede's dick so he's like, yeah, i get it. but then weirdly even tho this was supposed to be about izzy accepting that ed doesnt want to be the aggressive daddy dom izzy always wanted him to be, izzy (who is first and foremost a huge bottom and the world's biggest sub) is looking at how good ed feels and all he can think is i want stede bonnet in my mouth so fucking bad oh my god.

and then he's not looking at ed at all he's just looking at stede and is like oh shit oh shit oh shit. and ed nuts first and when stede pulls out izzy is right there like "please please please finish in my mouth please daddy" (<- sentences that killed me to write). and stede and ed are both like. oh.

this leads to them falling back into something like their original arrangement where stede and izzy are hate-fucking except now ed is getting in on the action. so like the sex dynamic is that usually ed is either being a pillow princess or a power bottom for stede, izzy is a bratty sub to stede, stede is a service top for ed and a daddy dom for izzy, and then ed and izzy trade handies or oral or whatever when it's all three of them. sometimes stede and izzy team up to pamper ed, or stede and ed team up to torment izzy. ed and izzy by themselves usually dont do anal but when they do izzy usually tops. ed and izzy having sex isn't the sappy passionate lovemaking of ed and stede but it is still very sweet. these sex dynamics aren't set rules or anything, sometimes ed tops stede and sometimes izzy isnt being quite so submissive and etc etc, but that's usually the vibe. ed never doms izzy tho.

as for the emotional dynamic. ed and stede are in love obviously, we all watched the show. with izzy and ed, i dont think ed is in love with izzy at first but he falls into it gradually. stede is maybe a little jealous of this at first but 1. he cant deny anything from ed and if ed loves izzy then fine, ed can love izzy, and 2. he can see that it happens in a different way than how ed loves stede, so he eventually gets over it. and then with stede and izzy it's basically just this post i made where one day while they're fucking it suddenly out of nowhere gets really soft (ed is sitting out for this one but he's there watching) and afterwards stede and izzy are both so mad about being in love. theyre angry at themselves and then they play chicken about it until stede gets injured and izzy says i love you and that completes the steddyhands injurty trifecta so i guess that means the story ends and i'm freed from this post and i can finally get it out of my fucking drafts. jesus fucking christ.

[spacedikut]

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah! 

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

[pfreadsandwrites]

congratulations on 100+ followers!!🥺❤️✨ bless you and your quality content ahhhh and thats a really good list of prompts there i actually had trouble picking one... but, since im truly a sucker for angst at heart, can i please have a number 15 with Kakashi?👀 please hurt me lmao thank you, and congrats once again!❤️

100 follower celebration

Yes, i used this mangacap. 

Anyway, ahh @enchantedpendant, I’m so sorry I’ve kept you waiting so long for this! I know you expressed excitement over me writing something angsty way back when I first began the celebration event and ugh I’m just sorry it’s taken so long. And thank you for your support as well. You’ve been so amazing and encouraging right from the start and I’m so grateful :) I really hope you like this... if ‘like’ is the correct word.

Oh - also, to the anon that also requested this exact prompt (great minds think alike, huh?) I’m planning on writing a different version for you! But yours is the penultimate or last one so I’m hoping this’ll tide you over in the meantime! 

This is my first piece after being unable to write for a while - forgive me if it’s rusty. I worked hard on this but I also struggled to all hell with it. It’s a circular-ish/montage-y piece. And I could have made it short, focusing on the scene itself, but I wanted this to have an emotional impact, ya know? I hope it worked! Please let me know what you think. Or if there are any mistakes.

warnings: character death, angst, miscarriage, sad feels all around, female reader, mild violence and sex mentions but nothing explicit, 2.9k

taglist: @madaras-housewife @datblobbyfish @praisingkuroosbedhead @allthingskakashi @enchantedpendant @ibukiirisha @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @tachibrii @drunkenfists

15. “Don’t die on me - please.”

Why did it always feel too soon, each time he let you go?

You remember it, the first time it happened. 

How could you not? Little, insignificant, as it might have been to some - to him, if he could convince himself - to you, it was momentous. Lasting only a second, where his calloused fingers had brushed against yours, softer than his, yes, but no less enduring. The normally aloof eye, the only one he seemed to show without hesitation, was intent, the obsidian endless in its depth. 

But - out of courtesy to him, or some kind of self-preservation - you’d paid it no mind. Or kept up that pretence, anyway. You found your footing as quickly as you’d lost it, stumbling away from his support no matter how reluctant you were to do so. The gratitude you’d muttered was enough and it seemed like you’d made the right choice; when that quietly shrewd eye of his turned away from you and his strong hands let you go in the same movement. He never let you bask in your own clumsiness, but that somehow made you feel worse. His nonchalance was excruciating. As if he hadn’t just saved you and made it look effortless. As if his touch alone hadn’t frozen you in place. 

As if it never happened at all. 

(It never should have happened at all.)

But still, you remember it. The moon’s luminosity the perfect backdrop, illuminating that wild silver hair as he turned away from you. 

(It was all so disgustingly poetic.)

It took longer than it should have for you to turn away in kind. But you did. Eventually. You made the awkward trek back to camp before him, the internal rambling of your self-berating your only company. It grew louder each time you looked back, stealing little glances against your own will.

It was so loud that you didn’t notice much else.

Not even Kakashi stealing glances back at you, for instance. 

***

Why did your breath hitch,  even when the air had never been more tranquil?

You remember. 

How he always did that, you still don’t know. Perfect timing, though you never appreciated just how perfect until he was gone again. 

(You should have learnt to count your blessings.)

Without a trace, and so quickly, unceremoniously, that the entire encounter might well have been a mirage. It still might have been.

(Maybe it’d been better that way.)

 You’d had enough. You didn’t think it through much further, and your desperation triumphed over your cautiousness as you sought out the bar exit. The mission, against all odds, was a success. And, against all better judgement, you were dragged along to the accompanying celebration. The atmosphere should have been infectious, you should have smiled more, you should have enjoyed yourself. 

Then again, you couldn’t find much to celebrate. Mistakes - your mistakes - had piled up. Your team completed the mission despite you, not because of you. The liability, not the heroine. 

(In hindsight, would it really have been so terrible if things ended for you there?)

You’d exhaled dramatically as you made your escape, a feeble attempt to expel all the guilt and shame you’d retained, or tried to retain, up until now. 

You still remember the lilt of his voice, smooth and somehow jovial, but never losing that gravelly undertone, as you walked around the corner. How could you ever forget it? No matter how lax he sounded, or tried to sound, the severity lurking underneath always cut you deep.

Are you alright, he’d asked, already knowing the answer. With that signature one-eyed smile, he pretended to believe your response. And you pretended, in turn, that his smile didn’t have had the effect on you it did. 

You didn’t exchange that many words as he walked you home, but somehow, it was enough. Though he was always careful with what he revealed, it was enough. He understood - much more than he let on, you suspected - but it was enough.

You didn’t hate yourself quite as much anymore, and - well, it wasn’t too much of a stretch - it didn’t seem like he hated you either. Something in the way his hand squeezed your shoulder, lingering for a moment, just before he saw you off. Was he reluctant to let go? 

Maybe. 

You slept better that night. 

You’d find out later, that, miraculously, Kakashi did too. 

***

Why did you feel so secure, sharing in all that suffering?

You remember.

(Why had you been so stupid?)

You’d almost dropped your flowers, when you saw him standing there, facing the memorial stone. It shouldn’t have been shocking; you’d heard gossip, in passing, about how much time he spent here. You’d also heard, in passing, how late he tended to be. Putting two and two together, you never held the latter against him. 

You understood, after all. You'd understood all the more as your eyes bore into his back. Something in the way he curled and uncurled his fists, the way he sighed, the way his straightened back gradually hunched. 

As far back as you could recall, your attitude to graveyards was… ambivalent. You’d avoid them whenever you could, not out of any tendency to be spooked or anything like that. You just couldn’t bring yourself to leave. It was peaceful, to be immersed somewhere so solemn, with such dense air - but the gravity of it also chained your feet there like an anchor. You knew each time you were there, regardless of your own volition, wouldn’t be the last. So if anyone were to empathise with this particular way he chose to punish himself, it was you.

(And now you would take it on twofold in his stead. What a joke.) 

“You don’t often come here,” he’d said quietly, matter-of-factly. Devoid of judgement, though he didn’t bother to face you. 

“No. I probably don’t spend as much time here as I should…,” your voice trailed off, and found new confidence, when you watched him stare at that stone. Hopelessly. You didn’t know all the details. But you didn’t need to. All you knew that it was simultaneously frustrating and pitiful. “And you probably spend too much.”

This time, he glanced back over his shoulder. You couldn’t exactly see through his mask, but he seemed… amused? “How do you figure that?”

“Call it a hunch.”

He chuckled, satisfied, and stepped back to give you room. “Then, I guess we balance each other out.”

“What a pair we are.” 

“Right. Well, I better-“

You still don’t know why you decided to grab his wrist that day, when he turned to leave. You still don’t know why you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, either. 

You still don’t know why Kakashi decided to stay. 

***

Why did you flit so rapidly from anger to elation, and why was it always because of him?

You remember.

In hindsight, it had been your fault. 

(What the fuck else was new?)

Retreat. Get out of here. It had been a simple order. But it had felt impossible, when the enemy appeared from behind, jutsu blaring, its raw power visible, that disgusting snarl on its wielders’ face - aiming for him.

You didn't think. You couldn’t think. You leapt in front of the attack within seconds, and your plan ended there. 

The same couldn’t be said for your captain. With his signature finesse, with a rare scowl - you couldn't tell who it was aimed at - you were moved away, and the enemy deflected, in the same movement. 

The battle had come to an end shortly after, through no fault of your own. It took all you had, but you bit your tongue as he scolded you, in front of your comrades, quietly healing your wound. 

You had acted for his sake. 

(How futile.)

Apparently, that meant nothing to him, not even worthy of acknowledgement. It wasn’t like you had expected gratitude - but for a man known for his stoicism to blow up, and because of you - it made you livid in turn. 

The journey back had been silent, seemingly just so you could bask in your own shame. 

So, when you were back in the sanctuary of your home, nursing your injury, your failure, and your pride - you hadn’t expected to hear a knock.

Nor had you expected him. Headband missing, brow furrowed and glaring at you in that way you couldn’t understand, much less accept. You’d made a mistake - of disobeying orders, of recklessness, of caring - but why the hell did he care in turn? 

“What?” You had hissed, unable to contain the outrage of his interruption of your little haven. Not that it made it any easier to look at him. “You’re here to admonish me again?”

“What the hell was that?” He growled in turn. “You disobeyed my orders and almost got yourself killed.”

“I-,” your voice shook, tears pricked your eyes - he was right, even if it pained you to admit it, but it wasn’t fair. The space between you had shrunk. He was so close now that you saw the rise and fall of his broad chest beneath his vest - apparently just as outraged as you. You had never seen him like this before. “Why are you so mad at me? I was just trying to - I thought-”

“Am I supposed to factor in every one of your impulses? Why did you do that?”

You remember how you heard his heartbeat, pounding - pounding just as loud as yours was. And it depleted your inhibitions. “Because - because you were in danger, you asshole!”

You remember how he had gently grabbed your injured wrist, just as you were about to shove him. You’d anticipated his reflexes, but you couldn’t have anticipated his expression, when you finally met his gaze. You remember how swiftly he’d pulled down his mask, but you couldn’t have anticipated just how breathtaking he’d be, either. Nor how it could feel when he kissed you - finally.

When Kakashi moved to pull away, of course, of course, you moved to pull him right back. 

 ***

Why did you always let him leave?

You remember.

(If you knew how it would end, you never would have let him. Better still, maybe you never should have let him enter in the first place.)

Safe.

You’d never felt so safe. 

When he’d appear and reappear at your apartment - the window, never the door, despite your half-hearted protests - waving with that stupid, adorable, one-eyed smile. He knew you’d saunter over, sliding it open with a matching grin, every time without fail. 

(You always did. That much, you did.)

When he’d laugh, when you told him about your mishaps. You’d laugh at his in kind - though it didn’t suit you, and you replaced it with your usual sympathetic ear. When you’d accompany him to the memorial stone, and pull him way just at the right time. When he’d pull you away, too. 

(What a fool.)

When he’d unmask himself around you, and you pretended not to notice, like it didn’t floor you. When you watched him struggle to decide whether he was relieved or offended. When he kissed you, in that indescribable way that wavered between tentative and determined, soft and powerful, usually choosing the perfect time to flit to the latter, making your knees buckle in the process.

(What a fool.)

When he’d undress you, and no matter how desperate he’d seem, how he always paused to take you in. When he’d move in you, filling your heart and body so much that you thought you might burst. When he’d hold you just that little bit closer, tighter, longer every time.

(What a fool.)

Even when he’d leave, sometimes after you’d fallen asleep, sometimes before - sometimes in the morning - when he’d leave for a day, a week, a month - you felt safe.

Because you knew, in the deep recesses of your heart, that each time you saw him wouldn’t be the last.

(What a fucking fool.)

You remember the first time he said it. Quietly, earnestly, unceremoniously. 

“I love you,” Kakashi had murmured into your ear one night, when he was so, so sure you were sleeping. 

***

Why did you ever dare think you had any cause for optimism?

You remember.

The two lines, glaring upwards and through you, from that unremarkable little piece of plastic. They’d ran parallel - you thought it apt, just like your trepidation and your excitement. The lines would never meet, though. 

(How apt.) 

You’d been happy. That was what had shocked you most, save only for the very fact of you being in this situation in the first place. But behind the fear, there it was. A little glow, a nucleus of hope and future nascent deep in your centre, spread through your heart and speckled to your fingertips, your face, your smile - that paired flawlessly with the little bundle of meaning, the combination of you and him budding in your belly. 

(Buds drop off before blooming all the time.)

You thought it’d be easy. 

(How stupid.)

You thought you could share it all with him right away. 

(You wished.)

But there was a part of you that faltered, when he’d show up at your window in that deceptively lax way. The words stuck in your throat, whenever he asked you if you were alright. The ease of his question didn’t match the weight of the truth. It almost felt… cruel. 

Maybe his fears would eclipse yours, and all that euphoria you’d harboured would dissolve. Maybe he’d be angry, though you suspected that even if he were, it’d be short lived. Maybe you’d end up keeping him from his duty. 

(Maybe you were just a coward.)

Regardless, your hands would float to your stomach whenever they weren’t occupied. Regardless, your mind would conjure up a future, remiss of your own will, an idyllic scene of a child, a marriage, something so sickly sentimental that you wanted to scold yourself. Regardless, it gave you hope.

It was enough, you’d decided. You'd get over it, face him and your fears, because what was waiting on the other side was so good that you’d forget that you had any in the first place. You’d do it. 

You’d tell Kakashi the next time you saw him. 

***

Why did it always feel too soon, each time he let you go?

You remember it, the last time it happens.

How could you not? The moon’s luminosity the perfect backdrop, incandescent, illuminating that wild silver hair, that crimson eye, that tired eye. His blood gleams under its splendour, under the green light that emanates fruitlessly from your delicate, shaking fingers. Softer than his, but no less enduring. 

It’s all so disgustingly poetic.

He refuses to scream, or shout - just whisper your name, in that restrained, ever-abiding tone. It’s never made you want to scream out more in his turn. You would have done anything to absorb it all in its stead. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands, as if he has the energy to. As if you can answer. As if you don’t see the wounds, the bloodshot-eyes, that compliance of his own mortality. His hand - the one that you were stupid enough to trust in, to think was strong - clenches around yours, calloused, then weakens, loosening its grip. He follows it with another impossible, familiar order. “Get out of here.”

“Shut up. Don’t die on me - please,” you beg, coughing up your words in between the sobs that spill forth, onto his face. The ache, the deep, sharp cramp in your hips, the agonising spark that spreads throughout your lower body, and you repeat your futile mantra two-fold.  

(It hurts. It hurts so much.)

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry,” he begins, moving to use his dwindling force to brush away your healing fingers, “it’s too late for that. Just get somewhere safe. Please.” 

“Shut up,” you repeat. You gasp hoarsely, reinforcing your grip. The pain deepens, in the pit of your throat, your heart, and in your womb, amalgamating together inextricably in some hellish concoction just for you and you alone. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. His eyes lid, and suddenly that scar never seems so cutting. It’s all so obvious. He just looks so tired, so… resigned. As if he’s been waiting for this. ���I love you.”

“I love you too. So you can’t-”

“It’s over. You know it as well as I do.” 

Somewhere, somewhere deep down, you always knew. You knew, but never wanted to admit it. He’d made his peace with dying, long before you ever met, and you can’t hold him back any longer. It almost feels… cruel. 

(Not as cruel as him.)

His hand drops, dropping with a graceless thud against your damp thigh. “Y-you’re covered in blood. That’s all mine…?”

“Yes,” you lie, voice as thick as the mixture of blood and tears that stain both you and him. “Don’t worry about me.”

He stops - and you almost think he’s going to call you out, like he’s done so many times before. 

(You wish he would.)

You’ve never been able to dupe him. But instead, his eyes crinkle at the corners.

(You love him. You love him so much.)

He smiles that hidden smile, one last time. 

His fingers that fight with yours give up, one last time.

He whispers your name, one last time. 

Why did it always feel too soon, each time Kakashi let you go?

[asbcblog]

TOP SONGS OF 2020 WRITE UP!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDeuRMOV8neAhU2zd193d?si=lZ9gDIp0TsCCEOeCS7_QGw

1. I remember everything - John Prine

I was going to write an incredibly earnest and long review of this song that outlined just how much John Prine meant to me. I can’t really do it and I think this song probably says enough alone. With only a few chords he always manages to express all the little things that make love what it is, all different kinds of love. Long lasting, short moments, love with places, sounds, going places and staying home, endless family ties, and the often fragile but in the end tenable love between all human beings in the face of catastrophe. The pandemic stole a lot of things from a lot of people this year, including John Prine, but he will remain one of the greatest songwriters of all time and his songs will live on forever.

2. Dream Palette - Yves Tumor

I can’t drive but let’s pretend I’m driving, I’m in LA and it’s night time or something, my elbow’s out the window, don’t know why I’m wearing sunglasses, this song comes on the radio, I’m the coolest person alive.

3. Boylife in EU- Yung Lean

Not to repeat my review of Garden but when the chorus comes I feel like I’m on top of a really big hill and its pouring it down with rain and im screaming but this time its because of a no-deal Brexit.

4. Garden- Joseph Futak

My review was already used as part of Joe’s promo campaign and it said: “feel like im on top of a really big hill and its pouring it down with rain and I’m screaming when the drums come in x x”

5. Circle the Drain- Soccer Mommy

I like this song because I too, am often alone in my room, and I have also become obsessed with subtle breakbeats to an extent where people around me have become very bored of the subject.

6. The Brothers William Said- The Innocence Mission

I listened to this song over and over when I was travelling round London in January just after my birthday, it felt like I’d been listening to it for years, like it was in a movie I’d forgotten. It felt at the time like I was saying a lot of goodbyes, recognising that things weren’t really like they used to be.

7. On the Floor- Perfume Genius

Say it with me ladies: I CROSS OUT HIS NAME ON THE PAGE!!!!

8. Shameika- Fiona Apple

She may not believe it but I bet Fiona Apple looked tough with a riding crop.

9. Song for Our Daughter- Laura Marling

Everything about this is fantastic, mellow and bright at the same time. Every part is brought forward individually and no part of this song gets left behind. A stunning vocal from Laura Marling and purposeful lyrics set to a cinematically emotive instrumental. Pure magic as always.

10. Building site outside- Piglet

Not going to lie, I was in a very vulnerable emotional state when I listened to this song for the first time, but I think that makes it no less powerful and just, sad. The lyric ‘she smiled at me so much last time’ is just so simple and devastating that you forget this would’ve been on every indie film soundtrack from 2000-2008 if Piglet was an industry plant.  

11. I wonder- Shamir

One word: EPIC

12. Crimson Tide- Destroyer

Listened to this every time I came on my period this year.

13. In the Dining Room - Joe Pera talks with you

Adam showed me Joe Pera when I really felt incredibly sad at the very beginning of this year. It’s a show that’s made me feel good, no matter the circumstances. This moment in the show made me smile, and I love hearing Gene come in a bit too early.

14. Stupid Love- Lady Gaga

Shakin my little booty in the kitchen to this x

15. Might bang, might not- Little Simz

Livid we didn’t all get to go to End of the Road and see all the hot dad’s loving Little Simz.

16. Fire- Waxahatchee

A truly insane vocal. I listened to this song on my way to work almost every day from September to December and fantasised singing back up at some kind of outdoor gig in the summer and it made everything significantly less bleak.

17. Hannah Sun- Lomelda

This song is too nice and genuine for me to say anything other than, “really lovely song :)”.

18. Scroll of Sorrow- Machine Girl, guayaba

Listened to this a lot this year while sitting on my kitchen floor staring into an empty oven, wondering if I was ever going to go to a party again.

19. Build a nest- Jeff and Ruby Parker

Have put this on in the flat because the guitar solo reminds me of everything my dad listens to at home. A really great piece of music that kicks off a really exciting album.

20. Kiss me thru the phone- That Kid

Ned said yesterday that he thought it was funny how much the original of this song is so foundational to hyper pop and I agree. Also I’ve started saying ‘Bitch’ like That Kid does every time I stub my toe.

21. Cuckoo- Sam Amidon

I am punting down a creek, looking in the branches that hang over the water for the bird that shall lead me to my next clue.

22. Places/ Plans- Skullcrusher

Used this song to comfort myself in moments where I also just don’t understand why I’m not famous.

23. Sweetjoy- Jam City

Finally….. HAIM for dudes.

24. Clean Living- Slow Weather

I saw someone listening to this on the side of my Spotify so I decided to give it a go and it was a fantastic decision. It’s mental that half of this song is an outro.

25. Summer All Over- Blake Mills

Along with the music video visuals and the dampened piano tone, this wins the competition for least summer-y song with the actual word summer in the title.

26. Ready Cheeky Pretty- CHAI

All of my joy this year has been brought to me by CHAI. I have nothing negative to say about CHAI. If you have anything negative to say about CHAI you’re gonna have to go through me.

27. Diaphanous- Land of Talk

This band was recommended to me by a guy I was trying to flirt with at rough trade east but everything closed before I could impress him by saying ‘I think they’re really cool’.

28. Anything - Adrianne Lenker

Anyone who has ever attempted to write a song with me knows how much I simply love rhyming. Seriously though, every thing rhymes, brilliant stuff. (It’s also such a brilliantly full and constant song that still manages to move and remain exciting from start to finish. I imagine this is partially due to Adrianne Lenker’s almost nursery rhyme- esque structure and also due to her beautifully colloquial approach to family dynamics.)

29. Blow- Dj Gigola, Kev Koko

This song makes me wish I was Jason Bourne- just wanna jump really far while something explodes behind me.

30. Money Can’t Buy- Yaeji, Nappy Nina 

‘Well I’ll buy some Yaeji tickets, they’re for NOVEMBER, there’s NO WAY they’re gonna get cancelled’.

31. Only the Truth- Johanna Warren

When I first listened to this song I felt like I was floating in the ocean looking up at the stars as the drums came in on ‘what more can I do’. An incredibly beautiful and careful song.

32. Gasoline- Haim

2020 could probably be summarised with the phrase ‘WHY AM I NO LONGER IN CALIFORNIA? WHY DID I LEAVE CALIFORNIA?’ And this song is the 3 minutes 13 seconds seconds of escapism I needed to not topple into a full spiral.

33. Mapuu - Ic3peak

No one can convince me that Ic3peak are real people. They are a collective made up of child ghosts.

34. Don’t Worry- Bladee

Whenever I have an anxiety attack in the night I wake up and see Bladee’s ghost of the future over my bed, he says ‘Don’t worry’ and mumbles for a bit as I fall back into a peaceful sleep.

35. The biggest tits in history- The magnetic fields

The most relatable magnetic fields song imo.  

36. Sand Castle- nijuu

Yujin is a genius and my answer is yes, I do want to just walk for a while.

37. Curl Up- Darren Hayman

Ned reminded me how much I used to love Darren Hayman, and both of them have been a pretty big part of my year.

38. When Will Death Come- Sarah Mary Chadwick

‘Wow, mental voice’ - Ned, while doing the washing up.

39. Dear Dad - Sylvie Wiley

‘But I didn’t cry, you’d be proud’ Sylvie, I’m weeping forever.

40. 34+35- Ariana Grande

Hehehehehehehehehe

41. Garden Song- Phoebe Bridgers

Phoebe Bridgers is a pretty unparalleled lyricist and this song feels like a disconnected series of thoughts that somehow all make sense together and come to create something that doesn’t build, but all just kind of sits? What I’m trying to say is that I don’t really know what she’s talking about but like, I get it.

42. Ringtone (remix) - 100 gecs, Charli xcx, Kero Kero Bonito, Rico Nasty, 

I love the way it sounds like everyone got just one take and had to improvise all the lyrics but it still bangs.

43. Changer- Andy Shauf

Thank you lord for another album about a smaller than average man overthinking all of his social interactions with lots of lovely clarinet parts.

44. What’s your pleasure - Jessie Ware

My pleasure jessie? Probably just sitting by the fire with a tough crossword and a glass of merlot x

45. Slime- Shygirl

Shygirl’s series of singles this year made me even more livid that I had to take out my eyebrow piercing for my new job this year.

46. Sears Tower- Salem

Perfect halloween release.

47. Title track- happyness

Ned turned to me and said: ‘so is their new thing that they sound like Elliot Smith’ and I said: ‘and that’s a bad thing?’

48. Cross-sound ferry (walk on ticket) - Hamilton Leithauser

Have found unbelievable joy in chopping veg and shouting GREEEEEEEN PORT, NEEEEEEWWWW YOOORK alone in my kitchen.

49. Lowswimmer- Hailaker

I’ve loved hearing Jemima’s voice when I haven’t got to see her much this year. I normally take the piss out of the Hambledon line but I haven’t seen that this year really either. I guess we find sentimentality in strange places.

50. XS - Rina Sawayama

This song made me feel very decadent on those days where I didn’t wash.

51. Emily- Clem Snide

Let’s be more kind and brave in the face of it all.

52. Building a fire- Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy

P.O.V you’re doing bushcraft in the garden with your husband Bonnie Prince Billy and he’s here to protect you.

53. Asexual Wellbeing- Okay Kaya

This song absolutely bangs but I am truly bewildered by the way they singled out the line ‘if they could put a pulse into a spinach leaf, can they turn the two of us into a tree?’ in the production as if that was a true piece of genius. As I say great tune tho.

54. Anthems- Charli xcx

The soundtrack to couch to 5k

55. Never Better- Kitty Fitz

A SE London queen bringing us huge pop tunes in 2020. So so excited to see what 2021 brings us from Kitty, she’s gonna be a real force!

56. Deep in Love- Bonny Light Horsemen

This is such a delightful song which (mainly due to the time I actually got around to listening to the whole record) for me really rang in the spring. A beautifully recorded testament to the feeling of love getting stronger meaning you have a lot more to lose.

57. Malibu- Kim Petras

My song of the summer, made me feel like I was at the beach when really I was in Lewisham.

58. Like I’m Winning it- Girlpool

I’m so delighted that the turn girlpool have made this year is towards dramatic goth music with breakbeats. Their voices both sound amazing and they look simply incredible.

59. Azad- Frazey Ford

I have no idea what she’s saying as always but I love it.

60. Helio- Charlotte Dos Santos

I’m literally so excited for what Charlotte Dos Santos is gonna put out next. The production is fantastic and her aesthetics are flawless.

61. Lost in the Country- Trace Mountains

‘I checked my email twice as I cried’. Safe to say we’ve all been there this year amirite girlies x

62. Unfold You- Rostam

I hated this at first, I thought, what’s this lo-fi beats to study to shit, but it’s now my classic ‘I’m just gonna pop to the shops, anyone want anything? x’ song. Huge.

63. Oh Yeah- A.G cook

One of 2020s realisations is that me and A.G Cook kind of look like we could be cousins.

64. Can’t cool me down- Car Seat Headrest

I would like to personally thank will Toledo for giving me a tune that got me off my ass when I was too warm to do exercise this summer.

65. Take back the radio- Katy J Paerson

In love with Katy J Pearson’s voice and the way this song builds. Just pretty flawless and feel good in my opinion. I think she’s such an exciting new artist who’s gonna be around for a very very long time.

66. Good Woman- The Staves

‘I’m a good woman’… speak for yourselves.

67. A Little Love- Jack Francis

Feel like I’ve been singing this song for about 5 years! It’s amazing and I’m so excited about what Jack’s going to bring out in 2021, he’s a genius and also the nicest man on the planet.

68. Lullaby No.4 - Snailbeach

This song makes me feel like I’m being hypnotised on a haunted carousel in a very relaxing way.

69. Boyfriend in every city- Roma Radz

Sucks that she can’t see any of her boyfriends cos of covid :(

70. Jaja ding dong- Will Ferrell

Get back in there and play Jaja Ding Dong !!!!

71. Highway- Jonatan leandoer96

Man, would be pretty sick to have 20 boys outside the club but alas the clubs are dead and I’ve only regularly texted about 4 people this year.

72. De nadie- Kali Uchis

Felt v sexy listening to this for the first time in a Morley’s in Honor Oak.

73. Weird Fishes- Lianne La Havas

This album was a pretty triumphant return for Lianna La Havas and me teenage self simply couldn’t be happier.

74. Micro Creature- Aya Gloomy

Love that despite everything about this song telling me otherwise, that the artwork for this single looks like Aya Gloomy is just chilling in the fields by my family home in Hampshire.

75. Si Ella Sale- Bad Bunny

Better get on the duolingo now if I’m gonna know what this guy’s saying at Porto next year.

76. Through my sails- Mountain Man

Truly gentle reimagining of an already incredibly beautiful song, mountain man make every word seem new!

77.Christmas Day (get me outta this funk) - Baggio and Blue 5 Years- Bath days

In joint 77th place are two banging Christmas songs that have soundtracked a pretty bleak Christmas period and have made me feel pretty joyous in their ways, despite one literally being called Blue Five Years.

[whatevenismyaestheticidk]

Things I’ve heard high schoolers say pt 3

Person: it’s to early for me to be alive right now

Teacher: who invented math? Student: Lincoln.

Teacher: You feel as if you get low marks on this 5 paragraph essay you’ll end up poor and homeless and addicted to drugs. Student 1: Yes. Student 2: That’s exactly how it works. Student 3: I mean… you’re not wrong.

Student: It’s called panic and I do it well. I do it very well.

Student 1: I need to get glasses. Student 2: I need to get a will to live.

Student: Physics eats brains for lunch and sucks ass for dinner.

Student: Fuck you Perry the platypus!!

Student: he’s an Asian white supremisist. How does that even happen.

Teacher: After treating him like dirt for 7 years what is he to me? Student 1: Friends? Student 2: Lovers?

Teachers: We can’t have poor people running the place, that’s stupid.

Teachers: It was illegal to be alone because when you are alone you commit a sin.

Student: They play with your intestines? Like jumprope???

Student 1: you make me want to kill myself Student 2: Bitch please! I’ve been making myself want to kill myself for years.

Teacher: If you’re in my class don’t be acting the fool

Student: that’s it! You’ve lost your titty privileges

Student: I have the bladder of an octopus please let me go to the bathroom

Teacher: America broke up with Britain through text and by telling all of their friends but not actually telling Britain.

Student: my peripheral vision up is about as good as a fucking snail’s.

Student: I am allergic to myself.

Student: she brought my coconut juice. I’m going to cry.

Student: my name is Bitch.

Student: my elevator is literally a vsco girl

Student 1: what do you think? Student 2: I think I’m a fucking slut.

Student 1: I look like a lightbulb Student 2: A cute lightbulb. 10/10 would screw you (in)

Teacher: No one likes Axe, but its your friend.

Student: I am a flaming homosexual and that is why I want to dye my hair pink in honor of the women that I love so much

Student: oh my god it’s Michael fucking Jackson! *screams*

Student: Im 16 but not even very much 16.

Teacher: Theres a reason my cousin Neil trades three shifts of paramedic work so he doesn’t have to work on the night of the full moon.

Student: I know it sounds scary running from the police but it’s actually just leisurely walking away from them.

Student: I was washing my hands after lunch and this guy just started bleeding out next to me.

Student: I’m just saying, I would wear a full out prom dress to school and no one could stop me.

Student: I have the strength of a roasted peanut.

Student 1: Avacodo’s are thicc though. If there was a sexiest food event then avocado would win hands down. Student 2: what about peaches Student1: I would 100% fuck an avocado.

Student: chicken nuggets re the dad bod of the food world.

Student: in conclusion: gay.

Student: Hey Mr (Teacher) can you please elaborate on your outfit choice today?

Teacher: Dueling? You know the 10 paces fire? The thing that Hamilton is known for but he was a lot better at?

Teacher: Dreams are kinda wack Student: But this is another level of wack.

Student 1: Im just saying you could totally suck a dick by mistake. Student 2: How? Student 1: Like if you’re watching a movie and he’s holding a soda bottle between his legs and you want a sip but it’s dark you could totally accidentally suck a dick.

Student 1: hurry the fuck up Student 2: that is not how you treat people, you need to have some respect. You say PLEASE hurry the fuck up.

Student: You know, Stockholm syndromes. Like when someone is kidnapped and then catches feelings for their master, daddy kinks, that kinda shit.

Student: IF I were to eat Donalt Trump’s ass it would be so white I’d get retinal cancer just from looking at it.

Student: You were texting her which made us loose the quizlet live game! She is a whore!

Teacher: you’re a dirty old man, you read the script

Student: you’re my hwb. Homies with benefits.

Student 1: I’m a shell 2: I’m a crab. 3: what do crabs do to shells 2: I’m going to go live and eat inside you then eventually leave you for another

Student: Ayyyy!! We’re getting mono!!

Student: Stop catching feelings you dumb emotionally suicidal bitch!!!!

Teacher: *Student’s name* you need to find friends who love you.

Student: Is that a kneecap? *fake cough* Slut. *fake cough*

Teacher: Yah Buccanan was our first gay president. Student: But he was a Democrat! Teacher:… you DO know that people can be gay and a democrat.

Student: This whole book was just a giant KFC commercial.

Student: he other day I tried to zoom in on a book.

Student: every time I head an Indian person talk it’s like they’re raping me but in a good way.

Student: You canned corn of a human.

Student: you look like a broken piano

Student: There’s no room for Jesus! I don’t want to see him!

Student 1: Tiger sharks are the goats of the ocean. Student 2: Wrong. I’m the goat of the ocean.

Student: Florida is the Bermuda Triangle of stupid shit.

Student: Jesus has a plan for me, and I don’t think it’s in his textbook of an agenda.

Student: did you talk to her? Because I’m pretty sure blowing up a school is frowned upon.

Student: and that’s on period no tampon.

Student 1: what would your stripper name be? Student 2: Ruby. Teacher who over heard: Excuse me. Teacher here, stripper conversation over there. Please move the inappropriate conversation somewhere where I can’t hear it. Vanilla Pudding. (the thing about this one, was she was telling us that in the past, her stripper name was Vanilla Pudding)

Student: (Different student’s name), if I told you that I was possessed last night would you believe me?

Student: (Teacher) I was possessed last night, is there, like, biology to support that?

Student: Could I theoretically live forever if I drank infinite 5 hour energies.

Teacher: I have more glue sticks I just don’t put them out because the freshman eat them.

Student: drinking chocolate milk isn’t good for you it just like tragic.

Student: who do people even get stds, I can’t even get dms

Student: Tell me you’re kidding. Tell me you did not find my house by looking at snap maps. YOU HAVE MY ADDRESS!!!

Student: Hey you lived in Africa right? Does that mean you can say the n word?

Student: Someone threatened to open up my chest, piss in it, and close it back up.

Student: For how good I am at catching feelings, you’d think I’d be better at sports.

Student 1: I’m a Taurus. Student 2: I thought you were gay.

Student: So if I ate a tide pod then ate a t-shirt what would happen?

Student: Buddhism is just a series of vibe checks until eventually one works.

Student: why does bugs bunny have so much cleavage??

Student: Don’t underestimate snoopy you fucking heathen.

Teacher: So what you’re saying is when the okay boomer generation dies we won’t be racist anymore?

Student: Venus is in retrograde and that’s why Im not dealing with your bullshit.

Student: What is wrong with you. No sincerely. What made you think that eating a green banana is okay.

Teacher: You know Up? In the movie there’s this dog and when he’s talking then he’ll turn and say squirrel. That’s like me. I think I have adhd.

Student: you absolute tea drinking taxes liberal.

Student 1: if you see my cat run. She’s psycho. Student 2: Can I run her over with my tires?

Student 1: I will drive us through the gates of Shaw and into the water. Student 2: I hope we blow up underwater.

Student 1: Juxpositioning my rain boots with my lingerie. Student 2: those rhyme. Wait no they don’t!

Student: when he says he has a tenor recorder, but really we all know he only has a soprano recorder.

Student 1: you’re shoelaces are untied Student 2: I know. I hope I trip on it and die. Student 3:I felt that

Student: Every time I see a 9/11 ad I always pretend to have a panic attack.

Students chanting: Eat the rich. Eat the rich. Student 2: Rich, more like Bitch.

Student 1: UWU I’m going to lock you in my gas chamber Student 2: Primes flame thrower UWU

Student: I’m not Like other girls. I die on command

Studrnt1: Turkey bitch Student 2: she just called you a turkey bitch Student 1: yes you specifically are a Turkey bitch

Student: I will eat a bitches dick. Gobble gobble motherfucker.

Student 1: he opens my snaps in 10 seconds Student 2: that’s love

Student 1: My for you page is almost exclusively gays, theatre, and Percy Jackson at this point. Student 2: Those are all the same thing basically.

Student: I would have kicked so much ass freshman year if I wasn’t depressed.

Student: Navy blue is the white kid who thinks he can say the n word of the color world. He thinks that he’s black.

Student: Your nose hairs look fragrant. Would you mind if I took a taste?

Student: Boxed water tastes like what I imagine trader joes to taste like as a water.

Student: The water from Moana would be a gentle lover.

Student: we feast tonight brother. I found this in the trash can.

Student: Okay, but I cry myself to sleep BETTER than you.

Student: Can you Venmo me some titties please?

Girl holding hands with another girl: It’s a good thing we’re dating otherwise this’d be pretty gay.

Student 1: I just wanted to know if you knew Lincoln personally. Teacher: What? Student 2: We think you’re a time traveler.

Student 1: Sweetie, you’re having a breakdown over rocks. Student 2: I really hate that class!!!

Student: I love being the joker when we play chess

Student: are you saying that you finger fuck your eurethra?

Student 1: Honestly sometimes I just go onto that lofi hip hop radio, beats to relax/study to thing and just get into a fight with someone in the comment section. It’s fantastic. Student 2: Sometimes they do give good advice though, once I asked if I should ask out this guy and they responded with “No, guys ain’t shit” and I was like “aight you right, you right” Student 3: Sometimes it gets weird though, like once I went on and everyone was talking about how sex and money have become the new gods of our time, and how someday a future generation will die without ever seeing the light of the sun. Student 1: Okay but are they wrong though?

Student: It doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl or something in between or something else entirely. A bitch is a bitch, and you sir, are a bitch.

Student 1: so last night I killed and area few of your kids, I hope you don’t mind. Student 2: nah I don’t really care.

Student: what size pussy your phone got?

Student 1: I listen to songs about Greek gods and being polyamorous Student 2: I listen to songs about... smashing.

Student: Motzarella cheese is the pastel pink of the cheese world.

Student: Someone who can bench press 200 has nothing on someone that can just double fist eat Costco sized pound blocks of cheddar cheese.

Student: I will drag you down to hell and make the devil give you therapy so help me. Student: You see, we don’t conjugate words in English, much less math.

Students: well the thing about gamers is, you know they’re good with their hands.

Student: Oka first of all, we’re all on the same planet, so that’s already real small. Then, what are the chances that we were born the same species, like I could have been born a platypus. I could have been a mealworm. Then the chances that we’re in the same country then the same state then the same school like damn. Imma just vibe now.

Student 1: You’re built like a baked bean Student 2: IDK why that hurt me so much but it did.

Student: If I don’t get a hug in the next 10 minus, I’m going directly to the pentagon to tell Trump to suck my dick.

[the--blackdahlia]

You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This (Dean x Reader)

Title: You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This

Summary: (Y/n) isn’t going to prom like every other girl.

Warnings:underage drinking mainly

AN: This is loosely based off @flamencodiva ‘s fic What Could Have Been. Please go check it out!

(Y/n) sat on the top of the worn down apartment building they were all staying at. The owner owed the elder hunter a few favors. Sam was down in the apartment, scribbling away at his home. John was out on a hunt. Dean was probably off with some girl five years his senior. And (Y/n) had stolen a bottle of cheap wine from a store down the street and was sitting up on that dirty roof, watching the high school just down the road where people in beautiful gowns and tuxes were hanging out.

“Screw you all.” (Y/n) mumbled to herself as she took a big sip of the wine. She didn’t realize that she had been crying, but she wiped at the tears on her face. Who wanted to go to the stupid prom anyway? Not her. She didn’t like this school anyway.

“(Y/n).” A voice said from the stairway. She didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. “What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing.” (Y/n) said, taking another swig of the wine. She shivered a little and felt a jacket being placed on her shoulders. Dean sat on the ledge by her, seeing where her gaze was falling to. “I thought you were out with Candy, or Tracy.”

“I didn’t even get out of my car.” Dean said. “Just didn’t feel right.” He took a glance over at her. “What are you doing up here?”

“Well, I wanted to drink without Sam getting ideas.” (Y/n) explained. “Watching all those morons in their prom dresses and crap.” She wiped at her eyes again and Dean’s heart broke a little. He had dropped out a couple school prior, but (Y/n) opted to stay. She had big dreams to get out of this life. She wanted to be a teacher or something. She wanted to help people in a non gun toting way. Dean looked back at the school one more time before he stood up.

“I’ll be right back.” Dean said. “Wait here.”

“Not going anywhere.” She sighed. Dean ran back inside.

“Sammy, where’s that little transistor radio of Uncle Bobby’s?” Dean asked.

“In my bag. Why?” Sam asked.

“It’s an emergency.” Dean said, rummaging through Sam’s bag and grabbing the radio before turning to run out.

“You better bring that back!” Sam yelled at Dean. He didn’t respond as he headed back towards the roof, stopping for a brief second to snag a fake flower from wreath on a door. He made his way back out to (Y/n), who was in the exact spot he had left her. He turned the radio to to the clearest station he could get in. A slow song started to play from the radio. Dean went to (Y/n) and pulled her to her feet.

“Dean? What are you doing?” She asked. Dean took her hands and placed them on his shoulders and he put his hands on her hips.

“Just be gentle with me.” Dean said with a wink.

“Dean…” (Y/n) said. Dean shook his head.

“You shouldn’t miss your prom night. Oh, wait!” Dean took the fake flower and laced the plastic and wire stem through a hole on the flannel shirt she had on under his jacket. He returned his hands to where they were supposed to go and he started to dance with her to Keith Whitley. As the songs changed from one to another, the local radio station seeming to take advantage of prom night, they slowly went from awkward dancers to closer. Soon, (Y/n) was pressed right up against Dean’s chest as they swayed to the music.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t go to a proper prom.” Dean whispered to (Y/n). “I’m sorry this is our life.”

“Dean…” (Y/n) said softly.

“I hope that someday you and Sammy can get out of here. Make lives for yourself somewhere better.” Dean told her. She looked up into those beautiful green eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light of the porchlight by the stairway.

“I’m perfectly happy here.” She told him softly before leaning up to press her lips against his. Dean closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around her, deepening the kiss. Dean didn’t want it to be over. He had been pining over (Y/n) since they were at least 15, maybe sooner. But soon, it was over.

“I should get back inside.” (Y/n) said. “Thank you for everything Dean.” She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before heading back into the building, leaving Dean standing there.

“I think I’m in love.” Dean whispered to no one around. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and headed inside. In the morning, they would pretend nothing had happened, that there hadn’t been sparks when they kissed, that they were just dumb teenagers relying on each other to get through life…

But sometimes life had other plans, it was just slow at showing itself to two stubborn headed hunters.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @we-ride-with-the-tide @dekahg @marvel-af @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @strab0 @sandlee44

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @luciathewinchestergirl @bobasheebaby @sheris532 @bella-ca

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @supernaturalwincestsblog @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories

[idkymhere]

i love reading narry fanfics, can you recommend a few? help a girl out please!

ooohhh I have read sooo many (you’ll see what I mean after you read this entire ask), this might be long, take a seat

I’ll only some of my fav (that I’ve read more than once) and that are finished

1. Heart on the line series by acastle (68k) I loooooove this series so much!!!, its my favorite ever (Heartbreak hero and sunshine hotline)

2. Firelight Will Catch Us by missingheadache (31k) This one is quite new and its a chaptered fic. Niall and Harry get married while drunk in Vegas.

3. Last First Kiss by NarryMusings (56k) also chaptered... and I only read it once but I loved it soooo much, its so angsty and slow burn... I’m not prepared to go through that again lmao. So Niall is in a long term relationship but falls in love with harry.

4. Intensified by Absence by littlecather (39k) time traveler harry... you probably have read this already but its one of the best out there. I love littlecather’s so much, well the narry ones

5. i'll keep moving (through the dark) series by outwardbound93 (204k) Also one of my fav authors... I love this series, so angsty. 3 works: take me with you, waiting to turn the tide and don’t let me go. Niall and Harry pretend to date, fall in love but harry is not ready. looots of miscommunication but happy ending.

6.  i'm gonna break on, break on through by goreallegore (47k) ooohhh ths one is so good, niall goes solo after the band goes on hiatus. Its so similar to real events but was wrtten before the break started. Two chapters, lots of angst and one of my favs.

7. Uncertainty Principle by jibrailis (87k) I know... I read a lor of long ass fics but I just love reading. This one shows Asshole!Harry for a little bit, but I love it. Harry jumps to the future to fix his past and goes to Australia to find niall.

8. Feelings Stay the Same by catrinahart (83k) its chaptered -5- and so good, harry broke niall’s heart but comes back to get him back.

9. boy wonder(ed) by acastle (54k) acastle is honestly one of my fav narry authors. During the band’s hiatus Niall stars in a movie and Harry comes back to his life. 

10. only time is ours series by littlecather (196k) its the amnesia fic we all know about, I love it so much and I cry every single time I read either of the fics (I forget where we were, up in your room and our slates are clean and salt in the sand)

11. once in your life by wearecities (falsetto) (13k) Niall and harry make a marriege pac. It’s one of the best, so cute and fluffly

12. I have loved you (since we were 18) by NarryMusings (26k) narry’s love story

13. When Harry Met Niall by wishfulwannabe (8k) when harry met sally au, so good. 

14. Of first words, etched into skin series by NarryMusings (17k) Au where you have your soulmates’ first words to you tattoed on your skin. You have to read the first to understand the second one but I put the series on this list only bc of the second work (I fucking -hate- love you) its angsty and I seriously cry every time I read this. 

15. you don't need me anymore by outwardbound93 (38k) literally one of the best narry fic out there. Niall is a dad and harry helps him out. 

16. the parting line by from (61k) au in whichh niall and harry get married for a year... they are childhood friends and its slow burn but great

17. The Wedding Crasher by BakerGrey (26k) i loooooove this one so much. Au where niall is getting married but his ex boyfriend casually drops a few days before the wedding. 

18. Happens All Too Fast by aguantare (15k) 6 chapters and soo good, narry are law students and a lil bit stupid about each other.

19. we'll be strangers by fakedolls (24k) YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS OMG, reincarnation fic, so niall and harry are meant to be and keep finding each other in different lifes. 

20. I’ll keep your heart safe by NarryMusings (42k) i cannot tell you how much ive cried reading this, i love it. Harry was dating niall only to steal his family diamond. This is the sequel tho

21. Baby, I by makesomelove (23k) do I need to say anything...? just read this if you havent

22. Denial series by NarryMusings (22k) again this amazing writer. I love ths one, i love me angst

23. Broken-Hearted Boy by NarryMusings (11k) lovely

24. Once an Addict by NarryMusing (20k) I LOVE IT it’s beautiful and has angst and it’s literally perfect 

25. What's A Fella T' Do? by iwanna_seeyou_undoit (35k) AND OF COURSE THIS ONE HAD TO BE HERE, this fic is sooooo good, like you dont understand. I love from star to finish, its so cute and then angsty and narry pretending to date is the best shit in the world

Also, I got this ask a few years ago with more of my fav narry fics 

And I made this post ages ago with even more narry fics 

you can also go to my rec page on(? my blog... I used to reblog lots of fics (24 pages... 10 posts each... a lot of fanfiction omg)

I hope you enjoy these and that you havent read all of them lmao, but im pretty sure that there are like 250+ fics in this answer 

[phandomsecretvalentines]

Tell Me Everything Will Be Alright

This is my fic (and my first phanfic wow) for the 2018 Phandom Secret Valentines, and my valentine is @citrouillephan!

I hope you enjoy!   -from your valentine, @realityfallsapart

tags: fluff, angst, 2009 AU

words: 4.7k

Summary: Dan Howell tends to get lost in his head and his thoughts have a habit of ruling him even when he doesn’t want them to. When he and his best friend finally have a chance at meeting, Dan starts to wonder if he is actually good enough for the amazing human being that is Phil Lester.

(ao3 link)

(Thank you so much to @moonbeamphan for reading this over and helping me! This wouldn’t be as good without you!)

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

Dan typed his answer and sent it by hitting enter before leaning back in his chair and letting out a shaky breath that seemed to rattle his insides. His laptop chirped quietly, announcing that Phil had replied to him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it right away. Finally, after a few moments, he flicked his eyes down to the white screen of the computer in his lap where Phil’s most recent message seemed to glare up at him.

  Phil :) (9:47 PM)

i know!

i can’t believe it either!

For a few moment, Dan could do nothing but stare at the screen; at the black words disrupting the artificial white light. It was the only thing that gave Dan any sort of illumination in his room; everything else was dark. He bit his lip and thought about the possible pros and cons of shutting his laptop and burying his head under his duvet to pretend that everything was fine because it was. It’s all fine.

Dan shook his head and reached his hands down to the keyboard. He wouldn't—couldn’t—do that to Phil. Phil deserved so much better than that. His numb fingers typed out a small sentence, only realizing that it had several typos until after he had sent it. He mentally kicked himself for it.

  Dan ^-^ (9:51 PM)

Me niether! it seems like thsi would n e v e r happen!

**neither, this

Jeez i can spell

Phil :) (9:51 PM)

idk dan are you sure you can def spell? those seem like some pretty beginner mistakes…

  Dan knew Phil was kidding. He knew that it was just Phil playing around with Dan like they normally did. Like they had been doing for months at this point. But in Dan’s heightened state of anxiety and stress, he couldn’t help but berate himself further. God, Phil must think of him as a kid now, he can’t even spell right!

Dan crashed back into his mattress, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid….” he muttered, hitting his forehead with his hand with every word.

Looking back on this moment, Dan would laugh and realize how utterly idiotic his anger with himself was coming from, but right now, in bed with the lights off and by himself, he couldn’t help but magnify the issue. He had been anxious and stressed without a pause this entire week.

He looked up at his ceiling, sighing in growing frustration towards himself, but it wasn’t just because of his inability to catch his typos. In fact, it had nothing to do with them. The typos had just tipped him right over the edge and all of his insecurities crashed over him like waves, his head nearly going under the tide.

To say he wasn’t good enough was an understatement. To say that Phil deserved a much better best friend than Dan was even more of one. Phil was older, more experienced, more mature, funny, smart, kind, and extremely compassionate. He had a great time making pretty successful and entertaining videos (at least in Dan’s opinion, and he would always fight anyone who said otherwise) on the side, on top of balancing life. Dan was younger, so much more less experienced with everything, he got overwhelmed with life and spent the majority of his time curled up under his covers surfing through the waves of his latest existential crisis or playing PC video games that he would forget about within the next 24 hours. He was purgatory in the form of a human and an incredibly underwhelming one at that.

He wasn’t sure how long exactly he laid there, stewing in his self-deprecation and wishing that he was better. Better in literally every aspect, maybe then he would finally be worth Phil’s time, if only a little bit. His computer chirped again, and then twice more minutes later in rapid succession, as if angry. Dan grasped for the thing, pulling it up to his chest, lacking the energy to sit back up.

  Phil :) (10:07 PM)

Dan you know im joking right?

Phil :) (10:16 PM)

Dan? you still there? i was joking i promise you can make all the typos you want

u didnt fall asleep did you?

  Dan couldn’t help the watery smile that turned the corners of his mouth up, albeit it being a small one. Phil had that effect on him even if Dan was falling apart on the inside. Just a little though, he was fine.

  Dan ^-^ (10:18 PM)

nooo im not sleeping

Phil :) (10:18 PM)

:(

Dan ^-^ (10:19 PM)

why the frowny face

Dan tried to keep the fear out of his thoughts but the talons of doubt had already settled around his heart. Was Phil mad that he didn’t answer right away? Would-

His laptop signaled the arrival of Phil’s reply, and Dan really didn’t know if he wanted to slam the lid of his computer shut or jump at the opportunity to find out if he had just ruined the best friendship he had ever had. Ever will. He went for the latter.

(Dan supposed he might be overreacting, but then again, when wasn’t he, it seemed?)

  Phil :) (10:20 PM)

did i insult your typing skills one too many times? is that why you disapeared?

*disappeared

Dan used the best coping mechanisms for dealing with his anxiety that he knew: humor and avoidance. Together, they were a formidable force and Dan had spent a large majority of his time perfecting their potency.

  Dan ^-^ (10:20 PM)

now look who’s making the typos

Phil :) (10:20 PM)

Dan.

  He gulped. Now he had done it. Fuck. He had to fix this.

Dan ignored the roar behind his ears that seemed to be screaming that he should just ignore this all, pray that things would magically fix themselves and change the topic. That was his fear talking. His self-abandonment. His anxiety. His everything. Phil was worth so much more. So Dan pushed it all away for just long enough to reply.

  Dan ^-^ (10:21 PM)

sorry, joke

no, thats not why i ran away

i was just thinking, thats all

Phil :) (10:21 PM)

were you doing it again

  Dan tried to pretend that he didn’t know what Phil was talking about and simultaneously cursed himself for telling Phil about his increasing habit for getting lost in his thoughts. He failed. He knew exactly what Phil was talking about.

Back, about three weeks ago in a later-than-normal conversation where all of their inhibitions seemed to dissipate, Dan had finally come clean about how sometimes thoughts got the best of him. He would crumble under them, get so completely and utterly lost in his head that he would sometimes stay there for hours on end, picking apart anything that his conscience decided to dig up. And it hindered Dan, made him hate himself just that much more, made him hate how easily his anxieties held him hostage, stuck. But he couldn’t do much about it, it seemed, for whenever he got lost in his head, he always forgot that he had to get out.

Dan gulped. He had to lie his way out of this. He knew that Phil didn’t like it when Dan got stuck. He could pull off nonchalance, right?

  Dan ^-^ (10:22 PM)

no

Phil :) (10:22 PM)

im not convinced

you were werent you

Dan ^-^ (10:23 PM)

does my word not count for anything lol

Phil :) (10:24 PM)

maybe if we were talking and i could see your face it’d count

Dan ^-^ (10:24 PM)

what’s my face got to do with anything?

Phil’s bubble appeared on the screen once, twice, three times, before he apparently decided on what he was going to say and sent it. The entire time Dan was a few words away from having a breakdown. His hands were shaking. His mind was racing faster than normal. Faster than it had in what seemed like a very long time.

  Phil :) (10:26 PM)

bc then i could tell if you were lying

tho rn i dont even need that

Dan ^-^ (10:26 PM)

are u seriously saying im lying

Phil :) (10:27 PM)

yeah

you did everything that you always do when you arent telling the truth

you joked

changed / focused the conversation onto smth else

and besides

ive gathered that you really dont like to talk about the things that bother you. you like to ignore them and stuff

Dan ^-^ (10:28 PM)

so how bout we not talk about them then

Phil :) (10:29 PM)

normally, maybe

but not with this

Dan ^-^ (10:29 PM)

and why not?

Phil :) (10:29 PM)

bc i dont like it when you beat yourself up in your head

Dan ^-^ (10:30 PM)

who said i was beating myself up in my head

Phil :) (10:30 PM)

… dan :/

youre avoiding again

Dan cursed himself. God, since when could Phil read him like a book?

  Dan ^-^ (10:32 PM)

fine. maybe i am

what are you gonna do about it philly?

Phil :) (10:32 PM)

daaaaannnnnn

you arent allowed to beat yourself up

no ones allowed to

especially you!

  Dan giggled, just a little. He couldn’t help it when Phil was being…well, Phil.

  Dan ^-^ (10:33 PM)

and why not? Hmm?

Phil :) (10:34 PM)

bc youre my favorite person silly

my favorite person cant be sad. its just the rules

Dan ^-^ (10:35 PM)

oh yeah? whose rules then, oh wise philip

Phil :) (10:35 PM)

ew dont call me philip my nan calls me that

and theyre my rules

my rules for my favorite person

Dan ^-^ (10:35 PM)

suuurrreee phil. sure its a rule

*philip

Phil’s cursor didn’t appear seconds after Dan had sent his message like usual. Insead, nothing appeared. Their good-natured banter had eased the storm raging inside of Dan and his thoughts and anxieties had died down a little, much more easier to bear with the distraction Phil was giving him, but with the sudden disappearance of his best friend, they came back full force. All of his doubts spilled into the front of his conscience. He shivered. It wasn’t from the cold.

Dan watched the little digital clock at the bottom of his laptop screen count the minutes falling away. One, two, three, four, five, god did what did he do-

  Phil :) (10:41 PM)

[multimedia image: click to load]

With his heart in his throat, Dan clicked, and a small window appeared, momentarily covering their chat from Dan’s view. It was hard to make out, the quality bad and the image itself grainy and dark, but it was of a piece of paper lying atop two legs clad in bright pyjamas that Dan could immediately connect to Phil and his eccentric personality. He could make out the tip of Phil’s finger at the top of the shot, too. Squinting, he looked at the paper itself, zooming in to make out the words penned in Phil’s handwriting.

  Rules:

1. Dan Howell is my favorite person

2. No one is allowed to make fun of him

3. ESPECIALLY if that “no one” is Dan himself

Dan started to laugh. Only Phil would actually make a list of “rules”. Only Phil.

Before Dan could reply, Phil was typing again.

  Phil :) (10:43 PM)

there. proper rules written on proper paper. you have to follow them now

Dan ^-^ (10:44 PM)

i cant believe that you actually wrote rules you spork

but fine! i guess if i have to lol

Dan was still working heavily with avoiding the whole situation entirely, just like with what he was doing to the problem causing him so much stress to begin with, but he couldn’t help it. It’s just how he was.

  Phil :) (10:46 PM)

so you admit to your crimes xD

but anyways

you were stuck in your head again

which is okay, i mean, i understand that it’s something you cant help

Dan felt like he was going to cry. Phil’s assurance that Dan’s mind running in panicked circles was perfectly okay was almost too much. Phil’s compassion was almost too much.

But it appeared that Phil wasn’t done, because his laptop dinged quietly again.

  Phil :) (10:47 PM)

can i ask whats got you so sad and worried

so i can beat it up

obvs

  Now Dan really wanted to cry. How could he tell Phil that the reason was him? How could he say that the root of this ball of anxiety and stress and worrying that had taken over him was Phil himself?

He couldn’t do that to Phil, not when his best friend would undoubtedly take it hard. God, if Phil knew why Dan kept getting lost in himself, he would be crushed.

  Dan ^-^ (10:51 PM)

noooo

Phil :) (10:51 PM)

are you sure? i wont judge you dan, i swear it doesnt matter if you think i wont like it

i just wanna be here for you

If Dan wasn’t crying earlier, he was now, a few select tears dripping down his cheeks, brimming with the emotions that had been taking over him this past week. Phil was…too much. He was too kind, too sweet, too undeserving of someone like Dan. God, Phil deserved the whole world, he shouldn’t have to settle with Dan.

Another message appeared on Dan’s screen, as but this one didn’t seem like normal, it was a little off, a little rushed, a little…something. Dan couldn’t place it.

  Phil :) (10:53 PM)

bc youre my best friend.

obvs. xD

If Dan wasn’t so out of it and was able to think clearly, he might have questioned Phil’s “clarification” of why and what sense he wanted to be there for him, but Dan was not in the best state of mind and he thought nothing of it.

Dan looked at his screen again. He still had to acknowledge Phil’s question, and he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He wanted to tell Phil he already told him everything, have Phil reassure him and tell him that everything was going to be okay again, like he normally did. But Dan couldn’t. He couldn’t lie again, once was already once too many, and something told Dan that if he tried to ignore it or change the topic, Phil would just call him out again.

Fuck.

  Dan ^-^ (10:56 PM)

it doesnt matter

Phil :) (10:56 PM)

yes it does

its enough to make you get lost in that head of yours, so it matters

Dan ^-^ (10:57 PM)

phil we both know it doesnt take much for me to get lost in my thoughts

Phil :) (10:58 PM)

still

something is bothering you and i want to fix it

Dan bit his lip. God, Phil had no idea how badly he wanted to let him fix this. He couldn’t though. He just couldn’t.

  Dan ^-^ (10:58 PM)

nooo phil, you cant fix this one

Phil :) (10:58 PM)

>:(

you cant even let me try?

  Always, always, but just not with this. Dan couldn’t tell Phil this, not when it would hurt him.

  Dan ^-^ (11:00 PM)

no phil, not with this sorry :(

Phil :) (11:01 PM)

:((((

okay

i may not like it but i can respect that

will you tell me tomorrow?

Dan looked at the screen, thinking about it. Tomorrow was what he was worried about to begin with. Could he tell Phil tomorrow? He wasn’t sure. Well, it didn’t matter if things went good or not, Dan mused, tomorrow Dan’s fears would either be affirmed or destroyed.

He could only hope.

  Dan ^-^ (11:03 PM)

sure

tomorrow

Phil :) (11:03 PM)

yay!!!

  Dan laughed, breathily.

  Phil :) (11:03 PM)

oooh! look at the time!

its getting so late bear wow

guess we should get to sleep so we dont fall asleep on each other tomorrow huh? xD

  Dan’s heart physically melted at the use of Phil’s pet name for him. He only used it occasionally, but it never failed to make Dan’s heart stutter in his chest and the butterflies in his belly to flit around faster, making him feel almost giddy. Hopeful.

God he sounded so stupid right now. Anxious and stressed out of his mind yet still acting like a little kid with their first crush.

Stupid feelings.

  Dan ^-^ (11:05 PM)

yeah i guess we should!

night philly :)

Phil :) (11:05 PM)

goodnight dan!! :D

see you tomorrow!

(ps, idk whats bothering you and thats okay but i hope whatever it is it works out for you :“)  )

Ah yes. That’s what it boiled down to. Tomorrow morning Dan would board a train and take it up to Manchester to spend some time with Phil. The first time that they would see each other in real life, not just behind a computer screen. They had skyped before and texted and chatted for countless hours over countless days, but the thought of tomorrow still made Dan want to throw up.

He wasn’t good enough for Phil. He was just so terrified that tomorrow Phil would see that.

  Dan ^-^ (11:06 PM)

:)

  After hitting send Dan thrust the lid to his laptop down and pushed it off of his chest, letting it fall onto the bed. Dan felt sick again. He was so scared about tomorrow because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many flaws that Phil could discover about Dan and so many, so many, ways for what is supposed to be the best day of Dan’s life to turn out to be his worst.

God, he hated his anxiety for always picking things apart. Always fucking with Dan’s own head.

Dan rolled over and grabbed his duvet, pulling it up and wishing that it would just swallow him whole. Fuck. He couldn’t do it tomorrow. He couldn’t handle this stress.

Taking a deep breath, Dan clutched his duvet tighter in his grasp and tried to keep his lip from wobbling.

Right now he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to forget that he didn’t feel good enough, that yet again his insecurities were screwing him over, that he wanted to cry. He wanted to forget. Unfortunately for Dan the universe didn’t agree and he ended up staying awake for hours after the he had closed his laptop, the entire time doing nothing but thinking, getting lost in his head, and wishing that his thoughts would just turn off.

For once.

Please.

~~~~~~

Dan slung his bag over his shoulder. His fingers felt numb. Unlike his greatest hopes, the fitful-at-best night’s sleep did nothing to alleviate Dan’s terror. If anything, it had only magnified it because now it was today and Dan couldn’t run anymore.

He took a cab to the station, and he ended up being earlier than he needed to be, having about an extra ten minutes to wait for his train. He sat on a bench, his legs nothing but jelly at this point, his fears making it quite easy to foresee his long legs from just giving out on him. Dan didn’t want to make an embarrassment of himself on top of it all, so he tried to calm his racing heart while he sat.

With no luck.

Of course.

Dan looked down at the ticket in his hand. It would be so easy to not go. To walk right out of the station, spend the weekend at home instead of with Phil, and not risk Phil seeing how utterly underwhelming Dan was as a person. He could lie, could say that he ran late, missed his train, maybe his parents changed their minds and didn’t let Dan go.

But God, as Dan looked down at the paper in his trembling hand, he couldn’t help but know that he wouldn’t be able to actually go through with not leaving. He wouldn’t be able to lie to Phil, not about something this big—who was he kidding, he had a hard enough time lying to Phil last night over something so small!

But more than that, Dan knew that it was much more than not being able to lie to Phil. He had wanted to meet Phil ever since he had started to watch his videos, and the sentiment had only increased tenfold with their fast friendship. Phil was now much more than a hero, much more than a few minutes of distraction. He was Phil, Dan’s AmazingPhil, and he was his best friend. That lanky black-haired boy was worth so so much in Dan’s eyes, and he couldn’t, couldn’t, leave him in the dust like that. God it wouldn’t just kill Phil, but it would kill Dan too. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Dan had been thinking too hard. Before he knew it the train was pulling into the station and Dan gulped, raising on still-shaky legs and gripping the strap of his bag so hard he didn’t even have to look to know that his knuckles were blotched white.

As Dan took his seat, a new resolve washed over him. He would go. He would endure this train ride that undoubtedly would be the most anxiety-inducing thing he had done in a very long time—possibly ever—and he would do it for Phil. If Phil would reject him or not, he would try not to dwell on it on the coming trip (a losing battle, Dan knew), but he would still go.

For Phil.

~~~~~

Dan’s heart was going so fast he was sure that he was going to pass out. His hands, his arms, legs, his whole body was trembling.

Manchester’s Piccadilly Station.

Dan was here.

There was a decent amount of people on the station as far as Dan could see as the train pulled in, but none of them looked like his best friend.

The train came to a stop and Dan stood, the first to make it to the doors and there when they opened.

Strangely enough, when the doors pulled open and Dan took a step out into the station, he stopped trembling. His heart slowed—not by much, but it slowed—and this whole thing didn’t seem quite as scary. Sure, Dan’s thoughts were still screaming in his head, sure, his anxiety was still off the charts, and sure, his hands were still sweaty and his breath was still shallow but still. It was as if a calm had washed over him.

Dan wasn’t sure what to make of it. Maybe he was just going into shock.

People busied around him, walking this way and that, talking into cell phones, to other people, some silent. Dan, unsure of everything right now, followed where the general push of people were guiding him, the whole time craning his head, looking for his Phil. He tried not to panic. He tried.

But with every second the calm that had overtook him was shrinking and his anxiety steadily increased.

Did Phil forget? Did he stand me up? Oh God he’s not coming he didn’t come-

"Dan!”

Dan whirled around at the sound of his name, uttered by a voice that sounded so much better when it wasn’t distorted by their shitty computer’s speakers.

Before Dan could register really anything, he was being engulfed in a hug, two strong arms wrapping themselves around Dan’s shoulders, pulling him flush against the figure.

Against Phil.

And instantly all of the shouting in Dan’s head was gone. The slight tremble in his hands vanished, and for the first time in a week, his anxiety was gone without a trace. Dan felt like crying.

Dan gasped in surprise, his brain taking a moment to reboot because Phil didn’t forget, didn’t stand him up, didn’t change his mind, and suddenly Dan felt very, very stupid because how could he ever think that Phil would do something like that. This was Phil, the kindest person on the planet.

Phil pulled away, just a little, just enough so they could see each other’s faces, and Dan had to keep himself from pulling Phil back in.

His smile was so wide, easily the widest Dan had ever seen it. And his eyes, oh God those eyes were a thousand times clearer, a thousand times more mesmerizing than behind a screen. Dan didn’t doubt for a second that he could stand here and look into them for the rest of the day without tiring of their never-ending beauty. Fuck. Why did his eyes have to be so gorgeous.

Dan tore his eyes away from Phil’s and looked over the rest of him, from his broad shoulders that Dan wanted to wrap his arms around, to the tussle of his hair that Dan craved to run his fingers through and the line of his jaw that Dan felt the need to trace. Double fuck. Why did the entirety of Phil have to be gorgeous.

“Dan! I can’t believe you’re here! I have today all planned out; I’m going to show you everything!” Phil said excitedly, a twinkle as clear as day in his eyes. Phil was practically vibrating with excitement and it made a smile spread over Dan’s features. Phil’s happiness was contagious.

Phil stopped his rambling, looking down at Dan sheepishly.

“I mean, if that’s all okay with you. If you don’t want to do something that’s okay, I totally get it. We can do anything you want, I-”

Dan tilted his head back and laughed, laughed because Phil seemed nervous. Phil was nervous and it was adorable.

“Yeah, yeah Phil it’s all fine. All of it, don’t worry. I just can’t believe you want to do it all with me.”

Phil’s smile faded a little, and the twinkle in his eye got that much smaller. He looked a little sad.

“Was this what you were so worried about? That I wouldn’t like you?”

Dan bit his lip and looked down, giving a little nod.

Phil pulled Dan right back into a hug, but this time it felt even more real, and it was impossibly tighter. It felt like Phil was pulling all of Dan’s lost pieces together. Phil’s voice was in his ear.

“Of course I like you, Dan. You’re my best friend. I like you more than anyone else. Promise.”

Dan might have just felt like crying, in that moment. Phil accepted him. He wasn’t going to leave him. Things were okay. They were okay.

He knew that this would hit him later, maybe tonight when he had a chance to process things. He’d probably cry out of relief, but it would all be okay because Phil would be there to hold him together and ease all of Dan’s worries.

Soon enough they set off, hand in hand, and Dan was smiling so wide, so, so wide. He couldn’t have been happier with how things had turned out.

Dan looked sideways at Phil, trying to not be too obvious.

This had worked out so maybe, just maybe, something else could work out for him.

~~~~~

Dan stood at the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. It was early, and he could see the technicolor dream across the sky that was that morning’s sunrise. The steam from his coffee rose from the rim of the cup and slowly diffused into nothing; tendril-like hands wisped up and around Dan’s neck.

It had been nearly nine years.

Dan’s nervousness and dark thoughts never ceased to plague him, however, he learned to deal with it better. He could confidently say that he has never been happier.

It had been nearly nine years, and they were still inseparable. Their channels had grown exponentially, and they boasted an insanely large fan community.

As the years had gone by, their strong, unbreakable friendship slowly blossomed into something remarkably beautiful. Their long Skype calls turned into late night kisses, and they had been happily in love for nearly nine years.

Dan twisted the ring on his third finger. As well as being happily in love, they were also engaged to be married within the next year. Lately, he’d been waking up in complete disbelief.

The thing Dan had wanted so desperately to work out for him did, and in the most perfectly perfect way possible.

[hmhteen]

HMH Teen Teaser: TIME BOMB by Joelle Charbonneau!

Tick…tick…tick…time is almost up before you new fave psychological thriller hits bookstores! If you loved ONE OF US IS LYING or THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS (and even THE BREAKFAST CLUB!) you will love this twisty turny thriller about a group of teens caught in their school when a bomb goes off. The problem? One of them is responsible. (Cue dramatic music here.)

Scroll down for an exclusive excerpt!

1:51 p. m .

“Don’t fight,” Cas said from the doorway that Frankie and Z had just disappeared through. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Can we turn the radio back on? Maybe they’ll tell us help is finally coming.”

Rashid clicked on the radio before heading over to help Tad. There was the buzz of static, then the announcer telling ev- eryone that the firefighters were making progress. The fire was contained to the west side, and they hoped to have it out soon.

“With one person of interest being questioned, authorities are now working to find another individual they have con- firmed is involved in this terrible bombing. A source confirms that the individual is one of the students trapped on the second floor of the school. With four bombs having already gone off, there appears to be one explosive device still inside the school that could detonate at any time.”

Another bomb was ready to go off, and the bomber was one of them.

Earlier   Tha t  Da y  .  . .

8:35  a.m. 

 D i a n a

 —  C h a p t e r  1  —

All you had to do was smile and wear the right clothes, and everyone would think you were special. If you appeared successful, people would automatically assume you were suc- cessful. Her parents believed that. Her father had built a career on it. They wanted her to believe it.

Diana hated that she did.

“Perception is everything, Diana,” her stepmother said so often that Diana wanted to scream. But screaming wasn’t pre- sentable. And, boy, did it make the wrong impression. This made screaming at the top of her lungs very tempting.

“Always take care to make the correct choice, Diana,” her stepmother said over and over again. “Everything you do is im- portant and reflects on your father and the positions he takes. And think about what your father’s opponents would claim if you don’t do well in school or become a leader in the activities you’re in. They’ll wonder how serious your father is about edu- cation if his own daughter doesn’t do well in school. The other side is always looking for a reason to point fingers and show that your father isn’t worthy of his position. That we aren’t worthy. So you can’t allow your grades or your attention to detail to slide, or you’ll hurt your father and, worse, you’ll hurt the work he’s trying to do.”

Diana looked down at the clothes she’d chosen for the day. After sixteen years, she knew exactly what details would be no- ticed and what people would think when they saw her.

Stylish white jeans. A tasteful pink top. But nothing too expensive, because that made people jealous. Nothing too tight, because that gave people the wrong idea. And no wrinkles. Wrinkles made people think you were lazy. No one trusts a per- son who is lazy. To get what you wanted in life, you must in- spire trust — even if you intended to break it.

Her father inspired trust with his perfectly tailored suits that were made less stuffy because he never wore a tie and al- ways left the collar open.

Folksy. Friendly. Everyone’s idea of the perfect dad and for- mer army-communications specialist who always puts his family and country first. At least that’s what people must have thought, because he got elected. He was working hard to make sure he got to keep his job for another term, and it was their family’s job — Diana’s job — to make sure she didn’t do anything wrong that could make voters question whether they wanted him back in office.

No pressure there.

“Katherine?” she yelled, knowing how much her stepmother hated raised voices. No response. She must have already gone downstairs. Dad would be in meetings already. Diana bit her lip as she reached for the gold studs Katherine gave her for her sixteenth birthday, then added the gold-cross necklace that had technically been from her father. She’d pretended not to notice when one of his aides handed him the box that he’d clearly been unaware of up until that moment.

“Little touches make all the difference,” Katherine insisted. “People notice the details.”

Yes, they did, Diana thought as she reached into her jewelry box and pulled out the ratty friendship bracelet she’d made for herself years ago, wishing she’d had someone to give it to and to get one in return from. No one ever assumed the popular girl needed to be given a gift. No one thought about whether the popular girl was lonely when she went home. Everyone as- sumed the popular girl had a million friends and a family who supported her.

Diana walked to her mirror and checked her makeup. Just enough to make her blue eyes look bigger. Nothing more, or people might question whether she was a good girl. And she was supposed to be a good girl. She ticked off her stepmother’s checklist one by one.

Good shoes. A nice home. Top grades.

Smart, respectable family tree. Perfect manners.

All signs of a strong, well-brought-up girl. A girl everyone claimed to know from school. One parents and teachers pointed to as an example to others. One who had been taught to calcu- late her appearance and demeanor down to the plain red color of her cell-phone case. One who was determined to use it all to show everyone that it was foolish to trust what someone wanted you to see.

Perfect.

And if she didn’t want to ruin her perfect image, Diana would have to get moving. Tardiness was not acceptable for a girl who was supposed to be without flaws. Tardiness implied a lack of respect for other people’s time.

Glancing at her watch, she shook her head and hurried downstairs to find her stepmother so she could get a ride to school for the yearbook meeting.

“Katherine?” she called.

No answer. Huh. Well, Katherine was probably in the back- yard making sure the staff had polished the patio furniture to a shine so that guests could be invited back to the house after the event tonight.

“Katherine?”

“Your mother went out.”

“What?” She turned and spotted her father standing next to the porch swing with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Since there was no point in correcting him about Katherine’s relation- ship to her, she simply asked, “Where?”

He put up a hand to quiet her. “Yes, I’m here, and yes, I understand there’s been some pushback, but I can’t step back from the bill, or I’ll get hammered. The press will smell blood and it’ll be over, and we all know I’m right on this. I just need one thing to tip in my favor. You have to trust me on this.”

Diana started to speak again, but before she could get a word out, her father turned his back and nodded. She would have to get in line for his attention.

“Yes. I’ll make that distinction tonight, and don’t worry. The event will be the perfect place to highlight the positive points in the bill and to take charge of the conversation. If you have other things you want to talk about, I’ll be at the office in a half-hour. Good speaking with you, too, Tim. I appreciate your dedication. We’re going to turn things around.” Finally he hung up and turned toward her.

He was wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a red polo shirt under a deep blue sports coat — relaxed authority was what her stepmother called the look. But despite the clothes, Diana didn’t think her father appeared relaxed.

“That was Tim?”

Her father nodded. “He’s worried about the negative press my Safety Through Education bill is getting.”

Tim hadn’t been on her father’s staff as long as the oth- ers, but he was smart and perceptive, which is why her father’s chief of staff hired him right out of graduate school. And even though he was younger than the rest of the staff, Diana knew Tim was right to be worried about her father’s bill. The press was calling it an invasion of privacy. The law would require that students and teachers inform the administration if they thought someone in the school might be interested in doing harm to students, teachers, or school property. Any students reported would then have to hand over their passwords to social media and email accounts or face suspension and a potential inves- tigation by federal authorities. Those who didn’t report suspi- cions before a harmful event could be charged with aiding and abetting.

Her father believed the law would turn everything in the country around and would finally do what no other laws had been able to do — make things safer. Any students interested in causing trouble would think twice about it if they knew their friends and teachers were watching them and ready to act on any suspicious activity. And by catching and circumventing threatening behavior early, there was a good chance of diverting those students toward a more positive path. Her father was cer- tain that taking action in the schools and the education system was the best way of changing the escalating pattern of violence in the country.

“Was there another bad story in the press?” Diana asked. Not everyone agreed with her father’s thoughts on how to keep the country safe. Since the unveiling of the bill, there had been phone calls and mail and huge editorials about invasion of pri- vacy and people’s differing definitions of what a “threat” to society actually was. Diana had even gotten hate mail for her father’s idea. When she had tried to talk to her father about it, he had just told her to give the mail to Tim and ignore it. That everything would work out. But when Tim had sat with her and listened to her talk about the threats she’d gotten and how people made a point of telling her they were going to vote her father out of office, Tim had admitted the backlash was concerning. If the tide of bad press and angry editorials about the potential law continued, they both agreed that it would be sunk before it ever had a chance to be tested. And her father’s career — one she had been told was necessary to make the world better — would be sunk along with it.

Was it any wonder Tim wanted to pull out all the stops to make sure her father’s event tonight got the press’s attention, or that she was willing to do whatever it took to help? It was nice to have someone finally realize that she was capable of helping, and to finally listen to her when she had an idea. And Tim had said he was glad he could run ideas by someone without having to worry about her telling the senator that his ideas were too radical or that he wasn’t up to the job.

Her father shrugged and gave her his own practiced smile. “Some of my co-sponsors are wondering if we should shelve the idea for more study, but Tim has some polling that says retreat- ing might do more harm than good. I’m not worried. Tim and the others have a plan to make this all come together.”

“If you need me —”

Her father held up his hand as the phone rang. The phone was always ringing. “I’ll catch this on my way to the office.” He looked at Diana and gave her a tense smile. “Your mother left a note for you on the counter. You can help by making sure you’re ready when she comes to pick you up. I need everything to be perfect if we’re going to turn this around.” Then, before she could say anything, her father put the phone to his ear and said, “Larry, I’m glad you called …” as he disappeared into the house.

Diana hurried after him, but he didn’t bother to look back. A minute later, Diana heard the front door slam behind him as he left before she could remind him that she needed a ride. And when she read her stepmother’s note, she knew she wasn’t going to get one from her, either.

Diana dear,

I’ll be home to pick you up at four. Wear the

blue satin dress hanging in your closet and leave

your hair down. Please be on time. Tonight is very

important to all of us.

Katherine

She stared at the letter.

Be on time.

Leave your hair down. Tonight is important.

But, clearly, driving Diana to school today was not.

She turned the bracelet on her arm again, looked at her stepmother’s words one more time, hearing each of them ring- ing in her head along with all the other things she’d said over the years.

“Keep your opinions to yourself, Diana.” Because they might differ from what she was supposed to think. And that wasn’t allowed.

“Remember that we’re counting on you.” Yes. They were.

Diana headed back upstairs to the antique toy chest in the corner of her room. Quickly, she dumped the decorative pillows and extra blanket stacked on top onto the floor, then lifted the lid. She pulled out two bags. In the side pocket of one of the bags, she found the list she’d made for herself a few weeks ago and put it in her pocket.

A quick glance at the clock told her she’d better get going or she’d be late for the yearbook meeting. Yesterday she’d moved the meeting to two hours earlier than originally scheduled. She doubted anyone would be thrilled that she’d asked them to change their plans simply to make them wait.

Diana turned, took one last look in the mirror and saw what her family wanted her to be. What she had tried so hard to pretend to be.

Perfect. Someone everyone expected to do the right thing and no one would ever suspect of doing something wrong.

Good.

Booting up her computer, she sent a quick message to Tim, telling him that she was going to school now. Then Diana care- fully picked up her bags and headed downstairs and out the door. Her father thought the only contribution he needed from her was for her to nod and smile and look flawless — like their family was supposed to be. She was determined to prove him wrong.

   9:52  a.m.

R a s h i d

—  C h a p t e r  2  —

“Why do you have to go to the school today?” his father asked, coming into the kitchen. Rashid had hoped to get out of the house before his father had gotten home from the hospital. So much for that idea. “Your classes do not start for another week.”

Rashid hefted the bag he had slung over his shoulder and explained, “I need a new school ID, Father.”

“What happened to your old one?” His father looked at him with a frown.

“I lost it when  we were visiting with  Sitto last month.” Technically, that was true. Although Rashid knew his words implied that he accidentally left his ID behind at his grand- mother’s in Palestine. “The office is open for new students to get IDs. I thought I should do it now instead of waiting until school starts.”

His father nodded, then glanced at the kitchen clock. “Will you be back by the start of Dhuhr?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I can call and see if the office will be open during the af- ternoon. If you wait, we can pray together, and then maybe you can take your sister. It would be good for her to see the school without so many people. It’ll help her get used to the idea of going there next year. You could introduce her to some of your friends.”

His sister already knew most of his friends, since they either lived nearby or went to mosque together. The others …

His father thought he understood what it was like for Rashid at school, but he had no idea. He didn’t listen. Or maybe Rashid’s cousins in Palestine were right, and it was Rashid’s fault he didn’t completely fit in, because he did not know who he was or what he wanted.

A few years ago, he would have brought his sister with him to school. But that was then. Now … so much had changed. He was different. His sister certainly was, and his friends … They all still enjoyed the comics and building robots, which held their friendships together. But Rashid could tell there were other things — like the facial hair that he had started growing earlier than anyone else in his class, and the adherence to his faith that prevented him from shaving it — that were creating an invisible wall between them.

He bit back the anger that seemed harder and harder to keep hidden and respectfully said, “Next time. I don’t know who will be there, and I don’t want her to have a bad experience.”

It was hard enough for Rashid to fit in, especially now. He didn’t want to bring Arissa. The hijab made her stand out even more than his untrimmed beard did. But Arissa didn’t seem to mind wearing it. More than once, she said that she liked the attention the hijab brought, and it helped her know exactly who her friends were. The hijab signaled who she was and that she was proud of her heritage. She said if people didn’t like it, they could just get out of her way.

Rashid wondered if it wasn’t easier for her because the hi- jab was so obvious and its meaning so clear. Since some of the other students chose to grow beards and mustaches, his own beard was sometimes interpreted as a personal choice instead of a mandate of faith. But it often raised questions he could see in people’s eyes that never got spoken aloud — not even by his friends. If he had been braver, he might just have sat down and talked to his friends about it and helped them understand. Instead, he let the silences get longer.

Now he felt he had only one option open to him.

“I should probably go now so I don’t have to stand in line all day,” Rashid said, feeling the weight of the bag pulling on his shoulder. “I will pray at school.” There were plenty of empty classrooms. Since it wasn’t a school day, he wouldn’t have to worry about people making fun of him washing in the bathroom first. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

His father smiled. “No need to rush. If you see people you know, you should spend time with them. You haven’t had the chance to see any of your friends this summer. The best life has balance. Maybe while you’re at school, you can see if there are any new clubs you’d like to join, although I still think you should take photos for the yearbook. The pictures you took this summer are very good.”

“I’ll look into it,” Rashid said, knowing he wouldn’t. He had other things to do. He just hoped his father would be able to understand.

“Good.” His father patted him on the arm and frowned. “Why are you taking your school bag?”

Rashid smiled to hide his nerves. “I’m bringing some note- books and comic books and a couple of other things to put in my locker so I don’t have to bring everything on the first day. I like having stuff to read in study hall.”

He also read when his friends were late for lunch, to avoid drawing the attention of some of the football players, who liked to harass him.

“Using extra time for study is always good.” His father pat- ted him on the arm again. “Do you have your Koran?”

“No,” Rashid said, shifting toward the door. “I’m leaving it here. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait a second.” His father disappeared out of the kitchen and returned holding a thick paperback that Rashid had no choice but to take. “You might be glad to have it at school with you.”

Rashid forced himself to thank his father, but he couldn’t meet his eyes as he walked out the door. He put the book in the bag and headed to school, still trying to decide if he was going to go through with his plan.

Was this really the time to draw the line in the sand?

He thought about the names he’d  been called last year and how uncomfortable his non-Muslim friends looked when they pretended that they were all the same. That nothing had changed.

He wished nothing had changed. More than anything, he wanted to turn back the clock to before the beard and the sus- picion it brought into focus. Things had already been hard then, but they had been better.

Hitching the bag so that the weight was better distributed, Rashid frowned and started walking faster. If he was going to change things, he had to do it today. He only hoped that he had the courage to do what needed to be done.

9:58  a.m.

Z

— C h a p t e r 3 —

“You’re Kicking me out?” Sweat pricked Z’s back and forehead. He should have had two more months. His mother had said they’d agreed. And now he was getting screwed.

Z turned his back on the landlord’s son. He couldn’t look at the satisfied smile on the jerk’s pimply face without wanting to deck the guy. Z felt like hitting something — everything.

“Not exactly,” Nick said. “I mean, I know my dad and your mom talked about trying to lower the rent over the sum- mer to help you out, but my dad realized that if he changed the terms of the lease for you, he’d have to do it for everyone, and you know how that goes. It’s not like my father wants to do this.”

Sure he does, Z thought. He just doesn’t want to say he wants to boot the guy who’s just lost his mother to cancer. That would make him have to admit he’s a crappy person. But that’s what he was. All Nick’s father knew was that a guaranteed rent check was dead and buried. It was time to find a new one, and to hell with anything else. Yeah — Z knew exactly how that went. 

“I’m sure this is breaking your father’s heart.” Z clenched his fists and looked out the narrow window over the sink. If he closed his eyes, he could still see his mother standing there, washing dishes … when she had been well enough to do some- thing that normal.

“Hey, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Z turned and stared at the guy. Nick straight- ened his shoulders but took a step back, tugging at the hem of his dirty T-shirt. “Your father made a promise to my dying mom, and two weeks after she’s gone, he sends you to tell me he was just kidding.”

Nick took another step back and swallowed hard. “He’s re- ally sorry about this.”

“Sure he is.” Everyone was sorry. Z was so tired of hearing everyone tell him how damn sorry they were. Only they weren’t. But they would be. Soon. Very soon. Z unclenched his fists and turned back toward the off-white fridge that his mother had plastered with photographs. “Tell your dad not to beat himself up about it. It’s no problem, Nicky,” he added, yanking open the fridge. The cool air washed over him, helping to tamp down the anger he wanted to let break free. Despite the open windows, the apartment was sweltering.

“Hey, kid, if it was up to me, I would let you stay. I know things are tough. After everything that happened, this really sucks, but —”

“It’s fine,” Z said, grabbing a bottle of tap water out of the fridge. It wasn’t fine. There was nothing fine about being told by a twenty-seven-year-old guy who lived in his parents’ basement and had Cheetos stains on his T-shirt that you had to clear out in three weeks. Adios, boy. Don’t let the door hit your long-haired, tattooed self on the way out.

“Look, my father would like to be able to let you stay. He really liked your mom. She was a nice lady.”

“Yeah.” Z closed the fridge and looked at the photo of his mother’s happy, healthy face pressed next to his five-year-old chocolate-coated one. “She was great.”

Was.

He swallowed hard while, behind him, Nick Mansanelli said, “I could talk to my dad about having you do some work on our cars in exchange for staying in their attic. It’s not the best place, but it would give you some time to sort out whatever it is you’re going to do next. I’m sure you could use the —”

“No need.” Z would rather sleep in a ditch than become slave labor for anyone. He uncapped the cold water and took a drink. “Tell your dad pretty soon he won’t have to worry about dealing with me ever again.”

Nick took another step back and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he looked around.  “Can I …  you know … help you do anything? Do you need some boxes or tape?” Nick turned toward the living room and nodded. “You got a lot of stuff to pack up around here. Why don’t I —”

“No.” Before Nick could step into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, Z stalked forward and blocked him. “I don’t need your help.” Z didn’t need anyone.

Nick frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s no prob —”

“I’m sure,” Z said as the phone in his back pocket chimed. He pulled it out and looked down at the display.

YOU OK? DID YOU HEAR FROM YOUR UNCLE IN CALIFORNIA? I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU. PLEASE TALK TO ME.

Kaitlin.

Of all the people who said they wanted to help, she actually did. But there wasn’t much more she could do or say. She kept telling him it was okay to be angry. That it would get better if he just gave it time. They all warned him about making deci- sions too fast. Urged him to give the relatives he barely remem- bered a chance to reach out. He had to give things time.

But time wasn’t going to change the fact that his mother was dead and that everything sucked.

Kaitlin had been there for him when everyone else had bailed. Extended family. Neighbors. Teachers. He’d tried to tell her to get lost when she followed him out of the school after he’d been in detention. But she dogged him all the way to the parking lot and insisted he give her a ride home. Her mother was a nurse at the hospital where his mother got treatments. It wasn’t as if he was going to say no, but that didn’t mean he was going to talk to her. Which was probably what Kaitlin wanted, since she had plenty to say. Kaitlin had been determined to be his friend, even when he didn’t want her to be. Even when he  cut school more than he bothered to go. If it hadn’t been for her, he wasn’t sure he would have made it this far.

And now he was going to cut her loose before he dragged her down. She deserved better.

Z shoved the phone into his pocket and looked back at Nick. “Look,” Z said with a deliberate sigh. “If that’s all you came here for, I’ve got to get going. There’s a teacher I have to talk to

at school, and I don’t want to miss him.”

Nick slapped Z on the shoulder. The universal sign for I want you to think I’ve got your back, even though I plan on screw- ing you the first chance I get. “Hey, no problem. I just came by to see how you were doing and make sure you didn’t need any- thing before —”

Before you chucked me to the curb. Z again clenched his hands into fists at his side, and Nick backed up a step.

Finally, the guy turned toward the front door and said, “Hey, make sure to take care of yourself. And give them hell at that school. I never liked it much anyway.”

At last, one thing they could agree on.

Z chugged the water, then headed down the hall toward his room to grab his father’s old army duffle and the letter that had arrived last week. His cell phone chimed as he was slinging the bag onto his shoulders, but he ignored it. He had things to do.

In the kitchen, he grabbed the picture of him and Mom and slid it next to his phone. He then walked out of the apartment. No need to lock the door. If someone wanted to clear the rest out, let them. He was going to school, and he wasn’t coming back.

***

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[mindfulwrath]

Silver, Part VII

Celebrity crushes really never turn out the way you think they will.

Words: 3,882 Warnings: Blood/gore, excessive swearing

Part I Part VI

Hyde couldn't believe it, but he'd finally, finally made it to Blackfog. Oh, it had taken days, an unbelievable amount of nagging and niggling and finagling, and there had been ever so many detours (some of them exceptionally pleasant), but he was here.

And it was everything he could possibly have hoped for.

The bazaar spanned several blocks, tented under colored silks flung over laundry lines. The air was a clamor of voices, glowing mists and brilliant lights, shadows black and velvet. A thousand different smells pervaded the space, wafting up above the rooftops with the fog. Everything glittered and gleamed, green and gold and silver and red. He could taste the place, like curry and sea salt, could feel its electric tingle in the air. The press of people was incredible—it seemed like every miscreant and vagabond in London had turned up, every monster and madman had crawled out of their sewers and down from their towers to join in the crushing tide of life. The opportunists of the London underworld had come out in full force, too—pickpockets, beggars, prostitutes and hawkers all dotted the crowd and gathered in the corners, shouting and sneaking and selling their little hearts out.

Jasper was clinging to his arm for dear life, and that was all right, too. He'd gotten rather quiet after their tete-a-tete—probably impressed, far too overawed for words—

Dear God, you're up yourself, Jekyll remarked.

—far too overawed for words, and additionally in a state of such overwhelming bliss that words had been unnecessary. But Hyde's energy had been unflagging, manic, to the point that holding still was torture, and there was still so much night left, and if Jekyll was going to go about drinking poison and writing wills, Hyde was damn well going to milk every second for all it was worth.

"Oooooh, look look look!" he cooed, dragging Jasper over to a lime-green stand filled with glimmering bottles in a thousand different hues. "Now that's quality herbalism, that is. You fiddle about with potions, don't you?"

"I—I do," said Jasper. He leaned over Hyde's shoulder, peering at the bottles. He looked up at the salesman, who was half-shrouded in shadow. "You wouldn't . . . happen to have any wolfsbane potion, would you?"

"Wolfsbane?" said the salesman, in a thick accent that Hyde couldn't place. "Yes, yes, we have."

"Oh! Er . . . how much?" Jasper hazarded.

Hyde was about to scold him for being a total rube when something shinier caught his eye, and quick as thinking he was off, dodging through the crowd.

Do not leave him alone here, Jekyll scolded, frowning at him from a puddle on the ground. Hyde stepped on his face. I mean it.

"Or what?" Hyde muttered under his breath.

Or he'll get hurt! For God's sake, at least pretend to have an ounce of compassion.

"Like you care," said Hyde, rolling his eyes. He pushed out of the press of the crowd and grabbed a handy post to keep from being dragged away. It was really inconvenient, being short. He might have to take to the rooftops. All this getting elbowed in the head was starting to annoy him.

Hyde. . . .

"So what's all this shiny business?" Hyde asked the stallkeeper, gesturing to the glittering assortment of gems and filigree wires laid out on velvet cushions.

Hyde.

"Ah, a discerning eye, sir," said the stallkeeper, with a what-a-sucker glimmer in her eye. "These stones are imbued with incredible powers, beyond all imagining! This one—"

Hyde!

"Funny, 'cause they look like cheap shite to me," Hyde quipped, and darted back into the crowd. He found Jasper huddling against a wall near the potion stand with his metaphorical tail between his legs. He nearly went up the wall when Hyde caught him by the arm.

"There you are," Hyde said, rolling his eyes. "Gotta keep up, Jazz, don't want you gettin' et up."

"Right," said Jasper, leaning on him. "Right, yeah, right. Sorry. Look, I—I really should be getting back, I didn't have enough for the wolfsbane and—"

"Oooo, I've only heard about those!" Hyde said, off again after a particularly eye-catching assortment of luminiferous wights. He kept a firm grip on Jasper, if for no other reason than to keep Jekyll quiet. He fluttered from stall to stall, directionless and erratic but endlessly delighted. He towed Jasper along with him, finding him an excellent sounding board to prove how bloody brilliant Hyde was, all that stuffy knowledge Jekyll had amassed finally coming in handy. Jasper seemed suitably impressed, and after a while even started to look like he was enjoying himself. An awful lot of money was spent, but it was worth every penny—there were salts and reagents, daggers and dirks, disgusting (but delicious) meat pies, more drinks for the both of them, vicious chemicals and sparkling trinkets and a book so musty and old and ugly that Jekyll nearly fainted clean out of Hyde's head when he saw it.

They bought that one, too. It was boring and idiotic, but if there was one talent Jekyll had, it was taking boring, idiotic, dull-as-dirt science and turning it into. . . .

Well, Hyde, for one.

He was just beginning to feel like heading in a vaguely homeward direction when his eye caught on the single most incredible sight yet. The noise that came out of his mouth was inhuman. He grabbed Jasper by both arms, hauled him into an alleyway, and pinned him to the wall.

"Did you see?" he squeaked. "Did you see? That was her! That was her, that was Lucy!"

"What—who?" Jasper said, looking a little stunned. He might possibly have hit his head on the wall in all the excitement (not Hyde's fault).

"Lucy! Lucy of the Forty Elephants, Lucy the—look, just stay here, don't get into any trouble, I'll be back, don't follow me!"

"Why—"

"You'll make me look too good!" Hyde called, even as he bounded back into the crowd.

It was impossible to carry off a proper swagger in the press of people, but the good news was, he did manage to keep Lucy in sight. It took him a good five minutes to work his way over to her. Perhaps by sheer force of presence, she had cleared the area around her. Hyde slipped up next to her and leaned a hand on the stall she was currently perusing. He gave her his worst smile and tipped his hat.

"Evenin', miss," he said.

She spared him a single withering glance. Hyde almost passed out.

"Go away, boy," she said.

"Boy?" he cried. "Boy?! I'm a fully-grown man, thank you very much!"

"Fully?" said Lucy, arching an eyebrow. "My, how disappointing for you."

Hyde's ears were burning. Somewhere in the back of his head, Jekyll was laughing.

"Being of a slender persuasion tends to be 'elpful when gettin' places a person ain't meant to get into," Hyde said. "By the by, massive fan of your work."

"I doubt you're a massive anything," Lucy said, a smile tugging at her lips. She did turn towards him, though, and her attention spilled onto him like sunlight. He preened.

"Only a massive pain in the arse, Miss Lucy," he said, tipping his hat. He could not have stopped grinning for love nor money. There was a constant sound inside his head like a kettle boiling over, a piercing whistle of unbelievable excitement. "Particularly to those of a more moneyed inclination."

"Is that so," said Lucy, folding her arms. He had her full attention now, the stallkeeper forgotten. Another woman had precipitated out of the crowd, hanging near Lucy's elbow—she had the look of a career thief about her, doubtless one of the Forty Elephants.

"It is so," said Hyde. His heart was going to beat right out of his chest. His blood was electric. "One might say I've taken some inspiration from a certain lady thief."

"In what way?" Lucy asked, amused.

"Might've 'eard tell of a few of your daring exploits with the peelers," Hyde said, examining his fingernails. "Might've similarly dropped a caber on Mad Moreau. 'Eard of 'im? Yeah, 'e never stood a chance against the likes of me."

"Moreau, the vivisectionist?" Lucy inquired.

"One an' the same, dear lady," Hyde said, grinning ear to ear. "Up in a blaze of glory not two nights ago, thanks entirely to yours truly. With inspiration coming from you, of course."

"Ah," said Lucy, with a twinkle in her eye. "So you're the fucker who burnt down half our best revenue."

Hyde's smile locked in place. His eyes got very wide. He suddenly noticed no fewer than four women in the immediate vicinity all giving him very unfriendly looks.

Start running now, Jekyll suggested.

"Lllllllladies," Hyde said, tipping his hat.

The first leap took him onto the shoulders of the man to his left. The second launched him up into the laundry lines. They snapped instantly under his weight. He came crashing back down in a tangle of silks. Someone shrieked. The crowd swarmed in confusion. Hyde scrambled out from under the tangle. He ducked through the forest of legs, on his hands and knees. Lucy shouted something out. Hyde clambered to his feet and dove into the nearest alley. He bounced up the walls to the roofs. Hobnails clattered on brick behind him. He took off at a full sprint.

Quick question, Jekyll said. Do you ever think about the things coming out of your mouth, or do you just prop your teeth open and hope?

"You—are not—helping!" Hyde panted. He risked a glance back. Lucy and six others were hot on his tail. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!"

Whatever you do, don't go back to the Society or the house. I get the feeling fire might become involved.

"Then where—am I—supposed—to go—you prig?"

He leapt across an alley and lost his footing on the shingles opposite. He scrabbled at the slanted roof like a dog on hardwood. He tumbled off the side. He plummeted, screaming. Several things smashed upon impact. Hyde got up and kept running. There was an awful lot of pain, and possibly splinters. Shouts followed him, then a screech of metal on stone. He did not look back. He just ran. He tore around a corner, bounced off the building, and nearly cannoned headfirst into a brick wall.

Dead end.

Perhaps literally.

Hyde flattened himself against the wall in a panic. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to leap off of, the alley cluttered with laundry lines, he'd be caught like a fly in a spider's web, he was stuck, he was fucked—

Lucy and the others spilled around the corner into the end of the alleyway. Weapons flashed in the half light. Like lions, they went for him, fluid in their ferocity. There was a horrible screeching noise from overhead, a snapping and cracking.

Jasper dropped into the alleyway, snarling and monstrous, directly between Hyde and the Elephants. Broken laundry lines fell all around him. Teeth gleamed white in the darkness, claws glittered beetle-black. Hellfire glowed from his eyes. Five crossbows leveled at his chest.

For a moment, all was stillness.

"No," Lucy said. She put a hand on the nearest Elephant's crossbow, lowering it. Her eyes stayed fixed on Jasper. "It's not worth getting bit. Another time, ladies, another time."

One by one, the crossbows lowered. Jasper stayed where he was, growling, bristled and hunched. The Elephants backed away slowly. Lucy was the last to go.

"But I'll be back, you little fuck," she spat. Her arm snapped up. There was a silken sound.

Pain exploded through Hyde's arm. The world whited out for a second. He screamed. Jasper snarled and leapt forward. Hobnails clattered on cobble. Hyde clutched at the wall behind him, kicking his feet as though he could scramble back through the bricks and escape the pain. He couldn't feel his fingers.

He risked a look at his arm. The pain doubled the moment he saw the silvery bolt sticking out of his sleeve. He very nearly threw up. He had to take a moment, close his eyes and lean his head back against the wall, just breathe, just breathe, and if there was some pathetic whimpering interspersed with the breathing it wasn't like there was anyone around to hear. . . .

There was a padding of feet, and then hot, doggy breath ruffled his hair.

"That looks bad," Jasper said. Hyde's eyes snapped open just in time to see him reaching for the wound. He kicked Jasper in his barrel chest as hard as he could, sent him sprawling.

"It's fine!" Hyde snapped. "Don't touch me, I can handle it!"

"Sorry," Jasper whimpered. Hyde turned away from him, huddling against the wall. It was half to protect the wound from further meddling and half to keep Jasper from seeing the tears streaming down his face.

With his teeth, he ripped into the sleeve of his shirt—fortunately she had missed the overcoat—and tore it off to reveal the wound, the bolt, an awful lot of bright red blood. Black threads trailed out past the shaft, punched into his flesh. His stomach lurched at the sight. That spelled infection, necrosis, he could lose the arm—

Get a hold of yourself, Jekyll snapped, though his voice was thin with pain, too. Don't pull it out or we'll bleed to death. Get back to the Society. We ought to have the right materials for the Flesh Weaver. It'll take time, and it will hurt, but it will be survivable. You like surviving, don't you?

Hyde clenched his teeth. Through a massive effort of will, he managed to get to his feet. His head spun. Again, he came very close to throwing up.

"What—what can I do to help?" Jasper said meekly.

"Get me back to the Society," Hyde said. His voice was hoarse. "Jekyll can patch me up."

Jasper's ears flattened back, and a few multicolored sparks spat from between his teeth.

"Right," he said. He sidled up to Hyde and offered one large, hairy arm. Hyde grappled onto it one-handed. Every movement sent another shock of pain through him. He grit his teeth and swore he would show no sign of weakness until he was properly alone.

He threw up three times on the way back.

Jasper got him to the laboratory door, and Hyde pried himself off and staggered inside without a word of preamble. Jasper tried to say something and Hyde slammed the door on him, locking it behind himself. The pain had gotten into his head, left him fuzzy and disoriented. He just wanted it to stop. He would've cut off his arm if it would've made it stop.

Keep going, Jekyll said. Nearly there. This is the easy part.

"Shut up," Hyde said. He shoved off of the door and staggered to the lab bench. It was a mess. Everything was cluttered and blurry, swimming before his eyes.

The decoded notes are in the desk, Jekyll said. Go to the desk.

Hyde took a few tottering steps back until he encountered the desk. There was blood on his fingers. He didn't bother wiping it off.

Open the top left drawer, Jekyll said. Just look for the title. It should say "Flesh Weaver" at the top. Big letters, can't miss it.

Clumsy and sniffling, Hyde did as he was told. The pain was too much to bear. No one was watching now, no one but Jekyll, and there were already no secrets between them. He was free to collapse into a weeping, snotty mess if he felt like it.

It really fucking hurt.

He found the papers, though only after smearing bloody fingerprints on nearly everything in the drawer. Jekyll continued to walk him through it, one step at a time. At least his voice was strained, too, even if it was only in Hyde's head. No composure could survive this kind of agony. The brewing was accomplished without antagonism from either side, perhaps simply because they were both in too much pain. The Flesh Weaver came out pale yellow and fizzing, and Hyde corked it, just in case it got knocked over. He sank to the floor and put his back against the lab bench.

This was the hard part.

Fingers trembling, Hyde grasped the end of the bolt. He was too sweaty to get a good grip on it. He wiped his hand off on his coat. He was shivering despite the warmth of the room, and his eyes wouldn't focus properly. On the second try, he managed to get a better grip on the bolt. He took three quick, deep breaths, squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth.

He yanked. Agony lanced through his arm, so intense it knocked all the air out of him, sent sparks dancing across his eyes. He threw up again, although it was more of a dry heave at this point. The alcohol was not helping with the pain—or maybe it was, in which case, thank God he was still drunk—but it was certainly helping to unsettle his stomach.

It's barbed, Jekyll said. His arm was pinned to Hyde's by the bolt, pain stitched through the both of them. You'll have to push it out the other side.

"Bitch," Hyde hissed, his voice thick with pain. "Bitch, bitch, bitch, shitting hell, cunt on a stick, mother of fuck—"

The faster you do it, the less it will hurt.

Hyde put his thumb on the end of the bolt and pressed as hard as he could. The scream that tore out of him was like a banshee's. He writhed. His head slammed into the lab bench and he barely felt it. The point of the bolt tented out the skin on the back of his arm and then punched through. Hyde grabbed the bolt and yanked it the rest of the way out. The pain sharpened to a blinding white lance and then, finally, began to dull. He subsided against the wall, gasping for air and whimpering and trembling. Blood streamed down his arm. Fumbling, he grabbed up the potion from the bench and uncorked it with his teeth. He forced himself to pour it out slowly, one gush at a time. It fizzled like phenol against the edges of the wound. An unbearable itching kicked up inside his arm as the flesh stitched itself back together.

At long, long last, the pain subsided, and the itching resolved, and he was left drenched in sweat and shivering uncontrollably. He picked up the bolt with numb fingers, examined it through misty eyes. It was a cruel, steely thing, with three pairs of barbs hooked back along its length. Blood and stringy bits of flesh were still clinging to it.

"Keepin' that," Hyde mumbled. "That's a Lucy original, that is."

You are unbelievable, said Jekyll. Now would you please change back? Someone will have heard the screaming.

By that point, Hyde was all to happy to get out of his body, to sink back into the muted mists of Jekyll. He heaved himself to his feet and whipped up a quick batch of the transformative serum. While it fizzed and shifted from red to green, there was a knock at the door.

"Dr. Jekyll?" It was Virginia Ito, sounding gravely concerned.

"One moment!" Hyde called back. He didn't sound much like Jekyll, but maybe through the door, and just two words, it should be fine, and even if it wasn't, Jekyll himself could smooth it over. He gulped down the potion and braced himself.

She knocked again.

"I heard screaming," Virginia said. "Jasper said Mr. Hyde had been hurt."

Hyde looked down at his hands. He touched his chest. There was the warmth, the salty, bitter taste, the light-headedness—but where was the pain? Where were the wracking convulsions? What was taking so long?

"Why isn't it working?" he hissed. Panic clawed up his spine. "Why isn't it working?"

I—I don't know, Jekyll stammered, the same terror in his voice. I don't know!

"What the fuck are we meant to do?"

The doorknob rattled. Hyde almost bit through his tongue.

"Henry, I'm starting to get concerned about all that silence," Virginia warned.

"Fuck! Fuckity fuck!"

Just make another, Jekyll said hurriedly. Quickly, a double dose. Now, now!

Hyde's hands shook abominably. He spilled the salt all over the table. Virginia was pounding on the door. The second potion effervesced and turned green and Hyde quaffed it without a single breath for air.

"Dr. Jekyll, if you do not open this door, I will break it down," Virginia threatened.

Pain struck through Hyde's chest, and he had never been happier to feel it. Agony consumed him, dropping him to his knees. No sound could pass his lips. Glowing ichor spilled from his eyes and mouth. He gasped in a breath, then two. He staggered to his feet, wiping his face on his coat. Said coat was then torn off and flung across the room. He checked the cheval glass.

Henry Jekyll looked back at him, disheveled and exhausted. Hyde hung over his shoulder, a mist, a dissipating fog.

Jekyll rubbed at his face, let out a breath, and opened the door.

Virginia paused with one leg cocked, as though she had been about to kick her way in. She placed her foot back on the floor and straightened her skirts. She cleared her throat.

"There you are," she said. Her eyes went wide, brow furrowed. "My God, what's happened to you?"

"Ah," said Jekyll, looking down at the sleeve Hyde had torn off to get at the bolt. There was also a great deal of blood still on him. "Mr. Hyde was . . . a touch out of sorts. I'm not injured, not to worry. It's all his."

"Good lord," said Virginia. "Is he all right?"

"He will be," said Jekyll. "I've managed to get him mostly patched up and calmed down. I apologize for not answering the door sooner, he was being difficult."

"I see," said Virginia. She let out a decisive sigh. "Well, if there's anything I can do, let me know."

"I certainly will," he promised. "Thank you for the offer. You said Jasper told you the situation?"

"Yes," she said. "In a manner of speaking. It was more a panicked sobbing than a telling."

"Ah," Jekyll said again. "Well, please let him know that all should be well, and that Mr. Hyde and I both appreciate his efforts. I'm given to understand he saved Hyde's life."

"Did he," said Virginia, eyebrows raising. "Well, we shall have to give him a proper hero's welcome. What about you?"

"Staying with my patient," said Jekyll. "He should be well by morning, but I shouldn't like to leave him alone until then."

"Of course," said Virginia. "It seems like it was quite the ordeal."

"Indeed."

"Do take care, Henry."

"You as well."

She walked away, and he shut the door. For a moment, he stood there staring at the wood grain, thinking nothing, swaying with the beating of his heart.

"That," he said to himself, "was too close."

You're telling me, said Hyde.

[angstgods]

OKAY! I'm probably going to suffer for this but I'm a glutton for pain so I humbly request: one where Yuri succeeds in his suicide BUT Otabek staying with Mila and having their baby. The years go by and they're all miserable, especially Otabek. He's gotta live with the consequences of it all. Love ya and I trust you to break my heart into dust. ❤️

sorry this took for fucking ever to finish, but your wish will eventually be my command i guess lol (evidence for yuri’s date of birth found here: https://yurikobutachan.tumblr.com/timeline)

also, im so sorry i didnt update, school just started 3: updating soon! heres something to tide you over! 

A little boy with knobby knees pouted on the front steps of his house. He couldn’t have been older than seven or eight, right? Well, actually, he was almost eleven. He hated being small.

Mousey brown hair that looked reddish in the light fell into his eyes. It was getting long again, falling just past his chin. With his chin in his hand, he grumbled mean things at his bangs. He secretly liked how long his hair was, he thought it framed his face well. He knew his mother would make him cut it as soon as she noticed, he pouted even more.

“Hey kiddo.”

He gasped and pointed a little button nose up at a man standing over him, house keys in hand. He had a shock of thick, dark hair that was starting to grey right in the middle of his forehead, and dabbles of white in the scruff on his face that never seemed to go away. He wasn’t very tall, but built solidly, from the ground up like a brick wall. The boy recognized him and went right back to grumping. “Hi, Dad.”

Otabek looked around. “What’re you doing out here?” It was a nice day out, the sun was low in the trees but it was still warm enough for a t-shirt. The boy sat up like he was going to say something. After a pause, he slouched back down, pouting even harder. Just when he thought he’d been left alone, Otabek settled down next to him, feeling it in his knees. The boy stared at the pavement, pretending he didn’t exist.

“Vaska, what’s going on?” Otabek questioned, Vaska looked everywhere but in his direction. “Visaliy,” he pressed, but Vaska shuffled away. “Vasya,” Otabek softened, taking a page from Mila’s book. A peachy blush ran right over the freckles dusting Vaska’s nose. One more push. “Come on, let’s here it, Votik Kotik–” 

“Stooooop!” Vaska whined, delivering an embarrassed shove to Otabek’s shoulder. Affection, get’s him every time.  

“What’s wrong?” Otabek tried again when Vaska softened up a little. Still, he looked away, watching ants march along the ground. He huffed.

“Pavel and his friends called me a fairy because I like to dance,” Vaska explained after a lull of quiet between them. He picked at a dirty band-aid on his knee, “he said it makes me weak, but I’m not weak! Ballet is so hard, Dad.” He shook his head, puzzled. “Why doesn’t he like me?”

“Do you like him?”

“No.” Vaska grimaced. “He’s mean to girls and steps on flowers, he’s a batman villain.” Otabek had to laugh at that, letting out a little puff of amusement. “Stella said she’ll kick his ass if he talks to me again.” Otabek raised his brows.

“I have no doubt in my mind,” he agreed gravely.

Now at the tender and tumultuous age of fifteen, Stella had taken up kickboxing as a way to channel her stress. She was a happy, energetic girl, but sometimes the world weighed a little too heavily on her shoulders. When Vaska was born, she immediately took him under her wing, caring for him like a little brother. She would defend him to the end. Akari, on the other hand, was a little shy of him at first. Vaska asked her why once, she said he was too familiar. Up until then, he really thought they were all siblings, sharing similar catlike monolid eyes. His were a bright sea foam green, a little similar to Akari’s. But when she officially rejected him, he finally saw the distance between them. 

“I… like Stella,” Vaska confessed after a while, an uneasiness clouded his eyes. “She said I’m not supposed to. She think’s I’m a fairy too, doesn’t she…” 

“No way,” Otabek flat out denied. “You may be a little young for her, but it’s probably just the way she was brought up. It’s a little strange for her that boys and girls can like each other.” Vaska took this into consideration. As long as Stella didn’t think little of him, he was happy. “You know she loves you in her own way,” Otabek reassured, but Vaska already knew that.

“Sometimes Stella calls me Yuya,” Vaska spoke up, “She’ll say it, then she’ll get sad. What does that mean?”

Now Otabek was staring into the yard, Vaska looked over to find a stony look on his face. He let his Dad think for a bit, scooting over to make room while he adjusted his seat.

“Do you know how you think of her as a big sister?” he began. Vaska nodded. “She used to have someone just like that. She thought of him as a big brother, and she called him Yuya.”

“Was that his name?”

“Yuri… His name was Yuri.”

Otabek closed his eyes. When he opened them, Vaska had nuzzled in close, wiggling under his arm and offering what comfort he could without understanding why his Dad was so sad all of the sudden. He pulled Vaska into his lap, settling him in his arms and resting his chin in Vaska’s hair.

“You remind her of him,” Otabek explained softly, nostalgically, “you remind all of us of him. 

“What’s he like?” Vaska asked curiously, taking note of a strange tinge in Otabek’s voice.

“He was…” he paused, looking for the right word. “He was like a tiger.” Vaska exhaled, wondrously imagining a regal, majestic young man that may have resembled himself. “Yuri was eye-catching, you couldn’t look away. He had these eyes.” 

“What did they look like?”

“Green, just like yours.” Vaska smiled just a little. “They were powerful. They could make you forget what you’re saying right in the middle of your sentence. He could see into you, see your thoughts and your feelings. Very calculating, like a… soldier… Unforgettable.” Otabek went quiet. Vaska didn’t rush him, feeling his chest suddenly get tight behind him. Otabek sniffed. “He was elusive though, like a tiger. He didn’t trust many people. He never let them in too close. But he was so magnetic, everyone wanted to be close to him, to be chosen by him.”

“Did he choose you?” Vaska flinched, feeling something wet drip down onto his scalp. He twisted around to see what it was. Otabek’s eyes were red and watering. He offered a small apologetic smile. Vaska needed a second to take it all in, then turned around to stare at the ants.

“Yeah, he did,” Otabek replied honestly, “I met him the first time during a ballet class when I was eight. I was too scared to say anything though, he was beautiful then too. I met him again ten years later. I’d almost lost hope that I’d see him ever again, but those eyes…” He sighed, hugging his son and watching the people go by. “He was a fierce kid, Vaska. He took no prisoners, just like your mom. That’s actually around the time I met her, but…” Vaska hummed for him to continue, but Otabek shook it off and moved on with his story. “Then I found him again after Stella and Akari were born. He was a full fledged adult by then. He was an award winning figure skater, he was a principal dancer with the Mariinsky Ballet, he was on every talk show and magazine cover; everything they said about him he used to his advantage. They called him a fairy.”

“No way, really?”

“Really,” Otabek nodded, “He didn’t like it at first, but he used that and became this otherworldly, nymphlike creature. He loved Stella and Akari more than I’d ever seen him love anything else. Even the ice. He was… he was…”

“Dad?” Vaska questioned. Otabek was holding his breath, letting tears fall from his eyes. His nose was red, but he wouldn’t cry. If he started he wouldn’t stop and Vaska didn’t deserve that. “Dad,” Vaska had been saying for a few long moments, “did you… did you like him? Like… Did you like him?” He let go of the breath and nodded. “Did he like you too?”

“I think so… or he did at one time.”

“What happened to him?” Vaska asked slowly. A fresh flow of tears fell from his Dad’s eyes.

“I was with him when your Mom found out she was pregnant with you,” he said. A small smile lightened up his face. “He wanted to name you Charybdis.”

“What does that mean?” Vaska smiled in interest. It was from a book that was a little over his head. He would be able to read it soon, probably in school. “I like it!” he said, “what else happened?”

“Well,” Otabek tried to stay at least a little positive, but his facade was slipping, “Yuri and I knew that it was time for us to go our separate ways. We were both sad about that, but… But Yuri was very sad. And I wasn’t there to tell him it would be okay… What do we say about feeling very sad, Vaska?”

“Tell someone?” Vaska responded automatically. It didn’t quite make sense why his parents had taught him that until right this very second. The sun went behind a cloud. 

“Yuri didn’t tell anyone he was so sad. He was all by himself and,” Otabek cut himself off, taking a few breaths to collect himself, “he decided he didn’t want to live anymore.” Vaska gasped, a tear rolled down his cheek. “It was peaceful,” Otabek reassured, “he fell asleep and didn’t wake up.” Vaska stared at the steps they sat on, watching his tears hit the cement. “That’s why Akari stays in her room when we come over. It’s not your fault, she just loved him very much and now he’s gone. It’s hard to think he’s never coming back.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad,” Vaska’s hair fell into his eyes, and in that moment he was Yuri’s spitting image. Otabek’s heart skipped a beat. He barely registered Vaska saying, “I got between you. Maybe… Maybe it would be different if–”

“No. Stop that– Vaska, look at me.” He resisted, stubbornly squirming but eventually he complied. “You– Vaska, you’re a miracle. Your Mom and I, you’re what we’ve always wanted. We tried for years to have a baby, we thought it was too late, but here you are. You’re my son and I love you more than anything. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“Do you love Yuri?” Thrown for a loop, Otabek’s words stuck in his throat. “Why haven’t you told me about him before? Is it because you love him and he died?” Otabek opened his mouth then closed it back up, starting and stopping until his thoughts straightened out. His son watched him, knowing where all the cracks where that would give away his true emotions. Only one other person had been able to figure him out like that.

“Yes, I do,” he finally settled, “we didn’t tell you about him because he meant a lot to me and our friends. It’s very hard for us to talk about and we all just decided one day to never talk about him. It’s easier for us to move on.” Vaska wasn’t all the way satisfied with that answer, but it sated him for now. “Yuri was just as excited to meet you as I was. He was ready to love you as much as he loved Stella and Akari. When he died, I promised him I’d love you as much as both of us combined. I miss him every day, but I’m so glad I have you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” Vaska replied softly, a genuine response when he wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. He let Otabek smooth the hair out of his eyes, slicking it back and kissing him right on the crown of his head. Vaska turned pink. “You can’t forget him,” he said, “not talking about him means you’re forgetting him little by little. You have to talk or the memories won’t keep. Tell me one thing about him every day.” Otabek could agree that that seemed fair. If no one else wanted to talk about Yuri, Vaska was more than happy to lend an ear. “And, and,” he wasn’t finished yet. “Let’s visit him. Let’s go before Mom gets home.

Like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs, Otabek went rigid for a second, slowly relaxing. No one had ever wanted to visit him. “Okay, Vaska,” Otabek found himself saying. “Let’s go see him.”

…

Wandering through a peaceful cemetery, Vaska scanned for names and faces that jumped out at him. Otabek lagged behind while he ran ahead. Under a cherry tree lived a white marble headstone dusted in pink petals. A pensive face, lovely and sad, was carved into the center, framed in gold filigree.

Yurochka Nikolaevich Plisetsky. March 1st, 1999 -  November 22nd - 2019

“So young…” Vaska mused to himself. He straightened up, squaring his shoulders. “Yuri.” he said, “I’m Visaliy Altin. I’m– What did he call you?” Otabek looked down, realizing that that question was for him. “You call him Yuri, did he call you something?”

“Beka,” he admitted softly. “I called him Yura.”  

“Beka’s my Dad,” Vaska’s chest puffed out, “and you can call me Vaska.” Otabek smiled and squeezed his son’s shoulders, proud to the ends of the earth. “I’ll be eleven soon. My birthday’s in August. I’m training to be a dancer with Madam Baranovskaya, just like you. She says hi, probably, I haven’t talked to her about you. Dad says I remind everyone of you sometimes. Especially Stella. Her hair is long and blonde now, I think it’s really pretty…”

Vaska told long stories about school, his best friend Dima, and his first visit to Kazakhstan when he was five. He thought pointing his toes was easier than the rest of his classmates did. He must be gifted. He’d asked his Mom if they could get a cat and she said no, what she didn’t know was that the cat wasn’t for him. After Ume died, Akari was very sad. He wanted to bring her a new sphinx as a peace offering. It was easy for Vaska to talk to the gravestone that represented a man he’d never met before, easier than it was to talk to Mila.

“My Dad still loves you very much,” Vaska concluded, “he thinks about you every day. And I know you love him too.” Having plopped down in the grass to rest his head against the marble, he stood up. Vaska shrank just a little bit, getting a good look at what this was doing to his Dad. 

Standing a few steps behind him, Otabek did his best not to make a sound, but tears bored from his eyes. His face was red from holding his breath. He didn’t want to take this away from Vaska, he seemed like he needed to pour himself out. But just standing here, seeing his son– so like Yuri in so many ways– chatting with his headstone like they were old friends, it was hard to watch. Yuri was so many things; he was stubborn and moody, sweet and intelligent, headstrong and cocksure, and so so caring. He’d been all over the world, seen everything there was to see. He was such a complicated, multifaceted person, and here he was, boiled down to a name and a date like it never happened. He never truly existed. It was wrong, it was offensive.

Vaska peered up at him, snub nose turned up like a little piggy. His hair fell into his eyes.

“Ready, kiddo?” he smiled through sharp pangs of guilt and sorrow. Vaska nodded. Otabek held out his hand. “Let’s go.” Vaska walked right past the hand, throwing his arms around Otabek’s waist. They stayed like that for a while, Vaska pressed his face into Otabek’s chest, warming his heart with as much love as he could muster. It was hard for him to be here, Vaska knew that. He was so grateful that his Dad shared a part of himself that he normally tried to hide. It brought them even closer together.

…

The door opened with a squeak and a little body wiggled in through the opening, darting into the living room. Sitting in an armchair with a cold, black aura surrounding her, Mila sipped something clear out of a rocks glass and numbly watched her son cross the living room in search of her.

“Mom!” he exclaimed when he finally saw her. Taking six of the ten steps it took to approach, he was smiling until he noticed the mood around him start to sink. He slowed to a cautious gate. “Mom…?”

“Where have you been?” she interrogated monotonously. Vaska stopped just shy of her reach.

“Mom, you’ve been drink–”

“Answer the question.” Otabek closed the front door. He didn’t move into the living room. He listened intently.

“W-We… Dad was telling me about Yuri,” Mila’s eyes widened, “so we went to go see him.” Mila sat up in her chair, unblinking as she set her glass down. “Mom, I–”

“Go to your room.” Vaska nearly jumped out of his skin. “Now, Visaliy.” He skittered away. When his bedroom door closed, Mila settled back into her chair and tossed back the rest of her cup.

From the front door, Otabek heard her calmly call his name. Gritting his teeth, he ventured into the living room where it was ten degrees colder just with her in it. All his muscles were tense, sensing an oncoming fight. She watched him approach and plant his feet on the opposite side of the living room. 

“You took my son to the cemetery?” she asked slowly, enunciating all of her words.

“He’s my son too. He asked me to go and I said yes.”

“You listened to a ten year old boy?” 

“He’s right, Mila,” Otabek raised his voice just a notch, careful to hide his words from Vaska’s prying ears. “Every day I avoid talking about him, I’m forgetting him little by little. Yuri was–”

“Don’t you dare say that name in my house,” she hissed through her teeth. Otabek was silent, still like a statue. “You promised me. You promised me you wouldn’t do this.” She moved to stand, suddenly feeling dizzy and falling back into her chair. She squeezed her eyes closed with a groan. When she opened them back up, her glass was half full and Otabek was in the kitchen looking for whiskey. “Are you going to lose your fucking mind again?” she spat. Otabek sighed. “I’ll take him. You’ll never see us again.”

“Then go,” he whirled around, squeezing a glass of his own, “go to Italy if you think that’ll make you happy. But he stays with me.”

“No,” she denied, shooting up from her chair. “You didn’t even want him, Otabek.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is!” she countered, “if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, you’d be off somewhere with Yuri sucking each other off like a couple of teenagers.”

“Leave him out of this,” he all but growled, but Mila was unimpressed.

“Why? Everything that happened is his fault.”

“I mean it, Mila.”

“Oh my god!” She threw her hands up. “You still don’t fucking love me over a rotting old corpse? It’s been twelve years, there’s probably nothing even down there.” She gasped, startled by the glass in Otabek’s hand exploding in his grasp. He swore and turned into the kitchen to clean up ice, whiskey, and broken glass. He was bleeding. “You’re not gonna do anything,” Mila shook her head, but her heart was beating out of her chest. “You can’t blame me, or Vaska, you can only blame yourself.” Otabek barely looked at her. “What does Katrine say?” she asked with her arms crossed. Otabek was quiet. “What does she say?” Mila repeated herself.

“I stopped seeing her.”

“Oh god… Goddammit, Otabek!”

“If I can’t even talk about him, the dreams are all I have left of–”

“Having sex dreams about a dead body is all you–”

“They’re not sex dreams, they’re morning after dreams, and you’d know that if you’d fucking listen to me!” He realized he was shouting after it was too late. In the silence, Otabek and Mila listened to their son’s confused weeping from his bedroom. He was in there alone, listening to his parents fight, thinking that he’d somehow caused this. Otabek took a few calming breaths for the sake of their son and tried to put his family back together. “You’re my wife, Mila, I should be able to tell you these things.” She scoffed. “You should be able to talk to me too, we haven’t spoken in ages.”

“You wanna talk? Fine, let’s talk.” Otabek took a breath. Before he could let it go, Mila hissed, “I don’t love you either. Why are we even trying if all we do is make each other miserable? Listen to what it’s doing to Vaska!” In his room, Vaska’s crying was getting softer and softer. He was falling asleep. “Yuri is dead,” Mila deadpanned, sitting back in her chair and reaching for her glass. “Maybe you should be too. You’d be happier, right? You’d rather be dead than be here with me?” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe we should all be dead… You, me, V–”

“Vaska!” Charging down the hall, Otabek blew through the door to his son’s bedroom, startling him awake. His cheeks were streaked with tears, eyes puffy and raw. The first thing Otabek did was drop to his knees and pull his boy into his arms, hugging him tight. “Let’s go, buddy. We’ll come back in the morning and get your things for school.” Too tired to walk, Vaska opened his mouth to whine, but Dad was already bending to pick him up. He was too big to carry, but special circumstances called for special privileges. 

“Where are we going?”

“Go get in the car, everything’s fine.”

Otabek took Vaska with him to stay with Victor and Yuuri. It was late by the time they arrived, but Yuuri was expecting them. Stella, who’d been brushing her teeth when they announced their arrival to the house, grabbed Vaska by the arm and pulled him into bed with her, lending him something to sleep in and tucking him in next to her. Otabek took the living room couch, having to fight a small bear to get to it. Even then, Egor tried to sleep on top of him once or twice. But sleep eventually found him and Otabek found himself in the same dream.  

“Beka… Beka…  Wake up!” Otabek’s vision sharpened, and two green eyes were smiling down at him. Long blonde hair tickled his skin. Straddling Otabek’s waist, Yuri peeked out from under the sheets. The sun reflected off his bare chest, filtering in through the windows of his bedroom. Without even thinking, Otabek pulled him down and kissed him all over his face, ending with a slow meaningful peck at his lips. “Good morning to you too,” Yuri joked, falling into an even slower, terribly reverent, almost apologetic kiss that he accepted but didn’t quite understand. “What’s wrong?” he asked when it was over.

“Nothing,” Otabek avoided with a sad sigh. Yuri didn’t press him, hoping a nuzzle and a kiss in the middle of his forehead would make it a little better.  

“So,” he changed the subject when it seemed like they didn’t need to delve any deeper. “If not Charybdis, it should be something else badass.” Sliding down Otabek’s chest, Yuri’s face came to rest in his hands. Otabek could feel his breath on his face. “That that one chick. From Game of Thrones. Arya? That’s sorta Russian.” Yuri shrugged his shoulders.

“What about Visaliy?” Otabek suggested thoughtfully, knowingly. “I have a feeling it’s gonna be a boy. It’s weird, but he kinda looks like you.” Yuri raised a confused brow. “In my head.” 

Yuri took the name under careful consideration, resting his chin in the dip between Otabek’s collar bones. “Hm… Yeah… Okay, I like it. Only if we call him Vaska,” Otabek agreed with a pleased smile, “especially if it embarrasses him.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Yuri sighed, drawing lazy patterns all over Otabek’s chest, watching it rise and fall. A hand made its way into his hair and Yuri purred happily. Otabek swept rogue strands of gold out of his face, out of the way of those eyes peering into him. 

“I wanna stay like this forever,” Yuri mused wistfully.  

“You have no idea how much I feel the same… I love you, Yuri. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“I love you too,” Yuri smiled, “even if you are a cringey bastard.”  

[pldubrahs]

THIS IS THE BEST QUESTION IVE EVER BEEN ASKED

okay so yall dont know this but i have 766 bookmarks on ao3, and thats AFTER i spent all of last summer going through them/deleting things from them (of course i added a ton over this year so i need to do another cleanse now but regardless), so i am literally Hella prepared for this. so here we go: my TOP SPRING AWAKENING FICS in no particular order

1. What The Cat Dragged In by grrcookierawr / @nastyinkhakis​; hernst, 6.7k words

basically, you literally cannot go wrong with a fic by kelsey. two of her fics made this list but everything she writes or has ever written? iconic but this fic in particular is about a headcanon that ernst calls hanschen ‘kitten’ as a nickname and hanschen just,,, melts into a sappy mushy puddle, but also hanschen is Ridiculously embarrassed by his own vulnerabilities. this fic is Old (pre dwsa!) and Beautiful--so beautiful that i got distracted from writing this list because i started to reread it--and, tbh, it was really a catalyst for the turning of the tide of public opinion on hanschen (along with all the other beautiful hanschen content kelsey created). basically, 12/10, quite possibly my favorite spring awakening fic ever written

2. roses by flowernst (asphodelgrimoire) / @transaaronburr​; hernst, 7.4k

very high school, VERY german (which is shockingly lacking in many sa fics despite the fact that its literally set in germany). features: well written deaf and hard of hearing characters!!!!!!!! hanschen rilow who pretends to be a stone cold bitch but is just a soft teenage boy. overall its Super cute and very funny and i love it

3. breathing for this moment in time by intertwiningwords / softhernst on twitter ; melchiotto, 1.8k

if you follow me on twitter youll know i Love melchiotto bc its a crack ship that i created out of spite and grew to love. but do you know who Really spurred on my love for it? JESS jessica has always supported my weird ships and has allowed me to corrupt her with them, and this fic is a Perfect example of that. basically, i said “pls dont write a sad fic” and jess said “lmao fuck you im writing fwb melchiotto with a sad ending.” feat. internalized homophobia and “Straight Guy” otto the most painful part is “ ‘Just stay in this moment,’ Melchior thought. ‘It might be the last time you ever get to touch him like this.’ “ and the best part is the part where melchior and otto have a cute conversation about bike riding

4. This Tongue of Mine by howveryzoe / @queerrevisionist​ ; ernst/many but endgame hernst, 9.9k

FUCKING HELL okay so i was dreading/looking forward to this fic for MONTHS and BASICALLY its experienced ernst: the fanfic. ernst figures out that hes gay and has a lot of sexual relationships with varying levels of emotional connection before meeting hanschen at a party and im dumbing it down here but GOD its so good and its such a beautiful look at how the gay male hookup culture can affect a teen boys life when hes just coming into himself and wants to learn more. if you arent yet convinced, it also features these lines: Then at age twelve he watched Spartacus in history class and realized he was gay “Christ to think I’ve known you my whole life and we’re both too ashamed to see each other naked. Bizarre.” Ernst doesn’t find it bizarre. Ernst finds it a fact of life. Ernst wants to get his clothes on and get back to his good Catholic house and his last period class.  “I’m into you Georg.” Ernst tells him slowly and deliberately, caught between a blush and a laugh. Georg chokes. “Like in what way?” “Like in a sexual way.” “Oh.” 

5. One More Season by hulklinging / @hulklinging​​ ; hernst, 2.3k

SCREAMS I LOVE THIS FIC i just found it again but BASICALLY this fic is what Could Have Been and it’s not one of those where ernst and hanschen run off together as literal teens (tho i rly dont have anything against fics like that) its more of a beautiful fate thing??? they break up bc hanschen is trying to be practical and whatever and then they find each other as adults??? and stay together until theyre old (and there are whispers of ww1 but shhh ignore that focus only on the happiness) and its beautiful and historical and based around birthdays. i love p much everything ziggy writes so its no surprise that this ended up on the list but just its so beautiful please read it

6. Ginsberg and Cigarettes by cannibananalism ; hernst, 2.1k

give! me! more! pretentious! hanschen!  he skips class to read poetry and fuck a boy in the bathroom like how much more pretentious can you get??? nsfw--features hjs by 2 underage kids and the implication of sex if that squicks you out--but its v cute, v good, generally an enjoyable fic

7. The Murder of Mr. Maler by grrcookierawr yet again ; multi, 8.6k

AAAAAAA OKAY SO first of all this fic was made at the Height of the “fuck bobby maler” movement. second of all its literally the Best murder mystery ive ever read like move over agatha christine. third of all ITS SO SO SO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN like i gush about kelsey and her writing but goddamn this is a good fic.  basically bobby maler has been found dead in miami in the study at the hotel he owns and all the kids are suspects in his murder. it such an interesting fic and it really keeps you guessing actually? i remember gasping aloud at the twist the first time i read this. but yeah its good as h*ck and yall should all read this

honorable mentions

Sink Back In The Ocean by howveryzoe, which was written as Self-Indulgent Catharsis for zoe and i. in which ernst just fuck,,, beats melchior up. i love this fic. it saved my life

don't call it love by ShippingEverything, which didnt make the list because its obviously one of my own fics. its melchiotto (unrequited sort of? melchior eventually moves on), its sad, it features our good friend “Straight Guy” otto, and straight up if i could only have one of my fics be read ever again, i’d choose this one. probably the best thing ive ever written

[caepaecaesurae]

> CC: Thank Meenah

Yesterday at 5:07 PM

caepaecaesurae WVe'vwe split, and the safe-house wvon't be needed anymore, on my end at least.  I'vwe left a small thank you present on the kitchen counter. I'd be in your debt if you could wvipe the coordinates used off of the pad's history list, if and wvhen convwenient. Thank you again, and havwe a nice night.

Yesterday at 9:38 PM

brackishbarracuda yeah i can do that isle head over in an hour oar so brackishbarracuda s good to sea u caepaecaesurae Good to see you too.  I appreciate the neutrality and the assistance. Havwing somewvhere empty to go helped more than once.

Today at 12:13 AM

brackishbarracuda ive been fused before an efin when its ppl u give a shit aboat its hard so i mean some place where u didnt have any extra ppl shoutin at u seemed pike a good idea to me caepaecaesurae It wvas. Did you separate from wvhomevwer it wvas peaceably?  Or vwia incompatibility? brackishbarracuda peaceably for both thankfully one was def a hell of a lot rockier than the other one tho aight the best puns are the ones u didnt mean to make i cannaut believe caepaecaesurae I do enjoy those ones. brackishbarracuda did u ever get hit w the gem thing caepaecaesurae As I am lost, it seems I did not. brackishbarracuda lemme find u a picture for full effect aight bc shit is stupid and mine was pike stupid times two brackishbarracuda http://imgur.com/sPQFO8t there we go rly tho how tf puts that shit on ur foot caepaecaesurae WVhat is that? brackishbarracuda aight so theres the weird sentient rock aliens who p much project around w/e rock they are an they do the fuse thing on purpose pike thats a thing they can do and a bunch a ppl got hit w it a while back usually shits pike on ur hand or ur forhead oar ur arm or somefin but no brackishbarracuda nah it was on my cod damn foot caepaecaesurae First I'vwe heard about them. ... You havwe my sympathies. WVhy the foot? brackishbarracuda idk i do naut fuckin no thats just where it was when i got got caepaecaesurae I imagine you sawv the tittastrophe wve had? brackishbarracuda yeah brackishbarracuda yeah that shore was somefin i saw w my own two eyes brackishbarracuda howd that whole thing go efin caepaecaesurae It looked rather like wve wvere split dowvn the middle vwertically in a lot of respects. The side wvith no breast had short hair like mine. WVe made a falsie so clothes wvould fit. brackishbarracuda now sea i woulda just said fuck it and done the whole half clothes shit pike jacket on one and dress on the other deal caepaecaesurae tsk.  I should'vwe talked to you more, that'd be a hell of a look. brackishbarracuda i mean u aint gotta b fused to pull it off right caepaecaesurae True.  It wvould complete the look though. caepaecaesurae I may try a half-and-half garment of some sort soon. brackishbarracuda plz take pictures i need this shit caepaecaesurae I do lovwe my selfie tag. brackishbarracuda s cause its good shit caepaecaesurae Howv do you feel about breasted, marginally nsfwv pictures of me? brackishbarracuda im down caepaecaesurae http://caepaecaesurae.tumblr.com/post/130431613390/speaking-of-anons-d brackishbarracuda v nice dam tho where tf did u get half those scars brackishbarracuda impressive caepaecaesurae I don't normally showv much skin. The large round ones on the legs are from an air battle invwolvwing laser cannons, during the game. brackishbarracuda uh first off fuckin ow caepaecaesurae Pff. Yes, but wve wvon. brackishbarracuda secondly i get it if u aint comfy w it oar w/e but u ought show more a it imo and that right theres why caepaecaesurae A good half of the scars you see there are from my first century on Alternia. ...at the end of wvhich, I began wvearing neck to wvrist to ankle bodyarmor, of the sort contained in that package.  Havwe you stopped by that hivwe yet, by the by? brackishbarracuda shit yeah i did i thought id said thank u btw caepaecaesurae You may havwe, I'm scattered lately. brackishbarracuda pike seariously i aint been in a searious scrape in a while but pike dam i cant get away from nofin w/o bleedin it feels like caepaecaesurae Armor that no one knowvs you're wvearing can be a wvonderful game changer. It turns a knife in the ribs into an invwitation to play. brackishbarracuda as much as i like it and the apron tbh shit is nice brackishbarracuda u probably made clams night more than mine w the armor caepaecaesurae I hope it servwes wvell, or entertains.  Or that the flavwor vwials do. brackishbarracuda hes the one whos gotta stitch me up half the tide caepaecaesurae A good role for a quadrant. If you elect to wvear the vwest, at least he'll only be stitching up limbs. brackishbarracuda lmao yeah fair also i should punch u in the nose for the fuckin shit u sent me pike it was so good that it legit made me mad how tf caepaecaesurae ... Hope player.  "Beyond belief" is my playground. brackishbarracuda throws my dam hands caepaecaesurae I can make things that I can imagine.  Cae*fora* made things that *She* could imagine. brackishbarracuda shit is fucked up caepaecaesurae A bit.  ... I usually try to make things that are slightly less... Intense... than that... I hope it wvasn't too much? brackishbarracuda isle survive but my tongue aint gonna b  happy w anyfin ever again this is me jokin mostly i aint upset at u oar anyfin caepaecaesurae ..Still, pardon. brackishbarracuda s aight cae ur good brackishbarracuda seariously tho why aint u show off ur scars more 38? caepaecaesurae Enough of them havwe unfortunate sources for it to be uncomfortable wvhen specific ones are indicated and remarked on, much of the time. caepaecaesurae ... Mostly, I don't like taking my armor off, evwer. I'vwe been getting better at removwing it long enough for selfies though. brackishbarracuda well dam the one u just showed me took some fuckin guts then didnt it caepaecaesurae Heh.  It wvas taken during a period of amnesia wvhere I didn't remember wvhere most of them wvere from. brackishbarracuda do u think u could do it again caepaecaesurae Possibly, though I think my selfie tag could use more less sexual things. brackishbarracuda u oughta take a pic w arlequin oar somefin then how tall efin are u btw pike are u taller than he is oar shorter or caepaecaesurae I'm a good foot and a half shorter than him, last I checked. brackishbarracuda well that makes me feel beta at least caepaecaesurae My adult height in sevweral centuries ought to be near wvhere he is nowv. brackishbarracuda yall are entirely too fuckin tall u kno that caepaecaesurae So I hear. If it makes you feel any better, all the humans top out somewvhere in the six or sevwen range I think.  They all look somewvhere betwveen fivwe and six nowv. The carapacians are a foot or twvo belowv that. brackishbarracuda pike im saury i realize u probably hear that alot but i am half a arlequins now hight an he was talkin pike sixteen feet an im overe here pike dude ur gonna b over three times my size how tf is that gonna efin work caepaecaesurae Carefully and wvith gusto. brackishbarracuda aight tru tho caepaecaesurae Havwe you evwer done the thing wvhere you rest hip to hip wvith a partner and pretend theirs is yours and marvwel at the difference? Some trolls enjoy that. I think that one wvill only improvwe as he ages, for you. caepaecaesurae "Look wvhat I'm packing nowv" brackishbarracuda i havent and now im kinda wonderin wtf ive been doin w my life caepaecaesurae You're wvelcome. .. Then again I'vwe used googly eyes in the bedroom before, so maybe my advwice isn't the best. brackishbarracuda bouy nah fuck that im gonna get a pack and use em on dirk that shit is perf caepaecaesurae My partner grewv annoyed and ripped them off, wvhich is honestly all I could hope for. brackishbarracuda tbh hell probably laugh till he cries which i count as a win brackishbarracuda but yeah tbh rippin em off sounds pike a good idea brackishbarracuda u kno me an u oughtta hang out sometide caepaecaesurae WVe should, I imagine wve'd get into heaps of trouble if any wvas avwailable. brackishbarracuda trouble is kinda my thing yeah brackishbarracuda i eel pike youd enjoy some trouble caepaecaesurae Once upon a time, maybe.  It's been a wvhile, and I might be a bit more boring nowv. Nice things, good stories, and good laughs?  Those are dear to heart. brackishbarracuda now sea mr suns out guns out tenta tattoo false boob ampora w the hella scars i aint believe you wouldnt enjoy a little trouble caepaecaesurae I'vwe had a vwery interesting life. I'm relearning howv to enjoy trouble. brackishbarracuda isle sea if i cant think of some baby trouble steps caepaecaesurae Sounds like a treat to me. caepaecaesurae Let me knowv sometime, alright? brackishbarracuda yeah def at the v least ur fun to talk to and anybody i can b a bad influence on is aight by me u feel caepaecaesurae Aye, I hear you It'd be nice to lean back in that direction somenight.  I'vwe been sitting around drinking tea a wvhile. brackishbarracuda s easy to get restless i aint efin alternian and sometides i just need to move and tear into somefin before that somefin becomes me caepaecaesurae Aye. ...I sail a ship around sometimes.  Transport pads to get back to hivwe often. Plenty of wvild lands out there to explore. brackishbarracuda theres plenty a world here to sea if u ever decide u wanna we aint managed a drone yet be in a week oar so probably caepaecaesurae The mile-high deer?  Aye I'vwe a curiosity. I'm relievwed that you're considering the drone. brackishbarracuda im uh considerin more than the drone tbh caepaecaesurae Aye? brackishbarracuda been thinkin a puttin my crown on and meanin it caepaecaesurae Lacking in context, I'm imagining you calling yourself queen of a single hivwe surrounded by largish deer. brackishbarracuda i mean in all technicality i earned the fuckin thing i blew up my planet i killed the empress so by right etc etc blah blah blah i just been runnin from it since brackishbarracuda no u aint wrong i gotta start somwhere fuckin ridiculous as it is if they aint anybody else on the planet isle take it theres a small frozen planet my ex red left me so thats two off the bat ig caepaecaesurae If there's no one else it seems a bit... abrupt. Then again, givwen a single wvorking mothergrub, one is nevwer far from an empire. I suspect Arlequin wvould havwe mixed feelings. brackishbarracuda ive convinced my spade to let me sit w em and do some political diplomatic shit and i aint lookin to be a bloody conquerer im just lookin to stop runnin from what i was hatched for mayb do some decent shit w whatever authority i got somefin betta than home was anyway caepaecaesurae I wvish you luck wvith it if you do. brackishbarracuda thanks 38/ caepaecaesurae It's hard to get in trouble wvhen you're in charge. brackishbarracuda why u gotta do me like this caepaecaesurae WVell... Ask Tyfora howv much fun her powver is. brackishbarracuda id rather naut caepaecaesurae Ask Arlequin howv much he wvants to strivwe for a newv flag -- at least, this early. brackishbarracuda i oughta talk to him aboat it tho yeah caepaecaesurae Powver is complicated.  That's all. caepaecaesurae More so than you might be preparing yourself for. brackishbarracuda i aint trynna rush into anyfin aight an isle talk to arlequin i kno shit aint easy it aint somefin im thinkin aboat lightly caepaecaesurae Then I wvish you luck.  I'm cautious about swvearing loyalties lightly, but you'll likely havwe me on call if emergencies strike. brackishbarracuda i dont take that lightly either cae thank u i afishiate it caepaecaesurae WVe'll see wvhat comes.  I'm afraid it's late though.  Another night? brackishbarracuda a course thanks for talkin at me caepaecaesurae Looking forwvard to it.  Rest wvell wvhen you go. brackishbarracuda yeah sleep good

[amoresomnia]

6/2/21

poor in feelings

poor in cents

  pouring deep

to kill the scent

  your porous soul

seeped too intense

  into this fabric

of mine

  now my pillow reeks

and my sleep don’t speak

  like whiskey bourbon

spilled, once neat

  our pleasures gone

the treasured dawn

  comes to beat

me down again

  like winter mornings

with the curtains drawn

  i’m on my own

in my own

head again

5/27/21

red skies

a sign of storms ahead

  white lies

your words better left un said 

  be baptized

by the light of the life you led

5/25/21

cause i can’t seem to grow at all

with these two black thumbs i stand

prepare to climb the wall

  backs against the ropes and im already anticipating the fall

  can’t help but get going

going with the flow

can’t help never knowing

that we can’t know

  so we put up no resistance

saddle up a sad existence

is all you’ve have to show

  5/17/21

how many conversations can i simulate

before the voices (in my head) stay forever

  codeine kicks the fever dream

but i’m not feeling any better

  there’s a warm sky that lie

somewhere deep within my bones

  and i think i might die

before i ever make it home

5/15/21

want to speak

to the melancholia in you

  i want to speak

the darkest flavors of blue

  the sleepless mornings

sleepless nights

  a begging feeling for a light

  i want to speak so i can see

the misery of love atrophied

the bitterest pill of blessed be

a highlight lining what you need

  i want to breathe your ragged air

i want to breathe your ragged air

  take the sunshine never share

your life is priceless beyond compare

  but i want to speak

if only to see

  a little darkness underneath

5/8/21

every drop in the bucket makes a ripple

4/16/21

Am

sweet temptation

Em

she calls me by my first name

4/13/21

needing to find the means to monetize our leisure

  the way that man is measured

  a man’s time is his most precious treasure

3/15/21

feeling like i’m filling time

listless and just killing my mind

actions in apathy speak for my unwillingness to climb

  like each and every thing we seek

will eventually be fine

will eventually be fine

  -

  Why i gotta be this way

Been feeling blind to others thoughts of me

Less of a feeling and more a furtive display

taking actions to display my apathy

wondering what the watchmen see

wondering what it really means

  is this another depressive episode

another tick tack beat on the metronome

ten missed calls and ya mamma left wondering when you coming home

wondering what’s it like when ya left alone

  where’s the means to make amends

where’s the bridge i’ve burnt at both ends

  maybe i can just pretend

  maybe i can just pretend

  3/5/21

each of my hours cost me days

3/3/21

the end is still forever and a day away

2/6/21

the melancholy of a forgotten dream

  the broken pieces never fit back together it seems

  at least not in the way that we mean

1/22/21

and i can curve my spine into an s shape

  last week i ate a berry in the woods so i could see

deaths face

  and sometimes i think about how we’re all staying in

this place

  the same state

  somebody shelter some more

the house you built see it gon’

keep you dry and safe from the storm 

  this sickening shame

slurred words share no blame

keep blending it together til everything

feels the same

  it’s all so awfully humbling

when these walls can all come crumbling

down

  then we’d be in the

  same state

      1/16/21

and they said i was the oldest one

  born to break the records

fated to steal the sun

  oh they said i was the oldest son

  picture perfect

memorabilia on the wall

  gloria gloria

why can’t i hear ya

as i continue this eternal fall

  to slip as easily as me

to fall from grace

effortlessly

  who’s to say

now that i’m not the only one

11/15/20

and i been feeling like an echo

11/15/20

and i am just a passing moment

walking through

  stranger over yonder

yes that sense of sonder

  i feel it too

  i am just a passing moment to you

11/13/20

it’s not funny this is a nervous laughter

  what comes from the work

  follows after

  the most recent episodes

  of our disaster

  this is a nervous laughter

  11/10/20

what’s the use

in using

  decisions made without our choosing

  pinpricks gave us the solution

  can’t save us from this ablution.

  Said i don’t wanna feel this way

  mama i’m only tryna numb the pain

  1/28/20

“If you have the ability, then come.”

  The sound of leather boots brushing across fallen leaves moves forward.

  The clean image of the morning’s light fog is shattered.

  One clean cut of the blade slices a falling leaf and the mist around it.

  Feet shuffle two steps back as the split leaf flutters to the ground.

  A second cut, this time a collision. The crisp clink of two honed edges turned against each other.

  A step. A slide. The men dance in the wind kicking up dirt. Two yearning urgently to spill the day’s first blood. To tinge red the rising sun.

  The birds have long silenced and the stillness is only broken by the beaten breathing of two who lie on the floor.

  Swordsmen and traitor stricken in fighting made little more than stains upon the earth beneath the shade but still ever so far from hearth.

  1/22/20

chasing fates flow

  1/19/20

a dusting of snow on the  shingles

lightens and whitens the roof

while the bird feeders have frozen over

  grandma’s in the kitchen

where there’ll be breakfast in a moment

  this quiet northern home

stands still for but a second

in the morning

  1/2/20

so she said savor every second

  cause each moment could be our last

  although  it’s not forever

we’ll keep pushing past

  making sweet memories

  that we won’t recall

come morning

  making sweet memories

  it’s a storm come without warning

  it’s something we’ve been searching

for

so ever hard to find

  it’s a little less than so much more

if we can bide our time

  and savor every second

cause in this moment i swear

i’m dyin

1/2/20

and to all a piece

of the validation machine

we submit

  12/12/19

i still feel a filter

a thickness engulfs me

  i just wanna connect

but i can’t quite see

  something’s been ticking

the wrong way

something been ticking

inside of me

ain’t quite say i’m sick

or dying

but there’s a weakness speaking out

inside of me

  said i still feel some static

my attitude crude and dramatic

  it’s a poison i’ve been seeking

  it’s a poison i’ve been thinking

  it’s a poison silly sinking

  somewhere deep inside of me

  ain’t been nothing more than

platitudes and gratitude

for the people pick me up

from the floor.

        2/8/20

Maybe we were meant to toil

  Under this blazing sun. Bare backs burned by the blistering heat.

  Maybe we were meant to have our hands, till-deep, in the soil.

  Sifting seeds between our fingers

searching out the signs of life and

planting them deep within the land.

  Maybe we were meant to toil

  Not for

this comfort and complacency.

Not for

this sweet space we seek.

Sheltered

from the sun and from the storm.

  Maybe we were meant to toil

    12/4/19

  tonight

i think

i’ll lie awake and

look lovingly

at this

beautiful

vague shape

that’s sleeping next to me

  cause i can’t quite

make out

your features

your facets

or your lines

cause the lights gone

and nights come

and i’m just

a little bit blind

but i know

it’s you

that’s sleeping next to me

that’s sleeping next to me

  ][

  so tonight i

think that i’ll lie

awake and take a

second just to breathe

soak in just a moment of

your lovely vague shape

  while you’re sleeping next to me

next to me

11/18/19

deep beneath

the surface

something

screams

purpose is

nothing

but a lie

  how ya gonna live your life?

11/12/19

like god's little flies

we are dropping one

by one

  11/11/19

last goodbye i’ll offer

youve taken every penny

every copper from my coffers

  11/17/19

the most effective way to enact change is to participate in it

  10/14/19

Big capital speaks louder than the cry of common man

  When the dollar has been made by creating shortcuts

  How much is that dollar really worth

08/?/19

your lips are stained blue

from all that you’ve been drinking

and no amount

of blood that they’ve been sinking into you

will be enough to save ya now

09/17/19

handed a glass

half full

  they drank it

til it’s dry

  said this is the state of the world

  and not a single tear’d they cry

09/19/19

and i’m thinking about boats and

  a placid lake with murky water choked by reeds

  and i’ve been thinking about boats and the sound that thinking’s been making lately

  for me

  you see when you place one boat one ship on this inland sea see it’s all alright

right

  there’s room to move or sail or go forward in any direction

  and then you place another ship another boat on those calm waters

and you don’t falter not for one second

  you still have space on this peaceful lake

  the wind is carrying the breeze and these ships across the ride and

  then you place another ship

and another ship

and another ship

  and the wakes these ships create start to intersect and the waters that were peaceful feel a fearful rising tide and

  then you place another ship and there’s no room to move and it’s bow to bow and scrapes along the side

  but you can’t just take the ships out

  where would they go

  and now upon your placid lake a laden waste made manifest you start to think

  and hope for that wide clear wave to ride a peaceful placid hope to hide within

  again

  so you start to sink the ships

  the boats have aged have weathered and worn their rails have scrapes sails untethered and torn

  and they go down beneath the surface and the fresher spawn have room to breathe while asleep and out of sight the old sink deep

  still a piece of the lake

but left to apathy

  and you have a nice pristine water to weave across with your less populated crest

  and then you add another ship

and another ship

and another ship

  until the bottoms ready to give in a mountain made of wreck to ruin this blessed home you’ve learned to stew in

  born out of a desire

to be free

  but then

  when there is no more space

  what then

    ?/?/2019

fresh blades of green burst through

the ivory horizon

foreboding the first false coming

of spring

  before the frost snaps and

breaks bare any inch of color

that dare pervade

the pure still space

    07/05/2019

like

placid lucidities

angry and afraid

we fail to see

all that’s been made

in our solemn search

for agency

07/02/2019

dirty jilted sister

left beside the waterfall

whiskey bourbon

turned to mist

to satisfy the masses

mend it all

  accomplishments are minced

til satisfaction stalls

and all these things

we’d missed

hang like mirrors on the wall

09/03/2019

for too long we been

looking out instead of in

dancing freely to the

cadence of our sin

08/31/2019

CAUSE THATS NOT HIRING

  THEY SAY DO WHAT YOU LOVE

YOULL NEVER WORK A DAY INYOURLIFE

  CAUSE THATS NOT HIRING

  THEY SAY DO WHAT YOU LOVE

AND YOU JUST MIGHT BE ALRIGHT

  BUT THEYRE STILL NOT HIRING

  THEY SAY DO WHAT YOU LOVE

DESPITE THE POVERTY LEVELS RISING

  CAUSE THATS NOT HIRING

  WERE ALL WASTING AWAY WALLOWING IN WEALTH

WHILE THE PEOPLE EXPIRING

  BUT THATS STILL NOT HIRING

  They say do what you love

and youll never work a day in your life

06/18/19

more like

broken glass

under apathetic feet

05/29/19

There’s a difference

Between Control and Concern

And i’m not quite sure

You’ve learned how to discern

it just yet.

[antisocialpoetry]

hello

opening my head to light im heading light headlights in my head tonight im extra light looking for a special plight to penetrate set a flame its the end of days im trekking to the brighter side to find a mic and make some sense to this head that ive ascended in everything black and white again pretend to be having fun, have  a fun deciet ill be laughing up a speak thats enough to hassle one to preach im passed the bluff and bleek in the dead of night i write in the lamplife of a green tint that sends a shine to interest i might peek im enlisted in my life as a warrior of weeping crystals in the eyes rinsed off in the bleeding of the impulse under ice to kick off to the deepness break a foot to find a ledge for lifting out of thick demise this town is winterized and theres nothing left but sleepers who wince away the night under cradle spinners to dream of christmas time among the coal and craters withered with the ice and other frozen features in the tundra where i lie beneath abandoned bleachers strumming out my time to keep from numbing fingers and the winter takes its time we pay the price to sleep here awake as others slide into the lake to run and hide while i obey the busty bride of the rains, and the skys command and reigns to guide my hands a slave to my own chance to make a way with my own life and im a weight holding myself up because above is something beautiful a persuit to everyone and we're unusual like each and everyone else, cant help ourselves but keep moving through along on and out the music through our thoughts mutual with the queuing of the stars in their loopty loops like bruises to our hearts with open soars we climb in through the sky to cry clinging to our lost cause a hope can never find and certainty is hurdling us blind open up your eyes and see with me the meanings we can hold so close to keep from freezing in the dark where the deepest regions of our heart are unseen in demons we're dreaming of an ark to flee and plead for peace in peaceful panic a static in the calm something to keep us planted in these feeling we've long lost to slumbering and chanting out the reasons of a false people who we aren't who can really reach into your heart to see right through to the meaning at the start that spark thats heating you despite the leash thats led you on to break you like a beast thats bred to bark we can take you to a place where you can free yourself in art and stay awake until you sleep to heavens harps never hate because the healing has to start and we cant wait forever, everywhere is love leap in darkness, sheathe your sword and hug we need to know what's what with everyone before we beam them up beneath the second sun whos heat is never harsh shriek to heavens stars, cus we can reach their with our words if we can speak here from the deepest of our parts and breathe between the bars then this prison isnt holding us too far from knowing that relief is always closer than our hearts and flowing with the beat and we can biuld up with our arms or biuld up with our dreams putting out a fire and putting up a screen to filter out the tar from the rivers from the streams from the poison in hearts that positions us in scenes where we toy around with scripts that never fit our feelings but im boiling out the ick and this is what it means to be in love to be in self control when no one notices you are and no one knows the way, i look when im asleep i keep my eyes open to the heat, and cool down in the morning boring you to Z's with rerun stories now im writing off my sleeves they went missing now there's no cards i can keep hidden oh, well, i'm still me and freer than the ocean tide can teach listen its a whole new side of me this side that i pressed on while sleeping tidely in a dream where the secrets from outside me were within and i could reach them like making animals my friends im feeling like, every thing will work tonight nothing couldnt turn out right, im turning right to stop crashing into action with my urgent eyes unlocked and nowhere else works now but here when lost i open up my eyes to all i couldnt find out from the moss and now my minds out side of the box im breathing fne funny how easy it is guess that stale air had me feeling sick im feeling fine teetering in the fog fleeing from the phone and all the things i need to leave at home ill live electric outside of the internet to reconnect my nexus im unplugged and this is what it means to feel in love and im alone but i am with you where the stars seam our differences apart and each instance holds the intent of our arms to reconnect our parts we can live alert or even leave out all the work and live in homelessness where judgement doesnt jerk its head too lower at it hurts to feel that earth is not our only spot to perch, who needs ocean when the open taps still work im thinking, lets go somewhere inthe kitchen on vacation and live our life for the duration take in all you can and stand for your ovation vacant lots condemned but we can make this home no missing arms or legs for kicking off the fence so hey lets go and bring along our friends we'll sing our songs by glow of firelight and lend eachother warmth entire nights alone beneath the silent skies soaking through our diamond eyes glowing with our souls like northern lights rotate with the poles no one likes to go away alone we go by thrice and throwaway phones disposing life to grow from the bones it bolsters light to glow where it won't behold, tonight the ocean unfolds and we set forth to rinse the crud from our cores and catch a life, from the coins tipped out midflight taken with the tide, to no-mans land to side and no one stands beside, us because we're under where the open sands provide the prey no cover and love is on our minds its somewhere bright where no one suffers my one dream thats worth the time it takes to be there when i could be here alive whispering to the trees at night they gift me with their ripest seed to carry to the dirt and bury for rebirth it works and isnt very much that i could do to show my gratitude for giving up its energy, to form a taste for me, to touch and to  take with me, to toss unto the ground, renewing stock such a sight, to measure growth in gifts we've lost, in light but hope is still our host and we're at home right where we are beneath the stars where they roam to waves unknown with open arms we feel the forces of the dark set our pulses to a spark where we play part in the pole dance of the earth we hold our hearths apart to bridge the spaces where one cant make out much