#it doesnt even last me a full DAY like not even just the drive to and from work. it dies before then

[canyonroads]

The loss of my car stereo has really crippled my album project in its twilight hour... I can't listen to the new Tyler album through my phone speaker bro!!! That isn't how it's supposed to be experienced!!!

[gyusrose]

➵ you’re so vain -> l.hs

⚠︎ smut (mdni)

✎ jock!heeseung x reader, enemies to ?????, heeseung is rlly annoying, hate sex ;), hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, degradation, backshots lmao. i think that’s it?

summary: attending a new school was supposed to be a fresh start for you, trying to be nice to everyone and have new friends, yet coming across lee heeseung threw all of that out the window.

(heeseung x fem.reader)

wc: 3.2k

your sweaty hands could not be gripping the steering wheel any harder. you wouldn’t call yourself “super shy” but when it comes to a whole new community of people, teenagers, hell yeah you are.

you had to move exactly at the middle of the year due to your mom’s work. they offered her double the salary at the other side of the city, who was she to say no to that? although you were going to miss your friends and the overall environment of your old home, you couldn’t just tell your mom ‘no’, either way her decisions are final.

you just got here two days ago, and to be honest, it wasn’t that bad. the worst thing so far is the fact that the nearest shopping center was 30 minutes away but you’ll live.

you didn’t except your first day of school to be so nerve-wracking. surely you’ll make some friends but who knows what people are like here. eventually, you saw the big navy blue sign with your school’s name on it. it was an averagely big school, bigger than your old one, which also meant more people.

the parking space alone was scary. it was huge yet already full even though it was still fairly early. you went around in circles around the parking lot, trying to find a vacant spot. fortunately you did at the second-to-last line.

as you tried to park, the limited space you had made it difficult to, having to back up and drive in constantly. as you reversed your car, you must have completely forgotten that you aren’t the only one there, feeling a small crash at the bumper of your car.

your eyes widened in panic. you looked back to see what you hit, and with your luck, it revealed at very nice black car, to which you’ve just hit. you tried to quickly get into your parking spot, hoping it was nothing serious, but then someone came walking up to you.

‘shit, that must be the owner’ you saw his red, rather handsome, fuming face.

you got out of your car to confront the first person interaction.

“hey look im so-“

“CANT YOU FUCKING DRIVE RIGHT? YOU HIT MY VERY EXPENSIVE CAR WITH YOUR THING, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

oh he was an asshole. you almost scoffed in his face. who does he think he is.

“it was accident that’s all, it was barely a scratch calm down man.”

“IT WAS DEFINITELY A SCRATCH LOOK AT IT! JUST BECAUSE YOU KEEP YOUR CAR LOOKING ALL MISERABLE DOESNT MEAN I WILL, DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?”

lord take me back. you were so close to just leaving him there arguing with himself. but you didn’t want to make him even angrier.

“look im sorry! i can pay for the fix up if that’s what you want, i dont know what else to do?”

the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes at your statement.

“you think i don’t have the money for it? please, it shows you’re a newbie around here.”

“i didn’t mean it like that-“

“yo heeseung!! come on bro!” another blonde boy called from afar, hopefully ending the argument y’all were having.

“ watch your back new girl.” with one last glare, he left to join his group of friends.

you rolled your eyes. shiver my fucking timbers, you thought.

you took a deep breath before grabbing your backpack and making your way into school , hoping to never see his face ever again.

>>

you thought that was going to be the end of it all. but oh boy were you wrong. soon you found out that heeseung is the captain of the football team, and pretty much the most popular boy in school. as cliche as it sounds, every girl would drop their panties if he asked them to.

people know he’s not the nicest person ( an asshole) yet they still look up to him. that’s angered you. how are all these people so dumb? just because he’s kinda good-looking? seriously?

over the course of a few weeks, you’ve managed to make some friends, your closest taehyun and Isa. although you tried to block the negativity, heeseung made it really hard. always giving you snarky comments when he saw you around, ridiculing you in front of other people. somehow always finding a way to run into you despite not having any classes together. except gym.

“ bro open your eyes, catch the damn ball!” he yelled from across from you.

you hated sports. even less could you play one, but you gotta do it for the grade.

“the ball was too high up dummy!” you retorted, rolling your eyes for maybe the 100th time in the class period.

if you hated gym before, you definitely hated it more now.

as the period ended, you decided to take a quick shower in the locker rooms since you couldn’t handle being all sweaty and gross throughout the day.

heeseung finished changing and was outside the locker room with his friends, chatting, waiting for the bell to ring. that’s when he may have accidentally eavesdropped the conversation between your two friends, he could barely the names of.

“where’s _____?” taehyun asked isa, noticing how you weren’t with her.

“she’s taking a shower right now, she told us to not wait for her.” Isa shrugged before taehyun nodded.

a beautiful idea popped in heeseung’s brain. it was too good.

he excused himself and sneakily waited by the girl’s locker room, waiting for everyone to come out. once he only heard the shower you were using running, he quietly entered the room. the bell had rang about a minute ago, so the gym was empty, only you and him. the gym teacher god knows where.

he saw his target and rapidly grabbed the pile of clothes sitting on the bench, a smirk evident in his face.

suddenly the shower stopped running, making heeseung hurry and exit the locker room.

the shower felt too good, you think you spent more time that you anticipated to. as you exited the shower tiles, you looked around for your clothes, which you remember clearly leaving them in the bench closest to the shower. you looked around the whole locker room, hoping you were wrong and placed them elsewhere. unfortunately, you couldn’t even find your damn socks.

your biggest fear has come true. you’re now naked, nothing but a towel covering you, this was more than just humiliating. you felt sad, mad, angry, embarrassed all at once. they’ve been stolen for sure, and you were more than sure on who did it.

grabbing your phone you called Isa, to see if she could help you somehow. and she indeed did. bringing you some spare clothes she had. thankfully, you always bring extra underwear since situations like these could happen. you just had to wait for isa for the clothes, yet the five minutes she took felt like five hours. unfortunately, passing period is over, meaning some students are coming in the locker room to change.

many of them just straight up stared at you. giving you weird looks as to why you were pretty much naked in the middle of the locker room, but none had the guts to ask you.

you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. lee heeseung won’t hear the end of it.

“LEE HEESEUNG!” you yelled across the field. he and his friends were siting down eating lunch outside when you spotted him after trying to find him after the stunt he just pulled.

heeseung knew it was coming, giggling with his friends as they heard you yell his name once again. “ oh she’s about to scold me now .” heeseung scoffed but still got up and went over to you.

“yes ma’am?” he said with a smile, you wish you could slap off but you’re better than that.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING THAT WAS?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about..” heeseung tried acting innocent but failed as he just burst out laughing. you groaned, how on earth is that funny?

“cute panties by the way” he continued to laugh, not sparing a glance at your mad expression on your face.

“you’re such an ass, i hate your guts.” you said leaving him alone, laughing to himself.

“yo bro i think she actually got mad this time.” his friend, jake came over.

heeseung shrugged. “she’s so sensitive, it wasn’t even that bad.”

“i can’t believe he did that…” taehyun said as you told them both what had happened. Isa knew a little bit but not who did it.

“that’s fucked up, what’s he got against you so much?”

you shrugged. “i guess because i gave his car a little scratch, but i guess he took it to heart since he hasn’t stopped bothering me since. he’s a jerk.”

“finally someone who thinks the same as me!” taehyun said making you chuckle.

“then get back at him! you know the one thing that makes him who he is is that damn football.” Isa said.

you tried to be the bigger person this whole time, not paying much mind to his little remarks or pranks he pulls, biting back a little wouldn’t hurt right?

“you know what, you’re right.”

“lee heeseung, mrs. park wants to speak to you.” mr.jung said calling heeseung.

heeseung who was barely paying attention heard his name. his frowned at this. what on earth could she want to talk about with him? either way, he went to her classroom.

he entered the empty classroom to find his coach and mrs.park, waiting for him. what the fuck? heeseung was more confused now. maybe they were going to congratulate him for the good work this semester? his coach’s face said otherwise though.

“there you are, you may be wondering why you’re here..” mrs.park started. heeseung nodded, feeling uneasy.

“a student came forward, showing how you copied word for word her whole assignment, the one i assigned a week ago. i didn’t notice it at first but it’s very clear now, you may know how cheating is unacceptable in my class, i’ve decided to fail you in this assignment, plus you’ll be serving detention this whole week..” she turned to the coach.

heeseung’s heart started beating at a rapid pace, he’s never been caught cheating, and being failed on the assignment that was a big part of his grade, it means he’s most likely failing the class now. the rules for football stated that all players should be passing all of their classes if not, they’ll be dropped….

no no no, the lee heeseung can’t be dropped. he’s the captain! the star player!

“since you’re failing this class heeseung, i think you know what’s about to happe-“

“please coach! don’t kick me out, i’m the captain! what would the team do without me? i’ll get my grade up as soon as possible im-“

“calm down calm down, i’m not going to kick you out, it’s the middle of the season, but unfortunately you won’t be playing the next three games. if your grade is not up by then, then i will drop you. understood?” his coach stated earning a sharp nod by heeseung.

he’s glad he’s still on the team but what’s the point if he can’t play? he’s going to become a joke. the captain that’s a bench warmer. how stupid.

he left the classroom enraged. he knows exactly who did this.

“bro what? what do you mean you ain’t gonna play ?” riki said in disbelief at what his captain just said.

“some snitch told mrs.park that i cheated on the last assignment and coach suspended me for the next three games, and i got detention all week!” sunghoon unknowingly chuckled. heeseung looked at him with a glare.

“what? she got you good, what did you expect hee?” sunghoon kept laughing, making some of the others also laugh silently.

heeseung had nothing to say back, he just rolled his eyes. “tch, whatever.”

nevertheless, you were overjoyed seeing heeseung slouching on the bench. you couldn’t miss this once in a lifetime scenario. obviously you were the cause for it. heeseung asks Isa almost all the time for her notes or to straight up copy her. she willingly let you rat him out after what he did to you.

he can sense how all eyes were on him, but he just tried to block everyone out a focus on the game. he had a poker face on, but deep inside he was irritated . he saw how you were smirking and laughing with your two little friends. you knew what you were doing.

>>

“ahh look who it is, the benchwarmer! “ you said chuckling as you made your way to heeseung.

after the team (barely) won, jake threw an ‘after party’ at his house. even though you don’t normally go to these parties, especially from those boys, you felt like a party would do good with your marvellous mood. something about seeing heeseung’s frowny face made feel over the moon.

“seems like cat got your tongue now huh? dont have anything to say-“

in a blink of an eye you were pulled into a room, heeseung’s fingers wrapped around your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

“what the fuck? heeseung-“

“shut the fuck up.” his hoarse voice caught you off guard. he was actually really mad.

“you think what you did it’s fucking funny? huh? almost getting me kicked out ? “ you’ve never seen him this enraged before. making you almost scared, yet….kinda turned on? no, you hate him, snap out of it! you told yourself yet the wetness in between your legs became hard to ignore.

you didn’t respond. “fuck, you’re so annoying, i can’t fucking stand you. i hate you.” he saw lowly. fuck that was hot.

you spoke before thinking. “then show me.”

not needing to tell him twice, heeseung pulled you completely in. your lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle, a fierce and consuming clash that spoke longing and raw need.

The kiss deepened, fueled by an unspoken urgency, their mouths exploring each other with a fervor that left y’all breathless. his grip on your neck becoming tighter.

“shit im gonna show you to fucking behave.” he said before pushing you into the bed forcefully. you may have discovered a new kink of yours. watching as he undressed himself and yourself rapidly. feeling his anger through every touch he gave you.

he rubbed through your folds before inserting two fingers aggressively. your body jolted at the sudden move.

“holy shit go softer dumbass.”

“aw you think i give a fuck? suck it up and take it since you think you’re all that.” his fingers pumped faster and faster making it hard for you to answer back to his stupid remarks.

“oh my god..” you tried to pull his hand away before you cum. not wanting to see you orgasm so easily yet.

“just fuck me already heeseung, or is your dick as tiny as your brain?”

heeseung looked darkly at you. that stupid mouth of yours can’t shut up will it?

he retracted his fingers put of you and took his boxers off. wanting nothing more than to prove you wrong.

shit. your eyes went wide at what stood in front of you. saying he was big was an understatement. it was like a zipper for your mouth. how was that thing going to fit inside of you?

“can’t say anything now, can you slut?” he pulled your legs down the mattress to have you at the perfect angle to ram into you.

heeseung ran his til over your folds, teasing his way in. making you aggrevated.

“just put it in for fucks sake!”

“tell me how bad you want it.” you shook your head, no way were you going to beg. no way.

“alright then, i guess im gonna go.” he said letting go of your waist, acting as if he was going to leave.

“okay okay! please fuck me, i want it so bad, i want your big cock so bad heeseung.” heeseung moaned at your words. he didn’t wait any longer and thrusted all of him in you.

you both moaned yet it was more painful for you. you’ve never had something so big inside you before.

“fuck yeah..” he said then grabbing your neck, slightly choking you. your hands went to his biceps, trying to find something to hold on to as the speed he was thrusting in became more hostile.

“fuck me harder, like the asshole you are.” you said in between breaths. heeseung took the challenge and thrusted violently. the skin slapping and wetness of your core could probably be heard in the party outside.

“of course a whore like you would like to be fucked like this.”

before you could respond he pulled out of you earning a desperate groan from you, but then your were flipped, now on all fours and before you knew it he was back in you again. gripping your hip with one hand while he pulled your hair on the other.

“such a tight pussy, you probably fantasized about this am i right?” he said in your ear. you shook your head through your moan.

“in your dreams lee, in your fucking dreams. fuck you.”

“i’m quite literally doing that.” chuckling, he let go of your hair and instead gripped your other hip, going in deeper, nudging your cervix literally driving you to an edge.

“fuck i’m cumming.” you cried out. never has an orgasm felt like this. heeseung was on edge as well, feeling you clench around his dick did it for him.

your climax rose over you, making you fall into the pillow while heeseung kept thrusting until his own organs came over him, pulling out and releasing his white ropes all over your back.

tiredly, he laid besides you in the strangers bed, not knowing what to say now.

you turned to him, smirking. “i think i may hate you even more now.”

[captainimprobable]

I've known i had a sleep disorder for like 13 years, but didn't get diagnosed with anything til last year, and until LITERALLY THIS WEEK even though it's been hard and even though I've cried over it multiple times, I've been able to be like "hehe haha i have sleepy bitch disease" but i just suddenly realized that i actually have a real, tangible disability. And I KNEW that, and I was never hung up on that word or anything, but I've been fine bc sure it's been impacting my life, but I've always managed to hold down jobs right??? And then I thought about it. I managed at Trader Joe's bc I was active all the time. So I thought "oh, okay, while i get this disorder under control, I can work retail". Except I realized that a) this disorder will never be under control, and b)i worked retail before the disorder got WORSE, like it has gotten the last couple years. because when I worked it before, sure i was tired, but because i was always moving I was fine. But NOW I also get these waves of extreme exhaustion that mean i need to take a nap RIGHT THEN, and if I don't, I get really sick. So. How am I supposed to work a retail job if there's a chance I'll be incapacitated for at least an hour in the middle of my shift? And when I worked the office job? That was remote. And looking back, I slept half the work day. (I always got my work done anyway, but NO it was not ok to sleep through the work day. I know.) So now here I am, almost 6 months unemployed, about to run out of unemployment money, JUST NOW realizing that it is not physically possible to work. And meanwhile, everyone around me just acts like either "oh haha isnt everyone tired" or like Im overdramatic and making it up. So I went on to a facebook group for people like me, and asked for advice. Every response was "Sorry, no, this never gets better! Also I haven't worked in years! Good luck! <3" And now I'm looking at the rest of my life and realizing im always going to be this way. Im always going to be living at half speed. I will never actually be able to live up to my full potential. How am I ever supposed to work? How do I make money? I've been so hopeful and blase about this whole thing for years and suddenly its not so chill anymore. I'm SO fucking SCARED and Im looking for literally any answer or any help and there is none. You can try medication, but it doesnt always work (and im doing that. and its not working.) Otherwise, ig you just...pray?????? I literally cannot feel this way forever. I cant. That is just not a life at all. What the FUCK am i supposed to do??? (And now Im freaking out bc when this all started i would fall asleep while driving. That hasnt happened since college but what if it changes? What if I cant drive anymore? So many people with these problems simply are not allowed to drive. What the fuck do I do oh my god)

[elletromil]

Made up fic title: blue dragons

See, at first i was all 'oh that fic would be about characters being dragons or some mythology thing'

But then i thought that was way too predictable and decided that you know what? If I was to write this fic it would either have to be a pacific rim style of au, where the characters pilot blue dragons or something

And like maybe i would start this as an non-modern au? Like start writing it as if it's your common handwave medieval/fantasy-ish setting. And people are telling legens of the blue dragons or something. And there is no way to tell its actually a big mecha until you finally get to the full action and realise that oooh, its actually a steampunk-y au! And the characters that were followed for the first chunk of the story were just living too far from the capital. And even then, it would be start of steampunk, mostly it's just the mecha dragons

And oh oh! As i write i keep having ideas

You get a read more because this got away from me 😅😅😅

Ok so story would start with Eggsy living in your run of the mill isolated/poor village in your generic fantasy-medieval setting. You'd get hint of like dragons being those tyranic overlord and you would think 'oh ok, fantasy setting with opressive fantastical beasts as rulers' and you'd hear also about the legendary blue dragons, dragons who are supposed to uphold the law or something and how they were betrayed but they are totally gonna come back to free then from tyrany.

There's even been some rumors about one distant village who was freed recently from tyranic golden dragon Valentine and that they might be protected by a blue dragon. Its only rumors though and Eggsy had never even heard of the village's name before so who knows. Oh, oh and we would learn that Lee was killed when the tyrant dragons first did their coup to seize control of the continent

Anyway, while Eggsy sometimes have some fantasy of getting to work with one of the fame blue dragons (who according to legend only let the most worthy ride them), Eggsy is no damsel in distress. He's not waiting on anyone to save him and his loved one so of course he joined the resistance.

But then one fateful night, the resistance who was either betrayed or not as careful as they should be gets attacked! By golden dragon Valentine himself no less, not just some of his army! He's come to personally squish the resistance and make an example out of them considering the rising unrest and the renewed hope from the rumors of blue dragons being back!!

All is lost and Eggsy is sure to die and his village completely destroy until right at the last moment, bam!

In comes a blue dragon! The day is saved!

Except not really, because the blue dragon gets trashed by Valentine!

Eggsy runs to the blue dragon, maybe in shock, maybe out of stupidity, maybe bravery, who knows, not even himself.

Anyway, he goes to the fallen blue dragon and that's when the description for what he sees becomes mechanical in nature (before the dragons were just describe in size, colors, power and shape), describing debris and cogs and stuff.

He gets to the head and gasp! He finds a human inside! It's James (probably dead, sorry James)! And like the dragon is trashed but there is still power humming through it and Eggsy knows nothing about it but he's done much more stupid things in his life! So he takes James place inside the dragons head and tries to do control the dragon via the neural link (Eggsy of course doesnt know any of this, he just needs to fight and protect and feels himself connect to the dragon and instinctively start to fight Valentine)

And the blue dragon is trashed but it's not destroyed and Eggsy has no finesse, but he's desperate and he manages to hurt Valentine enough to make him retreat!

So yeah, Eggsy manages to drive Valentine away for now and maybe he passes out because he's not used to controlling a dragon? And when he comes back to, it's to a second blue dragon and its rider Harry Hart who asks him how he feels about joining their ranks and overthrow the tyranic dragons?

And like there could be so many wordlbuilding thrown in about what makes the dragon a certain color (their building material mostly and oh wouldn't it be neat if the blue dragons would be made from some kind of meteorite? They were the first made and every subsequent dragon have some of those meteorite because that's what allows a mental link to control such big constructs? And all the other are copycats) and Chester King being the leader of the blue dragons but ending up being a traitor because of course

And oh!! Why were the blue dragons defeated/pushed back? What if its actually a full-blown sci-fi and the blue dragons and their riders come from outer space? And their technology fell into the wrong hands on this planet and only a few could come and help make things right because there is a full-blown interstellar war happening at the same time?

Eggsy feeling like Harry and Merlin aren't telling him everything and yes it's true they aren't, because they're alien and the reveal comes when Harry gets hurt in a way that should kill him but he gets better because of his alien physiology and with the planet liberated from the tyranic dragons, well they gotta go back to space to help with the war efforts and would Eggsy like to join?

And maybe James wouldnt be dead either thanks to that.

And then you get to the space warzone and that's where you get to meet Roxy and Tilde and just yeah

I wanna write this now

I won't

But i wanna

[narcolini]

five and one

rafa x gn!reader, 7598 words, canon typical drug use, hurt/comfort/angst, no happy ending(!!!)

the five times you were his friend, and the one time you weren’t 

a/n: this has been in my docs waiting to be finished for sososo long omg finally the rafito despair is here. enjoy!

taglist: @ashlingiswriting​ @drabbles-mc​ @cositapreciosa​ @hausofmamadas​ @cherixrosa​ @purplesong1028​ @mandaloria314​ @dashavau​ @yeetintomadness @thesandbeneathmytoes​ (as per i have forgotten who wants tagging and who doesnt sorry!)

1

Rafa’s been asking you for weeks. Come smoke, carnale, come on. I have something to show you.

Soon, you told him. I’m busy with school, work, I have to pick my Abuela up from church—I’m the only one who can drive her, remember?

They weren’t made up excuses, even if he thought they might’ve been. You didn’t like it either, having no time for him, but it’s how it went. How it is. He dropped out of school, never made it to college. You did. It gives you different markers now, different structures to shape the friendship around. When you were classmates it was easy, natural: before class, in class, after class. Simple. There you were, there he was. Now, you have to pencil him in like any other obligation.

He isn’t an obligation. You try not to let him feel like one.

‘Finally,’ is how he greets you, when you see him at last.

He’s come to you this time, to the place in the city that you’re sharing with your cousin, and another student on your course. He doesn’t comment on the mess, the mismatched furniture, the dishes, the piles of books and paints across the dining table. He just walks in, bag over his shoulder, then drops into the couch to unpack.

Something to show you, he’d said. Here it is. You’re sitting in the chair opposite, with a weed cutting in your palms, before he’s even bothered to ask about your day.

‘Looks like marijuana,’ you say, lifting the bud to your nose, ‘smells like marijuana.’

‘No, mira.’ He leans forward and reaches to put his fingers over yours, separating the green in front of your eyes. It splits, looks healthy. ‘No seeds,’ he informs.

Your brow arches. ‘None?’

‘None,’ he repeats, ‘never.’

‘It worked?’

‘It worked.’ He grins, all teeth. His hair bounces over his forehead. ‘I’m a genius, no?’

‘Dios mio,’ you laugh, ‘you actually did it, Rafi.’

The pride drips off him, pours over the coffee table between you and lulls at your knees like the tide. ‘Come on,’ he says, ‘you knew I would.’

You did, you’re smiling with him. It doesn’t stop you from teasing him about it, though. ‘I thought you’d smoke too many of the samples and forget what you were doing, tonto.’ You pass the cutting back to him. ‘Have you dried any of it yet? How’s it taste?’

‘Ah,’ he sighs, leaning back again, ‘that’s what you’re interested in? You don’t want to know how I got it to work?’

You give a half-shake, no. ‘You’ll tell me even if I don’t.’

He’s explained the idea enough times already, but it never sticks, it doesn’t connect in you, the way it does for him. It’s in one ear, out the other. He’s always been for it, science, statistics, experiments and the answers beneath; you’re one for art. Subjectivity.

Your foot finds his sneaker under the table and gives it a kick. ‘Puedo probarlo, o no?’

His free hand goes into his jean pocket, retrieving the tin that’s never far from his person. It’s made of a rusty, scratched copper, held together with a loose elastic band. He hands it to you without comment.

‘Is this from the first plant?’ you ask, watching him.

He shakes his head, brows pulling together briefly. ‘I wanted to perfect it before I showed you. Primo’s greenhouse is full now. Fifteen plants, como esto.’

The cutting you’d been examining goes down, onto the table, and then he brings another up. He’s brought a complete collection, kept them wrapped in newspaper and cradled until now, when he can finally show them off to you.

‘This was from one of the outside plants,’ he says. ‘I think the pinche güeys next door have their own. They must’ve pollenated my shit, look.’

You hum, acknowledging without really listening, and flip open his tin. A single, pre-rolled joint sits inside.

You flick your eyes across to him. ‘This is it?’

He nods.

‘You’ve already some today, haven’t you?’ You’re smirking as you ask, knowing the answer already.

Rafa laughs, pinching the sound short by biting into his lip. Then he shrugs. ‘What? I had to. I still brought you some, didn’t I?’

‘You’re gonna smoke it all before you make any money off it, Rafa.’

He’s going to get sick of it before anyone else can even try.

‘No, no, Miguel Angel knows what to do, how to take us to the next step.’ He says it confidently, hopefully. His eyes gleam at the thought. A purpose, he must think, direction at last. ‘My job,’ he says proudly, ‘is to make sure the product is good.’

You smile, infected by him, by the excitement glowing off of him. ‘You’re aiming high, then?’ You hum, nodding over the cuttings on the table. ‘The two of you?’

The newspaper crinkles as he rewraps, his eyes down like he’s suddenly humble, shy of it. Scared to admit the dream aloud. ‘Si, es solo el comienzo, sabes?’

Yeah, and it’s long overdue for him. The start and the end, because he’ll never have to invent another thing in the world, if this all goes to plan.

You put the joint between your lips and hold out a hand. ‘Pues,’ you prompt, ‘give me a light. Let me see the future.’

2

He sounds like he’s crying. It could be the line, it could be the fact it’s past three in the morning and you’re tired, barely awake, and he’s tired, barely understandable. It could be that he knows you wouldn’t judge him if he was. But it sounds like he’s crying.

No, he is crying, definitely. He sniffs, loud and wet, then draws in another gasping breath afterwards. Says something else about soil, earth, plants and lying scientists, fucking lying scientists. You blink against the dark, push the heel of your free palm into your eye sockets. Wake up, come on, wake up.

‘Have you tried digging elsewhere?’ you ask, hating that it comes out through a yawn, but you can’t help it. You only fell asleep a couple of hours ago yourself. ‘It has to be there somewhere,’ you add.

‘Yes,’ he rasps, ‘it should be there, the guy, pinche pendejo, he said, he, we have the maps—’

‘Rafa,’ you cut him off, ‘breathe.’ It isn’t a suggestion; he ignores it anyway. Rattles on about hard soil and sore hands still.

You sit upright, phone-cord stretching out of its coil, and hope that it’ll rouse you some more. He isn’t there to look at, but you pretend that he is. Imagine him sitting at the end of your bed, head in his hands, tears streaking down his cheeks. If he was, you’d reach a hand out. Run it along the ridge of his spine and watch him decompress. It’s easier to know what to say to him when you have him there, like that. Even just in your head.

You speak over him again, awake enough to put some force into the question this time. ‘Have you told Miguel?’ They’re partners, brothers. This is what he’s there for. ‘Can’t he help?’ you say, because you can’t, you’re miles away.

‘If I fuck this up,’ Rafa whines, ‘they’ll kill us.’

‘Who will?’

The line crackles. You hear a thunk in you ear like he’s struck the handset against the nearest wall. He has, no doubt, but it holds. The call stays connected and buzzing in your palm.

‘Easy, Rafi.’

You wish he was there, at your feet. You wish you could lean forward and shake his shoulders until he listened to you.

‘The plants are dying,’ he says, once he’s back on his end. ‘If we don’t find it soon.’

He cuts himself off with a groan of frustration, then another thick, ugly sniff, snotty and unpleasant even through the phone. You’ve seen him cry like this before. Once when he left school, once when his mum died.

‘And you’ve tried everything?’ you ask, just to keep him talking, just to distract him. ‘No water at all?’

‘We dug deep.’ He takes another heaving breath and then, on the exhale, when he speaks, he sounds more annoyed than upset. It feels like progress. ‘It’s like pinche steel,’ he says, ‘my arms…I can’t get through anymore. The workers are tired.’

You sigh. He’s sounding like he’s given up. He never gives up.

‘I can’t do it.’

‘You can,’ you insist. ‘You’ve just forgotten to use your brain.’

‘Ay,’ he sucks a hiss through his teeth, ‘el desierto, lo ha matado.’

The Rafa on the end of your bed is pacing now, stood up and tracing lines into your floorboards. Moving helps him think, it always has, the motion forces the idea to catch and roar into life, like starting an engine. You close your eyes and picture it. Another method, you decide, another method, another result.

‘Have you tried blowing it up?’ you ask plainly, still watching the false image of him behind your eyelids.

‘What?’ He laughs without meaning it. ‘Estás loco o qué?’

‘How do they make quarries, Rafa? How do they break through rock?’

You can hear it connect, weirdly, in the silence that follows. Hear the gears click, the brain turn. He takes a breath that stills his lungs properly this time, rather than stuffing them with desperate, needed air, then says your name like you’re a genius. Like you’re him.

‘I haven’t tried that, no.’ His voice lifts, he’s on the edge of smiling. ‘It can’t hurt, right? Una pequeña grenada?’

Now, it’s your turn to relax. He’s not crying anymore, he’s thinking, trying. It’s three in the morning and he’s back to himself again. You fall into the pillows with a sigh.

‘Don’t kill yourself, tonto.’

Don’t blow yourself to pieces for the sake of water, for the sake of Miguel and his precious sinsemilla.

He laughs down the line. ‘I’m dead either way, friend. Better I go with a bang.’

3

You’re a stranger now, as much as he tries to fight it. You don’t fit into the world he’s made for himself, or the one Miguel’s made for him, rather. You walk through his home like a guest, not a friend. You merge with the walls the way the staff does. Another set of footsteps in the mansion, another hand trailed up the banister in wonder.

He sends a car for you, because he can, when he has something to show you these days. Or something to ask, if it strikes him as important. Picks you up with just a warning phone call and a rush of, it’s fine, it won’t take all day. What do you need to go to work for, anyway? I’ve told you already.

He could find a job for you, he says. You could sit by his pool and earn money like it grows, right there, in the flowerbeds. You could live like he does, if you wanted.

No, Rafi, I like what’s mine. I like the quiet.

‘You brought me all this way,’ you say, once you’re standing in his bedroom, ‘to pick an outfit?’

You look at him, then back to the bed—four-poster, ridiculous, like something out of a movie. He’s got three suits laid over it, all matching, all expensive: white and red, blue with stripes, purple. Bright purple. You touch the fabric just to feel it. You’d never own anything this smooth, this well made.

‘I trust you,’ he says, ‘your opinion.’ He fidgets, digs a fingernail into the carved detailing of the bed frame. There’s white under his nostrils, you haven’t missed that, but you haven’t commented on it, either. At least he smells of smoke as well. At least he’s balancing it out.

‘What’s it for?’ you ask, like that’ll help you decide.

‘A girl.’

Your head twitches back to face him, quicker than you’d have liked it to—but, a girl? He’s not mentioned dating since he got fixated on weed, not in any serious way. Not to you.

He’s frowning as you look at him, his own gaze on the suits, like he’s tormented by the choice. Like they’re an equation to unwind. He hasn’t even noticed your reaction yet. ‘She didn’t take me seriously,’ he says, ‘last time. She made fun of my clothes.’

You let him continue. Your brain is still trying to scramble to the point where any of this makes sense.

‘Her father is el Secretario de Educacion.’ He sighs. His hands go to his hips. ‘I want to impress her.’

A new project, you realise, that’s what he’s found. Something he can’t have, something impossible. Something to solve. A drug lord with the daughter of a politician, Dios mio, he picks them well. This will be harder than growing plants with no seed, as dangerous as following Miguel into the dark.

You can’t get away with anymore silence, you have to act invested now, helpful still. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Sofia.’

He’s smiling and he expects you to returns it. You look back to the suits.

‘Sofia,’ you mutter, partnering it with a sigh. ‘Lucky Sofia.’

It’s something he would never do for you. Before today, you wouldn’t have imagined him doing it for anyone. He’s always worn what he liked, always put himself to the world exactly as he is, no apology, no polish. Just him, wild as he came. None of these suits feel like the Rafa you know. Or knew. They’re all the man you haven’t quite caught up to yet. The owner of this absurd pinche mansion.

‘Is she worth all this?’ You point at them lazily. ‘How much did this cost you, tonto?’

‘You sound jealous,’ he says, smiling, trying to pass it off as a joke.  

You shrug. ‘You’re putting a lot of pressure onto one suit.’

If this goes wrong for him, you’ll be back in the car to his house, talking him through the downfall, as always, as he wants, as you oblige. If she laughs at him still, you’ll have to think of something to throw down and bring him back up to Earth.

You pick up the sleeve closest and toy with the cuff of it. ‘I’m trying to stop you from embarrassing yourself,’ you tell him.  

‘Not what is seems like.’

Maybe not, but where’s the issue? You’re worried about the aftermath, the risk of more headaches down the line and, yeah, maybe you’re jealous too. Unlikely as you are to admit it aloud. You’re jealous of him, his success. His house, the clothes, the suits. The money that pours off him. The money he pours onto you in turn. Take it, he says, let me. It’s nothing. It’s nothing, have it. I want you to have it. Why can’t we both enjoy it now that we’re here?

Because it’s not yours, it’s his. He doesn’t get that.

And you’re jealous of Sofia, too. You wish you weren’t but you are. It creeps up to you, the longer you stand here, it crawls up your trouser legs, into your ears along with her name. She caught his eyes, his heart. You got the brain and everything else, but she has a part of him that he never shared with you. Never tried to.

It’s not yours, it’s his. It’s hers.

You’ve always been jealous of concretes, of things without leeway. You never took to it the way he did. Can’t keep yourself in one direction, can’t reach a conclusion and relish in it. He finds his track and runs it, right to the end.

‘You really think she’s special?’ you ask, redirecting him and yourself alike. It does nothing to think about it. What you could’ve had, what you never will. All that matters, is what there is, what you can hold.

‘There’s no-one like her,’ he answers, leaning his shoulder against the bed-post, ‘in all of the world.’

That’s how he is. Passionate. He fixates, he works, he wins. Loves with a tunnel vision that you’ll never understand.

‘The white, then,’ you decide. ‘It suits you.’

His eyes light up, his smile broadens. ‘Yeah? You think she’ll recognise it? Scarface?’

‘She won’t care, Rafa. Eres guapo. Te ves rico.’ And that’s what they like, girls like her. That’s what matters. ‘You be good to her, okay? Treat her right. She’s not someone you should mess around.’

He laughs, then puts his head to the wood. He’s looking at you fondly, through the thick of his lashes, and it itches, makes you drop the sleeve and step back from the bed.

‘You talk like you know her,’ he says.

‘I know you, Rafi. That’s enough.’

4

You didn’t know how bad it had gotten, until he tried to pull himself out of it. You should’ve realised really, or predicted it, should have taken more notice at his parties, should’ve seen the way his logic and rationality had sped up and burnt itself out. How his life had become a cyclone of Sofia, Sofia and drugs and Miguel. Round and round. How little it became about himself, or what he wanted. How close he’d stumbled to the edge without you waiting a step behind.

You heard from him less and didn’t challenge it. You didn’t ask, he didn’t tell, so you lived through the whispers of him. Maybe it’s time, you thought, maybe he’s outgrown you at last. Maybe this is the part where you don’t play catch up.

And then he’d stopped all together. Run out of track and hit the wall behind.

You weren’t there when it happened, you don’t know the details, only that he’d broken up with Sofia, and Miguel had broken up with him, in a way. Snipped ties worse than you had, ones with actual weight. Purpose. Structure that couldn’t afford to be pulled from under him. He lost his fields, you found out, lost his life’s work. Watched the dream collapse in front of him, at the hands of his closest friend.

Like he always did, Rafa saw it as a problem to fix, a cause with a solution that was within his grasp—always within his grasp. So now he was off the coke, too. Cold turkey and rotting from it.

It was Cuco that told you how unwell he was; on a clear day, blue and unfitting of the message, he asked you to come over. Ayudame, he said, I don’t know what else to do.

Tomorrow, you told him, it’s the soonest I can.

Today, when you get there, he looks scared; pale and tired and damp with old sweat.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ you say, and you regret it immediately, because he nods. He agrees. He’s the only one Rafa will let into the room.

‘It’s bad, man,’ he says. ‘Hallucinating and shit.’ He rubs at his neck, inches from the door like he’d been waiting for the excuse to. ‘I only called you because he started saying your name.’

‘Mine?’

‘Yours and Sofia’s,’ he corrects, ‘but he told me…’ He sighs, then shrugs. ‘I’m not allowed to call her.’

‘Entiendo.’ You don’t want more of an explanation. ‘Can I?’ You gesture to the closed door in front of you. They’ve shut him in like a beast, oiled mahogany set firmly between them and him, him and you.

Cuco nods and waves you forward. You can see a warning on his tongue, in the pinch of his brows. When he decides against it, shaking his head instead, you leave him in the hall behind.  

‘Rafa?’

You push the door open, shut it again behind you. The room’s dim despite the light from the high sun, drawn into shade with thin, orange curtains. One of the doors to the balcony is open, its partnering drape curls into the room on the breeze behind. Everything done in an attempt to make the space feel relaxing, unconfined and airy and easy on the eyes, everything done without reward, because Rafa’s not here.  

You scan the room again. The covers are twisted from the bed, half off the mattress and onto the tiled floor beneath. You follow the disarray. Photo frames knocked down and smashed, discarded bowls of untouched food, ash trays that haven’t been emptied. Clothes that have been torn off and left where they fell. It’s a den, a cage. Distress that’s been played out and abandoned afterwards.

The bathroom door’s open, the trail of clothes leading right to it.

‘Rafa?’ you call again, but the shower’s on; he won’t hear you over the water.

You pause a step in from the doorway. The mirrors are fogged, the tiles are wet with condensation. It’s been running long enough to make the room uncomfortable, damp and warm, more of a wet room than the stylised bathroom it was designed to be. Like walking into the overused swamp of a public swimming pool.

Rafa’s stood with his back to you, head under the stream. He’s naked, hair flat and dripping, with his hands against the wall in front. The water’s so hot, that it’s managed to anger the skin over his shoulder blades. The stretch marks up his back, from that growth spurt he had at fifteen, are angry looking, like they’re complaining too.

‘It’s me,’ you say, louder now.

His head lifts weakly. ‘Sofia?’

No, not her, only you.

You take off your coat, your shoes, your socks. Pile them all up on the dry floor behind. For a moment, you consider taking the rest off too, but you’ll try this way first. The shower won’t saturate you completely, if just for a minute.

‘Rafa, you should come out now.’ You’re standing on the edge of the shower basin, a towel from the side clutched in your hands. When he doesn’t move, you put it over your shoulder and reach in for him. ‘No quieres saludarme, amigo?’

He flinches at first, at your palm to his shoulder, then he comes to, peels away from the wall and toward you with ease. Slow, then all at once.

‘Easy,’ you coo, ‘easy.’

You put the towel around him as he turns, lift the edges to dry his face once he finally shows it to you.  

It’s bad, it is. You don’t know enough about withdrawals to know if it’s normal. If he’s supposed to look like this, if it’s part of the process. You don’t know if it’s even the drugs at all, but you know him, and you know this is bad for him. Lights off in the fucking dark.

What if this is him now? What if this is what happened while you were away, and it’s set too deep to be undone?

He looks scared, more than anything. Tired and sickly, yes, but his eyes are wide, and lost, and then welling up as your name falls from his tongue. The recognition at last, the return of the friend you’re used to.

‘You have to help me,’ he says, ‘I can’t do it, I can’t.’

‘I know. I know.’ You step back with him, holding the ends of the towel close under his chin. ‘Let’s get you dry, hm? Get you dressed, get something to eat.’ That first, that for now.

‘I miss her,’ he rushes, urgent like you had to hear it. ‘Sofia, I have to see her.’

‘Okay,’ you tell him. ‘Okay, we’ll call her.’

It might be a lie, a false promise. You haven’t decided what’s right yet. What’ll help and what’ll make it worse. You just have to get him out of this foggy room, out of the towel and into something comfortable and warm.

‘I miss you,’ he says, in the same way. Desperate, quick, like he’s only got a few words left to give. ‘You know that, right? I miss you, too.’

You pause. Nod. If he was his usual self, he’d see right through the gesture, know that you were lying; saying yes just to say yes. But his teeth are chattering now. His eyes focus—in and out—on you, desperately. His hands layer over yours and the corners of the towel.

‘You won’t leave again?’ he asks, shaking the two of you. ‘You’ll stay until I’m better?’

‘Yeah,’ you tell him, because it’s true for now, even if his better is worse than he’s ever been before. ‘Yeah, I’ll stay as long as you need me, Rafi.’

5

He never comes to your house. He never comes to your house. So why is he here now? Pounding on your door and peppering the button until the bell can’t complete a full ring anymore. It just spits out one shrill note, over and over. You’re there within the first couple minutes of his assault, and he’s acting like you’re late still, like you’ve kept him waiting. He doesn’t even let you say hello first, but pushes past you into the hall instead, like there’s a dog going for his heels. Nipping the tendons.

‘Jesus, Rafa,’ you scold, shutting the door behind him. ‘You forget your manners, cabrón?’

When you turn, he’s wild looking, eyes big and pupils swollen. High, you assume. He grabs your hands before you can comment on it. Both of them together, pinned into his damp palms.

‘What are you…’

‘I need you to trust me,’ he says. ‘No questions, okay?’

You take him in again. He’s erratic, fidgety, his shirt is done incorrectly—one button left at the bottom, one side longer than the other. So, he’s dressed in a hurry, driven in a hurry. Rushed to your door with an urgency you can’t grasp onto yet; it slips through your fingers, like him, like what you had. Scatters in the hallway like dropped ball-bearings. You can’t catch him like you used to.

‘Did something happen?’ you ask, bringing your gaze back to his face. ‘Are you in danger?’

‘No,’ he answers, too quick, all breath. His head shakes. ‘No, no, we just have to go away for a while.’ A smile. White teeth and false promise. ‘Okay?’

Not in danger yet, he means. Not if he’s fast enough.

‘We?’ You take a step back, pulling your hands free with a struggle, and he follows; you turn, head into the living room, and he tracks behind you still. ‘Rafa, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done, but—’

‘Me and Sofia will go first,’ he says over you, ‘then I want you to come. Okay? Te necesito demasiado para—’

And now you cut him off, turning back to him quickly. ‘Me? Me come with you?’

He nods, hair bouncing.

‘Come on, Rafi.’

‘Why not? Only for a while.’

‘Do you even realise what you’re asking?’ you ask, pointing a finger to his chest, pad to the stitching across his shirt. Spirals over the collarbone. ‘Have you actually stopped to think? I have a job, Rafa, a life. I’m not involved in your,’ your search for the word, the title of all his erratic decisions: adventures, war, ‘bullshit.’ Yeah, that fits.

‘Why?’ he asks, as he always does. Why won’t you let me help you? Why can’t I share this with you? ‘This isn’t like the other times,’ he adds. ‘It’s. It’s.’

‘Life or death?’

He scoffs, too dramatic to be natural, or innocent, then turns away to hide from the fact. Trying to compose himself, no doubt. Plan another lie. He thinks you don’t see the warning signs, the flaming lights behind his eyes. ‘No, just,’ he winds back to you, ‘please. You can’t trust me?’

You puff a hot breath out of your nose and allow the moment to still before trying again.

‘Have you planned any part of this, or did you do too much coke and come here on a whim?’ you ask evenly. You’re not judging him, but you have to know. Fear or drugs. It’s one of the two. You stare at him afterwards, waiting for an answer.

Then he looks down, and you look down, and you see that he’s brought a set of tickets from somewhere, clutched in his hand now, and is waiting to present them to you.

‘No mames, Rafi.’ You laugh flatly, head shaking as you take a step back, like the space will make your message clearer. ‘You thought you could show up with tickets and I’d leave? Just like that? Leave everything and follow you to,’ you pull his wrist up to read, ‘Costa Rica?’

He hesitates, chews the words into his bottom lip before admitting, ‘Well, yeah. It’s all paid for, carnale.’

You scoff.

‘You only have to get on the plane.’

Just get in the car, just come to the house, just pick up the phone. You roll your eyes and push the tickets back into his stomach. It’s too much, this time. This is something he can fix for himself. Whatever it is doesn’t have to involve you for once. ‘I’m not going,’ you tell him.

He catches your arm before you can turn. ‘Okay, okay,’ he says, and the break in his voice is enough to make you wait. ‘It’s important. Serious. I have to leave for a bit.’

‘Why?’

His chin twitches. You don’t need to know.

‘And Sofia…?’

‘She wants to come with me,’ he answers. ‘And I want you to come too, once it’s safe.’

You eye him. He’s smart still, it’s always in there, under all the shit, so there must be a logic to it. There must be some formula he’s got in mind, right? You just aren’t seeing it. You aren’t built the way he is. ‘For how long?’ you ask.

He laughs, shrugging. ‘As long as you want. About time you had a vacation, no?’

But that’s not the point, is it, primo?

‘I don’t like this, Rafa. This, this shit.’ You shake your head, force a deep breath. You can’t be considering this, you can’t. ‘It’s not me,’ you argue, it’s not you. ‘This is too far.’

‘I know, I know.’ His hands come up again, fussing. The tickets bend as he takes you by the shoulders. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

But what are you even agreeing to? What does he need you for, when he’d have Sofia with him already? Why would you go if he was going to—

‘You aren’t coming back, are you?’ It comes out as you realise it. He wants you to follow him there, because he might never come back, he might not be able to. ‘Is that it?’

You watch his gaze drop, his chin lower. His stomach pouches slightly as he slackens with the confession. No hiding now, Rafi.

‘Yeah,’ he admits, before pushing a palm into the front of his hair, fingers scraping, ‘maybe. I don’t know how it will go.’

And now the dread’s setting in. Rooting in your heels, the back of your neck. Things have never been this way before, not even close. ‘You know I can’t follow you, right?’ you say quietly. ‘Even if I come, for a little while, I can’t run with you forever.’

He nods, slight enough that you almost miss it. ‘I know.’

‘And if I do come, you can’t ask me again. To follow you. You can’t expect it of me.’

‘Yes.’ A step toward you. ‘Of course, entiendo.’

You’re losing the fight to deny him. He said two weeks until you go, más o menos, so you have time to sort something with work, if you want to. And what’s two weeks in Costa Rica after that, even if it is a goodbye? There are worse places for this to meet its end. One final time, you could show out for him just one final time, and then put it to bed. No more friendship, no more relying on you to pile up the bricks again. If he can’t come home afterwards, then you will, alone, and he’ll be free to take on the world. All by himself. Just as he wanted to.

‘Promise you’ll pick up if I ring?’ he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes. He’s sincere, pleading almost. He needs it, he needs you.

You nod.

‘And that you’ll meet me there.’ He taps the tickets you still haven’t taken from him. ‘Two weeks from now. We’ll meet you at the airport, okay?’

‘What if they find out where you are?’

A laugh you don’t like twitches out of him; he isn’t taking it seriously. He doesn’t realise how easy it is to fall yet, how close he is to the sun. ‘They won’t,’ he says. ‘Why would they? I’m nobody out there.’

He’s never been nobody anywhere. Even before all this shit.

‘They’ll think we’re on our honeymoon,’ he goes on, ‘and then me and you, and Sofia, we’ll go somewhere else. Somewhere new.’

‘And then I’ll come home,’ you add. He’s already talking like he’s forgotten, like he thinks you’ll follow him across the globe, one step behind as always. ‘And you will too, if you can,’ you prompt.

He nods, quick and unconvincing. ‘Por supuesto. Just as you say.’

You don’t believe him any more than he believes it himself.

6

‘Your pockets,’ the man instructs, without even looking at you. He’s looking over you, past your shoulder. Waiting for you to empty what’s in your jacket without so much of a hint that he’s talking to you in the first place. ‘Into the tray.’

You scoop out your car keys, your lighter. The cinema ticket from a couple weeks ago. Put them all into the plastic tray on the low counter beside you, obliging because there’s no choice. When you stand straight again, he mimes for you to put your arms up and out, so you do, and then begins to pat you down, all without really looking at you still. Eyes always elsewhere, head always titled slightly away, like he’s bored. Kind of like he hates to even be near you. He pats along your arms, then under them, over your chest and down your sides, over the jeans, your thighs—

‘Clear.’

You wait. Arms out still. He steps back.

‘Can I…?’

His head bobs up and down, a forced nod, as he grabs the tray of your things and pushes it toward you. You just about catch it before he lets go and steps around to face the person waiting behind you. His next unfortunate victim, good luck to them.

Why you agreed to this, you don’t know. Well, of course you fucking do, because that’s how it goes every time, isn’t it? Rafa calls, you come. Rafa needs help, you save the day. Rafa gets himself fucking arrested, and here you are, going through security in the mangiest looking prison you’ve ever seen, and never thought you’d step into, getting patted down for entry by a guard who looks like he’d spray you down with bleach if he wasn’t on camera. Just because you’re here, and someone you love is in there, waiting behind the bars. The association alone is more than enough for him to judge you.

And maybe he’s right to. Maybe everyone worth something would be smart enough to say no to this.

You never made it to Costa Rica, he got caught before he even had the chance to ring and give the all clear. The tickets are on your bedside still. Not that you’d even decided to use them; you were waiting for the call, to see what your gut would say once the exact moment of it came, and then it never did. And you watched the arrest on the news until your gut said to turn it off, so you listened then, instead.

They got Sofia too, and she sold him out like the criminal he is, without hesitation, confirmed his name without even weighing the options—you know, because that’s what he told you on that first call he was allowed. No hi, no apology. He spoke for two minutes before you even opened your mouth.

I’d have done the same, you said to him. Lying would’ve made it worse.

Not for him, of course. He’d reached the end of that rope. It would’ve made things worse for her, tagged her into the downfall alongside him, so it’s good that she avoided it. She stands a better chance of a future having done it.

She probably told them where I was in the first place, he said, though he didn’t mean it. It was all anger. Hurt. Liquid regret pouring through the handset. No-one knew we were there, carnale. Fucking no-one.

But it could only ever have been him that got himself into something like this. It was, every time, it was. He made every decision that led him to this moment, to this place. To this dingy visitors room with indoor picnic tables, and steel hoops for cuffs to be attached in the centre of them.

I’ll come see you, you said and you left it at that. The rest has to be done in person. You at least owe him that mercy, after everything. You’ll look him in the eye to say it.

In the doorway, you’re greeted by a less indifferent guard. He sits his clipboard on his curving stomach and asks for the prisoners name, looking at you, then your name, still looking at you, then ticks you both off and nods for you to continue into the room. He even smiles as he does, just a bit. It’s in the corners of his mouth as a gesture of goodwill.

You thought that maybe you’d have to search for him, but it mustn’t be a busy day for visitors. There’s a full table to your right, father, mother, kids. Food unwrapped and shared over the top of it. A couple are huddled over another in the far corner, as close to kissing as you assume they’re allowed, hands locked, noses tip to tip.

And then there’s Rafa, right in the middle.

He’s looking at you already, facing the door, expectant. He’s smiling so big that you catch onto it immediately, unintentionally. You shoot your own smile back at him before remembering why you’re here in the first place. It wasn’t the plan to come in like this was any other, normal reunion, like you’re seeing him after an impromptu vacation. The plan, was to be a friend to yourself, for once. You set your mouth back into the line firm you’d practiced with.

‘You look well,’ you admit, as you sit across from him. ‘Was expecting you to look like shit, Rafi.’

He laughs, unfazed, and goes with rattling wrists to hold your hands briefly. ‘I’ve been counting down the hours, carnale.’

You watch his hands over yours. The cuffs on his wrists, the chain between them and the hoop on the table that they’re welded to. This is the first time ever, really, that he’s been pinned down in one place, trapped with nowhere to go. The first problem he’s faced that he can’t think his way out of. It’s as unbecoming of him as you’d expect it to be.

‘I can’t stay long,’ you tell him.  

‘It’s okay, I don’t mind.’ He’s smiling still, shaking his head likes it’s nothing. ‘I’ve been going fucking crazy in here,’ he says, ‘not even Neto wants to talk to me.’

‘Neto’s here too?’

You’ve met him before, of course. He isn’t a character you can forget easily.

Rafa nods. ‘They’ve separated us now.’

‘Why?’

‘Ahh…’ he sucks a breath through his teeth, winds his head away then back again, ‘es basura, he hates me, or something. Told the guards I’d kill him in his sleep.’

You raise a brow, a would you? brow. He just laughs.

‘Pinche viejo is paranoid,’ he explains. ‘Wants this place to be his kingdom.’

‘And you can’t have a kingdom with two kings, right?’

When he laughs this time, you join him, and again, for a minute, you forget what you’re here for. You let it stand. Just us, for a moment longer, Rafi. Peace before the storm.

He sighs on the come down, lifting his hands until the chain is taut. ‘Pues, qué clase de rey es esto, hm? Si Mama pudiera verme ahora.’

You nudge him under the table, your sneaker against his prison-issued pants. ‘She’d tell the guards they aren’t feeding you enough, flaco.’

A smile, another in return. Time to get it over with. He doesn’t know it—or maybe he does, maybe he’s always known—but he’s sanding back your conviction, as usual, one grin at a time.

‘Mira, I should tell you, Rafi.’ You cough, then look down to fiddle with the already scratched skin by your nail-bed. Say it. Say it. ‘I won’t come again.’ There.

‘What?’

‘After today…’

Your throat dries. You’d rehearsed it in the mirror; it wasn’t the same as speaking over the table in front of you. Honestly, you’d hoped you would at least have some glass between, you were counting on it, even. Something for his reaction to bounce off. Instead, it strikes you directly now, clear and targeted, hurt from his face right onto yours.

‘I won’t visit you,’ you manage. ‘Anymore.’

The tourists in the cantina, the university professor. The fucking DEA agent. How did you overlook all of that? The cocaine, Sofia, fleeing to Costa Rica. He’s been souring since he’d swapped you for Miguel, himself for the business. Been gone before you’d even realised. You’ve spent all this time trying to stitch him back together, keep the body whole, keep the motor running, and he was already a ghost. Gone through the fucking cracks. You were just too sentimental to see it, too loyal to the kid you’d met at the end of the street.

‘You won’t see me after this,’ you reiterate. ‘I should have done it a long time ago, but this is it, Rafi, this is where I get off.’

No more phone calls, no more cars sent for you. No more advice on things you had no right to be speaking on in the first place. This, is where you draw the line. You can’t put everything on hold and wait for him now. There’s a life for you outside of him. Outside of this.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ he says again, as dumbstruck as the first time. ‘Why?’ He leans forward and there’s a lingering smile behind his voice, an edge of disbelief. ‘It’s over now, I’m done.’ He thinks he’s invincible still, even at the end.

‘It’s always been about you, Rafa,’ you push, looking at the table instead of his hope, ‘every time, it’s all about you. I can’t do it anymore. I have to…’

He goes for your hands but you pull away. It doesn’t deter him. ‘You finally have me back,’ he says. ‘After I’m out, we do whatever you want, okay? No more shit.’

You shake your head. ‘I won’t wait, Rafa.’

He laughs, a hollow, limp sound. ‘It’s not like I’m asking you sit around doing nothing, carnale. Come on, you can’t spare a few hours a week to see your oldest friend?’

The silence can answer him this time. You let it work through the gaps, dowsing the humour he’s clinging to.

‘What?’ he continues, sounding anxious now. ‘You want to get married and move away, or something?’

‘Rafa…'

It’s starting to sink in. You can’t look at him, can’t watch it turn over in his head. The corners of his mouth dropping, the pinch of his brows. You can’t look. False woodgrain in the plastic table. His shoulders. His eyes. The chains between his wrists clatter as his arms go slack.

‘You won’t even call?’ he asks.

‘No.’

Maybe. Maybe on birthdays.

‘I shouldn’t,’ you tell him. ‘It’s better this way.’

He scoffs. It’s a sour enough sound to make you wince. ‘For who?’ he asks. ‘I need you in here, I’ll go crazy, I’ll—’

‘For me, Rafa.’ That’s the point, the whole point, and still he doesn’t get it. ‘It’s better for me, and I have to do it.’

And he has to let you. He said he wouldn’t ask again, wouldn’t expect you to follow him everywhere he went. Just because he’s stuck in one place now, doest mean you have to be too. One of you deserves a win, right? You won’t serve time on his behalf.

‘I’m sorry.’ You say it to the side of his face because he isn’t looking at you, won’t look at you. ‘Maybe something will…’ No, you stop yourself, put the wheel straight again. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve said something earlier. Long ago. I shouldn’t have waited until now.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You never let me—’

‘Well, if it’s my fault,’ he shrugs, ‘what else is there to talk about.’ He spares a moment to flick his eyes in your direction—and they betray him. Show the child behind the face. ‘Go,’ he says to the wall again, ‘you don’t want to be here.’

You don’t, and if this is how he wants to be, then fine, conversation over. Cloth cut from the body at last.

When you stand, he’s looking away still, with his forearms crossed over the table—awkward, but it’s what the cuffs allow—and you won’t say goodbye to the cheek of him, so you don’t say anything else at all.

You’ve found your track, now it’s time to run it, right to the end. Just like he would.

[sipping-ambrosia-wine]

okay so yorukura definitely didnt stick the landing... honestly episode nine mightve felt like more of a season finale if it had been leading into a season two. i dont think its bad necessarily, splitting kanoyoru toward the end of the story but i dont think they got enough one on one time together before it ended. kimura and kiui really got time to shine, which i do appreciate, but kanoyoru has been set up from episode one. theyre really the heart of the show, and giving them so little time together- even with a relationship left unconfirmed, like in lycoris recoil- kind of kills it. they were going FULL THROTTLE on kanoyoru endgame. they didnt include an aquarium date in episode three a cheek kiss in episode five the motorcycle beach date in episode seven, all of mahiru's teasing and her remarks about a special someone who inspired her and she's interested in for it to be unintentional. their breakup had me on the edge of my seat, but their make up just left me wanting.

kimura and kiui's endgame developments are generally pretty well liked and with good reason. mei got to confess her feelings and she made it clear that in contrast to her reasoning as a fan it was because of her real, less marketable traits that she loved kano. that its because theyre such different people and because she doesnt always understand her or want to emulate her that she loves kano now. and she expressed that through her own real, unmarketable trait, showing a little bit more of her own growth and self acceptance. that said its got a little less punch to it given the use of "nonotan" was nearly back to back with kano's flashbacks of her idol days and her confessing to her father that she can barely remember the last time she was called by her real name. kiui stood up to their explicitly transphobic old friends and regained a bit of that childhood confidence. maybe im a bit dumb bc the trans coding didnt quite fully click for me until then but that really blew me out of the water. like yeah oh loss of self confidence due to social isolation- and onset of puberty. when they clicked with the driving school friend who is also trans, even under the baggy dysphoria fits kano noticed that their chest was slightly bigger than the woman who had work done. kinda masc vtuber rig. pink hair and pronouns. its really cool that they confirmed it!

independent of the yuribait i do think kano and mahiru were decently done like... in all aspects aside from one another. mahiru previously worried about comments criticizing her technical art and it drove her to improve. the JELEE gang's support is why she had the courage to start drawing again in the first place but kano's mom gave constructive criticism, and then praise for the initiative and self improvement when she saw the arm edit. but that focus on technical skills and approval from others becomes a double edged blade and she doesnt deliver her best work until she draws authentically to herself and her tastes as an artist. i feel like they couldve delivered on the jellyfish metaphor, about how jellyfish can only filter and reflect the light around them, but that the light reflected is made more beautiful for it as well or... something. the point of splitting a dynamic duo in the third act is generally to let them breathe and develop apart from one another and prove they can stand on their own before bringing them together stronger for it, but though the theme is still there i feel like they kind of dropped the light and jellyfish dynamic after the fight. that said mahiru's show of devotion to kano being a timeslot at the show, the jellyfish art all over the city, and all of that being done via the show light projectors, mahiru's art made to literally shine for kano was a great touch.

now kano... this might be controversial but i dont see her ending as a "forgiving an abusive parent", or at least i dont think thats the point of it. last we see of her mom is at her graduation ceremony. kano leaves campus and sees her mom and her sister came to see her. she says she made her moms dream come true and she's clearly happy about it- but then she walks away. its not full severance but she's not living on her mom's agenda anymore. her sister was in the car- her mom mightve meant for a family meal after the graduation ceremony. from kano's words this might be the first time theyve seen one another since the concert. but kano has plans with her friends and doesnt even hesitate. her mom discarded her but it was kano who made her dream come true anyway. and now she's moving on to what she built for herself. before, she was singing to prove her mom wrong- but she was still singing because of her. when the set her 100k follower goal she was going off her mom's success model of numbered audience. she was with the sundolls as a nepobaby because her mom was their producer and wanted her in. but JELEE is hers and its what she's pursuing. all that said im dead curious about what's up with her family situation- her dad seems to be a shut in maybe? he's deliberately a gaping abscence in comparison to kano's hypercontrolling mom, and theyre definitely split. and through his viewpoint in kano's flashbacks as well as the fact that he was the reason she was in shibuya to see mahiru's mural, and also the fact that he's the last shot of the ed really makes me wonder.

overall disregarding the finale i'd say the show was still about a 8/10 but even with all that going for it they chickened out on kanoyoru and the whole series was cheapened by it. maybe the full finalized concert lyrics of shinkai yuei had a more uplifting love song vibe to it, maybe if they had made it clear that she was singing a love song for mahiru. maybe if mahiru had been the one to encourage her instead of melo. i dont dislike these decisions independently, pursuing passions for yourself and the connection it offers with other people rather than one person in particular, forgiving yourself and laying the past to rest, overcoming guilt to take positive action are good. but the last episode feels incredibly empty and it feels like overall they actively dodged every opportunity to fulfill the conclusion theyve been dangling since the start. it burns to say since i was rooting so hard for this show but theres really no other word for it but baiting. its yuribait.

[kylejsugarman]

syd you are destroying me over here. what the fuck. what would “down” look like in au squared? would jesse’s parents take baby when they kicked him out, or would he just be left to navigate his. Unstable housing situation with an infant daughter and no support? im like i dont even know which one i would prefer you to say… down in au squared universe just Does Not feel good thank you for bringing it to our attention :-(

(frolics around cutely while i make everything worse for everyone) "down" never feels good ever tbh, between walt hitting his ableism victory royale and jesse getting his shit absolutely rocked by fate, its a miracle any of us survive that episode. au squared jesse of course fights his parents tooth and nail about kicking him out since ginny left him the house, but as soon as his mom says that they'll be taking baby too since he's not responsible enough, he backs down and is like "fine take the house, take whatever u want, but baby's coming with me". he obviously doesnt want to be homeless, but being homeless and not having baby is more than he can bear. she tries to reason with him, then threatens to get the law involved (i imagine saul helps jesse secure full custody of baby in addition to helping him buy his parents' house in season 3 :) besties), but jesse doesnt budge and takes off with her and their essentials, only for his ride to get stolen while he's in the drug store buying formula. they'd probably end up spending the night in the impounded rv (no blue tho. if i can spare my guy one suffering, it'll be the blue) with him genuinely not knowing if its Worth It anymore because hes literally laying in a mobile meth lab next to his crying baby who's too upset for her nighttime feeding, unable to provide for her but also unable to let her go. it feels so awful and selfish: she deserves better but he doesnt trust anyone to give her that. he breaks the rv out of the impound the next day the second clovis threatens them and drives straight to walt's place to get his money, riled up from walt ignoring his calls and clovis fucking threatening him in front of his infant daughter. "down" of course is a parade of walt being a dickhead because skyler has totally stopped buying his shit, so when jesse pulls up in person to beg for the money, walt snaps at him and tells him that jesse wouldn't even be in this situation if he were more responsible and that a real father would have found a way to provide for his child, which is not only vile but the fucking Wrong Thing to say to jesse after the last 24 hours. this is what provokes their fist fight and walt finally hands over the money, then tries to make some "look. we're both in this for family. we have to work together" comment to amend things as if he wasnt just yelling at his own son for using the car pedals wrong. having the money and getting out some of his rage and misery by pounding walt makes jesse feel better, but more than that, it gives him this adrenaline rush in terms of being a dad. sure it was a fucking nightmare, but he did all of that for his baby and he won. he fought to provide for her and he did. he didn't give in and just hand her over to his parents like she was some stranger that just happened to live in his house: he kept baby, he protected her through a disaster, and now he's never going to let her go. as he gets them a motel room for temporary housing with his cash and goes buck wild in the infant section at walmart and ends the day watching a happy, fed, clean baby play with her new stacking rings, jesse thinks about what walt said and feels a bitter kind of pride. "a real father would've found a way to provide for his child." well he did. he's baby's father and he's going to provide for her.

[lost-batarang]

Tim didnt hire himself as batman's emotional support robin to be infantilized like this (what would be funny though is if Bruce sends Tim (15) to babysit Jason (19) and Tim does maliciously compliance just to annoy Jason. No Jason doesnt get a say in this but atleast the kid is good at breaking and entering and breaking open a safe)

yes!!! I can imagine whenever Tim gets tired and Bruce is all broody n shit Tim just...slaps him.

Batman, perched on a gargoyle as lightning strikes near him: Thunder. Clouds. Storms. Loud. Loud as gunshots. Gunshots. Common in this city. This city. That's what it is, isn't it. A city. Gotham city. A society. We live in a societ-

Tim, slapping him round the face as the clouds & lightning goes poof: B. B you fucking idiot. I got fucking punched, B. In my fucking FACE, B. they PUNCHED a CHILD in the FACE, B. B! MY EYE. IS PURPLE. AND SWELLING.

Batman, staring off into the distance dramatically: It's bruised......like this city.

Tim: oh my god. B. My eye. Is starting to fucking bleed. And you're fucking brooding. I'm gonna push you off this gargoyle.

Tim & Jason

Tim, knocking on the manor door and just walking in to find Jason sleeping on the sofa covered in food: I don't get paid enough for this shit.

Jason, waking up: HuH- oh FUCK, are you Tim??? Bruce told me to babysit you for the day. Sucks to be you.

Tim, who knows damn well Bruce sent him to babysit Jason, through gritted teeth: Yeahh...Sure.

Some time later....

Jason, heading to the batcave: Hey, wanna rob the Batmobile tires n dump them in the trash?

Tim, sighing:....Do you even have the codes for the batcave?

Jason: Superman's a dork.

Batcomputer: Welcome back, Bruce Wayne.

Jason: You're not the only robin who heard Bruce yell the secret password!...you heard him yell the secret password before, right?

Tim, heading in the batcave w/him: That...wasn't a secret code. I just remotely unlocked the entrance using the actual secret code. I think Bruce was just messing with you.

Jason:....Fuck you.

Jason, trying to take the tires off the batmobile: Wow. Old man really upgraded these things, huh. Did he make any upgrades to the robin suit? Remove those stupid shorts?

Tim: Oh-. Uh, he actually did. He reinforced against blunt weapons and explosions. Incase- Actually, nevermind.

Jason: Oh. Yeah, okay, nevermind. Do you, uh wanna take the batmobile for a spin?

Tim: Sure. I know the passcode, if you need it-

Jason, already smashing through the window: the what?

A while later....

Jason, driving the batmobile with Tim in the backseat: OH GOD OH GOD OH FUCK OH SHIT-

Tim, who has been trying to tell this full grown man how to drive for the last 42 minutes: JASON JASON FUCKING TURN JASON

A crash later...

Some guy with a knife who was robbing some dude in an alleyway, seeing Red Hood covered in blood and oil as he emerges from a pile of flames, smoke, and metal slowly walk toward him, towering over everyone like a demon straight from hell, wreathed in flame, whilst Robin, covered in sweat fire & blood, stands beside him with a face that looks angrier than Batman on one his bad days:....

Red Hood: Reinforced Kevlar, Tim. It'll save your ass and make you look badass.

Robin: No shit.

Some guy with a knife and soiled pants, bolting away as fast as he can: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Red Hood, firing a single bullet that easily catches up to him and knocks him to the ground with a broken leg:

The guy who was being robbed, who just saw Red Hood emerge from a pile of fire, ash, and scrap wreathed in a flaming, furious, light like an avenging angel: I- Thank you?!

Red Hood: uh. Do you know where a mechanic is. We sorta need to get some repairs made now.

Robin, laying against a wall about to collapse from the heat of the actual fucking flames on his suit: and water please. water would be nice.

[remithegayshoebill]

would you mind if i just yap? idk who else to talk to, i dont know to many people here. heck you probaly dont even know who i am

so i have this friend brenden. hes really sweet, and funny, and flirtatous in a are idk if your joking or serius type way. we were like best friends last year, we were both in jh. we talked over the summer, but not as much as the school year. then the first day of school comes and we barely talked. until last week that is. (for context i am in high school and hes eigth grade, but we still go to the same school (we stilll have a lot of the same teachers, like science, music and ms. s)) (back to last week) my (our) band teacher called up some egth graders for high school band. im an alto sax, hes a trumpet, so we sat next to each other. hes the sorta friend where even if you havent tlked for months its like nothing happened.

then on saturday, were texting late at night since im stuck at a wedding

me: im so excited for hoco, my shoes and bow came in today

B: I wish i could go to hoco

me: well your an eigth grader so youd need a date to go

me: i dont have a date either tho so i have no room to talk

b: um hi

basically i invited him NON ROMANTICALLY to hoco

we yapped a bunch throughout the rest of the weekend. eventrully i bring up his (now ex) gf taylor and he says they broke up bc she is crazy

so the topic of crushs come up

at this point, im not crushing crushig over him, but like was mildly crushing. weve almosted dated 2 times before btw. so i just played along. im like trying to guess who is crush is. he says her name starts with p, shes a freshman, and she was in the school play. shes crafty and likes to read. the last to were vague so i couldnt use them as strongly as points. But im the only freshman whos name starts with p in the play. the only other p girls were seniors so i sure hope he didnt like them lol. so then im like mines name starts with b, he likes sports, cars blah blah blah

next day he finally admits he likes me and i say i like him too. becuase i do, i wouldve chickened out if i didnt

so were like texting and stuff, and he asks me if me and my ex henry ever kissed, to which i say no. i tell him like henry was the lamest excuse for a boyfriend, we barely talked (we talked but not at like couple type amounts), much less hold hands. (ive held hands with him once)

to which he says stuff like HE'LL KISS ME if (when) we date. its giving "i could be a better boyfriend than him" dove cameron vibes but not gay. hes sayig like hell take me to the race car track too, which is really really sweet becuase i know how muching racing means to him. hes saying such sweet things and omg

side note on the hoco thing i cant take him no jh kids. idrc

the only sad thing is we barely talked today. he didnt ask to date me over text (thank the lord) so i hoped he would today if we walked home together, but my mom ended up driving me home. and we cant walk home together tomorrow becuas i have a dentist. wat da fak. but ill see im tomorrow in choir since is full shoir rehersal

im also crocheting him a hat rn bc hes birthday is next week

Aww thats so sweet!! I hope he ends up asking you out, if he doesnt, would you? Also side note: dw, I know who you are, I'm a smart lad. /nm /gen

[sixosix]

back by unpopular demand, it's me(that deadman aether anon, that's just my name now i guess)! here to poke the newest chapter a few times until it gives me answers

imma just hit this right off the bat since the chapter just came out- a little crazy? A LITTLE?? man's taking after his 'father' more than he realizes, no wonder he is next in line to be 'king'.

seriously tho, the mental/emotional range lyney has this chapter is wild to me. he's so happy and giddy but even though that doesn't necessarily go away he flips a switch to serious mode when lynette questions him.

he's just?? constantly planning? like here he is, acting almost lovesick over thawed!reader but he keeps hyperfocused on any information she drops to store for later use. worrying over her using her old weapon from her time at the house? already planning on how to get her the perfect weapon as a gift and asks her about childe's methods. 'idle' conversation? instantly mentally notes what topics she is avoiding. she questions him about what the house is doing? i'd bet real money he noted that as well, not to mention wording his answer so that he didn't fully lie to her(after earlier mentioning that she would know if he was lying to her face??? lsafdkjfsa).

Like! Literally, his first words after their little spar date were “She’s hiding something”. sjklsflaljf, like yeah??! She is!!! About a lot of things my guy! Just wait until you get the full picture and not just the flawed info you got right now.

SPEAKING OF WHEN THAT LAST SCENE THO-

Behind Lyney, the moonlight scatters all over. It is a little hard to tell what face he’s making. “I’m doing this exactly because I’m trying not to drive her away.”

This. This snatched my focus. Lyney (and by extension the rest of the fauti trio) are playing chess while Aether and Thawed!Reader are playing checkers!

this is getting long so i'll cut myself off because i know I'm gonna barge in with more random thoughts later- just please know I'm absolutely gonna be re-reading this for the next couple days.

HI DEADMAN AETHER ANON!! always a joy to see u here. that being said,

WHAT THE FUCK!!!! how did u get it so quickly ??? i was literally just talking about it w my friend earlier where i was saying that i wanted lyney to play into the role he said he never wanted 😨‼️ its incredible u got it right off the bat! i thought itd take a few chapters before it sinks in to the readers (including the actual reader)

lyney doesnt bother hiding his expressions w lynette bc she could tell if he plasters on a fake smile anyway—and thats probably way more disturbing for her 😕

yeahh lyney is a bit 😝😝😝😝😝 rn bc lets be real… thawed!lyney and reader are not emotionally stable…… as art naosaki once said in our dms, “Reader needs to learn how to stay and lyney needs to learn how to let go.”

the !!! analogy!!! thats so genius!! i love that :D

thank you somuch once again for sharing your thoughts!!! its like meeting someone on the same wavelength as me!!!!! its so cool to read what u have to say

CANT WAIT FOR MORE OF UR WONDERFUL THOUGHTS!!! ❤️❤️❤️ your observations are OUTSTANDING as always

[richardsphere]

Leverage Log: The Real Fake Car Job

Well with a title like that, im left wondering the syntactical ambiguity. Is this a job about a fake car that turns out to secretly be real, or was there a "fake" Fake Car Job that its being contrasted against? Guess we'll see. --- No way this show starts with mistaken identity, so im betting its Witnes Protection covering a criminal's ass like usual. --- Parker looks at this guy's track record of gettign in with the maffia as a get-out-of-jail freecard and just makes a note. --- Since when do libraries charge for wifi? --- Hardison should invest in like, a small trailer for behind lucille. Keep Lucile clean. --- Oh thats bad... the show is seeding the question of "can Nate live a normal life without these high-stakes heists all the time", which is not a good indicator of his surviving the season finale. --- So he's selling the free wifi to afford his mini-cars. (good scam, low level enough most people wont even bother, allow himself to continue his hobbies a little without getting authorities called on him. Its a good con. Small scale, practical.) This guy is good at being bad. --- So the fake car is the Mussolini's car, which is gonna turn out to be the actual car they're looking for by accident? Is that what the title is about? --- Parker sold the "doesnt know about cars but found the Musselcar in her gramps' shack" character well enough, but if she's meant to play the "doesnt actually know what cars are what" character, maybe throw in a line asking about the colour of "Phil's" Alpha Romeo --- Witness Protection Bodyguard's got a good play with the GPS Tracker on the phone. (is the serving tray a bug or is it a bomb? Who knows? At this point i dont see a reason it couldnt be both) --- So he calls his car friend, from his old life. His old life, laundering money for the Maffia. Guess who's about to be assasinated! --- Is it the Wifi Money? Couple months as a librarian, couple dozen people using the wifi a day on average... Maybe a couple other minor side-hustles round town, could really add up. Especially if he suspects Italian-Parker to be naive enough... (turns out im right, i stopped the episode the moment Hardison said he hadnt accessed any banks for the money) --- Oh God, Hardisons gonna kill this guy with the implication that this "strange artist fellow" bought his prize cars and dismantled them for art supplies. ("aquired at a government auction last year) Like i love the powerplay here, tell him I murdered your babies and if you dont stop me, This baby is next. Like this is full on Dubenich invoking Nate's Son levels of emotional manipulation. --- "are we being suspicious enough" You are buying garbagebags, Axes and shovels "dont use that rope, for future reference, you can chew right through it". Well thats ominous foreshadowing --- Oh... The bodyguard thinks Team Leverage are hitmen working for the Mark to kill HER. In her defence i could definitly see him do it, kill his handler, flee the country dig up his missing money abroad. --- "i did not sell out the Marshal Service so you could throw away all of our planning on a car". shit, she's not witness protection, SHE'S MAFFIA? Oh no she isnt maffia, she's just corrupt. (5 MIllion dollars... thats good money) --- Mobster- You called our mutual friend Charlie Corrupt Bitch- You're an idiot! Mob- Then we tracked you down cause you left your GPS tracking on CB!- Ok that one is on me. Honesty! --- So they're not even going to be taking down the maffia? (most episodes, they'd somehow end up pulling those guys down as well) But hey, the Maffia seems to genuinely respect Nate. (in their defence, they've seen the damage these guys do) --- I only knew three of the five. (car would drive him crazy, Access the accounts, Turn on babysitter. Those are the ones he knew. The car friend who got the Maffia involved are obviously the ones he didnt plan on) --- "we matter". Well, this entire episode about the looming threat of retirement ends on a sweet note. But dang if it isnt an ominous plotthread to add to the final season.

[borathae]

PLEASE I LOVE THEM BOTH SOO MUCH I CANT

their bickering please oof

sometimes they are my babies sometimes they are my parents

I’m a plank once I sleep WHOEVER WHO SAYS THAT, ARE DEFINITELY NOT PLANKS *source me bro. also my cousin said 'i sleep like a dead body' in a sleepover and her sister said nah you sleep like the body getting possessed and its been forever her nickname. 😭

Lies. We’re equal me and dad sharing chocolates or sweets be like

They contain silly and funny one liners which are exactly Jungkook’s humour. genz humor in a nutshell

there was one time where the fan stopped working due to power cut during a sleepover (5 in one bed💀) and guess what we did, we moved the smallest on to the table 😭😭 and 1 slept on the floor

wow to be in an amajin relationship where u dont continue bickering cuz its turning to argument, i wish i would be in one like that

“I’m keeping my ass out tough” SAY WHAT BOI??? WHAT IF A INSECT DECIDES TO CRAWL INTO IT ?? IM NOT TAKING ANY CHANCES

You never know, sleep paralysis demons EXACTLY TELL HIM SIS

“I’m sure the demon is hot, so they can poke my hole if they want to.” I- understandable have a nice day

“Not even if you could watch? Imagine waking up to me getting railed by a sexy, hot demon.” oh no IDK WHAT TO DO NOW AAAH

“Aww sweetie, don’t be. It’s just my sleep paralysis demon.” yeah very normal shit what do u mean it doesnt happen everyday

“I’m a little horny.” THERE IT IS WE ALL WERE WAITING FOR IT

“Mhm? Are you gonna manage to be quiet? MOMMY STOP AAH

but getting him to beg some more is way too much fun not to do it. He is so delicious when he is desperate.  AAAH HER MIND 🤩🤩🤩

you can’t deny him when he is hitting you with The Good Boy. THE POWER OF GOOD BOY™

His tits are pressing into your arm like this. dont know if its the flu dizzy or reading this dizzy BUT IM DIZZY AAAH

“And out”, he whispers, “get it? I WOULD HAVE FULL ON STARTED CACKLING * i mean night, the time where breathing is funny

You want to tease him for being loud? You dare to call him a whiny baby? AAAAH

he chooses his childhood bed. poor bed, its definitely the top g

“My good girl”, he whispers who is a dom? what is a dom? idk, USE ME DADDY

do the unthinkable crime of sliding your fingers between his buttocks just to rub his hole. UR GOING TO MAKE THE BABY LOSE IT HES GONNA BE TOO LOUD LOL

“See? Told you, someone gonna poke your hole tonight “ STOP

“Ah, ouchies my head.” I- at least its better than getting leg cramp while rubbing one out

and hits the headboard softly stop he is such a cutie pie STOP THEY WERE JUST SOO HOT AND DRIVING ME CRAZY NOW THEY ARE SO CUTE AAH

Okay fine, teamwork come on.” THE REAL SHIT GUYS

mystery of the universe, but you managed. FUCK I WANTED MY PLAYSIT TO PLAY MY UNIVERSE that i even cheated by going bathroom, so that next song plays & i can say omg my universe played when i read this BUT THAT THAT STARTED PLAYING I-

“There we go. Right where you’re supposed to be.” FFGFHGRRRRRAAWR M FERAL

his childhood bed croaking from the movement.  please tell its not their last night on it

No other words, no matter how nasty and dirty, could get his cock as hard and leaky as your confession of love could get him in those moments. dont know if i should cry from eyes or between the legs

He has such a pretty birthmark on it. You love to kiss it. HIS NECK MOLE KILLS ME LIKE I WANNA KISS IT SHUT UP

closes his mouth around your digits, sucking on them with pouty lips and big doe eyes. I NEED TO MEDITATE THIS IS KILLING AND RESURRECTING ME BACK TO LIFE

Tears run down his cheeks, he is arching his back even more. Yeah, you’ve really got him good.  THE DESCRIPTION IS SOO GOOD I NEED A PRINTER FOR MY BRAIN

“I kinda feel like your parents must have heard something.” “Please don’t say that, I’ll cringe to death.” THEY WERE PLAYING UM WRESTLING YEAH DOING YOGA NORMAL SHIT U KNOW?? DECIDED TO JAM TO SONGS ON BED

“Please ignore the noises, air sometimes has its own mind”, THANK U I WAS SHOOK ONE TIME WHEN I HEARD IT OUT OF MY OWN HUHA LIKE BRO U OK?? (ik why it happens but that was loud?? give a warning bruh)

we fucked in a motel only to realise we didn’t have tissues?” i will definitely have this haunting me everytime i listen to hotel motel pitbull

THE SMUT WAS GOBSMACKING AS USUAL and fucking delicious *insert that licking fingers tiktok audio

they were so in love they were my parents, my babies, i cried i lost all my uwus i also wanted to gobble them

good fucking night *shudders and sigh whistles

DAMN THIS IS LONG LONG

this is the best BEST REVIEW EVER!!! OMGMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH OGMGMMG HEHEHHE THANK YOUUU 💜💜

SAY WHAT BOI??? WHAT IF A INSECT DECIDES TO CRAWL INTO IT ?? IM NOT TAKING ANY CHANCES

felT AHHAHAHAH

“I’m sure the demon is hot, so they can poke my hole if they want to.” I- understandable have a nice day

FELT AGAIN FANDSFN lmaooaoa all your reactions to the smut parts are so funny I am living for them <3

He has such a pretty birthmark on it. You love to kiss it. HIS NECK MOLE KILLS ME LIKE I WANNA KISS IT SHUT UP

SAEM BITCH OMFG SAME FNADSNFN

“Please ignore the noises, air sometimes has its own mind”, THANK U I WAS SHOOK ONE TIME WHEN I HEARD IT OUT OF MY OWN HUHA LIKE BRO U OK?? (ik why it happens but that was loud?? give a warning bruh)

GIRL YES OMFG and then you can't stop it like 😭 when I was with my ex it happened like one time and then I laughed and it got worse cuase the movement squeezed it out more like whY WOULD YOU DO THAT COOCHIE??? 😭😭 (he didn't even laugh he just stared weirdly like- fucking weirdo, that dude was so stiff)

ALSO OHEHEHEH THANK YOU!!! I'M SO HAPPY THAT YOU LOVED IT SO MUCH!! I LOVE EVERY SINGLE OLINE OF THIS REVIEW 10/10 ehheheeh 💜💜

[polyamorouspunk]

I just cried to my dad about how fucked up this country is and I dont think he ever really realized how much the political landscape that I’ve grown up in affected me until I told him “The America that me and my generation are about to inherit has gone to hell in a hand basket and doesnt deserve to be a country when the people running it refuse to step in and protect the rights of its own citizens.”

We were always taught that the bad things happening in this country were the things that nazis did. The things the worst of the worst did. The things we were taught to fight wars against. And no one in office is doing anything to stop it.

And for the first time, my dad didnt play devils advocate. He just nodded his head and agreed with me that this country is very fucked up.

But anyways I just cried about this for like an hour, so I could use some happy thoughts before I fall asleep if you can maybe?

It’s storming out. My mom leaned over me to watch the lightning in the sky out the window.

I got strawberries at the store today. They had some really big ones, but I went with a package that had more in them that were a bit smaller. While I was standing by the car waiting for my mom to go to the grocery store I noticed the blueberry bushes in the yard are full of blueberries. I stared really hard at them willing them to ripen, but it didn’t work.

I wrote my best friend out a card today and I’m going to put a package together to send them. They just got a promotion at work. A job they’ve been interested in since we were in high school. My other best friend is engaged. Her and her fiancé are coming down to visit me in October. She wants to go trick-or-treating with me again because we love Halloween. I’ve known her since I was five.

Sometimes my mom and I stand out on our front porch and watch the sun set over the fields. One time we hopped in the car at like 10pm at night and drove out into the country so she could get the perfect shot of the moon. None of them came out well but it’s okay. Sometimes she has me take pictures of things on the side of the road she sees, like flowers. I think she sends them to my brother. One time she pulled over and ran into a field to grab some cotton because she’s really fascinated with it. She also picks up peanuts that the peanut trucks drop when she rides her bike though town.

When I go to the grocery store people say hello and talk to me about the weather. I don’t know them. I didn’t grow up here.

My coworkers and I went bowling a few days before the store closed. I won the last round. We had fun.

My mom and I are painting the back porch blue. In the house I grew up in she painted our kitchen purple. She was a bit self conscious because “kitchens aren’t purple” but she wanted to paint it purple. It was a lavender color.

My neighbor and I painted fish on my walls because I always wanted an under water themed room. We never finished.

One night my friend slept over my house and the sound of the dishwasher scared us. We climbed in bed together and fell asleep like that.

When I was getting ready for my eight grade dance I got mail polish remover in my eyes. No one was home but my brother. He brought me to the bathroom and washed my eyes out.

My cousin and I used to make fairy gardens when we were little any time we saw each other. I only met her a few times growing up. I can drive to her house in under two hours now.

I think there’s always a home where we make one no matter what else is going on. Even if it’s just other people.

[naramdil]

Salam hafsah 💕

I hope you’re well. I wanted to reach out to you bc i always have admired your perspectives and thoughts on matters of the heart, seeing you have a naram dil. This is a lot so i understand if you don’t feel comfortable answering but would appreciate your insight.

I’m currently in a relationship with someone and recently i discovered something painful. I found out that he was in love with someone when we first started talking. We began as something online and weren’t in a committed relationship. I never approached him for the purpose of marriage (which i usually do) so we were definitely undefined. i did end up asking him to speak with the purpose of marriage and so we did. But during that period when i asked, he was already trying to pursue someone he loved and when she refused, he had decided to move on and pursue me.

Finding out now, i feel like i was left in the dark. He told me he didn’t tell me because at that time we weren’t committed and it would only hurt me. But he still needed to see if anything could happen with her before giving me his full attention. She was in a relationship and had just broken up and he took that opportunity to drive to her state and ask. It was a grand gesture, but she refused.

So then he and i began. But now that i’m thinking about it, i feel like he was still in love with her while talking to me. I asked him what she meant to him. He told me that this girl was an instant connection for him. You know how our souls have met other souls in a different realm before we meet physically in this dunya? She was one of those people for him. He knew immediately that he wanted to marry her without even fully knowing her. It was that kind of love. it hurt to hear about it. It hurt that i didn’t know. It hurt that that person wasn’t me.

We broke up a few months into the relationship for reasons which had nothing to do with his feelings for her. We reconnected a month ago. For some reason, i started talking to him again and we only recently started truly making the intention to talk for marriage and not just because we like each other. But he actually told me that last month, she reached out to him and he was put in a similar position as when we first started talking. Again we were in a situationship this time again and not fully committed because i didnt feel like i was ready to do this again. He told me she reached out to me before i reached out again (the second time i reached out after we first broke up) and she finally sent him a message saying it wouldnt work with them. So this has happened two times.

I don’t know if it’s bad timing with two girls reaching out to him around the same time but now I’m thinking if he’s still in love with her. That kind of love he had for her doesnt just disappear like that. He told me it’s rare to find that kind of love. He told me two weeks ago was when she texted him that it wouldnt work out. They havent talked since then.

I just don’t know what to do now because i still like him. Despite it all. Despite the anxiety i feel. Despite the hurt and my tendency to compare his love for her for the love he can have for me. He said that although it wasnt an instant connection when it came to me, he is still willing to build it with me. Build the love since most people grow i to love and choose each other every day and that’s how bonds are made. What he experienced is rare. But it just all hurts. It hurts to feel like he is just settling and getting married because he has faced rejection and the woman he loves doesnt want him. I feel like a second choice. I feel like i’m the logical decision, which is to find a person to marry and have kids. I didnt give him that cosmic, spiritual, instant connection like she did.

I dont know if this is something i can repair. He told me that he isn’t in love with her but he still has love for her and will always make dua for her. he wants to build a connection and grow into love with me. But i feel myself comparing and hurting. It was only two weeks ago that she sent him the rejection message so it’s not like she’s part of his past and it’s been years. It’s recent

But I’m still here. I almost broke up with him again because i felt like i couldnt handle this. But i’m still here. How do people love like that, get rejected and then marry? Wouldnt it feel like they settled if they chose you? I’m so sorry! I just have no one that would possibly understand what predicament i’m in. I appreciate it all anyway 💕

hey honey, I think that you should let him go. genuine love will not make you question anything. sure you could "grow into love" but ultimately he is telling you that he didn't feel that connection with you and that this other girl will always be on his mind (if he is gonna continue to pray for her....) he seems like a flake and you deserve someone who is sure about you and chooses you for you and not because you are conveniently there. it seems like you have made yourself too available to him and he doesn't view you as something he could "lose" but rather a fallback. you should never marry someone in that circumstance.

if you have so many struggles and heightened emotional lows now, before you are married? it's only going to continue. and if how you are feeling now is not how you want to continue feeling then you are going to have to let go and move on with your life. you seem religious so I will say that you should pray on it and ask that if he is meant to be in your life, to clear the path and make it easy. and if he is not meant to be in your life, to remove the emotions and make you feel nothing so that it is easier to move forward. inshAllah things get better for you, please look out for yourself. you are allowed to seek the kind of connection that you described, that cosmic connection that you just feel is right and that is easy to come together and build a life. if you broke up once it was for a reason, remember that.

[applefan28]

-I was really hesitant to try and ask about it again, since I didn't want to be too pushy or bothersome, especially since I'm just some random ass anon 0_0; But I got the confidence to try again <:) Forgot if I said this already but the headcannons can be whatever you want, if you ever wanted to an excuse to go ham with the rambling, this is it, I definitely won't mind-

(deleted the original ask + response because tumblr fucked up the formatting BAD)

hey man i dont mind the asks here youre totes in the good here 👍 im just very wishy-washy with doing things but really, your interest in my thoughts on these guys make me :] greatly appreciate it

(ALCOHOL CW here as its the headcanon topic this time.)

Apple is the type to go through such a weird whiplash of stages, as she starts out with being hyper and very active with near no doubt in what she does or says. it progresses, however, into how she was like prior to marsh on mars. apple gets very self defensive, short tempered, and hells of lot more brash with her language (as well as cursing in spanish a lot more). as we all know, her crude snd aggressive front was a subconscious way to protect + repress her deeprooted insecurities and self hatred. she could get easily angered and put up a fight response to a lampost of all things because she thought it called her dumb. eventually, it all sorta wears out into this very toned down, sad loner that keeps to herself. shes quiet and doesnt really speak all much, but is actually thinking a little bit too much for her own good. kinda like shes given up on that front? shes back to being post elimination apple at the hotel (at least, how i think of her to be). finally, she hits the last stage where shes this outwardly overly sensitive crybaby that overthinks every single thing going on. shes got tears in her eyes, sniffling every couple of seconds, sees every bad as her own fault and is sooo switchy with being overly attached/overly self distancing with marsh. apple is just a huge emotional mess of self hatred and deep insecurities 

thankfully though, apple doesnt have much of a reaso to drink a whole lot and neither do the mansion folk. she does dabble in a bit of beer every now and then in moderation if shes doing some heavy farm work (just like her dad). btw she has a sorta strong alcohol tolerance but in turn gets the absolute worst phases and digestional struggles. when it hits, it hits her HARD. beer and anything packed with flavour are her go-to (she knows nothing about mixing and types of drinks)

Marshmallow is not one to drink a whole lot to begin with, and is the designated driver most of the times (only one who can drive and trusts herself + pb to handle things). marsh doesnt really have phases, at least like how apple does, but does kinda go through the motions enough where the next day she regrets having more drinks than she should have had. she gets a lot more loose and careless, shedding off that cynical and doubtful approach she has. it delves more into a very affectionate and surprisingly emotionally open individual who displays this carefree demeanor full of love and carnal desire (towards apple especially). there will however, be moments where bits of herself seep through these drunken love behaviours. every now and then you can catch a glimpse of marsh's hidden attachment and a flavour of guilt-ridden self hatred. marsh isnt exactly as self hating as apple is, but she has a tendency to make things about herself including issues between her and her loved ones. dont be mistaken though, she still wont budge and express her inner turmoil to you even under the influence. marsh desires agency and control over herself enough to not be completely loose on alcohol

like ive mentioned before, marsh isnt one to drink even casually and restricts herself from such during occasions as shes the self appointed and mutually agreed designated driver. shes more into sweet-tasting but not overly decorated mixed drinks and wine if she were to drink though. shes not exactly alcohol tolerant but not easily moved either, she has that subconscious restraint to not open up but its no match against her rampant lesbianism lets be real

Bow is the type of drunk to bring lots of fun to the party, while having you keep medical aid on hand. shes a lot more hyper and energetic, sparking up the light and bringing life to whatevers going on sometimes to an annoying degree. bow also gets a hell lot more flirtatious with about anyone and will get mopey if you show disinterest or flat out reject her. thankfully, her attention span at this rate is tanked so she'll just switch gears haha. there will however, be a tipping point to her patience and will get irritable towards rejection or something not going the way it should. bow's pranks and stunts get even more chaotic and at this point flat out shows no regards to others' or her own safety. not to mention her moments where she will be extremely honest with intentions/feelings, sometimes even her grudge and depression over being dead + irrelevant. one second its flirting the next is casually raging over being nothing now, then back to flirting all to the same person. all this to compensate for the constantly looming void of her prescence, bow is destroying that void 

much like apple, thankfully this isnt something that would happen all that much nowadays. bow is the type to take a hard swig of straight vodka and probably shoot it onto someone else's mouth. she'll down on a fuck load of shots like its nothing and can chug beers in a fell swoop then crushes the can on her head. probably the strongest alcohol tolerance out of the mansioners, dough being a close second

Dough isnt much of the exuberant and hyper party type like bow is (in fact his tone doesnt change at all), but still becomes this more outgoing, social guy that loves to get crazy with his pals and pulling stunts. shes more genuine and less "ironic" under the influence, as that flimsy façade she carries is taken down. dough's kinda a more approachable guy now as shes less to deal with the incessant Too Cool For This mask made out of plastic wrap, though WILL go on and on and on about whatever interest or topic she knows. not to mention, he can get rather annoyingly clingy with this newfound authenticity. the combo of a drunk dough telling a sober bow how much he loves her as a sister and thinks shes totally cool is very funny to me. not to mention much like bow, he gets flirtatious, but still retains that nonchalant attitude. while the flirting is genuine in emotion, its still some of the most blunt, unattractive flirting ever (hes having fun). all in all, dough doesnt suffer as bad as the others when drunk. a drunk dough is a zooted unmasked dough who, while drops the rather transparent ironic apathy for once, will still end up being a pesky guy but with added genuinity <3

dough is the opposite of bow here where she just has a pretty weak alcohol tolerance. makes sense with how flimsy her front is, its easy to kinda see shes bullshitting the irony. much like bow, he does likes just about anything from canned beers to complex mixes to really shitty mixes done in barrels that'll send you to sleep for a week. speaking of mixing, id like to think he at least knows some basics and will call himself a mixologist but honestly dough is very amateur at it and can NOT do tricks without using ghost abilities

[bradycore]

ok i know that you may not like destiel, but i promise you, as a fellow sam stan, the second half, especially the last couple chapters, of to become a man goes fucking wild for sam. it drives me feral even to this day. no spoilers tho.

when i was reading this fic, i would refer to to exist again because the interconnectivity is off the charts. the dialogue from the two fics are the same but the perspectives are different, so reading to exist again only or to become a man only is completely different experience off what is basically the same series. its like how arrested development's orginal formatting final season had all the different perspectives and jokes set up in each episode that didnt make sense until you watched the entire thing. and it is hilarious. the setup, which seem offhanded and weird pieces of dialogue in to exist again become key plot elements in to become a man. and deans perspective of magic is so different from sam's and cas. you just get a really good feel for how much of a freak sam is and how normal dean is in a world full of magic. it just adds another layer to world building.

and the fic addresses all of the issues i have about dean. it doesnt just wave a wand and make him unproblematic, but demenior makes dean work for it. he has character arc. he is not perfect at the end, but he is trying and that is what is important. and you also gotta to read to become a man just because of the whole cliff hanger for to exist again. once the to become a man has caught up with to exist again. i mean. the answers are definitely worth the wait.

i can tell you what specific chapters that are important for sam. i never reread the fic in its entirety but only to specific chapters that drive me, as a sam stan, insane. but its also the little moments between the major sam plot points that treat sam and deans relationship with such care and fucked-up-ness that i would recommend that you dont. you got to find the parts that drive you insane yourself

oh my god. i almost forgot about dem's characterization of purgatory. i dont want to spoil it, but it really expands on the wrongness of the leviathans and purgatory that supernatural never was able too.

and overarching themes. the overarching themes. its fucking beautiful and ties up everything so well. sam and dean have their own themes and arcs (which you can pretty much get from their story titles) that complement each other so well with the overarching message (the love it takes). it is wild. no it is well thought and planned.

warning: there is eldritch monster sex scenes in to become a man. you can skip it if you are not into it. there are warnings at the top of those chapters.

i could write essays about to exist again and to become a man. i could talk about them all day.

and it was such a joy reading it in real time. the theories and analyses that the readers made comment section for each chapter. the real time interactions with the author. it just made the experience so much better. and the music. oh the music that goes with this fic.

if i were you, i would reread to exist again whenever the timeline matches up with to become a man. it so worth it.

and the dem shares many of your cas/angel headcannons that are fully fleshed out in this fic.

oh and @demenior has little fics of the love it takes on their tumblr (this fic series is why i joined tumblr the first time around).

wow hello!!! it would be a mess to try and respond to each part of this individually but i read all of it closely and rlly appreciate the breakdown!!! i could rave about to exist again all day for the rest of time (the lorebuilding alone holy shit??? seriously its. im. its SO good.) and you make an excellent case for to become a man (congrats on ur lawboy coding) so clearly i will just have to reread the former and read the latter as soon as possible