#it really pisses them off that someone could get the same degree as them with a lot less effort

[frereamour]

I think the university fandom is about to have the shock of their lives in the coming decade or so, but do continue to feel superior to everyone else because you sat your ass down at a lecture hall

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor

Azriel x reader

Summary: you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother.

Author’s Note: this is part 1 baby!! Likely 5-6 parts, that is currently what I have planned for this. This part is shorter to set things up for later okay love you 😘

(Part 2)

“Mor I don’t know about living with your long term hook up.”

She rolls her eyes, her blonde hair blowing in the wind over facetime. “He’s great - he’s super sweet, super funny, and he’s really hot. Besides, you’ve already signed the lease. It’s too late to back out now.”

You sit in the u-haul you rented, filled to the brim with your belongings, waiting for the leasing office to open so you can grab your keys. You had just pulled up, deciding to call Mor while you wait the ten minutes for them to arrive.

“I don’t know, Mor. What if this was a mistake?”

You chew your lip while thinking about all the ways this could go poorly. She smiles, her face taking up the screen of your phone. “Sweetie, it’s going to be fine. I’ve known him for a long time. He’s friends with my cousin. Worst case scenario you move out at the end of the year into a new apartment.”

She was right, of course. At worst it would be a year. You’ve met Cassian a few times, Mor bringing him to a couple parties and casual get togethers. You were always awed by his warm presence and ease around anybody, qualities that are great when you’re moving in with someone you hardly know.

You nod your head agreeing, but spot someone walking towards the leasing office. “Hey I gotta go Mor - leasing office person is here. I’ll call you tonight?”

She shakes her head, “I can’t tonight - stupid dinner with stupid family. I’ll have pizzas sent to your place, how’s that?”

You smile, her absence one out of familial obligation. She hated her parents, but they also funded her degree so you couldn’t be upset at the one-off events she had to attend to appease them. You also know she tried to get out of the event tonight, but ultimately you’re glad that there’s a now zero chance your new roommate and your best friend will have sex while you’re moving in.

You pick up the keys, sign last minute paperwork, and hop into the elevator to ride up to the fourth floor. You keep reciting the apartment number to yourself, having double checked with the office and with Mor. You find it, situated at the end of the hall with one other apartment next to it.

You run through how this could go in your head - you could unlock the door and have Cassian be pissed off because he wasn’t sure when you’d be arriving. You could wait for him to come out and act like you were just walking up at the same time. Or you could knock on the door, which you find yourself doing.

The door swings in a moment after your knock and you find Cassian looking at you, a confused expression on his face. Despite the early hour, Cassian doesn’t look like he just woke up. In fact, his hair is tied up in a half bun, he’s dressed in a shirt with the sleeves ripped off (allowing his tattooed biceps to be on full display) and some sweatpants, and you can smell bacon and eggs wafting through the door.

“Why’d you knock - did they forget to give you a key?”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, this whole situation leaving you uncertain of what to do at each turn. You look up at him as he stands in the doorframe waiting for your answer. Cassian’s a big guy, easily clearing a foot and several hundred pounds of muscles on you.

“Uh- no they did, I just didn’t want to disturb you.”

He looks at you and you’re certain he can feel the nerves radiating off of you. He chuckles and tells you, “not much disturbs me.”

He opens the door more, allowing you to come in. You hadn’t toured the place before signing a lease, your desperation leading you here without many other options. Living in a college town had it’s benefits, however finding a new place to live in July was not one of them. Not a single complex had a room for you. It was either stay with Cassian or crash on Feyre’s couch in her studio apartment.

The place is decently nice - to your left you see the living room with two couches that face quite possibly one of the largest televisions you’ve ever seen. You peer to your right, the kitchen a little bare but clean. You spy the pan and plate that Cassian had clearly just used to eat his breakfast.

“I can give you a tour,” he tells you, “it’s not much but it’s home.”

You take note of the in-unit washer dryer in a closet off the kitchen facing the front door. “Just don’t leave things in the washing machine,” Cassian told you, “pet peeve of mine is wet laundry sitting. Smells awful.”

He shows you where to find all three remotes for the tv and what each remote does, information your brain likely will never remember. He pulls up to one door, opening it slightly. “This is my room,” he says softly due to you being right behind him. He walks to another door, opening it to show a small bathroom. “This is the extra bathroom - this is usually where guests go.”

You two reach the final door, and as he’s opening it he tells you, “and this will be your room.”

You step in and look around the bare room, feeling so small in such a vast and empty space. The room’s not large by any means, but it’s yours. It’s your first step into independence and that feels vast. There’s no furniture, just a router on the floor that makes you chuckle. The blinds are drawn, the soft light peaking through illuminating the cream colored walls.

It feels like freedom. It feels like this place could be a home.

Cassian, the saint of a man that he is, offers to help bring up your boxes. The two of you make quick work of bringing up all of your worldly possessions, frequent occupants of the building’s sole elevator.

He even helps you bring up the bed frame and mattress you had to buy, just barely fitting into the elevator with both.

The two of you passed the time idly, occasional words spoken between you. Sometimes he’d laugh about the organization of your boxes - one box reading both “tampons” and “fall semester textbooks”.

Eventually everything is up in your room, the space cluttered with your boxes and various things. Cassian offered to help you with the bed frame, and when you asked him if he was doing anything else today, he told you, “I cleared my schedule. Wanted to help my new roommate settle.” He winked at you and you smiled back. You suddenly recall Mor describing Cassian as a “generous lover” once and you can totally see it. The man’s love language was clearly acts of service if today was anything to go by.

The two of you set up the bed frame, bickering over the instructions. No one, not even sweet, gentle giant Cassian is immune to the frustrations of lackluster instructions.

As you’re picking up the mattress and placing it in the frame, Cassian starts speaking. “I should probably mention that my brothers live next door. They’ll probably be over now and again.”

That piques your interest. Setting down the mattress with a huff you ask, “why don’t you live with them?”

Cassian shrugs, looking away from you, “I was initially offered a scholarship at another school, but I got injured, lost my scholarship, so came to my back up school. By then my brothers already had their own place, but they were able to set me up in the same building. That was three years ago and moving is a bitch so we’ve just kept this arrangement. Sometimes whenever Az and Rhys are butting heads I let one of them stay here in my room and I take theirs, but otherwise it’s worked out pretty well.”

You look at him, and you know there’s a bit more to the story by how sad his eyes look at the memory. He offered a piece of himself, so you offer a piece of yourself in return.

“My parents kicked me out,” you tell him, scratching the back of your neck. “They uh don’t really approve of me or my plans, so I got the boot.”

You rub your arms, making yourself as small as they make you feel. “They um weren’t very good parents and I finally stood up for myself and they didn’t like that. They have since disowned me and don’t really want anything to do with me.”

You bounced up and down on your toes during your admission and Cassian’s eyes soften as he looks at you, practically a stranger. You two had met a handful of times, his fling with Mor lasting a few months. He walks out of the room, and you’re worried you’ve offered too much, until you hear the fridge door open and close and he returns with two beer bottles. He opens both with his teeth, causing you to inhale sharply, thinking about a chipped tooth. He hands one to you, holding his out to toast. He speaks after your two glasses make a soft clink.

“Mor knew I had a spare room. The leasing office only charges me for my room, so it’s no big deal. Haven’t done much with it, except use the shower when my drain was clogged.”

He takes a sip and looks around your new room before continuing. “She begged me to let you come here. Told me you were one of the kindest, hardest working people she knew.”

You smile, looking up at your new roommate, “she said that?”

“She also said you had a great ass and an incredible rack.”

You throw your head back laughing. “That sounds like Mor.”

The two of you drink in silence, the weariness of the past few weeks creeping into your bones. Maybe Cassian won’t be so bad to live with after all.

Several hours later you and Cassian were setting up one of your bookshelves when someone walked through the door, a delicious smell permeating the apartment.

“Cass, I’m here with pizzas. When’s the “great rack” supposed to get here?”

You and Cassian are on the floor of your room and before he can respond, you yell back, “the great rack got here about five hours ago.”

You hear muttered cursing when a beautiful male walks in, his short cropped black hair pushed back. Rhysand - Mor’s cousin. You recognized his almost violet eyes and sharp features from her family photos littering her desk, as well as her determination to convince your friend Feyre to go on a date with him. He was taller in person, but not as tall as Cassian.

“My apologies, you know how Mor can get with her physical descriptions of people.”

You laugh, screwing in a shelf. “All is forgiven. There are much worse things to be known as or called. Mor has quite the mouth on her - you should hear her talk about Cassian.” You say, pointing your head in his direction.

His head raises from the instruction booklet he’s reading to ask, “what does she say about me?”

“I believe the words “tree trunk” have been used to describe certain body parts on multiple occasions.”

Your new guest barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I brought pizzas should either of you desire them.”

“That’s really sweet but I couldn’t impose-“

Cassian cuts you off, holding a hand up to stop your sentence. “Too late. You’ve imposed. Guess you have to eat the pizza. Besides I hear the best way to keep a great rack is to keep it fed.”

You smile, thinking that maybe this won’t be so hard. It was a rash decision, living with Cassian. You couldn’t stay at home, your parents had made that abundantly clear. Your plans had been to live with them until you graduated in the spring, wanting to save money on housing.

After all the shelves and furniture were set up in your room, you found yourself sitting on the couch with Cassian and Rhysand, pizza boxes on the coffee table in front of you. Rhys, he had told you to call him, had started a movie that was the third in a series. He spent twenty minutes explaining to you the plot of the first two movies. They sounded like generic action movies to you, but you let him go on about the intricacies of the plot and how cool the main character was.

Halfway through the movie the front door opens and closes softly, and all three of you turn to look at the tall man who entered. He was fit, not as muscular as Cassian was, but still toned, even through his shirt. Onyx curls adorned the top of his head, coming close to blocking his hazel eyes. You’re not sure if you’re even breathing looking at him as he looks around the room.

“Azzy, meet my roommate.”

Azzy, as Cassian called him, looked to Cassian to scold him for the nickname before his eyes met yours.

“Azriel’s fine.”

“Oh, okay,” you laugh, telling him your name with a little wave of your hand. His eyes are still on yours, as if he’s trying to commit to memory the name to the face.

“Mor’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, great ass, incredible rack,” Cassian responds, mining out an hourglass figure with his hands. You kick his foot, telling him “is this how you’re going to introduce me from now on.”

He winces as your foot makes contact with his shin, rubbing the afflicted area. “I mean it tells you everything you need to know about someone. You guys can just start calling me ‘big peen’.”

Rhys chuckles, then starts taking a sip of his drink as you tell Cassian, “I think they’d just call you big head, mysterious third nipple.”

Cassian gasps, eyes widening as Rhys spits out his drink, “I can’t BELIEVE Mor told you that about me!”

Rhys gets up, walking to the linen closet to grab a towel to dry off his shirt. Azriel walks to the fridge, grabbing a beer before heading to sit next to Cassian on the other couch as the two of you continue to bicker. As he walks past, you swear you feel every bit of contact as his legs brush past yours.

And if Azriel’s eyes lingered on you as he sat down - you might just have made that up too.

[mygalriri]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS #2

I am not a professional astrologer. Some things I say may not resonate with everyone. However, if it doesn't resonate with you, I'd love to hear about your experience. If there are any professional astrologers who find fault with what I've said, feel free to correct me. I am open to constructive criticism.

18+ • MINORS DNI

Earth Suns/Dominants really love earthy smells. Think the smell of coffee grounds and the smell of soil before or after it rains. I was in Darjeeling (they're famous for their beautiful greenary and tea) a few months back with my friend whose a Capricorn Sun and it was such a healing experience for both of us. Mars in Gemini people get revenge on you by talking shit about you and spreading rumours. If you're someone who cares a lot about their reputation to the point where your mental health depends on it, you better get that Mars in Gemini to sympathize with you because that's the only way they're gonna go easy on you. Lilith Opposite Ascendant kind of sexualize themselves. Like I'm not saying that they want to be seen as sexual objects but they just wanna be desired sexually. Venus in Scorpio or even just Venus in a Scorpio degree have INTENSE stares 🛐 If you want to feel wanted get a Scorpio Venus istg. Taurus Moon + Cancer or Scorpio Venus is a sweet but deadly combo cuz these people make great lovers but once you piss them off or become their ex...just pray for forgiveness chile (Btw it could just be "Taurus Moon + Water Venus" but I have no experience with Taurus Moon+Pisces Venus combo so if you have met someone with that be sure to tell me about it in the replies) I think Mars in Scorpio are given the title of "god of sex" because they fuck and make love at the same time. When a Mars in Scorpio loves you and you love them, the sex is gonna be intense and healing. Mars in Aquarius and Sagittarius are freaky but they don't connect to their partners like Mars in Scorpio does.

That's all for now. See y'all later.

[tarotmundomonde]

Connection Energy Check-In love reading

pick a number 1-5 OR an emoji 🤐 🤒 😵 🤕 😣

(ps. this reading is for practice and for fun)

1.🤐 It seems there is need for clarity, for clearing the air. Your person they are patient and they seem to have faith they can win you over. But at the same time, it looks like they might have someone else already in mind and so it's like 'whatever'. Like they accept the situation and are cool with it. They actually think that you might have already moved on. They still seem to feel a degree of curiousity towards you, like they wanna check on you and see what's up, like they do seem to want something from you. Right now, it seems that the overall energy of your situation is definitely disappointment, but what's interesting is that the cards are advicing you to not give them any direct answers nor any reaction. And to keep your options open in love! Don't you think such an advice is pretty telling? Because it does seem this person wants to be in your surroundings, but they don't want to give you anything. Perhaps they see your connection as a beneficial one? But overall, it seems you are going through a major love lesson through this connection. It's time to take a step back and allow things to come to you. If they love you, if it's meant to be, you'll be brought together. But now it's time to just be and allow healing and love to come to you.

2.🤒 Oh my goodness, with this pile. There is definitely potential for a reconciliation or level up in this connection. But your person is coming off kinda cocky, to be honest with you. Like they have this "I'm the best" -attitude. They definitely think very highly of themselves and they think they are the best potential partner out there, like they think they are perfect. And this person could be already dating and that could be also why they come off like that. But what comes to you, this person can't get you off their mind. There is a feeling that you are a challenge to this person. But the truth is, you are someone they want. Really, they want you seccually. But man this person is stubborn and their ego!! Listen, whatever happened, this person feels like they want to teach you a lesson. They do feel there is a special bond between you two, but their ego right now… makes them be.. very cocky. Yet, they also seem to trust you. They feel a level of commitment towards you. Listen, what comes to advice, let them do whatever they are doing. Just let them show you, who they are. The cards are not telling you to ignore them, but to rather give them a little something. Not directly, but it's like do your thing or maybe just give a chance, test them a little bit, but in a small way. Then see what they do. I think they will end up revealing a whole of themselves to you. Deep sigh, though… this person really.. they really want to show off. You know what, it looks like they really want to piss you off. They could even be mean towards you. But the main thing is this person wants a reaction from you. They want to set you on fire. So looking at the overall energy and outcome.. it's a little… but it seems you'll learn a lot. It seems in the end, you'll know more about what they want from you.

3.😵 It seems this is a matter of timing. What will you both choose to do? A bit like a make it or break it situation. Do you choose to delete each other or do you choose to clear the path and talk? At least, your person says they definitely can not reach out to you. They are dropping it all on you, saying it's up to you. It's weird, though, because in their heart they feel like you are kinda family? Someone they want to have in their life, someone they feel emotionally connected to. But guess what? The advice is to surrender, to not do anything. Only you know the situation of your connection, perhaps they are seeing someone else? Because it's not common for cards to advice you to leave a situation hanging. What comes to their intentions and actions, it's definitely to ignore you. To be like you don't exist. See? Their heart and their choices and actions don't match. They don't intend to make any changes. They seem to think this is the way to have you make a move. But you know what? Looking at the outcome, it does seem to be up to you. This person wants to be chosen by you, they want you to chase after them, to fight for them, to give them attention. However, what's really gonna be happening is that they will desire you even more and honestly, it looks like someone else will make a move on you, it could be literally a friend of theirs, and they'll come to realize that you are seen as a catch, as someone, who can make a person's heart beat for you romantically speaking. Also, it looks like the outcome is that you will not settle for less. And just saying, but destiny is really coming through here.

4.🤕 I'll go straight to the point with this pile. Especially if you are a female into a male, the cards are making it clear that you have to let them make their own decisions. If they choose you, let them come to you and tell you themselves. Whether this is someone new or about a reunion, this seems to be someone, who likes it comfortable, who likes to feel coveted and chosen by the other person. This person has deep romantic feelings for you, but it looks like they think you are turning your back on them or depending on your situation, perhaps they did that to you. But this person wants you to be the one to make the decisions and to speak up. They want to see you compete and fight for them. It's like they love you, but they don't want to tell you that. You should just know it and do something about it. But the advice is the opposite. It's to let them make their own decisions, they should be the one to tell you with their own mouth, how they truly feel for you. So as for now, it looks like neither will back down and no progress is made. But remember, they should be the one to choose you and tell you the truth.

5.😣 Well, well, well, pile 5. Perhaps this person is a new love interest of yours, but this person definitely thinks they are a smartass. Literally the cards are showing them to be a thief and you are the person protecting your belongings. So.. it does not look that great, to be honest with you. Not good dynamic, no. And this person really thinks they've got the power to control you and make you do whatever they want you to do with a snap of a finger. Like… they feel so super self-confident. The cards are showing a bit of a power struggle dynamic here. And so the advice for you is to stay strong and not give up. Stay in your power and hold back for a minute. This person really thinks they can blow your mind and blow up your world. They do seem to choose to be lovey dovey towards you… but they may not intend to commit. But action-wise, they want to bond with you, to spend alone time with you. But.. it does really look like this person might literally fear commitment and you'll probably start worrying and doubting if they ever will fully commit to you. As for now, the connection is still open and it's more on the light and fun side, but now you've gained a bit of insight of what's happening under the surface of your connection.

[starrgaziinggg]

SMAU | UNDERCOVER JYP-U

chapter thirty eight -> swings and roundabouts (written 2.5k words)

directory | next part ->

The stress of exams was finally over. Classes were back to normal. You and Hyunjin couldn't be in a better place since the aftermath of the party. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

The only exception to this was the fact that you still didn't know who the evil mastermind behind the undercover JYP-U account was.

As much as you tried to push it out of your mind, it plagued your every thought. Who knew all these secrets about your friends? Why did they lie about Jeongin? How hadn't you been able to figure it out yet?

It was Jisung’s idea to get everybody together to discuss an action plan for figuring out the perpetrator and taking them down, which he had relayed to Chan. The first victim of the account was still as pissed off as everyone else, and although the repercussions for him hadn't been as severe as some others, he felt the exact same as you. You couldn't just sit back and let this account attempt to deface and destroy you all.

Chan had managed to snag a free room at the campus coffee shop, a secluded area, allowing you the privacy to talk about the subject without lingering people. You had to get away from the prying ears of your fellow university students. It was beyond time, you thought, for some action to finally happen against the account owner.

"So," Chan starts, student body president mode on. You sat to the left of Yuna and to the right of Hyunjin, listening to him intently. Everyone else in your friend group, bar Lia, was sat around too. "I've tried to trace the IP address - dead end. I've tried to contact the people who run the social media website and they've been useless."

"It's all dead ends," Jisung confirms solemnly. "Whoever it is knows what they're doing."

"So if we can't figure out who it is from a technological standpoint," Jeongin speaks up. "We're just gonna have to do it the old fashioned way."

You nod, shrugging your shoulders. "There's someone out there who knows all these secrets and we have no idea who they are. Doesn't that seem impossible?"

"Completely, but it's clearly possible," Minho sighs, giving you a half smile. "They knew about an injury I didn't speak a word of. Unless they got their binoculars out and watched me bandage up my leg through my window, I don't see how anyone could have figured that out."

Changbin snorts at that, quickly trying to compose himself. As much as Minho was trying to make the situation more light hearted, it was serious, and you weren't about to find out who was behind the account by cracking jokes.

"So let's just start naming people," Felix suggests, his eyebrows raised. "Go through anyone we suspect and cross them off the list if there's reason to."

There's a collective nod at that, everyone in agreement that this was the best way to go about things.

"What about Lia?" Jisung says, grabbing everyone's attention. He looks at everyone perplexed. "What? I'm serious, it could be her. We hardly know her."

Lia was the only person not in attendance at your meeting. You didn’t want her to bin off the extracurricular that gives her extra credit for her degree, so she’d given the meeting a miss. It might have been for the better anyway, since it was Jisung's first guess.

"Okay," Yuna sighs, her fingers pressing into her temples. "Let's think about this properly. Lia's a literal sweetheart, you really think she's behind this torturous account?"

"Sometimes people aren't what they seem," you shrug, a sad motion. You feel Hyunjin place a hand on your thigh and you smile up at him, glad to have the comfort. "And we've known her less time than anyone else at this school, so who knows what she could be capable of."

"That's true," Seungmin smiles at you sadly, looking as though it's paining him to talk about Lia like this. You knew the two of them were getting on well.

"But that's exactly the thing," Ryujin sighs exasperatedly. "We've known Lia for the shortest amount of time, but she's known us the same, so how would she ever know all these things about us?"

"That's true," Minho says, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "Perhaps Yuna was drunk one night and let her secret slip without realising, and she found the old lyrics to Ji's song in class and whatever else; how would she ever know the details to my injury? Or about Seungmin's dad, which nobody else knew about? And why would she lie about Jeongin cheating?"

There's a couple seconds of silence as everyone takes in Minho's words, a nod of agreement running through your group. The silence continues when a worker comes into the room you're all in to clear some of the used mugs away, a clear indication that you did not want this conversation to get into the wrong hands.

"Unless Lia is just some psycho who wanted to wreak havoc, there's no real reason for her to want to spill these secrets," Jeongin says quietly once the worker leaves, putting it plainly, and you nod at him.

"And, I think we're all kind of forgetting something," Felix says almost sheepishly, as if he doesn't want to bring it up.

"What?" Ryujin asks without thinking twice, everyone's heads turning to Felix. You catch the way Changbin almost glares at Felix, and you realise he might not be as okay about their secret as you initially thought. Although Changbin and Ryujin had ended, it was still pretty fresh.

"Lia wasn't there that night, you know," Felix says with a cringe, desperately hoping everyone knows what he's talking about. You all do, easily, so you speak up to avoid tension as Felix attempts to hide in his baggy hoodie, letting his blonde hair fall in his face.

"That's true - Lia was sick in her room," you agree, remembering the night of the party. "She looked awful the whole two days beforehand, too, so unless she managed to somehow run to the frat and back whilst having a 39.5°c fever, I think we can start to cross her off our list."

"I can vouch," Yuna says, nodding her head with wide eyes. "She was so unwell, there was no way she could have known about that unless either of you two had told her."

"We didn't tell anyone," Ryujin mumbles, and you can tell she does not want to hang onto this topic of conversation long.

"So if we've concluded it can't be Lia, all that does is give us a whole lot of nothing since we still don't know who it actually is," Jisung groans, frowning. "This is a living nightmare."

"You can say that again," Minho yawns, checking the time on his phone. "At least we know who it's not."

"Hold on," Ryujin speaks up, a thoughtful look etching her features. "We're forgetting the one person who hates all of us."

All eyes turn to her as she tilts her head, staring back at everyone. "Yeji."

The thought had crossed your mind a million times. You'd basically kicked Yeji out your friendship group after all the drama she had caused, so who else would hate you enough to spread gossip about you all?

"I did think that," Yuna says, nodding her head at Ryujin. "But I don't really know anymore. Firstly, she's been almost MIA this whole semester."

"That's true," Jeongin nods, adding onto what Yuna was saying. "She attends classes and then heaps of study sessions and from what I've seen hardly goes out anymore."

"I don't think she's that spiteful," Chae says, and although you know she's trying to defend her, you can't help but agree. "Yeah, she could be a real bitch, but would she really waste her time on something like this?"

"Jeongin said the same thing to me before," you agree, watching the younger boy nod his head at you. "I've suspected her the most out of anyone, but I think at this point it's a stretch. Unless she did some serious digging, she wouldn’t know any of this shit about us. And, if she's as up to her ears in work as Jeongin says she is, how the hell would she have the time?"

Minho nods, sitting back in his chair lazily. "If I know Yeji, and unfortunately I do, she wouldn't bother her rats ass about getting 'revenge' on us. She has much more important things going on in her life."

"I agree with that," Hyunjin speaks up. "I know the way her family works. She'll have a lot of responsibilities that literally make it impossible for her to have the time to do this, and on top of her coursework? Doubt it."

You don't think twice about Hyunjin's comment, knowing that he probably knows how her family works because they're just as high up on the social hierarchy as his.

"Could it just be some random we go to school with?" Chae asks, deep in thought. "Someone who doesn't like the fact that our group is well liked?"

"I thought about that too," Changbin says. "But there's no intent. It would be genuinely psychotic for someone who hardly knows us to want to ruin our lives like this."

Jeongin looks around the room then. “Who hasn’t had a secret revealed about them?”

“Me, Hyunjin, Chae, Changbin, Chan, Lia…I think that’s it,” you respond, met with a chorus of nodding heads.

“Save from Lia, we’ve all been friends for years,” Chan speaks up. “And the secrets have impacted us all. If the person behind the account was someone at this table it wouldn’t make any sense whatsoever. Why would one of us want to attempt to destroy our own friendship group?”

“Exactly,” Seungmin chimes in, shooting you a grin. “It can’t be one of us.”

"This is bullshit," Jisung interrupts, rubbing at his eyes. "We've traced the IP address and it lead us to fucking nothing, we've contacted the website to shut down the account and they've done Jack, the uni can't do anything about it - how the hell are we supposed to figure out who this bastard is?"

That kind of leaves everyone stumped, because god if any of you knew. Nobody says anything for a while, just sitting in relative silence, until Chan speaks up.

"Look, we can't give up. This fucker has caused us all too many problems this semester for us to just forget what they've done. Nobody should be able to get away with spreading personal information like that with no consequences, and I'll be damned if I just sit back and let it happen," he says, and you swear it's the angriest you've ever seen him.

"You know what I'm thinking?" Jeongin says, inciting a bit of hope within you. "You know that school gossip page? What if they're behind it? They just put out that weird statement, but what if they’re just trying to cover their tracks now that things are getting serious?”

Everyone kind of looks at each other then, as it's something none of the rest of you had considered.

"I mean it would make sense, considering they're always spreading the drama after the account posts. Plus, we don't know who runs that account either, so if we find out whose behind the gossip account it could lead us closer to whose behind the JYP-U undercover account," Seungmin agrees.

"Knowing who it's not gives us a good start, we just need to keep looking for clues and narrowing it down," Chae adds on, trying to boost the groups morale as usual. "Why don't you guys trace the IP of the gossip account and see what you find and we can go from there?"

Jisung nods, looking towards Changbin and Chan. "We can get on that tomorrow, let you know what we find?"

The guys nod in response, and it makes you feel a little better knowing you at least had something to go off of.

Chan sighs after that, placing his hands on the table. "It's getting late, and we're all clearly exhausted. I say we go home, get some rest, keep doing our best to figure this out and reconvene when someone's got something. Hopefully the gossip account gets us somewhere."

There's a collective agreement that runs through the group, and it doesn't take long for you all to get your shit together and go your separate ways.

Hyunjin walks you home, hanging back so it's just the two of you. He intertwines his hand with yours easily.

"Do you realistically think we will figure out who this psycho is?" He asks, his hand enclasped with yours. You give his hand a squeeze in response.

"I think we will. It's only a matter of time before the truth comes out," you reply hopefully, walking up to your dorm building. He turns to you with a sinister look.

"It's not you, is it?"

You push his arm, laughing in response. "No it's not me, you idiot. And it's not you?"

"Never me," he replies, which makes you laugh even more. He pulls you in tight for a hug as he always does when you inevitable have to depart, kissing your forehead before pulling away. "Get some sleep, yeah? Big date tomorrow and all that."

"Yeah," you respond quietly, trying to take your time basking in his presence, excited about this surprise date he’d decided you were going on. "I wish you'd just tell me what we're doing, you know. I hate surprises."

"A master never reveals his secrets," he says cheekily, giving you a chaste kiss before turning on his heel, waving at you when you use your key card to open the main door to your dorm building. Once you get inside your dorm, the girls are silent for once, and you can imagine they've all crashed as soon as they hit their beds.

You can't help feeling dejected. The only good thing to come out of that whole conversation was that everyone was on the same page about who the account wasn't run by, yet nobody had a solid idea of who it was. You hoped something would come out of finding who was behind that gossip page, but you weren't sure. It seemed like opening Pandora's box; a task that was so impossible you didn't even know how to begin.

But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind once again, doing your best to focus on preparing for the date you were more than excited to go on.

and we’re finally getting somewhere with figuring out who it is!! I’m estimating 10-15 chapters left, but god knows because I didn’t think this SMAU would be over 30 chaps nor last a year ahhahah

@cursed-mars-bars @imasimplol @hyunverse @aestaeticous @dorisnumber1fan @amnmich @detectivedoodle @amara-mars @end0rchans @raresevng @nhyunn @lixie-phoria @beomgyusonlywife @seolarpower @cuddlethebear @weird-bookworm @ceelestic @worcesheshestershiresauce @hyuneyeon @downbadreading @where-is-innie @weird0o0 @sxhxnax @moretinyideas @realrintaro @pinkcherryblossomangel @tesywesy @beaann @cutesince2000 @lynlyndoll @furryenthusiastbread @nyasstars @eyearebee @lynlyndoll @seungminindabuilding @chans1aptop @victio

[weebsinstash]

Help, I’ve got massive brain rot about both YanSpiderverse and the YT fics. Like if we go from your post when platonic Yan Miguel makes reader call him Tio/Papa and the one about Miguel angst, Imagine in the moment when he thinks reader is YouTwo and gets rid of them/kicks them out of spider society, he gets angry at them for calling him Tio/Papa again. Only once reader comes back, literally almost dead from glitching through the multiverse, they’re in too much shock/too scared of what Miguel will do to them to call him that again. Cue regretful/pissed off Miguel earning back his Tio privileges by being a bit tooo nice to reader.

NOOOOOOO because he spent all this time forcing his affections on you and eventually legitimately actually winning some sort of trust and affection from you and you're able to trust him as this weird parental/platonic guardian figure who's never supposed to hurt you and you're finally calling him tio/papá and asking for his help and it just makes him SHOUT IN ANGER AT YOU, maybe even slap or punch you because from his perspective you're a dirty fake soiling something that's precious to him

YOU'RE COMING TO HIM FOR HELP IN A MOMENT OF VULNERABILITY AND HE JUST HURTS YOU like really for people like me that's a revisit to the childhood trauma that made him wanna give you a proper father figure in the first place. He tries to heal you after you get abused by your dad and then he hurts you in a moment of need, like, the angst man, just him seeing how he's completely lost your trust, he reaches for you to hold you and you FLINCH becuase you still remember him punching you so hard it almost knocked some of your teeth out

Like imagine Miguel's DISGUST if he's gotten rid of you and he's with YouTwo and he thinks he's won and he's helped you and you're just so happy and YouTwo just. Eventually comes on to him. Like the immediate 180 degree turn in his emotional state from victorious to devastated. Maybe he's trying to hug 'you' in an emotional embrace because he's feeling so stressed and you ground him and here's YouTwo, suddenly smiling up at him so coyly, putting a hand on his chest that starts trailing lower, lower, leaning to try and kiss him, and he's just like NO ABSOLUTELY NOT, WHERE IS MY BABY 😭 the DISGUST, the REPULSION, who is this PERVERT pretending to be his little one?

There are just all these little things he used to enjoy with you that he cant anymore that he misses SO much. He used to love to comb and do things with your hair and when you return from essentially living in the wilderness you just have it cut SO short and he kinda grieves not being able to do anything with your hair anymore (at least until it grows back, and maybe his new routine is washing your hair for you and massaging your scalp with hair regrowth treatments which he maybe concocted himself being a genius geneticist and all). You're extremely quiet now and when you speak to him it's always like you hesitate first, as if you're catering every word to please him to not get harmed. He used to take you on Spiderman missions and nowadays you're so ran down from your experience that you could use a few MONTHS of resting up before you feel like going back out into the fray again (IF your Papá let's you, which, he won't, not without him). He had new clothes for you that you don't fill out the same anymore because you've lost weight and muscle

But on the flip side. Maybe your experience was so traumatizing and unstable that you need someone showering you with love and support and affection now more than ever. You're afraid to sleep alone, you're scared going out in public where there's strangers or lots of people, you're scared of open areas, you're scared of reflective surfaces that show your reflection, like... Miguel NEEDS to make this up to you and if keeping you with him 24/7 and then some is the answer, he's all too happy to hover, and GOD FORBID if someone does something to you during this time where you're unstable and he's trying to fix things. It could be the smallest thing. You're walking through a hallway and someone runs by in a hurry and they accidentally knock you over and suddenly they're having a massive man lunge at them, knocking them over, barking at them how they need to watch what they're fucking doing, demanding they apologize to you and all but make them beg for your forgiveness

Nowadays, if someone enters Miguel's little office or monitor room or whatever the fuck, there's a chance he's still in the dark as always, but, now there's a chance he's in there sitting in a chair, watching his monitors and working as usual while you're wrapped up in a blanket tucked against his chest, his large body protecting you nice and cozy while you sleep because you finally crashed from the anxiety keeping you awake and being held like this helps fight off the nightmares

[hyperfixiation-station]

The Filler Fics Pt.1

Beach Day Pt.1- Travel

Part 2

TW: Canon divergence, military inaccuracies, mentions of injuries/hospitals Inspired by @shyravenns art Summary: This is the first of many sitcom-style filler fics. Yk, the ones where they go to the beach, or go to the store, etc, etc. I am open to suggestions, as I don't really watch sitcoms, so please comment or request or DM me ideas!! This one is, of course, a beach-day fic that I have spilt into 2 parts. this is the getting there portions, pt.2 will be the beach :) WC:1080

It had been a long few months. The threat of global annihilation, the hunt for Makarov, Soap getting shot, it was just a lot, and they all needed a break.

Price had watched Gaz and Ghost spend night after sleepless night at Soap’s bedside, refusing to do anything until the Scotsman woke up. And he had been right there with them, although Ghost wouldn’t talk to him, the Lt. still pissed that Price’s actions, or rather inactions, may have gotten Soap killed. Price couldn't blame him. It’s not like he hadn’t been fixated on that one moment, mentally berating himself for stopping Soap from killing Makarov in the first place. He would have gotten in a shit-load of trouble for it, but anything would have been better than…well, he didn’t even want to think it.

The team couldn’t take another loss so soon after Roach’s death. Price knew that. Knew that if Soap didn’t make it his team would fall apart. And it would be his fault. 

Thankfully, Soap was alright. He’d woken up a little disoriented, with no recollection of the week leading up to his…head wound. Other than some faint ringing in his ear and occasionally bouts of dizziness, he was alright, much to the relief of his squad members. However tensions were still running high. Just because the Scotsman was awake and talking didn’t mean the very real fear that his friends had felt over the past few weeks had vanished.  

There were nights Price found himself studying Soap, watching the rise and fall of his chest proving he was alive. He’d seen Ghost reach up from his bunk and grab the Scot’s wrist, checking for a pulse after waking from what Price assumed was a nightmare. Things got a little better once Soap didn’t have to wear gauze over the wound anymore, but the scar was still an ugly reminder of what had almost happened.  

Soap was constantly mother-henned now, not allowed to do training, having meals brought to him, never going anywhere by himself. It was starting to piss him off, and Price could see it. Tensions were running high, and it was only a matter of time before someone snapped. 

“Give the boys some time off, time away from the battlefield. Time to recuperate and settle back in. They’ll be okay.” Laswell told him at their bi-weekly meeting they hadn’t had in 3 months. Price booked 4 flights and a week-long stay at a beach-house off the Coast of California that same night.

However, the flight left in 5 hours and he still hadn’t told his men. He moves through the base, heading towards the rec room that he knew they hang out at, hoping they are all in one spot. 

Aaaaand bingo!

 Ghost is sprawled out on the couch, Soap sitting on the floor, leaning against his thigh, with Gaz in the armchair opposite, watching some stupid show on the little TV they have. Price can’t help but stare at the long, inch wide streak where Soap’s hair hadn’t quite grown back, a grim reminder of how close he came to losing one of his men. His eyes are drawn from Soap's skull by Gaz’s laughter, the man's head tilted back, shoulders shaking at something that was said on the T.V. 

The show cuts to commercial, and Price figures it’s as good a time as any to cut in. 

“Alright boys, pack your bags. We’re going stateside.” All three of them look up at Price in varying degrees of confusion, “Laswell decided after Soap's near-death experience we all needed a little R&R, so we’re heading to the beach.” 

“Ah’ll finally get tae see that ‘impeccable bronze’, eh Lt?” Soap nudges Ghost, a grin splitting his face.

“We’ll see Johnny.” 

“The beach, captain?” 

“Yes Gaz, the beach. You got complaints, go talk to Laswell.” 

“Hey, no complaints here sir! Just makin’ sure.”

“Good. Because we leave in an hour so you don’t have time to complain anyway.” 

“An hour??”

“No time f’r y’r beauty regime, Gaz.” 

“Ah shaddup, just cause you’re jel-”

“Boys! Get to going!” 

“Aye sir!” Price shakes his head as he watches them file out, Gaz and Ghost subconsciously sandwiching Soap in between them. The Scot shoves Gaz, his shoulders shaking as the shorter man lets out an angry squawk.  Things have been tense, sure, but he can’t help his smile as his boys walk off, alive and well. 

Ghost hates flying. Well, sort of. Military transport ain’t bad in his opinion, but when he has to fly commercial? With civilians? And screaming babies? He hates it. Hates it hates it hates it. 

He's dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a black surgical mask adorning his face. HE may have gotten comfortable with his team seeing his face, but the rest of the pubic had not lived through numerous near death experiences alongside him, and thus did not get that honor. Covid had at least helped with the stares, nowadays no one really batted an eyes at him, which did, surprisingly, ease his discomfort.

He shifts in line, sandwiched between Gaz and Soap as they wait to board. Soap is turned slightly, placing the scar on the side of his head directly in Ghost's line of sight. Gods he wishes he could look anywhere else. But its to no avail. No matter how many time Johnny had reassured him he was 'okay', Ghost couldn't get the image of his teammate, his brother-in-arms, his friend unconscious in his own blood, out of his head. He just couldn't.

Yeah, sure, he should have told the court-mandated therapist about that, but the she wouldn't have signed off on him going back to service and then where would he be? That right, no-

"Ghost!" He's snapped out of his reverie by Price, who is giving him the look. Whatever. Price should know by now that he wasn't gonna spill his guts to anyone, much less someone with the power to kick him off the team.

He hands his ticket to the attendant, mumbling a 'thank yo' before following along after Johnny, hands shoved in his pockets. Johnny takes the window seat, so he takes the aisle, condemning Gaz to the middle. Besides, he was the only one that would fit there anyways.

The plane takes off and, as if on cue, a baby starts screaming in the front. Ghost sighs and slouches in his seat. This was going to be a looooong flight.

Let me know what you think:))

[recreationalfanfics]

I love your writing, can you possibly do Yandere Loki and maybe Aphrodite with an Asexual Reader who’s not physically attracted by them, rather they tell them how they’re very ‘Ugly/Unattractive’ because of their personality (I’m Ace myself) how do you think they’ll react to Reader calling Thrud ‘Beautiful’ and the ‘True Maiden/Beauty in Heaven’ because Reader likes Thrud for her personality (I think it would be funny since I believe Loki knows he’s attractive, same for Aphrodite but to the extreme, and I definitely would find it hilarious for them to be knocked down a peg or two because Reader isn’t afraid to call them out on their bullshit and tell them they’re Ugly)

I ADORE Thrud, she’s so beautiful 😭 (She’s so pretty and cute, like HOW can anyone THINK she’s a monster??)

NO, YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS AND TY FOR THE THRUD REQUEST. LIKE, LOKI DEF KNOWS HE'S PRETTY BUT I KNOW WHERE MY LOYALTIES LIE AND HAS TO KNOW HIS PLACE WHEN IT COMES TO THRUD.

Yandere! Aphrodite + Yandere! Loki w an Ace! Darling who likes Thrud Better

Yandere! Aphrodite:

- As the Goddess of Love and Beauty, she is entitled to some degree to think that she's attractive so why wouldn't you fall for her?

- Despite how many times you try to tell her you're uncomfortable with it, she will try to seduce you but stops when you push her away or genuinely seem upset with her attempts.

- She either assumes that you're shy or that you are simply playing hard to get, which she enjoys for a while. You know Kokomi Teruhashi from Saiki K who simply can not accept the fact Saiki isn't interested in her? Literally how she acts.

- When you try to tell you aren't attracted to her, she doesn't really listen which finally causes you to snap and tell her that she's ugly. She laughs in your face and coos about how her darling has such an odd sense of humor.

- "No, I'm not joking! You may be pretty on the outside but I could never love anyone whose as ugly as you. Especially someone who can't respect my boundaries and choices!"

- And she is shocked for a bit...but then she is PISSED. YOU UNGRATEFUL WHELP, ARE YOU NOT AWARE OF HOW MANY MORTALS AND GODS WOULD LOVE TO BE IN YOUR SHOES!? TO BE ADORED BY HER THE WAY SHE ADORES YOU!

- She gets angry and yells at you. You knew she wouldn't be happy to hear it and her lashing out at you only proved your point about how truly ugly she was. You backed away from her as she tried to walk towards you, trying to grab you, but she was stopped by someone who stood between you two.

- "Hey! Leave them alone."

- "YOU FOOLISH VALKYRIE, YOU DARE STAND AGAINST A GODDESS!?"

- "If she's taking out her anger on a mortal she's been HARASSING since Ragnarok started, then yes!"

- She glares from Thrud, to you, to Thrud again. Then she turns around and walks off, trying to pick up the dignity she had as a Goddess after being brutally rejected by you. She sulks and rages and mopes for a few days, after all, HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK SHE WAS UGLY!?

- When she's finally in her right state of mind, she tries to approach you again. Maybe she can apologize and change your mind about her! After all, she will admit that looking back she has been a bit touchy but she's so in love with you! Maybe if you saw that then you'd accept her. Oh, and there you are- Wait, why are you with Thrud??

- It turns out that while she was in heartbreak, you and the most muscular Valkyrie sister had grown quite close. Thrud protecting you from other God's, letting you sit on her shoulder and laughing as you talked about how much taller you felt. You looked so happy around her, why didn't you look that happy with Aphrodite!?

- Then you called her the True Beauty of Heaven and Aphrodite is once again sent into an outrage.

- HER? A BEAUTY? MEANWHILE, APHRODITE WAS UGLY!? THAT DIDN'T MAKE SENSE, (Y/N)!? HOW COULD YOU BE SO CRUEL TO HER!?

- From here, she honestly will do anything to keep you away from Thrud. She'll try to act nicer to you but she doesn't have the patience to keep it up for long, maybe she'll stage a little accident where Thrud can't save you but she can, or maybe...she'll just take you away♡

- It's your own fault for this, you know! She tried to love you gently but you simply wanted to be ungrateful.

Yandere! Loki:

- This man knows he's drop dead gorgeous and while it isn't the SOLE reason why he acts like a horrible God, he still thinks that because of his looks and "cute" antics that you'd at least fall for him.

- He is a bit more respectful of your boundaries than Aphrodite is...like, when it comes to seduction and stuff, he wouldn't really do much of that. I'll give him that much but that doesn't mean he doesn't make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

- You can feel his eyes burning into you, he doesn't really care enough to hide his prescence and he thinks its cute the way you glare at him and try to move away from him, as if he isn't gonna follow you♡

- He knows how you feel about him already. You've even called him Ugly or Unattractive for his personality before and his response is usually just him chuckling and telling you why you expected any different, after all, he is the God of Deciet and Mischief♡

- Lately, he hasn't seen you around as often and it's honestly been affecting his mood. He's more irritable and he's seething when he tries to look for you and you're not as your usual spots. He even broke into your room, expecting to scare you and catch you off gaurd.

- Only to see that a lot of your possessions where gone, which confused and frustrated him even more. Then he hears some other gods talking about you and how you were now living with one of the Valkyries, to which Loki grabbed them and threatened to kill them himself if they didn't tell him everything.

- You changed sides...You couldn't stand him so much that you changed sides and were now roommates with one of the Valkyries, he wasn't sure how he felt. Of course he was angry but he also couldn't really blame you. That didn't mean he had to like it, of course.

- Not only that but it was Thrud who had let you stay with her, noticing how uneasy and paranoid you were because of Loki and vowing to protect you from him. Yeah, maybe he liked to make you miserable and isolated and by his side but he highly doubted you needed protection from him.

- Although protection was such a laughable word considering the fact that despite Thrud's muscular and giant build, he was more than confident all it would take was a simple flick of his wrist to end her.

- So he goes over to the Human's side to grab you and drag you back to him, everyone avoiding him as he walked to the Valkyrie's quarters with a dark and heavy aura that radiated with anger and bloodlust.

- He didn't have to walk too far since he heard you in the garden...talking with Thrud. He stormed over to you, yet he stopped in his tracks when he heard what you said to her.

- "Thrud, you truly are the most beautiful person in heaven." You sighed, making Thrud flustered but she smiled and shyly thanked you for the compliment.

- He...he feels something weird. It's in his chest. It feels like an ache of some sort? The word echoes in his mind as he clenches his chest and stares at the ground. He already knew he was attractive, even when you did call him ugly, and it didn't bother him. So why...Why does that hurt so much now? Beautiful. Why does he feel cold when he sees how joyful Thrud looks when you tell her that.

- That moment of sorrow passed by quickly and he's already enraged but he just walks over and hugs you from behind. Thrud gets up to try and hurt him but he just puts a blade on your neck and is all: "Thrud! What an unpleasant surprise! I'm sorry but we really must be going now! C'mon, (Y/n)!~ I've missed you terribly!" and Thrud is helpless because she doesn't know if he'll actually hurt you but when she tries to follow after, you just give her a sad smile of defeat...which breaks her heart.

- When he drags you back, he throws you roughly against the wall and pins you to it, using one arm to cage you and the other to roughly seize your chin. He looks at you, nothing short of furious but seeing how terrified you are of him at that moment, it makes him smile. So, he gently asks in a soft tone that lacked affection and tenderness, "Tell me I'm beautiful, (Y/n)."

- "...You're beautiful." You answer him, your eyes filled with terror. The smile on his face grows at your words, even if he forced you to say them, and he just pinches your cheek lovingly: "Oh, you're too cute to stay mad at~ Lucky you."

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

POLL TAG- FIVE FAVORITE CHARACTERS

tagged by @wen-kexing-apologist.

Challenge: make a poll with five of your all time favorite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite.

I am choosing to limit myself to BL characters because otherwise we'd have a Will Graham (an unhinged FBI profiler in Hannibal) vs Yu Ji Ho (the boundary-respecting pharmacist single dad in One Spring Night) vs Bart (the Universe-appointed holistic assassin in Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency) vs Benjamin Sisko (the legendary single dad and captain of the space station in Star Trek Deep Space Nine) type of situation going on.

The Spiel - IN DEFENSE OF MY FAVES

Nozue (Old Fashion Cupcake)

Everyone's favorite boss with a heart of gold, this 39yo repressed hottie could flirt like a pro. My favorite thing about him is that he experienced utterly transformative character growth without having to experience severe pain (a breakup, a loved one's death, job loss, rejection, etc). He just looked at where he was standing and... stepped left.

Kakeru (I Cannot Reach You)

My boy learned his childhood bestie had a crush on him and did not flee in terror. Instead he faced it and asked for patience and examined his feelings and treated the potential change in their relationship as seriously as it deserved to be treated because the request came from someone he loved. Clearly, this is a boy who knows how to spell R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Wei Qian (Unknown)

He stepped up and raised his younger sibling when their druggie mother died, then added an adoptee into the mix. And he cared for them so profoundly that they had relatively normal childhoods despite being orphans. Yet this softie was tough enough to be a gang enforcer, and then smart enough to get a college degree, and then competent enough to co-create a successful startup. Like what kind of super hero bullshit is he on?

Karan (Cherry Magic, Thailand)

A competent and talented employee, and he's a total simp who looks great in or out of a suit? Sign me up for his tender loving care, y'all. I literally melted into a puddle of goo every time we saw a glimpse of his very earnest yet sweet fantasies. He just wants to take care of his boo!

Iwanaga (Love Is Better The Second Time Around)

I confess he's here mostly because he's eye candy. (Well that and recency bias, because if we're really talking about my favorite eye candy, it'd be Porsche from Kinnporsche without a second's hesitation.) But roll with me here, please? This man can fuck! And fuck so well he pissed off the love of his life! And all the men in town are dropping for him like flies. They get one hint of a taste of his juice and they're down bad! They're hooked. They're his. He is legendary. He is epic. He knows how to work his angles and his puppy dog eyes! And he's also talented and wealthy and considerate to boot.

***

Most of my mutuals have probably played already, but if you care to go again or want an excuse to play by different rules, please consider yourself tagged. Also I'm tagging some of you just in case you haven't done it yet because tbh I haven't been paying that close of attention to my dash this week: @absolutebl, @syrinth, @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you, @lurkingshan, @bengiyo, @chickenstrangers, @thequeenofsastiel, @tiggymalvern, @spicyvampire, @my-rose-tinted-glasses, @wanderlust-in-my-soul, @twig-tea, @telomeke, @guzhu-furen, @gunsatthaphan, @lymeandcoconut, @itwoodbeprefect, @shortpplfedup

[tyrantisterror]

What's the worst legacy sequel you've ever seen? What, in your opinion, separates a good legacy sequel from a bad legacy sequel and what's the worst thing you think a legacy sequel can do?

The worst that I've seen is probably Rise of Skywalker. It's close competition, though - both Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom and Jurassic World: Dominion have moments that are significantly more stupid than anything in Rise of Sky Walker, but I also think both have a bit more creative effort put into them - Fallen Kingdom has that third act where it basically becomes a Resident Evil adaptation except with a murder-saurus in place of the Tyrant, and Dominion has the whole locust plotline which, while terrible, is at least an unexpected direction for a Jurassic Park sequel to go into that tries to figure out something ELSE you could do with the genetic engineering premise of the franchise beyond just making dinosaurs. Like, all three Jurassic World movies have big problems and they get progressively dumber with each installment, but they're also all ambitious to some degree that I still feel respect for, even if they never really actually reach those lofty aspirations.

Rise of Skywalker, on the other hand, has no ambitions at all. It has nothing it wants to say, no unique twists to pull, no real identity of its own. It's a potroast made of leftovers from better movies, a resuscitated corpse of something much more interesting, patched together like a Frankenstein's monster and abandoned to a cruel world just as callously.

It has no desire to do anything new, merely a checklist of Things You've Seen Before That the Focus Groups Say You'd Probably Like to See Again. Any character that can be slipped into an arc that was done in a previous Star Wars film is slipped into one no matter how little sense it makes for them, and any character who can't is either forced to tread water with nothing to do (hi Finn!) or just quietly shoved off to the side early on and forgotten about (hi Rose!).

Any story beats that weren't in the original films are simply grabbed from a box that reads "time tested cliches to keep your script moving with minimal effort." Make the plot a treasure hunt so we can just race from scene to scene with the flimsiest justification possible and try and trick the audience into thinking something is actually happening! What's that, audience interest is flagging? Quick, throw in a cameo of someone from an older movie! What's that, they're bored again? Pretend to kill one of the old characters, but make sure to reveal they actually lived in no more than two scenes down the line, or else we might piss off the fanboys! Hey, let's look at the Cinema Sins videos for the original movies and see if there's some gripes we can "fix" with this one for added fan cred! Can't disappoint our audience!

It's the story-telling equivalent of smothering something in salt to cover up the funky taste of the close-to-the-expiration-date ingredients.

As for what makes a good vs. a bad legacy sequel... ok, so, let's define legacy sequel first. A legacy sequel is a film or TV show that is a sequel to a popular film or TV series that ended a good many years ago, which brings back some of the old cast of characters (generally played by the same, and thus much older, actors that played them in the past) along with adding a new cast of characters played by younger actors. It tries to replicate the tone of the original series despite being made in a different era and probably by different writers and directors, and generally aims to give you that Ratatouille style moment of nostalgia.

I think most Legacy sequels are kind of doomed to be mediocre at best on the outset because the goal of them from the moment of conception is so mercenary - they're not created to Tell A Good Story, they're created to Keep Consumers Invested in a Lucrative Content Franchise. They have the artistic aspirations of a McDonald's Hamburger - "This tastes exactly like what you had as a kid, and doesn't that make you crave more of it?"

I don't think that art made for mercenary reasons is doomed to be bad, mind you - I mean, almost ALL movies and television were made to make money first and foremost. Even the classic High Art movies I love like Seven Samurai and The Third Man were made for mercenary reasons at the end of the line - it didn't stop the people who were working on them from having artistic goals, but it's a fact nonetheless.

But Legacy Sequels just have an uphill battle in the "artistic aspirations" department, because most people with artistic aspirations don't want to recreate the feeling someone else inspired with their art - they want to put their own stamp on it, their own spin, their own voice. And that will often mean something VERY different will be made, something that might piss of the fans - something that doesn't taste like the McDonald's hamburger you had as a kid, even though it came in the same wrapper.

The worst parts of Legacy Sequels are the only parts that Rise of Skywalker is made of - the parts where the story is clearly only trying to show you things you know, only trying to reheat the leftovers so they taste like your memories, only trying to trick the nostalgia center of your brain that you're four years old again eating at McDonald's. "Here's the thing you know! Here's the running gag you liked, repeated five more times by actors with far less enthusiasm! Here's the same basic premise as the first film, but the stakes have been inflated to make it feel like a progression! Cameos! Catch phrases! Eat your hamburger, you consumer pig!"

The rare good legacy sequels don't really TRY to be legacy sequels. They're just... sequels. Another story in the same world as the first, bringing back the characters who actually have interesting arcs left in them, creating new characters with their own shit going on who have good chemistry with the pre-established characters and setting, expanding on themes from the original and exploring parts of the setting that hadn't been explored yet, and all in all telling their own story that's related to the first one's but still manages to be its own distinct thing.

There are not many good legacy sequels, because a good legacy sequel is different than the McDonald's hamburger you ate when you were four, and might make less money than desired because of it.

[that-one-enby-ranger]

Time to celebrate Freddie by yapping about him. Fuck this going to take a long time.

Alright, first off, amazing fucking singer, I have not heard a person who has a more amazing voice then Freddie fucking Mercury. He was the best at singing, he could play piano, he could play a bit of guitar. He wrote amazing songs a lot of which became massive hits like Bohemian Rhapsody, Save Me, Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, Somebody to Love, Killer Queen, Crazy Little Thing Called Love and many other ones that I will cry if I hear them start playing in public. And speaking of Crazy Little Thing Called Love, he wrote that in ten minutes in the fucking bathtub, AND I'M PISSED OFF THAT THAT SCENE DIDN'T GET INTO THE MOVIE.

And performing live he was the best. I normally can't sit down and focus on watching one thing for a long time, I usually have to be on my phone at the same time, but when I'm watching Queen concerts I can watch the full thing without needing to look at my phone and without getting distracted because it's just so fucking beautiful. The only times I would want to go on my phone while watching them is to yap about how amazing it is on Tumblr. He was a fucking god when he performed live, and I could enjoy any song if he was singing it, because his voice was purely majestic and amazing. It has been said by multiple people that Queen stole the show, and that is definetely true. Freddie had such a big presence on stage when performed and he could get anyone to sing along with him which is proven by the ay-oh segments and how people sing and dance along to the songs.

And he has other talents outside of singing and piano and all that. He also earned a degree in graphic art and design and can draw really good. He designed the Queen logo himself and it is one of the prettiest logos I have seen, and it has meanings behind it. The fairies is to represent Freddie being a virgo, the lions are Roger and John being Leos and Brian is the crab for Cancer. There's the Q and the crown in the middle for Queen, the pheonix in the back pulling everything together, making it look cool and making them seem as strong as they are, and the crab is on fire to represent Brian being hot as hell (jk. although that should be true). The logo is so fucking pretty and detailed and I am proud to say I have a giant one of it hanging from my wall.

Freddie was really outgoing and exotic on stage and it was amazing, and even though he was still kind of like that offstage, it's known that he was also pretty shy and sweet and I fucking love that. He was unique and strong and headstrong and everything but he was also sweet and kind and shy and insercure about things and I love that because it shows that hes human which he is and sometimes people don't remember that because of how incredible on stage he was. It's something people forget about a lot of celebrities. I don't like that he was insecure about things that I honestly love about him, like his teeth because his smile is so pretty, but I love how it shows that he's just some normal guy with so much talent.

He was so sweet. I heard somewhere that apparently that sometimes he would see on the tv that people were struggling financially he would anounmosulflglyy send them $10'000 or something to help them out. I'm saying apparently because I haven't fact checked it or anything but I choose to believe that because it's really cute and sweet. There was also a story where he got introduced to someone who was with their mum and he was kind of shy and stuff and later he went to a vending machine thing where you can get trinkets and he got one that matches with another one. Then he went back to the mum and gave her one and asked her to give it to her daughter and that IS SO FUCKING CUTEEEE. The girl was so lucky to have a lucky trinket from Freddie Mercury and then had one that matches?! AAAAAA.

He could stand up for himself really well as well despite the fact that he was kind of shy. There was a time when Queen was recording in a recording studio and the Sex Pistols were recording near them. Sid Vicious randomly came into their recording studio and started being a dick and annoying them and all that shit and Freddie went up to him called him Simon Ferocious which Sid didn't like and then pushed him out the door which was amazing. There was another time with a fan when he was eating dinner and a fan came up to him with a piece of paper to sign and a pen and pretty much shoved in his face. Freddie told him to leave him alone because he was eating. When he finished he went up to the fans table and lectured him on not being rude and having manners and then signed the paper for him. Good on him. In my opinion that was the right thing to do. I know other celebrities have done this before but one time there was a fight happening at one of the concerts and he stopped the entire concert to break it up and told them they were ruining the show for everyone.

He is also one of the most determined, strong and headstrong people I have ever heard of as well. Towards the end when he was really sick he told the band to write songs for him to record because he just wanted to keep singing until he died. One of my favourite stories of him is when he was recording The Show Must Go On he was so sick he could barely stand and Brian didn't think he could do it. Freddie told Brian "I'll fucking do it darling," then he had some vodka and finished the song in one go. In my opinion that is one of the best performances he has done just fucking listen to it and you'll see. There's a reason that's one of my fav songs.

He also apparently never complained about being sick and eventually went off of his aids meds because he already knew he was going to die and just accepted it.

He loved cats as well and that's super sweet to me. He had ten cats, Tiffany, Delilah, Miko, Romeo, Tom, Jerry, Dorothy, Goliath, Lily and Oscar. Delilah was Freddie's favourite and he made a song for her. Tiffany's my favourite. He also dedicated his solo album "Mr Bad Guy" to all the cats and cat lovers of the world.

HE LOVES HIS HUSBAND AND IT FUCKING SHOWS. Freddie and Jim got each other rings and called each other husband even though they weren't legally married, and Jim said that one day they got into a fight because Freddie wasn't wearing his ring, and after that day Freddie always wore it and never took it off. One time Freddie was having a party and Jim had work the next day so he went to bed and he was almost asleep when he heard Freddie come in with a group of people he was showing around he heard Freddie say to them, "everyone be quiet, my husband's asleep." Jim also did some woodwork stuff and Freddie would ask Jim to make lots of things, and one time he asked him to make some wooden box thing and he gave it to Jim and in the box was some of the original lyrics from some songs.

He was a really good friend as well. He had some friends that would all call each other drag names and one of those friends was Elton John. Elton's drag name was Sharon and Freddie's was Melina. One time Elton saw a piece of artwork that he liked and after Freddie died he got a package that was the artwork and it was from Freddie. On it is said, "To Sharon from Melina" There might have been more on it but I can't remember. Elton cried.

I was reading and watching some things on Freddie yesterday and there were a lot of people who knew him or met him personally talking about him, and when asked what he was really like, they would all say he was a wonderful, kind, sweet guy.

I love him so fucking much you don't even understand he was one of the most gorgeous human beings to have ever existed. I know I have some irl friends on here but they prob won't read this so I'm just gonna say I love him more than some of my irl friends. Not saying more than the ones on here, but some of them.

Love ya Freddie ❤️

[thecircularsystem]

do you have anything you'd like to say particularly about the intersection of syscourse and self harm?

Ough. First off, TW clearly for discussions of SH.

I mean...

Syscourse is often a form of emotional self harm. That's obvious. I think what is less obvious is when people are actually using it for self harm.

For instance: Is me syscoursing right now self harm, or not?

What actually constitutes self harm?

Like, on one hand, I am deliberately sitting and answering asks, putting off work that I need to be doing. I am purposefully choosing to make tomorrow harder for me, because I'm not doing things I could be doing now. I am syscoursing while I could be doing dishes, or picking up laundry, or any number of needed things.

On the other, I'm syscoursing today because I have a goal for writing, and that's taking up my whole mind right now; it's easier for me to answer asks than it is to write full length stories, so I asked for asks that I knew would be quick and easy ~300 word bids for word count today. I'm having fun. And that's where this gets muddy.

I think, at the end of the day, my biggest stance on this is that it is absolutely nobody else's place to call someone out for self harming, in any degree. Sure, if you're worried about your friend, you could say, "Hey, I'm really worried about how you're interacting with XYZ right now, and I just want to make sure -- are you checking in with yourself? Are you hurting right now? Is there anything else you could be doing?"

The amount of times people came to me and said, "You're self-harming, stop it" (or worse yet, "you're encouraging self harm") because of how much I syscoursed... Each and every time, it made things worse. It did not make things better, ever. It made me more addicted.

That's because syscourse fulfills this psychological need for me, one that I've been working on filling in other ways. If I can fulfill my needs elsewhere, I don't need syscourse. I'm happy to report, I've gotten a lot better with this (though there are still days when I slip into it).

The thing about self harm is, it's a coping mechanism. It does something for the person doing it. And trying to stop cold turkey, or having everyone around you remind you constantly of How Bad It Is, does not actually do anything to provide tangible harm reduction strategies.

I don't really know if I'm the right one to provide those strategies. But I know I've had to make my own to handle syscourse.

Block liberally. If you participate in syscourse, you need to curate your spaces to hurt less. If that person always, always pisses you off, then block so you cannot see them, and preferably so they can't see you, hopefully. You don't need to play fair or give them a chance.

Consider private blogs. Does what you're saying NEED to be posted online, forever, for everyone to see? Private blogs give the same serotonin of "I am posted online, others will see it," without others... actually seeing it. You can also then look back on those posts when you feel particularly frustrated and let it out there, or even decide to go public later when you're in a better mindset.

Drafts. Make a draft, don't post immediately. This is harder said than done for me, especially in heated moments, but it's always better to come back to a post later with a cooler head. Moreover, I believe drafting something helps save it if OP ends up blocking you.

Check if you're blocked. You can actually do that, btw. Go to the replies function and do the drop down. If the blog name is completely greyed out, you're blocked. This... usually works, though sometimes I've had tumblr grey out a name that isn't actually blocked. It's a functional website. This helps a lot though, because nothing hurt more than writing up an impassioned response, only to get the "Oopsies doopsies something went wrong ):" banner pop up with all those words lost to the void.

Just a few tips there.

[alix-in-july]

if Richelle Mead went to a single Orthodox liturgy before writing Vampire Academy I will cook and eat an entire soup pot of borscht. She lives near Seattle. I used to live in Tacoma and there is a Russian cathedral in Seattle. How hard would it have been to visit a few times and talk to the priest? IMO it is extremely obvious that Richelle read a Wikipedia page on Orthodoxy, looked at a few pictures of Orthodox churches, and that's it. At best. Which is embarrassing because she has a degree in Comparative Religion.

Where's the incense? The chanting? The candle stands? All we get are people sitting in pews (most Russian churches don't even have pews!) and the priest rambling about St Vladimir. The priest doesn't even get a name until Book 3. If you're going to make this part of your book, at least put in some effort. I bet she thinks communion is a wafer.

Things get slightly better later in the series when Rose is in Russia. There's incense and chanting, at least. But the funeral scene is completely inaccurate (outdoors??? People shaking the priest's hand???). If there's no body, you would have a memorial service with koliva. It would certainly not be in someone's backyard. Then they go to Easter (Orthodox Christians usually call it Pascha) in the morning (it's a 3 hour midnight service...). Again there are pews. Diaspora churches might have pews, especially if the church building was bought from Catholics or Protestants, but in Russia there are No Pews In Church. A few benches for those who really need them and that's it. No one is wearing a headscarf and Rose wears pants. Unless it's a tourist attraction, a headscarf and skirt are pretty much required at churches in Russia. Russia is also a lot more formal when it comes to clothes and wearing jeans to a formal event would be seen as extremely disrespectful. Someone would have given her a skirt and scarf to borrow, not just a nicer shirt. And she talks about the services being in Russian. They should be in Old Church Slavonic and someone who is culturally Orthodox (Rose calls herself an Orthodox agnostic) would know this so IMO you can't just pass it off as Rose not knowing the difference.

ACTUALLY headscarves are a somewhat contentious topic in the Orthodox Church diaspora so Richelle could really have worked that in if she bothered to do the research. Have Rose be so pissed off about having to wear one. Have her tell Kirova that she shouldn't have to because the Orthodox women in Turkey don't and her dad is Turkish. Have Lissa bring an extra one because Rose keeps forgetting/refusing. Have Mia wear an obnoxiously ornate one that defeats the entire purpose.

Most of these things could have been easily looked up but the author clearly just decided that Orthodoxy is the same as western churches but with a different aesthetic. I'm astounded she managed to get the whole ghost conversation with the priest right. How do you manage to properly ELI5 the Orthodox Church's view on life after death and ghosts while getting everything else completely wrong? Amazing.

I don't think the church aspect really added anything to the plot and she could easily have made St Vladimir some kind of folk hero instead. Lissa is supposedly religious but doesn't actually follow any of the teachings/practices. (She has premarital sex in the church!!!) All the other main characters except Dimitri either don't mention religion or think it's stupid. So I don't really see the point of this unless it's to make things "more Slavic." In which case... I've been to Russia twice. Once to study abroad and once for a summer teaching program. Most people don't go to church. 12% of Russians attend church monthly and 6% weekly. The ones who attend weekly probably aren't getting it on in the church and go to confession, fast at least a little, etc. (How do you fast from animal products for Lent if you are a vampire?) None of which is mentioned. If you want to make Slavic culture an important part of your story, there is so much more than just Slavic names and church.

Also the Orthodox position on vampires is that they are corpses possessed by demons sooo...

Here's my go-to borscht recipe as a reward for putting up with my rant. My high school Russian teacher threw a party every year for her students and I would help her make the borscht. It's not as complicated as it looks! Feel free to sub vegetable stock to make it vegetarian. Some recipes add shredded cabbage.

https://natashaskitchen.com/classic-russian-borscht-recipe/

[egg-emperor]

I remembered when Cubot said "the heart wants what it wants" when talking about Eggman

Then I remembered how Eggman is constantly annoyed by Cubot and abusing him

I love the idea of Cubot being so thirsty for Eggman that even the doctor himself is like "okay shut up and relax a bit"

I guess Eggman is a little too good at programming his robots to worship him lol

Cubot having a thing for Eggman was legitimately made canon in TSR. Getting jealous seeing him hanging out with other robots and literally acting like a jealous gf/bf. Saying the heart wants what the heart wants. Deliberately fucking gay on purpose lol

And it's not an exaggeration, it existed in official media already because in the Colors manga, one of Cubot's modes or something (Idk I never saw a translation) made him kiss Eggman and he was pissed lol

So like fucking AWKWARD

It's all I can think about with this scene (except for all the times Eggman horribly abuses them that I made a montage of). Oh Sage honey you have no idea. But I mean Eggman clearly half-heartedly entertains it to please her to keep her sweet and loyal and is very obviously never going to see Orbot and Cubot as his actual sons so.

And I could be wrong but I think there actually was an incest joke in the manga page of Cubot kissing Eggman, Cubot said it was forbidden love because in that mode he saw Eggman as his brother/related in some way ? Idk again I never saw a translation but I recall someone saying that was happening. So guess it'd be on brand if Cubot wasn't fazed

Anyway I've thought about Orbot & Cubot x Eggman and my headcanon is that he programmed Cubot to be a little fruity so he'd admire and stay obedient to him no matter how much he abuses him. The same goes with Orbot but to a much smaller degree so he's not in love with him like Cubot but he's still more obedient than his predecessor SA-55

And that it's also so they'll engage easily when he asks him to help with intimate tasks involving him naked, like bringing him his clothes, giving a full body massage like this concept, or clearly having them both entertain his various kinks whenever it's not about who's engaging with him in the actions/scenarios and only for the satisfaction he gets out of it

Where it gets borderline inappropriate and he clearly gets perverted satisfaction out of getting Orbot and Cubot in borderline sexual situations for the control and amusement of how awkward and embarrassed Orbot can be being less enthused than Cubot, without really fully crossing the line into physical interaction. Unless he eventually wants a hands-on happy ending to his massages and orders them to put their hands there

But if Cubot starts getting too serious or romantic about it trying to actually kiss him and make moves on him when he doesn't ask for it, Eggman is like what the hell fuck off I don't want you to go that far. I can also imagine Cubot really wanting to watch or listen in when he knows Eggman is having some private fun with himself or someone else and he hates him snooping so Orbot has to pull him away from the scene XD

He programmed them to be obedient assistants in all areas after what happened with SA-55 but accidentally did it a little too well and now Cubot is too into his boss who actually can't stand him. But Eggman doesn't change it because it means he can control him better and abuse him as much as he wants without betrayal. I also like the idea that Cubot actually likes the way he hits, threatens, and yells at him at times because god me too. The heart wants what the heart wants fr 🥴

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: A dive bar in town PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw), Owen (@apaininyourneck), & Emilio (@mortemoppetere) SUMMARY: Wyatt confronts Owen in a bar about him snooping around the Grit Pit, and tries to get him to talk about what's going on. Owen refuses and it gets heated. Wyatt is removed from the bar after hurling death threats, and Emilio, who was quietly watching the whole thing go down, approaches the shifter with an offer. CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of emotional abuse

—

Being approached by someone he had pissed off at some point was by no means a new experience for Owen. Quite the opposite actually, it was more of a given by the time he’d spent just over a few months in this godforsaken town. People were easily insulted and a lot of them dumb enough to try and start shit with a 6 '3'’ hunter. Granted, a lot of them didn’t know just what sort of strength the lithe figure actually contained but most ended up finding out in some way or another. Or they got verbally torn to shreds, depending on the amount of frustrations Owen needed to vent on that particular day. Either way, there had been a commonality between all of them and that was enjoyment. It probably didn’t come as a surprise that these conflicts amused him, stoked the fire in him that tended to rub people the wrong way. 

What might have come as a surprise was just how little he was going to enjoy this particular confrontation, though. 

Maybe it was a good thing that Owen was ‘room starting to spin just a little bit’ drunk, or maybe that was the reason he hadn’t noticed Wyatt’s presence before it was too late. Fucking Wyatt. It was hard to really remember where things had been heading before shit blew up, somewhere weird definitely but… well, he was finding it hard to muster up any sort of emotion other than ‘pissy as all hell’ when dealing with the people who were part of the reason he was in this current mess. Unwitting participants or not, Owen was still perfectly torn between pure hatred and the reason he was filled with hatred - the fact that he’d been foolish enough to let himself care. No surprises on which emotion was easiest to put into words and actions. 

So, there was no room to run. Not that he wanted to run, Owen didn’t think of himself as someone who ran away from shit (god, did he want to run away from all of this) and maybe this confrontation would even be good. Not in any sane way, it would completely and utterly suck but that was good. His attempts to feel nothing towards the shifter that had accidentally witnessed more of Owen than any other living person had been pathetically useless. Getting yelled at might help. Even though he felt his whole body tense when Wyatt was actually looming over him - not that this tension was visible from the way Owen leaned back in the small booth, a lazy but mostly drunken grin greeting the other man. 

—

Being the one who got cast aside was a familiar role, though it usually involved a bit more fanfare. Until Xóchitl came along, the reaction had always been the same, too. Wyatt was angry for having been kicked to the curb like last week’s trash, and the dumper was pissed off at his anger. With Xó, Wyatt had done his best to not let the hurt transform him into a hateful, miserable thing, and it’d gone well, hadn’t it? In the weeks following her decision, his kindness and understanding had earned him her favor (maybe—hopefully) and she wanted to see him again. But such grace could not be extended to Owen, because Owen would never willingly admit that anything had been happening between them. So the anger was allowed free reign, the lamia falling back into old patterns that Owen himself had witnessed back in Boston, from the perspective of a friend. He knew what this kind of thing would do to Wyatt, and he’d done it anyway. Worst of all, now he was being an ass about it. It was expected to a degree, but still managed to sting. 

Hearing Felix’s recounting of a recent, bizarre interaction with the slayer in the alley by the Pit was like adding fuel to an already-burning fire: Owen had been looking for him? Hoping to talk to him? Why? It only managed to create a million more questions in the shifter’s mind, and he’d never been great at letting things remain unknown. That’s why, when he happened to spot the slayer in some dive bar in town, he didn’t retreat. He narrowed his eyes at the man, taking his time and keeping an eye on him, getting a drink before approaching the table Owen was sitting at. The smile he was greeted with made Wyatt’s skin prickle and start to feel warm, the anger getting confused with something else where it swirled in his gut and made his heart rate quicken. Still he kept his expression even, coming to a stop in front of the slayer and giving him a thorough once-over, like a butcher deciding which cut to make first in a carcass.

“Lurkin’ ‘round the Pit now, are we? That’s a pretty pathetic move, if you ask me. Ain’t you got any better ways to spend your time?” Wyatt took a sip of his drink, hoping that the liquor would steel his nerves, as he might not be able to mimic nonchalance for long.

—

For a while, things had mostly worked out in Owen’s favor. Not really, things had gone to shit plenty of times but he’d developed a knack for insisting, whichever way things ended up going, that it was the outcome he’d desired or planned for all along. Those had been simpler times and there was no pretending that he wanted any of this. Granted, this thing with him and Wyatt had always been doomed to end here - Rosel had just sped up the process. The cracks had already begun to form even before Owen’s sudden departure, the foundation of a decent friendship made weak once they’d inevitably fallen into bed together and then even flimsier once the domesticity had settled in. In a way, his bitch of an ex had also sped up the process of combustion by way of forcing this proximity with Wyatt, making it feel, for a moment, normal to share a space with someone who occasionally made you breakfast and moaned about the lack of gratitude for it. 

Probably not a good thing that Owen’s mind was drunkenly, and very unhelpfully, conjuring up further memories from the time spent at the inviting house. Even the knowledge that Wyatt was shacking it up with some undead scum of the earth wasn’t enough to keep other knowledge at bay, the kind that still lived in his skin and could remind him how it felt to be truly close to the man currently staring down at him with disdain. He was warm with it, both in the familiar way that had him wondering just how badly trying for a quick round somewhere secluded would go, as well as in the much more disturbing way of feeling comfort, or the ghost of it. The familiarity of a passing touch or knowing grin or for fuck’s sake, a scaled tail wrapped around his midsection for a night of sleep better than most others he could remember. 

So no, Owen hadn’t been expecting things to go his way after the mishap at The Grit Pit with the squirrely fighter. He’d definitely shoved it into some dark corner of his mind and hoped it wouldn’t come up again but that was also expecting too much from this fucked up hand he’d been dealt. How much of the pitiful display of lies and truth all garbled together had reached Wyatt? Had the fighter repeated it all, word for word, maybe added on a flourish of desperation for the dramatics of it all? Not that Owen cared except he fucking did. “Sure I do. And for the record, I wasn’t actually there for you. Your nervous friend just had no business knowing why I was really there.” 

It sounded entirely unconvincing, which was hilarious in its own way considering it really was the truth, and now he was simply unraveling (or trying to unravel) the shit lie made up to cover something that would cause plenty of trouble if it reached the wrong people. Somehow, Owen was honestly more comfortable with telling Wyatt he’d murdered a hunter in cold blood rather than have him think he’d been there to grovel. “So don’t worry about it, don’t have anything to say to you.” 

—

He knew the smart thing to do would be to turn around and walk away. He could finish his drink in peace and leave, and just hope that whatever was keeping Owen in this fucking town would be done soon, and the man would move on. The smart thing did not involve prodding him for more information to get answers he really shouldn’t care about, but the anger was winning out over reason. Owen had threatened Caleb (thankfully without knowing it was Caleb he was threatening) ((yet)), and that fact sat in the back of Wyatt’s brain like a bag of bricks ready to drag him to the bottom of the lake. This hunter was a danger to people he cared about, and he wanted to know why.

So instead of taking Owen at his word that they didn’t have anything to discuss, Wyatt decided that they did. “Seems you do,” he started, not sitting opposite Owen but instead deciding to continue standing, preferring having the height on the hunter for as long as he could. “You still ain’t told me why the fuck you’re here.” The question had been posed in private messages at least twice, and each time it had gone unanswered. If there was something that Wyatt could do to get him out of here (not a favor, of course), then he wanted to hear it.

—

Obviously there were things Wyatt should have been worried about, telling him otherwise was a stone cold lie, but the shifter only knew half of it - the part that involved a zombie or a mare or a vampire (Owen really fucking hoped it wasn’t a vampire) that had managed to earn a spot in Wyatt’s heart. Which in retrospect, clearly wasn’t that hard of a task if someone as prickly as Owen had somehow managed it and obviously, he was aware of the hypocrisy of judging the other man’s caring and blatantly ignoring it. No, Wyatt got to be blissfully unaware of the looming threat to his life, a threat kept at bay by so much spilled blood and humiliation. Wyatt could allow himself to stand there and demand answers as if he wasn’t inadvertently responsible for the carnage of these last few months. 

“Why should I? I don’t owe you shit,” Owen scoffed, neck craned to meet the full force of those angry, blue eyes. It was possible they contained something more than just anger but everything in his line of vision was slightly blurry and his chest burned with the consequences of caring and the last time he’d seen Wyatt, he’d had the luxury of being able to reach out and touch which was muddling most of his coherent thoughts (there weren’t too many to begin with at this point). “If you’re worried then that’s your fucking fault for messing around with some nasty, undead fucker. They’ll get theirs eventually and it will have nothing to do with why I’m here, that part will just be for the fun of it.” 

Owen had long since decided that anyone Rosel had made him play lapdog for would meet their gruesome end when the time was right but whoever Wyatt thought he was here protecting? Well, that one would be personal. Or more personal. Far from fair but Owen had never claimed to not be a petty son of a bitch. 

“But definitely do try to talk me out of it, that sounds hilarious.” Green eyes searched blue for any sign that the (mostly) calm facade was about to crack - speaking of fair, it only seemed right that Wyatt lose his shit at least once considering the drunken hissy fit Owen had thrown over Rosel’s return. The one where Wyatt had been a calm beacon of understanding followed by the perfect way to vent frustrations and yeah, Owen really needed this to turn into an altercation soon before his treacherous mind was allowed further reminiscing. 

—

Still no answer, and he was threatening them again. It didn’t matter that Owen didn’t know exactly who he was promising to kill, because Wyatt knew he meant it. Whatever business had him back in Wicked’s Rest and acting against his own will had him angry enough to lash out at anyone he perceived as responsible, and there was no doubt in Wyatt’s mind that Owen would first turn on the undead he’d been forced to protect out of spite. When and where that would happen Wyatt couldn’t even begin to guess, but he didn’t have the luxury of waiting around to find out. Not when he knew Caleb’s name would be on that list, and god love him, he also knew that Caleb wasn’t exactly prepared to defend himself from a slayer. At least not in a way that wouldn’t end with him turning feral and dangerous to everyone. 

The anger flared, intermixed with fear, and it made Wyatt feel sick. He wanted to yell at Owen, wanted to grab him by his stupid neck and slam his head into the table, wanted to tell him he was a mistake. He wanted to kill him, truthfully, even being aware of the agony that would follow. All sorts of violent scenes ran through his mind and the shifter was fighting tooth and nail to not act on them, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight as his teeth ground together. He was quiet, listening to those venomous words spill from lips he’d once been able to draw much more pleasant sounds from. He needed to be smart about this. For once in his fucking life, he needed to not act on his instinct to hurt and maim, and instead consider the option that had the best chance of getting him somewhere. 

He drew in a long, slow breath, hoping that it would calm him (it didn’t). Instead of throwing a punch like he really wanted to, Wyatt sank into a squat, one arm propped on the edge of the table, the other resting on his thigh. “I don’t think you really wanna do that to me,” he tried, his voice quiet. It wasn’t even, though — despite his best efforts to mask it, the shifter still pretty much wore his heart on his sleeve. His anger was palpable, but so was the fear and pain that convinced him to try and be civil. “I think that whatever’s got your hands tied behind your back is makin’ you meaner ‘n usual. And I think you’re tryin’ to take it out on me, ‘cuz some part’ah you still cares.” His eyes narrowed. “Now I could and I should take your head clean off for threatenin’ to kill someone I care about. I can take care’ah myself, but I know people that can’t, and I ain’t about to just sit back n’ let ‘em fend for themselves. But I’m also tryin’ to be less impulsive these days, so why don’t you just go ahead n’ tell me… what’s goin’ on? And stop makin’ promises you ain’t never gonna keep.”

—

Silence dragged on and despite the haze of alcohol, Owen didn’t miss the telltale signs of frustration, a confirmation that he was finally getting under Wyatt’s skin, the visible tension in every muscle Owen was reluctantly familiar with. If it came to it, he’d probably even allow those clenched fists to get in a hit or two before reacting - granted, Owen didn’t like his odds against the real Wyatt but the full ten foot gator probably wouldn’t be called on inside a crowded bar. Probably. Owen found he didn’t much care either way, the thought of sharp claws or teeth tearing into his flesh one that provided quite a neutral reaction, maybe even a hidden sense of calm. He wondered if Wyatt would regret the taste of his blood afterwards, seek comfort from the undead creature whose protection would be guaranteed with the single act of brutality. 

Owen doubted it would be regret that lasted too long, if his death (or murder) even managed to inspire any emotion at all. 

The taunting smile didn’t betray any of that, such an easy expression to maintain after years of practice, but it faltered when Wyatt willingly gave up the position of physically standing taller. It took a moment for the quiet words to really register, to break through the expected reactions Owen had been preparing for - anger or avoidance. This was neither, this was… it was tempting is what it was. Owen had been pulled taut for over a year now, no reprieve to be found in the usual ways or the unusual ways, no relying on the slivers of emotional connection that had gotten him into this fucked up mess in the first place. It was a soft offer, a genuine one to unload the horrors of this past year, maybe even accept a helping hand. 

If only there was a part of him left that believed such a kindness to actually be a viable option, instead of one that would inevitably make things worse or, and that part stung, simply a manipulation to ensure the safety of someone who mattered more than Owen. 

“Must have gotten knocked on the head a few times too often if this is what you see as someone caring.” Owen finally spoke, hoping the venom in his voice made up for the very obvious hesitation, the moment of weakness where he’d wanted nothing more than to give in to pretending someone cared and that it wouldn’t end up ruining him. He leaned in closer, practiced smug turn of the lips back in its place, even if it lacked all emotion. “That’s pretty fucked up, Barlow.”

Owen rose to his feet, wanted - no, needed - Wyatt out of that condescending crouch, needed to crush any and all misconceptions that a few soft spoken words in that ridiculous accent were enough to break him (they almost were - was there anything left to break?). “You don’t know shit about what I want or what I won’t do. You really think you know me?” His laugh was clipped, cold. “No wonder you’re going to end up alone, being this fucking delusional.” 

—

The patience that Wyatt had been clinging to was gone like a flash in the pan — igniting an inferno as it made a quick exit, stage left. Fine. If Owen wanted to be an insufferable shitstain, let him. If Owen craved Wyatt’s anger that badly, then who was he to deny him? He’d fucking drown him in it. 

There was nothing more to say as he stood, knowing that no words he could conjure would make a difference to the hunter. There was no reasoning with him. All attempts to appeal to his better nature were wasted, because he had no better fucking nature. He was a miserable, wretched thing, and it left Wyatt with one option: kill him before he figured out who the lamia was protecting. End this before it had a chance to get any worse, and spare whoever else in the process. Wyatt didn’t know (because Owen wouldn’t fucking tell him), and he didn’t care. Not anymore.

Only… he did. It was a convincing act, though, as he let his fist do the talking for the first time that night. “Go fuck yourself,” he snarled, wasting no time winding up the second punctuated statement of knuckles-to-face-justice. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly justice, but it sure felt good. 

There wasn’t time to deliver a third, violent point as his arm was caught by someone, and he felt more hands pulling on his jacket. Remembering the time he’d tried to attack Inge in public and the strangers around them had defended her, pinning him to the ground until the police arrived, his panic spiked. But of course instead of being reasonable and displaying submission to the people pulling him off of Owen, the fighter did what he did best: he made the situation worse. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” he bellowed, tears stinging his eyes. There were too many people dragging him toward the door for him to manage to stay on his feet enough to get away from them, so all he could do was yell and scream until his back met the cold, snowy pavement outside. 

It was actually infuriating to realize that Owen wasn’t getting tossed out alongside him, where he very much would have liked to finish the job. Blinking away the snow that tried to collect on his eyelashes as it fell from the sky, the shifter gave a grunt and rolled over onto his side, pushing himself upright. There’d be time. He didn’t know where Owen was staying these days, but he knew the kinds of places the slayer was liable to crop up. And when he found him again, he was going to rip his fucking throat out.

—

Mission accomplished with none of the satisfaction. Wyatt could throw a punch but in this form, only with the strength of a competent human, so it was far from the heaviest hit Owen had received, barely even stung through the blanket of booze and thrumming of whatever fucking emotion was currently wrestling for control. Physically, Owen was fine, this would only leave a bruise that would be gone by tomorrow evening. The metaphorical gut punch of the genuine murderous intent in Wyatt’s eyes, that one did leave a mark even if it had been the intended effect of Owen’s scathing remarks and threats. If a part of him had been clinging onto some pitiful hope that it wouldn’t work, well, that was a part he needed to work harder still to squash. 

The third wind up for a punch was foiled and Owen watched with detached interest as strangers started pulling Wyatt away. Remembered a time years and years ago when either of them had been the one to hold back the other, or sometimes done the opposite and provided backup for whatever brawl their big mouths had started. It was a curious thing, wondering what might have been if he hadn’t let Rosel run him out of the city. Of course, Owen was tired of ‘what if’ scenarios, too many of them to count but essentially all of them boiling down to the only constant in his life - the person that had irreparably sharpened his edges and shown him the consequences of caring. 

Wyatt’s face, contorted in rage and desperation as he screamed out his threats was a pretty good visual for the consequences of caring, too. 

As soon as Wyatt had been forced outside, the quiet only lasted for a second, business as usual resuming. People luckily had the common sense not to approach Owen once he’d sat back down, washing down the mouthful of blood with what remained of his drink. It was cold out, the shifter wouldn’t last long trying to wait him out so Owen probably wasn’t getting torn to shreds this evening. Rubbing at his face, at sore spots he would barely feel in the morning, Owen was quick to open his eyes again, banishing the image of absolute betrayal on Wyatt’s face. Maybe with a few more drinks, he’d be able to swing a couple of hours of dreamless sleep. He wouldn’t but it was all he could do to pretend it was an option as he waved for a refill. 

—

Restlessness was a familiar thing for Emilio. He’d found sitting still difficult since childhood, despite his mother’s attempts to correct it. He wasn’t good at waiting for the opportune moment to do something, wasn’t good at utilizing things only when it was most beneficial to do so. When he found something exploitable, he was impulsive. He moved right away. If he saw a weak spot in his opponent’s form, he didn’t wait for an opening — he aimed his next hit directly at the target. When he got information that could lead to a result he wanted, he rarely found himself capable of sitting on it long enough to make a plan. Instead, he acted immediately. He dug his fingernails in, he carved out a path for himself even when an easier one might have made itself available had he only waited. It wasn’t always effective. It wasn’t always smart. But it had gotten him this far.

Now, he just needed it to get him a little farther.

They’d learned plenty from Owen’s apartment. With the information he’d already had pooled together with what Eve had known and what he’d learned through his scooping, Emilio almost had the full story. All that was really left, all he really needed was a name. There was someone pulling Owen’s strings, someone else in charge of what he was up to. And, as much as Emilio would have loved to take Owen out, taking out whoever was really behind the behavior was the priority. After, if Owen was still a problem, he was one Emilio would be happy to solve. But killing him without taking care of the woman calling the shots would only fuck things up for everyone.

He could have waited things out. He could have given Eve a chance to do her digging, and she probably would have found something eventually. They might have had to break into Owen’s place again, might have needed to do some more surveillance, but Eve’s methods were the kind that usually got results sooner or later. If he waited, he’d probably know more soon. But Emilio was bad at waiting. Thirty-odd years later, and he’d still never quite mastered sitting still. 

But he had gotten a little better at blending in. Granted, it wasn’t hard when Owen was several drinks in and swaying in his seat, paying far more attention to another familiar face than Emilio hunched in a corner at the opposite end of the bar watching him. Wyatt took up all the other slayer’s attention, first in quiet conversation and then in angry blows. Emilio tensed as he watched it all go down, half-tempted to join in just to get a few shots in himself. But… Wyatt’s name was on that list, and Owen clearly knew him well enough to get pretty firmly under his skin. Emilio could punch Owen later. (He was planning on it.) Right now, a conversation might do him a little better.

He ducked out of the bar as everyone, including Owen, remained distracted with the aftermath of the fight. It wasn’t hard to find Wyatt sitting in the snow, looking angry and pathetic and probably exactly the same way Emilio looked half the damn time. The slayer pulled his jacket a little tighter around his midsection as he approached the lamia, standing back far enough so that Wyatt wouldn’t get the idea that he was offering to help him to his feet. (Emilio didn’t think either of them had any interest in that.) 

“That seemed to go well,” he greeted dryly, nodding his head slightly. “You at least get a few good ones in? Ought to try stabbing him next time. More fun that way.” He let the words hang, let Wyatt grow used to his presence like one might do a wild animal before continuing. “We should talk. I think we’ve got a couple common goals between us.”

—

The reaction to Emilio’s voice was made more pronounced by how raw he felt right now, his head snapping up to meet the slayer’s dark gaze, teeth clenched in a scowl and eyes wide. His heart hammered in his chest, blood roared past his ears, and he nearly flew at the other man out of instinct, ready to unleash this anger upon the first living thing stupid enough to engage with him. But there wasn’t a cage here, nor a jeering crowd. No cattle prods, no sickly stench of old blood and poorly sanitized floors where viscera had been smeared across it like a meaty fruit preserve on burnt toast. Something was ringing, drowning the other’s voice out with a high-pitched wine, and his vision blurred. 

“What?” Wyatt was panting like he’d just run a marathon, eyes squeezing shut. When he opened them again, the world was in focus, and it was quieter. Car tires hissed on the road as they drove through wet slush, headlight beams sweeping across the pair as the vehicle turned at the intersection. He could see Emilio’s face with more clarity for just long enough to settle his nerves, muscles relaxing as he sighed and heaved himself up onto his feet. “The hell you wanna talk about?” He almost made a snarky comment about Emilio’s impeccable timing, or perhaps his lack of assistance — but he wouldn’t have wanted the help, of course. If everyone had just let him, he’d have wanted to snuff Owen’s light out himself, to watch that smug smile fall slack as his eyes became unfocused and cloudy. (No, he didn’t.) ((Yes, he did.)) 

—

It was comforting, in a fucked up kind of way, to know that he wasn’t the only person who Owen had this kind of effect on. Emilio disliked the way the other slayer always seemed to know exactly what to say to get under his skin, hated knowing that Owen’s words still echoed in his head over a year after he’d first said them. Now, having spoken with Eve and understanding that it had been an incredibly intentional move on Owen’s part, he was even angrier. There were few things he hated more than being manipulated, and hadn’t Owen done exactly that? Emilio wanted to march back into the bar and punch the guy at the thought, and given the expression on Wyatt’s face, he was far from the only one. But there were other factors at play here. Emilio wasn’t good at sitting still, but he could control the direction in which he moved. 

He rolled his eyes as Wyatt’s anger turned towards him, though he wasn’t surprised by it. Wasn’t it the same thing he would have done, roles reversed? Even now, part of him wanted to snap back at the lamia just for getting short with him. He did his best to stop himself… at least for the moment. He could snipe at Wyatt later. (He probably would, knowing himself.) “The asshole in the bar whose face you just bruised your hand on,” he replied. “Bet it felt good. Bet I can give you something that feels better. If you like punching him, you’ll really like fucking him over.” Or… maybe he wouldn’t. Wyatt’s name was on that list, the one of people Owen… apparently gave some kind of a shit about. (But so was Emilio’s. He still couldn’t figure out why.) “Guessing you know something’s going on with him. I’m… one puzzle piece short of knowing what. Hoping you might be able to help.”

—

“I don’t wanna fuck him over,” Wyatt snapped, “I wanna fuckin’ kill him.” He heaved another sigh, trying to encourage himself to calm down rather than get more worked up — what good had charging into a non-work-related fight headfirst ever done him in the past? It’d gotten Felix in trouble with Leo, is what it’d done. And while there certainly wasn’t anything remotely near the same stakes in this situation, maybe Emilio knew something he didn’t. Obviously Emilio knew something he didn’t, but it kind of sounded like Wyatt might know something Emilio didn’t, from what he was saying. 

What was he saying?

“But yeah, no shit something’s goin’ on with him. Fucker won’t tell me what, I done asked about twenty times, now. Fuck.” Dusting snow off his ass, the shifter dragged his chin up again to squint at Emilio. The last time they’d crossed paths, Emilio had given him a hell of a whack in the head with a tree branch. Threatened to throw a knife in his ass. All because of that stupid, nosy girl — point was, they weren’t on the best of terms. Not the worst, either… even if the bar was practically on the floor. “What? What’s this puzzle, huh? What you need to know so damn bad?”

—

That was good news. Emilio’s expression shifted just a little, some of the tension melting away at the idea that he and Wyatt did have a common goal here. “Well,” he said slowly, “we can do that, too.” He ignored the strange churning in his gut at the idea, ignored the way his fingers itched. He wanted Owen dead, just like Wyatt did. If that meant letting Wyatt do the deed, that was okay. Wasn’t it? (Maybe that was the source of his sudden discomfort; maybe Emilio disliked the idea of not getting to kill Owen himself. He clung to the thought, declared it the truth in the privacy of his own mind for the audience of one uncertain hunter.)

He watched Wyatt warily, trying to decide if this was going to be a conversation or if the lamia was going to start throwing punches again. The former would be better for both of them, but he wasn’t sure he’d mind a fight, either. Wyatt seemed willing to talk, though, and Emilio shrugged at his response. No shit Owen wasn’t talking. Owen never talked, unless his dynamic with Wyatt had been… something wholly different than what Emilio knew of the other slayer. It was rare for any hunter to open up about their problems; he couldn’t imagine Owen partaking in it. But if Wyatt asked twenty times, didn’t that mean he’d expected an answer? Didn’t that mean Emilio was on the right track, asking him about all this? It was a good sign. “Someone’s pulling his strings,” he said, cutting right to the meat of things. “Holding a list of people he cares about over his head, using them to make him do what they want him to do. Shit he wouldn’t do on his own. Killing allies, protecting enemies. Shit like that.” He paused a moment. “Your names on the list.” He left out the fact that his was, too. “I figure maybe you know who might be calling the shots.”

—

The expression Wyatt wore was wholly unimpressed as Emilio spoke of some kind of puppet master. That couldn't be right, could it? Short of brainwashing (Owen was acting differently, sure, but not like he was brainwashed) what the hell was there for someone to hold over his head that he'd care enough about to do what someone else told him? It sounded like a load of crap. He was rolling his eyes in disbelief when Emilio said it was a list of people — yeah fuckin’ right. Owen didn't give a shit about anyone. “Sounds to me like you got bad info,” Wyatt griped, pointing a finger toward the interior of the bar he'd been so unceremoniously removed from. “That couyon in there don't give a flyin’ fuck ‘bout nobody but himself.” As he said it, his voice damn near cracked. The hurt came slamming into him full force all over again, and he tried to cover it by clearing his throat and straightening out his winter jacket, avoiding eye contact with Emilio in favor of glancing down the street in the direction of his parked car. “Look, I don't wanna fuckin' hang out in the cold no more, so if you got more to say, say it while we walk.” He stepped around Emilio, head down and shoulders hunched, begging his emotions to stop flaring up like that before something really embarrassing happened.

—

In a lot of ways, Emilio was inclined to agree with Wyatt. Seeing his own name on that list made it seem impossible that it was something being held over Owen’s head, because hadn’t Owen made it pretty goddamn obvious that he’d like to see Emilio in a shallow grave? Maybe the idea of someone else killing Emilio would be enough to make Owen hesitate — after all, Emilio had decided that he’d be a little bitter if he wasn’t the one to deliver the killing blow to Owen, and it’d make sense if that was a thing that went both ways — but not enough to turn him into this. Maybe the added weight of names like Wyatt’s (whose reaction definitely seemed to speak of something deeper than anything Emilio had ever had with Owen) and his family back home were enough to add to it. Emilio tried not to let himself think of the younger siblings whose names Eve had uncovered, tried not to let himself remember the way their ages so closely reflected the ages Flora and Jaime had been when they’d died. It was hard to think of anything else, so he focused on Wyatt. On the expression on his face, on the anger that could only really come from a betrayal from someone close. It was a good move, asking Wyatt for thoughts. It seemed like he might actually know something.

“That’s what I thought, too,” he admitted with a small shrug. “But shit’s been coming together, and I can’t think of any other reason for it. Unless you’ve got some idea of what might make him hang out with vampires, protect them.” If Wyatt knew Owen as well as he seemed to, he probably knew how he felt about the undead. Eve’s discovery of dead hunters was a big one, but Emilio got the feeling that Owen’s newfound chumminess with people he’d been out to kill before his disappearance would shock Wyatt a little more. Glancing to the car, Emilio felt some quiet semblance of relief. He didn’t want to be out in the cold either… but he didn’t like admitting things like that. “Sure,” he agreed, falling into step beside the lamia. “I don’t know much, but I know enough. Last time I saw him, it was at a bar full of vampires. He was being a prick — not something that’s much of a surprise, I’m sure — and let slip that I’m who I am. One of his buddies mentioned that she wouldn’t like it. So… I know there’s somebody pulling his strings. I just don’t know who. Figured…” He trailed off, glancing back to the bar. “You know him better than I do. He and I never talked much.”

—

Wyatt was silent as they walked to his car, mostly because he was trying to dissect what Emilio was telling him. It was a lot, and piecing it all out was proving to be too much of a task for him while he was this fuckin’ cold. So he just listened, unlocking all the car doors and silently circling around to the driver’s side to drop into the seat and turn the key in the ignition, swiping the temperature dial all the way up. He looked confused and annoyed when he finally turned his attention to Emilio again, staring at him blankly for a second before shaking his head and opening the center console between them, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He held the box out to Emilio for a beat, then shook one out for himself and pinched it between his lips. 

“He’s protectin’ vampires?” he spoke around the grit. It was somehow both a surprise and not — Wyatt had known that Owen’s information was being given to zombies, at least, as some sort of protection… but vampires? He’d always hated them the most. So much so that Wyatt had once found himself in a dodgy situation with a vampire, and rather than seeking kinship with a fellow supernatural being, he had wondered if Owen would smile when he heard Wyatt had killed a vampire. He’d wondered if the slayer would be proud of him. 

So no, it made no fucking sense that he’d be protecting them now. Not unless Emilio was right, which barely made any fucking more sense.

Lighting the cigarette, Wyatt set the lighter on the center console and cracked his window just enough to let the smoke escape the vehicle. “You said it’s a she? Whoever’s got him in a bind?” And she wanted him to protect the undead… He couldn’t begin to fathom why, but now that vampires were on the brain and Emilio was talking about a mystery woman, Wyatt felt his hand start to tremble. 

“She… there’s… one, I guess. That I can think of. She was… or is… a vampire.” And she’d arrived back in town just after Owen’s apartment had been overrun by the goo, and he’d moved in with Wyatt. “I practically begged the idiot to let me eat ‘er for ‘im, but he kept sayin’ no…” And then he vanished without a trace.

“... ah, fuck, I’m a god damned idiot.” Pressing a palm over his eyes, Wyatt let out a long, weary sigh, then took a drag of his grit. “Yeah. Yeah, I know your girl.” He nodded and then shook his head, disappointed in his own inability to ever connect a single fucking dot without having all the clues laid out for him like a toddler with a fit-the-shapes-in-the-holes puzzle box. “Name’s Rosel. Never knew her last name, sorry. She n’ Owen were sweet on each other, years ago, back when we was both livin’ in Boston. Ended bad. Obviously he never forgave her, n’ he’s been takin’ his anger out on vamps ever since.” Which meant the list of people Owen was protecting was real, and his name was really on it. 

He felt sick again. 

“I don’t really wanna kill him,” the lamia added in a small, defeated voice. “I’m pissed, n’ he’s an idiot, but… if it’s really… fuck. Fuckin’ god damnit.” 

—

Emilio settled into the car, refusing to let the relief show on his face as Wyatt blasted the heat. He took the offered cigarette, sliding it between his lips and pulling a lighter from his pocket as the lamia got settled. It was clear that he wasn’t the only one put off by Owen’s strange behavior, and that came as something of a relief. Though he’d never admit to it, he was well aware of his habit of letting his emotions get the better of him from time to time, and Owen had proven that he was very capable of manipulating this habit. Hadn’t Eve implied that that was why he’d shoved Emilio against that wall and ripped him open by flinging his own insecurities in his face? Wasn’t that what had landed him here to begin with? Even with Wyatt, the first time they’d met, Emilio had let what he felt get in the way of what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to be. If he couldn’t trust his own thoughts on Owen’s behavior, the fact that Wyatt seemed to share them was invaluable. 

“More than once now,” he confirmed, feeling a little more vindicated at the shock Wyatt expressed in response. Killing hunters was jarring, of course. Emilio knew Eve was put off by it, knew she was shocked by the revelation. And it wasn’t as if Emilio wasn’t shocked by that tidbit himself, but… at the same time, Emilio was certain Owen would kill him given half the chance. It seemed far less out of character than protecting a group of people he’d always been vocal about hating.

Wyatt might have been the only person out there who could clue Emilio in on the why. Owen had clearly taken measures to distance himself from everyone in his life, but the closeness he’d shared with those people before that decision could prove to be all they needed now. Whatever Wyatt and Owen had shared, it was clearly something deep enough to inspire a very personal anger in the lamia. Emilio watched the gears turning in his mind, nodding his head at the question. “That’s what the vampire at the bar said,” he confirmed. “Didn’t get to ask for details. Owen ran after him and killed him right after. First halfway normal thing he’s done since he got back to town, actually.” It was the why behind that particular slaying that brought up questions.

And Wyatt might just have the answer to that question. He seemed to be grappling with something, and Emilio leaned forward a little as he puzzled it out. There was a woman who had apparently been in Owen’s life just before his disappearance. He’d had some kind of problem with her, but hadn’t let Wyatt solve it with his teeth. The timing added up. 

It took a lot of self control not to react when Wyatt confirmed he knew who they were looking for. Part of Emilio wanted to clap, or pound a fist against the side of the car, or cheer, but he grounded himself with a neutral nod instead. “Never would have taken him for the type,” he commented, taking a long drag of the cigarette. Rosel. “Don’t need much more than that. I can find out the rest with a little digging.” And with Eve’s help, probably. Knowing Rosel’s name wouldn’t make her motivations fall into their laps; Eve’s skills on a computer were far more likely to be the thing that made that happen.

He wasn’t really expecting Wyatt to say anything else. When he did, Emilio felt a rush of… something wash over him. Maybe it was disappointment; maybe it was relief. He thought it was a little odd that he couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore. “Then you won’t kill him,” he replied. He wondered if he would, wondered if driving a knife through Owen’s heart would feel as good as shoving that stake into his side had or if it would only leave him feeling empty. (Wasn’t there only one way to find out? Shouldn’t he give it a try? The thought made his stomach churn; he didn’t know why.) “But she has to go. Lot of names on that list. Kids. Long as she’s around, they’re in trouble. If you still want to take a bite out of her… I wouldn’t say no to another person on my side here.” There was no way of knowing whether Owen would help them take out Rosel or whether they’d have to fight against him, too. And while Emilio was (perhaps foolishly) confident in his ability to take out both on his own, it’d be a hell of a lot easier with someone like Wyatt on his side. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do here. But this is what I’m doing. You can help if you want to.”

—

Maybe it was foolish to let sentiment get in the way of reason. Well, was it reason? All Wyatt had known up to this point was that Owen seemed to want nothing to do with him anymore, and that he’d been told by someone to make himself available to play bodyguard for Caleb. But that someone was Rosel, which he should have figured out months ago, and the reason was blackmail, and it seemed to be any undead that the woman deemed valuable. That wasn’t Owen’s fault, was it? His attitude was his own fucking fault, but feeling like he didn’t have a choice…? Wyatt was reminded of that night in the ring with Samir. He’d begged his handler to pit him against someone else and his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t say no. (He could have, but it would have cost him something he couldn’t quantify, and he was too much of a coward to face that unknown.) Really, Owen’s situation here was less his fault in some ways (he was trying to protect people he cared about, and wasn’t it nobler to sacrifice his own happiness and safety for their sake? Though it just meant different people were dying—) and more his fault in others. Wyatt had offered to help him kill Rosel more than once, and the slayer had let his pride get in the way of accepting. Now look where they were! This could have been dealt with a long time ago, but no! Of course it fucking wasn’t! The anger was building in his chest, and he couldn’t rightly decide if he was more pissed at Rosel or Owen. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want to kill Owen, but he couldn’t be certain about how he’d feel in the moment. Part of him worried that if Owen had the chance to hurl one more insult at him, he’d fucking snap. And if he was there with Emilio… there wasn’t going to be anyone to hold him back. It didn’t matter that Owen was doing it to protect him. He didn’t have to be such a cunt about it.

Killing Rosel, though, that much he could agree to without any weight on his conscience. “Sure,” he muttered, sucking on the cigarette like his life depended on it. “Find ‘er, show me where to go, n’ I’ll make sure she don’t fuckin’ get back up again.” He thought about Owen sitting in that bar, alone and shiftfaced, and he wanted to march back inside and grab him by the shoulders and shake him. This ain’t how you protect people, he wanted to shout at him. Stupid idiot.  Stupid fucking idiot. 

Flicking the half-finished cigarette out the window, Wyatt rolled it back up and gripped the steering wheel tightly, leaning his head forward onto the backs of his hands. He wanted to rip the mechanism from the dashboard, wanted to shred the seats and kick out the windshield. He also wanted to cry, and he didn’t need an audience for that. “We done here, compadre?”

—

Wyatt was clearly having his own kind of crisis, and Emilio tried not to let himself focus on it. It was easier for him to think of Owen exclusively as he had been lately, as he had been in that empty apartment when he’d shoved Emilio against the wall and dissected every thought he’d ever berated himself with to voice them aloud. He didn’t want to think of the circumstances that might have encouraged Wyatt to offer to kill Rosel on Owen’s behalf, didn’t want to think about the conflicted expression on the lamia’s face or the fact that the list of names being used to hold Owen in line included his own. He wanted things to be simple, because they used to be. Both with Owen and in general. He missed the time when Owen was just a guy he fucked around with every now and then, missed the time when killing the undead was a thing he didn’t have to think about. He missed the certainty he used to carry with him. He couldn’t make slaying simple again, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t make morality an easy thing to tackle, couldn’t make himself forget the complicated churning of emotions that had lived in his gut since the day Flora was born or the way they’d outlived her just as he had. Life couldn’t be black and white, so he needed things with Owen to be. He needed this situation to be easy so that something was. Focusing on Wyatt’s reaction, on the obvious turmoil surrounding him, would make that impossible. So Emilio, like the coward he always had been, looked away. He focused on the glass of the window and the way it fogged with his breath, focused on the cigarette between his fingers and the way it felt just a little different than his usual brand. If he could make things simple, he would be fine. If he could make it so he didn’t have to think, this whole thing would be easier. He wanted, so badly, for it to be easier.

“Don’t think I’m just sending you off on your own,” he huffed, taking another drag of the cigarette. “I’m going to be there, too. Might be me that takes her out, might be you. Important thing is that she’s dust when this is over.” He was as involved as Wyatt was, though he had no intention of sharing that fact. His name on Owen’s list still wasn’t a thing that made any kind of sense to him. He’d rather forget about it entirely, rather avoid publicizing it even if Wyatt knowing might benefit them all in the long run. Emilio was nothing if not stubborn, after all.

Now that he had the information he needed, the interior of the car felt stifling. Wyatt’s conflict was still there on full display, still making things more complicated than Emilio wanted them to be, still humanizing Owen in a way Emilio hadn’t allowed in months now. When he was alone, it was simple to think of Owen as a monster. When he was with someone like Wyatt or Eve, it got harder. He reached for the door handle with a nod, relieved at the prospect of being released from the complexities of the situation, even if he knew it was only temporary. “We’re done,” he agreed, “for now. I’ll know more soon. When I do, I’ll give you a call.” With one last healthy drag of the cigarette, he opened the car door and tossed it on the cement before stepping out into the cold. Somehow, it was still preferable to the inside of the vehicle with the complicated conflict of a man he didn’t want to think of as having any qualities worth saving. Glancing back to Wyatt, he nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” And then, with little fanfare, he was gone. He had a lot to look into.

[sickofthistoxicshit]

Lol.. first they promote the hell out of things only to cut it and then they go and delete critical comments on Insta... nicely done ABC.

Guess someone had to do overtime to delete over 500 comments on the Oliver reel. First I checked it was over 700, then suddenly you couldn't click on the answers anymore and now there are about 240 comments left.

Only a few about the cut karaoke. A lot where about how they bait and keep the transphobe around. All those seem to be gone now.

I have a bad feeling about this.

LOL yeah, PR team made a big boo-boo 😂

Not the first time, mind you, Fox used to make the same mistakes I wonder if these are the same ppl.

Also they are not responsible for the cuts, they work with what they get from the director and producer along with showrunner's descision.

Considering Oliver was talking about his favorite parts being filmed at the bachelor party and how much fun they had and how much they drank just to get through that karaoke scene, I'm guessing all cuts were made last minute and the responsibility is less on the PR ppl and more on the decision makers who has been known to be pathological liars over the years.

Moderation in the comments of a tv show is good to a degree imo, I've seen many pages on IG of big soccer teams and tv shows where the comments aren't moderated and it all borders on harassment and negative vibes between the fans themselves and the actors see it more than the decision makers anyway and the ppl talk about why they take a step back from social media.

Do I want the Marisol actress on the show? absolutely not, and that was before I found out about her bad joke on ig. - If you're a public figure and want to get work (in the US at least, where I come from if they fired every idiot who opens their mouth out of turn everybody would be out of a job) you keep your mouth shut and keep your account clean, she only has herself to blame for the hate she gets, especially considering that she didn't even apologize.

But sadly, she is here, crossing my fingers she won't be for long, not only because she's is a bad person, but also because her character is so lukewarm and trivial it's bordering on the absurd.

I am sad for Ryan and Oliver because they seemed so excited about these scenes in the bachelor party and the put in a LOT of effort into it.

BUT if that means the episode of Madney wedding focuses on Madney and nothing else, I am more than okay with that.

That is why you make the bachelor party in a separate episode, or like in CF in Mouch's party, you see them in the elevator dreading what may come, the get to the door figuring out that they've been played and that it is going to be a kick-ass party - the door closes- and opens up again in the morning and they all step exhausted and hungover into the elevator where it's clear the party was epic!

In 10 episodes season, you need to plan out, in advance, your time and scenes carefully, clearly it doesn't happen on 911,

My biggest fear is that from the hour and 15 minutes that were cut into 43 minutes, that the episode would feel rushed and not have emotional impact a Madney wedding should induce and maybe it would have been better if they cut guest stars storylines and calls down to make more room for a proper ceremony.

A kidnapping at this point feels like an overkill, they could have gone for a rough and dangerous call before the wedding and after everyone walk away, they are seen later that day or the next. at the wedding with a beautiful ceremony, like in Cruz's wedding in CF.

I really hope this episode focuses on Madney, everything else is completely unnecessary, I would be pissed if this episode focused more on other ships and take the spotlight off of Madney.

And the PR team should be handed the RIGHT materials in order to make a valid promo and post the right promotional pictures because otherwise it looks like they're deceiving the fans on purpose and that could be the reason why ppl would stop watching the show, ppl don't like to be played for fools.

Now, knowing that everything we were told we'll see was cut, and that final cut was made last second and SO much was cut, I have a bad feeling too, I am hoping we are both wrong. Because they can't afford another 6x18 episode - the format should be better with the move to abc not stay just as bad.