#it's time to take care of myself i guess!

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 20: The One Where We Take a Course in Rear Window Ethics

Oh, hey, hey – you’re back!

Yes. I, uh – we need to – uh... What the hell are you doing with that Exakta VX camera fitted with a 400 mm Kilfitt lens?

Come here. See those open windows across the courtyard?

Uh, yeah…

Well, I’m trying to zoom into that apartment –

Wow. Because that’s not creepy as fuck.

Oh, don’t be so modern. This is New York City, 1954. It’s fine.

Yeah, okay. I need you to focus for a moment. Seriously – put down the zoom lens. Headquarters called and wanted to know why Dorothy was still in Oz. You know we were told to take her home.

No – actually we were told to throw stones at that wannabe Wizard. And we did. Kind of. Okay, whatever, but surely you can feel the shift. At the very least we’ve infiltrated the base camp with a bunch of flying monkeys. They’ll take care of the rest. God, there’s one in there –

And we were supposed to help Dorothy find her way back home.

Meh, don’t worry about Dorothy. I don’t think she’s ready to go home. Even after the ping-pong bullshit of the past few weeks, she’s still standing on her own two feet. Although Toto continues to be a mild pain…

But –

But nothing. Dorothy’s had the power to get her own ass home this entire time. When’s she’s ready, she’ll go.

Okay, well, obviously you’re not going to be of any help as you seem preoccupied with spying on your neighbors. So, I’m going to need to borrow the hot air balloon. Where’d you put it?

Oh, it’s on the—wait! If you take our balloon, how am I supposed to get around? I’m not staying here indefinitely. There’s no air conditioning in this damn apartment!

How about I promise to come back for you? Maybe.

Damn you. Fine, I’ll go with you. Let me get my shit together. Here, hold my camera – and don’t drop it!

Hmph, this is heavy. How does it work? I just look through this and… <points camera towards apartment across the way> Oh – this is interesting. What the hell did you say was going on over there? “…[S]tart from the beginning…Tell me everything you saw – and what you think it means.”

You know those days when you have no choice but to catch up on the work you’ve been blowing off for the past few days (maybe even weeks)? Well, last week, I was having one of those days. The work I’d been pushing down my list for weeks finally needed to be addressed. Regardless of how mind-numbing it was, it had to get done otherwise things were going to start going awry.

I’m one of those people who – when working on the mundane – has a mind that tends to wander every few minutes or so. I find myself Googling things like, “What is the fastest animal on the planet?” And, for your own Useless Knowledge, the cheetah’s land speed of 60+ mph doesn’t come close to the peregrine falcon’s dive bomb of 240+ mph.

Anyway, to keep my mind from wandering, I usually have something running in the background to force my brain into paying attention to two things at once – somehow that helps me maintain focus. The most popular “something” is almost always one of the many (quite possibly too many) British detective shows available for streaming. But, the other day, I simply wasn’t in the mood to rewatch Season 3 of “Dalgliesh” for the seventh time.

So, after a bit of scrolling, I put on an old movie I hadn’t seen in years: “Rear Window.”

The 1954 original, of course.

I’m rarely impressed by anything put out by Modern Hollywood, but the old shit – well, there are some legit classics out there, including this one.

One of the reasons I’ve always been fond of this movie is because you go into it knowing the “bad guy” right from the word “go.” I’m one of those extremely annoying people who can guess the villain within the first few chapters of a book, or within the first twenty or so minutes of a movie (like I said, I am rarely impressed by Hollywood). However, I will admit, one book did slip by me. Damn you, Agatha Christie. Honestly, though, the thrill I felt with being wrong was far more memorable than anything I’ve ever felt with being right. Good or bad, a surprise always leaves its imprint, doesn’t it? Plus, the hysterical elation my father must have felt – and later exhibited – knowing I was going into the final few chapters wrong – well, damn him, too. And, no, the book was not “Three Act Tragedy.” That one was quite easy.

Okay, enough about Ms. Christie. Back to Mr. Hitchcock.

As I sat busily typing away and listening to the dialogue of “Rear Window” playing in the far reaches of my office, it suddenly occurred to me that the parallels between “Rear Window” and the Lukola fandom were rather, well, thought-provoking. Here we have a man (and later his sidekicks) peering into the personal life of another human being. Our protagonist in “Rear Window” witnesses an event (a cover-up, actually) and sets out to prove it – all from the perspective of an onlooker looking in. Sound familiar? I thought it might.

So, welcome to your course on “Rear Window Ethics.”

Now, I cannot intertwine “Rear Window” with the Lukola fandom without dragging your ass into the story. Actually, I could – but it’s far more entertaining for me (and hopefully you) if I form a nexus between you and the movie.

Therefore, you, of course, get to align yourself with L.B. Jefferies (played in real life by Jimmy Stewart). If you’re still in this fandom, it’s because you’ve witnessed something you simply cannot ignore and you’re almost certainly hellbent on proving it at this point.

It’s very likely most of you entered the Lukola fandom alone. You watched some portion of the World Tour and became intrigued. Your mind began to wander, which sparked some urge in you to do some digging. Eventually your investigation led you to the Devil – sorry, I mean, social media. There you met like-minded junior investigators, and you’ve now found yourself chatting with these newfound friends and theorizing in the burrows of underground group chats.

So, about your sidekicks…

The part of “Stell-aaaaaa!!!!” (yes, that is my hat-tip to Jake) is given to your most “inventive” Lukola friend. You know, the one that has their own “theories” channel in your private chats; the one who scurries down the rabbit hole – not in search of the White Rabbit – but in search of the Cheshire Cat. Stella is the reason you think outside the box. In “Rear Window,” Stella (played by Thelma Ritter) is Jefferies’ nurse (Jefferies is injured and bound to his apartment; hence why he has so much free time to gaze out the rear window). This friend will throw anything and everything against the wall to see what sticks – even if it occasionally takes a deep-dive into how to cut up a body in a bathtub.

Next, we have Detective Doyle, Jefferies’ long-time friend (played by Wendell Corey). Doyle is quite possibly your spouse, haha, or anyone who side-eyes your involvement with this fandom. Doyle half listens to Jefferies’ theories and usually counters Jefferies with an alternative piece of evidence. But don’t fret, although Doyle teases Jefferies about his wild theories throughout the film, Doyle is, in fact, supportive of Jefferies and does comes around in the end.

I’m going to switch gears for a moment but not before acknowledging that, yes, I am aware I’m missing a player here. Don’t worry – she will arrive shortly.

Alright, on to our subject matter: Lars Thorwald.

Thorwald (played by Raymond Burr) is our straight-outta-Hitchcock-baddie who has been spotted by Jefferies trying to cover up the murder of his wife. The obvious parallels I’m going to draw between “Rear Window” and the Lukola fandom are (1) Thorwald’s crime being equivalent to the World Tour and everything that has happened thereafter, and (2) Jefferies’ obsession with proving Thorwald is guilty being comparable to the fandom’s obsession with proving Lukola is real.

Now, I’m going to get the ball rolling by fast-forwarding through the World Tour all the way up to where I last left you – the post-release of “Mis-Directed.” Recall that shortly before the book’s release, in a surprise turn of events, Luke appeared with Antonia at the Boss event held January 30. However, this was almost immediately negated by Luke snubbing Antonia post-event (and perhaps even more shockingly, Antonia’s mirrored lack of acknowledgement of Luke). And try as Nicola might, there’s no skirting around the innuendo made throughout that fan-fic of a book.

“Watson! Get up! There’s fuckery afoot!”

Who the hell are you?

I’m Dad. Who are you?

Ah, not that guy!

Yes, that guy. Of course, Dad has entered the room. After all I needed someone to fill the role of Lisa Fremont (also known as Grace Kelly). Lisa is your Lukola friend with the highest degree of common sense. She takes the “evidence” presented and looks at it with some realism. She is never going to take the Dwight Shrute Route and state something as “Fact,” but she is the one you rely on to delineate between what makes sense and what doesn’t. In short, this is your friend who understands human nature.

Alright, before I really get this ball rolling –

Since I’ve now added a third wheel (Dad) to the back-and-forth dialogue of my two wizard-chasing-balloon-riding-time-traveling-narrators, I suppose I should also give these two imbeciles names.

You first.

Uh, well, I’m Charley and that’s –

I’m Crowd.

Full credit for these two make-believe idiots is given to my dad. He created the personas of “Charley and the Crowd” for my two nieces a few years ago. They would show him their dolls and my dad would narrate what was going on in their stories. Of course, my nieces regularly corrected him with, “No, Papá, that is not what Barbie is doing!” Still, Charley and the Crowd stuck around, playing the role of two, usually counter-productive and sometimes ignored, news anchors at a Macy’s Day Parade-like event hosted by my nieces’ massive collection of L.O.L. Dolls.

And just for clarity’s sake, during the dialogue between Charley, Crowd, and Dad, actual statements made by Dad will be in quotations. Any statement not in quotations was added simply to move the story along.

Let’s begin (finally).

In “Rear Window,” every time Jefferies and his sidekicks present their findings to Detective Doyle attempting to prove Thorwald’s guilt, they are thwarted by evidence discovered by Doyle’s investigation. It’s a constant back-and-forth throughout the movie; however, regardless of how “solid” Doyle’s evidence is that Anna Thorwald is still alive, Jefferies remains sat on the hill that Thorwald killed his wife. It was this parallel – not the peeping Tom aspect of the movie – that piqued my interest last week. No matter what was thrown at him, Jefferies remained steadfast in his opinion Thorwald murdered his wife. Nothing budged him. I realized Jefferies’ level of resilience mirrored every diehard Lukola’s reaction to every piece of contradictory evidence thrown at them. Nothing budges them.

The tail-end of January and all of February was a bit wild in the Lukola fandom. I mean, there were a lot of narratives being thrown around only to be counteracted by another event. As I mentioned earlier, we ended January with the Boss event but that flame was quickly extinguished by Luke and Antonia’s complete lack of follow-up. Luke had the perfect opportunity to make it “official” with Antonia – to finally shut down the Lukola shippers – but he didn’t.

Crowd: Antonia not doing anything with it is the biggest tell, in my opinion.

I’m not going to spend much time rehashing the Boss event because I already discussed it in Entry 18 (link below), but I will touch on two things that I believe deserve an Honorable Mention.

The first being –

Charley: Why didn’t Antonia have her phone or even a handbag at the Boss event?

I mention this little detail because it was echoed at the BAFTA afterparty Luke attended with Antonia on February 16. In fact, I suspect this may be the modus operandi when Antonia attends an event with Luke – she is not given the opportunity to have a phone with her. One would think, at the very least, you would see Antonia entering and/or leaving an event with some kind of handbag or clutch. But we have pictures of Antonia entering both the Boss event and BAFTA afterparty without one. I will acknowledge we don’t see her leave these two events; however, if we rewind time, Antonia does not have a handbag with her during Papsmear.

Dad: “Well, that’s extremely odd.”

I don’t believe I’ve mentioned it before – at least not on this blog – that my dad has an eye for women’s fashion. My sisters and I grew up under his critical eye and, to this day, my father doesn’t know where he went wrong with my older sister. This is entirely why he was given the part of Lisa Fremont, the movie’s style icon in the form of Grace Kelly. The fact that Antonia is never seen with any type of handbag at these events sparked his interest.

Dad: “[It seems] they [at a minimum Luke] wanted complete control [of what Antonia could take away from the event]. No handbag. Nowhere to hide a phone. No rogue pictures floating about.”

Charley: Yes, it does seem that way.

The second event I wanted to mention was – although neither Luke nor Antonia liked the Boss grid post of the two of them entering that event together – Nicola did. Now, this wasn’t an immediate like. In fact, Nicola waited almost two weeks to like the post, on February 12.

Crowd: The day before Nicola went back and liked that post, that video was being dissected across social media.

Dad: Why?

Charley: Because it was suggested Luke said, “Let’s get this done,” as he walked inside the event with Antonia.

Dad: “I don’t hear shit.”

I will admit, when this video was initially sent to me, I didn’t hear anything except the background noise. However, when I was told what was allegedly being said, I was able to hear it. This very well could be the power of suggestion but the timing of Nicola’s like on this post is, at a minimum, noteworthy.

Once we leave the Boss event, we stumble right into “Mis-Directed.” I’ll post the links to my review of that book at the end. It is what it is – and it’s a whole lot of…umm, yeah…maybe Dad said it best.

Dad: “Either your Lukola thing is real, or Ireland is a psychopath.”

Crowd: Seriously, who let this guy in here?

I’m going to have to hard agree with my dad on this one. Not necessarily about Nicola being a “psychopath,” but the references made in the book are too on the nose for it not to be intentionally Lukola- and/or Polin-coded.

I’m also convinced this book was edited after the World Tour, with the most obvious example of this being demonstrated with the quote: “The dates here coincided with the time period of Leicester Square… Below the words was a symbol of a V-shaped flying dove. At first glimpse, it strongly resembled two raised fingers.” If our duo is to be believed, Luke and Nicola had no idea prior to the World Tour that the fandom would go wild over Colin’s fingers. But after the release of Part 1, any mention of “two raised fingers” would send the fandom into a feeding frenzy. And it’s such an extremely random bit of innuendo, I have trouble believing the author came up with it on her own.

Charley: When you think about it, if Antonia hadn’t shown up at the Boss event, the Lukola fandom would have taken the book as confirmation that Lukola was real.

Indeed, a hefty portion of the fandom would have done just that. The fandom was already convinced that Luke and Nicola spent the holidays together – even without direct evidence – because there was evidence that Luke and Nicola did not spend the holidays with Antonia and Jake, respectively.

Antonia appeared to be with family at Christmas and in the Maldives over New Year’s – without making even the slightest insinuation that Luke was with her.

Jake seemingly spent the holidays with Dylan B., as demonstrated by his pre-Christmas stories with Dylan in their (basically) adjacent hometowns – without Nicola, who, by her own account, was in Galway. Jake and Dylan’s Christmas stories were followed up with their jointly hosted New Year’s Eve party – at which Nicola was not present (as evidenced by Nicola’s comment to an attendee’s New Year’s Eve post: “Have the best night miss yous”).

Dad: “It is weird they [Nicola and Jake / Luke and Antonia] wouldn’t spend any of the holidays together. One? Sure, maybe. But all? No.”

But, even with that statement, my dad chose to play the role of Detective Doyle (a/k/a the Devil’s Advocate of “Rear Window”) regarding the holidays because –

Dad: “Misty [Antonia] was with her dance troupe. Jake was with his friends. Ireland was doing her thing. But no one knows where Thang [Luke] was. Everyone else has a trail except him, which is odd. He could have been with Ireland, but you can’t prove it, so what you have is not really evidence.”

Charley: Thanks, Dad.

But, let’s face it, my dad is right. There’s no solid evidence that Luke and Nicola spent their holidays with each other or anyone else. You can apply the same theory to the birthdays. The only “evidence” we have that two people did not spend a birthday together was Jake posting a belated birthday greeting to Nicola followed by Nicola posting what appeared to be an intimate birthday dinner for two, presumably from the night before. We can surmise Nicola’s birthday date was not Jake, otherwise he would not have posted the late greeting.

About Jake’s birthday –

Crowd: Oh, yeah, “hard launch No. 54” because Nicola used a red heart in her birthday story to him.

Charley: You mean the same one she used in a story for another friend just the other day?

Crowed: Yep.

Dad: “I don’t know what to say about those people [the Jakolas]. They need to resubmerge or something. There’s no relationship there [between Jake and Nicola].”

The Jakolas are banking this “hard launch” on the fact Nicola posted a birthday story for Jake, but not for Luke, and vice versa. These are the same people who will argue that Luke and Antonia not posting about each other’s birthdays is because they’re private – but, in the same breath, refuse to acknowledge Luke and Nicola may not post about each other’s birthdays because they’re private.

I believe it’s worth mentioning that no one from the Bridgerton cast except James Phoon posted about Nicola’s birthday on January 9. When Nicola acknowledged her birthday greetings the day after, she did not repost Phoon’s story nor did she repost fan-favorite JVN’s birthday story. And I should have placed bets on this next part – no one from the Bridgerton cast posted about Luke’s birthday on February 5. Surely, I’m not the only person who saw – and anticipated – the comraderie there.

What the Jakolas should have been focusing on with Jake’s birthday was the fact that it was Dylan and Becky’s boyfriend that were wearing matching “Jecky” shirts at their joint birthday party. No one else had that shirt except for the two people believed to be their significant others. Although I’m not fully convinced Jake is dating Dylan, I am one hundred percent convinced Jake would date Dylan over Nicola.

Charley: What’s next?

Crowd: God, there was so much shit going on in February! Uhh, let’s jump to Valentine’s Day. Nicola attended the IFTA’s with her mother and sister, and Luke attended a GQ dinner event alone.

This holiday follows in the same vein as the previously noted holidays, except it’s Nicola and (amazingly!) Luke that are both accounted for. Jake was presumed to be in Sheffield rehearsing for his play; and Antonia was nowhere to be found, not even at the GQ dinner.

However, Antonia does make a brief reappearance at a BAFTA afterparty alongside Luke on February 16.

Crowd: But it was a repeat of the Boss event. The next day, neither acknowledged the other.

Charley: And Luke was reported to have left the party after only an hour – without Antonia. He even posted a picture of himself getting into a car alone.

Dad: To me, “[i]t seems like Thang took his dog [Antonia] for a walk and left her at the dog park.”

Two days later, Luke – actually out for a walk – is papped getting coffee, alone. Is it horrible of me to say that the most exciting thing about these pictures was the untucked versus tucked shirt? I’m not even sure why I’m taking the time to mention this except I felt there would be some side-eye if I did not.

And to be honest, I’ve left out some details and minor events from the months of January and February because, if I were to add them, this post would be twice as long as it already is. For example, don’t get me started on sunburns, tan lines, and “sunny places.”

If we were in the movie, “Rear Window,” everything stated up until this point would run parallel to the back-and-forth between Detective Doyle and our Trio of Peeping Toms. Evidence is presented by the Trio, which is then countered by Doyle. Doyle’s evidence is dismissed by the Trio because, again, they’re hellbent on proving their case, so they continue theorizing and digging into Thorwald. All that leads up to the movie’s climax.

Charley: Have we finally made it to the SAG?

Crowd: Yes, yes, we have.

Charley: Dad – Dad – wake up!

Dad: Huh?

Alright, the fucking SAG awards. This would be about the point in “Rear Window” where Lisa gets caught by Thorwald rifling through his belongings in search of evidence. We’re in the audience biting our nails because Jefferies can’t do a damn thing to help Lisa except watch everything unfold. And that’s what we did with the SAG awards. The entire Lukola fandom was hyper-focused on Luke and Nicola – and they did not disappoint.

Forget all the drama we endured from the sideshow characters and the nonsense that came with them.

Forget Luke being AWOL for six months.

Forget everything except the “hug heard ‘round the world.”

The ice was broken; the champagne was flowing. Luke and Nicola’s joint SAG appearance was like the World Tour on steroids.

Dad: Can I say something?

Crowd: Fuck. What?

Dad: “It was their season, right? So, their joint appearance on the red carpet wasn’t earth shattering. Neither was them sitting together. It was their night to celebrate.”

Crowd: Who invited this wet blanket to the party?

Dad: I wasn’t done. “Their season has run its course, right? They’ve ‘graduated.’ So why are they the focus of mainstream media?”

Charley: <thinking> Because there’s something newsworthy there?

That is your climax. Not their SAG appearance – because everyone can have their own interpretation of Luke and Nicola’s behavior and those interviewers’ Q&A’s – it was the mainstream media going ga-ga over Luke and Nicola that sent the Lukola narrative tumbling out the window. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll understand that reference.

By the following day, Luke and Nicola were everywhere. I genuinely appreciate the “Librarians��� of the private group chats – those people who track and record every single post, story, like, non-like, follow, unfollow, literally everything – their job was grueling last week. The Sincerely Ignorant Lukolas who jumped ship months ago were frantically trying to climb back on board, while the Jakolas were desperately trying to find their Dramamine. The Defectors went silent except to remind their hive of hornets not to worry; that they will get “a reminder soon…”

Charley: A reminder of what?

Crowd: Oh, that there are two side characters floating about.

Well, lo and behold – right on schedule – a random picture of Luke and Antonia in an elevator surfaced the day after the SAG awards. The problem with the picture was that it was dismissed by Lukolas almost immediately. The account that dropped the picture on X was suspicious. Antonia’s hair and clothing seemed “so last year.” The Lukolas were far more focused on Luke and Nicola liking anything and everything to do with the SAG that day than to pay any attention to the “same old song and dance” about Antonia. Even Nicola liking Jake’s very bland “Nicola” comment on her grid post was dismissed with a “shooing” wave of the hand and an uninterested half laugh.

On February 25, the “insinuation” pictures were at it again. In fact, it was a rather busy day. An event host posted a picture of what appeared to be Antonia perfectly centered at an L.A. hotel pool. The story was reposted by the hotel itself. In fact, that’s the only reason the picture was found by the fandom. A new elevator picture of Luke and Antonia dropped; however, it, too, was dismissed fairly quickly, regardless of it being dropped by a different, less dubious X account. The Lukolas just didn’t give a fuck about Antonia. Luke was the subject of a blind that insinuated he had spent most of his time at the SAG looking in a mirror. And the evening was rounded out by something that would have rocked the boat in June 2024 but had little effect in February 2025 – Nicola followed Antonia on Instagram and vice versa!

Oh, shit – Jefferies just lost his grip and fell out the “Rear Window.” But he didn’t die! So, that’s a plus.

The following day, February 26, Antonia started to remove tags from her Instagram account including the “Soho” New Year's 2024 picture of Luke and his friend group, which included Antonia. And Nicola responded to the “mirror” blind about Luke with “I can confirm this is 100% not true [laughing/crying emoji].” So, interestingly, we had Antonia backing further away from Luke and Nicola stepping up to defend him.

Crowd: So, where do we go from here?

That’s a good question. The thing I’ve learned through this “course” is that the Lukolas are now unmoved by the shenanigans happening around them. You can serve Antonia to them on a silver platter, and they’ll flag down the waiter and ask them to return her to the kitchen. And you won’t find Jake anywhere on their menu (hence why I didn’t even bother to mention Jake’s play).

Dad: I think “the whole thing has run its course.”

It really has. The Lukolas are tired but unyielding. At this point, they just want their version of Thorwald to confess. The narratives running parallel to each other (i.e., Lukola vs. Jakola vs. Lutonia) can’t go on much longer. One of them is going to crack under the pressure.

Remember, “Three can keep a secret…”

P.S.

Dad: “Is Ireland still wearing that ring?”

Me: Yes.

Dad: “Then why did you call me?”

Me: <deep sigh>

[v-eee]

── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(x)

It had basically become a running joke—no matter where you went, Jungkook would just… show up. Every city, every café, every Airbnb. Like it was totally normal.

At first, you thought it was just him being stubborn. But after a few weeks, it became clear—he wasn’t going to stop.

Honestly, you were starting to think he enjoyed the long drives more than actually seeing you.

And every time he showed up, he somehow ended up crashing at your place. It happened so often that even your coworkers at the café started noticing.

“You guys sure you’re just friends?” one of them asked, eyeing Jungkook as he leaned lazily against the counter, waiting for you to finish your shift.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“Uh-huh,” another one chimed in. “Because totally normal ‘friends’ drive six hours just to hang out.”

Jungkook smirked, nudging you. “Yeah, Y/N. What kind of friend does that?”

You shot him a look. “The annoying kind.”

He just chuckled.

___

One night, after a long shift, you called Jungkook just to chat. You weren’t feeling great, and the second he heard you cough, he immediately switched to full-on drama mode.

“Jeez, Y/N, you sound like a grandpa who’s been chain-smoking since dinosaurs existed.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s super comforting.”

“Did you take medicine?”

“Not yet. I’ll get some tomorrow.”

Apparently, that wasn’t an acceptable answer. Because the next day, while you were curled up in bed, there was an obnoxiously loud knock at the door.

You dragged yourself over, opened it, and—

“What the— Jeon Jungkook?!”

There he stood, looking way too proud of himself, holding a bag full of medicine, snacks, and—was that a hot water bottle shaped like a bear?

He breezed past you like he owned the place, dumping the bag on the table. “You sounded like death last night, so I took half a day off to bring you this.”

You blinked at him. “You drove two hours… just to bring me medicine?”

“Yup.”

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “that’s such a waste of time! I could’ve just bought it myself.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “A waste of time? Wow.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“And let you avoid me for a week? No thanks.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “What?”

“You do this every time. The moment you get sick, you start avoiding me like I’m the plague because you’re scared I’ll catch it.”

You flopped onto the couch, exhausted. “Well, yeah?” you frowned. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“I don’t care if I get sick, Y/N,” he muttered. “I just don’t like it when you avoid me.” He sat beside you, handing you a warm bottle of tea.

Your chest tightened.

You knew Jungkook wasn’t a fan of distance. But you never realized it actually bothered him when you avoided him while sick.

You sighed as you took the bottle from his hand. “It’s just a cold.”

“I know,” he murmured, pouting. “But… I guess I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

Your heart did a weird little flip.

“…You’re not gonna lose me, idiot,” you muttered.

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, his usual cocky grin softening into something… real.

“Good. Now take the damn medicine before I force-feed it to you.”

You groaned. “And there it is.”

“Dead people don’t complain, Y/N. Take. The. Pills.”

You swatted his hand away as he tried to open the bottle for you, but deep down, you knew.

This wasn’t just friendship anymore.

And maybe, just maybe… you didn’t mind that at all.

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 3

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* Shitty family, amazing found family, new friends, supportive friends, Nick Fuckiiiiiiiiiiiin Cage, wedding fluff. Summary: It's time to get married! And that reality is so much sweeter than you ever could have anticipated. Notes: I just...really really love weddings, guys. You all know that by now 🧡🧡 This week, please enjoy a gorgeous view of the Breakers from the ocean!

Friday, April 4, 2025 T-Minus One Hour Until the Wedding

Javi had helped you tote everything back inside Hazelwood House. It's unbelievable that you're actually allowed to be sitting in the room reserved for brides preparing for their special days. It's just one of the house's guest bedrooms but it is outfitted with plenty of non-historical seating and a large vanity for sitting at to do hair and makeup.

Moira had rushed home to change into her favorite purple off-the-shoulder dress and sparkling ballet flats and now the two of you are doing your hair and makeup at that vanity that normally you only see pictures of on the museum's social media accounts afterward.

“Knock, knock.” There’s a polite tap at the door and then two women with huge rolling bags come in. “Hi! I’m Tracy and this is Tandy. We are hair and make-up, so we thought we could come give you a hand? If you want?”

"Oh!" You almost jump even at the gentle intrusion. "Oh my god, really? I—" You glance at Moira but she's already glowing. "I mean, yeah, absolutely. That would be incredible

They both squeal in excitement and come wheeling into the room, careful to close the door behind them. “I looooove soulmate weddings!” Tandy gushes, an exact copy of her twin sister except she has a star tattoo behind her right ear that is visible with her hair put up.

"And this one is going to be gorgeous." Moira declares, practically giggling as she shifts away from the mirror to let you sit directly in front of the vanity.

You are sitting in a dressing gown, which is perfect. Tandy smiles as she stops behind you and examines your hair. “Do you have any ideas for your hair?” She asks.

"Um...Javi picked out a hairpiece," you tell her, severely downplaying the fact that your soulmate chose a literal tiara for you to wear. Instead, you simply take out the box that Cindy had packed it in and open the lid to show the other women.

“Oh my Godddddddddd!” The screeches from all the women are ones of pure joy. Every woman loves a tiara, even if they didn’t want to wear one. And this one is gorgeous.

"The whole look together is fairly spectacular," you admit, your warm cheeks and sheepish expression making you look all the more excited – because you are.

“So obviously, the tiara is the star of the show?” If the headpiece is this beautiful, the dress must be breathtaking. “What about a sleek style that weaves the tiara into your hair?”

"I defer to your expertise," you tell Tandy honestly. Normally you don't do too much to your hair besides take care of it and put it into the same simple style every day. "I just want to look like myself when all is said and done. I guess...today really is the best version of myself I could hope for."

“Natural.” Tracy smile as she moves over to Moira. “I believe in just enhancing your beautiful features with make up.” She promises before she looks at your maid of honor. “May I work on you, gorgeous? You have such beautiful eyes.”

“I guess the look we’re going for is natural.” Moira grins at you and looks back at Tracy. “I do…have a favorite lipstick, though.”

“Oh yeah.” You light up and start nodding. “Clinique Pink Honey. Makes her look like a movie star.” At that, you and your best friend both laugh. “I mean…I guess she’ll just fit in perfectly with the crowd that way.”

“Don’t be too intimidated.” Tandy tells you. “All of them are just as normal as you and me. They just have higher profile jobs.”

"I don't think it's a matter of being intimidated." Which is not what you expected to feel, all things considered. You would have expected that you would feel that way. Maybe it just hasn't really hit you yet. "I'm mostly just surprised."

“It has to be a shock.” Tracy agrees as she starts to pull palettes of colors out of her unzipped bag. Trays and trays of makeup, all nearly organized. “Just suddenly discovering your soulmate by chance.”

"It's a beautiful surprise, but it was definitely a surprise." You and Moria sit up straight in your chairs to let the twins artists set to work. "It's not like I've been checking Mate Marks for matches or anything, ya know? It just...happened."

“Do you know why he wasn’t on Mate Marks?” She asks curiously, pondering over that. She’s never assumed a screenwriter would need anonymity.

"Some people aren't." You shrug slightly, realizing you never even thought to ask. "Some people want to find their soulmate naturally. Out in the wild, if you will."

“Either way, you have found each other and now you are getting married.” She hums. “And it will be beautiful.”

"He's beautiful." A fact which has you practically giggling. "It's been such a whirlwind."

“He is very attractive.” Tandy admits with a smile. “His accent.”

"Is to die for." Another round of giggles ripple through you, and you stand by your opinion wholeheartedly. "I will very happily listen to anything he has to say."

“And he’s so clever.” She adds. “The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent is one of my favorite movies. It the reason I wanted to work on this movie so badly.”

“That was one of his?” Moira’s eyes widen.

“Yep.” The pride on your face is unmistakable. The universe gave you a soulmate you can be truly proud of and you don’t mind having those bragging rights at all. “That was his first movie.”

“What a way to break into Hollywood, huh?” Tandy snorts. “That movie was like number one at the box office for months.”

"It was incredible." Tracy agrees with an air of absolutism. "His characters are gorgeously complex."

“So this is going to be incredible.” Moira hum. “You are marrying a genius.”

"I love that way of thinking about it," you agree with the broadest grin.

Everyone continues to work and giggle, passing snippets of information. The twins efficient and chatty at the same time.

“What do you think of this?” Tracy asks Moira. “Or do you want a little more dramatic touch? Even though it looks dark in person, a heavily coat photographs better.”

"My best friend's wedding?" Moira glances over at you and you grin at her in the mirror. "I think it calls for a touch of drama, don't you?"

“Definitely.” Tandy hums in agreement. “You won’t look like some old matriarch who’s still got her foundation on from 1920, but you’ll look amazing.”

The laughter that comment earns is loud and genuine, so much so that you almost don't hear your phone ringing in the pocket of your robe. When the most important people in your life are all already in this building, you frown slightly – but it's your father's cell phone that pops up on your caller ID. Moira's jaw drops open, but you shake your head at her concern. "I called him from the boutique before we came back, and left him a voicemail. I figured they should at least know."

After all, they're still your family. Which is why you pick up now instead of sending the call to voicemail like you might have otherwise. "Hi Dad."

“Surprised to get your message.” He doesn’t greet you, ask you how you are. It’s just not the way your father does things. Straight to the point and often unavailable, that’s him. “You need money?”

"No, Dad, I don't need money." You roll your eyes at Moira and smother a sigh. "And I'm well, thank you. I only wanted to let you and Mom know that I'm getting married tonight."

"Married?" His voice is shocked, astounded actually, and he clears his throat. "This is a prank, right?" He huffs. "Like that time you said you were going to go to art school?"

Controlling your breathing is a feat of fucking strength right now, but you aren’t going to spoil the night with another argument about how you had to withdraw your acceptance at Parsons because your mother refused to release the small amount of money they had allotted for your education if you threw it away, in her words. “This is not a prank,” you inform your father coolly. “I met my soulmate and we’re getting married. I just thought it was appropriate to let you know.”

He sputters for a moment. "Soulmate? Who is this soulmate?" He sighs and you can imagine that he is rubbing his eyes right now in that condescending manner to was meant to convey frustration and disappointment at whoever he is dealing with. "Please don't tell me that you just met this man?"

“I met him two years ago.” Technically true. “And I didn’t call to ask for permission. Or to ask for anything at all. This is merely information.” Fucking hell, you can’t wait to change your name.

"You planned a wedding without inviting us." He huffs sounding hurt for a moment and then there's the shuffling the phone and he murmurs something that you can't make out. Having a conversation with someone in the background that takes precedence over your call. The shuffling stops and he comes back on the line. "Well, you let us know. We'll send a card." With that, he hangs up the phone.

“And that is why I wouldn’t have told you anyway.” You huff at the phone, tossing it onto the vanity in a flourish of annoyance. “Well, I told them. That’s all they’re entitled to anyway.”

Moira sighs, very familiar with the disappointment that flashes in your eyes and is quickly suppressed. After all the hurt, all the chances you’ve given them, you try to pretend you don’t want the Hallmark happy family you watch on tv. “Some people don’t deserve to be parents.” She reminds you. “You have me and your other friends.” She waves her hand dismissively to make you laugh because she always tells you that she’s the only friend you really need. “And now you have him. Your soulmate.”

“Well…” Sitting back and letting your eyes shut temporarily, you reach over and give Moira’s hand a squeeze. “At least my kids will never have to quiet about being treated equally. No Golden Children in my house. No favorites. Ever.”

“None.” She promises and gives a little laugh. “Black sheep, all of them.”

“Loved no matter who they are.” You insist. That’s the key.

“Babe, you were born to be the best mother.” She agrees. “You will love every quirk and passion they have.”

“Yes. Yes I absolutely will.” There are so many wrongs of your own childhood that you will right with your own children, but the first step to getting there is getting married tonight.

“Now, forget about them.” She could possibly be talking about a bug or some gum on her shoe rather than your parents. She knows if she ever had the misfortune of meeting Cruella de Vil and her husband, she will be giving them the ass chewing of a lifetime.

"You're right." There is no reason to ruin your special night thinking about your awful family, and you're not going to let it happen. "You're absolutely right. Now." You relax back in your seat as Tracy and Tandy switch places. Your tiara is secured into place and it's starting to feel real all over again. "Moira, my love. As maid of honor I think it's wedding law that you have to take somebody home tonight.

“Yes please.” She immediately agrees with a wicked grin. “I’ll take both Jason Grant and Alex Powell home.”

"Somehow I think Alex Powell needs to be the center of attention at all times," you hum, smirking slightly. "Not that I dislike him. He's actually been really nice. But you've had that crush on Jason Grant for ages now."

“He’s hotttttt.” She huffs, slightly embarrassed about it but she can’t help but preen. “Did you see that ass? You could bounce a quarter off it.”

"I'm not saying you're wrong." Laughing right along with Tracy and Tandy, all four of you end up in a giggle fit. "I'm just saying...he's here now. You could actually talk to him. Get to know him. Even make a move?"

“Like he would want me.” She snorts, giving you a horrified look. “And I’m not lucky enough that my soulmate is a hot actor.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna get some fucking CPA.”

"Six hours ago, if you had told me Javi was my soulmate, I would have laughed at you." In fact, you're pretty sure she might have suggested it once and you did laugh. "You never know. That's all I'm saying."

Rolling her eyes, she blows a raspberry. “Now you’re all ‘the sky is blue and the birds are singing.’ She teases. “It must be love.”

"Maybe." The grin on your face grows quickly into something wide and unapologetic. "Maybe it is."

****** Nerves has Javi nearly jittery at the flower covered arched trellis that leads to the informal gardens. That is where your boss said that you had always gotten dreamy eyed when you saw wedding set ups so that’s where she had decided to set up.

“You doin’ okay, Jav?” Nick chuckled under his breath, already knowing the answer as he waits beside his friend in front of the small group of assembled guests.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.” Javi turns towards Nick with a plea in his eyes. “We aren’t drunk in my pool, plotting and laughing. I’m here. I’m in this moment and I’m marrying my soulmate.”

Nick laughs the way only Nick can, because it is full of boundless affection for his tenderhearted friend. "No, buddy." He assured Javi, shaking his head. "You're not dreaming. This is your fairy tale."

He shivers, his face alight with pure joy and his eyes sparkle. “Do I look okay?” He asks, knowing he looks good, but wanting the reassurance. “Thank you for remembering a belt. It matches the shoes too.” He adds, looking down at his loafers proudly.

“You look fantastic.” Nick assures him. One comforting hand on his shoulder squeezes tightly and Nick’s eyes wander momentarily to where Olivia is sitting with Addy in the front row usually reserved for family. Because they are Javi’s family. Javi is the closest thing to a brother Nick has ever had and he understands the sheer joy of finding your soulmate. Of course he wants that for his brother.

“Have I showed you the ring?” He has, but he’s already pulling it out of his pocket again. Partly to reassure himself that it hasn’t disappeared in the forty-five seconds since he had tapped the pocket to make sure that it’s there.

“It’s beautiful, Jav.” Nick knows he’s proud, and is about to nudge him a little about starting work back up on the house when the music starts.

“Oh god, it’s time.” Javi is shaking as he shoves the ring box back in his jacket and straightens his shoulders. Immediately hearing the commanding voice of his father as he scolds him to stop slouching and look proud. He is a Gutierrez.

You can tell that Moira picked out the music as soon as you step out of the house. I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You pours through the speakers hidden throughout the garden, and your best friend grins at you as she takes her place ahead of you to walk down the aisle.

Of course Nick starts to hum along with the song. One of his earlier movies was playing Elvis and he’s been obsessed ever since. Like Javi had been obsessed with Nick. Javi swallows and shuffles as he sees your friend, itching to get a view of his bride.

With a nod from you, Jason slides into place beside Moira to escort her down the aisle after passing off two beautiful bouquets of fresh and vibrant Gerbera daisies. For Moira the bouquet is petite and playful, for you it is big and bold and beautiful. They're so momentarily distracting that you almost miss the soft, affectionate expression on Alex's face as he steps up next to you.

“You make a beautiful bride.” He has intuition about people, reading them easily. He knows that you and he will be good friends. He’s a serial flirt, a little bit of a playboy, but he’s also a very loyal friend. His suit is immaculate and he offers you his arm proudly. “May I have the honor of escorting you to your soulmate?” He asks seriously, even as he smiles that blinding white toothed smile that melts hearts and panties.

“As a matter of fact?” You take his proffered arm with ease. “I insist upon it.”

“You insist.” He peps up even more at that and rolls his shoulders back to straighten up taller. His hand covers yours protectively. “He’s waiting impatiently, so let’s not keep him waiting longer than he has to.”

Moira and Jason make their way down the aisle and the actor deposits her opposite Javi and melts into the crowd of secondary cast and production crew that have all obviously changed into whatever nice they had on hand and are all sitting happily as if they have known you forever.

The music changes as you and Alex step up to the end of the path that will take you up to Javi. It's surreal in a way you'll never quite be able to describe. From Elvis to Etta James, the music now proclaims that you have found each other as you make your way toward your soulmate under the watchful, joyful eyes of assembled friends. Some are old, some are new, but all of them are watching as Alex brings you up to Javi at the end of the aisle and sets your hands into your soulmate's.

“Hi.” He gushes, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears as his smile lights up his entire being. “You look…una diosa, mi diosa.” He murmurs, tongue tied for a moment. “My goddess.”

"Hi." If you were breathless with excitement before, it is doubled now. "How did you get even more handsome since I left you an hour ago?"

“I changed.” He jokes, making Nick chuckle beside him.

One simple moment of laughter eases some of the nerves that have been holding you tight in your grasp, and you squeeze Javi's hands in yours as Tamara gently clears her throat to get everyone's attention.

“We are gathered here tonight to unite these soulmates in a blessed union.” She smiles as she addresses the crowd.

Tamara’s speech is short and witty, as charming and silly as she is with a reverence for the romance of the moment. If you manage to remember to ask her for a copy of it later — if she even has it written down — you’ll add it to a photo album of beautiful snapshots of tonight.

Javi is practically shaking in excitement and turns towards you as he holds both of your hands. “Ready?” He asks.

“Ready.” And if you make it through your vows without crying, it will be a miracle.

“You are beautiful.” He whispers with a shy smile before he has to look back at Tamara again and nod for her to proceed. “We are ready.”

“For these two soulmates.” Tamara beams, smiling at you and Javi and then out at the crowd. “Love swept in like a fairy tale. A fairy tale that began right here at Hazelwood House with their first meeting and will continue for many endless years to come. As bold and unique as they place they first met, these two soulmates have the potential for an adventurous and boundless life of joy ahead.” There is no questioning, in her mind, how absolutely true that is, and she smiles again. “It doesn’t take more than a few minutes in their presence to know that this is the kind of love that makes the rest of us believe in the true power of soulmates.”

Javi shivers at her eloquent words. He hopes beyond hope that this is that kind of love. Nick reaches out and clasps a hand on his shoulder in steady support. Smiling into your eyes, he feels like he is staring into your soul. His soul.

"Javier." Tamara smiles encouragingly. "We'll have you start the vows."

Javi takes a deep breath, making you smile and giggle slightly. It’s not a heavy sound, it’s nervous. Murmuring your name is accompanied by stroking the back of your hand with his thumbs. “From the moment I saw you, I was drawn to you. To your beauty, your kindness. That sweet smile.” He tells you. “I had to talk myself out of coming back every day for a week so you did not think I was a creep.”

That draws a sweet laugh from the crowd and another giggle from you, but you squeeze his hands back affectionately. "I looked for you," you admit, not minding interrupting him to say so. "Every single day."

“You did?” He perks up even more, happy that you seem just as enchanted with him as he is with you. “That’s good. And I thought of you. At random times, I could not get you out of my mind.”

"Neither could I." A fact which makes tonight so much sweeter. But you'll have your turn to make your vows to him in a moment. This is Javi's time.

“Every time I saw you after that, I became more ravenous for time with you. Hating to leave your side and now, I do not have to.”

An audible aww! comes from the crowd, and you break out into another wide grin when you recognize Tandy's voice. The twins, it seems, are just as involved in this love story as the rest of the cast and crew became today.

Javi glances at the crowd and then right back to you. “I want to be a good soulmate. A good husband.” He vows. “To make you feel special and appreciated every day.”

Tamara nods for you to go next, clearly smothering a watery smile at her microphone.

"Javi, I..." You have to remember to breathe so that you don't cry, but your eyes are watering with happiness before you even begin. "I still feel like I'm dreaming," you admit, and laugh softly when a ripple of coos and chuckles wash through your assembled friends. You're so glad that you talked through what you wanted to say to him with Moira before coming down from your dressing room. "I feel like I must have dreamt you up in a bedtime story that I told myself years ago and brought you to life through wishing. I can't wait to learn with you, and grow with you, and build our future together."

Javi can’t help himself. Lunging forward, he presses his lips quickly to yours before he is pulling away with an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry.”

A ripple of affectionate laughter rolls through the crowd and Tamara’s smile grows wider and softer in response. “Let’s get those rings,” she says, looking to his best man and your maid of honor.

“Rings…..rings.” There’s a moment of pure panic on Javi’s face as he blanks out for a split second on where he put them. Nick steps forward quickly before he can freak out. “Jacket pocket, buddy.” He whispers in Javi’s ear and steps back just as quickly.

Moira has Javi’s wedding band for safe keeping, and she passes it to you along with a lovingly weepy hug. Your best friend has always been a softie, after all.

“Here it is.” Javi pulls out your ring with a flourish. Smiling happily as he stares at it for a moment.

"We exchange rings," Tamara goes on, starting to get a bit choked up. "As a symbol of everlasting love. Once it exists, it never ends, and to have a physical reminder of that love each day can be as soothing for the soul as anything else in the world."

Oh yeah, she is absolutely about to cry, you think but you really can't blame her. You're there yourself.

"Javi, repeat after me as you present your soulmate with her ring." It's so very simple but so beautifully felt. "I present you with this token of my love and devotion. A symbol of our partnership for life." And then, of course, the traditional icing on the cake. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Javi holds your left hand as if it were made of glass and has the ring ready to slip onto your finger. “I present you with this token of my love and devotion.” He says clearly. “A symbol of our partnership for life. With this ring, I thee wed.”

Even though you just bought the beautiful platinum band three hours ago, it still feels like magic when it slips onto your finger perfectly. It doesn’t feel real. Like anything this perfect has to be a dream.

Your fingers grip his tightly for a moment and you blow out a shaky breath before repeating the vow under Tamara’s direction. “I present you with this token of my love and devotion.” The beautiful band you hold at his finger slides on so easily. “A symbol of our partnership for life. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“It fits.” He huffs out happily, like he didn’t just try it on hours ago. He had already shifted his pinky ring to his right hand, wanting his wedding ring to be the only ring on this hand. “I will never take it with the intention of putting our vows aside.” He vows seriously. He will have to remove it at times, but it would never be removed for any nefarious reasons, that he can promise.

“I can promise you the same.” There are a hell of a lot of people in this world who couldn’t — or wouldn’t — say the same and you won’t be one of them. Not when it feels like you’ve been searching for him your entire life.

“Do you take each other,” Tamara definitely sniffles this time. She can’t help it. “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, for the rest of your lives to come?”

“I do.” Javi’s words are clear, direct. Meant with every fiber of his being. He nods and smiles. “I do.”

“I do.” Your heart pounds with it and sings its tune.

“Then,” Tamara beams, sounding almost as excited as you and Javi. “By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

“It’s allowed this time.” Nick chuckles and that makes Javi start to laugh, pulling you close and dipping you down as he presses his lips to yours like it’s the most romantic of romance movies.

The whirlwind moments that follow – running up the aisle together and back into the house, wrapping your arms around each other in the Great Hall after you've practically scampered through the open doors that let the warm, evening air into the house. There is a table waiting nearby with the paperwork to make your marriage official nearby, and the cameraman that is filming the wedding has followed at a respectful distance to capture the utter joy that is you and Javi kissing each other silly as you wait for your witnesses to join you inside.

“We are married!” He can’t believe it, even as he signs his name. “My middle name is Mateo.” He realizes that he’s never told you that. There’s so much for the two of you to learn about each other. He signs his complete name to the form and smiles up at you.

You tell him your middle name, too. The small things stack up on top of each other as you begin this crazy journey together. Including the second form that Tamara hands you, because Moira told her to make sure there was a copy. It is the form to file for changing your name now that you are married, and you nearly bite your lip as you start to fill it out. "I've...always figured I would take my husband's name," you tell him nervously. Wondering why the hell you're nervous. "Is that okay with you?"

Javi nods eagerly. “Perfect.” He agrees, knowing that the rest of his family legacy might be shameful, but this family he is starting with you will not be. “I— I would love for you to have my last name. Our family name.”

"Our family." You like the sound of that very, very much. It's so much better thinking of the family you'll make together than the one that has never even tried to understand you.

“Our family.” Both of you seem to melt at the idea. Unable to stop simpering as you close the gap between you and kiss again. Aware that you are being a little dramatic, Javi doesn’t even care.

Your friends let you indulge – it's your wedding day after all – but in these first few moments of wedding bliss, you barely have any concept of who is in the room with you. Moira is there, chatting with Tamara, and Javi's best man is interjecting in the conversation as well. It's all a whirl of joy that swirls around you until you finally tune into the conversation a few feet away.

"Um...sweetheart?" You pull back with confusion on your face, looking at Javi with furrowed eyebrows. "Is your best man Nick Fucking Cage?"

Javi looks at you in an equally confused fashion. “Um….yes?” He answers, tilting his head as he hears Nick laugh and starts to smile, looking back at him and then towards you. “You didn’t notice him before now? I called him with you in the car. He brought me my suit.” He reminds you.

"You called your best friend Nick in the car and...you told me separately about having Nick Cage come to your birthday party." Now you're laughing as you see that it should have been obvious. "I just...I didn't put the pieces together! And I was not paying attention to anyone but you just now."

“I see.” He chuckles with you and leans into kiss you. Turning, he guides you over to where Nick is talking with an obviously star-struck Moira. “Nick.” He hums happily. “I’d like to formally introduce you to my wife.” He grins, remembering how shocked Nick had been when he had facilitated his reunion with his own soulmate a few years ago. “Sweetheart, Nick Cage.”

"Hi Nick." In this moment you barely know what to do besides shake his hand, but this is your brand new husband's best friend, so when you end up hugging him it shouldn't really be a surprise.

“Nice to meet you.” Nick replies with a smooth smile and a sparkle to his eyes when he draws back and his own soulmate joins him at his side. “Honest to god, I’m glad to meet you.”

"Considering the circumstances?" You glance over at Javi and beam. "I'm very glad to be met." A shared laugh ripples through the group. "And obviously I'm very glad to meet both of you, too."

“Olivia.” Nick’s wife offers, reaching up and brushing his lapel lovingly. “It was a beautiful ceremony and it reminded me of our own wedding vows.”

"i am really looking forward to getting to know both of you." If you had been told yesterday that this conversation would be happening ever in your life, you would have called bullshit. But here you are, and you're beckoning Moira over to your side in the process. "Moira Whitney. My best friend in the entire world and an absolute angel of a human."

“Hi again.” Moira smiles, almost shyly but she’s still a little awestruck that she had a conversation with Nick Cage about your wedding.

"Why don't we go grab a drink?" Olivia suggests, knowing things like photos have to happen and the other guests will be filing up onto the terrace for cocktail hour.

“Absolutely.” She beams at how nice she is and nods before she looks at you. “Love birds? Would you like a drink?”

"Don't you worry about that." Scott appears with the camera man and your official wedding photographer, as well as Leslie. Your boss a tray of crystal-clear blue and bubbling glasses ready to go. "The caterers had a suggestion for a signature cocktail and I thought you'd like it," she confesses. "They're usually called Tiffany Mimosas, but for tonight, they're called The Something Blue."

Javi can see that you are absolutely over the moon at the idea. Melting and cooing at the light blue drinks. "Something blue?" He asks, tilting his head. "Right. The things a bride needs."

"She's also a sucker for anything Tiffany-themed." Moira tells him with a sly grin. "We threw her a Tiffany tea party for her birthday last year. Not like anything there was Tiffany at all, but we watched Breakfast at Tiffany's and had blue everything and everybody dressed up."

"Tiffany's." He nods seriously, making a note of the famous jeweler.

"Javi, that isn't necessary." You insist, knowing your best friend has just given him a lifetime of ideas. "Let's go and take photos, shall we?"

"Photos." Temporarily distracted, he pulls you close and hums as he presses his lips to yours. "You look so beautiful, you must have all the photos taken of you. To remember tonight. This moment."

"Where would you like to take them?" Leslie asks. An indulgent smile lights up her face that only grows wider when you light up. "Anywhere in the house. I know you both must have favorite rooms."

“The green marble room.” Javi immediately answers. “Where we met.”

"The billiard room. Absolutely." It's a perfect choice, of course, and a romantic one to boot.

"And the library?" Leslie asks, grinning. She knows it's your other favorite part of the house.

"And the cliffs?" Javi turns towards you to see what you think. "Unless you don't want to risk your dress?"

"Why not the bench?" You suggest, remembering that second day you met him with such affection. "We can take some photos out at the bench with the cliffs and the ocean in the background."

"Yes." He lights up. "I would love that." He smiles. "I wanted to ask you to dinner that day. At the bench."

"What stopped you?" The whole group of you start to move over to the billiard room together, and you hold Javi's hand with intertwined fingers as you go.

"I lost my nerve." He admits sheepishly, blushing slightly. "I did not think that you would accept."

It doesn't bear pointing out that you absolutely would have accepted, or that you might have known you were soulmates much sooner if he had gone out onto that limb. There is no use dwelling on what might have been when what lies ahead of you is so bright. "Well," you hum, tapping your sparkling champagne glass against his. "We will have a lifetime of dinners ahead of us."

“Yes.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his champagne. “Dinners and breakfasts. Movie nights. Even premiers.”

"It's all very Disney to me," you admit, and smile when he gives you a slightly confused look. "It's a whole new world."

“Ariel? No, no that is Jasmine.” He corrects himself quickly. “Aladdin.” It has been a long time since he’s seen the movie, but he’s proud of being able to recall it. “You like Disney?”

“Love it.” You’re practically floating at his side as you walk, just talking and holding his hand as you go. “I grew up on Disney and it always just stuck with me.”

“Then why don’t we go tomorrow?” He asks, smiling softly. “Spend our honeymoon at Disneyland? I have never been to one.”

“You wouldn’t think that was silly?” It sounds sweet and fun to you, but you wouldn’t do just about anything with him and it would seem perfect right now.

“No, I don’t think that there is anything I could do with you that would seem silly.” He admits with a small smile.

“Maybe we’ll collect ideas all through the night and decide tomorrow?” You feel positively light about the whole thing, not worrying about the logistics of anything for this night. Just wanting to bask in the glow of being a newlywed. At being with your soulmate.

“Perfect” Javi glows under the knowledge that you just want to be with him. That anything and everything is on the table. “Pictures, sí? For our children? When they ask how we met and married?”

"We will have more pictures than they can stand," you predict. Happily setting your glass down so that the photographer can shuttle you into whatever pose he sees fit.

******

Craft services pulled out every trick up their sleeves. Javi can’t believe all the finger foods and little bites they managed to prepare. And someone had managed to go out and get cases of champagne. He presses another glass into your hand as you are animatedly chatting to Olivia and Nick, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing his lips to your pulse. “Wife.” He murmurs, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume.

Married is your favourite word right now, and it's no surprise to you that Javi's seems to be wife. "Thank you. husband," you beam at him. Your cheeks are aching from smiling so much tonight. "Olivia and Nick were just inviting us to dinner next week. Dinner and a movie?" Apparently it is a Cage family tradition to do once during the week, and Javi was usually included in that, too. It seemed to make sense that you should start to join them as well.

“Would you mind?” He asks, looking ecstatic that you are considering it. “Nick’s library has grown tremendously over the years and now he will even watch his own movies with us and give us the behind the scenes commentary. Those nights are especially fun.”

"I would love to." If it were nothing more than an invitation from some nice, new friends, you would already be excited to accept. But that these are Javi's best friends? It turns the whole thing around and makes it probably the most important invitation you'll get all night. "But I insist on helping with dinner somehow. It's the least I can do."

“Oh, we normally order in.” Olivia tells you with a grin. “But if you want to help me come up with some themed menus for movies, that could be a lot of fun.”

“Absolutely.” Your eyes light up in delight all over again. These are definitely your kind of people. “I love a themed dinner.”

“Oh shit.” Nick huffs, although there’s an indulgent smile on his face. She has been hinting about wanting to do this for some time and she’s found a partner in crime.

"Your soulmate and I are turning out to have lots in common, Javi." Olivia tells him, enjoying Nick's near-exasperation that she has finally found someone to indulge in these ideas with.

"Oh...hardly." You shake your head and wave off that idea. "You have had an entire career with fashion, Olivia. I have a passing interest."

“Well, passing interest is still interest.” She hums. “And we can make sure that we get some fabulous designers to dress you for red carpet events. Sherry was telling me that Javi needs to attend these things.”

"You...would want me to go with you?" Somehow that thought hadn't yet occurred to you, and your eyebrows raise practically to your hairline in surprise when you look up at your husband.

Javi’s face immediately twists into something that could only be described as a pout. “You would not want to go?” He understands that it might not be your favorite activity, you might normally be more introverted than your job allows you to be when giving tours, but he had hoped to share this with you. He would want his soulmate by his side for everything, good and bad. Sharing the successes and lamenting failures.

"No, I would love to go." He looks so much like a puppy when he pouts like that, it might really be the sweetest thing in the world even though you never want him to be sad. It means you have your arms around his waist in less than a second to reassure him. "It never occurred to me that you would bring me with you. It just....hadn't dawned on me yet."

“You are my wife.” He huffs, almost insulted but placated by the notion you just hadn’t thought of it yet. “My soulmate. I want to have you with me for everything.”

"Then I'll be there for everything." Everything is suddenly a much larger notion to you, but it's still amorphous enough not to be daunting. The most important piece of it is him, after all. "Cross my heart."

“And I want to be there for you.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you passionately. Unable to believe he can do that whenever he wants now. “For everything.”

"I don't think," you giggle softly when he finally pulls back and you remember how to breathe again. "That the museum is going to have anything as big or flashy as a red carpet for you to fuss over."

“Then we should have the red carpet event here.” Javi suggests, lighting up at the idea.

"Oookay buddy." Nick chuckles, clapping Javi on one shoulder. "We don't have to plan another party all in one night, right?"

“Sorry.” He chuckles self-consciously as he shoots you a grin. “We should focus on our wedding before anything else.”

"There's no harm in being excited about the future." Though you see from Nick's handling of it and Javi's sheepish reaction that this may be a recurring reaction from your soulmate. He gets very excited about things and maybe gets carried away.

“See?” Javi grins at Nick, making the other man roll his eyes. “My soulmate likes it.” Nick had oftentimes teased Javi that his soulmate would have to be of the opposite disposition to put up with his somewhat free and spontaneous nature.

"I think getting excited for things is well worth it," you admit. "Maybe because there hasn't been too much to get excited about before, who knows. But a book release is the event of the year for me, usually."

“Book releases are important.” Javi agrees sagely. You must have a nice collection of books and it makes him wish he still had the library in Mallorca. You would have loved it.

"You really are my soulmate," you hum, delighted to hear that he likes to read as well.

“Is there any doubt?” He asks playfully and hums as he pulls you closer. “Should we dance? You look like you should dance.”

"We should definitely dance." It is the easiest thing in the world to be drawn away by him, and you won't apologize for the way it makes your heart take wing in your chest. Tonight really is just a perfect dream and he keeps making it better.

He knows the cameraman is still walking around, filming. Parts of this day will end up being in the bonus scenes and he really doesn’t mind. Sweeping you out to the dance floor, he agrees that your dress is perfect without the train. “Have we missed anything you wanted today?”

"Everything has been perfect." Even the sting of not having your family care about tonight has been soothed away by the appearance of this new family knitting together around you, and you hold him as happily close as possible as you move around the ballroom with him. "What about you? What else would make tonight perfect?"

“I cannot think of a single thing.” He admits softly. “Other than figuring out where we would like to spend tonight.”

The question warms you through and makes his hand on your waist feel all the more weighty and important. “Did you have a special idea? Or a preference?” For a moment you wonder if he, like you, has been living an implacably solo lifestyle. There is no way your little studio will be big enough for two.

“I have a little cottage.” Javi admits. “But maybe we can get a suite at a hotel? Make it special?” He wants you to be comfortable, to feel like you had more than just a rushed experience.

“A cottage?” The idea sounds so sweet to you that you almost sigh. “We could…stay at yours tonight? And plan the rest of the weekend over breakfast tomorrow?”

“Are you sure?” He’s a little shocked that you would want to stay in his little cottage rather than in a four star hotel with round the clock room service.

“Well, I would bring you home with me but there’s no way we would both be comfortable,” you reason, not thinking about the luxury for a second.

“I understand.” He nods, aware that you might not want him in your space. “I was just making sure you did not want room service?”

“Room service is fun.” You’ll never deny that. “But all I care about is walking up next to my soulmate tomorrow morning.”

The smile is slow as it spreads across his face, he’s shocked that his cheeks don’t hurt from how much he’s been smiling today. Just another miracle of finding you, finding his other half. “Okay.” He agrees softly. “I will show you my cottage. It’s—” he hesitates. “Temporary.” He promises. “Now that you are my wife, you can help me plan the building.”

“The building?” You ask, but he is already swept up in the music again and humming as he twirls you around the floor, conversation forgotten in favor of so much joy.

The night is perfect. The mood is so joyful that he believes every movie should be kicked off with a wedding. Or maybe it just bodes well for the fate of this movie.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[dreamwreaver]

I know canonically the chances of charlastor becoming canon are basically nil, but I do think Alastor at least cares about Charlie. You can’t tell me this man is still 100% only manipulating her after he nearly died while fighting for her/her hotel. Originally, it was obviously manipulation but I’m convinced at some point, it turned into genuine care (or, dare I say, affection).

All I'm gonna say is that if Viv wants to break the trope she better have some damn good writing behind it. Nonny, I was in the miraculous fandom for literal YEARS, I still have a soft spot for seasons 1-3 at which point the series ends. There's a lot of tropey bad writing I can forgive.

What I cannot, however, is "subverting" tropes for the sake of subverting them so you feel smarter than everyone else. Yes I'm bitter still and that guyTM can suck a sour egg for wasting nearly a decade of his fans time after continuously mining the fandom for content he then took credit for because he's just THAT GOOD.

Where were we? Oh, right, Hazbin. I think we're a bit more in luck because Alastor is one of Viv's oldest characters and she's definitely more prone to letting the characters evolve over time rather than trying to force characters that developed past their original inception and thus no longer fit the roles into them like a square peg in a round hole. Viv's writing has its problems, and I'm not saying either hellaverse show is some brilliant masterpiece of animation, but at the very least her use of tropes is consistent with the trope she uses. All her current narrative setup seems to indicate that Alastor will grow to care for Charlie, deeply. He already does if we consider that Alastor isn't technically bound by anything to help the hotel. Their arrangement is that he is ordered to help for as long as he so desires.

Until that specific line from the pilot is contradicted I consider it canon still. Technically the pilot is still canon since episode 1 takes place a week after it. Alastor doesn't HAVE to do anything with the hotel if he really doesn't want to. He can walk away at any time, and he probably will; at least in that "I'm developing feelings I don't want for people so I'm going to isolate myself" loner way. But it's too late. He already cares.

Amir's caginess about the question of who Alastor would do anything for is also highly suspect. Like we know one person definitively is his mother. The odds of it being a male character are almost nonexistent based on current characterization. So out of the main cast? Charlie is the most likely candidate. Viv has also confirmed that Alastor likes people not too much like him, but not too different either. Charlie is the one who fits that exactly. Two sides of the same coin. The other's dark reflection; everything they could be if circumstances were different but aren't. Could it be someone else entirely? Yeah sure I guess but we better get some hints as to who before the big reveal or else it wouldn't make any sense.

I'm not saying charlastor has to be canon. But to deny that all current narrative tropes indicate that Alastor is growing to care for Charlie in a deeper but platonic way is just insane to me.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.5

I get almost halfway through the take before I stumble over my words. With a deep breath, I reach over and stop the recording. Again. I wonder how real actors can stand this, repeating their lines over and over, but quickly veer sharply away from that particular line of thought.

I hit the record button with a little more force than strictly necessary, watching the monitor as it opens a new file for the fifteenth time today. With another deep breath I paste on a smile that gets less convincing for each take.

“Hi guys, it’s Julia!” I chirp, my voice sounding unnaturally upbeat, even to me. I launch into the introduction, trying to hit that sweet spot where it still sounds natural and improvised, as if I hadn’t rehearsed it all morning.

This time, I manage to maintain a smooth delivery from beginning to end, no fumbling, no awkward pauses. Relief washes over me, until I glance at the small mirror under my camera.

One side of my eyeliner is smudged, the wings embarrassingly lopsided and uneven. I finally got my perfect take – and it’s useless. Of course.

I hammer the button to stop recording and toss a mascara onto the table with a clatter. My eyes are burning, and it’s not just from the brightness of the ring light. I grab a makeup wipe and erase any trace of the effort I put in this morning as I shut down the camera. No more today. My heart’s clearly not in it right now.

I head into the living room and sink onto my couch with a weary sigh, phone in hand. Marten still hasn’t replied to the text I sent him several hours ago, before I started recording. Now that we’re official, I figured we’d be texting and talking even more often. Instead, I almost feel more isolated than before. It’s only been a week since our first kiss, shouldn’t this be the giddy honeymoon stage?

I guess I can’t expect him to clear his entire schedule just because I finally decided to sleep with him, but still, I would have liked to see him again this weekend, spend more time together, reassure myself that the feelings – his or mine, I don’t know – are real.

I try to get a few cute selfies. My hair’s still decent, but without the makeup, I look… well, tired. I choose the least unflattering one and send it to Marten.

After a long pause, my phone finally vibrates. “You’re so pretty, Jules. Miss you too. Busy w/ study group, talk later!”

I stare at the message for a few seconds, chewing my lower lip. Somehow, it’s not the enthusiastic, all-in response I crave. He always says that he misses me, but he’s extremely slow to respond most of the time. I get it, his studies are demanding. But is it wrong for me to want more attention? More… appreciation that I’m dating him?

I feel a flutter of guilt. Do I seriously want him to feel grateful? Ugh, I sound like such a diva. I scroll through my favourites, stopping at Samara’s name. She’s visiting her family this weekend, so that’s a dead end. The quiet of my apartment presses in, the air thick with a loneliness that’s becoming too familiar.

On an impulse, I text Miranda instead, and my phone rings seconds later.

“Hey, girl!” Miranda’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and cheery as always. “What’s up?” Her excitement makes me smile. Maybe some of that energy will rub off on me.

“Not much, to be honest. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?”

“Oh my gosh, yes! Perfect timing. I was just unboxing some new items for a brand deal and I’d love a second opinion. Come over!”

“I’ll be there soon,” I say.

I can always finish the video later.

It’s impossible to be sad for long in Miranda’s apartment. The moment you step inside, it’s like an explosion of colourful curiosities, framed posters, soft pillows and plants, so many plants. This place is all Miranda, loud and unapologetic.

Her cat, Socks, is curled up in her usual spot on the couch and I’m very careful not to intrude on her space as I cross my legs. At best, that would earn me a scathing look of absolute disdain, and at worst, she’d get up and leave, her tiny furry body radiating contempt.

Miranda has placed two steaming mugs of coffee in front of us, along with some fruit and chocolate.

“Thank you so much for having me over, Mir. I spent all morning messing up a recording and I was slowly going insane.”

“You’re welcome, I appreciate the excuse to procrastinate.” She indicates her unboxing table across the room with a toss of her head. “Got a brand deal, I’ve only worked with them once before, and I really need to get it right. They’re extremely picky, last time I had to redo the video like seven times before they approved it.”

“Ouch. But I guess they were happy in the end, if they offered you a second deal?”

“They were very happy, but it’s still a lot of pressure. So I’m postponing that particular problem until tomorrow, the light is better early in the day anyway. But how are you doing, really?”

The genuine concern in her voice makes me fold immediately.

“Honestly, I kind of hate everything right now. It’s like nothing really makes me happy, even though it should. I mean, I finally hit a hundred thousand followers, I got a new boyfriend, things should be amazing. But no matter what I make, it feels forced, and Marten… I don’t know. I can’t quite get a read on him, I kinda wonder if he even actually likes me.”

“Well, maybe he’s not as intense as… as what you’ve been used to, but he’s clearly obsessed with you. I don’t think we’ve ever hung out without him texting you at least two or three times, and that was before you even started dating.”

“Yeah, you’re right, maybe I’m comparing. I guess it’s too soon to worry about it, it’s only been a week. It’s probably just work dragging me down.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “Would you rather go back to your old content?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s too niche, I was struggling to reach fifty thousand followers back then, and I’ve already doubled that since switching. I need to stick to something with a wider appeal if I want it to be viable.”

“OK, thought experiment – if money wasn’t an issue, what would you do? No limits, you can do whatever you want?”

The vision bursts into my head, unbidden. I’ve moved to Del Sol Valley, I’m working on movie costumes, maybe musicals or theatre too, and I walk the red carpet in a stunning gown, and Paul is there, and of course he sees me and deeply regrets ever leaving me. Then I force him to explain himself and either slap him or kiss him – or both – and…

“I don’t know.”

“Really? Seriously, Julia, anything goes?”

I force the fantasy out of my head and try to be realistic. “I think I just miss being a little more creative. I don’t want my whole rebrand to go to waste, but maybe I could make it a bit more… fun?”

“Well, that’s pretty doable, isn’t it? I’ve been thinking we could do a collab, maybe it’d shake up the format a little and you could do something new.”

Next to me, the cat purrs contentedly, oblivious to the mild existential crisis swirling in my head. “I really appreciate you wanting to help, but I’m a bit worried it’ll look like you’re just boosting me. You’ve got ten times the followers I do, I don’t want pity views.”

Miranda chuckles. “Oh, girl, no. I’m your friend, but if I didn’t like your content, I wouldn’t risk associating with it, you know? This collab is just as much for me as it is for you.”

I manage a half-smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“I’m serious, Julia. You always bring something unique and creative, and maybe it could be a stepping stone for you to add a bit more colour to your channel?”

“You’re right, and I really don’t want to sound ungrateful. This is just so far from what I used to do, I’m struggling to figure out how to combine it.”

Miranda nods. “I get it. But sometimes you have to try a couple different paths before landing on the perfect blend of what you love doing and what actually gets traction. You’ll figure it out.”

Next to me, Socks seems to have gotten bored with her nap. Her ears twitch, and in one fluid motion, she hops off the couch.

We both turn our heads to watch as she leaps onto the small presentation table where a pair of pink boots are ready for Miranda’s video.

“Oh no,” Miranda mutters. “She’s gonna cost me a deal if she touches those.”

The cat sniffs at the box, then at the shiny leather. I’m halfway across the couch when Socks swats at the lid, her claws catching in the wrapping paper.

“Socks, no!” Miranda yelps, leaping to her feet. The cat immediately backs off and starts washing herself, clearly offended that we would ever think she had any interest in the shoe box at all.

Miranda sinks back into the couch as Socks jumps off the table and we both burst into relieved giggles.

“She’s such a menace. Anyway, about the collab…”

navigation / previous / next

[crazysodomite]

im about to be really petty

the way my mother uses the dishwasher pisses me off so bad. she puts everything in there with no regards to how to actually use the dishwasher. the concept of 'not everything goes into the dishwasher' does not exist to her.

she puts everything into the dishwasher when it would take 5 minutes to wash it by hand. she puts knives into it so they are all dull and have rust spots and the handles are peeling (yum... plastic) she puts Fucking wooden utensils and cutting boards into it so they are splitting at the seams and warping.

she doesn't rinse or scrub off food off of dishes before putting them in so after a full cycle there are bits of food stuck to the Fucking dishes which defeats the purpose of doing dishes. and she either leaves them there for another cycle (which doesn't remove the bits of food) or takes them out so there are dry dishes with food stuck to them with a vice grip.

this genuinely makes me irrationally angry. i had to hide kitchen knives under my bed because she doesn't understand the simple concept of Hand washing knives so they don't rust and dull immediately so I don't have to use them like a fucking saw or bang on the knife with two hands to cut a carrot. this pisses me off so bad. god.

i handwash everything no matter what because the dishwasher pisses me off so bad. there's also no dishes all the time because instead of washing them she puts them into the dishwasher and they stay there dirty until it fills up. instead of spending 10 minutes on washing dishes. i am seething. i can't buy ANYTHING for the kitchen because i know she will ruin it. I decided to treat myself to a Normal Kitchen Knife That Actually Cuts Things Instead Of Me Having To Bang My Fist On The Top Of It To Cut Anything and I'm going to have to hide it in my room instead of just. Having the knife be in the kitchen like a normal fucking person. Because she can't be trusted with washing a knife so it doesn't rust and dull. Or hell don't touch my knives if you're going to ruin them.

All I want to do is to be able to cook in peace. I'm not asking for a lot. I am seething so bad. it's like she doesn't care about anything. when she ruins something it's not a big deal but god forbid i do something. then it's a screaming match for hours. The dishwasher makes my blood boil. See it pisses me off because my mother doesn't actually care about doing things right in life.

For me doing the dishes means washing them properly with no bits of food stuck to it and drying them and putting them neatly in their place. For her it means putting them into the dishwasher immediately even if it's utensils that Absolutely Do Not Belong In A Dishwasher and then taking them out (with bits of food stuck to them) and putting them into whatever drawer they fit in. For the Appearance of a clean kitchen.

I have given up on trying to make the drawers be tidy because if I clean and sort everything she will just ruin it the next day so what's the point. It's funny because she tells me 'sort the kitchen yourself if you want it to be tidy' funny thing is that I did. One time I sorted everything in the kitchen neatly. And she kept shoving shit into drawers with no regard to my tidiness.

Same thing with like, clothes. To her it's 'clean' to just shove the clothes into the closet for the appearance of a clean room instead of sorting or folding them. It's all about appearances. Today she put a clean knife I just sharpened and hand washed into the dishwasher. I got that knife for myself because all the knives in this house are small and dull and really cheap and warped and with chunks broken off of them. I had to hide them under my bed but then I got tired of it and she ruined them. Because hand washing knives is way too hard I guess

[yvesssssssss]

Ts story is shi idk anymore

"Oops, be careful here!" Nagumo swiftly pulled you away from the man who tried to attack you, deftly extracting a knife and throwing it at the assailant, hitting him squarely in the forehead and ensuring instant death. The Order had assigned Nagumo to protect you, and he accepted without many questions.

Nagumo remained calm and almost joyful, seemingly not taking the attackers seriously. He exuded absolute confidence in his strength and preparedness to protect you when necessary. Fortunately, you now had a moment to catch your breath, with Nagumo holding your hand tightly to keep you close and safe.

“Well, this one seems to be already dead. That’s what he deserves!” Nagumo glanced at the lifeless assailant, then back at you, to make sure you were safe and didn’t get hurt. He smiled, squeezing your hand tighter and guiding you away from the scene, intent on a quick escape to avoid unnecessary attention.

Nagumo casually walked with you at his side, his hand still firmly holding yours as he looked back for any potential threats. His carefree demeanor contrasted sharply with the seriousness of the situation. He seemed as if he was enjoying himself, rather than focusing on the danger around you.

As you walked, you could feel the rough texture of various tattoos on his hand, and occasionally caught glimpses of them under his rolled-up sleeve. Nagumo's eyes darted around, ever vigilant.

While you both were walking, Nagumo couldn't help but notice the curious glances that you were giving to his tattoos. He took a moment to turn to you, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You seem to be quite interested in my tattoos." he said, arching an eyebrow and giving your hand a slight squeeze. "Care to take a closer look?"

Nagumo's tattoos, I noticed that many of them seemed to have mathematical patterns and symbols, such as the Fibonacci Spiral and the golden ratio. Nagumo seemed almost like an open book, willing to reveal his secrets through his body art.

(name) hesitated for a moment, then asked softly, "Do they have a meaning? Or are they just... art?"

Nagumo's tattoos continued to catch your attention, each one intricate and precise. It was clear that they held significance to him, and you found yourself drawn into their meaning.

My tattoos are more than just decorations," he remarked, catching your gaze. "They are a representation of my innermost thoughts and beliefs."

"I'd be interested to hear about them," I said simply, my tone sincere and inviting. "If you're willing to share, of course."

He chuckled softly as he noticed your interest, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. "Each one of these designs is carefully chosen. They're like a visual diary of my life and experiences."

As Nagumo continued explaining the meaning behind each tattoo, he mentioned the golden ratio as a recurring pattern.

"Notice how the Fibonacci Spiral and the golden ratio appear multiple times?" he asked, a hint of pride in his voice. "Those have always been my favorites. They represent the perfect harmony and balance in nature and mathematics."

"Absolutely," I replied, nodding thoughtfully. "The Fibonacci Spiral and the golden ratio do seem to pop up everywhere, from the arrangement of petals on flowers to the shape of galaxies. It’s fascinating how something so mathematical can also be so visually and naturally pleasing. There really is a unique beauty in that balance you mentioned."

"I've always been fascinated by the Fibonacci sequence. It’s like a hidden code that weaves itself into the very fabric of nature. And the golden ratio..." he smiled, running his finger over one of his tattoos, "It's a divine proportion. It's a reminder of the beauty and order in the world, and of myself, I guess."

"That's such a profound way to look at it," I said, intrigued. "The Fibonacci sequence does feel like nature's secret language, and the golden ratio really does seem to embody something greater—like there's a deeper connection between math, art, and the world around us. It’s cool that your tattoo captures that personal connection to it too. It’s like carrying that sense of order with you."

Nagumo's explanations only fueled your curiosity even more. His tattoos seemed to reveal a side of him that you wouldn't have expected.

"It's impressive that you have so many tattoos representing such complex mathematical concepts," I commented, marveling at his dedication to the subject.

"Well, I've always been a bit of a mathematician at heart," he replied with a shrug, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But I suppose these tattoos are also a way to express my desire for perfection and elegance."

"That makes sense," I said, admiring the way he blended his passion for math with personal expression. "It’s like these tattoos are a way of making something abstract tangible, a way to carry that pursuit of perfection with you. It’s not just about the numbers; it’s about how they represent something bigger—something you strive for."

"It's not just about mathematics, though," he murmured, his voice soft. "These tattoos also remind me of the importance of balance in life. There's always a push and pull, an equal yet opposite reaction. It's a philosophy I strive to live by."

"I can see that," I said, my voice quiet, reflecting on his words. "Balance really is at the core of everything, isn’t it? Like the ebb and flow of life, where each challenge and triumph has its counterpart. It’s not just about finding harmony in the world around you, but within yourself too. It’s a powerful philosophy to live by."

"Balance in all things," he repeated, as if reciting a personal mantra. "That's how I was raised. That's how I live. It's not just philosophy, it's a way of being."

"It sounds like it's really become a part of who you are," I said, thoughtfully. "When something is so deeply ingrained, it shapes every choice you make, every action. It’s inspiring how you've turned that idea of balance into a way of life, not just something you think about, but something you embody every day."

Nagumo turned to you, his expression surprisingly serious, yet still adorned with a soft smile.

"Balance is important, you know," he said, his eyes steady on yours. "No matter how skilled we are in combat or in life, without balance, we're nothing. It's a constant battle, but it's important to stay grounded, don't you think?"

As you nodded in agreement, Nagumo's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his fingers rubbing against yours in a soothing motion.

"Life is a dance on a tightrope," he continued, his voice thoughtful. "We can't afford to lose our balance, or else we fall. It's like a fine art, something that demands skill and finesse."

Nagumo's comparison of life to an art form caught your attention. It seemed unlikely for a killer like him to have such a perspective, yet there was no denying the sense in his words.

"You're surprisingly philosophical," I remarked, your eyes tracing the patterns of his tattoos as he walked.

Nagumo chuckled softly, as if amused by your observation.

"I have more layers than you might suspect," he replied, his smile growing wider. "It's true, I'm a killer, but I'm not just that. I see beauty in the precision of a well-executed strike, and in the elegance of a perfectly balanced equation."

As you continued walking, you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises lay beneath Nagumo's composed exterior.

"So, you see artistry in violence?" you asked, the question tinged with curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

"I see it everywhere," he replied, his eyes flickering with a mix of seriousness and amusement. "Art and violence are two sides of the same coin. They are both expressions of energy and power, just channeled differently."

He paused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I guess you could say I'm an artist with a knack for the lethal."

"A lethal artist," I mused, the term bringing forth an image of Nagumo's deadly accuracy combined with his unique sense of style.

"It makes sense, in a twisted way," I said half-jokingly. "I suppose it's an art to make killing look beautiful."

Nagumo let out a small laugh, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

"Oh, you have no idea," he said, his tone slightly playful. "Beauty is subjective, after all. What may be beautiful to me, might not be to others. But in my world, there is a certain elegance in the way things are "resolved." The way a blade slides through flesh, the way a body crumples to the ground, it's all a matter of perspective, I suppose."

His words danced on a fine line between morbid and captivating, and you found yourself reluctantly enthralled by his perspective. It was a strange mix of art and violence, with Nagumo seemingly able to find beauty in the macabre.

Seeing your slight fascination, Nagumo's gaze softened, his smile becoming almost tender.

"Don't look so surprised," he said, his tone gentle. "I'm not some mindless killer. There's a method to my madness. It's not just about the killing, it's about the precision, the skill, the control. It's a craft that I've honed over the years."

He paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on the surroundings.

"You know, there's a certain purity in the act of taking a life," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "It's not about the death itself, but the execution of the action. It's like a dance, a choreography. And just like any performance, it requires skill and grace."

Listening to Nagumo's words was like peering into the abyss of his psyche, both terrifying and intriguing. He seemed completely at ease with his own nature, even finding a sense of order and art in his dark profession.

"It's a bit unsettling, you know," I remarked, your voice soft. "The way you talk about killing, like it's just another form of art."

"Is it unsettling?" Nagumo chuckled, his eyes locking on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "Or is it intriguing? I guess it depends on your perspective. To me, it is a craft, a skill perfected over years of practice."

He paused, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Everyone has their obsessions, their passions. This is mine. The art of killing."

His unabashed honesty was both captivating and off-putting. It was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile the man walking next to you with the assassin reputation.

"I suppose everyone needs a hobby," I said, my voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. "Most people just tend to stick to safer ones, without the whole murder aspect."

Nagumo's smirk widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He found your attempt at sarcasm amusing, though his response was laced with a hint of seriousness.

"Where's the fun in safety?" he asked, his tone a mix of playfulness and conviction. "Danger adds spice to life, don't you think? Besides, I've never been one for conventional hobbies. I prefer the thrill of the hunt, the rush of the chase."

His words carried a strange allure, as if he had found a peculiar form of fulfillment in the thrill of the hunt. It was a contradiction, this killer who found joy in violence, and yet you couldn’t help but find yourself drawn to the captivating danger he exuded.

"You truly are an enigma," I remarked, my tone holding a mix of amusement and bewilderment.

"Enigma, eh?" Nagumo mused, his smile turning sly. "I suppose I am. Not many can understand the allure of my world. But then again, not many have the chance to witness it firsthand."

He paused, his eyes roaming your face, seemingly searching for something. "You, on the other hand... you're intriguing. Most would be terrified or disgusted, but you seem oddly fascinated."

His observation hit close to home, and you couldn't deny the strange fascination that had gripped you. It was an odd mix of fear and curiosity, but you couldn't deny the allure of the dangerous man standing before you.

"Maybe I'm just too curious for my own good," I admitted, my voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Nagumo replied, his smile turning into a smirk. "But satisfaction brought it back."

He leaned in slightly, his gaze becoming more intense. "You're a risk-taker, aren't you? Willing to play with fire, despite the possibility of getting burned."

I couldn't help but shiver at his words, the intensity in his gaze sending tendrils of excitement and trepidation down your spine. He was right; you were taking a risk by being near him, letting yourself get pulled into his dark world.

"I suppose sometimes the curiosity is worth the risk," I replied, my voice holding a hint of defiance.

"That's the spirit," Nagumo said, his eyes flashing with approval. "Don't let fear hold you back. Embrace the risk, the excitement. It's all part of the journey."

He paused, his gaze fixated on you. "You know, curiosity can be quite addictive. Once you start, it's hard to stop. I hope you're prepared for the consequences."

"I'm starting to question my sanity just being here," I admitted, a mix of caution and excitement coursing through your veins. "But there's something about you, something that... draws me in, despite my better judgment."

As the words left your lips, you realized how true they rang. There was an inexplicable allure to Nagumo, a magnetic pull you couldn't deny.

A smirk crept across Nagumo's face, his eyes glinting with a wicked gleam. "Sanity is overrated, darling. It's the insane ones who truly live, who experience the extremes of life."

He leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "You're falling into my web, aren't you? The more you struggle, the tighter the threads become. You'll find escape is hopeless."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn't deny the excitement that coursed through you. You were trapped, ensnared by the charming killer's irresistible pull.

Swallowing hard, I held his gaze and retorted, "And what if I don't want to escape?"

A pleased smile spread across Nagumo's face as he heard your words. He took a step closer, his body mere inches from yours, his voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper.

"Oh, darling. You just sealed your fate," he said, his tone both dangerous and enticing. "Once you're tangled in my web, there's no escape. You'll be mine, completely. And I'll own you, body and soul."

His words should have sent fear coursing through mt veins, but instead, I found myself captivated, almost entranced by the dangerous promise of belonging to him. It was foolish, insane even, but I couldn't help but feel a twisted anticipation at the thought of being his.

Nagumo's gaze was feral now, his smile turning slightly sinister. He had you trapped, and he knew it. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the contour of your face, his touch both tender and possessive.

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a soft but unyielding declaration. "And I don't like to share my toys."

The intensity of his words, the sheer possessiveness that clung to every syllable, should have repulsed me. But instead, it ignited a strange fire within me. My logical mind urged caution, caution, caution, but another, wilder part of me reveled in the thrill of being his.

"You're insane," I managed to whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "I should run far, far away from you."

But even as the words left your lips, you felt your resolve weakening. The pull he had on you was too strong, too intoxicating.

Nagumo chuckled softly, his hand shifting from your face to rest on your hip, his touch firm yet gentle.

"You could try," he replied, his voice holding a menacing note. "But you won't get very far. I'll always find you."

His words held a terrifying certainty, and a part of you longed to test his limits, to see how far you could push him before he snapped. The thrill of danger was a potent addiction, and you found yourself craving more of his dark presence.

"You're a monster," I whispered, voice tinged with hesitation and desire.

Nagumo's grip tightened on your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh just enough to remind you of his strength. He was a predator, a dangerous creature, and yet you found yourself drawn to the edge of his teeth.

"I never claimed to be anything but," he said, his voice cool, the corner of his mouth lifting into a dangerous smirk. "But you seem to revel in my darkness, don't you? You want to see how deep the shadows go."

There was no denying the truth in his words. I was addicted to the thrill, to the excitement that coursed through my veins when i was in his presence. It was like a drug, and you were a willing addict.

"You're ruining me," I murmured, voice tinged with both despair and arousal.

Nagumo's smirk deepened at your words, his grip on your hip pulling you effortlessly closer to him until there was barely an inch between your bodies. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a low, dangerous purr.

"And you love every moment of it," he whispered, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear before he continued, "You crave the ruin, the delicious fall from grace."

I hated how right he was. Every part of me that still clung to rationality, to normalcy, screamed in protest, but I couldn't deny the truth. I relished the ruin, the wicked thrill of his touch, the dangerous games he played.

I leaned into him, my body pressed against his, your voice a ragged whisper. "Yes. I do."

Nagumo's smile widened into a feral grin, his eyes glittering with a predatory satisfaction. He had you right where he wanted you, and he knew it.

One strong arm snaked around your waist, holding you firmly against him, while the other hand gently traced the curve of your jawline.

"You've finally accepted the truth," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive. "You're mine, in body and soul."

The word 'mine' should have revolted you, should have filled you with fear, but instead it sent a shudder of excitement coursing through you. You knew what you were getting yourself into, the dangerous game you were playing, but you couldn't find it within yourself to care.

I looked up at him, my voice a low, ragged whisper. "Yes. Yours."

[prof-dr-worm]

Bruce, standing infront of the batbarn, arms crossed at the sight of the batcow, currently frolicking with... another cow. Damian, not very well hidden, beams with joy at the vew.

Bruce: Hey chum... Care to explain why there is another cow in our barn? Last I remember there was only one.

Damian hesitates a moment before approaching his father, attempting to hide his glee.

Damian: You see father... I came across a facinateing fact douring my studies yesterday. You see bovines have a perpencity to form strong bonds with both humans and individuals of their own species.

Bruce: Facinateing indeed, but that does not answer my question.

Again Damian hesitates, trying to formulare the best response.

Damian: I was taugt not to take information at face value, as such I decided to investigate for myself.

Bruce smirks.

Bruce: The scientific method. Admirable. But why...

Glancing at the cows now huddled together on the ground.

Bruce: Why another cow? You said that they can bond with humans too.

Damian looks down at his feet, hiding his face, blushing.

Damian: She...She does exhibit behaviour that indicates that she has bonded with me but...

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

Bruce: But?

Damian: But with my studies, our patroles and my visits to mother, I assumed she might become...

Bruce: Lonely?

Damian nods in silent agreement.

Bruce nods as well, hesitateing before embraceing his boy with a mix of annoyance and pride.

Bruce: I guess that is sound reasoning. But next time warn me about new additions to our...menagerie.

Damian recipricates the embrace.

Damian: Thank you baba.

[overnightheartbeats]

"Just a little surprised," she reassured. "It's true then," the truth settled in for her. Ivette had heard the rumor, that his parents were not as involved. She just didn't think it was true, and that they really had let him take the place under his guidance already. "Hm, that is a pretty big difference, almost night and day." She had remembered those distinctions being very clear when she was still growing up here. "I loved that table, of course I remember. I know they hated that we were interrupting their cooking flow." Not that they'd voice their annoyance, since she was hanging out with him. "You are quick to clean, wow. Wait, you're kidding. Two in the morning?" That was insanity for her, but only because two in the morning was when she was most active at the hospital. Night shifts had become an odd favorite of hers. "You certainly sound busy, but I guess that's what you've been preparing for all this time." Running this place had always been part of the plan, his mother's words echoing in her mind.

She followed him to the kitchen, taking a seat as soon as they walked in. Unlike the early bird, Ivette's head was still spinning a smidge. "Okay, yes. How much fun would you make of me if I admit I feel just a tiny bit hungover? Eggs are still perfect, what's your specialty in the kitchen?" While he was grabbing items from the fridge, she had taken a few minutes to reply to Javi, just because he might dissuade her from continuing to sit here in her ex's kitchen, and getting breakfast together.

It's great, now you can smack me back to reality in real time versus delayed a few days letter when your letter would arrive. You know, sometimes I forget who I'm talking to Mr. advice columnist. Easier said than done, but you're not wrong. I just can't get over the fear of talking to him, I'd kind of be putting myself out there again. Putting myself out there to get shot down and possibly humiliated, doesn't sound fun at all. I'll think about when, maybe the next time I'm drunk out of my mind (kidding!) It feels like a bad idea, doesn't it? Everyone says being friends with an ex is impossible. Is she talking to you now at least? I'm sure she would know how important she is to you. You show a lot of care in your words. Would you take your own advice, talking to her so that you can also get some closure? Do you plan on telling her ever? How you feel? Silently carrying those feelings is hard. Especially if you see each other every day. I get you though, I'm still so upset and hurt with him and yet, I would fall again in a heartbeat. Well, smartest thing...our brains just kinda stop working, no? Mines did when I'm around him, that's for sure. Mojitos with tequila are the best! But, yesterday was rum. That's probably what screwed me over after the second one. I hate when you have good advice, you know, it makes it hard to listen to my impulsive thoughts. My suitcase was already packed, but yes I promise I'll try not to run. If you also try making some progress on the love life. Just so I'm not alone in the journey. :)

Javi's words were circling in her mind as she set her phone down - last time isn't this time. Plus, getting closure. Closure was all she had been thinking of for years, picturing all the ways she would confront him for the pain he caused her, but now that they were a few feet from each other, she couldn't bring herself to ask. Nate's voice pulled her away from her thoughts, lemonade dissolving everything else. "Yeah, of course. Lemonade will finish waking me up. What are your plans for today then, besides making breakfast for your guests?" Maybe she was just looking for ideas of things to do before the real work began tomorrow. Or, she was curious what a day in Nate's life looked like now.

He nodded as confirmation and smiled, "a little surprised? I mean, I wanted to make a difference once this wasn't under the direction of my parents. No one here is below anyone else. We're all equal. There isn't a table in the kitchen here anymore. Remember that table we used to hid under when the ladies would cook? They all get to eat out in the living room with the rest of us." Being crowned prince didn't mean he was above them all. Not anymore it didn't. "Cleaning is going well. Done with the courtyard now heading inside. Mhmm," he laughed. "I am usually up at two in the morning but I go to bed at six. Dinner is at four usually. Unless I have more work to do." That work being his actual job as an advice columnist. "No, well I'm no plumber. That's the only thing that Raul does. Everything else is me. I like to keep busy." Also, this was everything he'd learned at his boarding school.

"Don't worry about it. Let's eat." The break was well deserved anyway. He lead her through the kitchen doors and gestured for her to take the first available seat she found. The wall between the outer kitchen and the stove was tall and had hidden him from sight for a moment as he took out the ingredients together to make a satisfying breakfast. "Still like eggs?" he asked as he felt his phone vibrate.

The joys of evolving technology. There's a lot of "I"s in that sentence. How do you know for sure? Have you talked to him about it? You're and don't take this as me taking his side in this. He hurt you and that is not something that can be set aside but, you're not giving him a voice to his side. You're assuming that the past version of him is the one you spent the night with. Talking in absolutes when you aren't really truly sure thats what he thinks. Last time isn't this time. If you want that closure you're going to have to talk to him. Not today maybe not in the upcoming weeks but sometime you will need to meet face to face to talk about the past just to get that closure. You deserve it.

I can't even tell you anything on wanting to be friends. I'm in a similar boat as you where I'd give anything to make her see that she's still important to me. I'm okay. Been drowning myself in work. I get to see her everyday for a while and it kills me to see her and see how far apart we truly are. I don't know how to talk to her without telling her how much I still love her. That the pain that was inflicted did nothing to change how I feel about her. I still carry her in my heart even though the smartest thing would be to get her out of there. I still at the end of the day, would bend to my knees for her. Mojitos are good. Was it mixed with vodka or tequila? Don't run. Don't give him that power.

He had put his phone away and sighed as he brought over some juices to the table. "I hope lemonade is okay?"

[coff-in]

you don’t need to apologize! it’s easy to feel burnt out specially with how many requests you get

do things on your own pace! i hope you feel better soon!! (ps: we’ll patiently wait for new i.i.i chapters!!🎉)

— Dungeon Anon

i hope i feel better too! everyone has been really nice towards me so far, i'm just not used to having an audience like this ^^; it's my first time actively participating in a fandom, i'm usually a consumer of content, so when i started making stuff i tried to live or keep up with the expectations i had for creators as a consumer and i'm realizing that the expectations i have are NOT forgiving :(

big vent talk (don't feel like you have to read it all)

i want to post something-- anything really-- to make sure that:

you guys know that i'm still active (my biggest fear is finding wonderful content made by wonderful creators and figuring out that they're inactive or on a undisclosed hiatus-- which is their right to do so, ofc! i don't say this to be intentionally rude or entitled)

to keep your attention (i like reading your asks and requests and they actively help me expand my own thoughts and ideas by introducing me to concepts i wouldn't have thought of before)

however, i think by keeping myself up to this "professional" standard i have in my head, i've sort of been taking the fun out of writing your requests little by little. i don't want to put blame on my audience and i entirely take blame or fault or burden for my feelings and thinking when approaching all this. like, i notice that i answer more conversational asks quicker than i do more formal one (ie i'll answer "hey coff-in! tell me your thoughs..." before i'll tackle "could i request...") it's also my fault for keeping my inbox open all/most of the time. i've gotten so used to the joy and happiness of getting an ask or request that i honestly get worried when i don't see a notification next to my inbox in the morning or before i go to bed.

i have a bad habit of getting really attached to fandoms and projects and then just... not finishing them. now that i have an audience, people who come to me (my blog), i fear about disappointing them when i have nothing to show. i've been working on other little side projects so i don't over-saturate on tcoaal and lose interest (i have new books to read, i'm working on a ren'py visual novel, i have dnd planned with online friends) and they bring me joy, but i'm constantly plagued with the thought that i'm doing something wrong by not working on something tcoaal related. and when i do answer requests or write for indulgence in isolation, i'm afraid that is isn't good enough. i know that it's a silly expectation to have-- i'm not a professional by any means, i'm a 19 year old student who barely goes outside-- but it just HAUNTS me. it makes me scared...

... i try to keep pushing though. i know that my characterizations of andrew and ashley aren't anything close to canon or as good as canon but that's to be expected, no? i'm not nemlei and these aren't my characters so i'm not going to feel as comfortable writing for them as i do my ocs and orginal characters.

i'm mostly just fighting myself these days.

i'm happy that you guys get that though! you guys don't force or demand me to write or answer requests... i just, i'm just so grateful to have you guys here to stumble upon my little blog. i've gone from posting little ficlets i've written in my notebook to nobody to answering requests and writing multi chapter fanfiction and drawing oc art to about 110 people (and those who lurk) in about two months. i have to remind myself that it's reasonable to get stressed and feel overwhelmed and to overwork myself, it's my FIRST TIME doing this!! there's no real study guide to handling fame (and i've never been good at studying anything ^^;)

i'll try to get writing out but it's probably won't be daily anymore (unless it's questions about my ocs, since i'm the most comfortable writing for my own characters) but it'll try to post something everyday. again, i'll also be writing for indulgence in isolation behind the scenes, too. i wanted to have longer chapters (about 3k-5k words) but i struggle producing 1.5k-2k words in about three days, so those updates may be a bit longer... i like writing, i'm just not good at it

i'm sorry for the long vent and all it's messiness. it felt nice typing it all out though. i've always felt like i had to explain my feelings somehow and it's nice to tell it to people instead of my empty bedroom aloud. it gives me a feeling of closure.

thank you all for listening and reading :) and thank you for your continued support

----

coff-in

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[blitzbuckz]

【𐂃】 as they gradually grew into their adolescent phase, he did overtime change his clothing style — wearing attires that no longer matched with his twin anymore. fixating on his best friend at the time; he started to wear more black clothing. spike collars. even merchandise from the King of Greed. Wherever the spotlight took Fizz, he was sure to follow quickly right after.

Nevertheless, it didn't meant he valued his sister any less. He still slept in the same tent along side her, maybe not in the same bed like when they were younger — but he still remained within sight. Checking in with her when time allowed it; when he wasn't so busy fending Fizz from his creepy fans or hanging out with him. His twin was always in his mind, even now, not a day goes by where he's not thinking about his significant other. Cursing himself for taking her for granted. wishing he managed his time better back then, maybe then she would of believed him instead of their drunkard father.

The assassin continued reminiscing; pouring out his suppressed self-hate for the second time. he had done it before with Millie, but never to this extent. this open. feeling closer to his twin, he grew compel to confide in them — however, no sooner did he temporarily regretted that decision. The loud strike of the mug on the table's surface prompted him to quickly release his iced coffee to retreat into his seat. lowering himself as far as he could with hunched shoulders, eyes widened in mere fright.

❝ I'm sorry. ❞ he fleetingly heaved, unable to hear the distant "HEY! You'll have to pay for that!" from the cafe's cashier — given he was too fixated feeling the wrath of his twin weighing him down. However, what he thought was animosity... was anything but that. He held onto her every word as he slowly let himself sink deeper && deeper under the table. Trying to shield himself from any possible retaliation, but to no avail succeeding when he was brought back up by a tug of his chest.

With gritting fangs his hands latched onto his suit just a few inches apart where they were gripping. being careful enough not to add on to his twin's fumes any more than he already had; he didn't dare to say or act on it. Letting them finish first before thinking up of a response. Which, honestly, he was rendered speechless for awhile. He did scrunched up his face when the hard pokes were given, but nothing jabbed harder than the truth. her perspective.

Flopping back down on his seat he fixed his collar, eyes glistening as if it was everything he wanted to hear && then some.

❝ shit — I . . . I had no idea y' felt this way. I didn't meant t' let my guts spill like that. Without mom an' you around, I spent years grieving by myself over it. It doesn't go away overnight an' . . . I guess reunitin' with ya caused me t' speak my mind without thinkin'. Since, y'know, we used t' be so close. we used t' say everything t' each other, but . . . yeah, you're right. that was fuckin' shitty of me an' I should have known better. Once a sot, always a sot. ❞ brushing off his shoulders he then tossed a weak smile, small, but genuine.

❝ It waaas pretty funny when we played "booze keep away" with that bastard. He did ended up blowin' a gasket an' made us clean the horse pens, but it was fuckin' worth it. ❞

It was same for Barbie. She had loved her life in their family owned circus. She was happy to have her whole family there, all the circus people, Fizz included. It had it's ups and downs of course, which is why Barbie as a teenager got to find her a new friend circles. Seeing her brother developing some weird relationship with Fizz, Barbie did feel like she was third wheeling when they hangout together, eventually just declining their offer of 'doing something fun'. It did hurt Barbie a little but seeing Blitzø actually enjoying Fizzarolli's company, and knowing how much shit their dad was causing for her twin, she didn't have a heart to ever bring this up. Not like she was, too, jealous or anything. She loved to see her twin happy and Fizz as well. Which is why Barbie started declining their offer of 'hanging out' more often as the time went by which led her eventually find herself someone else to hangout with... which was the start of the downfall for Barbie.

Did she miss the old times? In a way yeah. She missed the times she and Blitzø were hanging together, she misses their mom a whole lot. Times were as good as it could have been back then... but now Barbie was sitting in a café, listening Blitzø talk, while trying to keep herself calm. Push all the anger aside. Which was not easy after Blitzø just raised his voice a little while defending at ugly little imp back at the camp.

Barbie held the coffee mug between her fingers, her tail was moving slowly side to side as she was slowly getting more annoyed while Blitzø kept going and going. Too bad his sister didn't know how to comfort anyone these days no matter if she got worried over someone-...

"The fuck are you on? Seriously!?" Barbie finally hit the mark when she had enough of this self-hating pity party. Sure Barbie hated herself as much as Blitzø hated himself but she would never let it show by words, it was more like drowning her sorrows in booze and drugs type of thing for her.

Barbie slammed the mug on the table, hard, that is got some cracks on it "I don't know how fucking bad your memory is or what fucking long term memory loss you are struggling with but fuck off with that bullshit. Dad had ALWAYS been a drunk bastard, I remember him drinking ever since we were little toddlers and weren't even part of the circus act yet! He always had to have his daily dose of alcohol which is one reason we struggled money-wise at times! It was not only because of you so shove that shit back up in your ass" Barbie slammed her hands on the table and stood up.

"How fucking much longer are you gonna compare your talents on Fizz's anyways!? No one, and I mean NO ONE can compete with him on clown act! Dad knew it yet he still had to throw you two on stage together! He didn't care of the circus life wasn't for you at all and yet kept taking it on you!" yes Barbie was aware of some shit their dad had done to Blitzø, like hitting him. How many times? That she didn't know but she had witnessed Cash laying his hands on his twin few times, but had been too scared of saying anything. "The only fucking shit that drunk asswipe cared for was Fizz, the money he brought in.... literally everything except us. If this doesn't make you hate the bastard then I suggest you go and get professional help!" yes Barbie was mad, yes she did care very loudly and aggressively here.

"And you just made it sound like you set the fucking circus on fire on purpose! Are you not listening yourself talk!? You actually wanted Fizz to get hurt or mom die while dad probs run as fast to save his stack of cash and booze!?" Barbie took a hold on Blitzø's chest, pulling him up over the table. "Get your fucking shit together and stop swimming in that pool of self pity. Hell I have never seen someone's dick shrivel up and turn into pussy as fast as now" Barbie let go of Blitzø after giving few pokes on his forehead. During a rehab Barbie had taken some anger management but there was just some things that made her lose it with a snap. She hated talking about their past, even tho she was the one who brought their dad up first.

".... Sorry" Barbie mumbled under her breath, she didn't mean to go this far but at least she didn't punch Blitzø in the face as she was intend to.

[lavender-milky-tea]

P1/P2

MORE Persona 5 style bird boyfriends?!

[vamptastic]

dgaf about egg jokes they're harmless and at worst mildly stereotypical do your thing im sure ive made one before. however. i do feel like the whole discourse was kicked off by that "egg behavior to wear women's deodorant as a man" tweet and we all collectively need to agree that that tweet was dumb & stupid and women's deodorant is objectively superior to men's. actually men's hygiene products in general just suck more except razors. apparently its manly to smell like shit and have dry skin. if i had my druthers id force every cis man to use dove deodorant. id mean id still do it if it made them transgender but i see it as more of a public service in terms of smell than in that regard.

[minivirgo]

i think i'm just fundamentally evil and broken ?

[pardonmydelays]

i have a confession to make: i'm actually doing better than i ever was