#jealousy is a very ugly feeling i don’t like it but this concept was too good…

[honeydewsblue]

( gojo and paparazzi ) — alternatively: this with gojo 💀…

╰┄➤ 1.1 k wc, reader n gojo are obsessed and in love with each other, jealousy, not proofread i’m too incapacitated (sleep deprived)

satoru has a sort of unearthly beauty to him, you think that much is a sort of fundamental truth. an axiom. he's a frustratingly attractive man, in spite of his piss poor personality and the uncanny features he possesses. he’s got white hair and blue eyes and height that makes him almost as tall as his ego; there is nothing about him that is anything short of unnatural.

satoru is unnaturally pretty—and unfairly so, too. he knows it. how could he not, when anyone who has the ability to see makes a point of acknowledging it? whether it's through envious glares or wanting stares, or by being awestruck at the sight of someone who doesn't look like he belongs amongst humans (if only they knew how right they were), people notice him. not as if he needs that to know his worth. in the back of your head, you can hear his raucous laugh at the prospect of being in any way dependent on something so insignificant; on anything at all. you think i give a shit about them?

(still, you know he thrives off of it, off of the attention—being the attention whore that he is.)

the point is, it’s obvious that people can see satoru’s beauty.

especially now, you think, when you watch women your age fawn and giggle to each other over him—watch as they snap pictures and take videos of him. it’s almost pious, the way they try to capture him in film.

yes, an agreeing hum rolls in your throat, it is a universal truth that he is beautiful. unnaturally so. but you really wish people could just be normal, and refrain from being so indecent as to film strangers on the street.

it's not the first time it's happened—the farthest thing from it. unfortunately, you know it's even farther from being the last time, too. satoru's always been a sort of spectacle, one way or the other; in his power, his skills, his looks... he's watched by everyone. he is someone to serve witness to. that, too, is a fundamental truth.

though you know this, an ugly little feeling crawls in your gut while you watch the scene play out in front of you. most of it a sense of disgust, given the impression of how out of touch people are—but, a smaller, yet even uglier, part of it is a little possessive.

that smaller, uglier part feels a little offended at the fact that they’re being so blatantly disrespectful in front of you. that smaller, uglier part feels a little humiliated.

it’s a familiar sight, something you’ve seen happen time and time again, but this is the first time you’ve taken it as an insult—the first time you’ve taken it so personally, the first time you’ve felt it. the first time you’ve felt your dignity being prodded at, like there’s a blazed red rod poking and poking, urging that burning feeling in your gut to grow hotter and hotter. it’s an invasive thing, this hot, rushing feeling.

it isn’t personal. you know that. it shouldn’t be personal, but…

when you meet satoru in the middle, your fingers slip under the collar of his dress shirt. your nails drag taut at the crisp linen like an assertion and you pull him towards you, swift as you press your lips against his. you can feel the hesitation, the fleeting shock against them—that sharp, nearly imperceptible gasp skipping across teeth—but it barely lasts half a second before he’s the one kissing you. that small, uglier little part of you hopes that their little camera captured the picture of you kissing him.

you keep your heavy eyes cracked open, capturing it for yourself.

his hand finds its way to your lower back easily, like a puzzle piece fitting into its slots, holding you close to him; securing you. his hand is weighted on your back in a way that grounds you, but gentle as his fingers skim across your the fabric of your shirt. heavy and gentle like he’s trying to get to the skin underneath. heavy and gentle, like the way he looks at you, eyes skimming across your face—your eyes, to your lips, your cheeks, your eyes again. heavy and gentle, like worship. he wets his lips, swallows. “what was that about?”

he likes the look you have in your eyes, likes the way they mirror his own.

(you see him like how he sees the world, like something all encompassing. he likes that he can see you, only you, with this overwhelming sort of clarity. he likes that he sees you the way you see the world—the tunnel vision of it all. your attention is the only one he really wants for. the only one really he needs.

if you told him he was dependent on you, he’s not sure he’d have it in him to laugh it off.)

you cast a dirty, sidelong glance at where you feel two pairs of eyes burning holes at the both of you; poking and poking.

(and satoru thinks you look awfully pretty right now, your eyes glaring and lidded, your lashes contouring the sharp and narrowed look you bear. awfully, unearthly pretty, and so very familiar in a way that makes him crave you, makes him want to immortalize you in his skin. it’s instinctual, the way he gravitates to you, minty breath ghosting your cheek.)

they’re borderline gawking at the two of you until one of them smacks at the other's arm not-so-inconspicuously, and they shuffle off to the sidewalk, whispering to each other yet again. it’s only then that satoru follows your line of sight. when it clicks, he looks back at you far too eagerly for your comfort.

“oh,” he drawls, his stupid pretty teeth bearing themselves in the stupid, obnoxious grin that spreads across his lips. “that’s what it was?”

the idea of you being so possessive makes his stomach flip.

“baby, are you jealous?” he looks awfully happy about it, blue eyes gleaming at you with an unabashed sort of mirth. even when he finds himself being on other end of that glare of yours, his dimples only get deeper.

“you’re worse than me,” you hum. you don’t admit it, but you don’t deny it—you can’t. maybe you’re spending too much time with him.

oh. goosebumps break out against your skin at the thought of picking up his behavior, a little horrified at the thought of coming off as obtrusive as him. you shrug it off, shaking your head. “doesn’t matter,” you say airily, glancing at him, “you’re mine.”

you definitely spend too much time with him, if your aloof nonanswers and attitude attest to anything.

when your eyes meet his, you think that he sees it too. there’s a certain look in his eyes, the way they widen a fraction like he’s trying to commit you to memory—as if he hasn’t already. you know it’s probably just from the dark of night, but his pupils are wide and that revered and blessed blue he bears is reduced to a ring. right now, his eyes are consuming. you think you can see yourself in them.

(and, he does—he does see it. with his eyes, he sees little bits of himself transfused with you and it’s the most satisfying feeling he’s ever gotten in his life.)

he only smiles at you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your temple, his words spoken against your skin. “that’s right, baby.”

thank you for reading, feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 🤍!!

a/n. i haven’t posted anything in so long so i cranked this out… i really wanted to post something and that video thankfully gave me a lil idea hehe :’-) i hope it doesn’t seem too rushed <3

[mothra-mcyt]

☾ Dream SFW Alphabet ☽

!No Warnings!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He's not that good with words so usually he shows affection through gifts. Most of the time he loves to give you expensive gifts but when you tell him that he doesn't always need to buy you expensive gifts he starts giving you smaller gifts.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Having him as a best friend would honestly be so fun. Long late night gaming sessions or speedruns would be a normal occurrence if you're up for it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

His love language may not be physical touch but that doesn't mean he doesn't like cuddling. When you cuddle with him and your head is laying on his chest he likes to play with your hair. When you're spooning will have one arm under your head as a pillow and the other one on your stomach

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I feel like he's alright with cooking and really likes to try out new things when it comes to food. Isn't that good at cleaning though but will gladly help if you explain him how.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Would think about doing it for a long time it's definitely not a sudden decision from him. Would do it in person and tries his best to make it sound like it wasn't your fault. If you're really sad it will break his heart and he will try his best to comfort you.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I think he would need some time to think about it because marriage kind of a big deal. Also first asks you if you even would want to get married someday or if you don't really like marriage or its concept.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He isn't afraid to voice his opinion but makes sure that he's nice and gentle with his words so that he doesn't hurt you in any way emotionally. He's also very gentle with physical touch at first slowly wrapping his arms around you whenever he hugs you but after some time when he sees that you feel bad he'll pick you up and give you a tight hug.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs because it means he can make you feel safe. Likes to hug you from behind, lay his head on yours and wrap his arms around your front. If the situation is really intimate he will put on hand on your back, the other one on your head patting your hair and giving you a forehead kiss.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I feel like he'd only say it if you say it to him first. For him saying those words don't really have a high value because he likes to show his loves in other ways.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I feel like it would take him a lot to get jealous but if he is he's really protective and kinda possessive. Will wrap and arm around your waist, give you a long kiss and glare at whatever person that made him jealous

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Most of the time his kisses are really pationate and make you loose your breath. But if the situation is more intimate his kisses are softer gentle. Also really likes giving you forehead kisses if you're shorter than him.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I feel like he'd either be really lost or just have fun with them. Whatever they're playing with he wants to play with it too. You leave him alone for 1 hour with kids and suddenly he becomes one of the children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I feel like he's not a morning person so when you two wake up he'll just hold you close to him. This is either spent in comfortable silence or with talking about whatever you guys wanna talk about. Or he will just tease the shit out of you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Usually the nights are spent with playing video games together usually speedrunning. If you're too tired to play with him but still want to be near him he'll let you cuddle him while laying in his lap. A smile appears on his lips whenever he looks down at you and sees you looking cute while sleeping.

O = Open  (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I feel like he doesn't trust people very easily and doesn't really like appearing vulnerable so it'll take him a while to start opening up to you. But when he opens up to you he says everything at once.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I feel like he gets annoyed pretty easily but not angry. It's also never about you. Usually it's about a video game or not being able to do something at firsy try.

Q = Quizzes  (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I feel like he wouldn't be able to remember your birthday or your favorite colour but remembers very specific things about you. For example he remembers when the age when you learned to swim or your childhood trauma but doesn't remember what you said 5 minutes ago.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It was probably when he first introduced you to his chat and the people on the dream smp. As soon as he introduced you Tommy called Dream and screamed at him on why he has a partner. He said that you're better of without Dream and better with him as a joke

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

I feel like he's very protective over you but not possesive. If he sees you getting made uncomfortable by someone he'll wrap an arm around your shoulder or waist.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts a lot of effort into gifts and every day tasks because he likes to help you. Depending on your preferences he puts more or less effort into dates and anniversaries.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He tends to overwork himself and forget everything around him and if you try to get him to stop he will sometimes react a litte annoyed but as soon as he realises how exhausted and tired he really is he will apologise and take a small break from work to hang out with you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He's somewhat concerned about his looks but also not that much. When he's concerned about his looks it's not really becayse he's worried about other people's opinions but more because he wants to look good for himself.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I feel like he can get very needy and is very clingy so if you're gone for some time for whatever reason he would feel very incomplete.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He asked one of your friends for your favorite type of flower so he can always have those flowers standing around at your house in a vase

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

A partner that can get very jealous when he's only hanging out with his friends. Because those are his friends and he just wants to hang out with them but if you already get jealous because you don't get to be with him 24/7 then you're just not good for him :/

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He tends to speak or murmur in his sleep which has lead to a lot of funny conversations between you and sleeping him. And he's also a very deep sleeper so if you're cuddling with him then you can prepare for not being able to get up for a long time.

Masterlist

[marvel-lous-things]

No listen. The very concept of sambucky is honestly so fucking wild.

I mean. Imagine you're driving captain fucking America and his tiny angry ginger friend somewhere when some metallic hobo goes absolutely Apeshit on your one (1) car.

then tries to kill all three of you. and he rips your fucking wheel out. and destroys your fucking windows. Maybe makes it explode too idk. Your insurance doesn't cover bastard terminators.

And then to make things better!!! you CAN'T EVEN KILL HIM. OR IDK PUT HIM IN BAD SOLDIER PRISON?? BECAUSE YOUR MESSY, MESSY BRO REALISES THE ASSASSIN IS HIS LONG LOST BOYFRIEND???? WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD??? HMM WHAT.

and THEN your dumb blonde himbo who you perhaps have a slight crush on just LETS his murder husband go because he's stupid and gay like that, and murderboy goes into hiding for like. 2 years. You develop a deep hatred for him and his stupid face.

You buy a new car.

You are now broke. But it's ok you have avenger privileges now.

You miss your car nonetheless.

Oh but then the fuckimg GOVERNMENT gets involved in your love life for some dumbshit reason and YOUR STUPID PET HIMBO TELLS YOU THAT THE ASSHAT WHO MADE YOU BUY A NEW FUCKIN CAR (IN THIS ECONOMY???) NEEDS SAVING AGAIN. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT IN THE HELL. WHAT TH- anyway fuck him and his plums and his greasy unwashed-for-70smthn-years hair.

You don't know what Steve sees in him.

I mean, at least now you're free to hate him for reasons that aren't sheer homealousy (homosexual Jealousy). So there's that.

You won't move your seat up for him because you still have your dignity. You try not to stare at his face in the rearview mirror and you fail.

You hate his guts.

but wait it gets better!!!! You're all FUCKING WAR CRIMINALS NOW and you've gotta move to WAKANDA which is actually a Hella cool place BUT STILL. And oh no assassinface here actually looks really cute in wakandan clothing. It's not him though. it's the clothes. You are sure of that.

Your feelings are confusing. You tolerate him now but that's it. The fact that your heart does kickflips when he smiles means nothing.

You convince yourself that it beats faster when he's around because of sheer rage.

Then some big ass ugly purple grape pulls some weird shit but whatever it's nbd he's an inconvenience at best. The Real villain here is your STUPID GOLDEN RETRIEVER BROFLAKE WHO??? WENT BACK IN TIME FOR VINTAGE PUSSY??? WHAT IN THE GODDAMN-

Plus he left his raccoon soulmate absolutely Heartbroken but it's ok because you're hear to pick up the pieces. Wipe his tears. Give him a hug or two. Or eighty seven. (no homo)

(Unless?)

after that you both resolve to get over his raisin ass because you have each other. F is for friends who support each other and would take a bullet for each other and cook for each other and confide in each other in the middle of the night about the demons that plague them. You are both friends. You don't know how it happened but you like it.

But you also sort of don't like it. Your feelings are being confusing again. But that's a problem for another day, you're about to catch a movie and then get dinner with him. This is not a date.

You wear your best jeans anyway.

The two of you move in together (oh my god you're roommates). Missions suddenly become a lot more scarier because you don't want him getting hurt. He screamed at you for an hour once when you took down a shooter while you were unarmed.

U is for Unresolved Sexual Tension. Also Sharon is there.

One day. After staying up all night, just talking about stuff you don't even remember. And Yearning.

you wake up and realise you're just. Really fucking gay for him.

And he is too?? So that works. You get married eventually and adopt 8 kids and a dog. N is for Nuclear Family But Make It Giant.

And all this started because he rammed his fist through your windshield.

wild.

(he still hasn't paid for your fucking car)

[tsuumu]

beautiful stranger.

oikawa x reader

a short piece in which oikawa tooru approaches you on a idyllic evening. it’s a little awkward though, since you’re trying to die.

word count: 3.3k

tw: indirect and direct implications of suicide.

your warm hands stay gripped onto the metal rails in front of you, applying enough force to watch your knuckles turn white. you find yourself doing it over and over until your fingers numb from the continued pressure. alone, you’re mulling over mundane affairs. you’d rather not be thinking about them but find this loop all too easy to fall into.

the shadow of the railing casts over a large canal, its water sifting freely, far beneath you. it laps over itself, slithers of fish break the transparent surface as they swim. some of their scales rise to kiss the sunlight in opaque relfections.

thin layers of petals scatter the ground beneath your feet that have slipped from overhead trees and continue to flutter down freely. glowers of dying sunlight seep through the shapes of them as they fall.

in this moment, autumn is alive.

it’s really lovely right now.

you’re here, all caught up in chasing that feeling of peace. safety in an open space. you have to cope with that fact that tranquility never comes easily for you.

there’s nothing that should be leaving you as deeply unsettled as you are. you’ve learnt to largely ignore feeling so overwhelmed, though it stirs and resurfaces times you wish it wouldn’t.

what’s bugging you is that you can’t quite get a grasp on your own life.

for starters, everything lacks coherent meaning. to you, there’s something constantly missing every single day. nothing purchasable, nothing attainable through hard-work and any level of perseverance. truly, it affects you so much so that even just standing here, feet glued to the very spot that is undeniably ‘lovely’, brings you nothing but unimaginable sadness.

earlier, you brushed it away as an off day but you know that’s not true. you’ve been feeling like this all the time.

it is, therefore, not at all abnormal to wonder: can a person have such thing as an off life?

you really don’t like to think about things like this too much. once you begin to muse over deep naysay you find yourself snowballing.

solutions are painfully unobtainable and it’s generally as productive as chasing pavements.

do i really enjoy being alone? or am i obsessed with the sensation loneliness brings?

“you know, if you stare long enough, you might end up wanting to jump in.”

at once, your vision snaps up, taken aback by the additional voice. you hadn’t realised that during your mindless lamenting, another person had quietly joined you by the evening canal-side.

fair skinned, dark eyed, chocolate curls brushed neatly over his features and cowlicks that bob against the light gusts of wind.

a boy offers you a smile, before shifting his feet towards the empty space to your left. you can’t seem to process him, staring at the empty spot he’d been in seconds earlier.

you’re not supposed to be here right now.

“i was totally kidding by the way.” he adds. “that was really dark, sorry.”

you’re silent in return, eyes casting back onto the running stream. the water is shallow and the fall long, so jumping in would certainly prove fatal. you know all of this too well. it’d disturb the fish who are just here to live, though, it’ll only be for a moment. they won’t know any better.

you don’t really know what to say. it’s troubling that he’s here and hearing it out loud disturbs you, like a direct call out. at no point were you prepared for any kind of conversation prior.

the two of you stand there in complete silence. it’s not particularly awkward, you just don’t know why he’s approached you so easily, talking to you like he’s known you well enough to make outlandish jokes.

asking directly for his intentions seems rude, so you’ll put up with it until he leaves.

“do you always come here?” the stranger pipes up once more, though his focus doesn’t leave the water. you breathe in deeply.

“sometimes.”

“oh, i see.”

his palms lay flat and he pushes gently off of the rails, only to fall back onto them with all his weight. he does it again, repeating the process over and over at a steady pace. you stay hunched over, keeping your distance. he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest though, clearly absorbed in his surroundings.

“it’s like a set out of a movie, this place. seems like somewhere i’d ask my girlfriend to marry me.”

your tongue rolls around in your mouth.

yes. you think. his girlfriend would most likely be thrilled-over the top-squealing if he did. that’s entirely his business.

you really don’t care to hear of other people’s romantic endeavours.

is it out of jealousy? you don’t know. maybe.

this conversation is meaningless. you wish he’d go away sooner so you could have this time to yourself.

also, jealousy is an ugly word. you hate it.

he stops his movement with a exhale of air, tilting his head back to blink up at the warm sky. the last touches daylight mingle with the oncoming darkness, creating a deep tinge of orangey-yellow.

“when’s your birthday?”

‎a petal lands on the bridge of your hand, sticking to your skin.

“do you want my social security number?” you deject.

“what? no!”

“are you sure? really, i’ll give it to you.”

“no!”

“then why are you asking for my personal information?”

‎

he falls silent for a moment, before mumbling out a small: “just wondering.”

a tinge of guilt creeps over you at his apologetic tone. you admit, your answers thus far must make you seem like a completely unapproachable asswipe. you’re not at all. you just aren’t all that sure how to make small talk with strangers when you’re trying to part with the world by dinner time.

it feels like an unexpected guest at your very lonesome party.

“it’s (insert birth month).” you fold.

he purses his lips, face contorting a little.

“i see.”

he doesn’t continue down that path after your response. the both of you return to a mutual silence, staring into the portrait scenery ahead. the stream fills the soundscape pleasantly. fallen leaves have gathered at the base of your shoes, brushing over the tip gently with the turn of the wind. you observe them quietly.

“can i ask you another question?”

he seems a tad more timid now.

he definitely thinks you’re the type to blow up and give him an earful about minding his own business, doesn’t he?

you’d never raise your voice. in general, but also because it’d break the comfort of the scenery the world has so generously given you.

“sure.”

“do you believe in soulmates?”

‎the question is a little random but not impossible to answer by any means.

“no.”

“what?”

“i said not really.”

“you said no.”

“that’s the same thing.”

“...fair enough.”

‎he exhales out, sounding a little disheartened by your curt response. perhaps to him, you were a tough nut to crack; an ambiguity for him to understand. were all people like that? you weren’t playing hard to get, in fact, you’d answered every single enquiry he has had to offer. his efforts are amusing, though.

you raise a brow at him.

“i’m sorry, was that the wrong answer?”

for a moment, he doesn’t reply, stuffing his hands into his pockets, gazing down at the head of his shoe. pivoting his ankle, he draws small circles with the tip of his foot into the ground, into the dead leaves.

“not at all.”

“your expression says otherwise.”

“um, it was just a bit bleak, i guess.”

you let your arms droop way over the railing, fingers wading through the autumn air. you’d never really taken the concepts of soulmates to heart. it was romantic bullshit put out by somebody looking for a fantasy to indulge in. out of seven billion people, there could hardly be a singular person made for you. people aren’t born for other people. if that were the case, it wouldn’t be a rose-tinted fantasy. it would be suffocating. where’s the freedom in love?

“most people always answer like you these days anyway.”

“oh, sorry.”

he looks up at you, tilting his head.

“no, don’t be.”

back to a default mute, left with nothing but the faint chitter of overhead swallows and the odd rumble of cars passing by.

“tooru.” he states, after a while.

“what?”

“tooru. my name is tooru.”

“oh, okay.”

“oikawa tooru.”

‎your fingertips have become flushed. maybe you’d pressed a little too hard on that cold surface earlier. now that all your blood has come rushing back, the tingling sensation feels foreign.

his name slips of the tongue rather easily, don’t you think?

“nice to meet you, oikawa tooru.”

“it is nice, isn’t it?”

for the first time, your gazes meet properly and you offer him a crooked smile.

“i suppose so.”

off the side of the canal, almost right under the bridge, a small cluster of ducks have gathered. adult ducks tend to be considerably larger than its offspring —as is factual with any animal— so it’s easy for you to tell that there’s only one parent there, along with three of its ducklings.

people like to come to the canal to feed the ducks bread, though you’d heard somewhere that it’s actually quite bad for them.

you wonder. do ducks care particularly if one of its ducklings die? will it do something with the body, cry out, hurt?

or is grief exceptionally human?

“i don’t actually have a girlfriend, by the way.”

he sifts out his phone, tapping the screen and sliding it open. you watch him turn it to its side, before leaning over to take a picture of the depths below. you just watch.

“oh, okay.”

he doesn’t elaborate, focused intently on his current task. your attention returns to the shape of the birds, bobbing up and down rhythmically.

there’s only so much you can say about the canal. yeah, it’s beautiful. you don’t have the right vocabulary to describe the way it makes you feel. honestly, it feels abysmal to even try. you’re convinced though, that you’re in love with the way the water moves. you’ve always appriciated it whenever you walk past, told yourself jokingly that you could die there if you had to.

funny, that.

beautiful things tend to hurt in an unbearably amplified manner.

“say, tooru?”

“yeah?”

“if i climbed over the railing right now, would you stop me?”

you’re both fixated on the paddling now. his phone is back in his pocket, elbows propped up. he hums, taking his time to think over your question.

“most likely.”

your fingers meet one another and the tingling spreads to your palms.

“i’m thinking of jumping, actually.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“my joke earlier...”

“yeah.”

his fingers drum rhythmically on the slender poles under the rail top.

“then i’d jump right in with you.”

the corners of his mouth tug slightly at your perplexity, supressing a chortle. he’s not laughing at you, though. it’s more a gesture of understanding. this tooru doesn’t know you at all, yet he gets it. he gets it all too well.

you get that he gets it.

tooru clears his throat. “bad day?”

“that’s an understatement.”

“well, you’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

by now, the ducks have swam away, you can make out the general shape of them, melding into the distant, mute colours of the bankside. the sky look minutes away from being set alight. time has never been your friend, you see.

“i feel crazy for trying.” you’re rather blunt about it.

“fair enough.”

“…is that all?”

“well, do you want me to tell you that you’re not crazy?”

you lull into silence.

“i don’t know.”

with that, you shift to angle yourself so that he’s in your immediate peripheral, the thought of gawking at him seems ridiculous but you want to look at him. you find it hard to do it up front for some reason.

“i’m no suicide expert, but it’d probably be lonely doing something like that by yourself. wouldn’t it be comforting to know someone’s falling with you?”

your fingers run absently across the jagged surface of the rails, the old paint has been chipped away at, after all its years of protecting. in all it’s history, had anyone else hitched themselves over this very rail?

were they asking for the same answers as you?

god. that’s awful. you don’t want to think about that.

you catch each others’ eyes for a second but you resign quickly, focusing as hard as you can on the flecks of black on your thumb.

“that would be selfish of me.”

“not if i’m offering.”

you scramble to look anywhere else, abruptly turning. you’re facing away from the canal, stomach fluttering a little as you fall onto the rail’s length.

in all your time by yourself, you’d never been given an irrefutable reason to ‘be’. it’d always been a live-for-the-day type of experience. if a day is good, you’re utterly blissed out by it, totally in love with life. if it’s bad, you have little reason to go on. nothing particularly interests you enough to dedicate your days persuing it. fame seems tedious, looks are temporary, a six figure career sounds like emotional jail-time, or a slow, schedule-filled trek to death. whichever description sounds more sufferable.

you see, in essence, we all get off at the same bus stop. some journeys are simply shorter than others.

“you’re guilt-tripping me out of it.”

“i’m not!”

you’ve never stopped to ask yourself what it is you want.

death interests you, you suppose. though, you don’t see the reason to wait around and pretend to ignore it until one day it drags you kicking and screaming.

“oikawa tooru, don’t you have better things to be doing than offering to jump off bridges with strangers?”

that coy smile tugs at his lips once more. nothing you say seems to phase him. it’s like he knows you. he’s thinking: yeah, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary for them.

“should i? you look at that water like it’s someone you hate. or love. maybe both. i got curious.”

“curious?”

“yes. and quite frankly, you’ve left me curious. practically starving. you haven’t even told me your name.”

“my name doesn’t matter.”

“boo. that’s not true at all.”

his tongue pokes out, tugging at the corner of his eye. you shake your head, genuinely unable to hide your amusement, turning to him properly this time.

and really, it’s like the canal side and oikawa tooru were made from the same stardust. he blends right into the picture, as effortlessly pretty as the rest of it.

the strands of hair out of place, a little disheveled from the breeze. the scarf buried into his nose, glasses a little misty from the heat of his own breath but when they clear, you see his eyes all too well.

you’d like to tuck those strands into place, they’re bothering you just a little.

“(y/n).”

your brows furrow a little.

really, this could all very well be some sort of fantastical dream. as nice as it all is, it feels painfully unreal. boys don’t look like that on autumn evenings or offer to die with you.

that’s it.

tooru must be a figment of your imagination.

no. wrong. not a dream.

this is a corner of your mind you haven’t ventured into yet, psychologically, some kind of safety net. a sliced off piece of reality you’ve come to hide in because you’ve utterly lost your mind. he is nothing but a part of you that makes you feel at ease as you come to terms with your self-destruction.

god, that bothers you more. you are crazy.

your hand extends, reaches out all on its own.

you just want to know if he’s real.

oikawa tooru glances down for a moment, he’s probably wondering about you, what’s left you in such a state. though, he’s happy to slide his palm against yours, latching onto it. he shakes once, twice. a little more. tightens his hold a bit.

the weight of his fingers as they brush lightly against your palm is fantastical. he’s so warm. you can feel it spread through you from the pads of your fingers.

he’s very real.

tooru has rather pretty hands.

the contact makes you feel kind of delirious, a produce of being utterly touch-starved. just a simple touch. you’re embarrassed to say it but it takes everything inside of you not to start weeping or hold on frantically in case he does disappear, do something bizzare that’ll scare him away forever.

hey, tooru. are you made of honey?

“well, (y/n), i’m offering you my life right now.”

the sun has set foot on the horizon, plunging in ever so slightly. as a child, the thought of night scared you, feeling largely betrayed by the sun’s farewell. now, it’s a unique kind of comfort to see the moon. it’s as lonely as those who lay their eyes upon it.

“i don’t want it.”

his fingers slip downwards against the dips of your palm.

“you don’t?”

“no, i mean... i don’t want death. not right now..”

you don’t even want to think about it anymore. funny, how things like that work. you were so sure of it. today was the day. your dark rendezvous. weren’t you itching for it?

this bastard.

this man you’ve never met. he clasps onto your hand once and suddenly he stops your nauseating rollercoaster of thoughts and leaves you wondering if, actually, you’d like to see the canal-side again tomorrow, or in fifty years.

who are you really, oikawa tooru?

“no?”

“yeah.”

“then what do you want to do?”

“stay right here, i think.”

your fingers curl, maintaining your hold on him. you should be shy or awkward about this whole ordeal but so you’re desperate for that warmth to continue.

you both stand there, facing one another, hands extended. it’s a little robotic looking. you’re pretty stiff but very sure this is what feels right.

to you, existence is based solely on feeling your way through stages of life. that sickeningly sweet innocence of youth. childhood memories that to you, are dwindled husks of gold, valuable in some aspects but almost meaningless in others. to laugh or to cry allows an individual to create a deep-set connection to the environment around them. it is no longer passing scenery but a moment in your life you once lived through.

that’s beautiful, isn’t it?

unfortunately, emotion provides both a living fantasy and the potential for agony. life is not sweet, nor innocent. it is what you make of it.

it is what your mind is forced to make of it.

and as much as one wishes they were as coddled and loved as they were children, life beyond those years is lonely, difficult and more than you were ever capable of.

were you weak? perhaps.

but maybe people aren’t built for life. we’re all weak.

and realistically, if you are unable to clamber over one obstacle after another -established by those before you- you’re doomed to fall behind.

that will hurt. you will hurt unforgivably because self-worth is no longer a beautiful gift of internal discovery and love but another way to be measured and downsized externally. a practice that leads to hatred. a desire to die.

that’s really where it all began for you. a romantic, a poet at heart, living inside your own, kinder world. that is until reality knocked on your door, invited itself in, just to set the entire thing on fire and leave you as vulnerable as the day you were born.

you aren’t allowed to hide. it comes looking for you eventually.

your stance on life hasn’t changed, afterall, you’ve spent nights mourning over how much it can hurt to live. to fall asleep exhausted with yourself, only to wake up and do it all over again. what you do know, however, is that droning, lonely feeling isn’t there right now. that ongoing, battering ruckus inside your head has ceased. tooru, the strange magician, has left you thoughtless and a little dumb.

you like being this stupid. for once, there’s nothing intrusive prodding the inside of your head.

it’s frightfully quiet, actually. you don’t know what you’re feeling right now. how much time has passed since he’d made that awful joke?

his gaze is on your lingering contact, before lightly pulling you closer, twisting his wrist down so you’re holding hands. your gaze moves to the bankside. you feel comforted. maybe it isn’t death, maybe all you want is a hand to hold.

probably not. that is a stupid, sappy thought. you’re still fanatic about ending your life.

you were so close to doing it, without even really understanding what you were doing. the canal scenery is overpowering, numbing, if you will. without oikawa tooru, you may well have kissed those fishs’ fluorescent scales with your own two lips, as cold as ice with some unfortunate early-morning runner discovering you by twilight.

“we can do that.” he hesitates. “if i’m honest, i would have been pretty scared to jump.”

“yet you still offered?”

tooru hums merrily in confirmation.

“why?”

“because you’re cute.”

you can’t believe your own ears.

“what? seriously?”

“yeah. originally, i wanted your number but things took a small turn.”

you burst out in gutteral laughter, free hand back onto the railing for support. for a moment, you look at him, shaking your head in utter amazement.

“you’re a piece of work, tooru, you know?”

“yeah, i know.”

he smiles back at you. the shadows cast by the setting sun only make him all the more enigmatic.

now that you think about it, you can’t figure this guy out at all. it’s like staring at a wordless piece of paper and trying to find something legible.

“how do you know i won’t come back and repeat all of this tomorrow?”

tooru tilts his head ever so slightly, observing you. his eyes flutter down to your lips, speaking like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“because you told me your name.”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

“well, now that i know that, you’re no longer just a beautiful stranger.”

you understood now. he hadn’t just offered you his life, he’d offered you him. by living on, you’d accepted graciously. he knows that if you visit the canal side again, you’ll only remember this moment.

a bad moment that he, in all his glory, turned into a good one. the day you two first met.

oh, clever boy. he saved you.

though you must say, oikawa tooru, you’re very much mistaken.

you are the beautiful stranger.

a tear runs down your cheek, a little warmer than you could’ve expected.

one turns into two, slipping more and more. eventually, you’re standing over the canal, hand in hand with oikawa tooru, sobbing quietly as the water runs peacefully below the both of you.

[haikyuuthots]

You want to kiss me so bad right now. (Headcanon)

He says “you want to kiss me so bad right now.” during an argument. That’s it that’s the tweet.

Characters: S. Daichi, T. Oikawa, T. Kuroo & M. Atsumu

A/n: it’s 2 am and i saw this concept and wanted to try it out. Also if u don’t know who lord farquad is, please watch Shrek then come back cause you’re missing out hahahah.

—————————————————————————

Daichi

You were upset because he cancelled your plans for the third time in a row.

You understood he was busy and needed to focus on volleyball but that didn’t make you any less hurt.

“Baby I told you I was sorry, practice just took longer than expected.”

“Yeah, this always happens Daichi, practice always takes longer than expected.”

“Please just try to understand...”

“I have been understanding! I’ve been trying to let it slide but three cancellations in a row. That’s fucked up.”

He feels bad. He knows you’re a really good girlfriend

“Ok love, let’s just hang out now.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

You’re just being petty honestly, but you did wanna hang out with him.

“C’mere.” He reaches to grab you.

“Nah.” You pull away and begin to walk away.

He gives a sly smirk. He actually finds your attitude ✨hot✨

“Nope.” He grabs you quickly and turns you to face him.

You two are extremely close right now, and he just stares at you with a teasing smirk.

You’re hella flustered and he knows it.

“You want to kiss me so bad right now.”

You’re a blushing mess, your natural reaction is to push him away. “Shut up.”

“C’mon baby. A small kiss. I know you want to.”

What a fuckin tease.

You can’t help it, with the way he’s looking at you. You cave and give him a quick peck on the lips.

He smiles, and holds you tighter.

“I’m still mad at you, ya know.”

“What can i do to change that?”

“Buy me frozen yogurt and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

He laughs at your response. “Sure baby. Anything you want.” He leans down to give you a gentle kiss.

You honestly couldn’t stay mad at him. He was too sweet.

Oikawa

You hated that your boyfriend entertained his fangirls so much and practically flirted with them back.

“It’s so disrespectful Tooru. You were practically flirting with her right in front of me.”

“No I was not. I was just accepting her compliment.”

“How are you gonna tell me. I was right there. You said her hair was pretty too!”

Maybe you were overacting. But you were just having a bad day honestly.

“Come here love. Don’t be mad.” He tries to go reach for your hand.

You pull away. “Nah how about you talk to her some more.”

Oikawa finds your jealousy cute, so decides to tease you a bit.

“Jealousy is an ugly color on you. Ya know.” He chuckles out.

“Ha! I am not jealous.”

“Yeah?? Your attitude tells me otherwise.” He’s leaning closer towards you and closes the gap between your bodies.

“You’re delusional Tooru. I’m just saying it’s disrespectful.” .

He’s staring into your soul. With a mischievous smirk.

“Ya right.”

You’re looking up at him with an annoyed look on your face.

Oikwas smirk only gets wider. He’s fully entertained.

“Oohhh. You wanna kiss me so bad right now, I can see it.”

Your cheeks flushed red. You were so flustered at his sudden words.

“Tch. Leave me alone. ” you give him a slight shove to add space between you two.

“It’s ok love I don’t blame you. If I were you I’d wanna kiss me too.”

He’s fully teasing you now, he finds your flustered state adorable.

“Alright oikawa I’m just gonna head out.”

You try to leave but oikawa grabs you by your arm to restrict any further movement.

“Wait. I’m kidding.” He let’s out a small laugh.

“I really am sorry. I don’t want you to feel that way. You’re the prettiest and only girl for me.”

Your heart flutters at his words.

“As I should be.” 😌

Ok you’re over it now. Lmao

He lets out a small laugh. “Ok now give me a kiss.”

“Ohhh you want to kiss me so bad right now.” You repeat the words he said to you earlier in the same teasing manner.

“Yes I do actually.” Oikawa leans down to give you a soft kiss.

Y’all start making out. Oops.

Kuroo

You’re walking home from school with your boyfriend.

Everything was normal until Kuroo randomly started teasing you out of no where

You were used to Kuroo’s teasing, but today when he mentioned how short you were, it struck a nerve.

“Babe wait. Are you really mad?”

“Yes.” You’re walking away from him.

“Oh c’mon I was just kidding.”

“You called me lord farquad Kuroo. Where the hell did that come from?”

“You called me a rooster head first!”

Lmao whoops guilty. Yup you were the one that initiated the teasing.

“Ok but that doesn’t mean you have to call me a name.”

Kuroo’s laughing. Honestly he’s very entertained, your annoyed expression is very cute to him.

“Wait.” He grabs your by your wrist to stop you from walking any further.

You’re face to face, and are only staring at each other.

Your annoyance only grows when you see the giant smirk on his face. He’s so entertained by this.

“Why are you smiling like that. We’re fighting.”

Kuroo let’s out a small laugh. “This doesn’t really seem like a fight.”

“Well it is cause I’m mad you so what’s up.”

“Yeah? But you want to kiss me so bad right now. I can tell. Look at you just staring at my lips.”

Fucking TEASE

“Kuroo shut up I’m not gonna kiss you we’re figh-“

Kuroo cuts you off with a kiss

And you reciprocate right away.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck and his are on your waist.

As you pull away the first thing you notice is kuroo’s smirk.

“Thought you didn’t wanna kiss me.”

But like honestly how could you NOT kiss him who are you kidding.

You give an annoyed smile. “Oh shut up.”

“So does this mean we’re not fighting anymore?”

“You’re lucky you’re a good kisser.”

He laughs at your response and holds out his hand to grab yours.

“Let’s go baby. I’ll buy you some food.”

Are you kidding he was almost as sweet as he was a tease.

Atsumu

He yelled at you because you asked him if he wanted a piece of your sandwich while he was observing a volleyball game on t.v

Obviously you were hurt because, wtf??? How rude.

When he was done watching the game he headed over to you to cuddle.

But nah you were mad so no cuddles for him

When he approached you and you pushed him away he was hella confused

“Why are you pushing me away princess?”

“Mmm idk why did you yell at me for asking a simple question?”

“Yell?”

This man couldn’t even remember yelling at you lmao.

“Yes Atsumu. I asked you if you wanted the rest of my sandwich and you said “wait y/n don’t talk to me right now!”

“Ohh baby I didn’t mean to yell.”

You’re pouting and avoiding his gaze

“That was still really rude and for no reason.”

“Aw c’mon how about we just cuddle and forget about it.”

He tries to wrap his arms around you but you push him away again.

“Nah I’m good.”

You get off the bed and walk out towards the kitchen leaving Atsumu in the room alone.

He can’t help but laugh at how petty you were. He honestly finds your attitude really cute cause he knows it’s very innocent.

He walks out to find you in the kitchen and wraps his arms around your waist.

“Princess dont be mad.”

Silence

He turns you to face him and holds your face to look at him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You yelled at me Atsumu and for what!!! I was just trying to share my food with you. I never share my food you should consider yourself lucky!!”

You ramble a bit longer and Atsumu is only staring at you with a slight smirk.

“What are you smiling about?”

“You want to kiss me so bad huh.”

THIS MAN IS SO ANNOYING LMAO

That genuinely caught you off guard and made you laugh.

“You’re so annoying.” You roll your eyes playfully

“I love you too. Now stop being a brat and let’s go cuddle.”

“Wait. So do you want a kiss or no??? Because I’m down.”

He lets out a loud laugh. Your goofy ness always made him so happy.

He leans down to give you a warm kiss.

You were honestly mad at him for like 10 mins but the minute he started talking you ignored that cause he was just too sweet.

[breadedsinner]

I know I shouldn’t bring up the all-but-forced love triangle/ninja-mance from the first game, it’s really not fair to anyone. BUT...

It’s hard for my cynical ass not to assume people see the worst of Ashley come out in this scene. Like she’s supposed to be the jealous bitch and you’re SUPPOSED to pick sweet Liara. Which makes me spiteful and pick Ash anyway.

But she is pretty hostile. This shows an ugly side of her, no getting around it.

“Jealous?? Of you? You’re not even our species?” That IS pretty harsh but I think it’s more an apples and oranges kinda thing.

Of course, when Ashley points out Shepard is spending a lot of time with Liara there’s something about “bug-eyed monsters” which I don’t think means just asari. This feels very Space Marine Movie, where it’s humans and everyone else. And that’s the whole thing, she KNOWS everyone has an us-verses-them approach, so she does it too. Why shouldn’t she?

Again I think she deserves a little credit because Liara is Benezia’s daughter, really wants to get in Shepard’s mind, and the narrative just has you trusting her regardless. So I get it.

I will say the one good thing, Ashley *regards* Liara in the argument. It may be hostile, but she turns and speaks directly to HER. Ashley talks like this is a conversation between 3 people.

Liara, I feel, really only cares about Shepard. She may be “nicer” about it, but she only apologies to Shepard about the awkwardness.

“I understand the concept of jealousy,”, “I am a rival unlike any you have faced,” I am sorry but that is just SO condescending I frankly do not blame Ashley’s reaction at all.

[cattles-bians]

exes au part 12

post directory

obsetress: don’t ask why i had this thought because i couldn’t tell you but

obsetress: jamie wakes up in the middle of the night one night and is like “i... had a dream. about vi”

obsetress: and dani’s like “ok baby” and just nuzzles deeper into her pillow and jamie’s like

obsetress: “no, dani, a... a dream”

obsetress: and dani’s like “oh. oh” and is immediately wide awake and bright eyed

obsetress: and is like “was it any good?” and jamie is just. already flushed so red and flushed deeper and dani just hums

em: sighs wistfully

em: i also love that something compels jamie to tell dani Immediately

em: oh the perils of begrudgingly being friends w ur gfs ex

em: jamies like um. no see i can see all these different things my brain mashed together and WHY i had this dream and danis like ok but that wasn’t my question....

obsetress: jamie finally throws up her hands “of course it was”

em: jamie: And You Can’t Tell Vi She’ll Be Insufferable

obsetress: dani, very plainly, at brunch the next morning: so vi

obsetress: jamie looks like she’s going to have a heart attack and dani lets her sweat and then just smiles sweetly “i like those sunglasses. are they new?”

em: jamie what’s the problem (nothin. indigestion)

obsetress: dani very smug n thinks she’s very funny

obsetress: (she is a little funny)

em: one of jamies many ‘oh that’s why they dated’ moments

obsetress: “fookin sick, the both of ya”

em: idk why you had this thought but i’m GREATLY amused

obsetress: skskksksks right

obsetress: jamie explaining her dream to dani in great detail afterwards

obsetress: dani sitting there nodding and hmming “oh that sounds like her. no, she wouldn’t do that. now THAT she would be very good at, you’d like it”

em: i need a moment

em: jamie thinks the dark hides her massive fucken blush but it Doesn’t

em: dani can feel her heating up

obsetress: jamie “i don’t ask you to do this” dani “you’re not stopping me”

em: dani critiquing jamies sex dream is such a fucken funny concept sjdhdkhdkdhdkc

obsetress: RIGHT

obsetress: i’m dying

em: dani: oh no that’s OOC

obsetress: she wouldn’t have a riding crop jamie, it’s 2021, not 16—

em: jamie: it’s a wet dream do u really think it’s gonna have beta readers and a three act structure

em: dani hums

obsetress: dani: well did you enjoy it

obsetress: jamie: i— dani: did you?

obsetress: jamie mumbling yeah

em: jamies like i’m gonna interrogate dani next time, see how she feels- but she forgets dani is incapable of feeling shame

obsetress: like dani wouldn’t just launch into a ramble

---

em: viola

obsetress: fuck

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: to jamie, specifically,

em: to jamie specifically andhdjhdjd

em: once again ironic jamvi has turned, in my brain, into ‘yes and....’ jamvi

—-

obsetress:

obsetress: jamie sending this to viola n vi's like

obsetress: she doesn't get it because she's convinced her taste is immaculate

---

em: anyway this is ooc even for exes au but i keep thinking abt like. jamie tryna crack how old viola is (she cant be 34 im 30 it doesnt make sense) and going through her fb timeline like. 'aha! motivational quotes. gotta be late 30s' and danis either like

em: danis either like 'you have a notebook where you write down all the quotes you like baby' OR shes like haha ok thats fair (posts another motivational quote on her fb)

obsetress: god i love that so much

obsetress: both of those dani responses are

obsetress: honestly porque no los dos if we're already going ooc

obsetress: i do think the first bit "gotta crack it she can't be 34 i'm 30 it doesn't make sense" is in character fwiw

em: obviously i was inspired by ur post in the milf channel abt viola always saying shes 35

em: big brain

—-

obsetress: this is literally just. exes au rebecca

obsetress: down to the caption

obsetress: vi and rebecca patiently staging like full photoshoots for each other every time one of them wants a pic otp: i'm not high maintenance, you're just low effort

---

em: bold 2 say that we don’t think about jamie and vi tho

em: gotta keep some sorta. presentation of respectability

em: they absolutely couldn’t date tho

obsetress: lmao ikr

obsetress: yeah no they'd kill each other

obsetress: now just thinking of silly circumstances and um

obsetress: rebecca's out of town and dani's flying back from some iowa thing jamie couldn't get away for to go with

obsetress: and viola's like "oh, just stay at ours, it's closer and i'll get you a car"

obsetress: and just like

obsetress: imagining the two of them cohabitating at vi's for a night

em: jamie sneaking around at night tryna find the bathroom and runs straight into vi in a face mask and a dangerously low dressing gown Again

obsetress: the parallels to canon

obsetress: im giggling

obsetress: walks straight into her path

em: opens a door. sees something she doesn’t want to see. immediately turns and walks away

em: god the face mask would make her look like the lady in the lake

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: vi wants to go out to dinner, jamie's just like "i'm already getting up early to go to the airport, can't we just have an easy night in"

em: what did i say before. that thing abt if ur friends w damie you will inevitably walk in on them

obsetress: god yeah

em: flip of that.

obsetress: oh GOD

em: god they would argue about dinner

em: bicker about EVERYTHING

em: dani and rebecca both make the married couple joke

em: jamie goes pale

obsetress: wait sorry i just went back to tahirahs insta post and like

obsetress: katie parker commented and was like "i love these shots of you" and she was like "thanks luv " and i'm like

obsetress: why does this....... still track........... with exes au...............

em: perdy is always a little too flirty w vis paramours

obsetress: always! except dani for whatever reason

obsetress: she's just scared of dani

em: Please

obsetress: rebecca's like "i don't see what the problem is. she can do what she wants, but you trust me, don't you?" "of course i trust you" rebecca shrugs "that's it then, isn't it?"

obsetress: anyway vi huffs n crosses her arms n pouts a little bit and is like "well i don't want her to"

obsetress: rebecca is endeared and uses the opportunity to her advantage like the top leaning switch she is

em: dani rebecca parallels: always dtf

obsetress: perdi and vi fighting and vi's like "are you even gay? or do you just want what i have?" and perdi is like "does it matter?"

em: are you even gay perdi nahdkdhdkdhd

em: perdi is like you KNOW about jamie and viola crinkles her nose bc she forgot about that and she’s starting to respect jamie as a person

obsetress: djflakdkfjldkadjLDJFLSKDFJLSDKFJx

obsetress: i screeched

em: viola: you only MET jamie because i hired her for landscaping you fucking-

obsetress: just thinking about perdita watching jamie working on some property sweating in a tank top and Deciding

em: bringing out some lemonade etc

em: haha you look parched

obsetress: smiling widely, turning on the charm

obsetress: jamie is very attractive and very swoonworthy, but perdita 100% only goes for it because she refuses to let viola have one (1) thing

obsetress: and that extends to lesbianism

em: viola's like no this is normal right. siblings competing. rivalries etc and danis like uh i’m an only child and jamies like uh i raised my brother

em: they don’t know how to tell her sure it happens but it’s also extremely fucken weird vi

obsetress: jamie: you have to tell her dani: why do i have to tell her jamie: you tell her everything dani: i don't tell her–– ok, i tell her most things. i'm not sure i want to tell her this though jamie: why not dani: she's not... she's not gonna like it jamie: So You Might Be A People Pleaser,

em: jamie: i can’t tell her. she’s only just forgotten the perdi thing. what if she remembers i’ve

em: in depth character study of viola and perdi’s fucked up rivalry

em: violas like goddamn it do i have to fuck jamie to get even

obsetress: i––

em: she decides against it

em: jamie is none the wiser

obsetress: she Considers it tho

em: jamie would die on the spot if she knew

obsetress: weighs the pros and cons

obsetress: the best part is like

obsetress: this is all post-danvi and pre-damie right so when dani n jamie see rebecca and vi at that video store

obsetress: viola's like wait.

obsetress: wait

obsetress: dani ending up with the hot gardener her sister fucked because she has bizarre jealousy and possession issues is really just the cherry on top of a shit sundae

em: the funniest part of all our very tangled lore is like

em: none of it contradicts bc it’s even funnier when it’s Extremely Ugly And Messy

em: because lesbians are just... like that

---

obsetress: exes au au where viola did fuck jamie, the video rental shop scene is 100 times more awkward

em: don’t think about it don’t think about it dont

em: i am thinking about it

em: jamie has to deal with having been railed by all three of them instead of just the two

em: it feels very uneven to her bc rebeccas a doll, dani, u don’t understand, and ur only running into one ex,

obsetress: talk about the mortifying ordeal of being known

obsetress: "wait, that's your ex?" "yeah" "dani" "what" "dani" "what" jamie's voice is hushed but a lil pitchy and a lot panicky "i think i fucked your ex" "you think?" "i fucked your ex" "you fucked her or she fucked you? because i'm sorry, baby, but i really don't think––"

em: sorry, baby, but i really don’t think-

em: SCREAMED

obsetress: that might be my fave lil bit i've ever written adlfkjasdklf

em: dani being a little too interested in jamie getting railed is like. everything to me

obsetress: jamie's already big blushing

em: a little secret between hannah obsetress and em cowlesbian but i am So thinking abt it

em: patreon exclusive exes au au

[em edit: you can imagine how long this lasted]

obsetress: no one is happy about this situation except dani, who is delighted

em: after, jamie's like. what did u mean by u don’t think that...

em: puffs out her chest

em: i could have-

em: danis like yeah but i know u didn’t did u

obsetress: dani clayton ilu

em: danis like um

em: completely unprompted bc dani ‘finishes a conversation 5 hours later’ is really funny to me

em: danis like i did tho

em: jamies like can you DROP IT

em: she’s SMUG

em: she’s so pleased w herself

obsetress: in bed with the lights off jamie's pulling the sheets up and closing her eyes afterthought

obsetress: just a happy lil hum and an "i did, though"

obsetress: and jamie knows IMMEDIATELY what she's talking about

em: dani never lets jamie live it down

obsetress: never!

obsetress: they'll be washing dishes one day "hey baby?" "hmm" "you slept with a landlord"

em: oh um. flipping the whole ‘experienced jamie virginal dani’ trope everyone loves but

em: i love the idea of dani being like hey jamie did u ever- and jamies like (grumbles) does it matter

em: dani is mentally applying a gold star to her chart

obsetress: ksdljfskdfjlsdjflksdjaf

obsetress: the gold star

em: at this point dani is absolute just tryna tease jamie so she’s like oh well when- and jamies like ok i get it

em: jamie Pretends not to be a little interested

obsetress: meanwhile vi and rebecca very matter of factly swapped stories the first day they Realized

obsetress: vibecca swapping stories and their stories complimenting each other so well that they're like well. hmm

obsetress: glad those two found each other

em: two praise kinks u say

em: ok sorry one more thought i’m thinking abt like

em: jamie staying over (idk if this is before or during damie) and viola and perdi are having yet another spat on the phone and violas like

em: no you ALWAYS do this, whatever you think you’re doing with rebecca-‘ and she barely hears some muffled sorta ‘oh, sorry, remember jamie-

em: and jamies doing the maths. hmm

em: jamies like actually i refuse to examine this further. self care

em: brings it up with dani later and dani LOSES her shit laughing

em: haha jamie you got willoughby’ed

obsetress: SCREAMS

obsetress: you got willoughby'd

obsetress: how does one get willoughbyd asking for a friend

em: yeah same asking for a friend

obsetress: dani, gigglesnorting: wait, you hooked up with... with perdi?

obsetress: (dani hates perdita because viola hates perdita and it is a deep seated hatred she refuses to unlearn)

obsetress: a loyalty strange and enduring, despite it all

em: to be fair perdi is the Worst

em: all of these characters i love to make sympathetic and then perdi is where i draw the line akdhdkhd

em: it’s funnier if she’s awful

em: like a viola that never gets therapy

obsetress: lldjfkaskldfj god same

obsetress: it's too good

em: danis like wait hold on. lemme get a pen

em: makes a silly little chart

em: if the fandom tries to make jamie into a shane the l word character i will simply take that and make jamie mortified abt her uh. well! a pretty girl is nice to her and she forgets how to behave

em: jamie's like oh sure like u don’t have embarrassing flings- and danis like yeah but i don’t interact w them on a daily basis jamie

em: also i didn’t fuck perdi

obsetress: skskskflsdflks

obsetress: "you did fuck perdi though, right? because that just be embarrassing, jamie, if she had been the one who..."

em: skgsdjhdkdhdk

em: jamie grumbles something abt pillow princesses and dani like

em: CLAPS her hands in glee

obsetress: jlsdjflkJSDFKJSDFJ

obsetress: GOD

obsetress: she's immediately pulling out her phone to text vi

em: jamies like why would u message her sister that u freak n danis like oh no theyre very open with each other it’s uh. hmm. anyway

[raffinit]

Sylvanas/Jaina: jealousy (but like, not in the super toxic way??)

I’m sure you wanted cute couple things with this prompt but my brain worms got the better of me

—————

It took Jaina a fair bit of time before she understood the state of turmoil her emotions were in. The conception and pregnancy held their own unique agonies and traumas — the birth most of all. Perhaps, if it had been a child that she had wanted to begin with; a child made with someone other than the Banshee Queen...

Weeks, it took her. Weeks before Jaina could stand to hold her own child — her own daughter, who had her blue eyes and soft spread of freckles. It was one thing to see her own features replicated on the impossibly tiny and squashy face of her child, but it was another thing to reconcile the fact that her daughter had a face too elegant and elf-like to ignore.

Not to mention the ears. Not as long as a full-blooded elf, but there was no denying the child's heritage.

Their child, whose name came from Sylvanas, because Jaina couldn't bear to even look at her after the birth.

Their daughter was called Aeryn Windrunner. Daughter of the Lord Admiral and Warchief. A beacon of hope for the new era of peace. Sylvanas had asked her once for a middle name, or perhaps to hyphenate their family names for the sake of heritage, but Jaina had simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Call her what you like," she had said. "I don't care."

Sylvanas had pursed her lips, red eyes burning with something like concern, but said nothing.

Because they shared a chamber; because it would be cause for concern if it ever came to light that Jaina couldn't stand to hold or feed her own child — Aeryn slept in their rooms. Tucked away within a lavish crib, made with elven filigree carved into solid oak wood, and a mobile hanging over it in shapes of anchors and ships.

Though Aeryn slept in their rooms, Jaina did not tend to her. Sylvanas woke with her each night; cared and caressed her and hummed little wordless tunes when the babe would fuss the most.

There were some nights when all she could was weep. In anger, in grief, in shame — in envy at the way Sylvanas took to the baby better than she had.

At the gentle urges from the midwives and healers, Jaina kept her milk. It would've been a waste, after all, but that didn't mean she needed to nurse Aeryn at her breast.

She expressed her milk whenever the need arose; Sylvanas took care of bottle-feeding.

Jaina threw herself back into her duties as soon as she could walk without the pains of birth between her hips. She was tender still, likely could have stayed resting for longer, but she couldn't bear to stay trapped within their rooms for much longer.

No one questioned it, but the smiles full of knowing and sympathy made her skin crawl.

One night, Jaina returned to their rooms to find Sylvanas cradling Aeryn in her arms; the babe's plush cheek tucked against her neck as she stood against the moonlight of the balcony.

Without turning to address her, Sylvanas said, "She likes the sound of the waves. It puts her to sleep the fastest."

Jaina stiffened and turned away. "I didn't ask."

"It's something you should know regardless," Sylvanas said, glancing back to meet her eyes impassively. "For when Greymane or your mother ask of her. They will want to know everything about her. You should at least have enough information to lie."

She expected it to sting, but Jaina felt little more than ire.

"By all means, answer them on my behalf," she replied snidely. "It makes no difference to me."

It continued for a time; Sylvanas mothering their child and she tucking her head beneath the pillows when Aeryn would cry at night. Sometimes, she would watch through her lashes as the Warchief — blooded and branded tyrant of an enemy faction — hovered and fussed over the cradle with gentle words and tender touches.

Other times, she would huff and toss in bed, until Sylvanas would slip away quietly to the adjoining study and the baby’s cries grew faint and muffled behind a closed door.

She wept most bitterly those nights. Why, for what, she couldn’t understand. It was nothing more than hormones at that point. Surely.

A month passed. It was customary, it seemed, to celebrate the first full moon of an infant — to celebrate its first full month of life.

On the morning of the celebration, Sylvanas bathed and dressed Aeryn herself. Though they were never short of nannies and maids at hand, tending to their daughter was something she had always done. Jaina never cared to ask why.

"You'll need to hold her for the ceremony," Sylvanas said. "Try not to drop her."

Jaina scowled at her, but could admit that their daughter painted a very pretty picture; wrapped in a lavish swaddle of reds and golds. Auspicious colours to elves.

"What exactly am I meant to do?"

"Hold her," Sylvanas replied simply, though she seemed entirely unwilling to relinquish Aeryn from her arms. "It's tradition for mother and child to bathe together the morning of the ceremony — but that is assuming we abided by the confinement period. We didn't. This ceremony is meant to officially introduce her to our people. Family and friends and the realm, as it were. You will hold her while I cut her hair."

"Why cut her hair? She barely has any."

Sylvanas let out a sigh, as if there was no greater burden than to answer her. "It is tradition. We used to shave their heads. Now we just trim enough for the symbolism of it. Traditionally, the hair was made into a calligraphy brush."

"How unnecessary," she said.

Sylvanas glared, but made no further comment.

They stood within the Great Hall, side-by-side as the priest recited all the necessary blessings and incantations. Jaina's face ached as it droned on; sore from the forced and unfeeling smile she gave to anyone who caught her eye.

When it was time for the ceremony — when it was time for Sylvanas to trim their daughter's hair —, Jaina felt her spine stiffening, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

Sylvanas met her gaze and spoke in a hiss of breath. "Pull yourself together, Proudmoore."

The weight of the baby in her arms was strange and unwieldy; she had to shift Aeryn several times before she could get her hands in the proper position.

Aeryn squirmed as soon as she left Sylvanas’ arms, her little Cupid’s bow mouth pulling into a moue as she whimpered.

Jaina froze. She gave the baby a feeble bounce, but Aeryn was already beginning to fuss in earnest.

Sylvanas stroked a hand over the bowl of Aeryn’s head, murmuring something in Thalassian. The baby’s long brows lifted in recognition, calming somewhat.

Then she pulled away, and Aeryn fussed again.

“Hold her closer to you,” Sylvanas muttered, casting a pointed look at the crowd watching from the pews. “At least pretend to care, damn you.”

“I’m doing my best,” she hissed, tucking Aeryn closer to her. The baby squirmed and nuzzled close, nosing around against her chest. The pressure made her breast ache in response; she could feel one start to leak. “Just get it over with.”

Sylvanas made a low noise of irritation in her throat but said nothing else. She clipped the end of Aeryn’s hair, coming away with a soft tuft of blonde curl that she carefully secured with a length of red silk before passing it on to the priest.

When it was over, Jaina all but shoved the baby back into Sylvanas’ arms. She tried not to notice the way Aeryn settled comfortably there.

She tried not to notice her mother’s worried face watching from the crowd.

After the ceremony, Jaina began to notice the preferences. Though she tried her best to be present in her daughter’s life; though she tried to hold Aeryn more — it was clear that their daughter preferred Sylvanas. When she held the baby, Aeryn squirmed and fussed and cried, and would only calm when placed in the arms of the banshee.

“She doesn’t know you,” Sylvanas told her, though not unkindly. “Give it time.”

Though she knew it was of her own doing, Jaina couldn’t help the slow festering ugliness that grew each passing day that Aeryn chose Sylvanas over her.

As Aeryn blossomed from a newborn to a full-fledged baby, so too did her personality. The baby smiled her first smile as Sylvanas spoke to her quietly one morning. Jaina watched, hovering by the bed and pretending not to notice the way the Banshee Queen’s eyes lit up and voice lightened into an almost giddy lilt.

“What a pretty smile,” Sylvanas cooed, pressing a tender kiss to the baby’s chubby cheek. “You have your mother’s smile, my little sparrow.”

The way Sylvanas crooned should have made something warm and soft bloom in her chest. Instead, all she felt was a hollow ache.

It had to be an ugly thing, but surely understandable. That she would be jealous of her own child choosing another over her.

When Sylvanas was away, she took to laying the baby on the bed by her. Aeryn kicked and squirmed and fussed at times, but eventually they seemed to come to a stalemate.

“I know,” she said to the baby sometimes, leaning on an arm and watching Aeryn. “I wouldn’t want to be near me, either.”

Aeryn snuffled at her voice, blue eyes searching for her face. When they found her, the baby quieted, staring intently into her face.

“You’ll probably hate me,” she muttered, reaching out and tentatively stroking a finger over Aeryn’s cheek. “You already seem to. I don’t blame you. I’m sorry you weren’t born to a better mother. Or a better world. But at least one of us is doing a good job.”

Aeryn blinked at her mincingly and cooed.

Despite herself, Jaina found herself smiling softly. “I’m just as surprised as you are. Who would’ve thought that the Warchief of the Horde would be such an attentive mother.” She ran her fingers gently over Aeryn’s belly, watching as the baby cooed and kicked at the sensation.

“That’s because she isn’t my first.”

Jaina startled at the voice, pushing upright off the bed and twisting around. There, in the doorway; Sylvanas watched them, expression unreadable but not unkind.

It was hard to hide her surprise. “She’s not?”

Sylvanas pushed off the doorway and approached the bed, settling on the edge. “No,” she replied, bending to nuzzle Aeryn’s hair. The baby kicked and snuffled excitedly, no doubt recognising her, and Sylvanas’ lips twitched into a sad smile. “Despite what you and the Alliance may think — I was once married. I had a wife. We had a child. A daughter the same. Count yourself lucky that Aeryn is nowhere near as fussy as Nilarith ever was.”

That Sylvanas would willingly reveal such personal memories left Jaina reeling. She floundered for a moment for what to say; if she was meant to say anything at all. Instead she watched quietly as Sylvanas danced elegant fingers over Aeryn’s belly, tickling under their daughter’s chin and stroking over an ear.

The tenderness and care in the touch made Jaina’s chest stir with something she recognised as sympathy and guilt at once.

Eventually, she found the sense to croak out, “I’m sorry. For your loss.”

Sylvanas lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It was another lifetime. I have mourned them enough. I will carry them with me as long as I walk this earth.” She lifted her eyes and glanced at Jaina. “I at least take some comfort in knowing that our daughter died in her mother’s arms...and that she was loved deeply.”

Jaina stared down at Aeryn; at the way the baby clung to Sylvanas’ finger in one tight fist.

“I do love her,” she murmured. “I think. I’m meant to, aren’t I?”

“I can’t tell you what to feel,” Sylvanas said. “The circumstances of her birth weren’t something to recall fondly. It’s understandable that you resent her for what she represents.”

It was unfair. To Aeryn and herself. Victims of circumstance.

“I don’t resent her,” she insisted. “I just — I just don’t know how to feel about her.”

Sylvanas went quiet. She looked down into Aeryn’s face for a long moment, until the tension seemed to bleed hard enough for the baby to notice.

Aeryn let out a whimper, kicking her legs.

Sylvanas’ ear flicked. “She’s hungry.”

“How do you know?”

“You learn their cries over time. Hungry, wet, bored. Hurt.” Sylvanas pushed upright. “I will get her bottle ready.”

Jaina peered down at the baby, took in Aeryn’s little moue and soft cries. The sound made her breasts prickle and she winced, reaching up to soothe the pressure.

Hesitantly, she said, “I can — I can try to feed her.”

Sylvanas paused and glanced at her warily. “You don’t have to —”

“I want to,” Jaina said, reaching up to untie the laces of her tunic slowly. “I’d at least like to try.”

Though it was clear she was doubtful still, Sylvanas inclined her head. “Would you rather I —?” She gestured towards the door.

Jaina flushed and shrugged her tunic off a shoulder low enough to expose one breast. “You’ve seen it all,” she muttered, gingerly manoeuvring Aeryn into her arms. “I’d — appreciate it if you stayed. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get her to latch.”

Sylvanas nodded slowly and moved back towards the bed. Aeryn fussing in her arms brought all of Jaina’s attention to the baby; but she could see in the corner of her eye, the Warchief bustling about with pillows.

“Here.” Sylvanas piled the pillows high against the headboard, gesturing to her. “Lean back. I’ll put a pillow under your arm. Something to brace the weight of her while she nurses.”

Jaina obeyed, shuffling back against the pillows comfortably, keenly aware of the way Aeryn squirmed and wriggled closer to the warmth of her skin. She tucked the baby into the crook of her arm and slouched slightly to urge Aeryn to her breast.

The first suck stung and she pulled away in instinct, gritting her teeth against the pain.

Aeryn let out a cry at the loss, but Sylvanas was there to soothe her.

“Gently,” she coaxed. “Hold her closer and let her set her mouth fully on your breast. She’ll know what to do.”

It was a strange, alien sensation; pinching slightly when Aeryn finally latched. There was a soft, wet suckling sound, and Jaina felt something shift and open in her chest as the baby began to suckle greedily.

“There now,” Sylvanas murmured, settling down on the bed beside her. “You’re a natural.”

Jaina said nothing — couldn’t trust herself to say anything with her throat welled thick with emotions she wouldn’t dare name.

Instead, she cradled their daughter close; one finger clasped tightly in Aeryn’s little hand.

[unohanadaydreams]

It’s the live blogging for the beginning of the Arrancar arc that I forgot to post after I read it. Just a warning that I talk way too much in this one.

Ichigo looks genuinely SO scared that Tatsuki can see his deputy badge. Not just shocked, but scared. He doesn’t want her to be a target, but as we know, she becomes one after not dying immediately after Yammy does his mass soul suck.

He just got back from the Soul Society and it’s like he’s just remembering ‘oh fuck, I’m home again and all the people I care about are still at risk. Saving Rukia didn’t suddenly change that’.

That one, big battle against Byakuya didn’t suddenly end everything. The world is still changed for him and for the people around him and the happily ever after didn’t come just because he won.

Not sure, because I haven’t gotten to when Ichigo actually takes Shinji up on his offer, but I’m sure what Isshin says is the Central 46 cover up version of things, because as we know, it’s not true.

And Isshin saying this is very funny, because you are ALSO a lawless ex-soul reaper, sir. If you stepped foot in the Seireitei, they would beat the shit out of you. The remaining Shibas would flower cannon their way in and join the party, too (mostly because that’s how they express concern, but yknow).

Real friendship is being so horribly gross to each other that you are embarrassed for yourself and each other. Shinji doesn’t even wanna do this, it’s just something he has to do, to preserve his shaken honor and to make Hiyori regret the day she thought touching his pancake ass was a good idea.

Okay, so I don’t have anything grand to say, just that I really enjoy how ALL of the Arrancars are introduced in the sexiest way possible on panel. Even Yammy looks great when he’s introduced. RIP to the ppl who only know these characters from the anime, because the optics of this arc was lost in translation, for sure.

Like, the designs of the Arrancar are literally so fucking good. Even the designs that ppl say are “ugly” fuck so hard. Kubo truly is un fucking beaten at making seggsy characters.

God this panel FUCKS. Not only the swaths of black that signify Hichigo trying his best to take control of Ichigo the moment he sees a strong opponent, but the way that Ichigo automatically looks to Orihime and Chad because he is genuinely scared that once he loses control, they will be as likely a target as the Arrancar.

It also makes his consequent instinct to push them both away later on, both in his reluctance to speak to Orihime and his insistence that Chad run away instead of fight beside him, more nuanced later on.

He’s not just guilty. He’s scared. He knows that Shinji is right, as much as doesn’t want to get involved with him. The idea that he would not just fail to protect his friends, but be the one putting them in danger pulls him back to how he felt in the beginning, when he was made to realize that his friends and family where at risk due to his spiritual pressure luring in hollows/giving them sight and powers.

And once again, Rukia forces him to understand its not something he can change. And it’s not something he can shoulder alone. Not just when she forces him to speak to Orihime with some fucking honesty in his voice, but also when she looks disappointed at Chad running the opposite direction of Ichigo when Grimmjow shows up, because there is only one reason he would do that (because Ichigo was scared and told him to leave).

Sometimes you just have to slap the self destructive tendencies out of your local human delinquent turned friend because he’s so used to aggression that its the way he’s most comfortable speaking about his baggage in any capacity.

Damn, ma, how’d you package all these onigiri? And don’t you fucking lie to me 🔪🔪🔪

The concept that there are soul reapers that don’t understand mass production is actually so fucking funny.

They go to the human world and treat malls like modern day castles. They are humble gods lording over their mall food court feast.

This is how I know the majority of shinigami know how to sew and cook, because there is no way they can just pop into some local convenience store or fast fashion shop.

Except for the 12th division/R&D. They eat like malnourished college kids trying to develop scurvy for the fun of it and wear embarrassing merch after they spill mountain dew on themselves.

I know some people don’t like that Orihime has so much time dedicated to her feelings of jealousy, but I think its one of the best handled parts of this arc, because her jealousy stems first and foremost from her insecurity that she no longer belongs--that for all her smarts and unique powers, it is not enough and will never be--she is not enough and never will be.

Orihime just got back from the Soul Society, where she feels she has done nothing of help, and she comments on this multiple times. She was not hurt, because she did not battle, and could not hear Isane call out the news of Aizen’s betrayal. She was not strong enough to help Uryu against Mayuri or Ichigo against Byakuya. 

She doesn’t view her contributions in Soul Society as valid, because she is not proficient in battle and above that, she does not want to kill people, even enemies. How could she possibly belong to the same world as Ichigo, Chad, and Uryu when the sight of complete strangers being blown to bits makes her crumple and her every attempt to fight is met with an immediate defeat.

This growing sense of insecurity is fully aggravated to something unbearable when the arrancars show up and Tatsuki, Chad, and Ichigo are all harmed and nothing she does is good enough to stop it. Not just that, but everyone seems to drift farther away from her afterwards. She knows its because they feel bad too, but it sucks. It feels like she’s lost her friends even when they’re right there, avoiding making eye contact with her.

And, I’m sure Orihime does feel jealous of the connection Rukia has with Ichigo, of her ability to make Ichigo stand up and look his fears in the eye, but that seems like the easier thing to admit than that she feels completely unimportant and useless as a person compared to someone like Rukia, who originates from the supernatural world that Orihime is struggling to navigate.

Not just that, but Rangiku is EXACTLY right. It is very human to reject those kinds of feelings or take those feelings and weaponize them in an attempt to put power over someone and therefore those feelings.

But, Orihime doesn’t do that. She is thankful to Rukia. She loves Rukia. She loves that Ichigo can depend on Rukia--that she and her friends can depend on Rukia.

She has emotional competence and strength that a lot of teenagers straight up do not have and she cries to Rangiku, convinced that she is irredeemable and weak for admitting that she wants to be more. That she wants to be grown up and graceful and strong and she doesn’t like herself compared to Rukia.

I also really like the full scope of what Rangiku says, because AGAIN, she’s right. The idea that you only need one person and that Ichigo doesn’t draw his strength from all his friends and family, isn’t true. The idea that Orihime is losing a competition and Ichigo has already chosen the winner isn’t true.

Calm down, Orihime. Keep doing your best for the people you love. Keep doing your best by Ichigo and he’ll keep doing his best for the people he loves. He’ll keep doing his best by you, too. Nothing’s been lost and nothing’s been won. You’ve seen the finish line already--death--and all you can do now keep trying to fight it.

I just really like how well they lead up to this moment, because Orihime does broadcast her feelings of insecurity, even when she dresses it up as her being silly and care-free through out the previous arc and beginning of this one. And how they execute it, as well.

[wmitomlinson]

FIC RECS- JAN 2021

if it’s not too late, happy 2021 everyone! i know the year hasn’t started out great but let’s keep our fingers crossed, and in case it doesn’t, i’ll be here to rec amazing fics to you! shoutout to all the authors of this fandom for being amazing <3

many of the fics mentioned below may have triggering topics. TW // DRUGS, ADDICTION, DRUG MENTION, ALCOHOL AS A COPING MECHANISM, ACCIDENTS, AMNESIA

never be by cherrystreet @cherrystreet (117k, study abroad au, strangers to friends to lovers, angst, pining, happy ending) this was the first ones i’ve read of this type and it was amazing. i loved the long distance dynamic. 

like a bastard on the burning sea by vashtaneradas (22k, infedility) i have no idea why i ever thought that reading h cheating on l would ever do me any good, but here it is. beautifully written. this had me ugly crying and howling the first time i read it. can confirm i hated irl harry for a while after this. 

we’re not who we used to be by louistomlinsons @adoredontour (30k, sharing a bed, accidental cuddling, exes to lovers, road trip) i absolutely loved the ziam and shiall content, coupled with stupid louis. road trip AUs are very cool and if you like them as much as i do you should read this.

search and rescue me by wild halos (17k, alternate universe - high school, confinement?) this was one of the very few stuck together ones i’ve found and i ADORE it. super exciting. their chemistry is amazing. the things that can happen in a day ,,,, *chef’s kiss*

candles on air by isthatyoularry @isthatyoularry (29k, friends to lovers, unrequited love, angst, pining) i read this during physics and i honestly had to work so hard not to let my self-restraint break because i was exhausted by the end of this. the angst is top-tier. 10/10 would recommend.

but me, i’m not a gamble by orphan_account (33k, football player louis, famous harry, popstar harry, footie au, niall is friends with all the footballers) a lovely posh&becks au featuring a cameo from none other than david and victoria beckham. i love the slow build and how louis leads harry on but can’t live without him either. oh and niall is a smug bastard but what’s new. 

spin me like a record by zarah5 @zarah5 (8k, alternate universe- college/university, friends to lovers, fake/pretend relationship, happy ending) let me start by saying that this author is my absolute favourite and that everything she writes is GOLD. so much captured in just 8k. loved it.

counting the steps between us by zarah5 @zarah5 (24k, friends to lovers, pining, so much pining, also camping) this fic is a gem. i absolutely love the dynamic between them and how easily they fall into step with each other. louis is kinda a dick to harry but they end up happy, so, who cares. 

say that you can see me (i’ll speak up i swear) by coffeelouis (20k, college au, liberal arts college, photographer harry, soccer/football player louis tomlinson) harry is an oblivious idiot and louis is the fool pining over him. zayn is not bothered, except for when he is. wonderful fic. 

larry heartbreak by coinmaisy (47k, cheating harry, angst with a happy ending, it gets worse before it gets better, infedility, heartbroken louis tomlinson, implied/referenced drug use, alcohol) when i first read the summary i was like “what is 47k going to do to me?” huge mistake i promise. this was so exhausting to read and it literally felt like my partner had cheated on me. you really feel for the characters. kind of unconventional with the way they deal with it but beautiful nevertheless.

joke’s on our parents by larrycaring @mystupidamours (alternate universe- high school, louis has a twin named carla, coming out, sort of, closeted character) short and sweet, an extremely adorable read. i wish it didn’t end here! i’d kill for parents like that no joke

life at shutter speed by zarah5 @zarah5 (20k, alternate universe- fashion & models, harry is very forward, louis is charmed even though he wishes he weren’t) photographer!louis au featuring stunning locations and even more stunning models.

oh glory by alivingfire (21k, alternate universe-olympics, 2016 summer olympics, gymnastics, mentions of past zouis, explicit sexual content, praise kink, slight mentions of homophobia typical in work environments) this was soooo good. i’m not particularly into sports fics unless it’s footie louis, but swimmer!harry was something i never knew i needed. wonderful setting and the ending *chef’s kiss*

hold my breath by zarah5 @zarah5 (19k, alternate universe- yoga, alternate universe- football, louis plays football and is a beast when injured, harry and louis ramble around london a lot) this is definitely one of my favourite fics for this month. yoga instructor!harry, football!louis AND angst? sign me up hjdhnjsk 

talk dirty to me by briamaria (13k, friends to lovers, dirty talk, mutual masturbation) uni au with best friends to lovers + dirty talk? this one was fireeeeeee. their chemistry is awesome

own the scars by crinkle-eyed-boo @crinkle-eyed-boo (144k, american au, drug addiction, drug overdose, larry is endgame, so don’t let the tomlinshaw scare you off, you’re gonna suffer, but you’ll be happy about it, lots of larry easter eggs) I AM BEGGING YOU TO READ THIS FIC, but more importantly, please please, READ THE TAGS. this had me ugly crying like crazy. this was very triggering for me but istg i don’t regret it. slow burn and angst and fluff and the jealousy,,, make this a must-read. even the memory of this fic gets me overwhelmed. incredible. ft. zouiall friendship that will most definitely make your heart melt.

no one does it better by nodibs (49k, alcohol abuse, alternate universe) amnesia fic with ot5 friendship, sloooooooooooow burn and a shit ton of tears. 

teenage dreams in a teenage circus by orphan_account (50k, first time, coming of age, alternate universe- high school) gemma/perrie/louis friendship that i never knew i needed. louis falls in love with harry, which, awkwarddd. but this fic gave me major coming of age movie vibes and now i’m angry that i don’t have a childhood like this

play the odds by alivingfire @alivingfire (25k, friends to lovers, bets&wagers, alternate universe- college & university) a bet where they have to kiss 1000 times. maybe it ends up being more than that. i loved the concept and how well it carried throughout the fic.

those are all for this month ! i hope you enjoy them, and if you do, make sure you leave kudos and comments. stay safe, sending love! x

[dahlia-coccinea]

I reread Patsy Stoneman’s essay, “Catherine Earnshaw's Journey to Her Home among the Dead: Fresh Thoughts on Wuthering Heights and 'Epipsychidion,” and my feelings towards it pretty similar to how I feel about J. Hillis Miller’s essays. I enjoyed reading it but I don’t agree with 85% of it. I haven’t reread any of Miller’s takes (since there are a plethora of metaphysical interpretations it would be so repetitive) and that probably allows for me to still appreciate his essays as much as I do...I think rereading Stoneman’s essay was a bad idea because reading it a second time made it much less enjoyable and I read it much more critically.

There are a lot of similarities between the metaphysical and Romantic love narratives, and they also share a lot of the same failings. They tend to be very selective about what scenes are analyzed and they aren’t put into a larger context, and they tend to be the most poetic scenes. Typically these arguments cannot place the meaning of the 2nd generation into the context of the novel either. I’ve already said quite a bit about the metaphysical arguments, so I’m going to try and discuss just the points in this specific essay. Sorry parts may be a little repetitive because critics often bring up the same quotes and ideas again and again. And this will be very long.

First, Stoneman identifies that there are two popular theories about Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship: “One is the myth of star-crossed lovers, who are cheated of marriage by social forces,” and then the metaphysical argument which, “presents Catherine and Heathcliff’s love as of a kind which is in itself incapable of social consummation.” She then volunteers a third option that is based on concepts of free love and/or “twin love” that can found in Romantic literature.

It is interesting, but I’m pretty sure Catherine also thinks she betrayed her own heart? She does tell Nelly she knows in her heart and soul she shouldn’t marry Edgar, and on her deathbed, she says “If I’ve done wrong, I’m dying for it.” I know some take it to mean she thinks that she didn’t do what was wrong to her, but she does add “You left me too” so I think she does agree with Heathcliff that she, in a way, left him. 

There is ample room in the novel to compare Heathcliff and Edgar as there are few similarities between them. The society in which they live is violent and hierarchical and that never seems to be questioned by any character - I think that is an important backdrop and allows for commentary on class, race, and gender. I don’t think this particularly has to do with how we view exclusive relationships. And based on the reasons Catherine gives for why she would marry one and not the other, I think Catherine understands she is limited by this society. Her reasons for marrying Edgar are all very practical.

Instead of any fulfillment, from the start, Nelly says Catherine struggled and had an “objection to her two friends meeting at all.” Catherine is aware they dislike each other from the start and this makes things more difficult for her as Hindley wants her to marry Edgar, Heathcliff is more and more remote, and the two of them are stuck suffering Hindley’s cruelty. Nelly even says during this time, “I’ve had many a laugh at her perplexities and untold troubles, which she vainly strove to hide from my mockery.” If what Stoneman says is true she would have to be beyond naive, if not utterly foolish, to think that a relationship with both Edgar and Heathcliff would be desirable for spiritual fulfillment after Heathcliff’s treatment at the Grange, or his throwing applesauce on Edgar (which this scene brings her to tears and she blames Edgar for Heathcliff’s resulting punishment). 

Stoneman does attempt to reconcile the Catherine confiding in Nelly that she knows in her heart and soul she is wrong to accept Linton’s proposal - she says this statement is negated by her insistence of never being parted from Heathcliff and that therefore means her love for him must simply be different and Romantic, rather than romantic/marriage-oriented. I’ve written a lot about this already but so I’ll just say that is pretty selective of the whole conversation with Nelly. 

Stoneman says, that from this scene and how we see Catherine greet Heathcliff this shows, “No sense of tragic irony seems to enter into her consciousness, nor any foreboding of difficulties.”? Seems to be a bit of an overstatement when you consider that Edgar’s proposal brings Catherine to tears because she feels she isn’t meant to be with him. She doesn’t excitedly tell Nelly that she loves them both, and she doesn’t seem very optimistic when she says Edgar, “must shake off his antipathy, and tolerate him, at least.” While idealistic in thinking Edgar would help Heathcliff she is still pragmatic in understanding how few options she has. She fears Heathcliff listening to this conversation and will be hurt by this, or him finding out how much she loves him. Is her "delirious” joy upon Heathcliff’s return really a sign of her lack of conformity and utter loss at understanding their jealously? Or is it more likely because she thought he might be dead for those three years? She also tirelessly spends the next 3 months balancing Heathcliff’s dislike of Edgar (which I believe also spurs her to continue concealing her feelings towards him), Edgar’s jealously, and a new fun problem: Isabella’s infatuation with Heathcliff. 

I won’t go into too much detail in this because it’s so similar to the metaphysical argument, but Stoneman notes that in Shelley’s ‘Epipsychidion’ there isn’t just the concept of free love but of “twin love” between 2 of the 3 person triangle, so it assumes that Catherine/Heathcliff could more platonic or at least asexual. 

In this interpretation Catherine “revises the traditional masculinity” of the “Romantic lover:” 

“Shelly’s experiment depended on women’s readiness to be generous and co-operative, and Catherine’s similar plan founders on the combative notion of masculinity endorsed by our culture. Attempting to ‘divide’ her love between men who seem to her too different to be rivals, she finds them transformed into the ‘chained friend’ and ‘jealous foe’ of convention.”

I don’t agree with the idea that Catherine sees them as too different to be rivals? She does compare them which casts them as two men vying for the position of her husband. Also, she based her decision to marry one and not the other on socioeconomic advantage, not who she loves more, or how they differ as people and might give her different kinds of love, although she points out her changing/more superficial and limited love for Edgar compared to the love she has for Heathcliff which are like the “eternal rocks beneath.”

Her love for Edgar is full of stipulations - she would “only pity him—hate him, perhaps, if he were ugly, and a clown.” Heathcliff’s degraded state does nothing to change her love, which is why I say her love for them is unequal. I honestly think saying she loves them equally yet differently, or that she is totally unaware of their jealousies is so preposterous based on the text, I don’t understand how so many critics, that have written extensively on the book all parrot it? Yet Stoneman continues to assert Catherine is “innocent” and “baffled” by their jealously. With almost everything she says about Catherine I find myself thinking, “well yes, but no?” For example, with this idea: 

“Catherine’s apparent self-destruction has to be seen, not as willful egotism, but as a despairing response to her two lovers’ failure to love her enough to share her attention”

I do think this is mostly true. It is not willful egotism, and she is upset that they can’t tolerate each other - but Catherine’s illness is a long-running problem that is closely associated with her relationship with Heathcliff and his absence that began after he first runs away. Through the next three years, she says she “endured very, very bitter misery.” I’d say it has nothing to do with her feelings towards Edgar who she has been making herself distant during this whole time while telling Heathcliff (in spirit since he isn’t actually in the room): “If I dare you now, will you venture? If you do, I’ll keep you.”

Again I do somewhat agree with Stoneman’s interpretation of Catherine telling Heathcliff, “you and Edgar have broken my heart,” which Stoneman says, “can only be explained if we accept that while Catherine still relates to both her lovers, Edgar and Heathcliff have broken her heart by defining love as exclusive.” I think they do break her heart by their selfishness over her, and I think she never intends to hurt either of them. She has at different times suffered to protect one or the other. But this still doesn’t change her stronger, unconditional, yet socially unacceptable and thwarted love for Heathcliff. Her issue isn’t the loss of Edgar, they broke her heart by both behaving in a way that cast Heathcliff from her company. Divorce was not really an option for her - the most dysfunctional couple in the novel, Heathcliff and Isabella, never legally separate even. So why wouldn’t she try to keep the peace between them to be near Heathcliff? The Romantic love interpretation is difficult to reconcile with her rejection of Edgar which happens on a few occasions and most apparent when she tells him, “What you touch at present you may have; but my soul will be on that hill top before you lay hands on me again. I don’t want you, Edgar: I’m past wanting you. Return to your books. I’m glad you possess a consolation, for all you had in me is gone.” 

As the essay went on I felt it got weaker. Stoneman says Catherine’s haunting of Heathcliff must be read as an “appeal against his failures of generosity.” Not because she wishes she was never parted from him, as Catherine herself said? Catherine doesn’t seem to die with any animosity towards Heathcliff - she forgives him for leaving her, asks for forgiveness, and tells him, “You never harmed me in your life.” 

**** EDIT *** I just meant that he goal isn’t to punish Heathcliff, since before her death she makes it clear she doesn’t want to parted from him. I do prefer the theory that she she haunts him in part to call him off his revenge and harming those she loves and to bring him back to her. I don’t think her ghost is static or simply a “reward” for Heathcliff despite all the wrong he did. I think she does become “incomparably above and beyond” them all and remains a force as she was in her life. Or she could be not a ghost at all and he encounters with could be proof of Heathcliff’s madness and later becomes a simple old folktale and superstition. (I’ll admit I like to view the ghosts are real and I think there number of references to them by other characters do suggest that we are meant to read them that way). ***

After Catherine’s death, Stoneman says, “There is, after all, something in the haunting which the usual readings of the novel fail to explain. If the ghost of Catherine wails to be let in, and Heathcliff begs her to return, what is it that keeps them apart?” I think we’d have to all agree that what Lockwood saw was actually a ghost, and I have seen this interpreted a million times? Stoneman says it is Heathcliff’s own “implacable obsession with revenge, which effectively shuts her out of his consciousness.” Which I could agree if we are reading it assuming the ghosts are real...but then she says that Heathcliff reaches his heaven only as he abandons his revenge against Edgar and “at last he ‘comprehends in his person’ the preposterous simultaneity of her loves.” This made no sense to me. I don’t see any reason for thinking he begins to accept Catherine’s love for Edgar, which he kind of already had? He tells Nelly that he doesn’t physically hurt him for that reason, he just also believes she loves him more. And I would say he does defeat Edgar and Hindley? Just because he can’t also destroy Hareton and Cathy II doesn’t negate that in his lifetime he outlives his enemies and has control of everything and everyone at Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange (which he never shows signs of regretting his actions). It might not have gone as far as he originally planned, but I would say he does sort of win. And his abandonment of revenge isn’t ever associated with Edgar? Heathcliff does give some insight to what causes him to lose interest in his plot, an aspect of it being the connection to Hareton. In a discussion between him and Nelly he tells her she may think he’s insane “if I try to describe the thousand forms of past associations and ideas he (Hareton) awakens or embodies.” It is because of this intense association with him that he says, “his society is no benefit; rather an aggravation of the constant torment I suffer: and it partly contributes to render me regardless how he and his cousin go on together. I can give them no attention any more.” I believe the last time Heathcliff mentions Edgar is right after his death and he tells Nelly that, “I wish he’d been soldered in lead,” and goes on to describe yet another plot against Edgar by having his and Catherine’s graves opened on the side nearest each other so that they don’t have any barriers between them and then, "by the time Linton gets to us he’ll not know which is which!” So the idea he softens towards Edgar or becomes more willing to share Catherine in any way is...improbable to me. 

The theory also suffers (like so many others), in ignoring the ending when forming the narrative. Stoneman mentions the three graves and says that the people seeing Heathcliff and Catherine’s ghosts are basically country folk who are inclined to sympathize with “Heathcliff's final possession of his 'woman’” and also most readers fall into these same “hegemonic constructions” by not considering that the "the sleepers in that quiet earth” are at peace together. I agree with @princesssarisa that it doesn’t quite fit into the fact that many of the people that see the ghosts didn’t support or even know of Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship - the young shepherd boy doesn’t seem to know who Catherine even is. To also say that the reader is projecting their desired ending doesn’t feel right because the ending is something that Heathcliff and Catherine have been foreshadowing through the whole book. Catherine says, “I’ll not lie there by myself: they may bury me twelve feet deep, and throw the church down over me, but I won’t rest till you are with me. I never will!” She doesn’t refer to Edgar, who she says can be buried anywhere, it doesn’t matter to her (poor Edgar). She also tells Heathcliff, “I shall not be at peace,” and “I only wish us never to be parted,” as well as other similar quotes implying that she will be waiting for Heathcliff to come to her. I don’t like the view that Catherine is so lacking agency in her relationship with Heathcliff either - I’ve never thought that he “possesses” her. She’s the one who makes the demand that he leave the world behind and join her - the end does seem to be him finally following her, as she says he always does. 

And then, what of Cathy and Hareton? How do we reconcile the narrative with the features of the second generation? It would seem, if we assume Catherine has a differing yet equal love of the two men, and wished for a relationship where they can be peaceful together, and then the only scene we have of them together is in their graves, it feels pessimistic. Our one Shelleyan model is dead and buried with two people incapable of overcoming their jealousies and possessiveness. When considering the ending with Hareton and Cathy, would we have to conclude this a cautionary tale of Catherine’s naivety? Stoneman does make almost this suggestion and says it could also be because Emily had watched Branwell and Charlotte get hurt by love married people, so it could be showing what tragedy befalls if love is selfish and possessive. Though there is nothing to suggest that Hareton and Cathy love isn’t any of those things? 

I must be terribly boring because I think the easiest way of describing Catherine and Heathcliff is that they are, “star-crossed lovers, who are cheated of marriage by social forces.” Obviously, that is simplistic and glosses over their more spiritual aspects and certainly, they are not how the 1939 film interpreted them, which Stoneman rightly says, “recasts the novel in class terms as 'the story of the stable-boy and the lady’” - but I still think its closer than saying they are models of Freudian psychology, siblings, celestial beings, or Shelleyan. There certainly is spirituality and complexities in their love, and throughout the plot, as well as other characters, but it is still very much possible to read too deeply into double meanings and what is left unsaid.

My end take - some lyricism of Epipsychidion is echoed in quotations from Catherine and I would have much preferred to compare and contrast the two works rather than the attempt to shoehorn the rest of the story into a similar narrative. I think if you made a comparison to just the part after Heathcliff returns, a really interesting and strong argument could be made about how Catherine does try to create a similar relationship as described in Shelley’s work. I don’t think the situation was ever her ideal, but she certainly has no desire to be cunning or vampish - that’s not in her nature, and her relationship with Heathcliff doesn’t necessitate them having sex. She does try to put into practice a semi-Romantic love triangle but I don’t think she harbors any delusions of Edgar’s and Heathcliff’s animosity. Rather than a bohemian approach, it is her forcefulness and controlling that keep them both at bay. Tellingly she tells Nelly, “I believe I might kill him (Edgar), and he wouldn’t wish to retaliate.” She feels confident in her sway over him to get what she wants and she wants to be able to continue her relationship with Heathcliff in any way she can. It’s not necessary to revise and add new narratives to situations in the novel that are clearly able to be discerned from the text - such as Heathcliff’s failing desire for revenge or people seeing their ghosts at the end. I don’t think Epipsychidion is a terribly good lens to read Catherine through as her love can also be jealous, selfish, and possessive. There are too many aspects of Catherine’s character that conflict with the ideas Epipsychidion expresses.

[unseeliekey]

kaemiu perhaps? :)

“At a certain point,” Kokichi told her, watching the blaze in the chemistry labs spread despite the best efforts of the sprinklers above, “it starts looking a little bit desperate.”

“Oh, shut up,” Miu replies, lifting up her pink-stained hands in surrender as the teachers of Hope’s Peak came flying down to catch them. “I thought we had better fire safety measures in place after fuckin’ Komaeda and the gym incident. These are science labs. I dunno why everything in them burns so goddamn easily.”

“It’s because you mixed a highly explosive powder in the pink dye,” Ouma sighs, giving a very annoying wave to the upperclassmen evacuating around them. “Which I told you not to do. Just get pigments from Angie like a normal person?”

She elbows him sharply, hands still raised. “As if your stupid fucking blueprints weren’t what spread it everywhere! You always leave them scattered around! This is a place of work, not a doodling workshop, you little twink bitch-”

Her next row of insults are cut off by a sudden boom from within the lab- the fire swelling too fast to process and proceeding to shatter every window in the lab with the heat of it. People are yelling, now.

Miu winces.

Kokichi looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, before leaning up against her with a grin. “Well, look on the bright side.”

She shoves him off her tit and resists the urge to pick him up by his scarf and give him a good shaking, like he’s a badly behaved cat or something. “What?”

His smirk only widens. “This will definitely get Akamatsu-chan’s attention.”

--

Homeroom, after school, one gorgeous girl genius stuck on the class side of the teacher’s desk, one not-quite as gorgeous but still stupidly pretty dumb stupid piano player on the other side, lecturing her.

Really, this is entirely Akamatsu’s fault.

If Akamatsu hadn’t been pretty and nice and somehow stupid enough to continually seek out Miu’s company, to stop by her lab and ask her opinion on festivals and school events even though everyone knows she’ll never agree to Miu’s brilliant ideas anyway, maybe Miu wouldn’t…. Appreciate her, a little. As a fellow intelligent blonde. So that’s her fault, for starters.

And, maybe if Akamatsu wasn’t the sort of idiot who liked to try and “increase class bonding” and “establish a good kinship with the rest of the school,” she wouldn’t have volunteered to host a school dance and put their class in charge of it. 

And if she hadn’t done that, Miu would have never had to watch her turn down a boy from 2A when he asked to go with her.

And she wouldn’t have realized that the idea of Akamatsu taking anyone else to the dumb, shitty school dance that Miu doesn’t even care about- fills her with so much restless, scratchy, jealousy that she can’t even think straight.

Straight. Haha. If Kokichi were here he would have laughed.

Anyway, the point is that when Akamatsu thumps her palms on the desk and leans forward, mouth all twisted up in a scowl and Miu is staring at her lipgloss and wondering what it tastes like, when she asks “just what were you trying to do?” the only answer is “impress you.”

But Miu actually thinks she might die rather than say that, so instead she pulls at her hair and tries not to pout too much. “We were helping! We were building a decorating machine- to help get the gym ready! ‘Cos you were whining so fucking much about how ugly the floor and walls were, batting your eyelashes like you were hoping Saihara would paint it for you-”

Akamatsu’s cheeks go apple-red, curling her hands up and pulling them back. “Ah, geez! That’s not true, and I wasn’t whining, and- and, anyway, how did you make a decoration device explode?”

She’s really hot when she’s angry. Miu thinks about how unfortunate this is for a solid three seconds. “Go big or go home. You wouldn’t get it, you’re too much of an artsy type- inventing shit like this is risk-reward!”

Something in Akamatsu’s forehead twitches. She inhales, like she’s forcing herself to remain calm. “Okay. Okay. Well, maybe next time, don’t take major risks on school property.”

“This is a fucking boarding school!” Miu snaps, gesturing wildly with an arm. “What, you want me to go request a town leave slip every time I gotta work on something?”

“If it’ll keep you from blowing up half the science labs, yes!”

Miu crosses her arms. “You’re just intimidated by my genius brain.”

Akamatsu rolls her eyes in response. She’s so annoying. Class rep. Thinks she’s in charge of everything. Thinks she can just boss Miu around all the time. This is her fault, anyway. “Yes, Iruma-san,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Your intelligence is what intimidates me, not your complete lack of ability to grasp the concept of danger and consequences. You- you could have been seriously hurt!” Something sparks in her eyes, and she’s leaning on the desk again, angry and passionate and annoying as ever. “You’re lucky you escaped with first-degree burns!”

“I had ‘Kichi with me!” Miu protests.

Akamatsu huffs. “Oh, and I’m sure he would have put your safety first.”

This is a somewhat fair point. (Not that Miu will admit it.) She kind of thinks that Kokichi thinks he’s unkillable, which is why he has so little regard for his own safety and also things like pain. At the same time, Miu also thinks she’s unkillable. That’s what makes them excellent lab partners. If Miu is Frankenstein, Kokichi is Frankenstein’s shrunken hype man who keeps passing him bang energy and surprisingly skillful blueprints to work on.

(Akamatsu, obviously, is Frankenstein’s adopted-not-sister with the pretty hair and eyes who loves him devotedly. Kokichi says that their relationship was fucked up and Miu’s critical analysis skills are flawed. Miu says that she doesn’t give a shit, she’s in it for the science and the drama.)

“Look,” she says, staring sideways so she doesn’t have to look at the almost hurt expression on Akamatsu’s face. “I’m fine. I’ve done this a million times before. And the school’s got insurance or whatever and they already said I can make up for it with after school projects, and-”

“That’s not the point!” Akamatsu cries out, throwing up her hands. “Iruma-san, you can’t- I don’t care if you’ve done this a million times! Sooner or later you’re going to get actually hurt, and excuse me if I don’t want to see that happen!”

Miu blinks. She bites her lip. She tries to fight back the stupid blush on her face.

Akamatsu sighs, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “You’re my friend, Miu,” she says, and the sudden switch to her first name is like a punch to the gut. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, okay? Especially not for some… silly problem I got flustered with.” 

Miu twists her hands through her hair, feeling like a kicked dog. “...It’s not silly. You’ve been freaking yourself out about it for weeks,” she mumbles. She doesn’t look up. “I… you’re arranging this whole big thing, and you won’t let anyone help you, and- I dunno. You were talking for ages about how ugly the gym was.”

“I didn’t say it like that,” Akamatsu protests, but a little softer.

Miu pushes her fingertips together. “Whatever,” she scoffs, and her face still feels all hot. Akamatsu called her Miu. “I don’t even care about your stupid dance, anyway, I just wanted you to stop being so fuckin’ whiny-”

Akamatsu leans over the desk. Miu feels lips, warm and soft, and a little tacky with lipgloss, press against her cheek. 

She thinks she might have died.

Akamatsu looks sheepish but pleased, her face all flushed pink again. “...How about next time, you just come and help me hang up streamers?” She asks, and somehow she sounds a little nervous.

She should be nervous, of course. She’s asking for the company of the world’s number one inventor, asking Iruma Miu to hang out as if she doesn’t have better things to do, as if she isn’t the hottest motherfucker around-

Miu can only nod, clutching at her own shirt. “I’d- yeah. I can- I can do that.”

And Akamatsu smiles like the sun is coming out.

[dorizardthewizard]

Galactik Football: Season 1

I completely forgot that I wrote a load of ramble as I rewatched GF during  lockdown, so uh here’s a sort of review for season 1!

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

First of all, the concept and setting is just so unique and wild I mean, football in space against aliens but with magical powers too? Epic. Superpowers are pretty common in sports cartoons and anime but here there’s actually an explanation for them, and they have significance for the world of the show. The concept of the flux sets up for an entire sub-plot of wars with weapons of mass destruction, corrupt mega-corporations ruling the galaxy, space pirates… the world feels very lived in, and makes you want to know more about the goings-on outside of the football games.

The pirate business doesn’t overshadow the Snow Kids though, because their personal drama and journey to becoming a better team together is interesting enough. Basically, this is a space opera with football sprinkled in. For such a big cast, most get good development and there’s no clear main character. This leads into me rambling about each character, because I never really appreciated the diversity of arcs when I first watched it as a kid :’P

Rocket:

He starts out pretty timid, doesn’t fight for his dreams, and has a habit of running away from confrontation (like when the others found out he was Aarch’s nephew) that follows him into season 2. He’s stuck tending to flowers (ironic, since he himself isn’t allowed to grow and bloom), but by the end of the season, he’s more authoritative and confident enough to suggest strategies to the team. Also has a habit of hiding his feelings and underestimating his importance to others, which he works on in season 2.

Tia:

You’d expect her to be more calm and similar to Rocket, and sure they bond over being out of the inner circle of the Snow Kids, and also both having emotionally unavailable parents, but she’s actually far more headstrong than she seems. I mean, she was willing to do anything to be in Aarch’s team, even faking her parents’ consent and almost dying when her ship crashed! (Plus that scene where she uses the breath is epic, that music? Chef’s kiss) She’s not perfect though – she’s very empathetic (like when they arrived on the Ryker’s planet and she was the most upset by the conditions there), and relates to Rocket, so she wants to give him the happy family she didn’t have, by reuniting him with his mother. Although well-intentioned, it’s preeetty invasive, and though it turned out okay in the end, she really should have consulted with Rocket first, especially after finding out his mother wasn’t dead, but had left them. For all Tia knew, she could have been a really shitty person.

D’jok:

Very clear ego problems :P He doesn’t know his past and doesn’t have much of a future on Akillian, so he pushes himself to achieve some great destiny, then feels like everyone else isn’t on the same level as him if they don’t do the same. He gets more than he bargained for when it turns out that Sonny Blackbones is his dad, and he realises what’s really important to him in the final match. Namely, he realises that the reason he found it so difficult to sabotage the match isn’t because he wanted to win at all costs, but because he doesn’t want to betray his team – he wants to win together with them.

Althooough, I was never entirely sure about him scoring the penalty before knowing Sonny was safe, like sure he didn’t know Sonny that well yet so maybe felt closer to the SK but dude, you just sentenced a man to death. I think the life-and-death situation by itself was enough to get him to rethink his priorities. Maybe they could have made him more aware that the whole galaxy was at stake if he lost the match, but that motive for scoring the penalty isn’t as satisfying for his arc I guess.

Micro-Ice:

To this day, I have no idea why he was named that :’P He’s the first Snow Kid we meet, which makes for a fun start to the show since he’s such a smart-ass and a joker that keeps getting in trouble. He could have easily been nothing but comic relief, but he isn’t. He’s actually pretty pessimistic and doubtful about his skills, and covers it up with jokes and fake confidence. He didn’t even want to go to the try-outs, to avoid disappointment if he didn’t get chosen.

The self-confidence issue keeps building up with things like being put as substitute initially, being the last person to get the Breath, and D’jok and Mei getting together, finally driving him to run off with the pirates thinking he isn’t really needed on the team. He also lets jealousy get the better of him, souring his friendship with D’jok and forgetting that Mei is free to choose whoever she likes. He eventually realises he’s wrong though, and comes back. I also love his friendship with Artie :’D

Mei:

She starts out ambitious, which in itself isn’t a bad thing, but she’s willing to throw others under the bus for personal gains. Then you start to see it’s because of her mother’s influence – always pushing her to do better. When Mei starts to actually have feelings for D’jok, she starts to care about him and regrets breaking up his friendship with Micro-Ice. Eventually, she manages to stand up to her mum and is happy playing the position she’s best at.

The execution cooould be a little better because at times it leaned a bit into the “overambitious woman who needs to be put in her place” trope. It only really comes down to little details, like why did Aarch refuse to let her try out as an attacker when he was forming the team? Back then he had no idea who she was or what her skills were?? He didn’t even want to consider the idea later when Micro-Ice left, which felt more like an emotional reaction than a tactical one. But anyway, it’s alright overall and I love that she got to score the winning goal despite not being an attacker.

Thran and Ahito:

Having a narcoleptic goalkeeper is just genius, and makes for some fun last-minute saves. Also love how despite being asleep half the time, Ahito’s the one that knows what’s up :’P Thran is also really underrated but there’s more to talk about with these two in season 2.

Also wanted to throw in some appreciation for how the older characters are written – usually the adults in kids shows are more on the side-lines, but in Galactik Football, they’re also pretty flawed and interesting. For example, Aarch isn’t the perfect, wise mentor – whether he did it for glory, to escape bad memories or a combination of both, he still left his brother and planet behind when they needed him most, and now he’s trying to make up for it. Norata’s not perfect either – he denies Rocket his dreams partly to protect him, but also out of bitterness towards Aarch and fear of being left alone again. Also, there’s a variety of different families being represented in the show – single parents, adopted parents, rich, not so rich, neglectful, supportive, ambitious, non-existent… and with some of them, this plays a key role in the Snow Kids’ characters.

The show might not be the most technically amazing, okay, the 2D animation is not the best, but the designs are pretty diverse and I miss that 2000’s style with the outfits :’P There are lots of locations with pretty backgrounds, and very varied planets that reflect the people living there. I also like the comfortable sci-fi design – it’s futuristic-looking enough, but more colourful than some of the CGI bores we get in movies these days.

The 3D animation is better – they reuse motions a lot but at least they shake it up a bit by using different characters and camera angles. Speaking of camera angles, there’s some really interesting ones and camera movements that really make the matches dynamic. Honestly, having CGI in the 2000’s that doesn’t look super ugly and dated now is great, partly because they transferred their designs to 3D really well and partly because they didn’t try to do much rendering on the models.

ALSO THE SOUNDTRACK SLAPS THEY DID NOT HAVE TO GO THAT HARD ON THE OPENING THEME AND THE SCORE SOUNDS SO EPIC ALL THE TIME

I don’t know how to end this so if you actually got this far, I’ll just say season 1 was the best one for me! There’s some parts and characters I left out but that’s for another time. Sinedd and D’jok’s rivalry deserves its own post :’P

[florbelles]

15, 17, 26, 27 for john/lyra?

thank you lovely, pretend this is timely and not a month late xx | xv & xvii answered here!!

xxvi. they have an argument with their partner—what is it about? do things stay respectful, or is there some shouting and accusing going on?

— arguments are far more common in the beginning, when it could be about virtually anything; unconditional love, or love in general, is a foreign concept to both of them, neither particularly knows what they’re doing or how they’re meant to behave, and mostly that’s just as well, mostly being what and where they are is enough, but in the very early stages there’s still a bit of an expectation that the other shoe will drop; there’s a degree of pettiness and deliberate provocation, how conditional is unconditional — there’s an undercurrent of testing each other’s boundaries, of seeking out those conditions, but everything is driven by a genuine terror and codependency. they’re mutually obsessive and enmeshed almost immediately, and that means passions, emotions, investment and tempers are running high and blowing hot from the beginning. the petty fighting essentially drops off when they realize no one’s going anywhere; because they’re extremely similar and philosophically aligned on virtually every major point, they have little cause for conflict where they’re not actively creating it or seeking it out.

however.

their truly ugly, fraught arguments that aren’t over before they begin like their early spats are almost entirely still based on fears, not of being intentionally left — it quickly becomes clear that is not within the realm of possibility —but for each other’s safety and losing them to their own mortality and means beyond their control. john believes lyra is too reckless ( she is ); he becomes fucking exasperated when she comes home with her side ripped open and insists it’s nothing, really, will he pass her that thread there? she doesn’t suppose they have a stapler on hand? no, no, don’t call shaggy, there’s no need to fuss ( he’s pretty sure he can see her insides, her white dress is painted red ). she lashes out when he snaps; he knew what she was, he’s always known, he does not get to hate her for it now.

they are both hypocrites about this. they know this. they understand this. they will ultimately wordlessly acknowledge this. they will scream and rage and destroy property before this happens. they will do it all again.

lyra is quite literally petrified of losing him, she’s crippled with it, and if she sees him taking any risks she believes are unnecessary — which are any risks at all, even if he doesn’t see them as such, he never does, he wouldn’t take them otherwise — she’s cross with him. he bristles when he believes she’s coddling him or treating him like he’s weak or incapable. the worst fight they ever have is almost immediately after the reaping begins, when he’s furious with her for being flippant about her injuries and she’s furious with him for getting in that fucking plane when she had it handled, joseph has never seen her die, only him, only alone, and yes, well, did she ever consider that maybe the reason she isn’t dead is because of him, did she ever think of that, did she ever consider that maybe she needs him? hm? ( she opened her side when she fell on jagged glass in the window of the burke’s truck, where he’d taken her hostage; she fell because the bridge was bombed; he believes she blames him; this had never occurred to her ). she doesn’t actually see him as weak or less capable, she simply loves him and is terrified of seeing him hurt or dead, would do anything to prevent it, and although he may not otherwise mind sitting back and letting others do his dirty work, it brings up his insecurities about his brothers and his fear they think less of him, that he can’t handle himself, and it’s meant to be different with her, she’s his wife, for fuck’s sake ( which itself is a bit of a sore spot with some of his pettier jealousies — she’s only their sister-in-law, they’ve known her a year, but he feels they hold her in higher esteem; they have to love him, he’s their brother, they have to tolerate him, but they respect her on merit ).

their tempers burn hot, they burn fast, and they also quickly burn out. 

xxvii. they have to apologize to their partner. is this difficult for them? how do they approach it?

— lyra is extremely unlikely to hold onto anything — her fuse is short and burns bright, but, as mentioned before, it also burns out quickly — and apologizing is not difficult for her when she’s remorseful, which, if she’s hurt him, she invariably is. it’s also usually ( verbally ) unnecessary; once they’ve blown off steam ( by railing at each other and then very probably simply railing each other ) and their heads clear, their understanding of each other normally renders it null & void. mostly they fight because of a shared fear borne out of love; they’re both more likely to simply say “i know” than “i’m sorry,” and they do know. that’s enough.

[tomiokai]

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts || Spencer Reid

Masterlist

A/N: This is a fic I have wanted to write for a long time, and I have read this concept a whole bunch of times from different fandom so it isn’t my original idea. Kudos to whoever made this idea first, I love it, but I did want to write one with my own twist. So yeah, enjoy. I don’t drink so bare with me. Maybe a happy part two, possibly. 

Please don’t copy my works, but if you do want to use it as inspiration please give me credit, at least tag me. I do read a lot and when I see my ideas getting stolen and then turned into new stories it really hurts me.

Summary: After Y/n and Spencer’s one-sided breakup, Y/n gets drunk on their breakup anniversary and calls Spencer and admits that she still loves him and that she is mothering his child. This is after prison Spencer so he isn’t as nice!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings: Angst. Not a happy ending, I really wanted it to be a happy ending but life sucks so whatever. Alcohol obviously. Have your tissues ready if you are sensitive. Swearing. 

Word Count: 3.2k

_

“I’m sorry Y/n but I don’t love you anymore. Everything about us is just so complicated. We’re always fighting and arguing, and my job is very stressful and time-consuming, our fire burned out a long time ago and we just don’t belong together anymore. I just can’t do this with you, I’m sorry and I hope you’ll find someone else and please forgive me one day” 

Those were the words that ended our 2-year relationship. Spencer didn’t love me anymore. He left me standing there in the rain outside of the BAU, 10 o’clock at night, in the dark, alone. He walked away from me, from our child that he didn’t even know about, I was going to tell him but he left before I could. And I knew that if I told him about our child I would burden him with our child. With me. 

Of course the team was devastated when they were informed that we had broken up.

 Garcia, JJ, Emily, and I still hang out regularly, we would go to nightclubs, and bars and all sorts of fun places together, we never lost our connection with each other. Spencer was a topic that was never brought up when we hung out, but when he was the whole mood would be killed. 

Rossi and I would meet up every second Saturday of the month and we would have a nice dinner together and talk, nothing romantic, only a father-daughter relationship. He was also the godfather to Spencer and I’s child. And of course Penelope was the godmother, it was a tough decision between the girls, but since Penelope had the least dangerous part of the job she was the best choice.  

Henry Y/l/n Reid was the beautiful baby boy I had given birth to on October 31 weighing 7.6 pounds. A coincidence to say the least, it was on Spencer’s favorite holiday. He took up almost all of Spencer’s facial features, only leaving Henry with my y/h/c hair, and plump lips. He looked too much like Spencer, anyone who looked at Henry would immediately assume he was Spencer’s. When I was in labor, practically the whole team came rushing to the hospital leaving Spencer alone at the BAU for a few hours. I had made everyone keep it a secret to not tell Spencer until I decided too and so when they had gone back they all had their own excuses. It has been two years since our breakup, I had raised him myself, along with the girls, and Rossi. It was hard being a single mother, 2-year-old Henry had definitely inherited Spencer’s genius brain and had on multiple occasions asked where his daddy was. Every time the answer would be, “Daddy has a very busy job and doesn’t have time, he travels a lot, but he’s coming back really soon”.  And that was how it went every single day for two years. 

On many occasions JJ would suggest I tell Spencer but every time I would decline and say, “not yet”.  

All this time I was still madly in love with Spencer. Every night I would cry myself to sleep knowing the person I loved the most other than Henry didn’t love me back. He had moved on, on several occasions Emily would come to tell me about the girls she would see Spencer flirting with. It wasn’t something I wanted to know, but I needed to know. A very small part of my heart suggests that if I had told Spencer the night I found out about Henry he would have never left me, but Spencer had stopped loving me long before that and telling him would burden him to me. I loved him, so so much, and it was all my fault he didn’t love me back. Rossi, every time we met up would tell me it wasn’t my fault that Spencer had fallen out of love with me, but deep down inside of me it felt like it was. Maybe it was because of Maeve, maybe not. 

Laying in bed crying, that is exactly what I was doing right this moment. The tears spilling out of my eyes staining the plush white pillow under my head, my body curled in the fetal position. Trembling, shaking, coldness, and the choked sobs from my lips filled the air. Henry completely oblivious of what's happening, was sleeping in the room next door. Whenever Henry saw me cry he would wrap me in a tight long hug, his small arms squeezing me tightly, his cheek on my shoulders, he never said anything, just hugged me. He truly was a smart little boy. 

Tonight's tears were different. They didn’t just come out of my eyes, they poured out. Today marked the official 2 year break up anniversary, two whole years knowing the person you loved the most probably had someone else on their mind. 

‘He never loved you.’

‘He’s too good for you.’

‘He hates you.’

‘He loves someone else.’

‘He wants nothing to do with you.’

‘He left you alone.’

‘YOU WEREN’T GOOD ENOUGH, THAT’S WHY HE LEFT YOU.’

‘YOU'RE A WHORE.’

‘YOU'RE UGLY.’ 

‘YOU DON’T DESERVE LOVE.”

The voices never stopped, slapping at my brain. The pounding just got worse whenever I tried to ignore it. 

That's it. I bolted up from my bed and started walking towards the kitchen. Wine, Vodka, Beer, all those sounded great right now. And you know what that’s exactly what's going to happen. To get wasted. I’m never this reckless, but tonight, tonight was an exception, it hurt too much, the pain jabbing at my heart was too much to handle. 

I stomped quietly down the halls of my apartment and swung the kitchen cabinet door that held the booze open. Nothing. 

Plan b. 

Grabbing the skimpiest dress I owned I threw it on and taped up on some light makeup. The dress I had on looked so slutty I almost decided to just cancel my plans, the dress was a deep dark shade of emerald green, it had almost the thinnest straps, a plunging neckline, and a skirt that stopped at the top of my thighs. For makeup a smokey eye with gold and blood-red lipstick. I grabbed my long y/h/c hair and pulled it into a slick, tight ponytail at the top of my head and turned to the bathroom mirror. I looked like a desperate whore, I had thought to myself as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The jabbing was not going to let me rest so I threw my stupid thoughts about being a whore out of my head and called Rossi. 

David picked up on the third ring.

“Y/n why are you calling me at 10:30pm?” David’s voice came from the other end. 

“I’m so sorry David for waking you up so late but could you please please please come to my apartment and watch Henry for a few hours? He’s asleep already! All you have to do is listen for him.” My voice pleaded, sounding more desperate than the time I begged Spencer to come back. 

“Fine, but you owe me a coffee tomorrow,” David answered shuffling around his apartment for a coat and his keys. “I’ll be there in 3 minutes. 

“Thank you, see you,” I said into the phone and hung up.

Three minutes passed and as Rossi promised he showed up. 

I swung the door open as soon as I heard the knock on the door. 

Rossi just stood there looking at me with a disapproving look on his face. I could tell he already knew what I was up to. After all he is a profiler. 

I stepped aside so David could step in. 

“I’m only doing this because I know you need this,” Rossi said stepping in. 

“Thank you,” I said a small smile on my face. 

“Be safe okay? And don’t do anything you’ll regret.” David said, taking off his coat and sitting down in the armchair by the tv. 

“Okay. I’ll be back in a few hours and the guest room is always open.” I said grabbing my purse and closing the door. 

I called a cab to take me to the most popular night club. The more people the better. The driver kept eyeing me throughout the entire car ride, and I get why, I did dress like a lady that wanted nothing but attention. 

When we stopped in front of the club, I jumped out and threw my money to the driver before he could say anything and walked away and into the club. 

The club was crowded as I had suspected, this was good this way I blended in. 

As I made my way to the bar part of the club, I felt insane amounts of prying eyes on me, but I chose to ignore all of them.

“I’d like the strongest drink you have here,” I said to the bartender as I slapped down a few bucks.

“Break up?” The bartender asked as he picked up the money. 

“You can say that,” I said holding the tears back. 

I waited as the male bartender, Elliot I had read on his tag, prepared my drink. All around me were couples dancing and grinding against each other. Jealousy. that's what I was feeling right now at the moment. 

The bartender brought back my drink and I downed it in a matter of seconds. What came afterward hit strong. The drink made my mind fuzzy and fluffy. That’s good. I wanted to feel the clouds. Right? 

“I’ll take three more of these.”  I slurred already dizzy. 

“I’m sorry miss but you can’t have more than three of these, they are very strong.” The bartender said back. 

“I’ll pay double,” I answered.

“I’m sorry miss, but it's against policy, and I have a good idea how you are feeling, and it may seem like a good idea right now, but it’ll suck later,” Elliot responds back. 

“Fine, two more than,” I said handing him more bills. 

He took the money without any words and walked to the back to prepare the drinks. I may be no profiler but I can sure as hell tell he thinks I’m psychotic.

Elliot brought back my drinks, and I gave him a quick thanks. I grabbed my second glass and stared around me again.  Happy couples everywhere. Ugh. I downed my second glass as an attractive man approached me. 

“Hey pretty lady, mind if I take you home for tonight?” The man asked. 

I thought about it. I really did. But I loved Spencer way too much. “No thank you,” I answered. 

“Come on.” The man said, grabbing my hand roughly. His face dangerously close to mine that I could smell his disgusting breath.

“NO THANKS,” I repeated trying to pull my wrists away.

His hand tightened against my arm. “Come on you whore! You're basically asking for it by the way you're dressed.” The man spat. 

I started struggling and pulling but the man wouldn’t let go one bit. 

“Hey let her go, the lady said no,” Elliot said approaching the counter towards us. 

The man looked at me in disgust and let go of my wrists and walked away stomping his feet. 

“Thanks,” I said as tears started spilling out of my eyes. 

“Yeah no problem, be safe okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah okay,” I answered as I chugged my last glass of alcohol.

I stood up, wobbling, and tried my best to make my way out of the club. 

I could still hear the music as I walked out of the club. It was pouring rain outside. Great. My stupid ass didn’t bring a jacket.  I saw a phone booth a few feet away and I quickly made my way to it, tripping and stumbling a bit. Everything around me was spinning and I felt like I could be flying right now. I closed the door to the phone booth and just clutched to the wall as I tried to sort out all my thoughts. 

Then an idea struck me. Call Spencer Reid. 

If I wasn’t drunk I wouldn’t have done it, but now it was too late, the numbers were already dialed, and the phone was already against my ear. 

On the fifth ring he picked up. He picked up. Picked up. He actually picked up.

“Hello?” Came Spencer's angelic voice, although he sounded pissed. 

“Spencer? Is- Is that you?” I slurred stuttering like crazy. I already knew but I had to make sure.

“Y/n is that you? Why do you sound drunk?” Spencer’s voice came.

“Of course dummy I’m drunk, why else would I be calling.” I laughed, bubbly hiccups erupting my mouth. 

“Why are you calling me y/n, it's one in the morning and I’m kind of busy.” He said, definitely pissed.  “Wait are you outside?”

“Y-yes,” I answered back.

There was a long pause. 

What I said next was not something I would have said if I wasn’t pissed drunk. “I really miss you Spence. And, and I love you so much and I hate that you left m-”

“Stop Y/n I don’t want to hear it. I told you two years ago that I don't love you.” Spencer stopped me.

“Spencer please, please, please. I’m s-s-sorry for whatever i- I did.” I sobbed tears, definitely pouring out of my eyes. 

“I’m sorry Y/n. I told you a million ti-.” Before he could finish, a female voice came on. “Hey babe who is that?”

CRACK. That was my heartbreaking. 

“I’m not your babe Amanda.” I barely hear,  my choked sobs were stopping me from focusing on anything. 

“Is-is that a woman?” I clocked out. 

“Yes it is, I told you I was kinda busy.” Spencer spat. 

That’s it. That’s when I snapped. “THAT’S IT IF YOU’RE GOING TO SLEEP WITH OTHER WOMEN, I WON’T LET YOU MEET HENRY, YOU BASTARD,” I screamed into the poor phone. 

My eyes immediately popped open in horror as I realized what I just yelled. I slapped my hand to my mouth in horror. Tears definitely still pouring out my eyes.

“Who’s Henry?” Spencer asked.

“NO. NO. NO. NO.” I screamed on the phone, still in denial. 

“Get dressed and get out of my house. GO!” I heard Spencer from a distance. “I’m coming to pick you up,” Spencer said to me.

“Why would you fucking do that?” I cried. 

“Because obviously you’re bat shit drunk Y/n. And plus if I left you to die in a random phone box somewhere. Rossi’s going to strangle me. Where are you?” Spencer exclaimed.

“I-I’m on third street in front of the club,” I answered calming down. 

“Okay bye.” He said and hung up. 

“BITCH!” I yelled into the deadline. 

Oh god I’m going to throw up.  I ran out of the phone booth and thankfully my hair is already pulled back. I basically threw up everything I ate for dinner. I rubbed my lips with my arm and saw that my red lipstick was rubbed on my arms which only meant one thing it was rubbed on my cheek too.

I stood by the side of the road both hands in front of me holding my handbag, drenched in rainwater, Mascara running down my soaked cheeks, lipstick smudged. And that’s exactly how I looked when Spencer pulled up on the side of the road. 

Spencer pulled the door open from his seat and motioned me into his car. I climbed into the car and grabbed the seat belt to fasten it but my head was so spiny it was impossible. Spencer grabbed the seat belt from my hands and roughly shoved it in. 

“God you look like a cheap whore,” Spencer stated as he pulled away from the crib.

“I KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO RUB IT IN,” I yelled, frustrated. 

“Jesus women calm down I’m just saying,” Spencer said calmly, eyes never leaving the road. 

I sat there in silence frustrated as hell. 

“So who’s Henry? Your new boyfriend?” Spencer sneered.

On any other day when I’m sober I would have played along with it, but no.

“No,” I answered staring straight ahead. 

“Then who is he?” Spencer asked, turning his head to me.

“No one.” I spat, making eye contact with him. 

“You can’t just bring a random guy up and not tell me!” Spencer said, clearly frustrated. 

“YES I CAN,” I yelled.

“JUST TELL ME JESUS CHRIST.” He yelled back.

I bit my lip as I started balling my eyes out. 

“Just tell me.” Spencer urged. 

“HE’S YOUR TWO-YEAR-OLD SON. OKAY NOW DROP IT!” I snapped. 

His eyes widened in surprise. I looked at him in horror, slapping my hand to my mouth. 

“I have a son?” Spencer asked, amazed, but also looking angry. “And you didn’t tell me for two years?” 

I just nodded covering the rest of my face crying into my hands. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He asked.

I didn’t answer.

“WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME?” Spencer yelled. 

I looked up at him and his face was all red and he was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

“I don’t know.” I choked out.

We neared my apartment building and Spencer parked his car. “Get out, I’ll call you when I’m less pissed at you.” Spencer managed between clenched teeth.

I just sat there cause I really didn’t know what to do.

“I SAID GET OUT OF MY CAR NOW!” Spencer yelled, his hands in the air now. 

“OKAY, BYE,” I screamed back and got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Spencer immediately drove away, no hesitation, and never looked back.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, tears still pouring out my eyes, dress still soaked, and makeup all over. 

When I opened my apartment door Rossi stood up and looked at me. With one look Rossi knew and ran towards me to wrap me in a very tight hug

I dropped my bag onto the floor and hugged Rossi back, crying into his shoulder as he patted my wet hair. 

Part two?

[parvulous-writings]

David Stephens x Reader // SFW alphabet

Requested by: @peter-hughes-harmonies

Warnings: Insinuations of murder

Summary: SFW alphabet for David Stephens, from Shallow Grave. 

Notes: I enjoyed working on this very much! I know some sections are a little on the short side, but I didn’t want to make it seem like I was babbling on with everything! Enjoy! 

Not my gif

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) 

Typically, in front of others, David is not an affectionate guy. He’s practical, not sentimental.That is not to say of course, he doesn’t show affection at all. He just shows it in a different way to most. He’ll sit with you and watch some tv shows- though with him it’s more like critiquing sometimes.  In terms of physical affection, he’ll occasionally give brief kisses, and on rare occasions he’ll give you a warm hug. If he knows you’ve had a bad day at work, he’ll find you a little trinket to keep you amused or cheer you up, but he’d leave it on your nightstand rather than give it to you face to face. 

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

He can very much be the stereotypical quiet friend sometimes. There of course are many occasions where he will pipe up with his own opinion on a subject- whether he agrees, disagrees, or sits on the fence. He’s actually got quite a knack for debating, which can lead to some very enlightening conversations about subjects you’d often think as incredibly boring.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He isn’t really that fussed on cuddles, in all honesty. He’ll give you one if you’ve had a hard day, but in a usual situation, it’s not really likely. He’s not exactly one for frequent physical contact. 

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

This man does do very well in the cleaning department, let’s give credit where credit is due. Cooking, however, that’s more left to Alex and occasionally Juliet. Settling down? Well, in his mind he sort of already has settled down. He’s got a steady job, a nice home, and you. Boom, he’s settled. 

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Oh boy, would David be a little too blunt about it. He does not see the point in trying to sugar coat anything in a situation like this, so he’ll just say it how it is. If it’s a problem with him, an issue with you, whatever it may be that caused the break up, he’d be the kind of man to say it outright to you. 

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

Once he’s entirely sure he can trust you with every little detail of his life, and he knows you can do the same for him, then yes. He’d love to marry you. He’s not fearful of commitment, after he warms up to the concept a little bit of course. 

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Whilst he can be very closed off emotionally, during brief moments where he opens up, he can be incredibly gentle. It’s the same with the physical side of things too, unless he is angry or upset and becomes aggressive towards others.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

Like cuddles, he isn’t that fussed on them. He’ll give them if you’ve had a bad day or are quite clearly down in the dumps. There has been one or two occasions where he’s asked you for a hug, but he has never revealed the reason behind it to you. 

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

Not fast at all. (I mean faster than Alex probably would, but still, the man’s pretty closed off.) Though, when he does finally utter those words to you, quiet as they may be, he means them with every fibre of his heart. 

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Not that he’d ever admit it to you even when you ask, but he does get jealous. Very jealous. Remarkably jealous. Horrendously jealous, in fact. He’ll become completely and utterly silent for the next few days, not bringing it up, not even speaking to his flatmates or you.  Once, you saw someone reported missing, one who had spoken to you a few days prior, sparking David’s jealousy. 

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Brief. Almost always brief and fleeting. The corner of your mouth or you temple are his favourite places to kiss you, and his favourite place to be kissed is the cheek- simple, yet endearing. 

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

He’s largely indifferent towards children, neither liking them or disliking them. There’s not much else to say on this side of things. 

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

Largely uneventful. Like every other morning, in a way. He’ll make you a cup of your favourite beverage for you, offer you a slice or two of toast, before he heads off to work. 

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Also, like the mornings, largely uneventful. You may all sit with Juliet and Alex, around the tv or playing a game with them on game night. Once you go to bed, he may read for a little while, but apart from that, nothing too much happens. It may seem boring to some, but David is honestly really happy with this part of his life. 

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

Almost never. He is not an open person.  However, there is one way you can get him to open up, if only for a few minutes. It usually only works in the early hours of the morning though, and you have to hold him incredibly close, and almost coax him to speak to you. 

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Inwardly he can be very easily angered, but, as mentioned many times, he’s closed off- good at masking his emotions. Outwardly, it takes a lot of annoyance or stress to make him snap. If he does snap though, he snaps hard. Just look at how he was with both Alex and Juliet at different points after Hugo’s passing- mental state aside. 

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

He remembers almost everything you tell him. You mention something off-handedly one night when you think he’s too focused on a book, and he’ll bring up or purchase something related to that thing a few weeks later. 

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

He read one of his favourite books to you once, after you had pestered him about it for a solid three days. Though you found it boring and eventually fell asleep on his shoulder, he admired that you cared enough to bother him about it. 

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Super damn protective, even if you don’t realise it. He keeps a watchful eye on you almost every second of the day- through various methods, some darker than others. You’ve not brought it up with him yet, though. 

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

A fair amount- even though you yourself do not reap the benefits of said effort, nor are you aware that half of it is going on. But he does indeed try, Mr Stephens is not entirely heartless. 

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

David has a nasty tendency to jump to conclusions sometimes. He doesn’t always mean to- and it has caused a couple of arguments- but it has happened on more than one occasion. Him and Juliet are trying to work on that to help your relationship, and cause less fights. 

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

No, I wouldn’t say that he’s a particularly vain man. He does dress well and keep himself groomed for the most part, though I would put that down more to profession and habit, rather than vanity. 

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would definitely feel something amiss without you around. Like his reaction to most negative things, he’d be eerily silent, retreating only to his thoughts and letting them slowly start to consume him in the process. 

X - Xtra (Random HC)

He likes to watch you sleep when he can’t find rest. Sometimes it helps him to sleep, he finds it very soothing to see you in such a peaceful, almost perfect state of bliss, completely worry free and shielded from the horrors and stresses of day to day life. 

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

Someone who pries too much into his life or his mind. He’ll open up to you or someone else on his own, constant badgering about certain topics makes him clam up. 

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

David does not have a good sleeping pattern, and is often very restless. Though he goes to bed and switches out the light at the same time every night- like clockwork- it doesn’t seem to help. He’ll lie on his back for hours, his mind running rampant and torturing him with intrusive, and sometimes very concerning thoughts.