#like. i could’ve been someone worth anything by now if I’d done something ages ago. but i insist on screwing me over

[osakaso5]

IDOLiSH7 6th Anniversary Special Story: Full of Heart...

Chapter 2: Tearjerking Memories

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Torao Mido: Atchoo!

Toma Inumaru: Caught a cold, Tora?

Minami Natsume: Don't infect the rest of us, please.

Haruka Isumi: Maybe it's hay fever? Apparently that can get pretty bad in August.

Torao Mido: Or, someone's talking about me... A pretty woman, most likely.

Toma Inumaru: Sure, whatever.

Shiro Utsugi: I must say, I'm impressed that you could reserve such an expensive-looking bar for us.

Torao Mido: It was no trouble at all. Besides, Haruka wanted to try going to a bar.

Haruka Isumi: He promised to take me here if I won in a game of Konpira Fune Fune. And I did.

Minami Natsume: Hee hee... Oh, Isumi-san. I didn't know you had what it takes to become a geisha.

Toma Inumaru: Don't teach Haru anything weird, now.

Shiro Utsugi: Since we're at such a fine establisment, we should make the most of it.

[Snap]

Shiro Utsugi: I'll have a Bloody Mary.

Toma Inumaru: You're going to drink? I thought we had a meeting...

Shiro Utsugi: This is a bar. We're not here to see the sights. Now go on, Inumaru-san, order something.

Toma Inumaru: A-alright. Uh...

Shiro Utsugi: As artists, you should enjoy life to the fullest. Don't worry about breaking the rules every now and then.

Minami Natsume: Should you be breaking the rules, Utsugi-san? I believe you're still an ordinary employee of the very strict Tsukumo Productions...

Shiro Utsugi: It'll be fine. I'll just climb the corporate ladder until I'm in a position where I can change the company to suit me.

Haruka's Thoughts: This Shiro Utsugi guy is really aggressive... 

Torao's Thoughts: He's supposed to be our newbie manager, yet he's the one pushing us around...

Minami's Thoughts: I'd expect nothing less of the man Ryo-san chose as his last minute replacement.

Toma's Thoughts: I don't think I've ever seen someone order a drink by snapping their fingers before...

Shiro Utsugi: Let's have a toast before we begin our meeting. Order something, everyone.

Toma Inumaru: I'll have beer.

Torao Mido: A gin rickey.

Minami Natsume: Oolong tea.

Haruka Isumi: Orange juice.

Shiro Utsugi: And there you have it. That'll be all.

Shiro Utsugi: Now, would you mind showing me your childhood pictures before our drinks arrive?

Minami Natsume: The pictures for our "Welcome to Kids Room" guest appearance?

Shiro Utsugi: Yes. Did you bring them?

Toma Inumaru: I've got mine, yeah.

Haruka Isumi: Me too. Show me yours first, though. I wanna see what you  looked like as kids.

Toma Inumaru: No way, that's too embarrassing. You go first, Haru. You probably look the most similar to when you were little, anyway.

Haruka Isumi: You think so? Okay, fine. Here you go.

Torao Mido: Let's see...

Minami Natsume: My, how adorable.

Toma Inumaru: Whooa! You were super cute! With a round face like that, I'll bet you were a little angel!

Haruka Isumi: Don't call my face round.

Shiro Utsugi: You were a textbook junior idol, if I've ever seen one. You'd have made a good duo with Mitsuki Izumi of IDOLiSH7.

Torao Mido: But that guy's my age.

Minami Natsume: ........ To think that Kujo-san whisked him overseas not long after this picture was taken...

Toma Inumaru: I'd have been so worried for him...

Minami Natsume: As would I.

Haruka Isumi: I came back safe and sound. Nothing bad happened to me either, other than a rude wake up call.

Haruka Isumi: If that hadn't happened to me, I wouldn't be the main vocalist of an outlaw group like ours now.

Haruka Isumi: Pretty cool, huh?

Toma Inumaru: Hey cool outlaw, your orange juice is here.

Haruka Isumi: Whoa! There's an orange slice on the glass! Wow, that's so neat!

Shiro Utsugi: Now, let's toast.

Toma Inumaru: Yeah!

Toma Inumaru: ŹOOĻ...

Minami, Haruka, Torao, & Shiro: Rules!

[Clink]

Minami Natsume: Am I the only one who finds this cheer somewhat... lacking?

Toma Inumaru: We might wanna rethink it, yeah.

Torao Mido: There's a lot of dinosaur stickers plastered all over your house, Haruka. What's this one called?

Haruka Isumi: Uh... That's Dee, the Growlysaurus...

Toma Inumaru: Ah, I remember those! You must've really liked Growlysauruses. Should I buy you one sometime?

Haruka Isumi: I-I don't need one, stupid! How old do you think I am?

Haruka Isumi: Give me my picture back. It's someone else's turn.

Torao Mido: I'll show you mine.

Toma Inumaru: Well?

Toma Inumaru: ...Your limbs were freaking LONG! This is basically just a tinier version of how you look now...

Minami Natsume: Oh my. I quite like the way you looked at this age.

Torao Mido: Yeah, I bet you do.

Minami Natsume: Is this a transformation belt?

Haruka Isumi: It is. I kinda wasn't expecting you to bring a photo like this.

Torao Mido: I learned something recently. Namely, that even a perfect man like me is more interesting with some mundane characteristics.

Haruka Isumi: I guess some kid who plays with transformation belts is a lot more approachable than a flawless celebrity.

Torao Mido: Exactly.

Toma Inumaru: You don't gotta make excuses, you know. The truth is that you just thought it was a nice photo, right?

Toma Inumaru: You said you like all this sentai and superhero stuff. For  what it’s worth, I think the pic's nice, too.

Torao Mido: ...That wasn't why I picked it, really.

Toma Inumaru: Yeah, right.

Torao Mido: It was a calculated decision.

Toma Inumaru: No need to play tough. It's fine that you chose a picture you liked from when you were little.

Torao Mido: I told you, that's not why.

Toma Inumaru: Ahaha! You're starting to sound a little too defensive.

Torao Mido: ........ Whatever. Maybe I'll just use a different picture.

Toma Inumaru: Oh, stop sulking, for Pete's sake!

Shiro Utsugi: Don't try to tear it up, now. I agree that you'll most likely garner more attention with a picture like this, Mido-san.

Torao Mido: I knew it. Okay, I'm going with this picture for the show. What about you, Minami? What kind of picture did you bring?

Minami Natsume: Mine isn't particularly interesting. Anyone can look up what I looked like as a child, after all.

Torao Mido: But you did bring a photo, right?

Minami Natsume: I did.

Shiro Utsugi: Would you be so kind as to show it to us?

Minami Natsume: Very well. Here it is.

Toma & Haruka: ...So cute!!!

Haruka Isumi: You were adorable as a kid, Minami! Like a girl or something! A really cute one!

Toma Inumaru: Kinda like Tora, you looked like a mini version of what you're like now, but in a different way! You've definitely got the air of a celebrity here!

Shiro Utsugi: This must be from around the time you were filming the movie Kagurazaka. Even as a child, you had very fine features.

Minami Natsume: Hee hee. Thank you. I do enjoy a bit of unfiltered praise every now and then.

Torao Mido: Was this taken at your home? That's a pretty big piano you've got.

Minami Natsume: Yes. I took piano lessons when I was younger.

Minami Natsume: I had to quit playing when my work got too busy to allow for it, but I finally resumed my lessons a few years ago...

Toma Inumaru: So you're basically a musical genius. That's cool.

Minami Natsume: Hee hee... Yes, it is cool. Now then, would you mind showing us your picture, Inumaru-san?

Toma Inumaru: Sure thing!

Haruka Isumi: What kind of photo did you pick?

Toma Inumaru: I figured at least one of us should bring in something goofy, so I got the funniest one I could find!

Torao Mido: Funny... Ah, you're at a festival, wearing a happi!

Shiro Utsugi: Oh, you've even got a sarashi wrapped around you. It looks very authentic.

Minami Natsume: You must've lived in a neighborhood that loved festivals.

Haruka Isumi: I'm jealous. I wish I could've worn clothes like this to a festival, too.

Toma Inumaru: I could take you to a festival around where I'm from. The neighborhood grannies would be all over you, Haru.

Haruka Isumi: Yeah, I wanna go! This picture's pretty nice. I bet it'll be good for the show.

[Phone rings]

Torao Mido: Hmm...? Oh, now that's unusual. Sogo says he needs to ask me something in person.

Toma Inumaru: Ask him where he is, and if he's nearby, go see him. It could be something urgent.

Torao Mido: But aren't we in the middle of a meeting?

Shiro Utsugi: We're all done now. You may go.

Toma Inumaru: Oh, that's it?

Haruka Isumi: We could've stayed at the agency if all we were gonna do is show our pictures...

Minami Natsume: Now, now. At least we got to deepen our friendship at this lovely bar.

Torao Mido: I asked Sogo. Turns out he and Tamaki Yotsuba both happened to be in the neighborhood, so they're headed here.

Haruka Isumi: Yotsuba's coming, too? I bet he's gonna freak out, because he's never been in a place like this before.

Haruka Isumi: I suppose I'll just have to teach him how us adults hang out.

Toma Inumaru: Says the boy sipping on orange juice.

[Door opens]

Tamaki Yotsuba: Good evening.

Sogo Osaka: Pardon our intrusion.

Haruka Isumi: Yotsuba!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Whoa... This place has a super mature vibe... I knew ŹOOĻ's up to no good.

Sogo Osaka: That's rude to the establishment, you know.

Tamaki Yotsuba: It's not my fault this place looks like people come here to make shady deals.

Sogo Osaka: It's calming. And there are plenty of places like this in the world.

Sogo Osaka: Good evening, Mido-san. ŹOOĻ. I'm sorry for dropping by on such short notice.

Shiro Utsugi: Good evening, Osaka-san and Yotsuba-san.

Sogo Osaka: Good evening. You're Utsugi-san, yes? ŹOOĻ's manager.

Shiro Utsugi: That’s right. Thank you for remembering.

Torao Mido: This has to be the first time you're asking me for anything. What do you want to drink?

Sogo Osaka: Just oolong tea, please.

Tamaki Yotsuba: I want this one! The frozen cocktail that looks like ice! I bet it's yummy.

Sogo Osaka: No, Tamaki-kun. It's alcoholic.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Really? Do they have a version without the booze?

Minami Natsume: I think the bartender could make you one.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Awesome! I'll have one of those.

Haruka Isumi: I want one, too.

Torao Mido: I'll have the alcoholic version. Should I go ahead and order you one too, Sogo?

Sogo Osaka: Ah... Um, alright.

Tamaki Yotsuba: So-chan!

Sogo Osaka: It's fine. This drink is basically just a sherbert, it won't get me drunk.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Don't you know that ice is just frozen water?

Sogo Osaka: I do know that.

Tamaki Yotsuba: So it's still booze! It's just been frozen!

Sogo Osaka: It can't be that strong. And besides, it's the same as yours.

Tamaki Yotsuba: So what if it's the same?

Sogo Osaka: Our matching drinks would make a nice picture for social media.

Tamaki Yotsuba: I can't believe your first approach to everything is still to be some kind of businessman.

Sogo Osaka: It's not as if people can tell how close we truly are based on a picture of some food. If that were the case, we wouldn't truly understand each other at all.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Especially since everything you eat is bright red.

Sogo Osaka: And you only have eyes for King Pudding.

Toma Inumaru: What're you mumbling about?

Sogo Osaka: It was just a mini meeting. We're done now.

Minami Natsume: Much like us, then.

Tamaki Yotsuba: I did it for you guys' sake too, y'know.

Torao Mido: Our drinks are here. Let's toast.

Haruka Isumi: Does MEZZO" have a cheer for when you toast?

Tamaki Yotsuba: A cheer?

Haruka Isumi: It makes things more exciting.

Tamaki Yotsuba: We've got a cheer for calming Re:vale down..?

Sogo Osaka: But it's a bit too long for making a toast. Hmm, a cheer for MEZZO"...

Toma Inumaru: Don't think too hard about it. It can be something simple, like one of you says "MEZZO"" and the other one says "rules".

Sogo Osaka: I see. We could give that a try. Tamaki-kun, which part do you want to say?

Tamaki Yotsuba: The first part.

Sogo Osaka: Alright. Well then, everyone raise your glasses...

Tamaki Yotsuba: MEZZO".

Sogo Osaka: Rules.

[Clink!]

Sogo Osaka: So, what I wanted to ask you is...

Torao Mido: Hold up! We need to talk about your cheer first. Any thoughts!?

Sogo Osaka: Thoughts..? Tamaki-kun, what do you think?

Tamaki Yotsuba: It's kinda short.

Haruka Isumi: Totally. So is our "ŹOOĻ Rules!"

Minami Natsume: Isumi-san. Be careful not to hurt Inumaru-san's feelings.

Toma Inumaru: Ahaha! It's fine! Not like that cheer was my best effort, anyway...

Sogo Osaka: Thank you for the suggestion, Toma. We probably can't use this cheer all the time, but we'll try to make use of it when we can...

Toma Inumaru: Don't sweat it, seriously! It was just the first thing that came to my mind! You don't even gotta use it!

Sogo Osaka: I-I'm sorry if we can't use it often enough.

Toma Inumaru: I'm telling you, it's FINE!

Sogo Osaka: Thank you. That's very nice of you to say. Mido-san, may I tell you why we're here now?

Torao Mido: Let's hear it.

Sogo Osaka: To tell you the truth...

- - - -

Torao Mido: Ah, Ito-san. That brokerage firm CEO who likes traveling and photography...

Sogo Osaka: Yes, him. He took a picture of me once.

Sogo Osaka: And when we discussed his camera, he told me that he saves all his negatives...

Torao Mido: So he should still have them? Just go meet up with him, then.

Sogo Osaka: We don't have that sort of relationship. He may be my father's old friend, but I've been disinherited, so...

Haruka Isumi: Disinherited?

Sogo Osaka: Being disinherited means your parents have cut ties with you.

Haruka Isumi: You were adopted..? And he said you were a disappointment and chased you out?

Sogo Osaka: No, we're biologically related. I might still be a disappointment... But I don't regret my decisions.

Sogo Osaka: I wanted to live as a musician.

Minami Natsume: What a wonderfully sympathetic story. I like you. The world needs more artists like yourself.

Sogo Osaka: Natsume-kun...

Minami Natsume: I hereby pledge my support to Osaka-san. Mido-san, you simply must do something to help him.

Torao Mido: Like what..? I haven't seen the guy in ages, either.

Toma Inumaru: You should still have an easier time getting a hold of him than Sogo. At least call him once.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Toracchi, please! If you call him, I'll stop calling you an evil rich guy!

Torao Mido: I didn't know you called me that in the first place... Fine. I'll give him a call.

Sogo Osaka: Thank you.

Torao Mido: It's no trouble at all, really. You may be an heir with a strict upbringing, but I'm a spoiled youngest son.

Haruka Isumi: So did this Ito-san spoil you, too?

Torao Mido: He owns a boat that I got to ride on a few times, not to mention he's got a few unique side ventures.

Sogo Osaka: Unique side ventures...

Torao Mido: He never told me about them in much detail. He may be a CEO, but he doesn't have any family to share his wealth with. 

Torao Mido: So his side ventures have to do with finding said family... ...Ah, he picked up.

Torao Mido: Hellooo? Ah, Uncle Ito? It's been so long! Yeah, it's me, Torao.

Toma Inumaru: That's how I talk to the old ladies from my neighborhood!

Tamaki Yotsuba: He speaks just like Rikkun when he's asking for something!!!

Sogo Osaka: So this is what it's like when you're the youngest child... I wonder if even Iori-kun has a side like this...

Torao Mido: Ahaha. I'm doing fine, just fine. I've got a friend here who wants to talk to you, do you mind if I put him on?

Torao Mido: Here you go, Sogo.

Sogo Osaka: Thank you so much, Mido-san.

Torao Mido: Hmph. Let's just agree that you owe me one.

Haruka Isumi: I can't believe you're still trying to act tough, after sweet talking the guy like that...

Sogo Osaka: Ito-san. It's been a while. This is Sogo. ...Yes, that's right. Sogo Osaka.

Sogo Osaka: Ah... You bought an IDOLiSH7 CD? Thank you very much.

Tamaki Yotsuba: He knows us!

Minami Natsume: This bodes well.

Sogo Osaka: Is it at all possible for me to borrow certain old photo negatives from you..?

Sogo Osaka: I need the photo you took of me and my uncle in our garden. It's very important... Really!?

Tamaki Yotsuba: What'd he say!?

Sogo Osaka: He said he'd reprint the photo for me!

Haruka & Tamaki: Awesome!!!

Toma Inumaru: Yay! That's great!

Shiro Utsugi: Congratulations! Let's all have another toast!

Tamaki Yotsuba: MEZZO"...

Minami, Toma, Haruka, Torao, & Shiro: Rules!!!

Sogo Osaka: P-please, be quiet, everyone. Thank you, Ito-san. I'll come get the photo in a few days.

Sogo Osaka: Where are you now? ...What?

Sogo Osaka: The North Pacific..? 

To be continued...

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || iii

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. but is it worth the complications it could cause? iwaizumi made a decision for you. but, life goes on. 

warnings: f!reader, Emotions 

wc: 4.6k (i’m so sorry we had a lot of ground to cover)

m.list | ch. 2 ↞ ch. 3 ↠ ch. 4 

last time...

“Look, I…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best if we pretend this never happened.”

The world shuttered to a stop. The mild afternoon sun was now searing your skin.

✧ ✧ ✧

“He disgusts me,” Amaya shivered, angrily shoving a spoonful of strawberry kakigori into her mouth. “Piece of—”

“It was ages ago,” you sighed, picking at the mountain of flavoured ice in front of you. “It’s not that important…”

“Yes, it is,” Amaya leant forward across the table. “It’s his fault, right? He kissed you.”

You bit your lip, giving your friend a pitiful look.

To say it was ages ago wasn’t quite a lie. It was finally the summer holidays, and it’d be a few months since that fateful afternoon.

You hadn’t wanted to spend your summer break thinking about this sort of thing. It felt like a waste of emotional energy.

But you just couldn’t get it out of your head.

You kept replaying the same few moments over and over in your mind – the kiss, the morning after it, the conversation…

“In my humble opinion,” Amaya sighed, preparing herself another scoop of kakigori, “I think he should answer for what he’s done.”

“Please don’t say anything,” you whined, reaching across the table and grabbing her wrist. “Don’t do anything, either. I don’t want to cause a mess.”

“He’s the one who caused a mess,” Amaya huffed, dropping her spoon into the kakigori bowl. “You have a right to be pissed.”

“I am pissed,” you sighed. “It’s just… I kind of get where he was coming from, you know?”

“No.”

“Well, like—” You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to clear your mind. “If we’d broken up, that’d make things really awkward.”

“Isn’t it already awkward?”

“I… yeah…”

“I just think he could’ve gone about it better,” she shrugged. “That’s all.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, twirling your spoon between your fingers. “You’re right about that, at least…”

Amaya watched you for a moment, pursing her lips together. You knew what she was thinking. That was reason enough to fear any potential advice.

“Date someone else,” she suggested. “Maybe that’ll help you get over him.”

You grimaced, cursing her for being able to read your mind. “No thanks.”

“Why not?” Amaya asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Yahaba seems to be into you.”

You shook your head vehemently. “Ew, no! He’s on my brother’s team.”

“And?”

You shot your friend a dithering look. “That’s the problem, Maya,” you scoffed. “If Iwaizumi’s not ‘good enough’, then I doubt anyone else on the team is.”

“Did your brother say that?” Amaya gaped.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But that’s what Iwaizumi implied.”

Amaya scoffed, screwing up her nose. “Men aren’t worth it.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s true…”

“And men,” she said, pointing a finger directly at you, “don’t deserve you.”

“You know what?” You grinned, tilting your head at her. “You’re right.”

“I always am,” she replied, waving a hand at you.

You sighed, stretching your arms above your head. “Besides, if I end up going to America, I don’t want to deal with a long-distance relationship,” you grimaced. “Sounds tough.”

“What, you wouldn’t fight for love?” Amaya teased, fishing her phone out of her pocket.

You stuck your tongue out at her, screwing up your nose. “Shut up.”

Amaya giggled, looking down at her phone screen.

You took the opportunity to treat yourself to some of the kakogiri. The two of you had barely made a dent in it.

Amaya dropped her phone back into her pocket, tilting her head at you. “Hey, aren’t those qualifiers coming up soon or something?”

“Hm?”

“For your brother’s volleyball,” she shrugged. “You said something about going to nationals?”

“Oh, right!” You perked up, nodding. “If they win these preliminaries, they’ll finally get to go to nationals.”

“This is your brother’s last chance, right?”

Your stomach sank a little. “Yeah. He’s… he’s been working really hard.”

“Really hard?” She raised an eyebrow. “Or too hard?”

“What do you think?”

She sighed, placing her hands in her lap. “Right.”

You pressed your lips together, frowning.

“Hey, hey,” Amaya hummed, leaning over to flick your forehead. “Try not to think too much, okay? We’re supposed to be having fun.”

You smiled at her weakly.

“No more talk of boys,” she decreed, waving her spoon at you. “They’re a waste of time anyway.”

✧ ✧ ✧

There might be a thousand other places you’d rather be than outside Seijoh’s gym. But, you’d come to the conclusion that God hated you, and therefore would take any opportunity to submit you to some kind of punishment.

Tonight, it was this – standing outside a gym where a mass of sweaty teenage boys congregated, one of which was your brother, and another the Iwaizumi Hajime.

Tooru had always finished practice late, but this was just ridiculous.

Initially, you’d been content with walking yourself home after class, asserting that you were grown up enough to trawl the streets of Miyagi without a chaperone.

But recently, you’d signed up for the student council. You were surprised they let you in so late in the year,

Your parents had been chuffed with that, proclaiming that you were “finally showing some initiative” and that it was “a great way to teach you some responsibility.”

You hadn’t told them that the real reason you’d joined was because you were worried about Tooru.

You peeked inside the gym, eyes scanning the brightly lit hardwood for any sign of your brother.

You didn’t bother to check your watch. It was far too late in the evening for that anyway.

The boys were scrambling around on the court, jumping and spiking and all that volleyball stuff. You managed to catch sight of your brother, who, by your observation, was very much in the zone.

Perhaps maybe it would be okay for you to sit in on—

A flash of spikey hair was enough to make you recede, drawing yourself back into the dark.

You sighed, turning around and slumping yourself against the wall. Somehow, you felt even more exhausted than before.

Fuck this.

Fuck school and all it’s damn responsibilities.

Fuck your brother’s determination to overwork himself until he’s falling apart at the seams.

And fuck Iwaizumi Hajime.

Maybe you should just head home. Tooru would come home eventually, and…

No. That defeated the point.

You’d just have to wait it out, Iwaizumi Hajime be damned.

A few more minutes passed. You heard who you believed to be the coach call out an end to practice, followed by a resounding “Yes!”

You sighed, checking your watch. Seven o’clock. Even that would be considered a late practice.

Usually Tooru would usually wave the rest of the team out, spending the next hour on his own.

But not tonight.

You scampered through the gym doors, making a beeline for your disaster of a brother.

“Hey, Oika-chan!” A voice called out, making you stumble in your approach.

Ah, Matsukawa.

“Hey,” you waved absentmindedly, unsure of how exactly to process that nickname. It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue

“Stop calling her that!” Tooru yelled from the other side of the gym. “It doesn’t even sound cute!”

“You’re just jealous,” you shot back instinctively. “You just wish you were me.”

Tooru scoffed, ready to launch into a new tirade.

But you weren’t listening to him. Against your best efforts, your eyes sought out Iwaizumi. He wasn’t even looking at you.

Ouch.

Sure, you’d be avoiding him as best you could; finding excuses to be in your room or out with your friends whenever he was round at your house, always positioning Tooru between the two of you whenever you were forced to spend time with him... But, that didn’t stop it hurting. 

You shook off the disappointment and continued your route to Tooru.

“Oi,” you barked, jabbing a finger at him. “Hurry up. I’m making dinner tonight and you’re going to enjoy it.”

Tooru screwed his nose up at you, grimacing. “But I still need to practice.”

You came to a stop in front of him, grabbing his elbow. “Too bad.”

“Aw, don’t complain,” Matsukawa grinned, suddenly appearing and looping his arm around Tooru’s shoulders. “We don’t all have a cute girl vying to cook us dinner.”

“Ew!” Tooru shrieked, shrugging off Matsukawa’s arm. “Don’t be gross that’s my sister!”

“I slave over the countertop for you and you don’t even have the decency to respect my efforts,” you scoffed, deciding to ignore Matsukawa’s half-compliment. You weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“Just stick it in the fridge,” Tooru sighed. “I’ll heat it up when I get home.”

Agitation brewed in your stomach, your mouth turning dry.

If he stayed here, he’d just overwork himself like he always did. And he’d come home sore and exhausted, bandages on his fingers and bags under his eyes.

But the prefecturals were so soon. If he wore himself out now, he wouldn’t be able to play to the best of his ability.

“Tooru, that’s not fair and you know it,” you whined. “Please.”

He tutted at you, shaking his head. “Now, now, as the older sibling, it’s natural law that I know be—”

“Hurry up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbled, coming up behind Tooru and kneeing him in the back.

Tooru yelped, stumbling forward and out of your grasp. “Iwa!”

“We’ll clean up just fine without you,” Iwaizumi muttered, stepping away from your brother.

He caught your eye.

Your breath caught in your throat. Was he going to speak to you? Acknowledge you? Make you feel like things weren’t as weird as they were?

He just gave you an almost imperceptible nod.

You gave him a small smile in response despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Of course, Iwaizumi understood. He probably understood better than you did.

“Come on,” you whined, grabbing Tooru’s elbow and yanking him towards you. “Or I’ll kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, dragging him towards the door. After a small scuffle he grabbed his bag, whining about how he was still in his sweaty gym clothes.

You waved off his concerns, telling him it was his own fault. Mustering all your strength you managed to push him outside, reprimanding him for wasting so much of your time.

You glanced over your shoulder one last time as you left. You weren’t quite sure why.

But Iwaizumi met your gaze for just a moment, his jaw tense.

That look stuck in your mind for the rest of the evening.

✧ ✧ ✧

The last thwack of a ball on the court.

Your brother, body half-twisted and arms outstretched, fighting to the very final second.

Everything the team had worked so hard for, gone. Crushed.

All those hours, all those late nights spent practicing, all the sweat and grief and band-aids.

All meaningless.

It was written on their faces. Regret, disappointment, shock.

And Iwaizumi. Poor steadfast, honourable Iwaizumi.

You’d never seen him cry. Never. But there he stood on the court, doing everything he could to hold back the tears.

You couldn’t even guess at what was going through his mind: probably some guilt about letting everyone down, for not being the best version of himself for the team.

You hoped, for his sake, that nobody else was paying attention to him.

Tooru patted him on the back. A firm, solid slap.

Even you could tell how much meaning was in that one gesture.

You gripped the barrier tightly, your knuckles beginning to ache. You watched with bitterness on your tongue, ready to cry the tears that Tooru refused to.

By the time you meet the team outside, you knew he didn’t want a hug. Even if you wanted desperately to give him one, he wouldn’t accept it.

He’s too angry for that.

You don’t know what to say; he’s worked so hard for this.

They all have.

And now they have to walk away from it all, no real victory to their name. Oikawa Tooru – destined for greatness, but yet unknown outside of Miyagi. He never did make it to nationals.

You bit your lip, regret and frustration and sympathy twisting in your stomach. There’s nothing you could’ve done, but by God you wished you’d done more.

Something. Anything.

But you’re just his little sister, a girl with nothing to offer. You hadn’t even stepped into the manager role when he’d asked you to in your first year. You’d been so distant from this world of his, a distance you’d only widened since that little hiccup with Iwaizumi.

You turned to the team, racking your brain for the appropriate thing to say.

You bowed. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

It felt empty, but you meant it. You knew that most of all, Tooru was proud of the team. Proud of what they’d built together.

It’d been three years of pain, but they’d done it together. And you knew, deep in your heart, that they’d given their all for him. That, at least, you were grateful.

You didn’t say goodbye.

Your fists are clenched at your sides as you exit the building, rushing home on aching thighs. You hadn’t even realised you’d been tensing so hard during the game.

Thoughts stumbled through your mind on the walk, trying to sort themselves out.

Should you have said something to Iwaizumi? Offered him some comfort?

He was obviously shaken by what’d happened. But perhaps that would’ve been stepping over a line. Maybe it would’ve made him uncomfortable.

And yet, you regretted not addressing him. He, more than anyone else, had given everything for Tooru.

His time, his sweat, his heart.

He couldn’t give anything to you because…

You swallowed, shaking your head. Now wasn’t the time to feel bitter.

Once you walked through the front door, you raced to the kitchen and rifled through your cupboards.

Bread flour, yeast, sugar…

A peek in the fridge.

Milk, butter, eggs.

You set everything on the counter, clattering around in your cupboards until you find a bowl, a whisk, a wooden spoon and a baking pan.

Your next few hours are a flurry of measuring ingredients, kneading dough with aching thumbs, checking oven temperatures and waiting.

You did all sorts of things to distract yourself during the waiting period: cleaning, reading, homework, laundry. But you could only do them in spurts, little five-to-ten-minute blocks until your anxiety returned.

You’d have to sleep this off.

By the time the oven finally pinged, letting you know you were finally free of your baking duties, you were exhausted.

But you rushed back over to the oven and took out your loaf, inspecting it once over. It looked okay – not as good at Kaori’s, but passable. Hopefully it tasted alright. You didn’t have the guts to check.

You let it cool as you grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled out a little note.

“Good job today, you asswipe. You inspire me to work harder and go farther.

I’m so proud of you.”

You bit your lip, looking it over once. Is it sensitive enough? Is it too sensitive? Would it bring him comfort? Would it piss him off?

Hard to say.

You sighed, folding it over so it could prop up like a tent.

You cut off a third of the loaf, still hot, and plopped it on a plate. You wrapped the rest of the loaf up and placed it in the bread holder. Perhaps you’d have some tomorrow.

Tooru’s room, usually a place that was very out of bounds, was the next stop on your anxious little trip around the house. You placed the plate on his bedside table, propping the note up next to it. Hopefully this would make him smile, even if just by a little.

But you didn’t want to wait up to see.

The comfort of your own bed was calling you, coaxing you into an early night’s sleep.

You laid down with a sigh, unsure of whether or not you could be bothered to have a bath.

A little suggestion crawled through your mind, dragging itself along by it’s fingernails.

You tried to shoo it away. It was a terrible idea, really. One that was bound to end with you feeling quite shitty.  

But tonight wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about your feelings.

You sighed, picking up your phone from the bedside table.

Hey, you typed.

[YOU] 7:31 PM: I hope you don’t mind me texting you like this, but thanks for looking after Tooru so well.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at the name “Iwaizumi Hajime” at the top of your screen. Taking a deep breath, you tapped the blue arrow.

The message slipped into the grey space above, into the train of messages that hadn’t moved in months.

You stared at it a moment longer, fingers flitting anxiously around your screen.

Oh, fuck it.

[YOU] 7:33 PM: And thanks for being the best Ace he could’ve asked for.

It’s not what you wanted to say. It’s not what you feel like you should’ve said. There’s so much more, so much left unsaid.

But tonight isn’t about me, you reminded yourself. It’s about him. About them. About all they’ve been through together.

You waited a few minutes, heart hammering in your chest.

A response.

[Iwaizumi] 7:37 PM: Thank you.

[Iwaizumi] 7:37 PM: I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Argentina?” You hissed. “But that’s—”

“On the other side of the world,” Tooru shrugged. “What are you so mad for? You’re the one who wants to go to America.”

You had nothing to say to that. The two of you were sat at the breakfast table, your pieces of toast left untouched.

When Tooru had told you he wanted to talk to you this morning, you hadn’t expected this.

“When do you leave?” You asked, a lump forming in your throat.

“Soon,” he sighed. “I’m just trying to work out boarding and whatnot.”

“So… you’ll leave as soon as that’s sorted out?”

“That’s the plan.”

“It’s like you’re rushing out of here,” you mumbled, picking at your nails.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he grinned. “I’ve just got to make sure I can get ahead. The sooner I start, the better.”

You looked up at him, frowning.

He wasn’t the little boy curled up in the bathtub anymore. He’s a young man with the tenacity to form his own destiny, circumstances be damned.

This day was bound to come.

But that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

✧ ✧ ✧

A week passed. And then a month.

The year ended before you knew it. The festivities rolled on, but not without a hint of melancholy.

Each New Years celebration was tainted with the realisation that, after he left, chances were you wouldn’t see Tooru again until the same time next year.

You returned to school for the third semester and everything seemed like it was moving in fast forward.

It’s well and truly changing.

Student council swallowed you up, your family made a point of spending as much time with Tooru as they could, and life plodded on.

And before you knew it, you were standing at the airport at five in the morning, your parents to one side and Iwaizumi to the other. Your older sister, Kaori, was also there, hand-in-hand with your nephew.

For a farewell, it was quite the turn-out.

“Well,” Tooru took a deep breath, looking between the small crowd of faces in front of him. “You all better miss me.”

“Don’t push your luck, Tooru,” Kaori teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tooru tutted. “Almost sounds like you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“I am,” your nephew piped up.

“Takeru!” Your mother chided. “Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s fine,” Tooru grinned. “He obviously just doesn’t know what else to say.”

Takeru simply stuck his tongue out at your brother, who just laughed as he stepped forward to ruffle his hair.

Tooru turned to you, grinning. “It’s now your job to take him to volleyball practice.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Really, that’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, hopping towards you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “You be good, okay?”

“Always am,” you mumbled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Study hard,” he hummed. “And don’t talk to boys.”

“Tooru!”

“I’m serious!”

“Don’t worry about me,” you huffed. “Worry about yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” he chuckled, pulling back. “Stop being such a worry-wort.”

You pouted at him. “Stay hydrated or I’ll kill you.”

“You know I will,” he tsked. “Which one of us is the athlete?”

“And don’t overwork yourself,” you continued, “or I’ll crawl out of the TV like Sadako and drag you back to Japan.”

“You know what?” Tooru grinned, letting you go. “I fully believe you’re capable of that.”

“Be afraid.”

He ruffled your hair; a sure signal that your conversation was over. You bit your lip as he moved over to talk to Iwaizumi. You tottered around to where your sister was, wrapping your arms around her waist – partly to give Tooru and Iwaizumi some privacy, partly to seek out some comfort.

She chuckled, standing on her tiptoes and propping her chin on the top of your head. “It’ll be okay.”

“Hm?” You blinked. “Oh, I’m not sad. Not at all.”

“You sure about that?” Kaori chuckled.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Glad to be rid of him, actually. It’s my turn to get the biggest bedroom.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to text me, okay?”

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“And visit me more often!” Kaori chided. “I feel like I don’t see you enough.”

“I’m sorry,” you whined.

Kaori was right about that, at least. You’d spent the past few months focusing on Tooru, and before that, you’d been moping about Iwaizumi.

Some sister you were.

You peeked out the corner of your eye at the two boys you’d just fled from.

They were fist-bumping. Why they couldn’t just get over it and hug one another, you’d never know.

Especially seeing as this would likely be the last time they saw each other in a very long while.

Even if this was what Tooru wanted, even if this was a decision made on his own merit, something about it still felt off.

You want to be happy for him. You want to celebrate this new chance, this opportunity to make a name for himself outside of this tiny prefecture. But the melancholy wouldn’t budge; it’s like it’s rooted itself deep amongst the marrow of your ribcage.

You take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself.

You needed to be happy for him. And if you couldn’t, you needed to fake it.

“Alright,” Tooru sighed, addressing all of you as he stepped back and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. “I’m off!”

“Call us when you get there!” Your mother called after him, her eyes glassier than they were moments earlier.

“Will do,” Tooru called back, waving a hand over his head but not turning back.

“Make sure you eat well,” Kaori yelled. “Like I taught you!”

“I will, don’t worry!” Tooru called, ever more distant.

You wondered if there was anything you could shout out, anything you could implore him to do. But nothing came to mind that you hadn’t already said. But even that didn’t feel like enough.

Tooru passed through the gate, turning around to give you all one last wave.

He was so bright, so brilliant.

He always had been. But it was as if passing through that airport gate had freed him of the roots twisted around his ankles, finally allowing him to fly.

You frowned. What a stupid thought.

Once he was out of sight, your parents sighed.

“Alright, everyone,” your father yawned. “Time to go.”

You shuffled out of the airport in silence, your eyes cast to the ground. You lagged a few steps behind your family as you let your thoughts consume you.

How was this all going to work out?

It wasn’t like Tooru was just leaving for university. If it was just for education, there’d be a time frame. But he hadn’t given your family any of that.

He was just… going to Argentina. For how long, he couldn’t say. Would he be gone one year? Five? Ten?

Was that really for the best?

But he seemed optimistic. Maybe this would be the opportunity he needs. Maybe this would change everything.

“He’ll be fine.”

A voice over your shoulder made you jump. You turned to see Iwaizumi, a look of genuine concern on his face. You hadn’t even noticed him come up behind you.

“He always finds a way to land on his feet,” he said, digging his hands in his pockets.

“I know, I just…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m worried about him.”

Worried about his safety, worried about his health, worried about his tendency to overwork, worried about the possibility he could be lonely, worried about his sense of self, worried—

“But, if he’d just stayed here, he’d never be satisfied.”

You paused, looking up at him. Iwaizumi was staring ahead at the early morning sky, something relaxed in his features.

“He’s got to keep pushing forward, no matter what,” he continued, looking at you. You caught your breath, but you didn’t look away. “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for his losses.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

He was right. Iwaizumi was always right when it came to Tooru.

And you were grateful. Of course you were.

But a nugget of regret was buried deep in your heart.

Iwaizumi wasn’t worried about Tooru at all. He believed in him, trust him to go forward.

And yet you don’t feel the same. You can’t.

You can’t have the same faith in your brother because you don’t know him well enough.

Maybe you never would.

✧ ✧ ✧

More time passed.

Your holidays ebbed by in a haze, a flurry of friends, family, serious conversations about your future, and a little bit of snow.

You were trudging home in the waning afternoon after a day out with friends when you saw him. He was coming back from the opposite direction, bundled up in a jacket, with a scarf slung haphazardly around his neck and beanie pulled low over his hair.

You wondered if he’d bothered spiking it up this morning.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi raised a hand at you in some paltry greeting.

“Hi,” you nodded, slowing to a stop in front of your house.

He looked at you for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Admittedly, that was usually how he looked at you.  

“How are you?” It was a simple question, but you were more curious about it than you’d like to admit. The two of you hadn’t spoken since Tooru left, your interactions limited to brief nods and hellos if you ever happened to bump into each other in public. Nothing deeper than that.

“Good,” he said, finally breaking eye contact as his gaze flitted to the ground. “I, uh… I leave for uni tomorrow.”

Your heart stopped in your chest.

Iwaizumi was leaving too, huh?

Not that there was much of a friendship for you to miss. But something about him leaving really solidified it all.

Tooru had left to pursue opportunities much bigger than those offered to him in Japan, and now Iwaizumi was off on his own journey.

Your stomach swelled, a quiet nausea rattling through your body.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say. “Well, good luck.” There was a long, painful pause.

He was looking at you again, something else in his eyes. Did he want you to say something else? Ask more questions?

“You’ll do great,” is all you managed to say, a tight smile stretched across your lips.

“Thanks,” he breathed, something between a sigh and a chuckle.

You hurried through your front door, a strange anxiety prickling over your skin.

Whenever you spoke to Iwaizumi, it never felt like enough. Like there was more to say, more to admit.

But regardless of what had happened, regardless of your regrets, you had to move on.

You should’ve done so months ago.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: this is SLOPPY but please forgive me! a lot of ground to cover,,, a lot of feelings to unpack,,, 

[zzizzigom]

Fun | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Fem!Reader (2nd person p.o.v but no Y/N use) Genre/Warning(s): no warnings, minor fluff Length: 1.8k words Summary: in which you've joined Sam and Bucky on their mission and have ended up at Sharon's home in Madripoor. AO3 Link

A/N: I haven't written something in AGES, and this isn't anything particularly special but it's something I was able to finish and that's a relief for me right now. If you read it, I hope it brings at least a little joy to your day:)

Apologies for any typos I may have missed while editing.

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

You stood at the bar, drink in hand, as you people watched. The overall vibe of Sharon’s house-turned-club was jovial. You’d caught glimpses of Sharon speaking to buyers, tablet in hand. You didn’t know how she got any type of business done in this environment but, looking at the state of the mansion and the fact she has it all to herself, it seemed to be working just fine for her.

From the corner of your eye you caught sight of a figure sauntering towards you. Your gaze dragged to the man and watched with barely hidden contempt as he smirked. As soon as he came within earshot you met his gaze. “Turn around. You don’t want me.”

His eyes went blank and the smirk fell off his face. His voice was monotone and heavy as he repeated, “I don’t want you.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked back the way he came. You watched for a moment, only turning away when he shook his head clearing away the compulsion. Lifting your champagne flute to your lips, you catch sight of Zemo circling the dance floor. Surprisingly, he’s bobbing his head to the music and you almost laugh. You figured Zemo would’ve preferred a classical piece or maybe some type of orchestral villain theme song.

Your eyes linger for a moment, the usual suspicion settling on your shoulders but when he continues to just bob to the beat you figure it’s fine. Next to you, someone plops down on the empty stool and you turn readying the command to leave you alone. It dies on your tongue when you catch sight of Sam.

“You watching Zemo, too?”

“Yeah. But unless his killer dance moves are actually murderous, I think we’ll be fine.”

Sam snorts and takes the drink the bartender hands him. “Anything from Sharon yet?”

“Nope. She’s still doing her rounds.” You sigh and then move in for another sip only to find your glass empty. Setting it down on the bar top, you turn away from it. If you’re expected to be going straight to Nagel’s hideout after this you don’t want to have too much.

“I saw you turn that guy away,” Sam commented.

“Okay.” Years ago someone pointing out you using your abilities would’ve brought you shame and guilt. But now it no longer bothered you…too much.

“If Zemo can seemingly have fun for a little bit, so can you.”

You scoff and cut him a glance. “Sam, that man looked ready to spike my drink the first chance he got.”

“Okay, maybe not with him, but you can loosen up a little bit. You’re over here looking ready to slit a throat.”

Grinning, you shake your head. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m having fun. In fact, this is my leave because I was in the middle of telling a story to some criminals.”

Laughter bubbles out of your mouth, “Don’t get too friendly.” Sam nudges your arm with his elbow and steps away. You see him join a group and you can’t hear what he says to them but you do hear some of their laughter over the music.

Rolling your neck to loosen some of the tension, you turn to the bar again. Screw it. One more won’t hurt. You catch the bartender’s eye from where he stands and point to your glass. He nods and starts to pour another one. Once your new drink is in hand you decide that while you may not need to have “fun” you don’t need to stand in the same spot the whole night.

You take your time moving through the crowd, careful to keep dancing people from bumping into your drink. The top Sharon lent you is a smooth ivory colored silk and the last thing you want to do is return it damp.

Finding the art displays, you move through the lit up cases. The music is still loud, but in the tucked away corner it’s not as deafening. A few other people lingered at paintings and artifacts but none paid you any mind. You pause at a painting you vaguely recognize but you don’t know enough about the art world to name the piece or the artist.

It’s a beautiful painting, the way the soft colors mesh together brings a small calm to you. You feel the presence of someone standing behind you, and with it brings the new swooping feeling in your chest, but before you can do anything a familiar voice speaks, “This one is worth $10 million.”

You give a low whistle and take a sip of your drink. You don’t think you’ve ever had that much money in your life. Looking over your shoulder, you find Bucky looking at the painting with his hands in his pockets. His shoulders are a little stiff and his jaw is tense. His brow is mildly puckered and though his eyes come back to look at the painting, they dart off as if still surveying the room. You imagine this is how you looked to Sam standing at the bar. Lips quirking you nod at him. “Modern day night life not doing it for you?”

Bucky only gives a soft grunt.

You continue, “What? Bucky Barnes didn’t get down back in his day? You said you liked 40's music, right? I could make the DJ switch it up for you.”

The looks he shoots you is exasperated and mildly annoyed. You can’t help but add. “Believe it or not but I can do a mean swing step. You wouldn’t be alone out there.”

“You’re being annoying.” Despite his words you catch the faint smile and mirth in his eyes.

“Ah, ah! I saw a smile!” When Bucky only continues to stare you give him a shrug. “I’m taking the brooding silence as confirmation.”

You start to move on to the next painting, expecting him to turn the other way but instead he moves with you. You didn’t want to dwell on it (a.k.a get your hopes up about it), but you noticed him doing that more and more. As you take in the old looking necklace in front of you, you catch sight of Zemo through the glass case. He’s now in the middle of the dance floor…dancing…

You laugh a little and give a shake your head. Bucky seems to follow your gaze and you hear another grunt from him.

“I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing him dance.”

“You know, if Zemo can have fun, so can you.” You use Sam’s earlier words to you. Hopefully that doesn’t make you a hypocrite.

Bucky is quiet and you don’t think too much about it, starting to get used to it. Moving on from the necklace, you take in another painting. This one is not your favorite, the harsh lines and odd colors bring a mildly confused frown to your face. Your head tilts as you continue to study the piece. Behind you, Bucky says, “I am having fun.”

Without looking at him you reply, “Are you?”

“Yes.” This finally pulls your attention and you turn to meet his eyes. “I think you’re fun.”

Bucky takes his hands out of his pockets and starts to fidget with the cuff links on his borrowed jacket. You can't quite tell if he's telling the truth, or just saying that to make sure you don't feel awkward. However, you know enough about Bucky to know that if he didn’t want to be talking to you he would’ve left, or he wouldn’t even have spoken to you in the first place so he must be telling the truth. At your silence, he drops his hands and clears his throat.

“Are you having fun?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you think about it. Bucky’s face gives nothing away as he waits your answer. Part of you wants to open up your senses and let your powers read his emotions but you stop yourself. Instead you think about the past few days and the situation you’re in. When you practically forced yourself onto the airplane with Bucky and Sam, you figured it would only be for one mission, something to get the sudden need for danger and adventure out of your system.

You never imagined it would’ve brought you to breaking out a criminal from prison and then ending up at a former colleague’s illegal art dealership, and you couldn’t imagine where it’d lead you from here. And yet despite the ups and downs this adventure has brought to your little group…

“I suppose I am having fun,” you finally reply. You can’t stop from adding, “It’s been…fun learning more about you and Sam. We’ve all fought together before, but I never really took the time to get to know either of you. It’s been nice, all things considered.”

There’s quiet between the two of you. The song has shifted into a new melody, this one just as pounding as the last but it doesn’t seem as if either of you are paying attention to it. You give a soft laugh and down the rest of your champagne. “Sorry. That was more than you asked for.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky responds. He steps a bit closer. “I agree. I kept my circle to Steve and, against my will, Sam—“ he pauses when you give a quick laugh “—Even during the whole Accords stuff, I didn’t really interact with the team and then I went off to Wakanda. It’s nice to have another person to talk to.”

Movement behind Bucky catches your attention and your eyes are pulled from his soft expression. Behind him, Sam approaches looking around at all the art pieces. “Figure I’d check in on the dark and brooding duo.”

“You just checked on me,” you shot back.

“Well, I’m checking on you again. I lost sight of Sharon.”

“She’ll find us when she’s ready,” Bucky replied. He heaved a sigh and shoved his hands back into his pockets.

You nod your agreement but before you can say anything Zemo’s voice carries through the room as he steps up next to you. “Well, I will admit this has been quite entertaining but I’m ready to get a move on.”

“We were just talking about that.” Sam turned to the necklace you’d been looking at earlier. “As nice as all this art stuff is I’m getting antsy.”

Everyone falls into silence and through your senses you can feel that everyone agrees. You think about telling everyone to split up and find Sharon to ask if she’s found anything but soon she steps around a display case.

“Hey, guys, I got something. Let’s go.”

Zemo steps around you and him and Sam follow after her immediately. Setting your glass down on a nearby table you turn and find Bucky waiting for you. “Ready for this?”

Giving a sure nod you move past him and after a moment you can sense him take up the rear.

[lloydskywalkers]

chrysanthemum

1/2 of the fics i wrote for the 10th anniversary zine!! if you haven’t checked it out yet please do @ninjaneverquit-zine , everyone worked so hard and did such a wonderful job, i’m beyond honored to have been included <3

I may not have been in the fandom since the start, but ninjago means the world to me - it’s gotten me through some of the worst times and pushed further in writing than i thought i’d go, and the fandom’s been a particularly bright light in my life since i’ve joined 💕and of course i can’t not celebrate that by writing for the light of my life lloyd garmadon, so here’s me crying over the garmadons anniversary-style :’D

Garmadon’s son has only been on the earth for twenty-four hours, and he’s only been Lloyd for nineteen, but he already finds himself terrified of the tiny, living thing he cradles in his arms.

“He’s so small,” he tells Misako, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Is he supposed to be this small?”

Misako, who’s been answering questions similar to this for the better part of the morning, rolls her eyes. “He’s fine, Garmadon. He was born a little early, that’s all.”

Not as reassured as he should be, Garmadon returns his gaze to his son. He’s sleeping now, deathly still in his arms, and he resists the urge to wave a hand over his tiny face, if only to feel the small puffs of breath he knows must be there. He brushes a wisp of hair from his head instead, marveling at how pale it is.

“He’s got my father’s hair,” he murmurs.

“I don’t care, Garmadon, we’re still not naming him after the man.”

It’s Garmadon’s turn to roll his eyes. “I never said that. I said Montgomery was an unacceptable name to burden my son with.”

“Oh, your son.”

He misses the rest of her retort as Lloyd fidgets briefly, tiny features screwing up as he shifts. A flash of lightning from outside brightens the room, and Garmadon pulls Lloyd closer reflexively. The thunder crack follows soon after, and Garmadon flinches, the thick smell of rain filtering through the open windows. He can already see thick droplets sliding down the hydrangeas Misako’s growing in the windowsill, drowning the pale flowers. It’s been pouring all week, typhoons hitting the coast with gusto as they always do this time of year. Garmadon doesn’t like it — his son is much more suited for the sun and all its brightness, not the grey-skied downpour of thunderclouds.

Lloyd hardly reacts to the downpour, having gone still and silent in his arms once again. Garmadon’s heartbeat quickens. He shouldn’t sleep this much, should he? He doesn’t remember Wu being like that, but he was so young when Wu was born, and it was so long ago, and he can’t feel for Lloyd’s breathing now because the breeze pouring through the window’s too strong, and—

A soft hand sets on his shoulder. “Here,” Misako sighs, guiding Garmadon’s hand to rest gently over Lloyd’s chest. “Feel. That’s a heart, going strong.”

Despite his hesitance, a deep-rooted part of him still desperately afraid his touch might hurt something so small, Garmadon does so. Lloyd’s heartbeat is rapid and as fragile as a bird’s wing, but undeniably there. A small, living thing.

Something warm curls in his chest, and Garmadon thinks he might understand his father’s delight in creation — in things that live.

Not, of course, that his father has ever created anything so perfect as Lloyd, but Garmadon can credit him for having tried.

* * *

It’s weird, having a dad.

Not the concept of having a dad — Lloyd’s bragged enough about being the son of Lord Garmadon to at least get that part. But actually having him here, a living, breathing person who looks at Lloyd and cares—

It’s weird, that’s all. Not that it’s a bad weird.

“You need to wrap your hands, before you go hitting things like that,” Garmadon scolds gently, twisting gauze around Lloyd’s bruised, swollen fingers. “The others can show you how, for training. They should have shown you earlier.”

Lloyd bites his lip. He doesn’t tell his dad that the bruises are less from training, and more from pointlessly banging on bars in an attempt to get on Pythor’s nerves. It sounds silly, compared to the way his dad swept in like a big hero and took out all the snakes in single swipes.

A big hero. Lloyd wonders if the others will ever see him that way, too.

His hand twinges as the gauze pulls tight, and Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath. Garmadon flinches, drawing his hands back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “I keep forgetting — you’re so small.”

Lloyd makes a face at that. Small? “I’m not that short,” he grumbles. “I’ve grown lots.”

“Of course you have,” Garmadon amends. “I only—”

His expression twists, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. There’s that look again.

“I’m sorry,” Garmadon repeats, sounding downtrodden.

Lloyd purses his lips. For all his bragging, he’s never really thought much about whether he likes his family or not. It’s hard, when you don’t have one around to like. Watching the way his dad worries and his uncle walks around all stone-faced now, Lloyd’s not sure he should like it. He likes Uncle Wu, of course, and he loves his dad, but—

He hates the way they all walk around like they’re preparing for a funeral. His dad’s funeral, his funeral, whichever it ends up being. It’s stupid. Lloyd’s lived on the streets for months, and in Darkley’s even longer. He wouldn’t have minded walking around like he’s doomed for misery then.

But now? When he’s got people who care, and a family?

Lloyd sets his mouth stubbornly. He doesn’t know much about destiny, or the prophecy, but he knows he’s not about to lose this. Not when he’s come so far, when he’s so close to having — to being someone worth having around.

No funerals, Lloyd promises himself. He can see this prophecy through — they both can, the two of them. You have to be alive to be a family, right?

“It’s okay,” he finally replies. “I’m alright, dad.”

And he’s gonna stay that way.

* * *

When Garmadon had thought about the final battle in the past, he’d expected the darkness. The destruction, the pain.

He hadn’t expected to survive.

“So you’re really giving up fighting, then?”

Glancing up at Lloyd, taller now yet still small enough to not quite fit his bright golden gi, Garmadon finds survival a very welcome surprise.

“Yes,” he says, returning his gaze to the flowerbeds Misako’s helped him put in the monastery garden. They’re coming along well, despite the recent fits of bad weather, and they do a fine job of making the monastery look homey. Unthreatening.

He hopes, at least.

“I think I’ve done enough fighting, for my part,” he continues. He gives Lloyd a wry look. “I’m not sure Ninjago could take much more of it from me, anyways.”

“I dunno,” Lloyd says. “It’s been getting pretty boring.”

Garmadon snorts. “Boring is something you should appreciate, son. Excitement isn’t always good.”

“No, but it isn’t bor—dull,” Lloyd mutters, crouching down to study the flowerbeds. Garmadon shakes his head in reply, sighing. He remembers being his son’s age once, yearning for the next thrill, even if it feels ages away now.

He’s got a whole lecture on appreciating the quiet moments on the tip of his tongue, too, when Lloyd speaks up again.

“We used to have these flowers at Darkley’s,” he says, tilting his head as he studies them. “Some of the boys tore them all up and threw ‘em at the window, but they were pretty before that."

Garmadon bites the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing. His expression softens as he spots the gentle way Lloyd handles the flower, carefully pushing it back to place. It never fails to baffle him how someone as gentle as Lloyd could’ve come from his beginnings, much less from Garmadon, but he treasures it.

“Snapdragons,” Garmadon says, instead. “Fitting flowers, for our family.”

Lloyd looks at him curiously, eyes bright with the light of suspicion, and Garmadon is tempted to tell him the full truth, then and there. But Lloyd is still so young, innocent and naive and barely come to terms with his place as the Green Ninja. The truth of their blood is a heavy one, and Garmadon can’t find it in himself to lay it on Lloyd’s shoulders today. No, his son is happy among humans, so a human he’ll let him be. Someday he’ll know he’s more, closer to the dragons he admires than he realizes, but not quite yet.

Miraculously, Garmadon has the time, now.

“If you stay after dinner, I can show you how they’re planted,” he offers. Lloyd nods, and Garmadon’s smile widens.

Destruction is in his blood, and he’d be blind to say it isn’t in Lloyd’s as well. Power is power, whether it’s bright and beautiful or stained in darkness, and Lloyd could shatter mountains as well as move them, if he wanted.

But Lloyd never moves to pull the flowers up, only watches them rustle slightly in the breeze, leaving them to grow a little bigger, a little brighter. Garmadon, for his part, watches his son, all bright eyes and the burnished gold hair of his grandfather, and reminds himself that one needs not be a master of creation to appreciate life.

* * *

Lloyd likes to think of himself as an optimist, for the most part. He’s at least good at pretending that he is one, with how many times he’s had to convince himself it’s worth it to get back up.

Right now, he’s trying to remember how he’s ever managed to convince himself, because this time, getting back up seems impossible.

Lloyd used to wonder, back during Morro, how far you had to push yourself to break like that. How far someone had to push you, to truly splinter. He thinks he might have found his answer, though his is less of a bitter hatred and more of an empty abyss of hurt.

It hurts to breathe. That would be a sign that something’s wrong, if Lloyd didn’t already have about sixty other signs that he’s in trouble. But the breathing thing is sticking out to him especially, right now. His lungs feel like they’re scraping against his ribs every time he tries to draw breath, bruised and stinging, and there’s a deep ache in his chest that grows worse by the minute.

He tries swallowing again, sand scraping down his throat as he does. He hisses out a breath instead of coughing, almost frightened that his lungs will give out completely if he does.

He says almost, because Lloyd isn’t sure what emotions he’s got left to feel anymore.

A lie. Pain starts numb, sometimes.

Lloyd’s chest spasms as he sucks in another breath, and he wishes the desert would swallow him whole. His father — his real father, who pushed him from the Cursed Realm and told him to return to light and living — would want him to stand back up. He’d beg him to, stress the importance of continuing on, of persevering. Stuff like that.

But if it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t have to get back up in the first place. If it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t be—

His eyes burn, stinging as he squeezes them tightly shut, and he tells himself it’s the sand.

Instead, he focuses on the ragged beat of his heart. He only knows it’s there because his chest throbs in pain with every pulse, but he latches onto the feeling and holds tight.

Still alive, he tells himself, even as every bit of him sings in agony and his lungs scream at him to stop. He’s still alive. His powers aren’t answering him but they will, he knows they will, he can’t disappear like he did with Morro. He can’t — he can’t leave it, not like this, not with his father — not like this. If he can’t stop Harumi, if he can’t save his father, if he can’t do anything else at all, he can at least do this.

Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive.

He’s never realized how long the nights out here are, before.

* * *

After everything, the light dies down and the Oni vanish, and Lloyd’s heart stops.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Garmadon, who isn’t even sure his own heart beats now, but it is.

It’s not supposed to stop. There was a promise made, somewhere, to keep it beating.

It restarts before he has the chance to process what that even means, and the swell of relief is so foreign, Garmadon leaves before he even has the chance to ask Lloyd what he’d seen. He thinks to himself, that will be the end of it. The end of whatever tentative connection he has with the boy, whatever frayed and tattered threads of something they once had. Better to cut them away for good.

Lloyd’s not one to let things die, though. Garmadon should know that at least, the boy tells him.

“I know you like repeating yourself,” he mutters. “Letting go is different.”

“That’s not what this is,” Lloyd huffs back.

Garmadon rolls his eyes, the two of them drifting aimlessly down the Ninjago City garden paths. It’s secluded, the rest of the city still recovering, and Garmadon’s grateful for the quiet, even if it is awkward. Building any kind of bridge with the boy is difficult, if only because Lloyd stresses that they’re rebuilding a bridge, and Garmadon has no memory of any bridge to begin with.

He’s still sifting through jumbled emotions, sorting out what his place in this world was and is supposed to be, but he knows that the word son slips easier from his mouth than daughter ever did, so he figures he’s on the right path, at least.

“It’s about—” Lloyd pauses, his expression contorting. “It’s about surviving, I guess,” he grinds out.

Garmadon’s mouth curls into a grin. “Really. You were quite…vocal, that it was about more than that.”

“It is, it’s just—” Lloyd cuts off again, stopping them in a half-ruined section of garden still littered with remnants of concrete. “It’s the payoff, you know? Here.”

He bends down, brushing dust from a surviving scattering of flowers. He gently touches the edge of a petal, pushing the flower head toward the sun. “See?” he says. “After all that, it’s still alive.”

Garmadon stares at the delicate edges of the petal, smaller and more fragile than any of the buildings that crumbled beneath his rule. At Lloyd’s nod, he stretches his own fingers out toward it, his hand impossibly dark and calloused next to his son’s own small one. But he brushes his fingers over the petal edge nonetheless, almost surprised that it doesn’t decay beneath his touch. It’s soft, he notes, like the fragile skin of a newborn. Odd that it should’ve survived, out of everything else that perished.

“So it is,” he says, carefully. Lloyd says nothing, but there’s a ghost of a smile around his lips. They must make an odd sight, the pair of them crouched in the dirt in the recovering garden. There’s no use in sitting here and looking at the flower, no explanation Garmadon can offer himself, but he doesn’t leave. He can take the moment, he decides, to appreciate what Lloyd is trying to show him.

They too, after all, are still alive.

[earthlyyan]

Organic Antidepressants

(Slight Yandere Ferid Bathory x Suicidal Reader) originally posted on my AO3

Warnings: Ferid being touchy, suicidal depression, intrusive thoughts. Reader is of legal age

first person pov (ew)

(Originally Posted on AO3 On 1-9-2020)

The days were far longer than they were before… at least it felt that way.

I knew I should’ve died that day. I wish I had died that day. The day the trumpets of the apocalypse decided to ring gloriously over our god forsaken planet.

Anyone younger than thirteen? What a fucking joke.

The cot stuffed with hay was one of the few things that brought me comfort in the day to day. The odd number of children allowed for me to be alone. I liked it that way. More me time. And the most I wanted to do was return to it. But instead, my feet dragged down the busy streets, making my way to the blood bank.

On my way though, I could hear the guards making excuses to their superiors. Apparently three humans on the register were found dead in their terf. 

“They committed suicide. You know how they get when they’re cooped up. I didn’t touch them, honest.”

 “They got sick. Died of their illness I guess.”

Bastards took them for themselves. Everyone knew it. But were they going to confront them? They weren’t protected. The vamps just thought they could get away with it.

“Hey we have enough. Three won’t make a dent.”

Not even caring that those children had futures. Well, would’ve had futures. Those were stripped away as quick as the adults were.

I wanted to be happy. We all did.

But in this place? Laughable. You had a better chance of being an astronaut. Well… maybe not. But it sure felt that way.

You know how to be happy right?

 “First and Last name?”

I answered.

“First open table.”

No matter how many times I’ve done this already, the dread won’t leave. The feeling of their eyes. I could see the barely restrained hunger. If anyone was left alone, they’d take a bag for the rations and the kid for themselves.   

You could ask the vamp to take extra.

I shuddered and plopped myself on the medical bed. “Good morning.”

An unamused grunt was my reply. I was the scum of the earth not worth talking to, apparently.

He’s right, isn’t he?

The needle was quick. He hadn’t even bothered to give a warning. It was a pinch, a wave of nausea, and then it was over. He tossed the pouch of their nasty sustenance formula in my hands and pointed to the door.

“Thanks.” I walked out and threw myself on the floor beside the benches. I opened my disgusting capri-sun wannabe and began to suck on it. I cringed at the taste.

There were two boys on the stairs. One obviously more displeased about the situation than the other. He crinkled the full bag and threw it across the clearing. If I had the balls and the same cripplingly low amount of braincells as he did, I would probably do the same.

The other boy, far more mature than the other, stood up after chugging his to throw his pouch away. He seemed to be taking the situation much better than the other. He had beautiful blonde hair and deep blue eyes. If he wasn’t in this hell hole, he could’ve been a child model.

The thought made me sad. What could’ve been. I could’ve been somebody.

Maybe you’ll get a fresh start in the next life.

 Apparently, I had zoned out far longer than I thought because the next thing I knew, a fight had broken out.

 If you could call a young boy threatened to be chucked off the ledge a fight anyway. He was soon thrown to the side with enough force to send him reeling.

 A well-dressed vampire walked with purpose down the stairs. Shoulders back, chin up. He seemed regal.

He certainly looked like royalty.

“Lord Ferid!” The little blonde boy ran up to him. The two seemed close enough, which sent my mind reeling.

How does a kid get that close with a nobleman like him? They seem friendly.

“Ah~ Mika!” The noble -presumably named Ferid- gave him a kind smile. “What on earth seems to be the matter?”

He talked like royalty too.

I couldn’t stop staring. After a few minutes of banter, the noble took his hand from the blonde’s face and sent him on his way. He had said something about meeting at his mansion. I brought myself up from the floor and chased after the blonde.

*

Two days after the talk with Mika, I stood at the noble’s door.

“If you give your blood, he’ll give you anything you want!”

I rose an eyebrow. “Really? Anything?”

Mika nodded proudly. “Yup! Though he’s busy tonight. But the day after I’d try it.”

Maybe he can take the pain away.

 I took a few controlled breaths. This screamed danger. It’s a vampire. They kill people

Why are you so scared? It’s not like your life could get worse.

I knocked on his door.

It swung open, seemingly on its own accord. The motion invited me in. Once I was past the threshold, I gently closed the door and looked inside.

There he sat, lounging on a tasteful white couch with gold accented frames. In the dim candlelight he almost resembled an angel.

An angel of death, perhaps?

He looked up from his book and turned his attention towards me. My body froze. I felt my self-confidence leave. Not like I had much left anyway.

He called my name, somehow. Mika must’ve told him or something. Though, something nagged at me. I don’t remember telling Mika my name. Mika hadn’t even told me his. It was all overheard. Then how?

“Come, sit.” He patted the seat next to him on the couch.

 I sat down on the chair across from him instead.

“Over here, my dear.” He patted the spot next to him louder, trying to coax me over like I were an animal.

Though, that’s probably how he saw my species anyway, isn’t it?

“My dearest Mika had told me about your visit a few nights ago. I wouldn’t have thought he would’ve told anyone about the little arrangement I have going on here, but I’m not complaining.” He sighed, seemingly content. “I wasn’t expecting someone of your age to be here, how are you still here? You have me curious.”

“If I’m honest, milord, I don’t quite know.” I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. But the calculating feeling of his gaze made it harder. “Luck? Possibly?”

“Luck?” He leaned back and turned himself towards me. “Is it truly luck?”

“With all due respect, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You know what he means, and you know he’s right.

He smiled at me, not meeting my eyes. Ah. Okay.

“So, what are you hoping to get out of this?” He scooted closer. “As much as I’d like to think you’re here out of the kindness of your heart, we both know that isn’t the case, now is it?”

I nodded; heat crept its way up my face. “Yeah, but I suppose that doesn’t make me irregular.” I grumbled. “But I suppose that also makes me boring doesn’t it?”

He shrugged. “That entirely depends on you, my dear.”

I tugged at my uniform and cleared my throat. “Yeah I guess that’s fair.”

“Back to the topic at hand, yes?” He smiled and placed a gloved hand on my shoulder.

I suppressed a shudder. “Right. I guess I should cut to the chase.” I finally had the courage to look into his eyes.

Those damn eyes, despite the almost ravenous look in them, I couldn’t help but find them entrancing. Like shiny rubies in where his irises should be. He raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

“Antidepressants.”

And I would’ve never thought his grin could get bigger. “Antidepressants? Now that’s something I haven’t heard before.”

In a place like this? Really? “I’m sure you would’ve heard everything by now.”

“And I thought I would’ve heard it all by now too. But I suppose not.” He ran his hand down my back

I gingerly grabbed his hand and put it back on his lap. “Sorry.” I mumbled.

“No~ Don’t apologize. It’s quite alright.” He folded his hands in his lap, he smiled at me. “If I were in a situation like yours, I don’t think I’d want to be touched either.”

My gaze fell. “Right. A situation like mine.” I slapped my cheeks gently to liven myself up. “Back to the deal though.”

“Actually, before we continue, what do you need them for? Medicine isn’t allowed down here unless regulated, considering how it effects the blood. Someone as old as you should know that.”

“Yeah, but why else would someone need antidepressants?”

He stared at me. His expression left no room for argument. He wanted an answer. His lips tugged into a smile. A kind looking one, but it left something unsaid.

“Why do you really need them?”

It’s not like you have anything else to lose, right? Tell him. You’ll feel better. He can make you better.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, leaning back onto the couch. “Look, how old do you think I am?”

“Too old to be here at this age, certainly.” He shrugged and made himself comfortable next to me. Close enough to grab me, but far enough not to invade my personal bubble.

“And why do you think that is?” I looked to the wall, hoping to find a distraction to focus on anything else but how close he was. But found nothing but pristine white.

“This world’s god is cruel.” He said. “It seemed they chose to bless you instead of damning you to the fate of your elders.”

I laughed. “Bless me?” I ran my hands faster through my hair, tugging at the ends to ground me. “What kind of blessing is this? I’m stuck down here to live until old age, vitamin deficiency or illness takes me? I’d rather be with my friends and family.”

You could join them. There’s plenty of spaces to do so. You could fly like an angel.

“You could always make your situation better.” His voice softened.

“That’s why I’m here.” I took my hands from my hair and began to fiddle with my identification tag. “I thought if I struck a deal with you, I’d get the opportunity to make things better. To make things as they should be.”

“But if you were to make things as they should be, then I know the real reason you want those pills, don’t you?”

“I didn’t mean it like that I—” I felt my throat close. Tears stung the back of my eyes, I fought desperately to bite them back.

This didn’t go unnoticed.

“You did, and it’s okay.” His hand made its way to my hair. I couldn’t find the strength to fight him. It’s not like he was going to harm me if he wanted this deal to work. “You know your very existence is a burden to you. And you want to fix it. You humans were always so independent.” He whispered. He paused to take off his glove and used his sharp nails to comb my hair. “But you know it’s okay to ask for help, right?”

 “Nobody would give me help. They wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t care. I’d rather just…” I swallowed hard.

“End it? Now don’t be ridiculous.” He placed my head on his shoulder, presumably for easier access. “What if there truly isn’t a happy end if you end it? You’d lament not fixing it while you could. And suicide isn’t beneficial to anyone, little lamb.” His hand reached to touch my face. Despite his hands being cold, something inside me warmed.

This can’t be right. It isn’t right. He’s a vampire he’s just like the rest of them—

But he cares.

No. He doesn’t he just wants me to think he does.

But what if he truly does care?

“Why are you even trying to talk me down? Wouldn’t it be better for you to just give me the pills and then you get a drink?” It’s not like I didn’t have a plan B if he said no.

“How selfish do you think I am? I’m wounded.” He pulled my head onto his lap, his hands playing with tufts and braiding the longer pieces. “Who would want someone else to take their life for the sake of a meal?”

I averted my eyes. I sounded like a dick now. “I didn’t think of it like that. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. That seems to be a nasty habit that you’ll have to break.” He said. “And I have an idea that could be beneficial to both of us in the long term, if you’re interested.” His hand moved my head to look up. I could see his furrowed brow and soft smile. I felt the remaining fears I had slowly dissipate.

“Yeah?”

“You can stay with me. I think I would miss you if you were gone.”

“You… You would?”

“Of course, I would. You’re full of untapped potential. And I think I could help ease those pains preventing them from coming to fruition.” He smiled. “All you have to do is say yes~.”

I slowly sat up, taking in his words.

He could make you feel wanted. You didn’t need to run anymore.

“I…”

You could have someone take care of you and like you for you, isn’t that all you’ve wanted? Someone who knows how to make things better? Someone who can save you?

“I think… I would like that.”

His smile reached his eyes. “As would I, my dear.” He hoisted me onto his lap. “Now, to seal the deal.” He unbuttoned the top few buttons of my uniform and removed my identification collar. “Have you ever been bitten directly?”

I shook my head.

“Now don’t worry. It won’t hurt for long. Like a pinprick.” He gave my nose a small bop. “Like a more organic needle. Just, try not to squirm too much. I don’t want to accidentally rip your internal carotid, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that either.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay…” I tried to calm my nerves. “okay I can do this.”

He placed his hand on the small of my back and gently pushed me to his chest. “On the count of three, alright?”

I flexed my fingers, trying to ease my nerves. “Alright…”

“One…”

I felt his warm breath on my neck, making me tense.

He rubbed my head with his free hand. “Two…”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Three.”

It was much more painful than he had said. It felt like two spears digging perpendicularly into my skin. Slow and agonizing. I gripped his coat tightly. His hands continued to attempt to soothe me.

“Shhh~ The pain won’t last much longer.” He cooed. I could feel his lips moving on my skin at he talked.

The pain didn’t go away, but something arose within. The area where his fangs pierced me grew numb. I could still feel his fangs in my skin, its presence foreign. But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It felt like warmth and welcome, if those feelings could resonate inside. My mind grew foggier. Pleasantly ignorant. I couldn’t hear anything else but the faint slurping and my own heartbeat. It was nice. I felt my eyes roll back and my body grow weaker. I gave Ferid’s coat a fatigued tug.

He pulled away slowly, and I whined at the loss. I slumped against his shoulder, the last of my remaining strength left along with his fangs.

His hand moved from the back of my head to my shoulders. He stood up with me in his arms. My eyes fought to stay open. I saw the faint image of Ferid’s face with a small stream of blood falling from his lips.

The light from the candle illuminated the space behind him, bathing him in a heavenly glow. He seemed a little livelier than before, too.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I tried to get a word out, but it came out a strangled whimper.

He smiled and shook his head, tutting softly. “I think I took too much, don’t you?” He walked down the hall with my limp body in his arms.

Ferid arrived in a large bedroom and placed me neatly under the covers and tucked me in. He sat next to me on my left side. He brushed a few stray hairs from my face and gave me a small kiss on the forehead.

“I do believe you need your rest. I’ll be back when you wake, my dear. I promise.” His hand moved from my forehead to my cheek as he gave it one final caress.

In my failing consciousness, I heard a gentle laugh

“Sleep well my lamb you’ll feel better in the morning. You’ll never feel empty again.”

And in the enveloping darkness, I saw him smirk.

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

No One Lives Forever Not Even God

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, Insomnia, mentions of antidepressants, mentions of drugs, drug use, mentions of addiction, mentions of nazis, parental neglect, mentions of the dead, cemeteries, mentions of meltdowns,  corrupt government, mentions of cancer, low self esteem, self destructive behavior, medical testing, thoughts of murder, mentions of injury, and mentions of knives, 

Word Count: 6.1k

Songs: Mother- Pink Floyd, He Can Only Hold Her- Amy Whinehouse, A Pearl- Mitski, Me and My Husband- Mitski, Saint Bernard- Lincon, Why Didn't You Stop Me?- Mistki, Nuestro Planeta- Kali Uchis, You Know I'm No Good-Amy Whinehouse, and Love Is a Losing Game- Amy Whinehouse.

 "I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too. Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you.”

A/N: I only did one proofread so sorry if there are typos and this is just more of an infodump to set up other chapters so enjoy ig. I almost gonna start another series a social media AU let me know if you'd want to be tagged in either of these series.

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Nightmares come while I’m asleep but, when I’m awake the nightmares of the day just come for me then, so really I’m just stuck. I would like to say the antidepressants are working, it's just the insomnia that comes with them isn't working for me. I’m honestly starting to think mood stabilizers would do me better.

Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

I’m not sure I could blame this all on the pills though. I’d have to give some of the credit to the massive bombshell that a certain ex Avenger had dropped on me. 

It's almost like every five seconds a new giant secret about my mom is unveiled to me. Like sure I saw from the video that she’d left me that she had associations with some bad people like Kingpin but nazis? 

SHIELD had apparently collapsed because it was infiltrated by Hydra but it was prevalent while my mom was still alive. Seems like she had worked for or with everyone who was anyone. I’m just gonna give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn’t know because up until two weeks ago I didn’t either. 

Her and Natasha had been recruited at the same time and worked together but for someone who claims to have been so close to her you’d think she’d know that she was dead. “She went off the grid and that was the last I heard from her,” is all she gave me with a smile that even I could tell was fake and I’d just met the woman. 

You know when grown folks come up to you and expect you to remember them because they met you once while you were like in the womb that’s kinda my relationship with Natasha. She knows so much about me and I know absolutely nothing about her save for the fact she's a spy meaning she’d be a great liar. 

She used to babysit me sometimes if I could trust what she says that is. Apparently I called her “Auntie Nat”. For some reason no one ever thought it was a good idea to inform me that I had a godmother. Maybe they did and I just forgot. 

I thought they were supposed to take care of you when something happened to your parents. And the one who’s alive is about as useless as the other. It might be fun to have another person that was considered family. Just maybe not a spy at least I’d know she’d walk out of my life so I won’t get attached. 

Mother, do you think they'll like the song?

“Hey mom,” I sighed sitting down in the light dusting in front of her tombstone. “I know it’s been a while and I’ve got a lot to catch you up on,” 

It took a bit of digging before I found what I was looking for in my bag. I ran my fingers along the cold surface of the small jewelry box. There was puffy white glue holding the larger pieces together. 

I placed the box in the grass sitting next to the tombstone. I removed a purple coiled bracelet and sat it next to the box. 

I tucked my legs under my body admiring the piece of jewelry. 

“I brought you a bracelet,” I spoke. “It’s kinda like a friendship bracelet cause I have the other. I don’t know if I should leave it here in case someone steals it,” I laughed. “You’d have to be a real shitty person to steal from a cemetery though,”

I curse so often I didn’t realize I did it until I had already done it. 

“Ah sorry! Excuse my French,” I chuckled.

“I met Natasha Romanoff and she said she knew you. She said she knew me too. I don’t remember her though…” I trailed off. 

For someone who claimed to have a lot to say I sure was at a loss for words. I just didn’t know how to get any of them out. 

“Oh! You’re not gonna believe me if I tell you but I got to meet some of the Avengers. Most of them were new though. You’d know some of them. Like Captain America I wanted his help but he couldn’t provide it,” 

I had a bit of an episode when I was told no one knew where Thor was. I think it was justified though.

 How the fuck do you lose two Avengers let alone the ones that can’t possibly be hidden. One is green and huge and the other leaves lightning bolts everywhere they go.  

Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?

“The other is Natasha but I don’t think I really knew that yet. She went by Black Widow. I’m sure you knew that though. You probably know a lot,” 

I wonder how many secrets she never told me about. I mean I could only imagine all the secrets working for the government would let you in on. Like she probably knew about big stuff like the Tesseract and aliens maybe she could’ve known about that. 

“Okay I have a question. I have a lot actually but I think if you answer them I’m gonna get up and run out of here,” I joked. 

“Number one is my middle name Natalia because of your SHIELD buddy? Like it might just be a coincidence but it could also be a godmother typa situation or something,”

It was a running theory. She would’ve known my mom before I was born. And if what I was told is true they’d be pretty close too and Natasha translates back to Natalia and I know she’s Russian. It makes sense. 

Ooh

Mother, should I build the wall? 

“Uh… there’s this boy,” 

When was there not? It seems like there was always someone in my life. Carmen in therapist mode said it’s because I put my self worth into my relationship status.

 “He’s really nice. Like really really nice. Nicer than anybody I’ve ever been associated with. It’s just he’s like…” I didn't know how to put the next part into words. “He’s just too nice. Too nice for me at least. Like he’s such a good person and I’m just me,” 

“And it’s I feel bad,” I sighed. I was getting myself too worked up over this. “Like I keep playing like a game of tug a war with him where I let him in and kick him out again it’s tiring. I don’t even do it on purpose. I feel like we could be something maybe. But I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. It’s a self defense mechanism. At least I think.” 

I do it with everyone. I shut them out before they can get it. The less people you let into your life the less people that can walk out. 

It’s a bulletproof tactic. At least I used to think it was. Never realized people could get hurt including myself. 

“I saw dad,” I informed myself? I guess I’m not sure how healthy it is to have a conversation with someone you know can’t respond and isn't listening. “Like two days ago actually I didn’t say anything I freaked out and ran away. It made me think though,”

Mother, should I run for president?

Made me think about how I’d done so well on my own. Well I’m not gonna take all the credit, most of it was Carmen keeping my ass in line. I haven’t talked to her in a while. I haven’t talked to anyone in a while. 

”I found a small studio apartment in Queens. It was the cheapest one I could find. I’m just renting it like an Airbnb right now. I need to find a permanent place and a job,”

 I couldn’t find a permanent place at my age unless I had full autonomy which leads me to my next topic. 

“So I was thinking about getting emancipated which everything would’ve been a lot easier if you were here then we could just go to court for custody cause you’d win for sure.” 

Mother, should I trust the government?

“I know you never got to know how corrupt SHIELD was but do they like keep tabs on everyone who does anything to them or related to them? Because like I did a little snooping and I know they had files for all the Avengers and other people like Kingpin.” 

I knew I was going to have to do more than sit here and ask a dead person what to do but ranting to someone who couldn’t spill my secrets was a start.

 “I was just wondering how deep it went or if they had hidden stuff on me,” 

Mother, will they put me in the firing line?

It’s probably common knowledge that if you mess with the government they’ll mess back. I’d like to think they were like bees. You leave them alone they’ll leave you alone. Only stinging when provoked. 

But every branch of the government is like a wasp. They don’t die if they sting and they’ll sting you for no reason at all. They just like to see people in pain.

And I’m sure the energy research branch of SHIELD would probably be more than interested in a walking fire bomb that can move things without touching them. 

I mean I’m not going to stop poking things around until I figure out what’s wrong with me. So might as well not complain. 

“So I don’t have many things figured out right now and the whole you and SHIELD thing only confused me more so if you could just like come tell me what to do just this once that’d be great,” I laughed.

 At first I was contemplating if this was weird or not but hearing me say that I now know this is pathetic. It always has been.

Ooh

Is it just a waste of time?

But I didn’t know if I should keep searching. Maybe I should just pretend like I’d never gotten introduced to the world of powers or mutations at all. For all I know Peter, Carmen, Felicia, Wade and I are just normal people who do normal people stuff. 

Sure I wanted answers but I didn’t want to end up like those people who spend their whole life searching for an answer they won’t find any and end up never living at all. 

Like a quote my mom used to say all the time “The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all,” 

She really just used it so she didn’t have to listen to being put on bed rest but it obviously had a deeper meaning and she knew that. 

I keep finding myself stuck on that phrase. That and the whole when the dust settles poem. 

I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too.

 Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. 

But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you. 

“Uh I don’t know if I should even tell you this cause you died before it was even a problem in the first place but…” I blew out a breath digging my feet deeper into the ground.

 “I’ve been clean for like two weeks now. Which is actually a thing I’m pretty proud of right now.” 

I’d stopped using everything except weed, nicotine because those weren’t drugs and even then I used it way less than before. Oh, and my antidepressants too but that’s obviously okay they’re prescribed. 

I hated the word clean made me seem like an addict which I wasn’t. I’m many things but I wasn’t an addict. I just didn’t know of any other words to use. 

I wasn’t an addict but I’d say the lines between recreational use and dependency were blurring just a bit. I had gotten it straight though. I’m good now. The antidepressants are helping. 

Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry

“You have a superpower of just making people feel better immediately. I don’t know if it was the fact you were my mom or what but if you even just put a bandaid on a stab wound it’d probably stop hurting and disappear,” 

I wasn’t even exaggerating there was this one time I got hurt at the zoo and she just kissed it and I forgot about the fact that I even fell. 

I’m not sure how true that is though because I couldn’t actually recall the memory I was just told about it by my mom a few years after it happened. So I guess I remember not remembering then being reminded. Weird. 

“I wanna see the giraffes!” Aaliyah cried, stomping her feet down on the concrete.

This was one of the only times mom didn’t have to work on the weekends and Liyah had to have her way like always. 

“Mom!” I screamed “Tell her you said we could see the lions first,” 

She just sighed. “Well since she’s the youngest do you think you could be nice and let her go first please?” 

“Fine,” I huffed. I wasn’t doing it for Liyah, I was doing it for mom. Even a blind person could see how tired she’d been lately. 

Liyah laughed at me sticking her tongue out. She’s such a brat.

“You’re so dumb.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“I know you are but what am I ?” She teased hitting my shoulder before running away.  

I took off after her. She may have been fast but I knew I could catch up to her. 

I almost had her when my foot got caught on something. It launched me towards the ground and I put my hands down to catch myself but I still hit my knee.

I slid on the concrete scuffing my leg. I didn’t scream because that would make me weak and it didn't hurt that bad. I just bit my lip and stood up. 

I didn’t want to limp but it hurt too much to put pressure on my leg. 

Liyah had beat me back to mom and when I reached them she was already apologizing. 

Fake.

 She was just scared to get in trouble. I wasn’t gonna snitch on her anyways. 

“Let me see it,” Mom asked, grabbing my arm, pulling me to sit down on a stonehenge. 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a first aid kit. She always had everything in her purse. It was kinda like a super power. The black Marry Poppins. 

She wiped the scrape with an alcohol wipe and I just barely hissed. It didn’t even really hurt anymore. 

She placed a bandaid on it, smoothing her hands on top of it before placing a kiss there. 

“There,” She wiped her hands on her thighs before standing up “All better?” 

I nodded my head and we went off to see the giraffes because I’m nice like that.

“In case you were wondering, Aaliyah still always gets her way even now. I’d say she’s got me beat on the manipulation game honestly,” 

It’s fine though I taught her everything she knows not everything I know. I could still get one over on her if needed. 

Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true

“I found your pendant, the SHIELD one. Which I guess makes all of this real no matter how much I want it to be fake. I just want this to be a poorly written book where I wake up and the past five years were all a dream,” 

God knows how much I meant that. Well maybe I didn’t mean it too much because some people I’ve met in the past five years are people I don’t think I could survive very long without. Even though I kinda exploded on everyone so maybe I’m gonna have to test my theory on how long I can really survive. 

“Hey Doc,” I greeted pushing up the door of the restaurant. 

“Hey sweetheart, how ya been?” He queried.

“I’ve been better,” 

“I hear ya,” He nodded. 

Once we were in the back of the restaurant aka his office. I pulled out the diamond. Doc knew everything about everyone and anything. He could also make a duplicate of anything you gave him. 

“Whatcha got for me?” He asked, rubbing his hands together. 

“This, I’m not sure what it is,” 

I placed the bird pendant on the desk. I found it in a shoe box filled with my mom's stuff. 

“I was wondering if you knew,” 

He lifted it up to his eye to get a better view, His eyesight so bad that his glasses were practically a magnifying glass. 

“It’s a crest, I don’t think I’ve seen this before it’s most likely from a government branch,” He placed it back down on his messy desk. “I can do some more extensive research for you if you’d like,” 

“Yes, that’d be great,” 

“Stop by again tomorrow and I’ll fill you

I wish I never went back to Doc’s place or found out about flash drive, Vulture, SHIELD, any of it. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get anymore fucked up the devil came out the woodworks and spit in my face. 

Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you

“I remember all that testing they did after I agreed to do whatever Stark needed me to do sooo badly. I still don’t really know what he did- or he’s doing with all that DNA and other stuff he’d gotten from me,” 

Aren’t the Avengers and by default Tony Stark products of SHIELD so wouldn't that mean whoever’s behind all of that could’ve been the one to tell Tony about the fire thing in the first place. 

That had been the main thing about the whole Stark situation that I still couldn’t figure out. Someone needs to tell me how he found out and they better tell me now. 

“There are multiple lacerations 1-2 inches lining the upper and lower abdomen,” The doctor lady announced to her assistant. Before moving her cold hand away from my side pushing my shirt back down. 

Okay that’s chill nothing I haven’t had before. 

“We’re gonna have to do another X-ray is that okay?” Her assistant asked. I wasn’t going to bother to learn their names. I was planning to stay that long anyways. 

What’s the point? They’re just going to come back and say the machine is broken and then do another blood test. 

“Yeah sure,” 

I was led into a much bigger room than the last. There was much more machinery too. 

I was strapped down to a cold blue cushioned table by leather straps. Straps weren’t really necessary, not like I was planning on lashing out and mauling anyone. 

I closed my eyes when the flashes of the machine went off. Apparently I had fractured three of my ribs and bruised my sternum. 

You’d think they’d let me go now but noooo they need more blood and then when they were done drawing blood. 

They had to hook me up to a machine to monitor- I don’t even fucking know what they were monitoring. 

I just know I had all the pads with wires on my temples and chest and everywhere else. It reminded me of that one time I had to do a sleep study. 

Except they didn’t have holographs to read off and fancy probably government funded tech then. They sure as hell didn’t have all this whispering either. Or maybe they did and I was just unconscious.

Still I didn’t even want to actually be here and I was cold for once. 

“How much long do we have here?” I groaned.

“Not much longer. We just have and MRI left,” 

Yeah right. I was gonna be in here for the rest of my life

“I could probably go back there if I wanted answers,” I spoke quietly. 

“But I don’t want the government in my business like that well at least just not more than they probably are already at least and the tests are so invasive,” 

Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing

That’s not the only invasive thing in my life. Or should I say was in my life? I don’t fucking care really.

 My dad was somehow the strictest and the most lenient person ever. I think he just wanted control.

 I used to blame his alcoholism for everything he did but no really he’s just a shitty person. A shitty person who likes to beat on women and take doors off the hinges. 

“You are so pathetic!” My mom screamed at my dad. 

 They had been at this all night. For so long that I’m seriously contemplating jumping out of this small window right now. 

Sapphire had no qualms sleeping on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Aaliyah and I however were still wide awake. 

I’m not sure exactly what was going on in her head but I’m assuming we're still up for the same reason. To kill our dad if he even touches our mom. 

I had a kitchen knife in hand as I sat on the bathroom sink. I always had a knife every time my dad started yelling a little too aggressively just in case but this time felt different. Like I was really prepared to stab him this time. 

I didn’t know what it was but something felt off. 

“Are they done?” Aaliyah asked, rubbing her eyes. The apartment had fallen silent. 

“I don’t know. Stay here,” I hopped down off the sink. 

I should’ve known she wasn’t gonna listen to me. The kitchen was empty which means they must’ve moved to their room.  

The next moment was the sort straight out of a family sitcom except the family was falling apart and the kids were going crazy but otherwise it could’ve very well been an “oopsie” misunderstanding moment. Where the younger child asks “Are mommy and daddy getting a divorce?” 

Then the oldest child pulls them into their body and whispers “I dunno kiddo,” or “No they’re just going through a rough patch,” anything like that.

 Except it wasn’t that. That wasn’t what she said and that wasn’t what Aaliyah asked me. 

God how I wish that was what she asked me. 

I have a bad habit of acting before I think. I opened the door opening my mouth to let out the words in my brain. 

“You’re dying? How are you dying?” 

They both turned to look at me like they were just noticing they weren’t alone. 

My mom sighed moving closer to me grabbing my arm. 

“I’m- Im not no ones dying,” 

The door creaked as Aaliyah pushed her way into the room. 

“But you said ‘I need you to step up you need to know how to handle it when I’m dead’,” She paraphrased cleaning out the cuss words. 

“It didn’t mean literally dying right now,” 

Now I could see how this could be us just jumping to conclusions from like two sentences but she had been weird lately. Like she’s always traveled a lot and been secretive but lately she’s been extra secretive. 

And I could tell the secret wasn’t to protect herself so whos to say it wasn’t the fact she was currently dying. It actually makes perfect sense. 

I’m starting to wish I wasn’t always right. Stage 4 Lymphoma. Basically we should go coffin shopping pretty soon. 

If only she wasn’t so selfish and would get treatment for it. She couldn’t leave me here by myself. Who’s gonna take care of us if she dies.

 I’d thought about it before and I decided I’d take on the role of caregiver for my sisters but then it was only a what if situation. 

Wade has cancer and he’s not dead but that’s only because he got pumped with like super drugs shit. 

Now I just needed to find some super drugs and figure out how to get her to take them. 

Fuck Cancer and fuck my dad. Why couldn’t he have gotten the diagnosis instead of my mom. A life for a life type beat. 

I guess that wouldn’t have made for a good tragic backstory would it. And what fun is life without a tragic backstory.

 My only question is when does the backstory end and when does the actual plot begin because clearly I’m not there yet. It’s only tragedy after tragedy.

 Maybe that is my story, just pain and suffering. Someone has to be the butt of the joke. 

She won't let you fly but she might let you sing

“You always told me to surround myself with people who you could block out the rest of the world with. Peter’s like that so was Olivia she was one of those people for me. When we weren’t yelling at each other or crying, I mean. Still wish you could’ve met her though,” 

“AH YES!” I exclaimed, pumping my fist. “I found it,” I waved the joint in the air. 

“Alright come sit down then,” Olivia laughed, patting the seat on the couch next to her. 

“Shit,” I muttered. “Where’s the lighter?” 

She just laughed at me again. Before reaching into my pocket and slipping it out. I couldn’t help but smile at how intimate that action felt for no reason at all. 

I quickly and lightly pressed my lips to hers muttering a quick “thank you,” 

About three minutes had passed and I could feel the weed taking course through my system. 

My head was in her lap until I abruptly shot up gasping at the beginning of Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean. 

“Dance with me,” I pleaded it didn’t take much convincing because here we were twirling around. Although it was much more giggling than dancing. 

I bumped my leg on the glass coffee table and immediately apologized making Liv and I laugh so hard I almost peed my pants.

I was laid out on the soft white fur rug with Olivia laying her chin on my chest. I ran my hands through her hair. 

It was actually very easy there were no knots my fingers just glided smoothly through. 

“I mean shit,” I breathed “I know I can’t run from the rest of the world forever but until then? Bitch you can call me Flash cause I’m zoomin’.” 

She giggled at that before speaking up.

“You don’t have to run you can just stay here with me forever,” 

Her words were so genuine it made me want to cry. She basically just said “I love you” in more or less words. 

“You know what? I think I might,” 

She gave me a tired smile, turning her head to place a kiss on the top of my breast. 

I smiled back at her and how adorable she looked right now. I just want to kiss her for the rest of forever. 

When I glanced back down at her I could hear her breathing slow and her eyes had fluttered shut. She was asleep. 

I felt all warm and fuzzy and at peace and I couldn’t tell if it was the weed or if it was just being in Olivia’s presence. 

I wasn’t ready to say these words to her when she was conscious yet maybe I’d never be ready but I’d say them now. Just to get them off my chest. 

“I love you,” I whispered. 

I never really felt comfortable saying that to anyone. Probably a result of not hearing it enough as a child or something. My family’s never been affectionate anyway. That’s fine because I wasn’t my family, I was my own person. 

Stroking her hair gently before drifting off to the land of dreams myself.

So much for forever huh? 

It’s funny to think how I took times like that for granted if only I knew those were some of the only moments of normalcy I’d get for a while. I’d spent too much time thinking about what could’ve been with almost everything. 

So much so that I didn’t take much time to actually be. Now I feel like I’ve made it to the point of no return. Not mentally but like with everyone else around me. I think I pushed people too far away this time. Not so sure I could get them back. 

“Uh I can't really remember what I’ve already told you so I’ll run through it all. This vigilante or superhero Spiderman started doing his thing then I got caught up in his mess.” That was most definitely an oversimplification but what do I look like telling my mom I was a well known thief. “Then his relation to Tony Stark got extended to me so now I kinda do stuff for him but I don’t work for him.” 

I don't work for him he might think I do, but in reality he works for me. I had almost everyone at the compound wrapped around my finger. 

“I don’t think I really wanna work for anyone. I was offered to be an Avenger in training but that isn’t really my style. I will use his gym though.” I rambled on. 

It was kinda weird how easy it was to rant to my mom like this because not like she could voice her opinions about anything. I guess I hadn’t visited in so long that I forgot what it was like. 

Mama's gonna keep baby cosy and warm

“Oh!” I exclaimed remembering a very important factor that I left out. “Then we have the whole Staten Island fiasco that I told you about. I remember telling you that. I’m still searching for answers on how I did that too,” 

Like some real answers not that radiation BS.

“Your phone’s broken,” I pointed out the cracked screen sitting on the wood. 

“Oh shit!” Peter cried “May’s gonna kill me this is the second phone I’ve broken this month,” 

I came off way calmer than I was feeling. I’m surprised I wasn’t running around screaming right about now. I was probably just paralyzed in fear. 

How do you react in a situation like this in the first place. 

“Okay how long are we going to be sitting here? What are we waiting on?” We’d be up here looking down at the fire crackling underneath the pier for like 15 minutes now. 

“I don’t know actually,” He sighed. 

“Uh…” 

How was I supposed to respond to that? That was the driest response to anything in the history of the world.

 “Well since I’ve already pinky promised I won’t spill your secret can I ask some questions while we wait for you to figure it out?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” He nodded, shaking his arms. 

“Okay number one did you think I had died or something because if someone burst into flames in front of me I’d probably think Satan was coming for me. I’d cry too,” I laughed but had to stop myself as the stabbing in my ribs ran through me. 

“No, I didn’t think you were dead, you had a pulse,” He pointed out “Maybe I could’ve thought you were dying though. And I wasn’t crying,” 

Liar. He so was crying. 

“Aw you don’t have to lie I think it’s cute,” I teased if I didn’t feel like my body was falling apart I might’ve poked his side.

“Alright, second question: do the webs like come out of you? Cause that’s kinda disgusting,” 

“No, I make them with chemicals ‘n stuff. I’d explain the science to you but I’m not sure how much you’d care.” 

I let out a small laugh knowing what feeling would come if I laughed too hard. 

“I mean you could explain it ‘m just not sure how much of it I’d understand,” 

We both laughed at that. 

“On the topic of the webs what’s there integrity like how well do they hold up or like how long,” 

“Uh…” He blew out a breath running his hands over his face “As far as I know they last up to two hours. That is unless someone cuts them or something,” 

I couldn’t help but wonder if Thorn was one of those someone’s to cut the webs maybe I was the only someone. I didn’t really need to ask the question. Aaron had already answered the question for me when he told me about the deal at the ferry. I just wanted to see what Peter would tell me honestly. 

I spent the rest of the night asking questions and cracking jokes. I was talking for so long I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten. 

It should be a world record how fast I managed to fuck up 5 friendships. Well it’s my personal best at least. Only took like 4 minutes. 

I feel like that’s all I do is just fuck up everything. I used to believe there was a difference between being fucked up and being a fuckup but the older I get the more I realize that there isn’t. 

It’s like someone built a self destruct button in my head and every time something good happens to me I feel the need to run away. 

Like Peter he’s literally perfect he's smart, respectful,  adorable, and selfless. He’s literally a fucking superhero for godsake. 

I was trying so hard not to fall asleep. I really was but all the Trigonometry chapter was doing was mixing with the sound of rain outside and triggering the urge to fall into a deep sleep. 

“Okay,” Peter tapped his textbook with his pen. I wish I could be confident enough to do math with a pen. 

“So sin is equal to the opposite of whatever angle you’re trying to find so first you have too…” 

He droned on, I knew he was talking about the math problem lying on the bed in front of me but I wasn’t listening. Maybe if I sat at the desk I could actually be paying attention right now. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hmm?” I sat up on my elbows yawning.

“Are you tired?” 

I just hummed again. Until I realized what the question was. I reached for my phone and it was already 9:03 that woke me up for sure.

“Oh shit! I gotta get back,” 

Not like I’d get in trouble or anything but Carmen would get on my ass about the fact I didn’t come back when I said I would then she’d make something out of nothing. 

I scrambled around trying to find all my things to put them back in my bag.

“Wait it’s raining though,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah,” I chuckled “It’s New York it’s always raining,” 

“Yeah but it’s cold and wet and dark so if you tried to skate you’d probably get hurt,” 

I knew what he was doing and it was working because frankly all his excuses were shit because one I don’t get cold and two I could just walk and there are lights everywhere but I was gonna stay anyway. I was too tired to argue right now. 

“May!” Peter shouted.

“Yes?” She called back. 

“Can Y/N stay for the night?” 

“Yeah if her parents are okay with it,” 

That’s how I ended up wearing some shirt with some dumb science pun sitting on the couch watching Aladdin for like the millionth time ever. I was singing along to One jump ahead  when I felt eyes on me. 

I turned my head but before I could make eye contact with Peter he acted as if he was watching the movie the whole time.

“What?” I giggled. Fuck, I hadn’t like genuinely giggled in the longest time.

“Nothing,” He replied, turning back towards the TV again. 

This time I was the one to stare at him wondering what was going on in his head. Not even the fourth song in and I was already yawning struggling to keep my head up.

 This goes to show how much willpower I had because I couldn’t even stop my eyelids from falling shut. I deserved to sleep though I’d been exhausted lately. 

There’s only like 6 people on this planet that I trust enough to fall asleep around and surprisingly Peter had become one with like 5 months of knowing me.

 I would still trust him if given the chance I’m just not sure how much he trusts me right now. I understand though. I don’t deserve anyone’s trust. 

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious​

[huacheng-zhu]

ok so 2ha. vague spoilers ahead (important spoilers are warned but watch out)

that’s a solid 4.5/5 for me. this novel RUINED me and I loved it for it. it made me feel like very few novels (and even stories in general) did. today I’m STILL shaken over a part of it that I read two days ago, despite the happy ending. I have A Lot of thoughts (shout-out to @whateverwuxian​ who can testify that I couldn’t shut up about it, love you buddy!!) so I just went ahead and [gestures below]

starting with the negative so we can enjoy all the positive later. feel free to discuss but I’m extra sensitive and these are only my personal feelings so they probably won’t change anyway, so be nice please!

what I didn't like:

too many r*pe scenes. I get that the non-con """makes sense""" narratively and thematically but like. they didn't have to be explicit. at the very least not all of them. sorry but too much is too much. there are more non-con sex scenes/flashbacks than consensual sex scenes! stop! we get it! enough now!

not a fan of a 26yo falling in love with a 16yo. if cwn had initiated Anything I would’ve thrown the novel out the window. but thankfully it didn’t happen, I got invested, and nothing mutual happened until mo ran was 22, so I mostly got over it, but I’m still somewhat uncomfortable with it for very personal reasons.

their first time putting it in. it felt so unfair and I was very upset over it. it could’ve worked without going There? why. was that necessary. and it's heartbreaking for both of them, because mo ran didn't want to do it either. he wanted them to take all their time. he wanted to go step by step. all he wanted was to make sure cwn would be happy and comfortable and never hurt again in bed. for their first time that way he wanted it to be special. but it was just. taken away from them, and for what? for nothing there’s absolutely no reason for it. I get there’s the metaphorical foreshadowing of the upcoming reveal aspect (spoilers) both of them not consenting, mo ran being horrified -> the reveal that mo ran was cursed and so would’ve never wanted to treat cwn like this in the past either if he’d had control (end spoilers) but still?? and it’s never brought up again? I know they don’t get the time until the very end but hhhh. yeah I have Feelings over this

some plot twists hit good emotionally but had no point? thinking of the one about xue meng here.

there’s horny, and then there’s mo ran. it’s not a bad thing, it’s just not the kind of stuff I like reading about and book 1 and 2 are A Lot on that side so in book 2 after a while ME, THE BIGGEST ASEXUAL WHO COULDN’T CARE LESS ABOUT SEX SCENES, WAS LIKE, “oh my god have mercy please just fuck already I beg of you” and indeed they chilled a bit after that. like they were still horny but. less intensely and less all the fucking time. thank god (I still think the farm arc was hilarious to witness though, and I did love it)

kinda wish their reunion at the end was longer and more emotional but that’s just because I love that shit

(spoilers) kinda wish we got to see shi mei again before he went off doing his blind wandering doctor stuff. a talk with ranwan would’ve been very interesting. (end spoilers)

xue meng didn’t get a hug

that one thing at the end you know the one. maybe I'd be more into it if it'd been given time to be explored seriously and wasn't played off as a joke. it kinda ruined the mood of their last scene for me. (spoilers spoilers spoilers this is the end of this section if you don’t want to get spoiled) in that scene I wanted chu wanning to ride off into the sunset with mo ran, not txj. like, txj is the alternate world’s “if there had been no transmigration” version of mo ran 2.0. the whole point is that mo ran IS txj in book 1, but changes and becomes mo ran 2.0. mo ran 2.0, who by the end of the novel has already done all the redemption and deconstruction of his dubious habits. who he was as txj is long behind him. at this point txj will always be a part of who he was, but they are pretty much two 'different' people now. txj disappearing into dust after everything that happens at the end was beautiful symbolism. it meant something. to me there was no point keeping txj around after all that other than for “haha split personalities fighting over cwn’s attention uwu” THAT SAID the fact I'm not a fan of the idea doesn't mean I don't like txj. I care txj a lot and have Emotions over him, and I will definitely eventually explore this in my writing

(still spoilers) the demonic blood reveal was a bit.... deus ex machina? plus I personally would've preferred mo ran staying a regular person (end spoilers)

alright what I liked now:

the themes, both regarding the characters and the various plot elements. this novel really challenges your morals and what you think is right or wrong, what’s redeemable, what’s punishable, and how much one relies on first impressions, amongst other things. this novel is the definition of “don’t judge a book by its cover” but also “look further than the first page” in so many ways

the romance. like I don’t need to say anything there. just, the slow burn, the longing, the yearning, the romance [clutches heart]

the plot twists/reveals. I’m so glad I was barely spoiled (I was spoiled two Big things but very vaguely so I was still surprised) because pretty much all of them had me shouting “WHAT” and/or gaping and/or various “what the fuck!!!”/”holy SHIT”/“NO” reactions

the way a lot of those reveals just completely change your view on things/characters?? that’s my jam

wontons. that was the first time I cried and my first very physical reaction to an event in this novel. I literally felt like time froze. I heard my heart beating. it was painful but AMAZING.

might be nothing in the grand scheme of things but honestly, all the food! I love that mo ran is an excellent cook and can make all those delicious dishes for cwn. as someone who loves to cook for their loved ones I think it’s so lovely that he gets to do that

the character growth. for everyone, but mo ran in particular? like I just. I started off not liking mo ran very much, straight up despising him at times, and in the end I was fucking sobbing over him and cried myself to sleep only to wake up in the middle of the night to cry some more so there’s that

chu wanning? there were aspects of him that I related to heavily, and that felt both like the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known and very special because it doesn’t happen to me that often

the whole deaging arc. that was deaging done right and it had a purpose in the narrative and their relationship growth, I was “!!!!”

I LOVE how they took their time with EVERYTHING once they got together? that it spanned over several weeks? that it started with the confession, then just holding hands, then kissing, then making out, then sex, and even the sex was step by step! it said A LOT about mo ran’s character growth and it respected SO MUCH the fact that cwn is a 32yo (unrelated but (spoilers) I like to argue that yeah he’s been alive for 32 years but when you’ve been asleep and not aging physically nor growing mentally for five years in a way that makes you a 27yo. so when he calls his body “mature and old” and compares himself to shi mei I’m just. buddy your body is just three years older than shi mei’s there’s barely any difference in maturity right there. I know it’s your lack of self-worth speaking, and believe me I get it, but don’t be so hard on yourself. (end spoilers) anyway, this is an unimportant and unrelevant thought that I had during the mirror scene) who has no experience in any of these things whatsoever. he's not pushed into sex like he's going to be comfortable right off the bat and like it isn’t such a big change in a life that’s been ascetic so far. mo ran is aware of that! and when they have their first time mo ran, who’s been maybe even more horny than cwn all this time - seriously horny is that guy’s middle name, who initiated the sex, what does he say!!! "don't worry about me, tonight, I just want to make you feel good"??? mo ran?? your character development??? I appreciated that so much.

the pain. I’m still bleeding on the floor despite the happy ending but yeah. I like angst and I was not disappointed. it didn’t feel that gratuitious to me, more like, brutally honest? I don’t cry that easily but by the end I think I’d cried, what, close to ten times??

quite a few excellent quotes [lies down] “I realized - I had grown into the you in my heart”?? “hell is too cold”??? I highlighted more but those two are the ones that always come to my mind first

most of the time the flashbacks were perfectly inserted for maximum emotional damage and I respect that skill

xue zhengyong. like he’s not my favourite, my favourites are xue meng, nangong si and ye wangxi but? I just adored him so he gets a special mention

the side characters? like, I legit loved Everyone? when I cry over side characters you know it’s serious

THE CONFESSION SCENE. LIKE. HOLY SHIT MY HEART. it comes reaaally close to the vocal one (because hua cheng confesses so many times without words) at the end of tgcf for me. it was beautiful. I was so emotional. the fact that cwn can't say it no matter how much he feels it. like it's always been plain and clear just how much he loves mo ran. but he can't say the words yet and I just. the fact that mo ran gets it? that he doesn't need the words, just that squeeze of fingers, just what cwn is, at that moment, able to give him, and it doesn't mean less to him than words would? it hit home real hard

unless I think of something else, that’s about it! I can’t recommend 2ha enough, that said, I beg of you, heed the warnings. they are NOT overstated. and even if there were no warnings, take care anyways. the angst is serious, it haunts you. angst always makes me feel like my chest is being squeezed and that’s precisely the feeling I’m looking for when I choose to read angst. I have good tolerance to it, so despite not doing entirely well lately, I thought I was tough and went for it, but I’m a CLOWN. the way it’s written ruins you. this morning despite reading the hardest part of the angst on saturday evening, I still had some physical chest pain. so I recommend it with all my heart, but take care of yourselves. 2ha doesn’t fuck around.

[bug13underscore]

from the au list college!au, childhood friends, “you had no idea, did you?” with a added one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other kiss for alex/reggie

Once again, oh my god I love Alex/Reggie. This one is in my top few favorites so far for sure. Threw in some good old poetic imagery as well, for the effect ;) <3

When Reggie was a kid and he needed to escape from his parents' arguments and his treehouse in the backyard couldn’t cut it, he ran to the water. He felt at home with the grit of the sand, glow of the stars and pull of the tides. 

Slowly he had found himself on the beach more than anything and he loved it. He taught himself to swim, to surf and just thoroughly enjoyed the people watching, but that all came in the later years, when he felt like a nobody who had nothing. 

He really missed being a kid who had no idea the things he held so dearly could just disappear, wished he could gain back the blissful ignorance and the naive glow of childlike optimism. Sadly, Reggie was never the luckiest person and it seemed like the universe had it out for him. 

He remembered thanking this same universe many years ago when a new family had moved into the Meyerson’s old house next door. He had, specifically, thanked the universe for giving him a friend, the first of many. 

Reggie felt stupid, for thinking that someone could know him as good as Alex had, for thinking someone could even understand a fraction of why he is how he is. 

Reggie was just about done feeling stupid. 

So instead of focusing on why he was here, on the same beach even years later, he focused on the past and how much he wanted tonight to not have happened. 

He remembered when he was just barely five and his parents decided to move to California, at first something connected to his fathers job, he thinks. Dry heat and sandy beaches were totally different from the very faded memory he had of what living in Illinois was like prior to that. 

He found himself wondering what could’ve happened if his family never left Illinois, if he still would’ve met Alex and later on their current group of friends. 

Fate has a funny way of working out, a voice that sounds vaguely like Julie rings in the back of his head, doesn’t it? 

The Julie in his head doesn’t get the satisfaction of him playing out that thought process in his head when he can hear footsteps slowly approaching behind him. Everything in him just wants to run, but he’s so, so tired of running. 

“I’m not some wild animal, you don’t have to inch up to me.” Reggie calls, keeping his gaze focused on the tide. Alex appeared in his peripheral vision, taking a seat just out of reach. 

“Hey.” The blonde offered him a smile with the quiet words. 

“Hey.” He shrugged, pretending the water was infinitely more intriguing. 

They sat in silence, something that Reggie used to find home in with the boy beside him. Normally he hated silence, wanted to fill the emptiness with stupid stories, facts or information. Not with Alex, with Alex he could enjoy the silence, just basking in the odd calmness that he always felt when he was around the other boy. 

“Do you remember…” Alex started, giving a slight pause to clear his throat. “Do you remember when we were little, the first time you dragged me out here when my parents finally relented to letting me sleepover at your place, when you told me the story about the tide?” 

Reggie did remember, although that had been one of the sweeter memories he was avoiding, not wanting to tarnish it. That sleepover had been the most fun thing, cementing into his head that Alex was his person, even at their young age. The Mercer’s almost had a fit when they realized the boys had slept on the beach rather than in Reggie’s room that night, but it had all been worth it, in the end. They had officially become best friends that night, swore an oath with the moon as their witness. 

“I do.” Reggie let out a short laugh, gazing up now at that same moon. “How the Moon wasn’t allowed to have friends, the tide was the Ocean reaching out for her, wanting to be friends.” 

“I loved that story.” Alex admits, a quiver in his voice. “It’s stuck with me all these years, cause I felt like the Moon.” Reggie tore his gaze away from the moon, to focus on the boy beside him. 

“You? The Moon?” Reggie shook his head in disbelief. “No way! Sure your parents suck but when have you ever listened to them?”

“Maybe not like that exactly.” Alex caved, running a hand through his hair. “But yeah, me. Moon.” He waved a hand towards the sky. 

“Who’s the Ocean?” 

“Who else?” Alex let out an awkward laugh. “You.” 

“Me?” Reggie felt his shock hit his body. “How?” 

“Just you being you, you always make all these gestures and stuff out of the kindness of your heart.” Alex set his hand on the sand in between them, his eyes gaining a slight glossiness to them. “It felt too good to be true sometimes, felt like I’ve had to distance myself lately, I didn’t think that through very well. I didn’t mean to hurt you, or make you worry, I’m really sorry about that.” 

“Why would you have to distance yourself? I still don’t understand that.” He gently set his own hand over Alex’s, slotting their fingers together as his palm rested against the back of the blonde's hand. 

“Because it’s hard to be like this.” Alex let out a wet laugh, his free hand motioning to the hand that was under Reggie’s. “It’s hard to be around you when you’re so sweet and doting, it’s so hard because it’s so easy, which doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I’m still not following, what?” 

“It’s just—“ Alex cut himself off, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. “It’s so easy to fall in love with you, Reg.” He swallowed thickly, moving his hand over so they were palm to palm. 

Reggie felt like all the air was pulled out of his lungs, his eyes locked on Alex’s face as more tears began to make their way down his face. He slowly reached his free hand up to brush at his cheek, gently wiping the tears away. 

“You’re in love with me?” His voice reached his ears, sounding muffled, like he had cotton shoved in his ears or hearing a voice yelling to him while he was underwater. 

“You really had no idea, did you?” Alex gave him a sarcastic smile, sniffling slightly. “Yes, Reginald. I’m in love with you, I kinda thought that’s why you ran from the party.” 

“Not at all, I ran because I was scared.” Reggie admitted, finding himself tearing up as well. 

“Why were you scared?” Alex mirrored him, lifting his free hand to cup and swipe at Reggie’s tears. 

“Cause I realized I’m in love with you.” Reggie let out a laugh, leaning into the hand on his cheek. 

“Oh.” Alex sucked in a breath, blue eyes locking onto green. “Can I kiss you?” 

Reggie could only nod, his voice stuck in his throat. Slowly they both leaned in, eyes fluttering shut. Alex hesitates, their lips just ghosting each other when he finally closes the gap. It’s a sweet kiss, though it doesn’t last long. They both pull away, eyes opening and once again finding each other in the moonlight. A shot of adrenaline shoots through Reggie’s heart and he’s lurching forward, reconnecting their lips.

He understands, in this moment, how the sand and the tides feel during the day. Alex’s earlier point of Reggie being the Ocean felt right, but his assumption that he was the Moon was way, way off. The Ocean reached for the Moon but the Moon pulled away, never giving back to the Ocean. Alex was never like that, Alex gave and he gave with everything he had. 

Alex was the Sun and everyday that Reggie was around him he was basking in his warmth. This kiss just intensified that, the warmth and love pooling in his stomach. He wasn’t sure when Alex had moved to straddle his lap or thread his fingers through his hair, but he wasn’t one to argue. 

He also wasn’t quite sure when he had opened his mouth or when he had gotten a tight grasp onto Alex’s ass, but he was certainly not going to argue with that either. Reggie did realize though, to his disappointment, he had to pull away to breathe. 

Alex seemed as out of breath as he was, flushed and panting on his lap. Reggie grinned through his labored breath, giving the blonde’s ass a gentle squeeze. He received an eye roll and a large smile back. 

“Can we go back to the dorms? As much as I would like to go back to Carrie’s party I think I’d rather go home and keep kissing you.” Reggie begged, rubbing his hand up Alex’s back. 

“How can I say no to that? Totally glad that we agreed to dorm in a double room and not a quad room, no one can interrupt us.” Alex winked before getting off his lap and helping him to his feet. 

“Interrupt what? You have plans now, do you?” Reggie teased, lacing their fingers together. 

“Maybe I do, guess you have to be patient to figure them out.” Alex gave him a mischievous look and he felt a shiver go down his back. They continued walking, falling into the comfortable silence Reggie had been reminiscing on earlier that night. 

“By the way,” He started. “You’re wrong, you’re not the Moon.” 

“Oh? What am I then?” Alex laughed, a playful smirk on his lips. 

“The Sun, duh.” 

“Mmm, explain.” 

“Well obviously I’m still the Ocean, although I definitely want your reasoning for that, but you’re the sun because...well.” Reggie hummed, tilting his head side to side as he searched for the right words. “You're always warm for starters. Temperature wise and just everything about you. It’s warm, like coming home. You’re also very consistent and bright. So, so bright. Unapologetic too, just being completely and blindingly you, all the time.” He shrugged. “Just everything I guess, it’s an easy comparison. Besides, the Moon wouldn’t be lit up without the Sun.” 

“This is why I love you.” Alex stopped, looking at him with pure, unfiltered love. Reggie never wanted this look off of his face if he could help it, thrilled by how the warmth in his stomach grew. “You want to know why you’re the Ocean?” 

“Yes, please.” Reggie grinned, tugging on Alex’s hand for them to continue their walk. 

“You’re so fluid, always moving. Extremely unpredictable, to the point that it’s scary sometimes. Undeniably beautiful, not to mention how you just reflect everything around you.” Alex laughed, a sweet sound that Reggie wanted to hold onto forever. “So full of life too and you just seemed to, I don’t know, make everything better?” He shrugged. “That seems a bit sappy, but it’s true.” 

“Maybe a bit sappy.” Reggie agreed. “But I love it, sappiness is totally a good look on you, although so was that whole flushed thing you had going on after we made out.” At the mention of it, Alex flushed once more and Reggie couldn’t help but laugh. 

“How could I not when you look like that and were kissing me how you were!” Alex yelped, covering his face in embarrassment.

“It was totally the cutest shit, promise.” Reggie nudged him. “Besides, we could totally be kissing like that with me looking at you like that right now if we hurried up.” 

“This is what happens when you run several blocks to the beach, Reginald, you have to deal with a long ass walk and can’t make out with your extremely hot boyfriend.” 

“It’s a shame, really.” 

“A downright travesty.”

“Well what are we waiting for? Let’s run.” 

“Oh you’re so on, Peters.” 

“Let’s go then, Mercer.” 

And the two were off, racing to get to their dorms quicker, looking forward to the rest of the night that awaited them, maybe just slightly avoiding the potential conversation they knew their friends would have with them. For now, it was just the two of them, warm and loved in the others company.

[pengiesama]

A Log, Carved for Two (Fic, TOZ, Sorey/Mikleo)

Title: A Log, Carved for Two Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary:

Sorey and Mikleo (and the gang) visit an old inn, with a legendary log. In the process, they learn about life, love, and a certain appreciation for their luck in both.

--

Part of the Sormik Advent Calendar 2020's Secret Santa challenge! I got @applegelstore's prompt:

"I'm terrible with prompts so how about hot springs but it's a 1000 year old log serving as bathtub (if that irritates you please watch Abroad in Japan, Escape to Mt. Fuji)"

(...well, you'll get what you ask for...)

@sormikadventcalendar / sormikadvent (Twitter)

--

Link: AO3

Read on Tumblr!

It had, of course, always been Sorey’s dream to see a world where seraphim and humans could live side by side. And it was a dream that he had achieved, through sacrifice and pain and determination. Humans and seraphim now lived in one world, laughing together, arguing together…

…but, well, Sorey seemed to have slept through the beginning years of this glorious new world. Consequently, he didn’t get to see the wonder, experience the discovery, attend any of the cool parties, et cetera. He awoke in a world where it was just a Thing. It was the norm. Seraphim? Of course, there’s one that runs the bakery down the street, and one that lives in the pond out back; perfectly good neighbor, he is, he never makes a ruckus and keeps the mosquito population down in the summers.

(“Mosquitos Steve,” Mikleo managed to comment, through his discomfort, as he and Sorey walked to the bakery as the man they were speaking to had given them directions. “Yes. We all know about Mosquitos Steve.”)

Still, it was more than Sorey could’ve ever dreamed of. This sense of normalcy was a hit of comfort and nostalgia for his days in Elysia, in a time when the rest of the world had marched on so far without him. And, moreover, it was really interesting reading all the literature on the intervening period, and then grilling seraphim who’d lived through those periods to check for accuracies and contrasting viewpoints. And, moreover, it was a pleasure beyond words doing it with Mikleo by his side, with all of eternity stretching out in front of them.

This merging of worlds is what led to the subject of the day’s outing: a cozy little inn near the town (now city) of Lastonbell, tucked away from the city’s lights and avant-garde art installations, and tucked away from the Shepherdsmas bustle and the cold winter winds. Known for its history, and its hot springs, it was owned and managed by a merged human-seraphim family. That would’ve been enough to pique Sorey’s interest, but add in the prospect of great food and a soak in the hot springs with a hot babe…

“…And as for the hot springs,” Mikleo continued to explain to the group as they walked up the lengthy stone steps to the inn’s entrance. “You could, of course, just go to the back and soak in the ordinary springs.”

“Which I will,” Edna quipped. She’d grown weary of climbing steps and was forcing Zaveid to carry her on his back; she was bound to him with vines, seated in a comfortable chair of flowers, while Zaveid huffed and puffed.

“But did you know that there’s a thousand-year-old log that the resident seraphim have enchanted to serve as a private spring?” Mikleo tried to steer the conversation back.

“Wow,” Edna said drily. “An old log.”

“Wow…” Sorey breathed, voice breathless with awe. “An old log…”

“A thousand-year-old log!” Mikleo reiterated, voice brimming with excitement. “Do you know what that means?”

“It means that we’ll get to enjoy the hot springs without having to watch you two canoodle,” Edna said, and gave Zaveid a whack with a vine before he could make any sort of lewd followup. “Giddyap.”

“I’m afraid I’ll also have to take a rain check on the, ah, alternate bathing arrangement,” Lailah said. “I’ll leave you two boys to it, but please fetch me from the sauna when everyone’s finished up, woodn’t you?”

Everyone fell into a pained and eerie silence. Lailah’s eyes darted around, and she cleared her throat.

“Fetch me from the sauna, woodn’t you? When you boys are done with your log?”

As the silence stretched ever onward, Zaveid sighed tragically.

“Guys, I’m gonna have to save my own skin on this one. Have fun with the log and don’t get splinters where the sun don’t shine.”

With that, he summoned the power of the wind and dashed up the remaining steps in the blink of an eye, trailing swirling snowflakes and flowers from Edna’s perch as he went.

Lailah stared at Mikleo and Sorey, expectantly.

“…haha,” Sorey offered a weak laugh. “A-anyway, with the log being that old, it means that this inn predated us by a long shot. And could mean that the seraphim and humans running this place could’ve been doing the same thing back then, too…”

“With much less tourist traffic, but yes,” Mikleo agreed. “It’s something I’d love to ask the owners, after we’re done with dinner and our bath.”

Sorey’s ears perked up, hopefully. Mikleo gave a knowing smile.

“The private suite that has the log isn’t easy to get,” Mikleo said, his tone brimming with pride. “But of course, I pulled some strings.”

Great food, and a soak in a really old log with a hot babe. Sorey was the luckiest man alive.

 --

 Sorey’s jaw was slack with awe as he saw it. As he saw The Log.

“Wow…” Sorey marveled.

He and Mikleo both crept up to it as if it was a rare animal, as beautiful as it was dangerous, as if it was ready to roll away and into the winter’s night if spooked. It was exquisitely-carved and preserved, and the growth rings exposed at each end coyly insinuated at it being even older than anticipated. There were no plumbing elements installed to spoil its perfection; it was simply pure wood, pure Log. Truly a marvel worth the long trip, the long stair climb, and the painful sting of Lailah’s puns.

“Would our guests care to have their bath, or should this one leave them to admire it for a while longer?”

Mikleo and Sorey were startled out of their reverie by a low, serene voice. It was one of the inn staff, standing so still and so quiet in the corner of the elegant bathing room that they hadn’t even noticed them in the presence of the magnificent log specimen. Dressed in a modest but striking blue-and-black kimono and wooden sandals, the staffperson slowly glided over to the tub-side, regarding Mikleo and Sorey with an unknowable expression. With a wave of their hand, they summoned hot water to fill the tub.

“Well, at least we’ve found someone to chat with about the inn’s history,” Sorey thought.

The fragrance of an ancient forest filled the cool winter air, and the stream from the bath wafted to the open-air balcony to join the dancing snowflakes outside. The staffperson lowered a hand to touch the surface of the water; ostensibly testing the temperature for their guests. The effortless way they’d woven their artes made Sorey suspect that the gesture was more for guests’ ease of mind, rather than any uncertainty on the staffperson’s part.

“Our guests shall find towels and refreshments laid out for them,” the staffperson said. “Please do not hesitate to summon me as needed.”

With that, they bowed, and turned to fold themselves back into the shadows (or the staff corridors) from whence they came. Sorey managed to shake himself free of the enchanting log in time to call out.

“Wait! Can we ask you a few questions about this place?”

The staffperson slanted a look over their shoulder. Their white-blue hair was tied up into a severe bun that was quite at odds with their youthful features, and their ice-blue eyes showed an ancient weariness.

Sorey scratched at his head, mussing its newly-long (and blond) length even further.

“First, um, I’m Sorey, and this is Mikleo…”

“Yes,” the staffperson said, simply. “Of course, this one knows the names of such famous guests. We hope that you find our inn to your liking thus far.”

“It’s great!” Sorey assured. “We just really wanted to know more about its history. Is it okay if we ask you some stuff? I mean, if you have the time. We’ll share our snacks with you? What’s your name?”

The staffperson paused for a long moment.

“Lithia,” they stated, finally. “Please, ask this one anything you care to know.”

 --

 Lithia was not only a font of knowledge, answering any question Sorey or Mikleo threw at them – they were also, as a matter of fact, one of the original founders of the inn.

(“No,” they had to clarify, at Sorey and Mikleo’s insistent questions, they were not the ones to chop down the log.)

It was through Lithia that the inn’s history was told, in full.

One thousand and twenty years ago, a seraph and a human fell in love, but they lived in a world that was not meant for them.

One thousand and twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen years ago, the seraph became weaker and weaker, more and more ill, suffering under the malevolence of the townsfolk and their cruelty towards their beloved human. It was different, back then. Humans fear what they don’t understand. Seraphim, also. Surely, our esteemed guests understand this too well.

One thousand and fifteen years ago, the human left human civilization behind, carrying the seraphim on his back, questing to find a place for the seraphim to recover in peace, a place to call their own.

There was, of course, no such place. Living as hermits in the woods would have to do instead.

They lived quite happily, the two of them. They enjoyed the beauty of nature, and the pleasure of each other’s company, for many years. The human eventually felled a tree and carved it into a lovely bath. The seraph used their artes to make it into a log hot spring. How whimsical, how unique; in another time, the two of them could have opened a lovely inn, and become known across the continent for their hospitality.

But of course, the human eventually aged and died, as humans do.

The seraph was left with the home they’d built together, and their silly little log bath.

The seraph was left like this for many, many years.

Eventually, humans began to see seraphim again. They began to live side-by-side. The seraph watched this from their forest house, with their silly log bath that they’d kept preserved all these years. The seraph was bitter for a while; angry, even. How dare they sort things out now, centuries too late?

The seraph was angry for years, with their house and their log bath. The seraph remembered their human so well, even after all this time. They remembered his voice, his face, his laughter. There was no one else to do so. There was no one left to remember him.

The human had always wanted to have an inn of his own, to host guests (which they could never have, without endangering the seraph) and hear stories from across the globe (which they could never explore, without endangering the seraph). The human had died without seeing this dream fulfilled. Even through the seraph’s anger, they remembered this, too well.

It was not a quick process. Lithia was known as being standoffish, even among the few other seraphim that had settled around their forest territory. It took years, and many meetings and partings. The young human attacked by forest beasts, who left offerings for Lithia for the rest of his life after they – in a sudden fit that even they could not explain – saved him, healed his wounds, and sent him on his way after his recovery. The travelling earth seraph with their team of human workers, who fixed up Lithia’s home after an earthquake finally brought down one of the ancient walls that could no longer be patched. The fire seraph, wandering through the woods, with the light in their eyes extinguished after losing their human family to disease.

It was not a quick process. But by and by, Lithia’s anger subsided, and eventually, they opened this inn.

“The two of you enjoy a rare gift,” Lithia stated. “It is not common for the love between a human and a seraph to end happily. I ask only that you treasure the opportunity you have been given.”

Mikleo’s hand had already found Sorey’s. Sorey’s hand squeezed back.

“Of course,” Sorey said quietly.

“And,” Lithia added. “Please refrain from having relations in the log.”

Mikleo and Sorey simply stared, wordless. Lithia tilted their head.

“Um,” Sorey said eventually. “I don’t think. That’ll. Be a problem.”

Lithia made a small noise. “Oh. I was not aware that the former Shepherd suffered such an affliction. I can brew a medicinal tea, should he wish to have the urge fall upon him.”

“We’re good! We’re good!” Sorey hastily clarified. “Um, it’s no problem, we promise. Thank you so much for opening your home to us, and letting us use something so dear to you…”

Lithia gave a small nod. “I only allow guests in this suite that I have personally approved. Ones that I personally judge worthy of it. The rest…”

Through the night air, there came the distinct sound of a vine whip against bare ass skin, and then Zaveid’s pained howling.

“The rest can bathe outside,” Lithia finished curtly. “Please, guests, enjoy your stay. I must take my leave to ensure no blood has entered the waters, lest I add the cleaning tab to your companion’s bill.”

“I think you should probably do it regardless,” Mikleo mumbled wearily. “Lords only know where Zaveid’s been.”

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of BRUTUS. Admin Rogue: There is always something about the way you write unvarnished truth that gets me, every single time. Boris is not a likable character by any means, but I still find myself curious about him when seen through your lens. You want to make ruin of him, or maybe for him to make ruin of us, and it’s so attractively despicable that I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know if we’ve ever had a character this unapologetic, not just to some but to every single person in Verona. Let them try and eat him, let them spit him back out, let them realize he will not be swallowed no matter how much he deserves it. I can already see the way he’ll burn across the dash, a torch-song I want to touch, and I couldn’t be happier to welcome you back to us in this new and exciting form! Please review the CHECKLIST and send your account in within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB. 

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Julie

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | Given that I’ll probably be stuck at home searching for a job for the next month, I figure my activity will be okay. The usual reply every other day or so situation, I hope!

Timezone | MST

Triggers | Already listed!

How did you find the rp?  | Two years ago I went diving into the LSRPG tag because I was curious and now here we are. :)

Current/Past RP Accounts | Santino, Loretta, Lucien

IN CHARACTER

Character | Brutus / Boris Kovrov

What drew you to this character? | Brutus, I think, is one of the most human characters in Diverona by default, without development, in the sense that he is so selfish it makes you want to tear your eyeballs out. It’s the same with most people: we encourage each other to take time to themselves, to put themselves first, but can feel rebuffed or insulted when they actually do that. Boris has taken that to the ultimate extreme: everything he does is for himself and no one else. He didn’t ascend within the Montagues because he wanted to further his family’s social standings, he did it because he alone wanted to succeed.

He’s not apologetic about it, either, and that’s what makes him so interesting. At all times, Boris is fully aware he is perceived as underhanded and generally disliked among the mob, but he’s so good at what he does that it doesn’t matter. He returns to Verona with a searing brand of shame in the form of his personal betrayal, and anyone could see that if they just fucking looked close enough, but they don’t. That’s where his talent really lies, and that’s what makes him so weirdly endearing to me: he makes himself valuable, and even when he does the worst possible thing a person could do in a mob, it still doesn’t undercut his worth. He makes himself out to be a friend, lies and lies and lies, and because most people don’t want to make the effort or choose not to, it’s believable.

Some might call him cut-throat, or a coward, a backstabber, potentially even brutal: he’s not ashamed of sprinkling rat poison into the food of his competition if it means he’ll succeed. He’s an opportunist at best and a manipulator at worst, and if there’s anything to be said about Verona, it’s that the manipulators usually come out at the front of the pack. The last sentence or so in his bio are what really sealed the deal for me: “The historians fail to mention that the traitors are the ones who survive, who outlive empires and kingdoms, who lay their sovereigns to rest and spread their ashes like trail markers.” God help him, Boris will come out of Verona alive, no matter how much of it he feeds into and how much of himself he lets it consume.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

• Fly not; stand stiff: ambition’s debt is paid. I’d love to see some real-time consequences for Boris’ betrayal of the Montague family. Others have been ousted for less, but somehow he gets to remain? That doesn’t seem particularly fair, but Boris couldn’t give a shit about fair if he tried. He sold his information to a mob in Russia for the purpose of a safety net. Other emissaries also deal with Russia – it’d make sense that one of them might hear about the dark dealings and try to use it to their own advantage, were they so ambitious. Or maybe it will come from someone higher up, like Castora, who knows more than they’ve let on. Maybe this will lead to his demotion, his death, Damiano’s assassination, the ushering in of a new era – who knows? These things don’t play out without someone paying the price, and I want Brutus to pay in full.

• I kill’d not thee with half so good a will. In my head, Boris has been out of the picture for some time now, working on relations between the American families and the Montagues to keep business booming. I’d love to explore the Verona Boris left a little over a year ago (totally headcanon, by the way! I’m happy to adjust wherever necessary) and how it’s changed in comparison to what it is now. Roman Montague has failed as an heir, the Witches hung in a public trial, all illusions of neutrality or working towards peace have been shot right through the middle. Damiano is unraveling at the seams, and the question of who will lead the Montagues lacks an answer entirely. It’s complete and utter chaos: messy, bloody, exactly the kind of environment Boris thrives in. I want him to wreak as much havoc as possible in his own way, and if he can’t do that, then I’d like to see him secure his seat closest to the throne when the concept of a coup becomes inevitable.

• But hollow men, like horses hot at hand / Make gallant show and promise of their mettle. He hunts Tomas Sabello and Bernadette du Pont because they are the easiest openings into both sides of the mobs. Bernadette is croquettish and manipulative but still naive, in Boris’ eyes, to the difficult path which lies ahead. I could see him trying to sway her to the Montagues if she would only listen. Grace Daly had done it for less, after all. Sabello, on the other hand, is Boris’ favorite target: throat exposed, head leaned back, weeping tears of sorrow over his wife. Boris has experience with the follies of the heart and he can see that Celeste has never loved the man, and frankly, Boris doesn’t think there’s much to the man to love. He’s hollow on the inside, scraped out with a metal spoon. His arrival so late into the act poses some difficulties, but he’s hopeful he’ll be able to pick up where he left off.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Absolutely!

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

Valentina Gallo dies a violent death. An inextricable, unforgiving death. An ugly death. When they take pull her body from her brother’s arms, and she is taken in to be seen by Damiano’s own eyes, witness the violence which has laid itself across the barren field of a corpse –

This is when Boris is called home.

Exit, Viola.

Enter, Brutus.

He bids Lorenzo and the rest of the Gambino family farewell that same night over the phone: Lorenzo calls him a bastard for not shaking his hand before saying goodbye, but Boris has other things on his mind: A plane. The brisk cold mornings that give way to blustery sunshine. Damiano greeting him as a member of the family instead of an extension of his long reach, like he had a year ago. He can remember the phone call well. He’d run it through, night after night, dissecting and picking apart intonation and tone and the speed with which Damiano had dismissed him, like a dog begging for scraps hastily shoved away from the dinner table. He lets the familiarity of the conversation wash over him as he settles in his plane seat the night of the twenty-seventh. He’ll be there by morning.

I’ll be there to greet you, Damiano had said. Boris had tried not to read into it too much.

New York was intended to be punishment and apology wrapped up into one. Damiano sent him off to deal with the budding crime syndicates and crush them under the imaginary Montague heel. He would spread seeds of dissent and terror: most fall silent when he enters a room for good reason, and it is in this way that he gets them to listen when he speaks. Most would not expect a man as imposing as Boris to speak so passionately; he’s always been a fan of turning ideas on their heads. By weaving tales of just what the Montague family has at its disposal, he alone would stamp out the passionate flames of greed and light his own small fire of fear.

In his younger years this would have intimidated Brutus. When he’d received the call a year ago, he’d only felt dread.

But he’d done well. It took him five months to chase down every single lead provided to him by men paid under the table, and after that, all there had been to do was clean up the mess and socialize. Shake hands with the shattered fragments of the once-powerful mob families, reach out to the contacts he’d had in Canada and New Orleans, as they were perhaps the most influential, the ones who could sway the boat with weaponry and other fun and exciting goods that still had his heart pounding when he looked at them.

He’d thought about calling Evgeny once, and only once: when Damiano had chewed him out over the phone for something that was not his fault and hadn’t been in his wheelhouse to begin with. Boris knew, that night, what Evgeny would say. Patience, Kovrov. We’ll be here when you’re ready.

When you’re ready. Whatever that meant. For all Evgeny knew, Boris would never be ready. He’d die with Verona just out of reach.

He startles awake as the plane hits turbulence coming into Verona, heading towards the landing strip. It’s a bumpy landing, but he’s never done well in planes to begin with. He thinks, often, of his father, who had marked to Boris that all would be well just before returning to Russia. The flight wouldn’t make it, of course. Damiano had ensured it: Sasha Kovrov had been dead weight long enough. All he could’ve hoped for, Boris thought, was that his son would prove worthy of something.

And he had. He’d crawled on his hands and knees across glass and gravel, waded through blood and sweat, and tears – never his own, if he could help it – to see the Montague family through to the other side. Could he really have been blamed for wanting to ensure he had some sort of future laid out for him, even if it wasn’t in the name of the two old bloodlines of Verona? In return, he’d gotten: a usurpation of a position that should have been his, a pound’s worth of rat poison that he couldn’t use, distrust among his peers and disgust from the one man who should have seen his dedication, and a promise he couldn’t act upon until he was ready.

враки.

He exits the plane, meets Damiano on the tarmac, and just as quickly they are swept away by Damiano’s driver. There is no discussion of previous business, tasks he has completed. Craven is mentioned offhandedly, but Boris had to admit some time in September that whatever illicit ties Everett Craven had to the Capulets when it came to his dealings in America, the man kept them wound up tight. He’d been impressed. Instead, they set their eyes on the future: Damiano speaks to him of the failures and successes, trials and tribulations, and Boris takes note of the way his brow knits together when he speaks.

It is like Damiano cannot bear to look at him, but is forcing himself to anyway. Surely his betrayal had not burned so badly. It wouldn’t have left a mark.

Valentina Gallo died for less. She didn’t give nearly as much away. She’d given what she had to give. Boris had given Evgeny everything, and then offered the grounds of the coffee to Damiano in return.

Boris is lucky to be alive, seated across from a man he might have once considered a better father than his own, who looks at him with poorly-veiled discuss and tells him what to do. Boris had sold his soul – this might just be the devil’s recompense.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, watching the city pass them by, nodding where appropriate and watching the sun rise over the river as they drive alongside it. If he gets his way, Damiano Montague will be sooner dethroned, and Brutus will have his rightful place as second-in-command to some poorer, less competent man. If he is anything, it’s stubborn. They drive by the Castelvecchio, and he’s saddened to see it is still a work in progress, not at all the shining beacon it had once been of unity or pride within a place being torn in two, right down the middle. He feels a pang of something hit him in his chest. Homesickness? He’s home, but—

Boris’ flat is small, modest, tucked away in an alley. Close enough to the library that he can be there within minutes just by walking, if necessary. All the pedestrians on the street avert their eyes when they see Damiano’s car pull up outside. He grabs the one bag he’d taken with him on the plane: he’s hopeful the rest will arrive within the week, but that’s an if at best. Before he slips out, Damiano clears his throat.

He stops, and finds a single piece of paper pressed into his hand. He can only assume what it is, won’t open it – it’s deliberately folded closed. It could be anything: a name, a number, a place, a threat, a promise.

“When you’re ready,” Damiano murmurs, like some sort of sick joke, which is to say that it will be when he asks, because Boris ceded any hope at control over his own life the minute he sold all he possessed to the Russian mob, heart and mind and soul, only to crawl back to Verona just after. Some might’ve called him a fool, but he’d only seen the future, then. If only others could see the eclipsing horizon always in his sight.

It’s here that Boris is left: a small alley, out of sight of the rest of the world, the morning sun shining on his face. The future in his hand. He opens it before he has the chance to breathe in again, the vitriol in his heart already beginning to sear out through his ribcage.

Extras: N/A

[youarewarmth]

Trying to mend my broken heart

(a very long post that started off as a letter to myself and others; I wasn’t going to post it, but my therapist said I should try, because it might encourage people to do the same if they’re struggling, so here it is)

So... I’ve been thinking if I should it. Do I have a right? I knew nothing of them – of him – until weeks ago. Can I even speak up? I have to let it out. Will I be scrutinized or listened and understood? I hope it’s the latter.

I knew SHINee was a thing, a band. A Korean band. I think my little sister was into them for a brief moment. I saw the band’s name mentioned on Twitter every now and then, but I never really cared. Just another K-Pop product, as they all are.

I fell into YouTube’s rabbit hole, as we all do sometimes, after I suddenly felt like listening to one of the songs I used to like. “Up next: SHINee – Forever or Never”. I thought “hm, what a coincidence!” and hit “play”.

“Wait… How is this the same song… but better?” I was so confused, but also thrilled. I don’t really like music that much. I have a hard time finding stuff that I really like and once I do, I stick to it until I memorize every note. I liked the version of the song. I really, really did, but I wish I never looked at the comments. That’s where it all started. The spiraling.

“R.I.P Kim Jonghyun you'll be forever in our hearts”

“Rest in Peace, my angel, you did well”

No.

My heart dropped. I looked up one phrase after another. I looked up SHINee, I looked up Jonghyun. Countless videos on YouTube. Of their first performances, of them having fun on stage, music videos, talk shows. Videos of Jonghyun breaking down in tears on stage. Videos of Jonghyung talking about the scrutiny, judgement and – again – breaking down in tears, wanting to be understood and accepted. Of his last show and the pain and emptiness in his eyes. Of how he died. Of his letter. Of them performing without him for the first time. Of “From Now On”. Of “Our Page”.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I’ve been sleep deprived ever since, because my thoughts keep racing and bring tears that I can’t contain. And with tears, immense grief. That’s all I can feel right now.

Why did it hit me so hard? Why him, why now? Maybe because we’re same age and I understand the struggles of getting older in the world where only the youngest can achieve something, though it was much worse for him. Maybe because I know what it feels like to lose a friend so suddenly. Maybe because I know exactly how he felt, even though we had completely different life experience. Or maybe we’re just kindred spirits that experience emotions a little bit too intensely.

You see, I’ve been dealing with depression ever since I was seventeen. That’s when my heart stopped. It was still beating, still keeping me alive, but I felt nothing. Nothingness slowly turned into pain. And hatred. I’ve achieved nothing. I’ve done nothing in my life. I’m a waste of time, waste of space. I was crying for help, but nobody ever listened. I would scream into my pillow every night until I fell asleep, I didn’t want to feel this pain. I wanted it to be gone. _I _wanted to be gone. I can’t count how many times I was minutes, seconds away from the irreversible. I didn’t do it and I felt like a coward. I was too weak to even do this much.

To this day I don’t know how I kept on living despite nobody giving a damn. I wanted to live, but I didn’t. And I think he felt the same. He desperately wanted to live. He was open about his condition, he reached out, looked for help. Except I got the help I needed. He, on the other hand, got scolded by his own “doctor”. He was told that it’s all because of his personality. What personality? A sensitive, compassionate angel? A loving friend? A gentle soul that wanted nothing, but to be an artist? Was it his fault that he was overworked, stressed, judged for every little thing he did? People didn’t really help either.  They would ask “is crying the new way of promoting your music?” Or say that SHINee doesn’t need Jonghyun, that he’s the ugly duckling of the group, or that he doesn’t have to pretend to know how to sing. And I’m angry. I’m so angry, because how fucking dare you?

I can't get the images of his last performances out of my head. They override everything good and sweet about him, because good and sweet is not how he felt in his final days. He felt pain and sadness, he felt old and lacking, he felt like he was so much less than he was. And he was so precious, warm and soft. Just like the fluffy blankets he loved so much. Did he feel his Blingers' love when he looked at them this one last time? Was it any comfort to him that he WAS loved by so many, after all? Did he know how far that love goes?

In his last performances he looks like he accepted his fate. And he just looks empty. He knew. He must have known what was going to happen. He was taking everyone and everything in, he was saying his last goodbyes. And it undid me completely. When he was recording the Shinin' video, did he know? Did he already know and sang "always be with you" to us to let us know that he will always be here even when his body is not?

We lost this pure soul to a disease that could’ve been treated. It was preventable. He could’ve still been with us if he got the help he need. And it truly fucks me up, and I can’t hold back tears – yet again – because he wasn’t supposed to be gone. He was supposed to be here and enjoy his life. Hold hands with girls, kiss boys, date like crazy (for the love of god let your idols date!), marry or not, have kids or not. He was supposed to make all the choices we all take for granted. But depression is a bitch that sneaks up on you and eats you alive, eats you whole, until you’re a shell, an emotionless zombie, and the thought that he probably felt like that… My heart aches for him so much I want to tear it out. I want to go back in time and do SOMETHING. I want him to be happy, grow old and depart when the time comes and not a second sooner. Would he be happy in this time line? Could I pass the strength I've gained over the years to him, so he can power through this life like an absolute champion he was?

I was watching old videos of Jonghyun interacting with other band members and I noticed that he was always craving closeness and human touch. He’d always stroke someone’s back or neck, held hands with them, hug, lean on, pat. And they weren’t big gestures, it looks like he did it all without even thinking. He enjoyed these little gestures that spoke volumes. Or how in the Excuse Me Miss video, where he’s introducing all the SHINee members, almost hyping them up, and when he introduces himself it’s in a much calmer, quieter manner. Can’t put my finger on it, but my first thought was the obvious “he’s so humble”.

In this short time he had such a great impact on my life that I miss him immensely, even though I've never met him like you guys did. I feel guilty, because I feel like I have no right to miss him, and yet I do. And I'm so utterly sad that it's hard to get up in the morning and carry on with my day, that's why I'm writing this. Will it get the sadness out of my system? I don't think it will, but I hope my thoughts and feelings will be less chaotic now. That I will be able to accept the painful reality, stop daydreaming, thinking "what if" and blaming myself even more for something I couldn't possibly help.

The last thing I want to say is that – as crazy as it sounds – I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jonghyun, that I couldn’t save you. Even though it was impossible, I’m sorry I didn’t do anything, that I wasn’t aware of your suffering, that I couldn’t be your shoulder to cry on when you needed one. I feel like it’s my fault, somehow, and that I should hop into the Future Gadget 204, 2nd Edition Ver. 2.31 right now and beg you to hold on. I wish I could. I wish it was possible. Because it does get better. It gets better. It gets better. It gets better. I don’t want any more people to feel like they’re lacking, like they aren’t enough, like they didn’t do well enough.

So, to whoever reads it and will possibly read this in the future, even if you stumble upon this “letter” a year from now, five hears, ten years; even if you’re not even born yet and it somehow survives, know that I’m here for you and I will always be here for you. If you’re looking for a sign not to do it today – let this be the sign. If you want me to remind you daily that you’re worth more than every star we’ve ever discovered – I’ll do it. I will be your friend, your shoulder to cry on, your safe haven and your protector.

And believe me, Shawols, when I say this - I wouldn't hesitate one bit if I could trade my life for his. This is the point where you go “damn, this woman crazy” and ridicule me to hell, but it won’t change the fact that if I were presented with the opportunity, I’d take it, because I have nothing to lose and there would be so much to gain. I know how many lives he affected and how many people are still hurting, and will be hurting until they meet him again. I don't believe in heaven or hell or afterlife, but thinking that he left this world in pain and there was nothing else waiting for him... I don't want it to be real. I wish he could make you all smile again. With his performances, with his IG Lives, with his wise words that touched so many, with his art, with his beautiful, gentle soul. And I'm selfish, because I want him back even though I know he didn't want to be around.

To you, my dear, dear, Jjong – you were loved. You were SO loved. You still are. You were a kind soul, a light of our eyes, that wasn’t meant for this cruel world. And your people are so proud of you. I truly hope there is life after life and that I will meet you there. And then I will give you the hug I couldn’t give when you were so alone. You will forever live in our hearts, some of which you touched even after your departure, and your legacy will never be forgotten.

I promise I will work hard. I promise to be more kind to people, but also to myself. I know you wouldn't want us to be hurting. You told us many times that we worked hard and we did well, even if they were the smallest things we managed to do at the time.

You were in my dreams the other night. You were sitting at a dining table in what had to be the strangest meet and greet ever and you signed a CD for me. For some reason it was a generic disc that was in one of those flimsy paper CD envelopes, because even in my dreams I have to totally embarrass myself. But you signed the envelope, smiled your beautiful smile and asked me if I'm well. I know it's all my brain's doing, because I've been thinking about you constantly lately, but I like to think that it's because you still very much care about your Blingers and want to check on them. Even on those that came long after you left. Hearing you now hurts, but I know that with time it will feel like warmest homecoming.

You worked hard, Jjong. Very hard. And you did well. And I thank you for that.

[kyberphilosopher]

Revenge of the Gray: The Final Chapter

Description: Keres writes Aheka a letter. 

Chapter Twenty Seven

          I have a lot of regrets I could tell you about, but it wouldn’t do anyone much good to dwell on now. That happens, you know, when you can actually see the end coming at you. You realize that all the things you used to worry about so much don’t actually matter. They never did.

          I never cared about living. The only thing I cared about was surviving. Those are two completely different things. I didn’t care about other people, or even myself really. Every emotion I ever felt was a shadow of my life, of something more. But it wasn’t real. Because the truth is, I was supposed to die that day on Ilum. I’ve only really been a ghost since then, running for death with the goal of finding a little planet to settle on. No plans, no thoughts, nothing that actually mattered.

          And then, all of a sudden, the strangest thing happened. A group of people with an actual goal picked me up. They were warm and good, and off putting compared to everything else in my life.

          The leader was a boy my age. He was a lot of different things simultaneously, and that meant a lot of different things to me. The leader was soft but strong, rough but disturbed, patient but frustrated. He was like me, even though I hate to admit it. However, above all else, he was good. And he’d do anything for the people he really cared about until the end. That’s why he wanted to stand where I stand now. I’m going to miss him a lot, but honestly, it’s kind of funny to know our last interaction still ended with him being pissed off.

          I knew someone else in the group too. A pilot and soldier, who reminded me very much of a past life. He could’ve been a father, or an older brother to me. I don’t know. He was like a warm shadow that I welcomed, that relaxed me. The pilot was the type of person that makes you actually believe that the burning taste of alcohol is actually enjoyable. To me, that is amazing. And that is enough.

          I’m going to miss the last one the most though. I had written her a letter this morning before breakfast, and put it on a pile of clothes she had given to me. Ironically, those clothes were the first gifts I had gotten in a long time. The only gift I’d gotten before that was a drink in a cantina from someone else, who I killed not that long ago.

          But the last one was the one who I think about when I close my eyes. Not because I love her like I loved the leader, or the way I loved the pilot. But because I loved her for who she was in reality. She was kind. Finding that is hard enough for most people, finding that for me is a one in a million chance. I didn’t deserve her.

          I want to think about her when I go. I want her to be the last thing on my mind.

          I find some old documents scattered on the floor. I flip one over so it’s blank, and find a pen that’s nearly out of ink on the other side of the room. The paper has a few mostly dry blood stains, but I don’t mind. Any paper will do.

          What to write…?

          Dear Aheka,

          By now, you may have discovered the note I wrote for you this morning. If not, I’m sure you will soon enough. I am aware that you will not find this one at all, so in reality I am just writing this for something to cling onto. I want to pretend that it’s you.

          I am incapable of love. I am incapable of selflessness. There is no doubt in my mind about that. I am not a good person, and I never have been. I don’t think I ever will be. But you are. You are, in every way, that single best person in this galaxy. I used to think that was someone else. You reminded me of them, but then I realized you’re not like her at all. I killed her about an hour ago. I’m going to see her soon, and she’s going to be very mad at me.

          I hope I don’t see you again. I wish that I could, and I wish that I could receive an embrace from you one last time. I very selfishly want you to wipe my tears away and tell me everything is going to be alright. But if I see you again after this, it means that you’ll be dead too. I want you to live for as long as you can. Don’t make the mistake that I did and just survive. Live. Please.

          I don’t know what else to say, Aheka. I miss you. I’m sorry that in doing this, I’m going back on the promise I made to come back to you. I hope you can understand and forgive me one day. It’s just that I think maybe, my death is long overdue. I think that maybe I might finally have something worth dying for now. The Rebellion, and you.

          I just want you to be happy. I wish I could’ve taken you to some distant planet one day. Maybe Circe can do it now. Tell you what, I’ll tell Circe to that for you if you tell Adamus I love him. I don’t know if I really do or not. It doesn’t really matter now. I just know that I spent a long time thinking about… well it doesn’t matter now either.

          I’m sure I’ll see you again someday. Please don’t be angry with me.

          Love, Keres

          I think that’s good enough. It’s not perfect, but I’m running out of room on the page and all my words have gotten scrunched up and muddled.

          I open the door to the bridge easily enough with the force. It’s not heavy, and it doesn’t struggle against my will. I walk to the end of the room and find the lever that accelerates the engine. All I have to do before that is aim this ship right at the planet.

          My fingers stretch out to adjust the direction of the ship. Then I pause.

          I’m thinking about Talik. I’m thinking of the time we met, and Mur looking down at me. All the dinners I shared with the crew, the times we made fun of each other, all the opportunities I almost took to die on the job. They’re all very warm. I even think about Garreth. He was no villain. He made me laugh. Aegus, the politeness of most everything on Utapau, leaving the Eighth Brother alive, late talks with Cal Kestis, holding Adamus while he cried. All of it led me here. Everyone I’d ever known is watching me right now, whether they’re dead or not, and some of them are really disappointed. Others are really proud.

          I died on that ship. I’m not going to dance around the subject any longer. Sure, you can continue to believe that maybe I made it out of there after I found some droid to do it for me, or I just decided to leave and go back to the Harbinger. You can stop reading right now if you want and just continue with your life in denial about my fate. But if you want the truth, it’s that I died.

          I can’t remember everything. I asked the ways of the force to surge through me and come out in lightening at my fingers for an extra boost at some point. I might’ve palmed my lightsaber tenderly, thinking of all the others I’d had. In truth, I can’t even remember how I died. I can’t remember if it was painful or not.

          Had I hit my head before or after my fall? Did something skewer me in the stomach? I can’t recall. I know at least that I got the job done. This mothership won’t ever inflict the evil of the Empire on anyone again. I made sure of it.

          Similarly, neither will I. It’s only sad if you think about all the jokes I won’t ever get to make.

          At least now I have my question answered. I did find something worth dying for.

          And finally, I can have peace.

[lynneshobbydomain]

60 for Oumasai!🥰

(Oh my gosh, @sinfulwonders thank you so much for the prompt! I know which one you’re talking about so don’t worry! I thought it was funny to get the second ask right after this one XD. You’re doing so much for me so this is the very least I can do for you)

A Promise One Keeps

Rated: T (Kokichi’s fault I swear)

Summery: Kokichi wasn’t traditional. Shuichi was.

Prompt: Is it greedy to say that I never want you to leave my arms?

It was on the tip of Kokichi’s tongue, but for once in his life fear and uncertainty made him want to swallow his mouth. Shuichi hadn’t picked up on any clues or hints, and he was grateful for that really. He wasn’t trying to bounce around and make his beloved’s head spin, but he knew that Shuichi was the type to get easily flustered over the smallest of things. It didn’t bother Kokichi much that he was the one that had to ask the questions. To pester Shuichi to love him in Hope’s Peak, and to barge into his life completely by moving in when they were in college. 

In return Shuichi stood by him through times Kokichi never thought was possible. D.I.C.E grew! It already had 10,000 members, of course, but he never thought he’d see the day when it would grow to 100,000 members! He told Shuichi that, completely stunned and trying to figure out where all of these people showed up. Of course, he was lying about one thing in that, but who knew where the lie was. Or was he lying about both? Shuichi himself took over his uncle’s agency. His uncle finally took that retirement like both boys had pestered him to do for ages, and now Shuichi was the one that was solving the cases and saving the world! Of course there were times it got a little bloody. It got a little sad. Kokichi made sure that his arms and shoulder were ready for those days, and he would plan for at least five days worth of fun. He’d shoot for five weeks, but Shuichi was a natural born workaholic and someone had to be a party pooper. Honestly. 

It wasn’t just the work. Kokichi watched Shuichi bloom. He was still shy, flustered, easily to tease. He doubted that would ever change. Shuichi had confidence though. There were times when he would speak to a client and something would switch on and there was a mode. Kokichi couldn’t describe it. He sometimes showed it back in Hope’s Peak, but it was so little. So very little. Now, it just took a well timed jab and a playful smile to get the ball going and Shuichi would just…go into that mode. Kokichi tried not to abuse it too much. It was like a delicacy. 

Now Kokichi was sitting on their bed, all of these thoughts going through his head as he fiddled with a ring box. He could go all out with a grand gesture. He could make Shuichi’s life miserable before presenting this. He could take him out on an adventure, on a date, on something, before all of this. But this was too important for all that. Kokichi knew when things were delicate. Asking Shuichi to be his beloved in Hope’s Peak wasn’t as important as this.

Kokichi didn’t do this kind of thing. Being with Shuichi was natural as breathing, but this was different. This…came with implications. Kokichi wasn’t traditional. Not in any sense of the means. Kokichi was as conventional as one could get. Marriage? Proposing? If he was going to do any of that, it would be direct, in your face, loud. Like he was. Like he did anything.

But this wasn’t about him this time. Kokichi took a breath in and swallowed, feeling his tongue thick against the back of his throat. He had this ring for months. He had been planning this out for days. He really should have done it yesterday, or the day before that or the day before that, but he kept faltering. Shuichi deserved this. He wanted to make sure it was right. 

He even asked his uncle if this was okay. Of course he had been brash, dancing around the subject, and wearing the old man down, but he was caught. The man was a detective after all, he saw right through him. Gave him permission on the spot, which…in honesty Kokichi wasn’t sure if that was a testament to how crazy the Saiharas actually were, or how insanely patient they could get. He immediately got a instant invite to the nonexistent wedding that wasn’t happening because someone couldn’t get their mouth to fucking work.

He heard the door open from the bedroom and he closed the ring box, taking a deep breath and he slipped it into his pocket. It was now or never and he knew it. He quickly got out from the bedroom and saw Shuichi taking off his shoes in the foyer. “I missed you!” 

Shuichi barely had time to look up before he was tackled into a hug by a hyperactive Kokichi. He hugged him back and he let out a groan, “When do you think I’ll not fall for that?”

“Never ever.” Kokichi pulled away to rub noses with him and then jumped back on to the higher ground. “Hard day?” He noticed the redness in Shuichi’s eyes. Whether it was from a crying fest that he had in the bathroom or if it was from rubbing them raw out of sleeplessness, Kokichi didn’t know.

“Ah. No. Today was a pretty good day. It’s just from lack of sleep.” Shuichi promised.

“Then do I have a cure for you!” Kokichi pronounced suddenly. He grabbed Shuichi’s arm and dragged him further into the living room and gently pushed him into the couch and crawled on top of him. “The best cure for not getting any sleep, Shu-chan, is to get some sleep.”

“I would if I didn’t have something hard poking me.”

Kokichi blinked and he glanced up at him. “Well I’d never. Who-”

“I was talking about your pocket! I know what I said, and it came out wrong and I just-” Shuichi stammered and Kokichi felt his blood drain from his face.

That fucking ring box.

He had been so concerned about Shuichi, he completely forgot he put it back in his pocket.

Kokichi could recover from this. He hoped that his expression stayed playful. He hoped that Shuichi didn’t see any cracks or anything on his face. “Is it greedy of me to say that I never want you to leave my arms?” He asked as he took the ring box out and held it out to Shuichi.

“Kokichi.” Shuichi’s curious smile turned into a shocked expression. Golden eyes wide as he stared at the ring box that Kokichi had in his hands. “No. It’s not greedy at all.” He said after a moment. “Kokichi you could’ve just asked me directly.”

“What?” Kokichi blinked.

“To marry you. That’s what this is, right? You’re asking me to marry you.” Shuichi pressed, and Kokichi felt as though he was being pushed back against the wall. How Shuichi was able to do that when he was happily sprawled out against the couch, Kokichi didn’t know. “You could be direct. Like…you normally are.”

“Shuichi is a traditionalist.” Kokichi felt as though he was speaking far away. He could have gone and done something grand? “I didn’t think you’d appreciate me asking you in front of our friends or…”

Publicly. 

“We-well no I wouldn’t like that.” Shuichi reached and pulled Kokichi close towards him. “This is…this is perfect. It’s just that it’s a really old tradition, Kokichi. My uncle proposed to his wife like that.”

“Your aunt is a saint because I don’t think I would’ve understood if someone was proposing to me like that.”

“To be…honest I was thinking of doing that.” Shuichi admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and Kokichi stared at him. “I didn’t get a ring or anything, but I was going to ask…anyway. I didn’t know if that was…something you would want. The ring I mean.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I want a ring?”

“Kokichi last time we talked about whether or not we’d get married and how we’d do it you mentioned everything from handcuffs to collars. What was I supposed to think?” Shuichi gave his boyfriend, no…Shuichi gave his fiance a look. 

“How vague of a question were you going to give me?” Kokichi asked.

“I was honestly just going to ask you if you wanted to marry me.”

Kokichi stared at him for a moment. “You mean to tell me that I went through all those freaking romance movies-” 

“Oh so that’s why we were on a romance kick.” 

“-trying to find a romantic way of asking you to marry me only for you to be like “yeah this is fine”?!”

“Yes?” Shuichi bit his lower lip, clearly amused. A long time ago, he would’ve been flustered. A long time ago, he would’ve apologized endlessly for messing up somehow. Kokichi was grateful he could take a joke and see a lie when he saw it, and instead of just calling it out, play along.

“But it’s still a yes?” Kokichi asked timidly. 

“Kokichi I would be stupid to say no to you.”

“That is true.” Kokichi beamed. “That is completely a hundred percent true. Wow, my Shumai is so smart.”

“Okay, but you still haven’t given me the ring yet.”

“Oh. Right yeah that part. You could put it on yourself you know, but that’s a lie because I want to do it for you. You belong to me, Shumai.”

“Yes.” Shuichi laughed as he held his hand out for Kokichi to slide the ring on his finger. It felt so strange to see it there, and to know that it was only a matter of time before it was more permanent than this. He immediately fell on top of his boyfriend, no his fiance, and kissed him.

Shuichi, as always, followed his lead. 

[kennedycatherine]

things may be shitty but sometimes I'm shittier

I’m overheard retelling half a joke my friends have heard 30 times over. One of the greats in my rotating stock of five. 

“Wait, what’s this about?” Asks someones boyfriend and I lean on an elbow, angle myself toward him with a grin.

“It’s actually a really funny story.”

His girlfriend rolls her eyes, “it’s not funny.”

My eyebrows go up, in, “I think it’s funny?”

“Kennedy,” she begins and looks at me with even eyes, “it makes people uncomfortable.”

She says it like a mother warning her toddler not to pull his pants off in front of the dinner guests, not again. And I feel a lot like he might;

Defiant - it is a funny story, I’ve done the math on which details can stay in, which have to go out, I know where to pause for a laugh or a sigh. He’d probably like it. 

Ashamed - it probably isn’t funny to everyone, perhaps my math was just enough to keep people engaged, the pauses great for a sympathy laugh. He probably wouldn’t like it.

“Another time,” he whispers with a soft, consoling smile and I silently curse his girlfriend. 

Fuck you, Kierstan, you don’t know the first thing about comedic timing.

The story in question is about the time I found my sister cold and unconscious. I thought she was dead. The punchline about my being in a pink velour costume when the EMT’s arrived and the bit about the stolen laffy taffy, oh and her not being dead - fully worth the undeniable emotional lows. 

Believe me when I say that in some circles, it’s a funny story. There are branches of comedy, Netflix specials, peoples entire careers and livelihoods that are rooted in dark comedy - there is a vast market for illuminating and lightening the horrifying. Also trust me when I say I know how deeply unfunny it is to watch someone you love overdose. 

The story is funny now. A few years ago it wasn’t. It was a nearly unspeakable thing. An experience that happened and it wasn’t funny. 

But life goes on. 

You have no choice. 

Around the time of the pink velour tracksuit and the laffy taffy, I found myself laughing uncontrollably at my desk. I’d just left the job I’d gone to college for and found myself in the pit of broken dreams - an 8 to 5 desk job. The absolute thrill of it all - somedays you might file, somedays you might answer a few more calls than usual. Somedays your boss might ask you to bend over and pick up his pencil while you wear the skirt it was gently (but firmly) implied was mandatory. Mandatory only in the sense that no one could tell you that you couldn’t wear pants but they sure were more forgiving of car naps running 15 minutes over if they could glimpse a knee. 

And boy, did I need the car naps. 

It’s funny because I thought I was doing great. Really, for awhile I thought I was the best I’d ever been. I was laughing pretty much all the time, at everything. I’d never found the world more funny. By all accounts, I was having a great time.

So imagine my surprise when one day I found my eyes full, my face damp and my car hurdling down the highway past the exit to my work. When I did arrive, this time with pants, therefor low forgiveness - I was asked to my boss’ office for a closed door meeting.

Why was I late?

Somehow telling my boss that I wasn’t exactly sure the reason but my brain was telling me I should just keep driving, maybe to the next town, maybe for hours, maybe until the border, didn’t really seem like an option. “I think I have the flu.”

Despite all the things I didn’t know, I did know I didn’t have the flu. I found myself laid out in my doctors office anyway.

When he finally threw the door open, all white coated and anxious, just like I like em’ - I sat up. We made a sort of frenzied eye contact and he asked me what was wrong. 

“I think I might be, like, totally fucking losing it.” 

I left with a plan and antidepressants.

It all sounds kind of simple and quaint.

But it wasn’t.

Stopping to consider if you’re a danger to yourself or anyone else so your doctor can qualify if you need counselling, pills, maybe a psychiatric hold isn’t charming. Those first few weeks of pills, even though you’ve been told and you know you’ll feel worse for awhile, they’re simply awful. This isn’t some beautiful woman on HBO popping a white pill with her chardonnay, suddenly noticing a pink bloom on her neglected cactus. This is ugly and painful before it’s anything else.

And slowly it did become “anything else” … most of the time. 

Depression isn’t a joke. But it is a static way of being that loses it’s edge. 

It softens. Like a shitty haircut, you come to expect the blunt, harsh edges. Your body adjusts to the sight of it. It’s still kind of scary to look at but you know what to expect.

Life goes on.

It’s just not precious anymore. 

I could barely say I’d been diagnosed. I only told the people who were close enough to see the new medication was wearing me out. Now it’s an introductory fact, “Hi, Kennedy Catherine, daughter, lover, lesbian, writer, major depressive disorder.” 

I felt for a long time like it was all behind me. The worst was over! Family, outside of some trick hearts, healthy. Depression, diagnosed, plans made, helpful medications on standby. Experiencing another dark episode seemed dull,  ya know? Just a tad fucking redundant. Been there, done it, bored by it. 

Then: March 2020. 

There was a period of limbo. I still had a job, I just couldn’t be there or do it until things got better - hardy har. I packed up my truck and settled into my families cabin for five or six weeks. It was fine, I was fine, I thought. One day I went out for a walk and awhile later watched my sister rumble through a long stretch of prairie toward me on an ATV. My phone was dead and I’d be gone, oh, three hours longer than expected?

“What happened?”

I just kind of… lost track of time? Lost my sense of direction? I don’t know, I thought. I was here but I sort of went away from myself for a second. When I sunk into the bath later with achy muscles and a blister, I felt nervous.

Now, I haven’t scared myself in years. My depression isn’t so severe that I feel unsafe with myself. Anything I did or have done to effectively terrify myself, I shed by the time I was 20. Because that can happen, you can do that. You can change coping mechanisms and learn real, healthy ways to parent yourself. The mood instability that came later, the dark times, I still felt mostly fortified. I felt like I could figure it out, like I still had access to myself to do the figuring out. 

But I could feel myself slipping away this time. 

I was talking fast about something or another when I finally said to my mom, “I think I might need help.” I wasn’t sure exactly what I meant because I didn’t really know how to help myself and I wasn’t really sure what was wrong. 

And that in and of itself is a problem. I didn’t know what was wrong? 

I was out of the job that got me out of bed Monday to Friday for three and a half years, I left the house that had become my comfort cathedral, I hadn’t seen any of my closest friends in months, I was living with my sister and my mother who I hadn’t spent longer than a handful of days with in like five years. There was global fear and uncertainty and the risk of contracting a virus that could or could not kill you but I didn’t know… what was wrong? Well that’s just deeply moronic. 

Sometimes when you need help, or when I need help, that does come in the form of professional counselling or medications or an anonymous support group. Sometimes, it’s just circumstantial and circumstances can change.

I went home.

And in a few weeks, when I’d more or less returned to myself, I could clearly see the hills and valleys my mind had just wandered. I felt strength again, a sense of renewal and excitement about my imminent return to work and society.

Then I actually lost my job.

I know, redundant. I’m tired of myself too. But bullshit is cyclical, that’s just a fact. 

And if there is one thing I’ll give myself credit for, it’s my ability to immediately concoct a backup plan in the face of a threat. Moments after I was officially terminated, texts and emails went out. The idea of not knowing where my next paycheque would come from and how much it would be, having lost the place I strolled into everyday with a sense of purpose and not knowing when and where I’d have that again was simply not an option.

My head went down, I narrowed focus and the efforts resulted in… enough. I’m living. Which wasn’t and isn’t the hope for life. Unstable stagnancy is deeply uncomfortable.

So, generally speaking, things are not great. 

I lost my humbly secure job. A place I comfortably could’ve lived and died if I’d prioritized everything other than work and my sort of crippling ambition. This effectively led me down the path of questioning every decision I’ve made past the age of 16. First and foremost, choosing radio. An industry that was at it’s peak in the 1930’s and on the decline ever since was perhaps not the most lucrative or secure of career choices. 

My romantic life developed far enough to remind me that often times I am a crusty, avoidant crustacean human and suddenly all those popular tweets about my deep emotional inabilities and intimacy issues seemed, well, not that funny.

I decided I probably shouldn’t drink. I don’t have a drinking problem but I do have a problem with drinking. Namely, waking with no memory, my legs shaking and my stomach clenched so tightly I could sense my body wanted to flee - itself, mostly. And let’s not forget the part where I get fighty and mean.  

When shit hit the fan and then shot off the blades into the face of life in my early twenties, it wasn’t my fault. To be clear, mental health is a no fault area. I was always predisposed to depression, mental illness is genetic. I had no control over that. But there were plenty of variables, extenuating circumstances if you will, that I also had no control over but sure as fuck could and did blame other people for.

This is not the same thing. 

This is a moment where it is necessary to discern illness from circumstance and living from coping. 

Like I said, bullshit is cyclical. And it this point, it’s pretty much just my own bullshit on repeat, forever and ever amen. At twenty or twenty three, when the circumstances weren’t my fault, it also felt like my reactions weren’t my fault. I was floundering, I didn’t know better. I learned some hard lessons about how I cope and handle things. I learned that I didn’t really like the person I was when I was figuring out how to survive myself and life. 

I was unkind, a lot. 

I hated the way that felt, I hated the way it affected my relationships and decided to learn from it.

Except, I didn’t learn. I said, great, noted. Dashed a nice little ~fini!~ at the end of that chapter, closed er’ on up and bypassed the bookshelf for the dusty box in the corner labelled, “garage sale.” Because surely no one would need to read that again! 

And then a few weeks ago when I had a breakthrough in counselling, I dug that chapter back up and allowed myself a few days of surprise. Bitch, you been done knew the WHOLE time. This isn’t news, this isn’t shocking. This is the part of you that developed somewhere along the way and it didn’t work and you didn’t like it but! But. It was comfortable. So you gave it a few years and then when things fell out of control again, let it settle back in all warm and snuggly.

You know what they say. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I guess I need to financially prioritize a CBT therapist. 

So here I am, again. 

Only this time feels deeply, deeply different. Because it’s not the first. 

I sat down with a friend to tell her how I was feeling. How much I felt like I needed and wanted to change my default settings. 

I need a factory restore. 

“I think you’re being hard on yourself.”

No, no, I have grace for myself! I actually have a lot of understanding. I’m parenting myself through this which includes showing myself love while I also discipline.

“I just feel like maybe you were doing the best you knew how.”

Well, I mean, sure? Sometimes? But there were moments where I knew I was saying or doing the wrong thing, where I was even challenged by someone else but I wasn’t challenging myself, you know?

“Well maybe that’s just who you are?”

Right… but this is also who I am? And we do actually have a say in that, you know? Like how I evolved from throwing toddler tantrums on the grocery store floor? I could actually just keep doing that, no one is stopping me, but I don’t.

“I think you’re being self deprecating and that is not healthy.” 

Since when is self identifying a problem self deprecation? 

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

… but change is hard? 

I appreciate that people want to protect me from myself or from bad feeling or whatever they perceive that all to be. More often than not, I think they, we, you, I, we’re all just trying to protect ourselves. But it’s not helpful. Pretending that everything is fine and that we’re fine and adopting an overarching, “I am perfect as I am, namas-fucking-te” mantra isn’t actually helpful.

What’s the harm in me saying I have been shitty? That I have acted poorly? That I have neglected to be better when there was clearly a different option? That I wasn’t honestly showing myself to people when I could’ve or allowing them space in me?

That it’s… not nice? That just like the joke about my sister not being dead, it’s not comfortable to listen to? It’s true and it is compassionate to view yourself as a whole, to know yourself and think I actually do like myself and this life enough to want to be better.

Just like what is coined the unfortunate evening of Velour and Ambulances or the depression diagnosis or life being turned on it’s head by a plague sent from hell, once it was deeply painful and then it wasn’t. None of this is precious. Being a shitty person sometimes isn’t a rare affliction. You’ve been shitty before, you’ll do it again, I’ll do it again, hey, you might even be shitty right now! Isn’t that something? 

Things are not great right now. They’ve been not great tens of times before. Only this time it isn’t taking me 2 to 4 years to talk and laugh about it. Because this is a muscle, the shit muscle and it’s exercised. It’s buff. 

And you know what? Things could be worse. They could even get worse now! I’m hoping they don’t but they certainly could, and in the thick of it, we’ll always have that glimmering possibility to hold onto. 

[mxnark]

mina’s star bright 2020 audition! 

the form didn’t take as long. if anything, it felt like she was filling out a job application, but she knew that wasn’t entirely the case because she didn’t feel inclined to do this. in fact, she wasn’t even sure if she should. as much as she wanted to, she didn’t want to make a decision that she’d regret. on one hand, she has a crappy audition and they don’t consider her as a worthy applicant at all. on the other, what if her mom found out about this? and what if she… became a trainee? how would she explain this to her mother who she knew would be disappointed in her?

next thing she knew, she was already at the hotel’s parking lot, not even sure if she parked perfectly or not. 

she parked fine. but she could’ve done better.

a lot has happened in the past year. one year ago, mina saw her brother on tv for the second time after getting eliminated the first time and a few months after, he got casted into sphere. she saw chungha, someone she considered a sister, not only go on an end of the year show for her dancing skills but also give her a flyer from the same company that her brother was in. and finally, she confessed to soobin not too long ago (and he liked her back!). after such events, she felt motivated to be here. she felt as if she had wasted this much motivation at home, studying for a test that she definitely was not prepared for, she’d be a loser.

oh… she graduated too. but she doesn’t really care about that.

her being here is a secret that no one knows. she tells her dad she’s having a study date with friends and she tells her friends that she needs to focus at home. no one knows that she’s at this hyatt hotel, other than the few strangers (some with familiar faces) who probably could care less about her life. she feels like a spy and it’s quite thrilling. she never snuck out of the house before while she was in high school. and besides the few arguments she had with her mom and also never telling her about her getting waitlisted, she never actually got into trouble.

she wonders if he felt like this too… maybe he was more in fear the first time, given his personality and situation.

after coming in with her hair in a ponytail and her pink shirt, she fills out the application honestly (struggling a bit with the inspiration portion for fear of being too awkward or not). after she films out the form, she’s taken to a room with lights, mics, a white background for photos (or in this case, video), and a camera. her interviewer introduces themself before letting her take a seat in front of the camera. and after a short camera and microphone test, her interviewer cues her to introduce herself.

“hello, my name is kang mina. i’m eighteen years old! it’s nice to meet you,” she bows her head to the camera with a smile. thanks to her youtube, she’s been on camera multiple times. sure, she hasn’t done any vlog stuff yet, but she’s still able to try and make her way through. she constantly tells herself to calm down. if she lets the pressure of the fact she was auditioning affect her, she’d most likely mess everything up. and she didn’t want to lose her one chance.

“hi mina,” the interviewer starts off. “so, seeing that you’re here with us today, i wanted to ask you something: why do you want to be an idol?”

it’s a question that she has to think about, really. never having done this before, she didn’t know what questions she had to prepare herself for. it was a good question: why is she here in the first place? there had to be a reason for it. and thankfully, she had an answer for it.

“i mean, i grew up watching idols and always admiring how they perform, so i guess you can say that inspired me to think about it,” she replies because she was really not 100% sure if she did want to be one. but, one thing’s for sure is she’d rather be one than… whatever she was supposed to be, according to her mother. “i also have friends who’ve gotten the opportunity to be on stage where i could watch them and admire them, and it just made me want to join in on the fun. when i was in dance club, i always liked performing for people. it made me feel… happy to know that people are seeing me do my best.”

the interviewer nods and continues the interview. “you mentioned dance club? is that the skill you’re best at?” they ask. “are you skilled in other things, too?”

she nods eagerly and a big smile forms on her face. “yes! absolutely! i love dancing,” she answers happily. “it’s what i’m best at! i can sing pretty well and i think my rapping is okay, even though i’m not much of a rapper. but i really like learning new choreographies and dancing to them and just-” she pauses as she realizes how she was practically all over the place. “even though i touch up on my singing a little or even improve on rapping a bit if i want to focus on that, one thing’s for sure is that i am the best version of myself i can ever be when dancing.”

the interviewer smiles, and mina’s not sure why. she doesn’t question it though. instead, she lets the interviewer continue. they look at her application. “it says here that your inspiration is your brother? may i ask what’s your relationship with him? and maybe your family too?”

ah. the fun part, and she thinks that with the most sarcasm. she obviously did not want to ruin the atmosphere of the conversation as she rants about her family, specifically the many issues in her relationship with her mother. but it’s not like she can ask if they can go to another question instead. after all, she did list “my brother” on her form. so her being asked about her family was bound to happen.

so, she nods her head. “well, my brother’s really the only person in the family i can really depend on,” she responds. “i don’t really get along well with my mom. she and i don’t really see eye to eye on most things.” she wants to say more about her relationship with her mother. how even though she understands how her mom wants the best for her, their definition of “best for mina” was different and how her mother makes that clear for her every single chance she could.

so she doesn’t say anything. instead, she moves on to another person to talk about. “my dad is pretty chill. i don’t think i’m his favorite, but compared to my mom, i think he’s more easier to get along with. but that’s okay. i can be my own favorite.” she says that with a smile because she realizes how silly she sounds, but she’s speaking truthfully. she’s been honest this entire interview, actually. “my oldest brother moved with his wife to america, but i don’t really get along with him either and i think it’s because of the age gap between us.”

“how does your brother inspire you, may i ask?”

it’s a long story, mina wants to say. 2 years worth, to say the least. but she knows this interview was only for a few minutes, so she had to mentally pick out events that got her to where she is now. and thankfully, it doesn’t take her too long, considering she found herself thinking of them already while debating whether she could be here or not.

“my brother two years ago is not the same brother i have today,” she explains. “my brother two years ago was a part of a band that i didn’t know about until later on and i didn’t even think my brother had an interest in music until i saw him on the mgas for the first time. before two years ago, i thought he didn’t understand me. i thought he was just some econ major who was just trying hard to please my mom.”

she holds back letting out a pathetic laugh. “but i think it’s the opposite now. i think i’m the one who doesn’t understand him. after seeing what my brother had to go through and having him move out because of the fact that my mom didn’t like that he wanted to have his future involve music… it was… eye-opening?” she shakes her head. “ah, i don’t know. it was just kind of a wake up call for me. to this day, i still don’t feel like i’m a good little sister for him and i can’t really prove to him that i can be better. but honestly, if it weren’t for watching his journey and how he changed, i probably wouldn’t be here right now.” she smiles and nods. “i really look up to him. and i feel like if he’s able to try and go for something i thought was out of his reach, why shouldn’t i?”

she clears her throat. “ah, sorry. i got a bit carried away.”

“no, it’s fine,” the interviewer assures her. “on the topic of journey, though, what is the biggest obstacle you’ve had to overcome so far?”

“mmm… i guess trying to get into a university, really,” she responds with a light laugh. “i mean, that’s the one i can really think of at the top of my head right now. i had to study a lot and i had to quit my dance club just so i could focus on going somewhere my mom and dad would want me to go.” she sighs as she looks back on it. “it was… a lot. very mentally taxing. i wasn’t even sure if i was good enough to go to a good school in the first place. and i didn’t even want to be put on that journey. i guess i just wanted to do something my mom would be proud of.” just so i can see what not disappointing her feels like, she wants to say. but she holds back on it. she’s already talked enough about family.

“if you weren’t trying to be an idol, what would you be doing right now?”

it was a question that she thinks was supposed to expand on her college talk. so she complies to it and responds to it. “well, i’d be focusing on school, really,” she answers. “i’d be focused on getting this nurse degree and then once i get my diplomas and go past the other schools for it, i guess i’d be a nurse by the end of it.” she shrugs. “it’s not what i really want, but it’s what would make my mom satisfied, i guess.”

“thank you for the interview, mina,” the interviewer says finally and mina finds herself mentally sighing in relief, even though she got a little comfortable during the interview. “are there any questions you would like to ask me?”

“oh, no,” she responds. “i just hope you have a great day.” ech. she sounds like a kiss ass. maybe she should’ve thought twice before saying that and just stay silent.

“oh! thank you!” the interviewer smiles. “i hope you have a great day, too.”

and she leaves the room calmly as well as the hotel, waiting to get into her car and let out a long sigh. while she did feel confident about the interview, it was still an audition. and all she could do was just hope that it’ll take her far.

[quarterfromcanon]

27-29 for the get to know my favorites game

Hello, lovely! Thank you for these. :) Trios turned out to be a surprising challenge (I apparently have more favorite groups of four than three), but I’m pretty happy with the ones I remembered after giving it some thought. The final picks are under the cut! <3

Top 5 BROTPs

1. Paula Proctor & Rebecca Bunch (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) - Naturally, this was the immediate choice that sprang to mind. It’s the first relationship on the show I really fell in love with, and it’s the one friendship in the series that consistently tugs on my heartstrings. It’s flawed, complicated, and messy but the genuine connection underneath it all is strong enough that I’m hopeful they can work through their problems. I would’ve preferred to see more emphasis on that effort in the fourth season (and a lot more work on Rebecca’s friendships with Heather and Valencia as well), but I want to believe things improved between them after the finale. 

2. Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley (Stranger Things) - The general public opinion of Steve Harrington has been on such a journey since Season 1, bringing him now to a status of common fan favorite. As such, I think a delicate balance needed to be struck in finding a suitable match to team up with him on adventures. This person needed to:

A) Have good chemistry in their interactions with Steve

B) Bring a new dynamic to the table that he didn’t already have with an existing connection 

and most importantly 

C) Be a unique and engaging character that the audience would care about individually, so they didn’t get lost in simply being an offshoot of Steve’s story. They couldn’t be relegated to perpetual sidekick with little else to define them.

As far as I’m concerned, Robin Buckley fits the bill on every account. She’s artistic, resilient, loyal, and - especially endearing to me - a movie buff. She has a quick wit, a sharp mind, and a big heart. Being friends with Robin helps Steve take the specter of his high school self less seriously so he can put it behind him, and she helps him more fully embrace the person he’s becoming in the wake of that lost status. Having Steve for a friend helps Robin resolve some lingering emotional scars from school as well. It gives her an opportunity to share her authentic self with a peer and - to her relief and ours - find acceptance after revealing a pretty important secret. I can’t wait to watch the two of them be adorably nerdy and goofy bros at Family Video in Season 4, presumably with some daring fights against dark forces when they’re off the clock. Does saying I hope Kali comes to Hawkins somehow and bonds with one or both of them mean I can speak that into existence? I’m doing that now. It’s worth a try. If it happens in some capacity when the time comes, know that I will throw a One Blogger Party of epic proportions. 

3. Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught (Wynonna Earp) - I had to use this specific screencap because it perfectly encapsulates the chaotic energy that makes me loves these two together so much. Their separate approaches to their shared work environment are at pretty much polar opposite ends of the spectrum, but they make a pretty solid team when they play to each other’s strengths and communicate. They also both love Waverly most of all, so it feels like they were bound to work out their differences eventually since neither would want to make her feel torn between her sister and her girlfriend. The hijinks they get up to in each other’s company are just top shelf. I look forward to at least a little bit of fun like that from every season. If I wind up having a lasting partner later on down the road, it’d be cool if their personality balanced well with my sister’s on this level. I’d also be really happy if I ultimately gelled with her person in a way that sounded unlikely at first but worked. Fingers crossed for both outcomes, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

4. Emily Thorne [Amanda Clarke] & Nolan Ross (Revenge) - I have two things to quickly clarify for those who are unfamiliar with this show.

#1 She has two listed names because she was born Amanda Clarke but goes by Emily Thorne for most of the series to hide her true identity. 

#2 Despite the impression this picture may give, Nolan is not marrying Emily; he is simply walking her down the aisle. 

These two are there for each other through so much - the looming threat of discovery, jail time, capture, near death experiences, heartbreak, the passing of loved ones, etc. - and they make it to the other side with a deep bond the likes of which they’ll never experience with another person. It is at times heavily one-sided because of how much drama Emily deliberately dives into, but it’s something that she tries to make up for during her more self-aware and less self-involved times. There’s genuine love and mutual respect there by the finale and it’s really gratifying to witness the journey they’ve taken together. 

[~Slightly spoiler-y closing statement after these brackets~] I was pretty sure I knew where the show was going with romantic ships by the end. I knew for certain it wasn’t my personal OTP for her because they’d already killed that person off quite some time ago. There was a part of me that could’ve found some contentment in leaving the story with these two as a couple. After all, one of my favorite ship dynamics is Reluctant Acquaintances to Best Friends to Lovers, but it was not to be. That being said, the platonic friendship they shared was a big part of the heart of the show and I cherish it for that. Nolan was a rare exception for Emily, a genuine bond formed in the years when she was tried to operate like her heart was made of stone. I also think working with Emily gave Nolan a sense of purpose and let him flourish in his area of expertise. I’m not sure how either of them would feel about the musical reference but, to slightly paraphrase from Wicked: because they knew each other, they have been changed for good.

5. Penelope Stamp & Bang Bang (The Brothers Bloom) - I have seen Rachel Weisz and Rinko Kikuchi in more roles since this movie than I had prior to watching it for the first time so, if anything, my fangirling over this friendship has gotten worse rather than more manageable. x) This post classified the film under the subgenre whimsical noir. It turns out that’s a style I instantly adore every time I stumble upon it. One of the titular brothers, Stephen, lives so deeply immersed in the variations of the world he writes for their heists that even those closest to him are essentially characters he can interact with on a daily basis. His feelings for them as people can get very muddled with his feelings for them as interesting OCs to move through narratives. A big trouble with this is that his living archetypes can often get reduced to clichés. He’s not always mindful of their nuances or allowing for the full range of their autonomy. Penelope is selected by Stephen to serve as the “manic pixie dream girl” who will be his brother Bloom’s forever love and Bang Bang is essentially presented as a “dragon lady” stereotype. I haven’t done a rewatch in years so I may be giving the movie too much credit here, but I remember this choice feeling at least semi-deliberate. It could be interpreted as a way to illustrate how Stephen warps real life to fit his vision. At least, I can definitely remember scenes that felt like they debunked the one-note assessments of these two. What I genuinely love, though, are the little moments when Penelope and Bang Bang are able to just spend time together with little to no interference from Stephen or Bloom. They share their hobbies and teach each other new skills. It feels like they truly perceive one another as whole human beings on a level that neither guy is capable of doing since they’re both so immersed in the drama of the plot. When the women are with each other, they get to be more than an extension of the men who maneuver them; they get to be themselves. Penelope is the only one Bang Bang clearly wants to maintain contact with once the heist is finished. I think that says a lot. Honestly, this is another BROTP that could slide to OTP. If someone wrote fic of them completely severing ties with the brothers and going off on their own - romantically or platonically - I wouldn’t be upset at all. 

Top 5 Trios

1. Luke, Leia, & Han (Star Wars Episodes IV - VI) - Oh dear, I’m overwhelmed just looking at a picture of them together. Star Wars has been a part of my life since childhood. Getting to watch the original trilogy felt like a rite of passage (when I was really little, Mom used to find things for us to do outside the room while Dad watched because she was afraid some of it might scare me). Princess Leia resounded with me on a level that almost no other fictional royalty has ever quite matched. Han’s wardrobe is still some serious #aestheticgoals and I would 100% wear replicas of his jackets and vests if I had them. I also remember thinking that Luke’s new look in Return of the Jedi was SO COOL with the all-black wardrobe and green lightsaber. Wow, imagine that, an edgy costume change that shared vibes with the common Disney villain color palette called to me as a baby fan of antagonists and antiheroes! Who ever could have foreseen that sudden spike in appreciation? :P Anyway, one of my lingering sorrows about the more recent trilogy is that we never got to see all three of them as aged adults in each other’s company. I still wanted our new cast to get their time to shine, of course, but I do lament the absence of at least one little trio reunion.

2. Luna, Neville, & Ginny (Harry Potter series) - The Silver Trio, pictured here with the first set of three that comes to mind when thinking about the books and movies. I do still love Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but I’ve found a growing appreciation for this other team-up over the years. They’ve been through a lot too, even if they are not always present where the main action is. Bullying, loss of parents, manipulation of the mind and body, abuse at the hands of authority figures - they’re all left with internal (and probably external) scars to bear. There’s also something to be said for how strong they all were in the school year set during Deathly Hallows, when the Golden Trio wasn’t around to inspire and unite those who wanted to stand up to ever-increasing tyranny. It can be easy, unfortunately, for them to get written off based on the oversimplified stereotypes that have gotten associated with them. People remember Luna as being weird and spacey, Neville as awkward and hapless, and Ginny as bland and lovestruck. They’re all far more nuanced than that, and they accomplish great things while fighting for and beside their friends. I’m planning on doing a re-read of the books at some point, and I really look forward to revisiting these brave kids.

3. Irma, Marion, & Miranda (Picnic at Hanging Rock) - Ah, yes, my very recently discovered darlings. I have many thoughts about them all. I’ll try to keep this as condensed as I can while still making sense. Some spoilers will follow, although those won’t answer every question the story poses. There are audience members who ship the above characters as a throuple, which I totally get, but for me it’s like soulmates of a different kind. These three have met at a point in their lives when they all burn with compatible intensity. They long for the same dream version of youth, for a way to begin life free from the confines of a world that won’t accept all their hearts contain. While the people that surround them may not be willing to bend the rules, nature itself appears to show them mercy. How often do we see a story of girls who just... love other women so much that a sacred location goes, “Y’know what? I’m gonna help you escape your restrictive society. Permanently.” This miniseries definitely depicts the setting as being involved in messing with the investigation, as a mystical place that befuddles unwanted intruders. I love the way these three fortify each other in times of pain and fear, and there’s something deeply moving about how standing side-by-side helps them defy the odds.

4. Sarah, Alison, & Cosima (Orphan Black) - Okay so, technically, when I picture our core team in this show, the net is a little wider. My mind tends to also include Felix, Mrs. S., Kira, Helena, Donnie, Delphine, and Scott. However, I think you could kinda argue that those characters have a stronger connection to one of the above three than they do to the other two. Thus, this ends up being the central triangle. They’re all such solid performances and the fact they’re all played by the same person is incredibly impressive (not to mention the, like, twelve other clones Tatiana brings to life throughout the series). Watching them go from tense strangers to sestras was wonderful. I’m glad they had each other through the increasingly complicated web of lies and schemes they had to unravel and survive. 

5. Galavant, Sid, & Isabella (Galavant) - Remember how James Marsden was in Enchanted? If you dialed down the deliberately cartoonish quality of that performance and allowed for more not-so-G-rated humor, I feel like you’d have a general sense of what Galavant is like as a character. Sid is his squire and Isabella is a princess whose mission happens to combine with Galavant’s, albeit fueled by different driving motivations. They find themselves involved in a lot of shenanigans because of Galavant - even in his own universe, he’s into the whole dashing knight thing more than is strictly necessary - but they make a fun little team to follow through the world of this musical television series. I’ve gotten fuzzy on the details since I watched it air live four years ago, but I remember the series being enough of a summer feel-good time that I’d be game to revisit the show again someday.

Top 5 Family Relationships

1. Stevie Budd & The Roses (Schitt’s Creek) - The whole fish-out-of-water setup for this series was already pretty fun in and of itself, especially given how outlandish their lifestyles evidently were before the show begins. The thing that makes it special, though, is how the absence of all their expensive distractions finally helps them prioritize being a family. The Roses do a lot of work to reconcile who they were with who they find themselves becoming in the present. It’s sweet to see them collectively conclude that growing closer to each other is one of the few things they do not regret in the slightest. They also silently agree to adopt Stevie along the way and, boy, does that give me a lot of Big Feelings, particularly in the later seasons.

2. River Song & The Ponds (Doctor Who) - I think it’s been like seven years or so, give or take, since I watched Doctor Who with any regularity. These three have resurfaced in my mind many times since then. They all love with such fierce and unwavering devotion, spanning lifetimes. It’s fascinating - and often heartbreaking - to learn about the things they’ve experienced and endured. Oh gosh, and once the show reveals how River’s story overlaps with theirs, and you pay attention to how she looks at them, IT HURTS but it’s so engaging to watch. The emotions are all flooding back just remembering them now. Argh, what great characters... </3

3. The Tico Sisters (Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi) - Rose appears in two installments of the third trilogy, but this is the episode that has both Tico daughters. We never get to see them interact onscreen in the film, but I still feel the bond between these sisters so intensely. I found out later that Kelly was present for the filming of Paige’s death scene (which happens so early in the movie that it doesn’t feel like a big spoiler - please forgive me if it is). I’m glad that was something they decided to do behind-the-scenes, because it definitely informs Rose’s grief. She’s sitting in the dark, picturing her big sister’s final moments with such horribly vivid detail that it feels like she was there, and yet she can’t do anything to change how it ends. The shape of the sisters’ necklaces immediately establishes that they were a unit even when acting independently, that they felt like two halves of a whole - all they had left of their family. Now there is only one, and that fact is a weight around Rose’s neck both figuratively and literally. It serves as a visual reminder of how she carries Paige’s absence always, trying to discover and embrace who she is on her own while still honoring the memory of a relative she loved so deeply. I think she reaches the end of Episode VIII feeling like she’s someone of whom her sister would be quite proud. I’m very proud of her, too. 

4. The Tyler Siblings (Wonderfalls) - Jaye is comically different than the rest of her family, and the show establishes that right out the gate when we learn that she’s the only one whose name doesn’t rhyme with the rest (left to right, the others are Karen, Sharon, Darrin, and Aaron, respectively). Her relationships with her parents could certainly lead me off on some analytical tangents but, predictably, it’s the sibling stuff that interests me more. I think it could be said that all three do more living inside their heads than they do out in the world, and that they’ve all grown up to be borderline loners (Ironically Jaye, who is considered the most troubled, is the only one I remember being shown to have formed and maintained a friendship). Aaron’s a very philosophical and analytical person, so you get the sense he talks to himself more than to others, although he still manages to resurface from those deep contemplations so he can goad and tease his sisters from time to time. Sharon is high-strung, competitive, and brings that “disaster lesbian” energy to basically every social interaction she has. Jaye’s standoffishness seems to stem from both the difficulty of fitting in with people and the fear that connections will fall apart once they manage to form at all. They’re all just messes trying to make the best out of the situations they face, and I appreciate that. I also enjoy how prominently the Jaye and Sharon sister bond features throughout the show’s only season. It starts out on pretty rocky ground, but they grow a lot in regard to how willing they are to communicate and express their love for one another. 

5. The Brothers Proctor (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) - The family dynamics in their house are in need of some serious work, without a doubt. I’m just really touched by how close these two have become without Paula’s notice. It’s possible they always were, in that we-fight-but-we-care way that siblings can often be, but the supportive side of that really moves to the forefront as they get older in the series and it warms my heart. There’s such a glaring difference between The Household As Paula Views It and Things That Are Happening While She’s Not Paying Attention. I can’t help using fic as a way to explore that. I happily find excuses for her sons to make pop-in appearances, just to check up on them. I'm so pleased that, as of Season 4, they seem to have become fairly well-adjusted in spite of everything. Oh, and I am still not over the revelation that they attend renaissance festivals together, in character, for fun. What precious cuties who would no doubt dislike me referring to them as such! Paula, please give them an extra hug from me!