#look. look. it would work so well with his self destructive tendencies. look.

[feelo-fick]

taps mic. chilchuck has skin asthma. walks away

[yanderefarm]

yandere vampire's pet

cw;; dehumanization?, blood, vampires, humans as pets, yandere, angst, suggestive

this is the last named and drawn oc i have ready. i still have two more concepts in my drafts but they're not finished yet.

this might not show his yandere tendencies as well as characters like ares or emil but he's more of a self destructive type. he's more likely to hurt himself for doing something wrong than he is likely to hurt someone for touching you.

also i had to include the vampire guilt and angst im only human (human with a guilt kink)

you're a vampire lord in a world run by vampires with a yandere human pet who you found in a run down human farm after he basically threw himself at you. who clung to your leg and insisted he tasted so sweet you wouldn't regret taking in. who you took pity on seeing his scarred neck and decided to take him with you home.

you fed him and brought him to full health in a year. on the anniversary he begged on his knees for you to make him your pet. you complied. you didn't expect the preservation procedure that would allow him to stay with you forever to mess up his brain. or maybe this was always his personality.

he begged you every day to feed on him. he would sneak into your bed chamber and cut his neck to wake you up. he would sit himself in your lap around noon and undo his shirt buttons to give you easy access. if you dared to refuse him he would cry and beg so pathetically.

you made him this way why didn't you want him? he would often cry until you feel guilty for destroying his humanity. you always gave into him. he always got clingier. he tried not to get in your way during work but one day you let him lay his head on your lap and sit in your office quietly all day. so you had to let him again the next day.

if he really pushed too far you would lock him in an old attic room. oh how he sobbed. you would open the door the next day to be met with his bloodshot eyes that held no light. he would kiss your shoes and cling to your legs while he spoke hoarse apologies. you always forgave him and carried him in your arms to eat breakfast.

on the occasions that you two went to a party held by your fellow vampire lords he would always try to show off. you'd buy him new clothes and a new ribbon to hide his old scars. he liked being the most beautiful arm candy for you. it wasn't unusual for high quality pets to get passed around at these parties. at the end of the night he would often find himself in a strange bed, dizzy from being bled and pathetically crying for you.

your dear pet had spent the whole night being ravaged while you were doing business. his naked and used body laying in the unfamiliar bed, barely conscious. you sighed as you sunk onto the bed, your added weight causing him to shift slightly but he made no noise. usually by now he would be sobbing and reaching wildly for you, those degenerates must have really worked him hard.

you reached out and played with a piece of his hair. "I'm sorry, you poor pathetic creature."

your cold lifeless hands gently brush against his warm cheek. his body finally shifts a little, instinctively pulling away from the cold. you can't help the sad smile that falls on your lips seeing that. you forget how cold you are with how he clings to you at every opportunity. you can smell his blood right now and the tug of your instincts tells you to feed. you forget that you're a monster with how he treats you with such adoration and reverence.

"your life would have been better if you never met me." you push his hair away from his neck, revealing the old scars with fresh wounds scattered among them. your fingers brush against his pulse and he gasps.

you watch his olive eyes blink open slowly, they look almost too heavy to open. you want to gently close them like one would a corpse but the wide smile that spreads across his face stops you. if your heart could still beat you're sure it would have skipped.

"good morning." you said softly.

he used all his remaining strength to wrap around your waist. "y/n..."

his voice is so hoarse and he sounds so exhausted but there's the undeniable happiness. you guide his head to your lap, cold fingers twirling around his hair again.

"was i good...?" his eyes blinked slow again.

"yes. you were so amazing again tonight." you felt the weight of guilt pressing against your chest.

"reward m'...~" you knew he was asking you to indulge in him as so many others had tonight so you just ignored him.

you gently gathered him up in your arms, the top sheet draping over his body. you grabbed his discarded ribbon off the bed before you began carrying him out. the ribbon was sat on his stomach and his weak hands fiddled with it idly. he seemed to be too deep in thought to let sleep overtake him again.

"master... 'm glad you made me...." he nuzzled his head against your chest.

"your father made you." you corrected as you approached your carriage.

"no... y'... made m' y'r pathetic creature." his eyes finally started to close. "so glad m' life is master's.."

[sweatervest-obsessed]

hello !! rn i'm in the mood for some angst with a happy ending so can i request something where reader's got really bad abandonment issues? 🥹 maybe they fight over something which makes r leave ++ spence is confused bc it's so sudden n unlike them but it's all bc theyre scared he'll leave first n then it's just lots n lots of reassurance🥹🥹 thank you!!

Obsessed.

Thank you for the ask!!

So I wrote you this gorgeous 1k fic. I was so fucking proud of it. And then my computer deleted the WHOLE THING (which is why I am so behind on responding to this lmao). But. I rewrote as much of it as possible, and then changed and added a few things. So now it's better than before.

I really enjoy this version ,and I hope you do too!! so please enjoy!!!!!

WC: 1.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

TW: Anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts, self-destructive tendencies, swearing, abandonment issues lmao

“What do you mean….”

You couldn’t look at him. How could you? I mean, leaving the love of your life because you know he could never love you back in the way you love him. He’d just leave anyways.

They all do.

You’re just trying to minimize the pain.

But why did it hurt so fucking much.

Which was why you kept your gaze anywhere but him.

“I-I-I—“ You kept your gaze on the ground. “I can’t do t-this anymore Spencer.”

“Can’t do what. Y/n you aren’t making any sense. What’s going on?”

You should you head. “It’s over. Spencer.”

"Y/n what are you..."

Looking at the ground, you began to fidget, something about his gaze on you was making he whole situation worse. Originally you were going to just send him a text and disappear for the rest of your life, but he came home early. He wasn't supposed to be home for another day.

"Spencer I-I." You flexed your hands, trying to find the right words. "It's done Spence. I can't.."

"You can't what?" His voice was a whisper. You could hear the heartbreak in his voice, but you wouldn't dare look at him. If you looked at him, you would cave and stay and he would take your heart in his hands and crush it to dust.

But why did this hurt so much?

"What is going on Y/n. Talk to me."

You couldn't understand why he was being so caring. Why was he so fucking perfect. It felt like a sick joke that the universe gave you this perfect man, and then put the sinking feeling in your gut when it got too good. Like something was going to go wrong.

And you wanted to be ahead of it. Start the grieving process now before you got too deep.

It's too late for that anyways.

His voice was soft. He didn't move towards you. He didn't want to 'spook' you---he knew you so well.

You know him so well.

Clearly, whatever tactic you had tried to employ when he came home, wasn't working, so you decided to shift. You shifted to the anger resting in your gut. The hot and heavy coals that burned through your skin and made you seeth with anger.

"Y/n, please, look at me."

You couldn't. And he fucking knew that too. You stormed past him and towards the bedroom.

Spencer was speechless, completely unsure as to what was going on.

When he arrived home you had been shoving things into your suitcase, but then when you saw him you froze up and started to try and break up with him.

"Talk to me. What is going on?"

You ignored him and started to pull clothes out of their respective drawers and onto the bed you two shared. It was hectic, and aggressive. You were slamming things, stomping--anything to hide the slight tremor in your hands, and make you seem bigger than you were.

"Y/n!"

His voice made you jump but it didn't stop you. You took the pang of guilt in your stomach and tried to twist it into the anger you so desperately tried to justify.

Spencer slowly moved over to you and tried to take you hand.

"NO." You threw the small pile of clothes you had just taken from the closet on to the ground and pulled away quickly. "No Spencer god. Wh-what don't you fucking get. We're done. It's over."

Spencer rarely heard you raise your voice, let alone yell, and definitely never at him. But you weren't even looking at him.

You fucking hated it when he profiled you. It made your skin crawl when you felt his eyes roaming over you. "Look at me."

His voice wasn't hateful. It wasn't angry. It was soft, understanding.

God why did he have to make this so fucking hard.

"Y/n..."

"Spencer. Stop."

You felt the moment he realized what was happening in your brain., You weren't the easiest to read, but you weren't exactly a closed book either.

"Look at me."

You looked up and made eye contact with him, hoping that the last part of your will would hold strong, and get you through this.

Spencer's eyes were filled with worry and disbelief. You saw the swarm of emotions as he locked eyes with you. But behind all of the disbelief and concern and love and pain was fear. You could see the pain he was so desperately trying to hide from you.

You know him so well.

Spencer could see the straight fire in yours. They were lit with a facade of anger and pain and hatred. But you could never hate Spencer. Never. And he saw right through it. He could see the panic in your eyes. The pure terror and pain.

You hated that he knew you so well.

"Y/n..."

He took one step forward, not trying to corner you, but trying to get closer to you. You took one step back.

"No." You shook your head.

"Please just talk to me."

Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid wonderful voice and his kind eyes and his love and the way he knows exactly how you take your tea in the morning and all of your favorite books and why you love the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice so much and what animals you wanted to have one day and why you hated spiders and the ocean so much and which museums and monuments you had on your bucket list. Fuck this man for loving you so hard, and making you want to spend every single moment of your life with him.

"I-I--" and fuck him for making your voice crack. You took another small step backwards.

"Please." Another step forward.

This time, all you could do was shake your head and break eye contact. You were tensing up the closer he got to you.

"Y/n."

"N-No" You chooked on your own voice. A single tear broke through and slide down your cheek.

"Baby please..." Another step. "Just talk to me. What's going on?"

That was the final straw for you.

The dam broke, and tears poured down your face. You let out the most heartbreaking sob that Spencer could have never imagined.

His arms were quickly around you, catching you and bringing you both down to the floor, where he held you against his chest.

You shook your head and tried to escape from his grasp, but he just held on tighter to you, not letting you go. Spencer could never let you go, he just didn't know how to tell you that.

Through your tears, you started to hyper ventilate. Spencer wouldn't let you leave his arms. It felt like a boa constrictor. You couldn't breathe.

You started to panic, not taking in as much air as you should, causing your head to get dizzy. You tugged on Spencer's arms as he tightened his grip on you, determined to keep you safe in his arms while you got whatever it was out of your system.

You screamed at him to let you go. He didn't respond, only holding you against his chest and you angrily slammed your hands against it.

Why was he so fucking perfect. Why couldn't he just let you leave and walk away.

Fuck.

Once your breathing had started to even out a bit, Spencer adjusted the two of you, still on the ground, so that you were straddling his lap with your arms around his neck.

Surrounding you was all of your clothes thrown about, and your suit case barely filled with anything.

He didn't say anything, just continued to rub his thumb against your hip, letting you come down from whatever sort of panic you just went through.

He held you close to his body, deciding in that moment to never let you go, ever.

You felt the world slow down. Time melted beneath you as the sun rose and set, the moon waxed and waned, The leaves browned and fell of the trees, and the earth stopped spinning at the end of time and all of the stars had died out. The world had stopped but you were still in Spencer's arms.

"I don't know..." He whispered in your ear, and the world started to turn again. "What just happened in your head--"

You tried to speak up but he just shushed you gently. "But we don't have to talk about it until you're ready."

You nodded.

What did you do in this world to deserve this man?

"Why don't we make some tea?" He whispered, and you just nodded again, holding onto Spencer as if the floor was going to give out and cause you to fall through the pits of hell and judgment, away from one another.

Neither of you went to move, finding peace in one another's arms.

While Spencer truly had no idea what just occurred, or why it occurred, he was still sitting here with you. And while you owed Spencer an apology and an explanation, he was still sitting here with his arms wrapped around you, kissing your shoulders.

Spencer Reid was going to stay with you for as long as you'd let him, and he would do anything to get you to see that, even if it meant sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, holding you until the stars burned out and the world stopped spinning.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

It's not Jake.

I'm going to tackle this bit now. It will forever bother me. I think it will forever be a point of argument in the fandom until the word of god (Diab) comes down and explains it all. Even then, there will always be room for argument.

So let's argue.

Marc with Dr. Harrow. I missed it the first time I watched it. (It was on a small screen with poor sound. I should have turned on the subtitles.)

He doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know where he is but he feels terrible and he's in a situation he's been in before.

Marc knows how to play the game. He might be bad at social situations, but Marc is stubborn and despite his self destructive tendencies, he's a survivor.

From knowing how to please his mother to keep her happy to knowing how to keep the school happy to keeping his father happy.

He also knows how to keep the doctors happy.

You can see the wheels turning as he figures out what Dr. Harrow is looking for and what the right thing to say is. You see him looking around and taking everything in the room in.

Something he learned in the military and then as a mercenary. What is around him? Know the land. Know the space. Know the tools. Know the exits. Know the enemy.

It's so subtle how his eyes move and stare. Every movement of his body is absolutely still and stiff except his eyes. Don't move. Don't draw attention. Don't give yourself away.

He talks about the talking hippo. Corrects him stubbornly. Like a child correcting a parent that gets their drawing or story wrong.

He talks briefly about Steven. He really doesn't want to discuss Steven with Dr. Harrow. Even now, he's trying to protect Steven.

Honestly, Marc is probably unsettled by how Quiet Steven is being. He can't hear him. He can't feel him. He was reaching for him before in his reflection.

Has this happened before? Are the drugs messing him up? Is this even real? You can see it in his eyes as he is trying to work out what has happened. What if it's real? What if Dr. Harrow is right and all of it was in his head?

But he knows things are off. You see him look at the cane and the sandles. He KNOWS something is wrong, but he can't place it.

And then Dr. Harrow asks about the boy.

Now Marc knows this is wrong. He would never have talked about Randall. This is the last thing he'd ever willingly bring up.

You see him instantly shut down and he's made his decision.

I've seen a LOT of arguments that this is Jake. But I don't think so. We, the audience, have not been properly introduced to Jake and his face has been purposfully hidden from us each time he does flicker in. This is not Jake. Jake is still hidden. And Jake would NOT have tolerated Dr. Harrow.

Even if Dr. Harrow was a new alter (persecutor?) created after being killed, Jake would have put him in his place. As protector and possible Gate Keeper, NONE of what's going on would have been tolerated at all. Jake is organized and patient. Jake takes charge when needed and gets the job done.

This is Marc. This is the Marc Spector that you don't see.

As I mentioned in a previous post, Marc cannot mask in the Duat. Every piece of Marc you see is pure and uncensored.

You see Marc play the game but the second Roro comes up, Marc is done.

This is the Marc that is dangerous (Mercinary, special forces, Marines, skilled beyond reason in combat) and also the Marc that is desperate. He's cornered and he will chew his own leg off to get out.

He doesn't know what's out there, but he knows that Steven is being kept away and he needs him.

So why does Marc grab the sharp pointy pyramid? Why does it look like he's trying to first stab them then stab himself?

Well, up to this point, Marc has figured out that he's been shot. He's found Steven outside of his body in a very unlikely situation, and nothing feels real.

He's also jumping scenes. From being with Dr. Harrow to being with Steven.

A part of him is scared it's real. A part of him is scared it isn't.

If it isn't real, how can he get out of it? Perhaps if he takes more damage he'll go somewhere else. Perhaps he'll go back to Steven. Perhaps he thinks it's a dream and he'll wake up next to Layla.

Look at his face. Beaten up. Broken nose. Heavy bags under his eyes. One pupil even looks larger than the other. Severe bodily trauma. (From getting shot? From getting into fights? From some form of brain damage?)

Now, speaking of Jake... I wonder how much of Teenage Marc was really Teenage Jake trying to keep them safe. I can't imagine their teen years being good at all. There's a good chance that their teenage years were utter misery and things probably escalated to terrible depths.

(Anyone else notice that three times we see Baby Marc, it's his birthday? I'm willing to bet every birthday his mother came for him viciously.)

I'm willing to bet that any previous clash he had with a mental hospital deeply involved Jake. One of them started fights and one of them played the game. Marc would get into fights, but Marc also knows how to play the game thanks to his mother. Jake would have wanted them out of there. He may have fought or he may have tried to take control to keep them safe.

So in this situation, Marc has been separated away from Steven, his emotional support and protection. He has been separated away from his physical protection and stabilizer.

And Jake DOES stabilize Marc. When Marc flies off the handle in a rage. When he has flashbacks. When he gets drunk and trashes a hotel room... Who steps in to settle things down? (JAKE'S FUCKING GLOVES WERE IN THAT HOTEL ROOM ON THE NIGHT STAND AS IF THEY HAD BEEN WORN AND TOSSED ASIDE. JAKE WAS THERE.)

So without all of Marc's safe guards, Marc is sitting there in a terrifying situation and his biggest trauma is brought up by a man that he knows he can't trust.

Look at how the episode starts. The cave. The running water. The screaming boy for help. His mother blaming him. It's all right there. Right on the edge of his mind like a bad flashback.

The last thing he wants is to be back in that cave again. Is to see his brother drowning again.

He's going to fight. If he wasn't so disabled by the drugs and injuries he would have burned the whole building to the ground if he could have.

I do have to wonder, though... Marc keeps going back to Dr. Harrow when things get too stressful there. Like a sort of time out. A time for him to try to process and make sense of things. He breaks down when Steven demands to go back to the room. Total melt down. The time out forces him to deal with it. To see it.

Even Steven goes there when he becomes overwhelmed and needs a time out to see what's really going on.

Dr. Harrow was very interested in speaking to Steven. He even mentions that it had been a long time since he had seen Steven. That Steven was the one that brought them there.

It's doubtful that Jake ever made it there. Dr. Harrow (and the real Harrow) had no idea about Jake. And Marc doesn't know about Jake, as this is Marc's processing time.

But what if Jake had made it there? What if Jake had it all figured out? What if Jake had gotten locked up on purpose?

Steven and Jake, literally compartmentalized by Marc.

Perhaps a Meta for another day.

[hamiltonconfessions-but-better]

Alexander Hamilton is depicted as a deeply flawed yet compelling protagonist. To claim that Hamilton “did no wrongs” would be an oversimplification, but in the broader context of his life story and motivations, his actions and choices reflect the complexity of human nature. He is not meant to be a perfect hero. Instead, Hamilton is a well-written, flawed protagonist who personifies ambition, trauma, and survival. The tendency to criticize him for not being morally impeccable misses the point of his character arc. In reality, his flaws are what make him relatable and human, and they highlight the larger message of the musical: the struggle for legacy, identity, and self-worth in an unforgiving world. To expect Hamilton to be a flawless, ideal figure is to misunderstand both the character and the human experience.

From the first song, the audience is introduced to a man who has survived more hardship than most can imagine. Orphaned at a young age, growing up in poverty, and facing constant instability, Alexander Hamilton was forced to fight for his survival from the very beginning. His determination to rise above his circumstances is a central theme in both his life and the musical. Miranda's version of Hamilton makes it clear that his ambition was not born of simple greed or arrogance but of a deep-rooted fear of being forgotten or left behind. This makes his drive to achieve understandable, even when it leads him down darker paths.

It is easy for critics to say, “well, he didn’t have to write The Reynolds Pamphlet,” or “he didn’t have to antagonize people like Jefferson and Burr,” but these moments stem from a deeper, almost primal need to secure his place in history. For someone who grew up with nothing, the idea of losing everything he built would have been unbearable. Basic empathy requires us to understand that Hamilton's decisions were influenced by his traumas. No one who has lived through what he did would come out unscathed or free from flaws. 

One of the greatest disservices people do when discussing Alexander Hamilton is expecting him to fit the mold of a “perfect protagonist.” We live in a world where audiences are conditioned to look for heroes who are morally upstanding, never make mistakes, and always choose the right path. but life—and great storytelling—doesn’t work that way. Characters like Eliza, who retain their strength and grace despite enduring immense loss, are inspiring, but they are not the only valid models of heroism. Not every person who suffers will react with unshakeable composure or selflessness. Hamilton's flaws make him more real, more complex, and more interesting. They reflect the reality that people, especially those who experience trauma, are not always equipped to handle their emotions or decisions in ways that fit neat moral binaries.

Hamilton's recklessness, pride, and ambition make him both admirable and infuriating. He rises to greatness through sheer force of will, but that same will sometimes leads him to self-destructive choices. His need to defend his legacy (whether by writing The Reynolds Pamphlet or by relentlessly opposing political enemies) comes from a deeply personal place. He isn’t a perfect leader or a perfect family man, but that imperfection is what makes his story so compelling. To fault him for not being more like Eliza, or even more like George Washington, is to impose an unrealistic standard on a character who was never meant to be idealized.

It's fine to critique Hamilton's actions—we should critique all characters’ actions—but what many critics miss is the essential empathy required to fully understand Hamilton's motivations. His decisions, especially the ones that seem irrational or destructive, are the result of years of hardship, insecurity, and an overwhelming need to prove his worth. Writing The Reynolds Pamphlet, for instance, was a terrible decision on the surface, but it came from a place of desperation. Hamilton believed that by confessing his own sins, he could preserve his political legacy. For someone whose entire identity was wrapped up in being remembered, that seemed like the only choice.

Moreover, holding Hamilton to the standard of someone like Eliza—who, as people often note, endured immense personal loss with dignity—ignores the fact that not everyone reacts to trauma in the same way. Eliza's strength doesn’t invalidate Hamilton's struggles. His mistakes and vulnerabilities make him a more fully fleshed-out character, and while we may not agree with everything he did, we can understand why he did it. His life was a constant fight against oblivion, and he chose to make himself known, even if it meant sacrificing personal relationships or making enemies.

What makes Alexander Hamilton a great protagonist is not that he is morally perfect but that he is deeply, unapologetically human. Characters like Hamilton show us that imperfection and complexity are what make for good storytelling. If Hamilton were a flawless hero, always making the “right” choice and never stumbling, his story wouldn’t resonate as deeply. His ambition is both his greatest strength and his fatal flaw, and this makes him relatable to anyone who has ever strived for something and paid the price.

By the end of the musical, Hamilton's legacy is defined by both his achievements and his mistakes. He revolutionized American politics, laid the foundations for the country’s financial system, and fought for the principles he believed in. At the same time, his impulsiveness and need for validation led him into unnecessary conflicts and ultimately cost him his life. These contradictions make him a well-rounded, unforgettable character, and his flaws are what drive his story forward. to ask for anything more would be to erase the richness of his character.

Alexander Hamilton was not perfect, but he wasn’t meant to be. Miranda's version of Hamilton is a reflection of the complexities of human ambition, trauma, and survival. To dismiss him because of his mistakes or to judge him by unrealistic standards of perfection is to ignore the essence of his character. Hamilton's flaws are what make him great—they are the cracks in his armor that allow us to see the full depth of his personality and his struggles. 

To truly appreciate Hamilton, both as a person and as a character in the musical, we must recognize that perfection is not the point. He was a deeply flawed protagonist, but one whose story resonates because it is grounded in the reality of human existence.

-alexander hamilton defense anon

.

[lurkingshan]

Earlier this week I read a couple smart posts by @impala124 about Yeong's self-destructive tendencies and by @solitaryandwandering about why Yeong pursued this relationship and how he may not have ever fully committed to letting Gyu-ho in, and something about their characterizations of Yeong in this relationship was scratching at my brain. It wasn't that I disagreed with them, because they're not wrong about some of his behaviors, but that it didn't feel like the full truth of this relationship. So I will attempt to tease that nuance out now.

I think a lot about how Yeong is the narrator of this story, and so everything we see is filtered through his perspective. This is much more evident in the book, where he is literally telling us what happened with his patented combination of distancing wit and biting self-loathing, whereas in the show they have intentionally gone a bit beyond his perspective to show us the characters existing outside of his head. We've all reflected over the last couple weeks on how that has changed the tone of the previous sections and relationships. But this part of the show is the most similar to the book, and that makes sense because Gyu-ho is the only character in the book besides Young who feels fully fleshed out and real on the page. He is deeply important to Young, and that comes across in how Young writes about him. And I think that comes through in the show, as well, both in the way Yeong behaves with him, and in the way this story is framed and shot to essentially make Gyu-ho feel like the light in his darkness. Young/Yeong/Sang Young Park deeply loves this man, and regrets losing him, and blames himself for most of what went wrong, and that colors everything about the way the story is told.

When we were discussing this part of the book, many of us noted that Young is something of an unreliable narrator, because you have to read between the lines to find his true feelings buried under constant obfuscations and emotionally distancing rhetoric. I think that same feeling came across in the show, but without the benefit of being able to see into him a bit deeper like in the book, it may be hard to see how much of himself he put into this relationship, and how sincerely he tried, and how external forces constantly worked to reinforce that he did not deserve and couldn't have it. I think it helps to look at his actions rather than his words, because this man does not like to speak about his sincere feelings very often:

Yeong was the one to pursue the relationship, going out of his way to find Gyu-ho again and ask him out after their initial encounters, and going back for him after initially parting at the train. I read that moment where the loud girls passed him as Yeong getting shaken out of his stasis and realizing he was missing a chance to have something real with Gyu-ho, and he didn’t want to lose his shot.

He put it out there first that he wanted their relationship to work out, a stunning moment of accidental honesty for someone who normally pretends an indifference he doesn't feel.

He took Gyu-ho seriously enough to disclose his biggest shame. I do not think he did this to try to push him away; he did it because he sincerely liked and cared about this man and he wanted to protect himself if this was something Gyu-ho could not accept.

Despite the fact that their sex life is stymied by their conflicting challenges and role preferences, Yeong was content. In the book we hear him reflect directly on how surprised he is to be this happy with someone without an amazing sex life, and that happiness shines through in the show before he sinks into depression.

Gyu-ho was not the first of Yeong’s boyfriends to meet the T-aras, but he was the only one Yeong was confident they would approve of, and he seemed so happy as he walked home with Gyu-ho after their meeting. He knows this man is special.

Yeong invited Gyu-ho into his home to live together--the home he previously shared with Mi Ae and seems to consider his safe haven. He wanted him there, and he trusted him to be there.

Despite their petty arguments about chores and how to manage their shared space, he sincerely makes room for Gyu-ho and wanted him to feel like it's theirs (though he doesn't always recognize how his own behavior makes that harder), down to matching couple mugs and the development of shared habits.

At several points in their relationship he encouraged Gyu-ho to get what he needs, even if it means going outside their relationship for sex (we only see this hinted at in the show), while he himself stays content with what he gets from Gyu-ho even as their sex life really falls off. Both his depression and his Kylie are at work, but Yeong never wants to leave Gyu-ho even in his darkest moments, or even as he claims things have become dull. Even when they were fighting in the midst of Yeong’s worst depressive episode, he said he was thinking about their future together.

When things started to get really dire, Yeong did not give up as he would have in previous relationships. Instead he suggested and booked them a trip to reconnect and spend quality time together, despite his financial stress and time limitations. And when removed from those huge stressors, they did reconnect and reaffirm their feelings, and we saw Yeong's happiness rise to the surface again.

The way Yeong began emotionally distancing once he realized he could not go to Shanghai was telling; he retreated back to his more indifferent persona once he believed the relationship could not work out as a way to protect himself--because he was devastated.

All this to say: Yeong cared about this relationship so much, and he really tried. He tried harder than we've seen him do with anyone else. He did not hold himself back or intentionally push Gyu-ho away until the end; this is simply who he is and what he can give to a partner.

Which brings me to the real main source of this relationships' downfall: disease, stigma, and homophobia. The thing I want to be really clear about here is that while Yeong did not make perfect choices, and there may have been a way for he and Gyu-ho to work out if he'd believed more in the strength of their partnership to overcome further hardship, he is not wrong to believe that Gyu-ho was negatively affected by his disease or to decide that he did not want to be a source of hardship for Gyu-ho. It is a factual statement that Yeong's Kylie resulted in Gyu-ho not getting everything he wanted and needed, and would have continued to deny him opportunities if they stayed together. Yeong is not merely imagining that his partner could be affected by the limitations Kylie puts on his life; that's very real and actively happening and constantly reinforced for him. And he loves Gyu-ho, so much. He doesn't want to be the reason Gyu-ho doesn't get everything he wants, and he's ashamed to hold him back. I wish for his sake that he could have made different choices, that he could have tried working something out that they would both be happy with, but lord do I understand why he didn't.

[chickenkurage]

“The state I found you in (It's like looking in a mirror)”

Summary: Snow sees himself too much in Vee, so it wasn’t a surprise to see Vee in such a bad state, Snow is just slightly angry at himself for not noticing sooner.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Found Family Dynamics, Fluff

*~*

Kit: Cursor Alan

Vee: Teen Alan

Feathers: Duck Alan

Noogai: Artificial Intelligence Alan

Snow: Creator Stickman Alan

Oji: Farmer Alan

*~*

Snow was keenly aware of Vee's tendency to lose sleep and skip meals, neglecting breakfast, lunch, and even dinner. Vee had a persistent habit of doing so, often relying on Oji or Noogai to pull him out of his funk and coax him into eating or taking a bath. The weariness etched on Vee's face made it clear just how much he struggled.

In short, Snow understood that Vee was on a self-destructive path, mirroring Snow's own struggles, yet Snow hadn't found the courage to address it with him. Oji and Noogai seemed better equipped to handle this than Snow, who admitted his own shortcomings when it came to dealing with emotions.

If only he were more adept at such conversations, maybe the Hollowheads wouldn't have distanced themselves from him, would they?

At present, it was just Snow and Vee in their shared home. The others had moved on to their own worlds.

While in his world, Snow has only Ammy to confide in. He longed for the company of his other selves, only to realize that Vee was the sole remaining presence in the household.

Now, as Snow sank onto the couch, resting his chin on his hands with his elbow on his knees, he let out a heavy sigh. Should he return to his own world? College life was demanding for Vee, just as Snow vaguely recalled his own art school days.

College life was a relentless grind, with countless sleepless nights that Snow himself had endured. It was entirely plausible that Vee was going through similar struggles.

In a fleeting moment, Snow contemplated knocking on Vee's door to inquire about his well-being but ultimately retreated to his own room, opting to rest first. Perhaps tomorrow he would muster the courage to engage in a conversation if Vee emerged from his own seclusion.

*~*

Vee remained holed up in his room not just the next day, but for several days in a row, leading Snow to believe he was alone in the house and that Vee had likely left the night before. Standing outside Vee's room, Snow hesitated, contemplating whether to knock. Could Vee still be inside? Maybe he had already departed.

"No way he's been in there for days. That's impossible. No one can do that," Snow muttered to himself, dropping his hand to his side and crossing his arms.

Before he could react, the door swung open, revealing Vee with a tissue stuffed up his nose, his complexion pale, and his eyes weary as he looked up at Snow in surprise. "S-Snow? Have you been here all this time?" Vee stammered, his astonishment mirrored in Snow's blinking gaze.

"I thought you had gone home a few days ago, Vee. Are you telling me you haven't left your room in days now?" Snow inquired, his typically soft voice taking on a slightly more angry tone as Vee winced, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Days have passed already? Uh... no way, haha... you must be kidding, right?" Vee weakly grinned up at Snow, but his expression faltered when Snow continued to gaze at him intently. "Oh, crap... Seriously?" Vee whispered, placing a hand on his head, his eyes widening before Snow gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "What have you been doing? Did you even eat? I thought—I thought you had already gone home," Snow's voice tinged with concern as Vee waved a hand.

"I-I did! I just ate really late. You were probably already asleep... um," Vee awkwardly explained, pulling the tissue from his nose, crumpling it into a ball, and stuffing it into his pocket before sniffing. "I was just finishing up some school work, and I couldn't focus back at home. I kept getting distracted, so I came here..." Vee mumbled, as Snow sighed.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look really pale," Snow inquired, bending down slowly to meet Vee's gaze eye to eye.

"Uhh, heh, I'm doing fine, just a little tired. School work's got me messed up, am I right?" Vee nonchalantly shrugged as Snow observed him closely. "Are you sure?" Snow questioned once more, his concern evident, as Vee nodded rapidly, wincing as the room seemed to spin around him. His head had been throbbing persistently for days now.

"Vee?" Snow placed a hand on Vee's shoulder as Vee stumbled on his feet. He heard Vee sniff again, pressing the back of his hand against his nose, only to emit a small noise of surprise when it came away bloody. "You're having a nosebleed!" Snow exclaimed in panic as Vee stared at it, bewildered, before faltering again and almost collapsing into Snow's arms.

"I think—" Vee stuttered, his hand reaching to his nose in an attempt to staunch the bleeding before apologizing to Snow, "Sorry, Snow, I think I'm going to pass out." With those words, Vee's vision darkened, and he slumped towards the floor.

"Shit!" Snow exclaimed, moving swiftly to catch Vee before he hit the ground, lifting him up in his arms to prevent his fall.

*~*

It took a considerable effort for Snow to stop Vee's nosebleed, to the extent that he began to worry if he should rush Vee to the hospital, only to recall the impossibility of bringing Vee to his own world.

Snow dedicated himself to wiping the blood from Vee's chin and placing a comforting hand on his clammy forehead, his face etched with concern. He paced back and forth in front of the couch where Vee lay, yearning for the presence of Noogai in that moment.

Would Noogai be adept at handling this situation? Or perhaps Oji, given the other Alan's experience with children. "Ugh, damn it!" Snow growled, frustration evident as he clenched his fist in his hair, pacing anxiously to the point where he feared he might leave a trail of fire in his wake from sheer agitation.

"Snow?" Vee mumbled, breaking Snow from his thoughts. Snow turned to him in surprise, rushing to Vee's side and kneeling beside the couch to assess his condition. 

"Vee, you're awake! How are you feeling? You just had a nosebleed for almost 2 minutes. I was so worried," Snow's words tumbled out rapidly, tinged with panic as Vee squinted at him, attempting to comprehend what Snow had just said.

“Wha—” Vee mumbled, attempting to push himself up but faltering until Snow lent a hand, assisting him to sit upright. He handed Vee the now-warm water from the coffee table, guiding him to take a sip. “Sorry, uh, drink first,” Snow murmured as Vee nodded, eagerly gulping down the water.

“What happened?” Vee inquired, rubbing his head in confusion. The throbbing headache had vanished, and to his surprise, he felt better than before. Could Snow possess healing abilities? A power nap couldn't have worked such instant wonders on Vee.

“You passed out, Vee. You weren’t getting any sleep were you?” Snow's tone carried a hint of accusation as Vee blushed. “That wasn’t—” Vee began, his face flushing as Snow scrutinized him. “Yeah, I didn’t,” Vee admitted, his demeanor deflating as Snow sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That was dangerous. What if I hadn’t been here? What if you had passed out and choked on your own blood?!” Snow's tone was laced with worry and exasperation as Vee raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s... kind of graphic... and a very well-thought-out scenario,” Vee remarked, furrowing his brow as Snow emitted a distressed sound from the back of his throat.

"Vee, I'm not joking. That was incredibly risky. Isn't this a wake-up call for you to start taking better care of yourself?" Snow's voice held a peculiar softness as Vee gazed at him, his expression a mix of surprise and pallor. "Oh, that, huh?... Right... uhm," Vee responded awkwardly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Vee... I—well, a lot of us care about you. The people in your world care about you too. Why don't you value yourself as much as they do?" Snow tilted his head, his forehead creased with worry.

"I do... I just forget sometimes... I'm sorry for causing you so much concern, Snow," Vee mumbled, averting his gaze to his lap, his lip caught between his teeth. Beside him, Snow simply sighed. "It's okay. Perhaps next time, set alarms to remind you to take breaks," Snow suggested, standing up and settling at the foot of Vee's position, allowing Vee to rest his leg on his lap.

Following this exchange, silence enveloped the room. Vee reclined against the bunched-up pillows behind him, his eyes growing heavy once more as he observed Snow turning towards him. "Go back to sleep. I'll keep watch," Snow spoke softly, prompting a hum of acknowledgment from Vee. "Thanks, Snow. You're the best," Vee muttered, snuggling back into the pillows.

"Thanks for being here," Vee murmured, closing his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

Snow slowly released a breath through his nose, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Guilt churned in his gut, weighing heavily on him for allowing Vee to push himself to the brink of passing out and suffering a nosebleed.

*~*

The next day, when the others returned, Snow arranged for Noogai to give Vee a check-up. Fortunately, it turned out that Vee was only dehydrated and slightly underweight. Upon hearing this, Oji wasted no time in bustling about the kitchen, preparing a feast, while everyone collectively enveloped Vee in a blanket. Kit took charge of the TV, playing something to distract them all.

While, Feathers delivered a stern lecture to Vee about the importance of taking care of his own well-being.

"Guys... please, Snow, help me out of here," Vee mumbled, his voice muffled as he struggled within the confines of the blanket, his hair tousled. Snow chuckled softly. "I think a week of rest would do you good," he suggested, causing Vee's eyes to widen in disbelief.

"What?!" Vee exclaimed, watching as Snow made his way towards the kitchen where the others had gathered. "Wait! Snow! Guys!" Vee called out, a mixture of surprise and protest in his voice.

*~*

for @0gingerflake0

Hope you enjoy, very late, sorry for the wait :3 - S

[yuri-is-online]

Masquerade request with number 5 for Jamil (tho not sure he'd be shy, more like reticent, potentially) aand since I can ask for two others I guess I might as well go for Azul and Deuce who kinda seem like suitable sorts for this prompt.

Ty!

-viperwhispered

5. You know it's him and he knows it's you, but you're both a bit too shy to admit you would like to keep holding onto each other when the masks come off, so you'll just stay here together a little longer.

Completely agree that Jamil wouldn't be shy in this scenario, more like a prisoner of his own self destructive tendencies. Also hello! I'm always really happy to see you in my notifications Whisper <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> Your comments are always very much appreciated.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is mildly angsty and I am uncertain if I have provided any comfort here. Uhh unrequited requited love, everyone here is a pining idiot, Deuce is bro zoning himself. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Jamil

He is unprepared for what it feels like to hold you.

It's one thing to look at someone, another to think of them, but both keep a level of imagination to the interaction. Jamil doesn't have the risk of failure in his imagination; he can comfort himself in his perceived superiority and not actually make the effort. There is no warmth in those thoughts, no weight, no you, nothing resembling the delicate weight in his arms that he finds himself wanting to-

"Are you alright?" You ask softly, bringing some focus back to Jamil's eyes, he smiles at you and you wish you could be certain that he really means it.

"I'm just... unused to this." Jamil chooses his words carefully. He does not expect you to know it's him, but there's always the chance someone else does. It makes him feel sick to think the small sigh of relief you give could be meant for someone else, his mind has a ready supply of suspects, but tonight is supposed to be for strangers to play act at romance. He is... allowed... to want this. "I am not that interesting of a guy, you know?"

"I'm sure you're plenty interesting." You say and Jamil swallows to steady himself, trying to remind the spiraling fractions of his mind that you are saying this to a stranger. You would, you have very likely, said this to anyone who needed the encouragement. "If you let yourself go I am sure you will find there's a person underneath the act." But would it be one you approve of? And why is he worrying over that when everyone should approve of him anyway, especially considering what middling results his classmates are barely capable of?

"Your compliments aren't necessary." His smile says otherwise but you cannot bring yourself to push it least you push Jamil away. "But if you wish to keep them coming I will not stop you." You wind your arms around him to pull Jamil just a bit closer. If only he could read your mind as well as command it, if only he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

"Are you sure you can withstand it?" No he's not. "Because I could go on for quite some time." You are clearly teasing him. Jamil's heart should be used to stress, it's been working overtime since he was first sworn over to Kalim, but he's not. There's something new about this stress, or maybe it isn't stress at all and that's just what he's labeling it because that's what he is used to feeling.

"I can take anything." Jamil certainly projects something like confidence, but even as the other guests begin removing their masks his stays firmly put. In both senses you suppose, unable to keep a bitter sigh from escaping you.

But you say nothing, choosing to simply squeeze his hand and hope that he will somehow inhale the meaning of your movements with the sharp breath he takes.

You can want this, please say you want this, please say you want me and give me a reason to stay.

But he can't in good conscious. He is bound by a duty he wishes upon no one, he refuses to ask properly. Just what it is Jamil wants of you needs to be asked for in freedom. So once again you slip away into the night alone with his hand reaching out towards you just out of sight.

Azul

"You have a strong grip." Your voice is muffled as the gentle, but strong hand at the back of your head keeps you firmly resting on this handsome "stranger's" shoulder.

Azul appears to be under the impression this will be easier on him if he cannot see you, but he seems to have forgotten he still can look down the expanse of your back when he holds you this close. What you're doing can barely be described as dancing, swaying is what people might call it but Azul barely registers that he is moving.

"Of course I do." His voice lacks the usual musical performance you associate with it, he sounds almost... tired. Overwhelmed, you decide is the more accurate term as you exhale into his neck and try not to savor the way he shudders. "To keep precious things close is what any pirate would do, hm?" You smile.

"Fancy yourself a heart thief? I would think that's a more Heartslabyul gig." He stiffens, you know he was just trying to make a jest at the appearance of his costume but you appear to have touched some sort of nerve. Azul pulls you closer, arm wrapping properly around your waist instead of simply sitting on it.

"Is it?" Azul wants to vomit all his feelings up, eject them like a sea cucumber and walk off the embarrassment from showing his guts. Anything has to be less painful than thinking of his-

No you are not his. That's why he is being a coward and not looking you in the eye like any proper gentleman would. Why he had asked for a dance, kissed your hand, and not let go of you all under the flimsy pretense of a mask. Azul dislikes taking solace in your kindness, but he knows he can rely on you to not make him pay for this. Even if you really should.

"Has your heart already been carried off to a maze?" Azul is trying to make a joke, but you are so close to his heart you can hear the nerves hammering away at his typical sense of self.

"I think my heart is drowning." You whisper it, low into his pulse point before your eyes squeeze close in embarrassment. Azul's pulse does not slow, and he cannot squeeze you any closer, a sure sign as if you needed it that he isn't Floyd nor could he ever pretend to be. But he can guide you into a sway that's a little more like a dance.

This is enough for tonight. It will not be enough tomorrow, but it is enough for tonight.

Deuce

This is how friends look at each other. Deuce would know because he has never looked at you any other way. There's a respectful distance between you both, an almost boring decorum to the proper ballroom dance he is happily guiding you in. If it weren't for his continued refusal to call you by your name or meaningless title, it would be like you were talking normally.

"Do they have dances like this where you're from?" Deuce is genuine in his interest, always eager to find a new way to ensure you feel like you belong.

"In books and movies maybe." Your laughter makes him soar, spinning you into the air for a brief second that adds a shriek to it that brings a grin to his face that has you feeling lightheaded. "Honestly I never thought I would get a chance to go to something like this!"

"Why not?" It's a stupid question, even if you have repeatedly reassured him there is no such thing.

"Well a Masquerade is kind of a rich people thing, and I'm not rich." Technically you shouldn't be here either, but you let that thought go unsaid. It never even crosses Deuce's mind, there is something so natural about having you in his arms that the idea of a world without you in it-

A world without you in it. It crystalizes as someone taps on the mic to announce the band will play just one as nice slow song that if everything in Twisted Wonderland had been normal he would be rolling his eyes at as he escapes to the sidelines. But that's not what's happening, he is pulling you closer to him and placing his arm around your waist without so much as a second thought.

"I'm not rich either." Deuce says, no where near as stiff in tone or posture as you would have expected him to be when trying to slow dance. If anything he holds you as if it is the most natural thing in the world to him, lapsing into uncharacteristic silence as he really looks you in the eyes with some strange hidden emotion in them.

It's always been there of course, this is always the way Deuce looks at you, but the mask ironically forces you to really see it.

"I'm lucky to be in this world with you." He means it, and though you hold tightly to his hand he doesn't think you know just how much.

[thankshermin]

About the Scene Where Dazai Tells Akutagawa “You got stronger“

...and some rambling about their relationship, featuring a few lines about Kyouka and Mori at some point.

I think about that scene a lot and the fact that it is not talked about is really bugging me off so I need to get some things out of my chest,, let’s gooo 

CW: mentions of abuse

First of all, it is not equal to an apology. It simply is not. There is a high chance that Dazai probably didn’t even say it as an apology. He merely stated the fact that Akutagawa got stronger. What is more important about this scene is not what he said but rather how he said it.  

Dazai has changed and he is still changing for the better. The way he looks at Akutagawa and praises him in that soft tone is not how would Dazai express his thoughts to Akutagawa in the mafia.  

Now, for another matter about this scene; those words obviously meant a lot to Akutagawa but it doesn’t have to mean much, if anything, to him. 

Dazai doesn’t apologize to him. He doesn’t mention anything about his treatment to Akutagawa and doesn’t acknowledge it. We don’t know for sure if he truly doesn’t regret it or if he does feel ashamed about it and decides against saying something.

Why was Dazai even that awful to Akutagawa, anyway?

Well, obviously not because he takes sadistic pleasure from hurting Akutagawa. He believed that if he didn't, Akutagawa couldn't survive in the mafia. Akutagawa turned out to be the mafias one of the strongest attackers, due to this. Was it necessary? Of course not. He was very abusive towards Akutagawa. Is it an explanation? Yes, it is. That is what Dazai thought he was supposed to do, and since he didn't have any direct subordinates he mentored; we can't really compare but there is this conversation he had with Odasaku;

“Ah, Akutagawa is a sword without a scabbard.” Dazai smiles slightly. “It won’t be long before he becomes the mafia’s most powerful ability user. However, someone needs to teach him how to keep his blade.” I am startled. I have never heard Dazai praise his subordinates so unreservedly. “Is he really that outstanding?” “When I first saw him in the slums, I shuddered. His talent is far above that of others. His ability is extremely destructive, and he is fairly stubborn himself. If left ignored, he would be at the mercy of his ability. It wouldn’t be long until he self-destructs.” Dazai has never taken the initiative to take in a subordinate, much less a starving youth in the slums. But Dazai seems to have his own plans.

This makes me sad because Dazai never disliked Akutagawa or thought he was weak. He always thought Akutagawa would be strong. But the thing is, Akutagawa doesn't know that. Dazai never made it clear to him. Kind of a shame he was a shitty teacher most of the time. Makes me wonder why Mori never said anything about it to Dazai. I am curious about lots of things about Mori and Dazai's relationship, to be honest. Dazai was always messed up but Mori messed him to a further point, whether he meant it or not. Dazai was also really mentally unstable when he was still in the mafia and couldn't bother trying to be gentle. Dazai is still not healed but he is doing a lot better in the ADA.

Back to Dazai never saying anything about it, that behavior itself is very weak on Dazai’s end. He desperately tries to change but there are just some things that he still can not work on. One of them is this. He has unfinished businesses with many people and one of them is Akutagawa. Maybe he can’t bring himself to show that vulnerability towards him, maybe he truly doesn’t think what he did was something he should be apologizing for, maybe he thinks apologizing could make it worse instead of fixing it, etc. etc. I can still count.

But there is one thing and it’s that Dazai doesn’t go out of his comfort zone in his relationships. I am not saying that he would return back to his old tendencies in time since that goes against all of his character trying to find his place in a better world but I’m just saying that Dazai probably finds it more convenient to treat Akutagawa the way he always did and even that little “you’ve gotten stronger” was a milestone for him. 

Akutagawa really had the right to say fuck off to Dazai and his half-assed apology, he really did, but I believe that scene was as equally important on Dazai's end as it is on Akutagawa's side. It means something. It isn't supposed to fly over the viewers' heads.

Progress isn't linear and Dazai shows it in a very slow way. A lot of things get in his way. He sometimes struggles, but that's what makes it realistic. you know what they say; one step forward, two steps back.

What the larger part of the fandom refuses to understand is that Dazai is not on the polar end of something. He is very mixed in that part. He is not a pure angel and probably would be one of the worst people you could have ever met if he were a real person. But he is not the devil's respawn on Earth either. Most of y'all forget that he was a lost child who got guided by the worst possible person ever. (I really like Mori's character too but that's a different topic, he is still a terrible person) If he is trying to change and do better, I'm always going to be rooting for him.

There is this saying, you can't teach an old dog new tricks and I really want Dazai to prove this wrong. His words to Akutagawa were not his destination on this journey, it was more like a milestone.

Akutagawa is also showing development too and that is mostly thanks to Atsushi. I kind of doubt this but maybe Akutagawa understands the meaning of Dazai's words since he was also giving Kyouka a half-assed apology type of thing. Their situations are so similar that I don't need to say much about it.

Akutagawa has grown so much and he probably will continue to do that, but it doesn't erase his trauma, not really. Dazai really messed Akutagawa up. Even though it doesn't count as an apology, this shows that Akutagawa has come to terms with Dazai's abuse and his own treatment of Kyouka and he deserves a kudos for that. acknowledging that your mentor messed you up and also acknowledging that you traumatized someone takes an effort.

Akutagawa may have learned most of the cruel things he did from Dazai, but he has grown enough to realize that he is actually his own person.

Ending;

I like most bsd characters because of how real and how grey they are and the abuse circle/web is really well-written. I really do want to explore it better some other time. As I said, not everyone has the guts to come up to terms with the fact that they were abused, let alone that they were shitty to other people. Akutagawa and Dazai are really different characters on their own but their relationship shows that they truly are influenced by an upper power and even though they both individually have a long way to go, this scene of Dazai telling Akutagawa he got stronger does mean a lot than an interaction between them that lasted two seconds.

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Hello, Comrade!!

You're the most knowledgeable person in Reverse I know so, I have to ask this one question I have (I still haven't finished 1.9 nor played Kakania's story but you can tell me whatever you want)

Is Kakania's way to deal with the trauma she went through in Vienna looking for a way to condemn herself? For her to go through pain or some sort of punishment after all of it?

A way of survivor's guilt mixed with self-disgust and self-condemnation?

I just watched Silent Hill two, sat through two hours of it while working, and couldn't help but find out that (to some extent) the protagonist in that game and Kakania had nearly the same way to cope.

I thought you would give me some insight in this, you may not have watched Silent Hill 2 but it's not necessary for this, just a comparison.

So, what do you think?

Greetings Comrade!

🥺 i really appreciate that you think i am knowledge on this game - its alot of rambling and brainrot of knowledge for the most part + the lack of a proper wiki for lore currently

Brief look at Kakania's self guilt after 1.9, comparing to SH2

Anyways, Kakania is 100% looking for a way to condemn herself following the events of 1.9, if the notion of having herself washed away by the Storm as repentance wasn't enough her character story does hammer home this guilt and need to atone. I think the conclusion by the end of character story ultimately sees her moving forward and understanding that right now she cannot help Isolde and if anything worsened her condition. But equally right now the "salvation" she brought Isolde did alleviate some of her pain, not entirely and definitely not a healthy method - but did help I think.

Self-Condemnation? In joining the History Guard, Ive mentioned before how the Foundation is essentially enabling her self-destructive tendencies by 'persuading' her to take a job with a high morality rate clearly does look like Kakania seeks repentance and punishment through potentially sacrificing herself on the line of duty. (Cough cough literally people like Sonetto and even Matilda have this mentally of sacrificing themselves for the greater good cough cough).

I think in terms of self-disgust, potentially the scene before Isolde's boss back in Book 6, sure she covered the mirrors as part of the plan with Marcus, but this aversion to looking at herself after the ramifications of Isolde's actions, Heinrich and Hoffman's death being indirectly and the directly the result of Kakania's own words and breaking of doctor and patient confidentiality and everything your NOT meant to discuss with patients - yeah. Spending the length of her character story was literally her struggling with self-reflection of her ideals, there is a level of disgust I think towards that idealised mindset she originally had.

In terms of Silent Hill 2, lmao same I haven't played but watched a couple of playthroughs and video essays on them. But its been a while so take this with a grain of salt. Both Kakania and James both struggle with the actions but more on James part he attempts to hide away from it, through the fog and the conceit that Mary died three years ago to an illness and not by him suffocating by his hands. In comparison Kakania upon realising what her words have led to immediately sought out the rectify her mistakes, even if at the cost of her life potentially.

James over the course of Silent Hill 2 had to confront the truth instead of hiding away from it in his subconscious, while Kakania confronted the truth of her actions immediately, her struggle was grappling with its aftermath and how to move on from that pain and look forward.

Similarities I could see between them is the nature of the lack of communication between the partners: James did not fully understand Mary and vice versa, and Kakania could not comprehend Isolde fully (we as well cannot fully trust Isolde's perspective as seen in Three Doors) and Isolde did not comprehend the "remove the disease of the world is not actually go kill people and jumpstart ww1 early".

Summary: Kakania definitely struggles with self-disgust and self-condemnation following 1.9 as seen with her character story.

James and Kakania grapple with their ways to cope and grapple with the truth of their actions differently: James throughout his game is about confronting reality and truth THEN moving on, while Kakania through her story is about the aftermath of that truth, finding a way to move forwards even after everything.

(Its been a while since doing this, writing an essay type thing lol, last time I was thinking this hard for r1999 was the Manus Vertin AU lol, probably will start rambling again once 2.1 drops because I do have alot of say about stuff there)

[andie-platonically]

Fantasy High characters as songs by The Mountain Goats

1. Kristen Applebees - Before I Got There

“And the tapestry above / Torn down, trampled then re-hung / Now illegible forever / An oracle with no tongue/ All of this, all of this / All of this before I got there”

I think this song so perfectly mirrors Kristen’s relationship with both Cassandra and Ankarna. Like, both of them had been corrupted and used to further other people’s evil plans with no regard to their original followers’ intent. Until Kristen arrived. Until she lovingly restored them to their original forms with such respect to why they were created, and her compassion is one of my favorite things about her character.

2. Riz Gukgak - Ground Level

“You can light a cigarette / against the cooktop if you need to / feel the heat against your forehead / let it bleed through / you’re never gonna get by / on three hours of sleep a night / unless you absolutely have to / and then you get by alright.”

I almost picked Bones Don’t Rust, which you should also add to your Riz character playlist but I went with this one instead. We see Riz take up smoking in Junior Year, we see him not sleeping and overworking himself throughout the series, and I think a lot of that does come from a place of going beyond his breaking point, steadfastly refusing to break, and thinking that means he’s okay.

3. Fabian Seacaster - Wage Wars Get Rich Die Handsome / Great Pirates

I’m cheating and giving Fabian two songs because he changes so much throughout the series. Here’s the first one:

“Stay independent, make adjustments as needed / it’s losers all the way down, you stay undefeated / wage wars, get rich, die handsome.”

I think this song is peak Fabian from Freshman Year. It references motorcycle riding, the narrator genuinely thinks he’s such hot shit, and I mean like, come on. Wage wars, get rich, die handsome. It’s literally perfect. But Fabian grows. He changes. So here’s the second song I picked for him:

“On the morning when I stop looking back / I’ll be up to see the sunrise in deep, bruise black / And bright, blood red / And pale desert rose / And several other colors like those / great pirates, testing the waves.”

Okay, so obviously it was fun to use a Mountain Goats song with pirates in it, but also, I interpret this song as being about moving on from your past and looking towards an uncertain future. So much of Fabian’s arc has been him figuring out who he is beyond his dad’s legacy, and so I think this song works really well with that. (I probably could have picked any Jenny from Thebes song and it would have a lot of those themes, but come on, pirates!)

4. Fig Faeth - Cry for Judas

“Speed up to the precipice / and then slam on the breaks / some people crash two or three times / And then learn from their mistakes / But we are the ones who don’t slow down at all / and there’s nobody there to catch us when we fall.”

I think Fig’s self destructive tendencies are more evident early on in the series (see: all her affairs with middle-aged men) but honestly, the way she puts herself on the front lines again and again for her friends is just as destructive imo. Also, this song gives such difficult child-energy, and I think sometimes this is how Sandralynn sees her. This kid who didn’t deal with her curse because it didn’t seem important when her friends had other things going on. This kid who skips her classes, is straight-edge except for drugs. This kid who was knocked unconscious in her first combat and wanted everyone to think she spent the whole time fighting.

5. Adaine Abernant - Up the Wolves

“I’m gonna get myself in fighting trim / scope out every angle of unfair advantage / I’m gonna bribe the officials, I’m gonna kill all the judges / It’s gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage.”

Trigger warning to those who need it: Sunset Tree is about abuse, which is obviously quite prevalent in Adaine’s arc Freshman/Sophomore Year. It was between this and Lion’s Teeth. What I like about this song for Adaine is that it is tragic, of course it’s tragic, but it also shows her rage, not just for herself but for Aelwyn too. This is a girl who took what her parents did to her and said that’s not fair and punched her dad so hard in the face that he died. I also think that given how Adaine’s relationship with her mother is so much more complicated, the other parts of this song work well with that.

6. Gorgug Thistlespring - The Slow Parts on Death Metal Albums

“Drive home alone and listen to the slow parts / In a new universe / trying to find the mask that still fits me / shaking the curse.”

I’m gonna be so real, I really struggled with this one because I just don’t relate to Gorgug as much, but I’m so infatuated with the idea that he listens to the slow parts of death metal albums, and I do think that this song, to me, fits the fact that Gorgug doesn’t really fit the roles anyone expects from him. He’s not just a mindless raging half-orc, he’s also kind and shy and gentle and loving. But he does have a lot of rage and he reacts violently at times and his parents love him but they don’t always know what to do with that.

Bonus song! Jawbone - Midland

“Come and stay with me as long as you like / I live outside of town where the straight highway curves / three years I lived next door to the airport / so nothing you can say to me can get on my nerves.”

Jawbone collects fucked up teens like pokemon cards, so I every time I hear this song I think of him. Also, the way the narrator of this song gives the subject time and space to go through things and assures them that yeah, I’ll still be here, is so very Jawbone-coded imo. Also, later in the song, he says “stay till you can grieve like normal people do / I’ve got room, room in my house for you.” Like, every line of this song is just so Jawbone I need y’all to understand.

Bonus song #2! The Bad Kids - When a Powerful Animal Comes

“Speak in gestures only we can understand / we’ve made mistakes / everyone spots their own mess / when the dawn breaks / we get so exhausted / lost kids, just wasted / sleep in short shifts then rise to our feet / life is short and life is hard and life is sweet.”

This song is the most Bad Kids shit I’ve ever heard in my life. If it’s not in your Bad Kids playlist, you gotta add it now and Weary Adventures by Skull Puppies haha anyway It’s just literally so perfect. It’s just these kids with the weight of the world on their shoulders, so fucking tired of saving the world. It’s literally the overall arc of Junior Year!

[blcssom]

ok ok ok i'm reasonably caught up on drafts (single digits baby 😎) which means it's time for me to fill it with n e w things :' ))))

like this for a short starter (possibly usfw) from one of the below muses i'm itching to write atm !!! i'll come to you for muse preference <3

anthony allen (46) - financial consultant | bisexual | luke kirby fc a very high powered man in the conference room but an absolute pathetic simp when it comes to relationships !!! never above getting on his knees and begging for the approval of whoever's giving him affection.... may be a lil touch starved

beau greer (32) - librarian/cam boy | bisexual | drew starkey fc comes across very serious and quiet due to the nature of his work but absolutely unhinged in his free time xoxox naturally self-destructive and constantly pushing boundaries (sexually, emotionally, physically, etc.) just to see if he can !! live fast die young yk the drill

brianne barlowe (30) - personal stylist | bisexual | sarah catherine hook fc absolutely too rich to be kind to anyone not worshipping her !!! blonde rich bitch w/ a god complex and a tendency to act out when she's bored (which is pretty often) - approach at your own risk

carmen navarro (24) - exotic dancer | bisexual | nicole wallace fc former white trash turned would-be prima ballerina !!! unfortunately couldn't keep up w/ the $$$ for her lessons so she made a quick pivot to stripping as one does <333 never lost that ego tho very much thinks she's more talented than any other girl in the room, takes her dancing VERY seriously but also throws fits when things don't go her way whoops

declan bain (52) - ghost writer | bisexual | ewan mcgregor fc former child prodigy turned recluse !! absolutely hates socializing or being perceived in general so he switched from writing his own books to writing other people's xox very observant tho somehow manages to capture the human experience v well despite never participating !! also touch starved (shocker)

kiara obi (28) - caterer | bisexual | ayo edebiri fc big time frantic hummingbird energy this girl CANNOT sit still for the life of her. always moving/talking/walking f a s t and doesn't really make time for anyone to keep up w/ her.... unsurprisingly very socially awkward and blunt and doesn't understand why that's a problem :' )))

lenore acosta (35) - seamstress | bisexual | nathalie emmanuel fc very holistic very peace love and joy..... also v clingy and maybe not the best w/ boundaries (i.e. she doesn't respect them) but like !!! so cute so sunshine until she keys your car bc you didn't text her back for forty-five minutes even though she knows you read it <333

luca rosen (48) - priest/con-man | heterosexual | jon bernthal fc think harold hill a la the music man genuinely just moves from town to town looking for a way to scam as many people as possible and get the fuck outta dodge before they can catch on <333 currently working as a priest and he likes corrupting his flock almost as much as he likes pocketing the collection plate at the end of his 'sermon'

marcella locardi (40) - entertainment lawyer | bisexual | cristin milioti fc VERY good at what she does god can this woman argue.... absolutely not above pulling underhanded stunts in court for her clients and subsequently has never lost a case !! and if she sleeps with a client here or there or everywhere what of it??? genuinely believes the rules do not apply to her (might even think she's immortal??? depends if she's taken her meds)

remi tahara (27) - twitch streamer | bisexual | nico hiraga fc just a DOPE a loser a sweet puppy..... does what he's told without questioning it bc people are usually right and he's usually wrong!!! went viral for doing jackass level stunts his chat suggested which is not his f a v o r i t e thing but he loves how excited the audience gets when he's streaming from the ER so.......... he's gonna keep doin it

taran lowe (22) - vagabond/photographer | bisexual | louis partridge fc very laurie (little women) coded he's just coasting on his late grandad's money and traveling the world collecting lovers like infinity stones (and somehow dodging stds ??? lord knows how) very much comes and goes as he pleases and doesn't get why that's an issue !!!! will probably never love anyone as much as he loves himself his freedom but he sure is convincing w/ those flowery promises he likes to handout

[heinzpilsner]

Hmm, while there is a grain of truth in the popular zutarian take on "Southern Raiders" ("Aang is preachy and Zuko cares for Katara's feelings"), reading this episode as an evidence that Zuko is a right partner for Katara still doesn't sit quite well with me (and I'm a zutara trash, mind you!)

The problem with this ep in general is what it mixes too many complex topics together, and it becomes difficult to entangle the mess.

Basically, Aang was wrong talking in terms of "revenge" and "forgiveness" and "Jet" and "Appa" instead of "Katara's mental health", but he was right in his general concern. Hatred is not some precious right a person needs to hold on. It's a destructive feeling which is better to manage adequately for the sake of a person's own well-being.

But wait, someone may ask, isn't that exactly what Zuko was offering? To help Katara manage her hatred?

Well, yes and no. Yes, he was trying. No, this wasn't a good way to achieve it.

What many people don't seem to understand is that you don't need to confront the actual physical person you hate to deal with your hatred. Quite the opposite, actually. It's the person's imprint within your psyche what keeps destroying you from inside, and facing the person himself doesn't dissipate this imprint magically. It will only make things worse (*the only exception is when the both sides are genuinely interested in fixing things between them). You need to work with the imprint, and it's much easier to achieve when an object of your hatred is physically distant. No matter what kind of person you are, or what your moral/religious beliefs are, this is universal.

(It's a complex psychological topic I'm not really an expert on, so I'm not gonna go into much detail here. I'll just say what therapists have their ways to work with it).

I suspect Aang intuitively realized the problem, but with him being a 12-year-old monk and not having the needed skills or categorical apparatus, "forgiveness" was the best approximation to a right solution he could think of (I have no way of proving it though, so take it with a grain of salt as well as this whole post in general, lol).

While some idealization (and a lot of preaching) on Aang's part may have taken place, he saw "Katara's inner darkness" for what it was - a self-destructive tendency. She may think confronting Yon Rha is what she needs (although before Zuko introduced the idea, she didn't even think of the possibility), but it wouldn't be good for her. Sometimes, your loved ones are not right. Sometimes, they're about to hurt themselves. And it's not disrespectful to try and dissuade them from this (You'd think post-redemption Zuko of all people would agree with the sentiment).

Now, Zuko. While it's not his fault by any means I'm looking at you royal family, the way he dealt with the problem wasn't exactly the healthiest (or most selfless, as some people insist). He meant well, but offered a wrong method, and held on this specific method because it was something he personally could help Katara with. "It's the same as doing nothing!" - these are the words that kinda gave him away. I suspect it's not Katara's revenge or justice he was so passionate about, but his own chance of action. He was desperate for it. He didn't even stop to listen to her brother's and best friend's perspective, because it was interfering with his opportunity to be helpful, to be on the same side as Katara. In general, when your partner is too eager to side with you against your loving family, it's not a good sign, even when the family isn't perfect. (Well, okay, Aang's spectacularly poor choice of words had something to do with it as well. And where were you, Sokka-with-the-beard, when you were most needed?)

No one really offered a better practical solution to Katara's problem than Zuko though, that's the sad truth. And to be fair, after Katara had agreed to his plan enthusiastically, where was no better option for him than to go with it, I guess.

But... The bar was so low that offering nothing in the first place would be a better solution than this, honestly. Because no matter what the actual script of the episode says, I don't think this "life-changing field trip" would realistically do much good for Katara and result in her forgiveness. I think it would only hurt her more and would add to her list of irrational reasons to hate Zuko.

It may hurt, but as Katara herself made clear, there was nothing Zuko really could do at this point to help her or earn her forgiveness. It was something out of his control. He had to accept this and keep trying to do the right thing, simple as that.

I'm still a zutara trash, but not thanks to their interaction in this episode, I have to conclude.

(I guess what I'm really saying is that all those kids just need their therapy, lol)

Still typing on my phone and ignoring tumblr notifications. I wonder If anyone reads this at all lol

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 21

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 9.4k

a/n: Whoa haven't seen you guys since last year... LOL. This is very angst filled, sadly its our last vacation chapter. Back to reality but Javier and Andrea try some new... stuff... this chapter 🍑. If it isn't your thing thats okay!

But (no pun intended) on a less sexy note, Andrea meets some family this chapter.

Sorry for the wait was busy this month having a winter break fling (that's so like me) but back to reality.

Thank you for being so patient with me always.

This is for @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

The two of you leave the studio shortly after Edmond threatened to wring Javier’s neck for the first date joke, well it is our first date. Before that though you were honestly  eager to get out of the place, you needed him back in the hotel room, you needed to thank him with your mouth, with the warmth pooling on the tiny thong under your skirt. While Javi explains to Edmond that you are indeed the girl he had vented about when they first met, usually this would have made you a blushing mess but you were practically squirming in the stool. Your earrings catching the light casting a red reflection against the wall. Your eyes follow the light around the room as the two spoke, your mind drifting in places that could only be described as filthy. Edmond jokes that it had all worked out in the end, it took you a moment to catch up with their jokes. You had disassociated but Javier picked up on it and ushered the two of you out of the studio and back out into the Louisiana heat. 

“I have dinner reservations so behave.” He whispers before grabbing your hand in a sweet possessive hold. Your brows quirk slightly before leaning into him completely. He seemed to be hyper focused on getting the two of you to the proper place at the right time because his eyes went all squinted while he walked you through the busy sidewalks. 

“I am behaving.” You were, sure, maybe it was a bit rude of you to look around the room aimlessly while Javier caught up with his old pal, but you truly didn't mean to. There was something about girls like you, girls who craved to be wanted–once you get a taste–insatiable is the only word to describe you. So insatiable that you couldnt give a fuck about a dinner date with Javier Peña, it was so like you. So like you to feel so overwhelmed with love, a feeling so foreign, so strong that now you can't think of anything else but the thought of him inside of you. Good lord you were soaking. 

His cheeks were still red, either from tears or the high sun. Regardless he looks down at you with a teasing smirk that quickly hardens and turns into a disapproving head shake. “I saw you out of the corner of my eye, querida. Wiggling around in that stool.” He says in hush tones, you break eye contact in slight embarrassment. You know that annoys him, when you shy away because you feel his body stiffen. Poor Javi, you think. One day he’ll understand you fully, he knows you better than anyone else  but he still isn't used to your self-destructive tendencies of self-manipulation and constantly wondering whether he truly likes you. And despite today being the greatest testament of his devotion for you there was still that part of you that was a girl without a father. How humiliating? You also know he is never truly upset with you, even when he stands up straight and huffs a breath, it's always followed by silence, his space to try to figure you out.

There's a lot to learn, six years apart is too much for anyone. You've become four different people in these six years. 

By the time the two of you entered the warmly lit restaurant you've given your brain some time to think of meeting your grandmother tomorrow, now thats a thought to have you quit squirming. The desire you felt so heavily only half an hour before left in an instant at the thought of what's to come tomorrow. As you settle in your seat the thought of your father not being alive crosses your mind, instinctively you touch the bee earrings softly.

You feel Javi watching you with intent, a small frown on his lips as he adjusts his belt buckle while he sits. If your stomach wasn't doing turns from impending doom you would have made a big dick joke, you suddenly didn’t have it in you. You quit touching the earrings and let out a shaky breath before grabbing the menu. 

“What’s wrong Andrea?” He asks, stern, almost like it's a statement. Like nothing is not an answer he’ll accept. He knows something is wrong. 

“I’m really nervous for tomorrow.” You admit without any tooth pulling. Uncrossing your legs beneath the table, Javi nods firmly he knew how to react to you when you admitted things like this. There's nothing you hated more than someone screwing their brows in concern and pity, he never did that. He just nodded, solid, dependable and able to listen. He doesn't respond so you continue. Brushing a piece of hair from your face you sip the water given. “I also don’t want this weekend to end. I don’t want to go back. I especially don’t want to go back if tomorrow goes bad, I don’t have it in me to explain that to my mother.” There it was, that other part. The sheer embarrassment that could be awaiting you, the possibility of being humiliated by your paternal family and coming home to a mother that will look at your tear stained cheeks and say, I told you so. 

Javi clenches his jaw at the slight shake in your voice, and it’s so like him. He puts his large hand palm up at the small table between you two. Your heart grows in your chest and without hesitation you place your own small hand over his. Manicured nails circling the dry lines there, his thumb rises and wedges between two fingers tickling you a spot you never knew tickled. You choke out a giggle and dug your nails into his palm, he winces in fake pain. Ow, he grumbles. You take his hand entirely and lifts it to your face, pressing a kiss to his palm. He smiles, his dimples deepening and his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.” You say and kiss his palm again, “Sorry for attacking you with my nails even though you’ve made me the happiest girl in the world today.” 

He shakes his head in a shy little act, wow, you wanted to jump his bones again. “It’s okay I like it when you’re rough.”

“Oh shut up.” You laugh, pressing his palm to your cheek before placing it back down on the table. “And I’m sorry for ruining the mood with my sulking.” 

 “Don’t apologize to me.” Javier furrowed his brow in disapproval, “If tomorrow doesn’t go the way you plan I’ll extend our weekend, give you time to recover here. Don’t care if it’ll be obvious to everyone that we’re together, we’ll figure it out.”

Your lips quirk in a satisfied smile, you’ll take it. You were minutes away from suggesting the two of you stay in New Orleans until the damn wedding Saturday. The two of you were so in love it was hard to be logical. Hiding your face a smidge as you lift the menu to cover your crimson cheeks. “Okay, that's fine with me.” 

“God I wish I knew she was that mean to you–I’m like regretting being her friend a little bit.” You were slurping down pasta with a frown, hearing stories from high school about Lorraine. The more he uncovered, the more you regret giving her grace. Every new piece of information was followed with Javier’s attempt to excuse it. You suppose the both of you have some things to learn, you wanted to tell him that her actions and his faults were not in the slightest bit comparable. Like;

On valentine's day she got drunk and purposefully poured wine on my favorite sweater in front of all my friends. But she was mad because I skipped sunday mass with her family the week before. 

Or,

I was really upset with her cheating, but she blamed it on the time I called you pretty in front of her. I guess to her that was emotionally cheating.

You sat in front of him with your mouth agape, or you cursed under your breath before shutting yourself up with carbs. “None of that is normal, you shouldn't make excuses for that sort of behavior. I doubt she does when she complains about you to other people.” You say while dabbing the corners of your lips free of marinara. 

He laughs and nods in agreement, “You're right, I want to be the bigger person though. No need to be upset on my behalf querida.”

The 2nd glass of wine gets to you slightly as you roll your eyes aggressively, feeling awfully protective of your boyfriend. You remember which sweater it was, it was the white knitted one he wore to his last christmas at home, he would wear that thing to every holiday. “Whatever, god forbid I feel defensive over my man.” You whisper and bring your glass to your tinted lips. Javier’s lips quirk at its corners, you know he loved hearing that come from your mouth. You noticed it just thirty minutes prior when you told the waiter, my boyfriend would like the same. You picked up on the way he shifted in his seat when you called him baby. For the past 10 minutes you had been slipping the pet names slowly and scattered, he was getting worked up. Look who needs to behave now. 

“Hmm.” He huffs, annoyed, turned on, grumpy and everything else.

You bite back a tipsy smile, slipping your pointed heel up his calf slowly, until the outsole skated his inner thigh. He shakes his head and looks to you through a half lidded gaze. “Relax.” His voice deep and striking, loud enough for the other patrons to hear. You nod in agreement and attempt to move your foot back down but before you could make the effort his hand falls between his spread legs and holds your delicate foot in place on his lap. Your breath hitches in your throat, your leg pulled so still your skirt rides up. Saving yourself from the breeze, your left leg tightens to cover the soaked fabric now exposed. 

With his right hand holding your heeled foot and his left hand on the table, he grabs his glass and continues at his drink. Your breath is hitched in your throat, you feel his stare. His eyes glued to your chest, your nipples pebbled under the fabric. You don’t listen to his demand, incorrigibly you lean forward releasing some tension with the press of your legs and the hip movement required for you to move closer. “Why are you being so mean?” 

His eyes narrow, “Mean? A weekend getaway, museum date and those pretty earrings.” He teases and you nearly laugh, nearly, truthfully you were so turned on you couldn’t care to play these games. You’ve had years to do that. You survey the restaurant, there had only been about ten tables and each paired with a couple or a group of men in suits. Your eyes dart to the family bathroom, Javier follows your line of sight with a smirk. No families, you note. Less guilt for what you’re about to do. 

You drop your heel from his hold and wipe the corners of your mouth, “Well, you’ve spoiled me Javi.” You shrug, adjusting your small cardigan to cover your pointed nipples. He laughs a hearty chuckle. Your face falls to straight seriousness, hair readjusted. His nostrils flare at your hardened look.

“Rotten.” 

Your eyes shrink with a slight hint of petulance. Like a little girl not getting her way, absolutely not. Eyes scanning the room once more, “Well if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to take care of myself in the bathroom.” You huff before rising to your feet. Feeling the table to your right shooting a glance at your figure. With a strut of false confidence, your knees were buckling with fear he won’t follow you and just think you’re upset with him. It’s the last message you want to get across after he poured his aching soul to you at the gallery.

Javier watches you walk to the bathroom and close the door behind you. Well he watches to make sure no one else was watching because the pencil skirt you decided to wear curved perfectly below your ass, making it apparent to everyone that your behind was a tight little thing. Rolling his tongue against his cheek he waits a few seconds before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He knows you, he knows you’ve been pent up since the gallery, since he put those earrings on you. How could he not know, you practically screwed your brows in bliss every time he took a look at you. Truthfully on their walk to the restaurant he was still reeling from the entire first date thing, he had never lost his composure like that—to cry in front of someone— to cry in front of you. He’d be a lying dog if it didn’t scare the living shit out of him. So scared that he nearly thought about just saying fuck it and getting down on one knee and proposing to you with some fucking earrings. 

He knew it before. He knows it now that what you too have is forever, beyond time and circumstance, there was no way you two could live a life with other people. What a discovery to make on a first date. 

Anyway those feelings of sheer terror and love, they’re the same in his head, were quickly replaced with every tiny possessive nickname you let leave your red bitten lips. He was fully hard by the time you decided to play footsie with him, he wondered if you felt the strain against his pants through your heels. He decided he was going to fuck you into the mattress when the two of you got back to the hotel but he supposes you had different plans. 

His eyes glued to his glass he picks it up and downs it. “Fuck it.” He murmurs before wiping his mustache, adjusting his shirt and heading for a straight bee line for the bathroom. 

You smile softly at him through the mirror, “I was starting to think you didn’t get the memo.” Javi nods, his mind set. Silent and brooding behind you. Your confidence seemed to have faded with each passing minute he contemplated whether to follow you or not. “I was afraid you thought I was really upset-Oh Javi.” You shriek the second he tosses your skirt over your ass. Instinctually bending a bit over the sink. Dropping to his knees, his dirty thoughts win as he slightly sinks his teeth into your tan behind. You giggle at the absurdity of it all, but he doesn’t care what it would look like to  anyone else. He was a man utterly in love with his girlfriend, and with how soft her ass was. 

Javier kisses each cheek of hers and laces each kiss with a bite then a firm tug. Kneading and kisses, his large palms have finally found something that he didn’t completely engulf. Why was it so sexy when his hand covered your entire breast yet even sexier that your ass finally dwarfs him? He’s never been a man above worship, above religion, still he had never believed in a god so clear, so real until he came home and had you. Was it normal to be this enthralled by a partner? Was it just the honeymoon? He really couldn't care anymore about those questions because god, Andrea, he murmurs like a prayer.  

With your skirt piled at your hips, the tiny little red thong was fair game for his needy kisses. His teeth graze the string that just barely covered the one part of you that’s untouched, you buck as his fingers spread you open, the loose string falling to the side to expose you there. “Anyone ever touch you here?” He asks with his left hand holding you open, and his right thumb skimming so close. He knows the answer. He wants to hear it. You screw your eyes shut, a small whimper escapes your parted lip. Your heels slip on the tile, he lets up his left hand to hold you steady. 

Tossing your hair over one shoulder and attempting to look back at him you whisper, “Never—I want to try but-”

But I’m not sure I want that sort of first time to be in a restaurant bathroom. You think.

He knows exactly what you mean, he knows how delicate this part of sex could be, he knew it's a lot more than a heat of the moment decision. He’d never, not in a place like this. Though, he had other ideas, “Another time, can I taste you here at least.” He taps at your cunt and you eagerly reach behind and slide your panties to the side. Javi smiles when he’s met with his girlfriend’s swollen cunt just for him. Good lord, he did not want to think about having to sneak around again. For the two of you to be limited beyond your control the second you step home. He wondered why he couldn’t just rent a home out here just for the two of you, just until he leaves. Will they be reduced once again to just twice a week, all pent up and hand-covering mouth sex in his bed. He tried not to think, tried. 

One thing the two of you have grown fond of is him eating you out from behind. This position was just like the second time, in his room on memorial day. You look over your shoulder, the cardigan slipped low to expose the tan shoulder of yours. With lidded eyes you stare into Javier’s soul as you reach your hand between his face and your bent form. With a shy blush your delicate fingers run across the seam of your cunt and slowly up to skim the tight hole that's been the object of Javier’s deepest fantasies. 

“You can taste here too.” You quip, you weren’t sure if people even did that. You could be making a fool out of yourself but you knew after his fingers got close to your asshole, you felt a new pit in your belly. Javier’s eyes raised and he suddenly felt like a kid in a candy store. Never in a million years did he ever imagine a world where you agreed to something like this. He mumbles deeply, Jesus Christ. You didn’t have to tell him twice. 

He plunged his face into your cunt first, quicker and less teasing this time, they were in a public bathroom for crying out loud. His licks and sucks are wet and aggressive. His head shaking in between. You drop your head into your chest and the slow build of release. If he kept up this pace you’ll be writhing in climax in thirty more seconds. You're not sure you were ready for the moment he proceeds to eat you out just there. For a moment you wonder if this is really something people do during sex, you’ve had girl friends who have tried anal but none of them ever mentioned their boyfriends eating them out there. You wonder if you're the first people to ever do this- or it’ll feel good at all. You surely weren’t ready, the second his heavy tongue slid up to your place untouched, and you weren’t expecting such a feeling.

You shrieked loud enough for the guests to hear. Javier’s heart sank and paused for a second while you covered your mouth.

“I’m sorry-I’m sorry.” 

Javier’s brows tensed, “Is it too much?” He asks lowly, looking up at the back of your head. You screw your eyes shut, and nod.

“No-I just didn’t expect for it to feel so good.” You whisper as if to do damage control for the shriek you let out, with your head dropped in shame you feel his chuckle between your cheeks. Okay, he laughs and continues again. You’re more prepared this time–yeah you two definitely aren't the firsts to discover eating ass. This has got to be popular.

His head moving skillfully, his chin skimming your cunt along with it. Shaking his head and devouring you whole. And oh, it was a feeling so good you were afraid to know what it would feel like if he applied more pressure than a tongue back there. You never saw the appeal in anything to do with anal—suddenly—you suppose it takes the right person. You always told yourself you’d never try any of that unless you were married or something— well close enough. Your knuckles go white gripping the porcelain tops. He parts for a second and spits directly on your ass, parting you to watch it slide down onto your cunt. 

“You like being a dirty girl? Yeah, Andrea?” he gets close again to clean up his mess and good gracious you were close. “Letting me eat your ass like this? Used to think you were so shy—now look at what you’re letting me do to you.” He dives in again, this time reaching his entire body leans with it. His hands gripping the tops of your thighs while he moves from your cunt to your ass and back-and back again. 

Your forehead presses against the mirror and you catch your own eyes for a moment and you’re absolutely disgusted by the sight. Disgusted in the best way possible. You are filthy, you love it—you loved this. You bend further to give him better access to your clit and you’re a goner. Your ears ring and you fall limp but like always he never lets you fall. He’s at his feet again, pressing your knees together. He unbuckles himself and relieves his aching cock from their confinement. You open your mouth to tell him to put it in but he speaks first.  

“I’m gonna come, just let me—fuck.” He grabs himself and fists himself over your bent body. “Let me fuck your thighs really quick—please princesa, let me—” He grits and you bite your lips at the thought. Your heart skips a beat or a few, so many firsts. Why is the thought so enticing?

Okay—please, you murmur and without hesitation he drags his cock between your folds, collecting slip before thrusting. He wipes his eye as an attempt to readjust his blurry mind. The post orgasm clarity will hit him soon, it didn’t matter now he was too pent up to care. He humps you from behind, his length squeezed by your thighs and his tip nudging your overstimulated clit. There was something depraved about the action, being used in this way. Being used and loving the way it feels.

And he’s driving fast, pre-cum spreading at the tops of your thighs. How he made sex so enjoyable was beyond you, all you could do is softly sigh and moan, nearly drooling from your mouth falling open. “Javi please– I-” Perhaps your moans were a bit too loud because his hand snakes up to your mouth, effectively muzzling you. You babble incoherent begs and moans into his dry palm, while his other hand death gripped your hips for stability. It didn’t take many thrusts for you to be coming again, his hand on your hip quickly snaked to hold your thighs tighter against him and with that he finished over the tops of your thighs, painting you perfectly. His own little art piece. 

There’s a ringing silence for a moment as he slips out from behind you. You catch your breath, wiping your tears away. Head heavy, too frazzled to adjust to the situation. Javier just ate your ass out in a restaurant bathroom and fucked your thighs. And you came twice in ten minutes. Jesus take the fucking wheel. 

“I-I’m sorry I’ve never done anything like that before.” You almost expect for those words to come from your mouth but it aches all the same coming from his. You turn around to him, knowing the sight is probably ridiculous, tear stained cheeks, a wrap skirt hiked up your legs and his come spread at the tops of your thighs.

Your eyes soften watching him fumble to tuck himself away. You could see his jaw clenched, you knew when his mind was on overdrive. This is one of those moments. Like he’s drafting ways to apologize to you. 

“I liked it.” You admit in a whisper. 

His brows shoot up and he looks up to you. The color in his face returning, as he fastened his belt. “You did?” 

You blush, your eyes falling to your thighs. “I did, we should try more stuff like that… it was… really hot.” You admit, looking up at him through your brow bone. His nostrils flare and he’s nodding. 

“Okay.” He nods sternly in the same old grumpy Javi way. 

Your lips twist at the silliness of it all. “Okay…” 

“Alright.” He’s still staring at your thighs. 

You giggle, “Jesus christ Javi! Clean me up!”

He jumps in place, “Right sorry.”

It’s safe to say that the two of you were quite full after the whole restaurant debacle. Frankly your last night should’ve been filled with endless love making but Javier could sense your nerves. After tipsy kisses and stumbling into the room the reality began to set in. You struggled to sleep that night, afraid of waking up to a packed room and a car ride to your grandmother's home. He slipped into the shower with you without any advances, you wouldn't mind it all but he reads you, he washes you without lingering touches and only a few kisses. The two of you find a rhythm, drying off, getting into his shirt and some panties. The two of you exchange stories before bed, who knew he was such a softy like you. 

“I’m always nervous before meeting old people.” You admit. Its a stupid quirk of yours but man do the elderly intimidate you. You chose teaching because you knew that dealing with the elderly would be far from that area. “They can be so judgemental and old fashioned, its painful– every conversation.”

Javier strokes his hand against your arm, “You're rambling. It's time for bed baby.”

He was right, you had no need to bring that up, you just really didn't want the day to end. Why is that you were so afraid of the thing you yearned for your entire life?

The morning is quiet and gloomy, it rained the entire night so the sky was all gray clouds with peaking sun. The entire room was packed by the time you sat up to rub your eyes. Your stomach is so uneasy you could only take four bites of the waffles he called in for you, no syrup, just butter and powdered sugar how you like it. He’s quiet too as he folds your clothes. You check out at twelve and load his car again. He kisses your temple before opening the car door for you. You nod a silent thanks before you settle into the car seat. Head leaned against the window. Reaching into the dash board for the map, finger tracing until it stops at the road circled labeled, Andrea’s Grandma, you smile to yourself thinking about Javier at his desk circling and routing a way to her grandmother's home the night before their trip. 

With fear of rejection you fiddle with the bee earrings in your ears, grounding yourself with the reminder of Javier even when he's right next to you.

The home was fairly close, only an hour away from the hotel. Javi smokes two cigarettes with the low sound of the road below the tires and slow soul music filling the car. It was then when you realized Javier was nervous too. You think of what he told you at La Belle Forme, about his panic attack. It was rare for silence to exist between them not like this. You kiss his knuckles, a few kisses, you suppose you found solace in comforting him. 

When the car slowed down you weren't expecting to be approached with large estates with rolling grass and bald cypress trees casting down like curtains. When Lorena called you pictured an elderly woman in a small home, you never envisioned a large white home attached to other small homes. You looked down at the map. 4289 Coventy Court, “Its the small house, the big one is 4287.” You point, it all seemed to be on the same estate though, you'll still have to walk through this strangers beautiful front lawn in order to get to your grandmothers. Javi nods, shutting the car off. Your hands drop to play with the ripped ends of the map. 

His palm comes over to your lap and grabs at your fidgeting hands, his hands always cold and dry and large. “¿Estás segura de que estás lista?” He asks so softly, he did that often, reassuring you in spanish. You inhale deeply, looking at your connected hands and then to the house peeking behind the large trees. You nod. 

And there it is, right In front of you— a physical manifestation of the answers you’ve prayed to hear. Everything you've ever wanted to know. It could split you completely, could kill you, but it could free you. A small part of you hopes it splits your heart in two so that you're prepared for heartache in November at the hands of the DEA. Who knew Javier could hurt you more than your father? When did you give him that power, you suppose it’s when you realized it was love. 

The two of you climb out of the truck and make your way through the cobblestone path, “I’m not going to get shot out here right?” Javi whispers and you cant even itch out a giggle from the coil of nerves in your chest, he doesn’t joke anymore. He trails behind you while you lead the way, like you know where to go— you haven’t had a fucking clue. With every tap of your sneakers on the ground you felt panic rise higher in your throat. 

You could feel Javier behind you, keeping his steps slower than your own. Giving you space you weren’t sure you wanted. You appreciated it nonetheless. Like he was ready to run and get the car if anything hurts you. He’s 3 steps behind you once you close your eyes shut before knocking on the light blue door. Your eyes surveying the plants lining the white porch. “¡entra!” A distant voice calls from beyond the door and its the same voice from the phone. Something in you bursts, your eyes dart to Javier in fit of panic. Fuck it. You open the door to the home. 

The astounding amount of pastels blind you. An entire rolling carpet of white at your feet, Javier holds his arm out before you nervously put your outside shoes inside this museum piece of a home. You saw her too, out of the corner of your eye. Sat in a wheelchair with hair pressed straight down to her hips, with a book in her lap – the sound of birds chirping splitting your ears as you unlace your shoes with shaky hands. Javier seemed to have slipped his shoes in record time because his socked foot took a step inside before he bent down again to grab your shoes and tossed them outside. 

Standing up straight the woman in front of you widens her eyes at the sight of you, her smile splitting her face in two and you arent sure if anyone had ever looked at you with such melancholy before. She was a beautiful woman, well kept from what you can see it seemed like she had a lot of help. For once in your life you feel strong, chin up and nearly smiling. Lorena fully smiles and there it is–You can finally pin point where your bright grin comes from. "Ven aquí! Get over here before I try to walk to you!." She shouts with that same accent you remember over the phone and with that you're padding over to your grandmother. Embracing her for the first time. Receiving kisses to the side of your head, and caresses and you don’t feel sad anymore–or nervous. You sat in front of her and Javier stayed in his lane, quiet and observing. His hand on your while she explained how she found your number. 

“My greatest friend Griselda moved to Laredo about a year ago. I had been pushing the poor woman to look through the phonebook for your name– I didn't know if you had our last name or hers. Whatever I found it and tried calling but your mother– you already know.”

You sure did, the conversation was what you expected it to be. She attempts to understand what your life has been like this whole time. You tell her your mother owned a boutique and that your brother was on his last week of being a bachelor, she teared up at that. You almost forgot she was around when your brother was just two years old, she laughs when explaining his biting problem. Her eyes fall between the two of you a few times, you and Javier and your joined hands. The way his were in your lap and  how your nail grazed the strong tendons of your lovers hands. She kept the questions Andrea central.

Did you end up going to college?

Yes, University of Miami. I’m a middle school teacher.

She laughs and claps her hands together, she tells you taught for thirty six years. Your heart nearly bursts in your chest. 

So are you living at home?

For now, yes. I’m looking to move soon.

Do you like your brother's wife to be?

Oh–yeah. She’s been my close friend since I was in middle school. 

She nods, turning to her left to grab her cup of tea. There had been two cups left out. She let you in on how she kept the place so tidy, her home nurse Ms. Cristina, who worked for her every day. She points to her bird cage at the corner of the living room which shows the only non-tidy part of the house full of bird seeds on the floor, They also take of me. 

“And this–.” She smiled, waving her finger in between you two. “How did you two meet.”

“Oh!” You laugh, Javier cracks a smile. “We-”

“Uh-No. I want to hear his story. Ha estado sentado ahí en completo silencio, habla, hijo.” She cuts you off in the only way elderly people know how, gracefully and silly all at once. Your cheeks burn red. Absolutely intrigued to hear his explanation. His face softens for a moment before he breaks into a deep chuckle. Rubbing his eye in that same nervous tick that he always does. 

“Oh–We were just kids when we met.” He was instantly interrupted by a yelp from your grandmother. 

“¡Ay, por Dios! Qué romántico. So you two have been together since then?” Perhaps it was rude but immediately you and Javier look at each other and let out a cackle in unison. Leaning into his shoulder as you giggle while your grandma sits confused, wondering what was so funny about her question. “What-What’s so funny?” She says with a hint of humor in her own tone.

Javier shakes his head and replies, “It took us close to a decade to get here.” His eyes flash to yours, soft and gleaming. He looks at you like this often—always, but there’s a different look, something close to pride. Truthfully, he was overjoyed to talk about you to someone, especially to someone who by some crazy phone call and last minute trip—is your family. 

Lorena smiles, sipping her tea with a nod. Her eyes floating to something behind you, above your head. You don’t turn to see what has made her eyes misty and youthful for a moment. “Ah.. one of those. I’m familiar, promise you. What is it that you do Javier?”

He straightens up at the question like it shattered the small world he’s created with you. “I’m a DEA agent, I’m assigned in Colombia starting this November.” It was firm, devoid of laughter and pride. Like a soldier being questioned about deployment. Your grandmothers brows screw in sympathy the second he mentions being away, her eyes falling to your own. You tried to be strong but the reminder chips away at your spirit each time. Five months away. Your eyes drop to your knees. 

“Ah… I see.” Softly she points her chin high, a necklace falling out of her cashmere sweater with the movement. She nudges behind you, where her eyes fell previously, you and Javier turn slightly. The image of a man in black and white, eyes light and a stern look. Clad in military attire, and a nose so similar to your own. You into the eyes of your grandfather for the first time. How could you have forgotten? You haven't even asked about him, his name–anything. You notice then that the entire hour you have spent in your grandmother's home you hadn't once thought of your father. Something about the eyes in the photo seared you, What if my fathers dead? “Your grandfather was also named Lucas. He was my high school sweetheart but we broke up after he decided to leave me for the war. Listen, I respect our military but–not for him–absolutely not. He was always leaving, estúpido, estúpido. We split when he was apart, it wasn't very easy to be in contact like it is now. But… I didn't wait, I found someone else but mija… the second he stepped foot on american soil we were married and I was pregnant with your father 3 years later.”

Javier placed his hand on your lower back at some point during her story, thumb softly rubbing into your thin t-shirt. Your eyes threatened to betray you. You know why she chooses to tell you this story, you suppose this sort of thing runs in the family. Leaving and watching the ones who leave. “He died before me, that absolute idiot.” She sniffles and shakes her head. You turn back around, facing her–she had already wiped her tears away. And she does it just like you, palm first and hurried. Who knew the sight of your grandmother crying could fill you with such warmth, you suppose you were never emotional in the same way your mother was. You wondered where it came from, you guess you can say you've got it from your grandmother.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You choke on your own words and she waves her hand  in a its alright but it isn't motion. She grabs her teacup once more, her eyes stuck to yours until her brows shoot up in shock.

“Oh–your father. It's so like me to get wrapped up in myself, I’m sure you have a million questions. I can settle your nerves and tell you that he is very much alive.” She laughs, she really was a kookie old lady. “He also knows that you’re here.”

“What?” You and Javier blurt simultaneously, the two of you leaning in on your knees. For a split second your cheeks heat at the thought of Javier being this invested but that completely flies out the window while your grandmother nods with a smile. 

“This is his estate, you think a school teacher could afford all this? His home was the big one right next door. He’s nervous but he is expecting you. I thought I’d give him time to… speak for himself.” She nods and settles her cup down once more. “I’m not trying to kick you out but he’s probably bouncing his knee for the thousandth time over there”

“You’ve gone non-verbal Andrea.” The two of you kissed your grandmother goodbye with promises of a second visit in the next few months, Javier was micro analyzing your every move. How after the bomb was dropped you had frozen in fear and only muttered 4 more words. Her brows furrowed as the two of them approached the back door of her fathers home. Javier knew what this meant, what this all means. He sees what its doing inside of you, your body is rejecting the truth that, A. your father is alive and B. He seems to be doing quite well for himself. Your grandmother gave the two of you instructions like you were on a secret mission. 

Go through the back door

Javi, it's best you wait in the hall. 

He will most likely be sat in his office, first door on your right. 

You just nodded with a knot in your throat. Javier watches you lead the way in silence and it's killing him to know how much this is taking a toll on you already.

You have eaten in on yourself already, absent in the eyes.

 He remembered fathers day being a particularly rough day for you during your summers. How you would call Javier’s house but he’d have to explain that he was on his way out fishing with Chucho. He can't think too hard about all of that, he might crumble himself and he had to be strong, he had to be that for you. You step up and look over your shoulder, nearly tripping–Javier catches you at your elbow and you are trembling. 

“Sorry, I’m trying to catalog all the questions I have.” You chuckle and there isn't a bit of humor behind it, just nerves and all. “His house is way too nice. This door knob looks like pure gold.” You attempt a joke but Javier can't seem to laugh either. And like the brave girl you are, you don't hesitate this time, you twist the doorknob pushing the door open. Ahead of you was a grandiose hallway, white paneled walls with tiny intricate floral designs. 

The door to his office is already in your view, a long ottoman right outside the door like a waiting room. It felt nothing like a home, like a sterile office or a Homes and Gardens spread. Javier selfishly thinks of how their home will look one day, it will never feel this cold, not in the Louisiana heat. He’d settle down with you in Louisiana. He decided this weekend, he’d like to watch you bask in under the cajun sun with a belly. 

The two of you stand side by side in front of a door with no imperfections but a carving of the letter L on the wood. Your brows furrow, “Okay.” You exhale, turning to Javier knowing this is where you part, knowing that whatever goes on behind those doors could hurt you in a way he fears he can never fix. So maybe he’s just as scared, he nods silently and firm. Still putting his act up for your sense of security, he knows you can read right through it, he also knows you love that he does this for you. 

He can see it on your lips, see the 3 words, the words he knows you tried to spill out twice on this trip. He shakes his head and grabs your face in a chaste kiss. Your hands hold at his shoulders as you rise on your tiptoes to return it deeper. He doesn’t let you stall, he steps away. “I’ll be right here.” Javier juts his chin toward the ottoman, and he watches you disappear into the room. 

Sitting down with a strain in his lower back from the drive and his body's reaction to the thought of the ride they have to take once this is all over. Javier leans his head back, his eyes facing the ceiling. Touched with a heavy weight and the lingering thought of maybe one day having one of these moments with his own mother, if she’s out there. He busies himself with an attempt of remembering her face, drawing her in white lights behind his closed eyes that he was too damn scared to open, scared to be present. Scared of not being strong enough for you. Afraid of opening his eyes and seeing a blackhole ready to swallow him whole, engulfing himself in his own grief that he’s shoved down trying to be a man for you. 

He sees your face at first, angled cheeks he first sees you now, a longer face–lips full, a nose with a tiny slope and teeth always threatening to split your lips in a smile. He also sees what you looked like in 1980, rounder cheeks, the face of a shy girl. He remembers your cheeks always being pink. His chest constricts when he pictures that same young face full of tears at fault of his own fears. That's when he makes out his mothers face, eyebrows a light-light brown, so light they always seemed barely there. Her freckle below her eye, her eyes clad with glasses and quirk between her brow. Of disapproval for all things involving their life as a family.

Javier snaps his eyes open at the thought. Straightening up, attempting to now hear what was being said behind the door. His eyes adjust to the bright light of the hall, it really felt like a waiting room. Javier blinks away the floaters.

In front of him is a single picture hung on the wall.

It's an image of your father, he sees the resemblance immediately. But that isn't what catches his eye. Javier's heart drops nauseatingly fast at the sight of two young girls-twins, in the photograph. And in cursive in the far corner,

Best Dad Ever  

He’s up and hugging you before you could take in that this is really happening. The hug is tight, it's unfamiliar, it's strangling and you attempt to hug back to make it feel loving but it just isn't there yet. You want to pinch yourself, you've dreamt up this moment. You hugged your own aching body to sleep countless nights wishing for a hug from your father and now that it’s here, you can't even register the difference between him and a stranger.

He holds your face for a moment with his eyes misty, your chin quivers then. He was a splitting image of your grandfather. Eyes a hazel, his hair shaggy and long. Like he doesn't belong in a home this large, you close your eyes for a moment. Overstimulated with the situation, your father cradles your face for the first time since you were a premature newborn. He even calls you beautiful a few times and you’ve never felt stronger for not melting into a puddle of tears. Perhaps you were just too happy.

It was the happiest moment. 

You sit in front of him and he has a sheet in front of him. You couldn't be bothered talking about yourself again but you do anyway, he leaned in with every small fact. He beams with a laugh when you tell him that little Frankie was expecting a baby and wedding. He claims that these past years he wondered what you were doing with your life, once your eighteenth birthday approached he says he stayed up the entire night wondering what this next step would look like for you. 

“It seems like you've done well for yourself–I'm sorry Andrea, I’m sorry I wasn't there.” You were the only person in tears in the room but you couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed. The tears were only joyful, those sorts came rarely for you. You allowed them to flow without shame. 

It’s okay dad, it's okay. You whisper, “My mom–she says she left because you were–”

“An addict.” He cuts. “I was, I got clean the second she fled with you. I called my mom and she sent me to a rehabilitation facility in New York. It’s where I lived most of my life, where I built my business. Where I met my wife.” He smiles to himself and you smile too. What a privilege it is to be loved by someone else. “She isn't home today,  told her we would be meeting today and she decided to not overwhelm you so she’s out. I hope you don’t mind.”

You reach out for the box of tissues at his desk, dabbing your eyes. “It's okay–I'm sorry that my mom did that– leaving without notice, it-it kills me when I think of it.” You wipe again as more tears fall, god why was it so difficult to talk when crying. You think of the day after your birth often, you think of your father asleep in a hospital chair, you think of him waking up in an empty room. Your heart chips away slowly but then you look at his face again and he looks just as confused.

He straightened up and his jaw clenched. You were to oblivious to notice the change in his demeanor.

“Andrea– I knew she was going to leave– I- I encouraged her to… I was too sick. I wasn't ready then– I waited six years until I had kids.” 

You swear the feeling was akin to being cut by the sharpest blade, sliced slowly down your sternum and the weight of the world on your shoulders. There you are, in front of your father, bleeding out, being drained in front of him. Your head feels light as everything you thought you knew turns on its head. Your eyes fall to your knees, staring into the denim of your pants, trying to register if any of this is real.

What? You whisper. 

“Oh Andrea–Melissa–your mother. She sat in that hospital bed and cried, she begged me to get clean for you, but she didn't know how all of that worked. I had to do it for myself, and I did. I asked her to leave. I wasn’t ready, sweetheart.”

The name stung, you sat there, you were an open wound in front of your father as he explains that he made the choice to reject you. 

Your chin quivered in a new way, no longer happy. No longer tears between teeth, “I’m really confused.” 

“I forgave myself for that decision in rehab. I found god and I absolve myself from that guilt through years of healing, Adalina and Adare’s birth helped me free myself from that decision. I knew you were taken care of I had to–”

“I-I wasn't taken care of. I wasn't loved. I was ignored–I-I spent the holidays alone. I was raised by a nanny–When-when I fell off my bike I relied on my brother's best friend to take care of me. I needed you but I was never angry at you for not looking because I thought you were left completely in the dark.” Each word came with a sob so deep, you weren't sure your body could handle a heartbreak like this. His lips thinned and his brows creased in sympathy that didn't feel genuine. You had sisters, sisters with names awfully close to your own. "Did-did you know where I was?"

"I had you address for several years, yes." Cooly he says it. “Andrea–I'm really upset to hear that. I had assumed you were okay, you never looked for me.”

You shook your head with closed eyes, tears staining your neck. “I shouldn't have to–I’m the child…” You whined, regressing to a little girl, you couldn't help it. This was the worst pain you've felt. “I needed you– I needed a dad.”

“I understand, I understand the importance of a father in a young woman's life–I've got two of my own–But I cannot be sorry for the decision I made twenty two years ago.” How could he be so cold, so analytical. How is it that he talks about the situation like he’s just an observer? 

“Three, you have three daughters.” Your voice sobers, its anger this time. You were so upset that he couldn't see this the way you do. Your eyes burn into his and there isn't anything, there's nothing. You began to wonder how he could be the product of a woman like Lorena. “You had me on January 14th 1964, you watched my mom carry me for 7 months before she couldn’t– I’m your daughter too.” You spit without a shaking breath. 

His face tightens and he nods, “Technically speaking yes-”

“Oh give me a fucking break!” You cuss, jumping to your feet and he jumps in his seat. 

“Please do not cuss in my home.” 

You were red hot, fuming as your eyes finally took in the catholic iconography throughout the office. And the many, many pictures of your sisters. Wiping your tears with your palms, fast like you want to hide from him that he even made you cry in the first place. “You are a pathetic person. I feel so ridiculous having wasted so many years wanting you. I’ll see my way out.” You turn and he’s following you, repeating your name but no apologies. You swing the door open and Javier is there at his feet already, with a tense face. You see it, he heard it all and he’s angry. 

“Please Andrea, let's just pray together.”

You cackle and glance at your boyfriend. “Let's go Javi.” You storm past him, swinging the backdoor open. 

The second the rolling front yard and southern sun hits your skin you begin to sob. Chest wracking yet silent as you walk away from your fathers home. As you walk away from someone else's father. You chest hiccuping as you blurily lead yourself down the path, Javier's steps quickening behind you. Your cheeks hot and stung with tears, head pounding you knew you looked like a swollen hot mess. You hug your own shaking body all the way to the car. Climbing in the passenger's seat with more tears. 

You aren't sure if you could ever be okay.

Javier circles the car with his heart in his throat, hearing each word and feeling the cuts deep. He sits and thinks, she won't be able to handle this. He knows you, he knows you enough to love you. He knows you are strong, he also knows no child is strong enough to face rejection from a parent. So he stares at your father before you have walked out the home, he contemplates killing him there. He wants to hurt the man for making you ache so badly. Call him crazy or irrational, but he thought it for a split second. Thought of hurting him.

 Javier decides taking care of you was far more important than his anger. 

He walks behind you, 

It felt like a huge joke, like a fuck you. The beautiful scenery of the estate, the birds chirping and the world still spinning, and you're there, hugging your own body while you silently weep ahead of him. 

He doesn't start the car when he gets in. He stares ahead, sick to his stomach at the sound of your cries. His eyes glued to the steering wheel, his peripheral catches you shifting to lean your temple against the window. The car was hot, sitting out in this sun. Hot enough to burn you once your elbow touches a belt buckle but the heat felt trivial. Javier glances at the map, prepared to drive back into New Orleans and extend their weekend, take you away for more days. Allow you to be detached for some more time, this was far too much for you. 

“I want to go home Javi.” You whisper between tears, “It was…dumb of me to look for a family out here.” 

There it was again, your eagerness for a complete family. For someone to see you, understand your pain, he heard you beyond that door. He heard you talk about being left alone, celebrating holidays with only yourself. He heard you begging for sympathy from your own blood from your own family. He heard your voice so small when you begged him to see you as his own child, as his own family. 

Javier panics, he’s so overcome with emotion he isn't sure he has the words to comfort you. He can't get out what he's tried to tell you all weekend. You will always have a family with him, you no longer have to search. But it doesn't come out from his mouth.

Instead, he reaches his hand over to you and between his thumb and his pointer he rubs the earring he gifted you. The earring, the reminder. Without words he tells you, I’ve got you. He watched you the past two days rub the thing as a nervous tick, he sees your brows furrow and your chin quiver once more before you cave and lean your head against his hand. Your cries regulate and calm with each pass of his thumb against the delicate little bee in your ear. Javier watches you with blurred eyes and he remembers meeting you for the first time. He remembers putting bandages on your knees and peeling oranges for you and diving into lakes and biking, and blushing and kissing and leaving. And And And, 

“Andrea, I really, really love you.”

[desceros]

Okay PLEASE I have to know your opinion-

So you know how sometimes you look at people and just like- yeah, they’d be a golden retriever for sure. Or a chihuahua.

If the Rise Turtles were a dog breed, what breed would you think they would be? I’m definitely seeing Donnie as a herding dog wanting everything to be organized his way, Leo as a guard dog, Raph would definitely be a giant ass clumsy dog breed that doesn’t realize how big he is. Mikey has got to be some type of hyper terrier of sorts.

fascinating question!!! behold the power of an autistic person who loves dogs and tmnt

donnie: dachshund

wow sam favorite breed for favorite turtle OK LISTEN THO!!! dachshunds are sooo smart but stubborn as hell and want to do things Their Way. picking up a new toy and instantly playing with it so hard it explodes into fluff. taking direction well but only if you have a good relationship with them and they trust you. sassy attitudes, a penchant to attach themselves to one or two people and be distant to others, looks great in cute clothes, a fragile back that needs protecting--DRINK THE KOOLAID!!!

leo: akita

so this one was actually also very easy for me. akita are very much Family Over Everyone Else, and i always see leo as being very protective of his brothers (to a self-destructive point even). they don't trust other dogs or animals (much like leo doesn't trust other mutants or yokai), but when it comes to their people, they're goofy little goobers that love to play and have fun and snuggle. they're super smart, but need good training in order to achieve their potential, otherwise they'll have a tendency to do their own thing and that never ends well. wow who put this picture of leonardo hamato in the akc handbook

raph: great dane

i was torn on this one thinking some kind of livestock guardian dog at first since he worries about his brothers so much and always puts their safety first. only problem is a lot of them are bred to have mild temperaments, and, uh, [gestures at raph]. for that reason, i settled on the great dane. they're guardian dogs who care intensely for their family and are very, very sweet. but their large size and caution against strangers is quite intimidating, and they need to be properly trained against being aggressive to strangers. also, yknow, big.

mikey: pumi

pumi are well-known small dogs that are work-hard, play-hard dogs with the CUTEST curly hair. sound familiar? they're pretty good at watching the family, but often times they're a bit too busy bouncing off in the corner because these dogs are like. adhd in canine form. always need stimulation. always need exercise. gotta bounce move play bark play run RAZZ MATAZZ. also they're cute and mikey is cute.

[0rangejulius]

Charlie Timeline pt. 1

Hihi chat! I decided to throw caution to the wind and I'm gonna post Charlie's timeline in 3 separate parts. This part, (Part 1), is Charlie's life before they started working at the Colorado location. All of which will be under the cut for people's sanity. WARNING THERE IS. SO MUCH.

SO, Charlie was born in 1955, they were the quiet second child of Stella and Simon Deere, who weren't fond about having to raise another kid right after finally being done with their firstborn. When Charlie turned 3, that's when they started to leave Charlie at the Arizona Freddy Fazbender's.

Charlie was a really timid kid, not really knowing how to act around people. When nighttime came, they hid in the kitchen to sleep and avoid being found out by the manager at the Fazbender's, John Patterson. After around 2 weeks though, he noticed Charlie being a regular despite never seeing their parents, and unofficially adopts them. He does his best to raise them and provide for them when he can.

This is where Charlie's brother, Aaron, comes in! When he could, he would pick Charlie up from the Fazbender's and bring them back home. When Charlie was 3, he was 20, having moved out recently himself. He helps John provide for Charlie, but going through his own issues, isn't really there for Charlie besides picking them up and his monthly visits with them.

This leads us to The EventTM! If you're familiar with the Arizona location in Dayshift, you'll know that Dave YEETED Foxy off the side of the Grand Canyon. That still happens here with one addendum. John goes with. And as far as anyone knows, John died jumping into the canyon. He left all his belongings and trailer to Charlie. The trailer is where Charlie spends pretty much all of their time, either teaching themselves from the books John left behind or just. spiraling. The majority of their self destructive tendencies started around here, as Aaron started visiting less and less as well.

At 23, Charlie finally has enough and packs the trailer up to move. Aaron drives them to the airport where they head for Colorado. Why Colorado? They recall John talking about a colleague who worked there, and Charlie hopes they can meet them. In this time period they take up whittling, making little figures of people they know or knew. Also not so fun fact, Aaron driving Charlie to the airport is the last time he ever sees or hears from them :D

Moving swiftly on, here are Charlie's neighbors! Totally not just human Dialtown Oliver and Randy!! cough. Oliver runs the local cinema nearby and also is the owner of the building. Him being the friendly guy he is of course tried multiple times to catch Charlie as they leave their apartment on the rare occasion to say hi. It takes a few months but Oliver finally gets to meet them, and despite Charlie being lowkey just a straight ass to him is undeterred. Especially catching the glimpse of their mess of an apartment inside. Its been months and they haven't even unpacked...

Randy is Oliver's boyfriend and local homeless man. Charlie warms up to him the fastest, relating to the nature of his situation. Though that certainly doesn't stop them from being an ass until then. He's incredibly accident prone, so spends a lot of time either at the hospital or in Oliver's apartment healing from injuries.

Eventually they all kinda end up as a pseudo-family, taking care of each other and looking out for one another. Oliver helps both Randy and Charlie find odd jobs around the town to get cash, and in return Charlie helps Oliver on his tinkering projects that he has going on.

And finally, for the last thing for pre-working at Freddy's, you have how they got the job. Well, before that they tried to get a college degree but... it didn't work out. Between barely being able to afford going atop barely passing grades (They never had an official schooling after all), they dropped out after two years. After that, they started to look for a more steady job, finding a poster advertising an open position at the local Freddy's. They know the rumors, they know what happened to John, but they also feel draw to Freddy's. To an extent, it's all they've ever know. So they go to apply, and get the job. As a janitor, nothing crazy.

That wraps up the pre-working timeline! If you have any questions please please PLEASE either comment, reblog, or send an ask with the question!! There's a ton I skimmed over for the sake of this not being novel length and its still pretty novel length haha.

Anyways buh-by! (Also massive shoutout to Skip who helped me with so much of this, especially the inclusion of Oliver n Randy and John)