#nobody read this I’m so embarrassed and horribly broken

[angelnumber27]

It’s so embarrassing and heartbreaking being in so much pain over losing someone while knowing they don’t give a fuck if you live or die. Your favorite person becoming a stranger is a special kind of hell.

[zombii-writess]

〖𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷〗

Just a quick snippet of what Cove Holden would be like as a yandere and in part 2 there will be a huge chance of there being some NSFW in Steps 3 and 4. I’ll put a warning in case you don’t wanna read that. 

Also please note that I haven’t played the DLC’s so I might be missing out on a bunch of stuff because I don’t have time and the money :(

 One day I’ll have time lol

︻︻︻︻︻︻

Step 1: 

♡ When you and Cove first met, he didn’t immediately acknowledge his intense feelings for you. At first he thought it was because he was overwhelmed in being in a new place and his parents getting a divorce. Then later on he realizes that nope, these feelings were... amazing!

 ♡ As the summer days past, he became glued to you by the hip. Your mom’s and his dad thought it was the most cutest thing. Cove thought is was embarrassing but it quelled his speeding heart by just being near you. You seem to not mind with how clingy he was so it was a win-win!

♡ Cove slowly, but eventually, got used to living in Sunset Bird. You helped him transition into it easier. But soon things started going downhill, both for you and him. School starts again, Cove doesn’t know anybody so he follows you like a lost puppy. Then Cove is forced to watch you interact with your old friends while he intently stares at them from behind you.

♡ Why do you hang out these kids? Have you seen the way they talk badly about other kids? About you? He’s overheard them making fun of you behind a building while you went to go retrieve a textbook you’ve forgotten. Cove thinks you don’t need such negativity in your life. He’s a better choice. He can do so much better. 

♡ Being a known crier to you and everyone, he uses that to his advantage. Whenever something is involved with you, the tears seem to very easily slip out his eyes and Cove will come running towards you. He absolutely loves the attention and cooing words of comfort when you see him cry. 

Sobs and whimpering echo from a broom closet he knows you walk by every morning to turn in your library books. You enter the closet, curiosity in your eyes. Low and behold, it’s Cove.

“Cove!” You shout, eyes widening as you rushed over to him and plopping yourself next to him.  “Are you okay?”

Sniffling, Cove shakes his head ‘no’ and uses his shirt to wipe his tears and snot away. Now that you’re looking at him closer, you’ve noticed some bruises and scraps all over his arms and legs. But the most noticeable thing was his broken glasses that sat crookedly on his nose. 

Just as you were about to ask on who had done such a thing to him, he immediately answered your questions. “I-It was Tyler and his f-f-friends,” Cove whispered, turning his wet gaze to your worried eyes. Look at me. Look at what they did to me? Can you even consider them friends after doing this to your crybaby neighbor? 

What you didn’t know was that Cove purposely provoked Tyler which resulted him in getting beat up. But you didn’t have to know that part.

Guilt is all you felt. You felt horrible knowing Cove had given you multiple  warnings about your friends and here you are with your consequences. Your neighbor, who’s been dealing with issues in his family and knows nobody except you ever since he’s moved into your town, sat in front of you with his face all bruised up.  All because you ignored his warnings on how terrible your friends were.

“I’m sorry, Cove.” You murmured, thumb reaching over to quickly wipe away his tears. Cove shifts from his crisscross-apple-sauce position to his knees to face you better. A blush adorning his cheeks as your action. You soon embrace him into a hug being mindful of his cast and hoping to cheer him up a little. 

“Next time I see Tyler and his friends,” you began, hand rubbing Cove’s back as he hiccups from crying for who knows how long. “I’ll tell him that I won’t be his friend anymore,” 

“Promise?” Cove pulls away from your hug but keeps you in his arms to give you a look that you couldn’t really explain. Ignoring his intense aquamarine eyes, you nodded, pulling him back in the hug again.

“I promise.” You whispered, chin resting on Cove’s shoulder. 

While you thought about meeting up with Tyler and unfriending him, you don’t realize the sinister smirk from over your shoulder. Cove buried his wet face into your shoulder, secretly sniffing your hair. His face was all red as he dreamily hums at your touch.

“You’re an amazing friend, (Y/N).”

                              𓆩⟡𓆪

Step 2:

♡ 5 years has passed, you’re both 13, and Cove still hasn’t left your hips. Where ever you go, he goes and vice versa. He’s had a HUGE growth spurt in those years and man, does he use it to imitate others. Some pieceofshit classmate stops you after class to ask if you wanna hang out after school? Wait. Why are they suddenly pale? Oh! They said never mind and ran away? Aw, that sucks, but hey! You can hang out with me instead! What do you say, (Y/N)?

 ♡ You kept your promise and stopped being Tyler’s friend. Everything was great! Except... he wanted more. He didn’t want to just be your neighbor or your best friend. He wanted to become something more closer. Perhaps your boyfriend? Maybe that’ll solve what’s missing in his heart. 

♡ But that dream is quickly thrown out the window when Derek comes into the picture. Don’t get him wrong, he likes Derek. He really does! But it’s so annoying whenever you interact with him. He’s right there! Laugh and talk with him! Not Derek! Why do you always pay attention to Derek!? 

♡ Oh man was he pissed when he overheard the promise you and Derek made at the playground. What the hell do you mean if you’re both gonna get married if you’re still single in a few years? Cove’s right there and he’ll happily date you. He has to stop that from happening, so he’ll have to up his moves on you to get the hint that he likes you. Cove can do that, but the problem is... His heart can’t take it. Cove backs out last minute and you end taking charge. Which he also doesn’t mind. 

♡ The best part of being older and a little grown up, is he can sneak into your room. Obviously with you knowing. But most of the time he sneaks in when you’re sleeping. Once Cove slowly starts knowing your sleeping schedule he makes plans to go over late in the night. He likes stealing small things of yours. A few articles of clothing (never your undergarments though, if he accidently stumbles upon them Cove’s face will flare up as he flings them out of this end and high tails out of your room, almost falling from your window) some jewelry, hair ties, you get the gist. 

The moon shined brightly upon the sleepy town of Sunset Bird, clouds occasionally blowing gently across the sky and blocking out the moonlight. You’re curtains flowing along the slight breeze that was coming through your slightly opened window. You weren’t able to feel it by the pile of blankets you were snuggle deep with. 

Suddenly in the mist of the quietness, a small eep! emits from somewhere in your room. It was Cove and he had accidently stumbled upon a pair of your...undergarments. Face burning and without thinking tosses the article behind him before escaping through your window. (not forgetting the items he stole borrowed from you)

“Ack!” It seems like Cove miscalculated his jump from your window and has landed harshly in your bushes.  When you asked him about the scrapes all over his legs, Cove stutters out a response, unable to look at your eyes. 

︼︼︼︼︼︼

A/N: Okay I hope this ended pretty good. I spent like two days on this and got lazy and decided to spit this into 2 parts. So don’t be afraid and give me any feedback!! 

Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi!

[haikyuu-boys-headcanons]

𝙷𝙰𝙸𝙺𝚈𝚄𝚄 𝙱𝙾𝚈𝚂 - 𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙴𝚇 𝙼𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂

hehe, i’m back at it again with one of these long ass posts but this idea’s literally been in my head all day long so here you go !! obvious nsfw warning :)

tw: this whole post is just nsfw and embarrassing to read so read at your own risk >:)

𝙳𝙰𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙸 » during a super intense and loud session, his voice cracked as he asked you “does that feel goOD- good baby?” to this day, he still prays that you couldn’t hear him over the sound of your own moans

𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙰 » you were riding him and he went to slap your ass, but something went wrong either because you were riding too quickly or he was shaking too much, boy ended up slapping himself in the balls. you’ve never heard that boy scream that loud in your life

𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙷𝙸 » literally pulled out in the middle of sex to get up and rush to the corner of his room to flip around his childhood teddy bears. your just laying there with your tiddies and coochie out waiting for asahi to shield the eyes of mr. wiggles

𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙺𝙰 » you two were having pretty intense shower sex until tanaka did the number one thing your not supposed to do during shower sex; this muthafucker slipped while holding you. long story short, y’all were okay but just ended up having nasty shower floor sex??

𝙽𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙰 » this tiny ass 5′2 man was unconsciously humping your leg while you were both asleep?? his presumably pleasurable wet dream had turned into a sudden nightmare when you literally had to KICK him off you to stop the humping. bad nishinoya, bad!

𝙺𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰 » came WAYYY too early inside you, but he was too embarrassed to say anything so he just... kept going. sadly, no one had warned kageyama of the intense effects of overstimulation. he was shaking and whimpering so badly behind you to the point where you had to ask him to pull out and bring him a glass of water to calm down

𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙰 » the first time you squirted on him, he just blatantly asked you these exact few words that left you feeling mortified: “did you just piss on me?” nuh uh hinata, this water fountain ain’t yours to drown in anymore >:( 

𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » kei was hitting it from the back pretty hard this time, so hard that you were suddenly... on an angle? suddenly, now you two were much closer to the floor than before. the bed ended up collapsing, yes literally collapsing due to kei’s powerful thrusts. worst part is, nobody got to finish since kei dragged you to ikea to grumpily buy a new bedframe. but hey, he bought you ikea meatballs; that shit hits so different

𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙲𝙷𝙸 » one super duper intense night, he passed out the SECOND he came. no matter how much you flicked the temple of his forehead, yamaguchi was dead asleep. you had to literally slap him awake to get him to clean up, you ain’t risking a ranky stanky UTI puthy in the morning

𝙾𝙸𝙺𝙰𝚆𝙰 » kept calling himself a sex machine during the act. i don’t know if it was due to the 6 tequila shots he had beforehand or just his inner ego revealing, whatever it was it was about to make your pussy close

𝙸𝚆𝙰𝚉𝚄𝙼𝙸 » this one time, he kept going in at a weird angle which caused you to repeatedly queef for 7 minutes straight. every time you told him to pull out and go in properly, he laughed and kept going in at that one weird angle!! was your embarrassment a turn on for him?? maybe!! but were you mortified? absolutely!!

𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙽 » i’m sorry to have to be the one to announce this, but this man had the worst case of full blown bush you’ve ever seen. like, he didn’t even try to manscape or anything at all. you ended up begging him to trim just a tiny bit because you weren’t gonna risk choking on a pube whilst your going down on him

𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙸 » rubbed your left labia thinking it was your clit. and he kept doing that. the whole. fucking. time. even when you subtly moved his fingers towards your clit, he just kept going back to the left lip.

𝙺𝚄𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙸 » had the most dry and dull dirty talk you’ve ever heard. like, it’s not even dirty talk at this point; it’s just clean talk. there’s no passion when he talks! he uses the same tone he would use for anyone else at any other moment. to paint the picture, imagine riding kunimi and he’s just there with a furrowed expression like “yup, that feels really good”

���𝚈𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙸 » tried to pull one of those unexpected anal scenes that he saw from a porno, without telling you beforehand. life lesson here; if you party at shit's house, don't be surprised if shit's at the party

𝙺𝚄𝚁𝙾𝙾 » you two were looking to get a little more kinky in terms of BDSM, so kuroo watched like 30 tutorials on youtube on how to safely tie you up so you won’t fall or anything. this bitch ended up tying rope knots that were practically impossible to undo, which resulted in you hanging from the ceiling for approximately 2 hours pussy-ass naked while kuroo tried to cut you down with a kitchen knife

𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙼𝙰 » wanted to spice things up with some dirty talk, like the real nasty talk they use in pornos but not the normal pornos; the shitty company ones with horrific acting. he really ended up announcing that he was going to “fuck your fucking fanny off, you twat”

𝙻𝙴𝚅 » got super excited while he was opening the lube since he hadn’t gotten to fuck you in a WHILE, which resulted the lube leaked everywhere and a giant 6′5 man slipping and hitting his head on the bed frame. worst part is; he had to go to the ER with a hard on that refused to go away

𝙱𝙾𝙺𝚄𝚃𝙾 » speaking of boners that wouldn’t go away, let’s not forget that one time bokuto took two viagras when you texted him to come over for a special occasion. he horribly misinterpreted the ‘special occasion’ text, because he showed up to your house with a huge buldge in his pants as your parents stand before him holding anniversary cards, completely horrified

𝙰𝙺𝙰𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸 » wanted to make valentines day sex as romantic as he could, so he did the classic lighting candles and giving roses. everything was beautiful, until he accidently knocked one of the bigger candles over during missionary. this not only caused a huge ass fire in your bedroom, but he came right as the fire began to spread. boy was debating on whether his orgasm was to die for or not

𝙺𝙾𝙽𝙾𝙷𝙰 » had a nose bleed when he was going down on you and you both were immediately horrified, you thinking it was your period and him thinking he just ate coochie blood. yet as you went to go clean up, you realized his face had much more blood on it than your coochie did. to this day, he still blames it on your period 

𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙰 » threw you onto the bed and your head went through the wall. he didn’t even bother to ask you if you were okay, he just sighed and went “well, now i have to make a call to the construction guy. excuse me” and he left you and your concussed ass head sit there once again, pussy ass naked

𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙾𝚄 » during a blowjob, he held your head down right as he was coming causing the cum to shoot up your throat and somehow pour out of your nose. by the time he pulled out, he could barely breath from laughing at you. sure, the classic ‘milk shooting out of nose’ thing was funny at first until you got a sinus infection and had to breath out of your mouth for the next three days

𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙸 » always insists having sex in the most inconvenient places?? like he would pull you to side while grocery shopping and start grinding up against you as you pick which brand of cheese would be better??

𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙺𝙸 » he kept getting frustrated that his bangs were clouding his field of vision, so he irritably grabbed a hair tie and frantically tied up the sides of his bangs while he was fucking you. you immediately burst out laughing since he looked exactly like boo from monsters inc. 

𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » got so drunk that he ended up fucking the couch. like he was just there on top of you, and his dick was just sliding between the folds of the leather couch. you decided to let him finish like that

𝚂𝙰𝙺𝚄𝚂𝙰 » had a really bad reaction to one of the products he used while shaving and ended up getting super irritated down there so he kept having to pull out in-between thrusts to itch his crotch. to make things worse, you joking suggested that he looked like he had syphilis and he got so disgusted at the idea of that thought that he literally had to pull out and take a breather 

𝙾𝚂𝙰𝙼𝚄 » drizzled ‘warm’ chocolate down your chest and was about to seductively lick it off until you screamed in pain and horror as the chocolate was literally burning your skin off. osamu panicked, obviously not knowing what to do if chocolate was burning his partners skin off so he just... frantically licked it off. you still had to go to the ER afterwards to get treated for mild burns

𝙰𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙼𝚄 » didn’t know what a hymen was until the first time he tried to have sex with you. no matter how much he tried to shove his schlong in, it really just wasn’t working + “yer puss is broken”

𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙰 » pinched your nipples so fucking hard to the point where you started crying. he thoughts these were tears of pleasure until you literally had to kick him off you. but hey, he gave you ice for your sore nipples and mcdonalds! what more could a girl possibly want :)

uh the end lol

also, this idea was inspired by the first haikyuu headcanon i ever read, “awkward sex moments” by @bbytetsu <3

[flowerismi]

Duties, Part 1

So... I've always wanted to read/write some intense Hinata x Uchiha Harem...

So I did... Heheh

The story is super ridiculous, but hey... I wanted there to be a story, beside all the smut 🤤

She was born with an incredible power. The power to grand whises. A power which her daughters would inherite after her. Like she had inherited it from her mother. Unfortunately her mother had passed away. And only two people held this power now. Her, and her younger sister. She had just turned 18. And her sister was only 15.

Everyone far and wide had asked for her hand in marriage. And all her life she had been taught that this was her job. To get married have children, and serve her country. She wasn't royal or anything. But her family was regarded high in society. Because of the incredible power the women held in her family. Everyone wanted her.

She knew that great power came at a great cost. She never knew who really liked her. And who just pretended, to gain something. But now the time had come. A noble family from another country had asked for her hand in marriage. And the king, and queen of her home country had demanded that she obligated. So the relationship between the two countries could grow stronger. And the little sister was obligated to marry into the royal family of their home country.

This had been decided at their birth. So it came as no surprise when the oldest sister turned 18. She was shipped off to the noble family. The trip was long. And she felt horrible. She had never met these people. She didn't know their culture. She didn't even know who she was going to marry. She sat with a book about the noble family, soon to be her family.

Their family name was Uchiha. The Duke of the family was an older man. He was 58 years old. 'hopefully I'm not going to marry him...' Hinata thought. The old man didn't have any children of his own. And no wife. Actually he had never been married. Hinata felt nervous, and she kept hoping it wasn't going to be him.

When she arrived, she was surprised to see that nobody from the family themselves had showed up to greet her. There was a carriage. And some servants.

"Hinata Hyuga. An honor it is to have you with us."

One of the servants said and bowed to Hinata. Followed by the rest of the servants also bowing to her. Hinata nodded to her own servants to get her bags loaded onto the carrier. She smiled to the servants greeting her, and went inside the carrier. Inside a man was sitting, he seemed rather serious.

"Oh hello..."

Hinata said shyly. As she hadn't noticed the man before. The man looked up from his book.

"Hinata Hyuga. A pleasure to meet you. My deepest apologies that none of the Uchiha nobles could be here to greet you."

The man said. Putting down his book and taking off his glasses. He seemed embarrassed.

"Yeah I was wondering why there weren't anyone here to greet me"

Hinata said curious as to why.

"Miss... You see... This morning the Duke passed away..."

The man said. He looked down at his hands. 'Huh?... What... You have got to he kidding!?'. Hinata thought.

"My deepest apologies for the loss of the Duke..."

Hinata said, and bowed her head to the man.

"No no, the noble Hyuga shouldn't bow her head for me"

The man said. Hinata raised her head and looked at the man.

"I'm only a friend of the noble Uchihas. I came in their place, but I'm no noble"

The man said. Hinata smiled softly to the man.

"Still... Being their friend, it must also have effected you, that the Duke has passed..."

Hinata said. The man blushed at Hinata's kindness. She could see he was in pain. Probably broken from loosing a friend.

"Thank you Miss... That's very kind of you..."

The man said. They arrived to a huge mansion. Almost like a small castle. It was bigger than Hinata's own mansion. But the Uchiha family was bigger so it made sense.

Hinata followed the man inside the mansion. Inside was very dark. The walls was painted in dark colors. She entered into a huge ballroom. Hinata felt happy. She loved to dance. And this ballroom seemed perfect for just that. The man urged her to come with him up the stairs.

"All of the most important Uchiha family members are gathered in the dining room. They uhm..."

The man said. Hinata looked at him curious.

"Yes?..."

Hinata asked. Wanting to know what she was about to walk into.

"Well you see Miss... The Duke had no wife or children..."

The man said. And Hinata nodded in agreement.

"And he died all of a sudden... So... No heir have been announced..."

The man said. Hinata stopped and looked confused at the man.

"So you're telling me that there is no heir... And basically that means, first come, first served?"

Hinata said, feeling rather worn out.

"Well... It's not that simply either..."

The man said, and stopped outside a huge double door. Hinata sighed.

"It's in here... They'll explain"

The man said, and gave Hinata a sorrowful look. Hinata furrowed her eyebrows. But straightened her back. She wasn't normally confident. But no reason to tell them that. As the doors opened, Hinata met the gazes of multiple people. She kept her serious look, and confident posture.

"Miss Hinata Hyuga..."

The man pronounced. Bowing to Hinata and the Uchiha family. They were seated at a longtable. There could probably sit 20 people at it. But only seven people were sitting at the table. Scattered out around it. An older man was sitting on one side of the table, with two young men. One with long black hair. And one with raven short hair. On the opposite side of the table was a third young man. He had short spiky black hair. At the end of the table was a long haired man sitting. By his side another man. Also with raven hair. And last, a fourth younger man. He had black hair. And as he saw Hinata, she could she his eyes began showing lust. Actually they all did. Except the older man. But the rest of them. They seemed serious and angry. But their eyes were different. It was like a group of hungry lions who had been starved. And now a fresh piece of meat was placed in front of them.

Hinata felt uncomfortable having them stare at her like that. She gulped, and cut the silence by clearing her throat out loud.

"It is my pleasure meeting you all..."

Hinata said, and curtsied to them. She raised her head again. And faced the group of hungry eyes head on. Almost looking angry. For a while nobody said anything. And Hinata began wondering if they had actually heard her. It was at the point of awkward, when the silence was cut.

"Well... It's an honor to have you with us"

The young man with long hair said, as he stood up. He smiled softly to Hinata. And Hinata felt a hint of delight that there was someone with manners. And not just lustful staring. Hinata glimpsed around, and saw how the other men looked irritated at the man who had just spoken. But the man with long hair didn't seem to notice. He went up to Hinata and kissed her hand, as a welcome gesture.

"Let me introduce myself and... All of the Uchiha present"

The man said, and put his hand on Hinata's back. Pushing her softly forward into the room. And as Hinata was removed from the the door frame, the big doors were closed behind her. Hinata looked over her shoulder, as she heard the big doors close. And the man from the carrier had disappeared out the doors. Her attention was moved to the man who had his hand on her back. He removed his hand, and pulled out a chair for Hinata to sit on. Hinata politely thank him and sat down. The man with the long hair went over to his former seat.

"I am Itachi Uchiha. Son of Fugaku Uchiha. This is my brother Sasuke Uchiha."

The long haired man said. Presenting both his father the older man. And his brother, the raven short haired man.

"This is Shisui Uchiha."

Itachi said and hinted to the young man with short spiky black hair on the opposite side of the table.

"This is Madara Uchiha and his brother Izuna Uchiha"

Itachi said, and hinted at the two men sitting by the end of the table. They seemed older than Itachi and his brother. Hinata felt a lump in her throat looking at Madara. He seemed so serious. Like he would literally eat her. Hinata tried to get her attention elsewhere. And removed her gaze from him.

"And at last we have Obito Uchiha"

Itachi said, looking at the young man sitting the closest to Hinata. Still a couple of chairs away. Hinata looked over at him. And she saw a smirk forming in his lips. His eyes sharp and filled with lust. Hinata felt awkward. She had never had anyone look at her like that before. 'This is weird...' Hinata thought. 'Why have they all those hungry eyes filled with lust'. She thought. 'Except the older man... At least one of them seem normal... Maybe it's just the way they look' Hinata thoughts continued.

"Miss... MISS!"

Fugaku yelled as Hinata didn't react the first time he called out to her. Hinata blinked and looked over at Fugaku, who had stood up. While Itachi had sat back down.

"My apologies, you were saying?"

Hinata said, without it actually sounding like an apology. More it just felt ice cold and bothersome. She could see Fugaku's annoyance in her answer.

"Miss... As you might have heard. The Duke passed away this morning."

Fugaku said. And Hinata nodded in agreement.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss..."

Hinata said, keeping her serious attitude. She could see that a smirk was formed on the younger men. Weren't they sad? They didn't seem to be sad.

"Yeah... Thank you for your condolence"

Fugaku said. Hinata felt so confused. None of them seemed to be in a state of grieving. They almost seemed happy that the Duke was dead.

"You see Miss... This whole situation has put us in a tricky situation..."

Fugaku continued.

"My brother, the Duke's, last wish was to have a daughter be one with your... ability..."

Fugaku said, and smirked to Hinata. Hinata felt annoyed. Of course. That was what everyone wanted. She sighed.

"Now... We have the wife... But no husband..."

Fugaku said. Hinata looked unimpressed at him. 'How is that my problem?... Send me back home then...' Hinata thought.

"The next in line would be Madara, Obito, Itachi or Shisui..."

Fugaku said. Hinata still didn't understand. Couldn't they just have a dual or something. And then let that person be the next Duke.

"I'll let you in on little secret Miss..."

Fugaku said.

"Unlike your family, who have a high fertility rate. The Uchiha family have always been struggling with a low fertility rate."

Fugaku looked seriously at Hinata. Hinata raised her eyebrows. Still seeming unbothered. Fugaku cleared his throat.

"Therefore..."

Fugaku said. And for a moment everything was silent. Hinata could see as the young men mentioned before, turned their heads to her. Their eyes almost seemed red in the dark room. Hinata felt nervous. What was going on.

"We have decided that whoever gets you pregnant first, will be the next Duke of the Uchiha Family..."

Fugaku said. Hinata widened her eyes. And the room went silent again. Everyone waiting for Hinata to react. The silence was cut as Hinata started laughing. Her laughter filled the room. And the men looked confused at her. Hinata felt as tears started forming in her eyes from laughing so hard. After laughing a good while, Hinata stopped and dried the tears away. Still smiling.

"You have got to be kidding..."

Hinata said in humor.

"You seriously think I'm going to sleep with what... Four men..."

Hinata said. Her eyes turned serious.

"Not in a million years..."

Hinata said angry at their request. But her remark didn't help with the hungry eyes from the four men. They looked even more interested than before. Hinata sighed.

"Your low fertility isn't my problem... I came here to marry... Actually I never got confirmation about who I was going to marry..."

Hinata said.

"I just want to keep my side of the deal... If you can't keep yours, then I'll return home..."

Hinata said. Her gaze sharp and serious. She could see as the men looked at each other smirking.

"Miss... I don't think you understand... We are keeping our side of the deal..."

Fugaku said. Looking angry at Hinata.

"And as I see it, you're the one who's not living up to your end of the deal..."

Fugaku continued. Hinata felt her heart beat faster, as she became nervous.

"If we were to send you home, what image would that give you, and your family. What will the king think..."

Fugaku said. He slowly walked in the direction of Hinata.

"Who will they believe... An ancient noble family... Or one girl... Who already hates the idea of getting forced to marry some stranger..."

Fugaku continued as he stepped up to Hinata. Hinata couldn't look at him. She looked down at the table, clenching her hands together.

"Who knows... Maybe it was you who, murdered the Duke..."

Fugaku said as he leaned down whispering the last sentance into Hinata's ear. Hinata widened her eyes in shock.

"The news haven't left this table... Except for that old man who found my brother..."

Fugaku said, still leaned down over Hinata.

"Would be weird that the exact same day you came, the Duke just so happened to pass away..."

Fugaku said. He reached down and grabbed Hinata's chin. Forcing her to look at him.

"Sounds suspicious... Don't you agree..."

Fugaku said. He could see the anger in Hinata's eyes. She was scared and frustrated. Fugaku let go of her chin. He turned his back to her. And went back to his seat.

"See it as a temporary form of... polyandry"

Fugaku said. As he sat down in his seat. Waiting for Hinata's answer. She was quiet. Staring down at the table, and her hands clenching them together.

"...Fine... But I have one request..."

Fugaku turned his head slowly, looking back at the young girl. Hinata could feel the sweat running down her face. She gulped.

"You will not violate me... I will do what is needed of me... But you will under no circumstances violate me..."

Hinata said. She stared at Fugaku and waited for an answer.

"You hear that boys..."

Fugaku said seriously, looking out over the men around the table.

"Then I'll make this promise to you Miss. If any of these men violate you. I will cut of their members myself..."

Fugaku said. And at that moment all the men's attention turned to Fugaku. Sasuke and Izuna could be heard giggling. While the four other men, tried to ignore the threat just thrown at them. Hinata felt relieved. At least Fugaku seemed legit about this. As she could see the shock on the four men involved in this arrangement.

To be continued...

The lovely men in question...

Sasuke, Itachi, Shisui, Obito, Madara, Izuna, and to be in the future Kakashi (yeah he's not technically a Uchiha but... Who cares it's for the smut) 😝

Next

Overview

[spencers-renaissance]

Shovel Talk

Summary: Hotch and Emily find out about Derek's relationship with Spencer and decide it's time for a chat.

Tags: fluff, humour, est. rel., protective!derek, emily, and hotch, relationship reveal, mentions of past hurt spencer

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Inspired by this post by @penemily that I couldn't stop thinking about. Honestly I love this fic so much lol.

Derek isn’t quite sure how he’s found himself in a vacant office after hours, crowded into an office chair with broken wheels as the two most intimidating FBI agents he knows stand over him.

“Either of you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Derek asks, bewildered by how quickly his evening had changed. One minute he’s sneaking looks at Spencer over his computer screen, and the next he’s hauled off to a private room like some sort of hostage.

He’s not scared, but he’s definitely a little pissed off. It’s nearing 10pm and all he wants to do is go home with Spencer, curl up on the sofa and eat take-out in front of the TV as they celebrate closing a case in their own way. He used to celebrate by going out for a drink, falling into bed with a stranger if the opportunity arose, but a quiet evening on the sofa with his boy in his arms is surprisingly satisfying these days.

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “We know,” he says simply, something fierce behind his words.

Derek’s heart skips a beat. It’s not hard to figure out what it is he’s talking about. He and Spencer had started dating a couple of months ago but had decided to keep it under wraps for now; something so young and beautiful was too precious to expose to all the inevitable eventual complications just yet. They’re so ridiculously smitten, though, that he’s not exactly surprised two profilers paying close attention had figured it out.

Ignoring the quietly humming nerves starting up in his stomach, he mirrors Hotch’s raised eyebrow, trying not to look as affected as he feels. “So… what? You wait for Spencer to go to the bathroom to lure me to an empty office to beat me up?”

“Maybe,” Emily replies, voice dry.

Behind the nerves and the posturing, Derek can’t feel a small twinge of hurt. “Look, guys, we expected it to be a bit of a shock, but we thought you’d at least be happy for us—”

“It’s not a shock,” Hotch interrupts.

“What?”

“It’s not a shock,” Emily repeats. “Everyone saw this coming a mile off. We’re not surprised.”

Now, he’s even more lost. “Look, can you guys just sit down? You towering over me is creeping me out, man.”

“Good,” Hotch says easily.

Irritation takes over, and he stands up. “You know what, if you’re gonna be funny about it, I don’t actually have to be here.”

Before he can actually make to leave, though, Hotch is shoving him back down into the chair, old metal and plastic creaking under the force of his caught-off-guard body hitting it again. “Stay.”

“What is going on?” Derek explodes. Maybe under different circumstances he’d be able to profile the situation but as it stands, he’s stressed and confused, desperate only to be allowed to leave this dark, cramped room and take Spencer back to his place. It almost surprises him that all he craves in such a weird and unfamiliar situation is cuddles and a nature documentary, but he’s been with Spencer long enough for it to be approaching normal. The younger man’s probably back at his desk by now, wondering where he is, and Derek would hate for him to be worried. He just wants to go home.

“Derek, we are happy for you and Spencer,” Emily finally explains. “But we couldn’t in good conscience let this go on without having a… chat.” Her face twists into the faux charming expression he’s watched her use to disarm unsubs countless times. It stings a little that she’s using it on him.

He splutters a little as a realisation dawns on him, equal parts bemused and offended. “This is… this is a shovel talk!”

“Yes,” Hotch says with a straight face, his expression tight and intimidating as he tilts his head to the side slightly, clearly entirely unaffected by Derek’s emotions. “This is a shovel talk.”

Derek feels himself relax, tension easing slightly. “Guys, I appreciate the sentiment, but Spencer’s my boyfriend; nobody wants to protect him more than I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m pretty sure we could give you a run for your money,” Emily says, her expression quickly transforming into something far more dangerous and challenging than only moments previously. “Spencer has something every single member of this team would die to protect. And if you get in our way, then we’re going to have a problem.”

“Emily, what, we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, shrugging easily, “and I love you. But Spencer is my little brother, and I would do anything to stop him from getting hurt. As long as you don’t interfere with my primary mission, we’ll be fine.”

Hotch speaks before Derek can get a word in. “Derek, I knew Spencer long before you did. I remember the first time Gideon brought him to one of our lunches, and I saw something in him that made my heart ache. It didn’t take me long to realise that what I saw were the scars left by incredible deep-seated pain. Spencer has been through hell and back throughout his life, and he’s been hurt repeatedly by people who were supposed to protect him, including Gideon. I would do anything to prevent him from getting hurt by someone like that again, you hear me? Anything.”

As confusing as this all is, Derek can’t help but feel touched by Hotch’s earnest, emotional speech. Most of his nightmares these days revolve around Spencer getting hurt, and it’s kind of reassuring to know that he has so many people in the world who will stop at nothing to prevent those horrible dreams from spiralling into reality.

He can’t help but smile a little. “I’m glad he has you two,” Derek says honestly, looking between them, “but I can assure you that if I ever hurt Spencer for some unfathomable reason, your services wouldn’t be needed. I would hate myself enough for all three of us.” Even just considering the hypothetical possibility of hurting Spencer makes his stomach turn: it’s enough for him to know that he wouldn’t need Hotch and Emily to hold him accountable to that, his own self-loathing would be punishment enough.

It seems to appease Hotch and Emily, who Derek realises look sort of like intimidating twin mafia bosses standing over him like this, and they finally step back a little, posture relaxing.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” Emily says, smiling for real this time. “Get your boy and get home. It’s getting late, you know.”

He rolls his eyes at her as he makes his way to the door.

“Oh, and Derek,” Hotch says, laying a hand on his shoulder, turning him before he can leave, a genuine smile on his face too, “I am actually happy for you and Spencer.”

Derek grins at that. He really is a lucky, lucky man. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“What was that about?” Spencer asks, his features twisting in curiosity as Derek makes his way across the bullpen to his boyfriend, Hotch and Emily emerging from the same room moments later.

Derek doesn’t answer properly, laughing instead. “You got some good friends, you know that?”

Spencer nods, still looking a little confused, but clearly deciding to let it go as he slings his messenger bag across his body, standing up from his desk. Derek slings an arm around Spencer’s shoulders, leading him towards the exit as his insides twist at the adorable blush that colours Spencer’s cheeks so prettily.

“Derek,” he hisses, “shouldn’t we be leaving separately?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he chuckles, looking over his shoulder. Spencer does the same, blushing even fiercer as he spots Hotch and Emily leaning against the railing, overlooking the bullpen with all-knowing looks on their faces.

“Oh my god,” Spencer mumbles, clearly embarrassed, but Derek just laughs again as they leave the bullpen and approach the elevators.

“Come on, pretty boy,” he sighs happily, sliding the arm around his shoulders to rest at his waist, fingertips pressing into the small frame of the boy he’s already falling in love with. “Let’s get you home. That penguin documentary awaits.”

“You’re gonna watch Emperors and Kings with me?” Spencer’s happy exclamation and the delighted expression on his face only warms his heart further, and in that moment he decides that he wants a happy Spencer and another nature documentary within his reach for the rest of his life.

Surprisingly, it’s not as terrifying a thought as it might once have been.

(If Derek thinks the shovel talk from Hotch and Emily is bad, though, it’s nothing compared to the one he gets from Penelope. By the end of the next day, he’s somehow reduced to tears that are both happy and the product of extreme terror, on the receiving end of a ‘baby girl’ ban for keeping it from her for so long. In the end, he decides that it’s probably an alright price to pay for everything beautiful that his life has blossomed into over the last few months.)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @queerminalminds (taglist form)

[leviiattacks]

heyyy there, saw your requests are open. and i'm wondering maybe you could do a timeskip where everything is done and levi finally opened his tea shop. then there he met reader, and he treats them differently from other customers. thank you, hope you're having a good day.

author note :: this was kinda rushed as is most of what i post. the reader is a writer just bc i thought it would be cute and also ISTG. i wrote this entire thing thinking leviolas was such a cool name for a tea shop then googled it and saw it’s also the name of a spider so... ++ btw i have not yet double checked or proofread this because i wrote it at 2am but yeah it’s definitely not great :-) word count :: 2.4k??? somehow???

you’re sweet like honey when you first order from leviolas. you’re the same when you ask the owner for extra napkins and you remain exactly the same when you return with the intention to stick around for a writing session with a black tea by your side

something about you is attractive. that’s what levi thinks of you when you first walk into leviolas

you’re just incredibly wholesome poking your head around looking at all of the handmade pastries and confectioneries in admiration

you think the homely decor is cute and reminiscent of cottages in the countryside, the view outside the windows is beautiful and the scent of coffee alongside tea is heavenly

the pastries are beautiful and you find yourself eyeing the macrons pretty frequently. just EVERYTHING about leviolas is cute :-(

but one particular thing is especially adorable to you

and that would be the owner

when you hear his name for the first time you’re a little shocked

levi ackerman to be specific captain levi ackerman, the high ranking official who aided in paradis’ independence and freed the nation from the grip of titans

you read about him a year back in a paper or two and vividly recall the valiant title he held as humanity’s strongest soldier

he still holds the title that’s for sure but now he happens to own a tea shop

it’s slightly unusual it’s not every day you see a soldier retire and live such a plain life but you suppose the simplicity makes levi happy

honestly, if you had been through hell and back like him you too would wish to spend the rest of your days in the company of tea leaves and sweet cakes

today is a day like any other you’re sat by one of the windows and contemplating sitting in the outside seating area

the sun is shining and lands uncomfortably on your face at this angle and you may as well make your way outside

but before you can a shadow looms over you and a broad chest leans over to cover the window with dainty curtains

“you looked bothered by the light.”

oh god.

it’s him.

he’s standing there looking at you with an unreadable expression and all you can do is open and close your mouth not knowing what to say

humanity’s strongest soldier

levi ackerman

also known as the really really really attractive cafe owner you’ve been crushing on for the last few months now

seeing him up close is much more different to looking at him from the comfort of your seat or whilst you order

he’s normally got his back turned whilst collecting orders or another worker collects them as he prepares the beverages

that’s why the unexpected interaction has you nervous

you can always tell when he’s made your drink because he honestly has a way with tea leaves and you kinda want to gush about how much you enjoy it

but, no, no, no.

you’re panicking just looking at him

soft black strands of hair stick to his forehead, his undercut is oddly satisfying to stare at and he smells of pine trees which again is refreshing

“ah hahaha thank you for blocking the sun out!!”

why the fuck did you ha ha????

this is so awkward.

putting on your best front you beam up at him hoping your toothy smile doesn’t look stupid

then again it probably does because who the hell has a good toothy smile

nobody.......

levi’s gaze lingers on you but if he has anything else he wants to say he doesn’t make it known

instead he firmly nods and turns away

you’ve messed up,,

only!!! you manage to mess up even more....?

without thinking your hand latches onto the back of his blue button up and your face burns up realizing what it is you’ve done when he stiffens to a stop

as quick as your hand has grabbed onto his shirt it lets go and you awkwardly laugh again

hahahahaha

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to hold onto you so hard i was just...wondering if you could let me in on your secret.”

the random sentence is one you’ve made off the top of your head because you don’t have any real reason for holding onto him

but thankfully for you the saccharine of your voice is enough to sway levi

when he turns to see you with the same smile eagerly awaiting his answer something sparks in him

his chest feels a little funny but he ignores it

“secret?” he questions

“yeah!! your tea!! you’re really good at making it and aaaahhhh” you sigh contently thinking back on it.

“i remember when i ordered rose tea one time. you made it beautifully and the taste was infused so delicately it was incredibly soothing.”

hearing you ramble passionately about what he loves to do makes his chest feel funny again

he doesn’t know what the hell is going on exactly

but the only way he can explain it is his heart somersaulting and flipping despite him not wanting it to

despite that, it’s quite enjoyable

it’s probably got something to do with your kindhearted demeanor or the way you always manage to give him a smile when you waltz in

but levi finds himself fighting to touch you more and more as the days pass

your collar is always haphazardly done and he wants to lean in and fix it

sometimes you’ll have an eyelash on your face and he wants to lean in to swipe it away with his thumb

occasionally he stares at your hair and wants to sort it out. half the time it’s all over the place from the wind

he wants to lean in and smooth it out.

all he wants to do is LEAN IN but he sees no valid reason to

he’s lucky he’s always able to catch himself before his thumb reaches your cheek (you’re very oblivious and never notice how close he really gets)

ever since your first encounter at leviolas a few months back he’s been dragged into your world of books and lively stories

it doesn’t take you long to break out of your shell and you’re always telling levi something new

he doesn’t speak as much as you but when you coax out a story or two out of him he’s always earnest

you’ve learnt a lot through the conversations

you’ve learnt about his lost comrades, the horrible things he had to see on the battlefield, how he hopes he’ll live happy with what he has left

there are certain conversation topics he skips entirely and you respect his boundaries

you and levi are sat by a window and a comfortable silence floats between you two

it’s been four months

four months since you asked what his secret was

come to think of it he never told you what it was

he’s intently staring at you as you drink the lemon tea he’s just made you and his stare is a little too intense

feeling nervous you pick up your cup hoping for something to occupy yourself

recently the butterflies in your stomach have been increasing in number but you know it’s wrong to fancy levi

you don’t know why you think that but it’s the fact that you’re sure you’re not his type

he probably likes organised people, dependable people, funny people

not you.

you’re just an irksome author who spends your days writing in his shop

honestly he finds you annoying he has to. you’re always hanging around here

however, you do remember the one day you did choose to write in the park he thought you had died or something. that made you feel a little sad because he can’t really help but automatically worry if his routine is broken and you happen to have accidentally become part of his schedule

no, like levi’s literally said he has your name in his planner and whenever he thinks of a new thing to make you he’ll write it down with your name next to it

but still,, you’re convinced he has to find you annoying

there’s no reason for thinking it but you DEFINITELY think it’s correct

absentmindedly you haven’t even noticed levi still staring at you

“y/n?”

looking up at levi he’s clearly worried about something

humming in response telling him to continue he does

“i like someone.”

oh.

“...i’m not sure they’d return my feelings, that’s why i mentioned it.”

you smile at him warmly and you feel your heart sink, obviously he has to like someone. it’s probably someone in the corps, someone strong, someone capable. you’re not any of those things.

“well, you need not worry. if a man as good as you fancied me i’d be over the moon. i’m sure they would too!”

keep optimistic, don’t let him see you upset.

levi’s cheeks grow bright red and he bashfully tries to hide his embarrassment by covering his face with his hands

you laugh when he doesn’t budge and stays in the same position 

“c’mon levi, confess they’ll accept you have nothing to fear.” you coo persuasively

finally letting up after a few seconds he lets his arms drop to his sides.

“would you date me?”

the question takes you aback and you stare at him startled

soon realizing the idiocy laced in the inquiry he quickly retracts his statement

“nevermind, that was stupid.”

ignoring him you still want to answer

“uh well, i would. i have thought about it on occasion.”

he’s blinking rapidly trying to process what you’ve just admitted.

“you’ve thought about...?”

“dating you. yes i have.”

“and why the hell would you do that?” you can’t tell if he’s mad at you

“you’re capable, respectful. you’re considerate and quiet. i mean it you’re an amazing man really. also your tea!! imagine getting to drink it every day.”

you really have to add in the part about his tea because you know he loves it when you compliment it :-)

“ok, you drink my tea every day already.”

his short uninterested response stings and the dam of regret bursts open 

you shouldn’t have said all of that.

you and levi sit in an awkward silence for what feels like an eternity. you don’t dare look at him and your course of action is too drink your tea as quick as possible before dismissing yourself.

but before you can set your plan in motion levi breaks the ice.

“let’s date.”

you freeze and your eyes grow to the size of saucers

what did he just say???

he has to be losing his mind

“but levi what about the person you like?”

his eyebrow cocks upwards and an amused expression stretches across his face.

“i was talking about you.” he confesses boldly

this is a fever dream, nope, nope nope. you can not comprehend that this is your reality.

pinching your arm you hiss a little when you feel the pain

okay so, you’re definitely not dreaming...

“i, you, me. you...you like me?” the sentence is a jumble of words but you manage to sputter out something that makes sense

“yes. i like you.”

he’s being so blunt you can’t tell if he’s being serious but when you remind yourself that this is levi you relax, a blunt straightforward confession is meaningful coming from him 

BUT THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT

HELLO???? HE LIKES YOU BACK?%^%^”*

you get all blushy and flustered and you let out another one of your awkward hahahahaha’s but it’s a good hahahahaha

cautiously testing the waters he grabs your hand from across the table intertwining his fingers with yours

the gesture is adorable. the buzzing sensation that travels through your laced fingers makes you giggle to yourself giddily

“leviolas suddenly a matchmaking agency now? ;-)” your joke is dry and unfunny and levi rolls his eyes at it 

“you’re not funny.”

“but you still like me.” you tease

“yes. i still like you.” he admits

a few days have passed since then

you and levi have been the talk of the town 

humanity’s strongest soldier finally found his flame???

the chatter and rumors spread like wildfire, both you and levi aren’t fans of being in the spotlight but nothing negative has been said so there’s no complaints so far

levi places a cup of tea in front of you, it’s a herbal kind because you’ve been complaining about a headache

today you’re explaining why you dislike the plot of beauty and the beast and how there’s so much wrong with it. from the weirdly toxic relationship to the power imbalance. levi stands listening attentively whilst waiting for you to take a sip of the tea

just as you’ve paused to take a large breathe and prepare yourself to continue explaining how unbearable that book is levi uses it as his chance to say what he’s been wanting to 

“drink up before it’s ice cold.”

following his instructions you interrupt yourself and take a gulp of the herbal tea

your eyes glimmer in approval. it tastes of strawberries and you’re delighted already feeling your mood slightly raise in response

“it’s GREAT?? what did you put in it?? it doesn’t even taste medicinal.” once again, you’re fawning over his tea

“so levi ackerman, what really is the secret to all these perfect cups of tea?”

and without a seconds hesitation he responds.

“i was making the tea for you. that’s the secret.”

it takes a while for the gravity of his words to sink it but when the meaning does you cup his face in your palms and peck him everywhere. he whines a little but you can tell he enjoys the attention

you find that you’re more than happy you’ve found a home in levi and his shop

and levi’s more than happy he’s found a home in you and your books

:-)

[renecdote]

prompt: “I dreamt about you last night.” // if u already have this one i have like five others i just narrowed it down so i’m not Needy 😭

Me: I don't think I would ever write proposal fic, it's not really my thing

Also me:

[Read on AO3]

They don’t get moments like this as often as Buck would like. Moments just for the two of them, quiet and calm, an oasis amongst the constant forward momentum of life. There are probably a dozen things they should be doing instead, but Buck can almost forget the weight of them like this, with his head in Eddie’s lap, his eyes closed, and Eddie’s fingers tracing the lines of his face. It feels—a little strange, but in a good way. Buck doesn’t think he has had any partner touch him so gently before. Not for the sole purpose of touching—intimate, but not sexual. Just… quiet and sweet and a little bit contemplative.

Eddie isn’t always quiet with his affection. He can be bold and unabashed and downright clingy before coffee in the morning. And Buck loves all versions of Eddie, all versions of Eddie’s love, but he can admit to himself that this one might be his favourite. There’s something about the way that Eddie touches him, something about the way that Eddie looks at him, something about the way that Eddie just exists with him.

Nobody has ever made Buck feel treasured the way that Eddie does. Beautiful and priceless, to be showed off and kept protected from the world in equal measure.

(He has never had a reason to worry about Eddie leaving. Not when Eddie has done so much to show him how much he wants to stay.)

Buck is almost dozing, lulled there by the spell of Eddie’s gentle touch. He stirs, rousing himself, when Eddie says, “I dreamed about you last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Buck opens his eyes, smiling up at him. “Anything good?”

It’s a lighthearted question, but—Buck has his own dreams about Eddie. Not all of them are good. A lot of them are more nightmare than dream, horrible memories twisted in horrible ways. Time and therapy have eased them, but they still come back sometimes, after bad days or hard calls or sometimes for no reason at all.

But Eddie’s voice, the moment he has chosen, the fact that Buck didn’t wake up to him thrashing or screaming last night—this one must have been a good dream.

“We were dancing,” Eddie tells him. “You kept tripping over your own feet.”

“Wow,” Buck says, deadpan. “Even your subconscious is mean to me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “It was very embarrassing,” he teases, grin breaking through his voice and onto his face. “Everyone was watching us and I had to keep catching you before you could knock us both to the ground.”

Buck—in a move proving his maturity—sticks his tongue out at him. “You know, I’m pretty sure embarrassing dreams are supposed to be about your own embarrassment.”

“You think it wasn’t embarrassing for me?” Eddie says. “My husband couldn’t dance at our own wedding—I was mortified.”

Buck goes still. It was just a dream, he reminds himself, but something about the way Eddie says it—something about the expression on his face—

“Husband?”

Eddie is still touching his face. His thumb catches on the corner of Buck’s lower lip before sliding over his jaw. It reminds Buck of the first time they kissed—the way Eddie put a hand on the side of his face, thumb at his jaw, guiding them into their future together. He’d been nervous then—they both were—but now Eddie is nothing but calm certainty.

“I guess it’s been on my mind a lot lately,” he says.

It’s not like they’ve never talked about marriage. Hell, they talked about marriage before they even started dating.

(It turns out that conversations like that just sort of happened when you were sharing a bed during quarantine, boundaries broken down even more than usual, vulnerabilities spilling out into the barely-there space between them.

Buck was a little bit tipsy and a little bit lonely, aching for something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have, their faces so close he could see the flutter of Eddie’s eyes in the almost darkness. Maybe that’s why he asked, “Do you think you’d ever get married again?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, the time stretching out so long that Buck wasn’t sure he would answer. But eventually he said, “I don’t know, maybe. If it was with the right person

Buck never dared to dream, back then, that he might be the right person.)

“Why now?” he asks. He casts his mind back, trying to think of anything that sticks out in the last few weeks, some moment that might have started the gears turning, or clicked them into place. But there’s nothing. They’ve been... normal. Themselves. It’s been the same cycle of work and home that it has been for months—years, really.

Eddie looks a little pink. “It’s dumb,” he says, tone almost sheepish.

“I bet it’s not.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, really, it’s... Do you remember that call with the exploding windows at that café a few weeks back? When we were packing up to leave, I noticed there was a bakery across the road, and they had these really nice wedding cakes in the window.”

“Wedding cakes,” Buck repeats.

“Shannon and I never had a wedding cake,” Eddie tells him. “We... didn’t really have much of a wedding. There was a church and a minister, but... it never felt like it was really about us. About what we wanted. And even after everything fell apart with Shannon, I never really thought I’d get a second chance at any of that. But then...”

Then I met you.

“So you want a party?” Buck asks, almost teasing, because if he follows any other train of thought he’s probably going to cry. Happy tears, mostly, but a few sad ones as well. He loves Eddie so much it’s a little overwhelming.

“I just want you.”

Quiet, serious. The words make warmth blossom in Buck’s chest. He captures Eddie’s hand and lifts it to his mouth to kiss his knuckles.

“Are you going to ask me?”

“Do I need to?"

Buck hums, faux-contemplative. “I don’t know, it might be nice, having an actual question to say yes to and all that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes again, but it’s fond, his smile so soft you could stuff pillows with it and dream the sweetest of dreams. “Evan Buckley,” he says, tone serious, but eyes sparkling, “will you marry me?”

Buck grins up at him. “Sure,” he says. “I’m free today.”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head. “I love the enthusiasm, but we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“We need a marriage license, for one,” Eddie says. “And two, Chris would be very upset if we didn’t at least tell him first.

That’s true. And Buck would hate to upset Christopher.

“Tomorrow, then?”

He’s joking. Mostly.

How long does it take to get a marriage license in California anyway?

“Maybe tomorrow,” Eddie agrees. It’s hard to tell how much he’s joking. “But first, you need to get up.”

“Why?”

Buck is so comfortable. He could be comfortable in this moment forever, if Eddie let would him. But Eddie already has a hand under his shoulder, gently pushing him up.

“Because,” he says, when Buck is sitting up beside him, “from this angle, I can kiss you properly.”

Oh. Oh yeah, that’s a good reason. Buck meets him halfway. There is a part of him that wants to hurry, wants to get caught up in the enthusiasm the way they used when they were sneaking around, stealing kisses whenever nobody could see. It was always so fun, seeing how flustered he could make Eddie in only a handful of seconds.

But they aren’t sneaking around anymore, they aren’t hiding their love, and this kiss is slow and deep, like they have all the time in the world.

“You really want to marry me?” Buck can’t help asking when they pull apart.

Eddie smiles, hand against the side of Buck’s face, thumb at the edge of his jaw. “I thought you knew—I want everything with you.”

And what is Buck supposed to do with that except kiss him again?

“I love you,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips, his skin, into the air between them.

I love you, I love you, I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, and it feels like more than just a declaration. It’s a promise, a commitment. A vow.

I love you. I have loved you. I will love you.

There was a time that Buck thought he might never find someone to spend the rest of his life with. But now… Now he has built something. Him and Eddie and their little family. And Buck can’t wait to keep building even more together

[wonderlandhatter]

Reminds me you’re there.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x SSAReader (I'm pretty sure it can be read as GN)

Summary: You've always done it , and at this point you've kind of forgotten about it, until Spencer points it out after a case and you get embarrassed, so he comforts and reassures you.

Word count: 1054

Warnings: I don't think there are any, high school kids being mean but it is very brief and not detailed. just a load of fluff because what else e do I write lol. Spencer calls you cute which isn't a warning but it should be because if he ever me cute I will have a heart attack.

A/N: AHSMVHL OK so this was my first request which I was so excited to get, I posted asking for requests and then deleted the post because I got scared of getting requests which is dumb i know  but I'm really happy I got this one. I'm really sorry it took me so long to complete this I have a lot of school work atm. i hope this is ok I'm sorry if it isn't what you were looking for feel free to message me if you would like a different request. Hope you enjoy.

A/N2: My old account got deleted so I'm just reposting my fics I would appreciate if you could bust this so i could get back to where my account was thank you for your time.

Tagged: @pinkdiamond1016​

It was just something you’ve always done, as you grew up it happened less and since you’ve done it for so long you don’t even notice it anymore. Now that doesn’t mean other people don’t.

Highschool had been the worst for it, kids can really be mean for no reasons. Teachers would also get really annoyed with you for whistling during their lessons thinking you were taking the piss, you didn’t mean to, it just kind of happened and when you were nervous it seemed to happen more, it was just vicious cycle.

Now that you were older it didn’t really bother you, it didn’t happen often and when it did, no one made a big deal out of it, because as shocking as it may be to some, people can be respectful grown-ups and not make fun of people for the littlest things, amazing I know. Besides, you were good at hiding it and if they did notice it happening nobody in the team mentioned it. So, it was fine.

Right now, you were all working a case in Texas, it was a tough one, you weren’t getting any breaks and you were all frustrated, also it is so freaking hot. You are sweaty and stressed, not a good combination.

You were staring at the conference board, desperately trying to find a connection between the victims while Spencer was working on a geographical profile. You were doing the whistling thing it wasn’t frequent, but Spencer had counted 5 in the past 2 hours, it wasn’t bothering him, he liked it,  it reminded him of your presence there which he found comforting.

You two had been dating for the past year, and boy was it a wonderful year, you both loved each other so much, which was a word you had only recently allowed yourselves to utter to each other, and it felt so good. You never stopped saying those words to each other that night (and moaning them).

That’s 6 Spencer smiled to himself as you whistled again, he was broken out of his peaceful state as you quite loudly and dramatically gasped. “oh my god I found it”.

After that the case was still tough, all cases are but you caught the guys, it turned out to have been partners, one was shot during take down, he didn’t die only injured, you weren’t too torn up about it to be honest he did horrible things to those women and threw you a punch which left you with a bruised eye, prick.

Now you were in the jet doing what you always did on the jet after a case, sharing the couch with Spencer. He was sitting across it with his back to the wall and you were between his legs with your back to his chest. He was holding a book with his left hand and you were holding onto his right absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

Everyone else was asleep apart from Hotch who never seemed to sleep, maybe he’s a vampire you thought, and giggled at the absurdity of it.

You were nearly asleep and totally blissed out, when Spencer piped up quietly. “that was 8, you’ve never done it this many times in this amount of time”, you scrunched up your brows in confusion and tilted your head slightly so you could see his face, “what?”, “whistling, you’ve done it 8 times this case, and that’s more than you normally do”, he stated simply.

Your felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you hadn’t even realised you just did it never mind so many times. Spencer didn’t seem to notice your reaction and kept going still quietly as to not wake anybody up. “Since I’ve known you, you do it on average once a week, when we don’t have cases or when they are fairly easy ones and about 3 to 4 times on harder cases or when you are very stressed but never this many times”.

This time after he was done he noticed how you were hiding your face in his chest and how the visible part of it was completely red, this saddened him somewhat he never meant to upset you, he knew you didn’t always notice the whistling and that it wasn’t voluntary but he didn’t think it bothered you.

He started playing with your hair because he knew it calmed you and made you feel better when you were upset, “I didn’t mean to upset you bug, I’m sorry”, “its ok I’m not upset just really embarrassed” you replied with your face still in his chest, “you don’t need to be, there’s nothing embarrassing about it,”, you looked up at him and deadpanned at his  statement, “yes there is, it’s annoying and weird and “, “and incredibly cute” Spencer interrupted, you just looked at him really confused, “no it isn’t Spencer, you don’t have to lie”, “I’m not lying” he answered immediately “I find it endearing, and cute, and I absolutely love it,” you tried to bury your face in his chest again but he used one hand and placed it on your cheek so you would keep eye contact.

“This is something that makes you special bug, and not something you should be embarrassed or ashamed over, you shouldn’t worry over something like this”. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb and almost as a reflex your eyes closed as you leaned further into his hand. Now with a sheepish tone he added “and as I’ve already mentioned I find it incredibly cute and adorable”, you couldn’t supress your smile at this statement as your cheeks tinted pink.

“Thank you Spence”, he smiled at you and replied “you don’t need to thank me bug” with that he leaned down and kissed your temple and as he pulled back whispered an I love you which you returned without hesitation.

With that you got comfortable oh his chest again and took his hand once again to play with it until you fell asleep, while Spencer didn’t return to his reading instead he played with your hair with his other hand and admired the woman he loved and who he had the privilege to have lie with him.

Boy did he love you, every part of you, even the ones you didn’t appreciate quite as much.

[yoddream]

are you okay? | l.in

pairing: hockey player!jeno x gender neutral reader

summary: taking a puck to the face really fucking hurt.

warnings: blood, hospitals

a/n: hey!!! this picture gave me no choice but to write this. i’m sorry i’ve been so inactive. i’m writing my bad boy jeno story, and it’s taking a lot more time than i expected. i’m also still working a lot, and with the holidays coming up it’s gonna get even crazier. please enjoy!!! and i’m writing this in mobile so sorry for no keep reading button. This is actually horrible I am so sorry.

It was absolutely freezing as you raced to class. The sun was shining, but it was the middle of winter. The weather man had informed everyone that it would be the coldest day of the season so far, so you were bundled up as you walked against the frigid wind.

Unfortunately, you’d woken up late, and now you were trying to get to class on time. Your roommate was supposed to wake you like they’d promised, but they didn’t. So, now you were cold and late.

As you reached the university’s pond, you could see the math building in the distance. With a sigh of relief, you started the walk over the bridge that passed over the water. There was some shouting and laughter nearby, but you ignored it. The wind seemed to be even colder on the bridge, and you had no choice but to slow down.

“Watch out!”

Before you could even turn to see what was going on, something hit you in the side of the head. You fell to the ground, and as your vision started to darken, you couldn’t help but think, Well, at least I’ll have a good excuse for being late.

///

“...up! Y/N, come on, please wake up!”

The throbbing in your head made you groan. When you tried to open your eyes, it was far too bright. Your hands came up to shield the light, but somebody stopped you.

“Guys, stand around them to block out the light.”

Soon, you were able to open your eyes. Your vision was blurry at first, but then it started to focus on the boy that was kneeling over you. Lee Jeno, alternate captain of the school’s hockey team, looked extremely guilty, and you knew exactly what had happened: you’d been hit in the head by a puck.

“An ambulance is on the way. You hit the ground pretty hard,” Sungchan, one of the other players on the team, informed you.

“Which one of you idiots hit me,” you grumbled.

Everyone seemed to freeze. Okay, so maybe you were known for being cold towards people. Anyone who faced your wrath was always terrified, so you weren’t surprised to see the three boys hesitate to tell you the truth.

“I’m really, really sorry, Y/N. The puck went much higher than I thought it would,” Jeno said quietly, his eyes wide with fear, concern, and...sadness? Nobody had ever been sad after dealing with you.

“Yeah, he saw you and fucked up his slap shot.”

“Shut up, Yangyang,” Jeno hissed over his shoulder.

The sirens approaching caught your attention. You looked back to the boy that was still kneeling over you, holding something to the side of your head. When you reached for it, he gently stopped you.

“What-“

“My scarf is slowing the bleeding. I’m so, so, so sorry.”

Soon, there were paramedics tending to your head. You were loaded onto the gurney and into the ambulance. Jeno followed, ignoring his teammates’ protests, claiming that since it was his fault, he needed to go with you to the hospital. The doors were slammed shut, and you were soon on your way.

As the paramedic checked your blood pressure and vision, Jeno sat on the bench across from you with his scarf clutched tightly in his hands. It was supposed to be the school’s colors, orange and blue, but the large spots of red ruined it.

“I have no idea how I’m gonna explain this to my professor,” you mumbled.

“Oh! My friend, Renjun, is in your class. If you want, I can send a picture of you to him so he can tell your professor what happened,” Jeno offered.

Not having any other options, you agreed and watched as his hands shakily reached for his pocket. He unlocked it before holding it up in selfie mode. The two of you held up peace signs and listened as the phone a shutter sound.

“There. I’ll send it to him right now,” he said, his thumbs flying across his phone screen.

An hour into your visit at the hospital, you and Jeno were left alone. He was sitting in a chair nearby, his knee bouncing with nerves. The scarf was still in his hands, and you noticed that his knuckles were white.

“What did Yangyang mean?” you asked.

His head snapped up, and it reminded you of a puppy. Cute. “Huh?”

“He said that you saw me and fucked up your slap shot. What did he mean by that?”

The sudden rosiness of his cheeks caught you off guard. He looked embarrassed, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Instead, his gaze stayed glued to the floor.

“I, uh, may have liked you since our first semester,” he stated.

Your eyes widened at the information. “Jeno, that was two years ago.”

“Trust me, I know. God, this is so embarrassing,” he whined.

“Why?”

“Because I was never going to say anything-“

“No, why do you like me?” you asked quietly. Even you could hear how broken you sounded.

He finally looked to you, face determined. “Because I know you’re as beautiful on the inside as you are out. When you took care of Winwin while his leg was broken, I could tell it wasn’t because you wanted to date him or whatever. You genuinely just wanted to help him. And I know you helped Jisung around campus. Even though Jaemin kind of adopted him, you two still keep in touch. I’ve seen you two grab lunch together, and I know that when Chenle tagged along once, you refused to let him pay, even though everyone knows how much money his family has.”

You looked to your own lap, a small smile on your face as you felt your cheeks warm. “Winwin is a family friend. He’s the reason why I applied here. I needed a familiar face so that I wouldnt feel so overwhelmed.”

Jeno slowly scooted closer, not wanting to upset you. “See? Even though you act tough and cold, I knew there was more to it.”

There was a pause. Then, you said, “Nobody’s ever told me they liked me.”

“Can’t say that anymore.”

When you were finally discharged, Jeno called for an Uber. As the two of you waited, you shuffled closer to him to stay warm. His arm snaked around your waist as his cheeks managed to get even more pink in the cold. The two of you sat in silence, enjoying each other’s presence.

“I like you too,” you mumbled. “I always have, but I was afraid that you were scared of me like everyone else.”

“A little bit, but it kept everything exciting,” he admitted.

When the car arrived, he insisted on making sure you got back to your apartment okay. With your head throbbing at the thought of arguing with him, you couldn’t help but let him do as he pleased. Doctor’s note in one hand and his in the other, you watched the city fly by as you were driven home.

Once you were standing in front of your building, you didn’t want Jeno to leave, but you knew he still had classes and practice to get to. He seemed reluctant to go, as well, his fingers hooked with yours and swinging side to side as you faced each other.

“Well, I should go,” he said with a sigh. “Again, I’m really sorry for hitting you with the puck.”

“Don’t worry about it. A couple stitches and a concussion aren’t too bad,” you stated, but the reminder of your injuries made him frown.

“You have my number now, so text or call if you need anything. Or, you know, if you just want to.” His hand started to venture towards his face, but the bloody scarf reminded him that he couldn’t use that one. It gave you an idea.

“I promise I’ll make you a new scarf. Hopefully it’ll be ready by our first date,” you said.

The blush and grin on his face was completely worth it.

[delaber]

Can’t Have Your Cake and Another Cake Too

Rafael Casal x Reader

Note: Okay, I’ll stop breaking Rafa’s heart now... Last time, I swear! Thanks for the prompts to these lovely anons. Alhough this is not a prequel to Poetic Justice (Rafa x ER Nurse), poor Rafa’s facing some of the same issues. I very loosely based this story on J. Cole’s Kevin’s Heart (don’t know why I’m always incorporating J. Cole into my fics, but apparently he’s always lurking in the back of my mind) and Phlake’s So Faded. Let me know what you think!

Words: 4.7K

Warnings: Cocaine addiction! Does not have a happy ending (nobody ODs and nobody’s dying ...Only on the inside lol)

Tagging: No one! This might not be for everybody and I don’t want anybody to feel forced to read it 😌

It was supposed to be a great night out. The entire gang was there, and at the instigation of Diggs, Rafa was supposed to be on the prowl to get laid so he could take his mind off of his broken heart.

From his seat in the booth, Rafa had a fairly good view of the dance floor and he had already spotted a few honeys who likewise had acknowledged him by smiling and sending him a couple of long looks. One of them had even twirled her hair between her fingers while blowing him a kiss. He had the green light, all systems were go!

However, of all the things that could've thrown him off his game, Rafa would not have placed a single bet on a phone call. But the minute he pulled out his vibrating phone and checked the caller ID, both the group of honeys on the dance floor and his friends occupying the seats all around him were completely forgotten. Nothing else mattered anymore.

He stared at the screen for a while, reading the name over and over again. What the fuck was Morris calling him for? Rafa had told him to stop. Morris knew he was too weak to say no even though he had promised his girl that he'd stop for good.

...Or, you weren't his girl. Not anymore.

But Rafa was still determined to win you back no matter if you had stopped answering his phone calls or not, so he took a tough decision and pressed the decline button beneath Morris' name. He even contemplated putting his phone on flight-mode to remove all unwelcome temptations - he knew you'd never take him back if he fell back in - yet, for some reason taking himself off the grid was easier said than done, and before he had pulled himself together to actually press the little airplane button, a text from Morris had ticked in. It only consisted of two words but Rafa understood perfectly.

'New candy.'

Fuck... Rafa considered the pros and cons of accepting for a few milliseconds before he came to his senses. No, no, no. The only way he'd ever win you back would be by showing you that he could stay sober even after your break-up. Morris could fuck off! As if awaking from a trance, Rafa hurriedly put his phone back in his pocket and desperately tried to forget about Morris' enticing offer by telling himself that he was strong enough to shake it.

...although deep down, he was aware that it was already too late. That no matter what, he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it now. And no matter how hard he tried to re-focus on the honeys on the dance floor and tell himself how stupid it was to hit Morris up, it was no use, the damage was done; he was desperate to get high!

Deeply, horribly ashamed of himself, Rafa texted Morris the address of the club and impatiently waited a couple of minutes before he walked outside with heavy footsteps. It felt as if he was walking to the gallows, the shame eating him up from the inside. You'd be so disappointed in him!

However, in order to make himself accept what he was about to do, he reminded himself that apparently, you didn't care if he was high or not. If you did, you would've returned his phone calls, and you would've reacted to the fact that he had been sober for three weeks now - but you hadn't. And with that in mind, Rafa managed to push away most of the shame as he laid eyes on Morris' sketchy Subaru parked by the curb on the other side of the road. He walked across the street with determined footsteps, carefully looking over his shoulder to check if anybody he knew were watching him approach what was clearly a dealer's car.

"What's up, bruh!" Morris called as he rolled down his window. He was wearing sunglasses, looking like an absolute turd in the dark night.

Rafa put his arms on the car's beltline and shot Morris a bro handshake through the open window, "what the fuck are you wearing sunglasses at night for? You look like a dick."

"Nah, man, it looks cool," Morris laughed, "do you like them? Hell, you should like them - you paid for them."

"What do you mean I paid for them?"

"With the amount of money you spend in my shop, I think it's safe to assume that you paid for these sunglasses and the rims on the ride too," Morris snorted.

"Yeah, about that," Rafa looked away, the embarrassment slowly creeping up his spine again, "you gotta stop calling me."

"You said that last time as well but look at you now," Morris laughed.

"Come on man, it's important that I stop."

"You don't wanna stop though."

Rafa let out a sigh, "look, I'm trying to prove something to my girlf- ...ex-girlfriend."

"A'ight, I respect that," Morris nodded slowly but then he quickly continued, "so did you just call me here to pin your lady troubles on me? Cause I have a customer waiting up on Seventh Ave."

Rafa blew out some air, embarrassed by the decision he was about to make.

"...Or do you wanna buy?" Morris continued as he read Rafa's body language.

"...you're not gonna tell Diggs are you?"

"Do I look like a fucking snitch?" Morris looked offended, "and you know me and Diggs don't talk no more."

"Yeah, alright. This stays between us, okay? If word gets out, I'm fucked."

"A'ight bruh," Morris laughed, "Now, how much do you need?"

"Just... just give me an eightball," Rafa mumbled.

Morris let out a small laugh, "an eightball? Man, you're not about to quit," he chuckled and handed Rafa a zip-lock bag with white powder in it.

"Shut up," Rafa mumbled and pocketed the baggie, "how much?"

"Rafa, you're my man, so I'mma give you a discount because I feel bad for you and your girl. Three hundo."

"Three hundred?! Last time it was two-eighty without the discount."

"Times are changing. I haven't seen you in three weeks, man. Plus, this is a good batch," Morris poked Rafa in the chest, "my contact got it shipped in directly from Medellín. Look, it got fish scale and everything!"

"You better not fuck me over," Rafa muttered and threw Morris three hundred-dollar bills before he turned away from him with an annoyed huff.

"Pleasure doing business as always, Casal! See you next weekend!" Morris yelled after Rafa with a small laugh, apparently not a care in the world for who knew about their illegal transaction.

"Fucking idiot," Rafa muttered to himself without turning around. He had more important things to do than to scold Morris about his indiscretion.

Rafa hurried to the restroom and carefully locked the door behind him before he frantically pulled out the zip-lock bag. He examined its contents and saw the pearl-like surface that Morris had talked about - Fuck it looked good! He opened the bag carefully but froze when he caught his own reflection in the bathroom mirror; the loving look he was sending the bag of coke was sickening. It made his stomach plummet. Had he really been reduced to snorting coke alone in a dirty bathroom of a sketchy club? He remembered when it had been a group activity. Before he couldn't control it.

Shake it off! He told himself. He had every intention of stopping after tonight. This would be the last time.

You said that last time as well, a small voice rang in the back of his head, but he ignored his guilty conscience and instead poured out a small pile of the pearl-like coke on top of the hand dryer. Quickly, he pulled out a random card from his wallet and used it to form two heavy lines. Before his guilty conscience could interfere again, he also grabbed a one-dollar bill that he neatly rolled into a small tube and put between his right nostril and one of the white lines, ready for the rush. His gaze, however, lingered on the random card he had used to break the coke into lines; it was his fucking rewards card for the small organic, artisan shit coffee house that you liked. What wouldn't you say if you knew what he was doing? In his mind's eye, he could see the disappointed look you always sent him whenever he'd come home all hyped up, rambling his mouth off. You never got angry with him and his love of coke, but somehow your disappointed demeanour was way worse. He would've taken screaming and yelling over the disappointed stare and the slow shake of your head any day.

Slowly, he removed the dollar-bill from his nostril, stood up straight and met his own eyes in the mirror again - and for a moment, he could truly see how pathetic he was. What the hell was he doing? He was throwing away his last shot at getting you back - and for what? A few hours of euphoria and confidence?

But she doesn't want you back, a small voice rang inside his head, you called, and you called, and you called. You declared yourself clean to her voicemail and she still didn't reach out. Fuck her!

"Yeah, fuck her," Rafa mumbled before he put the dollar-bill back to his nostril. Quickly, he snorted both lines of coke, shooting his head back afterwards, sniffling a bit as he cleaned his nose with the back of his hand. He knew he only had a couple of minutes before the euphoria kicked in, so he quickly brushed off the dollar-bill and the rewards card and tugged them both back in his wallet. The remainder of the coke was stowed away in his shirt's breast pocket for safe keeping.

Ready for the rush, Rafa was impatiently staring at himself in the mirror. He was thinking about how to avoid Diggs and his condescending looks for the duration of his high, when he was finally overwhelmed by the familiar fuzzy feeling. It came out of nowhere and started behind his eyeballs and continued all the way down to his toenails. It felt as if someone had pulled a large, fluffy blanket down over him, and it was slowly heating up his body, making him feel safe and secure. His pulse quickened in time with his breathing, and he had to close his eyes to get himself under control. He felt fucking powerful! Morris had not lied about this coming from a good batch. "Shit, Morris," he laughed.

There was a knock on the door, and Rafa remembered that he had occupied the men's room for a good five minutes now. He took a last look at his suddenly hazed eyes, aware that no matter how hard he tried to hide it, anyone could see that he was high as a kite. He contemplated riding out his high alone in the bathroom but also knew that with the amount of energy present in his body, he couldn't stay in the small restroom all night. He had to dance! To fuck! To fight!

With a suddenly confident bounce in his step, he opened the door, and sent the guy in line what he hoped was an apologetic nod before he confidently strode towards the honeys on the dance floor.

"Hey Rafa!" he heard someone yell behind him.

Hoping it was someone who wanted to fight, Rafa quickly turned around but was slightly disappointed to see Diggs coming towards him with a huge grin on his face. Shit! Rafa realised that he had to act nonchalant around his best friend. Diggs absolutely couldn't know about the coke in his breast pocket, or he'd be all up in Rafa's face about it.

"Diiiiiggs! My man!" Rafa yelled overly excited, clearly very, very high.

Diggs shot him a look at his weird behaviour before he continued, "where've you been, man? I've been looking for you everywhere."

"R-r-r-r-r-r-r-rrrrrrrestroom," Rafa laughed, he was too happy to pretend otherwise.

"Why are you saying it like th-" the huge grin was slowly slipping from Diggs' face, "...hey, Rafa - look at me," Diggs suddenly sounded all serious as he took Rafa's face in his hands, carefully examining his features, "Rafa, look at me."

Rafa let out a low chuckle, "Diggs, you know I think you're handsome and all that, but I don't like you that way," he joked.

"You're being weird," Diggs furrowed his eyebrows, "- and your pupils are huge. Have you been doing lines in the bathroom?"

"Maybe," Rafa laughed, unable to stop himself from revealing his dirty little secret, "why? You want some? I still have a few hits left," he padded his breast pocket.

"You know I don't do that shit anymore..." Diggs let go of Rafa with a sigh and looked away from him.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're a fucking saint now," Rafa said a bit more harshly than he had intended to. Ever since Diggs had met Emmy, he had been boring as hell.

Diggs chose not to comment on Rafa's low blow, and managed to keep his calm, "I thought you'd stopped, bruh."

"Morris made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Rafa laughed in an accent halfway between Tony Montana and Vito Corleone.

"Yeah well, I'm not the only one who thought you were done fucking around," Diggs said seriously. He was having none of Rafa's jokes, "I just saw your girl downstairs. She wants to talk to you."

It took a few seconds before Rafa understood, but when he finally grasped Diggs' words, he felt the blood drain from his face and his mouth run dry, "what? No, you're kidding me..."

"Nope," Diggs sighed, "I've been running around trying to find you for fifteen minutes..."

"Shit! What the fuck do I do?" Rafa said in a panicked voice, licking his lips frantically, "I told her I was sober! If she sees me like this, she'll never take me back."

"Yeah, well you better pray that you don't run into her."

Rafa ran his hand through his hair, "fuck I'm screwed. She's downstairs?"

"Was fifteen minutes ago."

"Alright, I'm jumping out this window. You stall her, tell her that I got sick or something."

"You can't jump out this window?" Diggs said incredulously, "we're 50 feet up, if you do that, you die! Just walk out the doo- ...oh shit, dude, we're blown. She's here. She's coming over."

"Fuck! Can I still bolt?"

"Of course not!"

"Well how do I look? Alright?"

"You look-" Diggs cut himself off, "...maybe just try and avoid her looking into your eyes, okay?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

"The light in here's paying you a favour but apart from that you're gonna have to pull yourself together. You brought this upon yourself," Diggs said harshly before his demeanour changed completely as his eyes interlocked with yours over Rafa's shoulder, "heeeeey," he smiled broadly, "look who I found."

Rafa slowly turned around and met you. Your stunning beauty - as always - immediately knocking him to the ground. He couldn't believe that it had been four weeks since the last time he'd seen you. He'd do anything to get you back!

"Rafa," you nodded formally with a stiff face. Rafa couldn't help but make a mental note on how weird it was to see you without a smile on your lips. You were normally always so happy. He had done this, he reminded himself.

"Hey baby," he whispered, the words weirdly familiar in his throat.

You briefly raised your eyebrows while looking away from him, clearly uncomfortable by the sound of your old pet name.

"Sorry," he continued, "force of habit. ...I'm just happy to see you."

Your gaze slowly found his face, and Rafa prayed that you couldn't see his coke-eyes from where you were standing.

"Well..." you said and clicked your tongue, "I'd like to talk to you."

"I'd like to talk to you too," Rafa said quietly.

"And you're sober? Like you said on my voicemail?"

"Yes," Rafa breathed, "completely sober," he lied thickly, hyper-aware of how awkward it was with Diggs shuffling nervously beside him. He was uncomfortably rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Good," you finally let out a small smile, "do you want to sit down?"

"Yeah," Rafa nodded.

"Yeah, I'll - uh - I'll leave you to it," Diggs cleared his throat and padded Rafa between the shoulder blades as a way of wishing him good luck.

"Thanks man," Rafa muttered before he followed you down to a vacant booth in the corner of the room. Instead of sitting down opposite you, he made sure to occupy the seat next to you, hoping that it would minimise the risk of you looking into his eyes. He just had to pretend that he was sober until the high quieted down. Fourty-five more minutes - Less if he was lucky.

"So, how've you been?" You said quietly as you were both overlooking the dance floor, avoiding looking directly at each other.

"Not good," Rafa said quietly, "like shit, actually... how about you?"

"Yeah, well I guess 'shit' sums it up neatly... How's sober life?"

"Oh, it's - yeah - it's - it's great!" He said, the lie thick in his throat, "I feel so much better now." He knew how much he had hurt you, and he knew how difficult it must be for you to face him after you'd said that you never wanted to see him again - which just really only made his lying so much worse. Fuck, how he hated himself for what he had done. What he was still doing.

Your eyes darted across his face before your gaze settled on a spot just below his chin. He was relieved that you weren't staring him square in the eyes. "I was so happy to hear your voicemail," you whispered, "you really flushed your stash?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"I'm glad that you're finally taking care of yourself," he couldn't make out your face in the dark but he could hear a hint of happiness to your voice that you were clearly trying to suppress. It made him feel horrible.

"Yeah, I want to stay sober for you," he said slowly. At least that wasn't a lie.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," you said quietly, the happiness definitely shining through now.

Rafa's heart was fluttering in his chest, and he felt the coke-induced euphoria run amok in his brain, "...does that mean you'll forgive me?" All his senses were heightened.

"It's a step in the right direction" you said quietly, still not looking directly at him, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too baby," Rafa said quietly and boldly took your hand in his.

Finally, you looked up at him, and to avoid you noticing his bloodshot eyes with the dilated pupils, he took a quick decision, leaned in and crashed his lips against yours.

Luckily, you mistook his desperation for passion and fiercely kissed him back, your hand releasing itself from his, and instead caressing his neck. In-between kisses you managed to mumble, "I'm still... mad... at you."

"I know," Rafa mumbled, enjoying the familiar feeling of your lips against his. Your hands switched to caressing his torso, and your small fingers travelled over his stomach and up his chest, coming to a halt over his heart. It was racing against his ribcage and he had no idea whether it was due to the coke or due to the heap of emotions he felt in his chest. He couldn't believe he was kissing you again. He had completely written it off no more than half an hour ago.

Your right hand moved away from his heart but came to a sudden halt when you felt a small bump in Rafa's breast pocket. Still kissing him, you ran your fingers over the bump a few times before you remembered that it was where he always kept his coke. Quickly, you pulled your lips away from his.

"Wait, no, don't take kissing away from me," he hummed, completely unaware of the discovery you'd just done.

You were looking at his euphoric face with the closed eyes and the swollen lips as you moved your hand over his breast pocket once more.

When Rafa realised what was going on his eyes flew open and he spluttered, "it isn't what you think!"

But he was too slow to react, and before he had had the chance to move away, your fingers went inside his breast pocket and grabbed the small bag from there. "You've got to be kidding me!" You said angrily as you held his coke between your fingertips.

"Baby, I can explain," Rafa said quickly while desperately grabbing your wrist.

"Rafa, you fucking idiot! Don't touch me!" You wrestled yourself out of his grip, got up from your seat, and fast-paced towards the door.

"Baby! Baby!" Rafa yelled out as he ran after you.

"Don't touch me!" You cried, attracting the attention of everyone in your path.

You stormed out the door, Rafa at your heel desperately clinging to every inch of you that he could reach. When you reached the curb outside, he finally managed to run up in front of you, stopping you in your tracks, "baby, I can explain!" He said desperately.

"You said you'd flushed it all!" You were screaming at him now, the tears running down your face.

"It was a mistake, baby, I swear I didn't mean to. I flushed it all, I promise. It's just a setback."

"When did you buy this, Rafa?" You said through gritted teeth, "how long did you manage to stay sober before you decided you wanted to throw it all away?"

Rafa looked away from you, he was so embarrassed by himself, "Morris called and I tried to say no, I really did! Baby, I tried so hard to resist it. But he was persistent."

"Well, did he force you to buy?" You hissed. You were having none of his excuses.

"...No." Rafa admitted.

"When did you buy it?" You emphasised every word, "before or after you called me last weekend?"

"After..."

"When? How long after? When did you have your setback?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! I need to know if you did it because you were physically craving it, because you just felt like getting high, or if you did it because you’d thrown the thought of us away when I didn’t answer you.”

"I tried to fight it, I swear I tried to fight it," he was getting choked up.

"Rafa, tell me when you bought it."

He considered shooting you a lie but he didn't want to fuck up any more. "I bought it tonight..." he finally muttered under his breath, avoiding your gaze.

"You're not serious!! You bought it tonight?" You bellowed, "are you trying to tell me that you planned on throwing away your soberness tonight? That if I hadn't shown up, you'd be high as balls right now?"

Rafa didn't say anything, he just looked at you with huge eyes, the embarrassment evident on his face - and first then did you notice his blood-shot eyeballs with the abnormally large pupils that had taken over most of the green that was normally present.

"No..." you whispered when you realised, "no, no, no..." you groaned quietly, clutching your chest, "you're high right now?" The heartbreak was evident in your voice.

Rafa sent you a pained look. He fucking hated himself.

"You're high..." You stated in a whisper, the tears were streaming down your face, "you lied."

He had broken your heart. Again.

"I - I didn't mean to," he croaked, "I was just so happy to see you. I knew you wouldn't want to talk to me if I told you the truth."

"So you planned on telling me when?"

"I don't know," he croaked, "I didn't think it through. I've been sober for three weeks. Tonight's just a small setback. Baby, I swear, I'll block Morris and I'll flush this baggie right now if I can just get you back," Rafa was begging, “I’ll stop if you tell me to!”

"Rafa, how many times do I have to tell you," you cried, "You have to stop because you want to. Not because I tell you to stop! I don't care about the snorting! I don't care that you party and get high! You've done lines of my tits several times for God's sake! But I can't live with the constant lying that has become part of it!"

Fuck, Rafa knew what you were building to. His life's biggest mistake. He had it coming, he knew it. He deserved it. He was a fucking cheating coke-head and he hated it. "Please don't bring it up," he sobbed.

You didn't listen to him. You had to confront him with it because he clearly hadn't understood. "Rafa, you fucked another girl! And you were so high that you didn't even realise it! And when you woke up the next day and saw what you'd done, you lied about your whereabouts and the fact that you'd been high as fuck! I had to learn about it through her!" You were sobbing, "...and instead of staying home and comforting me, you lied about having to go to the studio, and you met up with Morris and you got high! Again! If knowing that you're breaking my heart with your constant lies doesn't make you want to quit, I'm not sure what will."

"I want to stop!" he sobbed. He had never felt so horrible before, "I love you, I want to be with you," he sniffled and took your hand, "please give me another chance! I'll stop snorting. I'll stop lying. I'll do anything for you."

It looked as if you were contemplating his words but the look in your eyes darkened suddenly and you let out a whisper, "no Rafa!" as you pulled your hand away from his.

"Baby, please!" He pleaded desperately, "I love you."

"You love coke more," you whispered.

"I have a problem," Rafa tried desperately, "I know. I can't stop. But I'll get help. I'll do whatever you want me to do!"

"Rafa, if you stop snorting because I tell you to stop, it will never last! You love getting high!"

"That's not true... it's pathetic," he cried.

"Rafa, honey,” you said quietly, “- ask yourself this; would you be throwing away this baggie and deleting Morris' number if I wasn't leaving you because of it?"

"Yes," he croaked immediately.

You took a deep breath of air, hurt written all over your face, "Love," you sighed desperately as a fresh wave of tears started streaming down your face, "you're lying again..." you sobbed, and put the baggie in the palm of his hand and folded his fingers around it.

"I'm flushing it," he croaked.

"Do whatever you want," you whispered and looked him in the eye, "We're not together anymore. I'm done - it's over,” you said as you slowly turned around and started walking away from him.

“No, no, no! Please come back!”

“No Rafa… This time I'm serious,” you said before you started walking again.

This time, Rafa didn't run after you. He just watched you walk further and further away from him as your hands dried the tears off of your face every two seconds. He imagined you stopping, imagined the hurt look you'd send him. How he'd run over to you and take you in his arms. Imagined how he'd apologise and you'd both hug and cry and kiss it out. But you didn't stop. You didn't send him any look at all. And he didn’t run to you, he was glued to the pavement.

He stood as if frozen in time and looked after you even long after you'd disappeared around the corner. Suddenly, however, he noticed that he was still clutching the baggie in his closed fist. Slowly, he opened the palm to reveal the beautiful mother-of-pearl-coloured powder. He contemplated dropping it down the gutter next to him. It would all be so easy.

But instead, he closed his fingers around it and pocketed it right above his broken heart. It would help relieve the terrible thunder that he felt rolling over him. It brought along a storm of emotions. A hurricane of regrets. And he was desperate to get high.

[mst3kproject]

Godmonster of Indian Flats

If I had a dollar for every movie I’ve seen about a bloodthirsty mutant sheep, I would have... two dollars.

I was entirely willing to feature Godmonster of Indian Flats based on its strangeness alone, but it does have one connection to MST3K in that actress Peggy Browne was also in Avalanche. Another performer here, Kerrigan Prescott, also had a part in previous Episode that Never Was Fiend Without a Face, so hey, close enough!

Dr. Clemens and his assistant Mariposa discover a mutant lamb on Eddie the Rancher’s sheep farm, and take it up to a secret lab at Indian Flats for study.  This seems somewhat outside of Clemens’ claimed purview as an anthropologist, but whatever, I’m just here to watch the movies.  While the monster grows to maturity in a tank, the mayor of a local tourist town, Mr. Silverdale, is refusing to sell land to a Mr. Barnstable, who is interested in the mining rights.  We soon get the idea that Silverdale is less interested in tourism than he is in having his own private Wild West LARP, and the townsfolk have an almost cult-like reverence for him.  Eventually, their increasingly violent attempts to run Barnstable out of town cross paths with Dr. Clemens’ pet mutant, and all hell breaks loose!

Well, maybe not all hell.  This movie hasn’t got the money for all hell.  Rest assured, though, that they unleash all the hell they could afford.

The hell in question takes the form of a lumpy hunchbacked sheep creature with a rubbery sock puppet head, one long dangling arm, and a huge Kim Kardashian ass.  It interrupts a picnic, and blows up a gas station by knocking over a pump with its bubble butt.  It may or may not understand English, and it breathes poisonous gas when injured.  The puppet is pretty weird and scary-looking in the darkness of Clemens' secret lab, but out in the full light of day it is ridiculous.

Any movie with a mutant sheep monster is going to be weird, and the monster is the weirdest thing in the movie, but make no mistake – Godmonster of Indian Flats sans monster would still be a weird fucking movie. The other story going on here, Silverdale vs Barnstable, is thoroughly bizarre in itself.

Apparently it's not enough for Silverdale and the townspeople to simply refuse to sell Barnstable their mining rights.  Instead, they have to totally ruin his career and both his physical and mental health! First of all, they invite him to their 'Bonanza Days' and have him take part in a shooting contest, where the whole town conspires to make it look like he accidentally shot the sheriff's dog.  Then they hold a funeral for the dog as if it were a person.  The whole time the dog is fine – it was just playing dead, and afterwards the sheriff sends it to live with a friend.

When Barnstable still doesn't leave town after this, Silverdale's toady Phil whacks him over the head with a bottle, then shoots himself in the shoulder and puts the gun in the unconscious man's hand.  Barnstable wakes up in jail and demands a lawyer, but everybody ignores him.  Eddie and Mariposa help him escape, and the sheriff then forms a posse to hunt him down and lynch him!  At the end of the movie Silverdale triumphantly tells Barnstable that he's going to lose his job because his boss is embarrassed by all these goings-on.  At this point Barnstable also has a cracked skull and a broken arm.  He's a PTSD-ridden shell of a man and yet Silverdale is still yelling “I've beaten you, Barnstable!” as the end credits roll.

All of this might become a little less weird (but way more horrible) when I mention that Barnstable is the only black character with dialogue.  And yet, none of it is ever overtly framed as racist.  Nobody ever uses a slur – in fact, Barnstable's race is never once referenced in dialogue, not even obliquely.  You could cast a white actor in this part and nothing would have to be changed. What Barnstable seems to represent, and what Silverdale and the townspeople claim to be fighting against (Silverdale declares that he is 'the custodian of an era'), is decadence and capitalism, concepts traditionally associated with a white elite.

This in itself should be read as a commentary on race.  It's notable that Barnstable is playing by white rules.  He's a smooth businessman representing the interests of his presumably white boss.  When Silverdale invites him to Bonanza Days, he is happy to step into that role, too.  He dresses the part and takes up the six-shooter, and does a pretty good job with it.  Barnstable is a 'model minority' figure, a black man with the trappings of white success... and in spite of that, he is still abused.  Hard as he tries to fit into the white people's world, he is not welcome there.

I don't think that's actually what Barnstable is supposed to represent to the viewer, however.  The people of this town are described in the opening as 'living in the past' and we see that they're very dedicated to it.  Silverdale dresses the part of a nineteenth century gentleman even when he's at home.  Everybody dresses up in period costumes for occasions like parties and church, and the town's status as a tourist attraction requires many people to play such a role full-time.  There's a dark underbelly to this quaint little world, as we see in the opening when a barmaid steals Eddie's casino winnings, but even that fits their chosen period.

Barnstable intrudes into this world as a representative of modernity and reality. If you're paying attention, you soon realize that the 'past' the townsfolk are living in isn't like the real past at all.  The real history of this little mining town would have involved filthy, back-breaking work in the mines, and saloons full of drunks, prostitutes, and crime.  The modern town has adopted the pretty trappings of the 19th century – the clothes, the horses, and nice little shows of piety like the dog funeral – while sweeping the dirt and violence under the rug.  The latter are only to be turned on outsiders.

This fantasy version of the old west is also very, very white.  In the real world, history is always more diverse than we usually think it was – one of the historical figures who inspired the character the Lone Ranger, for example, was Bass Reeves, the first black US Marshall in the west.  The people in Silverdale's town have no interest in that.  There is not a single Native American character in the movie, and I've already mentioned the lack of other people of colour, except for a couple of background tourists.  This is an essential part of throwing away the ugly parts of the past – race brings conflict, and Silverdale and his followers want none of that. Barnstable's race makes his status as an outsider all the more obvious, both visually and as a reminder that the world these people are trying to live in never really existed.

This puts Barnstable in a very strange place in this movie.  He's definitely a victim, but never a hero – in fact, Godmonster of Indian Flats is yet another movie that doesn't have a hero – yet he is not a villain, either.  He's just some poor bastard who wandered into a horror movie and now he can't find his way out of it.

So... what does any of this have to do with a mutant sheep monster?

I dunno.  There seem to have been mutants in this area for a long time, since Clemens talks about legends of a 'mine monster' and even shows off weird fossils he's found, but how does that tie into the theme of clinging to the past?  Maybe it's supposed to be about history repeating itself, since new monsters are being born just as the mines are about to re-open?  I have no idea.

Does the monster die at the end?  I cannot tell you.  I think it dies when the truck it was caged in blows up?  The movie ends with an angry mob pushing the truck over a steep slope where they dump their garbage, while Eddie, Clemens, and Mariposa try to reveal Silverdale's own land-grab scheme.  This all degenerates into chaos and people tumbling down the hill and shooting each other, while Silverdale stands there yelling about how violence controls the masses and how he's beaten Barnstable. It's an ending that seems calculated to leave the audience going, “... huh?”.

Why is it a God monster? Now this, I do have a theory about.  I don't think the sheep is actually the godmonster – I think the titular menace is actually Mr. Silverdale! He wields a god-like authority within the town, even when his evil scheme is apparently exposed at the end, and uses it to do monstrous things!  If that's not what they were going for... then I have no idea.

I mentioned in the opening that I've seen two movies about mutant sheep monsters.  The other is Black Sheep, which is one of those off-the-wall movies they make in New Zealand when they're not doing Tolkien-related stuff.  Black Sheep was apparently inspired by Godmonster of Indian Flats, but it throws out the race relations stuff and runs with the 'mutant sheep' thing to make on of the most perfect dark comedies I've ever seen.  I would recommend it to the strong-stomached in the same way I recommended The Valley of Gwangi to anyone disappointed by Beast of Hollow Mountain – it is everything the older film should have been but was not.

[shiningsagittarius]

🎶 We all live in a broken submarine, a broken submarine, a broken submarine! 🎶

(Spoilers for the book and show ahead! These are my thoughts and opinions)

1 x 06

ORPHANAGE FLASHBACK

NICKY!!!!!

These two are gonna kill me I swear!!

(Hey, anybody ever read The Secret Series? Pietro and Dr. L, anyone? Kinda?)

A SUBMARINE???? WHAT ON EARTH??? WHEN… HOW… WHY……. I HATE IT HERE

“Significantly sized adult” hdkdgskdvksgdkdhsks

“Didn’t that story end horribly?” “Yes it did. But this will work!” Whatever you say, Mr. B…

I love Rhonda’s accent omg

“You haven’t failed. You just haven’t finished yet.” EXACTLY!! He wants to stop so the kids can be safe, but he’s closer than he’s ever been to stopping the Emergency!!

Emo Mr. Benedict…. Nobody understands him…..

Dr. Curtain is so DONE hdkdgdlsgjdl

The violin strings when the camera zooms in on Dr. Curtain

THEY SPEAK SO LOUDLY!!

Kate and Constance are ready to throw hands…. Queens…..

O R G A N F A R M S

I mean, yeah… the Whisperer can return memories….. but it also takes ‘em away first!!

Man, I feel really bad for Sticky. He wasn’t keen on this mission in the first place, and now he’s torn between his friends and the Institute. It’s hard to watch him get drawn in like this.

And Reynie desperately trying to keep everyone together!!

He’s wanted for messenger duty. Not reporting to messenger duty, wanted. Dr. Curtain definitely told Jackson and Jillson to say wanted specifically

Jackson and Jillson backing away into the elevator in unison jdlfgsldh

Ah, so the Messengers aren’t even consciously reciting the messages, like in the book

Dr. Curtain could tell Reynie was fighting the Whisperer!!!

NOW THEY’RE YELLING OVER THE TABLE TO EACH OTHER… I can’t even be mad anymore, I think most of the students have hearing loss or something

Also, the girls piling food onto their plates XD Reynie needs to eat more! Get some nutrients!!

Martina’s an Executive! I was wondering if they’d add that!

Constance being left out again :(

The messages are getting louder…….

MS. PERUMAL AND MRS. PERUMAL!!!!

Ah, so Mrs. Perumal is affected without the TV being on! I wonder if most people are becoming more aware of the messages now, or if Mrs. Perumal is sensitive like Constance

And now, for the Marvelous Misadventures of Milligan!!

CONSTANCE SNUCK OUT OF THE INSTITUTE?????

NATHANIEL STEALING THE SHOW…. THE SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT….

RHONDA’S NEW ‘DO!

S.Q. is such a good artist…..

He’s got a whole forest all to himself??

Uh-oh, Martina is suspicious….

Wait, she’s inviting Kate to hang out with her???

THE SERVER FARM… S.Q.’s FOREST….. IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW

I WAS STRUGGLING TO PUT TOGETHER WHAT FARM AND FOREST IS SUPPOSED TO MEAN LAST NIGHT!!!

A key card……. 👀

Dr. Curtain is so freaking condescending to S.Q.

GOD, it’s so interesting how Dr. Curtain is really suspicious of Reynie, unlike in the books!! I truly thought this version of him was gonna trust Reynie, too

S.Q.’s face….. I wanna c r y 🥺 get him away from Curtain ASAP. Or I will.

REYNIE’S MENTAL LETTERS!!!!

Is the music a version of the music when he was talking to Ms. Perumal in episode 1, but in a minor key??????

Him struggling with lying, even going so far as to draw a picture on his notebook to seem more authentic and hating every second…….

Lunch with Dr. Curtain??

The perfectly arranged school supplies, how Wes Anderson of you 👀

Starting Sticky’s confidence arc from book 2 here really works!!

“Somewhere deep down, you like when I’m anxious, don’t you?”

I always love seeing more of Stonetown

Milligan’s goggles…… oh yeah and he’s like. Currently drowning. I should get my priorities straight.

But seriously, every time they cut back to him in this episode, I was like “Oh yeah! Milligan!”

“He yelled at me for even considering it.” I found this line really interesting, but I can’t really articulate why. Curtain never raised his voice, so is S.Q. specifically saying he yelled to make Reynie leave him alone, or is S.Q. unable to really express how the conversation actually went (which was a very emotionally manipulative tone from his dad)? Idk, comment if you feel the same way or have any thoughts

S.Q. and Reynie friendship 🥺 I really really hope S.Q. doesn’t feel betrayed later on 😭

Ah, ‘tis better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. The motto of every teenager

Nathaniel spouting off poetry………ok you got me, I kinda sympathize with him…….. he’s trying so hard to impress them, so he’ll be adopted……

Haha, he said ocean

“If you can only take one, we understand. We want what’s best for each other.” Damn, Curtain thought Benedict betrayed him, when he was straight up about to sell out Nicholas!!

WAGYU STEAK

Compatibility index scores??

“But after seeing his compatibility scores…”

Dr. Curtain knows somebody is lying to him now, and he can tell it’s Reynie

S.Q.’s birth father!! Worked with Dr. Curtain!! What… what did he do to him?? There’s absolutely no way he was sick, right??

Kate, you’re gonna get caught…..

She’s so awkward omg XD

She’s copying the key pattern!!

FELLAS… 🏳️‍🌈👀

MARTINA MADE HER A K E Y C H A I N????? Oh my GOD……………. seriously, does Martina have a crush on Kate or something?? Or really wants to be her friend, at the very least. Too bad Kate is very focused on the mission 😥

Oh yeah! Milligan!

THE PUTTY FROM THE COMMERCIAL GFKSGKDGKSGD

The deer 🥺

“They cause tumors or something. Hope somebody tells the deer.” Hey have I mentioned I’d die for S.Q. yet???

THE BERETS!!! I THOUGHT HE WAS PICKING A HAT FOR HIMSELF…. I WAS SO WRONG…… OH MY GOD HE’S SEEING IF HE CAN GET EVERYONE TO DO WHAT HE TELLS THEM TO NOW

Constance swiping a hat XD

“It should have been me. What do they even see in you?” That’s… ouch. Even back then, he’s putting his own brother down constantly. Or constantly enough for Nicholas to say he KNOWS his brother should’ve been picked, and he’s not sure why anyone would pick him instead……… Jesus…

The bunk beds…

“I was left to be, without my brother trying to constantly control my every move!” SO CURTAIN HAS ALWAYS BEEN OBSESSED WITH CONTROL

He blames himself for never even asking if Nathaniel could live with them… are y’all trying to destroy me from the inside out or

Constance hiding in the raspberries gdkdgkdgdkd

THE TURBINES!! MILLIGAN WATCH OUT!! HE CANT HEAR US, HE HAS HIS AIRPODS IN, OH GOD OH NO-

(Fortunately, Milligan is simply too Powerful to be killed by pathetic mortal means)

She’s been sober for five years, and you’re pressuring her to drink :/

��Straight into the coconut.” Jskagsksgjx

“Thank you, cult!”

I literally hate seeing them fight :(

The group is breaking apart at the seams…

TLDR:

Someone on here mentioned that this episode is definitely the furthest away from the book plot so far, and I agree. HOWEVER… I really liked it. I truly do hope the next two episodes incorporate more plot lines and moments from the book, but as far as departures from the source material go, this isn’t bad at all. Again, we can see some solid storytelling, great cinematography, and intriguing character moments and emotional beats. I think this episode is a 9/10 in my book! There are definitely some smaller nitpicky things I could think about more, but I won’t at the moment.

Milligan: *Literally drowning*

Me, who has read the books:

[xiolette]

Reworking Ansem SoD and Xemnas: Fuck Xehanort

Ansem SoD and Xemnas were interesting characters when they were introduced. Remember that? I’m going to recreate that, because their entire characters being reduced to “bleh Xehanort!” pisses me off!

Xehanort’s plan to take over Terra’s body didn’t work out the way he planned. 

He was successful, for a bit, until the fight with Aqua. When Terra took control and turned his keyblade on himself, that was the end of Xehanort. 

It was also the end of Terra, unfortunately. 

Or, at least, Terra as we knew him. 

It continues as it originally did: An amnesiac Terranort is taken in by Ansem and the apprentices. The only name he remembers is Xehanort but it feels wrong. He doesn’t like it. He has a feeling that he was someone else, but its the only name he has so they go with it. It always rubs him the wrong way. 

Master Xehanort is dead. He is not an influence on Terranort, besides the little remaining memories that cling to him. The important thing here is that this is Terra. Just... an amnesiac, broken down, more susceptible to darkness after All That Terra. 

He takes to being an apprentice surprisingly well! After Ansem and the gang were able to set up some accommodations (I hc that Terra has really bad dyslexia) he’s thriving. Terra is smart, he’s just never had the opportunity to show it. Eraqus saw that he struggled with the more academic side of things and redirected him towards physical keyblade handling because that’s obviously where he thrived. (Which is accurate to an extent, but left Terra with the impression that he’s just dumb and shouldn’t bother with anything else)

In the absence of internal shame and embarrassment and with an instructor that’s actually working with him Terranort soaks up everything like a sponge. He’s guided towards the more metaphysical side of things, latent influence from both Terra and Xehanort being keyblade masters and that knowledge running around deep in his subconsciousness. 

 Ansem’s fascination with his missing memories and Terranort’s own need to figure out who the hell he is spur the experiments that kickstart the whole plot of KH. 

Terranort is being led along by the idea that the heart is important somehow that this is the key to everything. He has bits and pieces that point to something and that something becomes an obsession. This obsession in more than encouraged by Ansem who proposes his own theories and is just glad to see his young apprentice excited about something. 

Terranort convinces Ansem to use him as a test subject, because it’s his heart and his memories and he doesn’t want anyone else being dragged into this. (ha.) 

The experiment was a success.... to a point. Terranort unlocks some memories, but they’re disconnected and scattered and the lack of context leads to the conclusion that whoever he used to be was not a good person. In fact he may have killed a few people. 

This is distressing and Terranort immediately withdraws into himself. Ansem, noticing the change, put an end to the experiments because sometimes things are best left in the past. 

The added pieces of the puzzle only make Terranort more obsessed. He’s angry and bitter over who he (thinks he) used to be be and is angry and bitter over the perceived abandonment of his mentor. (A small part of his mind tells him that this has happened before.) 

Insert: the recruitment of the rest of the apprentices and the KH1 Ansem Reports. 

Curiosity and (mostly) good intentions go horribly wrong and everyone ends up jumping off the slippery slope. 

It’s so interesting when you read the original Ansem Reports how he comes across as a well-intentioned figure that just slowly lets the darkness eat away at him until he’s convinced that this is all there is and all there will be. Then he, y’know, causes the apocalypse over of it. ❤️

Lead up is different, motivations are different - end result is the same. 

Then on the other side in KH2 you have Xemnas who is treated as a villain, yes, but a distinctly tragic one. Remember when his only motivation was to get his heart back? He may not have cared about anyone else also getting their hearts back, but he wanted his. 

Remember when he wasn’t trying to turn everyone into a Xehanort clone and never intended to get his own heart and that despite the supposed amnesia he’s still Xehanort and when he didn’t do everything because of Some Grand Evil Plan? 

I’m angry

But the desperate (and Nobodies are desperate creatures) want/need for his heart despite only remembering the negative emotions always struck me. Like, one: It’s better to feel bad than to feel nothing. Two: That’s fucked up man. 

I do like to believe that Xemnas cared or at least felt a certain kinship to his fellow Nobodies, but also he can’t feel nor does he remember how to fake empathy and still saw everyone as more of a tool than an individual. 

Because that’s, y’know, interesting. 

Again, everything is pretty much exactly the same as what happens in the main games. Nothing much needs to change there, because, like I said, they were interesting characters when they were introduced. 

Post KH2 reformation we get Terranort again! And he feels like shit! (As he deserves.) 

I would like for the protagonists to deal with the fact that the Big Grand Evil Villain was Just Some Dude who was a decent person at first but just went overboard. I would also like Terranort and friends to deal with the fact that this was on him. There wasn’t an evil mastermind brainwashing their friend - it was their friend. 

Uhhhh more solid parallels between him and Riku where Terra didn’t have anyone to reign him in, but Riku did. 

I should mention in this AU Ansem SoD becomes like a weird sort of father figure to Riku that actually gives advice and tries to get him to see his side while Riku is like, “Dude. You killed so many people.” “Fair.” 

Evil father figure Riku has mixed feelings about ❤️

The end result isn’t a full redemption arc, because Terranort really can’t get that. He crossed too many lines to have a fully happy ending. He does get reunited with the BBS dudes, though, and they all have to deal with the aftermath. His memories are never fully restored and, yeah, the Terra they knew is effectively dead and there’s some dude who looks like him in his place. 

It’s messy! 

DDD who? KH3 what? Real Organization XIII? 13 Darknesses??? I don’t know them. That sounds made up. 

(DDD is just the Mark of Mastery and Sora AND Riku both dealing with their trauma. Also the discovery of Aqua and Ven who need help like NOW) 

(KH3 is just Sora and Co. rescuing Aqua and Ven and Roxas and Namine and just giving everyone a relatively satisfying conclusion. No need for a grand epic battle. Just people picking up pieces and finding ways to move on.) 

(That’s it that’s the end of the series goodnight.)

[yellowocaballero]

Not Your Queer-Coded Disney Villain: Annabelle & Web!Jon Ficlet

Got bored again today and forced myself to write something that wasn’t gratuitously long. Set in the same universe (or, one of the universes) as The Convention on Chronographer Lane, but it’s completely unnecessary to have read that one before this. 

Content warning for (apparent and fake) predation of a student by a teacher, body horror, and spiders. REVERSE content warning for A PSYCH 101 LECTURE WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO WAS A TA FOR PSYCH 101. ACCURATE SCIENCE, BITCHES. 

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

Annabelle was sleeping through Psych again.

In her defense, she was really tired. The nightmares had been getting worse every day, and yesterday she hadn’t gotten more than forty minutes of sleep without jolting up in the middle of the night. She had flipped on the light five times during the night, hysterically convinced that bugs were crawling over her and earning the eternal ire of her roommate. Whatever - Irene would forgive her once she bought her an iced coffee from that campus shop she liked. If Annabelle gave it to her later at night, she’d stay up later and would be less likely to bitch when Annabelle inevitably made a stink at three am again.

It didn’t matter. Psych was tediously easy anyway. Not that everything wasn’t tedious, but there were few things more boring than listening to the drone of Mr. Sims’ voice. She had no idea how that guy had a fanclub. Emmanuela Odugawa had asked her if she thought that he recited Piaget’s developmental stages in bed. Barf. 

Thankfully, Annabelle had mastered the art of sleeping with her eyes open in class and barely aware enough to recognize when somebody called her name a decade ago, and she ruthlessly used this skill now. She dropped into a half-doze, and was only startled into awareness when she heard the word that had been running in a nonstop track loop through her mind for the past month. 

“Phobia: an extreme or irrational fear or aversion to something.” Mr. Sims adjusted his glasses, pressing a button on his laptop that advanced the slides. “It’s an interesting definition, in my opinion. Like many things in Psychology, it is almost infuriatingly vague. How do you define ‘extreme’? How do you define ‘irrational’? Oftentimes, that label is determined by society, science, and our therapists. However, I believe you can argue that phobias are the most rational thing of all.”

Annabelle rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. These auditorium classrooms were always freezing. 

“The concept of aversion is heavily rooted in evolution and biology. Anyone here ever eat any bad shrimp?” He didn’t wait for a response. “The smell of seafood probably made you sick for weeks afterwards. Our bodies are primed to detect poison, just as they are to detect danger. Phobias rooted in modern, abstract concepts - clowns, elevators, airplanes - are easy to extinguish. But phobias rooted in real, present, perpetual dangers, the sort of dangers that threatened the lives of cavemen, are far more difficult to ignore.” 

Despite herself, Annabelle found herself awake. She found herself listening. 

“Snakes. Heights. The Dark. Dogs, bears, large animals. Storms, driving, insects.” Mr. Sims’ looked up at the auditorium, and Annabelle could have sworn that he was looking right at her, he was looking at her. Annabelle’s breath caught, her heart thumping in her chest - a little differently than it used to. “Spiders.” 

A horrible clicking echoed in Annabell’s ears. She was afraid that it was her. 

Then he looked away, and the spell was broken. “Phobias are one of the most powerful and motivational forces in human evolution. Like mental illnesses, pack bonds, and emotional needs, the perceived weaknesses of the human mind can frequently be some of the most powerful forces that allow the survival of the human species. It isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. I find that a useful way to think of humanity, and of ourselves: that our weaknesses can make us very strong indeed. Next slide…”

If Mr. Sims said anything after that, Annabelle didn’t hear it.

She didn’t pay any attention to anything he said until the end of class, when she shrugged on her cute little silver backpack and merged into the stream of students filtering out of the classroom. A few students had stayed behind to talk to Mr. Sims, and he appeared wrapped in conversation with the giggling girls, but somehow he picked her out of the thick crowd. 

“Annabelle?” Mr. Sims asked. “Stay after, please.”

So she leaned against the long sweep of desks, left with nothing to do but squint at Mr. Sims as he spoke with another student about the requirements for the upcoming paper, wondering why he looked so familiar. 

All of the other students had assumed he was in his late twenties - “total DILF”, they all inanely assured her - but Annabelle wasn’t so sure. Despite the already graying hair, small glasses, and severe expression, she really wouldn’t put him any older than 23.

Maybe his greying temples were hair dye. Or stress did that to you, right? Annabelle squinted. But when Annabelle looked closer, if she really focused, then she really wasn’t sure it was his hair color at all. 

So she looked closer. Her eyes had been itching for the past week. She had caught her skin flaking and peeling, and instead of pink raw skin underneath there was hard and scratchy black necrosis. Her eyes itched now, as if they were striving to split apart, and if Annabelle only let them then they would burst. And as her eyes itched in a horrible, visceral pain, she thought that maybe the white at Mr. Sims’ temples was the thin, sticky webs of spider-silk. 

“Annabelle? Are you alright?”

She snapped back to attention, fairly embarrassed. She had been zoning out more in the past month than she had her entire life. Her older siblings had said that college would be rough, but she hadn’t known it would be this rough. This wasn’t like her. None of this was like her. 

“I’m great,” Annabelle said reflexively. All of the other students were gone, and Mr. Sims was staring at her over his glasses. “Sorry. Is this about my test…?”

“No. You did quite well on your test. Best in the class, actually.” Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if this was a compliment or important. “Is that why you’ve been so bored in class?”

Ah. Busted. A rare thing for Annabelle. She affected a faux-abashed posture and expression. “Sorry, Mr. Sims. I’ve been staying up ‘til two every morning trying to get my homework done on time. If I’m ever going to go to med school…”

“I thought you were a poli sci major,” Mr. Sims said cheerfully. Annabelle fought a shudder - how did he know so much about her? This class had 200 students.

“Double major,” Annabelle said blithely. “I’m sorry about sleeping in class, I’ll manage my time better. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Sims waved her apology away, as if that wasn’t what he had been looking for. Then what had he been looking for? “I’m afraid I had somewhat of an ulterior motive for speaking to you today.” He leaned in a little, pulling his glasses down, and his foggy grey eyes - same color as the grey at his temples - focused solely on her. Annabelle made her eyes bigger, and she leaned in too, adjusting her posture so she looked smaller. “You’ve been doing very well in class. I actually wanted to invite you to a meeting. About...oh, your potential for med school. I’m excited to see you succeed. I think you could do quite well in whatever field you choose, and I’d like to help. It would be just us, of course.”

Ding ding ding. Annabelle affected a giggle. “I could totally use the help! Like, in your office? Or, like...lunch, or…?”

“I was thinking dinner, actually,” Mr. Sims smiled. “How’s Bombay Bicycle Club?”

Restaurant and bar, with a casual yet dignified atmosphere. Not formal enough to put up anybody’s guard, but nice enough that a freshman girl could feel treated and be impressed. Most importantly, it was popular among the businessman crowd and almost nobody on campus visited it. Annabelle used it herself to meet up with her sugar daddies all the time. 

For a brief, strange moment, Annabelle felt as if he did - but of course he didn’t. But it wasn’t impossible. But if he knew, then why wasn’t he blackmailing her? Was the blackmail for later, once he got her alone? This was probably a power play, getting her off balance by insinuating that he knows but not being explicit about it. He’d probably pull out the blackmail, ‘I’ll ruin your reputation you slut etc’, once they actually got there. Not that he could - Annabelle had contingency plans - but she would have to be careful to actually record him propositioning her anyway. Worst case scenario they had a MAD situation, best case she could squeeze him. Probably not for very much money, since grad students were poor as dirt, and she didn’t exactly need him to boost her grades...get him to slip her the test key and sell the test key? That could work. She could probably get him to strategically cut grades, which was a service that Annabelle could probably sell to students with a grudge…

But then Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if he knew what she was thinking, and Annabelle realized that she had been silent too long. She wanted to come off as panicked, maybe desperate, definitely flattered. 

“Sure!” Annabelle said, barely having to feign the anxious creak in her voice. “What time? I have night classes, so…”

“Next Friday at six,” Mr. Sims said instantly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” Annabelle affected Smile #35 - shy virgin. Mr. Sims’ grin widened. Annabelle silently put aside the ‘Catholic schoolgirl’ outfit for Friday. “See you then!”

She turned around, gave him a shy smile, and bounced off. She had just opened the heavy door out of the room when she heard him speak again, freezing her in her tracks. 

“Oh, Annabelle - how is the study with Dr. Bates going?”

And his question panicked her so much, made her heart change rhythm and made her skin itch as if something was straining to come out of it, made her eyes itch and crawl and burst, that every calculated move went out the window. She didn’t answer his question, didn’t even give an excuse - she just ran out the door, bright purple vintage boots thumping against the linoleum, breath catching in a chest where she was no longer sure she even had ribs. 

Most of her was already calculating. She was already two months into uni, she had to start establishing her power base. The minute her sorority accepted her she’d have greater access to money, popularity, and influence, but she needed reach with the administration too.  Mr. Sims was her in. This was a good thing. 

But part of her was disappointed, because she had liked him, and she felt a little used. Feelings of disgust, as strong and vivid as in her nightmares, rose in her chest. She squished far down in her chest, familiar with the feeling and effortlessly repressing it.  

Annabelle was good with disgusting things. 

She had another session with the Arachnophobia study on Monday. Which went fine. It was fine! She didn’t wake up that morning so sick with nerves that she almost threw up. She didn’t stare at her email inbox for thirty minutes, begging herself to cancel and drop out of the study. Nope. 

She distracted herself by befriending all of her roommate’s friends and dropping faux-concerned gossip about how cranky and anxious Irene’s been lately, have you noticed she’s been blaming me for how badly she’s sleeping? It was really super sad, frowny face, how do you think I can help, frowny face frowny face frowny face? 

So Annabelle went to the Arachnophobia study (it was fine), had increasingly realistic and vivid nightmares about her chest caving in and a nest of spiders crawling out of her chest and eating her eyes, and slept through class. It was all fine. 

She should have gone to Oxford. It still made her a little bitter. She had been smart enough to get in, but she hadn’t been smart enough to get the full scholarship. She couldn’t afford it, so instead she was stuck in University of Surrey, where dreams went to die. Future politicians should go to Oxford. Yeah, Surrey had some peers and Parliament members, whatever. She needed better, Oxford and awards and money. From there, from some swotty school or another, it was easy street. Annabelle deserved easy street, and she deserved Oxford, and it just wasn’t fair -

After another three am nightmare, Annabelle blearily scrolled through her sibling groupchat. Barney was doing great in med school. Tricia had posted her maternity photos. Wow, look at that, Robin had gotten a commendation at his law firm. Whatever. 

No hope of distinguishing herself in the world. No hope of distinguishing herself in her stupid family. She was smarter than any of her siblings, brighter and better than those doctors and lawyers and accountants, but nobody cared. Mum and Dad were living their retirement in comfort and cooing over their grandchildren, finally rewarded in old age for all their hard work. 

If Annabelle dropped off the face of the earth, nobody would even notice. 

It should have been a depressing thought. The idea that nobody cared about her, not really, that nobody knew the real her. But somehow it just made her heart beat faster in excitement. 

The idea of disappearing from all of this, of cutting herself free from a thousand threads that brought her plummeting down to earth...in the cold hours of that dark morning, to an eighteen year old terrified and alone in uni, it was a siren song. 

It was a siren song that sounded, oddly, like the chittering and scuttling of a thousand tiny bodies, but Annabelle was learning to look beyond that. 

By the time next Friday rolled around, Annabelle was considering breaking her self-imposed rule against drugs and popping a Xanax. But that wouldn’t help her exhaustion, the persistent bone-deep frazzled sensation of going a week on almost no sleep whatsoever, so she settled for an espresso as she wriggled herself into a tight, slinky plaid dress paired with a puffy olive green windbreaker. She wasn’t sure if she owned any clothing that was made after 1990 - a habit born from a childhood of shopping from thirst stores, and continued voluntarily into high school when she started making her own money online fleecing suckers. It was her, so much as anything was. 

“Hot date?” Irene asked, bending over her Physics textbook without looking up. She glanced at her vibrating phone, scowling. Poor baby - her friends were staging an intervention. “New guy or old guy?”

“New guy,” Annabelle said vaguely, carefully picking out a bold red lipstick - or did that seem too forward? Should she go for a natural look? “If I’m not back by midnight call the police. I’ll text you a picture of his car.”

“Roger.” Irene flipped a page of her textbook, oblivious to the fact that she was one of the few people Annabelle genuinely liked. Not enough not to screw with her, but she liked her. “He’s not good enough for you, something something.”

“Darling,” Annabelle said, winking into the mirror, “nobody is.”

She hoped Irene believed it. She didn’t. 

It wasn’t a frequent occurrence that Annabelle wished she was stupid, but today she wished she was stupid enough to take a power nap during her ten minute Uber ride. Her mind felt frazzled and frayed, as if it had been taken out of her scalp and spread out with a rolling pin onto a floured countertop. She felt as if she was melting, her vision spiralling into fractals or blurring out. She wanted to sleep. God, she’d do anything for some sleep -

So she blared Bad Romance in her frayed earbuds instead, clutching her iPod Touch tightly, pulling herself together. Gaga, give her strength. 

By the time that she tipped her driver, effortlessly found Mr. Sims’ car in the parking lot of Bombay Bicycle Club and texted Irene the license plate (Volkswagen, obviously), she had dragged herself into focus. She stapled on her confident posture and walk - no, we’re going with ingenue today, make it shy and hesitant - and slipped inside the restaurant, making a show of holding her clutch tight to her chest and looking around with big eyes. 

She saw him instantly. He was sitting in a corner booth, head down and texting on his phone with a half-smile. The corner booth was poorly lit, light dampened by the wood panelling and soft leather seats, and half of his face was draped in shadow. 

Great. She had even arrived ten minutes early just so she could pick a brightly lit, intimate little table in the center of the room. This guy - he was almost like her. He was almost like her, but he was better. 

Annabelle fought the urge to grind her teeth. She smiled instead, waving cheerfully until he raised his head. He smiled back at her, wriggling his fingers, and Annabelle wove around the tables until she could slide into the seat across from him. 

“This is cozy!” She said brightly. “Thank you so much for inviting me out, Mr. Sims. It’s been ages since I got away from my books -”

“Oh, cut that shit out,” Mr. Sims said, bored. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Annabelle’s mind shut down. Error 404, blue screen of death. 

“I’m sorry,” she said pleasantly, smile frozen on her face. “What?”

But Mr. Sims just shrugged listlessly, slumping against the cushioned wall. His expression was no longer fond, indulgent, haughty. He just looked bored now, as if he was too tired and underpaid to deal with eighteen year olds. “I don’t want to sit through this entire dinner fending off flirting. We have actual business to talk about, and I am uninterested in beating around the bush when there’s no point. You aren’t even subtle.”

“Excuse me -” Annabelle started, enraged, but Mr. Sims put up a hand and cut her off. 

The change was instant. On a dime, Mr. Sims straightened his posture, swept a finger through his hair to transform it from slicked back professor type to windswept, adopted a friendly and casual expression, and leaned in as if he was happy and excited to be sitting with Annabelle. In a moment he dropped ten years. Barely a second after his transformation the waiter approached them, holding a notepad, and Annabelle realized with a start that he had noticed the waiter coming before she did. 

“How are you two doing tonight?” the waiter asked politely, smiling at the both of them in a rote routine that Annabelle remembered from her own days waitressing. 

“Doing great!” Mr. Sims said, and even his accent was different, closely matching her own. He glanced back at Annabelle, nothing but open and friendly. “Mum says get whatever you want, dork. It’s on her bill, so let’s run her out of house and home.”

Instinctually, Annabelle shot back, “Aren’t you old enough to take me out to eat with your own money, loser?”

“Not with your stomach!” Mr. Sims laughed, and the waiter chuckled along too. Mr. Sims effortlessly rapped out an order for the waiter, before Annabelle even got a chance to look at the menu, and when she floundered Mr. Sims just rolled his eyes and ordered for her too. It was, somehow, her favorite food. 

He waited for the waiter to move onto the next table, eyeing him carefully, before he let the persona drop. Mr. Sims sagged again, dropping the friendly act, sizing her up from half-lidded eyes. 

“How did he even believe that,” Annabelle said flatly. “We don’t look anything alike.”

“White people will believe anything,” Mr. Sims said, rolling his eyes. “I have the Belgian government convinced I’m an Iraqi scientist and most high profile Australian celebrities think I’m Egyptian royalty.”

“...does Egypt have -”

“Nope.”

Annabelle was beginning to feel a little like the star actress in the school play who got upstaged in every way by the villain’s performance. Nobody did what she did. Nobody did what she did, but better. 

“Don’t feel insecure,” Mr. Sims said, as if he could read her mind. “I’m a good actor, and I’m excellent at reading people. But I can’t plan or plot like you do. I’m shit at thinking three steps ahead, much less thirty. You can keep plots and schemes going for years - decades, even, if I were to guess. I’m not sure how someone as competent as you can have self-esteem issues.”

Annabelle bristled. “You try having nobody care about you for - how do you even know that shit about me?” Something terrible occurred to her. “Are you some kind of stalker, Mr. Sims?”

Mr. Sims shuddered in real disgust. “It’s Jon. And no, of course not. You just aren’t as subtle as you think you are.”

Yes, she was. She was subtle to everyone on the planet - everyone save, maybe, Jon. Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jon said immediately. 

“Liar. Everybody wants something.”

“I’m here altruistically,” Jon said, the perfect picture of innocence. “Really. I’m here to help you, Annabelle.”

“You are stalking me.” Annabelle leaned forward, but Sims didn’t move. “Are you even a real graduate student?”

“Absolutely not. I’m twenty three, I got my Psych degree last year and I’ve been bouncing odd jobs since.” Jon shrugged, as Annabelle felt silently vindicated. Nothing about this man acted like a twenty three year old - she remembered her siblings at twenty-three, there was nothing adult about them - but it was probably just another persona. She wondered how far she’d have to scratch to get to the real Jon Sims. 

“So you were just at Surrey to spy on me,” Annabelle said slowly. “I don’t know what country you’re from, but in England that’s definitely stalking.”

“I’d call it scouting,” Jon said. The waiter dropped by to place their drinks on the table - Jon had gotten a mule for himself, and he had ordered water for Annabelle in a move uncharacteristic for a sketchy guy. He waited until the waiter left to continue. “Call me a recruiter.”

“For who? What kind of job recruiter teaches a class for two months just to get to me?”

“How’s your study with Dr. Blake going, Annabelle?” Jon said, almost randomly, and Annabelle shut up. He must have seen something in her eyes, because a sharp little grin stretched in the corner of his narrow and sharp face. “Thought so. What do you dream of, Annabelle? In the cold corners of night, what fears come to life in the dark recesses of your mind?”

Maybe, Annabelle thought inanely, this was a dream too. Just an extended nightmare, one she hadn’t woken up from. It felt like that: distant and strange, hyper-real and unreal. This strange man sitting in front of her, who swapped faces so easily even Annabelle couldn’t keep up, was far too out of place to truly exist. 

Or maybe he was the first real person she had met in a very long time. 

Jon continued talking, as if she had responded. Maybe she had. “I am not a hero in this story. If I was, I would have come earlier. I would have deleted your name from the pool of subjects, and I would have made it so that you never got that call.” Jon looked away from her for the first time, letting a little sadness show on his face. “I couldn’t. No - no, I could have, I simply chose not to. You’re important, Annabelle. And I didn’t want to rob you of something that you may grow to treasure. I’m afraid that the choice you make now may not be much of a choice at all - but, perhaps, there is still a chance. At the very least, I would like to make this transition a little easier for you. It is a terrible thing, to have to do it alone.”

That…

“That was so vague it was completely meaningless.”

Jon barked a laugh, strangely delighted. “It’s not fair to speak in circles to somebody who’s gone a week without sleep!”

“But you’re doing it on purpose,” Annabelle said, too dead inside to feel mad.

“Oh, absolutely. I am not taking the risk of taking you on at full power.” Jon smiled at her, as if they were friends sharing a joke. “I saw what you did to that Walker boy in secondary.”

Despite herself, Annabelle smiled. “Hear he gets out on parole in five.” Something else occurred to her, a bit belatedly. “You are stalking me!”

“Does a spider stalk the fly that strikes a string on its web?” Jon asked cheerfully. “Or is it simply investigating an encroachment into its territory?”

“Does that mean that you’re going to eat me?” Annabelle said archly. “Thought you said you didn’t want to fuck me. Rude, by the way.”

Almost hilariously, Jon wrinkled his nose. “Sex is a waste of time, resources, and my attention. Can’t imagine why people are so obsessed.”

“I know, right!” Annabelle burst out, before she could help herself. “Do you have any idea how much money I get a month from guys just to talk to me? It’s like they’re aliens! Why do people fuck or date if it’s not to manipulate someone?”

“Right! It’s ridiculous.”

It was the first time anybody had ever agreed with her on that. It was the first time she had even told anybody she felt that way. For a brief second, Annabelle felt connected to Jon. It was the first time that happened in...a very long time. 

Jon was the first person Annabelle had ever met who was like her. Everybody in Annabelle’s life had always been either useful or useless. Jon seemed above that, somehow. To be beyond utility, to exist on your own power...what did that look like? To be the powerful, instead of the powerless?

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many puppet strings Annabelle tied around her fingers, she was never powerful. Not really. She was eighteen, from a nothing family, and no matter how many molehills she made herself queen of she would never rule the mountain. She couldn’t get as far as she wanted with what she had. The only reason she had even volunteered for the stupid Arachnophobia experiment was because she needed to crush out weakness in herself, erase the hidden flaws in her mind.

But Jon said her flaws were strengths. What made her weak could be turned into power. 

Annabelle needed more, more, more. She needed everything, if she was to have anything. She needed what Jon had. 

Everything Annabelle said had a purpose. Every word she used was chosen carefully, every little gesture or body language was calculated. She said nothing without thinking, and she could do it so quickly nobody even noticed. Jon would notice, a con man as perfect as she was.

Let him. Give her two straight days to sleep, and they’d have a real battle of wits. In the meantime, she just had to pick her questions strategically.

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

All eight of Jon’s glittering black eyes shone in the darkness, straining her own and making her head thump. It was wrong, outside of humanity or reality, and it felt as if the very sight was straining the fabric of her delicately maintained life so tight it would tear. It felt as if it was tearing her, right in two, ruining her forever. Her eyes felt like they were going to burst out of her head. 

She didn’t want to know what would replace them. But she had the feeling that she already did. 

“Then what,” Annabelle gritted out, “are you?”

“I am the eldest and most treasured Son of the Mother of Spiders,” Jon said. He smiled at her, just a little, almost apologetic. “Sorry about that. I know you’ve always wanted to be an only child.”

Ah. Duh. Obviously. She should have known.

“...do I want to know who the Mother of Spiders is?”

“Your mother, should you choose to accept her,” Jon said cheerfully, leaning back into the light, and his face was normal again. Human as ever. Strange and foreign as ever - possibly everything, possibly nothing. “I know you aren’t strictly in the market for adoption, but you may not have much of a choice. You’ve felt her scratching beneath her skin. She’s going to tear out of you, and soon. Did you know some species of wasp lay their eggs in the body of spiders to provide food for the grubs?”

“During the next experiment,” Annabelle said dully, already filtering out Jon’s useless tidbits of information. That was a guy who spoke for the sake of hearing himself talk. “That’s when it’s happening. When I’ll...change.”

“Yes. It’s a painful process,” Jon said, and it was almost apologetic. “My own happened when I was fifteen - quite young, all things considered. I still remember the sound of my bones snapping as -”

“Don’t.”

“Of course! Anyway, I thought I’d make sure you had...to use the psych term, informed consent, before you entered the crucible. Our - my, sorry - Mother often foregoes true consent in our operations. The beauty of nature!” Jon laughed, as Annabelle felt sick. “Agnes wanted to put together a pamphlet, but then we let Gerry go wild on the clipart and...well, it’s better if I just explain. I can’t give you the full story now, but I’ll tell you as much as your mind can comprehend.”

Annabelle wasn’t sure she could even comprehend this. It was so much, and she was so tired. She had just heard that her body was going to rupture like a cocoon and give birth to a giant spider that may or may not also be her, and all she could think about was the fact that she wanted to go back to bed. Somehow, all she could ask was -

“Why?” She asked, so stupid and pointless, as if she was stupid, as if she wasn’t her at all. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s like I said.” In the dim yellow lighting, Jon’s eyes glittered pure black, and in that brief and stupid second Annabelle felt as if they were the same in that way. “Nobody should have to go through this alone and ignorant.” Then the moment was over, and his eyes were a human grey again, just left of normal. “Besides. Siblings stick together, right?”

“I hardly need more siblings,” Annabelle snapped. 

“You’re about to lose seven of them real soon,” Jon promised, extremely worryingly, “so I’d take what you can get right now, Annabelle.”

“Are you going to kill -”

“Unfortunately, you may have to fake your own death!”

Then their food came, and Annabelle received her first lesson in the class of hard knocks. 

They talked for hours. It took hours, to even just get a picture of the story. Jon was patient, answering every question, and Annabelle strained so hard trying to fight through her exhaustion, trying to understand the answer, Jon’s motivation in answering it or what he could be leaving out, that by the end of it she felt as if she had run a marathon. She had never felt so tired in her life, in the most dangerous situation in her life, with the most dangerous person she had ever met. 

By the end of it, Irene was texting her to ask if she was dead, and Annabelle was falling asleep at her chair. Jon cut an end to their conversation when he slid out his wallet, covered the bill with a black Amex card, and slid a business card against the table. Annabelle squinted down at it. 

The text in the center just said [FREELANCERS]. That was it. She stared at it.

Underneath the vague word, she saw a phone number [555-555] and an email [email@organization.gov]. Annabelle looked up to stare at Jon. “Are you for real?”

“Almost never,” Jon said cheerfully, “but the card will make sense when it needs to. Let me take you back to your dorm, alright? You can get some sleep in the car.”

If he was a creep, she was dead anyway. Annabelle didn’t bother arguing. She grabbed her jacket and got in the passenger seat of his car, and true to his word Annabelle drifted asleep almost immediately. She even felt as if the ride took longer than ten minutes, as if he drove in circles just waiting for her.

For the first time in a week, Annabelle slept uninterrupted, and had no dreams.

Annabelle wanted what Jon had. 

And a week later, she took it. 

Shivering in an alley, clothing ripped to shreds, her own skin hanging off her triple jointed limbs, she dug out a creased and torn business card. She had been worrying at it intensely over the weekend, staring and it and clenching it tightly as if it was her only lifeline. It was, of course. But Jon had known that.

The card looked different now. The text now looked handwritten, but with a beautiful and old-timey slanted handwriting. It now just read: 

‘To Annabelle, with love. From your new friends Gerry, Jon, and Agnes’. There was a number underneath, and Annabelle frantically dug in her tattered leather jacket pocket to draw out her cracked phone. 

Annabelle hated taking favors from people. Everything she had, she had fought for herself. She would scrape, borrow, beg, and steal whatever she had to. But, when it came to siblings...maybe, then, it was okay.

Dizzily, as Annabelle let the phone ring, she thought: this is my supervillain origin story. 

The thought sent a slow smile crawling across her inhuman and warped face. 

Sounds like fun. 

[writingtoforgetreality]

I Could Never Give You Peace (Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist]

Summary: Lucifer and you were dating but your past did not make this relationship easy for you. Your mind did not want to give you the satisfaction of being happy with another person. You were certain: you could never give him peace.

Words: 2,065

Warnings: Lucifer Season 5 Part 1 spoilers, abusive parents, abusive past, talks about depression and anxiety, panic attack, language, fluff, (Y/E/C) = your eye color (please don´t read if any of these warnings trigger you  - if you need someone to talk to feel free to message me anytime <3)

Inspired by: “peace” by Taylor Swift

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Our coming-of-age has come and gone Suddenly the summer, it's clear I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it's just around the corner, darling 'Cause it lives in me No, I could never give you peace

It took you long enough to finally give in and go on a date with the famous Lucifer Morningstar. You guys worked alongside for the L.A.P.D and it was clear, from the very first second, that you would eventually end up together. Despite many of your protests, you let him take you out and the rest was history.

Why were you so concerned in the first place? Well, your life had not been particularly easy to say the least. It all started when you were born. Your parents were not ready to be just that: parents. Hence why they had never given you the love you desperately crave for as a child. As you grew older and started school, you had a hard time making new friends. Again, you ended up alone, nobody giving you attention. Everyone had treated you as if you were invisible. It did not take long and you did in fact start to slowly disappear. The few friendships you managed to have throughout the years ended horribly. When you told them about your parents, how they beat you, screamed at you and so on, all they did was giving you an unbelieving look. “It´s probably because you deserve it.” As a kid, hearing so many people tell you this over and over...you started believing them.

Those events concluded to you being depressed and filled with anxiety. You swore to yourself that you would never let another person get too close to you again. The ending was always the same, there was no point in trying anymore.

Despite your hard times in high school and college, you managed to get a job at the L.A.P.D and you absolutely loved to work there. Yes, some sort of teamwork was necessary but you did not have to be friends in order to be a well working team. Your colleagues were so nice to you and you would have loved to get to know them better, become friends even but you past prevented you from doing so. This rule did not apply for every single one though. For once, there was Chloe Decker, who had helped you get settled in and always made sure to reassure you of your abilities without even knowing that you struggled to believe her. Ella made you smile and laugh uncontrollably, something you were unfamiliar pretty much your entire life. Dan was this self-love-advocate you could not be mad at. He started his days off with going around the precinct and throwing an inspiring quote at you. One person, though, was something else. Lucifer´s presence seemed to calm you every time. Feeling at ease was something you were not quite used to but when he was around, you were...happy? A feeling you had never experienced before. Lucifer read you so well, he knew your past had been bad. Your face, your flinches, the constant need of reassurance gave you away. For the first few months, he did not say anything to you. What he did try, though, was trying to ask you out. Lucifer wanted to get to know you better but you did not make it easy for him, that much was sure.

Somehow, he did get you to agree to go on a date with him. The two of you started the night off at LUX but soon the crowd was growing and you felt uneasy. Not wanting to ruin your night with Lucifer, you did not say anything and tried to hide your anxiety. He sensed your feelings and suggested to head up to his apartment which you gladly accepted.

That night changed you forever. Due to the alcohol in your system, because you never drank, you started opening up to him. At the end of the night, you were seated in Lucifer´s lap, your head buried in his chest, your tears staining his shirt. Lucifer was beyond angry when you told him everything. Not at you but at everyone who had ever hurt you. You were so precious and definitely did not deserve any of the pain you had gone through. He made it his job to be there for you, to help you through it. All he wanted to do was help.

About two weeks after this incident you guys started dating but not before you warned Lucifer.

“Look, Luci...Truth is, I´m a mess. I don´t want to burden you with my problems.” your eyes focused on the floor, not wanting to see his reaction.

“Let me take care of you then.” he said, coming closer to give you a hug that made you feel at home. Because that was what he was to you: your home.

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Your relationship was well received by the rest of the department. For the first time in your life, you felt true happiness and love. Yet, the demons inside your head did not make it easy for you. The voices constantly reminded you of your insecurities. There were days you did not want to get out of bed, scared you would fuck up every little task you were asked to do. It had happened multiple times before. You simply did not want to let anyone down, especially not Lucifer.

Your integrity makes me seem small

You paint dreamscapes on the wall

I talk shit with my friends It's like I'm wasting your honor

“(Y/N)? Darling, what´s wrong?” you were hiding in one of the interrogation rooms, trying to calm your panic attack that was currently going on. That was why you did not hear Lucifer storm in. He had been searching for you and his gut feeling told him there was something wrong.

“Hey, it´s okay. I´m right here.” he started by slowly touching your shoulders, not wanting to scare you and increase the panic inside of you. His touch made you look up at him. This only made you cry harder, embarrassed he saw you like that. This was the first time Lucifer saw you going through a period like that but you had told him before that you suffered from them every since you were little. He positioned himself so you were both on the floor and hugged you close to him, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Even though you did not really understand what he was saying, your heartbeat slowed down and your breathing came back to normal. You had never recovered from a panic attack that fast before.

“I´m sorry.” you sniffed, your eyes red and puffy. Lucifer felt a sting in his chest by your appearance. It hurt him just as much knowing that you had to live with a mind that wanted to play tricks on you.

“You know there´s nothing to be sorry about.” he smiled at you, stroking your back softly.

“You could´ve everyone and yet you´re with me. I´m broken, Luci, I´m way past being saved.” His eyes widened at you confession. How could someone as beautiful as you think of yourself so horribly. To him, you were a gift he was lucky enough to receive. He never wanted to live without you next to him ever again. Words were not what you needed at the moment so he let his actions speak. His lips crashed onto yours in such a soft and loving way that made you melt into his touch. You could feel everything he was trying to say and were endlessly grateful he had saved you. Without him, who knew where you would be right now? After pulling away, he looked deeply into your (Y/E/C) eyes and whispered something that made your heart skip a beat.

“You´d do the same for me. You saved me as much as I saved you.” it was as if he read your thoughts. Lucifer always knew what to say in such situations. Yes, he could be a sarcastic, narcissistic asshole but when it counted most, he was empathetic and simply perfect. But he was right, you would do the same for him.

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences Sit with you in the trenches Give you my wild, give you a child Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother Is it enough?

The day he saw you having a panic attack changed something in your relationship. Lucifer watched you more closely, touched you whenever he had the chance to do so. He read you so well, it seemed like he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. Another thing Lucifer did, something you were not aware of, was to let Chloe, Ella and Dan know about your struggles. He did that because he wanted to avoid any triggers as far as it was possible. From that time on, everyone paid close attention and it really worked. Your anxiety was not as triggered anymore and you even let them get closer to you. As close as calling them your friends. For the first time in years you had actual friends. Friends who looked after you, wanted to get to know you better, cared for you like the family you had never had. Despite all of their love, you still had down days. Days where you could cry for hours, where everything seemed to set you over the edge, where your dark thoughts haunted you. Days that made you question your relationship with Lucifer. The voices telling you that he deserved so much better than you. Were they right?

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

Luckily, Lucifer knew when you where feeling down and on those days, he made you feel extra loved. Sometimes you guys took the day off and just wandered around the city, relaxed in his apartment or just cuddled in his bed. He knew what you needed without you telling him. Something you were entirely thankful for because, sometimes, you did not even know what you needed. Having him in your life was a true blessing. Who would have thought that the devil had such a soft side for a human being? 

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

“Luci?” your voice was barely above a whisper. The two of you were laying in his bed, just cuddling and enjoying the silence. He hummed as a sign for you to continue. You wanted to ask him a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now. Before, you were always too scared to confront him with it, thinking he would look at you like you were pathetic. Maybe you were.

“Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?” despite your quiet voice Lucifer heard you loud and clear. He pulled you closer to him. Your head was under his chin and he moved so he could kiss your forehead. Your thoughts were running wild. What would his answer be like? Would it ruin what you had? Would it ruin the only consistent thing you had ever had? Would he leave like the others did? Would it be enough if I could never give you peace? Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

“Darling, I feel peace whenever I´m around you. Wanna know why?” a slight movement of your head made him continue. “Because I love you.”

Published (09/03/2020) by Cathy

Tags: @my-fic-corner, @daddyissuesmademe (thanks for your support <3)

[tanadrin]

I suppose because politics is what means I have no future of any kind left, so it's hard to be silly about it. And I seem to have landed myself in a sector of social media filled with people who are very smug about how smart and nihilistic they are, and I hate all of you with the hatred that only a miserable, powerless person can feel.

I don’t buy it. Unless you are quite literally scheduled to be executed at dawn, “no future of any kind left” because of politics is catastrophizing. People in very dire circumstances the world over often manage to build some kind of life for themselves; it may not be the life they want, and the suffering they endure because of the circumstances they are limited by should not be dismissed, but to say that someone in such adverse conditions has no future is to infantalize them and deny them the agency they do have to shape their life to some extent.

And this is an insight I’ve found important when dealing with depression in myself: even if one’s catastrophizing is not irrational (say, you’re a queer person stuck in an extremely homophobic environment, at minimum for the next 5-10 years), that does not mean it is useful. To put it another way: circumstance might justifiably make you angry and sad and frustrated. That may be rational. Deciding, in the face of that anger and sadness and frustration, to surrender to it is not rational.

So--assuming that you are not a political dissident due to be executed, nor suffering from a terminal illness which somehow for political reasons cannot be cured (if either of these things are true, you have my sincere condolences)--I have to say, this ask reeks of someone who’s depressed. If you are depressed, you will always be able to come up with reasons why happiness is unattainable for you, due to circumstances entirely out of your control. This is not a crazy thing to think, because if you are depressed and not treating that depression, most if not all the things you try to do will not solve your unhappiness because they are usually orthogonal to what is making you unhappy. Your very ability to accurately imagine future happy states and what might bring them about is suppressed by depression; for instance, you might, if you are depressed and you know it, rationally understand that exercise often helps with your depression, but be unable to motivate yourself to exercise because the intuitive link between if I do X I will feel better is broken by an internal forecasting system that refuses to spit out predictions other than “nothing I do will help with anything.”

A depressed state is not a psychotic break--it doesn’t cause you to lose touch with reality--but I think depressed people would sometimes benefit from treating it like one, because it does subvert your ability to accurately model the world, and therefore you can’t trust your own ability to reason or intuit about certain topics. I have both experienced this from the inside, and seen it from the outside: friends whose depression causes them to believe they are unlovable, and thus that nobody loves them, even when told (and shown) repeatedly that they are very much loved, and very important to the people around them.

In fact, you remind me of this post: depressed and anxious people who notice politics is depressing and anxiety-inducing, and that depressing and anxiety-inducing problems confront the world and society, and therefore conclude that their depression and anxiety are a rational and reasonable response to the world. But that doesn’t follow at all! A lot of responses to a depressing and anxiety-inducing environment are more useful that shutting down and withdrawing, or letting yourself be paralyzed; and even if there are negative external factors in the world affecting your life, if you have nothing in your life that is a sufficient source of joy to offset these things at least somewhat, then you have problems sufficiently severe that I don’t think your depression or anxiety can be laid at the feet of the world at large alone; more likely, you’re dealing with shitty personal circumstances, and these are far more likely to be tractable to your individual capacities than, like, all of climate change. And if you do have some sources of joy in your life, you can cultivate those further.

To put it another way: humans are very bad at reasoning about things on large scales or over large timelines. One reason we’re slow to solve problems like climate change is that we tend to be pretty blasé about remote and impersonal problems, which is actually often useful as well--because it means we’re capable of adjusting our hedonic barometer to create joy even in catastrophic circumstances. If you are constantly worried about big issues like climate change or the Trump presidency to the point where you can never do that, then the conclusion you should draw isn’t that you’re a uniquely rational human being with a uniquely accurate worldview, it’s that your brain is broken and you should not trust your intuitition.

Emotional states are not rational models of the world. They are tools our brain uses to motivate certain kinds of action. They probably have their origin in our social evolution, but this means they are extremely untrustworthy when it comes to complex, large-scale, philosophical, or impersonal issues, because these are not scenarios our brains evolved to handle before the advent of high-population, highly-stratified societies.

Now, I realize it’s hard to convince someone they are depressed and/or should seek treatment by rational argument (lord knows I’ve tried in the past!), because after all, if we were being perfectly rational, we would not feel depressed. We wouldn’t feel anything; again, emotions are contingent tools, not highly rationalized responses to the world! So I won’t belabor this point any longer. Instead, now I’m going to get annoyed with you.

Because here’s the other thing depressed people do--and I have done myself. They see people who are not depressed, whose hedonic barometers are functioning normally, and capable of experiencing joy even in arguably (or inarguably!) shitty circumstances, and they get mad at them. How dare you be capable of laughing at a joke, or sharing a meme, or having a nice day, when everything is so bad!

This is a common response, not only from depression, but also I think from grief, or fear, or trauma, or lots of other things. But it’s bullshit. I’m sorry, but you don’t get to demand that everyone feel your suffering as acutely as they feel their own. You don’t get to demand that just because you’re a pessimistic ball of frustration and anger that everyone else be, too. You get to--and ought to--demand that people treat you with empathy and respect, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get to make jokes about topics you find depressing as hell. Yes, even topics that personally affect you, and may not personally affect them (though, of course, a lot of times people assume the person making the joke isn’t personally affected by the topic, when in reality they are and the joke is a way of relieving stress and coping with frustration).

That calvin and hobbes meme I reblogged is an extremely generic political compass meme; the only relevance it has to the world today, I suppose, is acknowledging that, like, politics is a thing that exists. If you’re upset by that--how dare people laugh at politics, the source of all my problems--you’re being a dick.

And this leads my to my final point, which is this: while we are all of us owed compassion, we also owe others compassion. And people caught up in their own anxiety and depression and anger often don’t see the way their emotional states impose costs on the people around them. They often treat the people around them badly--worse, at any rate, than they normally would--and react defensively if this is pointed out to them.

I’ve done this. I have friends who have done this. I get it. It doesn’t make someone a horrible person! It doesn’t meant they deserve to feel the way they do. But it does create the second half of a twofold moral obligation. You see, I believe that the, call it “utilitarian selfishness” view, is essentially correct: if all humans are of similar moral worth (they are), and you can only help one person (often true), and that person is yourself, it is no less moral to help yourself than it is to help someone else. This is usually framed as a grant of permission: “you are allowed to be selfish sometimes.” But it’s also an obligation: “you should not be a dick--even to yourself.” You have a positive obligation to care about your own suffering! And you have a positive obligation to try to reduce the costs your suffering--your bad mood, your depression, your anxiety--imposes on the people around you.

Because I’m not a smug nihilist. I actually believe, with embarrassing intensity, in a large number of abstract principles. And while I believe circumstance or injustice can conspire to make people feel miserable and powerless, and I have the utmost sympathy for you feeling that way, no one is so omnipotent as to be able to truly excise our power to do something with our life that is rewarding to us, no matter how modest. Your subjective feeling of misery is not license to be a dick to people, or to misrepresent them or their motivations. And if reading my tumblr (or anyone else’s) makes you miserable, you have a positive moral obligation to stop, because you’re being a dick to yourself, which is no more justifiable than being a dick to me. And being a dick to me because you don’t like my Tumblr, because you’re miserable and I’m not, is pants-on-head stupid.

I, too, have been so convinced of my misery and powerlessness, and so utterly convinced of my inability to make improvements in my life, that I have yielded utterly to the feeling of myself as a despised, helpless, wretched thing. You can spend years in that state. A lifetime, even. I suppose it relieves you from the burden of having to try, which is a tiny shred of comfort when the climb up the hill seems so steep. But I have found that in the long run it brings no other relief; there’s no regression to the mean, just an endless prolongation of misery. It required some courage, and not a little determination, to try to climb out of that pit. Sometimes you struggle. Sometimes you fall back in. Sometimes it’s easier to believe there’s nothing beyond that place of unhappiness. But there is, and you can get there, and the choice of whether or not to reach it lies only with you.