#rhetorical question. you just don't let it win somehow.

[non-un-topo]

How do you fight the demon inside of you that wants to snap and scream at everyone around you when you're in severe pain? 😔

[nohaynat]

a morning world

we live in a world where we wake up to a morning feed and google has got figured out our latest desires and needs: presented in a couple of sentences is precisely that which you hoped — or feared — to find.

we live in a world in which technology grows faster than we can ever imagine, because it grows assisted by AIs. it is impressive how fast (seconds) any random AI can do a job that would take us days, months, years, right?

this morning i got a recommendation for a generative AI which does the sort of things that i do for a living, and i thought about sharing the news with a friend, but i stopped on my tracks knowing that this information might make them anxious; and, of course, my aim wasn't to trigger anyone so early in the day. i don't use AIs intentionally (yet) to do my work, simply for one reason: the motivation to use them would be to be better, faster, stronger… but is this really who we want to be? is this our goal? or does this rob us of essential parts of our humanity?

low fi morning world

there are deep reasons to why nature, the journal, prohibited the use of AI generated images on their content. there are deep reasons to regulate AIs, for if we let them, might they steal our place in the world? what is this place, anyway?

regulation is just a band-aid measure, though, for the run against AIs or with them is not because of AIs, the competition is set clearly by the system we live in. if capitalism wouldn't rule our minds and our social structures, we could be spared of this debate, because the competition wouldn't have the survival of the fittest at its core. this is the logic that capitalism has set in: the one that gets there better, faster, stronger, eats, and is of course celebrated for being "so wise" in making the correct moves to win. this wisdom is an apparent wisdom, it is only so within the rules of capitalism. exit the logic, we are all fools of our own making.

who do you want to make sense to, and why? is a question that i heard this week. "making sense" only makes sense in a set of rules. when we don't follow the rules the system has set in, we somehow don't make sense. but why make sense? why is it so important? well, we are of course social beings, and making sense might be a measure of our sanity in a world of equals. but sometimes we take the agenda too far, sadly far when what makes sense also creates damage to nature, to other beings.

the thing with the capitalist logic is that it just focuses on winning and dismisses the losses in the way. who is the creature that gets to the top of the hill? is there still a human being inside, or have they been stripped of their living value in the journey?

there are societies that have a deeper confidence in the capitalist promise, i guess that these are the societies that profit more from it. in them, you have the idea that your worth as a human being is comparable to the advances in your career. leave for a while, feel connected with individuals just for being present: recover your spontaneity, liveliness in a week. but just to loose it again, because no matter how much a certain population believes or not in capitalism, it is a global injure, and it does not seem to recover fast enough.

in Spanish morning also means tomorrow, sometimes it feels like this, we wake up this morning, world, and it is already tomorrow and time is feeding at our heels. but who's ticking the clocks if it is not our own creation (or demise)?

in the end, the race of capitalism seems to be the race of itself against nature, and this is why it is imminent to stop racing between us, recover nature as our ally and, with AIs or without them, transform the capitalist worldview, setting an environment in which societies can actually, genuinely, thrive — quirkier, slower, kinder — before we forget how to do so.

of course, my words are barely rhetoric, what am i doing other than profiting from a privilege that the system gave me and pointing out the faults of this system? well, precisely that, i try, with my words and my actions to express my discontent and disbelief in this system. it is through words that we can know that others have dreamed the same dreams we dream, get an insight into another world. a quirkier, slower, softer one.

[jeongjaebae]

Maybe we'll just keep fallin'

⇢ Juyeon x reader, 3.4k, exes to lovers ⇢ A reunion at an amusement park reminds you of what it feels like to fall.

You've never hated Eric more than at this moment.

He gives you a big smile right when he sees you walking towards where the group is gathered near the entrance of the amusement park, and then runs towards you with his arms stretched out to squeeze the breath out of you.

"Hey," you greet with an attempt at a smile, hoping he doesn't notice the way your mood suddenly falls. "Long time no see."

"Y/N, I've missed you so much!" Eric's hug is even tighter than the last time you've seen him—a clear indication that he's been working out in college because those arms are even stronger as they lift you in a spin that takes you by surprise.

This amusement park trip would've been a perfect excursion on this perfect sunny day; a reunion of friends after a few years and a number of kilometers apart. And you had indeed been looking forward to it up until this point, having excitedly packed your bag and planned your outfit the night before.

However, no one had told you that he would be here too.

You knew it wasn't Eric's fault for inviting the both of you though, for he probably doesn't know about what happened. And when you join the rest of the group, it becomes quite obvious that none of them knew about it. It's as if they were all frozen in time, in the same spot as they stood all those years ago, back when your memories of this very amusement park had been overflowing with feelings for him.

It's not Eric's fault because Juyeon's Instagram remains untouched. Still filled with old pictures of the two of you long after what happened.

"It's nice to see all of you again," you say as you reach the others, looking at each of them one at a time. You wanted nothing more than to avoid looking at Juyeon the entire day, but it's something you couldn't get out of if you wanted to keep pretending everything was fine.

Juyeon was the first one you'd spotted from afar, having immediately recognized his all too familiar figure. But up close, he seems to have changed quite a bit. Like Eric, he definitely bulked up and is no longer super skinny, and then there's the way his skin glows and how his hair falls into place perfectly even with the wind blowing against it. And who wears such nice clothes to an amusement park? He's so stupidly perfect and unaffected that it pisses you off. The only thing that gives you a bit of satisfaction is seeing how he immediately stiffens after seeing you.

Maybe it would be easy to remember that he's no longer the boy you once loved when he seems so different now.

"Alright, let's go!" Eric shouts.

You knew that it was going to be a very long day.

***

"What's wrong? You don't like rollercoasters anymore?" Jacob asks. He raises an eyebrow at the way you eyed the ride all too warily.

You'd joined the line with the rest of them but there's a sense of dread in your steps that hadn't been there before. And while it wouldn't be your first time on this ride, the huge drop no longer seemed as appealing as it once did. Maybe you've developed a bit of a fear.

"I just hate the feeling of falling now," you say, then shrug when Hyunjae shoots you a strange look. "People change, I guess."

When your eyes flicker over to Juyeon intentionally, he's already staring at you.

Sometime while in line, the others all pair up with their seatmates, leaving you and Juyeon at the back together. Maybe it would've reminded you of the time they intentionally left you together when trying to set you up, but things are different now. It annoys you now.

You sigh. "Let's just get this over with."

As you climb into your seat with Juyeon following right behind you, suddenly you get an idea.

"Here, let me get this for you." You shoot him a smile before grabbing the safety bar and pushing it down on him as far as it would go, locking him into the seat with a click. It's much tighter than it needs to be and probably digs into his stomach if his grimace is any indication. Perfect. "Enjoy the ride!"

Then you walk out the other way. Leaving him without a seatmate on the rollercoaster.

A look of utter disbelief spreads on his face and you simply laugh before heading to the exit, where you would wait for his ugly photos to come out. Not that he could ever be ugly, but one could still hope.

As the rollercoaster takes off and he's still glancing at you looking betrayed, there's no time for guilt. Because he was going to go on the ride anyways, you tell yourself. What difference did it make whether it was with or without you? And besides, strapping him in tighter could've been to ensure his safety; it's almost funny how the things we do for the people we love actually end up hurting them the most.

Several minutes later, Juyeon comes back with his hair dishevelled and a frown on his face. Bothered, but still silent. You count that as a win because unfortunately for you, his photos turn out looking just fine. In fact, they turn out all too similar to the set you once carried around in your phone case—the same ride and the same expression, only the seat beside him hadn't been empty in that one.

He doesn't say anything as you take out your phone to quickly snap a photo of the preview on the screen, calling him ugly the entire time anyways.

The loud noises and flashy lights in every direction try to grab your attention as heading to the next ride has you walking through all the carnival games in the park. Prizes are dangling at every stall, the smell of colourful snacks and the cheerful voices of children filling the air. For a while, you don't mind it when Juyeon falls into step beside you at the back of the group.

Until his hand accidentally brushes yours. And his touch sends you reeling.

"You okay?" his eyes flash with concern. He hangs back to wait for you while the rest of the group continues on without notice.

"Yup," you slap on the most dazzling fake smile you could muster. "Never been better."

It was a close call; for a second you thought your resentment towards him faltered like your feet did.

They've stopped at a beanbag toss game where Hyunjae points out how much Sunwoo looks like the raccoon plushie hanging in the section of prizes, and Changmin is taking bets that Sangyeon's bad luck would make him lose every game he plays. Juyeon bets against it. You bet for it.

The man running the game gestures dramatically, beckoning your group over. "See something you like? Step right up! Only three tickets to win the biggest prizes in the entire park."

Normally you would've walked away. Everyone knows that carnival games are rigged so there was no point in wasting your tickets, but once again, an idea occurs. Three tickets to get a chance to hit your ex? Hell yeah, you were definitely in.

The man gives you a wink as you go to hand in your three measly tickets, with Juyeon following closely behind. You had a feeling he would participate too, though you don't know why.

As you settle into your spot at the counter, you realize that the booth is quite empty. None of your friends are there anymore, somehow having disappeared so suddenly without a trace—leaving you alone with Juyeon once again.

"Why are they always putting us together," you mutter under your breath.

"Because they don't know about—"

"Yeah, no shit." You roll your eyes at him. Why was he answering a rhetorical question anyways? "Whatever. Let's get on with the game already."

When the game starts, Juyeon is oblivious beside you as he concentrates on the distance to the target. Competitive as usual, you assume, though this time it wouldn't be for the purpose of winning you a giant plushie like he did before. And the old you might've tried to get a good score to impress him, but the new you isn't like that anymore.

You almost feel bad when you take a step away from the booth and gaze at the back of his head. There's a sense of hesitation because does he really deserve this? Getting your revenge when he's not even looking is a little too harsh isn't it? But you quickly wipe those thoughts away. One beanbag to the head isn't going to make up for all the times he promised not to break your heart yet ended up doing it anyways.

Juyeon whips around and gives you a hard stare after your beanbag successfully strikes the back of his head and then lands at his feet. Bullseye!

"Oh, did I hit you?" Your voice drips with a sarcastic sweetness. "Oops, sorry."

The rest of your beanbags are tossed messily without really caring where they land now that you've accomplished your goal, and his shots seem too distracted after getting hit.

He remains impassive as the two of you find your way back to the rest of your friends who appear just as suddenly as they disappeared.

"That was a nice shot." Hyunjae gives you a high-five. The way Juyeon glances at him sharply almost makes you burst out laughing. "Too bad you didn't win a prize."

You don't tell him that it might be even better than winning a prize. "You saw that? But where did you guys go?"

"Oh um, Eric kind of had an emergency. In the bathroom." Hyunjae gives you a wry smile then takes off before you could ask more.

You stick with Sunwoo for the rest of the day, clinging onto him so closely that he has no opportunity to leave you with your ex again. He occasionally gives you questioning glances and you feel slightly embarrassed; it wasn't your intention to make things awkward, but surely your friends should've all sensed something strange by now? Surely they couldn't still see you and Juyeon as a couple?

The last jab you took at him was on the spinning teacup ride, a final ride at the end of the day just as the sun was setting. The rest of your group had split themselves equally into two teacups, leaving no room for the two of you though you could see through the way they intentionally sprawled themselves across the seats to fill up the space.

So once again, you were left with Juyeon. But this time, you don't complain because you had another plan up your sleeve.

As soon as the ride starts along with the horrible carnival music, you're grabbing the wheel at the center and turning it as fast as you could. It makes the teacup spin and spin, round and round until the rest of the world is a blur of lights and colours around you. Somehow it makes the teacup feel all too small. It's as if you and Juyeon were the only ones existing as everything else blends together.

"Y/N, stop," he shouts at some point, but you pay no attention as your hands continue to move the steering wheel mechanically. "You're going to get dizzy!"

And he's right. Because eventually the teacup slows to a full stop, but the world continues to spin and prevents you from getting to your feet and walking out.

"Are you okay?" Juyeon reaches for you then pulls back at the last moment. "Why did you spin it so much?"

Just seeing the way he looks perfectly fine standing there makes you feel the contents of your stomach churn. His perfect face and his perfect hair and his perfectly indifferent expression. Had your plan backfired? At this point, could anything you do even affect him the way his presence affected you so much?

You attempt at getting to your feet again and it just barely works this time. "Ugh, why aren't—you dizzy—"

"You spun it that hard just to get me dizzy?" Juyeon's voice gives no hints to what he's thinking.

"Shut up."

His touch stings when he ends up wrapping an arm around you, holding you up as you walk out of the ride together. Usually you would've thrown him off and pushed him away, but in your state of trying not to die, you give in and let him guide you to a pavilion with some picnic benches.

"Sit here."

It's quieter here when you're out of the crowd. A little easier to breathe. You focus on the way the air tastes, cooler now that the sun has gone down but still lingering with the sweetness of cotton candy from a nearby vendor. The world slows down and finally stills under your feet, and the waves of nausea quickly recede.

"Why are you doing all this?" Juyeon blurts, and you can finally see something underneath those unreadable eyes of his. The whole day he's put up with your antics without ever saying anything, but now you could see the blaze the lies just beneath the surface.

It feels like a taste of victory.

"Doing what?"

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say carefully.

He gives an exasperated sigh, pacing around in front of the bench you sat at. "Do you hate me that much?"

"I—"

Yes, you wanted to say. Because hating him has never left your mind for the past few years. Because you did want to resent him. To hurt him the way that he hurt you when he decided to cut off all ties with you so your long-distance relationship wouldn't hold you back during college. Maybe he'd thought it was the right thing to do but it was such a stupid reason and he was so stupid and—it all hurt. So yes, maybe you'd imagined getting your revenge someday when you met him again.

But doing all those things today didn't make you feel any better and seeing him like this is different from what you'd imagined.

Juyeon's steps finally stop, and he sits down on the bench beside you. "If you do, it's okay. I get it. I would hate me too."

A silence settles in between you and the crickets in the background are almost too loud. The last of the sun's fading glow surrender to a blanket of darkness that contrasts with the warm glow of the fairy lights in the small pavilion. Being here in any other context might be romantic. It reminds you all too much of what happened the first time.

"Why?" you ultimately ask despite already knowing the answer. "Why would you hate yourself?"

"For hurting you. For even thinking that we'd be better off apart because the past four years have only made me miserable with regret," he admits. "So yes, hurt me. Let out your pain." He pounds on his chest a couple of times and then stretches his arms out, waiting. "I can take it. Just don't hurt yourself."

"Juyeon..."

The amount of times you'd wished to hear those words over the years. He did call that one time, though your roommates had taken your phone and blocked him before you could get a chance to find out what he might've said. It was something that you'd wondered about during the times you'd drank a little too much, when you'd cried over nothing, when the feeling of falling had become falling into the depths of darkness instead of falling in love like it once was.

Maybe now, you're finally getting your answer.

Your fists are weak where they collide with his chest repeatedly, one after another, as if doing so would make his heart hurt as much as yours did. And he just takes it.

But then he's wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close until you give in. Until you completely melt against him. Until there's the warmth of his body against you and the tears that slip down your cheeks land on his shirt.

"Y/N, you have no idea how much I missed you," he whispers, breath coming out against your hair where he runs his hand through like he did before. "I'm sorry. For everything."

His scent enveloping you as he holds you, the dim glow of lights above you—it all reminds you of what happened all those years ago at this very place. It had been the same park and the same friends as today, but the exhilaration was from the way he grabbed your hand to pull your closer, not from being up high in that swing ride. The dizziness you'd felt was after he kissed you for the first time, and not from some spinning teacup ride. And when had the heart fluttering feeling of falling been from falling in love, and not simply from a rollercoaster ride?

But soon you do find yourself falling again.

It's not like the first time he kissed you here, when sparks fly and the world spins and your heart pounds so hard you thought it would burst. This time when his lips are on yours and he fits against you so perfectly, it's like coming home after being too far for too long. Everything feels so familiar yet new, like rereading your favourite book and rediscovering all of your favourite passages as you relearn each line and curve of his body. He may be different from what you remembered from all those years ago, but the way his gentle hands cup your cheeks, the brushing of his knees against yours, the way you can taste the salt of tears and faint sweetness of cotton candy on his lips. Everything is still so distinctly him, something that even the space and time between you couldn't ever change.

"Lee Juyeon," comes out in a whisper against his lips as you pull back to catch your breath, "you're so stupid."

"Only when it comes to you." He breaks into a smile, the first genuine smile that you've seen all day and it seems to light up the world. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Even if it takes me the rest of my life."

"You're making this sound like a proposal."

Juyeon gives a choked laugh. "Um, not that I would be against it, but let's take this one step at a time first, yeah?"

And when you look at him, truly look at him, this time you can see the same boy you loved for all these years. You let those eyes draw you in and finally let yourself sink into the memories that you kept pushing away and burying. There's a tinge of pink on his cheeks and they're hot under your fingertips as you reach to pull him in again and—

"It's about time," a booming voice suddenly interrupts, making the two of you spring apart. Eric claps as he walks into the pavilion joined by the rest of the group, a mischievous smile on his face.

"It only took them all day," Sunwoo rolls his eyes. "I was dying over here when Y/N started following me around. Totally deserve an Oscar for my acting today."

"Hey, that's not true! I definitely noticed you giving me weird looks."

It's not surprising that your friends had known about the breakup after all, though you just hadn't expected them to have known even before this trip. The deja vu takes you back to the last time you were here, how your first kiss as a new couple was nearly interrupted by Eric's cheers and Sunwoo's expressions of disgust.

"Before you start freaking out—no, nobody told us," Eric says. "Nobody needed to because it was so obvious. We only pretended to not know in the hopes that you'd finally put each other out of your misery."

"And while it's good that you guys did, the highlight of this trip has got to be watching Y/N bully Juyeon all day," Hyunjae bellows and nods towards Juyeon. "I don't know what you did to deserve that, but you probably deserved it."

Soon there are sounds of laughter filling the pavilion and it makes your heart feel full in a way that you hadn't felt in a long time. As if there had been a weight you didn't even know you had on you, and now it's been lifted off your shoulders and you finally feel light enough to join in with their laughter.

As fireworks fill the night sky and Juyeon intertwines his fingers with yours on the walk back, it quickly becomes clear that the falling back together was as easy as it had been the first time.

[nagisasstunningpersonality]

Retranslation and Analysis of That Fight Scene

So firstly, I just want to say the subs are not bad and convey the general meaning very well, in a way that sounds natural in English. That being said, there's always some things that get lost in literal translation, and I really want to demonstrate how much depth the Japanese in this scene actually has for Karma and Nagisa's characters.

Basically the TLDR point here is that this fight is very much not about Korosensei. This is completely platonic, I promise I resisted making any shippy points.

Karma: Hey, Nagisa kun, aren't you getting extremely carried away?

Nagisa: Eh? (definitely surprised and bewildered)

Karma: The number one strongest assassin in Class E is Nagisa kun, isn't it? (uses yo here, which suggests confidence in the statement). Are you (very directly yourself, your own thoughts) wanting to quit assassination? Let's think about the talentless others who are desperately trying their hardest to kill him. When you put it like that, it's like a woman who 'has it' telling the ugly ones that they should honestly quit being so desperate to get a boyfriend, that kind of feeling?"

So some interesting analysis here is that Karma says "zuibun", or extremely, when the original translation is "a tad". The translation feels more natural in English, however it kind of makes me feel that Karma's trying to make more of a point. Nagisa has the right to be making suggestions and stepping up, but he's gone so far this time it's crossed a line.

I think 才能がないなり (talentless, saino ga nai nari) is also very interesting. Talent is the best translation, but if you look at the kanji very literally, there's "genius" and "ability". This specific word choice more implies that the other assassins are good, but Nagisa's just another level. Japanese grammar is confusing at best, but essentially 'nari' means become. So you take this as kind of like 'students who couldn't develop genius ability'.

The repetition of 'desperate' is also pretty interesting, linking the examples together better. It emphasises the point that they're kind of at a loss with. He also doesn't directly say attractive woman, he says "motteiru onna", which essentially means the same, but is literally "a woman who has (no object given but essentially 'it'). This more directly reflects to what he's saying about Nagisa, he HAS talent, this unspecified natural quality that makes him better than everyone else without trying.

There's also a lot more rhetorical questions in the Japanese, which got combined into single sentences in the English. The "let's think" thing is very literally what he says, like he's wanting Nagisa to actually consider his thoughts for himself.

Nagisa's original argument and intention may have been about Korosensei. Karma may be genuinely opposed to saving Korosensei. But that isn't the point of Karma's argument at all, he's making this about Nagisa because he's reached a limit with the both of them.

In order to spare you, more under the cut.

Nagisa: T-the aim wasn't... Above all, for assassination, your understanding is always better than mine

Karma: Saying that directly (take with slight pinch of salt - he could have also said "fixing your statement") is irritating. In reality, isn't it that you yourself are the most powerful, and you can't comprehend the feelings of weak humans?

Nagisa: That's wrong (also using affirmative yo here)! That's not what I said! These are my true feelings! Do you hate Korosensei? We went to see a movie together with him, didn't we have a variety of great times?!"

Karma: That's why, that octopus did his best to come and make a fun classroom every time, and didn't give up like Nagisa. Without bloodlust, this classroom wouldn't have been built. Can't you understand the effort?! It's not just your body, are you still a fresh elementary school student?

One thing to note here is that Nagisa isn't actually finishing his sentences. You can absolutely tell what he means because Japanese makes sense like that, but he's still dropping words. Or when he does say a full sentence, they're very short statements. He is desperate here, trying to prove a point he can't actually voice into words correctly.

The context here is that this is before we know their full backstory. Nagisa admired Karma, and he can't quite say it right yet. He thinks they're on different stages still, and Karma is frustrated because Nagisa doesn't see the point.

Karma, after all, does have this inhuman image of Nagisa in his head from years ago. The image of Nagisa looking like some kind of snake demon as he kills Karma in his sleep. He genuinely still, here, believes that Nagisa is purposely hiding this. That's why he keeps putting words into Nagisa's mouth. He's also cutting him off at points, not listening at all to what he's truly saying.

At the same time, Karma starts talking down to him. Instead of saying 'no' (how you'd end a sentence to a friend), he starts using 'kai', which is condescending and how you'd speak to a child. There's an argument here to be made for Karma doing this as a kind of defence mechanism too, but that's very complicated. At this point he really is just trying to get to him.

They are not arguing about killing Korosensei, not at all.

Karma: Huh?

Nagisa: *does the creepy eye thing*

Karma: Eh? What are those eyes? You with the social standing of a tiny female animal, are you defying a human?

Nagisa: I was just...

Karma: If you have a complaint, how about saying it after you win a fight for once? It's aimed at me, so come on. C'mon. C'mon. C'mon!

This is actually one of the most significant changes to the original.

This is the thing, Karma was never calling Nagisa a tiny mouse of whatever, he was just comparing him to one. Because he knows very clearly that Nagisa isn't like that. He sees that look in his eyes and it prompts him, in his frustration, to finally try and bring it out of Nagisa. He's trying to prove a point.

But then Nagisa stops himself. He lets go of his bloodlust for a moment, defaulting to Nagisa as we know and love him, literally turning his head away from Karma.

But Karma's too far gone at this point, he's dragged stuff up his past feelings about Nagisa, the ones he's been hiding for a year to be tentative friends with him, and now he can't let them go. He needs to see Nagisa's darker side plainly, no matter what that means.

It's also important that he says "it's aimed at me". I think this is a little deeper than literal. I think what he's implying here is this entire thing is somehow aimed at him, like Nagisa's trying to strip everything away just for his own perspective.

Obviously at this point Nagisa snaps and chokes him.

Nagisa internal thoughts: Even I...

Nagisa: I'm not going with half my feelings!

Karma: This guy...

This is also pretty significant. I'm surprised they cut the "even I" part because that says a lot about Nagisa's current feelings. He still doubts himself. He's aware that he's a pacifist, that he's got a lesser social standing, but Karma's put him into a position where he has to stand up for himself. And this is important to him.

Karma smiles when he says "this guy", getting ready to punch him. He feels like he's succeeded, in a way. Though at first he looked genuinely surprised Nagisa actually did it. There's a certain kind of satisfaction that finally he managed to bring Nagisa's 'true' self out.

Obviously at this point they get separated.

So what does all of this actually tell us? Well, pretty clearly here, this is just Karma's issues coming to light. But also a very helpful and useful moment for Nagisa's development as a character. Whether we agree with Karma using him as a punching bag or not, it genuinely does force Nagisa to get some self agency for once.

Karma and Nagisa will never be characters who sit around and talk honestly about their feelings. But even if they're using a whole situation to mask the fact that they very much are discussing their relationship here, it is still a significant moment where pretty much all the barriers they've been putting up against each other drop. They're just still not entirely on the same page through this scene.

Nagisa thinks Karma is just looking down on him and trying to pick a fight. He's baffled and confused as to why Karma feels so strongly against him.

Karma, on the other hand, thinks Nagisa is better than them all and is frustrated when he 'purposely' acts like he isn't. Karma still feels lied to from when they were kids. And he wants to expose it all, to get Nagisa to understand the position his skill puts him in. I honestly don't think Karma ever thought Nagisa was less than him at all, he just knew it would be an easy way to get a reaction. See how he flips tactic from "you're the best here" to "you're a tiny animal" when Nagisa just went into denial the first time?

I'm not going to go into the whole of their actual full fight, but there's some interesting points that reflect back on all of this.

Korosensei saying "your own answer is right in front of you", basically demonstrating that this entire thing really is just Karma and Nagisa

The entire point of the fight was to get one hit in with a knife, but Karma decides to just continuously beat Nagisa instead. Which yeah, is pretty ineffective. Pretty much proves again that it wasn't about just taking a victory.

Karma took Nagisa's hits on purpose, maybe it can be argued that this is trying to make things last longer, to get Nagisa to actually work for it.

Nagisa demands that he listens to what he has to say. And that's right, because Karma was cutting him off originally.

Karma is a super strategist right? And he was genuinely shocked that Nagisa didn't use his bloodlust to take him down. This is Karma. Sure, he's allowed to make mistakes. But this is odd for him. He was so caught up in his own perspective of Nagisa just having that skill that unfairly made him better. But Nagisa literally throws that skill out and beats Karma on his own level, pretty much disproving him. Maybe Nagisa has this special ability, but he's also worked just as hard as everyone else. He's trained to know what assassination means.

Beating Karma like this, on a 'human' level, was pretty much it. Karma stopped fighting back when he realised that, because he was disproven, and pretty much every wall he put up against Nagisa got literally choked out of him. Karma is already known as kind of an ass and a dirty fighter, you really think he'd worry about the others not accepting it if he stabbed Nagisa fair and square? If he cared that much about killing Korosensei, he would have just done it.

Their fight was never about Korosensei.

[curiousconch]

Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 3)

Part 3: Remember when everything was different

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Aislinn, Gigi and Alex find friendship in the midst of the competition. One discussion led to another, pushing Alex to take a trip down memory lane, revealing the moment in her past where she and Gabe's paths crossed for the first time.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.7k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, language. Scenes/themes may trigger trauma for some, reader discretion advised.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Sunday, downtown New York

"Wait, can you back up for a moment," Aislinn said across Alex, who was scooping the remains of her melted banana split. Gigi was sipping her ice-cold mimosa, their brunch table full of plates with scrapes of leftovers. The sun was out and so were they, dining al fresco under the shade of a huge white parasol and the gentle breeze cooling them every now and then. It was a perfect day so far.

The trio has agreed to meet up that Sunday to discuss what went down with the Rothswell case as well as to prep for the conference Sadie had invited them to. They were on some kind of a peace pact, all of them sharing the view that pitting women against women in the corporate world is just shitty business.

Alex has enjoyed their company. They exchanged imaginary one-liners that would have made Martin frown his heart out or Beau McGraw chortle his head off. And speaking of McGraw, they all concluded that the best strategic course of action was to let Beau enjoy his moment in the sun. One day, Alex would make sure to remind him that he tried to rain on her parade.

It was a refreshing and enlightening discussion, though she will forever be traumatized with how many swears Gigi can cram in a single sentence. But the sight of a flustered Aislinn while Alex and Gigi engaged in a battle of pick-up lines with their waiter was a strong second contender.

As their drinks flowed, the conversation naturally led to rhetorical questions, now settling at why they became a lawyer. Aislinn shared first, surprisingly, stating that her knack for analysis was just a natural fit to the demands of a career in law. Gigi's answer was simple - she can leverage her eidetic memory to earn herself some serious dough, allowing her to live it up and take impromptu vacations to Bali.

Alex tried to dodge the question. She had never needed to discuss her reason of leaving pre-med behind to attend law school. It wasn't a pleasant memory, and she doubted it will ever be.

The two ladies were quick to see her attempts of evasion. But together, they finally wore her down, Alex left laughing with their shenanigans as they cornered her to tell her story. So she told them that she knew Gabe Ricci. And that it was because of him why she was a lawyer. Alex decided that revealing the truth was worth it, seeing how their jaws just dropped to the floor.

"Girl, you have to explain yourself right now," Gigi demanded, to which Aislinn seconded.

Alex snorted as she went back to skimming what was left of her dessert. "It's a boring sob story, and I don't want to turn this lovely morning into a snooze fest."

"We're not going anywhere, right Gi?" Aislinn turned to Gigi beside her, who nodded whilst sipping another glass of cocktail.

"Fine, but only if you swear this won't leave this table," she said. The two held up their hands invoking a half-smiling Alex, sensing nothing but sincerity. So she drank down her glass of bloody mary and took a deep breath, composing her tale.

"Buckle up, ladies, you're in for a ride."

**

10 years ago, in a town near Boston

Alessandra Keating had never felt more alone than she did that day.

They said she needed to just move forward. But how can she, when every day since the crash, she felt nothing but emptiness? How can she feel alright, when the only life that she knew was suddenly taken away from her?

It wasn't long before she found out that the car accident was caused by someone being reckless, by someone who thought they were above the law. Then, she imploded. No way could she let her parent's deaths be forgotten. No fucking way.

For the past three years, she invested all of herself into this endeavor. Researching, studying, choosing the right counsel, even raising funds. It was what kept her breathing, what gave her purpose. Ultimately, it was what kept her sane.

From filing the lawsuit to attending mediations, to numerous settlement meetings and colliding with every legal roadblock possible - Alex made sure to see them through. Only for everything to be decided that day - the bench trial.

One sweltering summer morning in her hometown's courthouse, Alex sat on the side of the plaintiff, with her long brunette hair tangled in waves. She let her senses wander, taking in the dark wooden panels and pews, her sense of smell invaded by the scent of old mahogany. She sealed her lips into silence, hiding her nerves by straightening the bargain khaki suit that she borrowed.

She barely held it in as her eyes travelled to the table beside them, catching a glimpse of the man that caused her immeasurable pain. With jet black hair and looking as young as her, he sat with an almost mocking expression. He was wearing a crisper set of suit, creating an illusion of trustworthiness that Alex can easily see through.

Maximilian K. Cornell. The green-eyed teenager who swerved his sports car onto the same slippery road Alex and her parents were passing through. The very same boy who got out unharmed, but left Alex's family to die in the snow. Her opponent was a slithery snake who managed to screw the justice system so many times over, just because his parents had the grease to do so.

But after the crash, the town decided they can no longer turn the other cheek. Alex's decision to sue was propelled by the support of the countless friends and families whom her parents have helped in their hour of need. But that still proved not enough.

Her mind whirled back to the proceedings, and to how every strategy, every plan of attack was being thrown out. With every whip from the defense, she started to grow impatient. As another traffic expert from her camp was dismissed, Alex just snapped inside. She leaned to Mr. Leroy, a withering man on the brink of retirement who was her lawyer, asking for them to convene outside.

"I'm sorry Mr. Leroy, but your strategies were just scrutinized and torn into pieces," Alex said in a low voice the moment they stepped out into the hallway.

"Alex, I am doing my best here. We clearly don't have the upper hand, lacking the incriminating evidence that we need," the man replied, exasperated.

"Have we dug up his previous records? I mean, why on earth would he have a sealed history? Doesn't that mean something?" she continued.

She continued to dictate her litany of better-positioned moves, but even Alex knew she wasn't getting through. So she excused herself from the conversation, hoping a cup of iced coffee will somehow mitigate her frustrations.

As soon as she came back, she found Mr. Leroy convening with a much younger man in a dark navy suit. His aura screamed "big city hotshot", albeit the exhausted look in his brown eyes. Not wanting to interrupt, she held off from approaching. However, her curiosity didn't stop her from eavesdropping.

What she heard the charismatic man say was a legal precedent that would have opened the sealed records in question. And with all the mind-boggling legal jargon, that's just about what she understood.

"Gabriel Ricci? I'm looking for an attorney named Gabriel Ricci?" a female voice from a nearby window called out, which made the young man raise his head. She saw him end the conversation abruptly, where a flustered Mr. Leroy hastily thanked him. Alex took that as her queue to approach her lawyer.

"Alex, we might be able to turn things around," she heard Leroy say.

And by some miracle, things did turn around. With her lawyer using the precedent offered by the young attorney earlier, their side gained the needed momentum to tip the scales in their favor. By the end of the trial, the verdict was out - Cornell will never be able to drive another vehicle, along with paying her a hefty amount of damages and fees.

They won.

Alex had to pinch herself before the victory sunk in. When it did, she felt an immense burden lifted from her shoulders.

After a long, long time, Alex can finally breathe.

Broken free from her nightmares, she asked herself what's next? The answer came to her almost immediately. Right there and then, she decided what she wanted to be. Like that man from the courthouse, she will become a lawyer.

Fueled by this new sense of mission, she saw a future for herself. No longer held by the past, she finally was able to move forward.

Indeed, Alex became what she set out to do - a lawyer who took on hopeless, even impossible cases and won them. A lawyer her parents would be proud of.

A damn good lawyer, just like Gabriel Ricci.

**

Present Day, at a New York Penthouse

Gabe sat in his home office clad in nothing but his white bath robe, holding a worn manila folder.

Five years ago, Gabe saw this case as his opportunity to make Robbie proud. The defendant had all the parallels with his brother - a teenager, incarcerated young, where the punishment had presumed to be too harsh. He now knew it was rightfully just.

But at that time, he was blinded by passion and ambition. He wanted to prove to himself and to Sadie what he can do. Taking on this case that was practically unwinnable would give him more power, more control over the pro bono cases he wanted to take. Actually winning this though, that proved to be his fatal mistake.

Your cockiness got the better of you again, Ricci.

His mind went to Alex. That was the direction his every waking moment drifted to nowadays. Whether he liked it or not, he'd answer some other day.

He had to let her know. If he didn't, Alex would eventually find out herself. Once she discovers that he was the one who had set this man free, she would hate him.

Gabe can't bring himself to think of that happening, of losing that chance with her, or of losing Alex's trust.

Hell, I'm going to lose her entirely if she finds out.

These realizations devastated him.

But how can they both escape the looming shadows of the past unscathed? Even he couldn't figure that out.

Sighing, he rubbed his hand on his face, reeling at his lack of options. He then stood up, slamming the open folder on his desk as he turned to face the window, simmering in his own regrets. Papers slipped out to the carpeted floor, including a full-page mugshot of the defendant.

It was Maximilian Cornell.

Author's Notes: With Sadie being shady AF, I feel like we all need some dose of female friendship right? Also, this is my HC why Gabe constantly pulls away from MC, not only because of their working relationship. Did the reveal live up to the cliffhanger? Let me know in the comments! 👇👇👇

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily   @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses

@choicesficwriterscreations

Thank you for your continued reading!

Want to be added or removed to the tag list? No problem - just let me know 😊. Reblogs are also much appreciated! 💕

[lightsaberupmybutt]

Three’s a Crowd - Reader/Ben Solo/Poe Damerson (Modern AU)

alright so Ben/Kylo is a big ego kid in this, because of course. Also, Rey is ACTUALLY Lukes daughter in this, making them cousins. Ive fiddled with the plot okay sue me. 

Summary: Poe, Finn and their roommate have been living in a harmonious tenancy, but when Finn decides to move out for a year of travelling, the two are left with no option but to look elsewhere for their third body. Rey Skywalker, a friend of the group, proposes her cousin for the role. He's in a band, wears all black and all in all is somewhat of a social reject - but he's also all theyve got.  

“I think that one was actually somehow worse than last weeks” You tell Poe, as he pours himself a juice and settles down next to you on the sofa. You'd just finished showing around another possible roommate and you felt exhausted in every sense of the word. 

“How can he be worse than the neo nazi?” Poe shot you an unbelieving look and rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and knocking some of your papers in his wake. 

“Alex was a she, and they asked if they could hang their deer head in the front room” you grimaced even thinking about it, weren't all artsy college students supposed to be vegetarians anyway? why did you have to get saddled with the only blood thirsty one on campus. 

“Thats not so bad”

“Poe she showed me a picture of her taxidermied cat”

“Oh”

You had tried to find a polite way to stop her from passing you her phone, but you were too nice to make her feel uncomfortable, and now the image of the long dead tabby would remain behind your eyes for god knows how long. 

“was she hot?” You shook your head, causing Poe to sigh wistfully. 

“Not hot enough to cancel out her obsession with dead bodies anyway” you informed him, the hopeful look from his eyes gone. 

“Face it Poe, were doomed” You let your head fall into your hands, Poe letting out a laugh before wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

“Hey we’ll get someone! who wouldn't want to live here?” You knew his question was rhetorical but when looking around the cleaner than usual flat, you had to admit it was missing something. Bare spaces on the walls from where Finn had taken down his pictures, the empty side of the kitchen counter that had once houses his overpriced coffees. You even missed picking up his empty cups after him, the room feeling like it had less character without them. It truly hadn't felt the same in the flat since Finn had left, and although Poe concealed it well, you could see it was getting to him too. Poe had, after all, known Finn first; Finn managing to get a very drunk and outspoken Poe out of a sticky situation he had found himself in when running across a local gang in a dive bar. The ‘first order’ as they so called themselves, had an infamous reputation around campus for being trouble makers and general doers of bad deeds. Ever since that night they had been an unstoppable duo, until they met you of course, and their duo became three. 

You loved Finn, and you knew told miss him like hell, but you also knew that Poe must be feeling that ten times over. 

“You wanna do something tonight?” You asked, changing the subject before his mind  drifted to where yours had. 

“what kind of something?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, 

“Gross” 

“hey I'm serious!”

“what about Razor Crest, they are open late, we could grab some drinks and meet up with some people” 

Razor crest was the only worth while bar in town; it was certainly nothing to write home about, but it played fairly decent music and it had a marginally less sticky floor than others. Additionally, your other friends lived just over from the humble saloon, making it the perfect watering hole for you guys. 

It didn't take much convincing before you had Poe out the door and ready to socialise. Upon arrival, he headed to the bar while you were waved over by Rey, who had already found a booth and was already at least a few drinks in. 

“Look, i think i have a solution to your roomie problemo” She told you, peeking over her straw, a gleam in her eye that made you feel not all too confident in her yet to be spoken plan. 

“Go on” you told her, cautiously. 

“My cousins back in town” She told you between gulps. 

“The weird one?” You asked, 

“Hes not weird, just ...eccentric” the last word was more of a question, but you could tell she was on a roll, 

“He's just joined one of the college bands and Auntie Leia says him and Uncle Han are butting heads” 

“ah cool, weve always wanted  live music in our own flat at 2 am” Poe injected, rejoining the table and placing a drink in front of you before taking a sip of his own. 

“hes not BAD at it, he just plays loud i think” She corrected him, “anyway, he's not a total twat, I'm sure he would be considerate of your sleep schedules” 

“didn't he try and stab you with a stick when you were five” you asked her, you'd heard stories of this cousin before and none of them were quite savoury, 

“that was ages ago! he's like way old now” she was starting to slur her words, but you had a feeling this was something Rey was quite set on. Rey was stubborn, and when she got something in mind she would move hell to make it happen; she was also your best friend, and someone you trusted the judgment off. Had she gotten you into some weird shit in the past? sure. 

Did you have any other options; nay on that. 

“Fine, get Han or Leia to bring him round at some point next week and one of us will give him a tour” You tell her, and she lets out a little happy shrill at her own personal win. Poe, not so much. 

“Speak for yourself, weirdo cousin can see himself around” he crosses his arms and pouts, you give him a little nudge. 

“Hey, maybe you'll be best mates” you offer, but when he shoots you a death stare you go back to your drink.

The family turmoil must have been more vicious than Rey had let in on; It was barely the next morning before you had a tall, intimidating male knocking on your door. 

“Hey!” you offered him, in as cheery a voice as your hung over self would allow.

He looked down at you from his towering height, but gave no verbal response. 

“You must be Ben?...”  He offered you the slightest nod you'd had ever seen in response. Okay so, not much of a talker, noted. 

You waved him in, shutting the door behind him. God, he looked even bigger inside? is that possible? Rey had failed to mention the sheer height on the boy. You'd seen pictures of her and her aunt and uncle, it seemed like Ben was a scientific and biological mystery. Like how did he get clothes to fit? did he have to shop somewhere special or

you were snapped out of your thoughts by a clearing of a throat. 

“So, how much is the rent” so he DID have a voice, 

You informed him automatically, still part dazed. 

“Ill be in by the weekend” he told you, and with a nod he moved past you, making his way back to the door.

“But wait .. y .. you haven't even seen your room yet?” You stumbled, dumbfound by the lack of foreplay. The previous people you had shown around were full of questions; they wanted to know the ins and outs of the place. Ben had seen all of the door way and the front room and he was already signing the lease. 

“See you then” he didn't stop, hand on the door knob as if you hadn't spoken.

“But i don't have your phone number” you don't know why that came to you first, but it was true. At no point had Rey offered you direct contact with Ben, probably assuming he would. It seemed reasonable, that you'd need his number before he moved in, didn't it? Poe was always texting you about random shit in the flat, arguably too much, but it seemed like the norm for people coexisting in such a small space. 

He turned back at you and gave you a confused look, 

“why would you need my number?”

“erm... to talk to you” your condescending tone not completely masked, 

“but ill be living here” he stated, which, he had you there. 

Before you could even think of a response  he was out the door.

True to his word, Ben had his things over by that very same weekend. Although it was unsurprising considering just how light he packed. In fact, other than his bass and musical equipment, you couldn't really think of anything he had actually brought with him to the flat. You got to meet his parents when they dropped him off, both of whom seemed leaps and bounds more conversational than their son. Ironically, you got Leia’s phone number before her sons; her telling you to message if you ever needed anything. It felt like an indirect jab at Ben, a ‘if he fucks up let me know’, but you digress. The tension between Ben and his dad was blatantly obvious, them sharing no words before he got back into the car and Ben into the house. He did give his mum a small hug goodbye though, and you thought you saw a small tear in her eye before she managed to wipe it away. 

Since his move in, Ben had kept painfully to himself. You barely saw him at all in those first days, just heard him through the walls the odd time he dropped something - or saw a plate or cup gone from their places in the kitchen. To be honest , it felt more like a paranormal haunting than a new roommate. Poe was vocal of his apprehension to the situation, sharing glances with you when you would both be in the living room and you'd see ben scurry by or passive aggressively texting you when his favourite cup had been used by someone who wasn't him. it was a relatively small issue, but Poe had blown it so out of proportion that you had ordered a new set of cups from Amazon and sent him the link, shutting him up for a while before he found something else to complain about.

it was the fifth day before you actually bumped into ben again. He was on the sofa with his base set up, twiddling with his amp. The sight surprised you so much you physically jumped back, causing him to look up. crap. act cool. act cool. 

“hey” you offered him

“hi” hi replied back, looking back down at his amp. 

right, yer. his space, give him his space. Just get your stuff and go back to your room. don't speak to him, leave him alone. he clearly wants to be left alone. 

“nice day isn't it” you wanted to cover your mouth, the words coming out against your will. Truthfully, you had no clue why you said it. You hadn't even looked at the weather this morning. Its just what people say right? 

“Erm” his eyes shot to the window and then back to yours,”no”

sure enough, it was pissing it down outside. The sky was actually comically grey and you'd have laughed if you werent so angry at yourself. You were unsure of what to do, and he was still looking at you, almost assessing you. His eyes were so serious and dark they felt like they were burning tiny holes into your skin. shit, you had to speak now right?

While regretting every single life decision that had brought you into this kitchen at this time, Poe sauntered into the room like your night in shining armour, ignoring Ben all together and coming straight over to you, placing a big arm around your shoulders. You saw Ben drop his head back down to this bass, and you used all your might to not let out a sigh of relief.

“Tonight, I'm taking you out” He offered, a cheeky gleam in his eye. 

“Are you now” 

“Razor crest, drinks and dancing, be there or be square” He lists off as if he's a paid promoter, causing you to let out a giggle. 

“Whos invited?” 

“just the gang” he said, causing you to shoot him an eye roll, knowing full well you ‘gang’ consisted of all of three people, yourself and Poe included in that number. 

but then you remembered, there was another person now, whether they liked it or not. Poe’s eyes followed yours to Ben and then back to meet yours again, you saw the realisation change to disgust, as he shook his head silently at you. 

you knew this look, the ‘don't you dare’ look, the ‘not in 1000 years’ look. But you couldn't help it, your lips were moving before you could stop them for the second time this morning. 

“Are you free tonight, Ben?’

The look of sheer betrayal on Poe's face made you wince, surely he'd understand right? he knew you well enough to know your verbal diarrhoea  problem. 

Ben didn't even look up, but he did let out a small laugh that felt quite antagonistic. 

“i dont go to Razor Crest” 

“i don't go to razor crest ugh” Poe mocked, causing Rey to let out a hysterical giggle, and you a sigh. 

You'd been out for all of three hours and you were all already feeling the effects of the alcohol. It was late and the bar was jam packed with students all raring to go. Poe had been making eyes at one particular red head  almost all night and you were half surprised he hadn't already made his move. Poe put out, it was a fact. You and Finn had at one time made a fridge chart for him, a gold star awarded every time he brought  girl home. Whether the goal was to make him feel proud of his conquests or embarrassed, you still weren't 100% sure, but after a month or so you had both lost count and given up. You told yourself it didn't bother you, that he was just a friend, and that he owed you nothing, but every time he left you at the bar for another girl something stung inside; something you pushed deep down but regrettably was still there none the less. 

Sure enough, as the night progressed, you and Rey ended up fending for it alone, and instead of feeling sorry for yourself you decided to do the responsible thing and drink more. 

After the third round of shots, Rey calls it in. 

“I think I'm gonna be sick” she tells you sheepishly, and you can't help but belly laugh in response. She starts to shuffle towards the door and you go to follow.

“Hey don't leave on my behalf” she tells you earnestly, but you wave her off. 

“Nah I've had my fill, I'm starting to forget which flat number i live at” you tell her, causing her to giggle this time. 

You both stumble out the bar, past the smokers and up the cobbled road towards her flat. She unlocks her door and lets herself in, not before giving you a drunken hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

As you ready yourself to make your way back to your own flat, you come back past the bar entrance; a particularly prominent cobble causes you to trip ever so slightly and gain a whoop from a group of boys who were passing round a box of marlboro straights. 

You suddenly realised just how dark it was and just how alone you were. Most nights you wouldn't stay out this late, and if you did, then you'd normally be walking back with finn. You let out a shiver, a mix of both the cold night air finally breaking through your drunken daze and a smidge of fear. The Razor Crests entrance lights were getting progressively further away, and although you know that you only had a maximum of a half mile walk back to your home, it felt like ample distance to get kidnapped or murdered in, most probably both. 

How many true crime stories started with a young drunk girl, scantily clad and out alone at night? You could hear the police reports now, which photo would they use? you prayed it would be a hot one, at the very least one after your thin brow phase. 

Being literally bumped back into reality, in almost a cruel humorous way, you felt yourself walk head first into a figure, their arms coming out to catch you as the sheer momentum bounced you back. 

Oh god, I'm dead. I'm literally going to die.  

“Hey, chill out” The voice made your heart beat both slow and race again, 

“Ben?!” you shrieked, voice hoarse through pure anticipation of your thought to be demise 

“Are you okay” he asked, and only then did you realise you were shaking like a leaf. 

“Im fine” you let out in a small voice, looking down at your shoes. You could feel the redness in your cheeks through pure embarrassment alone. This was not an ideal situation for him to see you in, and you kind of started to with that he had been a murderer, at least then you wouldn't have to deal with the second hand embarrassment in the morning. 

“What are you doing out here”

“why are you out alone” 

you both asked simultaneously,

“I was coming out for a smoke” He told you, flashing his tobacco pouch at you from inside his coat. His very warm looking coat, might you add. Another shiver ran down your body. 

“Im coming home from Razor Crest” you tell him, trying to be matter of fact but slurring your words just enough to spoil the show. 

“Yes obviously, but why are you alone” he shoots back in some what of a patronising tone, it wouldn't sit well with sober you and it definitely doesn't go down well with drunk you. 

“Im a big girl” 

“clearly” he makes, making extra sure to look you up and down from his towering distance above you, causing you to huff. 

“well i can take care of myself” 

“you shouldn't be out alone around here, its not safe” he ignores your response, looking you dead in the eye. 

You feel something inside you flutter, a warmth that you can't quite control. Okay, ben might be weird and a bit annoying it would seem, but he was handsome, thats for sure. The limited light danced off his strong features and dark shaggy mop of hair, making him look both dangerous and appealing. 

As if you were standing here mentally flirting with the idea of being with Res cousin; you made a mental note to punish yourself for the ludicrous thoughts in the morning. 

“Okay well I'm going home now” you tell him, attempting to push past him, but his large hand finds its way to your forearm and pulls you back,

“yes, you are, come on” If what he said before was patronising, he was now speaking to you like you were a dog he was walking. 

“go have your nicotine, ive got this one covered” you tell him with a mock salute, causing him to roll his eyes. He lets go of your arm and you take your win, trying to step confidently away without falling. You're proud of yourself for handling the situation when you realise he's following all  of 10 steps behind you, rolling a cigarette in his hands while holding a filter between his teeth. 

when he catches you looking, he nods down to his hands, 

“want one?” he mumbles between his lips, still holding the filter pride of place. 

“no thanks” you snap, picking up pace. 

Ben smirks at you, but you miss it, too focused on not embarrassing yourself and keeping your feet in line. 

[discordantwords]

Don’t know if you are still doing prompts but would love one where someone objected at John and Mary’s wedding. Maybe Sherlock or Harry showing up drunk in the middle? Or David, Mary’s ex? Sholto? Or anything where John kisses Sherlock and neither of them was expecting it. Cue Sherlock shock and John worried he ruin everything.

The Interruption

The music had been timed perfectly. The procession had… proceeded. The guests looked appropriately misty-eyed. Mary was resplendent in vintage lace.

 And John—

 Sherlock swallowed, looked away.

 He distanced himself. Not fully—he could not risk vanishing into his mind palace and losing track of time—but just enough that he could stop himself from flinching when Mary and John joined hands.

 It was, the best possible outcome. Somehow knowing that did not stop him from occasionally imagining a different outcome entirely.

Foolish. He did not have time to waste on impossibilities.

 Mary was clever. She made no effort to dissuade John from the work he did with Sherlock, she at times even seemed to relish joining in. He preferred her to all of the other women that John had wasted time with over the years.

 So this was—fine. It was good.

 The vicar was speaking. Sherlock filtered out the words, let his gaze wander around the crowded church. No one was looking at him strangely, which meant he’d not missed any important cues.

 John was speaking. And Mary. Exchanging sentimental words, no doubt.

 Sherlock shut his eyes, then forced them open. He kept his face blank, impassive. He stared at the back of John’s head and thought about sliding his fingers through the short coarse hairs there.

 Someone gasped. A murmur ran through the crowd. It was not a happy sound, and Sherlock’s blood ran cold. He’d let his guard down. He’d let his mind wander, had let himself imagine impossible things, and now—

 He snapped back to full awareness, fresh data flooding in.

 No one was looking at him. Whatever the problem, he hadn’t caused it.

 There was a man standing up near the back of the church.

 Sherlock looked at him.

(sat near the back to facilitate hasty exit, ex-military, dress uniform, scarred face, all of which pointed to only one possibility: Major James Sholto)

 He’d done extensive research, of course, after Mary’s comment. He knew a good deal about the man (It was only prudent, after all—as Best Man he should be familiar with John’s guests). But none of his research would explain why the man seemed dead set on making a scene.

 No matter. The man was clearly deranged and would need to be escorted out of the church immediately before he dealt additional damage. He stepped forward to do just that, glancing towards John as he did so, and what he saw brought him up short.

 John looked shocked. No, more than shocked. Worse than shocked. He looked anguished. All of the blood had left his face. He’d withdrawn his hand from Mary’s, had clenched it into a tight fist.

 Sherlock hesitated, because he’d stood beside John on the brink of death more than once, and he could not recall ever seeing him make a face like that. The only thing that came close was—

 He shied away from the memory.

 The look on John’s face was not simply the expression of a man irritated at an interruption. It was the stricken look of a man suddenly faced with a ghost from the past, someone significant, possibly a lover.  

 But that was impossible. That would mean—

 The world tilted sideways. Sherlock breathed in, shut his eyes, let the facts rearrange themselves in his mind.

 Posh restaurant. Someone else’s bowtie around his neck, a fake moustache drawn crudely over his lip. Clean white shirt dragging stiff against the fresh dressings on his back. John, looking up from a table to finally meet his eyes. And his face—

 His face.

 He’d missed it. How had he missed it? He’d noted the effect his reappearance had had, of course, he wasn’t blind, and he’d gone ahead and classified that expression as hurt, but hurt was too simple, not nearly enough to cover the breadth of what John’s incredibly expressive face had conveyed with that look.

 And now—

 He snapped back to himself amidst the frantic muttering and humming of the crowd. John was gone from his side. Mary was gone too.

 He was alone at the altar.

 He scanned the crowd, but Sholto had disappeared. That told him nothing. Stupid. Stupid. He had no idea if Sholto had left or been escorted out or had disappeared somewhere with John. He’d wasted valuable time thinking about things he could not change and now—

 He darted up the aisle towards the doors, tried to deduce the most likely path John would have taken.

 The back rooms, of course. Where John put on his suit jacket and donned his hat, where he’d stood staring at himself in the mirror and carefully avoiding meeting Sherlock’s eye.

 And—oh—Sherlock had noticed, of course he’d noticed. But he’d thought: nerves, and he’d been preoccupied thinking about all of the ways his life would change and all of the ways that it wouldn’t.

 Alone. Always, always alone. And that was how he preferred it.

Wasn’t it?

 The door was shut. He opened it, perhaps a bit vigorously—it rebounded against the wall and swung back, almost striking him in the face.

 John and Sholto—not Mary, Sholto—snapped their heads up to look at him. They were standing close, very close, clearly they’d been deep in the midst of some serious discussion.

 John cleared his throat. His eyes were red-rimmed and a little wild.

 "Is everything all right?“ Sherlock asked, his voice flat, level. He shot a pointed look in Sholto’s direction.

 "Is everything—” John breathed, and then laughed. It was not a happy sound. “No. Everything is not bloody all right. Not by a mile.”

 "I am sorry,“ Sholto said, and to his credit he did look convincingly contrite. "I don’t know what came over me. I never should have come.”

 John laughed again, turned away from both of them. His hand clenched and unclenched rhythmically.

 "I think it’s best if I go,“ Sholto said to John’s rigid back. He glanced at Sherlock, then away. Then he nodded, a sharp little jerk of his chin (and there was enough of John in that motion that it nearly brought Sherlock to his knees), and left the room.

 Sherlock swallowed, waited for John to speak.

 Silence fell between them.

 "Shall I—tell the vicar you need a few moments?” he tried.

 John whirled around, his face contorted. “A few moments. You want to tell the vicar—Sherlock, what the hell is wrong with you?”

 That seemed to be a rhetorical question. Sherlock remained silent.

 "Where is Mary?“ John asked, finally.

 "I don’t know,” Sherlock admitted. He looked down at the ground, then rallied. “Would you like me to find her?”

 "No,“ John said, and the anger had bled out of his voice. "Not yet. Just—oh, fuck.”

 Sherlock watched him warily.

 "This is the sort of thing that happens in films,“ John said. There was a weary humour in his voice now. "Last minute declarations, and all that. It’s not nearly as romantic as they’d have you believe.”

 Romantic.

 Sherlock swallowed, nodded, though he had absolutely no idea what John was talking about.

 "Surely you’ve worked it out by now,“ John said. Bitterness had crept into his voice.

 "Your ex commander,” Sherlock said, speaking slowly. “And your… ex.”

 "Smartest man in the room, right here,“ John said. His mouth tightened.

 "And he was—hoping you still felt the same?”

 "He swears he didn’t meant to,“ John said. He looked up at the ceiling, shut his eyes. "That he’d fully intended to come and wish me well, but then he just—”

 Sherlock swallowed again. His face was hot. He very much wanted to flee. “I’ll go get Mary.”

 "Christ,“ John said. "No. Didn’t you hear me? I can't—not right now.”

 "She’ll be wondering what’s going on.“

 "It’s pretty obvious what’s going on.”

 "No,“ Sherlock said, feeling slow and helpless and stupid. "It’s very much not.”

 John looked at him. “What do you mean?”

 "Well,“ Sherlock said. "It’s your wedding day. An—old flame—” he nearly choked on the words, “—interrupted the ceremony in order to attempt to win back your favour.”

 John blinked, shook his head. He looked more amused than horrified, which seemed a step in the right direction.

 "As he’s left—" Sherlock said, and he offered an exaggerated glance around the empty little room, “I can only assume that you don’t return his affections. That whatever there was between you has—um—cooled. Naturally what should follow is a reaffirmation of the affections you do feel, for—um—the person you feel them for. In this case, Mary.”

 John smiled at him. It was a sad smile, which made very little sense.

 "Yeah,“ John said, finally, after far too much time had passed. He held Sherlock’s gaze. "Mary.”

 "Then I’ll just—" Sherlock turned towards the door, his heart in his throat.

 "Wait,“ John said.

 Sherlock stopped. He was trembling. He did not know why. He wished it would stop.

 "Did you know?”

 "Probably,“ Sherlock said, and then relented. "Did I know what?”

 "About him.“

 Sherlock’s mouth went dry. "No,” he admitted.

 "We were very close,“ John said. "For a while. And it was—yeah—it was wartime, you know? So everything was a bit—erm—”

 "Good,“ Sherlock said. He clapped his hands together. "Excellent. There’s no need for additional detail.”

 "But it’s over,“ John said. "Has been for—Christ, I haven’t even spoken to him in years. I don’t know why I invited him, seems a bit cruel now in retrospect, but I guess I just wanted to—I just wanted—”

 Sherlock waited.

 "Look, after things ended—um—I’m not good at this, yeah? You know that. I don't—I don’t talk about this stuff.“

 "With good reason.”

 John huffed a laugh, shook his head. “After—him. There’s only one person in my life that I’ve ever felt that strongly about,” John said. “And that’s not even—there’s no comparison, really.”

 "Mary Morstan,“ Sherlock said, and wasn’t this all getting a bit tedious? John was all set to marry the woman, obviously his feelings for her were stronger than whatever he’d shared with Sholto.

 "No,” John said, his voice so soft that it might have been a whisper. “Not exactly.”

 Sherlock’s hands shook. He folded them behind him, bounced on the balls of his feet. Frowned. “You’re not making sense. Have you been drugged?”

 "What? No,“ John said. He took a step forward, his face terribly earnest.

 Sherlock could smell him; cologne and flowers and nervous sweat.

 "Look,” John said. He licked his lips, looked away. “I’m not—if I'm—if this is. Um. Not something you want to hear, then I swear I’ll never mention it again. But this wedding is fucked anyway, and I just—”

 Sherlock tilted his head, watched him curiously.

 "Just—" John said. He clenched his fists, breathed out through his nose. “You,” he said.

 "Sorry?“

 ”You. It’s bloody you, all right? It’s always been you. From the first moment I saw you in that lab, and you just—you were just so—" John made a frustrated sound, looked away. “You were the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. Still are.”

 "John,“ Sherlock said, his voice emerging much too thin and shaky. "What, exactly, are you trying to say?”

 “Can’t you deduce it?“ John asked. "Do you really have to make me say it?”

 "I—"

 "Oh for—" John took another deep breath. “Look, I just have to know. Before I—before I do anything else. Do you think—did you ever think—that something might—that we might—”

 Sherlock blinked. Blinked again.

 John couldn’t be saying what it sounded like he was saying. He couldn’t be—

 The look on his face, that night at the Landmark.

 Sherlock shut his eyes, sucked in a shuddering breath. “I find the thought occupies a terrifying amount of my mind.”

 "Yeah?“ John’s voice had gone soft again. He sounded very close.

 Sherlock nodded. He did not open his eyes. "Yes.”

 "Okay,“ John said. His breath ghosted over Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock shivered. "Okay. Um. What are we—what, exactly, do you want to do about that?”

 Sherlock opened his eyes and froze. John’s face was only a few inches away.

 He had no idea what to do. What to say.

“I—” he said. He swallowed, tried again. “I—”

 "I’m going to call off the wedding,“ John said. He lifted his hand, pressed his palm against Sherlock’s cheek, just for a moment. His fingers were cool against Sherlock’s heated skin. "All right? And then we’ll talk.”

 "Are you sure?“

 "Yeah,” John said. There was a smile curving at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I'm—I’m sure.”

 "Oh,“ Sherlock said. He felt a bit breathless. "All right.”

 "All right,“ John echoed. He dropped his hand from Sherlock’s cheek, smiled. It was a bright smile, unfettered, joyful. It lifted years from his face. "All right, good.”

 "Should I—um—" Sherlock hesitated, looked around the room. His brain had not come back online and he felt sluggish, helpless.

 "Go home,“ John said. "This is going to take a while, I think, and, um. I’m going to want—” he paused, shook his head. He was still smiling. “I’ll see you there. At Baker Street.”

 "Home,“ Sherlock said.

 "Yeah,” John said. “Home.”