#she mostly gets in the way and causes more harm than good

[monsoon-of-art]

What is the lore between dragonfly and damselfly? Weirdgirl crush? Strangegirl yuri?

Damselfly is a spoiled trust fund influencer who loves loves loves attention.

During a Livestream, Dragonfly flew behind her and the chat completely turned their attention to Dragonfly, something that she couldn't stand

Using her wealth she built her own wings and goggles to try to become the *New* Dragonfly to get all the attention she wants

[luxaofhesperides]

Dancing in the rain ; requested by @wandixx!

He hadn’t been expecting the Signal to chase after him. It is, after all, well after midnight, and he had seen the vigilante out earlier during the day. 

Maybe the Bats are understaffed tonight, he muses as he leaps over the rooftops, a wild grin on his face. Being on the other side of a chase is a lot of fun, he’s discovering. He can see why Selina enjoys it so much.

Though, it probably has to do more with who’s chasing her than it is the chase itself.

But Danny’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie after a few years of being a hero, fighting ghosts and governments. He’s not a hero anymore, especially not in Gotham, but being Catwoman’s partner in crime is way more fun than being responsible for everyone’s safety.

It’s like he’s doing anything bad, either. Selina can steal whatever she wants; if they couldn’t protect things against her, then should they really have it? Danny doesn’t focus on jewelry or gems. No, he takes ghost artifacts or items contaminated with ectoplasm back to the realms where they won’t cause problems to any humans. There are enough ecto-contaminated people in this world, solely from Amity Park. Best not to let that number grow.

So here he is, leaping over rain-slicked rooftops and only using a little bit of flying to keep ahead, holding a cursed pocket watch that a ghost had requested he return to them, with the Signal chasing after him, disappearing into shadows and popping up unexpectedly. 

“Stray! Get back here!” Signal yells, and Danny takes a moment to spin on his heel to face the vigilante to stick his tongue out at him, then backflips away.

“I didn’t even steal anything important!” he returns, tossing the pocketwatch in the air ahead, then jumps up to catch it and scales his way up to the roof of the next building. 

“Seriously,” Signal says, suddenly in front of him. “Stop running and we can talk this out.”

“Woah!” Danny tries to get around him, trips over his own feet, and crashes into the Signal’s chest. 

“Careful, there.” He looks up to see the Signal’s smile, and he absolutely can not be blamed for having his half dead heart skip a beat. He’s in the arms of a hero who’s smiling at him so sweetly, what’s a guy to do? “Ready to talk now?”

Danny goes intangible for a moment, smoothly sliding out of the Signa’s grip. “Nope,” he grins, starting up the chase once again.

The rain isn’t very strong, and the drops feel cool against his face as he runs, getting a little more air with each jump as he uses more of his flight to keep ahead. He can hear the Signal chasing after him again, heavy footsteps that start and stop unpredictably as he travels between shadows. 

Just to be safe, Danny stashes the pocket watch inside his chest, leaving his hands free to grab onto the rough brick of the walls and scale them up, aiming to go higher and higher. Maybe if he finds a good building, he can dramatically fall off the edge and fly away invisibly. 

“Got you!” 

The Signal pops up out of the wall and grabs Danny, who yelps and tries to pull his arms away. The Signal is too strong, and his tight grip on Danny’s wrists is warm against the chill of the rain. 

They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other as they try to catch their breath. And then, “Is that any way to treat a guy?” Danny jokes, trying one last time to pull his wrists free.

“It is when it’s you,” the Signal replies. “Man, you sure know how to run.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume for my next heist.”

“Seriously, can we talk?”

Danny eyes him curiously. The other Bats mostly tried to take back whatever it is he’d stolen that night, occasionally trying to get information from him. None of them had outright asked to have a chat with him. The Signal at least has some manners, compared to the rest of him. There’s no harm in sticking around for one conversation.

It helps that the Signal is cute, especially when he had saved Danny a few weeks ago. 

Sue him, he’s a bit soft on the Signal. Wouldn’t anyone be with their favorite hero?

“Alright,” Danny says, relaxing. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“Great! Okay, um.” The Signal bites his lip and Danny should really look away, but his eyes are fixed to his mouth. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute, during which Danny really begins to feel the chill of the rain. “Can I get less comments from the peanut gallery?” he says suddenly.

“What?” Danny laughs, confused.

The Signal sighs. “My comms are on. The others are being annoying. If they wanted to ask you questions, they should have caught you first.”

“Oh, protecting me from the big bad Bats? My hero,” Danny says sweetly, pretending to swoon. Except, the Signal follows his movements, releasing his wrists to catch him by the waist, holding him steady. Danny’s breath hitches, and from how close they are, he has no doubt that the Signal heard it. They freeze for a moment, then the Signal dips him like some fainting Victorian maiden.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind sweeping you up in my arms.” The smirk on his face only lasts a moment before he grimace and says, “I shouldn’t have said that on open comms. Man, they’re annoying. It’s not my fault I know how to flirt.”

Danny…

Well. Danny short circuits for a moment, running the words over his mind again, then blushes so hard he’s sure there’s steam coming off his cheeks. “You’re flirting?” he squeaks. “With me?”

“Flirting,” a new voice confirms, making them both jump, stumbling against each other as Black Bat hops down onto their rooftop. “Both shy and silly. I’m better.”

“You can’t even ask out Spoiler,” the Signal retaliates.

“She can’t even WHAT?” Spoiler yells as she also vaults herself over the alley below to join them. “You want to ask me out?”

Though she doesn’t say anything, Danny can practically feel Black Bat’s glare through her mask. The Signal winces, then says, “Oops.”

“Man, you can keep yourself busy, clearly Sig doesn’t need backup,” Spoiler says. “I need to go on a date with Black Bat. The rest of you suckers are on your own!” And then she grabs Black Bat’s hand and grapples away.

There’s a beat of silence, then Danny and the Signal share a glance and start laughing. 

“Well,” Danny says, “Good for them! Good for them.”

“They’re probably just going to Bat Burger.”

“And are you going to be treating me to a burger any time soon? I should be compensated for this conversation, you know.”

“Please, if I was taking you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to Bat Burger. I’d take you out dancing.”

It sounds like a date his dad would take his mom on. It sounds nice. Danny smiles and leans in closer to the Signal, taking hold of one of his hands. With the other, he puts Signal’s hand on his waist, then brings his own up to the Signal’s shoulder. 

“Why not dance with me now?”

Danny leads them in a few clumsy turns of a waltz, silently thanking Sam for forcing him to take a few ballroom dance lessons with her. The Signal seems a little dazed, following his lead, and when he lightly squeezes Danny’s waist, he shivers. 

Catwoman should be done with Batman soon. They had agreed to meet up at the newly opened Vintage Boutique in Diamond District, and he intends to beat her there. 

Reluctantly, Danny pulls away from the Signal with one final spin, and hops up onto the edge of the roof. “If you can find me during the day,” he says, “Then I’ll dance with you again. See you around, Signal!”

And with that, Danny hops backwards off the roof, free-falling towards the ground before he lets gravity lose hold of him and slips into invisibility, flying up just as the Signal peers over the edge, searching for him.

Unable to help himself, Danny floats closer until he can give the Signal a quick kiss on the cheek, then flies off, grinning wildly. 

He certainly can’t wait to see the Signal again. 

Maybe if he hired a few guys to pretend to rough him up while Signal’s out patrolling…

Well, either way, this cat is already half dead so he can jump straight to satisfaction bringing him back. And, hopefully, back into Signal’s arms again when they won’t be interrupted by other Bats. 

He’s already looking forward to it.

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[noemilivv]

hiiii!! i was wondering if perchance i could request head canons or a one shot (whichever you see more fit) of how [character] is on their first date with [reader]

the characters im rlly invested in are alastor, vox, velvette, angel & husk 💗

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐨𝐱, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: i’m so sorry requests have been so slow, my show is almost done (closing night is today) so i’ll be able to get to requests after that!! and i tried to make this a bit longer than my normal pieces so i hope i did okay? we’re almost at 700 btw so tysm for that <3

warnings: profanity, mentions of sex in vox’s part (no smut), mentions of valentino, implied!masc reader in angel’s section — the rest are gn

proofread: no 😔

tags: x reader, alastor, husk hazbin hotel, angel dust, headcanons, the vees

𝐯𝐨𝐱

vox would probably enjoy a night in the most, honestly, fans can irk him a fair bit, and he wants tonight to be about you and him alone

he’d probably get some of his more decent employees to be like waiters, and let’s be real, even if you were only in vox’s quarters, you both would still be dolled up

seeing as this is only the first date, vox’s “show host” persona is still very present, he’s not ready to let his walls down quite yet, he’ll sit there and boast about how fucking amazing he is for most of the date

but you’d be surprised, when you speak, vox won’t shut down anything you’d say, he’s an extremely good listener — it mainly comes from how he has to listen to boring meetings, even when he doesn’t want to, but as much as he won’t admit it, he could listen to you talk anyday

when the end of the date comes, you’re either gonna end up spending the night at his, whether it ends in sex with him or falling asleep on the couch together in the middle of a movie is a bit of a 50/50

OR he’s gonna end up driving you home, mainly because he doesn’t enjoy just walking about the streets of hell, because so many people come up to him, and also cause he doesn’t want to risk putting you in harms way, but also because he wants to flex his fancy ass car…

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭

like vox, he’d also probably enjoy a date in a more private settings — due to the type of fans he has, the contract he’s under, along with many other things

but angel has a preference for more relaxed dates, he’d bring you into his room the hotel and end up having a massive sleepover — movies, skincare, gossip seshs, etc. whatever you ask for, he’ll give ya!!

after valentino, i can see angel only really taking interest in people who he’s known for a long time/has a strong bond with — so considering the fact that he’s most likely known you for a long time, this is probably when he’s gonna be more affectionate — possible cuddles, kisses, etc

but even with that, angel really considers first dates as a ‘get to know you’ sorta thing, so he wants to hear all about you, and share stories with you about him as well! you two will probably play games like 21 questions or truth or dare but with mostly truths 😭🙏

honestly, angel will probably spend more time telling you about molly (his sister) then himself, he misses her a lot, and she was one of the biggest parts of him and he loves telling you stories about them together in their lifetime

𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

in contrast to vox, she would love to go out somewhere for a first date, more specifically, the mall! she may end up treating the first date as more a girls trip, but trust me, it isn’t her way of friend zoning you in the slightest!!

the stores in the mall that she’d most likely wanna hit up are the clothing stores and makeup stores (duh)

she’d try on a bunch of fits for you in a ‘fashion run-way’ kind-of manner and force outfits into your arms and rush you to do the same

and in makeup stores, she’d grab a bunch of lip-oil testers and swatch them on your arm and see which ones she thinks look the best — and she’d also try to find your foundation shade match or something like that

then you goes would probably stop at a food court and she would sit there and just yap, i can see velvette as a big rambler, she can be very expressive with her words, especially when it comes to her passion topics, so she really grows to appreciate you if you decide to hear her out

and side note; if you guys run into one of her fans, she’ll make sure you see it, she needs you to know how fucking hot and famous she is

the both of you will probably stay until the mall is about to close, and then you’ll walk her home, but don’t worry, she’ll give you a small kiss for being so good ~

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤

honestly, husk would kinda be at loss a for what to do for a ‘date’ — it’s been a long damn time since he’s been romantically interested in someone, so he’s not too sure where to start

he’ll end up going to charlie for help, or angel, and he ends up deciding to take you out to a small diner that’s just a stroll away from the hotel

it’s not great there by any means, but it’s not bad, but more importantly, it’s safe, and that’s all he really wants for you

you two will spend most of the time conversing in conversation, nothing too crazy or life changing, but simple ice breakers here and there, husker is more awkward than you may think

despite the fact that he thinks it’s so fucking stupid, he takes charlie’s idea to share a smoothie with you, which ends up back-firing as he takes a sip and it goes through and up your straw and splatters onto your face

and you can’t help but blush as he gets a little too close to you as he wipes the smoothie off of your face with a few napkins…

𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫

alastor is a gentlemen, who aims to please, so he has a number of activities for you that are bound to blow you out of the water, even if the idea is simple on paper

first, he starts off by taking you out to dinner, the fanciest restaurant he could find, you both are dressed up to a tee

he makes sure to feed you every last bite of your food, treating you like a pet, its so sickeningly sweet you didn’t whether to be slightly offended or swoon right then and there

then he takes you out to a nice park, even if it’s already dark out, and he’ll have you on his arm and take a simple stroll with you, the attention is fully on you and he won’t shy away from giving you all the praise possible

shortly after, alastor will get his staff and play some gentle jazz music as you both sway under the hellish stars on what seems to be such a blissful night ~

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

[imbored1201]

Hello may I request teen lionesses reader who is very naughty off the field but an amazing player on the pitch and Leah always has to deal with her ..the reader also plays for barca.thabk you

The Photos

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Lionesses x Teen Reader

It was her first camp back, and all Leah wished for was for you to be on your best behavior. She should have known that was never going to happen. She had even gotten a warning from Lucy and Keira that you were acting out more than usual. Lucy and Keira always got the front row seats to your actions. 

She had a whole folder of videos Lucy took of you apologizing for your actions. Then a bunch of messages from Alexia, telling her everything you did. She knew you were taking advantage of the fact that you wouldn’t be seeing her for a very long time. Millie mostly ignored your mischief, just warning you to leave her and Rachel alone. 

Sarina let you have your fun as long as you weren’t causing drama or physical harm. Overall, your little pranks weren’t harmful; Alessia and Toone did tend to be overly dramatic when you pranked them. When you dumped water on Ella, she acted like she was being burned alive. 

————

"Give it back," Leah sighed, hearing Alessia's yells. "Y/N, give it back!" She yelled, not even bothering to get up and check what was going on. She heard more giggling, and soon you were jumping on her lap. 

"Stop being mean to Alessia," Leah scolded. "I didn't do anything; she's a baby." You smiled at the look she gave you. You loved getting a reaction out of Leah. 

“Y/N, behave. Do I need to get Alexia to give you another talk?” "No,” you mumbled, giving back the phone. 

“Lessi never wants to hang out with me." Leah rolled her eyes. She knew it was just an act to make yourself look innocent. “Maybe stop messing with her and hang out with her like a normal person,” you hummed, starting to think of a plan. “Okay” 

————

You smiled to yourself as you knocked on Alessia’s door. You somehow convinced Sarina to tell you.

“Why are you here?” You quickly pushed your way inside, jumping on her bed. “Please. What do you want from me?” You ignored her, grabbing the controller to find a good movie. 

“Please text Leah and tell her I’m with you,” she shook her head, storming outside. “Leah!” You groaned and chased after her, tackling her. 

“I want to watch movies with you,” she huffed, pushing you off her. “You're not up to anything?” You looked her straight in the eyes and shook your head. 

“Fine, but one little move, and I’m calling Leah.” You shrugged and went back inside to watch TV, watching as Less ignored your presence and only paid attention to her phone. 

“I forgot my phone,” you told her. She looked up at you for a second, then back to her phone. “Then go get it." “I’m not allowed to be awake at this time; Leah is already going to be mad that I came here without telling her.” 

“Right, it's your bedtime. Child,” you huffed, snatching her phone away. “Y/N, I swear." “Please get my phone,” she sighed, and got up. 

"Oh, and can you also go get snacks? I heard Lotte convince the lady at the front desk to hide a bunch for her.” “Are you serious?” You nodded and smiled at the way Lessi’s eyes lit up. 

“Just tell her Lotte asked you to get some for a movie night." Alessia nodded, quickly leaving the room to get everything over with. 

————

The password was easy. It was just her birthday. You went to Tooney’s contact, getting into the photos section. You knew about the little war they had going on during the United Days. 

You giggled when you found the ugly photos. Photos that weren’t allowed to go out to the public. They had a contract about it. You could take the ugliest photos, but you weren’t allowed to post them. 

Then you proceeded to delete the messages between you and Alessia on her phone that mostly consisted of all the tiktoks you sent her, even though you never got a reply. 

You kept an innocent smile on when she walked back in, holding a bunch of snacks and throwing them on the bed. 

“Here are your snacks; if Lotte finds out, we are blaming it on Toone.” You nodded and snatched your favorite candy before Less would grab it. “Please don’t fall asleep first, like always,” you scoffed. “I never do, and I won't.” 

Soon enough, you were passed out on her bed while she tried to make the floor as comfortable as possible to sleep on. 

Surprisingly, you woke up before Alessia. She didn’t want to share a bed because of the last sleepover. She claimed you kept kicking in your sleep. Even though she had a bruise to prove it, you still refused to believe her. 

————

You giggled to yourself as you made your way to eat with the team. “Leah!” You yelled happily when you saw your best friend coming out of her room, and you quickly made an attempt to jump on her back. You pouted when she moved out of the way and tripped you. 

“What the fuck" She glared at you. “Watch your language,” you muttered a sorry. “I would tell you not to say it again, but we both know you will.” She still gave you a piggyback ride. 

“I won't say it again." “Stop lying, kid; it’s bad." You held yourself back from saying something dumb. Leah was already annoyed, and it was going to get worse once Alessia saw what you did. “I won't lie again.” 

Leah stayed silent, knowing you were most likely going to lie about something in the next 10 minutes. 

————

You sat next to Lucy, ranting to her about some new celebrity crush of yours while she pretended to listen. At times, she found your ranting cute; other times, she wanted to strangle you to shut you up. 

“Y/N!” You jumped hearing your name being yelled. “Who yelled my name?” You asked Lucy, “Sounded like Less.” You relaxed at that; as long as it wasn’t Leah or Sarina, you were fine. 

You shrieked as you saw Alessia running at you full force, looking like she was going to tackle you. Before she could, Millie grabbed her. 

"How did you get these?!” She waved the phone in front of your face, you took it, starting to giggle at all the terrible pictures that you posted. 

“I don’t know,” you tried, knowing you were caught but wanting to annoy Alessia more. 

"What did we talk about yesterday?" You huffed at hearing Leah’s voice. There goes all the fun. 

"Lying is bad." Leah nodded. "Tell the truth." You looked to Lucy for help, who just shrugged at you and continued to eat. 

"I'll tell Alexia." Keira threatened you. "I did it." Alessia groaned, "How did you even get these?” “The messages between you and Tooney” 

“How did you figure out my password?” She wanted to be mad, but it was pretty impressive how fast and quiet you moved around about this. Usually it was easy to tell when you were up to something. 

“You told me before; it's your birthday,” she shook her head. “I would never do that.” "Well, you did.” You hugged Leah as Alessia advanced towards you. 

“At least she knows your birthday.” You nodded at Lucy’s words, holding onto Leah tight. “Everyone knows my birthday, it only takes a quick search.” Alessia sighed in frustration. 

“Delete it” She tried to peel you away from Leah, which only made you hold on tighter. “Less, it’s been up for an hour; I’m sure everyone has taken screenshots, and they're being posted everywhere. Look, some people already have them as their profile pictures.” Toone couldn't hold back her laugh as she clicked on some of the profiles. 

“Come here,” she pulled you harder, and you squealed, jumping on Leah. "Leah, please,” you giggled as Alessia started tickling your sides.

“Okay, give me the kid; I can’t let you murder her." You clung onto Lucy as she grabbed you and pulled you away from Alessia. 

"Well, tell your kid to behave. Leah, tell her." Leah sighed and grabbed your shoulder. “Apologize” before you could say something snarky. Leah showed you Alexia’s contact. 

“I’m sorry” Leah nodded and put away the phone again. “Thank you for apologizing, I know it’s hard for you.” You smiled at the praise, sticking your tongue out at Alessia, who looked angrier seeing how you just got away with ruining her life so quickly. 

“Now please, let us eat in peace, and Lucy will tell Alexia you were very good." Lucy nodded in agreement and watched as you sat down. 

“What about me?” You giggled at Alessia, who was now being dragged away by Tooney. “You set yourself up by letting her into your room in the first place.” 

“Extra laps” You stared at Leah, trying to see if she was joking or not. You looked at Lucy, who just shrugged and continued to eat. 

You really didn’t care; it was worth it, in your opinion. 

[silhouetteonpaper]

Public Figure

Summary: The world wants to know all about you as the newest addition to the Avengers. But what happens when a normal interview session digs up something you’ve never told a soul… not even Natasha? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,616 Warnings: Mentions of killing

“A new addition to the Avengers leaves the city on the edge of their seats as we all wait to hear more about this young recruit. A public Q&A with the new Avenger in question is set to take place this week. Stay tuned for more coverage on all things current…”

You turn the volume of the TV down, your commitment to attending this public event starting to fill you with regret. It’s been a week of officially being a part of the team, and to say the city is going crazy would be an understatement.

“How’re you feeling?” Natasha sits down beside you on the couch, eyeing the TV as the newscaster spews more words about you and the rest of the team.

You shrug, rubbing your forehead to try and push away the increasing stress. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.” She consoles you, but you’re aware she doesn’t know the real reason why you’re so anxious about the whole ordeal.

“What if the world isn’t ready for… someone like me?” You ask, partially rhetorically—but something in you hopes Nat has a real answer. The city has created turmoil over certain Avengers in the past, and the last thing you want is to cause commotion. All you’re trying to do is save the world, which you’d think would make everyone like you. Unfortunately, it’s never that simple.

Natasha takes a deep breath, seeming to search her brain for the right words. “Look, it’s up to you how you present yourself, but you can’t control how everyone else sees you. I know for a fact you’ve done so much good here, and that’s all I care about.” Nat offers you a smile.

You wish you could return it, but something inside you churns with guilt. “What about my past? All those records… someone’s likely to dig them up. It’ll make me look like the monster I used to be—or maybe still am…” You become lost in your own thoughts, the idea of someone digging up your past haunting your present.

A part of you has never let go of the person you used to be, in the off chance someone betrays your trust or sets you up for failure. You’re physically a different person now, making great waves with the Avengers, doing good all around the world—but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about the person you left behind before moving into the compound.

“If they go low enough to do that to you, we can deal with it,” Natasha’s continued support pulls you out of your thoughts. “You know I understand that better than anyone. Do I look worried?” She raises her eyebrows.

You finally smile, shaking your head. “No, but that’s not fair because you never look worried.”

“Because there’s nothing to be worried about.”

The day of the event finally arrives, and you’re already on the verge of a breakdown. Natasha has prepped everything ahead of time so you wouldn’t have to use extra energy, starting with the freshly ironed outfit hanging in your closet.

You feel mostly prepared when it’s time to drive over to the venue, two of your biggest supporters right at your side. Tony and Natasha are even more ready than you are, the pair ready to defend any harmful questions and comments.

As great as it is to have such powerful people at your side, it only does so much to aid the growing nerves inside you. “Breathe. This’ll be over before you know it. We just need to answer some questions, let them get to know you, and then we’ll go celebrate.” Natasha explains with a calm voice.

You only manage to nod as you worry talking will expel all the air in your lungs. As soon as the sleek van arrives outside the tall pillared building, you’re greeted by a storm of paparazzi camera flashes. Nat warned you about this, but nothing could have prepared you for the intense crowd shoving cameras and microphones your way.

Tony attempts to hold off the extra pushy photographers, but he can only do so much swimming upstream. As soon as you make it into the building, there’s no time to take a breath as a crowd of important looking people sit staring directly at you.

Breath. Natasha mouths, offering yet another warm smile. You take a deep breath, heading forward with one foot in front of the other.

A facilitator guides the three of you to a table on a raised stage, the perfect amount of room for three to sit at the microphone-filled surface. You find a spot right in the middle, knowing exactly what’s coming the second you sit down.

“Question!”

“Over here!

“Miss, question!”

A caucus of voices fills the room, soon being silenced as the facilitator calls on one. “Ma’am, please describe to us the superhuman capabilities you bring to the team.”

You swallow thickly while leaning into the bouquet of microphones. “Well, uhm… I can manipulate energy. Turning off lights, powering machines, emitting beams of light… uh, yeah.” You lean back, taking another deep breath.

The sudden eruption of voices makes you jump, the facilitator following the same routine and calling on another person. “Does the team feel that these abilities have the possibility to be dangerous?”

You knew it was coming, a question like this. Natasha sees your frozen state and is quick to comment before you have the chance. “Anyone can be dangerous with the wrong intentions. We wouldn’t have recruited her if we didn’t feel she was a great asset. Not only is she doing well in training, she’s exceeding our original expectations.” You nod at her in thanks, getting one in return.

“What do you have to say about the murder of Jean Ridley?” An interviewer juts in. Your mouth goes dry, any response unable to form. The cacophony of voices fills the room as you go completely quiet. Jean Ridley, the young girl who was just trying to live her life, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Back when you were on your streak of crime—before the Avengers took you in—you wouldn’t hesitate to demolish anything in your path to succeed. Including the little girl who didn’t even know what she was a part of. In an attempt to terminate a larger target, Jean just happened to be a casualty. An even larger casualty than you realized at the time.

“I implore you to ask our newest recruit questions about her current position, otherwise we’re done here.” Natasha’s voice brings you back from the overflowing guilt spreading across your mind like wildfire. You slide your hands under the table as they begin to shake, attempting to press them against your thighs before anyone has a chance to see the weak criminal that somehow made it onto the team.

Natasha looks at you and nods, her gaze quickly darting to your hands before she places her own on top. The shaking is soothed, but your nerves aren’t. The crowd of voices continues as the flood of worry destroys your mind. Everyone knows your past now, and there’s nothing you can do to hide it.

The rest of the interview session goes as smooth as it could have, the last of the inappropriate questions ending when Tony finally threatened to expose every document the council is holding, his defense being ‘if I can find it, it’s public information.’

The drive home is silent, but that’s not to say you don’t feel the pressure of Natasha’s eyes on you the whole way back. As soon as you arrive at the compound, you make a swift escape to your room. The only thing you want is to hide yourself from the rest of the world, your entire past seeming to chase you back into the dark abyss you came from.

The second your door slams shut, the noise stops. All the voices in your head screaming you’re a monster, you’ll never be a hero, get trapped in the hallway. The silence is peaceful, no shouting interviewers or civilians with snide questions. Just you and the cold surface of the door on your back.

But it’s unfortunately short lived as a soft knock sounds. You move away from the door, already guessing the person standing on the other side. The overwhelming tornado of insecurities topples into your room as the Widow walks in, a concerned expression painted on her face.

You already know what’s coming, a long winded pep-talk about how you’re more than your past. You don’t even bother lifting your head when Natasha bends down beside you.

“Look,” Her sudden firmness takes you by surprise. “What they said was wrong, but you can’t control what others say or do. You can either sit here and weep, or get out there and prove to them they’re wrong.”

Natasha’s words leave you speechless as your gaze slowly finds her. She’s looking directly at you, her green eyes warm yet expression stern. That’s when you realize you don’t have a choice.

Again and again, Natasha has directed you onto the best path. From recruiting you for the Avengers, to training you, to avoiding utter chaos in the face of the public eye—Nat’s proved she knows what she’s talking about.

“I know it’s hard to keep moving forward when the entire world is trying to paint you as something you’re not, but the only thing you can do is show them who you really are.” She affirms, her eyes still stuck on you.

And in this moment, you know she’s right. There’s no reason to sit here in self pity, rehashing the past that won’t ever just disappear no matter how hard you shove it down. The only thing you can do—the only thing left to do—is prove them all wrong. To show them the hero you can truly be.

[beatrixstonehill2]

Alice confidently took the pad her father handed her. "Go on, you're due for a new upgrade, sweetie."

"Again already?" You could hear her getting tired of constant enhancements. "These options are all so gigantic!"

"I know, pumpkin, your insurance switched to that new company, remember I texted you? They focus on more experimental surgeries."

"Daddy, my boobs are going to pop if you put these things in me! Look at these things, they're bigger than beach balls. 'Rupture Max Saline Expanders, designed with thrill in mind. Treat your wife or daughter or best employee to our biggest implant yet, designed to look as heavy and round and fake as possible, telling everyone who sees them that the special girl in your life doesn't have breasts, she has luxury play-things to maximize male pleasure. Rupture Max Implants are easy to replace and designed to burst at the height of pleasure and pressure, whether during bondage or just a stern groping, your special someone will know any time, anywhere, her new gifts might burst, whether from being a bit too close on a crowded subway, or being crammed into a busy elevator. You'll get to see her sweat, knowing her new play things are as massive as they are fragile."

"Well, er.... that could be fun, right?"

"Daddy, I'm a yoga instructor, I have to lie on my chest constantly."

"Oh well, it sounds like it'll just be an exciting quirk of your new tits. Like I told you, these upgrade programs are the cheapest way for girls to afford big breasts. I think it's mostly been a plus, don't you?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "I was a B-Cup, and just wanted to go to a full D. Not I'm a LL."

"And soon you'll be a SS-Cup or bigger! What's the harm? Massive breasts suit you."

"You think so, Daddy? I do kind of like the attention, even if getting groped in public constantly does get old.... You really think I'll look good with these? I'm kind of nervous about them bursting."

Her dad took the tablet, scrolling down. "Oh, look, this is what happens when they burst."

He handed her the tablet back, showing a video of a gorgeous young blonde with the giant Rupture Max implants in. She smiled big, putting up two peace signs as a couple muscular guys with baseball bats gave her tits a few good whacks. A loud popping sound happening, and her left breast went from big and full and round, to saggy, drooping to her knee, full of saline. She spun, smiling, flaunting her saggy udder, placing her hands on her hips, pouting at the men with the bats. They took the hint and gave her other implant a couple more whacks. It burst, drooping like her other breast. She jumped up and down, causing them to swing and smack together, looking like a pair of extremely saggy natural breasts.

Alice's eyes widened. She blushed, scrolling back up. "You, um, wouldn't mind if I selected the biggest option, right daddy?"

"Not at all, pumpkin."

"Replacements are free..... I think we're going to have a lot of fun together with these.... if you don't mind popping your daughter's boobs in public for fun."

"Sounds like the best gift a dad could ask for."

[girlgenius1111]

we don't have to talk about it

part 2 of cool about it because you're all depressed

warnings: heavy descriptions of depression + depressive thoughts. self harm. maybe we'll make reader go to therapy in the next installment.

also i didn't proofread this purely so i can read it before bed and feel all warm and fuzzy inside

Alexia made a conscious effort to be more attentive to your mood, noticing highs and lows. You still struggled to let her in, and tell her when you weren't doing well, but it was improving. Mostly because of how persistent she was.

Alexia knowing, and just being there, was so helpful. It had been so long since you'd really struggled, and things were going well in your life, generally, so it caught you off guard when things started to worsen.

It was a few months after Alexia really learned about the depths of you mental health struggles, and both of you were incredibly busy. So busy, in fact, that neither of you really noticed that you weren't doing well. You chalked up your low energy to exhaustion from the season, and stress, and Alexia didn't think to question it.

It only hit you, what was really going on, when the Alexia left on national duty, and you remained in Barcelona. While England had been eliminated from the Nations League, you still had friendlies to play, but you'd picked up a minor concussion, and stayed behind, not wanting to risk anything for a friendly.

10 days without Alexia was not something you were looking forward too, and 10 days without Alexia, while you couldn't practice, sounded pretty awful. Maybe this is what caused your slump, or maybe it was some combination of the concussion and being alone with nothing to do. Or maybe, it was just something that happened.

You liked to think you had the depression beat, completely managed. Trying to find a cause to attribute your low mood too was your way of convincing yourself that you were fine. Normally it worked.

A few days after Alexia left, you realized what was going on. You had returned from dropping her at the airport, immediately falling asleep on the couch. You normally didn't nap, only when you weren't feeling right, so when you woke up a few hours later, you were already suspicious. This suspicion only remained over the next couple days, growing with each irritating symptom.

Leaving the house was an ordeal. You tried to get out everyday, you really did, but everything made your head hurt, and it was so much easier to stay in. And you were so, so, tired. Exhaustion that settled in your bones, that didn't fade even marginally, no matter how much you slept. You found yourself stressing over simple things, like what to reply to Alexia's good morning text, or what to eat for lunch. You made excuses for why you couldn't spend time with your teammates that had also remained in Barcelona, because none of them were Alexia, and Alexia was all you wanted.

You just didn't feel right. All you wanted to do was lay down and do nothing. Something within you ached, and you couldn't get rid of it. And with the ache, came insecurity. All the progress you'd made, letting Alexia see this part of you, vanished as soon as things got a little harder than normal. You had a lot of time to think, and think you did. About how sure you were that Alexia really didn't wan't to deal with this, with you like this.

Part of you wanted her, desperately, and the other part wouldn't allow it. It was so confusing, like all your emotions were contradicting each other. As a result, you pulled back a little. Answering her texts with shorter responses, making excuses about why you couldn't call. You told yourself that it was because you wanted her to focus on the games she was playing. Really, it was because you knew the minute she talked to you for more than 5 minutes, she'd know something wasn't right.

You were used to the decent into feeling worthless when you were depressed. It had never quite been this bad before; the regular feelings seemed to combine with the immense guilt you felt. Guilt for not letting Alexia in, and for letting her in too much. For not being strong enough to go 10 days without her, just 10 days, without completely collapsing. The guilt made you feel worse, until it was almost unbearable. Until it was unbearable. That was around day 7.

Day 9 was when you did the thing you promised yourself that you would never do again. You couldn't help it, really. Everything in your brain was screaming at you that you weren't good, weren't trying hard enough, weren't good enough at anything.

In hindsight, maybe trying to get rid of guilt by doing something that had, historically, made you feel incredibly guilty, was not the best plan. With each cut, the guilt weighing on you grew, until it stopped. Until there was nothing, you felt nothing, except the sharp sting on your thigh. You finally had a moment of peace, but it didn't last long.

Because, fuck, Alexia was going to be home tomorrow. Perfect, sweet Alexia, who took herself so seriously, and who blamed herself whenever anything went wrong.

You didn't cry, you didn't think you could, but you wanted to. As you disinfected and bandaged your thigh, you wished that you would feel the sting of tears in your eyes, but none came. Tears would have been a sign that you were coming out of this, whatever was happening to you.

You went to bed that night, not setting an alarm because you didn't need to get Alexia from the airport until the afternoon. You drifted off, buried on her side of the bed, wearing only her clothes, clinging to her pillow desperately. Every movement you made stung your leg, and you were reminded of what you'd done to yourself. You couldn't remember the last time it had been this bad, this heavy, this incapacitating. Your last thoughts before you fell asleep was how the hell you were going to keep this from Alexia.

-----

Alexia wasn't really sure what was going on. You'd seemed fine when she left, concussed and tired, but fine. As the days passed, she noticed you pull away. It was a busy break, and she had meetings on top of training and games. Her little free time was spent worrying, wondering if you were mad at her. It was the only thing she could think of, because you'd been so good about telling her when you weren't feeling right.

Her worry had grown so much that her friends got tired of how distracted she was, and told her to just fly back early if she was so concerned.

She only landed a few hours earlier, in the morning, getting an uber to your guys' apartment. Alexia was sure she'd find you mad at her, about something, and was prepared to do anything to fix it. What she wasn't expecting was to find you sitting on the couch, wrapped in one of her blankets, staring at the door as she walked in as if she'd caught you cheating on her or something.

"Ale?" you wondered, "I- I was gonna get you from the airport. Later. What are you doing here?"

Something wasn't right. You weren't mad, which she would've preferred to the empty look on your face. Normally when you guys reunited, even after only a couple days apart, you greeted her with a hug, and kisses. You were sitting, frozen, on the couch though.

"I came earlier, I missed you," she said, watching carefully as she spoke. "Can I have a hug, amor?"

At that, you seemed to realize that Alexia really was here, right in front of you, and you launched yourself off the couch, around the coffee table, and into her arms.

"Oof- hola mi bebé," she said, catching you in her arms with a huff. You clung to her, desperately, and she returned the embrace, as you buried your face in her chest. She was startled to feel that you were trembling slightly in her embrace. She tightened her arms around you, pressing a kiss to your head, before pulling away, and cradling your face with her hands.

"What's wrong? You're shaking."

"Just a long week. I missed you." You replied, but you wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Okay... if you say so. I need to shower. Want to join me?" She asked, hoping to distract you from whatever was wrong. She was well versed in how to get you to talk, and distracting you until she could catch you off guard was one sure way.

Alexia watched as your face brightened slightly, and you opened your mouth to say yes. Suddenly though, a look of panic crossed your face, your mouth snapped shut, and you shook your head.

"No, I... No I don't feel like showering." You told her shakily. You winced internally, realizing you probably could have come up with a better excuse than that. You couldn't shower with her though, couldn't let her see you. See what you'd done. She'd been with you through a lot, but never this. Never with something this bad.

Alexia was looking at you, very carefully. As different explanations for why you wouldn't want to shower with her flew through her head, an explanation that covered how panicked you had been when you said no, she settled on a clear answer. One that made her heart sink, and one that explained your odd behavior the past 10 days.

You knew you were caught, the look on her face told you that she'd put it together. She softened, looking at you so gently, it made you want to collapse into her arms.

"Mi amor-" She started, but you interrupted.

"I have to go. I have an errand to run, I need to go," You said, because you couldn't deal with this. You just couldn't. You tried to head for the door, but Alexia's grip on you was strong, one hand holding your wrist, the other wrapping around your waist, pulling you into her.

"No, bebé, I need you to stay here," she cooed into your ear and you shook your head frantically.

"No, Ale, please, I need to go," you said, struggling against her, and she felt tears pooling in her eyes at the desperation with which you spoke. Alexia didn't respond, simply kissing your cheek a few times until she felt you go limp in her arms, abandoning your fight.

Alexia picked you up easily, cradling you in her arms, and made her way to your bedroom. As she walked in, she noticed that your side of the bed was untouched. On her pillow, one of her sweatshirts was crumpled there, as if you'd been holding it as you slept. She didn't understand why you hadn't called her. You'd clearly needed her, desperately, but you'd suffered in silence. She set you down on the edge of the bed, and you stared at the floor.

Kneeling in between your legs, she looked up at you. "Y/n, what happened?" She asked carefully.

"I don't know. It just got so out of control and I didn't know what else to do." You replied, still refusing to meet her eyes. She wanted to shout that you could have called her, could have asked her for help. That wouldn't do anything, though, so she just nodded.

"Come shower with me, please. Then we can just hangout until you're ready to talk," she said, and you knew there was no other option. You nodded, and she stood, tilting your chin up to press a sweet kiss to your lips. "I love you." She told you, figuring that you might need to hear it.

"I love you too." you replied, giving her a weak smile.

Alexia took your hand, and led you into the bathroom. She turned the shower on, setting it to the exact temperature you would have, and your heart clenched at the small gesture. She turned back to you, and you felt your lip start to tremble, knowing what you needed to do.

"Mi niña bonita, it's going to be okay, I promise." She said, noticing the tears in your eyes. She gently tugged your top and bra off, trailing kisses down your chest and stomach as she kneeled in front of you. There was nothing sexual about the actions, she was simply trying to bring you any comfort she could. She rested her hands on the waistband of the sweatpants you had on, looking up at you, waiting for you to be ready.

"Are you mad?" you asked, squeezing your eyes shut.

"No. I'm not mad, I could never be mad. Not for this," she promised, and you opened your eyes, looking down at her. She was looking up at you, green eyes wide with such sincerity, you nodded, giving her the go ahead.

Alexia tugged your pants and underwear down together, carefully lifting the waistband over the bandage on your thigh. She worked to keep her face neutral, which was hard. The brown bandage covered up so much of your thigh, all of your old scars were covered by it. She bit her lip, trying to withhold her emotions for now. You needed her, which she was reminded when she looked back up at you, to see you staring at the ceiling.

"Amor, can I take this off?" she asked. Now that she knew you had clearly properly cared for the cuts, she didn't need to take the bandage off, and she wouldn't make you. She wanted to see, though, see how bad it was. She had to know, if she was going to be able to help. One cut was a lot different than ten.

You looked back down at her, taking a second before answering. everything in you was telling you to say no, but hiding things hadn't been working so well. It was what got you on the bathroom floor with a razor blade yesterday, and now, with your girlfriend kneeled at your feet, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your thigh.

"I'll do it," you told her, taking a deep breath. You reached your hands down from where they held tight to the counter, ignoring the way they shook. You tugged on the bandage, not bothering to be gentle as you peeled it off. You wouldn't look, you couldn't. You heard Alexia's intake of breath at the sight, and you felt a tear drop from your face. You felt something featherlight touch the partially healed cuts, and you looked down on instinct. Alexia was placing a light kiss on every cut, and you couldn't hold back anymore.

Letting out a sob, you cried harder than you had in a long time. "I'm sorry, Ale, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." Alexia was up in a flash, cradling you against her as you cried. Her hands rubbed up and down your bare back as she spoke quietly in your ear.

"It's okay, you don't need to be sorry, mi amor. I love you. It's all going to be okay. Estoy aquí, no voy a ninguna. Te tengo, para siempre," she murmured.

She got you to stop crying, if only slightly, and pulled you into the shower, after taking her own clothes off. It was a blur, you knew she washed your hair, and you knew she was talking to you the whole time, but suddenly, you were sitting on the bed again, and she was carefully wrapping up your thigh.

"Feel okay?" she asked, once she'd secured the bandage on. You told her it did and she sent you a soft smile, before pulling clothes on you both. Alexia gave you your favorite sweatshirt of hers, an old Barca crewneck, and herself pulled on one of yours, a grey, ripped and faded hoodie, that she swore was the softest thing you owned.

Carefully, she brushed your hair out, tying it back in a loose braid, knowing you hated when your wet hair got your shirt all wet. She brushed through her own hair quickly, not daring to leave your side. It was silent as she did so. You were truly astounded with the level of care with which she was treating you. It made you feel like the thoughts that had been swirling around your brain for days might be wrong.

Alexia made the bed, then, knowing you preferred to lay on top of the covers with a blanket during the day, before laying down, and opening her arms for you to join her. You crawled up the bed, settling down with your back to her chest, lacing your fingers with hers, and pulling her arms to wrap around your body.

It was calming, feeling the rise and fall of your girlfriend's chest under you, feeling her chin rest lightly on the top of your head. Alexia wasn't sure what to say, where to start. She had so many questions. Luckily, it had seemed you'd found your voice, as you spoke.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you it was bad again," you rasped, throat somewhat raw from crying.

"Why didn't you?" she questioned.

"It wasn't on purpose at first. And then suddenly it was so bad and I didn't want you to know. I was worried it would be too much. I felt so guilty, like I was letting you down by not calling, but like I couldn't burden you with it."

Alexia hummed in response, thinking carefully about her next words. "Bebé, did you really think I'd be mad at you?"

"Yeah. When I get like this, I just. Convince myself that I'm not good enough for you, and I'm so scared that if I mess up, you'll leave."

"I'm not leaving. Ever. No matter what," she promised. "Can you tell me why? What were you thinking that made you do that to yourself?" You took a deep breath at her words, and you felt her arms tighten around you, just slightly.

"I felt like a bad person. I couldn't even make it 10 days without you, I was such a mess. I couldn't feel anything, but this insane guilt, all I could hear was my brain telling me that I'm not good. I just needed it to stop." It was the most you'd ever told anyone. You felt Alexia deserved an actual explanation, and you trusted her. You really did, even though sometimes it seemed like you didn't. It was you that you didn't trust as much.

"Did it work?"

"For a bit. Then all I could think was that you were going to be disappointed in me." You felt her shake her head behind you.

"Never. You are good, mi niña, you are so good. You are kind, and thoughtful, and you always make me laugh. When I get to make you smile, it's better than scoring 100 goals in Camp Nou. You are the most important thing to me."

"And it makes me chest hurt, to think of you doing this, to think that your thoughts were so bad, you didn't feel like you had another choice. You always have another choice, mi amor. You can always call me when you need me. When you feel like that, and your brain isn't being very nice to you, I will remind you every time that it's wrong." she paused.

"And I don't want you to feel like you need to hide it from me if you hurt yourself. I want to know, because I love you, and I care about you, and I want you to be safe, and happy, and healthy. I'll never be mad, mi amor. I want to help, but I can only do that if you let me, if you trust me," she finished, wishing she could see your face.

"I trust you. I promise I do, I just got so scared that it would be too much this time."

"You will never be too much for me," she responded firmly.

"I promise that if this happens again, I'll tell you. I promise," you repeated, promising yourself as well. Alexia kissed the top of your head in response. You shifted on top of her, rolling onto your stomach, resting your chin on her chest to look at her. Her thumb came up to gently wipe a tear off your face.

"Thank you. I know you said you don't mind, that you aren't mad, but you don't have to be as perfect, as patient, as you are."

"You are perfect, mi niña, you'll always be perfect. My most perfect girl," she said. You couldn't find a trace of doubt in her face. You looked up at her for a few more seconds, and she looked down at you, watching as you decided whether or not to speak.

"What is it?" she asked gently, watching as you fought back tears once again.

"It's stupid," you replied, and she raised an eyebrow at you. "I was clean for 4 years, and now I'm not. I have to go back to day 1, Ale, and I don't know how." You told her, vulnerability clear on your face.

"That's not stupid, not at all. We'll do it again, together. It'll be easier this, time because I'm not letting you do any of it alone. We'll get you to 4 years again, and 5 and 6. And if you slip up, we'll deal with that too. You aren't doing this by yourself, we'll figure it out. I promise."

"How do you always know what to say?" you asked, sniffling.

She chuckled lightly, and it was the first real smile you'd seen on her face since she'd walked through the door. "Because I know you, and I know how your brain works. I know that it's telling you, all the time, that I'm going to leave. All I need to do is promise that I'm not going anywhere, because I'm not. Being here, it's the easiest thing in the world, because you are so easy to love, so easy to be with."

Alexia tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, looking at you with an adoring face that you couldn't help but return. The force of her love for you tended to knock you off your feet, sometimes. You only really believed it, believed her, because you knew it was how you felt about her. You saw your love for her reflected in her eyes at you, and if anything was going to get you through this, it was the knowledge that she wanted to be here. That she loved you, no matter what. You knew she'd make you love yourself again, whatever it took.

-----

try to end one of my fics without both girls going to sleep challenge. i hope everything made sense. i feel like it's really hard to describe how i feel when i'm depressed, and i don't want to make it so specific that people will have a hard time relating. anyway, if you read this and it resonated with you at all, i hope you're doing okay. And if you're not, you will be. i promise. <3 i love you all

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 7x05

Hello, Hey, how we all doing??

Ready for another super long meta post??

There is so much to talk about this week - admittedly mostly Buck and Eddie related, but there is also plenty going on for Hen and Karen as well.

No Bobby this week as we only see him in uniform, and only the one costume for Athena as well. I also want to say that I am not doing any of the costumes from the Madney wedding that we saw at the end of the epsiode - I want to give them the space they deserve and I will probably write a separate pre episode meta for those costumes specifically! All I will say is Maddie looks stunning, Buck in white - hello! and Eddie in a just a collar making him look like a pink priest - hilarious!

The rest is under the cut as always 😎

Let's start with some of the guest characters.

Alien Hand syndrome man continues to prove the check means bad things theme, which makes me happier than you can ever know!!

Then we have Deidra in her very bright pink coat. If you read my promo meta for this episode you will have read a fairly sizeable section at the end on my thinking about the use of pink in this season (going to make a separate post during this hiatus so its all in one place). All of the times we see it in this episode, play into (and I guess prove) my thinking. Deidra is acting with good intentions and while I don't think she's naive or innocent in the strictest sense of the word, she is perhaps continually being naive in thinking that not revealing Mara's past is the right way to go (don't come at me about child protection etc I am fully aware of what the real world laws state, but this story arc really highlights the fact that in trying to protect children who are at risk and in the system, they can also cause ongoing harm if things are not taken on a case by case basis - its a whole other essay that I am not getting into here).

Then we have Mara herself who is never without pink - namely her pink blanket. The pink plays into the theme of innocence especially with Mara and while she may not be innocent of the act of maiming Denny, her innocence goes much deeper. Its meant as a very clear signpost of the innocence of childhood - that pink blanket and her clinging onto it is a symbol of her clinging onto her childhood, despite the fact that she has gone through a terrible loss and trauma. she is still a child and the show is clearly going to play into the idea that as she settles into the Wilson home and is able to work through the trauma, her need to cling onto her childhood in this way will diminish and we'll see her slowly become less attached to the blanket. We already have signs of progress with the colour journey her tops have been on - lavender, pink and then the turquoise one at the end. Lavender is also a colour associated with childishness or lethargy, pink the colour of innocence, and childhood. While turquoise is a colour of calmness and clarity. its signalling HenRen's breakthrough with Mara and that she's growing and beginning to feel secure.

Hen and Karen

Hen and Karen go on a real colour journey this week - I'm doing them together (along with Denny) because they very much work in tandem clothing wise (and also because I was running out of pictures again - whats new there!)

So first up we have Karen in this beautiful dip dye ombre dress in purple, pink and mauve. it also has this drip staining pattern which has deliberately been created during the dying process. The lavender at the top of the dress is representative of hope and serenity, this is Karen in a great place - about to expand her family and fulfil a dream. The pink as I've said is all about innocence and naivety - more innocence in this case - both the new baby being innocent and Hen and Karens innocent hopes for their future. The dark mauve at the bottom of the skirt - eating into the pink is such a choice - gathering storm clouds, foreshadowing the turmoil about to come - taking away the innocent hope. mauve can be standoffish and withdrawn, and in this context those are great descriptors for Mara and her struggles that Hen and Karen will need to help her work through.

Hen's in cyan blue trousers - which is a colour associated with clarity and balance. whilst the cream, black and blue jacket with stars on is the beginning point for a theme that runs through the Wilsons arc this week - black is a power colour, associated with many things, but for Hen and Karen in this arc it is very much about protection and strength. Here for hen it is mostly about protection - protecting this new baby they are about to take in. The cream is warmth and tranquility.

Hen is wearing check - foreshadowing the upcoming struggles with Mara. Karens bronze and black Jacquard trousers are a symbol of strength - bronze as a colour means strength and support, it's also a symbol of faithfulness. It's telling us that Karen will take the lead on supporting Mara and being strong for her.

We see a lot of white on Karen in this episode, white, like pink is a colour of innocence, but it is more associated with purity and balance. It is also a colour of neutral refelction. By this I mean that it amplifies other colours by providing a neutral background - allowing other colours to shine. I find this a really interesting thing when connected with Karen - it amplifies her strength and supportive nature when the Wilsons meet Mara.

Hen adn Karen in bed are in dusty versions of blue and pink - Karen innocently tries to touch Mara and that is when the screaming starts. Putting Hen in blue is about relaying her trustworthiness and sets her up as a soothing and calming presence for Mara - hence the sleeping on the floor of her room!

At the hospital, We see Denny in red - he was wearing it when Mara woke the house up and its an indicator of what is about to befall them (in the same way Bobbys red in the cruise ship disaster adn Athenas red in relation to Harry, or Bucks back in s5 when Eddie broke down).

We again have Karen in white amplifying the other colour she is wearing, which in this instance is this buff/brown oversized sleeveless coat in teddy fleece. The brown is stability, dependability and responsibility - playing into the fact this episode really highlights Karen's position in the family as this stable rock which Hen and Denny lean on when they need support. Karen's unswerving and solid personality is once more being shown off. Its really a key thing for them to show as it feels like a set up for Mara and how she is going to bond and rely on Karen and that dependability as she unpacks her trauma.

The orange jumper is a really interesting choice. I do love the loose threads on the design of it - paying into the idea that Hen and Karen are at a loose end and unsure what to do going forward. But, the orange itself is generally an open minded colour, its energetic and its also a colour of transformation. These are all things we know are true of Hen and Karen and it hints at the fact that they will fin a way forward. Once again we have Karen in white amplifying Hen's orange and the energy and idea of transformation the colour brings.

Denim jacket and white tee. I love the distressed nature of this denim jacket and the way it plays into both scenes we see it in - playing into the distress Hen feels over finding out what Mara has gone through and how it explains why she has become non verbal and incredibly protective over her pink blanket.

Again the white of amplification and purity. Hen has pure intentions and the white amplifies Karens black when they are at dispatch listening to the 911 call.

We also have the Karen necklace back - once more showing this ism't about Hen - its about Karen and their family.

Black on Karen for this scene is such a choice. Black is a power colour, it means strength and protection. Here it is showing Karens determination, as she gains understanding, to protect Mara and support her through her trauma - it is representative of Karen choosing to use the power she has been given through gaining information. The gold highlights hint at success.

I love these lavender pyjamas on Karen - lavender is a soothing and sleep inducing colour (along with its scent which is possibly where the association came from for the colour) along with a Japanese print of mountains and trees, which plays into the idea of serenity and peacefulness.

Hen in contrast is wearing fairly bright and bold black and green. The green is all about that growth and learning once more, the growth of Hen and Karen, learning more about the issues Mara faces and seeking a solution, but also the growth of their family. The black is a reflection of power - much in the same way Karen wearing black when they heard the 911 call Mara made, here it is Hen, representing the protection that Hen and Karen are offering Mara.

Athena in green - again with the mesh open weave knit - this may be a theme for her this season - potentially something to do with feeling caged or caging someone/something - especially children as both scenes we've seen it so far have been to do with young people and the law in some respect - ending up in the system - Harry through is crime and Mara through her parents death.

Chim

This dark bottle green with a fawn brown (what I think is a polo) shirt underneath is Chimneys only non uniform costume this week . This kind of dark green, is as always a signal of growth, but its also a colour of harmony, and right now - everything in Chim's world is harmonious.

Maddie

I don't thinkI've said it yet, but I am so happy to have Alayna back dressing Jennifer - I feel like we're really back on track with Maddie's costuming after last season where they somehow managed to make Maddie look terrible. The costuming overall last year was fine - not as good as Alayna's work, but it was for the most part good - except for Maddie where it was all over the place!

Anyway - Maddie in black here is very much about focussing the attention on Hen and Karen - like with CHimney's muted green, in tandem they are making the viewers eye focus on Hen and Karen - especially Karen - who is the brightest in the room.

Maddie wearing this sage green colour when Buck comes out to her is sheer perfection from my perspective - we, once more have the green of growth and renewal, the green of learning - Maddie learning more about her brother - this new thing that he is realising about himself and choosing to share with her (even if inadvertently). But this green is also sage green - sage as in the play on sage advice - which we see Maddie give him. Buck needs that good advice - he needs to hear that its ok, that he can take the time to figure himself out and that its ok that he's only just uncovered this aspect of himself and that it doesn't invalidate him being an ally up to this point!

Ok not going to lie - I got a little carried away from here on out - so sorry in advance for the rambling mess you're about to read!

Marisol

I'm doing Marisol in a weird order - because I wanted to talk about her date night outfit in tandem with Eddies - because its relevant. So we start of with virgin Mary Marisol! Honestly this outfit is just perfection from the costume department - they saw the brief and went to town and I love it. Its so good to see what they can do when they get to play!

One of the things I really love about this costume is the blue that they chose. Because that blue - that is Bucks blue! the virgin Mary blue is usually a much brighter royal blue. It really helps to place Marisol in parallel to Buck and we get the play on t he fact that Eddie seeing Marisol in this way changes everything for him, whilst later on, whilst Buck is in the same blue, he reassures him that nothing will change between them.

Look, I'm not going to lie, when I saw Marisol in blue and yellow for this scene I laughed because Blue and yellow (as I've gone on a million times about) means queer coding so to blatantly put Marisol in it - in a washed out form, and very much connecting her to Catholicism - genius move. It marks her out as a roadblock, but also puts her into the role of beard (unknowingly on her part) because Eddie is still in the midst of his repression, even if it is beginning to unravel now.

The black top with spaghetti straps is clearly a theme they're going with on Marisol, as are the ditsy prints. The yellow high waisted trousers are interesting because of the specific shade of yellow. Yes the whole communication theme still applies here -and we see it in action, but this shade of yellow is sallow and sickly (one of the reasons its called sickly yellow is because its the colour of a lot of medications!!) - this relationship and its restart are ill and that automatically means its going to struggle to survive.

It plays into the more negative meanings around the colour - uncertainty and idleness and cowardice. For me the cowardice aspect is an interesting one in relation to Eddie - he has behaved cowardly up to this point - hiding out and not having the conversations that need to be had, and even in this scene it is Marisol who takes the lead.

It's really giving us an indication of things Eddie needs to work on in regards to himself - and once more it comes down to communication. Communication has always been Eddies major flaw - that he isn't good at it, unless really really pushed into it - essentially under duress. The other thing with communication is that it plays really well into the catholic guilt aspect - this idea that growing up catholic has taught him to repress part of who he is - to go along with what is expected of him, but that it also taught him not to ask for what he needs, to not communicate. We see it in this episode with his inability to say no to Marisol (the whole hiding out at Bucks so he doesn't have to have sex speaks volumes) even down to suggesting there's a third type of guy - who just needs a minute. Because, while that might be true to a certain extent, the fact that he says this off the back of her expressing her distress and upset about how all guys are one of two things, speaks volumes - its not him saying this because that's how he actually feels, its partly him saying it because he is pushed into a position where he doesn't want to be the bad guy. its really not a good place to be restarting a relationship from.

We also have the ditsy print of doom in play again - like I've said before, ditsy print on Eddies girlfriends - never a good sign - its really playing into this idea of Eddie jumping in headfirst with gay abandon (pun intended) and then regretting his life choices. Shannon wore ditsy print a fair amount - especially in the I think I'm pregnant' and 'we should get a divorce' scenes. Ana wore ditsy print A LOT - she was wearing it when Eddie had his panic attack in the shop and at other key moments that marked the death knell for their relationship. And so this appearance of ditsy print here marks the same - the relationship is not long for this world

OK date night Marisol. The way this outfit played out more or less as I expected, She was very much an 'innocent' bystander in this scene (whilst also creating one corner of a triangle with Buck and Eddie) , and the ditsy print very much played into this. Like I said in my promo meta, both Shannon and Ana were costumed in ditsy print as well as in lots of pink!!!

The other aspect of this outfit that is making me laugh is the fact that the skirt is giving me 1980's/early 1990's teen vibes (not to out myself as old but trust me I had some just like this back then and I wouldn't be caught dead in it now as a grown woman!!) and the baby pink handbag looks like something an 8 year old would have to play dress up with - its all very childish and immature - naive one could say, and while it didn't play out quite how I was expecting, her being a novice nun, sure explains a lot of why she comes over as pretty immature.

The other aspect of this childish style we're seeing on her plays into Eddies narrative of looking for magic and trying to recreate what he had with Shannon. He's attracted to Marisol because she is immature and childish - it reminds him of what he had with Shannon when he was young, and when you're trying to recapture that, its easy to fall into the trap of thinking someone behaving in a naive manner is you finding what you'd been looking for. Eddies journey, along side his catholic guilt, is about learning that he cannot recapture or recreate that magic he had when he was young - that the love of youth - in all its innocence is not something that is sustainable or actually what he wants in the present.

Then we have Eddie in white. I spoke in the promo meta about how the white set him and Marisol as opposites and that remains true - very true on more than one level. What I especially love about it and something I could not have predicted is how it plays into the novice nun aspect of their story this episode - truly this show is a comedy! Because nuns wear black and white this is an obvious play on that, but it is also a play on the fact that Marisol is still a practicing catholic, whilst Eddie is very much not. The other aspect of this white is that of Eddies two non uniform costumes, it is the first one and we get this black and white play on religion - the black and white of nuns and priests - the black and white of being religious or not. Eddie never questions if he wants to become a practicing catholic again - he is lapsed and that is how he intends to stay.

Eddie in uniform, with his green trainers, blue towel and water bottle. the blue towel and bottle play into the buck and Eddie blue green theming we see with them. But what is interesting is though is that Eddie is fulfilling all the colour theming on his own - he is both blue and green - to me this is about Eddies own struggles within himself as well as foreshadowing the Eddie Marisol break up down the line (green shoes suggest a road needs to be to walked before we get there) - it hints at Eddies internal struggles and implies that its will ultimately end in a break up a bit further down the line.

I also think it's only when in Uniform that Eddie can admit to his catholic guilt. Because we all know when Eddie is struggling with some form of emotional turmoil, he wears a black singlet - and he could've been wearing the same here, it would've been totally fitting with the situation - he is going through something emotionally and struggling with it.

But he's in his uniform. Part of it is to have him on a different level to Buck - they are both struggling with something in this scene. When we have previously had Buck and Eddie scenes like this one at work, the one dressed in uniform, tends to be the one offering advice to the one not in uniform. That isn't the case here. Part of it comes back to Buck not actually needing advice, but needing to reveal something about himself - to confess. Eddie is the one who needs advice.

This is a flipping of the traditional narrative for these scenes and is proof that even though Eddie might later tell Buck that nothing is going to change between them, that it has in fact already changed, it is just that neither of them are fully cognisant of that change at this moment in time. It is a key indicator to use the audience that this has happened before but that things are not going to play out the same way this time.

Put it this way - Eddie has form for doing something extreme with his relationships with women in the aftermath of Buck doing something dumb - its one of the manifestations of his repression. This time its asking Marisol to move in with him in the immediate aftermath of Buck going full green monster over Tommy.

Last time it was in the aftermath of Buck begins and then doubling down with Ana after the shooting when Buck had hooked up with Taylor and before that in the aftermath of Shannon's death and Buck suing the department he went and joined a fight club - but he has form. Its completely in character for him to pull this sort of a move. I know he says he's going with his gut but I argue he is in fact ignoring his gut - or at the very least confused about what his gut is telling him, because that would mean actually looking at why his gut reaction to Buck doing something dumb makes him do something dumb in turn connected to these women in his life.

Eddie in black - this is the same shirt as the white one - just the reverse colour - which is important. This shirt has several layered meanings to it. its about the reversal of what Eddie wants - from him being bubbly and excited about Marisol moving in, to the dread of her having moved in and wanting her to move out - his feelings go from white to black - light to dark - happy to unhappy and it all sums up the relaity of that relationship - while it was new and unserious, it was fun and light, when things got real - it becomes dark and oppressive.

I'll go into more detail about this shirt when I get to Bucks costume for this scene - because they are connected!

The other thing about this outfit is that the green trousers have been replaced with jeans. Now I see a couple of reasons for the wardrobe department doing this. Firstly is that it plays into the 'nothings is going to change between us' of it all. Its a visual indicator that in fact things have changed (along with Buck wearing a brighter shirt than we normally get in these buddie heart to hearts that take place in Bucks loft but more on that later) the Buck being bi and going on a date with Tommy of it all aside, this is the first time we've actively seen Eddie hiding out at Bucks to avoid his girlfriend - this was a barrier that had existed between them previously that has now been broken down. Then there is the fact that Eddie does go home to Marisol - and he couldn't be wearing green at that point because she was wearing blue and Eddie in green would've meant break up time - only the Marisol as a plot device arc isn't yet over (it will be soon I promise - all the costume signs are there!) so that couldn't happen.

Tommy

This dark olive green shirt that is almost brown. The brown undertones hint at the stability he represents while the green is hinting at his military past and once more paralleling him with Eddie. One of the things about green as a colour is that its not only a symbol of growth and renewal, but its also a colour of learning, and in an episode titled 'You don't know me' it feels like all the green is very much about education - learning about other people - and the growth that results from it. It feels especially important here for Tommy and Buck - that is after all what going on a date it all about - learning about one another and seeing if you're compatible.

The other fun thing about this green shirt is though that the green plays into the blue green colour theory when it comes to Buck and Eddie and their partners and the end of relationships. This one before its had chance to begin.

For Coffee we have a grey Henley and a blue zip front hoodie with a grey striped undertone to it (I am pretty sure this is actually a hoodie we've seen on Chimney but I can't remember when and I don't think it would be the very same one as pretty sure Lou would not be fitting into Kenneths clothes ever, but Chimney has definelty worn the same style!!). Again Henley's are an Eddie thing, so we once more have the parallel with Eddie being drawn.

The interesting thing here is that the grey blue is the same colour combo Buck wore on their first date attempt - the costume department played a lot with flipping colour in this episode, so to have it done here as well is really fun - the fact there is more grey than blue is also interesting. It's a neutral colour, it is seen as a colour of stability, but is also a colour of uncertainty. It really plays into that theme of uncertainty running through the Buck and Tommy arc. The blue hoodie is actually pretty important because we've had one of Buck and Tommy wearing something dark blue in every scene they've had together - usually the one on the back foot. Tommy in this scene is relatively neutral in terms of position for most of this scene - they are equals - but he is put onto the back foot by Buck asking him to be his date to Maddie and Chim's wedding.

Buck

Where to start with our beloved bi disaster!

I obviously spoke a fair amount about the date night shirt in my promo meta. The navy blue knit bowling shirt with these silver/grey close together pinstripes running down the front playing into the Buck wearing vertical stripes theme we've has running with him for at least the last 2 seasons.

What I said about false starts and this date absolutely played out - in the same way the sperm donation shirt represented a false start on that donation, this shirt also represents a false start on Bucks dating life as a bi man. The white trainers are also carrying on the theme of Bucks Journey towards happiness

What I find most interesting about this outfit though isn't colour theory related. its all about the fit of the clothes. Because these are ill fitting on Buck - not something we see from him very often - in fact I think the only time we see him in anything close to ill fitting to this extent is back in season 1 when he was figuring out who he was and if being a firefighter was the right for him and exploring relationships and what he was trying to find in that arena. The trousers are the most ill fitting of it all, but I'll come to the trousers later on as they are part o a wider Buck costume theme we have going on!

The shirt is a little roomie, but not overly so, it just stands out more because we're so used to his shirts fighting for their life, here this one is baggy and really helps to sell the idea of defeat, but also that h was trying on this new part of himself for size and that it doesn't quite fit. It's the only time this episode we see his clothes not fit him in this way and its a really small but expressive part of costuming that I love to see.

Then we have this blue broadcloth jacket over a white tee and with these plum/brown coloured trousers - they're a bit blink and you'll miss them so its hard to be sure what type of trouser they are, but I think they are essentially smart joggers - jersey material but trousers!

We all know that Buck in white means trouble, I'm putting him outing himself to his sister as the bad thing - along with the fact that the date didn't work out.

I'm really fascinated by the fact that we really seem to be leaning into navy blue and Buck being bi. Navy has always been a colour we've seen a lot of on Buck in general, but there is something about the fact we've seen him (or Tommy) wearing it in every single scene that is about his bisexuality. I'm talking from the kiss scene onwards, not anything before that as Buck wasn't aware of his bisexuality before the kiss. I can't wait to see if it continues!

The green shirt jacket is an interesting one. it obviously helps to play into the buck and Eddie blue green theory, but it does in a smaller way play into the blue green theming we see around Buck and Eddie and their relationships - specifically around issues arising. Both Buck and Eddie wear green when they break up with their significant others and while there is no break up here, there is a break of sorts. This was Buck about to try and tell his Best friend that he was actually out on a date with Tommy and that he's bi

symbol of growth - Buck went in with a goal - to tell Eddie he was on a date with Tommy, but changed tack when he saw Eddie needed to go through something - this is Buck growing as a person - not making something about him.

The other thing about this outfit is that its basically the same as the one Eddie wore at the airfield (even down to the badding of the trousers) - just in reverse - Eddie black trousers, black jacket, green top, and here Buck is black trousers, black top and green jacket - I find this fascinating as a metaphor for where the two of them are on their respective journeys.

Buck is now bi and out (he's told his sister) and has been on a date with a guy (regardless how successful it was - he cannot put it back into the box) - his growth is externalised and therefore expressed through the wearing of a green jacket. We get a lot of storytelling through the various Jackets Buck wears (we've seen him in over 35 at this point!)

While Eddie - who we could say was being taken on a date by Tommy - even if he didn't know it (because who flies someone to Vegas to a sold out fight if its not a date??) wearing a much brighter green that we've seen on him before now (pretty much all of his greens are more army green with a couple of exceptions - much darker greens akin to Bucks jacket in the below picture) - still in the army green wheelhouse, but much bolder. Eddie's queer status is still very much internalised - hence it being underneath the black jacket.

Buck coming out to Eddie from a costume perspective was a glorious parallel that I have already mentioned in the promo meta (I've run out of pictures so you'll have to go watch the scene yourself if you want to see what I mean). Its actually a bit deeper that I appreciated in that promo meta, but that is in part because at the time of writing the meta I wasn't 100% sure it was a coming out scene and I didn't get to see the way it was shot and how that also played into the paralleling.

Costume wise - I already spoke above about Eddies black shirt and how it is reversing him in the episode. But what I didn't mention is that fact that it parallels in colour terms, what he was wearing when Buck informed the firefam that Connor and Kameron were pregnant. Eddie wore a black marl henley - black with flecks of dark grey running through it, and Buck here is wearing a slightly darker blue version of the same top he wore in that same scene. He is standing in the same place at the counter of his kitchen, or sitting very close to the same position and we get similar camera angles. As a whole the parallel is very loud - Buck was happy and proud of something he had done and wanted to share it with his friends - wanted their approval. He was feeling good about himself and confident in his decision.

The biggest thing about the blue - this shade specifically is the way it play into the blue theme we saw last season with Buck - the theme that started in the 5x18 finale at Hen and Karens vow renewal, when he was free of Taylor and moving forward and essentially restarting his search for happiness. We saw it weave a thread through the entirety of season 6, being worn at key moments that played into that theme - after Lev died, at various points in the sperm donation arc, and a key points in the aftermath of his death and rebirth.

The successfully helping create life aspect of this is so interesting. It on a low key level plays into the you don’t find it you make it manifesto that’s been at the heart of bucks arc since s2. the whole year if yes was supposed to be about this very thing - about Buck creating the life he wants for himself  - the sperm donation isn’t about the baby it’s about Buck and about him figuring out what he’s missing (which comes back to not only Thomas and Mitchell, but also Lev).

The other thing that ties into this theme is that Eddie isn't really changing but Buck is. Whenever we have a scene at the loft between Buck and Eddie Bucks costume and colour varies, but Eddies stays more or less the same. Bucks colour Palette for these scenes goes - dark grey in the you want to go for the title scene, then we have the grey blue on the balcony and now this much lighter blue. This is highlighting Bucks progression while Eddie who remains in his black shirt and that progression - while Eddie essentially remains steadfast - is key - it’s showing us that while buck is still doing dumb things, he is learning - he is listening to whatever Eddie is telling him - that he’s accepting Eddie’s absolution of his sins more and more - growing and understanding. 

It’s building on his long running arc - his fear of being left behind, of not being important enough for people to stick around for - and showing us he’s increasingly understanding that that fear is unfounded - that he’s found his personal- the one who will stay and who is steadfast in that. That’s why we see Eddie unchanging in his black shirt green cargos while buck gets lighter - more unburdened by that fear.

Before you think all is lost on the Eddie front though, we are seeing change - the army green trousers are gone and have been replaced with jeans - perhaps, in the same way Bucks growth into his bisexuality began with his beginning to wear jeans again, Eddies own growth into his own queer identity also begins with jeans - moving him away from Eddie the soldier - fighting for others - being a rock for others and now into a position where he can do his own growing.

In the sperm donation arc, Buck was finally able to donate and was wearing that super pale mint green polo. we don't see the same with the outcome here at this point in the story (although the beige/mint green jacket from the bachelor party is making me👀👀👀 at this moment in time!) - we get this cream open weave linen shirt with black and terracotta and golden brown vertical stripes.

I love that they went with a shirt that has such an open weave - playing into the whole concept of Buck being open and embracing this newly revealed part of him that he's discovered. But what I love most about this shirt is the way it ties back into the Buck learning to accept himself and find his happiness.

Because this shirt is so similar to the one from 6x01 - when he decides he doesn't need a new couch, what he needs is to be ok on his own and with himself.

lets talk Buck and his trousers because the trousers are a whole thing this season and I am truly in love with the long game the wardrobe department have been playing on this one. They know that we have all been out here raising eyebrows at Bucks trousers for the past few seasons as they've gotten shorter and shorter and ill fitting. I know I've made comments in previous costume metas about the fact they must be doing something intentional with them being so short in the leg - that them doing this is giving the appearance of a child who is still in short trousers and isn't fully grown - hasn't moved on to wearing full length trousers yet.

Well it would seem I was right and thats exactly what they were doing, putting him in short trousers to show that he wasn't his fully formed self - that he was growing and learning and figuring things out. because - I've gone back through my spreadsheet and checked his trousers out for all of his scenes and there are only a handful where he has trousers on that are well fitted and the correct length. One of them is at the start of season 6 - at the end of the episode where he moves his armchair instead of getting a new couch - the one time in season 6 we see him most at peace with himself

I remarked in the 7x04 meta that we only saw Buck in his too short trousers in the one scene at the airfield, and from then on, he was was in jeans. Now the jeans are a mimicking thing - Buck hasn't worn stone wash jeans since Eddie appeared on the scene back at the start of season 2, so for him to start wearing them again as soon as he becomes jealous of Eddie and Tommy - and Tommy is wearing jeans - was pretty telling in its own right. It's Buck trying to get Eddies attention (not Tommys - Eddies) because, we do not see Eddie in jeans in 7x04 - but we do see Tommy in them - and in Bucks head he is loosing Eddies attention to a guy wearing stone wash jeans - so if he wears stonewash jeans then maybe he'll get Eddies attention back.

That obviously didn't work out how Buck thought it would, but it did lead to him figuring a new part of himself out.

We can see how his trousers are all now sitting at the correct length, I grabbed this still of the black ones, and you can see in the full length still from the date those are as well (even if they're too big more generally) but the others are all sitting at the correct length as well.

We also see the jeans back for his scene with Tommy - I truly am fascinated by the choice to put him back in stonewash jeans aafter so long as a theming choice for his bisexuality, I really am enjoying this more relaxed looking Buck from a costuming perspective - the journey we've been on with his costumes is great - the increasingly formal style thats just a little too small and tight we've seen over the seasons now slowly relaxing once more into something much more comfortable and well fitted - showing just how far he has truly come.

And thats me out for another week! Sorry it turned into another epic - it would seem `i cant stop myself! Not sure if this has come out longer than last weeks, I think it might've, but I can't be bothered to check! Thank you as always for reading this monster and I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into the costumes for 7x05. I'm off now to hyperfixate on Bucks bathroom door and get myself though this mini hiatus!

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[blizzardheart12]

Descendants 4 headcanon/theory || the Hook family

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I’ve been doing a lot of thinking ever since I first watched Rise of Red, and I mean a lot. In recent days, that old middle school mystery I used to ponder about who the Hook childrens’ mother is has come back to haunt me once again. So, after a lot of reliving my past Descendants obsession (and a fair amount of fanfic reading), I came up with this theory— it’s really just headcanons— about Harriet, Harry, CJ, and Red’s parentage. Let me know what you think! This is the first time I’ve actually posted something on Tumblr so we’ll see how this goes lol.

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Captain James Hook and Bridget, the Queen of Hearts

Harriet Hook’s mother is the Queen of Hearts. Harriet and her fraternal twin sister, Red (bear with me), were born shortly after the creation of the Isle of the Lost. During this time, James lived in Wonderland with Bridget and helped command her army while she ruled the kingdom, thus avoiding imprisonment on the Isle. James, who had a passion for traveling, often left to visit with his crew and other villainous friends there by permission of Auradon, which sparked jealousy in Bridget, unbeknownst to him.

When Auradon Kingdom informed the Kingdom of Wonderland that the doorway between their worlds would soon be sealed for good, a massive argument ensued between Bridget and James. James wanted to leave Wonderland and live on the Isle with his crew mates and friends, and he wanted Bridget and the twins to come with him. Bridget was adamant on keeping her throne, however, and she forbid James from setting foot outside of Wonderland. After some time, it became clear that their relationship was over, and Bridget could no longer stand keeping James imprisoned in her territory.

They made a heartfelt agreement that they would part ways, and James left to go live on the Isle, taking Harriet with him. This separation caused the Queen of Hearts to turn extremely bitter, and she never told Red about her sister or father. Because time passes at a slower rate in Wonderland than it does everywhere else, Red aged much more slowly than her sister, so much so that by the time she began to attend Auradon Prep, she was younger than CJ, the youngest of James’s children. Harriet began to age at a normal rate the second she and her father left for the Isle, and that day is often considered to be her birthday despite her having been alive for nearly two years in Auradon-time (she was physically only a few months old though). As a result, she is essentially two years older than her brother, Harry. Try not to think about it too hard.

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Captain James Hook and Sarah Sanderson

Harry and CJ Hook’s mother is Sarah Sanderson. James and Sarah never really had an official relationship, seeing as both quite enjoyed keeping up with their own long lists of love affairs during their time on the Isle. One would say that their blatant disloyalty to each other is what enabled them to get along as well as they did.

It was thought that Sarah maintained a relationship with James not only because he was attractive and a total flirt— not so different from her— but because he reminded her of Billy Butcherson when he was alive, or rather, a version of him from her dreams that boasted a much more unruly personality. Similarly, James found himself drawn to Sarah not just because of her beauty and flirtatiousness, but because she reminded him of Bridget, or rather, a version of her from his dreams where she was still sweet and playful and wasn’t totally blinded by her power.

It should also be mentioned that their relationship lasted a while because without access to magic, Sarah (and her sisters) couldn’t cause James any real harm as that is what usually happened with her unfortunate lovers.

Of the two, James was the better parent. He (mostly meaning his first mate Smee) took sole care of the children since their birth. He was coldest towards Harry yet somehow earned the most admiration from him despite not really warming up to his son until he grew past Peter Pan’s age. Sarah did show a bit of an uncharacteristic affection towards her children when she was with them, but ultimately her loyalty towards her sisters prevailed and she remained rather distant, only visiting with them before full moon rituals (when she didn’t forget, that is). It sounds cold, but she was one of the more caring parents on the Isle, and James was one of the best, personally teaching each of them important skills about survival, fencing, sailing, and literature (Harry never caught on to the reading thing, though, and James didn’t have the patience to make him sit still long enough to teach him).

Winnifred and Mary only knew of Harry’s existence. This is because Sarah is an awful liar and did not do a good job of hiding her pregnancy. Winnie was furious when she discovered this, but because there was no magic on the Isle, she couldn’t do much about it. When the baby turned out to be a boy, she began crafting a plan to get rid of him, but Sarah told this to James in secret and he had his crew steal back the child.

Sarah’s visits with James frequently became more prolonged after that, to the point where her spending months away at a time with him—expecting their daughter— hardly phased her two sisters (they thought unseriously of her and assumed she was off galavanting around with more lovers or searching for potion ingredients). They never found out about CJ and were pleased to see Sarah return not long after the baby was born.

Harry inherited his parents’ flirtatious (and slightly unhinged) nature. He has his father’s dark hair and his mother’s eyes. CJ has her mother’s blonde hair and her father’s eyes. Harry grew up not caring too much about maintaining a relationship with his mother because he felt offended that she always acted colder towards his sister, Harriet. He didn’t think it was fair that she be neglected of attention because she had a different mother— in his eyes, Sarah was Harriet’s mother as well. CJ, however, took a great interest in witchcraft as she got older and began to seek out Sarah’s company more and more with time.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

So, that was pretty much all of it. Hope you enjoyed reading! Ignore the badly edited photo I made, I just needed something relevant😭

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 6!!!!!!

After the turtles and Splinter, here we have the girl Ever. She's pretty spunky, I had fun analyzing her for writing.

April O'Neil Character Notes

Language Habits:

Uses bae/aave, something she could have passed on down to Raph and Mikey as they also use bae/aave

Most notably uses "mm-kay" in place of "okay"

Uses a lot of filler language, interjections, or onomatopoeia. Think "mhm", "uh huh, uh huh!", "oh yeah!"

"Ah nuts" is her go-to disappointed phrase

Grits and or strains her teeth when she's frustrated

Uses her own name (the full "April O'Neil!!!!") as a battle cry, or brings her name as a motivator i.e. "the one and only April O'Neil will solve this case!"

The more worked up she the louder she tends to be, this extends to stronger emotions such as passion or panic

Over text uses emoticons

Refers to splinter as "splints"

Refers to the turtles as "the fam"

Refers to villains/antagonists through insults rather than their names

Personality:

Adrenaline junkie, as she's often the first to jump into a fight. She also laughs in the face of danger, and was seen maniacally laughing and smiling the entirety of the gumbus episode

Jack of all trades. April has a lot of skills she's picked up from various jobs or personal adventures she's seeked out (like canoeing through the sewers in a hazmat suit and earning a crane license)

Wild and blunt. April is Loud, and rarely ever afraid to share her opinion. This can either make people draw back from her bluntness or be drawn in by her excitableness

Self-conscious. Despite her strong sense of self-esteem, April is still often motivated to impress the popular kids at school or at least fit in. She doesn't want to be seen as the weird kid, or associated with the weird kids

Persistent. April is always quick on her feet to hit back whatever comes at her. She has a good set of problem-solving skills that she's gained from all the skills she's picked up

Loyal. She's always willing to back up the turtles, and goes out of her way to keep Splinter happy with her company. Once she finds a friend it's hard to pry her away

Unlucky. Mostly in absurd or mundane ways. She has that whole curse with her birthday, but things don't often tend to go right for April O'Neil, which contributes to the disasters that cause her to get fired all the time

Miscellaneous:

Code-named "yellow submarine" by raph

Tends to have information on wifi passwords, secret exists, and access to keys from all the jobs she's been hired and fired from

Has a preference for blunt objects as weapons (most commonly bats, clubs, pipes)

Uses the environment in a fight in general

She's been part of the "warren stone fanclub" since 2010, and keeps all her ids in her wallet

Likes unicorns and cats (as seen through her brief texts with sunita and her pajamas)

Loves laser tag

Can beat Donnie at video games (if he didn't use cheat codes)

"sherlock_corn" is her handle online

Lives in an apartment/flat with her mom (showed onscreen briefly), that has its own bathroom

Has a subtly mentioned interest in fantasy, as noted by Donnie she tends to download fantasy rpgs and freaks out over cosplay wizards

Just an end note to all of you who aren't black, some offensive tropes I would stray from is making April the angry black girl. This is one of the most common stereotypes of black women in media. I wouldn't mistake April's passion or loudness for aggression. It would be a disservice to dilute her lively character into familiar but ultimately harmful tropes in media.

I am in no way saying you cannot portray April as angry, this is a powerful emotion and it should be explored with black characters, but I am saying that should not be the base of her character. Because well that's not even April's base. She's centered around fun and thrill-seeking.

Wikipedia (yes I know, But they have proven to be more dependable these past years) has a good article on the angry black woman stereotype, so that would a good place to start research on what to Avoid. In my splinter post I also provided some links on doing research on writing poc.

---

Anyway!!! We've ended our analysis trip of the main cast in s1. Next I'm thinking of picking apart our antagonists :]. Gonna take a break to work on my own fic, but stay tuned if you found any of my other posts helpful! It's been a fun ride with you all <3

[anti-catradora-collection]

TRANSLATING AND GIVING MY HONEST OPINION ABOUT THIS TWITTER THREAD:

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️ DO NOT GO AFTER AND DO NOT HARASS THE CREATOR OF THE THREAD I'LL BE COMMENTING HERE. thank you.

"it pisses me off when ppl say they love enemies to lovers and then say that catra//dora is toxic.

like, ENEMIES is not when one person steps on another's toes and gets angry towards them"

keep reading under the cut:

yeah, "enemies" certainly is not when one person steps on another's toes and gets angry towards them. even google knows that. enemies to lovers is completely different from rivals to lovers.

however, c//a aren't enemies either. they have never been.

they were simply abuser x victim. and that's mainly because adora never really felt any hate towards catra. she even tried to make catra join the rebellion multiple times.

additionally, adora knew how to defend herself, but wouldn't do more than she needs.

catra, on the other hand, would relish on BRUTALIZING adora. she even tried to end the whole universe out of spite to adora, willing to kill them both in the process.

and let's not forget: catra did all this with a smile in her face, proud of being able to manipulate and control adora.

they were never mutual enemies. adora mostly viewed catra as someone to fear. most of the time, she felt powerless when the matter was catra. to be honest, even when the matter wasn't her, it's shown that she felt that way. damn, she even had a panic attack because of catra.

and let's not forget how catra and adora's fights are always viewed as "flirtatious/sexy" and, surprisingly (or not), they are always with catra on top while adora is unable to fight back for any reason (be it for an emotional or physical reason, temporarily or not).

the only exception for what i said above is this scene, where i don't even believe adora is being flirtatious (for me, she's simply being smug) and where she's not even talking to catra in person.

of course, there's times where adora physically hurts (or tries to hurt) catra back, but it's solely to DEFEND HERSELF/OTHER PEOPLE. catra takes advantage of adora's kindness cuz she knows she won't be able to cause the same harm as catra does.

NEXT:

"enemies to lovers is ALWAYS toxic in the enemies part. a relationship where you are the other person's mortal enemy is not even possible.we ship catra//dora precisely because they get to the lovers part, and when they get to it, there is no more toxicity."

I'm so sorry to break it to you, but C//A has been toxic before, during and after they were in opposite sides of the war. here is an example of this. catra always made it seem like it's adora who's always abandoning her, but it was catra's CHOICE to stay in the horde.

C//A relationship occurred on an existing pattern: adora accidentally says something that makes catra mad -> catra hits/insults her -> catra runs away, expecting adora to chase after her and feeling like she's rejected if that doesn't happen. it even happened while they were KIDS.

and let's also not forget about catra gaslighting and slapping adora in that one episode while she was going through another panic attack. "catra didn't know something was going on!!!" she literally had "flashbacks" about things that did happen and adora was clearly not okay.

catra could've been a good friend like glimmer was for adora in the hot springs episode, listen to her, try to help and properly calm her down even if she didn't know what was happening, but catra didn't. she insisted on her own view that everything was perfect instead.

catra also makes it seem like adora is the abandoner multiple times in season 5. like girl you're the one who literally abandoned her even in S5 plsss-catra CHOSE to stay in the horde, adora tried to make catra come with her since forever. catra was the one running away.

she even framed adora as being the violent one in their relationship with this scene:

"how am i supposed to fight my own friends?"

"it never stopped you before."

it's almost like catra wasn't the one always trying to hurt and murder adora all the time... lol.

NEXT:

"apart from the abuse that catra (and adora) suffered throughout her childhood AND her fear of abandonment, the only reason catra treated adora the way she did was because she suppressed her feelings in such an absurd way that she was even violent."

uhhh.. no?

you're telling me catra tried to kill adora multiples times and destroy the universe because deep inside her heart catra LOVED adora?

this is honestly giving me "he hits you because he likes you!" vibes. i bet if catra was a man, you wouldn't be saying stuff like this.

plus, shall i say something that may sound a bit... harsh:

THIS. IS. NOT. ABOUT. CATRA.

of course catra is traumatized.

of course catra is also abused.

of course all these facts helped building up catra's character.

but nothing justifies the way she treated adora.

"but catra was abused, she was raised in a harsh way, she doesn't know any better!" what about we stop making adora's abuse about her abuser...? everyone kinda seems to forget how catra was also a w4r crim1nal lmao. of course catra deserved love. but not in the way she got.

catra also needed to be held accountable for her actions, which she didn't. "she was brainwashed by horde prime which made her suffer a lot!" okay, and? catra also brainwashed and put adora into a lot of pain and that fact was never once brought up again.

i mean, catra literally was a gen0c1dal w4r crim1nal. she killed lots of people (including glimmer's mother). again, she tried to end the universe. she destroyed villages. she attempted to kill adora multiple times. was she even questioned about it?

no. the princesses immediately take catra in with them as soon as adora says "she's with us now". there was not even a proper discussion about it.

NEXT:

"as soon as she gets sufficiently comfortable in being vulnerable and admitting what she feels to adora, there's no reason for her to be violent because there's nothing else to suppress. the acception of her "true self" breaks the cycle of abuse and that's WHY +"

not gonna comment on it cuz i already said how catra has been abusive during the entire series - even after she has been rescued. "she was going through a lot" and adora was too. It just wasn't fair for catra to treat adora that way simply becuz "adora doesn't want mee! :(".

like, girl, this isn't about you. you ASKED adora to save the world but then you get angry when she decides it's something she NEEDS to do and states that no one else can do that. like ???

NEXT:

"they turn into a couple.

double trouble themselves tell catra exactly what she has been doing during all seasons to hide and deny her own feelings for adora. because these feelings made her feel uncomfortable."

excuse me, double trouble was also wrong about that. starting by the way they said "left you" while turning into adora when we know it wasn't what happened, there's also the fact that their speech wasn't only about catra's "feelings" for adora.

it was also about catra feeling abandoned and rejected by EVERYONE she knew: shadow weaver, scorpia, hordak... or are we going to forget the fact all these people were also in the scene?

but even the show itself tries to make it seem like adora was the abandoner only for the "just this once, stay" quote to make sense. another reminder: spop's writing is very far away from being the best.

NEXT:

"I would NEVER ship catra//dora the way i do if they haven't got a redemption and if the "enemies" part hadn't come to an end. at most, I'd think they have chemistry and potential for making out, but their healthy relationship is only possible due to their happy ending."

i don't even know what to say- this person lost me at "I'd think they have chemistry and potential for making out". why the hell do you think catra abusing adora would be hot, SPECIALLY in a scenario where they keep being "enemies"???? 😭

also, yes, they got a "happy ending". but at what cost?

catra lied to adora and insulted her even during her confession;

catra never really changed, this series simply tried to make it seem like she did (and failed to do so)

adora is now in a supposedly "happy relationship" with her own abuser and sister, while both didn't at least got therapy BEFORE that.

catra didn't need a romance with her victim in order to be happy. she simply needed time to HEAL, just like adora. "but can't they heal as a couple?" no. it just doesn't work like that. you can't love someone else without fully loving yourself first.

NEXT:

"that being said, catra is open to therapy with perfuma, already sees bow and glimmer as besties, says sorry with ease, happily participates on princesses hugs, isn't afraid to show love and care for adora. and that's when a good relationship is born."

catra may be "trying" to be a better person in canon, but she's far from achieving that. you all say "someone needs time to heal before turning into a better person", but then look at catra, whose "redemption arc" was up for half of the last season and applauds it as "the best character development ever". it also doesn't work like that. it doesn't matter how many times catra saves the world if she keeps treating adora like dirt while doing that (guilt tripping, insulting and beating her up, for example).

basically, saying "I'm sorry for everything" once doesn't mean anything if catra, herself, doesn't truly change.

the last tweet of the thread finished with the following sentence:

"kisses and go to therapy"

all i can say is: thanks, op. you too.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Namjoon

Namjoon is tired. He is tired of waiting to hear from Yoongi. He is tired of allowing his exhaustion to continue pushing you away.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Namjoon x Female Reader x Yoongi

🗡️ word count: 7.3k

🗡️ mafia au, established relationship, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: mention of Jeongguk & reader doing drugs (mdma, coke), drinking champagne, and getting sexy (oral) - all off screen; Namjoon reminiscing about the day Yoongi almost got married; oral sex (allusion to squirting); discussion of blood & head wounds; worry and anxiety.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 2nd person (you/your) pronouns for this chapter since she appears more than just in passing!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @neoneunnajimin - with minor unbeta’d edits done since.

🗡️ posted april 2024 - originally dec. 2023 | read on ao3

As soon as Namjoon wakes up, he feels a swell of anxiety begin at the center of his chest and work its way through his limbs. He rolls from his right side onto his back and breathes slow and deep, attempting to center himself and quash the feelings of discontent. 

He hates it when Yoongi goes silent. 

No matter how many times Yoongi swears that he is never going to fall back into old habits, Namjoon cannot help but worry, especially after the recent incident in Paris. More than once, he has found the man he loves with one foot in the grave. He cannot do it again. 

He also hates the way distance has begun to build between the two of you. And he knows that it is all a product of his own insecurity—that the walls climb high as the heavens whenever he is scared out of his fucking mind and does not know whether he can turn to others. But he cannot bring himself to tell you all of his fears. 

How could he? How can he look you in the eyes and admit that he is terrified of losing the man both of you love so much? 

Namjoon groans as he stretches, raising his arms high over his head. He slept well for the first time in weeks, and although he feels a little guilty for feeling like he has to get out of Yoongi's mansion in order to accomplish his momentary peace, he is glad to know that you have found a distraction, as dangerous of a distraction as it may be.

The sights and smells of his home are strange to Namjoon after spending so much time in Yoongi's bed, storing things in Yoongi's closet, and cleaning off the stress and grime from his days in Yoongi's shower. But it also feels nice to have a place to get away and center himself. 

As soon as he walked through his door last night, Namjoon let out a sigh of relief mixed with worry. For days, he has wondered if leaving the mansion and essentially shutting you out completely could do more harm than good. But after several nights of horrible sleep, compounded with days of being in a stressed, shitty mood, he decided that for his sake and for yours, a night away would be best. 

Of course, you had to wake up and notice he was gone. And, of course, you had to run off to the one maniac who could potentially cause you even greater physical and emotional turmoil. 

Namjoon still has no idea why Yoongi and Taehyung think it is a good idea for you and Jeongguk to get along so well, but he also does not object enough to ask you not to. Due mostly to the fact that he feels he does not have any place asking you not to spend time with him. 

He has no issue with sharing you, and as long as Yoongi is happy, he is happy. But Jeongguk is a loose cannon, and Namjoon just knows that the two of you together could be absolutely volatile, much like Jeongguk and Ryujin were all those years ago. 

With a final stretch and yawn, Namjoon rolls over and picks up his phone. As always, he is awake around fifteen minutes before his 7:00 AM alarm, and he is surprised to find several text messages from Jeongguk. 

Gguk: Hey, hyung! Don't be mad, but I gave our buttercup molly. And coke. And champagne. She's fine physically, but she's not having a great time emotionally. What antidepressant is she taking? Probably should have asked her that before I suggested we roll. 

Gguk: Any word from Yoongi? I have a feeling his absence is really wearing her down. Although…I'm sure you already know that. I don't mean to assume you don't.

Gguk: Also, hello, good morning, I hope you are doing well! 

Namjoon rolls his eyes and chuckles, shaking his head. Jeongguk is already a handful, but on MDMA, the poor guy tends to spiral. In fact, Namjoon is shocked that none of the messages contain an I love you or an I miss you or a Do you hate me?

Namjoon:  Oh, boy, what have you kids been getting into??? ;) I can check on the antidepressant when I return to Yoon's place. Is she feeling any better?

Namjoon: I haven't heard anything from Yoon in a couple of days. Thinking about making a trip to Hong Kong, though. Think you can hold down the fort? I don't really want to ask Seokjin.

Namjoon wears only a pair of blue boxer shorts, and he tosses aside his forest green comforter to place his feet down onto a matching forest green area rug, then walks to his closet. With Yoongi away, he has been dressing more comfortably in jeans and sweaters, refraining from wearing any black. 

Sometimes it feels nice to just be Kim Namjoon, and ignore the rest of the titles that come with the name. Sometimes he likes to pretend he isn't The Dragon. 

He picks out a soft medium-blue sweater and loose-fit blue jeans. He does not style his hair, nor does he put on jewelry or a watch. When his phone vibrates in his pocket just moments after he slips it in, he hesitates before pulling it out. In his heart, he knows that it is not Yoongi, which only makes the thought of checking the message sting a little more. 

The stress Namjoon feels while torturing a man within an inch of his life pales in comparison to that he experiences when Yoongi is avoidant. 

Namjoon does not bother to make his bed. He leaves his closet, takes a left, and goes into his large ensuite bathroom. All of the cabinets and furnishings are handcrafted from driftwood with ceramic knobs and handles. The tile is a neutral tan, and Namjoon chuckles softly when he sees the room that feels far more like home than the black and gold Yoongi loves so much. 

If only Yoongi would allow him to redecorate. Namjoon thinks maybe Yoongi enjoys shit being so gloomy, to a fault. 

He brushes his teeth and washes his face, then after he is patted dry and ready to return to the mansion, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He considers shooting you a text to ask whether you are hungry and interested in joining him for breakfast when he sees Jeongguk's message. 

Gguk: Of course, of course. I can keep an eye on shit while you leave. Also, I'm going to bring buttercup back to you soon. She misses you a lot. Are you at the mansion or your place?

Namjoon: My place, but heading to the mansion now. Have you eaten?

Gguk: Well, I got to eat but she didn't…;)

Namjoon leaves his bedroom and makes his way down the hall toward the stairs, thumbs lingering over his keyboard as he laughs and reads over Jeongguk's message.

Namjoon: Bragging about eating my girlfriend's pussy? You know, I've killed men for less. 

Hanging in Namjoon's hallway are photos from over the years of him and the family men, but most of them are photos of himself and Yoongi. Although he does not stop to look at most of them anymore, he feels the presence of their nostalgia every time he walks by, and he does lift his eyes to glance at a particular photo at the top of the stairs that is much larger than all the others. 

In the photo, Namjoon is looking at the camera, holding onto a big, colorful bouquet of flowers. His hair is shorter and lightened blond with a lavender tint, and he wears a black turtleneck, black slacks, and a black trench coat. Yoongi teased him earlier that day for coming to his wedding dressed for a funeral, but in a way, that was what it felt like.

What had already begun as a tumultuous day with the man he loves promised to get married had turned extremely sour when news of the father of the bride-to-be's betrayal spread like wildfire. Namjoon still remembers the look of fear on Ryujin's face when whispers reached the back of the church as she was walking down the aisle. 

The bouquet Namjoon holds in the photo is the one she dropped before running out. And in this particular photo, Namjoon and Yoongi are standing side by side. 

Yoongi does not look at the camera, however. Yoongi looks at Namjoon. 

He stands in his tailored black suit and bow tie, dark hair cut shorter than Namjoon has seen it in years, and he looks up at Namjoon with an expression that is so soft and so loving that seven years later, it still takes his breath away. 

The feeling in Namjoon's heart that day was a strange one. 

On the one hand, he remembers feeling an immense amount of relief. For a while things with Ryujin had been strained and weird, and he had really been struggling to figure out where he fit at Yoongi's side. 

Leading up to the wedding, there had been insinuations that once the two of them were married, Namjoon would have to take a step back and end whatever was going on between him and Yoongi. Because of this, he had been feeling a deep sense of grief that was impacting his ability to think clearly and be there for the family as Yoongi's right hand.

But then, with her out of the picture, he felt lighter. Like a weight had lifted from his shoulders and the sun was shining for him once more. 

He also remembers feeling kind of guilty. Yoongi was unreadable as always and none of the other guys were giving him a chance to fully process what had happened. 

Rather, they all seemed intent on dragging him around the property and making him pose for photos as if the wedding had never been called off. They reasoned it didn't make sense to let the photographer's skills go to waste. After all, everyone was dressed to impress and looking dapper. 

Yoongi seemed to be masking whatever he felt with shyness, keeping his eyes on his feet while the photographer positioned him in front of the various installations of his parents' gardens. Of his gardens.

"Mister Kim?" the photographer said at one point, making Namjoon perk up and ask, "Hmm?"

She looked at Namjoon as if waiting for him to return to earth and join the rest of his friends, and it only then occurred to him that the six of them were standing in front of one the archways, watching Namjoon impatiently. 

"Oh," Namjoon muttered, stepping forward to get into line with the others. 

Despite there being space between Yoongi and Jeongguk, Namjoon began to shuffle down to the far right of the group. But Jimin took him by the sleeve, muttering, "Get by his side," forcing Namjoon to stop in his tracks and course-correct. All he had ever wanted was to be beside Yoongi at all times…he just wasn't sure that it was where he belonged. 

It was palpable the way Yoongi relaxed as soon as Namjoon took his place by his side and instinctively lifted an arm around his thin waist. In an instant, Namjoon felt shy, and he struggled to look into the camera, only lifting his gaze and smile when he was told to. 

But little by little everyone let loose, and they dragged the kind photographer all over the estate, climbing the statues and shrubberies to pose for photos. He could almost hear the worried sound of Yoongi's mother scolding them for being so reckless, making him miss her dearly. She would have loved to see her son dressed in a tuxedo.

"Anyone wanna pose as the bride?" the photographer asked near the end of their impromptu session. "I grabbed the bouquet just in case."

Namjoon hadn't noticed the bouquet that Ryujin dropped hanging from the strap of the photographer's camera bag, but there it was. Wildflowers and roses hand-picked from the very gardens they posed in—the gardens that Yoongi's mother tended for years—gathered in a beautiful arrangement with white satin and lace. The photographer held it out toward the group, delighted when Jimin swiped it. 

Briefly, Namjoon thought Jimin would look beautiful next to Yoongi—that those would be fun photos to look back at once the dust had settled and Yoongi had a chance to cope. But then Jimin shoved the bouquet into Namjoon's chest, making him gasp and stumble awkwardly, gripping onto the satin-covered stems. 

"Jimin what are you—"

"Don't be stupid," Jimin interrupted quickly, taking Namjoon by the shoulders and forcing him to rotate and walk backward to be at Yoongi's side once more. 

All of the guys knew about Yoongi and Namjoon—Yoongi had never been interested in keeping it a secret. But he still couldn't help but wonder at the time if all of it might have been too much for Yoongi. 

"Joon," Yoongi said quietly, kicking butterflies in his tummy and making it hard for him to breathe. "You good?"

And although Namjoon nodded and said, "Yeah, of course," he could only glance at Yoongi standing by his side, feeling all too aware of how they must have looked: like a couple. Like a married couple. 

Namjoon swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, then he finally turned to the man he loved so dearly and offered a smile. "You look really handsome today," he said, watching as Yoongi regarded him with a soft, wide-eyed stare. 

Shyly, Namjoon turned to the camera, bouquet held against his chest, and smiled. He hoped that his face was not as red hot as it felt, suddenly a bit claustrophobic in his turtleneck and long jacket. 

"Perfect," the photographer said, looking over the viewfinder before taking a step back and lining up another shot. "Can I get both of you to look at me?"

Namjoon continued to smile into the camera while Yoongi shifted beside him, and the warmth of Yoongi's arm against his made him relax a little more. They took several more shots this way, and Namjoon almost lamented it coming to an end.

But the photographer convinced them to do some funny poses in several more spots around the garden, and with the cheering of their friends, the two of them really got into their roles. Namjoon carried Yoongi bridal style for various shots, and Yoongi surprised him with how playful he became, holding out the bouquet and kicking his feet out the way a bride might have.

When the day wrapped up and the photographer bowed to take her leave, Namjoon felt happier than he had in years. If only he could tell Yoongi. If only he could ask whether Yoongi felt the same. 

With both of Yoongi's parents gone and the responsibility of all of the operations being thrust into his lap with no guidance, Namjoon knew then that the lightness they shared that day would likely never return. What he would have given for things between them to just be simple. 

"We look like a married couple," Yoongi joked when they got the photo back, and in that moment, Namjoon knew he had to frame it and put it on display in his home. 

Often, over the years, Namjoon has considered what it would be like for the two of them to actually be a married couple. Namjoon has always thought he would trade absolutely everything to make it happen, if only he could. He feels that way now, looking at the photo with a heaviness in his chest.

Namjoon's phone vibrates in his hand, pulling him from his thoughts, and he lifts it to check the notification without unlocking the device. It takes a moment for him to remember what his last message said—that he has killed a man for less than bragging about sexually pleasing his girlfriend.

Gguk: Big deal, so have I!

With a scoff, Namjoon slides his phone back into his pocket and begins to devise a plan. Foremost, he needs to get in touch with Yoongi's chef. He should have arrived at the mansion several hours ago, and Namjoon is craving eggs benedict. 

Next, he needs to get in touch with someone in Hong Kong. Yoongi may not be responding, but he knows Uiseok or Wonjin will talk. 

He just needs to go to Hong Kong and assure himself that Yoongi is safe. From there, he hardly cares what comes next. In fact, he could use some time away from Seoul and all of the responsibilities that come with being here. If Yoongi wants to stay in Hong Kong, Namjoon does not object, he just does not want Yoongi to be there alone at a time like this. 

Namjoon slides his feet into a pair of sneakers and groans as he bends to tie the laces. Although he is in the best shape of his life, he feels worn down lately. His body aches, and he feels tired all the time. Not to mention, his recent workouts with Jeongguk have been wearing him the fuck out.

Christopher calls Namjoon's recent mood and exhaustion depression and often recommends he try to medicate it, but he is disinterested in the prospect. New medications can dull one's senses and Namjoon having his senses dulled could cost someone their life. 

Once he is outside, walking down his stone steps onto gravel and dirt, he pulls his phone out and calls the chef. He asks if the chef wouldn't mind prepping for eggs benedict, and then he hangs up and gets to work on task number two. 

Being that it is an hour earlier in Hong Kong, Namjoon is not concerned with Uiseok and Yoongi being together this early, so he places a call. The phone rings and rings and Namjoon nearly prepares himself for what he might say in a voicemail when it stops ringing and he hears a groggy, "Hyung?"

"Uiseok," Namjoon responds, walking along the path where trees obstruct its view from the road. "I hope you weren't sleeping."

"Nah, I've been up," Uiseok responds with a droopy lilt that suggests he was definitely asleep a moment ago.

Namjoon swallows thickly, unsure how to proceed before saying, "Look, I don't want to involve you in our shit, but Yoongi hasn't been responding to any of our calls or texts, and we have some business to iron out. I was thinking about making a trip out if that isn't an inconvenience to you."

Uiseok hums, then says, "Nah, man, come on by! Mi casa is your casa."

"Alright, thanks," Namjoon responds, eyes on the gravel that he kicks at with his toe as he walks. He hesitates asking after Yoongi, but finds he can't help it. "Is he…I mean, everything is good, right?"

"Yoongi?" Uiseok asks as if shocked by the question. "Yeah, man he's great! Everything is running according to plan. Copasetic. No sweat, no sweat."

"Hmm," Namjoon mutters, coming out of the clearing of trees and squinting up at the morning sky. 

He does not fully believe what Uiseok says, but not because he thinks the man is being dishonest. He just knows Yoongi's affinity for bottling shit up and wearing a mask of nonchalance—one of the key lessons his father taught him about running a city. "Well I'm glad to hear that. I wonder if it would be better for me to surprise him with my visit."

"A surprise could be fun," Uiseok responds chipperly, taking the bait. Namjoon does not want to come out and say don't tell him I'm coming. "We got nothing happening this week, but if something comes up, one of the guys will be around at all times. You know how it is."

"I do," Namjoon mutters as he approaches the front steps and begins letting himself into the mansion. Now that he is at his second home, and he at least has some confirmation that Yoongi is alright, Namjoon feels eager to get off the phone. "Cool, cool. Well, I'll let you know when I am on my way. 

"Sounds good, man. Sounds real good. Can't wait to shoot the shit again. Travel safe."

Namjoon mutters, "Thanks," under his breath while pulling the phone from his face and ending the call. Something just does not feel right and he can not figure out what it is. Probably, he just needs to see Yoongi and assuage his doubts. 

Once he is inside the mansion, sneakers kicked aside and feet slid into a pair of Yoongi's comfy slippers, he takes in his surroundings and smiles. He meanders over to Yoongi's large blue velvet chair and groans as he slowly sits on it, closing his eyes as the familiar smell of home greets him. If he tries, he can detect hints of Yoongi's musk, but he thinks he may also just be imagining it out of desperation. 

Beside the chair there is a small black marble table with gold furnishings, on top of which sits a beautifully decorated Tiffany lamp adorned with stained glass dragonflies and an intricately designed bronze base. 

Namjoon always marvels at the furnishings which Yoongi opted to keep versus getting rid of. The black and gold all came in after his father died, replacing all the rich mahogany that the old man loved so much, with the exception of the dining rooms. 

But the lamps and all the velvet furnishings were Yoongi's mother's. The chair Namjoon sits on and the couch that accompanies it used to be up in her room at the far left end of the mezzanine, collecting dust until Yoongi insisted on bringing them downstairs.

Whenever the mansion is cold and empty, Namjoon misses Yoongi's mother the most. He misses her soft, knowing smiles, and her warm, kind hugs. Most of all, he misses Yoongi having someone to confide in. Although Yoongi tries to be an open book with those he loves, nobody really got to his heart the way his mother did. 

Namjoon sighs as he reaches for the little marble side table and pulls out a small drawer on its front. Inside is a silver cigarette case with a dragon carved on the front of it—a gift Yoongi gave to Namjoon for his sixteenth birthday. Namjoon pulls it out and clicks a little button on the side, and although the spring mechanism is worn with age, the lid pops open to reveal three perfectly rolled joints and a small green rectangular box of matches. 

The mornings are becoming cooler, but it is still rather nice outside, so Namjoon considers sitting out in one of the gardens to smoke. But then his phone dings, filling the silent room with a loud, single chime, and without reading the notification, Namjoon decides to change his plan. 

He slides one of the joints and the little book of matches out of the case, then snaps the case shut and returns it to the drawer, slowly pressing it tightly closed. Instinct tells him that you and Jeongguk will be on your way back soon, so he makes his way back toward the front door. He would rather greet you out there than have you come to the garden, to him. Although he has no idea what type of mood you will be in, he is eager to put his best foot forward, despite feeling the overwhelming need to be a little stoned in order to face the day. 

The saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder, blips into Namjoon's mind, and he shakes his head and laughs to himself. Having a little time away from you has certainly helped him miss you, and has made him eager to see you. 

Absence from Yoongi, on the other hand…

Namjoon groans once more as he bends to slide on his sneakers, then he reaches for the door knob. He steps outside, turning to slowly close the door behind him, which he wedges open with a random boot. Then he slides out his phone to check it, holding the matchbook in his palm beneath the device while cradling the joint between two fingers. 

Gguk: Heading your way! See you soon, hyung.

With a smile, Namjoon slides the phone back into his pocket, lifts the joint and matches, and begins to slide the tiny green box open to retrieve one of the few remaining matchsticks. He lets out a deep breath as he strikes the stick to the side of the box, igniting a small flame, and then he lights the joint with a deep inhale. 

This box of matches comes from a hotel he and Yoongi stayed in several years back in New York. The trip was meant to be one of sight seeing and trying American food, but they barely left the hotel suite, holing up and fucking all week, living off of room service and the fancy hotel bar. 

The memory brings back a flood of others with Yoongi—of trips to Japan and Amsterdam and Paris and Taiwan, and anywhere in the world Yoongi has wanted to go, which Namjoon has agreed to without hesitation.

A bittersweet rush of anxiety and adoration swells in Namjoon's chest, and he is pulled from his thoughts only when he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, coming from the path that leads to Jeongguk's home. He smiles, listening for faint voices and is surprised when he hears none. 

The thought of you being quiet is one thing, but Jeongguk almost always has something to say. He wonders if Jeongguk has finally gotten over his phase of needing to impress you and is beginning to get a little more comfortable. 

Namjoon smokes his joint a little too fast. His nerves are going haywire and he is becoming increasingly paranoid over the prospect of seeing you again. Jeongguk says you miss him, and he does not doubt that could be true, but he is more than well aware of how distant he has been, lately. 

However, when he looks up and sees the two of you coming onto the driveway—you slung over Jeongguk's back, wearing a set of Jeongguk's hoodie and matching joggers—all he can do is smile like a maniac. Love makes his heart pound rather than trepidation. 

As you slide off Jeongguk's back, Namjoon holds his arms out, inviting you for a hug, and he is pleased when you run into his arms, slamming against his chest hard enough that it nearly makes him cough. He considers offering Jeongguk what is left of the joint but notices the youngest keeping his distance. 

"Sweetheart," Namjoon says, taking a deep inhale of Jeongguk's unmistakable lavender body wash, "did the two of you have fun?"

When you look up and smile, saying, "Yes," it feels like the sun itself is shining from within Namjoon's heart. 

"Thanks, Jeongguk," you say, turning in Namjoon's hold, which he loosens to give you range of motion, and to puff back what is left of his joint. 

Jeongguk seems distant, which is worrying, but he could also be tired. Either way, calling attention to it and putting him on the spot does not seem like a good idea. There is a chance you both are still feeling the effects of the MDMA, and Namjoon does not want to push anyone's emotional buttons. 

"Thanks for the late night booty call, dollface," Jeongguk finally says with an unconvincing wink as he waves the two of you off, spins around, and makes his way back home. 

"You two are so cute," Namjoon mutters, feeling like he has found himself caught in the middle of a rather sweet crush, even if he is worried about the two of you together.

You spin and wrap Namjoon in a tight hug, asking, "Is that so?" and although it seems innocent enough, the playfulness in your voice lights a spark in Namjoon that he has to attempt to ignore. At least until after breakfast. So, instead, he simply hums and then decides to change the topic. 

"I spoke to Yoongi," he lies, and you gasp and step back, eyes wide and eager. Finally, the weed seems to be taking hold and making Namjoon relax a little more, and he continues. "What do you say we fly to Hong Kong tomorrow and bring him home?"

You nod so fast—so eagerly—that Namjoon actually worries you might get a headache. Feeling hunger pangs and a bit of lightheadedness take over, Namjoon takes one last puff of his joint and flicks it into the driveway. 

"He regrets creating distance and he wants to talk about it in person," Namjoon continues, instantly regretting letting his mouth run. Of course, he knows this to be the way Yoongi operates, but he is still making shit up. He feels desperate to calm your worries in some way, adding, "Rest assured that we have done nothing to push him away."

Even as the words leave Namjoon's lips, he fears they could be false. What if the injury to his face was the last straw, and Yoongi no longer feels safe with the two of you. Namjoon can still imagine the horrible feeling as you yanked on his arm and the blade that the two of you held onto caught on Yoongi's face. 

Judging by your eyes, you are just as doubtful, but you smile anyway, and that is enough to get Namjoon out of his spiral. 

"Are you hungry?" he asks, eager once more to change the topic. 

"Starving!" you respond cutely, and the two of you enter the mansion, kicking out of your footwear and closing the door tightly behind you. 

“I’ve been craving eggs benedict, so I had the chef whip up some hollandaise sauce," Namjoon says as they make their way through the main hall. "Does that sound good to you?”

He is not sure what he expected you to say in response, and is shocked when you come back with, “Awe, I was hoping you might burn the mansion down making me an omelet.”

Namjoon is quick to turn and begin tickling you, digging his fingertips behind your ribs in a dance that he knows makes you crazy. You squeal as he shouts, "Yah! I am not that bad of a cook!"

"I submit!" you shout, lifting your hands in the air and nearly punching Namjoon in the face. "You're an amazing cook!"

Although Namjoon is unconvinced, he decides the chivalrous thing to do would be to stop. He is also too damn hungry to continue torturing you, and he slots an arm around your waist when you seem to teeter in place. 

"Are these Gguk's clothes?" Namjoon feels compelled to ask, tugging at the fabric near your side, feeling his heart pound behind his ribs when you look up with a wide smile and nod. 

Something in the way the two are now, as if you seem to be back to how you were before, sparks desire deep in Namjoon. The moment the two of you finish breakfast, Namjoon wants to savor you for dessert. 

And he does.

The way your entire body trembles—legs draped over his shoulders and thighs squeezing the sides of his head only urges Namjoon on more. It has been weeks since he has been able to make you cum so much; weeks since you have not been suddenly interrupted by a horrendous flashback the moment you let your guard down; weeks since the last time Namjoon has felt thankful for a waterproof mattress pad.

Namjoon's nose, cheeks, and chin are soaked, and he eats you in broad, greedy strokes, moaning against you unabashedly, eager for you to know that he feels so much pleasure just from getting you off. 

"Daddy," you whine, drawing out the syllables as your thighs clench and release and clench again. He has slowed his fingers inside you but your release continues to squelch and dribble around his hand. 

Namjoon merely hums in response, dragging his tongue over your soaked pussy, tasting your lightly sweet, lightly tangy release—a flavor that makes him insane with lust. He is certain that he could eat you out for hours. 

"Too much," you cry, but Namjoon merely slows down, releasing your clit from his lips with a loud smack as he groans, "That isn't your safeword, baby."

You moan in response, legs falling spread and quaking as Namjoon continues languid swipes of his tongue. The high from the weed he smoked earlier has all but dissipated, replaced with a high from you. And he almost, almost forgets how worried he is about Yoongi. 

But then he is plagued with it once more—the image of beautiful Yoongi with blood pouring down his face—seeping between his fingers. Namjoon’s jaw quivers and he swallows thickly, overwhelmed with the urge to vomit or cry or both. 

“Hmm?” he hears you hum, and he glances up to find you propped up on your elbows, watching him with concern. 

Namjoon can’t help but chuckle. “How are you so observant?” he asks, leaning up on his elbows and wiping his face on the back of his hand. 

Although you look sweaty and fucked out, still seemingly trying to catch your breath, your gaze is razor sharp and focused, lips in a half smile. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” you mutter cutely, smile growing. “It’s easy to be tuned in to you.”

Namjoon sighs and smiles, but he feels a hint of worry. He has been trying so hard to protect you from his thoughts, but he wonders if it would not be better for you to be let in. That is part of loving someone, after all. 

“Ugh, I’m gonna kill the mood,” Namjoon groans, feeling that the mood is already dead. 

You chuckle and shake your head, saying, “Never.” Sitting up further, you open your arms and say, “Come here, Joonbug.”

Namjoon gets onto his hands and begins to crawl, caging your hips and then ribs. And then he gently falls forward, taking you down with him in a tangle of arms and giggles. 

“I keep having flashbacks too,” Namjoon mutters, closing his eyes tight. Yoongi continues to bleed in his mind, but as your hands begin to play with his hair, he melts, pushing the image out. How could he have been so cold when your warmth is so healing?

He swallows again and continues, “I keep seeing Yoongi with his hands and cheek covered in blood. Head wounds…fuck, they bleed so much.” Your hands stop momentarily and then begin to move again. “So much more than you might expect. When Taehyung was stitching him up, it looked like a river had flowed down his chin and neck. I’m sorry for telling you this.”

You say nothing, making Namjoon nervous. “We’re both at fault for what happened,” he adds quietly, chest heavy with remorse. “So please don’t take all the blame. Don’t carry the full burden, okay?”

“Okay,” you utter softly at the same time your chest quakes. 

Namjoon knows before his eyes can lift in confirmation that you are crying. “Sweetheart—“ he begins, but you shake your head, cutting him off. 

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” you half-whisper, tears flowing down your pretty cheeks. “That had to have been so scary.”

A humorless scoff works through Namjoon's chest. "To be honest, I was numb at the time. I go into a protection mode where, until I am sure that someone is okay, I do not react emotionally to the situation. It wasn't until we got home and I brought Yoongi up to shower while we contemplated coming to get you that everything became too much to bear. I completely fucking lost it."

"Why didn't you come get me?" you ask, and Namjoon loves you for it. He loves the way you challenge him, and how you do not leave any detail unaddressed. He turns his cheek to the side and buries it against your chest, listening to the steady beating of your heart while your hands sooth his head, neck, and shoulders. 

"Believe it or not, we were only home for about two hours before Taehyung came to bring you home, and as soon as we arrived, men started filing in for an emergency meeting that Yoongi had called; we didn't get to sleep at all. At that hour…when we first arrived to Taehyung's place…it took a little while for any staff to arrive to the property, and Yoongi insisted he tended to Jimin before him. We were in that fluorescent basement all fucking morning. I helped apply pressure to a rag against his face and dissociated quite a bit."

"I would have helped," you mutter, but Namjoon knows it is more for your own benefit than his. Even in the face of terror, you tend to put yourself before others, which is precisely why he prefers to keep you at a safe distance when possible. 

"How can I win your forgiveness?" Namjoon blurts, making an attempt to lift his head and torso enough to look at you. 

But you hold him in place, making your hands and arms heavy against his head and shoulders, sending a clear message that you already have him right where you want him. Your chest shakes and he imagines that you are quietly laughing, but he wishes he could see your face.

"Joonbug," you sigh, smile evident in your tone while your nails scratch against his scalp. "There is nothing to forgive. While I hate to be left out, all I needed was an explanation."

Namjoon feels guilty for his recent silence and all the space he created, thinking it was just as much for your own benefit as for his. He laments not just telling you how he feels. 

"I shut you out after Yoongi left," Namjoon mutters, staring at the dark blue curtains that hang against the wall, tracing over the rise and dip of each crease where they are bunched close. Although he feels at a loss for words, he attempts to at least get some of his thoughts out. "I didn't mean to, I'm just…I don't know. I'm not always good at all of this."

Blunt nails scratch just hard enough that Namjoon has to suppress a groan, fluttering his eyes closed. 

"At all of what?" you ask. 

"Being open, I suppose," Namjoon says, although he knows you are going to refute it. 

"I don't believe that to be true," you respond, proving him right. 

Namjoon chuckles, feeling affection swell behind his ribs. On the nightstand, his phone dings, indicating a message has come in, but he decides that whoever it is can wait just a minute longer. He wants to stay in this moment and consider his next words thoughtfully.

But then his phone dings again, and he thinks that maybe it could be Yoongi. And again it dings, and he worries that it could be Yoongi and that something could be wrong. 

"You gonna get that?" you ask, finally loosening your hold and removing your fingers from where they tangle in Namjoon's hair, and he lets out a sigh of frustration. The audacity of having to move his body when it is perfectly comfortable here in bed with you. 

"Alright, alright," he grumbles, rolling out of your hold and onto his back, which makes you groan and complain when all his weight is momentarily shifted onto one side of your body. You sit up as if anticipating whatever could be on his screen, pulling the comforter close to your chest, which makes him feel a bit more anxious than before. 

Namjoon shifts onto his knees and crawls the rest of the way over to the bedside table, where his phone rests facedown. As he reaches his right arm out, his left arm trembles under his weight—or, perhaps, under the weight of this entire situation. Namjoon turns the phone over and halts his breathing at the sight of three messages from Yoongi waiting for him. 

Yoongi: I think Uiseok accidentally blew your spot. He was high as a kite and muttering something about Namjoonie-hyung sliding by for a visit. 

Yoongi:  I can still act surprised when you arrive, though… ;]

Yoongi: Please hurry? I miss you two like crazy. 

Namjoon's heart goes wild in his chest and he begins to panic, unsure which task he should complete first. "Pack a bag," he mutters to you without lifting his gaze, thumbs shaking over the screen, unable to type a response because his mind races too quickly. 

"Is it Yoongi?" you ask, voice laced with worry, and Namjoon finally tears his eyes to you, which only makes his heart speed even more quickly. 

Your eyes, lined with heavy bags from lack of sleep, are downturned and so beautiful. He traces the shape of your sweat-slick neck and shoulder, then nods quickly, eyes welling with tears. "I think we should leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Oh?" you ask, sitting forward quickly. 

"Nothing is wrong!" Namjoon adds, realizing he must be worrying you with his lack of information, only now able to form a coherent enough thought to text Yoongi back. "He just wants to see us as soon as possible, is all."

In a rush, you scoot close to Namjoon, leave a wet smack of a kiss to his cheek, then slide off the edge of the large bed and take off running for your room in the nude. Namjoon chuckles as he watches you, then he gets to work. 

First, he calls the pilot, who says he can be at the airport in fifteen minutes with a plane ready in around an hour and a half. Then he calls Hoseok to set up a ride for the airport. And finally, he responds to Yoongi. 

Namjoon: We can be there by dinnertime.

Namjoon takes his time stretching his limbs then he pads over to Yoongi's closet, which has a bunch of his own clothes inside. He finds one of Yoongi's black suitcases shoved in the back of the space and lifts it on top of the center island to unzip and begin packing. 

Somewhat listlessly, Namjoon packs blacks—sweatpants and sweaters, tees, slacks, a cardigan. Black socks, black briefs, and black and silver face Rolex. Then he changes into his standard uniform of all blacks, layering a tee tucked into slacks with a fuzzy sweater that he borrows from Yoongi. 

As soon as the shirt is pulled over Namjoon's torso, snug around his muscles despite being a size too big for its rightful owner, he lifts his sweater paws to his face and takes a deep inhale of the detergent that lingers. It misses too much nuance to fully be Yoongi, but it is a piece of him, and that makes Namjoon choke back a sob. 

Soon. He can see Yoongi soon. 

He thinks back to the portrait hanging at the top of his staircase and pictures the look on Yoongi's face, imagining that the wedding that day could have been theirs. In all the years he has known and loved Yoongi, nothing has ever been simple. All he wants is for things to be simple. And he thinks about how nicely you would fit in a picture like that, too. 

The sounds of wheels rolling into the room and feet running in time with them makes Namjoon quirk a smile, and he turns in time to watch you come into view wearing one of your many floral sun dresses. You have what appears to be a soft light blue sweater draped over your arm, and you have managed to pack surprisingly fast.

"Do I need anything fancy?" you ask as you release the suitcase handle and begin to pull the sweater over your head. 

"We can go shopping if you do," Namjoon responds, eager to get to the airport as quickly as possible. 

"Alright," you respond with a bright smile that warms Namjoon's chest and settles his worries. In that moment, two honks of a car horn beam through the open window, signaling Hoseok's arrival. "Let's go get our kitten."

*

alright alright, this is the final chapter i have to offer that was already written. believe it or not, i actually have 22 mostly done. will we get a main update soon??? god, i hope so. thank you for your patience in this trying time! 💜💜💜 Yoongi's pov is also on the way!!!

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[pedges]

the one where things are messy

pairing: joel miller x reader (no apocalypse and accidentally on purpose gender neutral)

summary: you leave joel a drunk voicemail.

content: drunk reader. like, drunk. miscommunications, angst, but mostly just a silly little time. reader is joel's neighbor of several years. gratuitous use of the word "fuck." let me know if i've missed anything!

a/n: this is 100% based off friends the tv show. the one where ross finds out. i have not written in a very long time, so i apologize in advance! this is just a nonsensical drabble that ended up being 5k words, so please enjoy <3

The thing is, Joel doesn’t like cats. 

Joel doesn’t hate cats, but he has never expressed any sign of liking cats, at least not enough to warrant the sudden desire to adopt one. With his girlfriend. Who he plans on asking to move in with him. When he tells you, it’s like he just ordered an airstrike to your chest, and you’re thinking maybe you should have slashed his tires before he went to Dallas on business for two weeks and came back with a sweet little thing shacked up in his heart. 

It’s just that when Tommy and you got drunk together a few days after he left, sitting on the couch in Joel’s living room while Tommy played world’s worst babysitter, he had dropped the first of what now seems to be a series of inconvenient bombshells. 

“Don’t get rom-coms, they’re real fuckin’ dumb,” he had been saying, adamantly complaining about your choice of movie. When Harry Met Sally was too cute and too good to receive his vitriol, but the alcohol in your system tore down your usual defense mechanisms. All you could really do was roll your eyes. “Just fuckin’ talk to each other, maybe, maybe this shit wouldn’t take so long.” 

“The hell do you know about communicating, Tommy?” you said, and though you were mostly teasing, you had to bite back a remark about his past relationships never making it past the six month mark. Still, you kept the levity in your voice, the drunken grin on your lips. “Swear, you and Joel think you know everything. Must be an annoying Miller thing.”

“Know more than you,” he said with a scoff, then a hiccup. Taking the last swig of his beer, he set the empty bottle down on the coffee table and looked at you. “Way fuckin’ more than Joel. M’like—the fuck is the word—ret-i-cant. Always watchin’. You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Reticent, and I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.” 

“Bull,” Tommy insisted. “Cause—‘cause I know if Harry and Sally just admitted shit from the getgo—they’da saved so much fuckin’ time.”

You wanted to argue. You want to tell him that was the point of the story, of the insistence for two people who very clearly wanted each other being brought back together each time they tried to stay away from one another. You wanted to tell Tommy that sometimes difficult things were beautiful, and romantic, and heartfelt, and great. But before you could, he was grumbling something as he sank into the couch, something that sounded like, “S’like I kept tellin’ Joel, tired of him tiptoein’ ‘round you.” 

“What?” you said in lieu of everything else running through your quickly sobering mind. 

“Ah, shit.” 

It only took a couple threats of bodily harm for Tommy to tell you that Joel had feelings for you. Keyword: had. He stopped asking about it a while ago, stopped caring when it was obvious Joel “wasn’t goin’ to do a damn thing,” so don’t ask him if he knew more than what he did a few months ago. All of it was quickly followed by pleads to not say shit and that he was sorry he said anything at all. 

You wondered what he would have said if you told him you'd wanted Joel Miller since the moment you laid eyes on him. 

But, you didn’t. And a week and a half later, when Joel came back talking up a storm about an old flame he met up with in Dallas, how fate would have it that she was moving back to Austin—well, needless to say—Tommy’s inability to keep a secret meant nothing now. 

Now, six months later, you’re left to wonder if it hurt Joel this bad when you went on dates, and had partners, and did everything you could to drown out the feelings you had for him. You’d think finding out he had feelings for you—but was now in a relationship with a woman who didn’t playfully (annoyingly) bicker with him, or snort, or make fun—would kill the ones you had for him. But the universe is cruel, and your heart has never really been one to quit. 

Part of you feels bad for thinking it wouldn’t last. Well, not thinking—hoping. But it did, and you realize woefully that you’ve missed your chance with Joel Miller—the man you have spent too many years pining after, too many nights thinking that his brand of affection meant more than he was letting on, and buried too many sorrows in glasses of wine or bottles of beer over. But worst of all, you realize that Tommy was right. 

So, he tells you he wants her to move in with him and Sarah one Saturday evening on his porch. Then he tells you she wants a cat. And you say you’re happy for him. 

“You, uh, don’t think it’s too…soon?” he asks then, like he’s looking to you for a reason to back out. Every fiber of your being is aching to give him one, especially with the way he looks at you with those big browns of his, but the words scratch at your throat hard enough that they don’t make their way out. Instead, you shake your head slowly, forcing a shrug as you sip on the coffee Joel so tenderly prepared for you—the way you like it; he didn’t even have to ask. 

“I think,” you start, though these words aren’t any less sharp than the ones you truly want to say, “if you’re happy, you should do what you want.” 

“You ever picture me with a cat?” Joel snickers. He wears the gentlest smile, enough of one to form those crinkles by his eyes that you love so much. 

“I think you’d look adorable with a cat,” you tell him, and it might be the first true thing you’ve said all night. You picture it, a purring cat curled on his chest, and someone he loves at his side. In your mind, you can’t help but put yourself in that spot. “But,” you continue, “can’t say I’ve ever thought of you actually getting one. You’re more of a…hm. German shepherd guy, maybe even a lizard.” 

Joel laughs—that hearty, full, intoxicating laugh of his. It floods your veins and gives you goosebumps. If the world were to fall to ruins tomorrow, you’d survive on the memory of it alone, you think. 

“Can’t say I disagree with you,” he says then, a leftover grin still curled on his lips, and you want to do anything in your power to keep it there. But then he gets lost in thought, and you watch it soften. It doesn’t disappear completely, but the fact that it’s gone so quickly makes you ache. He speaks again, voice soft as he says, “Guess I just want to make her happy. Lot of things stopped bein’ about me a long time ago, I think.” 

Your heart cinches. Of course he’d say something like that. Of course he’d go and utter words that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place. And god, that realization hits hard. You are quite, disgustingly in love with Joel. Though it stings, and you’re going to go home and lick your wounds for the hundredth time soon, you get what he means. You stayed silent when he got back from Dallas for the same reason—the smile on his face when he talked about someone he might truly, genuinely like. 

That, and because the someone wasn’t you. 

-

You pull up your britches. 

You have no other choice, you decide, because you’re young, and you’re an adult, and you can get over someone without feeling like you’re going to die. You use your little black book (read: an old Lisa Frank notepad) to call up the fling you had last winter. He’d wanted you, badly, but because there was a night where you thought Joel might’ve kissed you, you never called back. It seems stupid now, looking back. 

But, you thank your lucky stars, or one man’s utter desperation, that he’s still single and he still wants you. He takes you out to a nice restaurant, in a nice suit, and nice shoes. The conversation isn’t even bad, and he’s putting your drinks on his tab. The second one in, you think maybe this could work. 

It’s when you lose count that things go bad. 

“I don’t even think Joel likes cats,” you’re slurring to this poor man, who is desperately scanning the restaurant for a waiter, a check, and a way out of your ramblings about Joel’s love life. You can’t tell if you’re crying or not, though it really feels like you want to. Because one moment you were having a nice time, and the next someone was ordering Joel’s drink—whiskey on the rocks, with a twist—at the table over and you weren’t able to keep him out of your mind from that point on. 

It’s ridiculous, because it’s not Joel’s Drink, it’s A Drink—one that Joel only ever orders, but you could see someone in a worn down green and gray flannel and wonder when Joel Miller became such a trendsetter. Still, nothing can stop you from ordering one yourself, and then another, and then another. It’s like you’re trying to flood your senses with Joel Joel Joel because you know it’ll never be him sitting across from you with the intention of taking you home and maybe kissing you outside your door.

Though, if you weren’t gone by your fourth whiskey, you’d see that your date has lost any and all intentions of that manner. It’s probably not even because you’re drunk, it’s because you’re still wearing Joel’s name on your lips like it’s going out of style. 

“Like—like, I can’t just tell Joel, no, y’know? Or, I don’t think you should get a cat with a woman you had a thing with before you met the mother of your child, and especially shouldn’t have her move in with you after six months. But I want to. Because he’s smarter than this, and I don’t think it’s the right move, especially because of Sarah, and Tommy, ugh, Tommy. Idiot. They’re both idiots. Joel especially, methinks.” 

You don’t know when your date finally flagged down the waiter, or when he dropped you off at home, or when you got inside and picked up your landline. You especially don’t know when you dialed Joel’s number and left him a voicemail when he inevitably didn’t answer. 

All you know is that you mixed your alcohols that night, and you’re probably going to wake up in some version of hell in the morning, but it seems like falling asleep has never been so easy before. 

—

Hell is an understatement. You don’t get sick, but you wish you could throw up your brain, or at least the part of it that still gets headaches like this. It’s with the most gut wrenching revelation that you don’t have any ibuprofen, or any recollection of the night before.  

For the time being, it’s truly the least of your worries. The most of them are getting rid of your life threatening headache. So, after making yourself as presentable as you can, you trudge across the street to Joel’s house—it’s because his house is closer than the drugstore three blocks down. Not because seeing his face would make you feel better anyways. 

“Aren’t you a beauty this afternoon,” Joel laughs when he opens the door, because really, you look like death, and you hadn’t even realized it was past one o’clock. You’re grateful it’s Saturday, and Sarah has soccer practice right now, because she looks up to you, and the last thing you need is for her to see you like this. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, shoving your way past him despite his teasing. He doesn’t mind, and you know he doesn’t. If the smile still on his face is anything to go by. It’s then you realize that yeah, okay, seeing him does make you feel better. Even if it’s just by a fraction. 

“Thought you left your partyin’ days in college,” he continues with his teasing. “Let me guess: you came over here to raid my medicine cabinet.” 

By the time he closes his front door and turns around, you’re already sinking into his plush couch, giving him a look with raised brows that could only mean, You mean you’re going to raid your medicine cabinet, for me. 

“Ah,” he says. Any other moment, your heart would stutter at the ease in which he reads you. Now, your heart is threatening to fail for an entirely different reason. “Got it. Be right back.” 

Joel sticks by his word. He comes back, not just with painkillers, but with water, warmed up coffee, and one of the store-bought muffins you love so much. If you weren’t dying, you’d hug the man. If you weren’t so smart, you’d probably even kiss him. 

“Don’t die on me, alright? Need you around for shenanigans and such,” Joel tells you, leaving you to your devices on his couch. The pain meds go down, and the coffee does wonders from just one sip. You allow yourself to lie on the couch, pillow over your face to block out the harsh light. It seems that as the seconds pass, and by some miracle, you start to feel more and more at ease. Fragments of last night come back slowly, but not enough to piece together the entire puzzle. 

You drank a lot, that much is clear. 

It’s not until you hear a series of beeps from the kitchen, where Joel keeps his landline and answering machine, do the cogs in your brain start cranking a little harder. One voicemail plays over the speaker, something about work that makes Joel sigh and skip it before he can play it all the way through. 

Beeeeep. 

“Heeeeello, Joel. Hi, hello, howdy. It’s me.” 

Joel calls out, “Did you call me last night?” 

You sit up in record time. 

It comes rushing back. 

“I just don’t see why he can’t get something that doesn’t live so long. Like a hamster. Or goldfish. Or a fruit fly. It’s just so—“

“Listen! Listen. I don’t know who Joel or Tommy or Sarah are. You sound—hung up. But if you really want my advice? Get some closure. You clearly have feelings for this guy and you won’t get over him until you do.” 

“Closure! Oh, you’re a genius!” 

“Joel,” you call over the sound of your own drunken voice, dread now filling your body to the fucking brim. But it seems like your body can’t move fast enough. “Joel, hang up, hang it up, hang it up.”

“I just—just wanted to call and tell you I am so happy for you. And your future cat. And I think you should name it Frank. And because I am giving you names, that means I am getting closure—“

You can hear your heartbeat sounding against your eardrums, but feel it falling to the ground as you finally muster up the memory of how to work your legs. But by the time you’re stumbling into the kitchen, you can hear the worst of the voicemail that has Joel’s face drained of any possible readable emotion. You start praying for the ground to swallow you whole and munch your bones. It would be a more peaceful way to go than this. 

“Because you’re over me, I am over you, my sweet Joel. That’s right. I am over you. How’s that for closure?” 

The machine beeps, and then the heaviest silence enters the kitchen. 

Seconds, minutes, maybe even years pass as you stand in the doorway, looking at Joel looking at the answering machine. Then at you. 

“You’re…over me?” he finally says. You swallow the softball that had lodged itself in your throat and almost choke on it. “When, uh, when were you under me?” 

Suddenly, you think the whole life flashing before your eyes thing is true. Because you feel like you’re dying, and all you can think about is every happy moment you’ve had surrounded by Joel. The first time you met, the way Sarah took a liking to you, the unlikely friendship you formed with his brother. You think of all the nights spent on Joel’s porch, sometimes talking, but most times in such a genuinely comfortable silence, where you could do nothing but enjoy each other’s presence. You think of all the fleeting touches, lingering glances, pet names reserved just for you—and how you doubted all the thoughts that they could mean something more. 

You don’t know what hurts more—the fact that, according to Tommy, they did, or that now they didn’t. 

But most of all, you think of how when you were searching for a home several years ago, you didn’t expect to find it in the family of a man named Joel Miller. 

And you didn’t expect to lose it in the worst way possible. 

When you remember where you are, what is happening, and realize that you haven’t actually died, you let out a pathetic little noise. Halfway between a whimper and the words you can’t yet form. 

“What, uh—what did you mean, over me?” Joel finally asks. He’s never been one to beat around the bush, but god, you wish just this time he would. In fact, you wish he’d pretend that this never happened. But you know better. You know there’s no ignoring this. 

“I—“ you barely manage to choke out. Because truly, what do you say? Against your better judgment, you opt for the truth. “I…may or may not have feelings,” you say, and then, “For you. Tommy told me you—you used to feel the same.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

“…And you’re over me?” 

You wince. Maybe drunk-you convinced yourself so briefly that saying it would make it true. But by the weight of your heart, and the way it feels like there’s been barbed wire wrapped around it, gripping it tight, you know any answer besides No would be a lie. But because you can’t really bring yourself to say it, not with the way tears threaten to burn your eyes any second now, you instead say, “I don’t know.” 

It seems though, Joel wanted so desperately for you to say yes. By the way he jumps into action, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter and making a break for it, he wanted you to say Yes, I’m completely over you. But you didn’t, and now he’s leaving you alone in his own house. 

-

You don’t speak for a week. 

You’re not exactly sure who’s avoiding who. You just know you’re wallowing in something that feels akin to lava that refuses to swallow you whole. Inside you there’s this ache, like there’s an empty space where someone should be inside your heart. It feels like three empty spaces, actually, and you had never weighed the consequences of losing Joel before. Part of you wishes you could have just gotten rid of your feelings for him a long time ago. Collecting the evidence now, though, told you there was no easy way to do that. Maybe quitting him cold turkey would have done the trick, or moving to Antarctica. But apparently, when you fell in love with Joel, you fell in love with his entire family, and three people was a hell of a lot harder to give up than one. 

In fact, on day seven, you’re stealthing your way back inside your home after a trip to the grocery store, like you have been all week, when you hear a familiar voice call your name. You turn to see Sarah across the street, standing at the backdoor of Tommy’s truck in her soccer uniform, waving at you with this sad little smile on her face. One that says she doesn’t know what’s going on, just that she hasn’t seen you in a while, and you realize that this is the longest you’ve gone without speaking to her since you first met her. 

You look around like you’re going to get caught committing a crime when you send the most timid wave back. It ends up feeling like a crime anyways when the face you’ve been aching to see comes out of the house, followed by his brother, and he follows Sarah’s line of sight. Meeting his eye is a serrated knife slicing through you, jagged, and harsh, and no clean cuts. 

But what hurts the most is when he opens Sarah’s door and all but forcefully guides her inside the truck, like he’s ushering her away from a bad thing. You think maybe he is. 

You rush inside afterwards and think of ways to never leave your house again. 

Hours later, you’re sitting on your couch watching another ridiculous rom-com, the only comfort you’ve found, with perpetual tears brimming your eyes. Tommy really was fucking right, wasn’t he? Had there been some inkling of communication, you wouldn’t be here. But there wasn’t, and you are, and it sucks—somehow, it seems like this will never not hurt. 

At ten o’clock, there’s a knock at your door. It makes you jump, mostly because this sense of knowing dread fills your body—like you know who it is before you can even open it, because you do. When Joel is standing on the other side, those big brown eyes of his full of something you can’t make out, he asks if he can come in. You aren’t even sure he’d listen if you said no, so you say yes. 

He steps inside, you close the door, and there’s a beat of silence before, “Sarah was askin’ about you all day.” 

You stand at your door, hands together as you toy with your own fingers nervously. Your heart is racing and your mind is reeling, but most of all, there’s this resounding ache echoing throughout your entire body. 

“Sorry,” is all you can really say in return. 

“I didn’t get a cat,” Joel says then. Your heart jolts at the mention. 

“Oh.” You look down at your hands. “Interesting.” 

“No, not interestin’.” When Joel speaks this time, he almost sounds angry. Frustrated, maybe, but he doesn’t sound happy, especially not with you. When you force yourself to look up, he has the face to match—brows furrowed, pout on his lips, gaze firm. “I should have a cat right now. I should have a movin’ truck outside my house, I should be living with my girlfriend—instead I’ve got a daughter askin’ too many questions, a shit talkin’ brother, and I’m standin’ inside your living room angry as all hell right now.” 

“Angry?” you say. He absolutely just said too many words with too many implications, but that’s the one you happen to get caught up on. Mostly because it lights a fire in you. Part of you thinks he has every right to be angry, but the other part feels justified in your own anger. “I’m sorry, why the hell are you angry with me?” 

“Because,” Joel responds quickly, voice harder, louder. He looks as if he didn’t expect you to fight back, but what a dumb presumption to have made. “Because you had no fuckin’ right to tell me you felt something about me.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Joel,” you spit back, voice dripping with sarcasm, but really? You are. 

“No, it’s not fuckin’ fair, and you don’t fuckin’ get it.” Joel steps forward, and for the first time, he does look genuinely angry. But after looking at him for a second longer, you realize it’s not that. He’s hurt. “I was doin’ fine before you came along with that mess. I was doin’ fuckin’ fantastic before I found out about you!” 

“I was doing great before I found out about you!” you shout back even though you weren’t doing great before. Not even close. Still, you want to stay angry, but your voice betrays you. “You think it was easy to find out you used to feel the same way about me? You think it was easy watching you be all happy with someone else, huh?”

“Oh, like I haven’t done it a thousand times, darlin’.” Joel’s words are sharp.

“You never said anything!” Yours are too. 

“There was never a good fuckin’ time,” he says coldly. Your own blood begins to turn icy in your veins as he huffs angrily. 

“And now is?” you respond coolly, before your walls begin to crumble. They had a while ago, actually, but now you’re resorting to kicking the rubble around. “Why did you come over here, Joel? To rub it in my face, tell me that you’re just—just going to get rid of whatever you felt?”

There’s a flash of pain on Joel’s face before he resolves to a glower at you. “I was happy.” He says your name, broken and small. “And I’ve been doin’ it for a helluva long time, sweetheart. I can keep doing it now.” 

Even though it truly does sound like he’s trying to convince himself of his own words, the suffocating pain in your chest is becoming too much to bear. So you point towards your door. “Then go.” 

“Fine,” he spits, stomping towards the exit at your command. 

“Fine!” 

Before you know it, he walks out, your door slams, and he’s gone. 

You finally reach a crossroads. As tears brim your eyes, you realize that this is it, isn’t it? You were an asteroid that missed Joel by a mile, and now you were sentenced to a life drifting aimlessly in space. You missed out on a place to land—this is it. 

Moments pass. You do whatever you can to soak in everything that unraveled before you, and there’s no hope in picking up the pieces. No hope in weaving them back together. Before you can let out a pathetic little sob and stalk off towards your room, you suddenly hear footsteps leading back to your front door. Then there’s a knock at it, soft—quiet. 

As your heart begins to race, you step to open the door, only to find Joel on the other side. As if you could be surprised. It’s safe to say you’ve never seen the man look so dejected, like a dog bringing a bird to your front door. He’s illuminated by your flickering porch light and the glow from the moon, and if you weren’t suffering so, you’d tell him you’d never seen a man look so ethereal. 

Searching his eyes for any semblance of an answer to all the questions you now have doesn’t last long. Because before either of you can say a word, Joel’s hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you like he’s been underwater for far too long, and you’re fresh fucking air.  

And you let him. 

You let him, because the universe hasn’t offered you any other choice—if it has, you’re not fucking taking it. You let him kiss you, and push you inside, and kick the door closed behind him, because you’ve wanted this for years. You’ve ached for this, yearned for the feeling of Joel’s lips on yours, the warmth of his mouth and tongue—the feeling of his hands on your waist. 

Joel kisses you for as long as either of you can stand it, which is a pretty long time considering the way your hearts are racing and lungs are clawing for air. It’s when the back of your knees are pressed against the arm of your couch, and you’re falling backwards onto it, pulling him down with you, do you both pull back long enough to breathe. Though, it’s mostly huffs, recovering from the sudden fall and shock of the best fucking kiss either of you have ever had in your life. Still, the urge to smile hits you for the first time in over a week. 

You start to speak, whispering, “What about—“ 

“It’s over,” he says quietly into the space between your lips. “It was over the moment I heard that voicemail, I think. But only officially as of this afternoon.” 

Your throat tightens. You look up at him, your eyes still glistening with unshed tears, but that ache in your heart has begun to dull. “So why did you—“

“Scared, mostly,” Joel interrupts you again, because it really isn’t that hard for him to know what you’re asking and why. He brushes stray hair from your face. “Confused. Because I really thought I was over you, sweetness. Took me a week to deal with the fact that I wasn’t. Didn’t even truly figure it out until my feet dragged me over here.”

Your brow furrows, but a sweet smile draws over your lips as you bring your own hand to his face. You caress his cheek, running your hand over his beard. Deep down, you get it. You really do. But you no longer have it in you to ask any questions. Joel is here, and he is kissing you, and even though nothing has been set in stone, you suddenly don’t feel the need to carry the hurt you had anymore. 

“Think I owe Tommy a drink or two,” you joke then, and you both laugh. Joel even snorts. 

“Like hell you do,” he scoffs, “Tommy ain’t do shit besides spill my secrets and cause us grief.” 

“Okay, then we need to send Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal some gift baskets, at least.” 

“What?” Joel laughs, but you pull him down for another kiss that melts your goddamn heart. You’ve had a taste, and you’re never going to get enough. But instead of getting into it completely, you just soak in the moment. Maybe Tommy was right about the whole talkin’ it out thing, but so were you, you realize. 

Sometimes difficult things could end up being beautiful. 

So when you pull back and meet Joel’s eyes once more, you give him the softest little smile. 

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” you say. “Promise.” 

-

-

-

-

-

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Are We The Assholes for wanting to go out for walks? (No this isn't a pet post, though I understand this title could give that impression)

Some context for the potentially confusing wording: We (AFAB, 19 (likely 20 by the time this is posted)) are a system, and this conflict is mostly between system members.

Now, the body's mother is...rather controlling, frankly. She doesn't like letting us go out anywhere on our own despite our age, even the neighborhood where we live, and while she claims that it's for our own safety, we live in a fairly safe area, so what the hell would there be to protect us from aside from being outside at all?

Myself (P, 17GQ) and A (18Q) have started contesting this, fronting on various occasions to go out for walks on our own. We managed to get her to relent in regards to this, but only because we had several arguments in the span of two days about it, and even then, she makes us tell her where we're going to be going on our walks and how long we're going to be. Of course, we're not above just lying to her and wandering off wherever we like as long as we can be back within the time limit, because thankfully the host had managed to successfully talk her out of keeping a spyware app on our phone last year, so we can get away with that.

This is all well and good, except, well...it's gotten us into a few arguments with others within the system. E (19NB), C (15-18M) and M (15GF) are at odds with how we're going about things. E thinks we're being assholes for going against the body's mother's wishes at all, C doesn't think we should lie to her and is terrified of what could happen if she ever found out, and while M does agree that we should have more freedom, they think the way we're going about this is ridiculously petty and could cause us more harm in the long run. I personally don't see it causing issues, especially considering we're working on trying to move out at some point soon, but M has also pointed out that I'm a spite-holder, and A is a BPD holder, and both of us can be very prone to just running with emotion rather than logic.

That said, if we're bringing roles into the discussion, E's role is basically sucking up to the body's mother, C is compliance out of fear, and M is trust issues -- and those trust issues extend to everyone in the system, bar a few close people. I feel like those roles could be skewing their perception of mine and A's actions, but at the same time M does have a point that A and myself may not be thinking the most rationally with our own roles.

So, I leave this to you, Tumblr: AWTA?

What are these acronyms?

[tagthescullion]

The way Drew's portrayed as an antagonist doesn't really sit right with me. When I was younger I just accepted it at face value, but then I started thinking about it - Drew, Silena, the war, everything - and I think it's a lot more nuanced.

Drew is allowed to be angry at her sister - who she was presumably close to and trusted, as her head counselor and the one next in line for head counselor - for betraying them! Yes, Silena died a hero, and that redeemed her in the eyes of many, but that doesn't change what she did!

And the thing is - she died. Drew (and the rest of the cabin) can't get closure. They can't talk to Silena and ask her why she did what she did, or yell at her, or do anything. She's dead.

As of TLH, it had also only been four or five months since the war. Eventually Drew's anger might calm down, and she might come to terms with Silena's memory and what she did. But it's only been a few months. Her emotions haven't calmed yet.

I also can't believe that Drew is the only one in the cabin who - supposedly - absolutely hates Silena and everybody else forgives her wholeheartedly. There's like fifteen Aphrodite kids; can we assume that they have multiple nuanced feelings? That, say, Mitchell is still struggling to reconcile Silena the traitor with the Silena he thought he knew, and Lacy just wishes she could talk to Silena one more time and ask her why, and that one eleven-year-old doesn't care what Silena did and just wants her big sister back?

Like. It's nuanced and it's complicated. Add to this that Drew immediately became head counselor in the middle of the war when Silena died right after the revelation that she was a spy and, well, it's a mess.

if rick hadn't been a yes-like-other-girls hating coward, the true family issue in HoO wouldn't have been some boring curse in the hephaestus cabin (which added nothing much to their cabin lore tbh), it would have been about the mini civil war in the aphrodite cabin. I will start this by saying I adore silena's character, but mostly bc she was a lot more interesting than she is given credit for

I absolutely refuse to believe every aphrodite kid was okay with silena! makes no fucking sense at all, she was worse than luke, she didn't just betray them the one time and then became the enemy, she passed info to the other side for years!!!!!!! I cannot think of a single more traitorous thing than to spy on your family and friends!! to sell them out!!

and they were all like "well but she died for us so whatever"??? by that reckoning, then nobody hated luke anymore after he died, bc y'know he died for them all like jesus or some other rubbish like that? they were both on the wrong (good intentions, I'm not denying that, but they hurt people and resulted in their fellow demigods dying)

the aphrodite cabin should've been in chaos after the war. nobody would trust them with anything, they're already known as the bad side of the rumour mill, imagine after this?? and then piper says some shit like "silena knew what family was", piper, mi ciela, 1) you didn't know her; 2) she didn't betray you; 3) silena forgot what family was for a long, long while, she's a crappy example to compare yourself to!

I don't doubt eventually they'd have understood silena, like luke, didn't mean to cause such harm, they were young and fooled by a higher power, and they did love their family and friends, but that wouldn't happen less than 6 months after the event

and yes, ofc, self promo: drew and piper talking about silena (a long while after everything); two conversations between silena and luke

[clangenrising]

Month 13 - Newleaf

The thunderpath was oddly warm to the touch. Past the thunderpath, fields stretched out and eventually tapered off at the foot of the city’s farthest reaches. Smokyrose gingerly stepped onto the edge of it, marveling at its strange texture and acrid smell. She’d never actually touched it before, leaving such foolishness to cats like Yarrowshade who thought it was worth the risk to try hunting on the far side. Now it was her turn to take a necessary risk. 

“Okay,” Songdust said, glancing side to side, “Should be safe to cross.” 

“Thanks again,” Smokyrose said. “I really appreciate you coming with me.” 

“I told you, Rose, I’m not gonna let you go in all alone,” Songdust said, swatting at her friend’s ear. “Now come on, let’s hurry before a monster comes.” 

The two cats sprinted across the thunderpath as quick as their old bones could carry them. Smokyrose felt her heart rate spiking with the thrill of it. She smiled as they panted in the grass on the other side, glad that she wasn’t too old to appreciate a good dose of stomach fluttering excitement. After she’d caught her breath - which took a good moment or two longer than it did for Songdust to catch hers - they started again towards the city. 

The plan was simple. Find Ghost and have a conversation. If she was lucky, she might also be able to sate a bit of her own personal curiosity, but that was secondary to the goal of making peace. Lives were at stake and in her paws.

They walked mostly in silence, Smokyrose sometimes huffing, out of breath, for a long time. Songdust suggested they break every now and then but she was determined to get there as soon as possible and so declined. 

At one point, Songdust said, “I’d catch us something to eat but there’s almost nothing out here, it seems… Sad. This place used to be a really fertile hunting ground.” 

“I must be scaring all the mice away,” Smokyrose laughed between labored breaths. 

“No, I think it’s more than that,” Songdust frowned as she surveyed the grassland. “I don’t think the city cats know how to preserve next year’s hunt.” 

“We’ll have to teach them,” Smokyrose smiled. Songdust hummed to herself and the two continued on their way. 

Eventually, the smell of city cats came to them on the wind. Songdust stopped to taste the scent, tail twitching. Smokyrose gladly stopped as well, sides heaving with effort. She hadn’t thought she was so out of shape. She lifted her head to look over the grass and spotted three sets of ears, one shorter than the others. 

“Hello, there!” She called, causing Songdust to stiffen. The cats ahead of them stopped, ears flicking in her direction. 

“Who’s there?” one of the voices called, sounding wary. 

“Friends,” Smokyrose said as pleasantly as she could. 

After a moment, the cats crept closer, stopping again once they came clearly into view. The first of them, the one who seemed to have spoken before, was a short-furred white she-cat with a faintly grey speckled back and a notched ear. The second was a brown rosetted tabby tom around the same age with a notch of his own. The third and youngest of the group was a grey speckled tabby who looked no older than Oddstripe’s litter, ears intact. The small group regarded them carefully. The youngest opened his mouth to drink in their scent and his tail immediately bristled, arcing down behind him. 

“They’re savages!” he squeaked in fright. The other two cats’ pelts prickled at the realization.

“Rude,” Songdust huffed, mostly to herself. 

“I thought you said there weren’t going to be any wild cats!” the white one accused.

“Bucket said they don’t cross the road!” the brown one shot back, more offended than worried. “He said the Folk keep them at bay!” 

“Well, clearly these ones got across somehow!” the white one hissed back. 

Smokyrose laughed awkwardly to herself and tried, “I-it’s alright, really, we don’t mean you any harm.” All three of them snapped their attention back to her sharply. She smiled and continued, “My name is Smokyrose and this is my companion, Songdust.” 

“I’m Mulch,” the brown one said carefully. Neither the white one nor the grey one offered their own names and after a moment of awkward silence, Mulch said, “What are you… doing out here?” 

Smokyrose brightened. “I’ve actually come to speak with Ghost. Do you know him?” Mulch let out a breathy, nervous laugh and glanced at the others. The white one squinted suspiciously. 

“Yes,” she said, speaking like she was testing out the ice on a frozen pond. “Why do you know Ghost?” 

The younger one gasped excitedly. “This must be his wild girl!” The white one’s ear twitched. 

“Bit old for a ‘girl,’ don’cha think?” Mulch muttered back with a chuckle. 

Smokyrose blushed and pursed her lips shut in embarrassment. Ghost’s wild girl - what a ridiculous thought, like he owned her or something! Was that how he talked about her when she wasn’t around? She hoped not but bile rose in her throat nonetheless. 

“I’m a mediator,” she said, choosing to ignore that for now. “I solve disputes and facilitate communication between parties. Ghost is the cat in charge, isn’t he? I’d like to speak with him and see if we can come to some kind of peace agreement.” 

“Oh, she must know the Transgressor!” the youngest one whispered to Mulch.

“Will you shut up, Flick?” Mulch raised his brows indignantly and swatted the younger cat lightly in the face. 

“Sheesh!” grumbled Flick, swiping half heartedly back at him. 

“You want to make peace?” the white one scoffed disbelievingly. 

“I do,” said Smokyrose and she meant it. “I want to try and resolve the conflict before anyone else has to die on either side.” The three city cats exchanged glances with a mix of what Smokyrose thought was suspicion, reluctance, and respect. They looked back at her then the white one jutted her chin towards Songdust. 

“Why is she here?” 

“I’m her protector,” Songdust said firmly. The cats shifted uncomfortably. 

Mulch said, “Can we have a moment to discuss?” 

“Of course,” purred Smokyrose, sitting down, “take your time.” Songdust sat down as well and they watched as the three cats shuffled off into the grass to talk, Mulch having to give Flick a tug on his scruff when he forgot to walk instead of stare. They kept their voices too low for Smokyrose to listen in but she didn’t mind. It was nice to rest for a bit and patience was something a good mediator had in spades. 

After a few moments, the city cats came back and Mulch said, “Alright, we’ll take you into town.” 

“Splendid!” Smokyrose purred, standing up. “I really appreciate the help.” 

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged, looking uncomfortable. With a flick of his tail, he gestured for them to follow and started off back towards the city. As they went, Flick and the white one fell into step around them, almost like a guard. Smokyrose could feel them watching her every movement. It was almost flattering that they thought she would be able to try anything. 

After a while, Flick leaned in and said, “I’m Flick by the way.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Flick,” said Smokyrose, starting to huff again. 

“The grumpy one is Jumper,” he added. The cat in question bristled. 

Smokyrose kept her attention on Flick. “I see. What were you doing out here?” 

“Don’t answer that,” Mulch shot back before Flick was finished opening his mouth.

“Apologies,” said Smokyrose, “I was just trying to make conversation.” 

“Yeah,” Flick protested, “We were just talking.” 

“Well don’t,” Mulch snapped, mostly at Flick. Glancing at Smokyrose, he added, “Sorry, but my brother doesn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut.” 

“It’s alright,” she said, “I’ll try not to encourage him anymore.” Mulch nodded, satisfied, and they continued towards the city in silence from then on. It was a longer walk than Smokyrose had been expecting. The more they went the more she realized the actual size of the twolegplace, the buildings starting to grow and loom in the distance like an angular forest with no leaves. Eventually one of these structures drew near, a large, rickety shape that smelled strongly of hay and manure. On the far side, she could see wooden planks arranged in repetitive rows and columns that created a barrier around a group of strange, smelly deer-like things. 

“What are those?” she couldn’t help but ask. 

Flick followed her gaze and said, “Goats. Do you not have goats on the frontier?” 

“No, we don’t,” Smokyrose said, busy puzzling over the word ‘frontier’. She’d never heard it before but she had to assume he meant Clan territories. 

“They stink,” meowed Songdust, face crinkled in disgust. 

“Yeah,” Flick laughed. “But the Folk seem to like them anyway.” The Folk - that meant twolegs, right? She squinted at the creatures curiously. What would twolegs like about these goat things?

“Come on,” Mulch said, “we’re nearly there.” 

They curved around the wooden structure, revealing another one, shorter but wider, and an expanse of gravel and dirt. Smokyrose winced at the texture of the rocks on her paws but soldiered on. She was so close. They crossed the gravel then followed along the edge of it for a while, leaving the structures behind, until they came to a large empty space of dirt surrounded by weeds and wildflowers.

Cats were scattered across the dusty field in pairs, sparring, most of them with notched ears. Cats wearing collars strolled around in between them, hissing orders or giving harsh corrections. A few cats watched from the edge of the clearing and one of them, a brown tabby tom with a silver collar that reflected the sunlight like a concentrated band of heat waves. The tom stood, head tilted, and started walking their way. 

“Great,” Jumper said, “here he comes.” 

“Shut up,” Mulch said, “This is fine. We’ll hand them off and be done with it.” They stopped where they were, waiting for the tom to close the distance. Smokyrose took in his appearance as he grew closer. He had a sleight build and slim cheeks giving him an almost kitten-like appearance despite his full grown size. His fur was a warm brown with dark, brindling stripes and a neat mask framing his green-yellow eyes. His collar, which seemed less shiny up close than it had far away, bore a small, blue, vaguely fish-shaped charm covered in geometric silver scratches. 

He smiled as he neared them, bright and friendly, and said, “Well, now, what do we have here?” 

“We ran into these wild-cats while we were out hunting,” Mulch said and Smokyrose picked up on the deference in his tone. “They crossed the road. Said they wanted to speak with Ghost.” 

“Really?” The kittypet’s eyes widened with interest and he turned his gaze to Smokyrose, inviting her to speak. 

“Yes,” she purred with a gracious dip of her head. “My name is Smokyrose and this is my companion Songdust. In my Clan I work to handle disputes and settle arguments and I wanted to speak with Ghost to see if we could make peace between our two peoples.” 

“Well, Ghost is currently indisposed,” the tom said apologetically, “but I would be happy to take you to speak with Razor instead.” The cats who had escorted them all tensed at the sound of Razor’s name. Songdust took a step closer to her.

“Indisposed?” Smokyrose frowned in concern. “How so?” 

The tom winced. “He recently had a bit of an accident and has been resting to regain his strength. I’m sure he’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, ears drooping. What kind of an accident? Her gut twisted in worry and she sent a silent prayer to StarClan to let him be okay. 

“Why don’t you walk with me?” the tom offered, half turning towards the city. 

“Alright,” She agreed. Despite her disappointment, she still had a job to do. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” he purred. Looking at Mulch, he said, “You’re excused.” Mulch let out a relieved breath and nodded. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said, then turned to the others and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Goodbye, Flick,” Smokyrose waved her tail. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Flick said. Mulch cuffed him over the ear and the little group turned and went the way they had come. 

The kittypet lifted his head and called over to the other cats watching the training. “I’m off to see Razor,” he said, “You’re in charge, Dexter.” One of the other kittypets nodded. Lots of cats started to stare. The tom in front of Smokyrose and Songdust smiled at them again and said, “This way.” He led them down the edge of the gravel path, walking side by side with Smokyrose, tail curling back and forth in a friendly wave. 

“I don’t think I caught your name,” Smokyrose said, focusing in on him.

“You can call me Sardine,” he said. “I hope the others were good to you. I’d hate for the Chaff to give you a bad first impression of the city.” 

“Oh, they were quite hospitable,” she exaggerated. “Thank you.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he purred. “You said you settle disputes among your people. Did they send you here or have you come on your own?” 

“I have Goldenstar’s approval to go forward with peace talks,” said Smokyrose, even if that was not entirely true. Goldenstar had asked her to wait even if she was open to the idea. 

“Goldenstar, that’s your leader?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she purred. “She’s quite eager to see this conflict end peacefully.” 

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I know there are many here who feel the same.” 

“Really?” Smokyrose asked, her heart lifting in hope.

“Oh, yes,” nodded Sardine. “I think everyone will be relieved to have this whole war business over soon.” 

“Good,” purred Smokyrose. That was a relief. She glanced at Songdust to share in the excitement but found her companion grim faced. She frowned slightly but shook it off. She would have to talk with Songdust once they had a private moment. Sardine was talking again and she returned her focus to him, answering all his curiosities pleasantly and asking questions of her own. Eventually the gravel turned to the hard stone of the thunderpath and Sardine asked them to stay close to him for their own safety. 

“Just a bit further and we’ll arrive at Razor’s garden,” he said. 

“Excellent,” she said, tail swishing. “I can’t wait.”

UPDATES: - Smokyrose ventures to the city to try and make peace.