#so I'm throwing it open to the masses

[c-is-for-circinate]

important question

If you -- not a character optimized for gameplay capability, but you the actual real live person -- had one or more Pokémon, what Pokémon would you have?

[nowoyas]

Trying to make sense of the Nanowrimo statement to the best of my abilities and fuck, man. It's hard.

It's hard because it seems to me that, first and foremost, the organization itself has forgotten the fucking point.

Nanowrimo was never about the words themselves. It was never about having fifty thousand marketable words to sell to publishing companies and then to the masses. It was a challenge, and it was hard, and it is hard, and it's supposed to be. The point is that it's hard. It's hard to sit down and carve out time and create a world and create characters and turn these things into a coherent plot with themes and emotional impact and an ending that's satisfying. It's hard to go back and make changes and edit those into something likable, something that feels worth reading. It's hard to find a beautifully-written scene in your document and have to make the decision that it's beautiful but it doesn't work in the broader context. It's fucking hard.

Writing and editing are skills. You build them and you hone them. Writing the way the challenge initially encouraged--don't listen to that voice in your head that's nitpicking every word on the page, put off the criticism for a later date, for now just let go and get your thoughts out--is even a different skill from writing in general. Some people don't particularly care about refining that skill to some end goal or another, and simply want to play. Some people sit down and try to improve and improve and improve because that is meaningful to them. Some are in a weird in-between where they don't really know what they want, and some have always liked the idea of writing and wanted a place to start. The challenge was a good place for this--sit down, put your butt in a chair, open a blank document, and by the end of the month, try to put fifty thousand words in that document.

How does it make you feel to try? Your wrists ache and you don't feel like any of the words were any good, but didn't you learn something about the process? Re-reading it, don't you think it sounds better if you swap these two sentences, if you replace this word, if you take out this comma? Maybe you didn't hit 50k words. Maybe you only wrote 10k. But isn't it cool, that you wrote ten thousand words? Doesn't it feel nice that you did something? We can try again. We can keep getting better, or just throwing ourselves into it for fun or whatever, and we can do it again and again.

I guess I don't completely know where I'm going with this post. If you've followed me or many tumblr users for any amount of time, you've probably already heard a thousand times about how generative AI hurts the environment so many of us have been so desperately trying to save, about how generative AI is again and again used to exploit big authors, little authors, up-and-coming authors, first time authors, people posting on Ao3 as a hobby, people self-publishing e-books on Amazon, traditionally published authors, and everyone in between. You've probably seen the statements from developers of these "tools", things like how being required to obtain permission for everything in the database used to train the language model would destroy the tool entirely. You've seen posts about new AI tools scraping Ao3 so they can make money off someone else's hobby and putting the legality of the site itself at risk. For an organization that used to dedicate itself to making writing more accessible for people and for creating a community of writers, Nanowrimo has spent the past several years systematically cracking that community to bits, and now, it's made an official statement claiming that the exploitation of writers in its community is okay, because otherwise, someone might find it too hard to complete a challenge that's meant to be hard to begin with.

I couldn't thank Nanowrimo enough for what it did for me when I started out. I don't know how to find community in the same way. But you can bet that I've deleted my account, and I'll be finding my own path forward without it. Thanks for the fucking memories, I guess.

[traceybrakes]

Let's Talk About Un-ironicizing Art!

In light of a lot of the conversations i've seen surrounding Death Grips and recent events concerning them, I want to take the time to point out that this is a good time to start thinking about how we engage with art on the whole!

For a long time, the irony poisoned method of consumption went unchecked in all facets of internet culture. As an internet musician in current day, I have noticed a sharp disconnect between artists and enthusiasts/casual listeners when it comes to attitudes surrounding music specifically, though I've witnessed it permeate all forms of art in some way.

I see people who have grown scared to engage on deeper levels, intentionally severing any resonant connections or knowledge learned from a piece of media before it has the chance to take root. In short, dare to be vulnerable! Dare to enjoy something on the basis that you yourself resonate with it, and not for any other nebulous reasoning. When masses of people relegate art to a spectacle, not only do artists become more likely to be disenchanted with the passions that fuel their work, but the consumer base ultimately suffers as well. All art at that point becomes less an extension of ourselves, less a vehicle to explore our identities, and is rendered a meaningless hulking sludge, or worse, the opponent to an already shrinking and narrow worldview.

Be not afraid to be unabashedly in love with the work that inspires you. Be not afraid to have the things you love misunderstood by by some. When you engage with work new and old, make sure to do it for yourself. Making and consuming art is inherently selfish, but being selfish is not inherently misguided. Allow yourself to learn, grow, discover, and repeat that cycle until the day you die.

To speak more candidly about my own experience, throughout the course of my life, there has been art that I've held near and dear to my identity, and own journey of self discovery that I seldom find others who hold the same sentiments to. I've always found this exciting. Exciting to hold something close to my chest as something so personal, and even more exciting when I can ease up on that grip when I find someone who I can share that with. However, I've also been through the throws of how the internet tends to chew up and spit out art that generally isn't understood by the many. I've fallen victim myself to the hive mind mentality that circles some artists and the cult of non-identity around them. This off-color ouroboros of knowing all about an artist's work and simultaneously upholding this facade of vapid complacency. I've come to the conclusion that if being openly supportive and connected to an artist's work or a particular piece of work automatically renders a person uninteresting and unambiguous at the very least, then I will live happily as an uninteresting open book. At the worst times, we see this line of thinking contribute to Death Grips being mocked and belittled en masse by people who are unwilling to engage with their art before they even get that far. It's heartbreaking, to me at least to see people put so much effort, emotion, and passion into transforming culture for the better to be rewarded with a crowd that's plugging their ears.

I realize I run the risk of sounding pretentious, self indulgent, or even patronizing to an extent; I apologize because that isn't my intention, I'm hoping to see gears shift at least on a micro level surrounding attitudes towards art appreciation. Remember to dare to be in love holistically with the art you engage with! Speak of the things you love in a way that makes that clear to others, and consider your peers to do the same! You and the people around you can only be better off for it.

[devilfic]

thinking about lyla hiring you as miguel's in-person assistant because as good as she is, she can't stop miguel from throwing chairs across the room. she introduces you to miguel on your first day and he immediately tries to fire you, insistent he doesn't need someone to "babysit" him, let alone someone with half the muscle mass and twice the mortality. except lyla's the one paying you, and even if it's miguel's money, lyla has made sure he can't stop the checks from clearing. so you're here to stay.

he does his best to ignore you at first and for the most part, you rarely get in his way. he goes about his duties and you shadow him, only ever speaking when spoken to if ever at all. but then one day, he's had a particularly difficult time with an anomaly and suddenly his fangs are splitting his lip, his claws are punching holes into his desk, he's snarling and the rage is taking over him again.

he grabs the thing and flings it across the room-

and you catch it. you set it down, calmly, safely, and it's so shocking to miguel because he's never seen you exert more force than needed to open a door, and you caught it.

miguel's anger melts away just like that. he watches you exhale, watches you drag the heavy thing back over to him where he stands dumbfounded and feeling. silly. he didn't think- "instead of throwing things, you can take your anger out on me."

miguel goes blank. he sounds so pathetic when he fumbles for a "w-what?"

you smile, the first time he's ever seen you do so, "I'm a good partner."

this had to be a. prank, right? lyla had put you up to this? he knows it's been a while, and she'd made the joke plenty of times before, but. were you. really? miguel clears his throat, ready to rebuff you, but he thinks about it and...

I mean, it has been a while. "you work for me." he reasons. it's not a refusal, you notice.

"it's okay," you assure him, stepping closer, "this kind of thing's in the job description."

and god. miguel doesn't know, is it actually? had lyla really. done that? he'd muster up the embarrassment if you weren't standing right in front of him and smelling so good and this whole time he'd been convinced that if he even dared to touch you he might break you but you'd caught it without breaking a sweat. what else could you handle? what were you offering to take?

you step even closer and then-

your fists are up. you're crouching and your fists are up. miguel stares.

"come on, then," you taunt, smiling wider, "I've fought bigger."

sparring partner.

now miguel's really embarrassed. he doesn't even have it in him to actually take you up on your completely innocuous, innocent offer. you wanted to spar. you wanted him to take his anger out on you in a fight. you'd sapped the anger right out of him just from this conversation. maybe it'd be better if he took a nap instead. he hadn't had one of those in a while either.

when he continues to just stand there, staring, red hot in the face, you raise an eyebrow and your smile becomes a little... mischievous. "what? did you have something else in mind?"

part two

[joonipertree]

Pro-racer Mikey that needs to do photoshoots and commercials every once in a while because he's famous and has a pretty face

He's put into his tracksuit or into lavish clothes to pose for the masses and a lot of people realise that Mikey has a presence on the camera that's unshakeable

And so....they decide to have him model for a photoshoot with one of the biggest models of the industry. Which works!! It's fine

They're just pictures.

But then the model posts a selfie of Mikey and her. and she says nothing but puts a heart in the caption.

And the speculations run WILD

Comments upon comments of shipping them together, calling them a power couple.

And you sit there, stuck in a doom scroll as you see one tweet after the other. You stare at your boyfriend, black hair neatly kept and smile wide like it always was, and you see the pretty girl.

And within seconds, you feel stupid for feeling insecure because Mikey had literally spent all morning peppering you in kisses, it was IMPOSSIBLE to pry him off even though he had a shoot and Draken had to come haul his ass up and out the door.

The man had texted you complaining how the food was blegh and how he missed your face.

There's no reason to be jealous.

So you turned off your phone and when Mikey came home, exhausted but very happy to see you....you let him smother you in kisses.

And it's forgotten

Until an unofficial bonus picture was released, on the magazine's Instagram page.

Him and the model, her leaning down as he sits on a chair...his hand wrapped around her wrist while their faces are inches close to each other.

It took three seconds to switch your phone off, throw it away and break down sobbing with whatever rational thought you had leaving your head.

You didn't need to read the comments to know what they were saying. You didn't need to wait until your friend's message you to ask if you're okay, out of pity. You didn't need his friends to call you in defense of him. You didn't need him to realise what had happened.

It was all a PR stunt so why would he even need to apologize. It was just a picture. Two people who were attractive being in close proximity to each other, being ogled by millions...being perceived as perfect for each other. As 'pleasing to the eye'

Now, Mikey was filming a commercial when this happened. He'd been chatting with the co-star while the cameras rolled when he noticed Ken-chin whisper into his phone.

The man looked annoyed, ready to argue but going rigid before sighing.

With a whisper to the director, everything paused as Ken waved his phone and said it was for Mikey. That it was Emma.

There was immediate panic because there's no way it wouldn't be an emergency. And he was right, his eyes widened and body grew stiff in seconds hearing his sister berate him.

For being a bastard, for breaking your heart like that.

She demanded he fixed it and when he was about to ask what was going on.....Draken shoved another phone into Mikeys hand...the instagram page of the magazine opened.

Oh. Fuck no

"I'm leaving." Mikey yelled out, startling everyone in the room, his years of being a gang leader coming out.

"What do you mean---"

Draken blocked the director's view, hands behind his back as he went back into the position of the second in command.

"You heard him."

"He has a contract--"

"He doesn't give a fuck."

[neonovember]

Hello! I hope you’ve been doing okay! I saw that you had requests open and I also saw that you take requests for Carmen? If it’s totally okay of course to request for him! I got into the bear a few days ago and my brain has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Carmy. Would it be okay just requesting something that’s just Carmen being worried/concerned about the reader? He just always sees whenever there’s that tiredness to them when it looks like it’s a bad day, that slump in their shoulders that all too much reminds him of him a little sometimes, just bringing them into the office and his eyebrows are furrowed with that look of concern and his eyes the same, maybe unexpectedly just wrapping them in a hug (Your writing is so cute btw!) 💕

to carry and to bear

ask, it will be my infinite quest to fulfill! love this request so much and i loved writing is even more. i'm going to be so annoying when s2 comes out, especially since i love carmen's character so much! thank you for your request anon <3

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: richie (yes he’s a warning), unresolved anxiety, horrible customers, fainting

word count: 5k (short for me lmao)

a/n: you know i love a character when i'm completing fics in under a day..lets pray this momentum keeps going

Wrapping yourself tight against the chilly wind of the unforgivable Chicago weather, you watch the city coming alive in the early morning as you walk down the concrete sidewalk of the Beef’s city corner.

Merchants and gazebo have begun to set up shop, their bright red vendor stands a stark contrast to the grey haze of the windy city. Corner stores and cafes have begun to uncover their blinds, dusting away the sliver of droplets that had long since evaporated after a heavy downpour the night before.

it’s slow though.

The mass of cars and yellow cabbed taxis haven’t yet filled the gravel roads, and the surging rush of traffic and uncontrollable road rage the beef windows have been accustomed to viewing hasn't filled the air.

The pinch of cold begins to itch against the cracks in your outerwear. Your trusted winter jacket and gloves had been left at the bottom of your laundry basket and instead you were forced to throw on a flimsy polyester jacket that provided absolutely no warmth. 

Your fingers are stuffed into your pocket, trying to hide them from the cold but it is no use. They shake against the freezing air of wind as you push past huddles of men chain smoking and passing coolers of steaming coffee on street corners.

You’re about to go ask for a cup, despite Carmen's disgruntled comments of their huddled group festering near the restaurant. They were a pack of wolves, and whilst Sydney's sandwiches had fended them off for a while, the hole in the Beef’s window was still fresh. Like a cycle, more and more had begun to trickle in from alleyways, leading to customers steering clear from the nearby streets. 

Carmen didn’t even like you walking to work this early, you get it, despite being daylight, Chicago had a way of defying social norms. You had paid some attention to the increase in robbing and attacks that had begun to frequent news reports.

It wouldn't have been a problem, walking was always voluntary for you as you had a perfectly fine working car that would drive you to and from your destination with as little as a rumble from its engine. And yet, that seemingly perfect car decided to break down on you this morning, leading to an overheated engine and a smoke filled hood.

So not only did you have to pay for a towing truck to drag away your car to an auto shop you couldn't afford to afford, but you were late. And you hated being late.

Not to mention your sister had called you late last night, asking to stay for a couple nights after her good for nothing boy-friend you would rather call a child had kicked her out after a fight.

She had rambled for nothing short of 2 hours after you had gotten home from the Beef late last night, and the pull of sleep had begun to weigh on you. The exhaustion and deprivation had written itself in the slug of your limbs and the slump of your shoulders.

You had to come in today, there were no rest days even if the Beef wasn't neck deep in debt and Cicero didn't have you all on a leash. Especially if you wouldn't allow yourself one. You had that in common with Carmen, you frequently ignored your own needs for your craft, the same insatiable passion and need for perfection driving you to exhaustion. 

The familiar chime of the Beefs wooden doors hit your ears, and you shake off the cold of the city streets, the Beef is warm and you're grateful, sighing as the heat of prepped ovens and oiled pans defrosts your face. 

It takes a second before you walk into the busy kitchen when the sound finally reaches you. The screeching sound of Richie's voice bickers with Tina about the next door convenient store being turned into a “pretentious hipster coffee shop that is legally selling dog water to unassuming Chicagoans”.

Dragging on and on about the invasion of gentrification that will soon take out all the good businesses that had been around since his grandfather had come from Sicily. Richie was not from Siciliy. In which Carmen mirrors your thoughts and yells that he is not Italian, and his obsession with the European country has been bordering on creepy.

Ebra is reciting an article about a culinary student that had gone rogue and murdered their entire class, giving pointers on how he himself had to patch up an entire unit of people stabbed by a bent corkscrew. The loud conversations and untethered yelling across the kitchen combines with the malfunctioning arcade that has begun to re-circuit the same sentence for 20 minutes now, digs a deep burrow into your temple.

You stand at the entrance of the kitchen, watching the commotion of early morning prep with a tight grimace, your head begins to vibrate a little, the start of a headache you won’t be relieved from spreading and you have to swallow down the exhaustion that begins to seep in at the sight. 

Sydney brushes past you, greeting you with a hello and one of her charming smiles before muttering about throwing that arcade machine out the back. You giggle and it hurts, but you do it anyway because, fuck, you would help her.

You step into the kitchen, and the crew each turn to greet you good morning as you walk past them into the locker bay stuffing your bag and shoes into the cabinet before quickly changing. 

Your phone reads 7am and you stuff it into the pocket of your hung jacket before slamming the locker shut. Carmen peeks his head around the corner, nodding at you as you put on your non-slip shoes, calling your name when you don't notice, you flinch before peering up and Carmen waves trying to get your attention.

“Mornin’ chef, didn’t think you were coming in” Carmen remarks, raising his eyebrows as he leans his shoulder against the wall. 

“Morning, yeah, sorry about that, uh- shit happened and I had to deal with it all at once. Won;t happen again” You reply, biting back a yawn, before letting your feet fall to the ground.

“It’s all good,” Carmen replies, nodding, wiping his hand on the white towel hanging on his shoulder that was already smudged with stains.

“Just shoot me a text or call next time, yeah?” Carmen replies 

“Will do chef” You reply, smiling, before peering out to see Sydney carrying a basket of  ingredients

“New recipe?” You ask, nodding towards Sydney, and Carmen nods, running a hand through his curls as he leans forward.

“Well call it trying something. Not yet finished, just needs some minor tweaks here and there” Carmen replies

“I can help Sydney out if you want?” You reply without a second thought.

You already had prep and a marinade you had to make for Cicero’s function he had conveniently told Carmen about the night before, but helping out was second nature to you, it was a part of this family's culture.

Carmen shakes his head, his eyes falling to your slumped shoulder, and the slow but tight blinks you tended to do when you were exhausted.

The second he had peered his head around the corner and saw the slug of your limbs he knew something was up, but he also knew he couldn't force you to relax, you were worse than him, always taking on so much, filling up your cup until it was overflowing.

“No, no, it’s alright, besides, that marinade isn’t going to be easy, I should be asking if you want me to help out” Carmen replies, chuckling, scratching his neck as you curve your mouth into that smile he loves so much. You could be half-dead and he still stares at you like you were the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen.

“I think I’ve got it handled. I remember having to make something similar back at Le Bleu, you just got to get the temperature right or the entire thing gets spoiled. Having more than one person just makes it more confusing. besides, don't you have that meeting with the vendor today?” You reply, and Carmen sighs, nodding

“Yep, hopefully this place looks stable enough to get him to sign, you know I can’t deal with corporate bullshit. Sydney should’ve met up with them, fuck any one other than me” Carmen replies, shaking his head as he fidgets with the hem of his apron.

Despite his numerous accolades, and world renowned talent, he only ever felt at nature in the kitchen. High function parties and elusive dinner bars were things he despised, feeling out of place despite it being thrown in his name.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, you're the face of this place Carmen, you’ve transformed it, you oughta show them the Beef is the best investment they’ll make. Hell you’re the best investment they can make” You reply, and Carmen ears perk at your reply, smiling fondly at your comment. He didn't deserve your praise, and he hated the way the sound of your lips curving around his name shoots through him.

“Are y'all going to get to work or continue eye fucking?” Richie calls, as he passes by the locker bay, and Carmen immediately shakes his head muttering a fuck you before nodding to you, and heading back to his station. You get up from your seated position on the bench, dusting and ironing out the creases in your apron before mentally going over the things you had to complete before opening.

Prep vegetables, then start the veal stock for Cicero's marinade. You had to complete it early, since it had to be chilled for at least 5 hours, any less and the fat would congeal and turn into a complete mess you didn’t have time to fix.

You walk towards your station, stepping over sauce that had spilled onto the tile floors, this crew was amazing in their craft, but god were they messy. You bump shoulders with Sydney as you begin to grate and cut root vegetables and herbs, you have to force your eyes open, blinking several times before dipping your hand into an ice water bucket and wiping your face with it.

Sydney converses with you, and it wasn't that she was boring, in fact you both frequently spend time even out of the restaurant as friends. But you can’t even try to decipher what she says, just sounds coming out of her mouth that you pack away in order to get your job done. 

Just cut the vegetables, finish the stock, cut the vegetables, finish the stock, you repeat it like a mantra in your head, unaware at Sydney calling your name. She reaches forward, pressing a soft hand to your shoulder to get your attention.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Sydney replies, concern written across her features as she peers at your disoriented state.

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” You reply, avoiding her gaze. You feel her penetrate through you, pitying the exhaustion on your face, probably realising you were a shit chef who couldn't even handle a couple responsibilities.

“I was asking if you could grab me some of the sauce I made yesterday from the storage fridge. You alright? You seem a bit..” Sydney starts, before you cut her off quickly

“Just had a long night, didn't get much sleep” You reply, rubbing your eyes with a hand. What has gotten into you? You weren't foreign to a few sleepless nights and a few too many deadlines you had to meet, hell your entire college and culinary life had been exactly that.

“That’ll kill you, you know” Richie butts in, reaching for a crab cake Sydney had prepared before being swatted away with a wooden spoon.

“What?” You ask, already regretting asking Richie to elaborate on what was clearly some elaborated story he had got stored away

“Go without that good old shut eye a few nights too long and you'll start hallucinating shit, not fucking with you you, don’t you know about the Russian sleep experiment-?” Richie rambles

“Ah here we go” Sydney replies, rolling her eyes 

“You think because you went to Paris or whatever prestigious tight ass school you know everything? It’s real, happened right after World War 2, Russians got a bunch of people and just made them not sleep for like months, they starting turning into fuckin' aliens and shit-” Richie continues, ignoring Sydney's sly remarks about Richie's facebook usage.

“Richie c’mon, you know that shits made up” You reply

“Don’t matter, didn’t I tell you about my week long bender during college? Starting seeing my great aunt from the corner of my eye, and I swear she is still there-” Richie replies before getting cut off my Carmen calling his name

“Stop distracting my chefs Cousin” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as Richie mutters about the fall of democracy and wipe your hands across your towel.

“I’ll go get your sauce Syd” You reply, and she smiles in gratitude as you turn towards the storage room. The cold air of the fridge wakes you up a little, and you rest your head against the door of the storage fridge, sighing in frustration. Talking to Richie was exhausting in itself, and when you were already running only fumes and second hand smoke you felt like it took the last bit of energy you had left.

You grab the container of sauce written with “DO NOT TOUCH” on its front, it's wrapped in cling film, with no lid and you're careful not to drop it everywhere. It wasn’t heavy, per se, just filled to the brim and without careful steps it was close to tipping out. You walk out of the storage room carefully, before turning towards your station.

“Corner!” You yell, twisting around the corner of the kitchen, before you slam straight into a tall body, jerking back and inadvertently spilling the sauce all across the kitchen floor and onto your shoes. You feel it sink into your socks and drip down your apron, eye twitching in frustration as Marcus starts apologising profusely, you ignore him, dropping down to your knees and reaching for paper towels. You start wiping away the sauce, as Marcus drops down to your level and tries to help, you shake our head looking up at him.

“Stop, Marcus, just stop. I can do it” You reply

“But-” Marcus protests

“We don't need two chefs to clean up a one person job, alright? You need to finish prep” You reply, letting the towels soak up the sauce. You grieve for Sydney, not all of it had spilt, but a quarter of a container wasn’t enough to get through the morning rush, let alone the entire day.

You ignore the spilt sauce all over your clothes, you didn’t have time to change now, rushing back to your station before telling Sydney about the spill

“You serious? I thought I could leave early today, got a friend's birthday” Sydney replies, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You instantly feel guilty, you should've been more careful, and now Sydney would have to pay for it.

“Hey, I got it, let me take that new recipe off your plate. That gives you enough time to get to the party?” You reply

Sydney looks up, rising her eyebrows “No, no I couldn’t possibly ask you to” 

“Nonsense, I owe you anyway, remember when I had to leave halfway through the morning to get my sister?” You reply, with a tired smile before Sydney wraps her arms around you, you rub a hand across her back. You can’t really feel her arms around you, it’s like all your senses are delayed, you ignore it as you get back to work, now with another task on your plate.

You finish chopping the vegetables after a short while, usually you were the fastest in the house, but today you lagged behind, finally carrying the vegetables to Carmen who looked at you strange, his eyes staring through you, he swallowed like he was going to say something as you walked away, before stopping and continuing stirring the stock on the stove

By the time the Beef opens, you're still elbow deep in work, you've stayed silent most of the time, waving off Marcus’s apology and instead working, not stopping since you started. You skipped breakfast, and you hadn't gotten a chance to eat, and just when you're about to make yourself something, Richie calls your name from the front counter.

You walk towards the front of the Beef, wiping stains on your apron to look a little presentable to the outside world. Richie stands at the register, flicking a pen in his hand, a look of annoyance on his face.

“What's up?” You ask Richie, as a tall man dressed down in a polo sweater and khakis stares down at you in anger. He’s familiar, someone you had served when Richie had to take his smoke break, and he scrutinises you as you smile at him.

That’s the only way you could communicate with these people, any hint of anger and you’d be written of as angry and unable to control your emotions, you lost your last job because you defended yourself anyway.

“This guy said he came in and you made him something he apparently didn't like, but finished anyway” Richie replies, a knowing look passes between you both and you sigh, you don't have time for this. 

“Morning Sir, May I ask what’s the problem” You ask politely

“You suggested to me a dish from the menu, alright, YOU, not me, so don't go blaming me for this, and look what I got, not only does it have nuts, which i hate, it's spicy. Way too spicy, I want a refund, NOW” The man replies, seething, his yelling catches the attention of other patrons, and Richie begins to reach under the table for a bat.

“Well, you finished it all so I don’t know what you-” You begin before the man cuts you off loudly

“Do you think I give a shift what you think? Huh? Jesus fucking Christ, see you just need to do what I fucking say, not argue. Give me a refund before I get you fired from this shit hole you dumb stupid-” The man yells, loudly before Carmen's booming voice cuts him off

“I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you” Carmen replies, clenching his jaw in way that told you he was trying to hold back the rage from spilling out

“Who the fuck are you?” The man asks

“I own this shit hole you piece of shit, and if you don't get the fuck out of my restaurant I'm going to break every single bone in your face with my bare hands". 

“Excuse me?”

Carmen laughs, shaking his head before smiling at the man

“I told you”

Carmen drags the man by his collar, throwing him onto the sidewalk and dragging his body to the alleyway, you fear what he is going to do and Richie raises his eyebrows in astonishment.

“Well shit cousin, you ain't a pussy after all” Richie mutters under his breath

You can faintly hear the sound of splitting skin and the crack of bone, before Carmen storms back into the restaurant, eyeing all the patrons who are following his every move.

“Y'all got that? Anyone mess with my people hear and your walk out on a fucking stretcher” Carmen replies still seething with anger, before Richie claps loudly as Carmen walks back behind the desk.

“Call a fucking ambulance” Carmen replies, rolling his eyes at Richie before he walks towards you, the the tension immediately leaving him as he find your safe and away from that man.

“You alright? He didn't hurt you or anything?” Carmen asks in concern, his eyes darting across your body to see any imagined injuries

“It seems you should be asking him that question” You reply, nudging towards the alley of the Bear, chuckling as you shake your head.

“You didn't have to do that you know, iIcould have-” You start

Carmen looks down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places his hand on you shoulder

“Could've what? He was screaming in your face and I wasn't about to let him think that shit was okay, god, how could you not react?” Carmen replies, looking down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just so busy, I still- Fuck, i still got to get Cicero's marinade in the fridge, and i need to start on Syd’s broth” You mutter pressing your fingertips to your temples.

“What? You’re doing Sydney’s load as well? Hey, you need to sit down a second” Carmen replies, as you begin to walk back towards the kitchen, with Carmen hot on your heels, asking you to stop and turn to him.

You hear him call your name, but the mountain of tasks that were now even later due to that customer had begun to seize your consciousness.

All you could focus on was the dishes you needed to make and the pain in your temples that had begun to spread down, your vision getting fuzzy around the edges as you try and shake yourself awake.

“Dammit, listen to me! Stop cutting fucking vegetables and listen to me” Carmen yells at you for the first time, twisting your body to face him and you spit out in anger

“What?!” 

“What’s gotten into you today?” Carmen replies, yelling

And you don't know why, but that question breaks something in you, and you can't help but let out a short chuckle. Carmen looks down at you in horror, trying to reach for you, to catch you when the inevitable happens and you look at him once before it does.

Before your vision begins to blur and the edges begin to burn like a flame, you try and catch yourself, but it’s too late and you fall into Carmen's arms, wrapped up against his chest as you crash.

Carmen gathers you in his arms, his heart breaking beneath his breasts, holding his sweet girl in his arms as the streams of tears dampen his shirt. The rest of the crew watch on in concern, and Carmen shoes them away as he carries your unconscious body to the office.

“What the fuck Cousin?” Richie calls

“Hey, hey, is she alright? What -what happened?” Sydney replies in horror as she watches Carmen carry you from the kitchen. 

“What happened was, ya'll did fuck all when she was practically breaking down trying to finish everyone else's fucking mess. What happened? Are you fucking serious? If i wasn't there, she would’ve fainted into a burning skillet of your fucking vegetables Sydney” Carmen replies, shaking his head, the entire crew goes silent, the only sounds coming from the beeps of ovens and stove tops, and the sizzling of burning food.

Carmen goes quiet, as he assesses your state, there is something unwritten in the way he holds you, and he blinks tight, his face twitching a little as if he had to make sure you were in his arms, the only place he wanted you to be.

“Get back to work” Carmen replies, quietly, a stark contrast to his rage from before, the crew has never seen him like this, his eyes and focus on you, as if he has been seized by this responsibility and dying need to protect you. He can hardly breathe, his arms shaking as he stares down at your sullen and tired face.

“We need-” Marcus starts before Carmen shakes his head

“No, no, enough. Sydney will hold down the fort, this is my responsibility. Get. back to work.” Carmen replies

—-

Carmen wastes no time to gently place your body onto the scuffed office couch, pressing a hand to your head, before reaching for an ice cold container of water, dipping a towel into it before gently pressing it to your forehead.

Carmen shakes his head in anger, he should've seen this coming, he should've noticed from the slump of your shoulder and your one word answers that you were stretching yourself too thin.

Carmen tortures himself as he replays the moments before you fainted into his arms. The way your features twisted into a sob, and the lasts shred of resolve snapped, and you had reached for him, you had reached for him.

You had reached for Carmen when you fell, and something in him broke when he had caught you.

Carmen had been used to his own self-destruction, but as he rested his thumb, rubbing circles and wiping away the tears on your face, he wished himself to change, not just for him, but for you. How could he? How could you be such a poor example to you? This was his own fault, and the reality of that conclusion twists like a knife to his gut.

His sweet girl, his Sunshine, who had thought the needs of this goddamn sandwich shop was more important than her own. You begin to stir in his arms, and the tension and shake of his arms begins to release as you wake up, Carmen eases you into consciousness when you begin to panic.

“Hey hey, I’m right here, you're okay, you're okay” Carmen replies softly, and you squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to understand what had happened and why you felt like your body was filled with lead.

"What, what happened” You reply, looking across the location of the office.

“You fainted, and I carried you to the office because you are not going back into that kitchen” Carmen replies, sitting up from his slumped position.

You stay quiet,  confusion lacing your features as you shake your head. You fainted? How did that even happen? You had never fainted in your entire life.

Carmen peers at you, his eyes dancing across your face as your silence frightens him, he wouldn't even recognise you, your usual bubbly, and incredibly chirpy self was not replaced by someone who was so exhausted they couldn’t stay conscious.

“You gotta talk to me baby girl, please, look at me, you can tell me, you can tell me anything” Carmen replies, softly, caressing your hand with his thumb when it begins to shake.

You look up at him, his expression of worry and concern causing your features to twist,

“I um, I’m just a little tired” You reply, the beginning of tears choking you, causing your words to rush out as  you try to stop yourself but it is fruitless, and Carmen eyebrows kind of pinch, he kind of frowns a little as he looks at you in that way.

It's all it takes before you sob, and sink into the coach. Carmen gathers you once again in his arms, and scoops your legs so that they lay across his thighs, and your head rests against his collarbone.

“I know baby, I know, I’m sorry, Oh honey I am so sorry” Carmen replies, rubbing your back as you let the last of your resolve sink into his chest, the cry of your tears leaving you speechless.

You can’t stop crying, the cup spilling over and making a big whole mess, snot and tears and heartache and exhaustion dirties Carmen's chef whites and you can't help but grip onto him like he is the only thing tethering you to Earth.

You don’t have to tell Carmen then, he knew the second you walked in, and he knows now when you hold him. There's a certain grief Carmen feels when he looks at you and sees himself, and in a way this is for Carmen too.

You sit like this for a while, you and Carmen. Wrapped in his arms as you lay across his lap, long after the tears had run dry, where you are left with hiccups and the soothing touch of Carmen's hand across your back.

It feels like you two are the only people on earth. Everything is Carmen; its all you smell, all you feel against your skin, all you hear as he whispers into you ear. No one dares to step into the office doors, even when an hour ticks by, even when the trickle of customers turns into a downpour and the orders never end, the family knows that you need this, that your health was better than money, or happy customers and fuck all.

Even after you have cried your eyes out, the responsibility of work begins to weigh on your body, you still had so much to do with so little time

“But the marinade, and- and Sydney's” You begin before Carmen cuts you off with a soft squeeze.

“Richie’ll handle it, and if he doesn't Cicero can go fuck himself. You really think I’m going to let that override you right now? Just forget about the kitchen alright, can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Carmen replies

You nod, the burden that had exhausted you to sickness lifted from your shoulders. You look towards the clock and realise the vendors were coming soon to meet with Carmen, something he couldn’t miss.

“The vendors, aren't they-”

“They came in 3 hours early, it's why it took me so long to get to you when that asshole was throwing a fit” Carmen replies, knowing what you were asking for.

You peek at him in question “Well?”

“They signed.” Carmen replies, rolling eyes and smiling at your delighted squeal

“What did I tell you? Carmen Berzatto is more than-” You start before a yawn stretches through you.

“Alright, alright, enough talking from you. When’s the last time you ate?” Carmen asks

You stop and scratch your head, trying to think and you laugh a little when you can’t remember.

“I don't know” You reply

Carmen’s eye twitches, and he smiles down at you before easing you off his thighs and onto the coach. 

“What- what are you doing?” You ask, not even trying to hide the sadness in your voice. You already miss the heat of his chest warm against your cheek.

Carmen smiles softly as he looks down at you, threaded a hand through his head as he wipes down the creases on his apron.

“I’m making you something”

“What? No it’s- it’s okay I’ll eat at family” You reply, reaching a hand out to him

Carmen reaches for your palm, pressing a soft kiss on your the skin of your knuckles before reaching down to kiss the top of your head.

“No you need to eat now, alright? You're going to sleep the rest of the day, and then, and then, you're coming back to my place so I can keep an eye on you. You gonna listen to me or protest?” Carmen replies, eyebrow raised as he crosses his arms. His voice drops down an octane, like it was a command, and you have to bite back the desire floating in your stomach at the way he looks down with his eyes all heavy from above. 

“Okay, alright, whatever you say Chef” You reply with a smile, and Carmen sinks his teeth into his bottom lip when you say it like that.

“Just wait a sec” Carmen replies, and as he is about to leave you call for him again

“What are you even making, half the ingredients are gone” 

“It’s no problem, it’s your recipe anyway” Carmen replies, with a hint of a smile on his face before he leaves the room. It takes you a while, half because you're exhausted and the other half because you're hungry before the realisation hits you that he's made a recipe for you, about you. 

You can't help the smile that stretches across your face, goddamnit Carmen Berzatto, and you say you aren't a romantic.

[average-mako-enjoyer]

crying screaming throwing up 1/3

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I just bitched about the lazy writing and world-building in Mass Effect, but I wouldn't love these games if they didn't have moments where everything was on point (or close to it): the writing, the animation, the voice acting, everything.

Here's one of my favorite scenes, it's very short and I bet you've never thought about it before, but it's so, so good, I'm obsessed with it and I have to scream.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the only time that Shepard really freaks out is after the Mars mission. It happens right on screen, we don't hear it from someone else, we don't have to headcanon it, we get to see Shepard not as a protagonist, not as a savior of the galaxy, not as a soldier, but as an actual human being, simply scared shitless.

I also love that it starts with Liara immediately realizing what's going on. You can see that she freaks out too, because Shepard is freaking out, and the camera lingers on her reaction as it shifts from fear to sadness to understanding. And then we finally get to see the condition of our favorite Virmire survivor, and it's just oof.

When we go back to Liara, she already knows what to do.

And then we finally get to see Shepard. All these erratic movements are completely out of character. Throughout the three games, we only see Shepard move with some sort of intention (yes, because it's a game, and it's supposed to be that way, but think beyond that; it's also Shepard's characteristic as a person), and there's no intention in this. Shepard is holding on to the examination table, trying to lean down or move forward, and that's because now, in this situation, he can do nothing. No amount of self-sacrifice, quick thinking, tactical advantage, or stupid badassery will help. There's someone on that table he clearly cares about, and he has no say in the matter.

And Liara knows it. She leans forward to look Shepard in the eye and draw his attention to herself. She starts soft and pleading:

And dude, Shepard's expression is everything. It's sad and scared and open... again, completely out of character.

And then we can watch Liara's expression change when she sees that Shepard heard her. Her tone is no longer soft, it becomes quite aggressive.

It is all very deliberate. And it works! Shepard is still terrified, but he furrows his eyebrows and his expression closes. Now he looks more like the Shepard we all know and love.

Another change of tactics, and oh my god. Say what you will about my girl Liara, she is a real MVP here. Notice how she goes soft again and just gives Shepard a suggestion. She knows the best way to snap him out of his panic and sense of sheer helplessness is to push him to start giving orders again.

And again, it works! This sounds and looks like our usual Shepard.

Oh, I love these animations. The change from something hard-assed and in control to something vulnerable... Whoever animated this, let me kiss you on the mouth, let's ride into the sunset. You're beautiful and I love you.

✨Gentle touches✨ Not like our usual Shep at all.

Now to part 2 because I have even more gifs

[xveenusx]

Enough

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Realizing that no matter what you do, no matter how much you love someone, you are still not enough.

Author’s note: I’ve had a severe case of writer’s block so please don’t hate my disappearance.

Rating: Pure brutal angst

Warnings: fucking painful

__________________________

I think I may have made a small miscalculation.

My eyes trailed over the mass of muscle currently spread out on my bed.

Rafe Cameron.

Kook King, heir to Ward's real estate empire, and asshole extrodinare was sleeping soundly in my bed. It was almost laughable if I wasn't so fucking terrified.

The sunlight danced across his tan skin, the sheets bunched up at his hips leaving little to imagination. My breath caught as my eyes followed the small happy trail causing memories of last night to assualt me.

Sitting on the chaise lounge chair, I curl up against the pillows humming softly to myself. Bringing the mug up to my lips, I bite back a smile at the utter relaxtaion on his face.

When Rafe told me to pack a bag, my stomach flipped with nerves. Being the maid of the infamous Cameron family wasn't exactly ideal in the eyes of his family let alone being a pogue. So we kept our relationship a secret at his request. He had too much to lose if his family reacted poorly.

People wouldn't understand. Ward wouldn't understand. That's what he always told me.

Yet, as much as I tried to understand his reasoning, a small part of me ached at the thought of it being much simpler: I just wasn't enough.

It was exahusting to say the least. Always having to hide and watch as other women with more social status and money than me throw themselves at him. It didn't help that Rafe had a tendency to flirt back causing the green monster known as jealousy to rear its ugly head in my face.

So I stuck with what I knew how to do: clean.

And just as I begin to fall off the deep end, straight over a cliff into overthinking, Rafe always manages to pull me back out. This time he did it by offering a small getaway.

The Cameron's weren't set to use their beach house for another month or so, leaving this entire property for Rafe and I to simply enjoy each other's company. Something we rarely get to do.

There was no need to pretend here.

A groan pulled me out of my thoughts directing my eyes to the bed. A cool salty breeze swept in from the open balcony doors, the sounds of waves crashing agaisnt the shore soothed me.

Rafe peered at me from under his arm with a frown marring his features.

"What's with that face?"

"I don't like waking up alone." He complained, staring at me expectantly.

Giddiness singes every nerve in my body as I set down my mug and scurry over to the bed. The moment my knees hit the bed, strong arms envelope me and tug me into a warm prison.

"Mmmmh." Rafe hums, burying his face into the nape of my neck while his hand slowly tugs my leg over his hip. A small giggle slips from my lips at his softness.

"Are you laughing at me?" His voice rumbled with sleep.

"Yes, you’re a very simple man to please."

"I didn't have you, and now I do. There, it's simple."

My heart melted at his words. For someone who struggled wiht expressing how he felt, Rafe always managed to knock me on my ass.

"What did you wanna do today?" I asked, trailing my fingertips along his face, placing every freckle, every spot to memory.

Blue crytsalized eyes follow me every move. "You. In every room in this house. Then outside."

Blushing at his words, I huffed in fake annoyance and playfully shoved his face away from me. "Rafe, I'm being serious."

"I'm being dead serious, baby." He nipped at my fingers before rolling over onto his back, dragging me directly on top.

I rest my chin on the tops of my hands that laid on his chest and stare at the beautiful man below me. Rafe's fingers thread themselves into my hair brushing it softly, alomst lulling me to sleep.

I wanted to capture this moment forever. The sound of the seagulls chirping, the smell of the salty breeze, the warmth of his body under mine, and the utter adortion that dances in his eyes as he looks at me. It was intimate and real. And for a moment, I allowed myself to dream about the possibility of this becoming a reality.

The abilty to hold his hand in public and kiss his body in private. Being able to go on dates and be on his arm for events and dinners. Hanging out with his friends and his family because I knew what they meant to him. Being able to wake up in his bed rather than sneaking out in the middle of the night. I wanted it all.

Our picture perfect bubble. And consider me naive, but I thought this moment would last forever. But the thing about bubbles is they always pop in the end.

"Guess what?" Rafe asked, his cerulean orbs intense and sincere.

A beaming smile stretched across my lips at the familiar phrase he always used. "What?"

"I love-"

"I love you." I beat him to it, making him let out a deep bellyed laugh. I was memoriezed, enamoured by every little thing he did. I wanted to hear it again and again.

Opening my mouth, "No take backs-"

A knock on the door interrupts me.

That's when our bubble pops.

"Rafe? Open up." Sarah Cameron's voice fillters in from the other side of the door.

My eyes dart to Rafe, only for his face to be painted with sheer panic. In seconds, I'm shoved off the side of the bed and fall onto the floor in a heap of sheets.

My mind took a moment to catch up with my body. But when it did, the flood of emotions that crashed into me were nothing short of excruciating. An immediate lump formed in my throat at his actions as I try to make quick excuses for him but nothing came to mind.

"Just stay down, please." The sound of his request has me closing my eyes, his words hitting me deep, knifelike in the size of the wounds that they left.

I nodded softly. I remain still on my side on the cold floor as I numbly stare at the wall.

"Sarah, what the fuck are you doing here? I had the beach house for the weekend." His words were low and sharp, nothing like how he spoke to me mere seconds ago.

"Chill out. My friends and I wanted to get away a little, plus I figured you were already here, so. "

"You brought those fucking pogues here?"

I hear her scoff. "Your friends are worse."

"Just make sure they don't steal anything. I know it's hard for them considering they wouldn't see this type of money in a life time." His words were cruel, twisting the knife deeper into my chest.

I couldn't help but wonder if there was a double meaning behind his words. I was a pogue, just like Sarah's friends, and it would take me years to afford even a fraction of what's in this beach house.

Was that how he saw me? Was this the reason why we couldn't be public?

"Have you seen her? She wasn't at the house when I left." Sarah's question drew me back to the present.

I held my breath as I waited for him to answer about my whereabouts. I couldn't take another hit.

"I know you have about two brain cells, but please tell me why you would think I know where the help is?"

All my breath left my body and I fought the urge to scream. A heavy weight sat on my chest as I blankly stared at the floor, my eyeballs burning in absolute mortification.

"God, you're such an asshole."

"I aim to please. Now leave me alone." With that, Rafe slammed the door shut but I refused to move a muscle.

Instead, I tried to focus on my breath. It was the only thing that would keep me from having a panic attack. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs but it's like my body forgot how to breathe.

Tears finally began to fall silently as I gasped for breath, clutching the sheet closer to my chest. Humilation pricked my very being as his words play on repeat in my mind.

Rafe was the best part of my day. He made me want things I didn't even know I wanted. And yet, this was how he viewed me. So small and insiginifcant.

Footsteps move in my direction but I paid them no mind. Moving was impossible, so I just stayed in the spot where Rafe thought I belonged— on the cold hard floor.

"I know how it looks, just give me a chance to explain." I felt him kneel beside me, his hand reaching to cup my face. I jerked my face away from him and return my attention to the wall.

"Can you please get off the floor?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"This is where you wanted me, right?" The words left a stale taste in my mouth.

My heart pounded in my throat as a hot flush filled my cheeks.

"Look at me." He demanded.

I couldn't. It hurt too much.

"Baby, please. Look at me." He touched my chin and I felt my body shudder.

"Don't touch me." The words tore out of my chest as I wrenched myself away from him.

Rafe's eyes tracked my movement and his face became very still as if contemplating his next move.

The level of betrayal I felt must have been painted on my face, because his expression shifted to one of regret.

"I made a mistake-"

"Stop." I snapped, lifting my hand to cut him off. "Get out. I need to change and leave before Sarah see's me."

"I drove you, where are you going to go when you don't have a car?"

My eyes narrow at his tone. Once again he was painting me as this helpless girl that was nothing without him.

"I have two legs that work perfetly fine."

Rafe crossed his bulging arms against his toned chest. "You're not leaving until we talk."

A fake laugh past my lips. "We're done, there's nothing left to talk about."

He let out a growl of frustation. "We're not breaking up."

Was he delusional?

"This is me breaking up with you. We are done, Rafe."

Rafe's icey blue eyes narrowed into slits. "Stop trying to break up with me."

"You threw me off the bed!" I shouted, my hands pointing to the floor where I laid moments ago, the shame still fresh as an open wound.

"You threw me off the bed." I repeated softer, my voice breaking at the end. "The bed, Rafe. Just so Sarah didn't see you with me."

"I shouldn't have done that-"

"It happened. It's done. Just let me leave."

Protecting what little self respect I had left was my only goal. No matter how much I loved him, it wasn't worth this constant stream of self doubt and humiliation that seemed to follow us like a plague.

Rafe stared at me for a moment before he jumped into action. Heading towards my suitcase, I watch frozen as he goes through my clothes, picking an outfit for me.

Taking several strides to me, Rafe shoved the clothes into my arms, his breath heavy. "Put these on."

"Rafe, what the hell are you doing-"

"I made a mistake. One that I'm going to fix right now. So stop fighting with me and put these on."

Unease filled me chest as my eyes dart to the clothes.

"How?"

"No more hiding. You and me, okay?"

I stared into his hopeful gaze, looking for even a flash of insincerity or deceit, but only found sheer determination. "Rafe, you can get out of this. I'm giving you an out-"

He shakes his head roughly, strands of golden hair falling on his forehead. "I don't want an out, I want you. So put the clothes on so I can go tell the world I love you."

I snorted, "Seems a bit melodramatic. Let's start small, yeah?"

Pushing his hair back, a sexy smile pulled at his lips. "Small."

I made my decision. Turning around, I grabbed the clothes and began to dress.

I wiped my sweaty hands against my mini white sundress as nerves begin to prick every bit of my skin. Rafe stood in front of me, his glacial eyes soft, with his hand held out for mine. "Ready, baby?"

Hope inflated my lungs as I placed my trembling hand in his, the cool feel of his rings brining a familiar type of comfort.

Rafe leads us out of the room and towards the staircase where voices floated up from downstairs. I was nervous. Extremely nervous. He was going to do it. Rafe was going to introduce me as his girlfriend to his sister and her friends, no less.

The sound of our footsteps echoed against the giant house causing the voices to slowly die away.

Coming into view, Sarah and the pogues are all perched in the living room wearing beach attire. An open bottle of tequila and shot glasses are spread along the table.

All eyes zone in on us before they zoom in on our clased hands. Sarah's eyes widened and I fought the urge to pull my hand from Rafe's grasp. As if sensing my thoughts, Rafe squeezed my hand reassuringly and moved me slightly in front of him.

He cleard his throat. "I uh-"

His eyes shot to mine. I let my fingers brush against his arm in encouragement, a proud smile gracing my lips.

This was the first step in the right direction. Once we told Sarah, it would be easier with each passing person.

Butterflies swarmed my stomach like a zoo. I knew how hard this was for him, but he was still doing this for me, for us. Rafe was finally making us a priority. The unattainble future now felt like it was within my reach.

"Sarah, there's something I want to tell you. I've um-well I've been seeing-"

The front door slammed.

"Looks like we're missing all the fun." Ward Cameron walked in, hand in hand with Rose. A loose linen shirt with thin pants dress his body with a hat and an expensive pair of sungalsses cover his face.

I felt Rafe's grip slowly loosen on my hand. Panic clawed at my throat as I turn my head to look at him. Rafe stared directly ahead with his jaw clenched. He refused to even look at me.

In a last ditch effort to cling onto the invisible string that held us together, I tightened my grip on his hand but Rafe jerked his hand away.

I felt the pressure in my chest finally pop and the string that once tethered us together finally tear. Dread sat in my stomach like lead and bile traveled up my throat.

He made his decision and once again, it wasn't me.

Heat rushed up my neck as I left my arms hang limply at my side. I didn't know what to do, I couldn't think. My shoulders slumped as I bit down on my tongue hard enought to draw blood.

It kept me from screaming.

"Rafe, thank god you brought the help. Though it looks like she hasn't been doing much cleaning." Rose tsked as she looked at the littered table in distaste. "Honey, be a dear and make us new drinks. Then when you have a minute, our bags are out front. Go ahead and put them in our room."

With a wave of a hand she dismissed me, as her and Ward walk passed me with no other acknowlegment.

My mouth went dry as I clenched my shaky shands together. I could feel Sarah's gaze drilling into the side of my head, but I couldn't look at her. Instead, I once again looked at the bane of my existance. The source of this crippling pain the crushes every inch of my soul.

"Rafe..." My voice trembled as I begged him, pleaded, for him to look at me. Just once.

I wanted him to see my face. He refused, the only hint of his turmoil was the bob of his adam's apple.

Swallowing my pride, I put my head down and do what I do best: clean.

____________________

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me alive. I spent the rest of the day doing every little thing Rose asked. I kept my head down and said not one word.

Rafe made my place in his life very clear so I was going to be exactly what he wanted me to be. The perfect little maid.

The entire Cameron family sat at the table for dinner, John B included, as I gently set each of their plates down in front of them. I held my breath once I reached Rafe, knowing that one hint of his expensive musky cologne would send me into a fit of tears.

"Thank you." The timber of his voice caused me to close my eyes briefly in pain.

A familiar touch to my wrist made me jerk away and clear my throat. I continue serving dinner, forcing myself to ignore the gravity that's pulling me towards him.

"That'll be all, you can go relax for a bit. We'll need you back to clean up, of course."

"Of course." My smile was brittle. I allowed myself only a glance. Rafe glared down at his plate, hands clenched into fists at his side.

My feet moved on their own accord and soon I found myself outside, standing beside the pool that overlooked the shore. Taking in gulps of air, I placed my head in my hands.

Starting over was never something I planned. Once I met Rafe, everything else shifted into perspective. All I ever thought about was moving forward with him and starting a life together. One that he would be proud of. One where I didn't have to hide.

"I'm sorry." The words came from behind me and burned a whole straight through my chest.

I choked back on my tears that threatened to drown me and stare down at the rag in my hands.

"Baby." He moved closer now, his heat pressing into my side.

A small shake of my head was all I could muster. The armour I placed around my delicate heart was getting weaker with each passing second.

"I said, I'm sorry." His hand reaches for my waist, turning me to face my destruction.

A light blue linen shirt paired with white six inch seamed shorts don his body. A large gold watch decorated his wrist to match the shiny gold necklace that rested on his chest.

Looking down at myself, a simple tee and leggings, the contrast was so striking it was laughable. In what world had I fooled myself into thinking Rafe Cameron was mine.

Deciding to proctect my sanity, I moved back towards the house with every intention of cleaning up before grabbing my bag and leaving when Rafe blocked my escape.

"Did you hear me? I'm so fucking sorry, for all of it."

"I heard you." Indifference lacing every word.

Rafe gowled, running his hands through his hair in frustation at my lack of emotion. "Stop acting like you don't care and just talk to me."

"I don't care what your family thinks of me and I don't care what you think of me. I dont care anymore, Rafe."

Rafe gripped my chin and his irate gaze burned me. "Tell me what to do to fix it."

There was nothing left of me for him to fix.

The sound of Ward calling out my name is enough to distract Rafe. Pulling my face from his grasp, I promplty turned around and headed towards the house.

"Stop fucking walking." He barked out harshly.

Ignoring his words, I continue to head in the direction of the house. Only a few more hours and I can leave with my head held high despite the gaping hole in my chest.

"I swear to God, stop walking." I could hear his footsteps behind me causing a rush of adrenaline to spread like wildfire through my veins.

"Last time I checked, you work for my family. My last name is fucking Cameron so if I tell you to stop walking, you stop fucking walking." The words are cruel and dark and they have their desired effect because I stop immediately in my tracks.

My eyes began to burn as I pivoted on my heel and slwoly turned to face him. His gaze hardened and I can see him contemplating something before a vicious smirk decorates the face I love.

A glass tumblr was in his hand and I watched in absolute shock as he tilted the cup, spilling the dark liquid onto the floor. The rag in my hand suddenly weighed eight tons as I realized his intent.

"Clean it up."

My blood turned ice cold and a sound a disbelief left my lips.

"I said, Clean. It. Up." He gestured to the floor.

I searched his eyes for anything, for everything, but there's nothing there. Looking back down at the mess, I nodded my head and slowly dropped to my knees.

Tears blurred my vision as I scrubbed the floor clean, wanting nothing more than to disappear. Our fate was finally sealed in that moment.

Leaning back on the heels of my feet, I swallowed. Tears clung to my lashes but the damage was already done. The trails the tears left in their wake burned into my skin as a reminder of his cruelty.

His cold mask finally cracked at the sight of my tears. Rafe took a step in my direction but something in my face made him halt.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Cameron?” I averted my eyes from his.

A harsh noise escaped his lips then he reached out and grabbed my shoulders. I closed my eyes at the heat of his touch and my lips began to quiver.

“I just wanted you to talk to me….” Rafe spoke softly, his words pained.

I wiped my tears harshly and forced myself to look at him for the last time. His hard glacial eyes study my face.

The memory from this morning continued to fade out of my reach. Pain filled me as I realized that was the last time we would ever be together.

“Am I free to go, Mr. Cameron?”

His face crumbled. For a second, one second, a twisted sense of happiness hit me at the sight of his pain. Rafe did this to us. Not his family, not his friends, but him.

Rafe’s face became very still. He nodded slightly and relief filled me. I stared into his eyes, hoping he could see all the love I had been so willing to shower him with, but it was now too late.

Giving him my back, I allowed the dirty rag in my hand drop. 20 more steps. That’s all that stood between me and the next chapter of my story. One that didn’t include him.

Each step seemed to get heavier the farther I walked away from Rafe. I was wrapped around a haze of heartbreak that almost made my movements mechanical.

I entered the house, numb to the bone, and gathered all my things. Everything around me was out of focus as I dragged my suitcase towards the front door.

I could see Rose from the corner of my eye, her mouth moving, but the ringing in my ears only seemed to get louder. Pushing past her, I headed straight for the door and forced myself not to look back.

Everything was different now. In a way, so was I.

One foot in front of the other, I walked down the drive way. The ringing in my ears and the adrenaline that pumped through my veins was suddenly dulled at the sound of the door slamming open behind me.

Loud footsteps echoed behind me before my arms are grabbed and I’m forced to turn around.

Rafe’s eyes were wild with panic as he panted in front of me. His entire appearance was disheveled with his hair sticking out in all directions.

“Don’t go.”

I was so close to being out of his grasp and being free of this agony that gripped me so tightly it made it hard to breathe.

“You were never mine. Were you?” The question slipped past my lips before I knew it.

“I love you. I do, please just come back inside and I’ll do what you want. I’ll tell Ward and Rose right now.” His blue eyes held so much hope, but it wasn’t enough. The magic was all gone, replaced with this cruel torment.

“I was yours, in every way possible. But, it didn’t matter what I did. I still wasn’t enough for you. I’m never going to be good enough, am I?” My voice cracked, but the words were out along with the realization of how painfully accurate they were.

Warm hands cradled my face pulling me towards his. Rafe rested his forehead on mine, his eyes boring into mine. I could feel the slight tremble in his hands.

“That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”

“How could I possibly know that? You never do anything that says otherwise.”

“I love a man who can’t even hold my hand in public.” He couldn’t hold me gaze, instead he turned it to the floor with his jaw clenched.

“You knew who I was when we started this. You knew what came with being with a Cameron. Our situation is much more complicated than you’re making it fucking seem. So I didn’t hold your hand, now you’re going to leave me?”

His logic was horribly flawed.

“Our situation is not complicated. All you had to do was love me the way I loved you.”

“Whether you like it or not, you’re a fucking maid,” Rafe said through gritted teeth,” The maid to my family, no less, and you expect to be welcomed in with open arms? This isn’t a fairytale, wake up.”

”Then what was the point of all of this? Of me loving you and you loving me, if it was never going to go anywhere.”

“The point was that we were together and we were happy.” Rafe let out a frustrated noise and shook his head. But it was clear, he wasn’t getting it. I knew nothing I’d say would ever get through to him.

“Were we? Together, I mean. Because I was always at your beck and call. Literally and figuratively. Where were you for my college graduation? Where were you when my dad died? I’ll tell you where you were,” I pressed my finger into his chest, “You. Weren’t. There. Instead, you chose to love me from afar because you care more about the opinion of sheep than you do me.”

I couldn’t stop talking. It was as though a wall cracked and suddenly every emotion I held in was flooding through.

“Look at me.” I shouted, grabbing his chin and forcing him to stare. “I want you to look me in the fucking eye. Look at the damage you caused. You did this to us. ”

“Stop being cruel.”

“Cruel? You threw your drink on the floor and made me clean it up. Did seeing me on my knees make you feel big and strong?”

He tilted his head, his expression darkening. “Enough. Come back inside, now.”

“I wanted everything for you.” I laughed at how incredibly stupid and blind I had been. “And you can’t even hold my fucking hand.”

Race’s eyes softened marginally. “Tell me what to do. How can I fix this?”

My stomach tightened. Steeling myself, I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed out the next words. “You can’t.”

“I can, but you’re not give me a fucking chance here.” His words came out as a plea.

“Being with you was a choice I made every day. One that you clearly couldn’t make, so I’m making it for you. We’re done.

His jaw ticked. ”Try and fucking leave me.”

I wanted nothing more than to run back into his arms and comfort him, despite it all. But I knew, if I was going to survive this at all, I couldn’t be with him.

“I’m always running behind you, trying to keep up. Trying to be everything you want and everything you need, but I’m all out of breath. I have nothing left to give you. But it’s still more than you ever gave me.” With those being my parting words, I clutched onto the handle of my suitcase in a death grip and force myself to walk away from him.

My shoulders jump at the sound of something shattering behind me.

“I love you.” Rafe screamed at the top of his lungs from behind me. His voice was brutal and laced with pain.

Not enough.

_________________

Side note: pls let me know what you think! I’ve been gone for several months so I’m a bit rusty:) I am working on the second part of Hate as promised!

[babyouran]

The Twins Fight! - what started as a tricky game soon turns into a dramatic argument where the twins cause chaos in their fight against one another

pairing - fem!reader x host club

apart of - ouran add-in

"Let's all play the ‘Which one is Hikaru’ game!" The twins exclaimed, standing up while the ladies clapped at their announcement. "So, can you tell which one of us is Hikaru?"

"Well, it's hard to say," One lady began, tapping her finger against her chin.

"You're identical!" The other added.

"Many ladies have tried to tell us apart, but so far none have succeeded."

"Oh, they're playing that game again?" Y/n turned to Haruhi, the girls didn't have any customers at the moment. They were just enjoying the less busy crowd and chatting about a book Y/n read recently.

"It's kind of stupid," Haruhi expressed.

"What? Have you got a problem with it, Haruhi?" They overheard her comment, turning to look at the two girls.

"No, it's just odd," She simply spoke, turning her attention back to Y/n.

"Hikaru! Kaoru!" Tamaki spoke, running in with a computer. "When I gave you control of the club's website, I did so on one condition. That you take it seriously!" Tamaki scolded them.

"We take our job very seriously boss," Hikaru responded.

"In fact, last night we worked on it till dawn," Kaoru added.

"Is this what you worked so hard to create?" He pulled up the screen, showing Y/n without her mask on and a shorter dress going up to her knees.

"Oh no," She stood up, grabbing onto the device to look at it. In response to seeing the less-than-accurate image, and realizing what lecture she would receive if her father saw such an image, she slumped to the ground. 

"You look great N/n-chan," Honey smiled.

"Pretty," Mori commented, and soon enough the girls were all surrounding the screen trying to catch a glance.

"There, there," Haruhi patted her back.

"My teeth don't look like that," Y/n pouted. "Also my lips are not- never mind. You have to take that down," She walked over to the twins flicking their foreheads. "Kyoya-senpai!" She yelled, wandering off from the mischievous duo.

"When did you take those photos of her?" Tamaki walked up to the twins.

"Didn't you hear her? We didn't," Hikaru explained.

"There is something called Photoshop, boss," Kaoru added.

"Can you do it with her wearing this?" Tamaki lifted a magazine where the main model was wearing a fancy green dress. 

"No," They deadpanned, walking away to leave a disappointed Tamaki. Instead, they decided to focus their attention back on Y/n who was arguing with Kyoya.

"I don't care if it got you more views on the website, if you don't want to be sued by my father take it down!" She stated, clearly frustrated and flustered trying to reason with Kyoya. In the presence of the twins, she switched her yelling onto them, taking the computer from Kyoya’s hands and motioning it to the boys. "Take it down," She pushed it in their hands.

"Why? It's fun. When we get bored we make fun."

"No," Y/n rolled her eyes, “This is not fun, this is bad!”

"You're our pet," Hikaru spoke, while Kaoru started working on getting rid of the photo.

"Be a good girl now," Kaoru looked up from over the screen.

"I'm not a dog. I can’t be both of your entertainment like this, you should go on and find a toy."

"You want a toy?" A dark figure appeared from behind a door, candlestick in hand. "Toys, toys. If you like toys then you should come and visit my Black Magic Club," The boy offered. This piqued Haruhi’s interest as she walked over to the mysterious figure to hear more about his offer. 

"We've recently opened a marketplace that hosts black magic items from across the globe. We're also holding mass around the clock. If you visit right now, I'll even throw in a free curse doll. You can have Belzenef as your gift."

"Why is he talking to us through a crack in the door?" Haruhi wondered, looking back at the fellow club members.

"Wait a second, has that door always been there?" The twins pondered.

"Nekozawa-senpai likes to hide. He doesn't care for brightly lit places," Kyoya informed the group.

"Don't get involved with that guy Y/n," Tamaki snuck up on her, scaring her. She jumped and flinched where she was standing. "If you do you'll end up being cursed, don't you do it either Haruhi!"

"How do you know?" Y/n asked, moving closer to the door, her arm was about to reach for the doorknob but Tamaki stepped forward to pull her arm back so that she was standing next to her. 

"It happened during final exams, at the end of the last school year," Tamaki let go of her wrist since she was trying to shake her hand out of it. He then went on to explain a story where he stepped on a 'cursed' doll, leading to him taking a test in different lettering and he also didn't know any of the students in that class. "I was in a different dimension."

"Scary!" Honey cowered.

"Did that really happen to you?" Haruhi questioned, unsure, trying to hide behind the shorter boy. Y/n walked over to the nervous Honey, bending down a bit and patting his head in a comforting way.

"Don't you worry Honey-senpai, or you either Haruhi-chan. I think Tamaki-senpai just went to the wrong class," Y/n explained while Honey was hugging her. 

"It was a curse! I know because I woke up three days later and my legs were as heavy as lead!" Tamaki fired back.

"Your legs were heavy because you ran a marathon the day before, remember?" Kyoya told him, still working on his normal tasks despite the new presence of the man. 

"You shouldn't underestimate the dark powers of Belzenef the cursed doll. All you have to do is write the name of someone you hate on his back and then that someone will come into misfortune," Nekozawa popped up, holding the cat doll.

"Wow this guy is dark in more ways than one," Kaoru spoke, and soon he and Hikaru exchanged a glance.

"I wonder what he will think of this," Hikaru showed the flashlight from behind his back before shining it on Tamaki and Nekozawa. Both of them ran away scared, Nekozawa choosing to retreat to his club room.

"How on earth could you two do such a thing? Obviously, the two of you don't know the true terror of the black mirror!" Tamaki shook, but this wasn’t anything the twins paid much attention to, instead just wandering off with complaints that they were bored.

"My dignity as the club's leader is being ignored," Tamaki sulked in his spot. 

"Hey, Y/n! We have a favor to ask you," The twins spoke.

"What’s that?" Y/n responded, going over to her bag to search for a new book.

"Can we go to your house?"

"No."

"That could be fun," Tamaki looked up.

"No, it wouldn't. My house is almost the same as yours, it would be different if we were going to Haruhi's, that could be fun," Y/n shrugged, finding her book and taking a seat. Soon enough the twins were standing around Haruhi, hopeful eyes looking upon her. 

"No, you're just going to make fun of it," She shook her head, crossing her arms in distaste. 

"I think it's about time we all pay our respects to our beloved Haruhi's family!" Tamaki beamed.

"No way in hell, only Y/n can," Haruhi mumbled the last part, looking over at the girl reading intently.

"We can settle this with a game! If you can't pick out which one of us is Hikaru, then your penalty will be the two of us coming over to your house later tonight!"

"It's kind of simple," Y/n commented. "That's Hikaru and that's Kaoru," She pointed to the boys.

"You're wrong."

"No she's right," Haruhi agreed.

"Sure you guys look alike, but that doesn't mean your personalities are the same," Y/n mentioned. 

"How did you tell?" One of the girls asked.

"With that hat, it's so hard," Another wondered, Y/n ignored the words of the girls since the book once again captured her interest which made Haruhi have to answer the question. 

"Well, how do I put it? It's kinda difficult to explain. But Hiakru's speech and actions make him come across a little more mischievous than Kaoru," Haruhi explained honestly, not truly thinking about her words before speaking them.

"I'm sorry Hikaru, I don't mean to laugh," Kaoru spoke, trying to hold back a laugh but soon ended up breaking into a loud one.

"I don't see what's so funny. I'm honest, I speak my mind, and I don't hold back. It's sneaky people like Kaoru who are the troublemakers," Hikaru argued.

"Don't turn this on me, Hikaru. After all, I'm the one who's always going along with all of your selfish games.”

"I may suggest them but you're the one that gets into them Kaoru. If you hate it so much then why don't you just stop?"

"Because I'd hate to see you make an ass out of yourself, in front of everyone. It was your idea to call Y/n a pet, but I noticed you were quick to make a pass at her. Admit it, Hikaru, you're actually in love with Y/n, aren't you?" Karou smugly spoke, Hikaru getting all flustered.

"You've got it all wrong, Kaoru! Man, you're such a freaking idiot," Hikaru told him annoyed.

"Yeah! There are some things in this world that must never be said," Tamaki buzzed.

"Why would I fall for her? I mean she can't even show her face, she probably looks like a tanuki," Hikaru claimed.

"How dare you call her a raccoon dog?" Tamaki fumed. "You're going to pay for that!"

"Can you guys be quiet-" Y/n tried to speak before a large rumbling cut her off. 

Soon enough Renge made another surprise appearance and started to emerge from the ground. "Our beloved Y/n is in the middle of a beautiful yet poignant seven-sided romantic relationship! And to make it even better, two of her admirers are twins, torn apart by love! Just the thought of it could make me eat three bowls of rice!”

"Wait, what did you-"

"Oh butt out, otaku," The twins spoke causing a total flip in Renge’s confidence as she now stepped down from the platform all sad.

"You guys are meanies! You shouldn't say something like that to your manager!"

"But Renge, I thought you had feelings for Y/n as well.”

"I do and it's platonic, but I have no problem with her having relationships on the side. Also after speaking with Haruhi, I'm developing feelings for him as well," Renge announced back to her confident self.

"I'm confused, I thought you had decided to go back to France, Renge," Haruhi walked over.

"Well, I was going to start up a host club of my own… but, I don't think France is ready for a host club, just yet," She told Haruhi, a light blush on her cheeks.

"I don't think anywhere is ever ready for a host club," Y/n commented, Renge was about to mention something else but was cut off by the twins' voices raging at one another. 

"Cut it out already! You're the one always crawling into my bed! Talk about annoying," Kaoru yelled.

"I only do that because you look lonely. I wouldn't choose to sleep in your bed, you idiot!"

"Who are you calling an idiot? You're the one who sucks at math."

"Oh yeah, well you're failing your foreign language class you dummy," Hikaru argued, just continuing to go back and forth like little children.

"That's it we're over!" They fumed, walking in opposite directions of one another, stomping off into the distance. 

Later the next day Haruhi and Y/n were sitting beside each other in class chatting before it began.

"What did you think of the fourth chapter?" Y/n asked her friend who was taking out her book.

"I didn't expect Tobio to show up especially him claiming he wanted his daughter back," Haruhi spoke excitedly.

"Hey Y/n, Haruhi!" One twin walked in, flamingo pink hair. "Good morning.”

"Um, Hikaru," Y/n spoke, squinting her eyes in disbelief at what she was seeing. "What did you do to your hair?"

"Why is it dyed pink?" Haruhi wondered.

"Because pink suits me. Don't you think it's cute? From now on I'm the pink-haired twin. I didn't want to be mistaken for that Kaoru for the rest of my life, you know?" Hikaru mentioned, his now blue-haired brother, coming up next to him.

"Good morning Y/n, Haruhi," Kaoru voiced, Hikaru, walked over to an empty seat near Y/n and sat beside her. "I was finally able to sleep all by myself last night, but I ended up having a nightmare. I dreamt my stylist had dyed my hair pink. It was so garish and ridiculous looking, I woke up screaming.”

Hikaru stood up and walked over kicking Kaoru's chair so that he fell. Kaoru then returned the favor, knocking Hikaru down the same way. Once back to their seats, the twins stared at each other and soon enough an all-out war erupted with a multitude of items being flung over Haruhi and Y/n’s heads. 

"This is going to be a long day," Y/n grumbled as Haruhi nodded in agreement.

When class was over and it was noontime Haruhi and Y/n decided to chat about the lesson they had just finished learning while walking into the cafeteria. 

"I was wondering what all the fuss was about, I can't believe the two of you are still fighting," Tamaki spoke, watching the twins in line arguing about food.  "You're a disgrace to the Host Club!"

"Why is the rest of the club here?" Y/n questioned, turning to Haruhi. Haruhi just shrugged and let Y/n wander over to the group. "Hey guys!"

"N/n-chan!" Honey exclaimed.

"Hey, look who it is!" A short-haired girl spoke, joining hands with another.

"I've never seen them all together like that," Another one commented.

"We've had enough of this, you're both to blame for this fight," Honey said, then pulling out a cake. "Hika-chan and Kao-chan I want you to make up and then go halfsies on this cake, 'kay? But I want to have a piece too, and N/n-chan should get some, so I guess we're gonna have to have fourthsies," Honey went on babbling in an attempt to try and figure out how to cut the cake.

Y/n just walked over to the nox distressed and anxious boy, lifting him, and taking him over to Mori. 

"You're just making it worse, leave them alone," Mori told Honey, moving him far away from the irritated twins.

"Oh, Y/n! I didn't expect to run into you in the dining hall," Tamaki fangirled, rushing over to the girl who was watching Honey now munching on the cake he was once going to share.

"Haruhi and I decided to follow the twins here, they have been acting odd all day," Y/n looked over to her senpai. 

"I brought a boxed lunch and I just wanted to eat it in the classroom," Haruhi mumbled, walking over to where the host club now decided to eat lunch. 

"A boxed lunch?" Tamaki repeated.

In Tamaki's head

"Tamaki, darling, I hope you will accept this food I made. I'm not amazing at cooking, but I made it with love!"

"I will eat anything you make Y/n, it's always beautiful and tastes delicious," Tamaki declared 

"I will eat it!" Tamaki spoke out loud.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kyoya mumbled.

"Ah," Y/n ordered beside Kyoya, pointing out the dish of her choice

"Our chef makes amazing crab, it truly is so delicious the way he seasons it. Maybe once you can come visit and try the dish," Kyoya mentioned, the two walking towards the lunch table that the Host Club members were currently occupying.

"Damn rich people," Haruhi grumbled.

"Haruhi, come sit over here!" Y/n waved her over, but instead of just Haruhi another friend had joined alongside them, Hikaru.

"What's that, what do you have for lunch?" He questioned, watching Haruhi take her seat.

"Yesterday's leftovers, and a rolled omelet,"

"Haruhi you want to switch?" Y/n looked over at the mouthwatering expression on Haruhi’s face as she stared at Y/n’s food. With a happy nod, the two exchanged their meals.

"This is amazing!" Haruhi exclaimed, tasting the food.

"Great! I usually like to eat more in private, so I can just save yours for later!"

"Y/n, I got a meal that you’ll enjoy. Want to try it, all you have to do is take your mask off," Kaoru softly grabbed her chin, tugging it closer towards him with one hand while his other held a fork with a piece of his meal on it.

Hikaru chomped the food off of the fork instead of the intended recipient, "Quit butting in Kaoru." At the possibility of another fight, Y/n moved out of her seat and grabbed Haruhi's hand to take her with her. Just as they were out of the line of fire Kaoru threw his soup at his twin but missed the wanted target and instead, it got splashed all over Tamaki. 

"I'm going to go eat alone now," Y/n quietly muttered over the yelling of the twins, choosing to take her leave from the noisy group.

After the whole cafeteria incident, the group (excluding the twins) met up again in the club room, hoping to relax with some tea and discuss the problematic antics of the twins.

"Looking at the numbers, if this situation isn't resolved, I'm afraid we're going to have to stop offering our brotherly love package. We're down one pair of loving brothers," Kyoya announced, typing in some digits into his calculator. "Oh, Haruhi, I just want you to know there's no reason for you to feel responsible, even though it was your tactless comment that started this whole feud between the twins."

"It's weird for Hika-chan and Kao-chan to be fighting like this," Honey spoke, playing with Usa-chan. "It's never happened before."

"They have never fought before?" Haruhi pondered, looking over at Honey.

"I've known Hika-chan and Kao-chan since we were in preschool. We weren't in the same year so I never really got to talk to them, but I remember that the two of them always played together," He told the group.

"Yeah that's true, I mean I've only known the twins since middle school but they have always stood out," Tamaki added, he went on about how the twins had been together for a while, saying it might not be such a bad thing they are fighting.

Yet quickly his former opinion changed when the twins finally arrived and they were still fighting, Tamaki quickly getting annoyed at the twins’ reckless behavior. 

"Don't you guys think it's maybe time to give up all this fighting?" Tamaki wondered. "It's driving me insane."

"What'd you say? It is driving you insane? You've got to be kidding me, how do you think I feel? Every time I look in the mirror I see his face. I'm sick and tired of being mistaken for you Kaoru! The truth is I hate your guts!" Hikaru snapped.

"You took the words right out of my mouth. In fact, I hate you so much, I bought this. Belzenef curse doll!" He pulled out the cat doll and a marker. "I'm going to complete the curse, Hikaru, I'm going to write your name on his back. From this day forward you are going to experience nothing, except misfortune and sorrow."

"Okay, this is getting to be enough," Y/n interrupted. "All because of some comment, that didn't even mean to offend you guys."

"Yes!" They both screamed. Mori rushed over to take Y/n’s hand in an attempt to bring her back into safety if they decided to start one of their throwing tantrums again. He did not want to see the girl getting injured once again. 

Haruhi finally had it, truly annoyed at the way they were treating her friend and how stupid they were being about an argument that didn’t make much sense. They were acting like toddlers. 

"Will you guys knock it off?" She smacked the sides of their heads. "What do you think you're doing? You don't bring something like this into a petty fight,” she motioned to Belzenef, “Both of you are at fault here, but what is truly sad is that you're bringing everyone else into your big mess! Now apologize to each other, if you don't make up right now I'm never going to let you come over to my house!" Haruhi threatened.

"So, then what you're saying Haruhi is that if we make up, we can come to your place?" The twins questioned at the same time.

"Oh, no," Y/n whispered, slapping her forehead, she figured out the mischievous plan they were trying to hatch all along. Haruhi slowly turned the doll around just for it to be blank, her face dropping in fear.

"I'm so sorry Kaoru, even though I was just following our script I said such awful things to you. I'm not fit to be your brother," Hikaru apologized.

"Don't say that Hikaru! I was so worried, I couldn't live with myself if I ever thought I had hurt you," They embraced each other, repeating apologies.

"You've got to be kidding! You mean you guys were faking it this whole time?" Honey shouted, arms flaring above his head.

"We didn't have anything else to do, we were bored!" They told him, laughing with each other. Haruhi was now sulking to the ground where Y/n moved in attempts to try and comfort her.

"Twins with too much time on their hands, are the devil," Tamaki concluded.

Later on the next day, the club was back to running like normal, with no obnoxious feuds between the twins but instead back to their game.

"Okay, it's time to play the ‘Which one is Hikaru’ game!" The boys announced.

"I know," A girl with short hair raised her hand. "The twin with the pink hair is Hikaru!"

"We have a winner!"

"So, are you two going to keep your wild hair color even though you made up? It's much easier to tell the two of you apart now," A girl with longer hair spoke.

"Not really," Y/n sighed, sitting up in her seat where she was eating cake with Honey. "The blue is Hikaru and the pink is Kaoru, they switched for the day," She then continued back with munching on the sweet treat while the twins stared in astonishment. 

"Do you realize what happened Hikaru? Until now, there were only two groups of people, 'us' and 'everyone else'. But for the first time, someone's crossed into our world."

next chapter - The Grade School Host is the Naughty Type!

[rixsjwb]

smokey geto, university au

at around 2 p.m., you wake up to the smell of smoke, specifically from a cigarette.

as you feel the sleepiness in your eyes seemingly never going away. You don't fully register what's going on until you eventually sat up. to find yourself sleeping on sugurus bed, while he sat right next to you while satoru played video games with shoko. sukuna and toji scrolling on their phones occasionally showing each other funny videos.

it was weird seeing them not throwing insults at each other and wanting to commit mass murder on one another, as you laid flat on your side, you used your arms too supporting you upright, you couldn't even full take in where to place your hands and you just put it anywhere you could, while doing so your hand lands on something solid and you hear a groan emit from the object.

it was suguru.

your hand had landed on his lower abdomen when trying to sit yourself up, "m'sorry." You say muffled tiredness still lingering in your voice. Your eyes start to see the hazey looking air, thinking your eyes are playing tricks on you, you waft the air in front of you while rubbing your eyes.

you feel yourself come crashing down when the energy you had left, left your body. your head coming in contact with the soft mattress, but you could see suguru in your view of looking up at the ceiling. you could feel his hand running in between the strands of your hair, almost lulling you back to sleep.

but the smoke in the air that starts to go down your lungs caused a violent cough to erupt out of you, drawing most of your friends to check up on you.

"You okay?" satoru asked, the cigarette limply slaying out of his mouth now, gone, as he held it between his index and middle finger. you mumble something that was intelligible, dragging the warm blanket with you too the living room to get more sleep, as the room was pretty much a widefire once the flames were put out, so much smoke.

you never liked when your friends did smoked. not only for their heath but yours too, obviously you don't want to force them too stop, I mean, shokos have been smoking since freshman year, do you really think they'll stop smoking on your request? probably not. Who knows?

as you snuggled up on the couch, the silent aura carried around the living room. You hear the soft click of a door opening and soft footsteps coming closer to you.

you grab the blanket and throw it over your entire face so not a limb is outside of the blanket, but when you feel a hand rest just above you, the blanket acting like a barrier, you start to tug and shove the person throwing their weight on you. you chuckle at their attempt to rip the blanket off you. but eventually, you remove it from your face to see who exactly it is.

"What are you doing here?" You ask tone muffled and quiet even with nothing covering your mouth, "m'wanted peace n' quiet." his baritone voice rumbles as he spoke, sounding a little more raspy than usual, probably from the smoke.

"hey ghetto, how come you always smoke?" you ask a genuine question, you wonder. you watch as he makes a face at the name you jokingly give him, but you both bath In the solitude of eachother.

silence.

"m'dont know, just do, I guess. don't like the smell of the smoke?" he said, you feel hesitant to nod your head, you don't wanna upset him because you don't like the choices he makes, but again it's his body so he can do whatever he'd like.

"yea, aren't you afraid of the lung diseases coming to get you?" You say it's a serious saying, But you can't help but chuckle a little. "You're too young and handsome to spend your days in a hospital." You say, hand stretching out to play with the ends of his long, straight, healthy looking hair. it had gotten longer than you'd remembered.

suguru stays quiet almost in Ponder about what your saying,"and plus not only are you killing you but your killing me cause I have to breath that shit whenever I'm around you, we'll be leukemia twins." Your chuckle sets a vibration in your chest.

you start to play with his hands in the silences, you start to think your words may have come off alittle aggressive and rude, but before you could say anything he beat you too it.

"Don't worry, yr'pretty mind, I promise I'll stop from now on." it takes you by surprise by how quickly it took for him to consider your words.

"You sur-" "Yes, I am. don't want you breathin' in these harmful chemicals."

you decide to joke around with him abit "can I try?" You point to the cigarette in between his fingers, " no silly, it's bad for you." You laugh at the irony of the situation

you watch as he smothers the ciggar into an ashtray, and you can already see the smoke clearing up. he opens the windows to seemingly air out the house before he makes his way back too you, laying his body weight on top of you.

"Get your sleep." he says Ina low tone, his hands drawing soft repetitive shapes on your skin, and he snuggles into your stomach enough to lul you back to sleep.

[pleasurebuttonwrites]

Irritated

Matt Murdock x F!Reader | Explicit 18+ | 2.2K

Summary Cooking for Matt goes all wrong and your insecurities come out.

Warnings smut, oral (f receiving), angst with a happy ending

A/N First time writing for Matt. The perfectionism was strong with this one - this has been sitting for months and I'm finally posting.

~~~

The cloud of smoke is quickly filling the apartment. You had turned the burners off, but the charred mass in the skillet is still sizzling. You crank the vent hood fan on high, and open a window. It isn’t enough.

—

As he’s racing home across the rooftops, the smell singes his nostrils. His body is exhausted but it gives him a dose of adrenaline before he realizes that it’s not a fire, just a burnt dinner.

Dinner? At this time of night?

That’s when it dawns on him. The smell is coming from his apartment. Maybe it’s my neighbor, he hopes with half-hearted optimism. With the way his night has gone, he doesn’t think he’ll get that lucky.

—

You’re fanning the smoke out of the window, using one of Matt’s law document tomes in Braille, when you hear the door to the roof. You speed up your fanning, as if that will in any way remove the smell from the apartment.

His footsteps are on the steps now and you turn to apologize — with some self-deprecating humor to relieve your anxiety — when you catch the irritation on his face. Cautiously, you say, “I’m sorry about the smoke. I was just trying to cook and I don’t know what—”

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off with words a little too flat and forceful to be sincere.

That familiar feeling washes over you. You had expected it to happen sooner or later, and here it was. He was finally figuring out that you were more trouble than you were worth.

He tosses his mask on the chair and yanks off his gloves, his mood infecting every motion. Without another word to you he retreats to his room and closes the door behind him.

—

From the other side of the door, Matt catches the way your breath hitches, hears you gather your things and walk out. He wants to stop you but the devil still has a hold on him and he knows he could only make things worse now.

He knew this would happen sooner or later. He knew he’d drive you away. Took longer than he thought it would. He tells himself the smart thing to do would be to let you go. Just let it end here.

But he hears your footsteps on the pavement outside. You’re walking home instead of taking a cab. He throws a shirt and pants on over his suit, and chases after you.

—

You only make it a block before he walks out of the shadows and strolls along next to you, not even winded from catching up.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone. You could get hurt.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, resentfully even. If he’s there out of real concern for you, rather than a sense of duty, he doesn’t show it. You say nothing to that and he doesn’t speak again.

The walk seems to take longer under the weight of the silence between you. When you finally get to your building’s door, you unlock it quickly and step inside. You don’t even look at Matt as you push the door closed behind you. But before it can latch, he catches it.

“Sweetheart,” he begins. “I’m sorry about the way I— the way I acted. It had nothing to do with you. I had a shitty night and I should’ve cooled off before coming home.”

When he puts it like that, it makes you seem unreasonable. Softly, apologetically, you say, “No, you should get to cool off in your own home.”

The words you’re not saying hang in the air between you but you feel too foolish to speak them so instead you stand there in the doorway, picking at your nails, looking down at them instead of him. He reaches out and stills your fidgeting, his warm hand enveloping both of yours. “What is it, sweetheart? Will you talk to me, please?”

Your first instinct is to lie, but the way he subtly turns his ear to you lets you know he’s listening to your heartbeat. Your pulse picks up just from knowing he’ll know if you lie.

You let out a sigh. “I just— I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

His brows furrow and he lifts his chin. You wait for him to prompt you but he’s going to keep silent until you tell him everything. He’s stubborn like that.

You remind yourself that he actually wants to know. He’s asking you for the truth. You take a deep breath, gearing up for an act of trust, and you let it all spill out. “All I do is make everything worse. I mean, I don’t bring anything to this relationship. But I thought maybe I could make you a nice meal. Then I’d be good for something. And that blew up in my face. Almost literally.”

A thick silence follows and you think he must be struggling and failing to dispute anything you’ve said. But you realize you’ve read it all wrong when he says in a quiet and deadly voice, “You think you don’t bring anything to our relationship?”

That voice — his devil’s voice — never fails to light a fire inside you. The sudden heat on your skin makes the night air feel that much cooler, and you shiver. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, taking in all the ways your body has reacted to him.

He steps forward into your building, and you step back. “It seems I haven’t properly showed you how important you are to me.”

As he advances, you back down the hallway. You can’t take your eyes off his face. The naked desire, the grim determination, the devil stalking his prey. You nearly collide with the staircase banister, but he gently guides you out of the way with a hand on your hip. One he doesn’t remove until you get to your door.

He plucks the keys from your hands and feels for the right one before quickly unlocking your door. It swings open but you both stand at the threshold.

“Matt,” you begin. As much as your body is begging for him, you feel guilty that the whole situation got turned around. You were trying to prove something to him and now he’s the one putting in the effort. Again. “I just feel like I haven’t yet earned your love.”

He hangs his head, exhaling his frustration. “First of all, you don’t need to earn my love. Secondly, if you even think for one second that you don’t deserve it, then I’ve failed you.”

“No, stop! I’m the one who fucked up, okay?” You storm past him into your apartment. He follows you inside, shutting the door behind him.

He draws in a breath to say something, but thinks better of it. He nods and says simply, “Okay.”

It’s the way he gives in that has you on alert. He never just gives in; he’s planning something.

“Make it up to me, then,” he tells you.

“How?”

“Take off your pants.”

“Matt—”

“I said, take off your pants.”

“That can’t be all I’m good for.”

“Sweetheart, I promise you we will find a way for you to feel deserving in this relationship. But right now, let me surround myself with your scent so I can get this smoke out of my nostrils.”

How were you supposed to think straight when he says things like that to you? You really wanted to give him what he wanted, but it didn’t feel right. “Well then that’s just you doing something for me again and I still can’t give you anything.”

He flashes that grin he uses during cross-examination when he’s about to tear the prosecution’s case to shreds. “You wanted to feed me. Now let me eat.”

—

You don’t know how he does it. But as soon as you stopped protesting, he had you naked with your ass at the edge of the couch and him kneeling in front of you.

“Spread your legs for me,” he says in a low, soft voice. You do as he says. He takes one deep breath and whines, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip. “I can already taste you.”

He starts on your thighs, pressing kisses from your knee to the hinge at your hip all along the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You feel the heat of his breath pass over your cunt before he kisses his way down to your other knee.

He’s doing it on purpose. Taking his time and lavishing you with kisses. Giving again. The guilt washes over you. “Matt—”

He shushes you just as the pad of his thumb brushes at your entrance, collecting your slick before sliding up to your clit. Your eyes roll back into your head and your words die on your lips. He applies just the right amount of pressure as he works circles over your sensitive nub. You whimper at his touch and he gives a satisfied hum in response.

It feels so good yet it’s not enough. “Matty, please.” Your voice is barely even a whisper but he hears you loud and clear. He lifts his thumb to his lips, moaning as your taste hits his tongue at last.

You expect to feel his mouth on you but instead he brings his hands together and says, “Bless us O Lord and these Thy gifts—”

“Matt—”

His name is no sooner from your mouth than his lips wrap around your clit, and you cry out from the pleasure. His skilled tongue slides through your folds and dips into your entrance. You clench around nothing, pushing more of your juices onto his greedy tongue. You don’t have to worry about making a mess on the couch. He’d never let one drop of you spill.

You honestly don’t know which of you are making more noise. He’s so vocal even with his mouth as busy as it is. He grunts and moans with every exhale, and every inhale is a heavy intake through his nose — when it’s not pressed into you.

Your hand, outstretched at your side, grips a throw pillow, the stuffing clumped beneath your palm, your fingers wrinkling the fabric. Matt clamps his hand over yours — while his tongue continues swirling — and guides you to the crown of his head. You grip a fistful of his hair and instinctively pull him even tighter to you.

His moans muffle but grow more desperate. In truth, you try hard not to make more sound than your breath, just to catch every unhinged noise of his.

You’re so close now. You can’t help but raise your hips a bit, humping his face as his tongue works you over. The vibration of his growl sends you over the edge. No matter how quiet you’ve been trying to be, the force of your orgasm rips pleas from your lips. “Matty…fuck! Oh, Matty, hngh…”

As you come down from your high, you loosen your grip on his hair and he slowly pulls away from you. You take in the sight of him. A bit of his Daredevil suit peeks beneath his shirt. His hair is mussed, hairline damp with sweat, and his mouth and chin are coated with you. He licks his lips and smiles and it’s totally unfair how pretty he is just like this.

You let your head fall back, your breathing slowly returning to normal. But the drop in your heart rate coincides with the rise of your thoughts, and the feelings of guilt, shame, unworthiness. You don’t know why you can’t just accept his love. But no matter how much you try to trust that he means what he says, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve fooled him somehow. And he’s going to wake up one day realizing his mistake.

Almost as if he can read your thoughts —

“Sweetheart, if you need me between your legs to chase away your thoughts, I’m more than happy to be of service, but it’s probably not the healthiest way to deal with it.”

“Matt Murdock’s lecturing me on what’s healthy.”

“I know. I know.” He gives you that wide smile. So comforting that it’s impossible to feel anything but warmth when he smiles at you like that. Then he gives your thigh a little smack and says, “Let’s get cleaned up.”

—

Later, while you’re laying in bed together, his body cradled around yours, you’re both too tired to continue the conversation you know you need to have, a conversation of the ongoing variety. In the quiet and the dark you both feel your insecurities rise. Matt is pretty sure he’ll end up driving you away. You’re pretty sure he’ll realize you aren’t as great as he thinks and leave. But both of you really want this to work and you’re both willing to work on it.

Your thoughts hazy, your breath becoming rhythmic, you speak into the dark. “I don’t have to cook for you, you know. Like if you don’t want me to. Do you want me to?”

He hums in response, sleep nearly stealing his ability to speak. “If you want to… then I want that…too. But you don’t have to. But you can. You can use my kitchen whenever you want. If you want.”

You’re both quiet again and you nearly fall asleep then he says, “Just not for a few days. Let the smoke clear. ‘M staying at yours til then.”

[tidalgeode]

I think they should fall into the river and drown (im insane about these damn old men....) Anyway i drew this for a little thing I wrote, its under the read more !! shout out to my friends for proofreading it we got rid of like 10 'he would's

It was the ass-crack of dawn, as Clef often put it. They had left around 5 minutes ago, while it was still dark. Now, the dawn light was scattered through the leaves. The rushing water became audible as he and Kondraki's footsteps crushed the excessive undergrowth along the old path. Clef mourned their timing, gazing at the barren blackberry bushes that littered the entire forest.

“Couldn't we have gone in summer?” he asked, hands in his pockets as he carefully stepped down from a large rock.

“As if either of us were available. Fishing's better in fall anyway”

Kondraki, at this point in the trip, had long since given up trying to make the shorter man shut his trap. He just wanted to get to the water faster,  not wanting to miss the small window of time when the fish are most active. The river wasn't far, but trekking through the overgrowth was taking longer than expected.

Kondraki wished he had brought a machete, becoming irritated at the amount of times his fishing pole became stuck in passing bushes, despite his best efforts.

“If you don't catch a massive fucking fish bigger than the creel I'm gonna be disappointed, Konny.” They crossed through the last narrow clearing in the brush, finally able to see the river. Now walking on gravel, Kondraki took the lead and walked over to a jutting mass of rock close to the mouth of the creek. He placed his rod against it as he climbed on top and opened a pocket in his vest. Finding a flat enough section of the rock, Clef sat and pulled out a spoon from the creel. “Gimme the end of your line.”

“Excuse me? Like hell I'm letting you choose a lure for me. I thought I already had a-” He squinted as he looked for the end of the line, with no hook to be found. “Oh, motherfucker.”

“Must have gotten lost.” Clef said, sporting a shit-eating grin. ”I like this one, lemme tie it for you.“ He showed off the spoon, it was neon and spotted like a more garish trout.

“No.”

“Come on, I know just as well as you do how to tie a knot.”

“Knowing you, your stench is gonna kill the damn fish.”

“Don't they have a good sense of smell? Call it an improvement. I bet they'd love it.“

”Know what, maybe you're right. It'd make sense if the only thing that could be attracted to you is a fish.“

Kondraki grabbed the line and found his way to the end of it, flicking up the bail to allow it to extend further and handed it off to Clef.

”What does that say about you then?“ Clef said, taking the line and delicately tying the spoon on with a tight knot.

”It says nothing, because you're the ugliest man I've had the displeasure of knowing.“

”You're so sweet, I try.“

”Shut the fuck up before I throw your ass into the river.“

[writingforrhys]

as you were

cassian x reader warnings: none! just some arguing and very sassy bat boys LOL. and some nesta and elain slander oh and quite a bit of swearing contents: welcome to a long awaited part 2 of smaller than this! i finally wrote the comfort to the hurt. please enjoy!

masterlist

Cassian couldn't find you anywhere.

He was sweaty, and disgusting, and disheveled after a long morning of training with his brothers. Azriel had been on point this particular session, seemingly being able to read Cassian's mind and know his every next move. He'd been put to the floor more times than he could count and all he wanted was to find you, bathe, and throw himself under the covers for some comfort and some really good sex.

The Illyrian had flown down to the Rainbow in search of your favourite bakery for some custard treat that he knew you couldn't get enough of and a bunch of your favourite flowers. And now, he couldn't fucking find you.

There was nothing better to Cassian than that shy look you'd get on your face when he'd turn up with gifts in hand, like you couldn't believe you were the one he was giving them to. The way you'd wring your hands together and rock on your feet, reaching towards him with that big, bright smile and a welcome home kiss, just to rush off to put your flowers in some water or show Rhys exactly what he'd bought you.

Gods, he needed to find you.

He felt like he'd searched the house 3 times over. He'd gone to the library, the kitchens, even Rhys's study and still no sight of you. It had barely hit noon and he knew your routine ridiculously well. You should've been pottering somewhere.

He found himself standing outside of your shared bedroom, concerned that perhaps you'd fallen ill, or caught on to one of Az's headaches, and had retired to your bed for the day. He craned his ears to search for any signs of life from the room; put off by the lack of light funnelling through the gaps of the door.

Cassian was just about ready to haul ass and search for you again elsewhere, when he heard it. It... you... a sniffle?

The door slowly creaked open, warm light from the hall washing over the unmoving mass under the sheets. Cassian moved as gently as he could, (albeit he was not very gentle at all), and found only the top of your head peeking through.

"Are you okay, honey? Not feeling well?"

His kind words and tender tone made you want to cry even more and you had to resist the urge to not look over the sheets and take a look at his beautiful face.

"I'm fine, Cass." And there it was. Mistake, mistake, mistake.

Any other person would've walked away. Any other person would have wished you farewell and hoped you got better. Any other person wouldn't concern themselves over the inflection of your voice. But not Cassian.

No, Cassian heard it all. Saw it all. He heard the shaking of your speech, the uncertainty. Could hear the wetness. And, he could bet that if he pulled back the bed covers, he'd find you tear-stained and choked up and utterly humiliated. And he was always right when it came to you.

And now, as panic blossomed in his chest, he took a seat next to your unmoving form and placed a hand just atop your body. He was careful not to remove the covers; he didn't need you closing off even more.

"You wanna tell me what happened, my love?"

A head shake.

"Did someone do this to you? Has someone made you upset?"

Silence.

"Who."

You removed the covers now, no further down than the top of your chest he noticed, and the sight of you broke his heart. You were all sniffles and puffy faced and hair so unkempt it could make a Naga run back to the woods. You'd obviously been here a while - alone and vulnerable. His heart broke again.

"It's okay, Cassie, really. They didn't mean any harm. I wasn't even supposed to hear it."

"They?" He was furious. Utterly and blindingly furious. Whoever had made you cry was very soon certain to wish they were never born.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed, realising this was a battle not easily won. Cassian was not the type to let things go easily, especially when it came to you, and you weren't foolish enough to hope that he would just leave it alone.

"Nesta and Elain," Your voice was just a whisper, eyes still closed, "They... they were talking about me. Didn't have many nice points."

The Illyrian was the picture of silent rage. His heart a furnace; one doing a terrific job at boiling the blood under his skin.

"What did they say?"

You were hesitant now, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more true. Your eyes peeked open, looking everywhere but Cass, until a large hand took purchase upon your cheek, tilting your face to meet his encouraging stare.

Your voice wobbled as you told him what they'd said - the descriptions that had hurt you the most. More tears streamed down your face at this and a calloused thumb reached to wipe every one away.

Once you had finished, Cassian stood silently, leaning down to plant a kiss to your hairline, and made a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?" You wiped at your tired eyes.

"I'm off to kill some sisters."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The door to the living room had slammed open so fast that the walls of the house had shaken. Every head in the room had whipped to a seething Cassian in the doorway.

Rhysand was the first to stand and reach out his hand tentatively, as if taming a beast, "What's wrong, brother?"

Cassian's gaze didn't even land upon the High Lord. His line of sight shot right to the sofa behind him, carrying Feyre and Lady Death herself.

"You."

Nesta wasn't someone who showed much emotion in her face. Her range of expressions only varied between extremely discontent and mildly satisfied. But now, with the General standing in the doorway and a thunderous stare thrust upon her, she didn't know how to hide the amount of emotion bubbling up to her face.

Seeing her sister's agitation, the High Lady also rose to her feet and stepped forward. One of her hands rested upon Cassian's arm, gently rubbing as she lead him into the room.

"You need to tell us what the problem is, or we can't fix it."

"What's the problem, Feyre?" He scoffed, "She's my fucking problem."

The Illyrian's voice was raising with every word he spat. His voice had reached the adjourned kitchens, where Azriel and Elain now tentatively filtered out. Elain monitored the situation carefully, and quickly took a seat next to Nesta, grasping one of her hands in her own.

"Cassian, perhaps you need to calm down. I'm sure Nesta will be more comfortable to talk to you then." Elain's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh, go bake some fucking bread, Elain!"

"Cassian," Azriel spoke, "You need to choose your next words carefully."

"Really, brother? I don't think I do," He turned to Azriel, "Would you like to know what your little girlfriend has been saying about Y/N?"

The room was silent. Elain was red.

A beat passed as Azriel and Rhysand made eye contact. Azriel's shoulder's squared and his jaw ticked. Rhys laid a hand on Feyre's elbow, who was quick to leave the room with a soft mutter of I'm going to check on Y/N. The three Illyrian's were now facing the sisters on the couch, a storm brewing in the room.

"What did you say?" The shadowsinger's voice was uncomfortably steady.

"We didn't say anything. Get your guard dogs away from us." Nesta seethed at Cassian.

"You didn't... say anything?" Rhysand spoke slowly - accusatory.

Elain was nothing like her sister. Nesta could lie for days on end and not break a sweat. Often, when they were young, Nesta would spin tales about the other children in the village and see which rumour she could make spread faster. When she was confronted, Nesta had no problem lying to their faces again, or telling them exactly what she thought of them to their face. Whatever she preferred in the moment.

Elain was not like Nesta. Elain would return from school or the market, sit by the hearth on the floor, and spin her tales there. The words she spoke never left their house, not by her own voice anyway. She knew from Nesta's approving hums and nods that the next day, whatever Elain had spun would miraculously make it across the town. And she loved it.

Elain did not like consequences, and she did not like confrontation.

"We didn't say anything." She whispered. She dared not look up.

"That's funny, really," Cassian spoke to his brothers, "Nesta and Elain have decided that Y/N isn't good enough for us. For me."

"Oh, I wasn't aware that was up for them to decide, Cass."

"Neither did I, Rhys."

Azriel's face was still stony, "Would you like to tell the truth now?"

"Oh please, what we said wasn't that bad. The drama in your court is abysmal, Rhysand." The eldest Archeron bristled, "You'd think the royalty of the Night Court would have better things to do than gossip."

"Let me make one thing very clear. If I ever hear you speak ill of another member of my court again, it will be the last thing you ever do in this court." Rhys was not speaking as himself now. This was the High Lord. This was your High Lord. Undoubtedly and unapologetically loyal to you.

"Y/N is the best of us," Azriel spoke lowly, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, but you have misspoken and you've made a grave mistake. You will apologise profusely, and from this point on you will do everything you can to make this right."

Azriel left then, his long legs climbing the stairs and his footsteps following the familiar path straight to your room. Elain's face had fallen completely now, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.

"We have known Y/N for the best part of 500 years. We have known the both of you for all of 5 minutes," Rhys' eyes bore into the sisters, "She has loved us and we have loved her for longer than you've been alive. You should be surprised that I haven't already dropped you at the border."

Rhys turned then to the door, his back facing the room.

"Do not let me hear of this again."

And with that, he followed Azriel up the stairs.

The Seer glanced between her sister and the General and took her opportunity to breathe a weak apology and immediately flee the room.

Typical, Nesta thought.

"Well, whatever you have to say, I suggest you get it out."

She was right. Cassian had been far too quiet. If he left his emotions unchecked any longer, he could very well do something he would regret. Well, he wouldn't regret it that much. But he'd like to avoid the grovelling he'd have to do to Feyre.

"My life is none of your concern," He began, "Who I take to bed is none of your concern and who I spend my time with is none of your concern."

Nesta rolled her eyes.

"What?" Cassian spat, "Would you rather I profess my undying love for you instead of her? You, who has shown me nothing but hatred and contempt since the moment we met. And Y/N who has spent 5 centuries giving me kindness and a home."

She wasn't looking at him anymore, completely silent as the Illyrian grew quiet again himself.

"She means everything to me. I have never and will never tolerate anyone who attempts to jeopardise what we have. Especially not you."

"What do you even see in her?" Cassian couldn't tell whether it was a jab or a genuine question. He didn't like either.

"All I see is her," A small smile, "All I think about is her. When I leave in the morning, I think about what she might choose to wear that day. And on the way home, I think about where I'll find her. Whether she'll be reading in the library, or teaching Az how to knit for the 50th time, or baking or bathing or singing."

He didn't pause to see Nesta's face shifting to shock.

"And when I do get back, the first face I want to see is Y/N's. To see her smile or hear her laugh. Most of the time I can't believe that I'm the bastard she chose to love. That I'm the one who gets to hold her every night."

Cassian made his move to leave, but just before he reached the doorway, he turned back to look Nesta in the eye.

"Y/N is the most beautiful, loving person I've ever met. I wonder sometimes how flowers don't grow on the grass she treads. You're lucky I haven't left you dead on the floor for the way you've spoken about her."

And as you listened on the stairs, your cheeks red and smile bright, you knew.

You knew that you didn't have to travel the universe to find someone who loves you. You didn't need to have a different body or a different mind to find someone who sees you.

Because Cassian was here, in this house, loving you and seeing you. For everything you are.

He loved you just as you were.

[astrophileous]

ANYTHING with jealous Reid <33333

HI ANON ty for the request! I hope you'll like this one 🥰❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, profanities, jealous spencer, that's it rlly this is mainly just fluff 💞

This blurb has a part two.

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Supernovae had always been known for their extremely high temperature. Nearing the end of its life, a mature star would go through an explosion so stupendous, it would eject almost the entirety of its mass. During this stage of a star's life cycle, the core temperature of a star could potentially rise to be in the billions of degrees Fahrenheit, making it appropriate for a supernova to be credited as the hottest object ever known in the vast universe.

But as Spencer sat on the chair behind his desk, his fingers tapping impatiently on the surface, he was certain that not even the temperature of a supernova could rival the heat rising steadily inside his chest.

The flame raged unlike anything he had ever known. It flourished with every second Spencer spent staring at you from across the room. You were laughing at something your present company had said, and Spencer instinctively gripped the arm rest of his chair as the fire in his ribcage roared even wilder.

Spencer was on the edge of his seat, ready to prowl at any second, when a presence unexpectedly slid right next to him.

"What are you doing?" Emily Prentiss asked, perching herself on the edge of Spencer's desk without a care in the world.

"Nothing," the young man answered distractedly. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you still had those ginger candies you shared with me last week?" Emily wondered as she began to rummage through his drawers. "Where do you keep it?"

Silently, Spencer opened his bottom drawer, pulling out a tin box where he stored the sweets Emily was looking for.

"You're an angel on earth, Dr. Reid." Emily grinned, popping a candy into her mouth. "Are you okay, by the way?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you've been throwing daggers at (Y/N) and Anderson for the past three minutes."

"I have not."

"Yes, you have."

"You're mistaken. Maybe you were just seeing things."

"Reid, you're literally glaring at them right now as we speak." At Emily's observation, Spencer begrudgingly tore his gaze away from the two people across the room. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. I told you," Spencer insisted, his eyes once again returning towards the pair on the other side of the bullpen. "Hey, do you know how (Y/N) and Anderson became close like that?"

"Haven't they always been friendly?"

"Friendly? Yes. But not like... that." Spencer pressed his lips, trying to contain the scowl when he saw you grip Anderson's forearm as you beamed at the other agent. "Since when does (Y/N) laugh like that with him?"

Emily flicked her eyes repeatedly between yours and Spencer's face. A smirk emerged on her lips when understanding finally dawned on her. "Oh my God, you're jealous."

Spencer didn't think he ever whipped his head so fast in his entire life.

"You're jealous of Anderson. Holy shit, that makes so much sense! You're actually jealous."

"What are you talking about? I'm not—I'm not jealous!"

"Of course you are. Why else would you get so hostile at the mere sight of those two talking?"

"I was just... asking a question. I wanted to know why they suddenly seemed so close, that's all."

"Of course you did."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Right. Of course you are." Emily snickered. She got up from his desk and started walking away, all the while belting out a ridiculously jesty song she obviously just made up, "Spencer is jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S! Spencer is jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S!"

The young Doctor frowned at Emily's teasing. He glanced towards where you had been standing only to see you sauntering towards his direction. Spencer automatically busied himself with the random papers on his desk, acting as if he had only noticed your presence as you sat down on your desk right across from his.

"Working hard, Doctor?" you quipped jubilantly, rearranging the case files on your desk as you hummed an unfamiliar tune under your breath.

"Something like that," Spencer replied, closing the documents he wasn't even reading as his full attention landed on you. "What did Anderson want?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. He was just asking if I was free this weekend, that's all."

Spencer unwittingly clenched his jaw at your reply. "What's this weekend?"

"A cricket game. Apparently, Grant has always been a big fan, so he was very excited when I told him I used to play back in college. Too bad I can't come to the game, though. I promised my mom I would visit her this weekend."

Spencer could merely nod at your explanation, pretending like his brain hadn't short-circuited when you referred to Agent Anderson with his first name. The fog in his head only started to dissipate when Derek called for the two of you from the bullpen doors, asking if any of you would like to join him for lunch.

"You coming, Doctor Reid?" you asked as you stood up from the chair, pocketing your phone and wallet in the process.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll be right there. You guys just go ahead."

You flashed him one last bright smile before skipping all the way towards where Derek was waiting. A sense of calm washed over him when he saw you glancing back, offering a small wave in his direction. Spencer could feel the smile blooming on his face before it was soon chased away by the sight of Anderson standing by the door, holding it open as you laughed gratefully at him.

Fuck it.

It looked like Emily was right after all.

[iidgm]

a little something i wrote at 1 am

word count: 1065

—

You sighed heavily, your limbs giving out under you without prior warning.

These chases are exhausting you, and you have no idea for how much longer you’ll be able to keep up with these toys without dying in the process.

Not like you stayed dead, anyways.

Strange voices in your mind ordering you to get up, and somehow waking up moments before your death… You’ve learned to not question it. At least not for now.

You check your surroundings carefully, trying your best to keep your heavy breathing as silent as possible as to not attract any more toys.

Dried pool, giant rubber ducks…

Ominous looking cell doors.

Ah shit, those are the only way forward, aren’t they?

You groan as you lift yourself up with your fists, your GrabPack feeling more like a hindrance than a helping tool at the moment. Damn designers.

You drag your heavy legs towards the cell doors, dread creeping up your spine.

Why are there CELLS on the POOL?!

You enter a dimly candle-lit corridor with a huge hole in a corner. You decide to not approach it, instead you keep going forward.

The putrid, rotting flesh and gore assaults your senses. The smell being unbearable, the sounds it made against your shoes as you walked disgusted you and the dried remains visible made your stomach churn.

But the only way is forward.

You look into the each cell individually, searching for something to help you open the doors at the end of the corridor—

“You… You’re Poppy’s Angel. Come to save us!”

You jump at the sudden deep voice behind you, turning around in panic with flare gun ready to shoot. Then you see it.

See him.

Dogday.

“Nothing left to save, not here…” He continues. “You’re in Catnap’s home, Angel. Their home.”

You try to swallow back the lump in your throat.

Or what’s left of Dogday.

His bottom half is ripped off, only a tight belt acting as a tourniquet preventing his insides to spill out completely. You want to throw up.

“A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry.” He sounds so defeated. “They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin– And eat away at you bit by little bit, fill what feels empty inside themselves.”

Your body moves without your input towards the canine, slowly as to not startle or scare him. Not like anything would achieve that at this point, you think.

“That... thing... CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics.” He moves his arms, secured by shackles to emphasize this. “These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate– and in return, they are fed.”

Your hands slowly move towards Dogday’s face. He doesn’t react.

“We tried to fight it, The Prototype's control.” He takes a deep breath. “I'm... the last of the Smiling Critters.” His voice shakes a little, looking away from you. Your heart breaks further for him.

“I–” You try to start, but he interrupts you.

“Listen to me, you need to get out of this place. You need to live!” He looks at you, his dark voids for eyes locking on your face. His voice cracks again, but he sounds determined. You make up your mind in that second.

“I’m not leaving without you.” You say firmly, before working your way through his shackles as fast as you can. He makes a sound of shock as his arm drops, followed by the other. He falls into your arms, limp and dirty.

“Wh– Angel, I’m a lost cause! You must flee!” He pleads, his hand closing around your forearm with the little strength he has.

“I’m sick and tired of people telling me who I can and cannot save. So strap in, Doggy boy, I’m getting you out of here.” You say with finality, shifting him on your back in a way he can hold himself up somewhat comfortably.

He doesn’t protest any further.

You look around, trying to find a way out of the cellar. The doors you came through somehow closed, so that option is discarded.

“Oh no... OH NO!” You hear Dogday cry out, and you turn your head to see what he’s on about.

Oh shit.

A mass of ruined critters start to crawl their way out of the walls towards you. Before you can react, the floor gives in beneath you, falling through a hole in front of the closed gates.

“Hold on tight!” You warn before running your way through the narrow foam tunnels. Your flare gun manages to scare the little toys that come across your away and gives you a dim light source in the abyssal darkness the Playground was.

You slide down one of the three slides you are offered, and keep running as you can.

And then you see it.

A platform to the surface.

You only have to make a purple hand jump to get there.

The GrabPack was made for only one person, though. Would you be able to make it?

Only one way to find out.

“Be ready!” You shout as you run at full speed, gaining momentum.

'Wait— nononO ANGEL WAIT—' You hear him yell in a panicked tone, but you don't slow down.

With a leap of faith, you press the pressure plate with the purple hand and the world slows down.

For a second, you’re suspended in the air with Dogday’s arms around you firmly, and on the next, you and your companion crash on the platform so hard it knocks the air out of both of you.

You quickly press the button for it to go up before collapsing. Seems like Dogday had let go of you once he saw you’d make it.

You pant in exhaustion, the adrenaline washing off now that you’re somewhat safe. The back of your hand rests on your forehead, your eyes closed to prevent the artificial light from entering your retinas.

You did it.

You hear a deep, husky laugh not far away from you, and you laugh along with him.

You did it!

You managed to save someone!

You two laugh together in a manic manner as the platform lifts you two to the surface level of Playcare.

You’d think what to tell the others once you’re there. For now, you’ll enjoy this short moment of bliss with your new friend.

[redmyeyes]

Fellow Travelers Timeline

(as comprehensive as i can make it. corrections/additions welcome)

1919-20 (?) - Hawk is born

based on tennis trophy which shows year 1936, and hawk's statement that he and kenny were on the tennis team in 11th grade (16/17 years old).

also date on the paperweight (1937) that hawk says kenny picked out on their senior trip. spring or fall though? if spring (usual for a senior trip, just before graduation), it would mean hawk graduated HS in 1937, b. 1919. (thanks, @lestatscunt!)

June 6, 1930 - Tim is born, on Staten Island, NY

birthdate/place shown on army application in ep 5

Gemini, with moon in Libra

>>> With a Gemini Sun Libra Moon, emotional equilibrium is hard for you to maintain in a world of constant flux and tension. Since you are not responsible for the woes and upsets of those around you, you should not feel so duty-bound to assuage their wounds or mediate every conflict that happens to come your way.

>>> your natural diplomacy, extraordinary perception and insight can all be applied creatively in such fields as politics, social work, and the mass media.

>>> your extreme open-mindedness would probably enable you to almost any life-style. You have a universal quality about you that transcends culture, religion, ideology, or any other barrier that divides mankind.

Fall 1937 - Spring 1941 - Hawk attends "Penn", presumably the University of Pennsylvania. (assuming hawk b. 1919)

(this is very very long, the rest is under the cut)

December 7, 1941 - bombing of Pearl Harbor, US enters WWII

??? - Hawk joins the army (along with Kenny), and is sent to Europe.

January 9 – August 15, 1945 - Battle of Luzon, where Kenny dies.

September 2, 1945 - Japan surrenders, US exits WWII

February, 1949 - Hawk starts working at the State Department

Hawk says in 1x04 (Dec 1953) that he's been working at the State Dept for "four years and ten months".

"I came out of the war with four assets: degree from Penn, a hero's war record, no particular political ideology, and a passing acquaintance with three languages. Throw in a talent for prevaricating and a taste for travel and fine clothes, you have the makings of a competent, mid-level Foreign Service bureaucrat."

Fall 1948 - Spring 1952 - Tim attends Fordham University, graduating with a degree in political science and history.

1951 - Hawk starts work for the Bureau of Congressional Relations

Tim mentions Hawk's been working there for two years during their meeting on the bench.

1952 - Tim works "the New York campaign" (presumably for Eisenhower).

1952/3? - Tim interns for three months at the Star, in the mailroom.

November 4, 1952 - Election Night, Eisenhower (R) wins the presidency. Tim/Hawk first meet and are instantly smitten. (ep 1)

February 16, 1953 to March 10, 1954 - McCarthy Hearings, part 1.

The first consisted of a series of hearings conducted by McCarthy, as the subcommittee’s chairman, throughout 1953 and early 1954 in which McCarthy alleged Communist influence within the press and the federal government, including the State Department, the U.S. Army, and the Government Printing Office.

March 5, 1953 - Stalin dies.

Late March, 1953 - Hawk/Tim second meeting

After Hawk meets Tim at the park bench, he attends a hearing where Marcus says Cohn has brought David Schine on, and then later at their lunch Senator Smith says, "McCarthy is sending Cohn and his sidekick to Europe..." This article, dated April 19, says that Cohn and Schine have been in Europe for two weeks.

Hawk mentions that it's near the end of the month, police need to make their quotas.

April 27, 1953 - Executive Order 10450 signed. Hawk goes to Tim's apartment and tells him about Kenny. (ep 1)

June 6, 1953 - Tim's 23rd birthday (Hawk 'misses' it because they weren't talking for 4 weeks. belated celebration in ep 3.)

June 15, 1953 (?) - date of the newspaper Tim is reading just before he goes to visit Hawk in ep 2, where Hawk makes him write the letter to Mary. I'm choosing to believe this is a mistake on the show's part, because this would mean that Hawk has already missed Tim's birthday.

June 19, 1953 - Julius and Ethel Rosenberg's execution. Hawk comforts Lucy about this at the end of ep 2. So, likely Hawk and Tim had their big fight very shortly before Tim's birthday, and weren't talking from end of May - end of June.

End of June, 1953 - at the end of ep 2, Tim says it's been 4 months since his last confession, making his last (proper) confession the end of Feb or beginning of March. (ie, before he meets Hawk again).

End of June or beginning of July, 1953 - weekend trip to Rehoboth Beach (ep 3)

November 1953 - G. David Schine drafted into the army (ep 3)

Christmas 1953 (ep 4)

March 16 to June 17, 1954 - Army-McCarthy Hearings (part 2) (ep 5)

The second phase involved the subcommittee's investigation of McCarthy’s attacks on the U.S. Army. Known as the “Army-McCarthy hearings,” they were broadcast on national television and they contributed to McCarthy’s declining national popularity. Five months later, on December 2, 1954, the Senate censured McCarthy.

June 6, 1954 - Tim's 24th birthday

June, 1954? - Tim/Hawk break up, Hawk proposes to Lucy (ep 5)

I believe this happens at the tail-end of the Army-McCarthy hearings, so before June 17th.

Fall, 1954 - Sen. Smith's funeral

based solely on fall foliage in this screenshot:

Late Nov / Early Dec, 1954 - Tim enlists in the army

based on army application: birthdate 6/6/30, age: 24 years, 6 months

Late Nov / Early Dec, 1954 - Hawk/Tim last meeting in the tower

based on the radio program Tim is listening to, which says, "Chief Counsel Roy Cohn has resigned from the committee. And Senator McCarthy, his approval ratings plummeting, faces censure or even expulsion from the Senate."

Tim leaves for Fort Dix, for training, but is later stationed at Fort Polk, in Vernon Parish, LA. (thanks, @jesterlesbian!)

December 2, 1954 - the Senate censures McCarthy.

Summer or Fall 1956? - Tim's letter (that lucy burns) (ep 6)

Flashbacks, for context:

"Since he's giving up his apartment, Hawk insists on having a lair in the woods." // "I'm surprised that he finally agreed."

Lucy lets contractor go. // "Give me a baby."

Hawk is reading the Bristol Daily Courier, a paper located in Bristol, PA, a town in Bucks County, outside Philadelphia. I can't find any info on the one headline I can read though ("Heath Carlson breaks arws deadlock, locals proud"), so can't date this properly.

Lucy cleaning out Hawk's apartment, finds paperweight, sees Tim drop off letter.

"I went into the Army to get away from you. I thought time and distance would help. But it hasn't." If Tim sends the letter in summer 1956, it's been a year and a half since he enlisted.

Biggest question here: did lucy ask for a baby before or after she read Tim's letter??? the flashbacks don't answer this definitively.

October, 1956? - Lucy becomes pregnant with Jackson (see note under April 1957)

October 23 – November 4, 1956 - Hungarian Revolution of 1956

October 23, 1956 - April 30, 1957 - Hungarian Refugee Crisis

November 8, 1956 - Operation Safe Haven commences

President Eisenhower declared that 5,000 Hungarians would be awarded visa numbers remaining under the 1953 Refugee Relief Act

Spring 1957? - Tim sends telegram. It looks like 05-??-???? to me, which doesn't really make sense if McCarthy died on May 2nd, but it's hard to make out. or maybe telegrams used the date format dd-mm-yyyy.

April 1957? - Tim/Hawk first meeting, Lucy at least 5 (or 6? or 7?) months pregnant

You should feel your baby's first movements, called "quickening," between weeks 16 and 25 of your pregnancy. If this is your first pregnancy, you may not feel your baby move until closer to 25 weeks. 

25 weeks ~= 6 months, and it still seems novel to her, so let's say she's approx. 6 months pregnant here.

May 2, 1957 - Joe McCarthy dies.

May 6, 1957 - McCarthy's funeral. Tim's first visit to Hawk's apartment (ep 8)

June 6, 1957 - Tim turns 27.

June or July, 1957 - Jackson born (based on dates above)

1958? - Kimberly is born. (estimated bc she looks the same age or older than Jackson, so assuming she's a year younger at most.)

August, 1965 - President Johnson signs a law making it a federal crime to destroy or mutilate [draft] cards. 

October 15, 1965 -David Miller publicly burns his draft card, becoming the first person to be prosecuted under that law and a symbol of the growing movement against the war.

May 17, 1968 - the Catonsville Nine took 378 draft files from the draft board office in Catonsville, Maryland and burned them in the parking lot. (inspo for Tim & co. thanks @brokendrums!)

November 1968 - ep 6. Hawk is 48-9, Tim is 38, Jackson is 11.

based on this newspaper screenshot when Hawk is talking to Marcus on the phone about Tim

November 1968 - May 1970 (earliest) - Tim in prison. (he says in ep 7 he was in prison for a year and a half. this assumes he went to prison right away, but it could have been several months later if he was awaiting trial/sentencing.)

1970? - After prison, Tim moves to San Francisco and gets his counseling degree.

Mid-late 1970s - Tim earns his C-SWCM qualifications, requiring:

A Bachelor’s degree in social work from a graduate program accredited by the Council on Social Work Education

Documentation of at least three (3) years and 4,500 hours of paid, supervised, post-BSW professional experience in an organization or agency that provides case management services

Current state BSW-level license or an ASWB BSW-level exam passing score.

nb. because Tim already had his bachelors (from Fordham, majoring in history), I could see him entering a much-accelerated BSW program, transfering a lot of credits from his previous degree. That would give him maybe 2 more years of university, plus the required 3 years of post-BSW work = 5 years minimum before he earns that business card.

February 4, 1977 - Fleetwood Mac's album Rumours is released, including the 1970s Tim/Hawk anthem, Go Your Own Way

October, 1978 - Jackson dies

November 27, 1978 - Harvey Milk assassinated

May 20-22, 1979 - Tim on Fire Island (ep 7). Hawk is 59 or 60, Tim is 48, about to turn 49.

May 22, 1979 - Harvey Milk's (posthumous) 49th birthday (celebrated in ep 7)

1986 - ep 8

how long was Hawk in San Francisco? Timelines for the events below may be fudged in the show, bc I doubt he was there for 5 months.

March, 1986 - Roy Cohn's 60 Minutes interview, which the gang watches in ep 4.

April 15, 1986 - US bombs Libya. in the first episode you can hear reference to this on the radio, before Hawk leaves for San Francisco. (thanks @aliceinhorrorland93!)

July 27, 1986 - In California, Gov. George Deukmejian vetoes a bill that would have defined AIDS as a physical handicap calling for entitlement to protection under the state's civil rights laws.

August 2, 1986 - Roy Cohn dies (ep 8)

Late 1986? - the fundraising gala that Tim crashes, shortly after Cohn's death.

September 1986 - The State Legislature has passed another bill [in addition to the one vetoed on July 27]. Mr. Deukmejian, a Republican running for re-election, has indicated that he will probably veto the bill. (nb, this is likely the bill that Tim & co want to pressure the governor to sign).

October 11, 1987 - AIDS memorial quilt first displayed (ep 8)

--

this was a collaborative effort! many thanks to @ishipallthings for many of these details, as well as @startagainbuttercup , @alorchik, @itsalinh and others in the FT discord!