#that sounds so wrong which is why i'm keeping that sentence exactly as is

[writingmar]

nsfw ੈ✩‧₊˚ mdni

'𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝.'

𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

i can't stop thinking about reid coming home to you after a long day, and you helping him to relieve some tension...

wc: 1.1k

contents and tw: smut, slight overstimulating, masturbation, oral (m receiving) spencer being a needy soft boy, sub!reid, softdom!reader.

a/n: this is my first time writing smut but i've been OBSESSED with criminal minds (especially reid) for the past week and i needed to get this out of my head and into words.

the bau had a particularly hard case, and he only flew back from texas late last night. when he opens the door, you hear him sigh loudly as he drops his keys in a bowl. as he notices the light still on, he calls out your name. 'yeah?' you call out from the couch. as spencer walks into the living room, he sees you on the couch, the TV showing your comfort show as you're cuddled up under a blanket.

'what are you doing still up, baby? it's late, don't you have work tomorrow?' he asks, dropping himself down onto the couch. you reach over to rub his shoulder and lift the blanket, which he accepts as an invitation to cuddle up next to you.

'oh, i just wanted to see you. with your job i'll take any moment with you i can get,' you tell him, kissing his forehead as he lays down on your chest with his eyes closed. spencer smiles, stretches his legs and furrows his eyebrows with a soft groan.

'what's wrong, baby?' you ask, stroking his hair. he opens his eyes and turns to look at you. 'oh, it's nothing. it's been a long day, i'm just a bit tense,' he says, smiling to make you less worried.

'awh, my love,' you say, exaggerated empathy in your voice, 'do you need some help to relieve your tension?' spencers eyes sparkle, childlike excitement in his eyes. he nods, 'mhm-mhm,' he hums thru his closed mouth.

you love it when he gets like this, when one sentence from your lips changes him from the cool-headed fbi agent to a needy little boy, and luckily, you know exactly what he needs.

you move your hand down under the blanket and palm him thru his trousers. 'yeah, baby? do you need me to help you feel good?' you ask him, his eyes already closing at the simple touches you give him.

he's so tightly wound up, you can't imagine what kind of sick mastermind he had to deal with today, but luckily he'll always be the bigger mastermind, and he'll always come home to you. and right now, this big mastermind is whimpering in your arms, making soft noises at soft strokes thru his jeans, and who are you to deny him?

you reach for his belt buckle, undoing it and reaching into his underwear. the moment your hands touch his already hard cock, spencer shuts his eyes tightly, a soft moan escaping from his lips. you let go of him, causing his eyes to snap open, searching your face for why you'd stop. 'eyes on me, love,' you tell him.

he licks his lips and nods, staring into your eyes with desperation. you smile at him, 'good boy,' before moving your hand back down to his cock. when you start to move your hand, softly stroking him and teasing his tip, you see how he wants to close his eyes again with pleasure, but he works so hard to keep them open, to do as you said.

you pick up the pace, but still keeping slow. the more sounds he makes, the whimpers and high moans coming from him, the more you wanna make him feel good, but feeling good to reid was not just a quick release. he enjoys the chase, the slow build up.

'please, baby... faster, please,' he begs, his eyes still focussed on you. you smirk at him, 'your wish is my command,' you say and you're met with surprise. you speed up your pace, and you're met with more whimpers and desperate pleas.

'oh god, oh god, baby, i'm close, i'm so, so-' he pants, desperation coating his words. when he's about to cum, he shuts his eyes instinctively. the second you lose his eye contact, your hand stills.

spencer whimpers, furrowing his brows. 'no... no, no, no,' he groans in desperation. 'you were doing so well, baby. being such a good boy for me, but you have to keep it up if you want to be rewarded,' you say. he opens his eyes again, determined and desperate.

'i'll behave, i promise. i'll be good, i'll be so, so good. i can do it,' spencer said, his eyes fixed on you. you smile with satisfaction. 'oh, really? you can do it?' you ask. after he nods, you start to move. spencer looks at you confused, almost clinging to your collar, but the second he notices you're moving to get on your knees in front of him, he stretches his arms out over the back of the couch, his eyes still fixed on yours.

he lifts himself off the couch slightly as you pull his cock out of the confines of his underwear. you lower your head towards him, slowly, keeping eye contact the entire time. with you on your knees in front of him, spencer feels more confident, but there's no confusion about who is in control of this situation.

you take him into your mouth, and a hiss escapes from his mouth. 'oh, fuck baby...' he groans. you move down, taking him deeper into your mouth until your nose touches the skin at his base. you gag, and spencer moves his hand to tangle in your hair. not to hold you there, but to appreciate.

you lift away from him, and back down, settling into a steady pace as his precum coats your tongue. 'please, please don't... don't stop, please, you feel... feel so good...' spencer moans in between pants.

his head falls further and further back as his breathing quickens, his whimpers turning into louder moans as he comes closer to his breaking point. when he's almost there, just seconds away from his release, he makes the same mistake as before, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes. you pull away from him, resting his tip on your tongue.

this time, however, spencer can't accept the wait any longer. he moves his hand to the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth, and you take it. it doesn't take more than a few frantic thrusts until his cum is shooting into your mouth, and you swallow every drop.

he lets out a deep breath, moving his head back up to look back into your eyes. 'i'm sorry...' he says, soft guilt in his eyes. his hand moves to your cheek and his thumb softly strokes your skin.

you lean into his hand and close your eyes with a smile. 'it's okay, my love,' you say before getting up from the floor and sitting back down on the couch, snuggling into his side. 'i can never stay mad at you for long.'

[danielcalmdown]

Here's a few thoughts i have about Disco Elysium and it's lack of philosophical approach towards Harry's experiences. (Not to mistake it with psychology. There is plenty of that in Disco and the characters and ideologies are pulled apart in many fun ways.)

Explanation below the cut, so it's not a long-ass post.

So, Harry is very much suffering. He says "I am in pain. I have no idea how to get better, I'm about to fucking give up." What he gets as response, from his own mind and other people, is things like: "Get your shit together. You have to go through this hell. It will be awful, depressing and boring. Forget her. Stay strong, don't give up, you will eventually feel better. This is how normal people live. Do it for the (...)." This is encouragement. What it does is it keeps him on his feet and helps him move forward. But it's the only type of response he ever gets. What it doesn't do is challenge how he experiences his life in the first place. There is not a single sentence, a thought, any kind of spark in the game that would begin some sort of reform within him. He's the same sad, old Harry utill the end. The rest is accessories.

Beyond that, the gameplay is screaming at you: SEIZE THE MOMENT! There is so much work put into describing things happening around Harry. And so much fondness towards that world. But it's just there, next to him and his pain. Beautiful and worth living for, but it's not used to reveal anything that would inspire him to change. Something about humanity, the meaning of his suffering, maybe a hint about that hole in the world. Yknow, philosophical stuff. Even the miracle of the story, the phasmid, answers Harry's most existential question with "I don’t know, nobody knows." It's not there to guide him away from the vicious circle he's stuck in. It's more like a pat on the back. "Look, something incredible happened today! Life can be great sometimes." Here are a few statements meant by the game to be impactful: "Something beautiful is going to happen", "The night is always darkest before the dawn", "One day, i will return to your side", "The road to healing is going to be a long one. You will make it, some day." They sound like coping mechanism. They are motivational, hopeful, but don't speak about reality. "I'm suffering RIGHT NOW. The world and my head are still fucking broken. Heelp!" Harry cries out. "Hope for a better future. Go for a run. Focus on your job, get a hobby, take your mind off the pain." Try to be happier while remaining the same. Switch alcohol and drugs for non destructive activities to help you endure through that persisting pain. Look out of the window each morning, wait for that special thing to happen. And when it happens? The core stays unmoved. You don't even know what it is about you, where lies the first mistake. You learned nothing new about yourself.

I think all of this fits with the creators' views, which are sparsely hinted at throughout the game. "God is indifferent. This is our curse", "The world is inherently meaningless", "True love is possible in the next world, for new people, it's too late for us." Maybe that's why the game didn't allow Harry to change, because it doesn't believe there is anything out there that could help him. He's a human, therefore he has no choice but to think and suffer exactly the way he does. So yeah, that's my thoughts on it. Feel free to comment, disagree and enlighten me if you think i'm wrong. I'm always open to change my mind.

[aniesvision]

𝟑𝟏- 𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒍

𐂃 𝚏𝚠𝚋!𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚡 𝚏!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄/𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒙𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚, 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒅 𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓! 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ♡︎ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍, 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

I took a deep breath, looking out the car window. The empty road at dawn, with all the shops closed and signs flashing red, the low sound of the radio, and the tires in contact with the street made me feel even more that I was making a mistake.

When Matt called me, after two weeks without speaking to me, to go to his house, claiming to be alone and missing me, my heart didn't allow me to deny the opportunity to see him again. But, it was evident that he only called me for a specific reason.

I parked in front of his house, got out of my car, and walked in slow steps to the front door, knocking and looking down, one of my feet pounding incessantly on the floor in anxiety. Being here is a mistake. I know that, and I keep going back. I'm just another one falling into his trap.

I hear the door being unlocked and soon his face appears in my field of vision, a smile on his lips, staring me up and down and taking a step to the side for me to get in, and so I did. We sit on the couch, not even greeting each other, and he soon breaks the silence.

-I missed you. -He says, almost in a whisper.

I wanted to roll my eyes and remind him of all the thousand reasons why that sentence didn't make any sense, but unfortunately, I was too weak and found myself feeling the warmth in my heart that I felt every time he called me.

-I missed you, too. -I answer, with a faint smile.

He gets closer to me, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear and turning my face toward his.

-What's wrong? -He asks, stroking my cheek.

Matt could make things even more difficult when he looked at me with those eyes, which seemed to care so much about me like he didn't just use me when he wanted and discarded me when he found other options.

-Nothing. -I shrug, shaking my head and trying my best to look convincing enough so he wouldn't insist.

He smiles, leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss on my lips. Those damn butterflies always show up at the worst times. Matt pulls away only to put our foreheads together and hold my face in his hands.

-I know you're not okay, what's going on in that beautiful little head of yours? -His smile seemed genuine and concerned.

How could he pretend so well? He used all my emotions against me and I let him hurt me every time, always coming back for a few hours of attention and affection.

-It's nothing. -I answer, trying to hold my tears and turning my face in another direction.

I knew his eyes were focused on me, curious. And I also knew that if I looked back at him I would end up talking more than I should and it could all end up here. Even though we don't exactly have a serious thing, it's still something, and I wanted to hold on to the minimum, no matter how painful and pathetic it sounds.

-You know I care about you, we can talk about it, about anything. I'm here for you.

His words sounded so soft, but they felt like daggers in my heart.

-Matt, we both know that's not true. - I whisper, turning my face, a lonely tear rolling down my cheek.

-Hey, hey, what's up? Talk to me. -He asks, wiping away my tears and pulling me closer, holding my face a little tighter so I could look into his eyes.

-Sorry, I can't do that, maybe you should call someone else.

I pull away from him, get up from the couch, and walk towards the door, more tears rolling down. I feel more of an idiot than ever. I don't know why I thought I should come here knowing what I was getting myself into. When I was about to open the door, he pulled me by the wrist, turning me towards him.

-I don't know what happened, but please talk to me.

-Matt, you're just in the mood to fuck and I was a quick option, you don't have to pretend that you care, take your phone, text another girl and let me go, I can't do this anymore.

I let myself spill the words, almost begging for a little empathy for my heart. He widens his eyes and pulls me closer, shaking his head in denial.

-What?! No! That's not just why I called you, I wanted your company. -He replies, making me even sadder.

I took a deep breath, but there was no chance for me to calm down, I already felt heartbroken, even if it didn't make sense.

-Matt, I know you, you're a free soul, and you like to be single and to have different experiences. I'm not the only one in your life, and I get it, but I can't keep doing this anymore.

I looked into his blue eyes, which were darkened by the dilation of his pupils. He was so absurdly handsome and knowing that I would be so easily discarded and replaced crashed my heart into pieces. I feel his hands pulling away from my wrist just to wrap around my body, hugging me tightly.

-I never wanted to hurt you, I'm sorry, I don't want to lose you, I can't lose you.

His words sounded desperate, a little shaky. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, accepting the hug, not knowing quite yet what to do.

-Please don't go away, I need you. -Matt whispers in my ear.

Shit.

-Matt, don't do that. -I whisper back, almost begging him not to make me stay just to hurt me more.

-I love you.

My eyes widen and I immediately pull away from the hug, looking into his eyes, his features are serious, showing fear and anxiety. I've never seen him like that. My look of confusion was enough for him to step forward and hold my face in his hands, his fingers lightly stroking my cheeks.

-I found out that I had strong feelings for you when I stopped feeling anything with anyone else, it scared me so much that I stopped talking to you for two weeks, and I know I was an asshole, but please don't go away, I need you with me, I love you.

A lonely tear drips down his face, making me think that maybe he was really telling the truth, he seemed desperate for an answer, for any movement or response, his anxiety growing in his chest. I was so surprised by his words that I couldn't even process anything, not giving him an answer. He hesitantly steps forward, eyes scanning my face before stopping by my lips.

-Please. -He repeats, in a whisper.

I break out of the trance I entered when I heard his words and realize that this was all more real than it seemed, so following my heart and ignoring my mind once again, I pull him in for a kiss, which he soon reciprocates.

We only pulled away for air and he looked at me with a small smile, which made me smile too.

-I'm sorry for being a complete asshole, I promise I'll be better for you. -He says, pressing kisses all over my face.

I laugh lightly at his action, shaking my head in denial and pulling him into another tight hug.

-You better be telling the truth, or I promise that I'll cut your dick off and you'll never have a chance with any other girl again. -I tease, pointing at his face with my finger.

-Fuck the others, they are nothing compared to you. -He answers, kissing me once again.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @larallott

[dropthedemiurge]

Love for Love's Sake | Things You Didn't Notice #4 | Fight with Homophobes

Honestly, I wanted to dissect these scenes right away but then we got the rest of the show uploaded and the emotions overshadowed me. But now we're diving into informal Korean speech, swearing and slurs! It's going to be a fun post, let's go :D

Disclaimer: I'll be writing down both English and Korean slurs strictly in educational manner, obviously.

"Fuck. You two are always so fucking close together. (to Myungha) Are you also a faggot (homosekki)? Wow, Kyunghyun's skills are so good." "Why are you so vulgar? What's wrong with being homo?" "You're really crazy. Are you criticizing me?" ... (Myungha kisses Tak Junho) " Ah fu— You damn faggot!" "We both kissed. I'm not the only one who's homo. You're homo too~" "You did it yourself, you faggot!" "Ah, our Junho keeps saying 'homo'. Tss, slurs are forbidden." "Shut up, you faggot." "If you call me homo one more time, I can steal your lips for real. (Junho is silent) Ha, afraid you'll be robbed?"

Honestly, I like the translation in subs this time, I just wanted to give you a more technical version (and to show you the difference, because in Gaga subs the f slur is also used by Myungha but it's not exactly that)

So, as far as I noticed, the slur in Korean is a derivative from the term "homosexual" - thanks to the similar sounding, it became "homosekki" (from sekki - asshole, bastard, bitch etc). This is the word Junho keeps using in almost every sentence. And the socially accepted common term is now "gay" (at least, the cast and couple from Korean reality dating show "His Man 2" refers to themselves as 'gay' and not 'homo').

Myungha uses the original term, just "homo", which also gained a negative connotation but doesn't include a 'sekki' swearword. So he keeps saying "homo" to talk back in the language Junho used, only less derogatory. We'll see later but it's amazing, because both Myungha and Sangwon confidently used this word about themselves (Sangwon even went further and proudly reclaimed the slur itself).

Still, Myungha did threaten gangster Junho not to even call him "homo" or any similar terms. And here's the moment which made me laugh: in the next scene with Sangwon, Junho was angry ranting about Myungha, but he caught himself using the slur "homosekki" and quickly changed to the modern and neutral term "gay". LOL

Which is what Gaga subs failed to show it to us. Again, let's see more technical translation:

"I'll go after Tae Myungha and Ahn Kyunghoon soon, just so you know. Those fa– Those gay bastards must die. That fucker Tae Myungha kissed me in the lips, shit. Isn't it fucked up? It was disgusting." (Sangwon, pouting) "Wow, really? It must've been nice." "Jeez, you asshole. You're not a victim so you dare talking shit." "I'm being serious, though?" (Junho, appalled) "What the hell are you talking about? You're not a faggot." "I am a faggot, though?"

One, why is it so funny that the first reaction Sangwon had, hearing about Myungha kissing someone in a fight, was: awww :( i wish it was me :((( you so lucky :((

Second, it's hilarious how the gangster ends up the ONLY person who ever uses nice and modern term "gay" once in this show because our protagonists both hit him back with the derogatory terms (Sangwon even attached the slur to himself, when he only liked girls before falling in love with Myungha at first sight, what a legend).

Let's wrap it up with slurs and check out another small detail: informal speech in Korean.

(Sangwon to Myungha)"Why would we fight here?" (Yeowoon to Sangwon)"Hey, watch your tone (don't use informal speech)" "Was I talking like that with you?" "Talk curt (informally) only with me." "I'm already being curt (talking informally) with you."

This one is definitely a cultural thing that always gets lost in translation (but "being curt" is a nice way of putting it). There are two general styles of speech in Korean: Formal (존댓말, jondemal) and Informal (반말, banmal). Of course, it's a lot more complicated in the language, but I'll paint briefly the differences that are pointed out in the scene.

I talked in previous posts about properly addressing your senior in korean (usually by title/position). To convey respect to your senior, you also use 요 (yo) at the end of the sentences – and both Sangwon and Yeowoon talk politely to Myungha. UNTIL Sangwon uses the rude version of a question, without polite ending ("Why would we fight here?"), to which Yeowoon protests and tells Sangwon that it's banmal, informal speech, and he should only use it with him.

Because with your friends, same age people (Yeowoon and Sangwon in this case) or people younger than you, it's normal to use their names with different intonations (Think Myungha's "Yeowoon-ah, Yeowoon-ie") and talk informally.

(Yeowoon to Myungha) "I asked who it was." "You're being curt (that's an informal speech)".

Fast forward – Yeowoon loses patience and demands Myungha "I asked who it was", question without polite ending as well. To which Myungha cheekily says "that was an informal speech", reminding Yeowoon of his own remark to Sangwon.

Fast forward again – and now I have to take back my previous statement from another post that Yeowoon never called Myungha by his name because I found the rare case of him doing it xD

"Tae Myungha is so frustrating." "You're speaking informally more often these days."

Again, a youngster! calling his senior! by his own name! Not using the polite ending! The horrors of informal speech. He's not being too rude but he's sulking therefore he's rebelling. Though I can swear, again, Yeowoon hears Myungha's scolding and resorts back to speaking politely, and from now on, he'll keep using 'senior'.

If you survived until the end of this post, congratulations! The second half probably wasn't needed but in case you're learning Korean or you want to know why these seemingly normal phrases are being considered "curt" out of nowhere, I hope you understand it now a little bit better :)

// Previous messages translation + other language moments here //

[actual-changeling]

(im slow what was the intentionally cruel part.?)

I will gladly elaborate!

This turned into a bit of a long answer, so welcome to an unplanned episode of Alex's (today hinged) meta corner!

While he was being unintentionally cruel several times throughout their argument, the only time he actively chose to say the most hurtful thing was right at the end:

I forgive you.

To them, that phrase has an uncomfortable history, especially for Crowley, and out of all the responses Aziraphale could have given him, he chose this one. Every other time he has used this, is was never about 'forgiveness' as such—it is Aziraphale trying to recreate the dynamic he has with heaven with Crowley.

It's Aziraphale looking at Crowley and telling him that the way he is is wrong, that he needs heaven's forgiveness, that he needs to change. All of that was made all the more clear by Aziraphale literally asking him to go back to heaven.

Crowley responds with distress to any of his 'forgiveness' phrases, which should technically be enough to make Aziraphale stop saying it, because who likes to intentionally distress someone you care about?

Aziraphale, apparently, but that's a topic for another time.

Now, I have combed through the final fifteen so many times I can probably recognize most of the frames and their time stamp with one look, and Aziraphale has two responses to the kiss:

His initial reaction, the one that is true to his emotions, is the aborted sentence. I interpret what he was going to say as "I love you" simply because the sounds and mouth shapes match very well (I have also written a whole meta post about that at some point).

Then he changes his mind though, and you can see that shift on his face, the angry slant of his mouth.

This is said out of anger, it is spoken with the intention to hurt Crowley by saying it—and he does. Not only did Crowley see it coming, it was also the last nail in the coffin of their relationship.

Enough is enough.

To be thorough (because I do enjoy being thorough), here are some closeups of the progression he goes to. First the gif, which is slowed down for convenience like the one above, and Michael Sheen really is a master of micro-expressions, every single moved muscle has an intention behind it.

At first, he is genuinely upset & sad, but then his expression settles and changes into something angry and almost cold. He knows exactly

a) what he is going to say

b) what the words mean in the context of their relationship and

c) that Crowley will be upset.

For some reason, he did not expect Crowley to leave; I think his intention was to make Crowley angry, to rile him up again.

Why?

Because Aziraphale does not like it when Crowley refuses to do exactly what he wants, and anger means you are still in a conversation, you're still emotionally attached—and emotions can be manipulated.

In reality, Crowley is already past his breaking point. He reached that the second Aziraphale responded to "tell me you said no" with "If I'm in charge".

Everything that comes after is heartbroken desperation and that stupid little voice telling him to keep trying because you rather leave knowing that you tried everything instead of forever wondering if saying or doing x might have changed something.

As always, feel free to ask any questions that might pop up!

[pencilpat]

You Do Not Have to be Good - moceit

Patton hates alcohol. Not particularly for a moral reason, it just tastes godawful to him. But he came to Janus's room for a distraction, and goshdarnit he'll take it. He cringes through a sip as they sit on the floor, and Janus laughs.

"Oh, Patton, it's cider. Barely any alcohol at all, and you can barely stomach even that." As if to prove a point, Janus swings back his bottle and takes a sip so large he gulps audibly. Patton can't help a small giggle, even as bad as he feels.

"Gosh, Jan, I don't know how you and Logan handle this stuff."

"Simple. We're not man-babies."

Patton laughs and lightly punches Janus's shoulder, coaxing the smallest of smiles from the other man. He settles back against the wall. Janus isn't used to guests, aside from one who isn't a fan of sitting 'properly,' so he has no chairs strewn around his room the way the light sides do.

Janus tilts the liquid around in his bottle with a sigh. "Care to tell me what brought you to me today? My room isn't exactly one of our typical 'spots'."

"Oh! Oh, nothing special or anything, just checking up on you," he says, flashing a winning smile.

"How many times are we going to visit each other before you remember you can't lie to me?" Janus states bluntly, not looking at Patton at all, his eyes fixed on the blank wall across from them.

"Whu- uh- lying? I'm not-"

"How many times will I have to say that sentence? You can not follow 'you can't lie to me' up with a lie, Patton, that's not how this works."

"Look I- I don't really want to talk about it. I came to hang out with you, I don't wanna just-"

"So you're going to talk to one of the others then, yes?" Janus's eyes flit over the fading dark blue in Patton's hair. "How about Logan? I'm sure he'd totally be helpful here, I mean, being so good with his emotions."

Patton frowns at him and Janus sighs, rewording. "All I mean is, you don't talk to anyone else, so it stands to reason that if I don't get you to spit it out, you'll keep 'doing your thing' and only ever talking about how you feel at a surface level while letting the pressure below build and build until you blow up. Am I wrong?"

Patton blinks at him, and then turns away, curling his legs up towards his body and squeezing his free hand's nails into his palm. He's taken to doing that lately, though he doesn't know why. Someone says something that hurts, and he digs his nails deep into his skin or bites his lip so hard it bleeds, then the pain is gone. Dig, dig, gone. "That's not very kind, Janus."

Janus shrugs. The sun is beginning to set, and the room is going golden, the dark walls being cast in the shadows of Janus's blinds. "If someone was never anything but kind, they'd be a liar. I don't want to lie to you forever."

"You don't?"

"Oh wow, yeah, sound shocked about that, sure." Janus rolls his eyes, but he doesn't look angry. "Patton, it's stupid to keep going like you are. Look, if anyone can keep secrets, it's you and me - I'm the best one to talk to here. None of the others seem smart enough to notice how messed up you've been."

Patton cringes, and takes a drink of his cider, which makes him cringe harder. "I'm not... that bad, am I? That obvious?"

"It's pretty bad, dad," Janus sighs. He finally looks at the other man, meeting his eyes. "I promise, okay? And I don't do that lightly. I won't speak a word of whatever is bothering you."

Patton's brow furrows, and he breathes out slowly. He digs his nails into his palm again. Breathes again. Just the offer of talking is threatening to bust down year old dams, but perhaps Janus is right, and this needs to happen. And... he did promise. He's never done that before.

"It's not exactly simple to explain... I guess it's just- it's like- I'm-" Patton sighs, frustrated. "I just don't know anymore if- if I'll ever get it right."

"Right?"

"Being morality. Being... good." Patton's voice strains, and he wipes at his face. "I don't know if I can ever be good, be good enough, be good at my job. I've been messing up nearly everything lately! I can't keep Thomas good, and when I do try to keep him good, I end up being an overbearing jerk. I can't seem to make Roman happy, or Virgil anymore, and," Patton plays with the fringe tips of blue in his hair, almost subconsciously, "I can't make Logan feel good either. We used to be so, so close. Worked through all of our issues, we were really good friends! But he's been so- look, I know he says he doesn't feel anything, but I can tell he's feeling something! And he won't tell any of us about it."

Janus drinks, reserving information as he always does. Patton is upset enough, now's not the time.

"All I've ever wanted was to be good," his voice breaks, and he clears his throat, blinking back hot tears. "Ever since I've existed, I've wanted to be good. What would it mean for Thomas if his morality isn't good?! Maybe you were right, I'm just pointing him towards hell. I'm not doing my job right. How can I be messing up so much? I used to be the one who the others looked at to know everything..." He bites his lip hard, but it doesn't do anything this time. He's crying now, wiping the sleeve of his cat hoodie across his face furiously.

"Who says you have to be good?"

"What?"

Janus sighs, sipping his drink. "'You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.' Mary Oliver. Goodness isn't necessary one hundred and twenty-five percent of the time. You're an animal like any other, and you only need do what makes you happy, just like any other. You're not some divine being above the ability to screw up or be sad."

"You and Thomas's religious sensibilities are very tied together. You're stuck on this idea that as morality, you can only ever have good and pure ideas. You can never make mistakes, and you can never be wrong. Look, sure, we're no humans, but you're a piece of a human, and they're kind of renowned for their mistake making. I've told you before, Patton. If you're making a genuine effort to do better, then your apologies mean enough. You've repented. You didn't even need to, but you do anyway. Because you're good, as much as a side can be. You're so good you make me sick sometimes. I was being a dick when I said you're pointing him towards hell, being a dick is kind of my thing. I don't think you're even capable of knowingly being a bad person."

Patton feels tears pour down his face, staring sightlessly at his bottle as Janus rants. He's drawn blood from his lip. The words are making some deep piece of him ache worse than he has in years. Without thinking, he sets his head on Janus's shoulder. Janus barely blinks, leaning into him as he continues.

"You do make the others happy, Patton. They love you so much it's gross. But they have issues as well. Issues that are getting worse as Thomas's mental health is plummeting. All pieces of Thomas have gripes and qualms right now, I don't understand you all's strange insistence on everything being fine. Want me to lie? Everything is just fine! Why, nothing is eating at any of you, and you're at the peak of your lives!" Janus sighs, eyes closing. "It's okay to experience pain, you know. It doesn't make you bad. Nor does making mistakes. It makes you a living thing, as caught up in your own world and worries as every other living thing. You're doing okay, Patton. You'll never be perfect, but I watch you do everything you can every day. For crying out loud, let that soft animal of 'you' catch a break."

Patton sniffs, letting out a shaking sigh. "Why does hearing all that hurt me?"

"Because you've never heard it before, probably. Has anyone, ever, at all, told you to give yourself a break?"

"I... I guess not, not really. I don't know. I don't feel like I deserve it."

"I say you deserve it. If you won't listen to yourself, listen to me. Listen to a... friend."

Patton nearly physically startles at that word coming from Janus. "Friend?"

"If you make me repeat myself we're never having these visits again, watch it."

"We're friends?" Patton lifts his head, grinning despite his tear streaked face. Janus makes a frustrated noise, his face going red, but he lets Patton hug him nonetheless. Patton laughs, despite it all, holding Janus against his chest. The parts of his heart that were aching feel suddenly wrapped in warmth, like a heating pad on a pained muscle. And as Janus sets aside his drink and properly returns the hug, Patton's heart feels so many things, but mostly, at least for now, it feels at peace.

"Are you going to actually give yourself a rest, or did literally all of that go in one ear and out the other?"

Patton laughs. "Thanks, Janus. Really, thank you. Um. Not going to tell anyone still, right?"

"Of course," Janus places a hand on his heart and holds the other up in a pledge. "We both have trouble verbalizing emotions anyways."

"Can't say I'm surprised! Get it? Can't say?"

"Yes, Patton, I got it," Janus rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "You know I just hate puns."

"Liar liar!"

[sommerregenjuniluft]

21. dystophian au + 69. flirting under fire + (platonic) rosestarkiller because i'm practicing writing them meeting for the first time

this is the continuation/same universe as in the rosekiller prompt @casstration gave me<3 [1k words]

Regulus presses himself against the wall, dagger held tightly in his fist right in front of his chest and he strains his ears to listen.

All he hears for a moment is his own shallow breathing and then it’s there again, a faint breeze of a whisper, growing louder each time and Regulus swallows roughly.

He squeezes his eyes together, tries to get his breathing under control and tries thinking of what Sirius would do in this situation, what he would tell Regulus. It’s no use though, Regulus is much too scared to string together a proper thought let alone think about the comfort of his brother in the absence of him. He just had to go and get himself severed from Regulus, all thanks to that bloody James. If Regulus lives the day to see him again he will slit his throat personally.

First, he has to make it out of this grocery store alive though and for that it is adamant he know if there are cranks in here and if so how many.

Another hiss, much closer and Regulus grates his teeth with the effort not to make a sound. That is until he realises the resemblance of a proper word, coherently strung together syllables of a name.

“Pandora.”

Cranks can’t speak can they? At least not this clearly, right? Do they even have the mind to disguise themselves with something like whispering?

“Pandora, are you here? It’s Evan.”

Regulus’ heart is rabbiting away from him inside his ribcage, pounding wildly against the inside of his sternum. How many days has it been since Regulus had encountered another living person? How many days have gone by since he’d lost his brother?

It’s risky, naive Sirius would say, to lean around the corner of the wall and take a peek at the newest arrival, but curiosity wins out. Or maybe the desperate yearning for another human. An ally. Safety in numbers.

Regulus licks his lips, clasp around the handle of the blade so tight his fingers start to ache and then he peers around the edge.

There’s a boy around Regulus’ age it seems, tall but lean, thin it seems, with bleached twists and a hoodie that looks fully intact and clean. “Damnit, where the hell is she?” he whispers. Another full, lucid sentence. There’s a holster strapped to his back, all of which Regulus sees for now, thankfully, no chance of being caught.

That’s of course until he turns abruptly.

Regulus rips himself back around the corner, pressing himself against the wallpaper and trying everything in his power to keep undetected, pulse thrumming wildly in his arteries.

His breathing stutters out in a breathy exhale and he feels his lower lip start to wobble. Fuck– fuck.

What if he was wrong. What if the boy is another infected, what if—

“Hello?”

“The fuck you think you’re doing, Rosier?” A new voice.

“There’s someone.”

“You– since when are we adamant to going around and making friends with just anyone? What did you even see, for all you could know it’s a crank, you—”

“No, Barty, someone,” Evan insists. “Trust me?” 

The conversation makes Regulus untense gradually, the more certain these guys aren’t a danger to him with every more piece of dialogue he witnesses. There seems to be a pause of silent arguing before, eventually, someone sighs.

“I feel like we always end up here. Why is that?” voice deadpan.

“You know exactly why, Crouch,” Evan responds, grin evident in his voice and then there’s a sound like…a kiss?

It makes Regulus blink a few times, frown furrowing his brows before he quickly dismisses it, taking a deep breath and stepping around the corner of the wall.

The second boy that Regulus hadn’t seen before wipes a sleeve along his cheek, the one to be Evan is still grinning crookedly before his eyes snap back to Regulus.

“Hello,” Regulus says lamely, white knuckling his dagger.

Evan opens his mouth but the other boy, Barty, beats him to it. 

“Who’s the current president of the United States?” he inquires, eyes narrowed.

Regulus squints his eyes back at him, crossing his arms. “There is currently none, according to our current situation,” Regulus answers, pointedly letting his eyes wander around the visibly ransacked store, “If you’re asking for the latest though, that would be Joe Biden.”

What’s with the weird question? Maybe they’re not as in their right mind as Regulus thought.

Evan whacks Barty against the chest, making him huff out a breathy laugh before he zeros right back in on Regulus, teeth pointy with his lopsided smirk. “I like him, we can keep him.”

“Oh, how very gracious of you, Bartemius, too bad no one asked for your opinion.”

“You wound me, goldilocks. All I’m ever doing is look out for you and this is the way you pay me, with scornful disrespect and—”

“I’m Regulus,” he interrupts, eyes darting around, still on guard. Maybe his senses are playing tricks but Regulus could have sworn he’d heard something. How these two have made it all these months without getting harmed when bickering like this at such a volume seemingly continuously is a mystery to Regulus. But alas, maybe they’re simply lucky. And Regulus could definitely use some of that. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to join them.

There’s a rustle in the second of silence in which none of them are speaking and they all freeze. Regulus watches as the two boys instinctively meet eyes, a pang in his chest that makes him think of his brother, before Evan swivels to Regulus to soundlessly wave him over.

It feels easy to go. Regulus swears he’s featherlight as he closes the distance between him and Evan and Barty step for step until he’s crouched in the aisle with them, waiting for further movement.

They smell neutral to clean, a soft whiff of shea butter wafting off Evan’s hair and Regulus hopes to god the tiny rest of toothpaste he’s used this morning is still doing its job.

When there’s no sound for a while Evan twists back to him, voice serious, expression calculating, “Have you been bitten? Scratched?”

“No,” Regulus answers truthfully, “and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Oh, but how can we trust the word of a simple stranger?” Barty butts in, grin widening, “Shouldn’t we undress him and search for the truth of his statement ourselves?”

Evan growls displeased and Regulus’ shoulders draw up defensively, “Thank you, but it seems you two got the undressing each other part covered.”

Barty’s jaw drops open around an amused grin, eyes blitzing, while Evan makes a choked noise, whipping around at Regulus with wide eyes.

It was a shot in the dark really, a vague guess off of the earlier interaction Regulus had all but overheard, not even witnessed, but it seems he’s hit bullseye and the corners of his mouth twitch with it. Seems their luck is already subbing off on him.

“Okay, correction, I really like him. We are going to keep him.”

Evan elbows Barty so forcefully in the ribs the pale boy wheezes.

[erisxdrifter]

Make this story

1. Drifter and Eris doing dirty talking then Ikora catches them HAHAHAHAHAHA

2. Eris is sick so her beloved Rat takes care of him.

Here's the story for your first request, hope you love it!! I'm working on your second request, and I'll try and send it soon! 🥳 Thank you so much for the requests!!

The Drifter ran two fingers along the bright orange railing in his section of the Annex, collecting a small layer of grime and dust on his fingertips, staring at it with speculative and judging eye.

  "Observing dust are you, Rat?" Came a mellow voice from behind him.

  He turned towards the doorway, a smile already on his lips.

  "Hey, Moondust." He greeted. "C'mere, will you?"

  Eris eyed him suspiciously, cautiously approaching where he stood.

  "What is it?" She asked, looking down at the railing when he pointed at it.

  "Look," The Drifter replied. "What do you see?"

  Eris frowned. "Dust."

  "Exactly. Dust and dirt, on the railing. How?" He stared at it quizzically.

  "Perhaps from the rafters above." Eris replied, unfazed. "The idea is not particularly strange."

  "But c'mere, look at this too," he walked them over to the table nearby which was topped with books, a pot, jade coins, and a Cabal helmet.

  "Look at the table." He pointed to more dust. "How is the table so dusty? 'Specially the coins, you know I use 'em like a hawk. How come they're already covered in dust 'n grime?"

  "I doubt the Tower is without it's vermin, Drifter." Eris replied, observing the table and coins. "A mouse or rat could easily have crawled across the rafters and kicked down the dust and dirt you see here."

  "This much dust? Nah, that don't make sense. How does dirt get up on the rafters, anyway?"

  "Rats are not typically very clean creatures," Eris jabbed at him teasingly. "When did this start?" She asked before he could make a jab back at her.

  "Been goin' on for a few days." He told her. "And don't tell me a rat kicked down this much dirt, Moondust. I've been cleanin' it up every day and it's still comin'."

  "I will admit that is strange." Eris relented.

  "Run your finger through it," he told her.

  "What? Why would I do that?"

  "So you can see how thick it is."

  "Rat-"

  "Moondust," the Drifter interrupted.

  "Fine," Eris eventually grumbled, running the tip of her gloved finger through the dust. "It is surprisingly thick, I will admit." She said as she observed her finger.

  "Exactly, isn't that-"

  The Drifter was interrupted mid-sentence by the sound of a throat being cleared from the doorway.

  Both Eris and the Drifter jerked their heads toward the sound, finding Ikora Rey standing at the entrance of the room.

  "Am I interrupting something?" She asked, appearing faintly amused. "Something about dust?"

  The Drifter coughed. "Yeah, I was just sayin' how the Vanguard charge me too much to keep a room that's got dust and dirt fallin' from the rafters."

  "What brings you here, Ikora?" Eris interjected.

  "I heard you were in the Annex," she began. "And I came to make sure there wasn't something wrong."

  "Why would anything be wrong?"

  "I supposed that perhaps the Hive had become a more dire threat once again, and that you had come to the Tower to give a report in person." Ikora explained. "But I am glad to see the only matter is... dust."

  "And dirt." The Drifter added.

  "Yes. Well, if that is all then I will be going." Ikora offered a small smile. "It's good to see you, Eris."

  Eris gave Ikora a nod as she left the room. "Enough talking about dust, Rat." She told the Drifter once Ikora was gone, sighing and shaking her head.

  "But it's still weird!" The Drifter exclaimed.

  "I'm sure it is merely a rodent crawling across the-"

  "Rafters. Yeah, yeah, I know." He sighed.

  "I will be going, Rat, before you get any more worked up on the matter of dust." She turned away, heading for the exit.

  "Hey! I'm not worked up!" He called after her. "Moondust! Come back!"

  She laughed quietly to herself as she walked down the hall. 

[smallmightsupremacy]

So that translation was... something. A good one? Well, that's up for debate. Personally, I think that it's a bit iffy, and decided to make a post about why I think that way along with my own personal translation of that scene (you know the one) (disclaimer: I am by no means fluent in Japanese so take what I say with a grain of salt and please, for the love of god, correct me if I get anything wrong)

So before I get into why this isn't a good translation of the Japanese version, I just want to say that even when you don't consider the Japanese version and just look at what's being said in this panel, it doesn't make a lot of sense for Katsuki's character to be saying something like this at this point in the story. Like, it sounds like he's saying "OFA isn't strong enough to stop you but my quirk is" and it's just insinuating that he believes he's on par, perhaps even stronger and more capable than OFA. That itself seems like something a very early bully Kacchan would say, and it just takes away a lot of his growth. I refuse to believe that current Katsuki "Izuku will I reach you someday?" Bakugou thinks that he's still above and better than OFA. Making him say something like that to me just seems like all his growth has been thrown out the window. Now moving on to the actual translation, I'm going to break down the Japanese for you guys and explain how I got to my own translation:

Okay, so after using a Japanese keyboard, this was the kanji I extracted from the page to use: "OFAに拭えねーもんは こつち で 拭うつてな ぁああ!!!"

So if we break down the first line, we can see there are four parts to it: OFA, に .... は,  拭えねー, もん (OFA, the particles, the verb, the noun) Now, I'm not exactly sure what the particles do in this context, and I don't want to feed anyone false information, so I won't be touching on that. However, the verb 拭えねー (nuguenee) is a negation that originates from the base (nuguu) 拭う which means to wipe. It can also mean 'to get rid of', which I think better suits this context so we'll go with that and make nuguenee mean 'can't get rid of'. Finally, the noun もん (mon) can be used as a word to say a thing or object. So when you put that all together, the sentence 'OFAに拭えねーもんは' roughly translates to: "What OFA can't get rid of (handle)"

Moving onto the next line: 'こつち で 拭うつてな ぁああ!!!' Once again there are 4 parts to it: こっち (Kocchi) which means here when talking about a place in close proximity to the speaker 拭う (Nuguu) which means to wipe or get rid of in this context

なあああ (Naa) which can be used when you express what you feel or think

And the rest are particles, which, once again, I won't be touching on

So what do we get when we put this all together? こつち で 拭うつてな ぁああ!!! = 'I'll get rid of (handle) right here!!!"

So the full translation? 'What OFA can't handle, I'll handle right here!!!' Now, I know that my Japanese is by no means amazing and that I probably made a few mistakes along the way... but I do feel like Katsuki saying something along the lines of 'what OFA can't handle' instead of 'OFA couldn't keep you in the ground' gives Izuku a lot more credit and makes it seem less like Katsuki thinks lowly of him and more like he wants to help out. Okay okay. So now you may be wondering why I used 'handle' when translating the verb (拭う) nuguu into english after I told you that it means to wipe/eliminate. Well, let's take a look at the apology scene, particularly the bit where Kats tells Izuku 'we're here to step in when you can't handle it all on your own'

If you haven't noticed it yet, nuguenee (拭えね) is used here to mean 'can't handle' as well. I'd like to think that Horikoshi deliberately chose nuguu as the verb to mean to handle in this most recent chapter to be a callback to the apology and Katsuki following through with his promise. It makes his apology feel even more genuine than it already was because he's following through on his words. That's the part I'm most upset about. The English translation has no callback to the apology when Horikoshi deliberately made the stylistic choice to use that specific kanji for the sake of having it be a reminder of Katsuki's growth and development/that chapter. It's a shame that the English translation seems to have the opposite effect.

But those are just my thoughts 🤷‍♀️ let me know what you think!!

[givemea-dam-break]

Hello! I love your work!! If possible, could you do a Lockwoodxreader story where the reader has to rescue Lockwood from some peril and comfort him through the aftermath please?

a/n: ahhhhh yes absolutely! i'm so glad you like my writing, so i can only hope I've done your request justice!

warnings: minor injury detail gn reader

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to take my rapier, and I'm going to run you through."

"No point in telling me your murder plans. Now I know exactly what you're going to do. And, might I ask why exactly you want to kill me?"

You mutter some very insulting things under your breath before saying, "Because we currently have two Type Twos waiting down the hall for us, when this was meant to be a simple Type One job, hence why Lucy and George are back at home, relaxing and probably drinking my tea."

Lockwood looks over his shoulder at you, offering up that infuriating smile. "We'll be fine. We've dealt with worse together. Remember the ghost of Eleanor Hart?"

"Eleanor Hart was a Visitor whose only purpose for haunting her old house was because her cat had died and she never buried it."

"And, yet, she still tried to kill us, but we defeated her."

"You're not helping your case, Lockwood," you growl. "We should postpone for tonight, come back tomorrow with Lucy and George."

"No," Lockwood says, keeping his rapier steady in front of him. "I'll distract them, and you find the source."

You want to scream at him, but you keep your voice light. The Visitors are already getting agitated. "And what are your ideas of what the source is? These are two murder victims, judging by the gunshot wounds in their chests, but I don't think the goddamn gun will be the source if it's even here."

"Well, it's your job to find that out. Ready?"

"No, Lockwood, let's take a minute to think about -"

Before you've even finished your sentence, Lockwood leaps out of the iron circle and sprints towards the ghosts, capturing their attention. He darts into one of the rooms - the massive lounge - and you can hear the banging of exploding salt bombs as you hurry over.

Your Sight isn't your greatest Talent, but it's enough for you to see faint deathglows in the study, just beside each other. As the sound of Lockwood's battle increases, you creep into the room, placing your hand on the ground between the glows.

Echoes of voices fill your ears, the words unintelligible, but the tones clear enough: anger, insecurity, rivalry. Something about a competition where something went wrong - one betrayed the other. A gunshot, followed immediately by another, so loud that it knocks you off your feet.

"They killed each other?" you murmur, frowning. "So what would the source be...?"

Lockwood yells in the other room, and you jump to your feet, clutching your rapier tightly. You need to figure out what the source is and fast.

"(name), hurry!"

Panic flares in your chest, but you bury it down.

You don't think, you just run through to the Lounge.

Lockwood is stumbling, holding his side as if in pain. His rapier is in his left hand rather than his right, which looks like it's bleeding. He throws a salt bomb - his last - at the spirit on the left, and it dissipates, reforming over to the side a little, and... there.

A portrait hangs on the wall, depicting a beautiful woman. It's not a modern painting by any standards, but it's no more than a few decades old, and it clicks.

The men, the Visitors, had been fighting over her and, in a fit of rage when one sabotaged their competition to win her heart, the other drew his gun. Both were armed, and both shot each other, killing the other instantly. You want to roll your eyes at the stupidity, but you have more pressing matters.

Lockwood slashes at one of the ghosts with his rapier, but he's weaker with his left hand. The spirit draws nearer, reaching out a spectral hand as the other circles around to the side.

"Lockwood, duck!" you shout.

You throw a salt bomb at the spectre on the right, momentarily getting rid of it, and leap forward, cutting through the other with your rapier. When you reach Lockwood, he's panting heavily and limping as he moves. There's a look in his eyes, a glimpse of doubt and regret, and it spurs you on. You toss him your remaining salt bombs.

"Watch my back. We left the silver net in the hall."

Without giving him a chance to respond, you slice through the newly formed ghosts and tear the portrait off the wall. It's heavier than you expected - probably because of its massive frame - but you know that your guess was right. The ghosts wail with rage, following you as you sprint away with the portrait.

The hall seems longer than you remember, and you're sure you would've been ghost touched if not for Lockwood throwing salt bombs to protect your retreat. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and it hurts a little to breathe, but you can't stop. Your feet slide, and you crash into the wall, cracking your head on the old brick, but you manage to make it to the iron circle and fish out the silver net from the duffle bag, wrapping the large portrait in it.

Immediately, the hall becomes silent, and the Visitors disappear. All you can hear is your gasps for breath and the limping footsteps of Lockwood before he slides to the ground beside you, leaning against the wall.

"You okay?" you ask, turning to look at him, shaking off the wave of dizziness that occurs.

"Always."

You frown at him, shuffling closer on your knees until you kneel beside him. Gently, you pry his hand off his left side, eternally grateful to find that there's no blood. His right arm is trembling in your grip, possibly overextended or whacked on something.

"This will hurt," you warn before pressing your hands onto his left side.

Lockwood grits his teeth as you feel around his ribs. They're swelling a little, and they're obviously sore, but nothing feels broken. It's a similar process for his arm, probably sprained, and you sit back on your heels, breathing a sigh of relief.

"You're alright," you say softly. "Nothing broken, but you'll be sore and probably bruised for a little while. What happened?

He takes a deep breath, shifting slightly. "Threw me across the room, whacked against the fireplace."

You try for a smile. "Well, you're okay. I'm okay, it's all good."

"You're bleeding," he says with a frown. "(name) -"

Gingerly, you touch the side of your head, fingers coming back red and sticky. You don't remember hitting the wall that hard.

"I'm alright," you say. "Just a scrape."

All of a sudden, his fingers are gently brushing your hairline just beside the cut, brows furrowed and lips parted. Something in your heart squeezes at the sight of his worry.

"Lockwood, I'm alright. I promise."

"I'm stupid," he says, his hand travelling down your face slowly, cautiously, until his hand cups your cheek. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, ignoring the warmth of your face. "You were right, we should've left and come back tomorrow."

Your hand grips his, intertwining fingers. "Hey, yeah, you were a bit stupid, and I'm still tempted to run you through, but we're alive. We've done it."

"You've done it."

"Okay, I might've secured the source, but I wouldn't have been able to do that without you lobbing salt bombs at the Visitors."

His eyes are angry, but not at you, at himself. In the dim lighting of the hallway, he's awfully pale, and the faint bags under his eyes seem so much darker. From the corner of your eye, you might've believed him to be a ghost himself.

"Listen," you say. "It's done. It's over. We're alive, yeah? We're alive, Lockwood."

He hesitates, looking up at you with eyes you could just fall into. "But, what if it had gone wrong? You're all I - I can't lose you."

You turn your head in his hand, pressing a light kiss to his palm. "It didn't go wrong. You haven't lost me, see? I'm alive, I'm breathing, and I'm going to take you home and make you a nice cup of tea, then I'll put you on bed rest for a couple of days."

His pulse beats fast in his palm, and you could probably chalk it down to the adrenaline rush you always feel during a case fading off, but some part of you feels triumphant - a little action on your part flustered him.

"Let's go home, yeah?" you say, squeezing his hand softly. "I'll get you all patched up and fed."

"And will you -" Vulnerability flashes in his eyes, something you've rarely ever seen from him before. "Will you stay with me?"

Your heart flutters in your chest. "As long as you want, Lockwood."

His hand moves from your cheek to brush through your salt-encrusted hair, and a little, slightly smug, smile plays at his lips.

"There's the Lockwood I love, eh?" you murmur before blanching. Did you just say...?

Lockwood has a similar reaction, his jaw becoming slack as he stares at you. Your face feels hot.

"Um." You stand abruptly. "Come on, let's get you home."

You grasp his arms gently, pulling him to his feet and looping one of his arms over your shoulders. As you begin walking, all you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your chest, deafening.

"Did you mean that?" Lockwood says, free of his typical charming tone. No, now he sounds... nervous?

Trying to act nonchalant, you shrug. "Maybe."

"Maybe, huh?"

He laughs, and the tension writhing in your stomach eases. His laugh is contagious, and, soon, you're laughing together, shouldering your bags as you trudge out of the abandoned mansion.

Something in your chest feels at ease from the absence of Lockwood's rejection. Part of you wonders if he feels the same, but the other part waves it off. You're both injured and probably out of it, right?

"I feel the same, for what it's worth."

Those four words, god, they're enough to make your knees weak and set off fireworks in your blood. You can't help the grin that parts your lips.

"Good," is all you can say.

Maybe it's the head injury, but you swear you can feel the gentle press of lips on the top of your head as you step back out into the outside world.

[666writingcafe]

Barbatos' Birthday Surprise (Part Five)

"Barbatos?" I poke my head out of the hotel suite's bedroom and find that he's starting to unpack his belongings in the living room area. "What are you doing?"

"I figured you would have the bed," he explains, merely glancing up at me. "I'm fine sleeping on the couch."

"Barbatos."

"Yes?"

"You can't get a good night's sleep on a couch."

"It would be improper to have you sleep here." I can't help but roll my eyes at him. He still is in butler mode, even though he's supposed to be on vacation and, more importantly, relax.

"You know, we don't have to sleep separately." Thankfully, that makes Barbatos stop moving around and focus his attention on me.

"I..." He clears his throat and swallows, and I wonder if I've made him nervous. "Are you sure, MC?" I sigh.

"If I didn't feel comfortable with the idea of the two of us sharing a bed together, I wouldn't have suggested it in the first place."

"You're right." He sets the stack of clothes he's holding down on the couch, walks up to me, and gently grasps my hand. "You'll have to forgive me, MC. This sort of relationship is...new to me. I don't want to overstep any boundaries." I can tell he's being earnest. It's quite sweet. And adorable.

"Don't worry." I squeeze his hand and smile softly at him, trying to reassure him. "I'll let you know if you misstep." I lean in and gently kiss him on the cheek; pulling back reveals a slightly blushing Barbatos.

"Give me a few moments to reorganize, and I'll meet you back there," he replies, his voice softer than usual.

~~~

August 23

Unsurprisingly, by the time I wake up, Barbatos has long vacated the bed. He usually ends up waking up at the crack of dawn to begin his duties for the day, so it's not like I expected him to suddenly be able to sleep in while he's on vacation.

What is peculiar, however, is the fact that he's not in the suite's kitchen, but instead appears to be in the bathroom.

The one time he got tickets, he ended up with a horrible stomach flu that knocked him out for the entire week of the concert.

Oh no. Did he end up sick again?

Trying to keep my nerves at bay, I walk up to the bathroom door and gently knock.

"Barbatos, are you okay?" I ask. The sound of things clanking answers me. What exactly is he doing in there that would make that much noise? From what I heard, he normally doesn't take that long to get dressed.

"Yes," he responds back. "I'll be out shortly. I didn't anticipate taking so long in here, but I'm almost done." Part of me still feels uneasy as I head over to the living room area and sit on the couch. While he didn't sound sick, the fact that he mentioned taking longer in there than he expected...what is going on?

My question soon gets answered when the bathroom door opens and Barbatos steps out. To put it simply, he doesn't look like the butler that I've come to know. His hair flows down past his chest, his bare arms are covered with tattoos, his short-sleeved shirt accentuates his muscles, and his black jeans are actually ripped.

He looks...well, hot. Until this moment, I never fully understood why Asmo was so obsessed with Barbatos, but if the Avatar of Lust has seen him like this, then it all makes sense. Not that Barbatos is bad-looking by any means when he's in his usual attire, but this brings his appearance to a whole other level.

Which makes me incredibly nervous.

"MC?" Barbatos is suddenly kneeling in front of me, his hands grabbing my own. "What's wrong?"

"You look great," I answer, my voice a bit croaky. Quickly realizing how wrong that sounded, I add,

"Not that that's a bad thing, of course. It's just that...well..." I can't finish my sentence. Incomplete thoughts are racing around in my head, and I can't put any of them together to say anything coherent. Barbatos leans in and places a hand on the side of my face, as if sensing what I'm worrying about.

"I like you exactly as you are, MC. You have a very beautiful soul, and I find that attractive."

"Because you're a demon."

"Well, yes, but I've found that all beings are drawn to souls like yours, not just inhabitants of the Devildom." He rests his forehead on mine, making my heart begin to beat faster. "I am beyond grateful that I get to do this with you, MC. This experience wouldn't be the same without you." He kisses me gently before leaning away and standing back up.

"However, if you are worried about what people might say when they see us together, then I can help you get ready. That is, if it would help you feel better about your overall appearance. I personally think you would look fine in whatever you wanted to wear, but I know that me saying that may not help quiet the voice inside your head."

[weebsinstash]

SO TRUE Im trying to enjoy my Miguel fanfics but most of them are so out of character I just can’t 😭😭

I dunno if I would exactly say out of character (partially because I don't want to imply I'm some characterization expert or whatever when I haven't published Jack shit) since I feel like, there can be different themes or emotions or vibes the story is going for that may call for some tweaking, or like certain fics focusing on specific parts of a characters personality, like "I just wanted to write him being angry and how he mighr respond whils under stress" which is valid, but like

One thing I will say that I immediately noticed when I started combing through Miguel fics is, a lot of people make him WAY too verbose and eloquent. Yeah he's a genius, yeah he gets very serious in scenes, but my god the vocabulary some people give him, the way some people have him structuring his sentences. He's not as overly detailed and formal as some people like to write. Like this is a man who says shit like "well, I guess you're just going to have to shut up and trust me" to people he's trying to rescue and, again, even when he's chasing down Miles, he's huffing, "UGH you're so FRUSTRATING", like idk if you consider it canon but his after credits scene in Into the spiderverse literally has him meeting Spiderman 1967 who, MAKES HIM SO MAD HE DOES LIKE LITTLE HOPPY HOPS, like. This man is a DWEEB. He has a temper and threw a trashcan at a teenager! Mf literally loses it and says "¡ay coño!" over a Spider Society wide broadcast, my man livestreamed himself saying "for fucks sake" across the entire community because they didn't immediately understand which specific Spiderman he was asking them to chase the moment he asked them to "stop spiderman" and not specifying any further until, "for fucks sake, MILES MORALES 😤 he's entering sector 4!!" and also when Miles is hiding on that dude's back he's just sprinting up "he's over- on your-- TURN AROUND!!" and waving his arms around

like, he's an emotional person! He's not some like anime supervillain, he's not some demon lord sounding "it is unfortunate that you decided to behave in this manner" dialogue ass-- like I mean, I know there's only so many clips circulating online so maybe people are just. Gleaming the wrong context? Like I've seen a few "all Miguel scenes" videos on YouTube and none of them ever really capture the full context of any of the scenes, there's cuts for copyright, some people cut different parts, some clips are higher quality, but like, it really is different when you see the full movie cause I feel like a lot of people are just focusing ONLY on the parts where he's being, you know, scary as fuck. Like don't think i didn't immediately notice "oh holy shit Miguel actually put CLAW MARKS in Miles' shoulder", this man was literally chasing and diving for this kid, they were bailing out windows, there was a cat, and a t Rex, and idk, maybe I'm looking too far into it but you don't have to make him Ultra Serious to make him intimidating and scary. There's gotta be a balance I guess? I see too much of him being lowkey an edge lord and not enough of him being Just A Real Stressed Out Dude. Idk. I just keep finding written dialogue for him a little cut and dry sometimes, there's only a few things I've read where it stood out to me (like in "no more dry bites" where he's just stopping midsentence to huff "why are you being so-- ok you know what, fine--" *immediately changes tactics lowkey like a tantrum*

Like have you seen some of the concept art of him, they were originally debating giving him glasses and a 5 o clock shadow and have him looking more dorky and casual, like, the man has personality, he has depth, I want the third movie to peel his layers like an onion, I just KNOW there's gonna be a good ending for everyone 😤

I'm just sitting here and thinking like, yeah he's serious but he speaks in a very human way? Like, one thing he says to Miles is something like "you can't save them all, kid. Believe me, I've tried, and the harder I tried, the worse things got" or something along those lines, too lazy to pull up the clip, but like. Idk. Maybe I'm just overanalyzing and maybe it's just people wanting to go for certain moods but i just feel like way too many fics have him acting way too, not even serious, just kind of edgy. He's a serious guy but he still doesn't talk like he's some emotionless robot. He's gonna cross his arms. He's gonna put his hands on his hips. He's gonna roll his eyes at you. He may just even rage quit the conversation "ok, you know what, I gave you enough chances--" and just bites you because this is the quickest easiest option and better to put you out now rather than drag this out and get both of you worked up because He Is So Fucking Tired Dude

[bibluebutterfly]

Just wanna talk about Stella,this is gonna be long:

I'm not defending her or Stolas or anyone mentioned in this

That quote she said when she argued with Stolas: "I like tormenting you, I like to remind you of what you did" or "Well stop, it's annoying to hear you screeching your silly woes all the time"

On a surface level, she sounds annoyed, complaining about how Stolas is a coward and how weak he is

I can't help but feel it that way somehow that what she said is right in some aspects. Please remember I'm not defending her, I'm just analysing what she maybe feeling or thinking about

I mean Stella could've huge expectations of Stolas,an idealized version of him,she could've wanted Stolas to be someone fearsome and cruel,but we know Stolas is a softy,he dislikes brutality and barely goes physical,in that he's not active in the physical strength aspect. I'm not saying being weak is bad or not pretty, it's not the good thing in Stella's view

I can see one factor which makes their marriage unhappy is that Stolas wasn't what Stella truly wanted: Stolas goes against what the Goetia royalty always abide by like "keep your head high or the crown falls down"

Stolas himself doesn't always keep his head high,he loves an imp for godsake and he doesn't care that much about social classes,he went to a ripped off amusement park where only imps go bcuz it was his fave childhood place,no self-respecting,noble royalty would go there

For a Goetia royalty like Stella,she cannot accept her husband doesn't follow what their families have been doing for centuries or simply how she wants him to be

Perhaps exactly bcuz she was just a bride married into the pureblood Goetia family is why she is angry at Stolas,she may have been trained to act like a Goetia since she was a kid bcuz she's gonna be one of them after marriage. The Goetia seems fairly traditional to me and I don't think it's impossible they have certain traditions and hierarchical codes,so if Stella was grounded into being a Goetia despite not actually being one or a lesser one,her bro is at a lower rank than her father in law,naturally she's upset her husband who was probably higher than her in rank but he doesn't act his position

Opposite to Stolas who's not hierarchical/social classes based,the hierarchy is everything to Stella,like you said about Stella having been told to keep up appearances,she would rather be caught dead than looking like a "ugly swan"

The second factor belongs to "I like tormenting you, I like to remind you of what you did" she could've been talking about the cheating with an imp,she sounds like a sadist who just wants to torture the husband she hates,but what if it's deeper than that? For some reason her tone when she said that sentence sounds like she was somehow betrayed by him which is possible how she feels

Relating to my previous point,Stolas was wrong of being and doing many things in Stella's eyes,he's a pathetic coward,he went against the norms of their Goetia society,etc. Stella could've been the only one in the family of her, Octavia and Stolas,who has been trying to keep up the facade of proud royalties since it's definitely mandatory for every Goetia,whether they're a pureblood or not

So ofc it's worse than cheating with an imp, technically in a way, Stolas was playing around and enjoying himself with pleasure while Stella is working her ass off to make their family look good. It's unfair for Stella,her husband didn't actively partake in the "keeping the family's name grand and powerful" duty,which I think it's important to a royalty, Stolas totally doesn't act like a proud Goetia unlike Stella is,sure she's the childishly frustrated wife here,but in another way, she's pretty right to be angry and Stolas had to ruin it for her

I mean she was fine with cheating cuz it's the norm in their society and status wise but she can't accept the class difference,showing how strong she has the high class superiority and how deep rooted that mentality is

Again, I'm not defending anyone mentioned in this analysis at all, I'm trying to look at both sides of the story, I found Stolas and Stella to be parallel forces and I'm interested in that,a lot of people keep trying to victimise Stolas in that "he did nothing wrong" but we should consider that this is Hell and it's not wrong to have faults, it's not wrong to personally I don't think Stolas was wrong but he's not actually completely right

Come on now this is Hell,you can be right and wrong

I think when she said about how Stolas was uninterested in her during their marriage and she had to do all the work, including making an heir and keeping up the grand facade. It sounds like Stolas was neglecting Stella,his own wife,she could've expected a loveless marriage but she may have wanted him to at least act like a husband, I mean she could have been fine with him just giving her expensive gifts to create an image of a doting husband to their peers and Stella can have stuff to brag about with her rich friends

Now I know Stolas said he didn't hurt her,but in some screwed way,he indirectly hurt her by not being that into the marriage. Sure it's an arranged marriage but he technically was irresponsible in this marriage bcuz even if it's forced,he still has the responsibility of a husband. Yes I know this sounds mean and awful, I'm heavily aware Stolas didn't want this marriage and he was put into some bullshit he doesn't want,but the exact same can be said to Stella

It's like Stella is an avid player of the power game and she's angry her husband didn't partake when he must have

-🌹

This is a very plausible analysis. Though the one thing I would argue with is how she hates Stolas because he doesn't participate in what she does to keep up their reputation other than just show up. This is because I think this would actually make her look better, being the one to host these events with her husband off to the side.

Think Lady Danbury from Bridgerton. Excluding the fact that personality wise she and Stella are COMPLETE opposites, Danbury also built a reputation for herself by hosting the most glamorous parties. Plus since Stella loves to insult and talk down on Stolas at her parties, I'd say that once again it makes her look good. To the public eye, she's the one who puts in all the work in both their relationship and their reputation.

It only STOPS making her look good when Stolas cheats, because by doing so, he's basically telling the public that he finds a lowly imp more desirable than his wife. Which is why it's so humiliating to her.

But besides that little tidbit, I can easily agree with the rest of this. Good insight!!

[zenkor123]

Peeta POV of Katniss entering training center 14 October 4

Part of WIP

Trigger warning: violence, reference to cannibalism, and the smell of morphling.

 I was talking with Tong 1. I then saw Katniss enter.  I feel a cold chill enter my body and  I remember what Katniss told  me “you’ve looked better” well look at her now she’s looked a lot better.  Look at her! Look at her!

No  I  should not gloat what the fuck was bothering her well its not my problem unless this maniac kills me. How many people have seen me this way? I'm sure that's how she sees me but the shoes on the other foot now Katniss Everdeen!

Peeta that's sick stop thinking like this, just because she never gave a shit about you does not mean you need to act like her. Why would she give a shit about you, she's a random stranger. Yeah that's correct.

It's confounding how she has everything, yet looks like she one of the avoxes about to be sent into the mutt ring under Snow Mansion! maybe its just a fluke she will be better tomorrow.

An Avox under Snow's mansion! Yeah that's exactly what she looks like except the mutt is me.

I ache feeling sorry for her. I will not kill her unlike the mutts in the mutt ring. I never thought of killing her. Then why did you compare yourself to the myriad mutts Peeta? Its what it looks like to her.

I see her gun, ok Peeta  thinks, "you've been inside Snow’s mansion you’ve eaten human flesh you are strong you will get through this like you have with everything.”  I see the fear on her face but there is nothing  I can do about it, get her off the watch.  I take  deep breaths, “Why?” 

I see  Jackered images no no! Keep your head clear.  I do grounding but  I have gravely hurt her. She will snap,  I and Annie are  not the only nutcases in this room, she thinks she can handle it but she can’t damn you Peeta for hurting her, and damn you Snow for programming me to kill her.

She deserved to live, but did she need her legs? There's no way she can kill  me without her legs and D13 can just get her new ones. Then I think “Peeta what the fuck is wrong with you!” 

I apply grounding 5 things I see Katniss sweating, Katniss biting her lip, Annie entering the room Finnick entering the room, they are waving at me 4 things I can touch, my notebook, my hair, my helmet, my gun, 3 things I can hear,  Boggs calling Katniss, the sound of me breathing, Wrynkal arriving and saying high to Lt ford.  2 things I can smell morphling from the vein node, metal from the bullet I have in my hand 1 thing I can taste, ham from breakfast” 

I begin drawing the jackered implants of Katniss, but then I draw the scene around me opening a new page.” She arrives again, who is she?  The girl called X! That’s who she is, a red fucking X!. That’s not fair Peeta, she has been rude and barbing me constantly,…. and probably wants me dead.

You don’t know that, but if I were her I would want me dead, look at that throat, well it's just a bunch of bruises. Ok back to her legs. WHY CAN’T KATNISS JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE???

Katniss is suffering because of me, because of what I did and now she's going to kill me for it.

I was created to kill her so why wouldn’t she. But why didn’t she try to kill me yesterday? It does not matter but I can’t die, I won’t die!

Yesterday I just barbed her but no! Today she is going to serve her full sentence this time she's going to look in my eyes this time and know why she should never ever be on my watch. She is going to see the flames and fires of hell, which is my home for while I enjoy the flames it will burn her. That's awful, do you have an alternative plan! Imagine having to see your killer every day and that killer has a loaded gun. Do you want to see this scared mess every single day, Peeta, Every. Single. Day. And see the bruises in her throat?

No I don't. Perhaps this is for her own good. She should know more about me then that I am a vile creature who exists to destroy her she should know how this mutt came about, when she sees me, really sees me she will know me.

I feel more like a mutt when I'm around her then I do with anyone else. I hate it. Get her the fuck away from me. I'm usually a mutated human but seeing the one I was designed to kill I feel less human.

.

Speaking of that let's go to the core of it she's going to cause fucking episodes.

[cevansbrat0007]

As much as I agree about reading what you feel comfortable with and letting writers be creative/create about what they desire, I do feel like there is a fine line between that and just creating content that make people feel a certain way

I am the first one who enjoys dabbling into different and slightly bizzare genres but I do have to say that, even if it is fantasy and you don't condone it, it can still feel wrong and that is okay.

No, I have not read and will not read this series, but will continue supporting the rest of your work. And yes, I do understand that you write for your own pleasure.

However, I do feel like once you put your work our there, you should be able to handle what people think about it (as long as ir is not harassment, which I don't think it's the case, but I can't really see your inbox, so who really knows).

I don't know, I just feel like people are entitled to their own feelings and being able to voice them as much as you have the right to defend your story and overall character. I guess that is what comes with creating within this genre, but I do have to say that, even if not having read it, it too makes me feel really uncomfortable.

I hope you have a nice day/night and keep doing you.

I get that you're trying to explain your thoughts and feelings regarding this, and I appreciate that. However, there is a fine line between constructive criticism and calling me a pedo or accusing me of supporting pedos (because no, you can't see my inbox).

Are you really saying I should allow people to continuously lambast me because I'm exploring a genre that has existed long before I ever wrote the first sentence of my new series? Seriously?

Are telling me that I should both allow and accept this because I...what? Because I owe you? Because you pay me? Because I receive some kind of compensation for this? Because why?

Hint. Hint. The answer is: I don't. Thanks for playing.

If you don't like something I'm writing, then fine, skip it. Just as you said you were going to do. Focus on my other series. That's okay.

What I don't need is everybody's opinion about something constantly. Everyone has a different threshold in regards to what makes them feel uncomfortable. I don't expect our thresholds to always match exactly.

Everyone is entitled to how they feel, but you also tend to know how you feel before you click and read the story. That's why I put warnings on the damn thing to begin with. If you don't like it, then don't fucking read it. Heed the warnings and stop clogging my inbox. I practice this approach all of the time.

Again, it's one thing to offer ideas or constructive criticism. It is something altogether different to fill a creator's inbox with hatred simply because you don't like something. Remember, you don't pay me. I make no money off of this. I owe you nothing - not even an explanation if I so choose.

I'm not one typically inclined towards extremism. I simply wanted to try something different. I should be able to do that without all of this extra bullshit. There is no need for me to have to keep explaining myself over and over and over again. Would you like to have to do that? Does that sound like a good time to you? Or would you rather channel your energy into being creative?

At this point, I'm just going to start blocking people - all of whom are too scared to come off of Anon, by the way. Read my work or don't. Support it or don't. But do not ever try to suggest or tell me that I deserve this shit.

That's just wrong.

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #53

previously - Journal Entry #52

Victor

"Do you even know what I need?"

I can't believe I said that to my poor husband, especially given how our conversation had been going and the state of mind he was obviously in. Even before the entire sentence was out of my mouth, I regretted it, but unfortunately there was no way to pull it back in.

Several minutes before that, I'd found Yuri in the upstairs bathroom, crying his heart out. I think he was trying to hide from me, but I figured he would've realized by now that he never can. I don't know how I always know when something's wrong with him. I just do, and usually I'm able to help him in some way.

On this night, though? Tonight, not only did I not help, but I possibly made things worse.

Not that anyone else’s opinion has any real impact here, but I want you guys to understand, asking Yuri that question wasn't meant as a rebuke. Although it probably came out sounding that way, I wasn't trying to criticize him.

The truth is, up until recently, he's been giving me exactly what I need, whether he's able to articulate what that is or not. And if he can't put it into words, that's not his fault. It's not as if he's never asked me what I need. He has, but it's my inability to express stuff clearly that's the problem, not his ability to understand, and for me to demand him to explain something that I can barely even explain myself was beyond unfair.

What Yuri does for me, and what I've always needed someone to do, is to help provide stability for me. Sometimes, when I'm scared or stressed or upset, I have a hard time processing my thoughts and regulating my energy. I don't really know how to describe it, but it's like static in my brain, like white noise that makes it nearly impossible for me to hear the part of my mind that controls my impulses and forms logical thoughts. But, Yuri knows how to calm me down when I'm like that. He knows better than anyone what a mess I am, and he always seems to have the ability to sort me out.

Yuri was the one who realized the importance of schedules for me, too. As silly as it sounds, he gave me a regular bedtime and wake-up time, and helped me build other routines into my life that are the same every day. I can't even begin to tell you what a huge difference that's made in terms of how well I'm able to process my emotions and regulate my energy. I guess it's because those are things I don't have to focus on now, so I'm able to devote more brainpower to being a functional human.

Another thing he does is to talk sense into me when I need it. I like to say he's my voice of reason, 'cause I'm not particularly reasonable sometimes.

Being with him has helped me grow as a person. I think I'm more mature because of him, and more responsible. He teaches me by example how to be brave and resilient and emotionally strong. In situations where I'd be likely to give up, Yuri keeps going. As frail and sick as he is, if he can persevere, I have no excuse.

Since he's been really sick this time, though, something's changed. This is the most seriously ill I've ever seen him, and usually when he's not well, he's clingy and needy and just wants to be held and fussed over as much as possible which, contrary to what people may think, I don't mind at all. I haven't been able to take care of him like I normally would, and I'm sure that's affecting him, but it's more than that. I feel like he's been distancing himself from me, and I don't understand why. I've never known him to be as emotionally fragile as he's been over the past several weeks, and I suppose I expected that to lead to him wanting more affection, not less.

Not gonna lie, the lack of physical touch is hard on me, 'cause that's another thing I need. I'm a very tactile person, and Yuri touching me in any way makes me feel grounded and safe, particularly because I know how much of an act of trust it is for him to touch or be touched by anyone. I love it when he gets onto my lap and wants me to hold him, but I'm equally happy when he gives me a hug or plays with my fingers or pets my hair. And I like it when he lets me touch him in any way at all, but especially intimately. It's good to feel trusted. I'm missing that now, and it's starting to hurt me quite a lot.

Yuri didn't answer my question, but I didn't expect him to, since it was kind of rhetorical anyway. The problem was, he cried harder, and the sound of his sobs went straight to my heart. It felt like an invisible knife was stabbing me in the chest, and it took a sheer force of will for me not to start crying as well.

I felt so bad for snapping at him and upsetting him more than he already had been. Yes, I was frustrated and confused, but that didn't justify it.

I know there are people out there who believe he uses emotional manipulation on me. Like, people have said that to my face, so I'm not just being weird or paranoid about it. And yeah, maybe he does do it occasionally, but I've never met another human being who doesn't do it once in a while. But, to anyone who thinks Yuri regularly exploits my sensitivity with fake tears or some other made-up crap, I just wanna remind you that you aren't here with us all the time. You see what we show you, and that doesn't always include the moments of raw, genuine emotional reaction.

I promise you, Yuri's tears tonight were real, not made up to trick me into doing anything. In fact, I got the feeling he would’ve preferred that I wasn’t anywhere near him. Something was hurting him, and I was pretty sure it wasn't his illness. I was afraid it was me.

When he didn't respond after several seconds, I said softly, "I'm sorry."

I could barely hear him as he said weakly, "Go away."

"No," I said. "We need to figure this out.

Finally, he looked up at me. His face was all puffy and swollen, and the edges of his eyes were red. He looked awful, and I just wanted to hold him and soothe away any pain that I could.

"There's nothing to figure out," he said. "You'd be better off without me."

"Yuri." His name was all I could get out at first as I battled my desire to break down in tears. I drew in the deepest breath I was capable of. "Yuri, I need you. Please don't ever say I'd be better off without you, 'cause I wouldn't be. Without you, I... I might not even be here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How could you forget?" I said. "Remember the day I came home from the hospital? That night?"

"Yes."

I folded my arms close to my body, but the self-protecting gesture did little to prevent the shiver of dread that went through me at the memory of that night. I'm not sure I really wanted to talk about it, but something in my conscience told me I needed to reveal one particular thing to my husband. It was a secret too big to keep, and I needed him to know, and there might never be a more appropriate time.

"That night... I literally wanted to die, Yuri. Not figuratively. Literally. I would've been perfectly fine with closing my eyes and never waking up."

He stared at me, and the expression that crossed his face was nothing short of haunted. "You...? Literally?"

"Yeah," I said. "I was angry and scared and... I don't know. Desperate, I guess. I felt like my whole life was ruined, just because of one dumb mistake."

"It wasn't," he said. "Didn't I tell you that?"

"I know. You did, and I trusted you. It's the reason I'm here," I said. "But, I think I was out of my mind that night. Like, I wasn't thinking straight at all. I'd never been in that much pain in my entire life, and I was worried that I'd never be able to see again, and everything was just... too much. I know it's nothing compared to the pain you're in sometimes, but I still couldn't handle it. Not like you can."

"I didn't realize," he said. "I wanted to help you settle down because I knew you were upset, but I... I didn't realize..."

"I'm still around because of you," I reiterated, and in a flash of clarity it occurred to me that statement was one hundred percent true.

I don't know if there's a word for how horrible and useless and stupid I felt after my accident. Combine that with an excruciating headache, deep bone pain in both my arms, unrelenting nausea from the medication I was taking, and the absolutely terrifying prospect of permanently losing my vision, and I had a recipe for the end of life as I knew it. In hindsight, it's easy to say I was overreacting, but all I wanted on that first night back at home was for all my pain, both physical and psychological, to disappear.

You know how I explained that my struggles with impulse control and rational thinking are worse when I'm stressed? Left alone that night, it's likely that I would've made a very bad choice, and as a consequence, I wouldn't be here right now to share my thoughts about it. Thankfully, I had Yuri by my side. He couldn't make the pain go away, but he convinced me I could endure it and that it'd eventually pass. He was right, and I'm beyond grateful he was there with me.

I continued with, "You told me that you didn't know what you'd do without me. You said you'd stay by me no matter what, and you promised to take care of me, remember? You promised. What happened to that? Didn't you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it."

"If you meant it, then why are you saying I'd be better off without you now?" I said. "If you thought I needed you a few weeks ago, why wouldn't you still think that?"

"Because I was wrong."

"About what?"

"I wanted to be useful," he said. "I wanted to feel like an equal partner, and I wanted you to be able to trust me to look after you."

"I did trust you," I said. "I do."

More tears began to leak from the edges of his eyes and spill down his face. "I really tried. I tried my best to be strong for you and take care of you, but... I couldn't do it. I can't be equal to you. I can't even do a fraction of what you do.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re not able to do everything all the time. I get it, and it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine, Look what happened to me after only a few days. Other people ended up having to take care of me, and where did that leave my promise to you?"

"You had no control over that," I said. "You did try your hardest, and you were awesome, but we both know you were already starting to get sick before my accident."

"This always happens. It's as if I'm always too ill when you need me the most."

"I need you all the time," I said.

"You don't need me being a burden to you."

"You're not a burden to me. How often am I going to have to tell you that? Taking care of you is a lot, but it's not a burden. I want to do it."

"But, what if I don't want to make your life difficult any more?" he said.

"You're not making my life difficult. If I ever made you feel that way, I'm sorry, 'cause I never meant to. You make my life better, and I'll never not want you in it."

"It... it wasn't you who made me think that," he said.

I held out my good hand to him. "Will you let me touch you?"

He chewed on his lip, clearly wrangling with the decision. I could practically see the debate going on in his head, reflected in his eyes. I could also see the precise moment when he made up his mind.

He crept slowly across the floor toward me, and crawled onto my lap. Wrapping his arms around my body, he leaned into me and rested his head against my shoulder. I held him with my good arm.

He cried for a while, and I stayed quiet, just letting him get it all out. It was plain to see that our situation had been bothering him and that he'd been spending a lot of time thinking about it. I suspected it'd been on his mind for some time, even before his conversation with Seiji, but whatever had happened between them certainly hadn't done anything to improve matters at all.

It infuriated me to think that Seiji had gone to see him in the hospital with the sole intention of telling him off. Of course I knew how Seiji felt — he'd made it perfectly clear that day in the park — but when he said he was going to give Yuri a piece of his mind, I never dreamed it'd be something like that. I thought maybe he'd give him a bit of a hard time for having to work instead of being there to see me compete. I didn't expect he'd go there and air out all his pent-up negativity.

And like... how dare he say Yuri is a terrible person? And how dare he try to interfere in our relationship and tell Yuri that I'm unhappy and that I'd be better off without him? I wanted to give him a huge piece of my mind for that.

Generally, I give people the benefit of the doubt, and I get that Seiji's going through a lot of difficult stuff, but that gives him no right to make everyone else as miserable as he is. Some of us are working hard to be the best versions of ourselves, and nobody needs another person tearing them down.

I decided I'd let it go for the time being. The last thing I wanted was to get into a pointless fight. I have more important things to focus on than Seiji Hinamori's poor behaviour. Besides, I reasoned that I'd get my opportunity to speak to him about it at some point anyway, and maybe it'd be a more productive conversation if we had the benefit of time to calm down and gain some perspective

"I love you," I said, once Yuri's weeping had subsided to sniffling and a few tiny whimpers. "I need you and I want you, and nothing anyone says is ever going to change that. Do you understand?"

He nodded against my shoulder, and said, "Yes, but..."

"No 'buts'," I said. "Maybe it's hard for you to accept hearing this from me right now, but you know what? That's totally okay. Take your time and figure out whatever you need to figure out, but just keep in mind that I'm not going anywhere while you're sorting through it.

He sighed. "Okay." Then, after a second or two, "Victor?"

'Yeah?"

"I really don't deserve you."

"It's not about deserving," I said. "Most of us wouldn't be happy if we got what the powers of the universe or whatever decided that we deserved. Wouldn't you rather have what you need than what you deserve?"

"Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not angry," I told him. "I'm worried about you. I'm sorry if you thought I was mad. I'm tired and frustrated, and I guess I could be handling it better, but that's got nothing to do with you. That's just me wishing things would get back to normal faster."

"Me too," he said. "I'm so tired."

"I know, love," I reached up to run my fingers through his hair. "It's okay. You've been through a lot lately."

"So have you.”

“Yeah, but I’m mostly better. Now we’ve got to work on getting you back on your feet.”

“I know I shouldn’t complain,” he said. “But I don’t know if that’s going to happen. Me getting back on my feet. Everything hurts, and I don’t know how to cope with it any more.”

"Saying you're tired or in pain isn't complaining. You’re allowed to say how you feel,” I told him. “It might actually be easier to deal with if you talk about it.”

"I'm too tired to talk. I can’t even think any more."

“Do you want to go to bed now?" I asked. Sleep wasn't the long-term solution, I realized, but if he was mentally tired, at least some sleep would give him a break from whatever turmoil was in his head.

"Yeah," he said.

"Would you like me to sleep in your bed with you, or do you still want to be alone?"

"I never want to be alone," It came out so softly that I wouldn't have caught it if his head hadn't been so close to mine. "Never again. I'm so afraid of that. But I'm scared that if I can't become a worthwhile person, I... I'll be alone... again... forever."

I thought he had run out of tears, but they renewed themselves in the middle of a sentence and left him hiccuping for breath by the end of it. He slumped down onto my legs, as if he didn't have a scrap of strength left to hold himself upright any more.

"Shh... shh..." I rubbed his back the way I know he likes, trying to comfort him. "Listen to me. You are a worthwhile person. You're an amazing person. Don’t I tell you that all the time?”

“Y-yes.”

“We all have stuff to work on,” I said. “If you want to fix some things, I'll help you however I can. Or you can ask for help from a professional if you think that's what you need, or we could talk to somebody together. When you're ready, you just tell me what you want, okay?"

"I want to feel like I’m enough," he whispered.

I pushed away the urge to tell him that he already is enough, that in my eyes, he’s everything. I’m sure he knows how much I love him and I’m equally sure that, deep down, he understands there are a lot of people in his life who do accept him just as he is.

The real problem is that he’s struggling to accept himself.

I don't think his poor self-worth is a new problem. My guess is that it goes back so far that he's forgotten how to think of himself as inherently valuable and is convinced he has to earn approval and validation from others. Except he never can, because when someone praises him or tells him he matters, he doesn't trust that they're telling the truth, because by his own standards it's literally impossible for him to measure up.

I could’ve given him every affirmation I could think of, and he wouldn’t have believed any of them. I wanted to tell him how strong and courageous and resilient he is, how intelligent and practical, and so delicately beautiful that it should be me who calls him 'treasure' and not the other way around. I wanted to say that he doesn't have to be objectively perfect to be perfect for me. But, all those words would’ve been lost if I spoke them aloud just then, and that realization broke my heart.

What I said instead was, "I'm never going to let you go. You're the most important person in the world to me."

With the proper help, I hope that one day when he looks at himself, he'll be able to see what I see when I look at him. Not a single one of us is flawless — not Yuri or me or anyone else — but everyone has something to offer the world. Everyone has value. Each of us means something to someone, whether we recognize that or not, and we each have our own special place in the grand design of the universe.

Sitting there in the middle of our bathroom floor, it occurred to me that I want the same thing for Yuri that he wants for himself. I want him to be happy, and I want him to understand that regardless of his disability, of any personal shortcomings or any mistakes he's made, of any bad thing anyone's said to him or about him — regardless of anything — he is enough.