#this makes me unnecessarily delighted LOL

[popppyfur]

OTHER SIDE OF THE STORM MENTION??!?!?!? THEYRE ON A ROLL

[arrghigiveup]

So it might be kind of obvious from my last string of reblogs (and the upcoming queued posts), but I've fallen down the rabbit hole that is Metaphor: ReFantazio. 60 hours in and still not done, but still utterly obsessed. Some notes:

I can't even really describe the plotline without making it sound really tired and cliched and preachy, but I promise it's all very well handled. They manage to explore themes of prejudice and inequality and draw the parallels to our world (the "Metaphor" is basically the whole game lol) without beating you over the head with a fixed message of "this is what we must do to make our world better." There are many very serious moments that hit real hard

And there are moments that are absolutely hilarious

The characters available as party members are all remarkably likeable, and this is the first game in a long time where I've found it hard to have a favourite "main" party. Heismay is adorable

The Follower questlines, including the ones for non-party NPCs, are also generally good. I may or may not have gotten attached to a certain minor character pretty dude that absolutely no one is talking about. Also Maria is a darling and I will protect that child with my life

Seriously you guys everyone is rightly raving over Hulkenberg and Strohl and here I am irrationally attached to Alonzo Crotalus

As a whole the OST is not the strongest I have heard, but some tracks are absolute bangers

On that note, the Esperanto chanting on several tracks was done by an actual Buddhist monk, and there's something delightful about the artist for a JRPG bgm track being listed as "Keisuke Honryo (Chief priest of Myojoji temple)

Also for the FFXIV fans, the English VA for Lady Junah was also the English VA for Ryne, Emma Ballantine. She sings a couple of songs in game, and boy does she have a hell of a voice.

Combat system is very Persona/SMT, and actually pretty hard, at least for me. MP conservation is a bitch (and yes I know all the tricks with the passives). I have shamelessly dropped to easy mode for my playthrough. Also, bless the fight rewind button

Why is the main story dungeon for the 4th city so unnecessarily, soul-crushingly long????

You can pet the cat

[imperator-titus]

Kinktober Day 6. Over the Desk

Bloodweave (Astarion/Gale), Light Domming-from-the-Top Gale, ~1k Words

Rating: Explicit

Notes from the Ao3 chapter:

I feel bad. I really bit off more than I could chew with trying to do a kinktober lol I was still recovering from covid when it started (read: was constantly tired and coughing all the time didn't help) and then my partner was away and when he came back we left for a fishing trip =_= So, yeah, I gave up on trying to keep up with the prompts BUT!!! I really like some of them and I'd like an excuse to explore more explicit stuff, characters, and pairings, so I will try to do them from time-to-time. I'm still open to doing requests, not just kinktober but in general too, but I'll be slow. Please refer to the notes of the first chapter or my Tumblr for more info on that. (Tumblr Edit: my tumblr post about requests) Anyway, have some Bloodweave smut! It incorporates a few minor themes of other prompts/kinks. Also, I'm sorry for any formatting errors I miss. Rich text keeps adding spaces around italicized words because of how <"em"> works differently from <"i">, I guess? And I don't always catch it. Hope you enjoy!

Story below cut:

With a playful little smirk on his lips, Astarion slipped into Gale’s office. 

“My office hours start in an hour,” Gale called out pointedly, not bothering to take his eyes off his work. 

Pressing his back to the heavy oak, Astarion closed the door.

Gale looked up over the rim of his reading glasses to see if his guest was actually so rude as to not apologize for intruding before leaving.

“I promise, I’ll be quick.” Astarion gave him a wicked little grin as his delicate fingers twisted the lock, making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“I have never found that to be the case.” 

Gale ignored him as he sauntered over. He didn’t even look up when Astarion sat on the edge of his desk, just slid his pen holder into a more stable position.

“I need a private lesson, Professor Dekarios,” Astarion purred, leaning forward, getting so close to Gale that his breath disturbed the wispy stray hairs along his hairline.

“You’re in my light.”

Astarion knocked over the pen holder, sending its contents clattering all over the floor.

“Oops.” Gale glowered at him. Astarion gave him a coy little smirk as he got off the desk. “Let me just… clean that up.”

Unnecessarily, he got on his hands and knees. He took his time, picking up each pen and dropping it into the cup holder with a plunk.

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk plunk.

Astarion reached for another when Gale’s foot came down on his hand, gently enough to not hurt him, but firm enough that it would hurt to break free.

Gale’s dark voice washed over him, sending a shiver up his spine. “This is what you really came here for, isn’t it?”

Red eyes traveled up Gale’s long legs, culminating in the most glorious sight.

Slowly stroked by his hand, Gale’s cock proudly jutted out of the open fly of his trousers.

And from above, Gale’s dark brown eyes drilled right into Astarion. His serious blank expression shifted into a confident smirk.

“Well? What are you waiting for? It’s not going to suck itself.”

Gale lifted his foot, allowing Astarion to finally escape. Still on his knees, he lifted his head until it was in-line with his next meal. Greedily, Astarion opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

Gale moved his cock away out of reach. He gave it one more pass with his ink-stained hands and, on the up-stroke, let it go so that it fell on Astarion’s awaiting tongue with a meaty thwack.

With a delighted moan, Astarion took it into his mouth, coating it with his saliva. He savored the taste and feel of skin on his tongue.

Placing his hand on the back of Astarion’s head, sparing no care for the man’s perfect curls, Gale pressed his hips forward until the head of his cock was welcomed by Astarion’s throat.

“I am short on time, my love,” he growled through his pleasure.

For a few minutes, Gale used Astarion’s mouth like a toy. Astarion huffed and groaned as always pleased his lover. When he let a glob of frothy spit drool out of his mouth and drip onto the rug, Gale tugged his face off of his cock despite whiny protestations.

“Tch. Always making messes…” Gale chided, gently tugging Astarion up by the hair. Astarion happily complied.

Still holding him by the hair, Gale kissed Astarion roughly, his beard coming away sticky with saliva.

“You want a private lesson, hm? You have a lot to learn.”

With that, Gale shoved Astarion against his desk. It was gentle, most of the impact coming from Astarion throwing himself forward.

Wearing high-heeled boots just for this occasion, Astarion’s ass fit perfectly against Gale’s hips without any kneeling or standing on tiptoe. He had to consider the poor man’s knees.

Astarion also chose his clothing carefully. Keeping in mind time and ease, his pants untied at the back and had enough stretch so that Gale could easily pull them down over his ass.

Gale teased him, bucking his cock over his waiting hole, kneading and squeezing the firm flesh on either side.

But he didn’t have a lot of time and Astarion knew to come ready, so the teasing ended early. With a hand on Astarion’s hip, Gale slid his cock in to the sound of Astarion’s muffled moan. 

The desk kept Astarion from shifting too far away, but Gale still took hold of his waist with both hands and pulled his lover back as he thrust forward. In any other place, he could go like this for hours. By denying himself just a little bit of pleasure through sheer force of will, he could ward off his own orgasm until Astarion was utterly spent.

This time, he let every crumb of stimulation wash over him. He could feel Astarion quiver underneath him with every stroke, probably ruining the papers scattered across the desk with the drool leaking out of his mouth.

Astarion was in heaven, receiving exactly what he came for. Gale knew how to treat him right, all of the things that drove him crazy. Most importantly, he trusted the man raining down blissful punishment on him to stop when asked.

Trapped in his half-removed trousers, his cock strained, begging to be set free, to be touched. The friction only made Astarion moan into his hand more. 

“Please,” he breathed out between his fingers, panting with every motion of Gale’s hips.

“Speak up,” Gale commanded calmly, despite how ready he was to come undone.

“Please,” Astarion whined a little more loudly. “Please, Gale, fill me with your cum.”

Astarion didn’t need to beg twice. Already playing with fire, Astarion’s sweet filthy words were all it took for Gale to instantly fulfill the request. Leaning forward to brace himself with one hand on the desk, Gale groaned in Astarion’s ear as he gave one last thrust. Hand firmly placed on Astarion’s hip, he locked them together. They felt every pulse of his cock as he gave Astarion wave after wave of hot cum.

Spent, Gale pressed a kiss to the back of Astarion’s neck. In his ear, he whispered, “Thank you, my love. I needed that.”

“Me too,” Astarion whispered back breathlessly, not wanting to lift his head from the nice cool surface of the desk.

But by now, eager bright-eyed students were waiting outside the door and Gale could not keep his adoring public waiting.

[triptychgrip]

New fic: Yuuri vs. Yuri on Hot Ones Versus 🔥🔥🔥

Yura loudly exhaled then sat up straight. 

“Ok, so back in February 2017, there was a local hockey team that began renting the ice for the slot right after this geezer would “coach” his then-fiance,” he began, jerking his head in Viktor’s direction and making a big show of his air quotes. “Notice I used air quotes because 90 percent of the time he was flirting and hanging all over him and it was the most loose definition of coaching possible.”

Kenjirou gave a hysterical sort of giggle and then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. Feeling slightly defensive of his husband, Yuuri didn’t even have to think much about the words that left his lips.

“Vitya’s unorthodox methods worked, though, didn’t they?” he chimed in, not bothering to tone down his smugness. “Remind me, Yura: who was the gold medalist at the 2017 World Figure Skating Championships, again?”

Viktor and Aasha barked delighted-sounding laughs and out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw Mila whip her phone out. Presumably, to capture the flush that had begun to stain his opponent’s cheeks.

“Yeah, well…anyway,” Yura resumed in a grumble, doing a pretty poor job of masking his flusteredness. “Most of the players– ”

“It was Yuuri-senpai! Yuuri-senpai was the 2017 World’s title holder!” Kenjirou interrupted in a shout, very unnecessarily. 

Yuuri bit his lip to suppress the mirth bubbling up within him and made a concerted effort not to look over at Viktor.

“As I was saying!” the Ice Tiger huffed, shooting him a nasty look, as if he could read his mind. “Most of the players kept to themselves, and other than some very questionable tastes in cologne that we were subjected to in the break room and locker room, they were fine to be around. But then there was the team captain, Sergei…who just straight up sucked.”

Yuuri decided to adopt a neutral expression.

While he hadn’t been the biggest fan of Sergei, he’d also never known what to make of his love’s opinion that the man had had a crush on him. It was true that Sergei had sought him out for conversation more than a lot of Yubileyny’s other skaters, but he’d chalked this up to the fact that at that point, he had still been extremely new to Russia in general, and had probably seemed starved for friendly faces. 

And, if Madame Baranovskaya had shot laser beams out of her eyes whenever she was in Sergei’s general vicinity, Yuuri had suspected this was due to her distaste for hockey, and not anything to do with a sense of protectiveness over him.

“There aren’t enough hours in the day for me to explain all the assorted means of suckage, but it was sometime in May that I snapped,” Yura continued on, looking impressively impassive. “Sergei had the most douchey hairstyle by the way…this platinum blonde, dyed sort of swoopy-thing that was his entire personality, to the point he never stopped talking about it.”

---

The above excerpt is from my newly uploaded fic (which I teased in this post), detailing Yuuri and Yurio facing off against one another on Hot Ones Versus. Taking place during the 2021 off-season, the two of them are currently the top two seeded skaters in the world, and their rivalry is heightened by the fact that they are both Viktor's students.

Just like my Vanity Fair Lie Detector fic, I had such a blast writing this, and am really excited to work on the final chapter, which will be from Yurio and Viktor's points of view. (Mila and Kenjirou also have large roles in this story, as they have tagged along for the episode filming for moral support, LOL).

If you read this WIP and enjoy it, PLEASE tell me what you think; I love receiving comments!

🔥 You can read Chapter 1, here 🔥

Oh, and as I mention in the pre-notes, this story marks my 20th Yuri!!! on Ice fic. Maybe it's about time I made a pinned post, lol...

[scarletofhufflepuff]

Ranking of “The Crow” Movies

I want to preface by saying I’m not a film critic. I just wanted to make a post about The Crow, after watching the original 1994 film and most of its sequels, for fun. Especially since I’ve never seen the original film till just 3 or 4 days ago after hearing about the 2024 “remake” coming out sometime in the last week.

Also I’ve noticed I have the ability to find enjoyment in movies others yell hatred towards. Not all the time, there are movies I don’t like. Still something I’ve noticed.

I will be ranking them from what I most enjoyed watching to what I least didn’t.

The Crow(1994)

The Crow: Salvation(2000)

The Crow: City of Angels(1996)

The Crow: Wicked Prayer(2005)

I will admit, I haven’t been able to watch Wicked Prayer yet. But based on what I saw in the trailer… I doubt of its chances of moving up in my personal rankings of these movies.

————

Putting a divider here so you don’t have to be unnecessarily be subjected to my ramblings. If you’re curious on my thoughts on City of Angels and Salvation, feel free to continue. Just know that, again, I’m not a film critic. I just ramble about the things I liked vs what I didn’t. :P

Now I know the sequels are hated on, I get it. Especially with the unnecessary nudity. I can ignore the nudity since they thankfully don’t focus on them too much… but honestly I felt the camera were on those girls a few seconds longer than needed. In any case, ignoring those facts, I found some merit of enjoyment in the stories of the sequels(except for Wicked Prayer due to previously stated reasons).

For Salvation, the story itself wasn’t that bad to me. Guy feels pain for not only the death of his gf but also the anguish of being accused of the murder when he himself is innocent. The way Alex acts as the Crow is fun to watch as well. A little awkward at times but not bad over all. Some of the scenes in the movie were a bit over the top, felt like the way were added just to make the movie seem cool. Like the fact there was a helicopter THAT low in that one chase scene?? Like is that even possible irl?? It caught me off guard honestly. Also I’m not sure how to feel about the film makers having it so kill the crow(the bird not Alex) not being a permanent damage to Alex’s abilities. I get they were trying to do something different but it just… well as I said, I’m not sure how I feel about it. It seems off overall.

For City of Angels, most of my issues were honestly with the nudity. Can be ignored but still sticks out to me on the screen when I’m just trying to focus on what’s going on in the story. Another issue I have is the sudden romance between Ash and Sarah. Like is it just me or do they seem to fall for each other just for the sake of doing so? Like come on Sarah, just because you dreamt of Ash’s death only to see him alive doesn’t mean you can kiss him. The dude is trying to avenge his murdered son, leave the man be! At least tell him about what you know of crows bringing the dead back to the land of the living to write the wrongs of their death. That way he has an understanding of what’s happened to him.

As for the original 1994 film, I honestly don’t have much to say. It was a little weird for me in the beginning but I honestly loved the film over all. The way Eric laughs off getting shot in the hand by Funboy much to Funboy’s confusion is such a delight to watch.

All my issues aside, I’m actually willing to watch these sequels again if I ever feel in the mood. Salvation more so than City of Angels, probably.

————

If you actually read all of this, what the heck are you doing?? No but seriously I’m curious why anyone would listen to my ramblings Lol. Also if you’re reading this and haven’t watched the original 1994 film; GO DO THAT! It’s awesome.

[honeycreammilkshake]

Feeling disgusting at those talking about that Gojo and yuji fanart opening a door to heaven, saying it's okay and beautiful yuji can die and finally meet with gojo....excuse me? Did they even interact that much? He bonded more with Nanami, and why gojo and not his grandpa lol? The ending should be about yuji and sukuna...

thankfully chapter 268 started to cure all the really bad doubts i have. i hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as i did, anon!

and sorry for such a late reply to your ask. i got hijacked by college and the urge to make 10+ unnecessarily long metas ... just finally came back to this in my inbox.

i was more than satisfied with gojo's death, and i hope he stays dead because his death served a purpose in this story. and happily yuuji's still alive, which i am absolutely delighted about. idk why so many fans want our boy dead when he's proven to be like... the kindest most caring character in this whole story pretty much. just shows me they can't stand anyone being alive but gojo. should everyone die so only he can live? ig that's what they want.

and i agree that so many stronger bonds were formed between yuuji and others like choso or nanami who also died. yet i guess gojo's death should impact him the most when gojo literally didn't care that much for yuuji's wellbeing himself.

i'm being a bit harsh myself rn, but i admit... seeing so much sukuna hate while gojo gets special attention all the time is starting to get to me. i really don't want to be intolerant and hurtful like those toxic fans can be though.

anyways! thank you so much for the ask, i loved hearing your thoughts on this. hopefully those in the fandom who only cared about gojo's return eventually lose interest and go on to something else when this manga ends.

[something-pithy]

Notes and an Update: What's in a Name?

Chapter 16 of an echo, a stain features Astarion doing what he does best -- feeling terror, spiraling and at the very least contemplating terrible choices as a result. lol.

SPOILERS FOR ACT 2 OF BG3 BELOW

Those of you who are mostly caught up on an echo, a stain know I love me a flashback (and now the rest of y'all know, too lol). There are two in this new chapter, one of which is set in the Shadow-Cursed lands after Astarion has confessed his initial intentions toward and current feelings/desires for Tav to Tav (post-Orthon confession). As a result of that conversation, they've put a pin in the sexual aspects of their relationship, but are still together romantically. Then, the Araj Moment happens (spoiler alert: nobody bit that heifer), Thaniel is reunited with Oliver, Halsin's... admiration of Tav is becoming more apparent, and Astarion is... yes! Spiraling!

I think that flashback speaks for itself, and I'll let y'all get what you will from when / where in the story it appears.

The OTHER flashback, which is much more brief, is about this Tav's name. Now, I'm not trying to make any secret of the fact that the Tav in this story and I have a lot in common in terms of ethnic backgrounds when you remove the high fantasy fake world element from Tav's lol. FIRST I want to say, I don't give a fuck. There is no shame in my game. Nobody comes for George R.R. Martin or Robert Jordan or J.R.R. (the Rs are for REALLY RACIST) Tolkein (don't @ me -- or do, go ahead and send me an ask if you really want to know my feels on that one looool) for writing about characters whose ethnic and cultural backgrounds are Western European / British.

Second of all, maybe I'm being unnecessarily defensive because I'm an old head who came up in a time when writing a self-insert character was like THE VERY WORST POSSIBLE THING YOU COULD DO AS A WRITER, but once again I don't give a fuck.

The lived experiences of ethnic minorities, people of mixed ethnic and cultural heritage (not fucking half-elves who most of the time are just people of the Caucasian persuasion with pointy ears and shorter lifespans than regular elves), first generation children of immigrants, and all manner of permutations of non-white, non-Western "others" are in extremely short supply in all forms of media / popular narratives in the Western world (shit honestly, it ain't just the West but that's another struggle for another day). This is especially true, from what I've experienced as a lifelong nerdalerd, in speculative fiction.

So yeah, I conceived my Tav as a mixed-race (kind of, she's all high elf, but mixed sun, moon, and sea because she's a motherfucking unicorn, come at me bro looool -- no, there are other reasons too but also she's a unicorn lol), mixed-ethnic-and-cultural-heritage person whose life choices are NOT aligned with a lot of the conventions and values of the cultures in which she was raised.

Because that story and perspective is wildly underrepresented in literature, mass media, speculative fiction, and fan fiction.

So here we are. loooool

Having said all that, I got a comment from my fucking delightful beta and queen of my soul, Komo, asking about the naming conventions I reference in this chapter (or their real-world analogues).

So for the notes part of this episode of "Notes and an Update," I'm going to quote part of the comment she left on AO3 about the story and my response, which adheres to my policy of "why say it in five words if you can say it in EIGHT MILLION." Let me know what you think!

NAMING CONVENTIONS IN AEAS

(FROM THE COMMENTS SECTION OF AN ECHO, A STAIN CHAPTER 16:)

Komo wrote:

I have so many questions about naming conventions, both from the corner of the world that Tav’s family hails from and BG proper. Like, in American and Japanese culture, women take their husband’s last names when heterosexual couples get married. In the States, there are exceptions to this rule, of course, with some women hyphenating. In China, women do not change their last names, but kids are almost always named after the father’s side (the old one child policy may have affected this, but the top 100 most common surnames make up 85% of the population anyways). If Tav and Astarion do end up together, would names be a thing they’d have to navigate? Astarion is such a possessive little yandere after all.

I wrote:

OK so this Tav's ethnic and cultural background, as we know, is mixed

(I'm not even getting into her racial background I just can't with fucking elvish loool and her families on both sides are far-enough removed from immersion in elven culture where I'm like LOOOOOOOOOOOOOL SEE YOU LATER TOLKEIN).

On her father's side, she's Zakharan / DnD-analogue MENA (Middle Eastern North African, with apologies to Said for the orientalism of the term Middle Eastern).

On her mother's side, Amnian / New Amnian / DnD-analogue Latina but -- oh lordt OK without getting into the complexities of codified colonial Spanish racism and colorism, that identity is complicated. Through a combination of executive decision-making about elves and race and how they interact with culture on the material plane (aka not in the Feywild) AND really leaning into the idea of cultural analogues in Toril / the Forgotten Realms, her Latina-analogue ethnicity comprises a mix of indigenous and colonizer racial/ethnic heritage.

(I also can't with how fucking convoluted figuring this out was, is, has been, will forever be looool.)

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, for the sake of brevity (looooooooooooooooool), we'll say Tav's full name results from the combination of her parents' names using Amnian/New Amnian (Spanish) naming conventions, BUT that means her full name (which is not even as long as it could be but is LONG) incorporates both Arabic naming conventions AND Spanish naming conventions that result in impressively / annoyingly long names loool.

In modern Spain, at least, when women marry, some don't even take their husband's name. But the kids' names are composites of parents' family names.

A Spanish child takes the surnames of both their father and mother. The structure is usually [father's surname] y [mother's surname] (though in modern Spain and Spanish-speaking countries a lot of people no longer use the "y"), but the main surname would be the father's surname. So for example, someone's full last name might be Juana Garcia y Martinez or Juana Garcia Martinez, but she might just go by Juana Garcia.

ALSO, especially for children of families of some kind of note / nobility when the dad's family was not as well-known as the mother's, this would include the composite names of both parents.

So Juana's name might be Juana [Garcia de Manzanilla (dad's composite surname)] y [Martinez de Hierro (mom's composite surname)].

So Juana Garcia de Manzanilla y Martinez de Hierro. And like, when people get real into it this can go back generations. Like, I don't even remember my mom's whole-ass name. looool.

NOW, Arabic names are composites, too, but incorporate the father's first name, the grandfather's first name, then the family name -- back in the day, they'd link these things with words that indicated the relationships. So for example, if Yemina's dad is Yusuf and HIS dad is Muhammad and their family name is Rashid, Yemina's name would then be Yemina bint/bin (daughter of) Yusuf ibn (son of) Muhammad al-(of the family) Rashid.

So Yemina bin Yusuf ibn Muhammad al-Rashid.

OK SO THERE'S ANOTHER COMPLICATION (aren't you glad you asked this question loooooooooooooooooooool): with regard to Spanish naming conventions, apparently this patrilineal thing hasn't always been the case and only came to be the norm around the mid-1700s. Before that, surname transmission was often matrilineal.

(This comes into play here because the year in BG3 is like, idk, 1492-98 or something? I forget whatever who cares it's before the mid-1700s and I'm just making it vaguely and very much not perfectly analogous with the time / calendar of the Western world because I don't have the bandwidth for anything else loooooooooool).

In this Tav's case, her mom ditched her dad and the kids were young enough at the time that she was able to, as a sign of DEEP FUCKING DISRESPECT TO HIM loooool, change their names to MATRILINEAL AMNIAN-STYLE COMPOSITE SURNAMES LOOOOOOOOOOOOL

(So for a while Tav's government name was Zeneida Nqa Tavares de la Torre de López Jimenez y bin Harun ibn Ishaq al-Jazairi loooool)

I mean this was like looooooooooooooool FUCKING PROFOUNDLY SCANDALOUSLY DISRESPECTFUL FOR HER TO DO TO A ZAKHARAN MAN especially one of SOME NOTE WHO WAS SELF-MADE

That shit was mad personal and a level of petty that mere mortals can only aspire to it was so deep

But TAV'S MOM DOES NOT PLAY

(Now, could she have just cut Tav's father's name out entirely? Sure, but 1) THAT MOTHERFUCKER IS NOT GETTING OUT OF CLAIMING THESE KIDS / PAYING CHILD SUPPORT esp if he ever got married again HER KIDS ARE THE FUCKING HEIRS AND HE AIN'T GON FORGET IT and 2) (possibly more importantly) FUCK HIS COUCH, PEOPLE ARE GONNA KNOW HE FUCKED AROUND AND FOUND OUT)

Even though he's deadass like "lol wtfever I don't give a fuck, I know what their real legal names are" and also this resulted in a protracted, multinational legal battle that was never actually resolved until each kid reached the age of majority and decided what their own legal name would be.

Ahem, anyway as a consequence of all this, Tav's full-ass, whole-ass, government name is:

Zeneida (first given name)

Nqa (middle given name)

bin Harun ibn Ishaq al-Jazairi (full Arabic/"Midani" patrilineal surname)

y (conjunction [means 'and'])

Tavares de la Torre de López Jimenez (mother's full surname)

So: Zeneida Nqa bin Harun ibn Ishaq al-Jazairi y Tavares de la Torre de López Jimenez

But as we know, she just goes by Zeneida Tavares, and she wasn't lying when she said on most docs it's just "Zeneida Nqa Jazairi Tavares."

Second...

tl;dr: Tavvy for short. Ms. Tavares if you nasty.

ALSO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL

If Tav and Astarion do end up together, Astarion better adjust them expectations, bc after all the drama that's existed around her name, he gonna have a hard time getting her to change it looool

Not to mention, she has a career based in part on people knowing who she is so... loooool

SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO IF THE STARS AND PLANETS EVER ALIGN FOR THEM / THEY EVER GET THEIR HEADS OUT OF ASSES

[emmythespacecowgirl]

Hey babe <3 I know I asked for a Band of Brothers ship before (Dick Winters), but I didn't ask for a Pacific ship, so I thought I'd cover all my bases <3

About Me: – your gender/pronouns: Female, She/Her, but really sort of indifferent.

– your sexuality/gender preference: Also indifferent, but for the purposes of the ship, men.

– your main flaws and most defining traits:

My friend said it was my stubbornness, but my most defining traits based on her assessment are my hardworking behaviour, my hyper-independence, and my intelligence. I also like to think I have a pretty good sense of humour (wry/observant/playful) and am secretly quite giving and warm. For example, if someone does something for me, I'm old school and will usually write them a physical thank you note, or make them cookies.

I also am pretty solid at shooting down anyone who tries to go toe-to-toe with me, and I can usually read people pretty well. I easily cut off people who I mistrust or who think they're pulling one over me- I pretty much live by "If I cut you off, chances are you handed me the scissors." I don't sweat the small things and small slights. But if someone thinks because I don't sweat the small stuff they can walk all over me, they're sorely mistaken (I'm not a serial killer, I promise).

– your hobbies and pastimes: I like culture, so anything surrounding literature, history, architecture, you name it. I also like long walks in nature and sports/weight lifting (I used to play elite-level volleyball before my knees/ankles gave out (cause I'm old, wahay), but I like to just get outside in fresh air now and listen to music/make playlists on long walks. I like good coffee shops and places where it's just quiet and civilized.

•Optional: – your appearance: 6'0, athletic, just past shoulder-length ash brown hair with some face framing blonde highlights/money pieces. People say the prettiest part of my face are my eyes, which are pale green.

Some people who don't know me well see me as "aloof" or "intimidating"- probably just based on the fact that my Dad is Eastern European and I have natural RBF, but you get to know me, I'm sensitive and described at work as a "positive" person who's a "delight" to have around (their words in my quarterly review- not mine lol).

– your personality type (example: ENFP; Enneagram 7 or 7w6): I'm an INTJ , and an Enneagram 5. I forget what my wing "officially" is, but I feel Enneagram 5w6 is more fitting. I used to be more of the "philosopher" type in the past, but I feel life has forced me to bring practical solutions to the forefront.

I'm also a Virgo, but with a Leo Moon and a Leo Rising sign. Which basically means I like things organized and neat and plan ahead, but people assume I'm gregarious and probably more a "Leo" than I actually am. I can fake being an extrovert, while needing time on my own to decompress.

I've also always been between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw. I like learning for my own sake, just like the only person I'd be in competition with is myself. I'm never the type of person to step over someone else in order to accomplish my own goals- I work hard and let my work speak for itself, and let others who might be jealous or try to take me down fail on their own merits. I'm not a game player and I think it's honestly petty and stupid when people are, because I'm a good judge of character and 99.9 percent of the time I can see through someone's behaviour.

– any pet peeves: People who mistake kindness for weakness, people who don't smile at people when they make the effort, people who don't respect basic manners. Basically, people who are unnecessarily cruel for no reason.

– your love language: I just took this- acts of service, followed by works of affirmation. But I'm going to be honest- my heart swells when even coworkers or someone who's a friend does something to take something off my plate, or pays me back in some way by getting me a coffee or tea. (I'm a cheap date, what can I say).

Anyhow, work your magic, sweetheart, and thanks again <3

Hi again @currahee :)) I would love to give you a TP ship! I hope you like this one :)

I ship you with:

R.V. Burgin from The Pacific!

Ship theme song: The Woman in Me by Shania Twain

this man admires you sm and has the most respect for you <3

you have no idea

you are the love of his life

but also just like a really good role model in work and life

and Burgie really likes that in a person

for Burgie, work and family are of equal importance

so he completely understands your inner drive to do well at work

and he doesn't mind taking on more of the domestic side of life while you go out and conquer the world

the first time that you take down some sexist prick in an argument

you can bet that Burgie totally had a hard on haha

"I literally married the hottest, most smart lawyer lady in the world!!"

is what he's screaming in his head the whole time

he also just loves when you start unraveling y'all's kids' arguments

y'know lol once they get to that precocious little goblin-mode age

this man will literally make some popcorn and just sit at the dinner table and watch it happen

basically, anytime that you're using your intellect or being objective in an argument is when Burgie realizes that he's so in love with you

he's the kinda guy who memorizes your coffee order

and then goes home and makes it for you exactly to your liking the next day

he also loves taking you to scenic places to go hike around Texas

he would 100% agree with your co-workers:

you are a total delight and the most positive person he's ever met

and the most beautiful ;)

your pale green eyes captivated him the first time you met

I'm pretty sure that our sweet Burgie is also an INTJ :)

you're both pretty good at hiding behind your "extrovert mask"

but at the end of the day, you both enjoy just staying in and reading to each other on the couch

Burgie isn't much of a game player either tbh

his mama taught him from a very young age to be intentional in his actions

and he is very much intentional with you

Burgie's mama also taught him that "please" and "thank you" are the bare minimum

he's a Texas Gentleman after all!

Burgie is also an acts of service kinda guy

he's incredibly handy

so any kind of household item that needs repairing

he's your guy to do it

or car stuff

he's all over that

his heart swells 3x when you write him a sweet thank you note

or make him his favorite dessert

Burgie considers himself the luckiest lad in the world to have you!

[flames-tstuff]

I had the most delightful, fanfic-esque scenario play out before me today.

Unnecessarily long (but wholesome) story time below the cut!

I want to tell you all about this relatively new friend of mine (we've been friends for maybe 4-6 months now), whom I love dearly /p. The story is sort of in two parts; the background context, and then the actual story that happened today.

Background/Context

This kid appears to look like your stereotypical "fuckboy", right? Smooth, calm, collected demeanor. Well-dressed. A bit androgynous. Long, well-maintained hair. A pretty boy. I originally think to myself, “Huh, he’s kinda pretty(?) Uh oh. That can’t be good." Basically, I assume this dude is a douche-bag, because, well, your brain learns to recognize patterns, right? I've learned that conventionally attractive people typically only interact with me if they want something (cynical, I know).

Fast forward a few months and I find that I actually enjoy talking to him, and that he enjoys talking to me. Me—someone who mostly presents feminine (when I assumed him to be somewhat misogynistic) and is awkward as hell. He looks at me and speaks to me like I’m a real person..? Like he’s not just tolerating my presence and actually enjoys interacting with me. Like I'm "one of the guys", an equal. Pretty much any cishet guy I’ve ever met looks and talks to me like I’m an inconvenien. So the fact that he wasn't acting that way should have been the first sign that he's not at all what I had assumed.

A few months in when he feels comfortable enough, he tells me he’s been transitioning MTF(*) in secret for some time now. And it makes perfect sense. That’s why he had a pretty, feminine face. That’s why he had his hair grown out long. When I told him that no cishet guy has EVER been that kind to me, he said it was probably the estrogen lol.

*(Everyone who ~knows~ calls him by his given name and pronouns, just to be safe. We go to a religion-based school in a state that isn't very progressive or safe. I’ve only ever heard his girlfriend, who I also love and adore, use she/her in private, and even then it’s rare. So until I’m given explicit permission to openly use feminine pronouns, we’re all playing it safe by sticking with he/him.)

I’ve always been a mom friend, but I'm telling you this person is bringing out the “they must be protected at all costs” in me. The person who I thought was this smooth, sauve, chill dude (think Buck Dewey from Steven Universe lol) is actually just a scared, insecure little girl behind the curtains. A young adult who, because of the hormones, is basically going through Second Puberty™, angst and all. Someone who hid behind his guitar during a jam session because he was afraid someone would notice his developing chest. The friend who surprised me when I looked over and saw him crying during the animated film we were watching in the theater.

Guys, this is like my own real-life Zuko or Nico friend. The character in fiction that you just wanna shower with comfort and reassurance and warmth (but you can't, so you do so through writing and art). The friend you see almost as a younger sibling, that you feel compelled to protect. The one that you wanna hug and tell them that everything will be alright. This is all in my head of course, I don't want to risk accidentally smothering, patronizing, or otherwise scaring him away. But I feel honored any time I get the chance to see his walls come down even a little.

So because he’s got this particular demeanor about him, I was thinking to myself how much I want to see what would happen if someone were to... break down those walls a bit (yeah, you know what I'm talking about lol). Like really truly see past the facade he puts up every day. Because the thing is, I’ve seen him express and react just like everyone else. Happy, sad, angry—I’ve even seen him get playful before, but it’s always at about the same even level of reaction. I want to see him finally "crack", you know? What I would give to see him lose his cool and drop all pretenses, to see him be lovingly destroyed.

And oh how this sets up like the premise of a fanfic, am I right?

Unfortunately we’re not yet close enough to have crossed the barrier of physical contact (he doesn’t seem like the touchy type anyway), so it definitely would have to be coming from his girlfriend. Even if it did happen, the chances of me getting to witness it are low. I assume his girlfriend probably respects him enough not to embarrass him too much in front of others. Still, one can dream 😆

I wait for the day when the subject of being ticklish comes up (bc there ain't NO way this ball of hidden angst isn’t ticklish), someone teases him about it, and chaos ensues.

Today.

(aka the actual story, the reason for making this post)

Spoiler alert: No tickly shenanigans take place, unfortunately, but it's just about as good in my book :)

There were five of us friends (since when did I get a group of friends to hang out with??) piled into his car. I can’t remember exactly what happened, I think his girlfriend changed something about the radio, and lo and behold IT HAPPENED. He cracked!... even if just a tiny bit, hehe. It wasn’t an angry outburst in like a concerning, toxic way, but he was like “Ah, c’mon why’d you do that??” more akin to a whiny twelve-year-old who's parents unplugged their TV to get them to go to bed. It was funny and endearing more than anything, like watching an old married couple fight. We all snickered a bit at the sight, and I saw my opportunity to tease him a little.

I said something along the lines of “you know, for someone who has such a calm and collected demeanor, I absolutely love when I get to see you lose your cool. I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course. It’s just the best". He said that he didn’t think he gave off that kind of vibe, but he appreciated that that's how I see him 😆

Then, a few minutes later we were in the drive-through line getting sodas at McD’s. One of the friends in the car with us says idk, maybe two words, and he LOSES it (you know how inside jokes with friends are). Like, full-on busts up, flops against the wheel wheezing, which eventually turns into loud genuine laughter. Now I completely lose it, doubling over and burying my face in my lap laughing, but not because of the joke (cue the sappy music). The sudden, uncontrollable bout of laughter coming from him was so unexpected and so contagioius... It was one of the best sounds I’d heard in a long time! I was basically cry-laughing at that point. There were actual tears in my eyes that I had to wipe away. It all sounds so cliché but it really was an incredible sight to behold, and, in a roundabout sort of way, my dream came true.

So yeah. I just wanna hug him and fawn over him like a mom or an auntie. Poke him, help him loosen up a little. We’re not quite at that level of friendship where that would be well received I think, but maybe someday. Yeah, someday.

[bottombaron]

taking screenshots for an episode 4 'breakdown' thing but it's taking just sooo long and I'm distracted with too many thoughts that I'm probably just going to trickle them out in separate posts

so here's one illuminating something I didn't catch before regarding Zemo's Riga apartment: it's suggested that Zemo hadn't been in the area since he was young. i'm assuming very young since he didn't understand the politics at the time and Zemo strikes me as the type to understand things like that at a very early age.

therefore it's logical to assume that the Riga apartment is an old family vacation home that was used for trips that involved a lot of business/political talk (always safe to assume Hydra here because when is it not?) and not a place Zemo had ever visited in adulthood.

which then brings up even more interesting points:

if Zemo hadn't been to the Riga apartment since childhood how did he know about the escape route under the bath tube? he must have been shown by someone when he was a kid, right? a parent maybe? did it have to be used before?

the Riga apartment being an old Zemo Family Estate totally changes how it reflects Zemo personally. it's now not a place he chose or furnished himself. it's again a part of his mask. the wealth and glamor doesn't speak to Zemo's true tastes or comforts or things he would have in his own home (necessarily). again, we know very little about who he truly is.

also there's a sort of sad nostalgia when you go back to a place you used to as a kid. did Zemo feel anything sentimental being back in a place that he used to spend time with his parent(s)? does it bring back fond memories of not knowing 'the politics' at the time? i'd like to know marvel, thnx.

him rummaging around in the cupboards looking for Turkish Delights is cast in a different light too. he literally doesn't know where they are! he's like a kid looking for sweets. making it even more sense that he finds them in some sort of vase, almost as if an adult was trying to hide them from a little thief. Zemo too, probably loved Turkish Delights as a kid and it was a struggle to keep them away from him.

furthermore, Zemo now jump-scaring Karli and cutting off her exit from the funeral makes so much more sense. instead of him just appearing out of nowhere without reason, it would be logical to assume that he knows the area like she would; as a kid he probably traversed all over the complex and would know exactly where she would run to get away.

anyway, it might have just been me that didn't catch this the first time but thought i'd share if anyone thought it was interesting or didn't notice it like I did. this is also why you should never invite me over to watch something because i'll unnecessarily deconstruct every little bit lol

[queenlucythevaliant]

When you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (you don't have to if you don't want to, but positivity is cool) 💐 💐 💐

Hm okay, let's see:

I am much more organized than my new roommate lol

I enjoy my vocabulary, I think. I use words like "delightful" and "indeed" very liberally and tend to toss unnecessarily long or old-fashioned words into conversation without much meaning to.

My hair is soft and very long. I love how it moves and how it feels against my arms. Once, at a conference, a little girl asked me if I was Rapunzel.

I like that I have such a long attention span when I'm really engrossed in something. I can read for hours upon hours when I've got the time, I read every word on every plaque when I visit museums, and I can gaze at a sunset or a starry sky in silence for ages. It makes me readily able to appreciate things that are interesting or beautiful.

I'm tough. I've been chronically ill for eight years and I'm still fighting.

[thedeviljudges]

yohan + physical tough + trauma response

disclaimer: this is based off of eps 1-7, and preview of ep 8; i wholeheartedly recognize that this post may become the worst meta ever depending on how the rest of the show goes. however, i do think there are still some interesting things to note about yohan. a lot of this is also me just talking shit out as i was sifting through all the eps again. i’m more than willing to change my mind or hear other thoughts.

also i kinda, sorta, unnecessarily included all of the moments of yohan and any physicality. a lot of them are not super important, but i do think they help draw a distinction in how he reactions when surprised, alone and around other people.

so, here’s a long ass post that is literally 99% me bullshitting, lmao.

so i wanted to delve more into yohan’s response to physical touch by way of trauma. while i know a lot of us have pieced it together, i think it’s pretty cool to lay it all out visually because i think there’s much more justification for his reactions; not to say it makes it right, but it does really flesh out a fundamental part of his characterization that i think is highly, highly important to understand.

yohan lives on the cusp for reckless behavior, almost as if he doesn’t care whether he lives or dies. the car chase, running through industrial buildings where safety isn’t a concern, etc.

episode one

the first time we see an instance of his disinterest in physical touch is when he first meets gaon. he actually offers him his hand, but the way he goes about it isn’t a handshake. he almost looks hesitant, and then he squeezes and does not shake. it’s truly a split second gesture out of formalities. granted, he’s just met someone he thinks looks like isaac, and might be in a little bit of… not shock, but certainly distracted.

later in the episode, yohan is in an abandoned building with homeless people. he’s checking people’s wrist, but he’s quick about leaving them alone. until, a homeless man comes up behind him and grabs him. in response, yohan swings his arm to knock him off. then, he punches him, steps on him and decides whether he’s worth the effort. again, granted, no one likes to be surprised in a creepy situation like this, so his response? kinda understandable at this point.

next is the scene where yohan catches gaon in his office, where he pushes him against the bookshelf and kinda, more or less, comes off as a bit luring. we know yohan knows gaon’s lying, but a couple of things here. yohan initiated the physical contact, and he did it because of the suspicious nature of gaon. yohan also knows how to use his power and charms to catch people off guard, and i think really, he was messing with gaon when he brushed his shirt and asked him if he lived alone. gay as fuck, lmao, but i also see it as an intimidation tactic, in a way.

i could also pose a couple of theories aside from intimidation if we wanted to squint:

yohan is still in a state of awe of gaon’s resemblance to isaac. he’s not heard his voice or been around the other man for at least 10 years, and now there’s tangibility at his fingertips.

if we want to look at it from the gay perspective, gaon is clearly intriguing to yohan, and as i’ll note further down in this post about yohan in relation to physical touch, i’m sure it could be assumed that this is one of the first people in a long time that yohan has an interest in making a connection with. however, because of his upbringing, it’s clear he does’t necessarily know how to connect with people (ie. ep 7 trying to connect with elijah, eps 1-6 with him trying to non-verbally tell gaon that he has bigger plans than what’s in front of his face. his admission in ep 5 about being monster). more or less, he knows his charms can be used, but when it comes to actually flirting and/or liking someone? it’s left to be addressed, but could be assumed he’s just as awkward about it as when we see him at home.

we also see a small instance of him letting someone dress him. there’s still touch involved, but it’s very clear what the intention is. he has control over the situation, and it’s not a surprise.

the next time he engages in physical touche, again, he initiates it because he’s in control, and it’s meant to be comforting, to an extent.

and then to round everything off, we actually see him reaching for isaac, who is actually gaon in the court scene, but you know storytelling and all that. he reaches for him both in the courtroom and within a flashback.

him reaching out for isaac seems to be a motif within the show as it happens later on, of which i’ll point out.

episode two

we see him initiate a handshake again. at first, to gaon, and then with jinjoo. controlled situation.

later on in the episode is when we see our first glimpses of batshit crazy yohan, an absolute delight and fav, lmao. he actually reaches out to the spoiled kid, and it’s clearly to legitimize intimidation and a position of power.

okay look, i’m not even gonna front, this was a cute scene. when jinjoo gets out of the car, he checks to make sure she’s okay, and they have this moment before they go onto the red carpet where they smile at each other. yohan is confirming she’s okay, and she agrees. again, controlled, and i don’t know for certain if yohan is more comfortable around women, or it’s just mere fact that he doesn’t always have a problem with touch when the situation is safe. he actually lets her take his arm further on in the scene, and yes, it is a public display of niceties, and he knows that.

so in the midst of this happening, we get the ‘devil child’ story. and i want to make note of the bird scene because i do think it’s important to note that people yohan cares for, he’s willing to go to the ends of the earth to protect them. yes, they’re children in school, but the girl next to him is the only one who showed him an ounce of kindness, and yohan is proven to remain loyal to those he loves or trusts in some capacity.

of course, he ends up pitting the rich and the poor kids against one another for their betrayal and making him an outcast. in yohan’s mind, what he did wasn’t necessarily wrong because his sense of justice is based on protection and when people wrong him or those he loves, it’s seeking justice on their behalf or making the situation better - not in the technically right way, but right to him. yohan comes across as a fixer and problem solver.

yohan has a very, very strong sense of trust and loyalty, and we can assume that stems from isaac, who clearly tried to protect yohan from his father, who went out of his way to do so as best as he could as a young kid. yohan values loyalty not because he necessarily wants lap dogs and people to do his bidding. it comes from a place of love and security he’s never really had.

anyway, back to the gala with jinjoo, he does shake the minister’s hand. again, controlled. there are cameras. he also puts his arm around her, and that’s mainly because it’s a battle of the wills, and she’s trying to reprimand him, lol, as if she could. he hugs her a little hard and a little enthusiastically, and you can clearly tell it’s for show.

and then he dances with both jinjoo and sunah. and there is a stark difference between these two scenes. yohan actually teaches jinjoo the proper placement for where she should rest her hands and how to move. he’s actually having a good time with her, and again, it’s actually really cute.

with sunah, he’s reluctant and definitely on guard. he can tell from her demeanor that her intent is with purpose trying to get close to him. at this point in the story, he probably sees it as sunah coming onto him and not because she’s actually the maid from when they were children. when sunah reaches up to whisper in his ear, you can really tell he doesn’t like her being that close to him at all especially because her words may not be overly threatening, but there is purpose behind them, which means yohan’s guards are up. he physically removes her hand and than blatantly turns her down: she tells him that enjoying things alone isn’t fun, and he counters it by saying he’s having a lot of fun.

so at this point to reduce on some screen caps, he meets the minister’s family, has handshakes with her husband and the kid he went after to essentially beat up his car with a mallet, lmao. the handshake is quite funny because they both know what happened. yohan is in control, and that kid is shaking in his boots.

then the explosion happens, and of course, it makes sense that yohan helps gaon after he’s hurt. gaon has never been a threat to yohan, and it’s clear yohan’s not heartless whatsoever, but it’s also poignant to note that gaon helped saved yohan’s life, thus starting yohan’s journey of loyalty to gaon. i think he’s always had his sight set on gaon to begin with, possibly long before he even became an associate judge, but if this was a test, gaon passed it with flying colors because if gaon can rescue a little girl, and he can help an old man who fell off his bike, would he really go the lengths to save yohan who has shown him time and time again his sense of justice is different?

episode three

yohan reacts negatively to soohyun and within good reason when she questions where gaon is. he turns away because for him, the conversation is over, but for her, it’s not. to get his attention, she grabs him when he’s not paying attention, and of course he has a very adverse reaction. at this point, it can be chalked up to disrespect given the fact that he’s a head judge and she’s just a mere cop, but hindsight is 20/20. he does throw her arm off by flicking out his arm. but instead of berating her, he just tells her to catch the culprits who harmed gaon and leaves it at that.

and then of course, everyone’s favorite scene and rightfully so. yohan caring for gaon? very sexy of him. gaon is injured, poses no threat, and as i said above about yohan finding some amount of loyalty in gaon means his physical boundaries aren’t jeopardized. and for that, we get these wonderful scenes of yohan helping gaon as he heals.

and then scenes of him messing around with gaon by hitting him. truth be told, i wonder if this was something him and isaac did as young kids. anyone with siblings know how that goes. fake picking on each other? fake bickering? yeah.

and then it slowly, but surely, it’s revealed that yohan didn’t have the same upbringing as isaac did. our first instance that something at home wasn’t right wasn’t just the conversation with ms. ji and gaon. it’s the flashback with yohan reading in his room when the door opens. he hastily pretends he’s asleep, and you can see he’s visibly shaking and breathing roughly until he realizes it’s isaac who’s there to give him books.

and that’s also when we get our first glance of what kind of abuse yohan suffered from at the hands of his father. it’s clear this isn’t the only incident, and there’s been many times that isaac wasn’t around to help defend him.

it’s also very clear in how yohan acts when he’s terrified and that his abuse has gone on long enough to be a routine pattern in the house. any time he hears heavy footsteps or thinks his father is around, he visibly shakes and gets panicky.

episode four

i include this scene because it’s been noted that a lot of books yohan reads are about humans, human nature, animals, animalistic tendencies, and he says random shit like this that directly points to what he thinks about humanity and humans themselves. we notice this most prominently at the dinner with gaon and jinjoo earlier on when he describes that he likes the feel of the chew and that he cannot taste. he always mentions hunting and prey, and i think this is one of those very clear instances where he actually reveals to gaon what he truly, truly thinks; no gimmicks. this also comes into play later on in ep 6 when elijah is worried about him being out all night. yohan clearly doesn’t trust people at all. he understands their intentions, their motives and how much pain they can cause other people for their own profit and their own gain. it makes sense that he wouldn’t leave his house, especially if he has a strong sense of loyalty to isaac (even after all these years) and caring for elijah.

this is also one of the very direct moments that yohan doesn’t understand family dynamics. when it comes to people, it’s a giant chess game. not only that, later on in the episode when they’re in the car and yohan talks about how people, no matter what, are always the same in front of greed, yohan is cynical, and he expects the bad every single time.

what he reads and the way he words things (here and the discussion of him being a monster, for example) is clearly an indication that he doesn’t trust; that he cannot trust, nor does he want to at this point. yohan doesn’t understand the concept of kindness being given freely (ep 7 when he berates elijah for being used by gaon, telling her she falls for kindness every time). and yet, later on in eps, it’s clear when he’s around the right people and the right mindset (uh, gaon?? lol), he’s constantly putting up a front.

after all in ep 7 when he tells gaon that confidence is key, it literally gives him away not just in the courtroom but in his personal life. there’s a reason he looks softer at home than when he’s not there (the hairstyle changes and clothing).

basically what i’m getting at is this behavior can be seen as a defense mechanism because of his abuse.

then it’s another gala event with gaon and yohan this time. another lovely favorite where yohan helps him get dressed and then proceeds to drag him around and safe him from the lion’s den.

tbh i dont even need to include these, but i’m doing it for the indulgence.

yohan does sorta physically throw gaon as well during the rich people party, but that’s mainly to get him to shut up because he’s trying to show gaon the truth at hand and how all of it’s pretty much a farce.

later on in the episode is when we first have gaon truly attacking yohan verbally, and that’s when yohan snaps. it’s clear that isaac is a trigger for yohan, especially from someone who speaks out of line on something they know nothing about. gaon, truth be told, had a stupid moment confronting yohan the way he did. i don’t know who waltzes up to a proposed murderer and just asks them, lmao.

but here’s the thing, thus far, gaon has not entirely posed a threat to yohan. whether that’s from yohan planting gaon and guiding him exactly where he wants him or gaon just not being as thorough as yohan would like, and he’s trying to tap into that talent, is anyone’s guess. but as i said above, the one thing yohan protects is the things he does care about the most, and he tries to talk himself out of his own feelings. he constantly compares himself to an animal (again, dinner scene with gaon and jinjoo) to justify his actions, and to possibly not feel anything; because that’s easier, isn’t it? not feeling. so on top of gaon calling him a monster and a killer, confronted with the possibility about being a villain in his own brother’s story, obviously sets him off. he beats down his emotions until he’s confronted with it - and this is what gaon also meant in ep 6 about how it’s ridiculous that yohan calls himself a monster over a victim because yohan can’t even see himself in that light. not because he truly believes victims are weak necessarily, but i wonder how much he realizes that what happened to him wasn’t his fault.

to me, and as i just said, yohan convinces himself he’s a monster to make it easier for himself to belief his actions (ep 5 telling gaon some humans are born monsters in relation to himself). it’s not that he inherently thinks he’s wrong, but i think his guidance for what’s right and wrong was misconstrued without a parent figure in his life, especially if he’d read crime and law books as the focus. yohan’s actions, at least quite a bit of them are, are based on a gut feeling of right and wrong. when you think about it and your own sense of justice, how would that differ without the checks and balances in place? what punishment do you think fits the crime if we weren’t bound by written law? yohan thinks any action to protect those he loves is, more or less, justifiable because it’s a means to an end. it’s making a worng right again.

i don’t think yohan is a monster. i think his feelings, and what he knows is love, is misconstrued in terms of how to express it. we see this in episode 7 with his and elijah’s conversation where she’s just trying to be a teen, but his version of love is protecting her without, once again, understanding family dynamics and the pain points of growing up, the learning she has to do on her own. yohan might technically be right; similar to being book-smart but not necessarily street smart. his theory of telling Elijah that she’s soft for kindness and being used was true, but his delivery and the idea that that’s how humans develop doesn’t work. he’s telling her text-book rules, but people don’t live through books. they live through real life. yohan reads to get a sense of fulfillment and to learn. he’s learned his way into adulthood, but that’s not normal.

so uh anyway, back to this familiar scene:

because we don’t know the actual story of isaac’s death, it’s hard to say what role yohan played in his death, but i don’t know that i believe he was the one who did it. the entirety of the devil judge is relying on unreliable narration, so it’s difficult to gauge (for now since we’re on ep 7) how this will turn out and what happened, but to me, it really comes across as yohan upset over the insinuation that he could be the one to cause the death of the one person he loved the most. plus, i think it says a lot that he cares/loves elijah, and she was part of isaac. gaon crossed a thine line. yohan essentially welcomed him in, and this is gaon toeing it. we can also look at this is not gaon being an outsider to their family, but now has become part of the family, and so it’s easier for yohan to be ‘abusive,’ if you will, rather than the perspective of gaon still on the sidelines and pushing too far. by this i mean, the accusations made by gaon threatens their formulating family dynamics.

and once again, the only person he ever actually reaches out for is isaac.

and then we have the aftermath of yohan’s nightmare, where he’s still caught in the dream as gaon comes in, and refuses to be touched after, even if gaon’s intention is to see if he’s okay. yohan makes it very clear to gaon not to touch him, and that’s when elijah comes in with a very accusatory ‘what are you two doing?’ in this moment, yohan is not just vulnerable, but he’s emotionally sensitive. i’ve no doubt he’s still dealing with a form of sensory overload from his dream.

and then, i don’t know that this was necessary? was it necessary?

the following set of scenes are the ones where gaon tells him he’s a victim and he hasn’t confronted his own emotions about his abuse. i think yohan realizes gaon is right to some degree, but it is convoluted, and it’s not so simple to face your own traumas. however, he does for a moment after gaon leaves, remember another instance of abuse he couldn’t stop but wishes he could, wishing a parental figure of sorts would’ve come in to save him like his older self is trying to save the kid version if only he could turn back time, if only he had the power to do what he wish someone else had done for him.

and then the kidnapping scene is just. fucked up in and of itself. it actually makes my skin crawl. not because sunah is scary necessarily, but the lack of autonomy yohan has - especially when we find out later more of sunah’s story. to do something like this after what she’s suffered through makes this scene even more disturbing.

you can see the moment yohan hears heels when sunah (not knowing it’s her yet) comes in. literally the minute he knows someone’s headed his way, he checks the fuck out. his whole face goes slack, especially when sunah reveals herself. and when she’s kissing him? blank as fuck, too. it’s the most dead-eyed stare i think we’ve seen from him.

episode six

so, we get this gem from elijah that i’d like to touch on later. it’s more speculation and just me running through ideas more than it is canon fact. but what it does let us know is that yohan doesn’t seek people out. he prefers to be at home and staying there.

after we get the maid story, and we do get yohan touching sunah’s cheek, and in some fucked up twisted way, this is his way of protecting one of the things isaac cherishes the most. the point of the gesture isn’t just intimidation but serves as an act of intent, of protection in the only way yohan knows how. he’s safeguarding isaac. you can tell he doesn’t actually like sunah at all as a kid, but uses that to his advantage. imagine yohan learning violence for ‘good’ things when his father used violence for ‘bad’ things. what a twisted way of looking at it? and the irony at hand.

additionally, the main reason i’ve included so many varying scenes of yohan touching people isn’t to establish that he’s okay with being touched given how many scenes there are of him randomly shaking people’s hand or touching them. it’s all about context and what the intent is for. most often than not, really way more often than not, yohan only reaches out for people when it’s socially acceptable to do so and because it’s manners. and yet, even in some of those cases, there is still intent behind the gesture.

the moments he acts out the most are when he’s not in front of an audience, when he’s more likely to be alone with his thoughts and is exceptionally more vulnerable to his own triggers.

and i think the scene after he’s back at his house from the kidnapping is noteworthy because it doesn’t just feel like he’s shaking off the effects of the drugs he was given. he seems to visibly trying to compose himself of the mental and physical play he just had to deal with.

the next scene is yohan angry with gaon for taking elijah out. which really, he does have every right to be angry, and one thing i didn’t note above during the ‘you killed your brother’ choke out scene before is that when yohan is backed into any kind of corner, he reacts like a caged animal.

because we’ve already established the scenes with his abuse, his father took his anger physically out on yohan. so how else was yohan supposed have developed the tools to express it? it’s easy to hurt the things you love the most; it’s easy to abuse the ones you know, and between gaon and himself, they both have an unhealthy dynamic because gaon is old enough, strong enough to take whatever yohan gives him. gaon is not family and so there’s still that clear divide and a distinction as to why he lays a hand on gaon but not elijah, for example. gaon can still pose a threat. elijah is family. then again, it can also be said that maybe yohan considers gaon family, and gaon betrayed elijah and therefore yohan, and you don’t do that. not with yohan’s understanding of family dynamics.

but with that said, it begs the question why yohan keeps gaon around, and i think some of that has to do with the fact that gaon surprises yohan. he might’ve set his sights on him long before he became an associate judge or maybe he took interest after gaon was chosen for the role (this is still up in the air), but deep down, yohan sees something in gaon despite his snooping, despite his righteousness. it could be the potential; it could be the fact that gaon could be better than yohan if he just allowed himself to loosen the ropes he’s tied himself with when it comes to the court of law and the justice system.

but here’s the thing that idk a lot of people have really picked up on. gaon is one side of the same coin underneath it all. he’s also provoked yohan with physicality when yohan brought up details about soohyun.

to be fair, we can say that yohan evokes a different type of anger in gaon, one that he hasn’t tapped into for years that allows him to open up to that more physical side of himself he learned to put behind him. gaon doesn’t really come across as the physically threatening type, but yohan does push his buttons and vice versa.

but then, of course, we have the big fight scene where gaon goes in on the attack, and that’s when yohan makes his threat not to attack him ever again. it’d be easy to say he says it based on the merit of him not actually attacking soohyun, but seriously speaking, the intent feels much more than that. more along the lines of asking gaon not to provoke him without warning again because next time might be bad. most of their other fights, especially the one above,have been in the midst of conversation. this time, it’s from a place of complete surprise, and you can tell yohan goes on the defensive when his first instinct is to not just throw gaon back but raise his fist to strike.

episode seven

the only physical contact yohan has with anyone is the president, and that’s when he turns on the live video of the two of them, and it’s clearly intended to be a lowkey threat. he keeps pulling the president back into his side to be on the live camera after the dude tried to come after yohan. i do think it’s hilarious that yohan manipulated the situation with a live component just as the president and the rest of the rich people thought they could turn a live court show into manipulating the public.

and then, of course, the jail scene. the part where he makes gaon stay. he also touches gaon’s shoulder later just before they leave.

episode eight

the most prominent scene in this ep is certainly the scene where sunah comes onto yohan, and you can tell she did it to get under his skin in some way. of course, he’s smart and knows she’s up to something, but i think it’s so interesting how he wraps his fists around hers, almost as if to tame her and prevent her from trying to further put her hands on him.

we also know yohan has no issue with using physical force regardless of who it is (obviously, his dialogue in this scene, too) when he feels caged or trapped. his intention is also to retrieve isaac’s necklace, and i like how he uses literally anything to his advantage. meaning, he’ll use physical touch, his mentality, etc to get what he wants or needs, even if it is marginally uncomfortable to some degree.

and i think that also says alot about him is that he’s able to displace what makes him uncomfortable in moments like this to achieve an end goal.

additional thoughts

i know this isn’t really common with a lot of the characters in general, and could be chalked up to a cultural component, but yohan’s definitely not a hugger.

the other thing i wanted to note is yohan’s seemingly adherence to touch unless it’s for good reason in relation to sex. the main reason i bring it up is because i’ve seen it discussed a bit, especially in regard to elijah’s comment about him not staying out overnight since the fire. there are a few plausible scenarios, maybe more, but for the sake of this, we’ll go for these.

yohan has had past relationships/experience or will in future episodes

day flings

he’s never had an interest in anyone before given his upbringing and abuse and therefore never sought out sex

inexperience could be from lack of interest in other people and sex itself

he’s never found anyone to really connect with and trust in such a way and has avoided it for that reason

and i bring this up mainly because i think it could be something to explore in fanon, but also because i’m kind of annoyed with how people have been talking about yohan being a virgin. i’m not quite sure what the joke is, but lack of sexual experience does not mean naive or that he doesn’t have a sense of humor when that’s clearly far from the truth:

i don’t know that people find it unbelievable because of his age, because of characterization of yohan being more dominant, but none of these things negate this being an option. i think it’s perfectly plausible of a situation (from what we know right now), and truthfully, it would make a whole lot of sense. i just don’t get the jokes about it that i’ve been seeing online (twitter) when there isn’t a mutual exclusiveness to any of it whatsoever.

yohan already has a hard time connecting with people, and i can imagine that level of physicality could be difficult. clearly he knows how to use a version of it to get what he wants. i’ve no doubt he’s used his charms in situations where he’s needed to. yohan knows he has that going for him, at the very least. but sexual appeal and jokes doesn’t mean having a body count any more than it could indicate there being one.

lastly, i also want to pull these paragraphs from @b612sunsets​‘s post because i think they do a much better job than i ever could of explaining, short and sweet, a fundamental part of yohan’s characterization, and mainly what i was trying to get at with this long ass post.

“There's two things we already know about Yohan from the last 6 episodes: he hates being touched when he doesn't see it coming and doesn't have control over it because of the abuse he suffered (I assume). To name a few: Soohyun grabbing his elbow to stop him from leaving and get answers about Gaon, the beggar that touched him while he searched for the fireman, Gaon after punching him and Yohan clearly telling him to NEVER do it again. The impression it gave to us is that if there's a next time he might not be able to stop his instinctive reaction of defending himself and using violence back (something worse than choking or pushing Gaon and he doesn't want to do that with him).

“Unless it's a friendly/small/slow touch like in the breakfast scene when Gaon touches his arm when he gets up to offer them some fruits. When he had the nightmare with Isaac, his walls were up high so even if he could see Gaon's touch coming and it was friendly, he decided to stop it because he was too defensive and sensible to accept the gesture (it would be the first time Gaon started physical contact with him too, he wouldn't be ready for that in such a state).

“The second thing is that Yohan hates when people take what is his or mess with what is important to him. Again, to name a few: Sunah with the necklace when she was a maid, the fireman with Isaac's watch (Yohan made them fall from high places, not caring if they died or not), the guy that fabricated the small bombs that hurt Gaon (Yohan would have burnt his face if "K" hadn't stopped him) and Gaon taking Elijah out of the house to Soohyun without previous notice (a cop and someone he doesn't trust).”

yohan has a very, very large sense of self-preservation for himself and for those he cares about. it’s in his intention, actions, facial expressions, movements, the way he interacts with people. i find it fascinating how calculating he can be, but at home, he’s at his most vulnerable and almost socially unaware and awkward.

yohan is a bit of an irony. he understands people from an action-oriented, instinctual level, but he doesn’t necessarily understand their thoughts and emotions in the waves of nuances that people live through on the daily. like, he gets it to an extent and on a practical level, but he himself is a square trying to fit into a circle - he doesn’t always understand it for himself and has to actively work on social cues so as not to come across as the devil child he was once painted to be.

and let it not be unsaid, yohan really will go to the ends of the earth for family, even if it means stepping out of his comfort zone.

and so anyway, i doubt this offered any real insight, but i think this is my way of breaking all of this down for myself. so, tada!!! lmao

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

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Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.  

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.  

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.  

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.  

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.  

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.  

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

 —————————————————

 The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.  

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.  

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.  

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.  

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it.  It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.  

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too.  I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.  

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one. 

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

[kaistarus]

BitterSweet

Pairing: Itadori YuujiXReader

Words: 2.4K

Summary: How Yuuji makes his way into your life with brights smiles and shitty coffees

A/N: just in time for his b-day :3 i’ve loved this boi since before i even started jjk, so i’m glad I got to finally write for him lol

Masterlist

Bitter.

Bitter-with a hint of vanilla-was what you associated with Itadori Yuuji. His beaming smile at your first tutoring session forever connected with the pungent coffee he offered you.

You stared at the cup skeptically, “what is that?”

“Coffee?” Yuuji answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought every college student liked coffee.”

He wasn’t wrong, “but why did you get it?”

“Because you got up so early to help me,” Yuuji’s smile widened as he waved the drink around.

“Well I’m scheduled, so I would have been here whether you signed up or not.” You pointed out, glancing at the clock nearby that read too-early-in-the-morning and gestured for him to hand it over. He looked so pleased with himself that you were sure if he was a dog his tail would be going wild.

That was the only explanation you had for why you didn’t tell Yuuji it was the worst thing you’d ever tasted, hiding your full body cringes when he looked up after digging through his backpack.

“So, what are we doing first?” He asked excitedly, holding a creased notebook with uneven pages and a packed folder with papers hanging out. You stared at it wearily, but unfortunately he was far from the worst case scenario-a folder was huge compared to some you’d run into.

“I guess just give me your last exam and we’ll work from there.”

Yuuji chuckled awkwardly, fingering through the mass of papers in his folder before producing a packet marked heavily in red ink. You sighed at the single digit number at the top with a frowny face beside it.

Looked like you and Itadori Yuuji were going to be spending a lot of time together.

**************

“You’re overthinking it, Yuuji.” You rubbed your temples having spent the last thirty minutes working through the same problem with no success. You were beginning to lose all hope.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “I’m supposed to figure out the probability of what movies were action movies, but how was she able to watch eighty movies in one week?”

“That isn’t the question.”

“It isn’t possible though!” He jabbed his eraser at the paper. “Did she sleep? I bet this Melissa chick fast forwarded or skipped.”

“Yuuji…”

“Can you go a full week without sleep? If she slept through some, are they part of the eighty?” He gripped his pink locks in frustration. “How do I know which she slept through? Is there a timeline?”

You deadpanned as he scanned the page stressfully like it was holding him hostage with its contents, “I don’t think they provide a timeline, no.”

“Sorry,” Yuuji sighed defeated, slouching forward to rest his chin on the library’s table. “I swear I’m trying.”

You leaned against your palm, eyes softening as he glared at the homework sheet under him. “Don’t apologize,” you slid the sheet from under his chin. “You’re my favorite session after all.”

“I am?” He perked up.

You rolled your eyes while circling a segment of the first word problem. “You can just make up wild backstories for each person. Melissa doesn’t have to sleep and can absorb movies abnormally fast or something.”

Yuuji blinked several times as his lips curved into a smile. “What about the guy who owns over four-hundred chickens?”

You forced down your own smile and shrugged, “he’s just lonely.”

Yuuji laughed, continuing down the page while spewing out ridiculous stories for the unfortunate names in the Stats problems. Your heart beat firm in your chest at how excited he was now while scanning the page. The ticking clock above you felt like a curse the closer it got to the end of your session.

You guessed you didn’t hate the mornings anymore if they were with him.

*************************

You tapped your pencil’s eraser impatiently on the booth's table. The smell of brewing dark roast drifting through the small cafe accompanied by the combined noises of workers preparing early risers beverages kept you from dozing off where you sat. Finally, after what felt like forever-probably a few minutes-Yuuji slid into the booth across from you and placed a mug in front of you.

“I can buy my own coffee, Yuuji.” You took the mug wearily, eyes darting around the near empty cafe you’d decided to meet at this week to ‘spice things up’ in his words. “People might get the wrong idea.”

“I didn’t think you cared about that stuff,” he said with a teasing smile that you returned with a half-assed glare. “It’s my payment for making me smarter.”

“I already get paid,” you pouted at the drink in your hands. “And you’re already smart. I just help you understand it.”

He didn’t respond and you glanced over, confused at his slack jaw expression.

“Oh,” he started shuffling through his backpack and you swore his cheeks were dusted pink. “Yeah, that-uh-makes sense.”

“Right,” you raised a brow at the weird response, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. There wasn’t enough time in the world to question every random thing Yuuji did.

 “What’s on the schedule today boss?”

“Your exam’s tomorrow,” you said, pulling some sheets from your own backpack. “I printed your practice exam since I’m guessing you didn’t know it existed.”

“Hey,” he pouted. “I didn’t, but still...”

You snorted, sliding the packet across the table. “Just do the ones you can and I’ll help with the rest.”

He saluted you, unnecessarily scribbling his name across the top before getting to work-his tongue poking out adorably while his eyes scanned the words intensely. You felt your chest filling with an unfamiliar warmth as you watched him work and your hand drifted subconsciously toward the mug next to you.

You coughed, unprepared for the harsh flavor, only wiping the grimace off your face when Yuuji peered upward with an innocent head tilt. Your heart squeezed when you locked eyes too long with his dark hazel before a soft smile filtered onto his lips. You quickly dropped your stare, hoping that if you avoided looking at him you could avoid the weird feeling emotion rolling in your stomach as well.

***************

You slouched up the library's stairwell, pushing through the second story’s double doors that led to your usual reserved tutoring table. The school really needed to push back your start time-seven in the morning was way too early for any college student to effectively teach or learn anything. The only person ridiculous enough to continuously sign-up for this time was-

You gripped your backpack straps as strong arms wrapped themselves around your midsection, picking you off the ground without warning. An unwanted frightened squeal left your lips before you recognized Yuuji’s laughter behind you and you relaxed as much as you could with him spinning you around in a library half-full of people.

“What are you doing?” You glared at him over your shoulder, cheeks warm from embarrassment at the scene he was causing.

“I got a C!”

You blinked several times before prying his arms off you, “are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he slid his backpack off, digging around before offering you a crumpled up packet with a seventy-four and a smiley written on top. You stared at it with a growing smile and without thinking too much you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yuuji, this is amazing!”

“I know,” he laughed, encircling your waist awkwardly given your backpack. “My roommate didn’t believe me. She’s doing my dishes for a week thanks to you.”

You weren’t sure you felt good about that after seeing his level of disorganization, but you smiled back anyway. “I’m so proud of you.”

Which was true. Your chest was swollen near bursting with pride for him and he’d only gotten a C. You told yourself it was because of your own skills as a tutor, but had you ever been this excited for someone?

“Hey, we should celebrate.” Yuuji stuffed the exam back into his bag. “Do you wanna-”

“Can you guys quiet down?” a guy with four crushed energy drink cans and food wrappers laying haphazardly around him asked. “I can’t focus and I just wanna go home, dude.”

“Sorry,” you whispered as warmth crept up your neck, turning Yuuji toward the exit as he stared at the guy in amazement. “We’ll leave you alone.”

“How long have you been here?” Yuuji asked in awe.

“Twenty-five… No, maybe eight...” The guy narrowed his eyes at the clock. “Time’s an illusion man.”

Yuuji nodded, impressed, shooting the guy a thumbs up as you pushed him toward the doors. Once in the stairwell you shot him a bright smile, “celebrate?”

He nodded excitedly. “We can get coffee!”

You turned away quickly to cover your panic, “or maybe anything else?”

Yuuji hummed, “I guess change can be nice.”

Your heart did a bizarre skip at the soft look in his eyes and you hurriedly started down the stairs without him. You spent more time that morning brushing off each reaction to Yuuji than enjoying your time with him. When everything was done you started thinking that you were having a hard time kidding even yourself.

**************

You and Yuuji had been working in silence for the past twenty minutes-the longest he’d gone without needing help since he’d signed up for tutoring. It was a great sign that for some reason had your stomach knotting uncomfortably.

“You’re doing really good,” you complimented, admiring the delighted smile he gave you.

“Yeah, I used what you said about note taking for lecture.” He showed you his notes that were beyond chaotic, but apparently worked for him. “I actually understand what’s going on now.”

“That’s great,” you looked down at your Chem problems and attempted to keep your tone light. “You probably won’t need tutoring soon if this-.”

You heard his pencil snap and looked up to find him staring holes through his paper. He seemed tense as he pressed his pencil roughly against the notebook and you wondered what word problem would’ve caused that reaction.

“Are you stuck? Do you want me to-”

“I like you.”

You paused mid-reach for his textbook and locked eyes with him, his cheeks flaring up a dark pink. You opened and closed your mouth several times before mumbling out a weak, “what?”

“And I don’t want you to tutor me,” he looked frustrated with himself when you tilted your head at his contradictory statements. “I mean, I do, but not always. I just want to spend time with you and not talk about Stats because I hate Stats, but I really like you.”

That weird feeling was back. The one where your chest felt tight and your heart was beating too quickly and your stomach sort of felt like you might throw up, but all in a good way and that made everything weirder. It was a lot and not enough and that made you nervous.

“I don’t know, Yuuji.” You lied.

“That’s okay,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No pressure. I just sprung it on you, so I don’t blame you.”

You nodded, watching him dig around his bag for a second pencil while grumbling about organizing that you knew would never happen. Your heart ached in your chest as you watched him continue working casually, playing off whatever happened.

...but you weren’t sure you could do the same.

************

This was a terrible idea.

You swung your legs, perched atop a railing across from a building that Yuuji was currently taking his midterm. It didn’t matter how you got that information-accessing his schedule with the few perks your job gave you-all that mattered was you had five minutes to figure out what you were going to say to him.

This wouldn’t even be an issue if he hadn’t skipped tutoring a few days ago. You weren’t sure if he thought you hated him or if he was regretting confessing to you, but either way you needed to talk to him before your window closed.

If only any of the speeches you could think of weren’t absolutely humiliating. Three minutes now? That should be enough time for you to at least get the beginning-

“(Y/N)?”

Your head whipped to the side so fast you're sure you got whiplash, dumbfounded that Yuuji was standing there with his head cocked to the side.

“You finished early,” you said, face warming at his growing confusion. “Not that I would know that.”

“Right.” He gave you a once-over. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Uh,” your nose crinkled while searching for a reasonable excuse. You sighed when you came up empty. “You skipped tutoring.”

Yuuji’s eyebrow rose and he waved his hands around. “I accidentally slept through it.” Then you noticed the gears started turning in his head and you began shrinking in on yourself. “You came here because I skipped a lesson?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were going to keep skipping,” you avoided his eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “It’s a bad habit.”

He knew you were full of shit. You could tell by the way he was forcing down a smirk when you stared at your feet. This would obviously be going so much better if you had those three minutes to prepare.

“Thanks for checking in,” he smiled, fishing around in his pocket and holding out his phone. “We should probably exchange numbers so you don’t have to go through all this trouble next time.”

You eyed the phone and rolled your eyes, “makes sense.”

He looked overjoyed when you took it from his hands. Your heart felt like it would pound out of your rib cage while he watched you create your contact, your fingers shaking slightly under the pressure.

“As an apology, I should probably take you to get food too.”

You paused, looking up at his hopeful gaze before nodding shyly. “That seems fair.”

The smile that overtook his face was probably the largest you’d ever seen and your heart nearly exploded when he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the building. You probably should have seen this coming the moment you began looking forward to your morning shifts with him. As he dragged you down the street you found yourself not caring where he took you-you knew you’d be happy as long as he was with you.

[docholligay]

On that “Trying to be a better human” thing, a few years ago I turned my hand to trying to adopt a more “Tracerly” view of life, if you will. That is, not naivete, but an appreciation for life and cheer borne out of the ability to see beauty and happiness i the small things. To see the stars even when its dark. 

And it was wildly successful! I am genuinely a much happier person in the day to day for the new ways I’ve made myself talk about things, the way I’ve forced myself to notice the small lovlinesses in the world, and the way I’ve decided to make openly expressing joy a part of my life. 

So, having, after a few years, basically considered myself a success on that front, I decided to tackle another, which is my garbage shitbag temper and my horrible habit of assuming malice. Call it now trying to adopt a more “Mercyful” (lol) point of view about people*. When I am faced with someone being deliberately obtuse about something, or refusing to accept responsibility, I’m trying a lot harder to consider the fullness of why they’re acting that way. 

THIS IS MUCH MUCH HARDER THAN TRYING TO SEE BEAUTY IN THE WORLD. 

As a person, I am intensely action-based. I do not care what is in your heart, I care what you DO. And I’m trying to find a place to hold that, because I do not find that to be a problem or a negative, but also give people...we’ll call it grace. It’s a very tough walk for me, because I, in general, think people need to be stirred from complacency. I am, as my rabbi would say, a prophet and not a priest. Saying things gently is not something that will ever come naturally to me, and in some ways, I don’t WANT to change it. I don’t like giving people room to weasel. Accept that you won’t pick up this stone because you don’t want to put in the work, or you don’t think it’s important, but don’t make excuses at me. There are a dozen things AT LEAST I should be doing but I don’t, simply because I don’t want to give something up or I’m too lazy or whatever, but I accept that. I have a high level of introspection and personal honesty, and I am quite critical of people who don’t. I don’t expect people to always to the right thing, but I want their HONESTY. 

SO I’m always trying to figure out where the line is between kindness and excuses. When am I showing mercy and when am I allowing someone to dwell in inaction? I don’t actually think that letting someone be a shitty version of themselves is kindness! I think that’s giving up on someone’s potential. This is further complicated, for me, by the fact that anyone who needs to hear a simple, “Get your fucking shit together” is usually very good at excusing their behavior, while someone who might need more grace is less likely to accept it. 

Some things, in this vein of being kinder, are easy for me. I’m very cautious around lashon hara, so you’re pretty unlikely to see me castigate an individual (who’s not like, a politician) publicly.  I try very hard to decry BEHAVIOR and not PEOPLE. No one is inherently anything. Good or bad. A lot of Christian-based Western narrative has this quasi-Calvinist idea that you are born with skills like a crown laid upon your head, and that’s all you’ll ever be, and I don’t believe in that. It’s like my rabbi said at my bat mitzvah: At the age of forty, Rabbi Akiva knew no Torah. You can always be someone different. 

But then we get into like...me getting a bad faith response from someone, and I have that classic ADHD Emotional Immediacy, and I get SO angry SO fast**. I just want to fire back and it does not help that “I give as good as I get” was a thing for me in high school and I have struggled over the years to let it the fuck go because defining your adult self by your school experience is a level of pathetic I’m not interested in. I’ve worked hard this year on stepping back and saying, “I don’t get to respond for a day” because I have to let the storm pass. Sometimes I come back and can offer a reasoned reply, sometimes I realize I’m being baited, or that this person was never going to engage in faith, and I drop it. Sometimes I realize I was being unnecessarily inflammatory. But JESUS HERSCHEL CHRIST IS IT HARD FOR ME TO TAKE THAT STEP BACK. It goes against everything I FEEL, and sometimes I have to tell myself my feelings do not get to determine my behavior, and I HATE that. 

I really don’t have a point to this! Except to say, sometimes I think it comes across that I just effortlessly hold myself to self-improvement, and that makes people think, “Well I can’t do that I’m not that kind of person.” You can! You absolutely can! It took me three years to consider my little happiness project reached, and I feel I will very likely be working in earnest at this chesed project for more than that. But I’ll keep working. I taught myself to have a wide palate and to run and to tidy things and it’s okay to struggle but not to surrender. 

You don’t have to pick everything up, but you do have to pick some things up. Be the HMS Carpathia of life! Know that you cannot possibly succeed but work like hell! 

*Doc will you next try to adopt a more Pharahful set of habits. THat would involve me being well organized and honestly, I’m not willing to put in the work to be that sort of person. I admire them! But this would be a sort of, “Well I’ve accomplished every other personal goal so I might as well” sort of thing. 

**I am also overwhelmed by joy! It’s not all negative! I can be a fucking delight when I am happy! 

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Welp, show us the Andercard for the brutally honest opinion thing. You knew it was coming.

They’re delightful! That final fight is one of the best sequences in the entire series. Foils do it better.

“Beloved nemesis” bro that’s gay

A particular thing I love in the series is the subtle but consistent comparison drawn between Anderson and Van Helsing. Alucard has the Van Helsing flashback at different points between the manga and OVA but it’s always after a confrontation with Anderson. I don’t have the relevant screenshot/manga panel on hand but during The Fight, Alucard again brings up Van Helsing. He says something along the lines of “Like that man 100 years ago” etc.

There’s also plenty of obvious comparisons between Anderson and Alucard himself. Like visually, how they mirror each other in panels; thematically, the whole attack dog aspect, and their monstrosity; also just how they behave lol, they both do the playing dead thing?? So unnecessarily dramatic.

And I just adore the “YOU are the only person who’s worthy of killing me” angle.

These two are just really weird about death. It’s like… get a room. You’re making it all sound ridiculously kinky and/or romantic.

“I would’ve let you claim my heart” sir?? are you okay???

I think about Alucard just breaking down crying over Anderson’s ashes— after having killed him himself— a lot. It’s such an interesting scene. Especially like… they’re in public so many of Iscariot are there, what are they thinking? It must be such a wild, blue screen moment for them.

Personally I don’t like what I see in a lot of current fanon interpretations of them because it tends to lean too fluffy?? Or at least without their canon dynamic. (I say current because my old lj mutuals knew what was up 😂) Death, violence, and wanting to die are intrinsic to their relationship. As are wildly different ideologies that circle around to being two sides of the same coin. “You and I are the same” etc. It’s all about that tragedy baybey.

If you think Alucard tops, you are wrong.

Send me a ship and I’ll give you my (brutally) honest opinion on it!