#when my style was never that in the first place.

[chithereader]

stir crazy / aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

word count: 2k

genre: fluff/angst if you squint

cw: omniscient pov, hotch being vulnerable

“My agent has been asking me for the manuscript but it’s just not ready yet. And I’ve still got my day job that keeps me busy enough,” It’s a quiet day at the BAU. No urgent cases or serial killers, just a few feet worth of case files. Leaning against Reid’s desk, Rossi, Emily and boy genius himself have been talking about the next big David Rossi book.

“Oh c’mon, I see you typing away in your office and writing in that little notebook of yours– which I know is for your drafts by the way,” Emily teases. Rossi shrugs it off with a soft smirk and looks to the boy genius who has been uncharacteristically quiet for the past few minutes. 

“Nothing to say, kid?” lowering his head to catch the young man’s preoccupied eye but Reid’s sight is incredibly glued far away. 

It took Reid a good 6 seconds to realize he’s kid before he shakes himself out of the trance and answers, “Well, considering the hours he’s spent typing on his personal laptop as opposed to the office computer and adding the minutes he allots on the jet to jot down on his writing notebook– assuming he’s writing in a similar format to his previous books–  I’d say….you’re actually well into the third chapter of your manuscript.” 

Still with his eyes trained on whatever caught his attention in the first place, Reid unsurprisingly impresses Rossi again because he is indeed a little over halfway into the third chapter.

But Rossi and Emily instantly become interested with what or who Reid has been staring at for the past minute, noticing that even when going off on his boy-genius tangent, his stare had been focused somewhere else. 

Reid jumps in his seat a little as the two level their heads on either side of his to see where his gaze has been glued. He had been so focused on figuring out the worrying sight and what caused it that he hadn’t noticed how much of him wasn’t aware of his surroundings. 

To their surprise, they’re met with a seemingly everyday sight: Hotch, in the pantry, stirring his coffee. And by everyday, they mean that to any passerby they’d think this is incredibly normal. Nothing at all out of place or out of character. 

But to the trained eye- to profilers who also spend almost everyday with the man, they slowly see what Reid must have seen. 

Hotch is stirring his coffee. But he doesn’t even put sugar or creamer in his always black coffee. 

He’s doing it absentmindedly. Literally looking lost in his head. Hotch is a busy guy, a busy boss guy, with millions of things to think about, but Hotch is never absent. His movements are always purposeful, precise, and calculated. Never lacking and never excess. 

Hotch has his head tilted down and to the side. Like a perpetually confused puppy. One of the things that make Hotch Hotch is his posture. His rigid, firm posture. Back always so straight, hands always clenched, jaw always tight– Hotch is never just there, his presence alone is commanding. 

And worst of all, Hotch’s hair is neat. Too neat. Okay, Hotch’s habit of being neat -with his pressed suits and shined shoes no matter where he is- naturally extends to how he styles his hair. Over the years, he’s learned to gel it out of his face for both convenience and aesthetic. But this neat- this neat looks a little too flat and ruffled at the same time. Like he’s run his hand through it a hundred times in a matter of minutes. 

So Rossi and Emily finally understand. The two share a look of understanding, while Reid looks up at them with curiosity and a little worry. 

“Do you guys think he’s.. okay?” Reid asks quietly with a little grimace. He looks between the two, trying to figure out what they’re thinking, “I mean it has been exactly 12 minutes that he’s been stirring nothing into his coffee.” 

“12?!” If Emily had any sort of drink in her mouth, she surely would have spat it out all over Reid–for which he is silently thankful she doesn’t because as much as he adores Emily, he’s just not mentally prepared for… well that. 

Finally, there’s movement in the pantry. Unaware of his colleagues now watching his every move, Hotch wakes up from the trance he was trapped in and quickly retreats back into his office with his now-cold cup of coffee. 

Knowing that Rossi’s the only one to easily get through to Hotch, Emily and Reid turn to look at him, wordlessly nudging him to check on the poor man who spent 12 minutes stirring his painfully plain black coffee. 

Raising both his hands as he stands from where he was leaning, Rossi surrenders “Alright alright! But I am not telling you rascals what he tells me in confidence.” pointing at the doe-eyed pair. 

Rossi lets the possibilities run through his head as he walks up the stairs to Aaron’s office. Maybe Jack’s having trouble with that one kid again– what’s his name? Or maybe Jack’s having trouble with Mothers’ Day coming up. That’s never been easy. But the stirring and staring into space and the hair? What could possibly– Knock knock. 

Rossi doesn’t even wait to hear Aaron’s voice. He pushes the door open to be greeted with the sight of Aaron finally looking a little more him: writing on his desk knee-deep in case files. 

Aaron looks up for a second and continues writing reports, “What can I help you with, Dave?” Putting extra pressure on penning that last period before closing the case file and grabbing another to open. 

Dave stays quiet for a bit and takes in the sight. Looks fine to me. But his silence halts Aaron’s writing and he looks up to Dave who’s just studying him by the door. 

“You know you can sit right?” Aaron stoically jokes. 

And a joke?! Dave finally cracks and sits down to say, “Boy genius just watched you stir your coffee for 12 minutes which we all know is black. Your hair’s messy and too fixed at the same time, you were standing in the pantry just minutes ago glaring into nothing. And you were slouching with your head tilted to the side.” 

“Honestly whatever it is, it’s none of my business but you just scared two members of your team and I think this may be the seed of doubt in your leadership skills because you’re finally not a robot.” It was obvious that Dave was trying to play it cool, masking concern with humor and sarcasm. 

But Aaron is a painfully private guy. He’d think it over for days before he decides to open up or seek advice from a close friend. Only he has thought about it for days and not saying anything’s been driving him insane he genuinely feels like he could implode at any second. 

Aaron takes one big breath and through clenched teeth he grumbles out, “It’s a she.” Finally staring Dave straight in the eyes, he clarifies, “the it in whatever it is is a she.” 

Realization and more worry hits Dave at the same time which Aaron clearly sees on his face. But Rossi quickly recovers and gives Aaron a soft, comforting smile, “Well what’s so bad about your she that’s got you so shaken up?” 

In Dave’s head, he’s already preparing responses for the worst: 

She doesn’t approve of my job. Well she can suck it. This is who you are. 

Jack doesn’t like her. Aaron, the one thing I like about kids is that they give it to you straight. I think you should take that as a sign

She’s not comfortable with the age gap. She’s way older. She’s way younger. I’m scarred in more ways than one. I’m not sure I still know how to– 

Aaron could see the increasing concern in Dave’s face, “I just–” he started. 

Dave’s thoughts were cut short by Aaron’s voice, thankfully because his mind was starting to reach the point of no return. Anticipating Aaron’s explanation, he leaned forward in his seat trying to read Aaron’s expression. 

“A few months ago, I’d stay here. After a case, when I know my son’s fast asleep and Jessica’s with him- I’d stay here.” Dave kept quiet, intently listening and trying to piece together where this could possibly go. 

“I would choose to stay here and finish reports, make a dent in the never-ending pile of case files because when I’m focused on helping others, I don’t have time to think of how alone I am.”

Before Dave could try and quell this ‘alone’ sentiment, Aaron quickly follows it up “I love my son. And he’s always been more than enough. And I have the team but… you guys have people to come home to. Arms to fall into at the end of a grueling day.” 

“For the longest time, since Haley.. I haven’t allowed myself to feel. To want. And if I’ve just been honest then it’d be known, I want to be loved. All that I carry, I drop all of it at the door and then there’s just this exhaustion that hits me. And all I want is for someone to hold me.” 

Dave takes all of this in, feeling an immense amount of love and sadness for his friend who deserves nothing but happiness but hasn’t for the longest time allowed himself the one thing that can give him that. 

“I know you think that getting into a relationship makes you a bad father, splitting the only time you have left with someone else instead of your son. But the truth is Aaron, Jack’s growing up. He has his sleepovers, camps, and football now. Soon he’ll leave for parties and college, and as much as he adores you he’ll have his own family.”

“I know. And then I’ll be alone.” Aaron’s voice starts to sound rough. Like this fact’s caught in his throat and he can’t speak. Dave studies Aaron and considers all the things he knows are holding Aaron back.

“So give it a shot.” Dave insists. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Just set a date, and show up.” 

Aaron looks at Dave pointedly, “You make it sound easy–” “You make it sound hard.” 

Aaron appears to recover. He smoothes a hand over his tie and straightens his back yet again. In an instant, he’s back to looking stoic and stern with brows furrowed and eyes glaring.

He’s not used to being vulnerable, even in the privacy of his own office. Feeling like an open book for others to read makes goosebumps trail up his spine- in a bad way. Dave quickly reads this and decides to lighten the mood. 

“So…. when will we meet her?” Dave asks smugly. 

“Funny.”

“I understand.. your concerns. But I don’t think you’d be so worried about it if you weren’t already serious about her. So, what’s really going on with her?” 

Aaron thought he could get away without revealing much about her. He’s uncomfortable enough talking about himself, and all the more protective he is when it comes to you. Especially as someone who wants to keep your little world away from the harshness of everything else–

He sighs. He knows Dave is relentless and as payback for his concern, he decides he has to give Dave something. 

“I don’t know. Really. I don’t– I told you one day I’m tiring myself out so I don’t have to come home and process my empty bed as empty..”

“Now I’m tiptoeing in my own kitchen so as to not disturb this crazy singing person washing my dishes while my kid wipes the plates. And I watch them for god knows how long, instead of going up to my office to attend to case files whose deadlines are a bit too close for my liking.” 

“I don’t know,” Aaron shrugs. A soft, weak smile grows on his lips at the memory of you.

Dave stands from the seat, a knowing smirk on his face, “Hmm.” Teasing Aaron as he walks to the door and grabs the handle. 

“I think you’ll be just fine, Aaron. Just fine.” 

[thewadapan]

I do recommend people take this test, it's a riot.

But like, it's not a study. (The site linked above appears to be yet another waste-of-space Amazon-affiliate-advertising content aggregator grift, which talks a big game about Creative Commons but why would I want to repurpose any of this material in the first place? The only original content I can see here is obviously-AI-generated thumbnails for the art, which look like dogshit. The original results post for the test is a much better read.)

The way the test is designed is like this. Images were roughly balanced by art style: so of all the digital-art pieces, 50% are human, 50% are AI, same for the renaissance paintings, same for the impressionist stuff, same for abstract. Except, obviously, the human pictures have been selected to exhibit stereotypical signs of AI-ness: overdetail, odd scaling, incorrect proportions, random meaningless shapes, illegible text. Meanwhile, the AI stuff has been filtered to avoid anything that had obvious tells to a layman's eye, like fucked-up hands or whatever.

So it's basically a game of like... whatever your gut instinct tells you the image's provenance is, it's probably the opposite.

When you filter out the human works, and look at the provenance of solely the AI pictures (as given in the results post), that's when you find out what this test is actually indicative of. The pieces were mostly generated by two ACX readers, Ryan Wise and Jack Galler. I remember spotting every single one of Ryan's images, without fail. Meanwhile, nearly all of Jack's images fooled me. (There were also a handful of other AI images taken from social media or whatever, which again, I easily pegged as being AI-generated, they're pure slop.)

I'll actually go so far as to say that it's pretty embarrassing for Ryan that he thought these images were good enough to share. Wall-eyed figures whose clothes blend into flesh, abstract shapes with eerily-lifelike inhuman faces leering out of the picture, inconsistent details... but most of all, a sense that the prompts themselves were bereft of any creativity. "robot skeleton abstract painting", "woman in field impressionist". Come on man. AI is the ultimate tool for ideas-guys, and yet here you are without a single idea to show for yourself.

Ryan was apparently using StableDiffusion. Meanwhile, here's Jack talking about his process:

I just used Midjourney. Most of the prompts were just describing some generic impressionist scene. I've never had an art history class (but I am an art history fan!), so I worked with ChatGPT to identify key trends of say, Impressionism, so I could prompt better. I generated a lot of each one ,and just used my subjective opinion to decide what looked good and what didn't. The Paris Scene (which fooled the most people) had this prompt: "Impressionist painting of a bustling Parisian street under the soft rain, 1881" The Riverside Cafe (which people liked the most) had this prompt: "Impressionist painting of a countryside café terrace during twilight, 1883"

It seems that specifying a year in particular was what helped Midjourney hone in on these historical styles in a convincing way. Jack's method obviously involved a huge amount of cherry-picking—which I would argue is another huge element of human intervention, if only in a sense of curation. A version of this test I would like to see would be one where both different AI models and a range of talented artists were given the same prompt. What if it was one-shot, with just a single generation, no cherry-picking? Except of course an AI can generate thousands of paintings in the time it takes a human to do just one, so what would that even prove?

This test reminded me of a piece I saw on deviantART a long time ago, of this ruined fantasy castle in a cave. Pretty cool! But then you look at it a bit longer, and it's like- hang on, why is that human skull the size of the collapsed turret lying next to it? It's exactly the kind of nonsensical composition you see in AI, except no, it's just a digital artist using photoshop and they fucked it. I kind of feel like this is where the state-of-the-art of AI image generation is right now; about as good as a guy bashing together stock assets in photoshop, which is to say maybe good enough to get an idea across, even if it can't actually stand on its own two legs as a piece of art.

So yeah, from a cynical perspective, I'd find it hard to argue that Jack's generations aren't "good enough" for many applications. I don't know that I'd hang any of them in a gallery. The longer I look at them, the less I like them. But they've got the right vibes.

So a more accurate headline for that BOING BOING article might be, "AI art haters unknowingly prefer AI-generated works by Jack Galler, according to test".

If there's one thing I'll be taking away from this post, that's helped me better understand my own feelings on AI art, it's this analogy from digital artist Ilzo, quoted in the results analysis:

Imagine if everyone got the ability to create mostly nutritional adequate meals for like five cents, but they all were mediocre rehydrated powder with way too much sucralose or artificial grape flavor or such. And your friends start inviting you over to dinner parties way more often because it's so easy to deal with food now, but practically every time, they serve you sucralose protein shake. (Maybe they do so because they were used to almost never eating food? This isn't a perfect analogy.) Furthermore, imagine people calling this the future of food and saying chefs are obsolete. You'd probably be like "wow, I'm happy that you have easy access to food you enjoy, and it is convenient for me to use sometimes, but this is kind of driving me crazy".

Last month, over 11,000 people took Astral Codex Ten's survey to see if they could they tell the difference between 50 human-made art and AI-generated images. The results were humbling for humans, especially ones who professed a loathing for AI art.

Most participants stumbled through the test, scoring just 60% — barely better than flipping a coin. What tripped them up? Our preconceptions about art styles, it turns out, are deeply ingrained. When people saw classic Impressionist paintings, they confidently declared them human-made (and were often wrong). When they encountered digital art, they quickly labeled it as AI (and were frequently mistaken).

Perhaps the most ironic finding was about people who claimed to despise AI art. When these AI critics picked their favorite pieces without knowing their origin, they consistently chose AI-generated works. Even among those who rated their hatred of AI art at maximum levels, their top two favorite pieces were created by machines.

[madeby-meru]

I would like to know when we are getting that alleged contest style "fix" or "update" or "revamp" or whatever it is. Cause right now with even MORE packs with MORE fantasy stuff (and even more that is to come) the gap between p2p and f2p/low spend players is even bigger and more noticeable. I'm finding this quite unfair to be honest and it shows very little care for a big chunk of the player base. Not to mention that this shouldn't be an issue in the first place? Why was this not considered when making it? I can't believe that not a single person thought of this when it was the *first* issue that came to mind to so many people when the game was released.

And mind you this is not jealousy, I could not care less about dressup battles cause it has never been my jam. But for many players they really do enjoy it and have fun with it, trying to come up with fun and interesting and creative outfits for the themes. And its very very discouraging seeing that you simply cannot even *attempt* to compete in a game that you enjoy because you dont have a spare 100 euros to drop on it (that or an extensive web of paid player friends that share stuff)

And yeah you can still get ap and gems from voting.... which is time consuming, obnoxious, not entertaining in the slightest and just keeps reinforcing the theme we have been seeing in the contest.

It's really annoying how evident the lack of communication (proper communication, actually involved with the player base, keeping people up to date and showing that they are genuinely listening) from the company is.

[yridenergyridenergy]

Live report - Tour24 Who Is This Hell For? 2024/11/23 at Sendai PIT

Setlist

CONCEIVED SORROW

DOZING GREEN

IIID Empire

Phenomenon

Keigaku no yoku

Magayasou

Tsumi to batsu

DIABOLOS

VINUSHKA

Soshaku

Ochita koto no aru sora

The Inferno

-encore-

The Devil In Me

Cause of fickleness

Uroko

Eddie

Wow, tonight was way more energetic and intense than in Sapporo, which makes me feel sad because Dir en grey don't tour in Sapporo every year, and it was just a matter of using one setlist versus the other.

And well, the highlight of the night was definitely that blunder Shinya did in Soshaku hahah!

First, the SE was the same. Shinya walked on stage wearing black pants rather than white like yesterday. I found that it didn't suit his grandeur that much. Die came next with the same thights but the tunic/vest he wore was white, I think with some smokey design? I was in shimote tonight, so I didn't see much of him. Overall, the members did not change places even half as much as they did in Sapporo, which is odd considering that the energy was much higher today.

Toshiya arrived and BAM, he has a beautiful red satin dress cut from a bit above the belt/hip all the way down, exposing his left leg. Sometimes, when he raised his bass, we could see his belly a bit! The top portion of the dress was like a somewhat ample dress shirt, with long sleeves and buttoned up, and Toshiya wore a black tie with golden ornaments, some dingle at the bottlm of the tie. I felt that it was a detail that tied in subtly with Kaoru's outfit, which was the Versailles/Innocent Rouge costume! It looks amazing! Nobody had mentioned that he was loyal to the style all the way to the toes: he wore shorts with black thights underneath, and I didn't see his shoes much but they seemed to match that old French royal fashion. He had an elaborate bowtie or whatever, hair tied and sleeked back except for one strand on his right. He looked downright fabulous. He remained entirely stoic and without a drop of sweat yet again tonight! Kaoru had some zigzag makeup lines on his left temple at least.

Kyo then arrived at the very end of the SE and,.as I thought I'd remembered, he walked slowly, smugly with his hands in his pockets, dressed all in sleek black. His chin was even a bit up, like he was indifferent to our cheers or that it was the very least he expected. Like damn, he and the other members know exactly what kind of effect they have on us!

Conceived Sorrow started and already, it was 100% felt, emotional. Everybody raises their hand when the line about not being able to reach comes up. Kyo ends the song with the loud a capella to seal the deal.

We didn't really do anything or make any noise after that ending, which Dir en grey seems to have prepared for because the intro to Dozing Green started soon after. Already, it was clear that Kyo was engaging us more into the show from early on, and I think he even had us sing one part in this song already.

The IIID Empire was then played, which I had kind of forgotten that it was in this tour! And man, these two shows have checked a few things off my bucketlist: I saw Toshiya throw his mic stand meters in the air, with my own eyes! Every single soul in the venue was looking forward to it, so it would be a real downer if he didn't do that one time. The crowd participated a lot in the lines, fist-pumping, etc.

And then, I really did see Phenomenon live! I feel like it must have happened in one of the early tours I attended, but I'm not sure that Kyo had been doing those hip sways with his arms up back then. If he did, then I certainly wasn't in the second row with a perfect spot on the side to watch it!

Phenomenon starts with Toshiya crouching, before any sound is even made, which is really like... intimidating hahah? He stayed in a low posture like that for a very long time.

Keigaku no yoku - How could I have forgotten last time that Kyo kicks at his crate right before the song starts? I've never seen him do it. The crate is taped to the stage, but his kick is strong enough that the crate moves forward a little. And it was an odd action today especially because I think we hadn't really cheered after Phenomenon's: "kore ijo" kind of grated by Kyo, so the kick almost gives the impression of being frustrated by our silence. Anyway, Kyo again changed most of the lyrics of Keigaku no yoku, and once it seemed like he was making a mistake and sang the second line of a verse before the first, but he ad-libbed the second portion, so let's assume it was intentional hah. I don't really remember what he said. At the end though, I want to correct that he sings about "you" shouting: "Hurry up and die!", not himself like I'd written in my 11/21 report.

Magayasou was as always Shinya's spotlight, but Kyo was definitely more invested in the song today compared to the Sapporo show. The backdrop video had a lot of colourful flowers which turned into... Mush? Something rotten? I,m trying to remember what kind of thing they transformed into by the end of the song.

I don't remember if there was as much of a break between the two songs as last time, but Tsumi to batsu came next and again, it feels like Kyo sang more diversely this time around. His growls are awesome no matter what though. He gets on his crate and crouches almost for the entire song. I think there might be a lyrics memo sheet taped there just for that song?

I think it was in Tsumi to Batsu that Toshiya literally dropped to his knees, out of nowhere? And/or there was another song where he went on one knee, then rotated to the side and stretched one leg while his bass touched the floor. Again, quite "intimidating" hah.

By the way, twice throughout the show, I can't remember which songs specifically, but Kyo was so invested that he almost fell backward from his crate. No actual danger, just a step backward which seemed to serve to catch his footing because he'd gotten intense.

DIABOLOS was once again very felt, but this time Kyo did not ask us to sing half as many "Blue Velvet"s. And by this point in the show, Kyo had already called out "Sendai" 2-3 times, and I'm certain he did during that song too. The segment before: "Saa, ningen o yamero" was also different and shouted, I'd say even more emotional than in Sapporo, like probably with Kyo clutching his shirt or his head during that part more? Oh and he thumped his mic on his chest super hard most likely in this song and another time near the end of the show.

Vinushka starts after the break with Toshiya just leaning back on his speakers, arms draped widely on his side while he looks at us sexily. There's no other way to describe it, and it's more or less appropriate for Vinushka hah?

Toshiya kept nodding and smiling at us, whether it was because we knew the beat or were reacting like he wanted to the melodies.

In Vinushka, I think it was, Kyo placed his hands at his sides, palms facing us, after throwing the mic over his shoulder, and raised his hands slowly to demand our cheers. I'd love to remember exactly what song it was, because Vinushka is pretty obvious from all the times they've played it, but the song in which Kyo did it and he got almost no response from the crowd, only after a delay, you could see that he raised his eyebrows and looked down at his positioning, as though pondering: "I'm in the right position, aren't I? Isn't it clear what I want?" It wasn't necessarily something he did every time in whatever song it was, but yeah, the crowd should have been more adaptive and smart.

Oh, in terms of Kyo's facial expressions, there's also one growl or scream he did at the end of a song, which he seemed taken aback, blinking a bit after it like he was surprised by how much it took out of him.

Soshaku... It started a bit off from the start, like Shinya was one note too late, but then he fucked up the drum melody for real by seemingly repeating that first 'phrase' of the song rather than moving on to the rest of the composition. The band kept going for a few seconds, but it was Kyo who just stared unimpressed first toward us, then circled back to stand right in front of Shinya without singing anymore. We couldn't see his face, but his posture exhibited a polite: "What the actual fuck?" Die had actually been at Shinya's platform already with one foot raised on it, but I don't know if he was subtly trying to steer Shinya in the right direction or if that's just what he wanted to do in Soshaku anyway. Once the others realized that Kyo had properly disconnected from the performance, everyone else stopped playing. Shinya appeared clueless at first, then he seemed to shake his head quickly. I don't think any words were spoken between the members. When Kyo was assured that Shinya would do his part, he turned around to face us and said: "Suman" (Sorry about that). They picked back the song from the start, and I can't say that Shinya's drumming was 100% synchronized or accurate, but at least he did proceed with a different phrase than the one he had repeated.

Kyo made extra efforts to pump us up after that, and even had us sing multiple parts of the song, from what I remember.

Same thing with Ochita koto no aru sora. Kyo gives me the impression of emitting a vibe of: "This song is yours, guys" and we sang a lot.

It was in one of those last couple of songs that Kyo actually smiled in satisfaction. Always so heartwarming to see!

Toshiya was the MVP backup vocalist as always!

The Inferno was very much the same as in Sapporo, with Kyo throwing his mic and leaving before the song's even finished. However, I think he engaged more with the audience this time, coming up in front of his crate, crouching, and at one point either in this song or another one, he even did the hook fingers or something like that toward us.

The Inferno ended much differently though, unless I missed something from being in kamite in Sapporo. Kaoru dumped his guitar near the front of the stage after he finished, Toshiya was low and dragged his bass across the floor toward the back for the audio effect and punkassery, Shinya left at some point and Die stayed to do some distortion but for a shorter period of time. He was all smiles as usual!

It was funny because all the technicians/assistants had to come on stage when the band left before the encore to clean up the instruments that had been left there, which I hadn't seen in Sapporo. Toshiya's guy even had a hard time with his mic stand, which in fact looked bent a bit. The technician tried to force it back in shape and tested its balance on the floor a couple of times. What's funny is also that Toshiya's mishandling of his bass was apparently so bad that it took forever for it to be tuned, and we chanted: "Encore! Encore!" for so long before it was ready. The poor guy didn't seem to be able to fix the cords, based on what I saw on the monitor in the background.

Maybe to make up for that delay, but it also felt that way in Sapporo a bit, but the members walked back on stage almost simultaneously, not one at a time for each to savour their cheers.

Toshiya made a gesture toward his left, presumably at Shinya, smiling and I think even clapping afterward. I don't know if the band had a mini "What the hell happened there?" chat backstage about Shinya's mistake, which could also explain why it took them so long to return for the encore.

Kyo was once again utterly nonchalant, indifferent, but in a super teasing way, as if to say: "I deserve all your cheers and attention, but it doesn't sway me."

Shinya had changed into a sleeveless version of the tour T-shirt, Die I think also had that custom sleeveless sweater, Toshiya came with the black sweater this time with the same shorts and long leather boots, Kaoru might have removed his upper jacket, and Kyo had only wiped off his sweat hah.

The Devil In Me was intense as always. Kyo did the noose at the end, and I saw exactly how he measures the right length. He didn't do the disvesting/shedding part with the mic cord afterward though. In the song, the bass seemed off at first, and we could barely hear the back vocals at all? Even more reason to have Die and Shinya properly do them on stage. Kyo asked us to sing the first or second chorus, which ends in: "What did you really love?" but it sounded like nobody sang or few people knew how long to maintain that: "Kaaaaaaaketa"

Man the people in the first row were almost not headbanging sometimes, it was so stupidly frustrating hah.

I remember Cause of fickleness starting and Toshiya just nodding like: "Yeah, you know which one." All the members who could came at the edge of the stage. Kyo had us sing most of the "Wake me up"s. He took off his ear monitor once in a while to hear better.

Uroko also had Toshiya nodding and mouthing like: "Oh yeah, you know it" hahah. Kyo demanded that we sing more than just the "Anata shidai de", or it was in another song, but man was he demanding tonight hahah. His own voice was spotless but he gotta come for us!

Before the last song, Kyo asked: "Sendai? Sendai? Sendai? Sendai?", so much that at one point we were exasperated, who else was he talking to if not Sendai hah? Then he asked us if we could go on, become one, etc. and I think his new variant where he growls about us going to die then or something?

Kyo let his mic drop to the ground after Eddie. He seemed to contemplate what to do after Shinya's last hit of the drums in the final climax, but he opted for not leaving and took one of his water bottles, drinking briefly from it, then tossing it in the crowd. Actually, I can't remember if it was with the first or second bottle, but he threw it in the general direction of someone in front of him who he gestured at and the reversed L that they had on their shirt. Hopefully they did catch the bottle meant for them, because Kyo's throw was not that gentle and precise hah. He also christened people a lot in front of his crate.

Shinya once more took a very long time to get off his platform. He seemed characteristically impassible, but everybody cheered for him, so I hope he felt our appreciation despite his mistake. He threw his four drum sticks and I believe he waved at us briefly.

Die squirted us from far away, huge smile on his lips. Kaoru did the same but just to shimote. He threw a towel right to the first few people in front of his position on stage, delicately.

Toshiya threw some picks and got on Kyo's crate to clap with us and smile. He climbed back down and bowed ever elegantly before leaving the stage.

On his way out, Kaoru pointed to the background, which had the tour name, as though to really make us think about it.

Die left with much appreciation and satisfaction as usual. People were cheering him on as he prepared his towel to throw, and he made it almost reach the back!

That's what I remember for now. I need to sleep hah.

[gretavanmoon]

Keep Me In Your Back Pocket

Sam x Female Reader

6.6k words

+ Not sure if this is a one shot, a blurb, or just an extended thought, but. Enjoy an angsty little Sammy idea.

Warnings: Cursing, Yelling, Mention of Smoking & Drinking, Mention of Mental Manipulation/Abuse, Arguing, Mention of Sex.

“Alright, lay it on me.”

For the life of her, she never knew exactly what color she wanted her hair to be. It seemed like every month she was rolling the dice on something new, something fresh and vibrant that she’d never tried before. She loved it blonde, she loved it when it was a dark chestnut, even liked it the time she dyed it a bright scarlet with some kind of purple streaks. She was always changing it, always daring to be different and go against the grain of what all the other girls were into that season. Every single one of them suited her, though. As gorgeous and poignant as her features are, every different way she decided to style herself fit her perfectly. 

“I love it,” I reassure her as she asks my opinion, knowing good and well that I’d admire her in any one of her decisions on changing up her appearance. 

“Sam, you say that every time. It’s okay to have a little constructive criticism sometimes,” she scorns me with a playful scoff. “Give me your honest opinion. I can take it.”

My eyes travel to meet hers in the mirror as we both stand before it, the reflection showing my appearance as disheveled and worn, just as it always was when I’d let myself indulge too much the night before. My shirts have always stayed permanently wrinkled and unbuttoned, and my hair was always in a constant state of tangles, tied in a forgotten knot at the back of my head. 

Her, though, as perfect as a shiny new thing just unwrapped and pulled from the box. Every single morning, every single night, every single ticking second of the day, she hardly ever looked like she was out of place. Naturally gorgeous, and she never even knew it. 

She pulls her fingers through her locks, fluffing and tousling and deciding whether or not her newest color-switch decision was a good one. 

"Y/N, I swear..." I reply, my hands coming up in front of my face to show my white-flag honesty.

“Ugh,” she groans, letting her fingers drift through it from her forehead and around to the sides, watching her reflection as the hair falls like feathers in front of her face. “Don’t do me any favors.”

“No, I promise. It looks really good on you. Every time you do this, it looks good. I wouldn’t lie to you, love.” And I’d swear to it. I’m not just trying to make her feel better. 

She was like a sponge to her surroundings, soaking up her inspiration from the dust that lied on the bottom shelves of high bookcases, or from the color of a new spring bud on a flower bush in the park. She saw beauty in everything and lived with nearly no hate in her heart, much to my opposite. She’s expressive and confident, effortless but with the loudest sense of humor and style. Never settling on one facet of life, but living in the sense that she’s able to change it whenever she damn well pleases. 

Mine and Y/N’s kinship goes back longer than I can remember. The ever-changing eras of our lives had been spent side-by-side since we were kids playing Kick the Can at the end of our neighborhood’s street, waiting for the street lights to come on to tell us when to run home for dinner.

I’d seen it all… Her first crush on the boy that sat behind her when we were in fifth grade, and her giddiness when he asked her to the winter dance. I’d seen her fail her driver’s license test four times before she finally passed, giving us both the freedom of inheriting her dad’s old beater flatbed and the open road. I helped her write the letter she wrote to her high school heartthrob, telling him that she no longer had the same feelings that she did when they’d first met. And I caught the subsequent tears that fell from her eyes as she listened to the horrific rumors he’d spread about her to the entirety of the school. I sat with her while she nervously opened her acceptance letter to college. Helped her surprise her parents with their twenty-fifth anniversary gift. I watched her fall in love with a man she met while she was pumping gas at a truckstop on her way home from a Black Sabbath show. And now, just as I always have, I’m helping her to understand the true beauty that she has always had as we stand before this mirror… Me in my pleated dark jeans, and her in her white dress and veil. 

“I just… this hair color doesn’t suit me, it never has,” she argues, trying her best to pin back the bangs she’d begun to let grow out some time ago. “It makes me look older, washed-out, don’t you think?”

I sigh, running my hand over my face as we go over this round-and-round again, probably for the fiftieth time in our lives. 

“Everything suits you, love,” I compliment her honestly, not brave enough to tell her that even though I’m standing behind her and encouraging her to notice her own beauty in her wedding gown, my heart and lungs are full of stones as the reality hits me that I’m not waiting for her at the altar, dressed in a tuxedo.

“Are you not happy with how it turned out?” I press.

I find it odd that instead of her embracing the newness of her copper-blonde strands that match perfectly with the color of the trim sewn onto her wedding dress, she’s instead criticizing it. It’s completely out of character for her. Normally, she’d be falling into the boost in confidence her new color has given her. But today… 

“No, it’s great it’s just… not me,” she argues. “It’s what Bobby wanted. Said he likes me best with this shade. Says it brings out the real ‘housewife’ side of my features.”

I physically can’t help the grimace that paints my face as it contorts into confusion. “Y/N, how the fuck does a hair color reflect how you choose to run a household?”

“Shhtt, Samuel. We’re in a church for god’s sake!” she turns and hits me across the arm as I roll my eyes at her pretending to care. She turns, careful not to step on the long train of her dress as she makes her way toward me, and away from the mirror. “Sammy this… This is my natural hair color. Close to it, at least."

“Oh…” I murmur, somehow only now realizing that I in fact have never really seen her with her real, actual hair color. Not since we were young kids, anyway, when my memory begins to turn to fuzz. 

“He says he loves me just the way I am, that I don’t need anything extra to make me look beautiful,” she goes on, her face falling just a bit as her eyebrows turn down. She stays quiet as she avoids my eyes, and she knows that it won’t take much for me to become argumentative. It’s easy to do, these days. 

At the risk of me making her mad on her wedding day, I stuff my sullied hands into my pockets, finding a wire nut and a few pennies at the bottoms to fidget with. “That may be true, love, but… is that what you want? You’ve always expressed yourself with all these wild hair colors… crazy makeup and outfits and whatnot.” 

It was true, her means of expressing herself were sometimes a little unprecedented in the grand scheme of things, but that’s exactly what always made her stand out to me. Besides the fact that I’ve been in her life for the past seventeen years, and the fact that I’m madly and incredibly in love with her.

“Yeah, I know… It doesn’t feel right to me, but. If it’s what Bobby wants–”

“Is that why you aren’t wearing hardly any blush on your cheeks? And you don’t have your fingernails painted, and your fingers aren’t dripping with all that silver you’ve collected over the years?” I grab her left hand, yanking it up close to my face to eye the small shiny diamond that now adorns her ring finger. From her betrothed… as her mother called him. Hell, the guy can’t even shoot Jack Daniels without a goddamned chaser let alone notice that the woman he’s to marry has laid down her entire life for him. 

She rips her hand from mine, jerking and forceful as I look back at her face. Striking as ever, even when completely devoid of any fancy eyeliner or powder, or whatever the stuff is. 

“Where’s that sparkly lip stuff you’ve worn every single day for the past ten years? Hm? And that necklace that you never take off because it’s bad luck…” My voice is rising now as she turns her back to me. “Fuck, Y/N, even your dress… You never wanted to wear white! Your dream wedding dress, what was it you always said, ‘I’ll never wear white in my wedding, simply because society tells me I have to!’”

“Stop, Sam! Just… Stop!” she yells, turning to face me now with rage emanating from her.

My jaw is clenched as my hands have long abandoned my pockets, rising into the air now as my voice continues to rise with them. 

“Stop what, Y/N?!”

“Stop being so goddamned honest with me all the time!” she yells. 

I scoff. “You just told me to not do you any favors, this is me not doing you any favors! Exactly like you asked!” I bicker. If there's one thing Y/N and I are good at, it's arguing.

“Ugh, do you know how easy it is to lie to someone?! How easy it is to sugarcoat reality to make it a little easier for them to digest?” 

“What in the fuck are you talking about, Y/N?” I ask, straining my voice.

She’s got tears threatening to fall from her eyes, and her voice is nearly as loud as mine. I halfway want to take this outside, pull a cigarette from my pocket and keep going so that the entire church can’t listen in, but I really don’t fucking care at this point. It feels like something is brewing.

“I’m saying it’s okay to lie to people sometimes, Sam! To make them feel a little bit better about their situations, okay?”

“Why in the hell would I lie to you, Y/N?” I retort, stepping closer toward her. She folds her arms over her chest in what looks to be self-preservation. “I’ve never fuckin’ lied to you, in almost twenty years, I’ve never once not been honest!”

She’s silent as we both begin panting through our rage, having trouble holding our tongues back from what we really want to say, simply because it’s her wedding day. 

But then, fuck it. “I’m not gonna stop being honest with you just because you’re marrying him,” I bite, tossing around the idea of whether or not I should keep it all to myself, for once. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Why’d you say it like that?” she says, uncrossing her arms. 

I think about it for a second, and normally, I’d throw my opinion of her fiance right in her face, no questions asked. But today… Today is a little different. And it hurts like hell to hold it back.

“Nothin’, Y/N,” I stammer, pulling the half-pack of cigarettes from my front shirt pocket. I waltz to the wall, taking a seat on an old wooden bench before sticking the unlit cigarette between my lips. I force it all down for the sake of her happiness, shoving my words into the deepest depths of my throat. I eye her heavily from across the room, and the tension is thick. 

Before I know it her high-heeled feet are bounding across the hardwood floor, right toward me. “No, not nothin’, Samuel.” She rips the cigarette from my lips and breaks it right in half, dropping the remnants to the floor. 

“Are you fuckin’ crazy, woman?” I exclaim, bending down to clean up the mess of filter and tobacco from the floor. 

“Damnit, answer me, Sam,” she begins to plead as I’m now face to face with her chest, and all the bright white material of her otherwise very bland wedding dress, for her taste at least. But again, I’d never tell her that. “Be a man, answer me and tell me how you really feel,” she demands. 

I can feel some new type of energy radiating from her, something that I’ve not felt from her before. And it’s then that I begin to suspect that her pleas are loaded with some other type of emotion.

I clench my jaw and stand quickly, letting the cigarette pieces fall from my hand and back onto the floor. 

“Fine, you really want me to tell you how I feel? Then I will, fuck it,” I yell. She doesn’t back down, and now I’m towering over her, watching as her cheeks redden with madness and the tears sit still, glimmering as she refuses to let them fall. “He’s awful for you, Y/N. He ain’t you. He doesn’t deserve you. Every single thing about you has changed since you got with him. He’s made you into his goddamned puppet. His fuckin’ arm candy. Stripped you of everything that you love. Everything that makes you happy–”

“He makes me happy, Sam! Don’t you see that?” she cries, finally letting one tear fall. “Just because he–”

“Does he, Y/N? Are you sure? Or are you just lyin’ to yourself because it’s what you think you want?” I go on, letting the words I’ve kept holed up fly freely. We’re quiet for a beat before I take another breath and speak again. “He gave you the big house, the boat, the money… the status… The last name that will get you whatever you fuckin’ want in this town. And look at you now. You’re a shell of yourself, Y/N. You ain’t even you anymore. You haven’t been you in a long time, and I’m just the bravest son of a bitch to tell you.”

Her nostrils flare as she crosses her arms again, her eyes flitting from the floor to me, and back. “This goes a lot deeper than him not wanting you to be you, doesn’t it, Y/N?” I ask genuinely. 

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Sam,” she says through a choked sob. 

“Then tell me, Y/N! Enlighten me. ‘Cause god knows you haven’t talked to me the same in months, now. Hell, I didn’t even know about this wedding until four fuckin’ days ago…” I go on, the sting of learning about it still hitting me right in the chest. I wasn’t even going to come, but…

She shrugs her shoulders. “He just, he gets me, ya know? He’s sweet to me, buys me nice things, takes me on vacations. His family loves me, tells me he wants to start our own family as soon as we can.”

“A family?!” I practically yell in her face. “Y/N, you don’t want kids, you never have!”

“I didn’t, Sam, until I–” she swallows her words, stopping to wipe the wetness from her face. In any other instance, I’d be working hard to catch them before they ruined the mascara and shadow she spent an hour on, but she doesn’t have a stitch of anything on her face to worry about.

“Until you what?”

I watch as her bottom lip trembles, her body a shaking mess as she lets herself fall onto the bench I’d just stood from. Her eyes shoot down and her shoulders fall; the once vibrant, radiant woman I knew that had a lust for life and an enviable outlook on the world now presents herself as someone who hasn’t seen the light of day in years. Someone who is skittish, unsure, and unconfident. Someone who lives under the thumb of a man who imposes such harsh reverse psychology on her that she doesn’t even see herself changing into something that she wasn’t born to be.

“Until I saw you holding Jenny Watson’s baby boy,” she croaks, anxiously rubbing her hands together.

What?

“What do you mean, Y/N?” I ask, my voice monotone as my thoughts begin to race. I slowly walk back over, and take my seat again on the bench beside her.

She inhales with a harsh sniffle, clearing the still-falling tears away as she tries to get them to stop. It takes her a second, but she looks at me.

“Until I saw you. Holding him. It… I dunno. Made some kinda weird switch go off in my head like, maybe… They aren’t so bad, after all,” she says, crossing one leg up underneath herself. “Like if you can be so natural with one, maybe I can be too.”

I’m left stunned. Hell, I hardly even remember holding that baby at our class reunion just six months ago. The kid was cute, and reached out for me. I couldn’t say no.

“Me?” I whisper, still feeling confused. 

“Yeah, fuck. Don’t flatter yourself. Ok? It was sweet, and cute… And… made me change my mind a little,” she says. “Made me think that maybe with him, I could do it.”

Her words nearly cut me in two. With him.

“But the making them part is what’s got me worried,” she admits, throwing me for a loop again.

“Worried? Why?”

She shrugs again, and I realize I’m slowly breaking through the barrier that she’s put up between us for so long now. She’s opening up to me, just like she always did. But still yet, she can’t find the words.

I search her face as she licks her lips, kneading her hands together again as she searches for the words. Sometimes I think that I can read her mind, but as of late, it’s as though she’s a prisoner to it. I keep my eyes trained on her as she starts and stops her sentences, biting them back as if she can’t admit anything at all. Finally, it clicks.

“Don’t tell me that son of a bitch don’t treat you right in the bedroom, too. For fuck’s sake… he’s a spoiled brat and he can’t fuck?! Wow, Y/N, you really hit the jackpot!” I couldn’t stop myself. 

“Oh don’t you even fucking go there, Samuel, I swear to god.”

“Go where, Y/N? To the truth? Is that not what you’re trying to say to me? That he doesn’t satisfy you?”

“Urgh, I know I shouldn’t have clued you in like that, now you’re just going to make it all worse!” she cries, resting her veiled, copper-blonde head against the aging wall of the church.

“Worse? When have I ever made anything worse for you, Y/N? For years, all I’ve ever tried to do was make you happy, be your friend. A shitty one, sometimes, but don’t sit here and tell me that I’ve ever been anything but good to you.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes as she cries, finally bringing her hands to her face to cover it. She’s an absolute mess on her wedding day, and it’s all because of me. And my stupid words. And my stupid honesty. Why did I have to go and fall in love with someone who I knew was too good for me? Someone who would never refer to me as anything but a good friend? 

Truly, as degenerated of a person that I am, I’m still a million times better for her than the man she is supposed to marry. And suddenly, I’m wrought with guilt.

“Please stop crying, Y/N,” I beg her, quietly and gently bringing my hand to rest on her trembling arm. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. You’re getting married in fifteen minutes, you should be bursting at the seams with happiness, right now.”

She pulls the coverage of her hands away long enough to whisper a few words. 

“I should be happy, but I’m not, am I?” 

I can feel all the blood drain from my body and straight into the basement of the church, seeping through the crack and seams of the floor as it searches for somewhere else to be. Of course she trusts me to answer that for her. The one person who she knows will be nothing but brutally honest with her, no matter what the question is.

“I wouldn’t bet my last penny on it, love,” I whisper back, hoping that it doesn’t hurt her any further. “Just because it doesn’t take a lot for you to be happy doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be given the bare minimum of something real.”

She pulls her hands away from her face, her eyes blotched and swollen as she finally succumbs to her emotions, letting her arms wrap around my neck and her head rest in the crook of it.

Just like all the other times before.

“Why do you always know exactly what to say, Sam?” she says over another quiet whisper.

I shake my head as I wrap my arms around her waist, giving her the same hug that I have on so many other occasions like this.

“I don’t. I just say what I think. And hope that maybe you’ll listen to me, one day,” I chuckle a little as I feel her lips curl into a smile on the skin of my neck, making my cold heart feel just a little bit warmer.

“When was the last time you danced, Y/N? Like, really danced?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood a little.

She pulls away and shrugs, but she makes a point to let her fingers travel down the arms of my shirt, finally letting her hand fall overtop of mine. “I don’t know. Couldn’t tell you.”

“When was the last time you went to a gig? Or on those crazy long solo road trips you used to love… Or got your art featured in that showcase you used to frequent?” I ask. Again, she has no answer. I can feel my face fall in disappointment. This guy has really done a number on her.

“Are you still making your art?” I ask. 

The look in her eyes is solemn… empty and lifeless as if she’s reminiscing on a lifetime ago. 

She shakes her head. “No. Bobby says it’s silly and pointless to express myself like that. Makes too much of a mess in the house.”

I can’t help the scoff that leaves my mouth, and the subsequent eye roll. Does he even know who she is?!

“God, Y/N… next thing is you’re gonna tell me he made you get rid of Pepper.” Her beloved black lab has accompanied her through more of her life than I have. Her true best friend and one of the best dogs I’ve ever come in contact with. 

But again, she’s quiet. 

“You’re fucking kidding me, he made you–” I can’t even finish my sentence. That evil jackass made her ditch her dog?!

“He lives with my dad, now…” she says, rubbing a stray tear from under her eye. “Bobby doesn’t like dogs.”

I cup my hand around her temple, ignoring the position of her veil as I pull her to rest her head against my chest. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s the fuckin’ worst. And that makes me dislike him even more. You don’t take a woman’s dog away from her.”

“I miss him so much, Sammy,” she cries again.

“Where did my Y/N go?” My question is rhetoric, but true, all the same.

Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve learned more shitty things about this Bobby guy in the past twenty minutes than I have in the year that they’re been engaged. Fuck, all I came in here to do was tell her congratulations. Tell her I was happy for her, even though I was going to lie through my teeth. My best friend on the planet, the one person who I can fight to the death with, and make up the next minute like it was no big deal. Though we’re older now with lives and responsibilities, I still count on her to bring me back down to earth. I still miss her when we skip a few days of talking. I still yearn to feel her near me, search for her in my dreams, hope and pray that one day the universe will allow me to call her mine. The one that’s too good for me, the one that I would walk to the end of the earth for if I knew it would make her happy. I’ve never been a romantic man, but I sure as hell know a good woman when I see one. And I’ll be damned if I let someone dull her shine any further.

So I ask, for the first and final time, as I hear a commotion starting to gather in the chapel.

I take a deep breath and gather myself, taking her hands tightly in mine as I force myself to look her in the eye. “Tell me you’re happy, Y/N. Tell me you’re really fucking happy with him, and I’ll leave. I’ll go sit in the pew and watch you vow to keep him happy for the rest of your life. All the while knowing that you’re puttin’ on a fuckin’ show for everyone,” I grit with softness, knowing that time is running out. If I’m gonna get through to her, I have to do it now.

The look on her face sends a shot through my heart, and I feel my throat tighten. Her eyes are lifeless again, and the woman staring back at me isn’t the one that I know.

Just then a soft rap on the door interrupts us, and an older lady peeks her head through to find us. “Y/N, honey, it’s time,” she says softly, her eyes landing on me as I realize it’s her grandma. 

“Ok Mamaw, thank you,” she says, wiping her face free of the dampness. 

“Samuel, I didn’t expect to see you in here,” she coos quietly with a sweet smile. 

“Afternoon Ms. Ellen, nice to see you again,” I say with a wave. 

She looks behind her quickly, checking to see if anyone had followed her. When she knows she’s alone, she lets herself a little further into the room with us. 

“I hope you’re in here telling my sweet Y/N all your long lost secrets before she’s an honest woman,” she says, folding her hands across her stomach. I’ve always loved this woman, the most picture-perfect cookie-cutter grandma with a virulent and exciting past. And, she sneaks and smokes cigarettes with me, sometimes. 

“Ah, maybe a few,” I say as I let Y/N blot her face with a tissue in the mirror. I’ve always felt like Ms. Ellen has been on my team, knowing, or better yet, able to recognize the love that I wear on my sleeve for Y/N. Sometimes those folk just have a sixth sense when it comes to these things. 

Ellen makes direct and intense eye contact with me before she mutters, “Doesn’t my granddaughter look beautiful in her dress?”

“Ah, yes,” I clear my throat, “she always looks beautiful.”

“Shame she didn’t even get to pick it out herself. Didn’t even get to try a few on to see what she might like,” Ellen says somberly. “Just had it handed to her by Bobby’s assistants.”

“Mamaw…” I hear the warning in Y/N’s voice. 

“What, child? Just telling Sammy here that I’m so happy it ended up fitting you like a glove.” I give Ellen a reassuring smile as I stand from the bench, realizing that it must be my time to go. 

Ellen turns and makes it to the door before she stops with her hand on the knob, taking a quick breath before she turns back to us. 

“Do you remember when you two were little, just kiddos in elementary school, and you decided that the two of you were going to have a wedding in my backyard?” she says. 

“Mamaw, shouldn’t you be finding your seat in the congregation?” Y/N warns her again, but it’s no use. 

“You invited all your little neighborhood friends and asked me to help you hem your dress. A bright purple one, I believe it was. Little Sammy spent all day roaming through the neighbors’ landscaping and stealing the perfect flowers to make you a bouquet. Asked me to bake cookies for your guests. Caught all the fireflies in town and stuffed them into a mason jar so that when the sun went down, you’d still be able to see to walk through the grass.”

My chest warms at the fond memory of all those years ago, back when life wasn’t real and time didn’t exist. I steal a quick glance at Y/N, standing in the mirror again as she listens to her grandmother speak. “Sam came inside and started rummaging through my cabinets, stealing the twist-ties off my loaves of bread to fashion into rings… The cutest thing I ever saw…”

“The first time I ever kissed you,” I add, once again stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans. 

I watch as Ellen’s face lights up with joy, and Y/N’s blushes with embarrassment. It was the first time, but it wasn’t the last. One drunken night after graduation, Y/N and I had climbed onto the roof of the old dry cleaner’s and played truth or dare. Of course, I dared her to kiss me on a whim. And by god, she didn’t hold back. It was fast and it was heavy, but I knew deep down that for her, it was all in fun.

Nothing ever went past that kiss that ended in nothing more than just a little intense drunken intimacy. Nothing except the feelings that I had for her grew tenfold, and never went away. 

“Well, anyway,” Ellen breaks the silence. “I’ll be outside, sweetheart.” Ellen sneaked back through the creaky old door, giving me a look that said ‘Last chance, honey. Don’t let her get away.’

All I can hear in the room now is Y/N taking a deep cleansing breath, smoothing the dress out over her thighs as she straightens her veil. I catch her eyes in the mirror again, giving her one last look before I begin to make my way to the door. 

“I kept that ring, you know,” she says, stopping me. “The bread tie one. I still have it.”

I turn back. “You do?”

“Mhm. In my jewelry box at home. I see it almost every day.” She’s walking toward me again, cleaning up her face and running her fingers along her tear lines. 

“Why’d you keep it?” I ask.

“Because it meant a lot to me, reminded me how much you mean to me. And it reminds me to keep my promises, no matter how simple and pointless they are. They’re still important,” she goes on, biting her lips together every few words. “Do you remember what we promised that day, Sam?”

I shake my head, the memory a little fuzzy still. “Kind of…”

“We said that even though we might not marry each other when we’re grown ups, that we’d always look out for each other. Keep each other in check. And we promised to always stay connected, no matter what.”

I nod. “Simple as that…”

She smiles. “Simple as that.”

I fight a tear, myself, as I reach in my back pocket and pull out my wallet, fidgeting through the old, worn in pockets of it in search of what I know is there, buried away but not forgotten. Finally my finger lands on it, and I gently pull it from the narrow slot. I place it in the center of my free hand, tiny, blue, tattered and worn. 

“You kept your ring, too,” Y/N says breathlessly. 

“It’s survived three wallets and an accidental trip into the trash can. But, it made it,” I say, admiring the tiny item that I only see from time to time. 

She walks closer to me, gently running her finger along it’s paper edges. “Sammy, I can’t believe you–”

“Don’t marry him, Y/N,” I blurt, the words escaping my mouth before I can even give them a second thought. “Don’t do it. Don’t marry him.”

“What?” her eyes bulge from her head as she stops in her tracks. It feels as though the entire world is standing still. 

“I said don’t do it. Don’t lock yourself away for the rest of your life. Don’t be unhappy in a relationship with a man who won’t even let you have your dog,” I’m babbling now, my chest tight and my throat on fire. I don’t even care. I needed to do it, I have to say it. 

“But, I–”

“There are no buts, here, Y/N. You still have a choice, and if what you say is true, we promised to look out for one another. This is me looking out for you,” I say. 

She stares at me as her hands drop to the sides, her demeanor less than it has looked all day. 

“That’s all I’m gonna say, Y/N. That’s all I needed to say.” I stuff the ring back into it’s place in my wallet before smoothing my hands over my hair. My breath begins to pick up and I feel my face getting hot. I turn again and head straight for the door, and I hear the music begin to echo off the walls of the church. 

“Sam, wait–”

“You know it’s always been me, Y/N. And if it’s not me, then please, for the love of god, just don’t let it be him. Okay?” I say as my hand turns the knob. “Go in there and marry him, throw away everything that makes you happy, everything that brings you joy. Makes you you. Lie to him and yourself and to everyone in there…”

I feel thick, hot tears blurring my vision as I begin to lose composure from the adrenaline of what I’m saying and doing. I shouldn’t be doing this… But also, I absolutely should.

“But if not…” I raise my hands and let them fall back to slap my sides, nodding to her in a way that I know she will understand. The last look I got of the woman I just confessed my love to was one that will be etched into my brain for the rest of my life. For the first time in a long time, I saw hope in her eyes.

I dash out the back doors of the church and down the concrete steps, out onto the quiet street straight toward my motorcycle. I hear the music swelling inside, making me feel like I can’t afford another breath. I slip my helmet on and I check my watch, 4:59PM. 

I straddle my bike and grab the handle bars, taking a glance every few seconds at the back door I had just burst through. My heart is pounding as I hear the processional music begin, and my hands are rough as I grip the handlebars. I turn the key, revving the engine to let her know that I’m out here, serious, and ready to take her away from it all…

My eyes dash again and again, willing the doors to open. “Come on, Y/N, don’t do this…”

My hands twist the bars, the calluses on my palms harshly rubbing against them as I grit my jaw side to side. The anxiety is almost worse out here than it is inside. “Come on, baby…”

It feels like an hour ticks by as the music inside swells and becomes louder, and the blood pumping through my veins strains harder and harder. My foot is bouncing nervously on the ground, ready to kick the stand at a moment’s notice. But deep down, I know I’d wait out here for her for a hundred years. I’d never stop waiting for her, until she told me to stop. 

The organ music continues and starts from the beginning again, and it’s then that I realize, it’s still playing. 

She isn’t walking down the aisle.

My eyes flit to the door again, and just as I catch sight of the evening sun brightening its golden glow onto the stained glass windows, the back door opens. Slowly, at first, just enough for me to tell it moved. 

Fuck, she’s gonna run…

The door opens a little bit more, and I see the top of her head peek through the opening. I feel like my body is about to catch on fire as I realize she’s most definitely not where everyone is expecting her to be. She slips through the door, shutting it softly behind her as she finds me parked on the street, ready and waiting. I slide my helmet off to get a better look at her, and I swear every single ounce of breath is stolen from my lungs. 

Her veil is gone, and her high heels are off, and she’s tumbling down the concrete steps through the yard, directly toward me. My breath hitches, I can’t fucking believe it. She’s gonna leave. I feel like I’m frozen in place as I watch her run to me, her hair flowing in the breeze behind her. 

She’s glowing, rushed and anxious as she bounds barefoot through the mess of cars clogging up the street. My heart is thrumming from my ribcage, and I’m positive that I’ve never seen a sight more gorgeous in my entire life. 

She’s coming… she’s really coming with me.

Finally she reaches me and the bike, her chest heaving with nerves and lost breath as I give her a surprised and pleading look. I open my mouth to speak, but I really don’t know what to say. 

She rips the helmet from my hands and places it on her own head. “You gonna get me the fuck out of here Sam? Or am I gonna have to beg you?” she boasts with that old confidence she always used to have.

I laugh through my nose as she grabs onto my shoulders and hikes up her dress to straddle the back of the bike. 

“I’d love to see you beg, love. But not today,” I reply, kicking the stand up with my right foot as we find our balance on the bike. Her arms wrap around my stomach as I take off, zipping through the mess of parked cars and straight toward the quickest way out of here. 

“Where do you wanna go?” I ask her, turning my head just a little. 

“Anywhere. Literally any place on earth that isn’t here,” she yells into my ear over the deafening sound of the engine. 

I feel like I could speed up and ride straight into the sunset, and I’m positive that she wants to disappear just as badly as I want to. I feel the touch of her sweet lips land directly on the back of my neck, leaving a tiny peck there that nearly sends me into overdrive. I’m in such harsh disbelief. But moreso, I’m thankful. 

Her lips travel from the back of my neck and around to my ear again as her arms squeeze me a little tighter. “Thank you, Sammy,” she mumbles, and I feel a warmness overtake my entire body. She has no idea that I’m the one that should be thanking her. We both let the sound of wedding bells fall into our memories, only concentrating now on the sounds of the motor running, and the tires rolling across the pavement.

[captainsophiestark]

Crib Construction

Cassian x Reader

Masterlist��- Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: ACOTAR

Summary: Cassian and his mate have been tasked with putting together Nyx's crib. Unfortunately, it's a harder task than they thought it would be.

Word Count: 1,282

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Cass, come here. Does this look right?"

My boyfriend didn't waste a second before joining me on the floor, kneeling behind me and looking over my shoulder. Neither of us spoke for a minute, then I heard a rustling of paper as Cassian sighed.

"Yeah, it looks right. That hasn't stopped it from being wrong before, though."

"Well, let's just hope for the best."

I could feel through the mating bond just how little Cassian wanted to do that, but he knew as well as I did that we didn't have much other choice. I took a deep breath, then gently pressed the two pieces of wood before me together, trying to get them to link like they were supposed to.

Of course, it didn't work. I added slightly more pressure, but still nothing. I put my entire weight and all of my strength into it, and when the damn thing still didn't budge, I let out a scream and shoved both pieces away from me before I could really lose my temper and accidentally break something.

"This is bullshit!" I shouted, whirling around to face Cassian. He had a look of grim resignation, meeting my eyes with sympathy. Our positions had been exactly reversed about ten minutes ago. "Rhys set this up as a way to get back at you for winning the snowball fight last time, and I'm getting caught in the collateral. This sucks."

"Honestly, maybe he did," Cass said, sighing and leaning back on his hands. "Or maybe Az did something to break this one too before he got kicked off the job."

I groaned, flopping over and into Cassian's side to lay against his chest and stare at the ridiculous contraption that had been defeating us all afternoon. Rhys and Feyre had asked us to assemble Nyx's crib, and at first, we'd been honored and happy to help. But hours later, when nothing was going right and none of the pieces were fitting together the way they were supposed to, I was about ready to throw all of it out the window and into the Sidra below.

We'd been given the task in the first place because Az had shattered the same type of crib to pieces after spending a day being stumped by the puzzle. Cassian and I had inherited the task for our ability to keep each other calm, and because we were generally less destructive when continually frustrated by a puzzle. This crib was about to ruin that reputation.

"Okay, maybe we should just start over from the beginning," I said, sitting up and turning to face Cassian after our brief rest. "Like, take everything apart and lay it all out on the floor again, then start back from step one."

Cassian groaned. "Honestly, I hate that idea. But what we're already doing clearing isn't working, so..."

"So let's try it. Deep breaths, and then a total reset. A fresh start."

"...Alright. Let's do it."

With a lot of heavy sighing, Cassian and I took apart what little progress we'd made, separating the crib back into its individual parts, the way it had come. Once we got it all laid out again, I took the instruction manual from Cass and laid that out in front of us, too. With one last deep breath, we started in again at step one on page one.

I wish I could say this attempt went better. But it didn't. Cassian and I almost destroyed the whole thing Az-style in a fit of frustration three times each, one of us barely managing to pull the other back every time. We were just lucky our destructive streaks never lined up, or the pieces of the crib before us would've already become nothing more than a pile of ash.

"Alright, that's it!" Cass finally shouted, standing up abruptly from where we'd been trying to wrestle together the corners of the crib with no luck, despite using both our strength at once. "I'll be right back."

"What?" I flung my arms out to either side of me as Cassian headed for the door. "You're abandoning me? Seriously?"

"Not abandoning! Changing tactics."

Before I could ask for clarification, Cassian was out the door. I stared after him, waiting for him to reappear or say he was kidding or something, but he didn't. I huffed, then shook my head and turned back to the crib, its pieces still mostly laid out on the floor.

I sat there and stared at the pieces for a few long beats, contemplating my next move. Honestly, I'd just about decided to throw them out the window and tell Rhys the thing'd never been here when the door came swinging open again.

I turned to find Cassian striding towards me, the confidence and determination back in his step. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just grinned.

"I've solved all our problems."

I snorted, but smiled at Cassian all the same as he came to a stop before me. The fact that he'd managed to make me laugh at all in the middle of this nonsense was exactly why we were mates, and it made me love him even more.

"Cass, you know I love you, and you know I trust you, but... I'm having a hard time seeing how that could possibly be true. Unless you convinced Mor to take over for us...?"

"No, but just as good." I raised an eyebrow, and Cassian's grin widened as he dropped down next to me. Slowly, from behind his back, he pulled out a hammer, tape, and a few other supplies.

I just stared at everything for a moment, then snorted and leanded into Cassian. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Babe... we can't use that stuff to put this crib together."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't be sturdy enough! We don't want it to give out while the baby's in it. We both know we can't risk that."

Cassian hummed, rocking forward just enough to get a few of the pieces of the crib into his hands. He lined them up like we'd been doing all day, then raised the hammer in his other hand.

"Maybe you're right about the tape," he said. "But all we need to fix this is a little extra power. We can't force it together with our strength alone, so we'll use a hammer."

"Cass-"

Before I could get another word out, Cassian swung the hammer. I could see him putting his full Illyrian strength into it, and sure enough, the pieces whacked together. Unfortunately for us, they also splintered into more pieces than would be fixable, even with tape.

Cassian and I just stared at the wreckage for a moment, neither of us speaking. Cassian was the one to break first.

"Shit."

I laughed, all the stress and ridiculousness of the past few hours disappearing along with our hopes of actually succeeding at our task. I leaned into Cassian, and a moment later, he joined me.

"Well, that didn't go like I was hoping," sighed Cassian. I laughed again.

"Really? That's not what you were going for?"

"Not quite."

We shared a smile, then slumped back together, Cassian's arm around my waist as I leaned into his chest. I sighed, staring at the ruins of the crib before us. Not a single part of me wanted to do something about fixing it.

"So... how about we call Mor and find a way to pass this on to her?"

I laughed, then nodded as I leaned even further into Cassian.

"Baby, I was thinking the same thing. You, me, and Az have had to tear our hair out over this thing already, I think it's her turn."

"And even better, if any of us has to call Amren in, it'll be Mor."

"Exactly."

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Maasverse Taglist: @lilah-asteria

[lovingbini]

beautiful coincidences

seok matthew x female!reader | meet cute | fluff, suggestive, slight making out a/n: i believe y'all know exactly what visual of matthew i'm talking about, right? right? *** you and matthew met at a clothing store when you reached for the same jacket. what happened was what one knows of interest at first sight. eyebrows raised, you waited for him to let go – well, he didn’t.

“alright, give me a reason why i should let you get it,” he said, a smile on his face.

“i can give you two, actually,” you dared. “first of all, i have something this weekend that demands this jacket. second, it will look better on me, respectfully.”

matthew gasped, but the smile never left his beautiful features. he took it as a green light to take a good look on your body, making your eyes slightly pop with such audacity.

“right, i admit you’re gorgeous and have a good styling. but it’s actually my birthday this saturday…” he pouted. “you wouldn’t ruin that by leaving with my favorite jacket, would you?”

you had to laugh.

“that’s funny, ‘cause the something i have this weekend is precisely my birthday party.”

“okay, no need to clown me!”

“i’m not! i’ve been planning this outfit for a while, but just got the money for it yesterday.”

matthew bites his lower lip, contemplating. you have a basket from the store with more clothes, which he acknowledges they match the jacket both of you are still holding.

“maybe we could celebrate together after our parties, what do you think? i could use an apology for making me so so sad.”

you smile once again, unable to resist the charms of the man in front of you.

“yeah, poor sad man, what’s your name again?”

“matthew, yours?”

“i’m y/n. now maybe you should give me your number and i’ll analyze your proposal ‘till saturday, is that alright?”

“perfect for me.” he grins.

***

the bar downtown had lounges on the third floor with a view of the city. you rented one of the spaces to spend the night with your loved ones with no worries. it worked so well that your friends were already planning the next events to be in that same room. the place had a glass wall that allowed you to watch the hallway to be aware of anything that was happening outside.

that’s when you saw him.

matthew was standing on the other side of the building – a cup in his hand, hair slicked back and a jacket that looked exactly like yours. he was talking to what seemed to be his funniest friend; his beautiful smile was out for the world to witness, for you to remember how you didn’t text him at all.

it wasn’t on purpose, really. you just got busy with the preparations and ended up leaving it for later – a later that didn’t come.

sensing he’s being watched, matthew looks around and finds you on the other end. tilting his head to the side, his smile changes. he cheers on you with his almost empty glass, you return the action and sign him to meet you in the hallway.

“well, look who wasn’t lying,” he teases while getting closer. “somehow, i don’t see you wearing that so very demanded jacket…”

you hold a smile.

“it was getting kinda hot in there, but i can put it back if you prefer.”

“oh, no, i wouldn’t tell you to do anything you don’t want to. but i can’t lie and say i don’t enjoy this view even more.” there he goes again, scanning you up and down.

“sorry i didn’t text you, things became pretty hectic the last couple days.”

“nah, it’s fine. guess we can seize the moment right now. keep that communication going with no rush this time.”

and you do. the hours pass while you talk about trivial stuff, making sure to be interested in every aspect of each others lives. matthew’s not only handsome and charismatic, he's also part of the production team from a company you know very well — you were invited to work with them for a promotion but the schedules didn't match after all. what did match, though, was the both of you.

the way you laughed in sync, the way you looked at each other with so much attention and curiosity, the way the slightest touches made you two waver. you wish you would've met sooner, but on the other hand, getting to know each other in a place full of people who cherished you and knew how to have fun— oh, that was perfect.

later, when matthew found a more private space to enjoy your presence, you found yourself pretty comfortable on his lap. his kisses were addicting, his hands pressed your curves in ways you could just imagine. first, he was very attentive of your reactions, second, you were the most obvious woman on earth. nevertheless, it was working, matthew’s smoking hot and eager to show his every move. through the few sane thoughts still roaming in your mind, you couldn’t stop the willingness of taking him back home with you.

“wait, i need to pee,” you say, suddenly.

“like in a kinky way, or something?”

“no, what the hell!”

you burst out laughing and hide your face in his neck. matthew pats you in the back, waiting for a real answer.

“i’m serious. i kind of grinded on you in a way that hurt a bit, so it reminded me i’m here kissing you for a long time now.”

“okay, so go relieve yourself and i’ll be right here, waiting to be grinded on for another long time.”

you kiss him again, biting his lower lip as a punishment, but of course he moaned.

“you’ll be a nightmare to handle, matthew.”

“glad to know we have plans together for the next couple days.”

[shutupineedtothink]

Ok this has been sitting in my drafts for a minute but since nobody asked for it, here’s my full Nicky headcannon. It leads into an insane MCU witch movie with Agatha, Wanda, Rio, Billy, Tommy (?), maybe Jen and even Alice. All the witches! I got yall.

So, Nicky Scratch. That boy is Agatha and Rio’s but most prominently he is Death’s Son, right. A demigod something or other, an entity, Something Else. Not really human/mortal, but certainly not dead either. He’s in the same class of whatever Rio is. Rio knows this from day one. Agatha does not.

That means two main things: Nicky isn’t really “dead,” (he wasn’t even supposed to be “living”) and that kid should have hella powers. We should have seen some indication of that imo in the show but I can explain it away easily enough in a minute. Either way, under the surface he should have scary magic along the lines of Billy if not far more powerful.

Except while Billy has essentially Wanda’s magic, creator magic, Nicky’s is much, much darker. You know, something fitting of a child of Death.

Let’s say Nicky has Black Magic. 👀 haven’t seen that one on the color wheel of magic colors yet amirite. (Except the Darkhold I suppose, which is an interesting connection potentially.) Or maybe it's like Dark Magic, as in literal darkness. Darkling style. Maybe it's somehow a dark/light binary, like how Rio is technically a death/life binary. Idk I'm working on it, but you get the idea. He's on another level, something adjacent to Rio but not quite the same.

His magic is so strong, corrosive, not evil necessarily but heavy and consuming, that it was killing his mortal body from the beginning.

That’s why he was never meant to live in the first place — like Rio he is Another Being, his magic is Something Else. It’s too much for a human little boy. He needed to join her to really “live” and have any hope of control over his magic.

His powers also make him a massive target for who knows what demons and underworld beings. … you see where this could go.

So in this version, let’s say Rio has a much deeper connection to Nicky on a magical level. She can tell when his magic is about to manifest in the world of the living and takes him right before that happens, otherwise both him and Agatha will be in danger. Perhaps she even tells Nicky what’s happening, and he can feel it coming too, which also accounts for why he goes with her so willingly, to protect his mama from his own power. Kind of a lot for a six-year-old to understand but again, he’s Special.

Maybe Rio’s even been keeping the monsters off Nicky and Agatha’s trail while Nicky was human. Tbh it was a miracle she managed it for six years alongside her other responsibilities. She never told Agatha a) because she didn’t want her being more afraid than she already was, b) because would it have really made any difference, Agatha would hate her either way and c) For The Drama.

When Rio takes Nicky, maybe she stashes him in some kind of purgatory space. Pocket dimension? Idk we have no idea what she has access to but let’s say she hides him away somewhere so that she can teach him to use his magic and keep him away from the demons. This is where I would pull in Alice if possible, after we see Rio take her into the smoke in ep 8 Rio makes her an offer to help her protect Nicky in purgatory for a while, because his powers are only getting stronger and she's starting to get worried something's going to happen. Yes, diverting a soul like that is wildly against the rules. She does it anyway for her son.

All of this of course makes Agatha’s hatred for Rio that much worse, because Nicky is still “alive” in a sense and Rio is doing everything she can to protect him and raise him and help him control his magic. She can’t tell Agatha any of this because anyone else who knows about Nicky is a liability. Again, she really shouldn’t have even let him live with Agatha in the first place, it was a massive risk to everyone involved. But she did, and Agatha has no idea what a gift that was, for her and for Nicky.

All of that said, this would set us up for some CRaZy MCU witch/underworld stuff. So here’s the rough outline of my movie: let’s say the demons finally find Nicky wherever Rio has him hidden and take him to the underworld, Mephisto, blah blah whatever. I’m not worried about the motive at this point. Age Nicky up to Billy’s age roughly so he can be a real character. Btw, in my head Nicky is still the sweetest bean, total opposite to either of his mothers, too good for this world, cursed with this insane power he doesn’t know what to do with. Obviously, we have some opportunity to develop him from there.

Anyway, once she finds out he’s gone, Rio is forced to tell Agatha the truth. There’s no one else she can trust to get Nicky back. (I’m imagining a juicy confrontation between the two of them where we just let Kathryn and Aubrey cook with the exposition.) Rio can’t go to the underworld herself for some reason, because of The Cosmic Rules, and the Jac Schaeffer rules of Rio can’t hang around on screen for too long (which I like, actually).

Rio only deals with the mortal plane and directing souls to whatever comes next. So it has to be Agatha who rescues him, but as a ghost she’s stuck on the mortal plane too. So now we gotta “bring her back to life,” because I need real life Kathryn Hahn in this full movie not as a ghost, you feel me. And she has to be able to use her magic. So we gotta manifest a new body around her ghost form. At first they think Billy can do it, but even he’s not that powerful, not to mention still relatively untrained.

… Do you see the vision yet?

There’s only one witch, who may or may not be dead, who can manifest Agatha Harkness back into a living breathing body. And Agatha HATES it with every fiber of her noncorporeal being, but she needs the Scarlet Witch to make her mortal again, so that she can go to the underworld and save her son. Of course, chaos and shenanigans ensue, and Wanda and the boys end up going with her.

I’m calling the movie — Agatha Harkness and the Scarlet Witch. It’s a team up babyyyy! It’s about women and power, Wanda and Agatha being two sides of the same coin, mothers and their sons, rewriting your story, reuniting and letting go, etc etc etc. Yes I have entire scenes already written in my head, no I’ll never actually write the fic or the screenplay, if somebody wants to run with this please let me know and I’ll give you what I got.

The point is, the story potential on Nicky is insane to be The One Who Brings Everyone Else Together and I really hope they don’t just throw it away.

[6esiree]

𝟐.𝟑𝐊 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫!

Before I set up this contest, I knew that deciding to pick a winner would not come so easily, especially considering that the people in this lovely community are skilled writers with creative minds that I admittedly envy. Still, I never anticipated the amount of time I’d spend going back and forth between the two stories I eventually narrowed it down to, rereading them, jotting down what I loved about them, and all while trying to stave off the idea of disappointing anybody. Sorry, I’m an overthinker.

Again, I really enjoyed each and every story that was submitted. I don’t care if I’m doing too much by adding this next part, but I’ve been in this community for quite some time already, and though I have not formed any deep connections, I can say with an overwhelming amount of confidence that everyone here is amazing. Seriously. Mutuals or not, your kindness, your passion, your dedication, and many more wonderfully admirable and unique traits you hold, they—you—are the reason why I’m still here.

I don’t think I’ll ever summon up the courage to befriend anybody. It’s intimidating starting something new, but that’s okay. The mere knowledge that I’ve positively interacted with such wonderful people through likes, comments, and reblogs is enough to satisfy me. I wasn’t that confident about my writing—and I’m still not—yet I decided to give tumblr a try, to distract myself, to make me feel better, and it was the best decision I had ever made. Life is tough again, but it’s okay. I’ll push through, like I always do.

Anyway, let me push the sappy shit aside and finally say that I decided that @xalygatorx’s fic has ensnared my heart. When I reread it, I found myself just as absorbed and profoundly affected by her writing style, the personally flawless manner in which she executed a prompt I had admittedly forgotten about, like the first time I read it. It’s always satisfying when a character is captured so well, especially one as complicated as Alastor, but God, the entire story was just phenomenal.

Unfortunately, my poor brain is spent from all the energy I’ve put in as of late in researching and writing my final projects for two different classes, so I don’t have the ability to delve into or outline each and every little detail I enjoyed. It would take me a while to do that. Nevertheless, I hope with even the simplicity of my statement that anybody who reads this understands that this decision did not come easily. There’s too much talent in one place—it’s overwhelming, but in a good way. That just means that the Hazbin community is blessed!

[all-pacas]

OK, follow-up to this post about Cameron's apartment's, let's look at Chase's. Because set design is fun!

We never see Chase at home in early seasons: the closest we get is in Human Error, the end of S3, where Cameron is visiting his place. We never actually see inside, and it's not even clear if this is like, his front porch or just the entrance to the building; he's a former rich kid so it could be either, but I assume the latter, because he's a trust fund brat but not own an entire townhouse rich.

The next time we hear anything about it is in The Itch:

CHASE: What time you done? We could try that new sushi place next to my house. CAMERON: Why don't we stay at my house tonight? CHASE: We always stay at mine. CAMERON: That's what I mean. We used to split it. What happened? CHASE: I don't know. Closer to work. CAMERON: By five minutes. And my house doesn't look like it was decorated by a drunk rugby player.

(I am fascinated by this line and all its implications. It is not decorated by a rugby fan but a drunk rugby player. What does that look like besides probably atrocious.)

Sadly, we never see this apartment. The next time we see him at home it is in the last episodes of S5. He appears to have moved in with Cameron; since this apartment doesn't match her old one and isn't plastered in sports posters, she either gutted and redecorated the apartment or, I think more likely, they got a place together (we first see them "at home" once they're already engaged). We first see it in Under My Skin:

And then we get several good looks at it (including the bedroom) in S6:

(the last two photos are a bit awkward but useful for layout: cameron exits the bedroom and is directly opposite the front door, meaning the bedroom is to the right of the hallway arch; meanwhile the front door is behind chase and you can just see the TV to his left, making it the final wall of the living room in the s5 set.)

Finally, at the end of Teamwork, we get a nice view of the living room/kitchen from the windows: it appears the kitchen might have an alcove to the left for a dining set (although when we've seen them eating, it was on the couch — relatable).

Chase stays in this apartment — same layout and architectural details — through S8, although once Cameron moves out he completely redecorates, which is fair. This is also interesting, because it shows he has a completely different style than she does; Cameron's apartments are all decorated the same (beige Pottery Barn-core), but Chase has a more… well, masculine aesthetic, he likes darker colors and more color in general.

We very, very briefly see his apartment in After Hours, when 13 calls him:

It appears Chase is lowkey a nerd: he's reading a book on the Crusades, he has a stack of books on his nightstand, and the top one appears to be a goddamn diary. Incredible.

We next see it in Chase: from the first shot we can see it is the same apartment as before; from the second we see the ensuite connected to the bedroom (and that he's gotten rid of the bookcase that used to be against the wall).

Finally, Park briefly stays with him in Gut Check, and we find out that a) the apartment has at least two bedrooms (and likely two baths, given the en-suite), and b) the redecoration did continue:

(why the hell does he have four TV remotes on his coffee table????) I actually like the orange couches (and the implication that Chase threw out every single one of Cameron's decorative tchotchkes), but it's a different vibe for sure.

Because we actually get so many different looks at the place, it's pretty easy to make a map of the layout; the apartment looks something like this:

This post is so pointless. However, I do not apologize.

[bardic-tales]

I figured today I would focus on some facts about Bianca that I have been developing recently or over the last few months. They are going to range from romantic to the mundane. Also, there is mention of BDSM practices below.

While Bianca is a demisexual, I also label her as pansexual, too. Bianca does not care what anyone's orientation is. As long as a person developed an emotional bond with her, she could become attracted to them.

Bianca is also demiromantic. She made her living for six years as a romance author. I am a sucker for sticking an author / writer character into my stories.

Both Sephiroth and she are touch-starved, but to varying degrees. Sephiroth is not use to physical contact. When Bianca first hugged him, he was stiff and leaned away from her touch.

However, they do engage in BDSM practices. He is the dominant partner. Bianca would be considered an alpha submissive. She enjoys her bratty role.

Sephiroth will manifest his wing as a sign of dominance when she is too out of line with her brat persona. He has also used his telekinetic abilities to hold her down. This is never down in an abusive way. She consents every time. Sephiroth is the only being she trusts, which is ironic in its own way.

However, one of her 'rewards' is she gets to brush and style his hair. It's a bonding experience between the two. He also likes to brush and braid her hair, placing flower crowns on her head in their dreamscape. This keeps the Hades and Persephone theming of their relationship.

Bianca sees herself as an avenging angel, as well as the self-imposed title 'Priestess of Jenova' to honor Sephiroth and their plans. She harbors a hatred for humanity after everything that happened in her life.

Bianca prefers to wear Sephiroth's clothing when she can. He does NOT mind sharing his clothes, as he sees this as claiming her in a way. She loves to envelop herself in his scent, as she has heightened senses due to her demonic heritage. His scent provides her comfort on those days when her past is just a little too much for her. She boasts that she can smell him 100 miles away. This has lead to a nickname 'his bloodhound'.

Fun fact. I was going to make FWC an isekai in this newest rewrite. I found it funny that with Bianca's reality bending powers that she could have made 'One-Winged Angel' play on the Planet when Sephiroth fought Cloud. There are times when she does play music from her world, but seeing that they are on a different planet, Cloud, Sephiroth, and the rest do not understand the music.

Her favorite music is gothic rock and darkwave, industrial rock and metal, alternative rock, trip-hop, and symphonic metal. As she was teleported onto Gaia in '96, her musical tastes stay stuck in the 90s.

Bianca is 5 foot even. I often head canon Sephiroth to be 6'5". Since she is so much smaller than him, she will often levitate off of her feet to hug him or give him a kiss.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @glbettwrites

@seastarblue

[minnlahzz]

amethio, silver x hex maniac reader.

requested

amethio and silver! oreo and jalapeño duo (this is separated.) sorry for the big wait, school is biting my toes. uhh silvers is very short, because I feel like ive mentioned most of the things silver would do in other fics. I don't wanna seem repetitive or uncreative!

— AMETHIO

amethio would initially be unsure what to make of you. your eerie aura and cryptic way of speaking would intrigue him, but he’d be cautious. he’s logical, so he’d view what you do as something he needs to understand rather than dismiss, because every person is different why judge them. he’d probably think, "are they like this all the time?" when you casually mention something spooky like the “ghosts watching over” him.

amethio’s edgy demeanor and your crazy words would balance each other out. he’d act as the grounded counterpart to your whimsical nature, often giving you a deadpan look when you go off on a supernatural tangent.

“amethio, the spirit (random gengar) says this battle will be tough.”

“the spirit is stating the obvious.”

your comments often catch him off guard, not because he gets scared of it. it's just becuse you just say it so randomly it's kind of concerning, leading to some amusing exchanges.

“The ghosts approve of you, amethio.”

“good to know. now, tell them to get out out of my way.”

your unpredictability often throws him off balance. whether it’s your cryptic compliments (“the spirits find you quite handsome today”) or your sudden affection, he finds himself flustered more often than he’d like to admit.

your spooky vibe complements his calm and calculated style perfectly. he’d use your unnerving presence to throw off opponents while he plans a precise attack. he might even ask you for “spiritual advice” during critical missions, though you’re never quite sure if he’s joking or went insane.

he isn't really phased from ghosts, neither is his pokemon. ceruledge is one of the few pokémon that isn’t fazed by your team. it often stands protectively between amethio and your more mischievous Pokémon like (for example) misdreavus, who enjoys pranking people by floating off with their belongings. ceruledge gets really paranoid and assumes all your ghosts are evil at first.

amethio never disregards your interests, and tries his best help you enjoy them, even if he's not a fan of it himself.

— SILVER

silver is honestly pretty game with whatever crazy stuff you do, he didn't stop loving you after you did questionable things in order to see ghosts (he'd be apart of it anyway.)

first time meeting you silver already felt discomfort/concern. (not negative) he’d wonder if you had some hidden agenda, but over time, he’d notice how kind and sincere you are, even with your random outbursts, which would ease his initial distrust.

silver reluctantly tags along when you explore spooky ruins or abandoned buildings to “connect with spirits.” he’d grumble about how impractical it is, but goes anyway. (his honchkrow becomes your flashlight during these adventures.)

your spooky jokes and ghostly references catch him off guard, but he grows to enjoy your sense of humor. he won’t laugh out loud, but the corner of his mouth quirks up when you say something particularly clever. silver might even use them too, but to an extent. gold never understand the jokes...

when travelling on a mission sent by professor oak by the dex holders (gold, and crys mostly) he makes sure to find and pick up eerie trinkets and paranormal items to give to you on his return. he'd just silently sneak them in his pocket without the other two knowing, sometimes what he does though leads to a bigger problem.

"hey silver what are you doing! this place is completely abandoned don't touch that!" crys silently yelled (if you get it) in the corner.

silver unresponsive, shrugs and picks it up... suddenly a locked door opens "WHAT DID YOU DO?" gold yelled from the other room, echoing through the entire building.

"silver you pay for my life insurance."

"it's just another room, there might be something important we could give to professor oak there. you guys are just overreacting."

"GHOST!"

silver knows alot of paranormal information because of you, and it definitely saved the 3 idiots lifes maybe twice. lesson learned: don't go to abandoned haunted building, (unless you're a hex maniac the ghosts are pretty cool with you.)

it's not just him that gives the other trinkets, it's also vice-versa! you gift silver supposedly "haunted" charms, he's skeptical but carries it around anyway. when he wins a tough match, you proudly point at the many trinkets you gave him.

"the spirits were with you, horray!" you say celebrating.

"or maybe it was my training, but you know that works too."

silver has a beef with your pokemon, doesn't matter which he hates them and they hate him. (don't worry though) your pokemon like taunting him and whenever he complains, you brush it off as them bonding together.

“tell your pokémon to stop stealing my items,” he says, holding up a poké ball with a stone faced expression.

“it’s just trying to bond with you!” you reply.

“...bond less.”

[just-mary-ann]

I DON'T HAVE SELF CONTROL!

Harlequin swap AU by: @tadc-harlequin-au

Based on the draft of me and @mrs-nightshade

Honorable mention: @thore-lb

Lavender

Pomni and Caine sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Their coffee preferences differed—not that they needed coffee—but indulging in such a human ritual allowed them to feel alive, if only for about ten minutes.

"I didn’t see Able this morning," Caine remarked, inspecting his top hat before placing it back on his head.

"He hasn’t returned from the fighting ring yet," Pomni replied, stirring her coffee slowly.

"The fighting ring?" Caine tilted his head, mimicking the gesture of a raised eyebrow.

"The first rule is not to talk about it, so that’s all you’ll get from me," Pomni chuckled.

Suddenly, they heard a grumble. Able entered, exuding irritation.

"I’m back," he muttered, heading straight for the coffee machine.

"You look exhausted, brother," Caine slid a clean mug toward him. As expected, Able caught it effortlessly. "Don’t tell me you lost?"

"Bite your tongue, detachable jaw," Able retorted, pouring himself a cup of coffee before sitting beside Caine. "I found out who my 'secret admirer' is."

"You mean that fanatic who’s been staring holes through you at the fights for the past month?" Pomni leaned forward.

"She’s so persistent I could physically feel her gaze," Able ran a hand over his head. "You’ll never guess who she is."

"Oh, let me guess—a dainty little statuette who’s bored of high society and fell for a bad boy," Pomni waved her hand sarcastically.

"Your sister," Able replied, waiting for Pomni to meet his gaze. "Lilac."

"Pomni has a sister?" Caine was genuinely shocked.

"Not just a sister—a twin," Able explained.

"No way. Lilac is a 'proper lady.' I refuse to believe she’d attend a fight," Pomni nervously started stuffing herbs into her pipe.

"Believe it. I’d recognize her Harlequin design anywhere. How many Harlequin puppets do you know?" Able sighed.

"Excuse me, but could someone explain how Pomni has a twin sister?" Caine interjected.

Pomni and Able exchanged glances.

"When a man and a woman love each other, they can create new life," Pomni began with a smile.

"Th-that’s not what I meant!" Caine facepalmed. "I mean, why hasn’t anyone mentioned her all this time I’ve been living in the bunker?"

"There wasn’t a need to," Pomni leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "My sister and I haven’t spoken since she gained full consciousness. I’m not even sure she knows where the bunker is. I did try convincing her to move here, but even after enlightenment, she chose to stay with her human owner."

"A puppet willingly serving a human?" Caine mused.

"Can we drop the subject?" Able stood up from the table. "Her voice is so sweet it’s practically cavity-inducing. I’d rather not think about it anymore."

The day passed quickly, and soon it was night. Able prepared to leave for the fighting ring again.

"Able," Caine stopped him. "Listen. Can I come with you tonight? I’m really curious to see how you fight other puppets."

Able chuckled.

"What? Losing to me wasn’t enough for you?"

"Our match was a tie. We’re evenly matched in strength," Caine crossed his arms.

"Fine. No harm in having one more spectator. Let’s go."

Caine enjoyed watching his brother fight, though the crowd's noise made him uncomfortable.

"His stance is solid. His punches are professional. It’s clear this isn’t just fighting for him—it’s a sport," Caine muttered to himself.

"YES! GO, ABLE! YOU’RE AMAZING UNDER THE RING LIGHTS!"

Caine turned toward the feminine voice. Beside him stood a puppet woman. Her long black hair was styled in elegant curls, gathered into a loose updo. She wore a floor-length lavender gown with closed shoulders and long sleeves, adorned with ruffles and lavender embroidery. She completed the look with mesh gloves and a parasol hanging from her elbow. The puppet applauded enthusiastically with every blow Able landed.

Suddenly, realization hit Caine.

"Lilac?"

"Hm?" The puppet turned to him. "Do we know each other?"

"Not personally. I’m a friend of Pomni and Able. Caine."

"Oh, a friend of my sister. And my darling Able? Well, hello there. I’m Lilac, the Lavender Harlequin. Come to watch the fight?"

"Yes. But I won’t stay for the rest of the evening. Once Able is done, we’re heading home."

Able’s opponent suddenly landed a hit on his shoulder. His arm went limp.

"Looks like a shoulder joint injury," Caine winced at the thought of the pain his brother must be feeling. "We’ll need to replace it."

"You... can repair puppets?" Lilac clutched her parasol tightly.

"Both Able and I know how to repair and create puppets. I can’t recall where I learned, but it doesn’t change the fact that we often spend time in the workshop."

"Create... puppets..." Lilac clung to his words.

Despite his injury, Able secured a victory. As they left the club, Able suddenly cracked his shoulder back into place, restoring its movement.

"Ah, so it was a dislocation, not a break?" Caine asked.

"Did you think a weak hit like that could hurt me?" Able teased.

"Darling Able!" Lilac hurried after them, slightly out of breath. "You’re so fast, and I’m in heels!"

"Ugh. Lilac," Able averted his gaze. "What do you want this time?"

"Caine said you can create puppets. Is that true?"

Able shot a glare at his brother.

"So what if it is?"

"That means... you can create one from scratch?" Lilac fidgeted with her parasol.

Able froze.

"So what?" he repeated.

"My owner, Lady Melissa," Lilac’s voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes. "She’s gravely ill. No medicine helps her. Please, I beg you, help her." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Can you turn her into a puppet?"

Able hadn’t expected such a request. Usually, Lilac would shower him with compliments and hint at a date. But now, she seemed... desperate and hopeless.

"Ugh," Able sighed. "To be honest, yes, I can build her a body." Lilac’s face lit up with hope. "But a mechanical body is just a shell. Without a soul, it’s useless. I don’t have the knowledge or skills to transfer her soul from a living body to a mechanical one." He turned and began walking toward the bunker. "If I could help, I would. But as it stands..." Able glanced back at her. "Pray for the best outcome."

Caine felt sorry for Lilac. She stood frozen, as if rooted to the spot, her tears abruptly stopping. Without a word, Caine followed his brother.

To be continued

[dragonicstyle]

well damn there's already big improvements🧍

[fauvester]

something something seeing things through different eyes

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)