#yes i saw another one of those posts that's like 'life is so stressful and confusing sometimes isn't it........ so just enjoy the little

[no-hcpe]

We have GOT to stop acting like acute depression and chronic depression are the same thing in any way whatsoever. They do not respond to the same types of therapy and trying to treat chronic depression with tools that work for acute depression (CBT, McMindfulness, etc.) can actually make it worse. I'm not trying to say this in a gatekeeping way, but if your depression arises as a result of life circumstances or from some other disorder, rather than being a primary illness itself, we literally have Two Different Disorders. Lumping us together is just throwing chronically depressed people under the bus and it fucking sucks that we're expected to respond to the easy, lightweight treatment that was designed for "neurotypicals going through a tough time".

[starlost97]

— forgiveness.

summary: After a fight, you decided that the best way to punish Arthur was simply not talking. He couldn't, however, take it any longer after seeing you in a silk red dress.

tags: silent treatment, not really fluff but not really angst, kind of sexual, he begs, Arthur is a simp, f!reader.

characters: Arthur Leclerc.

warnings: reader wears a dress, reader is referred to as "sweet girl".

a/n: the first shortfic to a series of formula 1 one shots! me and my friend did this thing where we write things of our favorite drivers to one another and I decided to post some (a lot) of them. hope u enjoy it! this one's prompt is "wearing a revealing dress while giving them the silent treatment". also, the next one will probably be either a Jenson Button one or a Max Verstappen one!

word count: 342.

requested?: yes! by a friend.

Arthur never regretted something more in his entire life.

Sure, right after raising his voice in his argument with you he already felt like the worst boyfriend ever. You two were discussing his crappy time management skills and since he was already stressed, he ended up telling you to shut up.

And he regretted that terribly.

He had given you apology letters, perfumed them with his cologne — which you once told him was one of your favorite scents — and left them on your nightstand. But that didn’t seem to help much — even though he caught you smiling to one of them one day.

He was already hopeless by day two. He didn’t even know what to do anymore.

But when he saw you with that silky red dress, it was inevitable.

His knees failed him — thank God they did —, and soon enough he was crawling to you, putting his hands on your thighs.

“Baby, please.” He shamelessly begged. He didn’t know how long he could endure this torture anymore. “I might actually go insane without hearing your voice, mon amour.”

His eyes got lost in the way the silk hugged your body. The soft cloth moved around your waist freely, cruelly reminding him of your smooth skin underneath it, making him desperate. Desperate for your body, for your touch, for your sweet whispers against his ear.

“You know I don't mind begging you, don’t you, sweet girl?” Arthur asked, looking up at you. He grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, then wrist, then arm. Slowly, he reached your ear. “I beg you to tell me what I have to do to earn your forgiveness. I’ll do anything, darling. Anything.” He whispers. His desperation was palpable enough for you to touch. “You have me entirely to you, and that means that I’ll do as you wish. So please, baby, tell me how I can show you how much I regret saying those things.”

In the end, Arthur showed how sorry he was.

And how thankful he felt to earn your so desperately desired forgiveness.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Calm After Storm

Hi guys!

It was way too long since I didn't write for Leah, so here is a sweet little thing.

I'm so happy Arsenal won yesterday, even if I almost cry three times and had two hearts attacks. And of course I think about Frida, hopping she's ok :(

TW : Lover fight, Angst.

______________________________________________________________

Leah is intense. Always have, always been and that’s how you love her. You love how much she can be passionate about everything she’s doing. You love her love for football, for her family, for her friends. She is always here to help her relatives for everything. She’s here for her grandmother when she needs help for groceries, she’s here when her mother can’t walk their dog, she’s here to get her brother to the airport at 8 in the morning even if she played a game the night before, she’s here to support her teammates through injuries.

She’s everywhere she can be, at every time.

You, in another hand, you’re calmer. You’re a little shy and need some time to observe the people you don’t know before opening up. You are as affectionate and attentive to your loved one than Leah, but in a more discreet way.

Those differences are the meanly reasons of why you didn’t understand at first why Leah seems interested in you. You met her thanks to your friend Lotte and Leah took the time to talk to you every time you came to watch Lotte plays. When Leah did her ACL, she attends almost every game, and you talk a lot during this time. That’s where she asks you out for the first time, after having asking Lotte if you are into girls.

You said yes, obviously.

If you didn’t think that Leah must be interested in you, you were deeply charmed by the personality of the blonde. She’s funny, intelligent, great to talk to and you have a lot in common. And yes, you must admit that you find her unbelievably attractive. Like almost half of the population but hey, you’re just a girl.

Leah kissed you at your second date. She asks you at the fourth to be her girlfriend and introduce you to her family after six months of dating. Of course, they already have known about you. And you knew them thanks to the Arsenal VIP room. But it was the first official diner with the Williamson and relatives.

You are not living together for now, but you find yourself a lot at each other’s house. You love being at Leah’s, everything smells like her. But she loves being at your house too. At Christmas, Leah gave you the keys of her house and you gave her the keys of your flat.

You love her, a lot. And you know that she loves you back, even if those precious words were never pronounced to each other. At least you both know that you care for each other. A lot.

That doesn’t mean you never fight, to be honest. Not later than yesterday, you had a really stupid argument about something really stupid. But with Leah’s stress about football and her comeback and your proper tiredness thanks to your job, it was sometimes happening. Some means words were exchanged, and Leah ended up leaving your flat, slamming your door.

Stubbornly, you decided not to write to her. In your opinion, she was wrong, and it was even more wrong to leave the way she did. You were hurt a little bit too, by the argument and after by the fact that Leah didn’t call you or at least send you a message. Not the same night, not the day after.

Almost two days later, you still didn’t have talk to each other. You ask casually to Lotte how Leah is doing when you have her on the phone. But your cousin answers that she was Switzerland in your love life and that she didn’t want to be involved in anything. Unless it’s for marriage or children. So, basically, you don’t know how Leah is today.

You saw the video and the pictures posted by Arsenal’s admin on Instagram, but that’s all. You choose not to go to the game, not sure that Leah wants you here. It’s an important game though, so you decide to watch it on TV. Leah’s starting and it’s strange to see your girlfriend’s face on your TV screen. She’s focused, her glare well fixed on her face. Her blue eyes are piercing her opponents.

But that doesn’t help Arsenal to win today. It wasn’t a big loss, but it was a loss anyway. Leah seems particularly sad, and you feel your heart cracks. So, you decided to jump in a jean, in your car and to go to Arsenal’s stadium. Leah gave you a pass to access to the parking lot, so you just use it to get in it.

You know that Leah went to the game with Beth, so you’re not surprised not to see her car. But, when you get out from yours, you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable. What if Leah doesn’t want you here? Maybe your idea wasn’t as good as you thought at first. You almost decided to leave when Leah passes the door.

She’s looking at the ground, not listening to Beth or Laia Codina who are walking with her. The other blond spots you first and elbows Leah who looks at her. Beth then points in your direction and when Leah spots you too, she seems as surprised as she is relieved.

You don’t move, only waving shyly at her. She gives you a little smile in return, turning into Beth to says her something. You don’t know what it is, but Beth rolls her eyes and push Leah in her direction with her hand before mimic a kick in the ass.

“Hello” you say softly when Leah is next to you.

“Hi” breaths Leah.

You reach out to take her bag, putting it on the back seat of your car. Then you went to opens Leah’s door, but you cross her eyes, and she seems so upset that you can’t do nothing against that. So, you reach out to her again, so that she can grasp it this time. And, when Leah almost jumps on your hand, you take her delicately against you. She hugs you back, putting her face in your neck almost immediately.

“You played good” you whisper after some seconds.

“You weren’t here to watch” Leah objects, her face still in your neck.

“I watched you on TV.”

At your explanation, Leah pushes herself even more against you and you tighten your arms against her. No one like to lose obviously, but you’ve never seen someone with such an ability to take all the blame on themselves. You know that tomorrow, Leah would pass half of her day watching the game, analyzing her mistakes and noting them in her notebook. You hate that damn notebook.

“You still watched me?”

You can’t help but smile, hearing how small your girlfriend is when asks you that question. Leah Williamson, captain of England and Euro champion looks like a little girl right now. No one ever saw this part of Leah, or her mother only maybe. But you do.

“Of course.”

You could have tease her and answering that you wanted to watch Katie, but it wasn’t really the good timing. Leah takes a deep breath and release you, looking attentively at your face before trying another smile. You smile back and stroke her hair before nodding at your car.

“Can I take you home?”

“I’d love to.”

You don’t really talk during the journey to your house, but Leah captures your hand in hers almost immediately. She strokes your fingers and plays with your ring all along, looking out by the window. You let her, knowing with time that she needs some quiet sometimes to figuring things out.

When you get out of your car, you take Leah’s bag with one hand, your girlfriend’s hand with the other and go to the ascensor. In it, you can smell Leah’s shampoo and that’s make you smile. The blonde surprise your smile in the mirror of the ascensor and you just shrug. She doesn’t have the time to question you though, the doors opening just after.

“Do you want to order pizzas? Or I can go to Tesco to take you a ham sandwich if you prefer?”

“Nah, pizza is good Babe. Don’t worry”

You let Leah orders your diner, using this time to wash her dirty laundry before heading back to the living room. Leah had made herself comfortable, lying on your couch. But she stands when she spots you, making you frown.

“We need to talk. About our fight.”

You feel your face fall, hopping to never discuss your fight again. You hate fighting with Leah, and you hate the way you feel after. You were hopping that you can have like a silence contract to forget it. Plus, the We need to talk sentence is never really good. But Leah seems to understand really fast what’s happening in your head, because she takes your hand when she sits down on the couch again, taking you with her. You are almost sitting on her lap when she talks again.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t even remember why the fight start, but I shouldn’t have left like that. It was childish and I’m really sorry. Are you still angry with me?”

You shook your head negatively, relieved to learn that Leah doesn’t want to break up or something like that.

“No, I’m not. To be honest, the same night I was more sad to sleep without you than angry.”

“Why didn’t write me?” Leah asks with curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure you’d answer me and I was afraid I’d be even sadder.”

Leah sighs softly, stroking your back. Her eyes are looking at you with intensity and you bite unconsciously your lip.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Leah asks you soon after.

You nod, taking advantage of your position to cuddle against her. Leah puts her chin on top of your head, and you can hear her heart when she talks again.

“I was sad too. I was hopping you will come to the game but when I didn’t see you, I realize how much I fucked up. And after the game, all I was thinking is that I will have to deal with the loss all alone. Almost everyone was going home to their partner and mine was probably angry at me. I just wanted to go home and hide under the cover. When I saw you in the parking lot, I was thinking of the best way to apologize and get you back. I knew it was my fault, but it didn’t ease the sadness of it, it was even worse I think.”

“Don’t say that” you mumble “It was my fault too. We were both arguing.”

Leah hums and you look up at her before kissing her cheek. It was nice to know how much your presence means to Leah whether it’s during the games or at home. You love being here for her obviously.

“But we’re good now, right?”

Leah smiles, with her real smile and you feel your heart fluttered.

“We’re good, my girl.”

Then you kiss her for the first time since the fight and you get lost in your embrace. The kiss is sweet, tender and you feel like floating somewhere above the ground. Maybe your exchange will change in something more passionate if your pizzas weren’t already here.

You eat them in front of the TV, but still cuddling against each other. Leah finishes her pizza first and takes you more against her soon after. She kisses your cheek several times, not really interested in the movie she picks before. When you feel teeth against the skin of your neck, you decide to forget your meal to roll on your girlfriend.

Leah smirks, happy to have all your attention and catch your lips in an intense kiss. You whimper, surprise by the intensity of it but didn’t waist time to answer it.

“Thanks for coming for me tonight.”

Leah whispers it way later, when you were under the cover of your bed, almost asleep. The pizzas were eaten, you forgot the movie to better activities and after that you took a hot bath.

 Leah’s body is warm against yours and you hum at first for only answer.

“My pleasure” you mumble, half-hiding your face in her.

You yawn and Leah start scratching your neck, just like she knows you like. You only need thirty seconds to fall asleep after that. Leah needs a little more time, but she watches you sleep to pass time. She knows she’s lucky to have you and she swears to herself not to leave you angry anymore.

[cupidkenji]

ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves -  I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet. 

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach.  Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good. 

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask. 

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis. 

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.” 

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist. 

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents. 

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him. 

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out. 

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?” 

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.” 

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it. 

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up. 

No, it wasn’t. 

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room. 

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.” 

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job. 

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost. 

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder. 

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.” 

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.” 

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.” 

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

– 

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling. 

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?” You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed. 

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team. 

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.” 

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.” 

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.” 

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.” 

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief. 

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human. 

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours. 

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place. 

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass. 

“I’m Matthew.” 

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area. 

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink. 

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.” 

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.” 

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed. 

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored. 

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.” 

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.” 

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core. 

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke. 

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.” 

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately. 

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless. 

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden. 

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

 “He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if  I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past. 

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.” 

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes. 

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought. 

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive. 

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own. 

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car. 

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car. 

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to. 

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you. 

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels. 

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

[prinzrupprecht]

Good night🩷 I didn't know you were accepting asks at the moment, since I have a bad habit of only looking at the bio and not the "about me" posts. One idea that I think would be cool to write is that Reader dies and meets Okita and the others in Valhalla (before Ragnarok starts). Maybe they were a couple before he died and Souji waited for her to arrive in the afterlife. Maybe Reader was his first love that he never confessed to and now he got the opportunity again. Whatever you find most fun. I just think the idea of ​​spending eternity with him is cute🩷

hugs from brazil🇧🇷🇧🇷🩷🩷🩷

Meeting Again in Valhalla

I had this sitting in my draft since August 23rd. So now I’ll be doing it!

Pairing: Okita Souji x fem!reader

Synopsis: You remembered how you died and it was heartbreaking. Now you had woken up to a peaceful scenery refusing to believe you’ve been reborn. No, you were in heaven. Now you really hoped was to see him again.

Warnings? hurt/comfort but mostly fluff.

WC: 1015

It was like everything went black after getting caught by the enemy and dying in front of him.

He must hate you… do you even want to see him again? The thoughts were intrusive and terrifying.

“It’s, okay Souji… you got it from here.” Moments before you were shot in the head by some officer from the Tosa clan.

You didn’t want to know his reaction and you never regretted your decisions. You died holding your beliefs to your heart— which was peace between all parties and to live without wars.

You never even got to tell him about your feelings. You rarely regretted anything, but when it came to not stressful times… there was no time for romance. You hoped he would live a long life and stay with Kondo-san.

As you stayed in Valhalla for quite some time as a soul now and wandering to new places in the heavens. You had saw some familiar faces from those who died during the Bakumatsu era. Kamo Serizawa was happy in his own new world. All you wanted was to finally settle down somewhere.

The Valhalla area for Japanese fallen warriors was huge. You casually always walked around greeting many of the warriors, heroes and citizens. Someone had called your name which made your heart stop for a minute. Huh?

“K-Kondo-san?!” You saw him wave at you. Why was he here? What happened?

“Wh-Why are you here?”

“It seems that I too, joined the heavens. Souji should be joining us soon, as well.”

“Why? What happened to him?” You were panicking but deep down, you really wanted to see him again.

“Last I saw him, he was too sick to move. He only had very little time left…” Kondo’s voice fell despondently. He was sick? You felt horrible for not being by his side.

“He never fully recovered from your death, you know…” Kondo crossed his arms as the two of you walked off in a different direction.

“I wish I could apologize for that, it wasn’t my intention… for what happened.” You were saddened but the two of you met up with Todo, Abiru, and Yamanami who were outside having a nice time eating ramen and drinking.

“Kondo-san?!” The three of them looked up and saw the two of you. Even Yamanami was shocked to see you and wondered where you’ve been. Todowas flabbergasted to see you as well but was glad to see you again.

“I see you three have stuck by one another.” Kondo was smiling knowing his Tennen rishin-ryu would stick together no matter what.

“Oh yes! We were waiting for you!” Abiru threw his arms around Kondo with tears in his eyes.

“You’re the fourth to join us and well… fifth,” Todo turned his head to you. Would you stay with them? If Souji soon joins the heavens and sees you, would he hate you? What did Kondo mean that he never got over your death?

You decided to stay with them since well… you had nowhere else to go. You only had them when you lived. You were quiet most of the time while Todo and Yamanami were talking up in Kondo’s ears.

Everyone seemed so, very happy… except for you.

-

As a few weeks slowly gone by as you waited for him to show up in heaven anxiously. You spoke to Kondo a few times about whether you should really stay with them, but he told you it was up to you, but Souji would want to at least see you once.

It turns out, that Kondo and Souji had buried your body and you dying affected Souji the most with regret.

So it was decided, you’d see him and if he doesn’t want anything to do with you… then you’d leave.

“Oh! He’s here! Okita-kun!” Yamanami shouted with excitement trailing in his voice. Huh?! Already?! Your heart rate must’ve spiked in multiple directions. You looked over to the side and saw him smiling and standing next to Kondo.

He looked… happy? Abiru had rushed over to him welcoming Souji with wide arms. As much as you wanted to jump in his arms as well, you kept your distance and felt too shy to say anything. Souji of course, noticed you right away and called your name.

You sulked down in your spot with embarrassment. You felt someone nudge you, Kondo was next to you. “W— Welcome!” You tried to say while covering your mouth.

“I can’t believe…” he was at a loss for words before wrapping his arms around your body. “I get to see you again,” he barely breathed out while squeezing you tightly like his life depended on you.

Yamanami was observing the two of you, he remembered how broken he was after you had died. Abiru didn’t know what was going on between you two considering he died before you did. Kondo, however, always knew… how much Souji loved you. He regretted never telling you sooner and you two knew each other for many years.

“Ya! I’m here as well!” You tilted your head to the side and smiled happily. He tried not to get emotional but he couldn’t help it. Even in all of the heavens, you could still shed tears.

“The others should be joining us soon,” Kondo had said hinting at Hijikata and possibly more members of the Shinsengumi.

“Oh! So that means I should stay and wait for them?” You questioned innocently.

“Why would you leave? I just got to see you again…” Souji pulled away from your side. He pouted but you had remembered Kondo’s words.

“I can stay if you want?” you offered, which Souji was flustered for a moment. He wanted that more than anything. He even wanted to die sooner so he could be with you again.

“I’d really like that,” he wanted to tell you his feelings and more. He never wanted to let you go away. You and Kondo mean too much to him.

You couldn’t wait to now spend your new life with him in peace and eternity, as for him as well.

[starrycloak]

ptsd flashbacks, hyperphantasia and true sight - Max's drawings in 4x05 were too good, actually

cw discussions of ptsd

I was thinking about how, the morning after she escaped Vecna's lair, Max took upon drawing what she saw there. Mostly HOW she drew those pictures:

Separate elements, fragmented individual snapshots (like an officer taking pictures at a crime scene- by the way, check out @threemanoperation's post about other instances of weird puzzle collage-solving-seemingly-without-a-reference here; it was a major inspo for this post). Sure, nobody was expecting her to render a single 360° view of Vecna's mindspace, but her drawings are more than clear enough. This level of detail (the broken, scattered structures, trinkets, Chrissy and Fred's bodies in their current state, mixing the crayon colors available in Holly's box so they'd more closely match what she saw, the different angles) is more than quite accurate for someone who 1) hadn't previously been labelled as skilled in drawing and 2) might have been scared for her life to mindfully focus on her surroundings. I have two main questions, both quite connected to one another, but I'm afraid I won't be able to answer them fully: how and why.

how could max remember so clearly what she saw in vecna's mindscape and externalize her memories with such high fidelity?

some assault/attemped m*rder survivors have very vivid memories of the moment they were attacked -those memories might not even be limited to image and sound, but even smells, textures, etc.

When traumatic memories are retrieved, the physical stress response actually serves to strengthen them, to reinforce the memory in the circuits of the brain. The PTSD response makes these memories stronger and stronger over time. [Survivors] may not remember all of the details, but the things that they do remember remain sharp and consistent.

There's no clear-cut time frame for how long it takes for our brains to initiate and run this process, so I'd not rule out something of the sort might have happened to Max from the moment she came back and the next morning at the Wheelers' (plus she didn't sleep at all and probably saw those images any time she closed her eyes). However, I can't help but consider what I said above about Max's main focus probably being elsewhere in that moment, along with the fact that Max's drawings were beyond beginner (as in, not hobby) level (did you see how many different vanishing points she used for the 'floating' objects???), and a very important detail she mentions herself: her walking into the red mindscape wasn't Vecna trying to scare her per se -he did NOT want her to see that, so he probably didn't want her to remember that place either. Yes, he had seemed kind of... "peacock-y" when it came to the classic "serial k*ller leaves crumbs bc he secretly wants to be found out", but he has to call the shots on who gets to see what, like he eventually did with Nancy. Max managed to "infiltrate" his mind bc he did the same to her first, so would it be far-fetched to think that, if it was only up to him, he'd make sure to block or take away those memories from her to patch what ultimately becomes an exploitable vulnerability for the Party and co?

unless someone else, in a similar position to Vecna -or even higher-, was on the Party's side-

I want to explore two possible explanations as to why max was able to retain such clear images/memories, stemming mainly from @greenfiend and @/kaypeace21's posts about DID theory. One: with Vecna being Will's persecutor alter, escaping his claws might have 'granted' Max an ability that has a similar-ish equivalent on an irl condition that can influence memory processing: hyperphantasia.

Hyperphantasia is the condition of having extremely vivid mental imagery. [It] has been described as being "as vivid as real seeing" [...] Vivid mental imagery as observed in hyperphantasia impacts people's ability for "mental time travel", or the ability to remember past events as well as imagine future events. Hyperphantasics have reported more sensory details of episodic memories and future event constructions.

sadly, it's more of a curse that a boon:

Vivid imagery has been correlated to several mood disorders, particularly anxiety, major depressive disorder, and bipolar disorder, and having hyperphantasia may exacerbate symptoms of such disorders by subserving ruminating thoughts as well as acting as an "emotional amplifier" [...] The vividness of mental imagery has a key role in the development and continuation of intrusive memories, so for those with PTSD, having hyperphantasia is a substantial risk factor.

if this sounds a bit familiar, it's because it's tied to the second possible explanation: Max, being an alter of Will, acquiring/borrowing the host's artistic abilities/motor skills (to a degree*) and a flash of his True Sight so she could help the party navigate that part of the hivemind as if they themselves had been there. or, similar to Billy, she was 'activated' (re: influenced/possessed) to help the party with this particular task.

*at first I thought this detail was too much of a reach, but then I remember how similar Max's and El's -another alter- drawings were in The Piggyback (although El's had bigger heads both times), and how stickmen were either a deliberate choice by Max or just her back to default:

[pluralescentmoon]

as promised, the "pearl is a system who doesn't know it (yet)" propoganda totally-an-essay for @thecoolerliauditore

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS ABOUT THE CHARACTER. NONE OF THIS IS ABOUT CC!PEARL. I ALSO DO NOT THINK SHE'S DOING THIS INTENTIONALLY. this is just how I'm choosing to interpret her character, because it makes things a LOT more interesting. this also works under the assumption that life series pearl and Hermitcraft pearl are the same character, so if that's not your vibe, that's fine! this is just your warning. I am also not saying all alters in every system has specific roles, or triggers. and if you dont know what im referring to at any point in this post, please let me know! I'm just trying to explain my thought process in a clear and concise way, even for those who don't know specific details about those under the plurality umbrella.

mild wild life spoilers ahead as well! you've been warned!

so! pearl has a bit of an unusual habit of how she refers to herself. she tends to do it in parts. she gives them identities, names. roles. example of this being, post master pearl, the cleaning lady, scarlet pearl, editor pearl (yes this one too i PROMISE I promise it'll make sense). each of these are like specific "characters". they're masks she puts on, to play the part of that specific pearl. they have their purpose, their roles, their clothes (separate skins). each of them are similar, but still unique and distinct from each other.

each one of these pearls has a purpose, a specific role they play in her life. they're specifically called upon for their tasks. for certain things, there's a pearl for it. it's almost as if these pearls have triggers that pull them out for specific reasons that seem important to helping their shared body…

an example of this is, there was a point recently in Pearl's season 10 where she was rebuilding her storage room. and, she found herself in a familiar set of clothes. taking care of the mess, as the cleaning lady. which leads to interesting implications! c!pearl feeling like she needs to change into another set of clothes to do something like organizing her chest, and call herself a specific title while doing so

cc!pearl has even said she sees her character as having phases (like the moon lol). and that she likes wearing specific skins (clothes) for them.

I think these specific pearls, these segregated parts of pearl, are her alters. alters that have specific clothes they prefer to wear, triggers to pull them to the front, and roles they fill in the system.

now that brings up the question, what are their roles exactly?

we'll start with the easy ones!

Normal Hermitcraft Pearl - Host. the silly. she's a goofy gal, the one we see the most. she's also given these other parts of herself names, based on the tasks that they carry out. she just thinks she's putting on a few different masks for each of these characters, and does not realize what's going on at all.

Post Master Pearl - this would be the one who works in the post office, the one who wants to deliver the mail. she's their work alter! she mainly does stuff with the mail system, including building the top part of some mailboxes or retrieving the lost parcels

Cleaning Lady - this one feels pretty self explanatory. she likes to clean and organize, and I think she could be contributed to a caretaker, as I'm going to contribute the SOUP thing to her, since it was season 9 more than anything else. she's here to clean and make sure they have good meals, but gets stressed about it sometimes. she also absolutely has nightmares about Grian's storage prank lol

Scarlet Pearl - abandonment/trust issues given form, scarlet would be a protector/trauma holder. we saw her forming in double life! she's the reason pearl seems to go from being fine with Scott, to snarking him. i think host pearl is, consciously or not, trying to suppress scarlet pearl from fronting in wild life, as host pearl does want to be friends with scott again… because she doesn't remember the extent of her trauma from double life. not the full of it anyways.

I have a lot of thoughts about protector scarlet pearl ngl but we'll get back to that. there's one more alter to talk about first.

I also have some thoughts about her having a Santa Perla introject because of Sausage's influence, but that one is less solid. still, she gets an honorable mention.

and now the biggest one. somehow the silliest one, and also the one I feel the strongest about. editor pearl.

editor pearl is of course, a silly OOC joke… but the implications of her existing are so very interesting. if we take the videos to be how pearl remembers things, if we take them as how she would tell things to others, then this means there's things that are purposefully… cut out of what she remembers. things that change context, or that are even almost… too much to remember. it's like she has someone there, taking snippets of her memories away. making her forget them, making her retell events in different ways than others.

that's what editor pearl is.

editor pearl is the alter that takes care of their memories. she cuts out the parts she doesn't want pearl to remember, because they're too traumatizing, they arent important, or she doesn't sees them as worth remembering.

this affects how pearl sees not only herself, but everyone else around her. conversations are forgotten by her, but not by the other side. the way certain memories are framed change drastically when you can only remember the parts that someone else WANTS you to remember. editor pearl is a memory holder, who just wants to help their system out by keeping the Good parts. she's gives pearl what she thinks pearl will want to remember, which means pearl only tells the parts editor pearl approves of.

I think, with everything going on in wild life, pearl is well on her way to discovering just what's going on inside her mind. whether she wants to, or not. scarlet pearl can only be held back for so long, and pearl has been doing that for two sessions now.

oh, sure, scarlet was allowed to snark in the first episode. but the second episode, comparing it to Cleo's POV… there's things missing. things cut out. entire conversations left completely out of Pearl's version of the story.

I think editor Pearl and scarlet pearl are working together a bit. cut out the memories of scarlet saying she wants to throw up at the idea of being family. and so many other little lines. cut it all out, make it easier to remember, easier to deal with.

because, after all, they just want to do their jobs. they just want to help, to make life more bearable. to make everything okay. host may not want them to, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her…

but this isn't built to last. not with host pearl keeping scarlet locked away as tightly as she is. sooner or later, something has to give. and sooner or later, they'll figure out what's going on. I have a feeling it's going to be messy, because pearl (scarlet) doesn't like feeling like people thinks she's crazy. and this will only make her feel crazy before the end.

but it can't last the way it has been. eventually, something is gonna break. or, maybe instead someone.

this isnt going to go well for host pearl.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Reposting this for the anon who is clearly too obsessed and doesn't have a life outside of Tumblr. + Added a new statement too.

I deleted this post because I was under the impression the anon had already seen it—since they love to stalk my blog very in-depth. Luckily, I had written it on Google Docs, like I do with everything I post here, before posting it the first time. And now I’m posting it again because apparently, they didn’t get the memo and love to create fake accounts:

For the anon who’s too coward to use their real account and clearly doesn’t have a life:

I was going to ignore the first ask, but then you had the time, energy, and weird obsession to create a fake account just to send me another ask—and then a private message. So let me be clear

This is the first and last time I address this. Any further messages or asks about this will be deleted and blocked immediately. Tumblr is my safe space—stress and drama free—and I will block anyone who disturbs that for me. You really came onto my blog and did what—threatened me? You ran my writing through an unreliable AI checker and then had the audacity to message me about it? Do you really feel like it's your place to question how people write fanfiction? Why do you feel so entitled to an explanation from someone you don’t even know? To quote you: “DM me and explain why” — WHO are you? And where is this entitlement coming from?

Let me ask you this: Do you not have a life outside of Tumblr? Who takes time out of their day to check if what a stranger posted is “AI” or not? I saw another account getting the same kind of asks recently—was that you too? Are you going blog to blog checking F1 fics like a fanfic detective? If so: get a life, get a job, get a hobby, or better yet—touch grass.

And the audacity to make a fake account just to send another message? Coward behavior. I’ve blocked the first anon ask and now your little fake blog too. I’ll keep blocking every single one if you continue harassing me.

Don’t like what I post? Scroll past it. Block me. Ignore me. I truly do not care. I use Google Docs for all my fics—outline ideas, drafts, requests order. Since that seems hard to believe, here’s one example straight from my docs.

And since you clearly have free time, here are actual credible sources that prove AI checkers are not reliable and should never be used as evidence of anything:

Source

Source

Source

Source

This is especially relevant to me personally, because English is not my native language. I've studied it for over 15 years, l'm currently studying English at university, and I don't live in an English-speaking country. I didn't grow up in an English-speaking country, and I've worked hard to develop my vocabulary, grammar, and writing style. So if my writing sounds "too repetitive" or "too perfect to be written by a human" and gets flagged by some Al detector—that's not proof I used Al. It means I've worked hard to get to this level, even though my English might not always be perfect.

Source

Al that claims to create undetectable Al content or "human Al"

Or maybe you want to read more on Google Scholar:

There are so many sources to inform yourself—you just need to know how to use them.

And this is what really gets me: someone could use Al, lightly edit the output, or run it through one of those "humanize Al" generators and pass every detector with flying colors. Meanwhile, people like me get flagged and questioned for no reason.

Also, if I were actually using Al, I would've used one of those humanizing tools too—so people like you wouldn't harass me over what I post.

These days, it seems you don't even need facts—just a fake account and a superiority complex.

That's all I had to say. Goodbye, and good luck finding a personality.

April 7

A few days after I posted the above post, you went on someone’s blog — someone who had sent me an ask without using the anon option — and sent them an ask about me, as if I had committed a crime. Less than 24 hours ago, you created yet another fake account just to message me (as seen below) and tell me about one of your other accounts (also fake), despite my explicit statement that I would no longer entertain this obsessive behavior.

Let me be extremely clear: I do not owe strangers on the internet an explanation for my writing process — especially not those who appoint themselves as investigators and issue condescending ultimatums. I will not “contact you privately.” I will not “own up” to a false narrative you've built around flawed tools and obsessive pattern-tracking. You do not get to demand private confessions like you're running a tribunal.

I already said everything I had to say when I made that original post, but clearly it didn’t register, and you continue to target me. I looked at the account you mentioned in your message. To quote: “Some members of the group of us working on this project have gone through PhD programs or work in education and understand the inaccuracies and limitations of AI detection tools.”

So you're adults — or so you claim — with PhDs, yet you seem to be unemployed based on the amount of free time you have to analyze what strangers are posting on the internet. Especially posts that are over 2k words long.

Seriously, who has time to do this much? Because I highly doubt someone with an actual job and a life has this much time on their hands.

And as I said in my first post: block me if you don’t like my blog or what I post. It is really that simple.

LEAVE. ME. ALONE.

[mirroredmemoriez]

More Denlon Thoughts

From finally posting my comparison down below about the Denlon's and John, it made me spiral even more into them.

I have said it there above and I'll say it again- Jeff's test in my eyes accounted the fact his grief would slow him down. John wouldn't have of wanted him to be able to speed through it, especially due to the fact he's getting improv brain surgery. There was a bit of a reliance on the fact that Jeff wouldn't complete his test like, halfway through Lynn's. Which, I believe sometimes the fandom doesn't think about? Yes he's, ''Slow Ass Motherfuckin Jeff.'' However, if he wasn't Saw 3 would've been way shorter- Like imagine he showed up before Amanda was having her full blown breakdown? And or mid brain surgery. Another thing I mentioned is the fact that in comparison, Lynn is handling her test much better than her husband... And in turn this actually makes him seem even MORE slow than before. What we have to think about here is though, Lynn was not dubbed the ''best'' in regards to her medical pursuits for no reason. The playing field is working way more with her, the biggest stress and issue Lynn faces whilst going through her test is Amanda. Otherwise, if you took that factor out? Yes she may be using shit like a power drill but Lynn is a fucking amazing doctor. We get to see this even before she was kidnapped because it can be said she should've been there sooner, but when she helped that patient in the hospital she literally stabilised him in almost a minute flat whilst disregarding the other doctors inputs.

Lynn's test doesn't have her constantly facing her own grief and in comparison to Jeff? We don't know whether or not she even holds a shred of need for vengeance like he does. The most we know about the impact it has had on her, is she's now addicted to anti-depressants, neglects Corbett and her marriage is so fractured she's having an affair. One thing I'll hone on in here is the child neglect... We don't get to see the way Lynn does that as much as we do Jeff. The assumption is her long work hours and being out well... Having that affair! But also how active would Lynn have been in her children's lives even prior to Dylan's death? She to me is the main ''breadwinner'' let's say and Jeff is more so the one who is regularly looking after the children, because Lynn is a literal brain surgeon where generally surgery can last from 3-5 hours to even 5-7! How much did her role as a parent change when Dylan died in regards to how active she is in Corbett's life?

Shuffling back to the games- It's also such an interesting concept to think of Lynn going through Jeff's test, I stated this before in my previous post but it's still an ever running thought for me. Jigsaw tests tend to always be specifically designed for the person within them- In the Denlon's case they're being tested for almost the exact same reason... They are husband and wife after all. So although I don't think that means oh yeah they can be inter switched! Everything is still very close to home for the both of them. Like if Lynn was face to face with Timothy Young the way Jeff was, that is the man who killed her son. Mistake or not. It's whether or not she can or wants to forgive. Lynn in theory and I guess also in practice really, is good at detaching her emotions from what is at hand. Does she like John? No- But will she ignore that in favour of living? Yes! The same way possibly in her career she has had to save the lives of people morally she doesn't agree with. However, as previously mentioned- This is so much more closer to home. So does that all go out the window for her? We just don't know.

I'll stop here for now because I'm a mad man who rambles too much- Thanks for reading if you've got this far down! -MAL OUT

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 33 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Whoops I was supposed to post this ages ago, also all my promises of fixing the situation may have been a small lie. But I'm sure you will all forgive me!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut , @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls anyone else please let me know.

The CO’s had kept quiet about my outburst, which I was thankful for. But they now also avoided me, like Don. There was nobody else to blame but myself. I sighed, massaging my temples with my fingers, the stress of the war was supposed to be over, but here I was making it harder than it needed to be. 

I hardly saw the rest of the troops often, they were so busy with training and when they were finally done, all they wanted to do was sleep. I was back to my loner self. 

My strolls had turned into hike’s, I walked as far and as long as I possibly could until the sun started to dip behind the mountains. 

I strolled through one of the small villages, it was one of the more busy places. It was always hustling with life, with markets, shops and bars that lined the street. 

“Emily?” A feminine voice called to me. I glanced over my shoulder to find one of the field nurses that I always spoke to when I went to the aid stations. 

“Ruth!” I beamed at the pretty lady as she approached me. When she was close enough she pulled me in tight for a hug. We hadn’t seen each other in a while due to no one really needing to go to the aid stations. 

“How have you been?” I asked as we pulled away from each other. 

“So good, this is like a mini holiday! They don’t have much for us to do, so most days the girls and I just sightsee, before they decide they want to ship us all home again.” Her smile was infectious, I found myself grinning back at her. It didn’t help that this was the most human interaction I had gotten in a while.

“Oh well you deserve it. You ladies worked so hard.” I said as I squeezed her hand. 

“What about you? Do they still have you working hard?” She asked. 

“No, there is nothing much for me to do. The men are all busy training for if they are needed in the Pacific.” 

“Gosh those poor men. I hope they don’t have to go, I heard it was diabolical over there.” Ruth shook her head, a worried look crossed her features. It didn’t last long as she turned back to me and gleamed. 

“You know what, the girls and I are going out for drinks tonight!” Ruth’s eyes lit up as she told me. 

“That’s so fun!”

“You should come along. All the nurses would love to see you, and it’s just us, so we can have a girl’s night.” Ruth took hold of my hands and squealed with excitement. 

“Me?” I asked. 

“Yes of course. We all went out yesterday and came back with gorgeous dresses. So we are ditching the uniforms and going all out. Please say you’ll make it!” Her face watched me eagerly. 

“I can come. I think I have a dress somewhere, but I don’t have any makeup.” I thought back to the dress that Renee had given me, which felt like years ago. I hoped that it was still in one piece, I hadn’t looked at it since she had given it to me. 

“Why don’t we buy some?” The brunette pointed over at one of the shops that lined the streets. I hadn’t gone into any of them since I didn’t have any money.

“I would love to. But I didn’t bring any cash with me.” I grimaced at her. “Plus I don’t have much. I send it all home.” I lied. 

“That’s no bother, it’s on me.” She didn’t let me utter another word dragging me along behind her. 

We spent an hour in the shop as she swatched at least every product. Ruth said she wanted me to have something to bring home. 

“Lipstick, mascara and eyeliner!” She begged. 

“I can’t let you buy all of that for me, it's too much.” I tried to get her to put back the items but she moved them out of reach from me. 

“No, it’s the necessity for a night out. I picked out the prettiest red shade that will match your complexion so well!” Ruth popped off the cap of the lipstick, twisting it out of the tube. 

“Come on Emily, you’ll look so pretty, you might even catch a good looking man or two.” Ruth winked at me. I hid my laughter behind my hand. 

“Fine!! But you’ll have to let me buy you a drink.” I would have to steal some cash from Lieb or someone, I would give them all of the smokes I had stashed away. 

“Deal!” Ruth nodded in enthusiasm as she trotted off to the counter to pay. 

I said my goodbyes, thanking Ruth again for all of the goodies she had brought me. She had told me she would send a car around 5 o’clock to come pick me up from the base. 

We parted ways with a hug and ‘see you later’. 

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

I touched up the lipstick that Ruth had kindly brought for me. She was right, it did suit my complexion. I had never been one for bright colours, I felt like it drew too much attention, I normally avoided it. But with the soft blue dress Renee gave me, it made me look that much more put together. 

I had showered and shaved, even going as far as styling my hair. Not that I could do much with it, my curls had gotten so long that they nearly touched my butt. 

I had taken the sides that framed my face and pinned them up, sporting a half-up half-down look. I left small curls around my features that sat on cheekbones, giving me a softer appearance. I applied a generous amount of mascara and tight-lined my water line, making my lash line appear thicker. I didn’t need to wear blush. My pale skin always had rosy cheeks and a sunkissed nose. 

Standing back, I took in my appearance in the mirror. A girl stood in front of me, one I hadn't seen in a long time. She looked young and pretty, surely that wasn’t me. 

I brushed the non-existent lint from the front of the dress nervously fidgeting. What would people say when they say me, I wonder if they think I’m trying too hard? 

Renee’s dress was beautiful. The material was satin so it shined in the light. The sleeves came above my elbows and were slightly ruched down the seams, same for the neckline. The material was pleated at the tops of my shoulders that continue down to under my breasts, which accentuated the curves of them. The fabric parted in the middle, letting my cleavage slightly show. The waist hugged mine, giving me an hourglass shape, the skirt then cascaded down to just above my shin.

I looked so elegant.          

My watch read ten to, so I got a move on. Stashing the cash I had nicked from Lieb in my bra, before taking one last glance in the mirror before heading out the door. 

I made it to the street where the car would be coming to collect me. I was early, so I stood on the side of the road letting my mind wander. I was away with the fairies, I didn’t notice the men had all finished their training for the day and were making their way back home. 

“Guten Tag, baby doll.” I heard from behind me. I turned around to find a smirking Lieb, I gasped in shock taking a step back. His face dropped, mirroring my horror. 

“YOU’RE A GIRL!” Lieb yelled, pointing at me. I looked at the man incredulously.  

“What?! Lieb, what the fuck.” I tried to get him to keep quiet, bringing my finger to my lips. Lieb continued to gape at me. 

“I’ve always been a girl, what are you on about!” I growled at him, trying to keep my voice low. I didn’t want all the unnecessary attention. 

“No, you’re not a girl all the time.” Joe tried to counter. 

“I am always a girl. What do you think when I put on my uniform I magically grow a cock and balls?” I quipped at the speechless man who was still staring at me in disbelief. 

“Ew, I thought you were someone else Em.” Lieb said astounded. I scoffed at him. He pretended to give a disturbed shiver. I think he was more weirded out that he had flirted with me. 

“Just tell me I look nice, you dick.” I shook my head at him. 

As luck would have it the rest of the Easy men strolled right past us. Lieb and I spotted them at the same time, I waved my hands in front of me trying to stop what I knew was about to come next. 

“LUZ COME LOOK AT THIS!” Lieb cupped his hands around his mouth, echoing his voice across the distance. The group walking with Luz turned their attention onto Lieb, who enthusiastically waved them over. 

Luz came bounding towards us, as the rest of the men slowly made their way behind him. George glanced at me, giving a polite smile and turning to Lieb. His head snapped around to look at me again, doing a double take. 

He gawked at me for a second before sobering. A charming smile plastered itself onto his face as he closed the distance between us. 

“Oh my who is this pretty dame?” Luz bowed like an idiot. George took my hand and kissed the back of it, grinning up at me like the Cheshire cat. I pretended to swat him away. The rest of the men had finally made their way over to us.  

“Darlin’ don’t you look beautiful.” Bull beamed at me. 

“Thank you Bull. See Lieb, that is how you pay a woman a compliment.” I smiled at Bull as he winked at me. Lieb rolled his eyes, sending me his signature smirk. 

Babe scared the living daylights out of me as he sprinted towards me, not looking like he was about to put the brakes on at any point. I squealed as he grabbed my waist, hoisting me up above his head and spinning us in a circle. 

“Look at you Em.” He placed me back on the ground keeping his hands on my waist, I grinned at him.

“Someone taking you out?” Lip asked from behind as Babe stepped back. The men grew quiet, their brains firing all at once. Before I could answer there was an uproar of sound from the guys. 

“Who’s the man? Is he picking you up? Is it Malarkey?” Lieb asked sternly, the other men doing the same. 

“Where are you going, why do you look so nice?” Babe's voice was overlapped by the other voices. 

“Malarkey never mentioned he was going out tonight?” Lip mumbled. I looked around at the men as they rambled on. 

“HEY!” I pulled their focus back onto me.

“Firstly it’s none of your goddamn business, but if you must know, no I am not going on a date. I am going out for a drink with the field nurses to a local pub. I don't know the name, and their car is coming to pick me up in about 4 minutes, so you all need to scram.” I took a breath after I answered all of their questions. 

“And no Malarkey is not going to be heartbroken, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I looked towards Lip who smiled at me. No one had caught on that we were fighting, since they all thought I was going out with Don tonight.   

I watched Luz turn in a circle looking for said man. But he was nowhere to be seen. 

“Don’t you think he should see you before you go?” Lieb asked, tilting his head as he did so. 

I didn’t get time to answer as a car horn honked from behind me. Ruth waved at me from the passenger seat, smiling brightly at me. 

“Em, get in.” 

I waved back at her, nodding my head. I turned to the men standing in front of me. “I’ll see you all later. Don’t wait up!” 

The men said goodbye as I headed towards the car, climbing into the back seat where a few of the other nurses sat. I turned and gave one last wave to the group on the side of the road as the car pulled away from the curb.

--------------------------------------

Chapter 34

[grusha-the-ice-type]

I want to talk about these two some more. Because I think they’re an underrated couple in just dance.

First off these two are definitely high school sweethearts. P2 was definitely a more goofy guy. People usually labeled him as like a delinquent and a bad influence simply cause of how he dressed (him owning a motorcycle clearly didn’t help either)

But P1 gave him a chance. She was more of a model student back then. She was pretty and she was pretty smart. But I HC that she was stressed out to keep up being the “perfect student” and I gat caused her to doubt everyone when they said what was great about her. She really didn’t believe them, it seemed as if they were just saying that to be nice to her.

One day she happened to meet P2 one day outside of the school. She saw him with one of those candy cigarettes in his mouth, scolding him about it at first. But then when she realized it wasn’t real she apologized to him, P2 saw her and almost immediately fell in love. So in his usual charming way did his best to see her smile. And eventually it did actually work she found him funny and fun to be around. That’s when P2 invited her to a drive in movie as a date. She wasn’t expecting things to move that fast but.

She didn’t say no lol

And that’s kinda how their dance started, it was the most fun she’s ever had and he had a blast seeing her let loose and smile.

After the date he asked her to be his girl and she clearly said yes lol. However dating someone like him didn’t really make her parents all that happy.

Once they found out they didn’t approve obviously. They didn’t think he was good enough for their daughter. But he was the only guy that made her feel this way so she didn’t break up with him

Many days pass and P2 was practically about to drop out due to neither of them really studying for that much and focusing on one another. Her parents didn’t like this and gave her a choice. Get her shit together or stay with the dropout.

I think we all know that choice.

She clearly chose the love of her life without a second thought. She’d have rather been with him than be stuck with someone who wouldn’t appreciate her like he did.

After she had left they both dropt out of high school, most people called her dumb, most called her insane. But P2 called her his girl. And that’s all that mattered to her

The first few months were hard, they stayed at motels together with what little money they had. P1 worked as a waitress and P2 worked many other jobs to help keep them alive. Despite everything they were dedicated.

They’ve been together for years now. Their love not once disappearing.

They’ve had arguments sure but they always made up in the sweetest way imaginable.

And every anniversary they’d go back to that drive in movie theatre and do the same dance.

I also HC that P2 ended up getting P1 pregnant and they have a little baby together.

P1 wishes she could show their baby to her grandparents but they’re still not on good terms yet. But they’re a pretty happy family regardless

But yeah that’s a long post- but I really love these two lol-

[duhhtheyellowrose]

12 FOR THE ASK GAME I THRIVE ON BYAKUYA HEADCANONS 🙏

12. What’s a headcanon you have for this character?

I GOTCHU I GOTCHUUUUUUU SO LIKE!! one thats very near and dear 2 my heart is that he has the WORST FUCKING ANXIETY KNOWN TO MAN like bordering on like. panic disorder. and i am going 2 go into His Sprites as 4 my Reasoning (dont worry i have some HEADCANON headcanons connected 2 this but first i wanna explain this one and u HAVE to listen because ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!!)

ok so like. full disclosure, someone else noticed this before me HOWEVER i saw the post a long time ago and i forgot who it was so I AM SORRY :( BUT

BYAKUYA HAS. AN EYE TWITCH.

im gonna be using the drs sprites shrimply because the expressions are more defined on them because theyre newer. so uhhh

its the MOST noticeable in these 3 sprites, ESPECIALLY the leftmost sprite. now with that sprite you could make the argument that he's doing an exaggerated "huh??" eyebrow quirk, but in the next two sprites you CAN ALSO SEE IT, ITS THE RIGHT (your right, not his) EYE!!! sprite 3 is a more intense version of sprite 2, but it IS on both-- look at the size of his iris on one eye compared to the other!! the right eye is def squintier!! HE HAS AN EYE TWITCH I TELL YOU!!

THERES ALSO THE MATTER OF THESE 3 SPECIFIC SPRITES (i have to group them in threes otherwise they are ENORMOUS) so i will go thru them super quick: leftmost sprite he seems to have a twitchy eye BUT its the opposite eye than the one that usually twitches. again COULD be an eyebrow quirk-type expression, COULD BE SOMETHING ELSE, I DUNNO

center sprite i'm gennnuuuuinely not sure if thats a twitch or if his eye just looks smaller due to the angle BUT i figured id include it as a MAKE YOUR OWN JUDGEMENT CALL KIND OF THING!!!

and the rightmost sprite actually has nothing to do with the eye twitchies, it has to do with another point entirely. as the late great walter white put it:

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

WHY ARE YOU BLUE.

i am AWARE he's not like, actually blue in real life BUT that blue tinge signifies lots of anxiety and nerves in the damn gan ronpas style and HE IS SO BLUE??? WHY HE SO FUCKING BLUE. I MEAN HE'S AS BLUE AS [THE VICTIM IN CHAPTER 5 OF V3] WAS IN THE CLOSING ARGUMENT!!! WHY ARE YOU SO NERVOUS BOY!!!! YOU NEED MEDICATIOOOOONNNNN!!!!

and i do think in a nondespair au (i.e. when he has no friends to lean on & doesnt go thru character development-- so like i guess the bad end to a nondespair au) he'd be one of those people that has a heart attack at like 30 because of all the stress AND he'd develop a heart problem that he'd ignore because it feels very similar (THOUGH NOT EXACT) to anxiety. soarce: i have a minor heart problem & lived w like constant chest pain for a MONTH STRAIGHT before i got diagnosed & put on meds. THEY FEEL VERY SIMILAR!! (ALTHOUGH DISTINCT!)

MY heart problem is a mild arrhythmia that thankfully was caught before it could develop into atrial fibrillation, which would be. Not Good. but i do not think byakuya would be so lucky!!! boy! you stressed the fuck out boy!!! heart problem byakuya who even gives a shit anymore. diltieazam 240mg byakuya otherwise constant chest pain who gives a shit anymore. yes i know i spelled that wrong i cant be assed to grab the bottle SHUT UP

[bi-leigh-bi]

I saw Bee post on your account and thought - well why don’t I ask you some questions Leigh 😂

1. Okay so! Why exactly “time travel” trope? just coming back to the past and waking up in the lab but not some cottage for example in another universe? What made you make that decision?

2. Which character is easier for you to write - Jayce or Viktor?

3. Which part/chapter was really hard for you to write? and the easier one.

4. How many more chapters do you think you will write till the story ends?

5. I know we will get the wedding chapter, which makes me really happy and excited, I treat it a little as “extra” if you know what I mean, but I’m just curious - will we get more chapters like this? little snippets from their life that we didn’t get to read before as the main story?

6. Side character that you like to write - Mel, Salo, Vi - is there anyone?

7. Will we get to see other timelines with other Viktor and Jayce again?

8. I’m really curious because it’s never mentioned - how old exactly Viktor and Jayce are in your fic? Do you know it Leigh? lmao

9. I know that you said you’re a smut writer but! as someone who wrote a few times smut fics which made me just embarrassed and also shy - does it stress you? do you find it hard to write? or it’s actually more easier than writing for example their emotional bond?

10. Why this bond? WHAT MADE YOU MAKE THIS BETWEEN THEM because it’s so beautiful and also good. You write it so good that it makes me speechless very often.

11. Do you like some headcanons? And if yes, will we get to see them in Second Chances?

12. Was Heimerdinger on Jayvik wedding in Second Chances? I NEED TO KNOW! Also, who is the biggest supporter of Jayvik in Second Chances lmao?

for now I have only these questions because it’s 5 a.m for me but don’t worry I will come back! for any typos I apologize

!!!! I love this!!!!

1) The entire fic happened because I wanted them healthy and young again but also wanted them to remember everything that happened so they could sort of work some of it out. I almost made it an entirely different universe but then I just couldn’t stop thinking about how that moment when Viktor keeps Jayce from jumping is such a life changing moment for both of them. So that was just the moment I wanted to throw them back to. Almost like they both thought of it at the same time and the arcane was like “okay that’s where you’ll go.”.

2) It totally depends! It changes day to day honestly, that’s why the fic changes from part to part (and in the most recent why it shifts within the part itself.)

3) Part 15 Let There be Blood (Let it Flow) was hands down the hardest. I am not good at action/fights. And I had to keep checking where exactly I’d put all the characters when time reset again. And also decide how events would change each time to finally get Jayce to the point where he survived.

4) I wish I knew! I know now (sort of) how everything ties together and they’ll definitely have a happy ending. So maybe a few more actual chronological parts? But I definitely introduced the excerpts idea so I could go back and play with them again (like the wedding) so who knows?

5) Yes! There will definitely be more excerpts.

6) Mel. For sure. I love writing her take on them. She’s so badass in her own right and she’s got her own plans and without meaning to those guys are thwarting her. Lol. Like her flirting with Jayce is lowkey just a jab at them for fucking with her plans. She wanted magic! And Vi actually is really fun to write. When I was writing the part where Cait corners Jayce she was like my comic relief almost and it was fun to write that.

7) There will most likely be ones that are just one of their alternate lives- like the violinist Viktor one, only hopefully not so sad. That one got away from me.

8) Hahahahahaha! Do I know exactly? No. I do try to hint that they’ve aged without making it obviously exactly how old they are. They’re getting gray and they’ve both put on a little weight. I would say probably like early forties at this point? But that’s not a legally binding answer lol.

9) I am so comfortable writing smut lol. I literally am writing it at work sometimes. It doesn’t faze me. But I really always want it to be more than just smut. I want there to be more to it, I want it to say something about them. So there’s always a reason; why they’re touching this way, why they’re doing this, why they’re saying what they’re saying. Like the Jayce choking kink thing is really about control and trust and safety and I want that to be apparent within the smut. And their emotional bond comes pretty easy too. It’s action that I have the biggest problem with. I’m still convinced the fight scene in the warehouse and the one dr at the banquet are crap!

10) Well that’s a compliment!!!! Honestly it just came to me. I was thinking about how close they were, literally touching each other, forehead to forehead as it all went boom and I just thought what if that basically tied and twisted their souls together so that they feel what the other feels. And then from that grew that touch was so important because it was always Jayce’s love language while Viktor avoids it, but between them it’s like their own secret language? It just kind of grew. I can tell you when I wrote the first part I did not have it all thought out at all! lol

11) I think things like Jayce not liking the cold, Viktor having a sweet tooth are headcanons I’ve seen that I like? And then I have my own, like Viktor liking Jayce with a beard and longer hair because that’s what he looked like when he pulled Viktor back to himself and stayed with him to die.

12) Heimerdinger was definitely there! And that depends! Who would be the first to fight anyone who talks shit to or about them? Caitlyn and Vi both. That’s their brothers, they can weird all they want, don’t fuck with them. Especially because they know the truth. But Powder is lowkey obsessed with them because she legit thinks they’re proof of soulmates. Which really, she’s not wrong.

@saltedsan thanks for all these questions omg! I loved answering them!!

[manchestereyes]

i saw you mention the video that shan't be named and the tweets and i agree they were definitely a couple back then... but what if theyre not anymore and instead just exes who are friends in the current day ;-;. i remember back when the video went huge on tumblr how adamantly dan denied it, in such a way that would be hurtful to phil in some posts if they were still together at that time. idk maybe all the break up fics that were inspired by those posts poisoned my mind lol

you're totally valid! honestly a lot of what they did at that time is super confusing but i see it as dan coming from a place of fear. as we know, he'd been bullied all his life for being different and seeming gay, to the point where he genuinely thought he couldn't be gay if he wanted to survive in his hometown.

but then he found phil, and learned that phil was openly gay in his real life and things were going alright for him. so dan started to think that maybe it would be okay for him too. fast forward a few years and their videos were blowing up faster than either of them expected, to the point where they were getting amazing opportunities with the BBC. and those opportunities play such a huge part in their story. because, think about it--the BBC is a HUGE national corporation and radio 1 is one of the top radio stations in the world. having their own radio show would make them national celebrities.

and sure, the BBC and especially radio 1 weren't homophobic by any means--nick grimshaw came out shortly after taking over the breakfast show in 2012. but dan still wasn't out to his family yet. so when the video leaked and people started digging into his past, he got super defensive because he wasn't even close to feeling like he could tell his family yet and things were coming dangerously close to his family finding out from someone other than him. so he did everything he possibly could to make it seem like he couldn't possibly be gay--and yeah, that included saying things like "ew, phil and i are friends i could never think about kissing him!!!1!!11!!!1"

and sure, we don't know anything about the inner workings of their relationship. but we do know they felt like they had to say yes to every opportunity just in case saying no to things made these opportunities dry up, to the point where they'd have to get jobs outside of youtube. and along with being outed, that was dan's biggest fear at the time. he had dropped out of uni and his family didn't have a financial safety net for him to fall back on. that is an INCREDIBLE amount of stress for anyone, let alone someone in their early 20s!

i like to think phil understood that, though, especially since he was under a similar amount of stress. sure, every gay couple is different and we've seen countless stories where one person isn't willing to go back in the closet for another. but considering that they are always talking with each other and checking in on each other even now, i think they have excellent communication--to the point where dan likely told phil about these posts before he posted them. heck, they even edit each other's videos! so they always know what the other is putting out into the world, and understands why they're saying that. and seeing as they've been joined at the hip this whole time (even when we didn't always see it) and never made the slightest attempt to date anyone else, i feel pretty confident saying they've been together the whole time! we may never know for sure, and maybe i'm being overly optimistic, but i hope not 😊

[strangedreamings]

S3E1 (spoilers abound)

Already saw the first 5 minutes on Tudum. I'm firmly in the "Colin didn't see Penelope when he arrived, he was too busy looking at her house" camp. It's sweet that Pen as LW singles out the new debutantes and tries to prop them up.

I love that one of the debutantes is deaf, more diversity on this show is a good thing.

Ah, Francesca's been in Bath since the beginning of S2, thank you, Violet.

"If I can be at ease in the chaos of our home, surely I shall find my way in the Season." Truer words never spoken, Frannie.

Francesca's not the Diamond? WTAF?

Those fucking sheer gloves. I hate them SO MUCH. Long gloves were for modesty, making them sheer makes them pointless. Somebody fetch me the costume designer, I just want to talk.

So Eloise is already "friends" with Cressida and it looks like she is trying to protect Pen from her. We'll see how long this lasts.

Can we nominate Jessica Madsen now for the Emmy for Best Supporting Actress in a Drama Series? I always hate Cressida but if, as rumored, we're going to sympathize with her this season, then I'm sure Jessica will knock it out of the park.

I love that Violet and Kate are getting along so well. I'm also thrilled that Violet doesn't approve of Eloise being friends with Cressida.

"I will move into a dower house as soon as I find one." Oookay, 15 minutes into the first episode and we have our first error. Dower houses aren't something a dowager FINDS, it's a (relatively) smaller house on an estate that the family already HAS. What Violet is looking for is a TOWN house in London since the Bridgertons should already have a DOWER house at Aubrey Hall!

Shonda, please, hire me as a script doctor. I assure you I'm affordable.

Lady Danbury: "Lady Bridgerton." Violet and Kate: "Yes?" I love that and I'm sure Agatha did it deliberately, it's cute.

Colin, dearheart, what in the actual fuck are you doing? Flirting shamelessly is only going to get you in trouble.

Lady Cowper is a bitch but we already knew that. I wonder if she took as long as her daughter to find a husband.

Wow, Portia really has given up on Pen finding a husband. This is giving me "Like Water for Chocolate" vibes (I hated that movie, so it's not a compliment).

Error #2. Unless I'm wrong, this is Spring 1815. (According to Wikipedia, Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story had Princess Charlotte dying in November 1814, three years before her real-life counterpart.) Emma wasn't published until December 1815. Yeah, we're talking about only a few months and the book does match what El is going through, but still.

Great, another El & Pen fight. El, you can pretend all you like (and you're not even doing a good job) but you are MISERABLE without your best friend. Someone El respects needs to tell her off so that she'll finally grow the fuck up.

Benedict took care of the estate while Anthony and Kate were on their honeymoon? Um, Anthony, WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A STEWARD?! You know, a person you PAY to look after the estate for you instead of asking your brother to do it for free! It gave him something to do, which I'm sure was Anthony's intention, but still!

The Mondriches have just joined the nobility! Well, their eldest son has. Oh boy, Alice is not happy. I don't blame her -- her stress level just increased a hundredfold.

I need to do a @regencyama post about titles, specifically inheriting them. With the Featheringtons and now the Mondriches having a son inheriting from his mother's bloodline, I need to emphasize how rarely this happened in real life. Good on Shonda for including the concept but really, did it have to happen twice in the same episode?

NEWTON!!! Bestest boy ever!

I know that ballroom! Lady Danbury's ballroom either is or is inspired by the Marble Hall at Kedleston. I'd know those columns and the lines of black-and-white panels anywhere.

Pen, honey, your entrance would go better if you didn't look FUCKING TERRIFIED. Albion is a sweetheart, he's the best brother-in-law for Pen (well, on her side). Oh good, she's finally smiling. Portia! How can you think that's a bad color for her? Is she a little color blind? That would explain SO MUCH.

Suddenly get thirsty there, Colin? LOL He has no idea what's coming.

Some of the (presumably) eligible men are finally noticing Pen. How long before Colin steps in? Oh, Pen, you are so awkward around people you don't know well, glad to see that hasn't changed (yet).

El and Cressida talking to some of the new debutantes while Pen is still being awkward with the men. Forget flirting lessons, she doesn't even know how to just talk to men. And El, lowkey making fun of Miss Hartigan for liking embroidery. Grow up, El. At least this girl is true to herself, unlike someone I could name.

Fife is giving off the CREEPIEST vibes as he talks to poor Frannie. What do you bring to the table, good sir? A title? Look around -- titles are a dime a dozen. Surely you can do better than that.

That's what sets Fran off? This scene was one the clips that Netflix released early. I assume the gentlemen had said something offensive but they simply asked her who she is beyond her hobbies. Well, she has been doing nothing but practicing the pianoforte for what, two years now? Maybe she feels there really isn't much to her than that. Well, she's what, 17 now? She's got plenty of time to find herself.

I love how sympathetic and sweet Pen and Frannie are to each other. They're like sisters already.

Cressida with a steel chair! Seriously, there would be a small room off the ballroom reserved just for mending dresses -- tears happened all the time, as well as melted wax dripping from the candles in the chandeliers, spills, etc. But back to Cressida -- she must think very lowly of herself if she truly cannot abide any competition at all.

Too little, too fucking late, El. Choke on your apology, it's neither needed nor wanted. (I love El but haven't liked her for a long time, if that makes sense.)

Another scene Netflix gave us early -- Pen confronting Colin about what he said about her the end of S2. She was already having a bad night and Colin being all smiles was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Uh oh, Pen's writing a new LW column without even getting changed first. Honey, you're writing this in anger, you're probably going to regret at least half of it.

Portia's sweating now with that phony document about the title being questioned. Oh, this guy is threatening her, in that so very English way.

Ooo, are we finally seeing the real Cressida?

A whispering bench! Sorry, I have the tiniest landscaping nerd inside me.

Looks like Kanthony will have a three-month-old with them the beginning of the next Season.

Colin comes the morning after to apologize. Good boy. Still clueless, but good boy.

The Mondriches at their new house and their eldest boy is addressed as Lord Kent. I'm horrible at guessing children's ages but I think this kid is a preteen at most and his life just changed forever.

I will say the portrait of Edmund and Violet is very good. (I assume it's an actual painting and not a photo that has undergone Photoshop or whatever.) Have the writers made Francesca aro? Or at least demisexual? It'll be interesting to see where this goes.

I fucking told you you'd regret that column, Pen. The funny part is that she's not wrong about Colin, but she's certainly not nice about it.

Colin, for fuck's sake, MARINA AND ELOISE RUINED THEMSELVES! If LW hadn't said anything, things actually would have gone a lot worse for Marina, El, your whole family, and especially you, so shut the fuck up.

Four whole minutes of end credits, seriously?

Well, that was certainly an interesting start to both the Season and the season.

[ray935sworld]

🐢 here, love, I had an ask half typed for you to tell you (regarding your poll earlier) that my love for your pedrenzo fics is enough to count for ten people at minimum!! And I WILL love that new fic and my heart skipped a beat, seeing that you thought of me and took the time to mention me specifically, i love you ❤️

And I do want to (and I will!!!) reply to your posts from I bet weeks ago, but my life outside of being 🐢 is still using all of my brain power at the moment and I really do want to send those reply asks when I have the right time and mind for it because it's too important and precious for anything else ❤️

Sending you soooo many hugs and forehead kisses, you can't count it ❤️ hope your exam season hasn't got you down yet 😥

I swear. EVERY TIME I think about you and how I haven't from you in a while you appear in my asks like "I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED" and it's literally the funniest thing ever to me.

So hi. Hey sweetie, it's soooo good to hear from you again :3 sooo happy <3

And OMG. Your Pedrenzo enthusiasm is everything to me. Thank you sooo much. And the Jorge dog fic is literally my current comfort fic because I'm like. Stressed. So I'm like. He's getting cuddled and cared for by Dani while being stressed and anxious himself :3 it's literally just fluff (quite literal. Fluff. As in furr fluff. Hehe) oh and Dani being VERY confused at the beginning cause he didn't saw the change so he has no idea why there's suddenly a dog infront of him jumping on him (and a few moments later licking on his wedding rings. It's gonna take him a few minutes but he'll get there)

Oh NOOOO!! I really hope it'll calm down soon and you have a little more time. I totally get it though. Life going all over and not being the right head. Yep. Sounds very familiar. And yeah, I currently only have one exam, on Friday, so it's not too bad atm. It's just been a lot over the last months cause I've been falling from one study obligation to another without a real break but I really hope I can get one after this.

Also it literally means the world to me that you enjoy my writing and you want to take time to answer. That's like literally the cutest thing ever. THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH I LUV YA ❤️ Sending you all the love and hugs right back!! 💚❤️💚 (yeah green hearts cause like - you're turtle :3 yes I think that's funny)