#<-not doing bad for the usual reasons. Just failed someone in a way I’d been trying to avoid so. well.

[silverhand-j]

Pleaaaaase god

[notlongtolove]

in my dream, i'm fixing your crutch

most nights, spencer wakes to the sound of your sniffles—unlike most nights, he doesn’t have to ask why. the reason is visceral, tangible—staining the sheets when the wound dressing wasn’t tight enough, seeping and pooling right between the both of you where an ocean of your guilt already lies.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: flangst hurt comfort

content: many mentions of wounds and blood. bc spencer was shot. jesus reid woo! established relationship spencer and bau!reader deal with the aftermath of spencer taking a bullet for her

word count: 2.8k

note: based on this ask! for my jesus reid sassy man apocalypse flangst fight and make up lovers... this ones for you! i actually loved writing this sm @esote-rika u wonderful genius u!!! inspired by this poem that she sent me! might be one of my new favorite fics ive written

a line: In the bad dreams, over and over, you’re saying you’re sorry. In the worst dreams, he’s saying he forgives you. 

“I’m sorry.”

Those were the first words out of your mouth when Spencer had woken up in the hospital. Before that, you'd been running on adrenaline, too focused on talking the unsub down. So certain—so sure—that he wouldn’t pull the trigger. That you’d be fine. That the father would be fine. And you were, mostly. 

Because a hard shove sent you both tumbling to the ground. No broken bones, no bloody wounds—Just a bullet in Spencer’s leg instead of yours.

He held your hand through the tears, fingers gentle as they stroked through your hair while you wept against the edge of his hospital bed. Told you I’d take a bullet for you, honey. Spencer always joked about that. Romantic once—now, not so much. It is not an honour you ever wanted to hold.

Crutches for a month. You’d been right there when the doctor ordered it, nodding, asking questions, voicing concerns. The two of you make do, as you always do. You move into his place, helping him with the little things. Because loving someone means loving them in health and in sickness. During the good times and the bad. Two sides of the same coin—But intimacy wears many faces. 

You don’t think you’ve stopped crying since you saw the blood soaking into the grass. 

You try to smile more when Spencer’s around. He says it helps—just as much as the medication, maybe more. So you do. More cuddles than usual. Coffee, just the way he wants it, because come on, the man took a bullet for you, the least you could do is not criticise his sugar intake.

But when he’s not there, the tears come. In the shower, where the water washes them away before you can. Waiting for the coffee to brew, blinking them back so they don’t salt the mug.

You whisper I’m sorrys into his hair when he falls asleep after the Doctor Who reruns, as many as he wants. Hope he feels it in the way your fingers card through his curls, lathering shampoo carefully. Hope he tastes it in the spoonfuls of breakfast you lift to his lips, even though his hands work just fine. Everything served in bed, of course, because that’s where he is.

Because that is where he has to be. 

I’m sorry. You don’t think you’ll ever stop saying it.

Most nights, Spencer wakes to the sound of your sniffles—Unlike most nights, he doesn’t have to ask why. The reason is visceral, tangible—staining the sheets when the wound dressing wasn’t tight enough, seeping and pooling right between the both of you where an ocean of your guilt already lies. 

Still, every night he does wake, he cups your cheeks with warm hands as he murmurs it’s okays. 

He’ll say it again at 2 am, when he’s inevitably forced to rewind the bandage himself because somehow, you never seem to get it right. Another tally mark on the growing list of ways you’ve failed him. 

And again at 4 am, when you shift too close in your sleep, bump against him, and wake to a sharp, stifled wince. Then the tears resurface, and the cycle repeats. God, you’re just a walking Murphy’s Law, aren’t you?

“Do you blame me?” you’d asked him one night, voice meek in the dark.

“You were in danger. I acted. I could never blame you.”

You replay that conversation more often than not. You love Spencer enough to believe that he means it—that in his mind, it’s the only truth that exists. The only truth that could ever exist. 

But you don’t think you love yourself enough to believe it, too.

You move to the couch after the first week. Couldn’t take another night of accidental touches, of hearing his breath hitch in pain and feeling—remembering— that you’d put him there. Spencer had protested, threatened to order an air mattress just to sleep beside you, but you’d won in the end. He needed space. Comfort. Proper rest to heal.

Mostly, you just didn’t want him to see you crying anymore.

The couch isn’t so bad. Smells just enough like him to let it lull you to sleep. Has pillows that are fluffy enough to clutch in your grip when he insists on showering alone for the first time. The couch is close enough to hear the bottle of shampoo hit the floor and the pause that follows when you both realise he can’t bend down to pick it up himself. It’s also far enough away that you hear only the muffled curses that escape him when he tries to dress himself after—Spencer hardly ever swears.

And again, the couch is far enough away that he can’t see you cry.

Intimacy is familiarity, carved deep.

It is not synonymous with love, nor does it innately mean romance. It is a vulnerability between two people, a connection that forms through time, a trust that builds upon circumstance. Intimacy is a blade that cuts through flesh and bone, never to be used lightly. It sees everything—what you are, what he is, what the two of you have always been. 

It’s the chaste kiss you press to his lips before leaving for the jet, van waiting down in the lobby. The long list of instructions, medications, emergency contacts scribbled onto paper—handed off to Garcia. The unanswered calls that drain your battery, each one landing in his voicemail. 

When you’re away, you dream of Spencer. You’re steadying his crutch, rewrapping his wounds, pressing gentle kisses over healing scars. 

In the bad dreams, over and over, you’re saying you’re sorry.

In the worst dreams, he’s saying he forgives you. 

Intimacy is something etched into the marrow of you, amidst the flesh and bone, through the ache and the aftermath.

“Spence?” you call from the doorway, one hand braced against the wall as you toe off your shoes. “You in here? Garcia said you decided to head home.”

A muffled shuffle from his office draws your attention. When you step inside, you find him perched in his desk chair, one hand gripping his crutch, the other stretched toward a book just out of his reach on the bottom shelf. 

“I didn’t decide to head home,” Spencer mutters, still not looking at you. “Garcia sent me home.”

You have to bite back a smile. “Garcia sent you home?” you echo, amused, crossing the room to retrieve the book from the shelf with ease. He returns your kind act with a heavy sigh even as you set the book on the table beside him.

“She was rearranging her case files. Said I was in the way.”

“Aw honey,” you coo, reaching out to fluff his curls. Normally, he’d lean into your touch, eyes going all soft with adoring affection. But tonight, there’s nothing. Your hand falls away, neglected. 

“Have you eaten?” you try, hoping hunger is to blame for his mood. He barely acknowledges the question, offering only a curt nod. 

“What’d you have?”

“One of those instant meals,” he mutters.

You frown. “I thought you hated that stuff.”

Spencer scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m in any position to cook now, am I?”

The window is shut but the study is ice cold. You knew he was upset when Hotch forbade him from coming along on the case. He had told you just as much, his frustrations only thinly veiled in the few text messages he’d sent. But whatever this is, you don’t understand why it’s suddenly being directed at you tonight. 

“Did something happen while I was away?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” The sarcasm that drips in his tone pools together at your feet. 

Most people work to live. Your boyfriend is not most people. He lives to work. The time he doesn’t spend solving cases is spent preparing for the next one—reading, researching, gathering knowledge for the inevitable moment it might be needed. You of all people know he hates being unoccupied. He’d explained it to you once, how much he detests idleness, the feeling of time slipping through his fingers with nothing to show for it.

And now here he is, sidelined. Left behind—with nobody else to point the finger at but you. 

Not Garcia for shoo-ing him out of her Batcave. Not Hotch for being a stickler for the doctor’s orders. Just you. 

“Is that it? You’re upset because Hotch didn’t let you come on the case?”

Spencer doesn't answer so you’re the one to take a step forward—both physically and metaphorically. 

“Spence, talk to me. What’s gotten into you?”

The laugh that leaves Spencer doesn’t really sound like him at all. It comes out sharp and humourless—Empty, essentially. 

“What’s gotten into me?” He exhales, shakes his head. “You mean other than a bullet?”

The breath you were holding slips from your lips, and for a moment, it feels like the bullet never left. It might as well have buried itself hilt deep, slicing through you and back out. Right now, you almost wished that were the case.

A bullet in your boyfriend is not a cross you ever wanted to bear but it is a cross you’re tied to carrying all the same. 

Maybe it had been easier in the beginning. In the holding of hands in the ambulance, in the moving of mugs to accommodate yours. But in the wake of skin and gauze, of antiseptic burning raw and sheets gripped in clenched fists—What is there to thank god for? 

Just a bullet. 

Just a wound. 

Just a bed too small to carry the hurt of two people. 

“Spencer.”

For a man with a limp, he moves fast. The bedroom door slams shut behind him and you’re left to stand there by yourself, guilt seeping into the floorboards under you. Thank god for the couch. 

You don’t dream of Spencer tonight. You don’t sleep at all. Which is why you hear it—the crutch slipping, the clattering against the wood of the floor. You tiptoe to the bedroom door, nudging it open.

“Hey, everything alright? Need your meds? Water? I can get—”

“S'fine,” Spencer says. His sigh is as heavy as it is exhausted as he bends down to retrieve his crutch. 

“Oh. Okay…” You hesitate, lingering by the door. “Goodnight then.”

“Sweetheart—” Spencer exhales, soft and uneven. “I—I… wanted to talk.” 

You swallow. “Talk?” 

“What I did—how I acted just now—that wasn’t okay. And I’m sorry.”

It sounds weird coming from him. Wrong, almost. A man who took a bullet for you shouldn’t be apologising. A thousand sorrys from you wouldn’t even come close to enough, and you’re certain you’ve already said more than that.

“You don’t need to apologise, Spence, you—”

“I do.”

He tries to stand. You’re at his side before he can, pressing him back down with a gentle hand against his shoulder as you take a seat by the edge of the bed too. 

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was frustrated. At Hotch, at Garcia, at myself. And I took it out on you.”

You nod silently, trying to understand.

“I’m not used to this,” he admits. “Being taken care of. Needing to be taken care of. It’s... hard. What I said before I left the room… I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

Spencer isn’t one to dance around words. He thrives on specifics. Tonight, he doesn’t need to name it. 

What’s gotten into me? You mean other than a bullet? The words have been reverberating in your skull since he said it. 

“Do you—” Your voice sounds hollow in your throat, shaking as it leaves you. “Can you forgive me?” 

Spencer’s seen you cry before. But the sight of you wiping away your own tears is not one he’s used to. He’s used to holding you through it, with soft hands, with light kisses. So, he takes your hand first, then coaxes your gaze up  to meet his. It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile since you’ve gotten back. 

“Angel,” he breathes, “there’s nothing to forgive. I don’t blame you. For any of it. Do you remember what I said the first time?” 

“I—yeah.”

“You were in danger. I acted. Simple as that.” 

In theory, it is simple. Bullets move at roughly 2,700 feet per second. To reach you first, Spencer must have moved at 2,701. 

It is not a lifetime of love of reflected in a single split second. It is a lifetime of love refracted, redirected—Love forced onto a different path the moment the bullet entered his body. Two sides of the same coin, wild violence amidst the intimacy. You see it day after day in the blood that trickles down his leg, in how his skin splits open in millimetres, in the way his body punishes itself for what his heart decided. 

It is agonising to see how softly he hurts. 

“I just—I’m so sorry, Spence. For this. For everything.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “do you trust me?”

Your head jerks up. You sit straighter, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of your sweater. “Yeah, of course, Spence, I—”

“Then I need you to believe me when I say this.” He shifts, taking both your hands into his. He winces slightly but doesn’t let it stop him. “This? This isn’t your fault. Not at all. I need you to know that, baby. Okay?” 

You’ve never been one to hold back or stay quiet during arguments with Spencer. Especially when he’s the first to admit he’s wrong—And, being Spencer, that hardly ever happens. More than you’d like to admit, he’s usually right. But this is different.

Because Spencer is wrong. He shouldn’t have said it. But “shouldn’t” doesn’t make it untrue.

Spencer was shot. Fact.

You weren’t. Fact.

And you weren’t shot because Spencer took the bullet for you.

Fact upon fact, stacking too tall, pressing down hard, choking you out. 

“But it is though,” you whisper, though it comes out as more of a cry. “Spence, if it weren’t for me—”

“Honey, there is no version of events where I would’ve ever let that bullet touch you.” He gives your hands a light squeeze. “None.”

There is an intimacy in knowing love, at its core, is a kind of violence. It is a body rashly moved by instinct before the mind catches up. It is the sacrifice of flesh before the heart has even finished deciding, of stepping into the line of fire before you’ve even realised that you’ve moved. 

With his heart, mind and body—That is how violently Spencer Reid loves you. 

Spencer has always been fast. Faster than the bullet meant for you. Fast to love, quicker to comfort—He presses a kiss to your cheek where the last tear falls. “I mean it when I say that there is nothing you could’ve done, or Hotch could’ve done, or the Unsub could’ve done that wouldn’t have resulted in me taking the bullet for you.”

“Well,” you start, voice still sniffly from the remnants of your tears, “the unsub could’ve just... not shot.”

Spencer blinks. For a second, he’s still caught in the weight of his emotions. Then, his lips twitch, a knowing smile breaking through as he rolls his eyes.

“Smartass.”

A small giggle bubbles out of you. You lift your joined hands to press light kisses into the spaces between his fingers, into the cracks of him that you can reach. He lets you. Spencer doesn’t remember the last time you touched him like this—Not careful, not afraid. Not like guilt kissed your fingertips before they ever touched his skin.

“Baby,” he mumbles.

“Hm?”

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, Spence.”

For the first time in weeks, you’re looking at him the way you always have. Not like a martyr you never asked for, carrying the weight of a sacrifice you never wanted him to make.

For the first time in weeks, you’re looking at him like it’s just him, and it’s just you. 

No bullet. No blood. Just him. Just you.

“Will you sleep in here tonight?”

You freeze. He feels it immediately. 

“Spence, I—I don’t know, I don’t want to hurt—” you murmur, blinking down at your interlocked fingers.

“You won’t,” he’s quick to reassure. “I just want you next to me. The sheets don’t smell like you anymore and I never sleep well without you. I wake up, and you’re out there, and it feels wrong. I just want to hold you. Please? It’s been days.” 

You’re helpless when he speaks like that. Besides, the man took a bullet for you—how could you ever say no to him again, for as long as you live?

So you nod, shifting closer, barely hesitating before crawling into bed beside him. After some readjusting, you hear Spencer exhale, feel his arm curling around you, slotting you against his side like muscle memory. For the first time in days, you let yourself be held.

His lips brush your skin as he whispers, “thank you.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: savior complex by phoebe bridgers inside your mind by the 1975

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 2 | l.n

summary: you’re running out of time to start your project and lando’s really trying to get you to agree to his ultimatum, despite your constant disagreeing.

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy!lando x sunshine!reader, banter per usual, kind of shitty writing, and some more setting the scene.

series masterlist

the sunlight shone in through the tall windows of the library as you scribbled in your notebook. highlighters and pens scattered across the table, laptop sitting in front of you with a list of assignments you needed to get done this week.

the headphones on your head helped block out any noise from the outside world, free of any distractions from the other students in the upstairs portion of the large building. however, they also drowned out the noise of footsteps approaching behind you.

a tap on your shoulder almost sent you flying out of your seat, turning around and tugging an ear cuff off to be met with green eyes and brown, floppy, messy curls that clearly had endured the wind outside. you immediately sighed, “what do you want, norris?”

“well beings you left me on read,” he wore that stupid, signature smirk that you really just wanted to wipe off his face, “i figured i’d come to you with the proposal in person.”

“has anyone told you how insufferable you are?”

he pulled the chair out from across the table, dropping his backpack to the floor before leaning back in the wooden chair, “no, they’re usually telling me i’m irresistible,”

“their standards must be pretty low.”

he shrugged, watching as you closed the lid of your laptop, placing the pen that once had been in your hand down on the lined paper. if there was one thing you knew about lando norris, other than the fact that he was undoubtedly annoying, he was also stubborn as fuck.

“let me get this right,” you started, “you want to be my model for my project so that in return i help you in econ, right?”

“yeah,” he said, “you scratch-“

“‘i scratch your back, you scratch mine’, yeah, whatever,” you said, “here’s my question, why don’t you just go to the tutoring center for help? like everyone else?”

“because i know you,” he said, “and because there’s a long ass waitlist for a tutor.”

“maybe you should’ve went earlier in the semester,” you shrugged.

“wasn’t failing the course til now,” he had an answer for everything, didn’t he?

“look, you’re running out of time to find someone for your little painting, and i’m one test score away from having to take the class again and miss graduation in the spring. why don’t we just be civil for the next month or so, help each other out, and then we can go back to hating each other as much as you’d like.”

maybe he had a point. you were running out of time to get started and despite your best efforts in not trying to feel bad for him, you kind of did. econ was a hard course, even you had struggled with it last semester. and you really didn’t want to be the reason why he misses graduation if you didn’t help him.

it wasn’t really that bad of an ultimatum, surely it could’ve been worse. it’s not like you were going to fall in love with him or anything.

“alright, fine,” you said, making him smile and cheer silently, “but, we‘re doing things my way.”

he put his hands up in fake surrender, “whatever you say,”

you began packing your things into your bag, “can we start tonight?”

“yeah, my last class ends at six. ‘m free after,”

“sounds good,” you said, “i’ll text you which building and floor is mine.”

he nodded, that stupid smirk popping up on his face again, “it’s a date then.”

you scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder before calling over your shoulder, “definitely not!”

you got back to your apartment, throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter before spotting your roommate, lily, on the couch. an episode of the show she had been trying to convince you to watch on the tv, but her head leaned back to smile at you softly.

“how was the library?”

you hummed, rummaging in the fridge before grabbing a water bottle from it, “it was fine until the devil showed up.”

she laughed softly, “‘the devil?’”

“yeah,” you plopped down next to her, “remember the guy i was telling you about the other day? oscar’s roommate who asked me to tutor him in exchange for being my model for the project?”

she hummed, “yeah, what did he just show up?”

“unfortunately. i think oscar must’ve mentioned to him that i go to the library on fridays to work on assignments. the guy literally tracked me down to convince me to agree to his plan in person because i left him on read the other night.”

she laughed softly, “gotta give it to him, at least he’s committed,”

“to getting on my nerves? oh, one hundred percent.”

“i mean, at least he’s offering to help you too,” she said, “plus, is he really all that bad?”

“just wait til you meet him,” you mumbled, “what’re your plans for tonight?”

she looked at the time on her phone, “after this episode i’m gonna start getting ready to head to the cafe. promised someone i’d meet them tonight,”

you wiggled your eyebrows, bumping her shoulder, “ooh, is it that cute guy from your chemistry class who you won’t shut up about?”

“one, i do shut up about him,” she sent you a pointed look but her face broke out into a small smile shortly after, “and two, maybe, who knows?”

“lils this is great!” you smiled, “i told you, he’s definitely into you!”

“i hope so. part of me wants to believe you, but the other part is telling me he just said ‘yes’ out of pity.”

“well then he clearly doesn’t know what he’s missing out on if he did,” you stood from the couch, “wear that black long sleeve you have, you look hot in it.”

“i hate you,” she laughed as you ventured to your room, heading to start setting up the things you needed for tonight.

“no you don’t!” you giggled back.

you made your way into your room and gathered all the supplies you were going to need in order to start your project tonight. humming along to a tune that was stuck in your head, you glanced at the clock and realized that time had passed a little quicker than you had thought.

lando should be here any minute.

and as if right on queue, you heard lily’s voice through the apartment, “y/n, lando’s here!”

you made your way to the living room where he was standing talking to lily, backpack still on his shoulders. he sported a backwards cap over his curls with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants to match. little curls peeked out from underneath the hat and-

why were you subtly checking him out?

“okay well you guys have fun,” lily smiled softly, “i’m heading out. it was nice meeting you, lando! i’ll see you guys later!”

her voice brought you back to the present tense, lando bidding her a soft smile and a wave, “nice meeting you, too!”

“bye! good luck!” you called back, causing her to let out a chuckle and a playful eye-roll as she headed out the door.

“so,” he said after a beat of silence, following as you led him to your room, “what is it that you need me to do?”

you grabbed your sketchbook from your desk as he sat at the edge of the bed, “you can do whatever you want as long as you’re still enough for me to be able to come up with a draft.”

“sounds good,”

“good, let’s get this whole thing over with, yeah?”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Intro/ Part 01

There's more to it than what meets the eye.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues, mentions of depression

Length: 6.5k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook hates loosing.

And that’s especially true when it comes to bets- because he also can’t really pass up any opportunity to show off and be the best at something. So when he took on the bet with Jimin, he didn’t think anything of it- after all, even if he lost, he could still simply teach that so-called ‘puppy’ Jimin was supposed to be working with a killer choreo and make his way on top either way.

What Jimin failed to tell him, however, was that you are an absolute menace.

Not only are you spoiled to high heavens and dressed head to toe in pretty designer pieces designed and tailored just for you, no- your attitude is making him want to throw himself into a busy road to be run over by any moving vehicle willing to do so. It’s been not even thirty minutes he’s spent in the meeting room, and he already regrets his big mouth with Jimin.

But maybe it’s just a bad first impression. Maybe, you’re just having a bad day.

“So, basically, we’ve got four weeks to make it work.” Your manager says, having finished his plan as he stands at the end of the table everyone is sitting at, you included- though you clearly do not listen to the conversations happening at all, instead occupied with a game on your switch console, decorated in plastic gemstones and cute stickers, sound not even all the way down as to not interrupt anyone.

Jungkook feels his blood boiling. Can’t you at least attempt to listen? After all, it’s your career that’s on the line.

“I’ll need the possible song choices she made, and I also gotta get a copy of the guidelines and what the judges generally look for. Doesn’t have to be today, but I’d like to have it before we start making anything up.” Jungkook offers, arms crossed. You’ve not even looked at him once today.

If he just went by looks, you’d actually be quite cute- you're clearly taking good care of yourself, and you fall right into the category of hybrid girl he’d see himself interested in- but your character seems to be the exact opposite, as you stare down at the small screen in your hands, lashes long, hiding your gaze a little from him.

“We can totally do that.” Your manager says. “I- uhm.. Are you okay with that too?” He asks towards you, and you simply take in a deep breath before you sigh, shoulders shrugging and head somewhat nodding. Your eyes however never break away from your game, instead, you just adjust your seating postition a little before you become completely detached from the situation again. “I’m sorry about that. She’s.. Having a bad day.” Your manager justifies.

Jungkook smells the lie right away.

“Practice will start at 7 AM then-” Jungkook starts, and that seems to catch your attention as your face turns into a frown. “-And we’ll practice the whole week, except weekends.”

“That’s too early.” You mumble, grumbling down at your game while your legs stretch out under the table, feet brushing against his shins. You’re not wearing shoes, only your knee-high socks, having discarded the slip on’s early on for no apparent reason other than comfort.

“She usually sleeps until.. 11 so..” Your manager starts, and Jungkook has to swallow a growl.

“8.” He says sternly, staring at you who scoffs down at your hands. “She’ll have to get up earlier then.” He decides, making you lift your chin a little, before you save your game, turn off the console and put it on the table, your arms now crossed as well as you finally, for the first time, look at him.

The fire in your eyes could seriously burn someone if it was to be manifested into a real flame, he decides.

“You’ll have to wait until I show up then.” You answer him, and his eyes narrow, feeling challenged. But before he can respond, your manager seems to sense the growing tension between you two, as he dissolves the meeting quickly to have you driven back home.

Jungkook however, can’t let go this easily.

“You forgot to tell me that she’s an absolute bitch.” Jungkook growls into his phone, sitting on his couch with the TV on but on mute. “There’s no way I’ll be working with her for four weeks without committing a crime.” He threatens, and Jimin has the audacity to laugh.

“Oh Jungkookie, don’t let her fool you!” He laughs. “She’s a literal angel, believe me. She just acts all tough.”

“Or she was just interested in you.” Jungkook denies. “I’ve spent barely an hour with her and I already know She’s gonna be a handful to manage.” He sighs.

“Come on now, she’s what? Half your size?” Jimin playfully exaggerates. “Just put her in timeout, big guy, and you’ll be fine.” He jokes, very much aware of Jungkook’s rather dominant nature due to his wolfblood. And while the joke is funny, it’s also a problem.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he can really stay calm while working with you. And his career could be over in a second if he so much as lashes out at you verbally- because no way would someone work with a hybrid choreograph or dancer who can’t keep his cool. He already has issues getting some gigs due to his wolfblood mixed in- one mistake and he can surely put his career to rest.

He really regrets taking on this bet now.

Hopefully this won’t end too badly.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You really do not turn up at 8 like he told you to.

He’s impatiently waiting in the practice room, your manager and stylist and other staff already present- everyone trying to get a hold of you with no luck at all. It’s only until an hour later that another staff member informs everyone that you’ve finally woken up, and that you’re currently on your way to the practice room.

Jungkook is pissed, to say the least.

If you work like this the entire four weeks, there’s no way he can manage to push a good choreography into your head that you can pull off properly on stage. And if you fail, it’ll be on him- and he just can’t accept that. Hopefully, you’ll warm up to the idea of actually putting effort into this.

Hopefully.

When you finally turn up, you don’t appear to be sorry at all- still somewhat asleep and in no way ready to start practicing anytime soon. Instead, you sit down and take out your breakfast to eat, while your stylist runs a brush through your hair. But what’s odd about this, is more or less that Jungkook can sense a total shift in energy right now.

It’s like they’re shielding you, giving him no access to you until they deem the timing alright.

And you just robotically eat your little breakfast, while everyone else scatters around you, rushing from spot to spot. Jungkook isn’t too sure what exactly might be happening- but then again, it’s also not unusual to see such a scene. You’re a showhybrid after all- meant to look pretty at all times and in every living moment just in case there’s a camera around. And he knows that the practice is going to be filmed occasionally for some behind the scenes content for your fanbase- which is why you have your stylist around in the first place. You’re just supposed to look like you’re not wearing any makeup at all.

No one wants to see reality, because reality is what everyone can witness if they look in the mirror. And that’s boring. That’s not entertaining. That’s not something to be jealous of, or something to admire.

In a way, Jungkook starts to feel a bit sorry for you. Do you ever have a moment for yourself?

Either way, the moment the cameras start running, you switch character almost instantly. Suddenly you’re polite, soft spoken and determined to get every step right- though your true nature does poke it’s head through on occasion, especially when you can’t get something quite right the first or second try.

“Maybe we need to work on how to keep to the beat first.” Jungkook suggests, and at that, you seem to break, sighing with an agitated groan as your tail unravels, falling limp behind you. He’s not seen this happen often- his best friend Yoongi being a dog-hybrid with a curled tail as well, who can be quite grumpy most of the time. But even he never has his tail this.. Lifeless.

It’s unnerving to see.

“I’m not lobotomized, mutt.” You groan, making the manager motion to cut the cameras for a second. “I can keep to a beat, you’re just shit at teaching.” You growl to yourself, sitting down stubbornly as you visibly try and mask the fact that you’re out of breath.

Truth be told, Jungkook isn’t technically a choreographer. He usually works with professional dancers or simply follows whatever he’s given by an artist themselves- so yes, he might actually be a little rusty when it comes to teaching others.

Do you have to be so rude about it though? No.

“Well we’re going around in circles like this.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I’ll get us something to drink. Try and calm down a bit..” He attempts to soothe your temper, as he leaves the practice room- mostly so that he himself can escape the situation for a moment.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe your scent full of anger and fear filling the space so much that it feels like it’s drowning him in the room, or the fact that you always have to be so rude-

Wait.

Fear?

Alarmed by that, Jungkook walks a bit faster with the water bottles in hand to get back into the room- just to find you not there anymore, everyone looking at him as if they’re surprised to see him back already. “Where is she?” Jungkook asks, and your manager blinks a little, caught off guard.

“She went to get something to drink.” He states, making Jungkook frown.

“I said I’m gonna get us some. Why did she go by herself?” Jungkook asks. “She doesn’t even know where the vending machines are.”

“She said you were taking too long.” A stylist mentions. Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was gone for not even five minutes?” He growls to himself, before he hears you enter the room again, a small juicebox in hand that you punch the tiny straw into. “Don’t just run off.” He scolds you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah alright, Daddy.” You scoff, walking past him to sit in a corner- actually facing it for some reason, your back turned towards everyone else.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed.” Your manager explains. “She.. Sometimes does this. We don’t know either why, and we don’t really question it either. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right back to practice.” He beams at him, and Jungkook feels weirdly played.

Something’s odd here.

But it’s also none of his business.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next day, you’re not there on time again.

And despite the fact that Jungkook had told you no food in the practice room was allowed, you clearly disregarded that as nothing but background noise, while you take out your bag of foods in the middle of the large room.

“I said no food in the practice room.” Jungkook scolds, walking towards you to stand right in front of you, arms crossed. “and you’re also late again. Two hours to be exact.”

“You said no food.” You shrug, lifting up the small bag of puffed rice crisps. “That’s snacks.” You respond, making him narrow his eyes and clench his jaw.

“put it to the side.” He says. “You’re here to practice, not to eat.” He reminds you, able to talk freely with almost none of your staff around today.

“can’t practice on an empty stomach.” You respond however, letting yourself fall into your bag, before you take out your phone to scroll on it while you eat your snacks- crumbs already littering the floor. “Why’s your wifi so shit in here?” You mumble to yourself, when suddenly, the signal stops entirely. “Hey, your internet cut off-“ you start, before you spot him putting his phone down. “Turn it back on-“

“Since you’re acting like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He simply says. “wifi stays off until you practiced.” He scolds, boldly taking both your snacks and your phone from you to put it on a table close by, the act alone catching you so off guard that it has you frozen in place while you process it. “Do you want to get up yourself or do I need to help you with that as well?” He asks, and you glare at him.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.” You threaten, and he watches you for a moment as if to see if you’re serious- before he decides you’re clearly not, with the way your tail slightly twitches, clearly needing to be consciously held down by yourself to not wag.

“Alright that’s it.” He simply tells you before he walks towards you, and much to his dismay, you let yourself fall limply down onto the ground as if you’re trying to become liquid. “You’re being ridiculous right now-“

“let me have the wifi again!” You just huff. “and my snacks. I’m hungry.” You argue.

“get up earlier tomorrow and have breakfast then.” He shakes his head, before he grabs your wrists to lift you into a sitting position. But the moment he lets go, you’ve flopped back down again, lips twitching.

Now your tail is wagging, clearly.

“so that’s what you’re after, huh?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “too bad. I’m not playing your game.” He says, before he walks to the side where all his stuff is, changing his shoes.

“wait- What’re you doing?” You ask, watching him tie his sneakers.

“going home.” He answers without looking. “were clearly not getting anywhere.”

You sigh, groaning out lout before you angrily hit the floor-

Getting up to walk towards him, pulling his jacket from his hands before you let it fall onto the table. “I wanna practice.” You pout.

“What a bummer, princess.” He answers, taking his jacket back to slip it on. “I don’t. Now get your stuff, and then-“ He tells you, walking closer before he points to the door behind you. “-get out.” He demands.

And you just angrily huff at yourself, doing just that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You fail to get to practice on time again the day after.

And the day after that.

But on friday, Jungkook has finally had enough of your poor excuses and frankly stupid behavior.

"Why is she late this time?" Jungkook asks your staff, jaw clenched as he's already frustrated again. You're clearly not taking this seriously, and he honestly doesn't know how anyone else has ever managed to work with you in any way.

"We're.. not sure." Your manager says, face showing his own shame about your behavior. "She turned her phone off, we can't reach her."

That's it.

Jungkook can understand a lot of things. You're used to being spoiled and having everything set in front of you on a silver platter- he gets that. Sometimes, people's minds can be poisoned by wealth and success. But turning off your phone? That's too far.

What if something actually happened? What if you're sick, in need of help, in danger? This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, and he does not care anymore. "She said she lives in the city here, right?" Jungkook asks, and the manager nods. "Alright, where exactly?" He wonders, and a stylist of yours calls out your address.

And that sets him off even further- because you barely live ten minutes away from him. Which means there's not even a single reason as to why you would be late at all.

"What are you going to do?" Your manager worries as Jungkook changes his shoes and slips on his jacket, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

"I'm getting her myself."

If there’s one thing Jungkook hates, then it’s people isolating themselves just for their own convenience. It’s mainly due to his best friend years back doing that constantly- turning off his phone to get some quiet time for himself, until he actually did end up being in trouble.

And when someone tried to call him, and couldn’t get a hold of him, they just thought ‘It’s probably one of those days again.’

If Jungkook didn’t go against his better judgement, if he didn’t end up checking up on him despite his mind telling him that it was for nothing, Yoongi would not be alive today.

He rings your doorbell multiple times, annoyingly so to get you to stand up at some point. There’s no way you can sleep through that, especially when he starts angrily knocking onto your door. Suddenly, you open it, staring at him with eyes barely open. “What.” You ask, and Jungkook takes a look at you for a second.

You’ve clearly been asleep, but you don’t look rested at all- eyes barely open as you glare at him, and funnily enough, one of your ears is even a bit floppy- not quite entirely down, but also no standing as straight as it usually does. “You’re late.” Jungkook scolds. You attempt to close the door again, making him attempt something dangerous.

He puts his hand in between the door.

But, maybe Jimin wasn’t so wrong after all, because you immediately open the door again, now wide awake as you look at his hand, worried you might’ve hurt him. Only when you don’t find anything you push his palm back towards him, and cross you arms.

“Come on.” He says, nodding towards the hallway behind him.

“No.” You deny.

“What do you mean, no?’ he asks, agitated.

“I said no. I don’t wanna.” You answer, walking back into your apartment- and with your door left open, he takes it as an invitation to walk inside.

The second he closes the door and turns around, he’s in shock.

Cardboard boxes, trash bags, crumpled papers and wrappings all over the place. Shoes litter the entrance area, your coats are thrown over the chairs at your open kitchen which sink is filled with unwashed dishes. The windows are shut, curtains heavy as they hide the mess in your home from the outside world. It’s so dark that Jungkook feels like if he wasn’t a hybrid, he most likely wouldn’t be able to see where he’s stepping at all.

How long have you been living like this?

The apartment isn’t big, there doesn’t seem to be many rooms at all. After searching for a bit he finds you curled up in your large bed, pink bedsheets and blankets halfway on the floor while your little gaming console chimes and beeps while you play.

“..come on now, you’ve.. got the weekend off.” Jungkook says. “it’s just today-“

“I said I don’t want to.” You growl, face focused on your game. “now fuck off and leave me.”

Jungkook sighs. This really isn’t any of his business.

But somehow, as he walks back into the main area of the small apartment, he finds himself opening a new trashbag to throw away all the plastic strewn around. He puts your shoes in order, places the garbage bags in a corner to have them out the way, before he rips the cardboard apart to throw away easier later. He’s not sure why he’s doing that- maybe partially to annoy you and get you to get out of bed, or maybe because he pities you.

This isn’t just laziness. From the way you act, to the body language you scream out quietly, to the fact that you don’t seem motivated for anything at all.

This is something deeper.

“What’re you doing?” You growl from a corner, before you walk closer to rip the cardboard box from his hands, throwing it in a corner again. “I told you to fuck off.” You threaten, and he nods.

“heard it loud and clear.” He agrees with crossed arms, and you huff.

“Ears seem to be working then.” You snap. “the mistake must be in your brain.”

“I can assure you it’s working just fine as well.” He answers, and you snarl at that, distinctive canines showing.

“Then why are you still here digging through my shit?!” You bark at him, and he shrugs.

“Because no one deserves to rot away like this.”

It’s quiet at that, for a good moment. The only sound heard is the clock in the kitchen ticking, some faint rain against the windows, and a garbage bag slowly slipping a little from its position. And when it falls to the floor, he catches a short second of your eyes tearing up, before you turn around, looking away from him before you run off into your bedroom-

But the door won’t close with all the clutter, making you angrily growl at it while you try and somewhat pull it close.

Jungkook slowly walks towards you, to pull your hands off of the door handle, making you drop down to the floor in defeat, sitting right on your clothes that are laying on the floor. “leave me alone.” You cry to yourself, head low and hybrid ears even lower as you sit there, kicking away some of the clutter.

The wolfdog hybrid slowly squats down to your level, before he carefully moves a broken jar away from your leg and onto a small table close by. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asks, and you kick your leg again at that, a small box flying through the room.

“I just want to be alone!” You bark. “I don’t want anyone in here, I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to do this stupid contest, I don’t want anyone to look at me!” You complain loudly, and Jungkook would easily call this a textbook temper tantrum, if it wasn’t for your clearly desperate tears.

“did you tell your management?” He asks, and you scoff, sniffling.

“as if they care!” You huff. “it’s always just do this, do that, go here, eat that, smile, be nice, film everything.!” You tell him. “I want to go home!” You begin to cry now, hiding your face in your hands.

“Home?” Jungkook wonders, unsure what you mean. Isn’t this your home?

“I just wanna go home..” you continue to cry into your hands. “I wanna go see mom, and dad..” you mumble muffled into your palms, and Jungkook feels terrible seeing you like this. He doesn’t know you, but something is clearly not right. This isn’t acting, because your body language, your scent- everything tells him that you’re in genuine distress.

“Maybe you can visit them?” He wonders, slowly reaching out to put his hand on your knee, offering silent comfort that you, for now, seem to accept. “do they live far away-“

“they won’t let me.” You say. “they told them.. they told them I don’t wanna see them and that I hate them, and now they hate me.” You whimper.

“They?” the wolfdog asks, pushing some clutter to the side to sit down as well.

“the company.” You mumble. “because.. my dad didn’t want me to move away back when.. when I was still a pup.” You say. A pup possibly meaning that you were still underage. “and.. back then, I thought it was for the best. This was such a one-in-a-million chance..” you reveal to him. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Do they threaten you?” Jungkook worries, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“..They’re all I have.” You admit. “my.. my apartment. My money. My name. They own me.” You say, defeat evident in your voice as you slowly calm down again, tension leaving your body. “just.. leave me alone.”

“I cant.” Jungkook denies with a sigh. “not anymore.”

“fuck off-“ you start, grabbing at his hand, but he somehow moves it around, holding yours now instead.

“I won’t.” He sternly says. “Alright? I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.” He promises, and you look up at him with slightly red eyes, confused.

“Figure out what?” You ask, and he smiles.

“How to bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re very clearly not very happy about Jungkook currently cleaning your apartment with you.

You’re slow and sluggish, and you constantly complain about everything- and Jungkook can somewhat understand it. You’ve quite literally buried yourself in this little cave, having someone take it apart like this must be horribly uncomfortable. But it’s for the best- and you’ll soon realize that.

That doesn’t mean you don’t annoy him, still.

“Come on now, get up.” Jungkook scolds you, as he watches you sit on the couch.

“What?” You complain. “I’m cleaning.. under the coffee table.” You pretend, but he doesn’t take that as an appropriate answer.

“We agreed on one area at a time. We’re still in the kitchen.” He says. “now get over here and help me with the dishes. I wash, you dry.” He decides, making you somewhat reluctantly get up. It’s odd to have anyone in your apartment at all, since not even staff is allowed inside- you constantly find and make up excuses to keep them out at all times. This is your only safe space, after all.

The only place no one is looking at you.

“yesterday..” jungkook slowly says, putting another plate towards you so you can dry it. “..you said that the company owns you.” He remembers, and you nod. “To what degree?”

“I have an independence license.” You say. An independence license is basically a permanent permit to live on your own, and also work on your own. Basically, with it, you don’t need an owner at all. “But.. the company has full control over my finances and such. And they own my, you know, brand name.” You shrug.

“I meant it, you know?” He tells you, draining the sink of the soapy water. “I’ll try and figure something out.”

“Don’t bother.” You simply say. “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Jungkook denies, drying his hands on a towel. But you stay silent as you put the dishes away in their proper places, not really sparing him any glance at all again.

Jungkook doesn’t really know yet how to help you. First, he wants to somehow get into contact with your parents and set things right again- maybe he can get their names and phone number from jimin who’s been working you for a good while now. And then, maybe they can help, too.

“I’m tired.” You complain as you sit down on the now finally somewhat clean floor, all the trash in bags and in a corner.

“You can take a nap.” Jungkook agrees, and you look at him with positive surprise.

“wait, really?!” You ask, tail wagging a little.

“sure. You’ve been working hard.” He approves. “and now that your couch isn’t cluttered, you can take a proper nap there.”

“Why not my bed?” You whine, disappointed.

“bed is for proper sleep. Couch is for naps.” He explains. “if you go to bed now you’ll just start rotting again.”

You stay quiet for a good moment, before you speak again, looking out the windows, curtains by now pulled open. Slowly, you walk over to the couch to sit down on, staring at your hands in your lap.

“I’m such a fuck up, am I not?” You sigh. “imagine if people knew how much of a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure.” Jungkook denies, sitting down next to you on the couch. “just.. a bit lost at the moment.”

“Jungkook..” you say quietly, looking at his chest. “I really want to go home.” You admit, and he smiles softly.

“I know. And I’ll figure out a way, promise.” He offers, opening his arms. And much to his surprise, you take the invitation- even so much as to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a lot more than he thought this was going to be, but he also can’t deny that this feels oddly comforting for him too.

And even though your tail is still limp and lifeless, at least you’re starting to open up. And maybe jimin was right after all.

Maybe you’re just acting tough.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook quickly learns that you really must’ve left home at a very young age- because you’re very much completely lost in translation when it comes to general tasks that fall onto someone when they live alone.

You’ve got no idea how to properly do laundry, you don’t know how to cook at all, and you have no idea what cleaning products to use for what. When he asked you if you had some window cleaner, you’d stared at him for a good second before you asked him why he can’t just use soap- and cooking in your book is simply boiling water for instant noodles.

It’s no wonder your apartment was in the state it was in. No one ever taught you how to look after yourself and your own home.

“Alright?” Jungkook asks while you stare at the washing machine with a determined gaze.

“put the clothes in, put the soap-squishy-thing in, close the door and then set it to that program there.” You repeat. Jungkook nods.

“But-?” He presses, and you stare at him for a second, thinking.

“But...uh..” you try and find an answer. “no colored stuff with white clothes? And no black with colors?” You try, and he grins, tail wagging.

“Good girl. See? You’re not dumb, you just didn’t know.” He praises. “now press start and then we can go laze around a little until it’s done.” He says, making you happily press the start button.

Something that Jungkook has noticed, is that the entire apartment seems oddly.. sterile almost, in that it looks and feels taken straight out of a magazine. You’ve got no thing personal it seems like, no blankets that aren’t a neutral color, no toys, no plushies despite you telling him by now that you love these things. Instead, you only really have your little gaming console and that’s it- your bedroom is mostly taken over by designer clothes and shoes, as well as all sorts of accessories. The bathroom contains shelves full of skincare for face and body, but everything else appears to be not at all to be your personality.

“You can get yourself some new blankets for the couch now that we’ve cleaned up.” Jungkook mentions, but at that you simply begin to pout next to him, legs pulled close to you as you slide down a little, slouching.

“Nah, they’ll say no.” You huff, watching the TV commercial play.

So you really meant it when you said that the company has full control over your money. He believed it might just involve big spendings, which would make sense- but it looks like it more so involves every single purchase you make instead.

“How long is your contract?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think forever.” You say, flopping to the side, legs hanging off to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Thats.. not legal.” Jungkook frowns. “did you never renew it?”

“Huh?” Your ears tilt towards him for a second. He still wonders why one of your ears is floppy these days. “..no. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I.. how long have you been with them?” He asks, and you hold your hands in front of you to start counting. And the more fingers you seem to add, the more concerned he becomes.

“Well, I uh.. wait, I left when I was..” you mumble to yourself. “and now that I’m.. I think eleven years?” You answer, looking at him.

The maximum contract length for hybrids is five years.

Five.

“I.. okay, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and you nod, slowly sitting up. “next time you’re at your company’s HQ, try and get a hold of a copy of your contract. But don’t tell anyone what you need it for.” He says.

If he can get a copy of whatever slave contract you’re under, getting you out of it will be easy. There’s strict laws for hybrids in place after all- one can’t just work them like pets, there’s rules every company has to follow. And that is the same in your industry as well.

“am I gonna go to jail?” You ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No no, you did nothing wrong.” He denies, reaching out to pet your head- pleasantly surprised when you visibly accept the gesture.

Because he speaks the truth. You did nothing wrong.

You were simply used from the start.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

On Monday, jungkook is standing at your door, 7 AM.

And you really, really do not want to go with him.

“Come on now-“ he urges again, pulling on your fluffy sweater while you cling to the doorframe of your apartment building entrance, having just seen what exactly Jungkook uses as his preferred means of transportation.

“No, you’re not getting me on that death-trap, no way in hell!” You complain, escaping his grasp just for a second before his arms are around your middle, easily removing your fingers from the door with a smile sent towards the security guard as reassurance, before he carries your struggling body towards his Harley. “No!” You complain. “This is kidnapping! Abduction!” You cry out, before he puts the helmet he’d gotten recently on your head, hands fastening the strap beneath your chin before he gets onto the motorcycle as well, sitting in front of you.

And the second it roars to life, you’re clinging to him with arms and legs involved, resulting in Jungkook adjusting your grip a little to not strangle him.

Well- at least he’s not driving fast.

“I hate you.” You complain when he removes the helmet again in the underground parking lot beneath the dance studio, pupils still blown wide, cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you just got up yourself like a big girl, I wouldn’t have to drive you.” He easily tells you, helping you down from the vehicle. “we’ll do this again and again until you learn.” He explains, stepping into the elevator with you- still lowly growling to yourself, pissed off at his attitude.

You’re not a kid. He’s stupid.

But it does work, because at least you somewhat practice with him for a few hours, before you stubbornly lay down starfish style in the middle of the practice room, demanding a break- one he grants for once, even if it’s just ten minutes.

“I really don’t wanna go to that contest.” You huff, half of your face squished against the shiny floorboards. Jungkook slowly walks towards you, squatting down to flick his finger against one of your ears that’s again, a little floppy today.

“I know.” He answers, because he does still remember your outburst, devastating cries edged into his mind.

“Hey Jungkook?” you ask, as he absent-mindedly rubs your ear between his fingers, almost enchanted by the softness of it.

“Yeah?” He answers, noticing the way you clearly enjoy such a simple touch to the fullest. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and yet it’s clear that you’re touch-starved and just treated like a doll and nothing else. How lonely must you have been until now?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “or a boyfriend?” You wonder, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“No.” He answers, unsure and most of all suspicious.

“nice.” You smile, tail wagging softly. “I’m your girlfriend then.” You decide, and he freezes.

“...what?” He asks, sitting down now, a water bottle next to his crossed legs. “You can’t.. that’s not how it works.” He explains, but you shrug.

“My mom and my dad didn’t like each other either.” You reply, staring at nothing ahead, chin on your hands. “they just.. got together out of convenience. Cause they were the same hybrid breed, and I guess didn’t have anyone else at the time.” You mumble. “love isn’t real anyways. I’m pretty- isn’t that enough for you to like me?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with a gaze so.. detached that it makes him feel pity.

Is that your view on the world around you?

“You are pretty.” He responds. “but that’s not a foundation for.. a relationship.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t mind that you’re a mix.” You shrug. “you’re handsome, I’m pretty, and I have money.” You say. “if we get together thousands will flock to your dance studio. You’ll be super successful. “ You propose to him. “doesn’t even have to be for long. You can just.. I don’t know. Spend some time with me until you get bored, and then move on.”

“No.” He denies again. You frown.

“Huh.” You huff, slowly sitting up. “whatever then, I guess.”

“Do you even like me?” he asks you, confused, and you shrug before nodding.

“You’re nice. A bit stick-up-you-ass, but overall nice.” You offer.

Jungkook just watches you for a second, in full disbelief at what had been done to you. Raised in a place of luxury, with a golden spoon in your mouth and lies fed daily to create the view you have on everything around you right now. No kindness without some ulterior motive fits your reality. Everything has to be convenient for everyone involved.

“I don’t want a relationship without love, no matter what I might gain from it.” He explains himself, and you roll your eyes, before you flop onto your back, arms crossed again as you sulk. “You shouldn’t settle for less either.”

“Yeah well I wont get that.” You answer. “no one wants me. They want.. her.” You say, while twirling the silver name tag from around your neck in your fingers.

Until he leans over you, body entirely covering yours for a second, causing you to become nervous and wide eyed at his bold move. He’s looking at your neck, and you’re sure he must’ve realized what’s in it for him- after all, everyone is out for something to gain.

His hands move around your neck, fingers warm. You close your eyes as his face draws closer, awaiting the inevitable.

When suddenly, the collar around your neck is undone, and pulled off your neck.

“what-“ you ask, eyes open again as you watch him still above you, now looking into your eyes, and no longer anywhere else.

“I don’t want her.” He says, referring to the name on the tag around your neck that’s now in his hand, pushed into the floorboards where he holds himself up.

“But I’d like to get to know you instead.”

[keepingitformyself]

especially for tender ones like us

A/N: hehehehehehehehehehehehe synopsis: humor, anxiety, and the salvation of love.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: no?

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha tries not to stumble over her words when she suggests staying in, instead of going out. she does not mean to, but she does. 

how could she not? could you really blame her for wanting a quiet night? something that isn’t so public. she wanted to see you, of course, but she wanted to see you in a space you could be comfortable in, without any of the outside world and free from any distractions.  

you listen intently through the other line, you fight the giggle at catching her little stutter. she can’t see, but you smile widely at the whole thing.

“yeah, we can stay in. i can cook us dinner,” you nod. natasha’s shoulders drop in a quiet sense of relief at your words. her lips curl into a smile. “i’d like that. i can’t wait.”

although this would only be the fourth time you had met up together, to natasha, it felt like the first every single time. 

you continue talking for a little while more. natasha shares details about her day, work, and what she ate during lunch. she tells you how on her way to grab her usual coffee order, an americano, she decided she’d switch her order to a matcha latte after having had you recommend it to her. she tells you, 

“it was good, but not nearly enough caffeine for me to keep up with,” she said, her tone light but teasing. and while it hadn’t become her new favorite drink, just knowing she’d tried it for you was more than enough. her words sent your thoughts spiraling, a warmth blooming in your chest. you were certain that if she were standing next to you, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her right then and there.

but you can’t do that so instead, you just fall back on your bed like a high schooler talking to her crush. 

when you finally do meet up the following evening, natasha is buzzing with nerves she doesn't understand. she has taken down whole regimes and has fought aliens from space, yet she seems to draw the line when it comes to facing you. 

she knocks on your door, her other arm clutching a brown bag containing wine and flowers. a reasonable offering if you’re having dinner with someone you want to impress. 

when you answer the door, you're wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. 

“i thought i heard pacing out there.” you joke. 

natasha’s cheeks flush as she tries—and ultimately fails—to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “i wasn’t pacing,” she says, though the slight crack in her voice gives her away.

you step aside and invite her in, and neither of you acknowledges the quiet intimacy of the moment. it feels like more than just dinner, more than just a simple evening in your apartment.

you’re about to cook for her, and somehow, that feels monumental.

natasha’s nerves are a mess, though she can’t quite figure out why—or maybe she can. maybe it’s the way your presence makes her feel unsteady, as though the ground beneath her shifts whenever you’re near.

but natasha doesn’t want to be nervous.

she saw once—a penguin mistaking a sleeping walrus for a rock. the penguin had been caught completely off guard when the walrus stirred, nearly crushing it before it scurried away just in time.

natasha had found it funny at the time, the way surprises can sneak up on you. but now, thinking about it, it doesn’t feel so funny. it feels… unnerving.

surprises are bad for the heart, she thinks. she’s been taught her whole life to avoid them, to anticipate every possibility before it unfolds.

but knowing too much, being too prepared—that can hurt, too.

her thoughts are interrupted by your laughter, light and unburdened, as you guide her toward the kitchen. your smile is so easy, so genuine, and she can’t help but feel how good it is to exist in this space with you.

she offers to help you cook, but you shoo her away instead. you make her watch.

she sits there, with her hands on her lap, and just stares. and she can’t help the look of longing on her face. the kind of thing that suggests she wouldn’t mind this being a constant. 

you made pasta for the evening. nothing too spectacular, but natasha had treated it like you were a top chef and had spent hours crafting everything with your bare hands. 

and then once you’ve plated food for you both and you’ve gotten down to a few bites, you notice the small sigh natasha lets out. the flutter of her eyes as she takes in the meal. 

you smile at her reaction as you move some of the food with your fork. 

“do you like it?”

she looks at you, mid-chew, her mouth stuffed with the food, but she manages a smile. 

“yeah, uh, yes it’s good. it’s so good,” she says, hand over her mouth. 

you continue eating, talking about everything and anything. the night was filled with small moments that would bleed into much deeper ones. you laughed, she smiled, you smiled, she laughed. the kind of things one feels they become when around those who make you tender. 

and you don’t know how or when but you try not to notice how little by little natasha seems to retract a little. 

you decide maybe she needs a small moment for herself and start cleaning up the table. she offers to help, but you wave her off, insisting she relaxes. 

she tries to, but realistically, natasha doesn’t know how to relax. so she sits back and stares at you like she isn’t sure what to do with herself. she isn’t used to this at all. spaces like this–warm, cozy, comfortable.

the impending guilt comes. it’s all so layered. she feels so much at once. the nervousness, the anxiety, the fear of loss, the fear of not being present enough. 

natasha doesn’t know how to be here without sacrificing so much. 

after a while, natasha speaks up. 

“i should probably get going.” her voice too casual to sound like she meant it. she tries not to notice the look of disappointment on your face when you turn around to face her. 

“you don’t have to.” you find yourself saying, not wanting her to leave. 

she hums, something that says she’s already made up her mind. she gets up and gathers her things. 

you follow her to the door, or at least try to—but you pause at the end of the hall when you see her linger near the door, uncomfortably. unsure if she should leave. 

you call her out on it. “you can stay longer if you want.”

natasha wrestles with herself because she really wants to. she looks at the door as if it’d answer for her. 

you’re letting her know. 

natasha feels awkward, clammy hands. she doesn't know what she’s doing. and it’s hard to think of anything else when your eyes are screaming, don't actually leave, at her. 

you look at her carefully, trying to see if you can find any clear indication of what she may be feeling, but it isn’t hard to figure out the redhead in front of you. 

you’ve noted quite quickly how easy it comes for her walls to lower when you’re around. and if there’s anything you’ve learned from that, it’s that natasha romanoff isn’t the trained killer everyone thinks she is. 

sure we all have certain versions we show to certain people. but the natasha you know is anything but rough-edged. the natasha you’ve come to know is actually quite the opposite of what everyone else perceives. 

she’s tender, in her own silent way. too afraid to ever let too much slip away that she’s so painfully aware of everything around her. 

natasha is tenderness wrapped in quiet strength, a paradox of someone who feels deeply but guards herself fiercely. she sees the world clearly—the beauty and the harm—and carries that weight like a constant ache.

like she knows the world hurts more for those most aware of hurt. 

her tenderness isn’t soft; it’s sharp, vigilant, always bracing for the pain that comes with letting others in. you can see it in the flicker of her gaze, the way she hesitates as if expecting the world to hurt her.

and yet, she doesn’t harden. she holds onto that fragile, open part of herself, even when it would be easier not to. it’s beautiful and a little heartbreaking.

natasha looks up at you, then back down at her hands. just above a whisper, she says, 

“i don't know what i’m doing.” 

“that’s the most fun part.” you joke. she smiles, she doesn’t know how to say she wants more time. 

how could she say she feels greedy at this moment? she wants to protect being here with you. we have such little time, she thinks. 

bashfully, she steps closer to you, “i don't want to go.” she says. 

“then don’t.” and natasha almost complies. instead, she takes a step closer, her hand lifting towards your cheek. she’s so close now. 

she kisses you, soft, and shy, but you make her feel sure when your arm circles her neck, deepening the kiss altogether. when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, she lets out a shaky breath. 

“maybe i’ll forget my scarf,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“please do,” you replied. please leave your scarf, please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of leaving. please always come back. “that way you’ll have to come back later for it.”  

and just like that, her quiet uncertainty washes away. 

she takes her scarf off and drops it near the door. you follow her actions, you smile, amusement in your eyes. 

later that night, when natasha gets home, she texts you. 

i forgot my scarf. 

you reply, you’ll have to come get it then. 

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

Are SKZ genuinely good people?

I’m gonna preface this by saying I do not know them and am not affiliated with them. This isn’t fact, take this as speculation. This is just a tarot reading for fun. Dont @ me if they have some crazy insane scandal.

ALSO, why did this end up as a psych evaluation? 😭

Probably my most draining reading to date. Like by the end I could barely type.

Overall

They’re all generally and objectively at least decent people. Albeit, it depends on what lense they’re viewed through and what you find acceptable and what you don’t. They act like you’d expect from Koreans culturally except the things like…Thatre genuinely insane and go against human rights, obviously. But some of those things may make them seem like bad people. Some of them also may be morally ambiguous, and easily swayed by their friends this way or that.

Chan

Generally yes, despite his issues, he’s an objectively good person. But he can be very harsh and aggressive, and so blunt that he hurts people and doesn’t necessarily care? Because he’s developed to a point where he’s starting to realize he can’t fault himself when other people complain about things that just aren’t true but it’s also blinded him from the fact that sometimes he has to look at their perspective and explain his reasonings and actions, which can make him seem like a bad person to others. He also overthinks things and forms opinions based on those things. Meaning he can glance at one person and judge/stereotype them very very heavily, and run with that completely. He can also criticize people to the point it’s flat out cruel without realizing it. He’s also very sensitive and emotionally immature. So generally he’s a good person objectively, but subjectively others may beg to differ.

Minho

He’s objectively a good person. He’s solved a lot of his character issues by a lot of inner exploration and thinking deeply about his failed relationships and the reasons for their failure. He’s tried and failed things and he’s learned from what he’s failed. He can be a little vain and moody but he’s compassionate and graceful in the face of those he loves, which is honestly a good thing. He has a strong will and a strong mind, and is constantly growing and probably has someone in his life inspiring this growth. His spirit is very tied to his finances. He likes to be financially stable and independent. Probably the type who wants to be on the level where his family is set for generations. He’s very lucky in that aspect. He also does a lot of charity. But he’s also an overthinker who scrutinizes and judges people a lot. His mind is restless and honestly is probably the type who cannot sleep because his mind is constantly working and working and he’s always thinking. (I can honestly relate. My parents used to get mad at me for it because I’d be trying to sleep then next thing they knew I was in their doorway asking them a random question that came to me. He was probably the same growing up.) he’s never satisfied though. He doesn’t particularly like or find joy in much of anything. (Can relate) and nothing can hold his interest for too long an/or satisfy him. He’s very lucky and probably trusts in the universe a lot. Also I randomly started crying reading this and I was wondering why he’s so uncharacteristically chatty and his energy isn’t as stable as usual so like…Do with that information what you will. He’s, despite what most may think, mildly optimistic. Or at least by nature he is. But that has probably been hammered down into the ground. He’s also very lucky did I mention that? He loves those around him very fiercely and unconditionally. It’s hard for him to even like let alone love someone or something. But once he does there’s no letting go. His love is deep and it’s strong. And he’s always there for others.

Okay I’m getting sidetracked but like some of these cards I don’t think are even on the subject this man is like going through it emotionally. Like he’s DEPRESSED DEPRESSED. I’m talking sobbing, unable to even move or think having a mental breakdown heart racing blood pressure rising whole body trembling thinking he’s dying panic attack. So.

I feel bad.

Despite how volatile and turbulent he is inside, outside he’s serene and is extremely good at keeping secrets. This is the Scorpio coming through. People, even family and friends, only know things about him he wants them to know. Nothing more.

He’s happy with friends and loved ones though. And…Pleasure.

This man can’t go from having mouth diarrhea to having a panic attack to being horny that’s not how that works. Between him and Hyunjin I’m pretty sure I’ll be a leaky faucets the entire reading because WHY AM I CRYING AGAIN? I’m not even sad.

Also Laffy Taffy by D4L randomly came to mind. Dunno if that’s me or him.

Either way we’re done here before III end up with an existential crisis.

What’s also interesting is I started with him not because I necessarily wanted to but I was physically incapable of reading for any of the others first and reading for him kept calling to me.

Do with that what you will.

Changbin

He kind of is. This is another thing where he’s more morally gray because of cultural things. He’s optimistic and compassionate with a lot of trust in the things around him, and the Korean…Bubble in general. He’s also very very lucky. Another whose spirit is…Connected to more material things. But here I think it means worldly attachments, desires, etc. like money and relying on the people around him to feel good. He’s very destructive. Things he does, has done, will continue to do, and will do have, will, and are ruining things for a lot of people. He destroys. I’m getting here he might’ve done something in the past or will do something in the future that may put the entire group at risk. But I’m not about to go into detail about that because I don’t wanna know.

Randomly thought of Beomhan. Which…Coincidentally he had an incident.

He’s a courageous free spirit with a love or life. He’s easily excitable and very very easy to please and make happy. He has a lot of secrets, though, even if he doesn’t outwardly seem like the type who does. He’s very volatile and secretive.

I’ve also been getting some odd hyper fixation with Hyunjin vibes this entire time. Like some parts had that underlying ‘Hyunjin, Hyunjin’. This isnt even the Hyunjin stan in me speaking because I’m never like that and it’s more…Detached. This is coming from Changbin. Either he’s currently obsessed, has done or will do something to him, or has done or will do something with him; either one.

He’s another that’s not easily satisfied. He constantly wants more and more and more and more. He craves it. Specifically affection and attention. I’m getting he may be insecure and craving validation.

He’s very very intelligent and theoretical.

He takes a lot of things for granted and is quick to throw them away for the thrill. People, things, anything. He gets bored when things are too familiar. He loses motivation when things are too easy.

He’s working through some of these issues though. Probably in therapy. (Unwillingly.)

This card popped out with another Hyunjin like underlying energy. Specifically two of chalices. And I’m getting a strong love indicator.

Man why are we hyperfixating on Hyunjin today don’t come for me for this this isn’t even my doing 😭

Hyunjin

True neutral. The good and the bad balance out. I’m also getting compromise here. Like he would’ve been entirely one way or entirely another if he didn’t have one particular person to tell him not to engage in certain behaviors.

So.

Getting this person may have had a Libra moon but that’s not important.

(Got a specific thing here but I’m not about to start shit so imma mind my business 💆🏾‍♀️)

He sees himself as an absolute failure and I’m going to pretend I didn’t get the vibes I got but like…Can someone get this man therapy before he goes off the deep end?

LITERALLY?

Imma shut up now

Anyways, he’s so loving and naive and impulsive. TOO loving and naive and impulsive. To the point where his morals are so easily swayed by those around him. The company you keep is a reflection of you is strong in this one.

He can be more on the conservative side.

He had solid foundations in life and is very very materially secure and values that. He spends money Willy nilly and throws it everywhere not because he’s not good with it but because he simply has the means to. I get the vibes he probably has some very good investments going.

He moves from one thing to the next quickly. He can never stick around. He likes challenges but if he doesn’t perfect it quick enough he throws it away. He doesn’t like things to be easy but he hates when things are hard. It’s like there’s a constant push and pull nothing can ever quite meet.

He’s wise, fair, and open-minded. He cares about how he’s perceived, and is very shockingly very perceptive. He’s also manipulative because he cares so much about how he’s perceived.

He values equality and unity. He also values balance and his close bonds, specifically with his friends.

It reminds me of that lyric that’s like “Cause you only listen to your fucking friends.”

And it’s not a Hyunjin reading if he isn’t oddly horny.

He has a lot of fantasies and delusions. He will make up an elaborate scenario of his partner cheating on him and will become so convinced its intuition he’ll quite literally gaslight himself into thinking he’s right and any and everything the s/o does or says from that point will be twisted into confirmation. This goes for every relationship he has though.

He’s very kind.

He’s healing a lot from old wounds and trauma right now. But healing is also making it all surface and suffocate him. Probably restoring old bonds he probably shouldn’t have

Very impulsive and generous.

He’s been happier because of his group.

And sex. Because of fucking course.

Can you tell I’m already fed up with this reading? 😭

Han

He is. A very generous one at that. Just a very insecure one with 0 self esteem who needs the validation of others to keep himself from being severely and debilitatingly depressed.

He’s helpless and exhausted and can’t focus on anything anymore. His self esteem is probably getting worse and worse. Reminded me of when he had to stop and lay down on stage from what I assume is exhaustion just based on the vibes and body language.

He’s in pain and he’s suffering and there’s a lot of bitter truths here. He also probably wants people to break free of their delusions about him to relieve that pressure. May possibly do something stupid to do that.

But he’s lucky and convinced whatever the hell he believes in will deliver and everything will turn out for the best.

He’s patient, being careful, and working hard in the meantime. Just barely keeping himself afloat. He’s waiting for his chance to be happy.

He has no motivation. He’s burnt out, and taking things for granted and taking unnecessary risks. Which is directly contradicting the earlier statement. I think before is what he thinks he’s doing and this is what’s actually happening.

There’s such heavy emphasis on the sorrow and the pain and the suffering. He’s probably really really depressed right now.

Getting he’s on his knees crying and sobbing and begging for something.

Now I’m crying. I didn’t think he’d be another one to make me cry but I’m crying now and it’s most definitely just from this.

His hope is gone, he’s losing money for some reason, he invested so much into something and it failed, and nothing seems to be going right for him.

He’s impulsive and generous and life is going way too fast for him.

He’s very open and honest and knows how to channel his energy into things.

He’s finding happiness in the group, again. I feel like I’ve gotten this for all of them so far.

Felix

He is, and he hopes he is. Even if his energy is very scattered.

He’s going through a lot of difficulties right now, mentally and physically. There’s a threat to his security in some form.

Someone’s being extremely cruel and aggressive towards him and he’s feeling a lot of shame and guilt because of it, or maybe even doing so to someone he cares for and loves.

He’s trying to heal and lick his wounds but it’s so hard.

Getting heavy Bible and religious imagery here. He strives to apply that to his life because he believes it’ll help him be a better person. Probably praying a lot for the situation to get better.

He’s trying to solve all his issues as well as everyone else’s.

Definitely hiding something though.

Someone’s been indulging in more and more debauchery and it’s scaring him. Overindulging, always drunk and intoxicated. As a form of escapism. And he’s tried to help but he feels so out of control. And the person is probably addicted by now.

He’s restless and anxious. His mind is hyperactive.

He’s feeling more creative though. His will is stronger. So is his enthusiasm for his work.

Again, finding joy in his group.

Seungmin

He is. He’s healing and he has a renewed enthusiasm for life. He’s also reaching more of his potential. But he’s afraid. He’s sabotaging himself and he’s so acutely aware of his limitations:

He’s another whose heart and soul is connected to more worldly things. He’s also very opportunistic and money smart.

He’s lucky and all his wishes usually end up fulfilled, so he’s trusting in the universe at the moment that it’ll deliver for him.

He’s also very compassionate.

He’s content and satisfied with where he is, and I’m getting specifically that he feels very blessed at the moment. And even more generous than normal.

But he’s restless and his mind is running rampant.

He’s also being impulsive.

And I’m getting more of that debauchery and escapism influence here, but more vague because it’s Seungmin.

Jeongin

And finally, Jeongin. He’s a good person.

He knows you always need a balance and compromise in life. He’s balanced with a stable head on his shoulders. But he also stalls things and can be overly passive.

He’s feeling lost. There’s secrets and hidden truths and he’s being forced to hide things he’d rather not be involved with let alone be part of keeping under wraps.

Another who’s probably turning back to religion but not as much as Felix is.

He feels more liberated and rejuvenated now, though. More revitalized.

He’s ambitious and achieving a lot in his work due to his efforts. It he’s also struggling with balancing work and his personal life.

He’s in a lot of pain and suffering right now and there’s a lot around him.

Another who’s very money oriented but good with it.

He’s bored and taking life for granted because it no longer has the same risks.

He’s also being oddly vague which he usually isn’t.

There’s a lot of new things in his life. New feelings and maybe a new s/o. A lot of cameaderie and happiness with his group.

He’s trusting himself more and knows he’s going to overcome. Very disciplined and enduring. Determined he’ll get far.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Cut the Shit-Delusion, Sweetheart | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

summary: A young actress confesses her feelings to Cillian Murphy, this is how he responds.

warning: This is a much different story than I usually write but I think it's one that we all need in moments of pain and loneliness; to allow ourselves to feel sad and disappointment and hurt. We use people like Cillian to comfort ourselves and give ourselves reasons to be happy and sometimes we need moments to be sad. I was inspired by Fleabag (of course) and an AI edit I saw of Cillian where he turns someone down and its really sweet even though it breaks my heart lol. Age-diff, 1 noncon kiss, talk of infidelity.

word count: 1791+k

Blue Light- Mazzy Star 🎶

Don't interact if you're a Yvonne-hater, please and thanks <3

She hesitated before she knocked on the side-door of Cillian’s trailer. This desperate feeling overwhelmed her and she knew that she couldn’t sleep unless she went to him and confessed how she felt. She’d been plagued by dreams of them together, these beautiful, perfect dreams that poisoned her sleep like melatonin. She loved him and whether or not he felt the same way, she needed to tell him. She exhaled shakily as she dropped her arm back to her side. She was wearing her normal clothes, out of costume finally after a long day of shooting. She lost her sense of security behind the battlements of her gowns and numerous frilly things. She couldn’t hide her feelings behind her character anymore. 

The door opened and Cillian leaned against the doorframe in a casual greeting. 

“Don’t tell me we have a late night call time tonight, I’m fucking exhausted.” He smiled with his lopsided grin, his wide lips framing his teeth.

“No, but there is some business I need to attend to. May I come in?” She returned his smile and mirrored his posture. 

“Sure, come on.” He stepped aside and raised his arm in a welcoming gesture for her to pass through the door. She nodded in silent thanks and stood awkwardly in his trailer which was simple and quaint. Except for the unmade bed, the trailer was neat and orderly. 

“Oh fuck I’m sorry, were you asleep when I knocked?” She blushed and squeezed her palms together in an anxious gesture. 

“Nah, I was just reading the script for a movie my agent wants me to do next.” 

“Oh,” she nodded and turned her attention to the rack of costumes his character wore, “is it any good?” 

“It's definitely interesting but I don’t think it’s t’e right film for me.” He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. Cillian was wearing a plain t-shirt and pajama pants, and seeing the innocent-intimate side of his life made her want so desperately to kiss him. She sat on the small couch he had in the trailer and tried to smile. 

“That’s too bad. Is it anything I’d like?” She joked and he nodded seriously. 

“Actually, yeh. I’ll send it over once I’m through. I’ve been re-reading it.” He moved his hands through the air as he spoke, so unlike his characters. She almost laughed and he smiled. 

“So, what can I do for you? You said you had some business to attend to. Sounds serious. Should I be worried?” He raised his eyebrow and crossed his legs, his hands cupped around the edge of the mattress. She tried to speak and immediately failed. Frustrated and embarrassed tears filled her eyes and she hid them by looking up at the ceiling. Cillian furrowed his brow, concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” He leaned forward on the bed and she shook her head, laughing lightly at herself. 

“I feel so incredibly stupid now for coming here.” She looked away and the bed squeaked softly as Cillian stood and joined her on the couch. She scooted over to give him some room and picked at the skin on her hands. 

“You can always come to me. Whatever it is.” He said softly and the air around them stilled with anticipation.

“Oh don’t say that, Cillian. You’re so kind…” she started to cry and tried to hide her face. 

“Fuck, I hate tears, please don’t cry! Did somet’ing happen?” He raised his hands helplessly, holding them over her without being sure what to do with them. She nodded her head slowly and hiccuped pitifully. 

“You’ll have to forgive me for my comforting abilities. I’ve never been good on t’at front and I have boys so I’m better at comforting members of the male species.” He shrugged and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She laughed despite herself and wiped her eyes. She stood and paced the front of the trailer, knowing that it was now or never. 

“Cillian, this is such a horrible way to end your nice evening but I can’t continue on set without getting this off my chest. I hope you’ll forgive me.” She dared herself to look at him and he met her eyes, holding her eye-contact with mature resolve. 

“Of course.” He nodded softly, wrinkling his forehead, now more concerned with what his costar was going to tell him. He was naive. He assumed she was going to tell him that she couldn’t work with him anymore or that something had happened in their scenes that had made her uncomfortable. He shifted uneasily on the couch, watching her. She tried to speak a few times but exhaled and shook her head. Cillian stood and met her where she was standing. He was a good few feet taller than her and so much older, but having him there beside her made the feelings she wanted to tell him about so much stronger. 

“Cillian, this isn’t easy to say,” she looked down at her hands and then up into his clear blue eyes. “I have feelings for you, more than our professional relationship can offer. Working with you on set all this time has… it’s made my feelings so much harder to ignore, Cillian.” 

He froze and remembered to breathe, drawing in a startled breath. 

“T’at wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.” He ran his hand over his mouth and looked away, his blue eyes moving through his hidden thoughts. 

“I know you probably don’t feel the same but I just… it’s driving me mad, Cillian. It’s becoming a form of method acting that isn’t fun anymore.” She tried to laugh lightly but grimaced and put the backs of her hands against her burning cheeks. 

“Yeh…” he nodded and sighed, his eyes wide. 

She groaned and returned to the couch, sitting on her sweaty hands. 

“I can go, Cillian. I can leave if you don’t want me here anymore.” She whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“No, no. We need to talk t’rough this.” He said calmly, slowly, and covered his mouth with his freckled hand. 

“Oh God, I’ve gone and fucked everything up. I’m sorry Cillian. I knew you didn’t feel the same but I still let myself go to you.” She leaned back against the couch and pulled her hands through her hair and pulled the skin back from her face. 

“Stop it. Don’t say t'at.” Cillian snapped not unkindly but sternly and took a deep breath. “See, we need to talk about t’is so we can still work together, eh?” He ran a hand through his own dark hair and looked at her for a moment, thinking. 

“How, Cillian? If you knew how I felt about you… it’s maddening. I can’t sleep, Cillian. You’re all I think about as pathetic as it sounds,” she took a deep breath, “I love you. And now you’ll hate me.” She continued and moved her hands, clasped together between her knees.

Cillian sighed and moved abruptly to her side on the couch, opening his body towards her. 

“Don’t talk for me, eh? Look, I understand. It’s hard to not develop certain er… feelings when we do what we do, right?” He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips awkwardly.

“I know I’m childish, Cillian, but I can’t help it. I’m suffering without you… without more from you, more than we can do on set.” She whined and rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold. “Can you indulge me? Do you feel even a little of what I do?” She whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. He said nothing for a second before running his hands up and down his face, exhaling loudly into his palms. He put his hands down and leaned towards her on his elbows. 

“I’m married, sweetheart. Yvonne is my wife and I love her.” He whispered softly, his hands splitting the space between them. 

“But I love you.” She whispered back and leaned in to kiss him. He allowed her to kiss him once and when she pulled away, dejected, he took her chin gently. 

“Cut the shit-delusion, sweetheart. You’re young… far too young for me. You may t’ink you love me but you don’t know me.”

He took her face in his hands and smiled sadly as tears rolled down her pink cheeks. 

“I know you’ll find someone who truly loves you. You’re a beautiful young woman who has her entire life ahead of her. I’m flattered t'at you feel t’at way about me but we can’t, I can’t. If the roles were reversed and we were married and Yvonne approached me, wouldn’t you want me to stop t’ings before t’ey went too far?” He supported her head as she dropped it slightly to the side. She felt empty of words and so he continued. 

“You’re a darling girl but you know we can’t do t’is.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and wiped away her tears. “You need a boy your age who knows how to love you in the way you need to be loved. I only know how to love my wife… and she’s the only one who knows how to love me.”

“I could have loved you in whatever way you needed.” She whispered weakly and he smiled softly. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothed her like a father, “but you wouldn’t have been happy wit' me. You’re out of my league and you would have gotten bored of me.” He joked lightly and she allowed a pained smile to form on her lips. 

“I’m sorry, Cillian. I feel like such a fool.” She closed her eyes and he hugged her close. 

“Nah, you’re still a kid. You’re many t’ings but foolish is not one of ’em.” He squeezed her tightly and kissed her head affectionately. “You’re a good kid and a great actress. We’ll be fine, the two of us, eh?” He pulled away and she wiped her eyes dry. 

“I’ll try.”  

She kissed him briefly on the cheek and rose to her feet. She walked to the door and looked back at the actor with a small smile, the door open in front of her.

“Goodnight, Cillian.” 

He nodded from the couch. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

Cillian stood and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. 

“You weren’t the only one.... That is, you weren’t the only one who felt…” he broke off and cleared his throat, “but it's better t’is way, yeh?.... It’ll pass, love. It’ll pass.” 

He met her eyes one last time and she nodded sadly yet full of a completeness found in their mutual understanding. 

“Goodnight, Cillian.” She said again and closed the door behind her and left the trailer, walking with her back to the wind. Cillian collapsed back on the couch and looked at his watch, wondering if Yvonne was awake. She always answered his calls. She put up with everything, God bless her. She was everything and more than he deserved. He rang her up and she answered after the second ring, her voice ringed with sleepiness.

"Heya, love." He whispered with a smile, "No, everyt'ing's fine. I just wanted to call you. I miss you, girl. Yeah, yeah. Put them on."

[ghostbustting]

Hii :)

could I request smth for Izzy (gnr) where reader is one of Duff's siblings and Izzy's into her, and she's been picking up on that but thinks that it's impossible because she finds herself to be really plain/boring (not insecure per se but confused), so she kind of ignores his advances and eventually he gets really frustrated and when theyre alone he kind of bursts and tells her to just reject him out loud instead of leading him on, and then frustrated smut ensues?

😭sorry if this is overly specific

have a great day/ night! -🕸️

Finally a request for my man SHJSBSJABA🙈

╰┈➤“𝑾𝑨𝑰𝑻 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼„ ๋࣭⭑

Izzy Stradlin x McKagan!Reader

Contains Smut

The coldness of a typical December’s night always had it’s way to get to me, despite being someone who would enjoy playing around in the snow all winter. Layers of sweaters is a must in this season, obviously. Though usually, in these type of situation, I’d burry myself under a whole bunch of layers of blankets, take a hot bath, or make myself something warm and comforting to drink.

This time, I decided to make a hot cup of coffee, craving that slightly bitter taste on my tongue that would warm up my throat and my stomach from all the freezing weather out there in the world.

Walking into the kitchen of my own house, I was greeted by a raven black hair, that was obviously dyed, standing in the way, a figure blocking my way from the kitchen counter, a figure that’s clearly not a part of my family.

I swear to God, I don’t remember my brother Duff being such a fucking twink, dye his blond hair into raven, and losing a few inch of his giraffe-like height.

Then it took me awhile to realize and get it in my head that the guy standing in front of me was Izzy Stradlin, one of Duff’s stupid bandmates. I sigh in relief to know Duff hadn’t gone that dumb as to go all black hair and lose what he would call his ‘chick magnet of a height’.

“Excuse me,” I say softly, rushing past Izzy in order to grab my mug from the top cabinet.

I never really found the right words to describe the Jeffrey Dean Isbell. He was.. intriguing, in a way, always had been. The first thing I noticed about him was his slightly mysterious demeanor of staying quiet most of the time with his literal monkeys and baboons of friends, including my brother obviously.

The second thing I noticed was the way he would just sit back with a cigarette casually sitting between his lips, the way he play as a rhythm guitarist in their band, the way his fingers strum those chords, the way he dresses so oddly appealing.

At first I always thought I made a bad first impression on him to the point he didn’t talk to me a lot when I was around, but lately I found myself thinking it’s a whole different reason.

Because the third thing I noticed about him is the way lately, he’d look at me up and down each time I enter the room or walk by him, he started talking to me, praising me now and then— not too subtle, but not too hidden for me to be oblivious about it. He’d throw his cigarette away when I’m nearby, knowing I’m not a smoker, he’d also mess up his guitar chords when I’m at their practices.

I’d respond with the same thing, small smiles, small chit-chat, assisting him with his guitar when one of the strings broke, making lunch for the band, my eyes meeting him when I hand his food. The little antics he’d put on whenever I’m around him starts to make me get my hopes up and think he might actually be into me.

But when I think about it again, I find it impossible. Why would he? He hung around groupies, his band’s back dancers, random club whores. And out of all those choices he just happen to be interested in me? As far as I concerned, I was plain. Boring. I dress just like all other girls, yet I always failed to make myself look as attractive as they do.

Looks aren’t really something I prioritize that much. But I can’t help but find it confusing how he acts like I’m special to him. Or perhaps he treats every other girl he’s comfortable with like this.

So with my doubt, I decided to just ignore his little shenanigans.

I start to make my coffee, stirring it till it’s completely mixed nicely. I can feel Izzy’s gaze on me as I do so, hearing a sigh from him while he stay standing there like a statue, his lips slightly parted as if words were urging to slip past them and into my ears.

There always were some sort of different vibe washing over both of us whenever it’s just us two. The clock was ticking, we were quiet yet the tension speaks loud enough for us. I try to stay quiet and keep my eyes on my coffee as I lift my mug up to my lips and take a sip.

A sigh escapes me as the freshly made coffee warms up my throat, licking up the liquid that managed to drop on my lip, a pair of eyes burns a hole at the side of my head like a magnifying glass using the power of sunlight.

Only, there is no sunlight. The reminder fills me with coldness again as I blow air into my hand and rub them together, desperate to feel heat forming in my palms. That’s when I hear his voice, “Are you feeling cold?” His voice was monotone as usual, but if you hear closely you can hear just enough genuine care in that same exact voice.

Or I was hallucinating again.

I nod my head quietly, “Mhm.” My answer came out shorter than how I would usually answer his questions or statements, not even looking up at him even though I’d always look into his eyes so deeply in our conversations.

I hear him sigh yet again, leaning against the counter next to me this time as I take another sip of my coffee. I slowly raise my head to look up at him, trying to find out what emotion he’s feeling at the moment, yet always finding it hard through his casual straight face that he wear most of the time.

“You uh.. a coffee person?”

I raise an eyebrow at his random question. It’s not the first time he did this, but it just feels so awkward this time. Looking down again and shrugging with a nod, I hum “Mhm..”

“You look lovely tonight.”

My heart stops and my cheeks turned slightly pigmented with a tint of pink. For a guy so quiet and closed most of the times, I find it flattering to hear him compliment me like this. His choice of words; “Lovely” makes my mind get dizzy. But I had to remind myself that he was probably just being nice.

With another nod and a small voice, “Thanks..” I spoke, “You—”

This time though, before I could start speaking more, he cut me off with a small groan as his hand rub his face, “Jesus, just reject me already..” He muttered under with a sigh that sounded more irritated than the previous sighs he let out.

Lifting my head up, my eyes met his green ones. He throw his head back and roll his eyes, sitting slightly on the edge of the counter. I gulped and slowly answer him, “Sorry? I don’t understand what you—”

“Oh don’t act fucking dumb.”

Taken aback by his words, I lean back and tilt my head. “Excuse me?” I scoff, raising an eyebrow at him in a way of showing the way I feel offended by his words. I have no idea what his problem is with me. At first he compliment me, and now he’s acting irritated all of a sudden?

He laughed bitterly and look at me, “This. This is what I mean.” He spoke, pushing his slightly greasy raven hair back with his fingers. There was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, as if he’s hesitant to continue his sentence, his eyes turning back down to his shoes. “You know what you’re doing. It’s not fair, you know? You- you look at me with those fucking eyes, talk to me, lead me on and at the end you—”

“What?!”

I blurted out a little too loud. My eyes widen as I almost spat out the coffee I was previously sipping on. I didn’t expect him to say that. Leading him on? How did he get that? Was I really giving that impression on him? Despite finding myself getting flustered by his antics here and there, I was never the type to flirt first. I can never bring myself to make a first move.

Izzy let out yet another shaky sigh as he ruffle up his own hair, messing it up a little. He seems oddly frustrated, a hint of uneasiness in the way he stand. “What? You clearly know I have a thing for you and- and—”

“You have WHAT?” I cut him off yet again, my eyes widening even more to the point they might pop out of their sockets. His words rang in my ears again and again, a feeling of disbelief washing over me when I realize what he said. “I.. I didn’t know..”

As conscious as I was all the time of his small gestures, I would’ve never thought my assumptions would turn out to be true. And even now, I don’t even know whether he was saying the truth or just meaningless words to me just to play me in the end like rock stars like him would typically do to any vulnerable girls that came across their way.

I took a step back and lean against the kitchen island behind me, my hand coming to rest on the edges of it as I look down and try to process the situation again, or rather trying to decide whether he was genuine or not, very careful with my decision.

He’s kind, always was. I never had a problem with him unlike Duff’s other friend that would start an argument with me every little minutes. Izzy was rather.. closed yet considerate towards me.

“You don’t believe me huh?” He started again, sighing. I look up at him, my eyes giving away the hesitance in me. Then, Izzy slowly start walking my way, sending a wave of nervousness in me when he got even closer, all the way till he’s right in front of my face, his hands besides mine on the edge the island.

With this proximity, it was so much easier looking at the small details in his face, how lighter the green in his eyes seems to shine, the nose piercing that’ll look somewhat invisible if you don’t look close enough, the smallest imperfection in his almost perfect face, at least that’s what I see when I look at him. I didn’t even realize how he’s slowly leaning even closer into me.

Looking down at me, he ask, “Does your brother take long when he go out?” His voice is now slightly smaller, my eyes slowly avoid his gaze and look at the floor instead as I nod my head to his questions.

“..Then will you let me prove my feelings before he comes back?”

My heart beat accelerates on it’s own, my chest heaving up an down as I take deep breaths and let them out in shaky and heavy ones. I found it hard to speak with how nervous and aroused he makes me. He was older than my brother, let alone the age gap between him and me. But I really can’t help this overwhelming feeling building up inside me.

One small sex. That’s it. If my feeling say it’ll go south, then I’ll bury this memory away.

“..Fine..”

And with those four letter word, something switched up in him, as if he found it as a green light. His hands immediately went to my cheeks, cupping them as he connect his lips to mine.

My eyes light up before slowly fluttering close with the feeling of his slightly dry lips rubbing right against mine, my hips being held close to him by his hands.

All the concern I had floated away when his tongue swiftly slips past my lips and meet mine, making me gasp a little at the taste of him. He tasted.. oddly sweet.

Or perhaps it was just the lust in me that made me feel all these kinds of feelings. Nevertheless, I was loving it. Too much, perhaps.

My arms snakes up and wrap around his neck, pulling him in even closer as he lift my hips up and place me to sit on the kitchen island, my lips staying on him the whole time.

I can feel his hands on my thighs, he was massaging them while slowly parting them, pulling me closer to the edge of the island while his fingers trails up to the waistband of my pants.

My eyes widen and I pull back from the kiss before I place my hand over his to pause him, he looked over at me and press one last peck on my lips, “Trust me.” He whisper, his voice way too reassuring to deny, “Please..?” His eyes stays on mine while he slowly kneel down on the floor.

The breath I exhaled became more heavy and shaky by the time he pull down my pants, letting it drop to the floor with him, the only thing stopping him from getting to my cunt is the already soaked fabric of my panties.

I watch silently as he lean closer to my clothed cunt, his finger lightly running up and down the soaked part of my panties, making me gasp when I can feel his finger right through the thin fabric.

Slowly, he began to pull down my panties. I was already forgetting how to breathe when he place the panties close to his nose, taking a good sniff of it before shucking it into his pocket.

Then.. I yelped when he dove into my pussy like there was no tomorrow, pulling me by my thighs and placing them on his shoulder.

My back arched when he began sucking on my clit harshly, two of his fingers making their way between my folds, pumping in and out of it while I make the dirtiest noises ever that echoes right through the empty house.

My hand reach up and hold onto his hair, pulling his face closer. “Fuck! Izzy..” I moaned, my legs shaking as he continued on and on with his action.

His fingers worked like magic, curling up at the perfect position that can pull out even louder noises from me. Meanwhile his mouth continued to suck and nibble on my clit, driving me insane with pleasure.

I can already feel a knot forming in my stomach, grinding against his fingers and face as I reach closer and closer to my release. “..’M close..!”

That’s when he pulled back and stopped my release.

I look at him with wide eyes, “Wha- why’d you stop?” I panted out, my legs still shakint from how much he drove me insane just by using his mouth and fingers.

But by the time his pants along with his boxers fall down to the floor, I knew I was in for a main course. My eyes widened yet again when I noticed the size of his cock and how it curves up a little.

Suddenly, he pushes me to the middle of the island before climbing up on it himself, towering over me while his hands were pinning my shoulders down to the hard cold surface where I would usually find myself use for eating.

My eyes stays on him the whole time while he held my hip in one hand and the tip of his cock in the other, he seems very.. concentrated.

I held in deep breaths when he start pushing through my folds and into me, the both of us let out groans of pleasure from the new feeling while he slowly push in even deeper.

“Iz..” I whimper as my back arch when he managed to get all of his cock stuffed inside me, both of his hands on my hips now as he starts to thrust in and out of me. His length stretched me out, my small whimpers becoming moans.

Izzy himself moaned when he found the right pace, speeding up his movement. “You’re so tight.. fuck..” He grunted out, his hold on my hips becoming firmer.

When he lean down to kiss on my neck, my hands immediately flew to his back, clawing on his shirt and taking it off him before I throw it away. His cock continues to pump in and out of me, hitting the right spots every single time.

I moaned and held onto his back, my nails surely leaving scratch marks on his skin. My lips parted when his hips starts ramming back and forth into me desperately, my legs shaking from how fast he was going. “Fuck!” I cried out, trying to pull him even closer to me.

His face was burried deep in my neck, I didn’t even notice how he had left a secret mark right behind my ear, whispering, “I want you.. I wanted you for so long.. why can’t you fucking understand that..?” He grunts in my ear, his voice a sweet melody my ears record to remember for another night.

“Faster.. faster please..!” I moaned out.

And that’s exactly what he did, he lean back up and hold my hips even more tighter, I was sure his fingers would be leaving a mark. His hips starts ramming even more fast, not faltering even for a second. He just kept going.

He was able to let out the sweetest yet dirtiest moan out of me, making my bsck arch at the same time as my fingers try to find something to hold onto, to which he offered out his hand for me to hold.

I gripped onto his hand and arm tightly, “So good, so good..” I cried out, squirming still underneath him.

That’s when the knot from earlier returns even tighter now. This time I just cannot hold it in any longer, “I’m coming..!” I gasped out when my release came gushing out of me, dripping down my cunt tha’s still being pumped by him.

“Oh shit.. mm.. shit shit!” Izzy suddenly pulled out and grip his cock tightly on my stomach, jerking himself off till white streaks of his cum flew out, messing up my shirt.

He then slowly fall onto me, he wasn’t that much of a buff guy, so his weight didn’t surprised me that much. I slowly wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close to me as we pant for breath, still shocked from our deeds.

He was the first to speak up, his voice becoming soft yet again, “Sorry about your shirt.. and the island..” He whisper, “I’ll clean them up..” His head was resting my chest, ear pressed onto my skin as he listen closely to my heartbeat.

“Don’t worry.” I whisper back and stroke his hair with my fingers, feeling the softness of it.

That’s when he look up at me and let out a shaky breath, “So.. what- do you believe me now..?” He ask, a hint of hope in his eyes that are silently pleading with me to say yes.

Looking away, I sigh and close my eyes, my mind trying to come up with the correct respond to voice out. “I don’t.. I don’t know..”

Looking back at Izzy, I can see all the hope in his eyes crushed up as his head fall back on my chest. I continue to run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of guilt for crushing his hope within seconds. “I’m sorry..” I whisper.

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, mumbling “I’ll wait for you..”

Though my mind made my answer unsure, there was something nudging me in my heart, something telling me that this boy on my chest was being genuine. I couldn’t help but look down at his face, his eyes closed and he looked so peaceful. My heart had an urge to accept him into my world, but my mind told me to wait for the right moment.

[deaddovedecadence]

Title: The Date

Warning(s): murder, possessive behavior, obsession, belittling.

Request(s): none

-

Primer

foundation

concealer

mascara

eyeshadow

It was your Father, your inhuman other-then father who’s never cared about makeup that introduced you to it. It’s one of the only ways he hasn’t failed you, taught you that gender is just gender and toys are for everyone. You saw Tsumiki putting on makeup once and you felt hooked, like something entirely your own was circling your body in that moment.

Makeup is a form of control for you, something that no one forces on you or tries to change about you. Sometimes Megumi watches you do your makeup, and it was Tsumiki and your Father who taught you to do it in the first place.

Today you’re doing makeup for a very special reason. You have a date! Shintani Mashiro, a very friendly guy in your class asked you out with a shy smile and some pretty flowers. Megumi didn’t say anything so you assumed it was okay.

Now as you’re getting ready, flitting about your room, trying to decide what to wear, you feel worse then you have in months. It’s been peaceful for a while and now you’re worrying about it, wondering if you’re going to fuck up the rare peace in the house.

Deep Breath.

Deep Breath.

You have flowy pants and tighter pants in your hands when Tsumiki walks into the room. “Getting all ready?” She asks, and it occurs to you once again, that anything Megumi knows, Tsumiki does too.

“I am, but I don’t know what pants to wear.” Tsumiki makes a considering hum. “the looser ones with the black long sleeve you stole for Megumi.”

You think about for a second, and realize that she’s right. Of course she is.

Tsumiki sits on your bed as you get ready, watching you fuss over your (still white) hair. “Why are you so excited love?” She asks and you don’t know how to format your answer to make it acceptable.

“I don’t really know a lot of people so maybe this can be a chance for me.” You decide on, trying not to offend or anger her. Tsumiki considers this, opening one of the magazines you have by your bedside table.

You continue gettting ready, shedding your loungewear for the pants and long sleeve. You don’t look half bad, not at all.

“Why do you need people who aren’t family?” She asks quietly, cutting through the peaceful silence and you freeze. “I just get so bored sometimes Miki, it’ll be nice to have someone else to bother when I’m bored.”

This seems to be an acceptable answer because she comes over to kiss the top of your head and leaves you alone.

Eventually you end up in the living room, waiting for him to arrive.

Your Father walks into the living room as you’re waiting, smiling his horrible smile as usual. “Whatcha waiting for child of mine?”

You give him a small grin. “I’m going on a date, remember? I thought Megumi told you.”

“He did but you, you didn’t little one. I mean if Megs can tell me business that isn’t even his own, then I’d think you could me that you want to go out on a date of all things.”

You fucked up. You aren’t sure how but you fucked up.

“Dad I-”

“Nu-uh. I think you need a reminder of your place in this family. When that.. thing comes to the door, invite him in, offer him a drink, okay?”

“Dad please-”

“I thought we had quashed this wanting friends thing.”

“He did ask them in front of the whole class Satoru. They couldn’t really say anything without being rude, and you know how inútil feels about being rude.”

You turn to look at Megumi, leaning against the doorway, and there’s something not right about his face.

Oh shit.

Megumi’s mad too.

Here’s the problem, you don’t know why. Megumi is usually very honest and very open about his rage…

You don’t understand.

Still, when he gets here, you offer for him to come in, ask him to meet Your Father.

Mashiro smiles and offers his hands and is so gentle. Your heart hurts for what is to come.

“Sweetheart, get him a glass of water while we have our chat.”

There’s a glass of water in the kitchen already and you know that this boy, this kind, stupid boy isn’t going to leave this place alive.

Still, you take the water to him, and sit down next to him. Your Father is still speaking kindly.

Mashiro drinks all of the water.

You feel sick.

As Mashiro starts to choke, Your Father leans over him.

“Know this,” He hisses, furious, “You are nothing but a lesson. They will never find your body.”

Even as he dies and you sob and sob and sob, Megumi watches you. He’s always watching but instead of his usual indifference, there’s a sick pleasure.

You promise yourself that you’ll never forget this.

[its-all-papaya]

The “not champion mentality” is honestly one of the worst to me.

Bc if we break this down, this is people saying that if you struggle with self confidence, self doubt, mental health or anxiety then you’re not capable of achieving success.

It’s such a dangerous and toxic message that people don’t realize is hurting a lot more people than just Lando. (Bc lets be so fr these aren’t opinions, these are comments meant to hurt and hate)

And as a Rosberg fan back in the day, I KNOW how bad that man’s mental health was when he won his WDC. He pushed through that self doubt, anxiety, mental health issues and he still won. He’s living proof that there is no perfect/specific “champion mentality.”

I absolutely understand your struggle with the F1 community/people online rn. I’ve felt the same way today. (And many other days). I’ve been a fan since I was a kid, it’s been rough watching fans become nothing more than a herd mentality of hate and toxicity. It’s exhausting honestly and I’ve been so close to stopping watching the sport entirely bc it felt so miserable at times.

But I’m grateful for people like you bc you make it a positive place to be. You don’t contribute to hate, you don’t trash teams or drivers you don’t like, instead you support your team, write fics and create a positive environment for so many people. You have no idea how much of an impact that can make. It’s rough out there but I’m glad we got good ones like you.

(You absolutely can ignore this, Ik you were hoping to move on/forget about this negative online stuff, your post just had me thinking and ranting so I thought I’d give my own input lol)

(I really am incapable of sending a normal sized message aren’t I?) -og

yeah, no, i mean the reason i crash out about lando is because i identify with him so much in moments of failure/non-perfection. like the WHOLE original inspo for anybody, nowhere were his comments after silverstone, as i've said before, but more specifically the horrible mental place that i'm familiar with where you're trying SO HARD to figure out where to assign blame, and it feels like a knife's edge between "all me" or "all others." and no matter what lando says, it's the wrong amount of one or the other for people. if he says the car's difficult it's "if i was in woking i'd hate him" and if he says it's himself making mistakes it's "not a champion mentality." and in moments of high stress and intense emotions, like straight after a botched qualifying, it's nearly impossible to remove yourself from a situation enough to make sound determinations about what went wrong where and who's to "blame" for it (which. whatever on that word but.) and so i am IN HIS WALLS in those moments where it feels easiest, optically, to blame yourself entirely. because then the worst thing people can say about you is "he's too hard on himself" and not "he won't accept his own faults" or "he's making excuses," which both feel morally worse.

the other irritating thing to me about it all is that self-confidence is not usually something you can just pull out of fucking nowhere, especially if you're already struggling with it. like if you're told to be more confident and then picked apart and smeared at every turn, how the fuck are you going to do that? like sure, therapy, your loved ones, etc, but it's the people saying you're not confident originally who you're trying to "prove" yourself to, and they're the ones making it impossible. as you say, it's the narrative that if you don't handle negative emotion in the "right" way, it's a moral or competitive failing. you're lesser, you're a burden, you're "stealing" resources or a seat or a "rocket ship" from someone who "deserves it more" just because they're a more outwardly confident person. and by the way, if you let any of that shit that people are implying or outright saying get to you - if you even acknowledge it - that's your fault, too. basically, it's really hard to perform under the pressure of everybody hoping you'll fail, and it's even harder never to reveal outwardly how that's affecting you as a person.

i think i suffer a lot from projecting on lando and then internalizing things people say about him because of that, but i also don't think i'm alone in that, as you say. "mental health" is such a buzzword to everybody that it literally means nothing to most people in practice.

at the end of the day, i know lando's got a really, really good and solid support system and i know he'll be fine and it's early in the season. but it's so hard to watch people i know and i'm friends with make jokes about this to me because it's like what are you saying about me to other people, then? because nothing lando's said today or ever after a disappointing result is remarkably different than things i've said about my own job and my own self over the last ten months. just demoralizing.

anyway, i appreciate you saying that last bit, because a lot of the time i don't FEEL like i'm being very positive here. and to be clear, when i'm frustrated about f1 fans, it's very, very rarely a tumblr issue. as much as rpf is funny and fake and a game for us, i do think it does work to humanize drivers in a lot of ways. i like interacting with fans of all drivers, i just can't stand how every one of lando's mistakes feels quadrupled to me because i know there are people (on twitter mainly, as well as my irl friends) who are going to make it into more than it is to feed their narratives.

sometimes a man is suffering with a car just because he is. if it ended with that, i'd be handling this way better.

[zyxwvutbackwards]

I wanna write down some initial thoughts about it, so Day 3 Mushroom Oasis spoilers under the cut!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GODDDDDD/POS

It was so good!!! And Mycheal got so much scarier 😭 Maybe it’s just because I was watching horror last night, but I felt like he was actually gonna hurt us at one point!!! His attitude change totally makes sense given that he thinks he’s having the one thing he wants in the world, companionship, taken away, but GOD it got to me!! If I was Mc I’d have thought he was starting to hate us given how much we asked of him - and for what in exchange? Fortunately I have the power of Access to Meta Knowledge, so I know what that is, but I really feel for Mc lmaoo!

Genuinely, though, I didn’t expect him to get so irritable 👀 for some reason I’d expected him to just get sad, but tbh it makes sense! He’s been trying so hard to get Mc to stay, so, SO hard just to prove to himself that they were different, and to show them that they should stay - plus constantly having to work to maintain that image and it failing regardless! I can’t imagine he’d internalize it healthily either - “they’re leaving because I did something wrong/because I’m not good enough/because I’m a monster.” That image is only set aside when Mc makes plans to visit! Even then, though, it can’t be fully shattered - unless something miraculous happens or they reject him, I can’t imagine he’s going to stop feeling that pressure anytime soon.

Also, I was genuinely shocked I got the good ending on the first try! Usually when playing through VNs, I do what I think I’d actually do irl and see how it plays out - which means that, in this case, I made the Mc stay suspicious. Which usually means that I get a bad (or good depending on how you look at it) ending - I can’t believe Mycheal puts up with so much distrust from someone he barely knows 😭 The kitchen scene was so awkward!!! And so was the forest scene!!! The walking in silence turning into arguing was 😭😭 my heart hurt - yet for some reason he was relatively chill about it later on?? I guess it showcases his desperation for connection, poor guy :( It does make me wonder what sort of behavior or person would push him past his limit, though. So far the only real line he’s drawn is that we have to not insult him and/or be terrified of him? His self-esteem is really low and he’s really lonely, so I think it’d have to be something he perceives as really bad for him to decide that A. He’s too good for this person and/or B. Being alone is better than keeping them around. Or, perhaps, C. The person actually doesn’t like him because their action was so atrocious that they couldn’t have possibly done it if they even tolerated him. Maybe this action has to do with his privacy - like, if Mc went through his box while he slept? Even then I have my doubts. All this said, I think it would be much easier for him to decide that he didn’t want someone around if they were never kind in the first place - so my speculating is all about once he’d already grown attached. Given he likes the Mc because of their kindness, maybe blatant cruelty would be enough? Especially towards people he’d already grown attached to. Probably, actually! I could totally see him kicking someone out who was cruel to his chickens - who wouldn’t kick someone like that to the curb? They’re his chickens! Who couldn’t love them? I digress.

The bad ending hurt ngl 😭 I hated calling him those names and I hated making him react that way. It was really hard to do, especially when we didn’t have a chance to take it back. And even after all of that he gave us gifts? His love language?? He still cares about Mc???😭 Rubbing salt in the wound there!! I wonder if he understands that Mc rejected him because of his actions not because of who or what he is. I wonder if he thinks there’s a difference at that point! He clearly feels guilty

Also!!! Several mysteries!!! A. The box?? First of all, he decorated it with mushroom stickers, that’s adorable, but second of all!! Very very curious about what was in it!! And B. The not mushrooms?? What are they??? Very curious about them and their origins.

Finally, other stuff!!! When it wasn’t awkward because he was upset about/with Mc, it was adorable 😭 we got to hear him talk in his language in two of the routes, and that was amazing!!! I want to hear what he sounds like irl so bad! It just reads like it would sound really unique and beautiful. Ough I love him so much!

Also - Vida reminds me so much of Alma, I genuinely thought it was them for a minute lowkey still wouldn’t be surprised if it was, but I’m gonna feel really embarrassed if I come out all confident that they’re the same person and find out I’m wrong so I’m keeping this in the margins 😭 They kinda look like them, and they even said “lift your spirits” at one point! Also their dog was adorable 🥹

Speaking of - THE ANIMATION??? LORD I didn’t expect it!!! When Mycheal grabbed Mc’s hand I was so taken aback!! It was so smooth!!! And so good!!! And the dog wagging its tail was so cute!!! The art was amazing as always, very comfy cozy, and the new backgrounds were gorgeous!! Plus the new sprites!! He’s so cute when he isn’t scary! And still so caring when he is!! Well, he’s caring when he isn’t trying to manipulate Mc into staying, that is. This wouldn’t be a yandere blog if I didn’t love that side of him as well though :D He’s so awesome

Anyways, I’m sorry if you read all this brain vomit, it doesn’t have any sort of nuanced thought or overall conclusion other than that I’m obsessed with MO, I just needed to ramble about the game for a bit 😭 Mycheal is such a well written character and I am so so so excited to learn more about him. I loved this update and I’m so grateful for the creator for their work. Thanks for reading if you took the time to and have a lovely day!! 💞

[giantchasm]

Sir Uther: PEONY! HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST MARKETING SCHEME!

[He lies on the floor, facing up as if he was preparing for death itself]

Sir Uther: DO IT! DON'T HOLD BAAAACK!!

Of course, before authenticating any purchases, there's probably some legal jargon I should read off to you. Let me check my notes... Okay, yes!

Please be aware that the Haltmann Works Company™ and Peony Haltmann are not responsible for any injuries sustained while using the Haltmann Works Company™'s Super Guillotine™. The Super Guillotine™ is potentially dangerous and should only be handled responsibly. Refunds are not available for the Super Guillotine™. All purchases are final. Do note that now is a fantastic time to buy it, however, as the Super Guillotine™ is currently on sale for a low, low price of just three small payments of $995.95. Please ignore the fact that the Super Guillotine™ has 'been on sale' for as long as it's been on the market. Customers who point this out risk becoming product testers for the next model of the Super Guillotine™. Thank you for your patronage. The Haltmann Works Company™ appreciates your continued support.

Hehehe... exciting, yeah!? Surely I've sealed the deal~! Y'know, when it comes guillotines, I hear a lot of people saying nasty stuff like 'eat the rich' and 'viva la revolution,' but I think that's a little bit brash. What have billionaires or royals done to deserve that? I think people are just judgy! 'Exploitative business moguls' or 'oppressive tyrants' are plenty nice once you take the time to actually get to know them! Most people just don't give them a chance. But it would be a shame NOT to use a product as incredible as this, and so we've reached a dilemma: Who exactly should we be using guillotines on? If you ask me, I believe guillotine use is best reserved for Bad People. Y’know… deadbeat dads and wizard haters and stuff. If, in theory, there was someone who was both of those things… let’s call him Uir Suther for the purpose of this thought experiment— well, I’d definitely behead someone like that. Even if he WERE already just a walking head more or less. This is all just hypothetical, though, of course! Any resemblance to persons living or dead in this made-up scenario is pure coincidence. But enough of my rambling. You were going to stick your head in, yes? Do you think I got him? Usually I’d hesitate to be so direct, but the target of my marketing scheme here isn’t exactly the paragon of intellect. Something tells me he didn’t even hear half of what I just said. He'll probably fall for it hook line and sinker. I don’t know if this will actually kill him, mind you, but it’ll be rather funny either way, I reason.

Ohhhh, Peony.

I thought I already told you you were supposed to be putting out PROPAGANDA. Revealing you're a bootlicker is kind of the opposite, kiddo. I can't exactly blame you considering who your parents are, but all the same, I'm not sure this will boost your approval rating.

At least you're trying to kill Uther, though! Everyone in the tourney appreciates an attempt at that... and so who knows? Maybe you'll be fine. Just... read a book on economic theory sometime, won't you?

No-one tell her, by the way, that she's failed to successfully exclude her entire family from the list of people who deserve to be beheaded. If you were to point out her grandfather was, in fact, a deadbeat dad, I think she'd throw her little hands in the air and storm off angrily.

What a strange, strange child.

@kirbyoctournament

[burinazar]

Akotoma was fun as usual but I’m emotionally crashing out in a major way afterwards and feeling incredibly lonely. Like straight up feeling worthless. This didn’t happen the first two times, or only happened a little, but it’s really bad this time. Three hours of nothing but friendly interactions and joy and as soon as I leave I’m like “wow I am a failure”, for no reason or at least very little reason. Something like “if I hang out with other people who love what I love and they’re all super kind to me why is there still a sense of distance between us why isn’t it easier. oh it’s me, it’s because something is horribly wrong with me”

and I mean.. lmao OBVIOUSLY it’s because there’s a big language barrier lmao. of course there’s going to be a sense of distance that friendliness can’t overcome. and there was so much friendliness!!! I just still can’t understand a lot of stuff so of course I can’t expect socializing to be easy!

…But also I constantly felt this way at fan events in the west as well. It was a dream that I’d meet someone thru fandom at a con and then they’d want to like.,.idk hang out after, or get dinner, or meet up at a future con. but it just never happened no matter how I wished.

I’ve always been a person who sees this big barrier between myself and others and then essentially wills it into being. Even in “my communities” I don’t feel like I fit in. This is going to sound counterintuitive but that was part of the appeal of moving to Japan — in an environment where a foreigner will always be seen as an outsider, I don’t have to beat myself up for “failing” to fit in because I can allow myself to believe that it isn’t my fault or due to being especially repulsive, I can just tell myself ahh no it’s fine I know it’s not my fault and I was just assigned this role. (I’ve never heard anyone say anything remotely like this. I don’t know if anyone else has ever conceived of this kind of thing a plus point.)

…but it still gets lonely that I do this to myself lmao.

I wish I’d arranged to hang out with people afterwards or something but I worry that if I actually ask that’d probably put them into an awkward position, especially if they already had plans that I was not invited to, which is both likely and understandable. I dunno. I need to take a nap and calm the fuck down cuz I’m actually tearing up on the metro like a freak

[homestuckreplay]

Prankster's Gambit: Alien Edition

Well, there was no Homestuck update yesterday, but I did watch Mac and Me, so that was basically a double hit of bad things. This movie sucks ass. If you are looking for a bad movie to watch with friends and make fun of, I would recommend it, but there is literally no other reason to watch this movie. 

Unless you are John Egbert, I guess - and I would LOVE to hear what he likes about this movie. My guess is that 1) he really wants to meet a friendly alien, and 2) he respects that this specific alien has the prankster’s gambit. Similar to Ghostbusters, where John loves the ghost who just eats food and hangs out with humans, John can totally imagine himself in Eric’s shoes - hanging out with Mac and befriending him even when other people are scared of him. 

I also wonder if John wishes he had a sibling. As a kid in the 2000s, other kids in his neighborhood probably don’t play outside. The idea of sharing his house with someone who’s more on his level, where they can mutually prank each other and share solidarity against his dad must be really appealing to him. (On p.92, we learn that ‘DAD will enjoy the prankster's gambit on that exchange, as is usually the case.’ John would love a more even stakes, equal opportunity prankster’s gambit with a sibling and/or alien).

All three of John’s movies so far have dealt really heavily with family, but this is the first that’s about siblings. John’s mom has never been mentioned, and I’d guess she hasn’t been around since John was really young, and that’s why John doesn’t have any siblings (at least not that live with him, depending on what happened to his mom). His dad either doesn’t want to remarry, is too busy clowning, or wants to focus on spending time with his son instead of going out on dates.

There’s also 3) Mac is the character John relates to. Mac is an alien kid who finds himself dropped in a suburban neighborhood and has to learn the ‘rules’ of living in it, despite being wanted by the government. I don’t think John is literally an alien or wanted by the government, but I can see how he’d relate if he feels like he’s struggling to fit into ‘normal’ life, and is scared of the consequences if he fails to do so. The movie ends with Mac and his family just becoming a very normal American family, driving a car and drinking Cokes, seemingly accepted by everyone else as part of the neighborhood. John wishes it would be so easy to fit in.

SPEAKING OF THE COKES. These aliens are constantly drinking Coke, and I know it’s product placement, but I was so worried about them the whole way through. That cannot be good for them. They must have completely different digestive systems and sustenance needs than humans do! When Mac ‘didn’t feel so good’ I was like, yeah, all you put in your body is Coke! These aliens need a doctor, or a nutritionist, or some sort of…. ectoBiologist?

Final thoughts: I think John’s dad also showed him E.T., and John’s review was ‘this isn’t as good as Mac and Me’.

MOVIES WATCHED: 3/11

MOST RECENT MOVIE: Mac and Me (1988) - Rating 2/10

[yupuffin]

Trust - Voiceovers

Interactive

First Meeting You can call me Trust. ...Haha, let me guess: 'Who would name their kid something like that?' Actually, that's one of the reasons I like it so much. I bet there's no one else in the whole universe with my name.

Greeting Oh, you’re already awake? Huh, what a pleasant surprise. Usually no one’s around when I get up. Well, you can join me for breakfast if you want.

Parting I guess I’ll turn in early tonight. Well, see you next time! If you need me, you know where to find me.

About Self: Homeland I spent a lot of my life on the Xianzhou Luofu… But it turns out that, when you’re raised there, a lot of people expect you to become a doctor. That didn’t work out so well for me… for a lot of reasons I don’t need to get into right now. So I got fed up and left for the Yaoqing. My life here isn’t nearly as extravagant as it used to be, but it’s somehow so much more tolerable.

About Self: Supporting Role One time, my director told me, “I can’t give you a main role in this show, but I’d love to have you in a background part.” I told them I didn’t care if all I did was hold a prop in a single scene—I was just happy to be there. I guess I don’t care much for main roles. I’ve been told before that if any part weren’t enormously important, it wouldn’t have been written at all.

About Self: Food Preferences As much as I’d love to say I’m not a picky eater, I have a lot of issues with a lot of different kinds of food. I can’t handle spice, and certain textures just get to me in ways that make me sick. It makes it hard to decide what to get when I eat out.

About Self: Future There’s nothing in particular I want to do with my future at this point. Maybe that makes me sound lazy, but life’s a lot easier when you don’t hold yourself to a bunch of arbitrary expectations.

Chat: Scientific Method Even though I don’t care much for medical stuff, you’d be surprised how often experimental design comes in handy for seemingly unrelated things. Like cooking, for example.

Chat: Weapons You can do a lot more things with a polearm than you can do with a sword, and you don’t need quite as much training to learn how to use them. But they each have their own respective martial arts.

Hobbies When I’m too tired to keep dancing, sometimes I like cooking, or even going on long walks… But when all else fails, nothing beats a nice nap.

Annoyances Do you ever think about what would happen if the people you love just suddenly weren't there anymore? Well, when I find myself on that subject, I just try to find something else to think about.

Something to Share It turns out your physical health and mental health are actually closely connected. If something puts you in a really bad emotional state, it can give you these awful physical symptoms with no other evident cause. Weird, huh?

Knowledge People have done studies, and different areas of the stage actually have different tonal qualities! That is, the mood of a scene can be completely different depending on where you stand and even how you stand. It’d be fun to experiment sometime.

About Feixiao A lot of people know of the Arbiter-General, but don’t know her personally. Even I’ve only seen her a few times from afar. Still, her presence alone inspires a lot of us to keep moving forward.

About Guinaifen Ah, so some people take their street performance to the online masses, too! That takes some serious guts. I don’t think I’d have the dedication for that.

About Jing Yuan Okay, listen. The first time I saw that man walk into a room, I did the most perfect wolf-whistle. I was so annoyed, because I can't do it on command! Part of me wishes someone was recording it—though it's probably better they weren't, because I know they would get smacked for that.

About Moze Oh, Moze? Ah, man, I love Moze—he's so funny! Listen, I know he's super prickly on the outside, but on the inside, he's a really big sweetheart. And he's so good at cuddling, too. Don't tell him I said that, though—for his sake.

About Jiaoqiu Oh, man, what's not to love about Jiaoqiu? He’s such a nice guy. Oh, and don't even get me started on that big, fluffy tail. Perfect for when you need something to cuddle while you fall asleep. Oh, you can tell him I said that. He knows.

Eidolon Activation Who I am on and off stage—they’re both the true “me.”

Character Ascension All right—a quick break, and then we can keep going.

Max Level Reached It’s okay to worry sometimes, as long as you give yourself plenty of things to be happy about, too.

Trace Activation No knowledge is wasted!

Added to Team With Trailblazer Ready to put on a grand performance?

Added to Team With Feixiao Wait, what am I doing on a team with the Arbiter-General?!

Added to Team with Guinaifen Hey, Miss Guinaifen... Want to try a duet?

Added to Team With Jiaoqiu All right, let’s go together. Stay close to me, okay?

Added to Team With Moze I’ve got nothing to worry about with you around.

Added to Team With Jing Yuan …All right, looks like we’re calling in the big guns now!

Added to Team With Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae Mmm… Wow.

Combat

Battle Begins: Weakness Break All right, looks like we’ve got the upper hand.

Battle Begins: Danger Alert I’m going to have to ask you to step back.

Turn Begins Just trust me!

Turn Idling It’s important to take a breather every once in a while.

Basic ATK Don’t get too close, now!

Skill -Don’t lose hope—my energy is yours! -Let’s make sure we’ve got everyone!

Hit by Light Attack Going to have to be careful…

Hit by Heavy Attack ...Help...

Ultimate: Activate You think I’m just showing off?

Ultimate: Unleash Well, you’ve got another think coming!

Downed Jiaoqiu...! Moze...!

Return to Battle Whew—thought I was done for.

Health Recovery I owe you one.

Technique Let’s take a minute to regroup.

Battle Won We made it! Good work, everyone.

Treasure Opening -Now, where should we keep this? -Nice—earned ourselves a souvenir.

Precious Treasure Opening Oh, hey, this looks… expensive!

Successful Puzzle-Solving -A little exercise for the mind never hurts. -That was fun! …Can we do another one?

Enemy Target Found It’s okay. Deep breaths. We’re going to be just fine.

Returning to Town Ah, man… I think it’s time for a nap.

[theniceandaccurategoodomensblog]

This meta is utterly fantastic and needs to be read by everyone in the Good Omens fandom as soon as you possibly can.

Since I got to the end of Good Omens season two I’ve been feeling unsettled. Of course the end ripped my heart out and stomped on it. That’s a given. But I was soon saying to people around me— it isn’t just that. It isn’t that it is horrifyingly sad. It feels off. As you say, Neil Gaiman is a master and he knows story. Endings don’t have to be happy as such but they have to be right— the characters have to get what they need. He’s a master of this. He talks about it in his writing advice.

So why didn’t he do it?

Well, I figured maybe thats not fair. After all, this isn’t the end. This is the end of act 2 and seen in that light it should end in a bad place. Not just that but what was originally scoped out by Neil and Terry was a sequel and that will be season three. This is the bridge between two books, the bit the reader wasn’t originally going to see. Sequels often start in a strange place. Characters have been torn down. Protagonists seem to have forgotten what they learned in the first book. But. Still, isn’t the Neil Gaiman I know better than that? If Neil simply had to build a bridge from the end of season one to the start of the sequel he had planned with Terry, couldn’t he have done a better job of it? Shouldn’t we see Aziraphale missing Heaven in episode one for example to make it clear that he hasn’t let Heaven go after all?

And other things nagged at me too—

I realised early on that Gabriel was meeting with Beelzebub so why did that subplot feel like it didn’t end properly? (I know why now- because there are still so many things left hanging— what was Gabriel going to give Aziraphale? What’s the terrible thing that will happen? How does it relate to Job? It’s nice that the two are in love but that isn’t the answer to the question that was asked).

What’s up with memory? Why doesn’t Crowley remember some people? Does he remember Aziraphale in the Before time?

Wtf is going on with the Nina and Maggie subplot? A poignant longing romance but it doesn’t end? What? And why begin with them not knowing each other? There was no need for that. Who loves someone they don’t know? Why not make them friends? It feels contrived and fake when it would have been so very easy to make it feel real. And what’s with the switcharo in the mirroring? Okay it’s a red herring. But why? And which way is the mirror facing really? Is Nina Aziraphale or Crowley? Why would you make it so we can’t read the mirroring?

Why does so much of it feel like fanfiction? Good fanfiction. It’s fun. But, why did I keep thinking that?

Why did the flashbacks feel unresolved, like they didn’t do enough heavy lifting in the narrative, like they were important for some reason but I failed to grasp why?

Why didn’t the Archangels recognise the Metatron? I know they usually see him as a floating head but bloody hell even after prompting they had no idea. That’s not normal, surely?

The coffee! Why coffee? If I was going to bring Aziraphale a drink to manipulate him I’d bring tea or cocoa or a really nice bottle of wine. Why coffee? And a specific coffee not just a latte. I’ve managed to find out that almonds are symbolic of the watchfulness of God in Judaism so it is a hefty jigger of “I’m watching you”. So, wait how long has the Metatron been watching? That’s creepy!

These were the thoughts swirling in my head. Strange and unsettled. And I read this meta and ka-boom. I feel like I was standing on the edge of something, muttering away, picking up little clues and this meta just opened the box and laid it all out.

I’m going to read this again and again. And then watch the show again and read it again.

This is the key.

The Magic Trick You Didn’t See: Being An Analysis of Good Omens Season 2

(or: Neil Gaiman, Your Brain is Gorgeous But I Have Cracked Your Sneaky Little Code And Have You Dead To Rights*) (*Maybe)

***

Soooooo I just spent the last 48 hours having a BREATHTAKING GALAXY BRAIN EPIPHANY about Good Omens Season 2 and feverishly writing a fuckin16,000 word essay about the incredible magic trick that @neil-gaiman pulled off. 

Yes, it’s long, but I PROMISE your brains will explode. Do you want to know how magic works? Do you want to know what Metatron’s deal is (I’m like 99% sure of this and it’s EXTREMELY FUCKING GOOD)? Do you want to know about the Mystery of the Vanishing Eccles Cakes and the big fat beautiful clue I found in the opening credits? Do you go through the whole inventory of Chekov’s Firearm & Heavy Artillery Discount Warehouse? 

Here is the essay, go read it: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ When ur done u can tell me I’m an insane crackpot, and u know what, i won’t even be offended

In case you don’t know whether you want to bother reading the whole enormous thing on google docs, I’ve put the first couple sections of it under the cut. JUST TRUST ME OKAY, HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS VERY EXTREMELY COOL, NEIL IS GOOD AT HIS JOB–

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