#// makes my words seem quieter bc i hate taking up space

[armafidelium]

something i look forward to hopefully exploring in his phel's canon verse is him gaining trust in others and kinda just . . . learning to be a person outside of his duty. we'll see how long that kinda stuff takes but i enjoy exploration like that

[dralf0yy]

Wedding Bells || 2 || F.W x Reader

A/N: I AM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO GET THIS UP BUT ITS FINALLY HERE AAAA!! If i’m being honest, I’m not a big fan of the way I ended this bc it felt rlly unfinished but I felt the need to get it up as soon as I could. I hope you guys enjoy and sorry for the long ass wait 🥺

Word count: 1.6K (aaa she’s a bit sh0rt)

Part 1

Fred landed at the beach just outside his aunt’s old cottage.

The place he proposed to you

The weather was unironically cloudy and cold—identical to the way he felt.

Chills ran up Fred’s spine as he wandered around the beach, taking in the beautiful, calming scene around him. It reminded him of you. More specifically the way you were always remarkably gorgeous without effort, even in your darkest moments, and the way you soothed him with your embrace and kind, loving words.

It made Fred hate himself for abandoning you. You were fragile and even the smallest inconveniences would chip away parts of you that made you happy and whole. Everyone,especially Fred, knew this. He knew that you had cracked when the war broke out and he almost died. And he knew that this time, you had completely shattered, and it was all his fault.

He made his way up the sandy hills, marching through some of the long grass that had sprouted up and halted when he had reached the top. His eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled the salty scent of the ocean, thinking of the day he proposed

One year ago

“Fred where are you taking me?” You giggled as you trailed behind Fred with your hand intertwined with his.

The two of you, and George, had been helping Bill and Fleur fix up their aunt’s old cottage. It had been a long, hard day of redecorating and repainting and the sun was almost completely set

“You’ll see soon enough my love. We’re almost there.. Okay now close your eyes and wait here for a few seconds”

You nodded in response and heard Fred’s soft footsteps shuffling around in the sand. You shifted your weight back and forth between your left and right foot and giggled when you heard your boyfriend curse at the sand under his breath

After a few more seconds of shuffling, you heard Fred whisper

“You can open your eyes now, love”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly and you expected to see his face inches from yours but much to your surprise, he was on one knee clutching a small, black velvet box that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand with a heart shape dug into the sand surrounding the two of you. Fred steadied himself and gazed up into your eyes

“Y/n, these past 6 years with you have been unbelievably amazing. You have shown me what love and true happiness feels like and I will be forever grateful for that. There is no one else I would rather have by my side for the rest of my life, besides George of course,” He joked as a tear cascaded down your cheek

“no one else that I would rather give my love to, wake up next to every morning, have lots of little Weasleys with, and no one else that I would rather marry than you. And the war last year made me realise that I didn’t wanna wait any longer for this. So, Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.. Will you marry me?”

Tears of joy were now uncontrollably streaming down both your cheeks as you chuckled and silently—but enthusiastically— nodded your head

“Yes! A million times yes!” You exclaimed and pulled Fred up, bringing your hands around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss that was so full of love and passion that it made his head spin

Present

Fred let out a loud, broken sob and collapsed onto his knees remembering the memory that had once made him so ecstatic. He stayed there with his face buried in his hands for what seemed like hours while mumbling ‘I’m so sorry’ repeatedly to the empty space in front of him

Fred lifted his head back up and the sun was barely visible on the horizon.The sky had slightly cleared in the few hours that he had been there and it became a flurry of yellow, orange, purple and pink streaks.

It was a beautiful image. It was one that you wished you could share with your dearest loved ones when things were bad. It gave Fred the a sense of calmness that he needed to clear his head

“I’m gonna make this right” He stated and disapparated back to the Burrow

***

“Here Y/n/n, have some cake, love” George offered to you. A grateful grin appeared on your face as you took the small, fragile plate with a slice of cake on it from him carefully and snuggled into his side. You sighed tiredly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders

“Something on your mind?”

“Well.. I’m just worried Georgie. What if he’s done something reckless and got hurt or can’t get back to us—?”

“Don’t worry, love I’m right here” Both your heads turned towards the front door, and there, stood the one and only, Fred Weasley

You immediately sprung off the couch and out of George’s embrace, dropping the plate of cake in the process, and ran towards Fred. You jumped on him, wrapping your legs around his waist, and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“Oh my Godric! You’re okay” You squeaked and hugged him tighter. He let out a quiet chuckle and gave you a kiss on the top of your head before setting you back down on the ground. He looked at you with a faint smile on his face, looking as if he was trying not to break again

He didn’t manage to keep the facade up for very long. He pulled you into his chest and burst into tears. Through his fit of sobs, you could hear him choke out an apology

“Shh it’s okay, Fred. We don’t have to talk about this right now..” You cooed soothingly—but slightly muffled— into his chest. You pulled away to look up at his face

“How about you head up for tonight? We can talk in the morning” Fred nodded and started to trail off towards the stairs with your hand wrapped inside his but stopped when he realised you weren’t moving

“A- Are you not coming up with me?” he hiccuped. You opened your mouth to answer but George beat you to it

“Actually Y/n, I think you better head off to bed. I need to talk to Fred”

Too tired to protest, you muttered an ‘okay’ and tread up the creaky stairs of the Burrow leaving the twins alone to talk.

Fred awkwardly stood in the room and rocked back and forth on his feet looking anywhere but at George who was patiently waiting for you to be out of earshot

“I’ll get straight to the point,” He snapped, “I hope you’ve acknowledged that you messed up, Fred. Y/n spent the last 5 hours crying and worrying about you, wondering what she could’ve done wrong for you to walk out on her like that—”

“She didn’t—”

“I KNOW SHE DIDN’T,” George sighed in frustration, “I’ve tried to mend her as much as I could, but the rest is up to you. She’s like a sister to me and I don’t wanna lose her because of something stupid that you did to hurt her. Now go up there and make it up to her and don’t ever take an amazing person like her for granted— because we both know that Y/n won’t give you a 3rd chance”

Fred nodded and trailed up the stairs towards his childhood bedroom, not knowing how to respond as it was a little unusual to see George so serious and worked up about something.

Fred quietly pushed the door open, expecting you to be asleep and not wanting to wake you. He stepped in and felt his heart ache at the sight of you curled up in George’s bed with tears streaming down your face, with muffled hiccups coming from you and clutching onto one of Fred’s christmas sweaters, staring at the floor

You peered up towards the doorway where Fred was standing. Your teary gaze shifted back to the floor next to a small mound of clothing. Your hushed hiccups ceased and the room was filled with deafening silence

Fred’s shoes came into your line of sight and his hand made contact with your shoulder.

“D’you wanna move over to my bed, love?” He whispered gently. You lazily nodded your head and sat up. You made your way over to Fred’s bed and hesitantly lied down on the edge of the mattress. A deep sigh left Fred’s lips as mattress dipped next to you

You unhurriedly shifted around and stared into Fred’s cinnamon coloured eyes with your own Y/e/c orbs. You noticed that they were bloodshot and slightly puffy, but nevertheless, they were still as enchanting as always.

You cast your gaze down towards the pillow, taking a deep and shaky breath. “Be honest,” You said in a voice that was barely a whisper, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Fred exclaimed suddenly, making you jump, “Sorry I- No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just—I was being a git and I was just doubting everything, you know? I was.. I was anxious that you didn’t really wanna marry me or that I wasn’t actually ready” he said in a quieter voice.

You nodded and sighed, succumbing to the warmth of Fred’s chest and absorbed what he just confessed.

You decided to leave a lot of things unsaid. Knowing that he was willing to come back and make things right again was enough for you to give him another chance—though you knew you would no matter what he had done anyway.

The familiar sound of Fred’s heartbeat reminded you that he was there, and there for good, along with the feeling of his arms tightening around your frame and your entangling legs. Things were at a fair balance once again, and the two of you couldn’t be more content with your journey of love

***

Main Taglist: @paigeyisme @slytherinlovesgryffindor @cleopatera @accio-rogers @beacosta27 @anyasthoughts

Wedding Bells Taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @angel-of-blue @stuckindilemma @angstywhore @imdixonsangel @girl22334 @gredandforges @dorothyofcosta @drvcopotter

Fred & George Taglist: @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou

[worldwidemochiguy]

Good Girl (MFEU Yandere! Taehyung)

...

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to be my Princess anymore then, hmm?” 

“Taehyung, I-”

“Listen, Y/n. I have been patient with you, even when you were being unreasonable. But this is the last straw. You don’t want to talk to me? You don’t want to see me? Fine. You won’t have to.”

...

MFEU masterlist

General masterlist

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, mental manipulation, mentions of abstaining from eating/self harm through starvation so be v careful if you’re sensitive to that <3

Word Count: 2.4K

a/n: this is a bit dark for the mfeu lol. this is kinda rushed bc i wanted to put something out, also i highkey hate the photo collage thing but c’est la vie i guess lmao

Good Girl

You are having a bad day.

This morning, you woke up to an empty bed, the lingering warmth on Taehyung’s side having already dissipated by the time your sleep-crusted eyes cracked open. He had only left to have a shower, of course, but that didn’t stop the jolt of fear and insecurity you experienced in his absence.

Since the day seemed determined to ruin itself for you, when you tried to cook breakfast to cheer yourself up, you burned the eggs. They were the last eggs in the fridge, and you let out a silent scream of frustration before settling for a bowl of dissatisfying cereal. When Taehyung asked why the two of you weren’t having a proper breakfast like you usually did, you had snapped at him.

Actually snapped at him. 

He recoiled, and the widening space between you lapsed into silence as he gave you the opportunity to apologise. You knew you should, but the words refused to come, and your tongue felt as unusable as lead. You kept your eyes on your Kellogg flakes slowly disintegrating into milk as Taehyung stiffly left the table, off to get dressed for work. 

 Which led you to now, with Taehyung standing expectantly by the front door, frowning at your still pyjama-clad self. 

“Baby, you have to get ready. You know how I like to be punctual.”

You petulantly keep your eyes on the pool of tepid milk in your bowl.

“Baby,” Taehyung repeats, impatience creeping into his tone. “You have to get ready now, or I’ll just go without you.” 

“Then just go without me.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Taehyung’s mouth fall open. You know his threat was empty. You have practically never forgone spending the day at work with him, and even in the exceptional circumstance that you do, you always have a reason. Not that you don’t have a reason now: You’re feeling bratty. 

“Why are you behaving like this, Princess?” Taehyung sounds shocked, as if he can barely believe what you’ve done. You scowl — you’ve barely done anything, you’ve just been a bit short with him. Given his own changeable mood, he of all people should be able to understand. 

“I’m not behaving like anything. I just don’t feel like going with you today. Is that alright? Or will you just take me against my will? It’s not like you haven’t done that before.” 

Silence.

Taehyung slams the door as he goes, leaving you to stew in a nauseating mixture of twisted satisfaction and remorse. 

You deliberately go to bed before Taehyung comes back, forgoing dinner just to spite him. How can he just expect you to come with him every day, just to sit in an office and wait for when he comes to give you attention? It’s not fair. When the door opens signalling Taehyung’s return, you shut your eyes and breathe deeply, mimicking sleep. 

Taehyung pauses in the entry to your bedroom. Part of you hopes that he can tell you aren’t asleep, almost like you want him to know that you’re intentionally faking it just to avoid him. Another, quieter part of you wants to go up to him and hug him, and apologise for being so unreasonable. You ignore the cold fist of guilt forming in your empty stomach.

When Taehyung slips into bed beside you, he gathers you into his arms like he always does, like he wants to be gentle with you, like an apology. You shift away from him, rolling to the other side of the bed with a sleepy murmur of protest. He doesn’t try to touch you again. 

You tell yourself you aren’t disappointed.

Getting out of bed after a sleepless night is never pleasant. You know Taehyung didn’t have a restful time either, tossing and turning all through the night, like he couldn’t sleep without feeling your presence, safe in his arms. Sometimes, he would tentatively reach to your side, and you would always shift away, even though your heart tugged uncomfortably beneath your ribs for every added inch between the two of you. 

You utter an unspoken apology to his shoulder blades — his back was now turned to you after he eventually gave up and rolled over — and then left to get in the shower.

You stay in there, waiting as the mirrors fog, and your fingers prune, and your skin becomes flushed from the heat — the water is just a touch too hot, verging on painful— but still you wait. As soon as you hear the door slam again, you get out, wrapping yourself in a robe you know is Taehyung’s (but he isn’t here so it doesn’t matter).

You drift into the kitchen, seeing the remnants Taehyung left after a morning without you. A half-drunk coffee cup — he only ever drinks coffee when he’s stressed, or sleep-deprived, or both — no empty plates in sight — he doesn’t eat when he’s worried about something, a habit you’ve been trying to break him out of and yet… look at you, being the very cause of his worry. 

Your fingers itch to take the used cup and wash it out, placing it back neatly where it belongs, but you refrain. You can’t let yourself interact with anything Taehyung has touched, lest he view it as a concession. You don’t even know why you’re doing this, but it’s easier to carry on antagonising him than it is to apologise, and explain that you don’t even have a valid reason for upsetting him in the first place. 

It’s ironic, you complained about being bored of waiting around for him and doing nothing at his office, but you’re doing the exact same thing at home. You can’t focus on anything, flitting from unfulfilling task to unfulfilling task, trying to keep the guilt and foolish acknowledgements at bay. 

You take the time to prepare yourself a meal, but throw it out once you realise you’ve made enough for two, just like you always do nowadays. 

The phone Taehyung bought for emergencies, just in case you ever needed him and he wasn’t there, rested temptingly on the counter. Taehyung must have taken it out and put it there for you. God, even when you are being so unreasonable, he still only wants what is best for you.

You don’t call him, even though you want to, even though you regret it, even though the thought of him sitting all alone in his office makes you cry. 

Taehyung comes home to a silent apartment. You are sitting on the couch, and you deliberately don’t look up when he enters. 

“Princess,” 

You don’t look up.

“Baby,” 

You reach over to grab the remote, and start idly scrolling through TV channels, despite knowing there’s nothing on that you want to watch.

“Y/n.” 

He hasn’t called you that since the day you met him. He never calls you that. You look up, and your suddenly fearful eyes meet Taehyung’s stern, unforgiving gaze. 

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to be my Princess anymore then, hmm?” His words are sharp, and they cut deeper than anything you would’ve thought Taehyung would say, even at his angriest. 

“Taehyung, I-”

“Listen, Y/n.” He cuts you off with a harsh emphasis on your name, and you fail to suppress a whimper. Why didn’t you just apologise when you had the chance? You never even wanted this in the first place. 

“I have been patient with you, even when you were being unreasonable. But this is the last straw. You don’t want to talk to me? You don’t want to see me? Fine. You won’t have to.”

“Taehyung, wait-” You scramble to your feet, frantic as you watch him dump bags of groceries on the floor that you hadn’t previously noticed.

“There’s enough food here to keep you going for a week. You have all you need, you won’t need to leave the apartment.” He informed you tonelessly, ignoring your distraught face. 

“Taehyung, why- where are you going?”  

“Away. I’ll be gone for a week. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“No! I don’t want you to go! Don’t go!” You wail, coming over to clutch at his overcoat. He softens for a second, and his hands come up to grasp your wrists gently.

“You don’t want me to go?” 

A sob crawls up your throat.

“No.”

His grip around your wrists tightens, just as his eyes harden again.

“Too bad. You can’t keep me against my will. You were very clear about the strong moral objections you have to that, after all.” 

He slams the door as he leaves just like he did this morning, but this time it’s you on the other side, slumping against it and sliding down to the floor, sobbing as you hear the lock click from the other side. You can’t even go after him. He has just abandoned you. 

……

The first day, you try to make a special lunch to cheer yourself up. You make Taehyung’s favourite meal, and part of you expects him to come swanning through the door with a bright, excited grin, grateful that you took the time to make it especially for him. But he doesn’t.

The meal you worked so hard on tastes like ash in your mouth, and you end up going to bed, leaving it practically untouched. You try to sleep, but find that you can’t without the reassuring weight of Taehyung enclosing you, keeping you safe. 

By the third day, you’ve given up trying to function like a normal human being. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you barely remember to blink. Your throat is painfully dry, but maybe that’s a good thing, because otherwise you know you’d be calling out his name in the vain hope that he might somehow hear it and come back to you.

On the fifth day, the phone rings.

You move with more urgency than you have had all week, scrambling to get to the phone. You fall over furniture in your haste, and don’t even take the time to register the pain because you’re so worried that the ringing will stop and you’ll be alone in silence again. You can’t bear the deathly silence of the apartment without him in it. 

“Taehyung,” You try to say when you wrench the phone to your ear so hard you hit the side of your face, but your voice is so hoarse from misuse and mistreatment that it comes out as a croak.

“Baby?” Taehyung’s worried voice crackles over the line, and you sob in relief.

“Taehyung!” You cry, before pouring out an incomprehensible litany of apologies and pleas for him to return. You have surpassed any remaining vestiges of pride. You need him here. Now. 

“Whoa, whoa, baby, slow down.” Taehyung tries to soothe you, and you fall silent straight away. You’re desperate to convey how much you need him here right now, but you wouldn’t dare to disobey one of his orders. 

“Do you want me to come back?”

“Yes,” You blurt out, tears becoming evident in your voice. 

“Are you sure? I thought you were mad at me…” Taehyung trails off in discontent, and you fumble to reassure him.

“No, no, I’m not mad at you. I never was! I was just…stupid. I was being a brat. Please, please, come back, please.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung deliberates, as if weighing the options, “I did say I would be gone for a whole week… do you really need me that badly?”

“Yes!” You wail down the phone, crumpling in on yourself in despair, “I need you! I need you here right now, Tae! Please! Please, I promise I’ll never be bad again. I promise. I’m sorry.” 

“You promise you’ll never be bad again? Ever?” Taehyung repeats doubtfully. 

“Yes!” You nod fervently, despite knowing he has no way of seeing you. “Yes, I’ll be good from now on. I’ll be perfect, just like you deserve. Will you come back? Please?”

You wait with bated breath as he hesitates. He has to come back, surely you’ve convinced him, surely he’ll realise how much you need-

The phone line cuts off. You pull away to see the phone flash with a damning message:

The caller has hung up. Would you like to call back?

The phone tumbles out of your hand as you collapse to the floor. Oh God, Taehyung isn’t coming back, he doesn’t want you, he doesn’t need you like you need him, you aren’t good enough-

You are so deep into hysteria that you don’t even feel the arms wrapping around you, slowly rocking you back and forth comfortingly. As soon as you register the other person, you instinctively try to fling them off you. 

“No! Only Taehyung’s allowed to touch me! Only Taehyung, only Taehyung… only…”

Your words dissolve as reality crashes over you: Taehyung doesn’t want to touch you anymore. He doesn’t want you. 

“Well that’s not true, baby. You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” A deep voice utters from behind you. Wait…

You spin around so violently you fall from your squatted position onto your hands and knees. There, crouched on the floor in front of you, is Taehyung. You don’t waste a second, flinging yourself at him. He catches you with ease and crushes your body into his embrace, pressing kisses over any part of you he can reach while you curl into his body weakly, like an animal in search of warmth.

“Oh, baby.” He sighs, beholding your pathetic state. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I had to leave you. I didn’t want to. It was agony every second I was away from you, watching you waste away like that… I never want to do it again. You’ll never make me do this again, right?”

“No, never!” You proclaim fervently as he sweeps you up, “I’ll never do it again. Don’t want you to go. Don’t go. Please.”

He gently pries your curled fist from his sleeve and intertwines his fingers with it, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“I won’t go, baby. I’ll never leave again. As long as you’re a good little girl for me, I’ll never leave you alone, even for a second. Does that sound good, baby?”

You think back over the hellish eternity of the past five days. Loneliness, helplessness, isolation. You never want to feel like that again.

“Yes, Taehyung. Never leave me alone, please. I need you to survive.”

His lips curl into a triumphant smile. The punishment has worked just like he planned.

“Good girl.”  

[thedreadvampy]

Can you elaborate on the Hamid stuff you were I comfy with? I’d love to hear your take on it

Ehhhh it was like...between Shoin and Hiroshima I really didn't like the kobold stuff and it seemed to be going kind of unexamined at that time (may have changed since, I dropped off early in the Hiroshima stuff largely bc as I say I have struggled to find time for actual play podcasts lately) how Hamid didn't seem to be feeling any particular compunctions around killing a bunch of kobolds then taking advantage of their loyalty, and in itself that's a very valid character choice because like, Hamid ISN'T a nice person and has always been kind of self-centred, that's sort of his whole deal. but what was making me uncomfortable was the degree to which Alex and the party were building a narrative where this didn't really come up as much as I'd like and where people were treating the kobolds as like, it being cute and funny how they were rushing around after the party and I felt like the threads of the, like, kobold self-actualisation and the character consequences of Hamid Cheerfully Doing A Mass Murder had sort of got dropped (and I imagine they've been picked back up since, and I understand the need for some fluff in the immediate aftermath, but it was just kind of sliding me off that those things felt like they were getting swept to one side)

And also tbh feeding into this is a broader issue that had been building for me for a long time, which is that I really don't actually like Bryn's play style as Hamid at all. By which I don't mean I have issues with Hamid as a character, but with Bryn as a player, so this is gonna rest a lot on My Reading Of Bryn As A Performer and My Reactions To The Show, it's not like a Bryn Is Bad And Problematic As A Person thing.

I think Bryn as a TTRPG player is really self-centred in a way that gets my back up - I think he steps on other player's decisions and space a lot and tries to kind of GM from the back, I think he sometimes struggles to let things develop that don't involve Hamid, and I think in particular Hamid very often talks over Azu and Bryn very often cuts off or interrupts Lydia and Helen (and to a lesser degree Ben) to talk about what Hamid's doing or what Hamid thinks or how Hamid can solve this with magic, and while having a loud/self-centred character is a Good And Fun character decision, there's a delicate line to tread IC vs OOC when it comes to being actively engaged and roleplaying out that steamroller character without actually steamrolling other players and dominating every session. and I can't speak for whether the other players feel steamrolled but as a listener I felt like Bryn had been dominating my experience for a long time to the degree that stuff like the Sasha and Grizzop Rome stuff was like...a huge sigh of relief to listen exclusively to characters who Weren't Hamid.

obviously Bryn isn't the only person who gets overexcited and treads on other people's play (James did it a lot, and that annoyed me even though I started listening to RQG because I like James Ross as a comedian) and this is something I do a LOT as a player even though I try not to - it's totally normal to be very focused on your own character and get really hype and jump in on everything you can get your character involved in. But with Bryn/Hamid it's SO constant, like it's been an issue for me since at least Prague but my irritation was constantly building with it especially as the story started being way more about Hamid even when (to me) it felt like it was initially built around Grizzop, Sasha, Azu, Cel or Zolf.

Like for example, I felt like it made sense for Cairo to be focused mostly on Hamid and Azu, but I felt like Alex in Aleppo, Rome and Japan had built in plots to give Azu, Grizzop/Sasha and Cel/Zolf respectively room to take centre stage (like Aleppo had the orcs and goblins which were pretty clearly set up to expand on Azu and Grizzop's backgrounds; Rome had magic dampening which should have given non-magic characters Sasha and Grizzop room to shine and again, was very much framed via Azu's family as well as Hamid's but I felt like only Hamid ended up getting a complete emotional arc wrt family; the Shoin institute was science-focused and provided a space for us to get to know Cel properly and catch up with Zolf who knows what happened in the time skip) and in all those cases I felt like Hamid kept taking up most discussions, jumping in ahead on dictating the direction, and kept Doing Magic At It until things shaped around him. Like I get that Hamid is insistent on Being The Leader as a character trait but again, that didn't feel as much like a Hamid decision as a Bryn decision (which for me meant Hamid's WELL ZOLF I HAD TO BE THE LEADER BECAUSE YOU LEFT speech kind of got my back up because. it had felt for months like both Bryn and Hamid had been very aggressively taking control of the party without giving anyone else a chance to get a word in)

idk it's like...I like Hamid in theory but he was taking up so much of every episode I was feeling a bit 'oh shut up' even when like...I really liked what Bryn was doing with the character? I was feeling very over-Hamided and so by the time we came around to the kobold stuff I was not feeling very charitable.

A big part of it is the dynamic that I feel like I'm hearing between Bryn and Helen specifically. He interrupts or talks over/for her a LOT with the result that Azu often gets sidelined, and that stresses me for a lot of reasons (mostly that even though she's been in the game for years I don't think the podcast really ever saw Helen getting the space to seem equally confident and authoritative about the direction of the game as the other players who've been in from the start, and she also just seems...generally quieter and less brash than the other 4 so she often gets drowned out) and like. I want to be clear I don't know Bryn or Helen and I don't know how either of them are actually feeling, this is about how it comes across to me personally with a big heap of projection. But I've always been really sensitive to situations where I feel like someone who's a bit shyer or more ready to cede space is getting consistently talked over or struggling to get a word in edgeways, and honestly that's a vibe I'm getting from Bryn's in-game interactions with everyone except Alex and James, to varying degrees, both in the main campaign and in minigames/oneshots.

Tl;dr aside from the kobold issue, Hamid's story makes me uncomfortable because Bryn's storytelling makes me uncomfortable, I don't think he's able to easily share control or cede time in the story to other players, I think he rides over other players and characters a lot, and as a result Hamid's story has (/had) taken centre stage increasingly throughout and so anything I found discomforting in that story was magnified in importance.

I also think Bryn is struggling to not be defensive of Hamid and like. that's a problem because Hamid is an interesting character to exactly the degree the story can make space to engage with the fact that he's kind of headstrong, spoilt and selfish to the detriment of those around him. Like I LIKE that I LIKE a flawed character but I need his player to be doing that with an intentionality and critical view that I just wasn't feeling there during/after Shoin and was starting to suspect might be partially less an intentional choice and more a reflection of the player (especially when Bryn seemed to be really struggling to NOT play those character traits in the Rome sidequest when he was playing a character who was Not Hamid)

and like. while the interrupting/steamrolling was the case with James as well, I think this is why it bothered me less - James HATED Bertie as a person so while both James and Bertie were both loud, domineering and tended to interrupt, it felt like I could separate IC//OOC in a way I was increasingly struggling to with Bryn and Hamid

[thotwonu]

You and Brandon drunk lol

i am drunk at the moment so here i am writing about getting drunk with brandon. when in doubt, i apparently default to brandon fluff. I SWEAR THIS ISN’T JUST A BRANDON BLOG!!! -rei

you and brandon had been best friends for a while now. you’d met through a few mutual friends and honestly didn’t think you’d get along at first. but somehow you bonded over obscure old disney movies and your mutual love of music and red bull. in the few months you’d been hanging out, you both went through pretty devastating break ups. today you showed up at the boys house with a bottle of tequila and marched right into brandon’s room and sat on his bed taking a huge gulp from the bottle while glaring at the wall. brandon sat in his computer chair for a second deciding if he wanted to ask what happened. he saved the track he’d been working on and put his headphones on his desk before walking over to sit by your feet on the bed. “should i ask why we’re day drinking?” he asked while holding his hand out for the bottle. you handed it to him before holding up your phone and showing him a picture on instagram. “no, y/n, i’m not cheating on you with her. she’s just a friend. BULLSHIT MOTHERFUCKER! IT’S BEEN A WEEK AND NOW SHE’S THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE!” brandon’s eyes got wide at your outburst and he handed you back the bottle of tequila. “you need this more than i do.” you glared at the bottle and took another big swig wincing a little at the burn. “fuck him,” you pouted. honestly you weren’t even pissed that he was with someone else. you were glad to be rid of the cheating scum bag. what you were really pissed about is that you believed him when he said that he hadn’t been seeing her behind your back. you were honestly naive enough to believe that bullshit even as you were breaking up with him. you groaned in frustration and sat up and said as much to brandon. you knew you were slurring your words bc you had a lot more tequila than you probably should have at...noon on a wednesday. brandon was not far behind you, “you know what fuck him! and her! you’re so much better than their bullshit. she was such a shit friend to you anyway.” he pushed his glasses up his face from where they’d slid down as he laid in the bed next to you, a comfortable buzz warming him like the afternoon sun. “wow, y/n i wish i could pull of something like that! you’re so brave!” brandon said in a high pitched valley girl voice. “BULLSHIT! THAT’S BITCH FOR I HATE YOUR OUTFIT.” you snorted out a laugh as you reached to take the tequila bottle from him, “that’s enough of that for you." he pouted at you and let his eyebrows scrunch in a playful glare. your heart did something weird in your chest and you covered it up by taking another sip of the damn tequila. brandon seemed to not mind that you stopped sharing and he turned to stare at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. “i always hated him. i mean, i know i met you after you started dating him, but he gave me the creeps dude.” brandon shuddered and turned to look at you. the way the light coming through his blinds hit his face made your stomach do a flip and you decided that you had enough tequila as well. “i didn’t understand why you were with him. i mean you’re like a million times more attractive than him when he has a good day and you have a bad day, and like, you’re kind and funny and you have a wicked good ear with music and like the best taste in movies ever and...” he stopped himself as if he revealed to much. you had a suspicion that the blush on his cheeks was less from the tequila and more from the confession he just made. for a second you let yourself look at your best friend differently. you realized in that moment that you might have a crush on brandon. you turned away from facing him and stared at the ceiling. “wanna watch a movie?” brandon asked after a moment. the alcohol was keeping you from panicking too much about your newly realized feelings and you just nodded. he got up from the bed and started looking through his movie collection, “fuck it’s hot.” he grumbled before pulling off the hoodie he’d been wearing and looking for a tshirt at the same time as he looked through the movies.

you were distracted by the newly revealed skin long enough to decide that yep, you were definitely falling for your best friend. you were pretty sure you’d had feelings for him since you met, but you’d both been in relationships at the time and then gone through break ups. apparently, you were deep enough in your thoughts about brandon that you didn’t realize that brandon had turned around to face you, in all his shirtless glory, holding up two movies for you to pick from. you shook your head and tried to process what he was saying to you but your eyes just kept moving to his chest.

“which do you want?” he asked waving the two movies around repeating his earlier question. “you,” you whispered before moving your hand to cover your mouth, “i mean, uhm, that one.” you pointed to his left hand. his eyes were wide as he stared at you. you two were drunk. you were drunk. he was drunk. he quickly moved to put the movie on and then walked back to the bed and sat next to you. suddenly you felt like you were 13 years old at your first boy-girl party and you wanted to bury your face in a pillow and scream. the foot of space between the two of you was screaming in your face and you couldn’t even focus on the movie that was playing on the screen.

“i have an idea,” brandon said startling you out of your thoughts for like the third time today. you turned to him and hoped your face wasn’t didn’t show the warmth you felt. “wanna make him jealous?” the confident smirk on brandon’s face had you worried. “i mean, not like jealous enough to want me back because ew, but maybe jealous enough to make him feel like a shitty person?” you turned to face him more fully, intrigued by his proposal enough to have shoved down your emotional panic. “c’mere,” he laid down and patted a spot on his chest. you raised and eyebrow and just like that your heart was hammering in your chest again. “i won’t bite, unless you ask,” he winked. you rolled your eyes and cuddled into brandon’s side. he was warm and comfortable and as you wrapped your arm around his chest and tucked your head into the space between his neck and his shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel like this was natural and comfortable. “okay give me your phone,” his voice was lower than it had been and a bit softer, quieter, intimate. you handed brandon your phone and he unlocked it, knowing your passcode by heart for the amount of times he changed your playlist while you drove. “smile like you like me,” he joked snapping a picture and posting it to your insta story. “oh my god brandon, your fans follow me!” you laughed looking closely at the picture and seeing how happy you both looked laughing as you practically hid your face in his neck.

“guess that means you’re stuck with me,” he winked at you while leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. you giggled and pressed one of your own to his sternum. you didn’t really know where this left you really, you hadn’t quite crossed that line but you were definitely now out of the friendzone. you knew you and brandon would have to actually talk soon, but for now, you let the tequila settle over you and actually got into the movie that you picked. “what the fuck are we watching b?” you asked squinting at the tv. “fuck if i know, you picked it,” he laughed.

[maiselous]

Two Comics

Sorry, I just have to get this out of my system. So I wanted to just spit out some short one-shot, but it kept growing. 

If ya love it/hate it, hopefully it inspires more folks to write/draw/create more Maisel stuff in general. 

This is set-up right after the bar scene in 2x10. Our two sad comedians share a cab and end up at his place bc Midge wants to sober the man up (ie take care of him. :’) Ugh he so vulnerable.)

His apartment is small, but more put together than Midge thought it would be. She lets him know, and he says “Well I’m not here enough to make a mess of this place, so I gotta do it on the road.”

“Well regardless of what’s in your house, at the end of the day all you need is good coffee and good company,” she says as she rummages around his kitchenette for his coffeemaker. Under the sink. Bingo.

“Words of wisdom,” Lenny murmurs as he plops down on the small sofa beneath the living room’s only window. The rain won’t let up, and they’re still both a little soaked. “Was that Groucho Marx?”

“Karl, actually. Even the communists enjoy a cup of good joe.” she quips. Lenny cracks half a smile. He loves bantering with Midge. It’s easy, not forced. When they met he could see from a distance that she was formidable, commanding the attention of the whole room and spinning her crazy life into a tragic comedy. Up close she was just as charismatic, but warmer. 

“Nice and hot for you,” she brings over his coffee and sits next to him.

“Many thanks. You likely saved me from blacking out at my least favorite dive downtown, and for that I’m eternally grateful.” He doesn’t meet her eye. He’s probably not capable yet. 

As he sips on the mug, Midge’s thoughts linger on that last part. She’s grateful to him too. They’ve helped each other a lot over time. It’s been about a year since she met him, drunk in the back of that police car. God, how things have changed. Between them though, things haven’t changed that much. If he were anyone else, she’d feel indebted to him. But, she tells herself, he’s her good friend. She likes that she doesn’t have to keep up some perfect impression around him, especially since he’s so big in the industry. At the same time, she doesn’t have to slow down for him to catch up. He just gets it. She always felt like they were on the same page.

____________

They’re relaxed on the sofa, listening to the rain. At least, Lenny’s relaxed. Midge is sitting upright and her hands are firmly on her lap. Of course he doesn’t want her to be uncomfortable. Now he feels a little insecure. They rode together because she offered to see him home; a classic Midge Maisel move. She was concerned because she’d never seen him so down, and he had too much to drink. He doesn’t say it, but no one’s offered to take care of him in a long time. And now she’s here, hesitant. He understands, but is slightly disappointed. He always thought they were on the same page. 

____________

Midge can tell Lenny’s the type who enjoys silence. For her, silence makes too much room for her thoughts to take over, and they are beginning to do just that. ‘Is this okay? What would other people say? Do I care? Should I be here?’ She looks over at Lenny, and all her questions are answered: Yes it’s okay, no one cares what people think, and this is exactly where I should be.

He hangs his head back against the sofa and closes his eyes, which makes his hair sparkle with the lingering rain droplets. There’s a larger one floating just above his ear and she instinctively reaches to wipe it away. Suddenly her hand is there, fingers resting on the side of his face while her thumb rubs the water away.

This sends a quick shock throughout Lenny, but he plays it cool, reacting slowly because he is Lenny Bruce after all (and he’s still a little drunk). Wearily, he rotates his head to face her. Her hand is now cradling his cheek. He looks right at her--lazily and intensely at the same time, as if he literally can’t help but to focus on her because she’s the only thing in the world to look at.

Midge, strangely, is reassured. He’s still his exhausted, gentle self. He’s not some man who would think she’s leading him on or force her to see this through. His eyes are far more resigned. If they could talk, they would say “What are you doing to me?” And she wouldn’t have an answer, but she does love the way his skin feels.

They stay still there, not wanting to shatter the moment. Same page.

But Midge looks at his eyes and feels a palpable need to say what she thinks of him. “You deserve,” she begins just above a whisper. “So many good things.”

Lenny knows she’s referencing their conversation at the bar earlier, but it still felt like more. Beyond the warrants, the comedy career, beyond the baggage that comes with it. It’s something good friends wish for each other. Even so, somehow, it still felt like more. He pressed his head more into her hand. “You think that I could deserve you?”

Midge brings her other hand up so now she’s holding his face with both hands. She caresses his jaw and slowly lowers her hands to the base of his neck. She leans in, and a slow smile crosses her face. “Always and everywhere.” Lenny tries not to smile at the memory of that off-hand comment at the Gaslight. It seems so long ago. 

She closes the remaining space between them with a kiss. They never really act this way with each other. The subdued wit, the quieter voices, the slow movements. It seems out of character for New York’s most dynamic comedians. At the same time it feels exactly, perfectly right.

Lenny kisses her back. His hands, which just put down the coffee mug on the table in front of them, find their way to her waist. He pulls her closer to him, which makes her catch her breath. He hesitates for a moment, wanting to make sure she’s comfortable, and she presses herself more firmly against him. 

Their movements are not slow anymore. She lets her shoes falls to the floor as she curls her legs up on the sofa. He squeezes her waist even more, and she she opens her mouth for him. 

If Midge could see herself in the mirror, she would panic. Her hair has been undone by the rain. Her makeup’s practically gone and her dress is still damp. She would never have planned it this way. But Lenny kisses her more and more deeply and she cares less and less about her looks. He finally grabs her and brings her on top of him. She opens her eyes to find him looking at her directly. He looks intoxicated, but not in the way he was earlier.

And of course Lenny is entranced. He's wondering what the Hell he did to deserve Miriam Maisel, his favorite mad divorcee from the Upper West Side to straddle him on his sofa in his tiny downtown apartment. He says none of this, obviously. Meanwhile, Midge traces a line of kisses across his forehead. They’re tender and light. She’s not used to this. Even in bed, she’s always been the ‘cool girl’, making moves she thinks her man would like. This right here though, is for her.

Her lips make their way to his neck, and when she uses her tongue to move back up to his ear, he shudders and moans as if he’s been holding it in for a long time. Midge is sure it’s the best sound she’s ever heard. She finds other ways to make him utter that sound again. His roaming grip tightens and loosens with each movement; her back, her ass, her arms, her hair, all for him to explore. 

Midge stops to catch her breath and realizes just how undone she is. Her hair is falling in her face, her dress is falling off her shoulder, and the area around her mouth feels red and raw from pressing against his stubble. She doesn’t give a shit. She sees that Lenny isn’t much better. His hair is frizzy and disheveled, and his clothes are beyond wrinkled. She begins to sigh, but it comes out as a laugh. A grin spreads across his face too. “Oh, this is what it takes to make you really laugh, huh? Am I funny now?” He pretends to be offended. She laughs harder, which he loves. “This was it all along, huh?” Midge falls into him laughing and she breathes in his scent deeply. She feels him hold her a little tighter, and she wonders if he’s gotten her second-hand drunk, if that’s even possible, or if maybe she’s just deliriously content. 

_______________

They continue their ‘conversation’ for hours. On the sofa, in his bed, on the floor, in the doorway. It’s rhythmic, satisfying, and occasionally really loud. It’s determined, varied, and fucking exquisite. It feels like a perfect comedy routine on stage: performative and fun but also natural and fluid. 

It’s punctuated by long, sleepy silences. As they lay together on his mattress, Midge rests her head on his chest. Lord only knows what time it actually is, but she measures the seconds with the quick thump-thump of his heartbeat. The rhythm, along with the distant police siren and orange glow from the street lights outside, remind her that they’re still in New York, on some weeknight, in reality. 

Lenny lightly traces circles up and down her back, absentmindedly stroking the marks where her brassiere was. He thinks about where they were just hours ago, and how he opened up to her at the bar. Midge told him everything would be okay, and God, in this moment, she was more right than she could’ve known.

She’s not looking at his face, but she can feel him begin to smile and even laugh. “Two comics walk into a bar...”

That set-up suddenly seems absurdly real. She laughs and continues smiling, thinking about their conversation earlier at that bar. Midge recalls that question Lenny asked earlier: is it worth it? She was so doubtful only hours ago. Laying here next to him, feeling his fingers on her back and his heartbeat under her cheek, she knows her answer is yes.

[hobidara]

3 am; Zach Herron

a/n: another Zach imagine Bc I’m slowly swerving to Daniel and jack’s lane and I’m trying to stay loyal to Zachary ok!! I really hate the titles of my imagines btw

genre: fluff

words: 1,421

+

“Zach?” You ask quietly, your left hand rubbing your eye.

“Were you asleep?” He asks back in a hush tone as well.

Your heart swells up at the sight of him at your door late at night but you quickly cover it up by rolling your eyes at his question, stepping back to give him space to walk in to your dorm room.

“Obviously, i was. It’s 3 am.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, plopping down on your bed. You glance at him before locking the door again.

“So, what’s up?” You ask, sitting down beside him on your single bed.

“I had a nightmare.” He replies, running his fingers in his hair which is not styled with gel like usual. And when its not styled and is just falling down on his forehead, he looks absolutely adorable like a puppy.

“What was it?”

“A ghost was chasing me.”

You stare at him for a good 10 seconds before shaking your head, “Typical Zachary Dean Herron.”

“Yeah, Yeah. Whatever.” He groans.

You smile at him before lying down on your previous position on the bed before he interrupted your sleep.

“Well, you can stay here tonight. I have class in the morning so I’m going back to sleep.” You say, pulling the blanket over your body and trying to act nonchalant at the fact that he might sleep on the same bed with you.

“No, you don’t.”

“I don’t what?”

“Your class starts at 2:30 on Fridays.” He says, looking down at you.

“2:30 is morning for me.” You reply, already closing your eyes.

You hear him click his tongue, muttering something about having 8 hours of sleep for a human is enough.

Noticing he is not lying down beside you, you open an eye to look at him.

“Are you going to sit there like that the whole night?”

He averts his eyes from the plain wall to your eyes.

“Yeah..?”

You blink, nodding at the space beside you.

“W-What?” He questions.

“Zach, I knew you were stupid but I didn’t know you would be this stupid.” You groan. “You can sleep beside me.”

He opens his mouth and closes it again before opening it again. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to sound cringe but what are bestfriends for?”

He nods his head slowly before lying down beside you which you also notice the fact that he was hesitant.

Well, the first time you met this guy was on the first day of class which was 3 months ago. When you saw him, you didn’t think you guys would click and become best friends as he somehow looked like a fuckboy who by the way, looks amazingly good and also smells great.

“Goodnight.” You mumble, finally closing your eyes with a sigh of relief.

You literally swear at him when he calls your name again.

“What is your problem!?”

He flinches slightly at your annoyed tone.

“Sorry. Nothing.”

You pinch his arm lightly, turning your body on the side to face him.

“What?” You ask deadly.

“I said it’s nothing.”

“Oh yeah?”

He glances at you and looks away quickly, something he does a lot when he’s lying.

“Bro, you are lying.” You say.

“Fine!” He grumbles. “I was just um, wondering if you have ever seen me as a guy.”

“Zach, I am aware you are a guy and that is why I always kick you in the balls when you get on my nerves.”

“No! I mean, like..” He trails off, “You seem chill with the fact that a guy is sleeping beside you on the same bed.”

“I am not a whore.”

“Y/N, I didn’t mea—“

“I know!” You cut him off, “I was being sarcastic and of course I am chill. It’s you who is on the same bed with me and who are you? Zach Herron, my bestfriend.”

lies

He rolls his eyes, “Can you stop repeating the fact that I’m your bestfriend? It’s like rubbing in my face 24/7 that I am friendzoned.”

“Um, it’s not called friendzoned unless you like me or something.”

He whips his head towards you suddenly, “What did you say?”

“What— isn’t that the definition for friendzone?”

“Y/N, don’t tell me you don’t remember —“ he cuts himself off, groaning for the umpteenth time tonight.

“What?” You ask, confusion taking over you. “Am I supposed to remember something?”

“Jonah’s party...you remember?” He asks, hesitating.

“Yeah. The first and last time I ever drank alcohol.”

“You remember what happened, right?”

“I got drunk.”

He bites his lips, making you go insane, “Anything else?”

“What? I went there and tried alcohol and got extremely drunk and that’s it?” You reply, coming out more like a question than an answer.

“How did you get home?”

“I guess you carried me here?”

He repeats, “You guess?”

“Yeah. You were the only one I went to that party with so.”

He huffs, “Wait a minute. You are telling me you don’t really remember what happened.”

“I don’t know what you mean but —“

“Y/N, we kissed.”

Your jaw drops and you look at him, shocked.

“W-We, as in you and m-me?” You ask.

“Yes.” He replies, his voice a lot deeper and quieter than before for some reason.

“Do you not remember?” He asks.

“No.” You answer, shaking your head furiously. “You never told me.”

“That’s because I thought you regretted it and just wanted to remain as friends with me.” 

“Zach, I —“ You pause, taking a deep breath, you utter, “I like you.”

He lets out a shaky breath before he abruptly, cups your cheek and pulls your face downwards towards his. A small surprised squeal leaves your lips when he presses his lips against yours. 

Seeing his closed eyes, you also close your eyes, following his lead in the kiss.

His lips are so soft just like how you’ve always imagined. You rest your hand on his chest, needing something for support though you are seated on your bed and there’s no way you would fall down from it.

And also at the same time, you feel his fast heartbeat under your palm which makes you wonder if he could hear yours as well. 

He pulls away from the kiss. Still cupping your cheek, he looks at your eyes and that’s when you notices his dilated pupils. 

“I like you too.” He whispers. “It was like since a week after I met you. I really thought the kiss was just a mistake to you.”

You gulp, feeling your cheeks turning red at his gaze on you. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember it.” 

He nods, sighing but with a smile on his lips, he pulls you down on the bed beside him again as earlier, half of your body was seated from you trying to make him answer why he called your name. 

“But I do.” He says, intertwining your fingers with his bigger and longer ones. 

“We arrived back here, in your dorm and I was in the middle of taking your shoes off and you just abruptly pulled me and kissed me.”

“And then?”

“You giggled and fell asleep.” He chuckles, brushing your bangs away from your face. 

You sigh again, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.” He replies, his brows furrowed. “At least, I now know that you like me too.”

You respond with a nod, feeling extremely shy at this whole situation.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. You tip your head upwards to look at him. 

“I know we kissed but I haven’t asked you the official question.” He says, quoting official with his other hand which isn’t holding yours.

“Yes.” You reply. “My answer is yes.” 

He chuckles dreamily before fishing his phone out of his pocket, muttering about what date is today.

“March 25th.” He grins, also showing you the date on his phone. “Our monthsary would be on Christmas!” He giggles, putting his phone beneath the pillow. 

The fact that he’s thinking about monthsary — the future with you makes you smile and you reach up to squish his red cheeks. 

“I like you.” You repeat. “A lot.”

“You are scaring me.” He replies jokingly, causing you to scoff and pull away from him but of course, he doesn’t let you by snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. 

“I like you, Y/N.” He says as you also wrap your arms around his torso.

[lou-bonfightme]

Dog Days are Over VII || [Toulouse + ses parents]

Dated: July 6, 2018

Lou in therapy.

[tw – discussion of suicide]

Rivera: Ah, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Bonfamille, yes? It is nice to meet you. I have heard a lot about you from your son. Please, sit down.

Hector: Thank you. [charming smile and shakes Rivera's hand before he sits down.]

Adelaide: Yes, yes, thank you. My, this is a lovely space. [also sits down, pleasant smile]

Rivera: Thank you, I like to think it is welcoming and--cozy.

Toulouse: Cozy is a good word for it.

Rivera: [shakes head at him]

Adelaide: Oh, I think cozy is just perfect. Very intimate, oui?

Hector: [adjusts his own lapel but says nothing else]

Rivera: That's the idea. [smiles at Adelaide] Now, the goal for today is to just--clear the air. Ask any questions that you need answered. Or--say anything that you need to say. Lou also has something to tell you, but we will bring that up towards the end, if everything goes well. Which I'm sure it will. Would either of you like to start? I know you've both seen your son since he came here, but often it is hard to bring up the things that really matter during such visits. And it is important that everyone is on the same page, moving forwards.

Adelaide: Well, I can start--

Hector: Perhaps Lou would like to start-- [same time as Adelaide]

Adelaide: Oh, well-- well, if you would like to, Toulouse.

Hector: I'd just like to hear how he's doing.

Toulouse: Oh, uhm, I'm--alright.

Rivera: Lou.

Toulouse: I'm...good. [clears throat a little] Yes, I'm ready to come...home. [nods a little, glances at his dad and then away again.]

Adelaide: [nods and smiles warmly] Well, that is very good to hear. I'm very ready for you to come home too, we've all missed you. But I am very proud of you, I am, for coming here and-- I just...hope that it's helped. I very badly want to help you Toulouse. I suppose I want to ask if...if there was anything I could do or-- anything I was doing before, perhaps, that made you so unhappy. I thought that you'd want me home more but you seemed so upset with me all the time, I didn't mean-- if there was anything that I was doing that might have drove you away...

Toulouse: Oh, Maman. [reaches over to grab her hand, pulling it into his own lap.] No, it was not--you, there--there was nothing you did. [shakes his head, opens mouth, but he is at a loss for words for a moment.] It was--I am...I am sorry. I did not...I was--a-angry and upset and I...took it out on you. I'm sorry. [kisses her hand] Maman, you--this...it's not...I...[trails off and looks down at his own lap]

Adelaide: Oh, mon beau petit garçon, it's alright! [scooches closer and squeezes his shoulder.] I am your mother, I would much prefer you take out your pain on me than on yourself. [is probably already tearing up like a weak motherfucker get it together adelaide.] It is my job. And I am so sorry, that for so long I didn't do that job. I want you to be able to come to me, Toulouse, for anything at all. Anything.

Hector: [is just kinda lookin' down, lettin' them have their moment]

Toulouse: I-I know. I know that. I did not mean to be so cruel to you, Maman. I hated myself for it.

Adelaide: I forgive you, Toulouse. You needn't hate yourself anymore. There is nothing you could do that would stop my love for you.

Toulouse: [is struggling real hard not to cry] Nor I you, Maman.

Adelaide: Is there anything else I can do to help you? For when you come home?

Toulouse: No, I, uhm. [looks at Rivera]

Rivera: [nods]

Toulouse: Just uhm, I would like...things to...be normal. I-I don't...I don't...want things to be...strange. I am...still--myself.

Adelaide: Normal. Well, I think we can do that, oui? [smiles at him and brushes at his hair] Though I have been helping Nounou with the cooking so perhaps that is one thing that can be not so normal too

Hector: You? Cooking?

Adelaide: Yes, Hector, my duck is very adequate.

Hector: Ah.

Toulouse: Berlioz told me it is edible. [raises his eyebrows at his father]

Hector: [chuckles a little] Well, I will believe it when I have tasted it myself

Adelaide: Well. You are always welcome to stay for dinner, Monsieur. [polite and yet very piercing smile at him]

Toulouse: [is now v uncomfortable bc he's not an idiot]

Rivera: Mr. Bonfamille, or uhm--do you have a-a title or something I should call you by? I think Lou told me once...

Toulouse: Dèputè.

Rivera: Dèputè Bonfamille, then, do you--have anything you would like to ask? You seem to be a man of few words. Is it safe to say your son gets that from you?

Hector: [smiles at Rivera] Ah, well, you'll find I have quite a lot to say in certain settings during the appropriate times. Whether or not Lou feels the same way, I could not say-- I do not speak for my son. But I like to think that he is a very smart and confident man, who comes across very well in many different environments. I-- it was...shocking to me, to hear what he'd tried to do. [looks down at his lap for a brief moment.] I've told him this. I didn't-- I didn't see it coming. I still don't really understand it, I...I do not want to push you, Lou, but...I do feel a little...[slightly quieter and more awkward, that confidence having drained over this mini-speech] ...lost. With all this.

Toulouse: [is visibly uncomfortable at this speech]

Rivera: It is understandably shocking, many times. People tend to not notice, especially if they do not see someone everyday--

Toulouse: Yes, it is not your fault, Père.

Rivera: Do you think you might be able to elaborate on what you mean by lost? Lou is willing to answer your questions. That is why we are all here.

Hector: I... well. [frowns] I just...I suppose I thought we had a very good relationship. We-- talked often, and we had good conversations and I always-- I know I am often busy and I cannot see you as much as even I would hope, but I do try to be available, if at least by phone or email so-- to me, it seemed like...everything was...fine. Until of course, we first learned of your alcohol troubles and your general unhappiness. I...I don't know. [sort of lifts his arms in a helpless shrug.] I thought you were doing well and now I don't know what to think. I don't know why you wouldn't have come to me. [actually has tears in his eyes its very sudden same hector im fucked up.] Why wouldn't you have told me you needed help?

Toulouse: [shifts a little and doesn't look at his father bc looks at him crying makes him uncomfortable] Toulouse: [shrugs a little] Toulouse: I didn't tell anyone.

Hector: But why? I don't understand--

Adelaide: Hector...

Hector: No, I--please, I need to know why. I thought we-- I don't know, I suppose I thought we were closer than we were and I just..want to know why.

Toulouse: Why would I tell someone I was going to kill myself, if that was the intention? It would be counterproductive, wouldn't it?

Rivera: Lou. We have talked about this.

Toulouse: What? It is what happened. Or--what would've. Or--It's not like I did any of this to slight any of you. It was not some manipulation. It was not--[huffs]. It wasn't /about/ any of you.

Hector: I know that, Lou, but-- you are smart, you must have known that wanting to kill yourself is not a healthy thought and that having such thoughts meant you needed help from someone, if not me or your mother, then someone else--

Adelaide: Hector!

Hector: What? It makes no sense. I don't understand what went wrong or-- fine, what was it about then?

Toulouse: It's not that simple. [said testily]

Rivera: People who have suicidal thoughts often do not seek help. Regardless of the truth, they feel alone with their struggles. They do not seek help, because they feel there is no help to be sought. All of you love and support, Lou, but his brain often tells him differently. That is why we have therapy. To voice those insecurities and issues and come to realizations and understandings.

Hector: Alright. [pause] Then...how can I help? In the future?

Rivera: Lou?

Toulouse: You are rather...[stops and takes a breath] It is hard, to talk to you. Sometimes. You both--[flicks eyes to Adelaide and away again]--don't...see much. That you...do not want.

Hector: But how can we see it if you do not-- tell us these things in the first place?

Toulouse: [is looking down in his lap, properly chastised]

Adelaide: Hector, please. I am sure Lou has tried to reach out to us. [looks at Lou and is much softer.] I am sorry that I did not see, I-- I want to. I do, I want to know when you're hurting.

Hector: As do I-- of course I do, I am sorry if I ever gave you an impression otherwise, but-- I live in Paris, I cannot-- I need you to talk to me.

Toulouse: [shifts] Toulouse: I...do not talk to...anyone. And I didn't--you wouldn't've seen, Maman. I didn't want anyone to. [looks up at her]. I stopped taking my medicine, and no one knew. I--ruined Sophie's shoppe. I was--so awful to you. [shakes head and looks down again, teary]

Adelaide: Oh, Toulouse. [puts her hand over his own and squeezes] I'm so sorry I did not see. I thought-- I was trying to give you space, I didn't know what you needed.

Hector: [is just frowning]

Toulouse: [shrugs a little] I pushed you away on purpose.

Adelaide: But I should have know better. [voice cracks, lifts her hand to wipe at her tears.]

Toulouse: Why would you have? I have never tried to kill myself before. [laughs humorlessly]

Adelaide: Because I am your mother, and I should know these things. I should know how to help you. [is not laughing, is crying :C]

Toulouse: Maman [voice cracks] it is not that--it is not that simple.

Adelaide: Still, I have failed you Toulouse [wipes at eyes, but is still just cRying] We have failed you, I am so so sorry

Rivera: No one has failed anyone. Lou is sick. It will take a group effort, in the future, to keep something like this from happening again. Blame cannot be put on anyone for--

Toulouse: Toulouse: That is not accurate. I am to blame. I'm sorry Maman, Pere. I didn't--I don't want to be this way. [finally is cryin a little himself]

Hector: [is even tearing up himself, but he reaches over to get tissues for Adelaide bc u know he's a man or w/e] Here, Adelaide. [passes them along] [softer] Lou, no matter what-- you are still our son, and we love you, oui? No matter which way you are or aren't, we will always be here for you and we will always love you.

Adelaide: [is dabbing her eyes and trying not 2 blubber bc it is unladylike] Adelaide: Oui, oui. [after cleaning herself up a bit.] We just-- we want you to try, Lou, that is all.

Toulouse: I know. Toulouse: I want to--try, too. I don't...want--[voice cracks again]--to die.

Hector: We don't want you to die either. We would be devastated.

Adelaide: [nods] Oui. I just, I want you to be okay, mon amor. [pets his hair again]

Toulouse: I know, I know. [leans against his mommy bc he just wants to curl up in her lap] I'm sorry.

~*~*~*~ five minutes later after everyone has stopped crying ~*~*~*~*~

Rivera: Well, I'm glad that we've all reached an agreement: that we want Lou to live, and be happy. Yes?

Toulouse: [nods a lil]

Adelaide: [parents also nod]

Rivera: Now, Lou and I have been working on some of the things he is going to be doing once he is home. One of the most important things is keeping a routine and schedule and structure. After much discussion, we've decided that, while art is a wonderful creative outlet, and certainly something Lou should continue doing as long as he enjoys it, we think it is best that Lou do something a bit...more. [smiles a little] Isn't that right, Lou?

Toulouse: [nods again] Oui.

Rivera: Well, would you like to tell them what you've decided you might like to do?

Toulouse: Go back to school. [is obviously uncomf and a bit nervous]

Rivera: To do..?

Toulouse: Oh, uhm, yes--[rubs palms on his thighs]--uhm...medical school, perhaps. [is finding the wall behind Rivera's head v interesting.]

Adelaide: Medical school? [blinks, is mostly surprised]

Hector: [is also surprised] Oh, well-- that is a wonderful career path, Toulouse, of course we would be happy to support you

Adelaide: Oh-- y-yes, of-- of course, my darling, I just-- I had no idea you found such things appealing

Toulouse: Neither did I, really. [tugs on the front of his hair]

Adelaide: Well, if it is what you want. [smiles and squeezes his leg]

Toulouse: I think...so. I am not entirely...certain.

Adelaide: Ah, well, even if you are not-- you can always try something else. I just want you to be happy and follow your passions as I have been lucky to follow my own. If that is to be a doctor, then you shall be a very handsome, very talented doctor. [beams]

Hector: [nods] You needn't worry about money or any of that. You can take your time if need be.

Toulouse: [after like probably a minute of silence] Toulouse: Thank you. I--appreciate that. Your...support.

Adelaide: [nods] Of course. You always have it, Lou. I know-- you probably...think that I am sad, because I love your art so much. But as long as you still paint when you want to, I am happy for you. [pause] And-- perhaps, a painting for Christmas, oui? For your mother?

Toulouse: Oui, Maman. [kisses her cheek] For you.