#I have pretty bad anxiety so I dwell on things that I screwed up on

[angrybatgaming]

Accidentally got a player I was helping by a Danger Shrimp (Krill/Dark Dragon), and they seemed to rage quit (or probably panicked and left) while my bff and I tried to get their wings back. So kind of a bummer today... (If I were to include irl stuff that's happening right now.)

Buuuuut I still managed to have some fun moments anyway! Ran into a friend and introduced them to my bff, and had fun goofing off with other players.

Onto the screenshots!

My bff had this weird bug going on with their character that they couldn't see. Which was them seeming to equip cosmetics that they don't actually own or have a temporary spell for. The Earth cape was one...

And then they became a deer. Lol

We also shrunk ourselves, and now I want more of that spell. Somehow, I looked smaller.

Also/finally...

DOGGY!!!!!!!!!

Bonus edit of the cosmetic glitch, because that seems to be what my character is thinking. Lol

[mercurytrinemoon]

Another post on Moon signs you can drag me for

Before we get into the actual thing, I'd like to say this post initially started as something else but ultimately, what I tried to put across is, sometimes Moon signs aren’t that easy to decipher. It’s easy to grasp overall characteristics of the signs and then learn how to identify their specific traits. But what people seem to forget it that Moon represents the deepest side of us & our inner world - it’s uncommon to really see someone’s side of it unless you really pay attention. Sometimes I’m surprised to see what someone’s Moon sign is even if I know this person well. Meaning, people usually hide that part of them - or they just simply process it internally and others can’t see their emotional reactions. It’s also uncommon for folks these days to fully express their emotional needs so it gets even trickier to pin-point their Moon characteristics. I don't think I have to mention this but, of course, your entire chart should be taken into account, as well as house placement, aspects. Personally, I like to also look at Moon's dispositor.

Let’s start from my friends, Gemini Moons, who, I feel, get a bad rep for not showing their feelings and scanning every emotion like an AI. Nah-ah. I know this one Gemini Moon whose immediate emotional reactions aren’t very cerebral in the sense of processing everything in the mind and intellectualizing it aka, what people like to label as being un-emotional. Instead her reactions are often fast (air energy) but physically expressed through Mercury (Gemini Moon’s dispositor) and Sun (overall identity) – she has them both in Aries. She’s a crybaby who can burst into tears in a matter of seconds. So she’s not something that would stereotypically be assigned to a Gemini Moon. But what I did notice is that all Gemini Moons tend to have this weird look on their face when they’re processing stuff. As if they were about to have a brain malfunction; they stop and have that specific worried look. They also like to either gossip or tell stories (either real or made up lol); they’re great with words - they can talk for hours if they feel comfortable with you. They just crave interaction and mental stimulation. Their quick reactions tend to make them effortlessly witty. Even if they’re a withdrawn Gemini type, they make up for it through social media and technology or just a quiet exploration. My shy Cancer pal with Moon in Gemini is now a brand/website designer and an instagram queen who travels the world. This is great energy for content creators in general. And don’t forget that Geminis need to have their fingers in many pies. It’s because they always have a backup plan… and they get bored easily so they need that chaos around them to feel at home. They like to have options in everything, which is kind of funny cause it’s hard for them to make up their minds and actually choose something. And they store a lot of information in their brains… I feel like it must be exhausting, no? 

On the other side of the axis, whenever I see someone with a Sagittarius Moon, I can immediately say “yup, a Sag Moon indeed” (probably thanks to my Sag stellium), meaning, they all seem the same to me. Sag Moons often find comfort in exploration - best if it’s literal travel. They always seem to need to free themselves from their surroundings, family, roots or their own culture to discover something new and exciting, even if it’s only in the imaginary words - through books, movies and other medias. Their happiness always lies somewhere else from where they currently are. Like, I think all Sagittarius Moons that I know have left their parents and went their own paths early on. And they have this yolo attitude. Just like Sagittarius Suns, they’re massive dorks, probably also obnoxious… sometimes in a REALLY annoying way. They’re either a) very wise and curious b) lil preachy and stuck up c) just plain dumb clowns with no filter. But they’re all funny. And they take things lightly, with a natural ease. This means sometimes they may offend other people just because they assume everyone’s as chill as they are; „relax! I was just kidding!” - that’s a phrase you’ll hear from them often… I mean, unless you’re a jokester yourself and you’re unmoved by their sarcastic or teasing words. They have somewhat spiritual or philosophical nature so besides making you laugh, be prepared for deep monologues. They want to believe everything will eventually fall into place. It’s also hard to bring them down - or I should say, it’s hard to make them acknowledge that they're feeling down - they always try to distract or cover it up with a joke, usually a self-depricating one. If Sagittarius Moon (or Sagittarius in general tbh) is telling you that they’re unhappy, then it’s serious.

I’ve noticed there comes a point in life for a Libra Moon where they just have enough. They’re too nice for everyone and one day they wake up and yell about how they have to do everything for everyone and everyone wants something from them and bLah bLah. Makes me think of when Bieber was this overly nice kid and then he was like “I’M NOT TAKING PICTURES WITH FANS ANYMOREEEE AAGhJFJFUWIUq”. Yup, a Libra Moon, everyone. They know how to charm and appeal to people, I think overall they’re easily liked by others. Sometimes it’s simply because they like to kiss people’s ass just to avoid being rejected. That’d be a Libra Moon’s nightmare. They like other people’s company too much. And they thrive in relationships and in a big circle of friends. What they hate is confrontations (like every other Libra placement omg). They may be good mediators when it comes to other people but if they’re involved in an argument they get sooooo passive aggressive. They just don’t know how to handle conflicts - it’s as if their nervous system wasn’t designed for emotional outbursts (because, you know, everything needs to be peaceful and harmonious Venus-style). A fussy or angry Libra Moon will suddenly get loud as they blame someone for something… and then they’ll leave the room cause they’re scared to even hear the other side of the argument. Or, alternatively, they’ll make a doormat out of themselves just to stay quiet and avoid causing any rift. And making decisions? I think it’s common for them to have two different romantic interests and feeling so dramatically torned between them *Alexa play Agony from Into the Woods*. Then when they decide, they have problems breaking the bad news to one of them.

On the other end we have Aries Moons. *deep breath* Listen, I think I’ve said enough about having Moon in Aries (or rather purely dissing it) but last time it made a bit of controversy so why not wreak even more havoc. I have a good description for this one: I will punch you but be gentle with me cause it’s easy to break my fragile heart. So basically, imagine putting Buttercup and Bubbles into one person. And honestly, I need to say this, women with this placement are just hot badasses, look at friggin Angelina Jolie. The queen of badass. The queen of hot. People say because Aries folks move quickly (literally and figuratively lol), they often get bored with whatever got them excited last week... or yesterday. Ha, yeah, right. You get their heart to open up and they’re going to have their eyes for you ONLY, like a lil puppy. Give us treats and we’ll build our world around you. But NOT in a clingy way by any means, we need our space and independence after all. My lil niece is an Aries Moon and ever since I started playing guitar with her, she became my #1 fan or something. That’s the energy. But we get easily bored with day-to-day stuff so yeah, there’s that. Innocent and clumsy yet raw in their emotions - so there’s potential to make mistakes sometimes (or a lot of times) or having this tunnel vision, like „I want this and I don’t care about anything else!”. And then excusing it with some „but the heart wants what it wants” crap (looking @ ya, Selena Gomez). They experience constant inner movement and turbulence that needs a physical outlet in order to feel satisfied. WE NEED PASSION IN OUR LIVES, OKAY?!?!?? now leave me alone

Aquarius Moons aren’t as cold as you might think. People like to describe them as if their Moons actually disappeared from their charts: dEtaCheD, uNeMotiOnaL, tHey fEeL nOtHinG. It’s just they don’t sit and dwell on things, they find solutions to the problems. If something doesn’t make them feel right, they just leave that situation. They do care about other people’s well-being, they’re very sensitive in that regard, they’re humanitarians after all. Yeah, they detach, but from their own emotions - in order to make sense of them. They may seem like snow queens sometimes (and this comes from an Aqua rising) but they’re really friendly and if you pique Aqua Moon’s interest, they’re going to be curious about you. They like new exciting things so if you’re cool enough, you have their attention. Usually they’re pretty progressive as well and can’t stand injustice. That’s why you’ll see them standing up for those who are in need. Uranian energy gives them a specific type of sharp intuition and wit. Idk they’re just cute in a quirky way. But this buzzing, fast energy is a great recipe for anxiety, over-thinking and frequent changes of heart. Similarly to Sadges, they need constant exploration and stimuli. Intelligent, people-oriented (but not people-pleasing! Look to Libras for that), individualistic. They definitely need their own space and independence. Their decision-making is fast and it’s easy for them to just say „screw it, I’m doing this”. My Aquarius Moon friend just casually decided that she’s moving to Turkey cause nothing in our city (or even country) seems interesting or helping her expand… So she was like, see ya suckers, I’m leaving.

Leo Moons shine from within. You’ll spot them from a mile away even if they’re on the shyer side. They’re all lil stars no matter their profession. Very expressive people & easily excitable. Art galleries, live shows, theater - they love a creative environment even if they don’t pursue that lifestyle themselves... One of my Leo Moon friends is an art junkie – suggest taking her to an obscure play at the local bar, a music festival, a weird museum – she’ll say yes in the blink of an eye. And she loves discussing these things. A Leo Moon may not see themselves as artistically inclined, but usually sooner or later they at least try dipping their toes in music, arts, acting, dancing... you name it. They’ll learn a simple 3-chord song on a ukulele and then play it to you in excitement. Imagine a lil kid making you a puff piece and being super proud of it. Sometimes they just need some encouragement. Remember, Leos feed off of praise, that’s their fuel. Doesn’t mean they’re all proud, egotistical people but what it does mean is that they need a lil assurance to gain their self-confidence. I lived with a Leo Sun/Moon for almost 15 years (who’s a musician btw so yeah, a classic creative Leo type) - he did have some issues lol but ego wasn’t one of them. Drama followed him everywhere but I’m pretty sure he disliked it himself. BUT, with that being said, I feel like Leo Moons tend to dramatize themselves internally. People say it’s something Virgos or Geminis would do - because of their tendency to overthink, but Leos can just go straight to a worst-case scenario in their heads simply because they exaggerate everything. So don’t be surprised to see a Leo Moon feeling down and anxious. On the bright side, be their cheerleader and they’ll give that to you in return. They need sparks and dullness kills their upbeat spirit. They need to feel their own heartbeat so the feeling of excitement is crucial for their well-being. Romantic, giving and kind. They’re fixed fire so once they’re set on something or someone, they give their all and are rather loyal.

I feel like my chart low-key tells me I should dislike Taurus Moons but I just want to melt in their arms and just stay there? Like, forever? Low maintenance but a bit slow-moving and stubborn. They won’t settle easily, at least not officially, so you need to have a lot of patience with them. They need 3 things to feel secure and at peace: physical stimuli, time and a stable place they know they can always come back to. And it’s not like all of them are total lazy homebodies, they may be active spirits & travellers but they are going to have a reallyyyyy nice cosy flat somewhere near their childhood place (gotta be be close to their moms, you know). Not necessary materialistic but they may have one thing that they collect throughout their entire life and they won’t. ever. get. rid. of. it. There needs to be at least one constant in their life - like you know when Elton John decided to go to therapy but one thing he stuck to was shopaholism? Very Taurus Moon of him. Also, they’re very affectionate. In fact, may have issues differentiating between affection and passion - this is actually something Taurus Moon and Aries Moon have in common. Pro tip - and this is in regard to all Taurus placements - don’t smell bad when you’re around them (I mean, don't smell bad in general, no one likes stinky people lol). They have a sensitive smell. Doesn’t help that they like to smell everything. EVERYTHING. I swear, Taurus, stop sticking your nose in every single thing!!! You don't need to know how that piece of utensil smells like. Jeez.

Scorpio Moon (shoutout to those who remember me accidentally calling them sporpio last time I made a post on Moons lol). I honestly don’t know what to tell you... I feel like all you hear about Scorpio Moon is 100% true, there’s nothing to debunk here. It’s the Moon of extremes. Prone to jealousy and surpressing emotions; severe trust issues; they’re instigators. I was low-key bullied by a few Scorpio Moons when I was in school so there’s that. Very secretive and private. Scorpio Moon will be like “I’m in control of the situation!!!!” and you’ll just look at them and think, yeah, right, looks like the situation is controlling you. But keep being in denial, sure. Like, don’t get me wrong, Scorpios in general can be TOTAL SWEETHEARTS OMG but ya’ll have issues. Even celebrities who have this placements... Think Beyonce or Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus... I feel like they have issues lol, especially with control and the need for everything to be perfectly the way they want it to be. To be fair, that’s probably why they’re all so influential and high status: it’s either their way or highway. They need constant reinvention; they’re the ones to wake up one day and decide they’re going through a spiritual awakening blah blah. They also like to talk about dark and shocking topics while having casual lunch with you... So like, be warned that you may end up with a depressed mood after talking to them for 10 minutes. And their mood swings... don’t even get me started on that.

I don't know where to start with Virgo Moons... I feel like they're very calculated and nit-picky but they're a lot warmer than Virgo Suns. I think I called them softies in my last Moon post. Very sweet people but prone to anxiety. You gotta experience seeing them having a heart attack over someone mixing bananas with milk or messing with their stuff that’s been put in a perfect arrangement. I saw a Virgo Moon once literally squealing shouting "YOU'RE GONNA RUIN YOUR LAPTOP WITH THAT SUPERGLUE!!!" Highly entertaining to watch, not gonna lie. Gordon Ramsay has his Moon in Virgo - it’s conjunct Uranus and Pluto so that’s an extreme but I think him being fed up with people over small inconsistencies in their food prep is a perfect example of this energy (btw his chart is hilarious, it literally explains EVERYTHING). They're VERY picky with their food as well, just as Virgo Suns tend to be. Like, they’ll only have a specific type of single origin coffee or they’ll be vegan or something. Self-critical over their work, which is a plus... except for when finishing a simple task takes them a few hours because they want to make it perfect. They take everything seriously. This of course doesn't mean they're total bores - on the contrary, Mercurial energy gives them witty approach and a talent for choosing the right words at the right time. Tho they can be a bit awkward or shy with it. Can be as bubbly as Gemini but the grounded earthy energy gives them more practical and almost nurturing nature - earth signs are providers after all and Virgo is the sign of service - helping others is like their second nature. I’ve noticed they often find comfort in devoting themselves to a choosen task - this is why if they pursue something, they’re really good at it. They’re also very likely to dissect their emotions.

I’m not a fan of water Moons in general but Pisces Moon is the best water Moon in my opinion. Maybe because I like Pisces overall. I think it’s like a tweaked Sagittarius Moon - just more internalized, withdrawn & gloomy. But unlike Sag, who has a tendency to be an adventurous optimist, Pisces likes to focus on the negatives instead. Obviously, they can be very upbeat, they’re Jupiter-ruled after all, but there’s somehing whiny about them lol. Just like Sadges, they dream big and have their standards put up sooo high but if there's not much active energy in their charts, they’re often too passive to actually fullfill any of that - or I should say, they’re stuck daydreaming about it, believing it’ll just magically manifest for them... OR they do everything with an apathetic approach. What I do like about them is that they’re funny. And really chill - sometimes to the point of coming off as confused or hazy. I feel like a lot of them would just love to sleep all day... or sit by the lake and just think about the world. Most of them are also compassionate folks - again, maybe a bit too much. Hey Pisces, you don’t have to take everything to heart, it’s okay. On the bright side, they have big imagination and the ability to disconnect and just create. I have a few Pisces Moons in the family: one’s that sleepy artistic type with grand visions, one is an asshole-ish but funny entrepreneur with a questionable work ethic and one is a witty IT guy who’s actually a workaholic and likes to shut in his own world of computers and numbers or whatever he does there... So there’s this factor of tunnel vision, escapism and, on the more negative side, being kinda iffy and almost addicted to the way they want things to be. Once they set their eyes on something it’s done deal…

My issue with Capricorn Moons is that they're often trying to be sooooo mature omg, like, loosen up a bit. It usually starts when they're in their later teens... They can be the most rebellious kid that likes to have fun and suddenly they'll be like "I'm too old for this ugh grow up" *judgmental stare*. My 18-year old niece once literally roasted my sister that she's in her 30s and still doesn't have her own place (well so do I so I guess she also indirectly roasted me as well???). And she was SO deadpan with it. Because she herself wants to be independent and start a family before turning 25. This is classic Capricorn Moon energy. They suck out joy out of everything lol. Of course, OF COURSE, it depends on the whole chart but I feel like worst-case scenario is that at one point in their life (or maybe even a few times throughout it) they go through a massive shake-up that makes them change their attitude and re-evaluate their structures. There's this multi-instrumentalist Yvette Young - she's a sweet, funny Cancer/Leo mix but her Moon is in Capricorn. She used to be a competitive pianist but the pressure that was put on her has led her to severe health issues. Like yes, she’s now an extremely talented musician - thanks to family’s expectations & a rigid schooling system (Saturn) but it did cost her a lot. She has recovered since then but I think it's a perfect example of this energy. It’s very ambitious and hardworking but emotionally demanding in the sense that you have to actually put your emotions aside in order to deal with the rest. Another thing, because Moon can be associated with family, there's often a weird dynamic surrounding this topic. I don't think I've met a Capricorn Moon that had a completely healthy and happy relationship with their fam or one of the family members. Or, alternatively, there can be a strong bond between one of them but usually created in the atmosphere of hardships.

Last but not least, Cancer Moons. I had three school friends with this placement and all of them made this sad, whiny face as they said „oh I don’t knoooow anymoreee”  when they were feeling torned or frustrated. To be fair, two of them are water Suns so for them, it added to the mushyness. All Cancer Moons I know are family people or better yet, baby people. One of those school friends is now a guidance counsellor, working with kids; the other turned her instagram into a gallery of her own child after she gave birth. So much kid content, omg. There’s also something very indecisive about them… or I should say, hesitant. They’re not very fast at making decisions. Also, what’s interesting, they’re kind of like walking libraries, they remember a lot – so they store a lot of information in their brains just like air signs but they process it in a completely different way – emotional, obviously. I think this also makes them hold grudges a lot. For them it’s more of a question of „how does it make me feel?” rather than „how valid is it?”. There’s certain stubborness in them in that regard because they don’t keep their minds open. It’s also hard for them to walk away from people and situations, like a crab pinching you with its claws – it won’t let go. Sensitive but not easy to open up; very protective of themselves and their loved ones & they tend to shut down in their crab shells. But they may crave connection and the feeling of belonging. Also very caring and with a big imagination. They’re very receptive of their environment so mood swings are a thing for them.

[mandos-sluts]

The Visit Part Two

This is Part Two of a three-part series

The Visit Part One

The Visit Part Three

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, dubious consent, fingering, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, hint of voyeurism, mentions of sex work

Summary: All you want to do is forget about your encounters with Din, so you go out with your friends in search of a quick hook-up to take your mind off of it. Upon seeing Din at the bar, you decide to try and give him a taste of his own medicine.

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!! Also we love feedback <3

You awake feeling well-rested. The sleep helped. You don’t feel as bad as you did last night, but you still basically want to crawl under a rock and die.

You can’t focus during your combat lesson with Luke, all you can think about is how much you want to erase the prior day from existence. Sensing your anxiety and distraction, your Master cuts the lesson short.

The two of you walk side by side out of the arena and down the corridor. Your sweating, your hair is a mess, and all you have on is a sports bra and spandex. All you want to do is get back to your room and shower.

You're walking beside Luke, looking down at your feet, barely registering what he is saying to you. You bring your head up and you almost faint at the sight of Din walking toward the two of you.

Panic engulfs you and you feel like turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction, but you’re stuck, stuck walking next to Luke, watching Din stride tall and confidently closer and closer.

“Din!” Luke says cheerfully as the three of you stop in your tracks.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you two again.” Din responds in his low voice as he brings his hand out and shakes Luke’s hand. You put on the saddest fake smile and shake Din’s hand, looking anywhere but into his visor.

“How was your visit with Grogu today?” Luke asks.

“It was great, thank you.”

“Well I’m very happy to hear that.” Luke says as the three of you continue your separate ways.

Your heart breaks at Din’s indifference toward you, and it makes you want to cry. It’s truly as if nothing happened between the two of you. He didn’t get the chance to fuck you yesterday so he went out and got a sex worker, and now, your existence means nothing to him.

Ugh why was he even here? Ever since you were a child the “no attachments” concept was drilled into you. Why is Luke letting this guy visit Grogu? Whatever. You need to do something to get your mind off of the situation.

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

It’s Saturday night and your friends are forcing you to go out. At first you really don’t want to; your experience last night at the cantina was horrible, and you would prefer to avoid it all together. But you sip a few drinks with dinner and have a change of heart.

Instead of dwelling on this horrible situation, you figure that you should do something to distract yourself. Going out with your friends, letting loose, and hooking up with someone else will relieve your tension and hopefully make you forget about your regrettable encounters with Din. Screw him, you shouldn’t let yourself be sad over some random guy who didn’t give a second thought to you.

You decide to pregame the night, and are already quite tipsy by the time you and your friends arrive at the cantina. You look good, like, really fuckin hot. You’re wearing a simple, short, light pink silk dress.

The cantina is not as crowded as last night, but it’s still pretty busy. Your friends grab a table and you walk up to the bar to get a drink.

“Hey, y/n, how you doin tonight?” The bartender greets you.

“Great, thanks.” You say with a soft smile, thinking about what you want to order.

The bartender shifts over and continues talking to someone on the other side of the large Twi’lek standing next to you. “But yeah, wow, that’s really cool. You must get hot wearing all that–”

Just then, the Twi’lek grabs their drinks and walks away from the bar. You turn your head to see who the bartender is talking to, and it is none other than Din Djarin, standing just a few feet away from you. You don’t freak out as much as you think you might, and you have the alcohol in your system to thank for that.

“–Hey, y/n, do you know Mando? He’s visiting the Academy up the hill.” The bartender asks.

You turn to look at Din. “Mando? What’s th– ohhh. I get it. Mando as in Mando-lorian. Clever. Kind of. I mean, not really, but….Later!” You say to the bartender as you stutter your way out of that situation.

Fuck. That was so awkward, you didn’t even order a drink. You're embarrassed, but also hurt. Din didn’t say a word to you, not even a hello. His disregard for you makes you all the more determined to find a hot guy who can distract you from that beskar-covered jerk.

You do a lap around the bar, surveying your options. You spot a tall, handsome boy in a group of guys, probably tourists. Had you not been buzzed, and had that uncomfortable situation not just transpired, you would be very reluctant to just blatantly walk up to a stranger and introduce yourself. But you really don’t care; you know you’re hot and bagging him shouldn’t be any trouble at all.

His back is to you as you make your way to him, he’s talking way too loudly with his frat-boy friends. You gently run your hand down his bicep.

“Hi.” You say sweetly.

The boy turns around and his eyes widen as he looks you over. “Hey.” He says with an eager smile.

You grab his arm and get on your tippy toes, leaning in close to his ear. “Can you buy me a drink?”

“Yeah, a-absolutely!”

You and he walk up to the bar. Din is on the other side, and you notice he’s watching you. You do your best not to look at him, still you can’t help but glance at him every so often, and when you do, his visor is patently on you.

The boy you’re with puts his hand around your waist as you order your drink. “I’ll have a spotchka, please” You tell the bartender.

“Make it a double.” The boy says as he winks at the bartender.

You put your elbows on the bar in order to push your boobs up slightly. Gazing at you, Din observes one of the silky spaghetti straps of your dress fall from your prominent collar bone down your smooth shoulder. You make a point to leave it there a while before pulling it back up.

The bartender brings you your drink and you bring the glass up to your lips. Din watches as the boy puts his hand on the bottom of your glass and tips it upward, trying to get you to drink more. You swallow as fast as you can, trying not to choke as his hand continues tilting the bottom of the cup higher and higher. Din’s fist clenches at the sight of you coughing while some of the liquid falls out of your lips as your mouth overflows with the drink; it dribbles along your throat and runs down your chest. Coughing and trying to catch your breath, you set the drink on the bar as the boy looks at you with a satisfied half smile.

What a dick move. But honestly, you don’t care that he’s a asshole trying to liquor you up, you just need to get laid. In fact, if you’re going to be fucking this pretentious kid, you’ll need to be a little drunker.

“C’mon. Finish this and then let's go dance.” He says picking the glass up and bringing it back to your lips.

You chug what’s left and then, walking behind you, the guy guides you to the dance floor with his hands on your waist. You’re a little nervous as you realize that this area of the bar is closer to where Din is sitting, allowing him an even clearer and more direct view of you. His eyes stay glued to you the entire time you move through the cantina.

The boy pulls you against him and the two of you start grinding to the beat of the music. You can feel the alcohol warm your insides and ease your apprehension. Instead of trying your best to avoid looking at Din, you decide to do the opposite, and stare directly into his visor while you dance on this guy.

His hands are all over you. They make their way from your hips to your stomach, and they dance around your tits, pulling your soft silky dress as they explore your body. His lips are against your hair and he’s mumbling things in your ear that you’re not at all paying attention to.

It’s not too long before you feel his boner poking your ass. You bite your bottom lip promiscuously as you stare into Din’s helmet, the alcohol fueling your staring contest with him. *see gif* You’re relishing in this moment— in the fact that he is watching you dance on this hot guy.

To be honest, though, you really have no idea what Din is thinking or feeling, his helmet and his laid back position don’t tell a thing about where his head is at. It’s not even clear that he’s looking at you, but you can tell he is. You can tell that his eyes are locked on your form.

“Maker you’re so fuckin hot.” The boy whispers in your ear.

Din stands there watching you; watching this guy's skinny fuckin hands roam all over your pretty figure and smooth skin. He watches his hands run down your body and tease your inner thighs, right at the hem of the dress.

Then, Din observes him flick his head up, and turns to see that he is gesturing for his friends to watch. The kid's buddies are standing at the edge of the dance floor, elbowing each other, laughing and smiling, watching the drunk hot girl grind brazenly on their friend. Din looks at the stupid boys. He could kill them all so easily.

As he’s watching them, Din notices a few of their mouths drop, and looks back at you to find the guy you’re dancing on slowly lifting up your dress, exposing your black lace underwear as he nods at his friends and smiles.

Grinding on this guy, you feel slightly discouraged as Din breaks the staring contest to look elsewhere in the room. But then you see him abruptly get up and walk toward the dance floor. You lose him in the crowd, and then feel a large hand grab your upper arm and yank you away.

You trip over your feet but Din's hold on your bicep keeps you from falling forward. He doesn’t even look back at you as he drags you through the mass of people. Most move out of his way as soon as they see him coming, and those who don’t are shoved aside. He drags you out the door into the cold, dark air. Din finally propels you upward onto your feet after he turns into the dark alley next to the cantina.

“Din! What the fuck!” You’re finally able to yell.

“That fuckin guy was lifting your dress up in front of the entire bar.” He informs you in a frustration-laced voice.

“So?”

“So, you're okay with that? He was putting on a show for his friends.”

“….whatever.” You mutter looking down at your feet as your face turns red and shame creeps into your chest. You didn’t even realize the boy was doing that; you were so focused on keeping Din’s attention.

“Pfft, okay, if you’re fine with being paraded around by scummy guys–”

“I don’t need your slut shaming, Din. And speaking of sluts, why don’t you go find yourself one?”

Din pauses for a moment and you can feel the energy around you shift. He creeps closer to you, and you instinctively step back as he closes in on you until you’re against the brick wall, unable to move.

He lowers his voice. “Speaking of sluts, you said you were only one for me. So why the fuck are you letting that guy put his hands all over you?” Din says slowly as he grabs your shoulders and pushes you against the wall.

“Get off of me.” You return, trying to shake free from his grip and push him away.

Din grabs your wrists and slams your arms into the wall by your head, and he positions his knee tightly between your legs, inhibiting your movements completely.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Din purrs in your ear. “Were you jealous seeing me with that other whore? Aww, you left too soon, pretty girl.” He says as he begins rubbing his leg against your crotch.

“N-no...but I will say that it’s very audacious for you— a guest at the Jedi compound— to bring a sex worker back to your room.”

Din scoffs. “I’m not an idiot.” He spits out. “I didn’t bring her onto the estate. She sucked me off in the bathroom and then I left.”

“Well, congratulations.” Is all you can think to say

“I imagined it was you.” Din utters as he brings his helmet just inches away from your face. “Yeah, I imagined it was you on your knees on that filthy bathroom floor, gagging with my cock down your dainty little throat.” He says as one of his hands wraps around your neck.

You let out a whimper at his words, arousal shooting straight to your pussy as he continues to drag his thigh against your crotch.

“And then today, I jerked off the second I got back to my room after running into you and Luke. I couldn’t fuckin help myself, baby. It made me so fuckin hard seeing you like that. It was so fuckin cute how nervous and shy you were. You were panting and sweating, your hair was so messy, you were barely wearing a fuckin thing. I know that’s how you would look after I fucked you.”

His words turn you on more and more, pulses of arousal twitching your cunt.

“And I know that your Master thinks you’re a good little girl, huh. He doesn’t know how much of a fuckin whore you are, he doesn’t know that you asked me to tie you up and fuck you.”

A high-pitched moan flees your mouth, prompting you to take your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to keep it together.

“Come on, pretty girl.” Din growls as his hand slides down to your waist and grasps it tightly. “I said I’d show you how Mandalorians fuck, and I’m a man of my word.”

“Th-that why you hired a sex worker last night?” You say quietly, not wanting to let him off the hook for it just yet

“I didn’t know you were gonna be there, princess. I didn’t even know if I would see you again. I was ready to toss that bitch aside as soon as I saw you, but you fuckin bolted.”

Din moves his hand that was on your throat down to your groin, bringing his knee down slightly to make room for his fingers. You gasp as you feel his gloved digits rub your wet panties around your cunt.

“Come on.” Din breathes in your ear. “You’re dripping wet. You need to get a cock in this desperate fuckin pussy.”

“Ah-I have options.” You counter, trying to hold out for a little longer.

Din scoffs. “That boy in there can’t fuck you like I can and you know it.” He says as he pushes your panties to the slide, exposing your bare, wet pussy to the cold air. Din starts circling your clit as he picks up his head to watch your expression. Your mouth falls slightly open as breathy whines fall out.

“HEY!” You hear someone yell in the distance. “Mandalorian, what the fuck are you doing with my girl!”

Your head turns to see that guy you were grinding on approaching you and Mando. Great.

Just then, Mando starts pumping two fingers in and out of your hole fast. "Ah!" You inadvertently moan out.

“Get lost, kid.” Mando says casually as his arm clearly drives up and down under your dress.

Your mouth falls wide open at the sudden stretch and pounding of your hole, and you try your best to stifle your moans as you dig your nails into Din’s arm. You regrettably make eye contact with the kid as Din conspicuously continues his brutal finger fucking.

“N-no fuck you, we– we were dancing. Who do you think you are taking her from me?” Anger and offense cover the boy's face, pride shaken at the scene in front of him.

Din lets out an annoyed sigh. “If she wanted to go with you, she would. Now get the fuck out of here. Unless you want to watch her suck my cock.”

The guy grunts and turns around to walk swiftly out of the alley.

Din’s pace slows down just a tad, and you’re able to catch your breath. He leans his helmet against the wall next to your head. “Fuck. I wanna break that kid’s neck.” He whispers.

“Ah. You should.” You purr.

Din removes his hand from your cunt and takes a small step back. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s go back to my room” He says. Din walks to the center of the alleyway and then stops.

You take a few steps toward the street. “Okay...let's go.” You say softly, noticing that Din isn’t following.

“Come here.” He says holding his arm out.

Confused, you walk into his arm and he wraps it around you tightly.

“Hold on tight, okay?” He says as he motions for you to wrap your arms around him. Why is he taking you in for this awkward side hug? He just said he wanted to leave.

“Wha–”

Just then you’re lifted into the air, grasping onto Din for dear life as he jet-packs towards the Academy.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Visit Part Three

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

Masterlist

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Taglist:

Permanent:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425 @beskarboobs @smutslutz @princess-djarinn @spideysimpossiblegirl @riot-rotten

The Visit Series:

@autumnleaves1991-blog @ikinmahlen

[baubaes]

hi! is there a chance for Jemily with no22? some angst maybe? cheers🤗

Well hello to you to! And of course there is!

@thatonecurlygirl prompt list 22

“I can’t give you what you want.”

Ship: Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau

Word count: 5,4k

Genre: angst/hurt/fluff/very very light nsfw? i have no clue how to label this

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, injuries, classic criminal minds vibes :^)))

Summary: "Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead. She, however, was on a plane to Paris." aka JJ taking care of staked Emily, the blackbird flashback and events around it.

A/N: i thought of way too many scenarios when even though Emily and JJ are literally in love, it could never work out. here's one of them :^) i hope you'll enjoy it!! xx ana apparently i just can't imagine a scenario in which these characters could have a peaceful, quiet and happy life, im so sorry

Emily felt drained.

She was all hurting, really bad, her head was killing her, not only from the beating she received those several days ago, but also the mere stress of all this.

It was pretty baffling for her to realize that she survived this whole ordeal.

She couldn’t say for how long she was out; it felt both like a blink of an eye and an eternity.

And she really thought that she died, when she eventually lost consciousness in Morgan’s arms. That still felt like ages ago.

It was all really confusing, but then again, she couldn’t spare too much of her strength to dwell on what actually happened. Emily just felt too weak to try to keep her eyes open for too long and that resulted in her reality being pretty much scattered.

When she woke up in a hospital room, she was dazed and overwhelmed. They’ve put her on some strong painkillers after the surgery and most of the time right then felt like a blur. She thought she heard some voices in her dream, maybe doctors, maybe… Was it JJ?

She heard bits and pieces of conversations, somebody commenting on her condition in a low voice, nervous footsteps circling around the room, the dimmed rhythmical sounds of all the equipment she was hooked to, some sort of buzzing and a one sided conversation that had to be a phone call.

Was it just some bizarre dream?

A way for her subconscious mind to cope with the anxiety surrounding the recent events?

Whether it was real or not, it let her stay in this state of slumber brought to her through an IV drip.

Despite all that, she felt really grateful. She wasn’t sure where to channel this gratitude though;

Her team for backing her up?

The doctors for patching her up in the OR?

God, for allowing her to continue her existence?

Then again, she wasn’t sure if the last one existed, nor that the almighty entity would waste its time on making sure little old her survives.

It was comforting though, that her last moments on this Earth managed not to be spent with Doyle, even if that was against her will, so in theory, she didn’t have much of control over this.

Memories of him were a combination of ones that she’s made as Emily Prentiss and ones that she’s made as Lauren Reynolds. As Emily, it consisted of all those moments when he threatened her and her team, he kidnapped her, tortured her, nearly killed her…

As Lauren she was able to saw his more… Humane side.

Lauren was his girlfriend. Lauren lived with him,

Lauren shared her joys and fears with him. Lauren loved him.

But that was Lauren.

She wasn’t real. An identity, that’s all that she was.

And even though Emily tried to convince herself that Lauren’s feelings were perfectly compartmentalized away from her own, deep down she knew she was lying to herself.

Was Doyle ever somebody she actually loved?

She definitely despised him, but it felt like now she was obligated to despise even her own self for ever having feelings for this monster. Positive ones anyway.

Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead.

She, however, was on a plane to Paris.

It was all coordinated by Hotchner and JJ.

Nobody else knew.

Her team, her friends, her loved ones were about to attend her funeral in a few days.

She imagined confused look on Spencer’s face, Garcia’s eyes filled with tears, Morgan frowning and looking away. Would Rossi be sad, or would he finally feel relieved to be ridded of her impulsiveness and comments on literally everything?

She imagined her mother, who obviously was not on it, throwing a pile of soil on the coffin. That would not hold her body inside. Would she cry? Would she stay composed even at a funeral of her only child? Well, again, it wasn’t real real, but she wouldn’t be able to realize that.

For some reason, she figured JJ would’ve taken it upon herself to feel guilty, despite knowing what was going on.

They both knew it was the only way to make it all work.

Emily worried about everyone, but there were two people she worried about the most. Spencer and Penelope.

They both were incredibly strong, but she couldn’t be sure how would they deal with this.

She worried, since Reid did not cope well with losing authorities. And even if he would never admit it to her face, she knew that he looked up to her.

The thought of that made her feel the bile appear on the back of her throat.

That kid has lost so many people already… And he internalized all that, it had to be weighing on him every single day. It felt cruel to add another person to that list.

She had to keep thinking about the bigger picture to even remotely be able to deal with all that.

Now Garcia was somebody that Emily truly loved.

It was hard to imagine her being sad over her „death”.

Not because of the probability of the blonde being sad,

rather the severity of her grieving, Emily would imagine.

Penelope was one of those people who were able to feel so much, maybe even too much sometimes.

And on a daily basis it was wonderful. That’s what’s made her such an incredible, empathetic human being, who, despite their job, was still able to not only - be cheerful, but to cheer others up as well.

When she thought of that, it felt as if her heart could break to million pieces.

It was strange, how in that moment she should still feel the pain;

They’ve stabilized her after the surgery, but there were still bruises on her face, stitches across her abdomen, burnt skin on her chest. And she did feel it, but it was blurred, far away.

The feeling that made her grasp reality to the point of hyperawareness was the emotional pain.

Somehow she was able to compare it to the pain of being staked.

She still wasn’t sure what was a proper emotional response in that situation.

It wasn’t in the manual, or in training, despite people having to go… Well, faking your own death was like going undercover, in a way.

Both at the Interpol and the FBI, nobody taught her how to feel, while pretending to be dead.

She knew how to make it happen technically, more or less. After all, Lauren had already died. Her old team, JTF-12, was able to pull that off those several years ago. Including her of course.

But that was Lauren. An identity, which, sure, she’s been tied to for quite some time, living as her, acting like her, becoming her in a way.

Still, just an identity.

Right now, there wasn’t a disguise, an identity to toss away, allowing her to come back to her regular life.

Right now her regular life was supposed to cease to exist.

Before, she thought about her goal and the fact, that she survived. She was grateful, in some way she felt obligated to take care of Declan and she wouldn't be able to do that, if she was actually dead, right?

Even though she knew that she had no right to feel attached to the boy as much as she did, she just couldn’t help it. The image of him as a toddler, walking around the room in Doyle’s house stuck in her head. She couldn’t shake it off. And even before Doyle found her, that image caused her to have problems with falling asleep from time to time.

Emily never seriously thought of herself becoming a mother, for that role to be the main purpose of her life. She was afraid of screwing her potential children up, because she knew that even if she meant well, it wouldn’t guarantee them turning out okay. And her line of work made it impossible to both realistically approach the idea of maternity - she didn’t have a partner and if she were to be a single mother - it would be impossible to keep up with the BAU - that job was just too demanding; but also she saw so many downright evil, just unimaginable things that people were capable of doing to one another. How could she ever be able to shield a child from that?

Suddenly, all these ridiculous, small things that she wouldn’t think twice about made her feel as if each and every part of her life was just slipping through her fingers, right there, right then.

That one window in her apartment, the one with the wide windowsill, she loved to sit on it and watch the sky. Sergio would curl up in her lap or right next to her, on the windowsill, quietly purring, when she would pet his black fur. It didn’t happen often, because most nights she'd come home so exhausted, all she could basically do was just pass out on her bed. And Sergio would sleep on a pillow right next to her, despite Emily's promises to herself that she will teach him to stop, because she'd wake up covered in his fur with a runny nose.

But when she had a chance to do that, it made her mind stop racing, at least for a few minutes. That barely ever happened anywhere else.

Now she realized that Sergio was alone in her apartment and she panicked. But just for a second, because then she remembered JJ in the hospital, telling her that Penelope took him in. Of course she did. He'd definitely be surrounded with love. She wished she could've just taken him with her though, since she's already been missing him. Silly little fur ball, making her fall in love with him gradually. Penelope wouldn't be able to resist his charm for sure, she thought to herself, smiling. Still, she felt really sad.

Emily realized that she’s left so many things behind.

She didn’t think of herself as someone intensively attached to material possessions, but all these had a sentimental value for her and that was the only thing that mattered.

The thoughts invading her head were random, coming to her without any particular sense or order, falling on her mind like an avalanche.

And she thought about that crumpled up picture, capturing her with her friends when she was a teenager, back in Rome.

A cross, that her mother gave her on her first communion. She wasn’t ever really wearing it, but she liked knowing that it was safely tucked away in one of the drawers in her closet. It brought her some strange kind of comfort.

A box with letters she’d exchange with her father when she was a kid, because even though they moved around together as a family, he still would have assignments all around the world. So he would leave for a single weekend, or for several months at a time. No matter how long or short was he leaving for, he’d always try and send her a postcard, hence the collection of them, both from huge cities in Europe and Asia and tiny places she’s never even heard of before in America or Australia.

Maybe she wasn’t going through this box ritually on some settled schedule, but every once in a while she would look at those tacky pictures of touristy little towns, as well as simple, beautiful pictures of great historical monuments or watercolored landscapes of picturesque countrysides. And they'd make the corners of her lips rise up just a tiny bit.

All that with a couple words reading simple greetings, scribbled in a hurry, in her dad’s small, not exactly neat handwriting, on the back of each and every one of them.

„Love you, Dad” summed up every single message.

And looking at those words made her feel warmth, both now and when she was a little girl. Her father wasn’t very talkative and he rarely told her he loved her unprompted. So she got used to reading these words, instead of hearing them from him.

She cherished these postcards and anytime she’d go through them, she noticed some kind of feeling spread throughout her body, that felt like pure joy, but also love and safety.

Kurt Vonnegut’s "Sirens of Titan".

Morgan lent it to her a few months ago.

The book was by her bed, bookmarked with some crumpled receipt for groceries she’d found at the bottom of her purse, when she'd had to suddenly break away from Rumfoord and Kazak on the jet.

She’s read it before, truth be told, (in Italian and back in the ’80s), but Morgan insisted that she just had to read the original version. And even though there was a stack of books she wanted to read going back at least two years sitting on her bedroom floor, dangerously leaning against the radiator, the day she brought it home, she placed the Sirens on the very top of her bedside table, instead of the stack.

She’d imagine Morgan would appreciate that gesture.

Morgan, her partner.

Morgan, who held her before she passed out.

Morgan, who always had her back.

And she tried to do the same for him in the field.

He’s saved her ass countless times.

Emily wished she could have had his back right now.

She realized with a paralyzing fear that it could last forever.

Doyle could lay low, undetected for years.

Would it keep Morgan up at night?

Would he blame himself, wondering?

If he'd gotten to her seconds earlier, if he had only ran faster, if he’d found her sooner, would it change anything?

Thinking about that made her fists clench suddenly.

If she had any fingernails left, they would surely dig into the skin of her palms very painfully right now.

Emily felt this overwhelming guilt filling her chest, making her throat feel as if it was closing, her teeth grit.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if the jet’s cabin had become decompressed and she couldn't reach the oxygen mask.

"You’re doing okay?"

She heard the soft and calming voice of her only companion on this flight, naturally besides the pilot.

JJ was looking at her with those big, worried, blue eyes and even though Emily’s first instinct was to nod, as she did just that, she felt her eyes watering.

"I can't stand the thought of all of them grieving over a lie."

She mumbled out.

"Emily, you know that this is the only way. We’d never make them go through this, if there were any other options. They will understand."

JJ’s voice became more firm with the last sentence, she was obviously in a mind space reserved for dealing with crisis.

"I really thought that was it, you know?"

Emily asked, a little startled at the sound of her own voice.

She couldn’t recall the last time she’s held an actual conversation with another person, one that wouldn’t consist of barely understandable mumbling as a form of communication on her end.

"There came that point, where the pain went away, I guess I went into shock. I heard Morgan’s voice and I wanted to keep my eyes open like he told me to so bad, but I just couldn’t. I felt like I was slipping away and it felt so… Easy. I wasn’t scared at all. I… I knew you guys would take care of Declan, if I wasn’t around. And that all of you would be okay."

She said, trying to piece together everything that happened.

"And apparently I've coded in the ambulance? I had no idea, but some glimpses are coming back to me, slowly. But it was like I’d fallen asleep."

She added, her face reflecting her mind in a state of deep contemplation.

Her thoughts were interrupted by JJ’s voice.

"Thank God, you didn’t…"

Emily only now noticed that with every word that she spoke, JJ’s eyes became more and more glossy. She frowned.

"Hey, I’m here."

She leaned in and smiled faintly.

"Its gonna take way more than some branding and a little stake for you to get rid of me."

JJ laughed, wiping the tears away, before they had a chance to flow down her cheeks.

"Why would I ever want to get rid of you?"

Blonde asked, her voice now soft, her expression puzzled.

Emily felt something strange in her chest.

At first her brain assumed it had to be her burnt skin and damaged nerve endings, but no.

It felt nice, it wasn’t painful.

That warmth, spilling around her insides.

She didn’t have a witty comeback to her question. She wanted to think it was because of the meds making her hazy, but she wasn’t sure anymore. She just looked down at her chest and frowned again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The first thing I’m doing, when we get to Paris is having this removed."

She heard her own voice.

"How could a brand hurt more than getting staked?"

"Maybe it’s a psychosomatic itch you’re scratching? The brand left an emotional toll, Doyle established dominance over you by marking you as his, a stake… I mean you overcame death. The ultimate victory over your foe. Why suffer a pain you’re proud of?"

JJ wondered, actually trying to analyze all that. She looked at her, now amused.

"Or you could always get another tattoo."

Emily laughed at that. JJ continued.

"You know, something transformative? Like a… A phoenix. Or a blackbird."

"I love the song."

Emily said.

"But something tells me, I shouldn’t tread in your waters."

JJ looked at her with a questioning look.

"Come on, JJ. Something’s obviously different about you. You commandeered an Interpol jet. You’re profiling me."

JJ looked down and sighed. Emily continued.

"Why didn’t you say your transfer was a backstop?"

At that JJ’s expression turned to a confused one, indicating that what the other woman said was the truth.

"Oh, I know that look. The 'I can’t trust anyone, but myself' look. I invented it."

Emily added, trying to make it sound funny, but ultimately, it still came out serious, because it was true. JJ smiled at her slightly, but she looked sad.

"Do you ever feel like you’re in way over your head?" Emily nodded, wanting her to continue.

"I got assigned to an information hunt. Instead, I am chasing an unsub, who killed my informant."

"What would Hotch tell you to do?" Emily asked without hesitation. That’s how she found her way around during any investigation, ever since she joined the BAU.

"Focus on victimology, let behavior lead the way…"

JJ listed out loud.

"Exactly. Who did your unsub kill?"

"The one person I was getting through to."

"Why?"

Emily continued with her questions, seeing that they initiated JJ’s thought process.

"Because I was getting through to…" JJ said, frowning.

"I was getting through to her. What if she was about to expose her killer? Someone on the inside…"

Emily could tell that JJ needed somebody else to look at her situation and see it in from a different angle. JJ got really pensive, her eyes glued to some nonexistent point in space.

"It sounds like it's time for you to be the blackbird and flip the script." Emily said slowly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I guess it does." JJ said with a tiny smile, before getting up.

"Hey, why won’t you try and sleep at least a while? We won’t be landing for several hours, so…"

"Right. You should try and sleep too. I’ve been in a coma, so I caught some Zs, when you think about it. Medically induced ones, but still. You on the other hand must be exhausted."

Emily’s face was covered in grey, purple and yellow spots, but JJ’s face, even though not bruised, still indicated that she had a rough couple of days. She had bags under her eyes, her cheeks pale, instead of slightly flushed like they normally were, her face tired.

They both looked quite miserable.

JJ just smiled in response, but her eyes weren’t a part of that smile. Her eyes stayed sad.

She walked to another seat, so she could try and lie down.

Emily wanted to let JJ rest, because she suspected that by suggesting sleeping, she actually had an excuse to take a nap herself, even if it was supposed to last only few minutes. She deserved a good night sleep, Emily thought to herself, watching the blonde struggling to find a comfortable position. When she eventually succeeded, Prentiss leaned back in her own seat, looking out the window. Her chest was still burning, but she wouldn’t even flinch. Her eyes, almost independently from her will, landed on the other woman every couple of minutes. She watched JJ’s chest move rhythmically, until her breathing became really deep and really steady and she was without a doubt asleep.

She knows what’s happening,

Emily thought to herself.

And so does Hotchner.

Yet, they’re going to have to look at the rest being in pain and they’re going to have to pretend that they’re going through the same thing.

And when she thought about Hotch, it wasn’t that hard to imagine.

He would keep himself perfectly composed in pretty much any situation she ever saw him in.

He was able to calculate his next move without showing as much as a microexpression.

It could be a little unsettling sometimes, but then again when he was surrounded by his family, when he was with Jack, he would expose this softer and loving side of himself. Just a bit. It was quite the view.

Emily had no doubt that he was a good father. And a good man.

He really was great at planning, thinking ahead like no one else;

he had his way of smoothly dealing with issues that inevitably came up during their investigations.

All those things made him an incredible section chief.

Emily was certain that she could trust him with her life. And she did.

It would be hard for anyone to keep such a burdening secret from people you are constantly around.

Eventually, you could start believing the lie, but that also took dedication. It was even harder when you had to lie to people that were actually a part of your life, people that you were close to.

It’s one thing to be undercover and to keep a secret from people you’re trying to infiltrate. During such operations it felt justified to do that, choosing the lesser evil, the end justify the means and all that.

It’s a completely different thing to do that to your friends and family.

"The secret to getting away with lying is believing with all your heart. That goes for lying to yourself even more so than lying to another."

A quote by the author Elizabeth Bear, that she's memorized from reading her New Amsterdam series more than once. She was repeating it in her mind, not being able to stop.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. She knew that they made the right call. Still, it was just devastating, thinking what they voluntarily sentenced themselves to.

She tried to calm herself down with proper breathing. It helped.

Emily finally decided to try to sleep. She thought that since she was still medicated, she’d pass out easily, but that didn’t happen.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw faces of her team members. She felt like her chest was being crushed. Breathing didn't really help.

After what felt like forever of forcing herself to fall asleep without any luck, she opened her eyes and just kept them open. She focused her gaze on what was behind the window.

The clouds, barely visible in the navy skies.

She didn’t do it on purpose, but she realized that she started to dissociate.

And she let herself do it.

The numbness felt better than the stinging guilt.

She didn’t really register it, but tears left her eyes, falling on her lashes and cheeks, as her deep, dark eyes focused on the navy color in front of her, forty thousand feet above the ground.

She couldn’t tell how long it took, but only JJ’s turning in her sleep, simultaneously throwing a bag off the seat made Emily come back to reality. Blonde didn’t wake up. She looked really peaceful.

She thought about not seeing her for God knows how long. It stung, to a point of her gasping. Afraid, that maybe that could’ve woken her up, Emily wiped her tears away, but JJ’s eyes stayed closed. And these intrusive thoughts came back to roam inside her head.

Sure, JJ wouldn’t be with the BAU now, since she’s had that informant operation, but no doubt, she would still see them. They were a huge part of her life after all.

Emily watched her face, calm and soft, imaging it twisted in pain and grief, having to pretend one of their own was dead.

In her mind, JJ was one of the strongest people she knew. She was persistent, hardworking and incredibly professional, but she was also kind, nurturing and very loyal.

What she was doing for her at this very moment proved it perfectly.

She knew that JJ accepted her part in this plan on her own and if she were to start trying to talk her out of it (never mind that it was also too late for that at this point), she wouldn’t change her mind. To be fair, if they switched places, she would do the same for JJ, but still, she couldn’t stop worrying about the woman sleeping on a seat across from her.

Emily watched her friend and it brought her some sort of comfort, a feeling of safety.

She finally dozed off, trying not to think, but focused on JJ’s steady breathing instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Emily, we’ll be landing in about an hour."

She heard, opening her eyes, and she saw JJ standing in front of her, one of her hands on her shoulder.

"I thought you’d like to change before the transfer."

Emily’s hand landed on top of hers, holding both of them on her shoulder.

"Oh, right. Thank you, I…" she looked down at their hands, trying to focus. "We’ll have to say goodbye soon, right?" she blurted out, looking back at her face.

JJ sighed and sat down right next to her, not taking her hand away, but instead, intertwining their fingers and resting both their hands in Emily’s lap.

"Well, it seems so."

She smiled, but her eyes were reddened, filling with tears once again.

Emily’s gaze was glued to their hands, watching JJ’s wrist and fingers, so delicate right now, but perfectly capable of throwing a good punch. Her eyes stopped at the ring on her finger; Henry’s birthstone. She felt that strange feeling again, that warmth spreading throughout her body.

"It’s not going to last forever. We will find Doyle."

JJ mumbled out and Emily held her breath.

"I know, but… I will miss you so much."

Emily said, before instinctually putting her arms around blonde’s waist, to which she responded with wrapping her arms around her neck. JJ tried to be gentle, because of Emily’s condition, but brunette only held her tighter.

They were so close right now, that she could hear the other woman’s heartbeat. It was slightly elevated.

JJ pulled back just a little, so she could look at her face.

"I will miss you as well." she whispered, their eyes laid on each other.

JJ said the next sentence so quietly, that Emily could barely hear it.

"You’re very special to me, you know that?"

Emily wouldn’t be able to logically explain why she did what she did next, but somehow her hands ended up on both sides of JJ’s face and she leaned in, placing her lips on blonde’s ones.

She wasn’t thinking, but as she kissed her, the other woman immediately kissed her back. Emily felt soft palms cupping her face, her eyes closed. That kiss was filled with so much pain and longing and some kind of desperation.

But it made her whole body fill up with that warmth.

Emily wasn’t even sure what that was, so she tried to be gentle. She ended up kissing JJ in a somewhat shy manner, yet the other agent was deepening the kiss with each second, making it more and more passionate. Emily felt her back hitting the wall and a moan left her throat, captured by the kiss. JJ reacted by slowing down, moving her fingers across her face, running them through her hair. Emily was still cupping JJ’s face, her skin felt so soft and warm under her fingers when she brushed them across her cheeks. Their tongues slowly swirling around one another, this time Emily caused JJ to gasp, as she bit her lower lip. She responded with kissing brunette even more eagerly, so Emily brushed her fingers along her neck, resting them on her shoulders. One of her hands was caressing the skin covering JJ’s collarbone. At that she sighed, barely audibly, but Emily caught it. Her fingers moved towards the skin covering her breastbone.

JJ suddenly pulled back and broke the kiss, leaving both of them breathing heavily, blood flowing through their cheeks and lips.

Emily placed her hands back on JJ’s shoulders, she didn’t mean to make her feel uncomfortable.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she broke the silence.

"JJ, I…" she didn’t even know what to say. It wasn’t right. She had a loving husband, a family. She didn’t mean to ruin it for her.

"We don’t have to talk about this." she said quickly and Emily felt strange. She took her hands off of her shoulders and leaned back, so there was space between them.

"I… Dont… Look, if we won’t see each other for…"

She started, but her voice broke, when she realized what expression showed up on JJ’s face.

Regret.

Emily felt so many contradicting things in that moment, that she basically froze. JJ was looking away.

"You went through something traumatic, we all did. It’s only natural to crave human contact then. And it can present itself in many different ways. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine."

"JJ, it means… It means everything for me."

Emily choked out, placing her hand on top of blonde’s. JJ turned her hand, so she could squeeze Emily’s one between her fingers.

She smiled looking at their hands, but only for a fraction of a second. And then she took her hand away, only to look Emily straight in her eyes. She seemed sad, but also… Agitated.

"I can’t give you what you want, Emily." she said quickly, getting up.

"There’s too many reasons why. And… You have to leave."

JJ stated, sort of matter-of-factly.

Emily couldn’t really comprehend what just happened. But all of the pain, both physical and mental suddenly came back, not dimmed anymore.

This was… This wasn’t the time for this. Come on, Emily, it’s time to compartmentalize again. You used to be so good at this!

Well, before joining the team anyway.

"We’re landing in 15. You have to change, definitely cover up these bruises at least a bit." JJ continued talking, her voice morphing back to that task-oriented tone. She was taking clothes and makeup out of the bags, handing the items to her. "Hurry."

Emily felt like she couldn’t move, but she forced herself to get up and do what she needed to. They weren’t looking at each other and even though she wanted to scream, she kept perfectly quiet.

Compartmentalize. It’s not the time. It didn’t mean anything.

They landed and after JJ made sure that the right person was waiting outside to drive Emily to a safehouse, she stood in front of her and hugged her. Emily wasn’t really expecting that right now, since the atmosphere was so tense.

"I will miss you, no matter what." JJ whispered and even though Emily was so stunned from the pain and all around confused, she knew they couldn’t part without a proper goodbye.

"Thank you, for everything. Take care of them." Emily said and she embraced her tightly, one last time. Emily wanted to say that she’ll miss her like crazy, but it felt both like too much and not enough.

She didn’t want to let them turn this into a final goodbye.

"Of course. I will see you soon, okay?" JJ smiled and Emily smiled back. It wasn’t the best forced smile, but she just couldn’t do better in that moment.

"Goodbye, Jennifer." she said sounding way too official, taking a first step out.

"Goodbye, Emily."

Prentiss turned away and quickly made her way to the parked car.

She saw JJ’s face one last time through the tiny window.

The car left the landing strip and disappeared in the night.

„Goodbye, Emily.” she thought to herself, as she caught her own reflection in the side mirror.

„Goodbye, Emily.”

JJ whispered, placing a red rose on the coffin.

[ivarsrideordie]

Now,

Last night I said I needed to say stuff but didn’t want it to come out the wrong way.  Just ask anyone.  I am abrasive, rude, and sarcastically mean BUT most of the time that’s just how I am.  I’m not trying to be an asshole.  I am being me.  I am almost always brutally honest (at least online) to people when giving my opinion or commenting on things that I believe are right.  Or wrong, it doesn’t matter.  People I know IRL and care about I try not to be so brutal with.  Sometimes it doesn’t happen.  

With that said, I’ve seen a lot, and I mean A LOT of stuff lately.  And it kinda makes me upset, but I get it.  I see little pieces of opinions and “rumors” and what not.  I agree with some of them.  Others just need to get tf on and over it. 

Let me just say, I love the Vikings fandom!  I really, really do.  I get that Alex seems to be the favorite of all of the brothers.  I get that we all love when he updates us with small videos of things he is working on or what he has been doing that day.  I miss them just as much as the next person.  But, I also know he wants his private life kept private.  

Crap, I just complained about read more and this is turning out to be a read more post...  *insert*

He has said many times how he was upset to find videos his friends has posted that he didn’t want anyone to see.   I completely understand this.  I don’t even want to see things I’ve taken of myself or what family members has posted of me online.  It’s not the same way that Alex feels about it, but I understand why he wants those things private.  Just think if Alex had a partner.  How would the fans treat them?  I would like to say most people would be decent human beings and be respectful.  We know that the seriously jealous fans won’t do that.  This would be a reason I would totally stay quiet about anything.  He would want to keep them safe and protect them from the world, which in his line of work we know he can’t do that completely.  

I think fan pages are great!  I think they are fantastic and I love reading the articles and interactions between everyone on them.  I love looking at all of the pictures and whatever Alex has posted on those blogs.  My only issue is, if you are on one of his friends pages and know they are private but somehow you managed to become friends with them or just slip by the friends sensors, DON’T POST THE PRIVATE SHIT THAT IS PUT OUT THERE!  

I’m not trying to be that bitch.  Really.  If you have purposely gone onto one of his, or any famous person’s page for that matter, and asked to be friends with friends that have privacy settings, you are a stalker.  If you request friends with that persons family, YOU ARE A FUCKING STALKER!!  And my thing is, if that famous person finds out that you have done this and blocks you, then you kinda deserved it.  

My point is, Alex is a human being, with feelings and thoughts and wants and needs.  At this point in time, I think he needs a break and some peace and quiet.  So all of the pages I have seen complaining that he isn’t giving us content or thinking he doesn’t like his fans or whatever comes to your mind, please don’t dwell on that.  I am pretty positive Alex loves his fans.  If he looks like he is faking a smile in a picture, maybe he’s having a bad day or the person rubbed him wrong or they made him super uncomfortable.  There are tons of times I’ve seen pics of him where he looks super uncomfortable.  Can you imagine all of the inappropriate comments he gets from the overly aggressive fans that want to screw him or some shit?  

The boy has anxiety.  Being a person that suffers from social anxiety, yeah I get that.  He has depression as well.  I COMPLETELY get that.  Some days he is probably just going to the store or something and a fan comes up to him.  I don’t want to smile when I am depressed or do I want to mess with people that I don’t know bothering me.  

I understand that it is his job and to be an actor he needs to have thick skin and let things slide off his back. When these times come up is when I think he puts down the phone, logs out of social media and melds into a video game, book or movies.  If that takes more then a few days, so be it.  

For now, I just want him to be healthy, happy and taking care of himself because he is worth more then I think he even realizes.  

So can we please stop being impatient with Alex about when and how he posts and more understanding about how the man must feel.  Since this pandemic has hit we haven’t seen him in much.  Maybe offers aren’t coming in like he hoped.  Maybe he can only get modeling gigs or festivals or other things in Denmark that we don’t hear about or see here in other countries.  We don’t know what is going on with him until he tells us.  He will tell us on his own time.  

I can deal with that.  Can you?

[crossdressingdeath]

I know you'll probably disagree with me, but i rlly hate the Cloud recessess ending. It's just....

Those elders killed wwx. The Lans were 100% ready to murder both at Qiongqi path but also at the siege. They see him as the guy who corrupted their precious jade. They all preach righteousness, but the whole madam Lan thing is iffy at best and i do not believe that everyone there fully believes the rules. Hell, i have a special bone to pick with the " do not gossip" rule, seeing as gossip had been the main info route for women in patriarchal societies.

I just don't think that after wwx killed Lans in the siege they'd be all that willing to forgive him and take him in w open arms. The juniors and kids love him, yes, but people who saw the war....

Not to mention the whole " do not speak to WWX " rule. I've seen ppl say it's a joke but it's On The Wall. It's supposed to be followed. Even if it was intended as a joke - which i don't believe - it's very cruel for someone w rejection and trust issues.

I also hate it from a very personal perspective. I see Wwx as ND, and, as an ND myself, all those rules terrify me. From the no running and the proper posture ones, i can pretty well imagine they forbid stimming. The Lan curfew would fuck anyone with insomnia and there's smth deeply ucked up abt the " do not grieve in excess". I get that they're supossed to be a paragon of the best things at all time, and that LJY is very UnLan like, but for someone w anxiety who CAN'T follow those rules, it would be a nightmare.

...Some points:

First, the Lan elders did not kill WWX, nor did they attack him unfairly. They weren’t looking at him as the man who corrupted LWJ, either, or at least that wasn’t their primary concern (I will never forgive CQL for suggesting they were or it was); they were looking at him as a traitor to the sects who was raising an army to destroy them. Remember, that is the information the Lans had. Every source they had except for LWJ (who the people he would have gone to would have known was biased and who presumably everyone knew had recently been in close contact with WWX where he could have been manipulated or enchanted in some way), sources which included multiple sect leaders (one of whom was WWX’s brother) and LXC’s dear friend, swore up and down that WWX was a major threat, and let’s face it, WWX didn’t do much to dissuade people from thinking that! Acting like the Lans were maliciously targeting WWX is doing them something of a disservice, I’d say. They acted based on the knowledge they had available; note how the Lans are the first to offer WWX their help once they’re given reason to believe he may not be a villain! And even aside from that, saying they killed WWX (and not JGS and JGY’s manipulation or JC’s army) feels a bit like scapegoating, honestly. Of the four sects, the Lans are quite possibly the least responsible for WWX’s death. If it would hurt him to live with or around anyone who held any responsibility for his death his only option would be to live as a hermit, which would be far worse for him. And yeah, the Lans aren’t perfectly righteous all the time and some morally dubious things have been done by Lan sect members; they’re human, after all! Some of them will only be as moral as their sect leader demands they be! That doesn’t mean the sect as a whole is bad, especially with LXC, LQR and LWJ in charge. Certainly I’d say they’re still better than the other sects, all things considered. One ambiguous situation that may or may not have involved some members of the previous generation doing some fucked up shit doesn’t mean WWX would for sure be mistreated! 

As for gossip... there’s a difference between sharing information and gossiping. There’s no evidence that the Lan women are blocked from... y’know, freely communicating and sharing information between themselves. We have no reason to believe they are reliant on gossip. Also they presumably go out night hunting just like the men? Men and women are kept separate in the Cloud Recesses, but I get the sense that that’s more like... school stuff than anything else. The women aren’t exactly locked up, they can be cultivators! The society is still sexist, but that doesn’t mean they’re kept from going out and doing things. And I need to make this clear: there is a fair chance that the rule against gossip saved LWJ’s life, because it kept word of him defending WWX from the sects from spreading to people who would not be willing to let bygones be bygones. Gossip sucks! It hurts people! A lot of this story (and more to the point the suffering of the characters within the story) happens because of gossip! The Lans banning gossip is pretty clearly supposed to be a good thing, I’d say.

And yeah, maybe after WWX killed a bunch of their sect the Lans wouldn’t accept him with open arms as if nothing ever happened! And that’s fair! I can’t imagine where WWX could go where that wouldn’t be the case, unless he and LWJ chose to abandon the cultivation world forever. But you know what else the Lans won’t do? Try to execute him. Or from what we see in the extras even dwell on the past that much. No, the Lans aren’t going to immediately forgive WWX and bring him into the fold without a moment’s hesitation, but you know what? They accept his marriage to LWJ! They let him supervise the juniors on night hunts! They consider him part of their sect! Honestly, that is all WWX can really ask and far more than he’d get from any other sect. There are consequences for what WWX did, even though he wasn’t the villain or necessarily trying to hurt anyone, and frankly people not being entirely comfortable with his presence is very much reasonable.

The “do not speak to WWX” rule may not be a joke, but it’s also pretty clearly not a serious rule. No one takes it seriously. The juniors (the only people WWX really talks to anyway aside from LXC and LWJ) only pay it the minimum lip service of talking to him off the path. WWX himself sure as hell doesn’t care! He clearly finds it pretty damn funny. And I don’t think a guy who has never liked him once again proving he does not like him (in a way that is clearly temporary given how later LQR invites WWX to the Lan family banquet with... reasonable amounts of grace, thereby implicitly accepting him as LWJ’s husband and therefore his own family by marriage) counts as a rejection or a breach of WWX’s trust? Like, LQR has literally always hated WWX. He isn’t preventing WWX and LWJ from spending time together or shutting WWX out of the Cloud Recesses or even making a concentrated effort to keep people from talking to him; he’s venting his frustrations, but if he really intended to block WWX from taking part in life in the Cloud Recesses he would’ve done a hell of a lot more than just make a rule who no one WWX likes follows anyway. It’s a temper tantrum, that’s all, and clearly that’s what WWX takes it as. I mean, if nothing else you can’t ban people from talking to the sect heir’s spouse indefinitely. That’s just not sustainable.

As for the rules... banning people from running in the Cloud Recesses and demanding proper posture during lessons doesn’t suggest to me that they wouldn’t allow stimming? ‘No running’ at least is a common rule... most places. It’s distracting, and can be dangerous. And the rule about sitting properly doesn’t mean “Don’t move at all ever”; it means... well, “sit properly”. Don’t slouch or sprawl across the floor. I see no reason why that wouldn’t preclude means of stimming that wouldn’t be disruptive (and given this is in a classroom environment “not disruptive” is kind of important). I mean, those rules certainly don’t suggest that they’re any worse than other sects, and given this is the sect that has magic music for calming people’s minds if any sect would give allowances for neurodivergence it would be this one. Also I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a song to put people to sleep, or medication that can help; this is a world with magic, after all, and if there’s a song that can put spirits to rest there are probably songs for human medicine and care. And of course there’s an element of conflicting needs; maybe the rules would screw you over, but frankly firmly enforced rules keeping people from running around or sprawling out of their seats would’ve been a godsend for me in school, given how much trouble I had focusing with people making noise around me. At the end of the day, is it guaranteed that the Lans would make allowances for people with needs that conflict with the Lan rules? No. But I’d argue it’s more likely that they would than any other sect. This is ahistorical fantasy ancient China, too; you can only expect so much in the mental health department. Still, a sect that literally invented magic music for calming the mind actually seems like the best choice for people with anxiety and such. There’s a reason why there are multiple fics that essentially set the Lans up as mental health experts in the setting!

Basically, a lot of your arguments seem to be issues that WWX would have in any sect. Unless he wanted to give up on the support of a sect altogether, they’re all things that he would have to work through or come to terms with. And of course... the most important point is that WWX is happy in the Lan sect. The extras make that clear. He has a home, duties that he enjoys performing, the love of his family and the support of his sect. He’s happy. I just... I do not understand why people keep feeling the need to try to make it angsty when the novel makes it clear that he genuinely enjoys his life in Gusu, and more than that that if he ever decided he didn’t enjoy it he could leave at any time. You have to remember that: if WWX wanted to leave... he would. He and LWJ would just go, and only come back occasionally so that LWJ could visit his home. Hell, LWJ would insist on leaving for WWX’s sake. So like... the Lan sect wouldn’t suit everyone, but WWX is quite content there and doesn’t want to leave. He’s happy and free to come and go as he wishes; there really isn’t anything to be concerned about there.

[paintmelikeoneofyourfrenchpoodle]

((Alright, so this is probably way overdo.

Why the heck Jade gets so weird about sex sometimes:

Alright, so this is going to be a little ridiculously long, but if you want to know? I’m putting it under the cut. Also, TW: there is a brief mention of abuse. Not of her, but its relevant. I’ll also put another warning when that part is about to come up. 

Okay so, I’m going to start of with some context. So for anyone who might not know, this Jade is pretty old. I started rping her as her back in… I think late December of 2015 or early January of 2016? Either way, it was a few months before Homestuck actually ended. At this point obviously we had no idea how it was going to end, or what was going to happen to the characters at that point. Heck, if I remember correctly GIGAPAUSE, or whatever it was called, was still going on.

Anyway, didn’t know they were going basically jump start civilization and jump into the future, that’s for sure. So, not knowing how things were going to turn out for Jadey girl here, I basically made some educated guesses based on what we knew at the time, and mixed in my own ideas and head-canons to create the timeline this Jade now exists in. This included the loss of the meteor lab, building a new civilization from the ground up (and actually sticking around to help build it), and having everyone live in a fairly small, tight knit community. Mind you, some minor things have changed to reflect the retcon John did, but mostly I’ve kept things fairly the same.

So what does this mean for Jade or have anything to do with her sexuality? We’ll get to that, but I’m going to prelude things by saying it isn’t just sex she gets worked up about. It’s relationships and intimacy in general, and there isn’t really one set reason why. There is a gosh darn list.

1) She doesn’t have the best social skills. Growing up on an island with the only human contact being through the internet isn’t exactly the best way to nurture healthy emotional development. To top it all off, she spent those 3 years on the ship basically alone thinking she killed John and Davesprite. She isn’t a complete social ignoramus obviously, but she has her awkward moments and she KNOWS it. Which, can give her some major social anxiety in general. And as far as relationships, even friendships go, she is constantly worried she is going to screw things up. She also just wasn’t used to people in general for a good while. 

Mind you, it’s almost been 10 years since the end of the game now from her perspective so she has improved drastically, but there are still some hangups that she has. For example, she doesn’t handle crowds well considering she was so used to being alone. Can Town is full mostly people she is familiar with and the population is only 1,000ish, so she is mostly in her comfort zone still even during busier occasions. However, notice Jake and her chose to move outside of town when they got the chance? There you go. 

2) She isn’t used to physical touch. Which… is really sad considering how much she actually loves it. Again, this is something that has improved over the years, but she still doesn’t like being messed with by people she doesn’t know.

3) She honestly thinks that in the end she will end up alone. Jade, hasn’t exactly had the best luck with romance. Remember, her timeline is fairly small, and pretty much everyone she might be compatible with already paired up with someone else. To top it off, she had (and still kind of has) a massive crush on her timeline’s Dave, and built up a lot of false hope that something might eventually happen between the two of them thanks to John telling her about Davesprite and Davepeta kissing her that one time. Yeah, that didn’t happen. He ended up getting with Karkat finally when they were around 22, and while she is happy for them and supports them in any way she can, it kind of broke her heart. 

She also hasn’t had the best luck with people she’s been interested in online/from other timelines either. Usually, by the time she realizes she might be interested in someone they end vanishing, dating someone else, or they actually… end up being kinda awful people she shouldn’t have liked in the first place. (*cough*Venom*cough*) Also, she has a habit of dwelling on the whole “space players are destined to be alone” thing from time to time. Over the years she has genuinely started to think that she just isn't cut out for being anyones partner romantic/sexual/otherwise, and that people aren’t ever going to be interested in her for whatever reason. She’s built up this shell around herself, this illusion that she has come to terms with things, so that when that eventuality happens, she’ll maybe not be hurt so badly. So when someone shatters that illusion? She panics and gets flustered, and remember… she is related to these guys:

(Mind you Jake had plenty of reason to act like that, but it was the only one I could find with a quick google search.)

But yeah, I think big reactions kind of runs in her family.

4) She’s inexperienced. Three times as of this point. Yep. Thats it. That’s all she has done. Ever. Don’t get her wrong, she has really enjoyed it and really gets into things once she was able to get over the jitters. Plus, she was the one that asked for it each time. But she doesn’t like not knowing what she is doing, and it wigs her out because she doesn’t want to mess things up. Also fun fact, she’s never been on a non pale date before. Just throwing that in there.

5) The whole being part dog thing. As much as she loves being part canine, she actually can be real self conscious about it at times. Also, she *hates* how people will sometimes look at her as a fetish, and gets worried that if someone is interested in her its because she is a dog girl, and not because of who she is. She does enjoy indulging in her dog side (girl likes being pet), but she wants to make sure someone to see her as herself first and foremost. Being part dog should just be a bonus.

6) She’s a bit of a hopeless romantic. She wants to actually have a connection with people, and honestly is that so wrong? One night stands, flings, or casual whatevers aren’t completely out of the question, but at least give her a chance to be friends with you first geez. 7) She’s scared of being hurt. This is kind of caused by a combination of things up top, but she genuinely is afraid of the idea of being fucked and dumped. She’s got enough emotional issues as is, and does not need that on her conscious as well. Getting intimate with her in any way can take a lot of trust depending on the person. Additionally… 

*Okay, so here is the part I warned about up top.* She has had far too many friends who have been taken advantage of and abused. There have been several people that she has been close to over the years that have been seriously messed up by their partners. Jade’s smart and she knows it, but she also knows she can be really naive about certain things as well. It’s kind of the cherry on top of all her paranoia.

Okay bad part over

So yeah! This is ridiculously long, but there you go. I feel like it is important to note that Jade does really enjoy being with someone intimately and/or sexually given the chance. It just can take some work getting her out of her shell. It’s something she knows she needs to work on, and would like to. However, she hasn’t really ever had many opportunities to.

Also, her behaviors really only apply to herself for the most part. She might get a little embarrassed by other people talking about their own stuff from time to time, but she actually can get a real kick out of it sometimes as well. Has been known to have lengthy conversations with people about their own preferences, sexual interests, habits, ect. She will even tease other people about it! It’s when it gets flipped back on her somehow that she starts getting worked up. Heck, she is normally fine with people getting her flustered because she *knows* a lot of her own behavior is ridiculous, and that when people pick at her it is usually harmless friend banter.  She also usually knows when people are being truly malicious towards her and WILL defend herself. Don’t think she is a pushover just because she looks like she is an easy target. This girl has some bite alongside that bark.

Anyway, there is probably some more I could add to this but again it is stupid long at this point. I hope this isn’t too confusing and explains a few things.

[justlettingitallhangout]

Another day, some more tummy troubles. (Tw body image issue, depression, anxiety, chronic illnesses)

I hate doing everything in my power just so I can go to work only for it all to fail and I end up calling out anyways.

Spent all day yesterday sick in bed, but it was one of my days off so not a huge deal on that front. As if I didn’t wake up super depressed and in pain, lying in bed all day makes it so much worse, but I can’t get up even if I wanted to. Basically just to get to the bathroom and back is all I had in me.

I get so worked up before I have to call in. I have the worst attendance at work for sure. I’m so lucky my fmla case got approved or I’d surely be fired at this point.

The real anxiety comes from knowing how much it screws over my coworkers, and I always deal with nasty looks when I go back in to work.

All of this makes my issues worse (ibs, possibly crohns, possibly celiac) like just makes all the aches and pains flare extra bad.

But I’m trying everything i have at my disposal to help. I took medicine before I went to bed to help with the body aches.

I got up and took a nice warm shower, to help body aches and hopefully calm my churning insides.

Didn’t work.

Standing in front of the mirror trying to assess if I’m okay enough to go in. The pain from just turning my body and bending down a little (two things I do for hours at my job) is disproportionately too much for how little movement it is.

And of course looking at myself in the mirror too long causes other problems to come to the forefront of my mind. I want so badly to like myself. To like myself like I used to before I lost all this weight, before I was this sick. I’ve always been a little at odds with my body, but I had really made some peace with myself before my health took a sharp and irreversible turn.

I’m of such a weight that its not perceived to others as unhealthy (yet, might still be losing weight, I try not to dwell on it and check constantly) in fact I’m down to what is pretty standard societal beauty. Slim, not emaciated. I get well meaning comments about it often but their good intentions sit like a burning rock.

I notice all the differences I don’t like. And you know what, I’ve had days where I’ve managed to be okay. Getting better all the time. But times like this, when I’m really down in it- its terrible. I see the sharp angles of my face, my ribs so clearly visible where they never were before, my collarbones jumping out, how small and delicate my wrists looks.

I feel so fragile physically, and it compounds mentally. I’ve come to understand that some of the feelings it instills that are almost like a panic response at seeing my own body is a form of dysphoria. I have trans friends who I’ve leaned on for support while dealing with this. I’m sure its nothing compared to their own struggles, but they’re been completely supportive and understanding, which has helped a lot.

I’m just complaining and putting thoughts down. I need somewhere to do it. If you read this all and there some issues you think I mentioned but haven’t tagged, please let me know. I don’t want anyone to see this by mistake and have it stir bad feelings.

[on-fic-writing-spree]

Chapter 12: Escape

Word count: 3137 words

Notes: y’all can read this on AO3 now too!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798118/chapters/68081842

——————

“I…” Roman hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. Then, an idea came to mind. “There isn’t much I could say that can make you trust me, because that kind of thing is earned, not given. So, how about you ask me whatever you want, and I’ll answer as honestly as I can. No tricks, no fancy words, no lies. But I will tell you this upfront now, that you do matter to me, and no amount of hurt they could cause will ever change that. You matter to me, Virgil.”

Virgil started to look around as they listened, hoping they could find something to at the very least break through the wall. Then they could get to Roman. If it even was Roman. They still weren’t sure, but even if it wasn’t, maybe they could convince whoever it was that they could be useful? Maybe they wouldn’t hate them as much. And Virgil could be okay with that—they had known Roman wouldn’t have felt the same way in the first place, but that didn’t mean Roman and Pride still had to hate his guts, right? “Already lying,” Virgil answered, giving a dry laugh. “Don’t worry Princey, you were always a great actor, but even I know that isn’t true. And that’s... that’s okay. I don’t have to. You don’t choose if I matter to you,” Virgil answered weakly. They grabbed a stick, trying to see if the bricks were held together by cement or something more easily broken as they pressed into the edges. “I won’t bother asking. Either way I won’t leave you here, okay?” they said finally.

“I’m being serious Virgil, you matter to me in more ways than one,” Roman countered, sighing, “but I appreciate you not leaving me here to rot. Where ever are you? Pride said something about a forest, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was lying to my face.” At least Virgil wasn’t having a break down, that’s a plus already.

“Just shut up Princey, I’ve been through enough bullshit for one day, don’t you think?” Virgil answered bitterly, a bit frustrated that nothing much came of using the stick. They grabbed a small stone, using it to try and break away a weakened edge of the wall. “Some ditzy little garden. I don’t know. Pride made it for me, said it was part of his plan to start over. Guess it was pretty stupid to believe that, right?” Virgil’s voice wavered, and they desperately hoped that Roman would argue with them, saying that it wasn’t stupid, that there was some hope, even if they truthfully knew there wasn’t. They went quiet, chipping away at the stone.

“I don’t blame you for falling for it,” Roman mumbled. “Someone creating a whole magical space just for you? I’m sure anyone would want to stay.” She thought back to the love comment Pride had made, and decided it wasn’t the time to bring that up. “I surely would have, without a doubt. I’m just glad you haven’t fallen under their spell completely,” she said, a note of true sincerity in her comments. “I was worried about you.”

“When have you ever worried about me?” they scoffed, hitting the wall harder now. They couldn’t take forever and they knew that. They had managed to get a small chunk loose, using their fingers to pry it from its spot and wriggle it out. “Roman, truly, if you’ve ever cared about something other than yourself, it sure as hell wasn’t me, and this whole ordeal really proves that.” Virgil didn’t really understand much about Pride, or what was left of Roman, but Virgil wasn’t too worried about figuring that out. It was easier to play bitter than to sit their sulking and being hurt.

“Not nearly enough, to tell the truth,” she replied, the feeling of shame creeping up on her. “And… you’re completely right. I hate saying it but,” she scrunched up her face, “I’m not exactly the shining beacon of kindness I pretend to be. I left you alone for years with the others, I didn’t try to reach out, and there’s a million ways I could say I’m sorry, but I know it wouldn’t make a difference.” Roman took a breath. “But as soon as we’re out of here, I’m going to spend my every moment trying to make it up to you. That I promise.”

“Living with them wasn’t a bad thing, Roman. Don’t talk about it like it was. They’re the only family I have,” Virgil sighed out, chipping a bit more at the wall. They could hear the door towards the front starting to creak open, and Pride calling for them in a sing song voice. He let out a quiet huff. “Shit—I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere,” Virgil said, before mentally face-palming at the word choice, but they didn’t have time to dwell on it now. They hurried off, taking the bunny with them and threw on a smile. They weren’t a great actor, but Roman was currently depending on them, they’d make it work.

“That’s not what I-“ Roman promptly shut her mouth as soon as he heard the other hurry away. There would be time for this later, assuming Virgil wasn’t about to meet her same fate.

Having quickly adjusted to the new title, Pride waltzed into the garden picnic basket in hand, a sharp eye on the look out for Virgil. As soon as he spotted it, his grin widened. Poor ignorant Virgil, how easy the foolish fell. “I hope I didn’t take too long darling, how are you enjoying things here? I see you’ve become rather attached to one of my creations,” he said sweetly, glancing at the rabbit.

“No, not you weren’t too long! I’ve been playing with Fluffles since you left!” Virgil giggled. Even to force a laugh felt like acid bubbling in their throat. “I hope nothing you had to do was too stressful, or at least that you’re able to be done with it now,” they chirped politely. “Was there any specific spot you had in mind for the picnic?”

“All taken care of, for now at least,” Pride replied, scratching the bunny behind the ears. God, it sucked being nice to it. “And I have a special spot in mind, if you’ll humor me,” they grinned, offering a hand. Here was too close to Roman’s cell for comfort, and Pride wasn’t about to risk those two chatting it up. “I think you’ll find it particularly mesmerizing,” they chirped.

Virgil couldn’t help the fluttering in their chest when Pride reached out his hand, taking it and intertwining their fingers together: Maybe Roman was lying—maybe Pride was trying to protect them from Roman. Who really knew? Virgil wasn’t sure of much anymore. The mere uncertainty terrified Virgil. They didn’t know who to trust, but there wasn’t a reason why they couldn’t enjoy this for now, right?

Pride had carefully led Virgil away to a more secluded part of the garden. “Be careful now, I don’t want you getting lost in here,” they said lightly, and moved a wall of vines away. Behind them was an ornate fountain that spilled over into smaller pools, encircling a clearing of stone, enough space for two with a little room to share. Within the smaller pool koi were swimming about, occasionally hopping out for a moment as if saying hello. They led Virgil to the center and set out a blanket before gently pulling the other down to sit. “So? What do you think?” Pride asked eagerly.

Virgil followed quietly, allowing themself to be lead. They smiled some when noticing the pond, setting down their new found furry friend in favor of looking at the pond, where they could see a wavy reflection of themself in the sparkling water. They giggled softly as one of the fish jumped out of the water, getting a few droplets of water on them. “It’s perfect... like everything else here,” they murmured, looking back to Pride.

“I’m glad you think so,” Pride smiled, opening the basket and offering Virgil a sandwich. “I know you ate earlier, but you weren’t exactly on the shortest of trips, and it’s important to keep your energy up,” he said kindly, eyeing Virgil over. “And this won’t be the last of my surprises, I can tell you that. I have plenty more planned for you, cherub.”

Virgil smiled fondly at the concern, taking the sandwich and moving to sit next to Pride. “Thanks,” they murmured. They ignored the thought that the food could be poisoned, instead taking a bite, as if to say ‘screw you’ to its own mind.

Luckily it was not, because Pride had some common sense, even if Virgil’s anxiety wanted to disregard it. He knew eventually people would ask around regarding Virgil, and it was a safer play to keep it alive rather than dead. Pride himself did not eat, but instead made light small talk about the other adjust to things here, and generally tried to keep up an air of friendly flirting, to keep it distracted.

Doing its absolute best not to pay attention to much of it, they occasionally nodded their head. It was an odd mix, to feel the twist of a knife every time the other flirted, meanwhile feeling its heart flutter all the same. Given any other circumstances, they would’ve broken down and started crying right there, but they had to get Roman out of there. Honestly they weren’t even sure if they were going to bother to save themself. Maybe they deserved this. Pride had to have a reason to hate them, right?

Pride squinted ever so slightly at the other after a while. Something was off, but they couldn’t quite place it. “Angel, are you feeling alright? You look like something’s worrying you, I can see it in your eyes,” he said, cupping the side of Virgil’s face. “If there’s anything I could do to help, please tell me. I hate seeing you like this.” Pride hoped that the charm wouldn't be wearing off so quickly, but he had prepared to take a few more ‘drastic’ measures if they were necessary.

Virgil couldn’t help but flinch at the touch, and god, words could not describe how badly it wanted to just cry. “It’s—it’s nothing. I’ve just been overthinking a little and well... I still don’t get why you’re being so nice. You always seemed to hate me,” Virgil mumbled their quick excuse. “I love all of this, I really do, I just... don’t understand it.” They looked down shortly before looking back at Pride. “But I guess I don’t really need to understand it to enjoy it, right?” Their eyes flickered across Pride’s face, mostly just looking to know that what they said was okay, that they hadn’t terribly messed this up. The moment hung heavy in the air, and Virgil knew they had cut off their own breathing, unable to actually get another breath in while they waited for a response, a signal, any sort of sign that told them they hadn’t screwed this up again.

So it was still broken... Pride felt a bit of relief: it was only stressed, and of course it was. It was only natural. He smiled kindly, “Oh Virgil, I could never hate you. In truth, I’ve made some mistakes in my time… one of them was pushing you away when I should have been there for you. I’m sorry, and I know that isn’t enough, but I want you to be comfortable here, and around me. It must be hard to trust me, and I’m not rushing you in any way, but I hope you can see that I mean you no harm, some day.” Pride lowered their hand to grasp one of Virgil’s, and pressed a light kiss to its knuckles. “You have nothing to fear here.”

Virgil felt their heart jump a little at the kiss, and honestly, they knew they had to pull this off. After a frantic moment of worry, they pulled at Pride’s shirt, pulling him close into a kiss. It only lasted a few fluttering moments, and Virgil themself didn’t know how to feel about it, but they’d have to worry about that later. They threw on a sheepish look, slowly loosening their grip on the other’s shirt and clearing their throat. “I... uh... sorry,” they mumbled.

Pride was taken aback, and momentarily startled, but once Virgil had pulled away, they chuckled. “What did I say about having nothing to fear here, hm? If you wanted a kiss you only had to ask,” they replied cooly, pressing a kiss to its forehead. Pride found it almost adorable how infatuated Virgil was with them, it was certainly useful. “You have nothing to apologize for, love,” they murmured.

Even if Virgil knew there was no truth behind it, they couldn’t help practically melting at the nickname and kiss to the forehead. Roman could be lying, they continued to try and convince himself. They could be happy here, with Pride. Happy and blissful and ignoring the rest of the world. But even then, did they ever deserve it? Virgil pushed the thought down, looking down in his lap where they nervously fidgeted, trying to steady their breathing.

Pride smirked with glee at how easy this was turning out to be. They leaned forward slightly, just enough to be in the other’s space without invading too much. They moved a hand to gently tilt Virgil’s chin up, staring at it with a curious shade of tea rose flashing in Pride’s eyes. “What’s wrong, love? You’re still worrying about something. You can’t hide things from me darling, it’s best if we just talk things out,” they said, a touch of darkness to their words.

“It just feels like a dream, I’m just still scared that I might wake up,” they breathed out. “Can I... can I kiss you again? I just wanna be sure it’s real—“ Virgil would’ve continued his nervous rambling if it wasn’t for a knock at the door.

“Sir, it seems as though you have a few visitors. I’ve invited them in, but they’d like to talk to you. Janus and Remus I believe they said their names were?” Logan called, not opening the door. He knew better than to invade the prince’s privacy that way.

Virgil had to hold in a sigh of relief when they heard Logan. At least they wouldn’t have to keep up the act much longer. If it even was an act. Virgil wasn’t entirely sure, and that in itself was concerning.

Pride turned their head towards the door and frowned slightly, but shook it off quickly. “I should go take care of that. I won’t be long, love,” Pride said, moving away from Virgil, but stopping for a moment, kneeling in front of the other. “And, as for if this is reality or not-“ they pressed a quick kiss to the other’s lips, “I would like to think it is,” they said lightly, standing up and walking towards the door. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” Pride teased, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Roman was still waiting with bated breath for Virgil to return. Pride had moved the two far enough away that their conversation was nothing more than a whisper to her ears, and it made Roman worried.

Virgil let on a fluttering smile when Pride pulled back. “I won’t,” they promised, counting quietly the steps that echoed in the hall until they heard no more. They stumbled to their feet in a hurry, running back to the wall, searching to try and find where they had started breaking it in. “I don’t know how long we have, so we’re gonna have to be quick,” Virgil remarked, grabbing the rock and going back to chipping away the block. It was a good thing Roman hadn’t fixed up this area in a while because it weakened at least somewhat. When Virgil pushed through a rather large chunk, hissing as they scratched their fingers, they pulled their hand back and tried to kick in the stone with their foot. Virgil had a lot of feelings to figure out, but now wasn’t the time or place, and given that they still didn’t know if they could trust Roman, they wouldn’t be telling her much.

As soon as a hole was made within the wall, Roman could sense the magic that Pride had cast over the garden. It reeked of negative energy, nothing at all like the things she would conjure. But it was still magic, and Roman could work with that. She focused while Virgil was trying to fully break through, on summoning something, anything that could help them. Eyes screwed up in effort, after a long minute of concentration, a simple lock pick clattered to the ground. “Damn, am I glad to hear your voice again,” Roman said softly, genuinely happy that Virgil had returned.

“Sure you are,” Virgil uttered bitterly. They had the sense to know that Roman was only ‘glad’ because Virgil was saving her. “Let’s just focus on getting you out of here,” they added, with a soft sigh. The blocks towards the sides were still perfectly in place, but the ones above it weren’t as sturdy. They walked around for a minute, finder a larger stone and just chucking it at the wall, watching as both the wall and the rock crackled little bits. Virgil picked back up their smaller stone stone, chipping away another few chunks before weaseling their way through the wall, glad for their tiny body frame. “Now what’s the plan? How are we getting you out of here?”

“I was being serious, and I hope you can pick locks because right now this was the only thing I could make,” Roman confessed, nudging the lock pick by his foot. “I know somewhere we’ll both be safe for a while, Pride won’t be able to find us unless we want to be found.” All of this talking was really wearing Roman down even further, but she couldn’t show Virgil that, they needed to be supported right now.

Virgil took the lock pick, actually getting the chains undone rather easily. “Janus taught me,” they mumbled, then headed for the door, hooking their arm around the bars and undoing that lock too. It was a bit more of a struggle, but they got it shortly after, pushing the door open. “Go. He’ll know if I left first. You can get further away. I won’t be much help if I get you caught. I can sneak out later—I’ll be fine.” They didn’t believe that in the slightest, but they gave Roman a reassuring smile anyway, heading back to the hole in the wall they’d created.

——————

Tag list:

@genderfluidmoma

@sinuous-scakt

@youremotionallystablefriend

@alinatheanimelover

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 61

Warnings: violence, forced drug use

Translations:

Cchod do:  Give up

Kabhee Naheen:  Never

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @ocfairygodmother​

Ten thirty at night and the heat is unbearable. The humidity hangs heavily; thick and suffocating, a visible haze floating inches above the ground and casting an eerie, ominous glows around the streetlights.   Sweat already glistens on his brow and the nape of his neck and gathers along his hairline, sitting briefly at his temples before trickling down the sides of his face. Even in the short time it took him to walk the two blocks from his drop off point, his clothes are already damp; shirt clinging between his shoulders and to the small of his back.  His knee and his shoulder are already throbbing when he reaches his destination: an alley behind a derelict and boarded up building. An old factory that had gone out of business in the early sixties and then turned into a residence dedicated to overseas students. Years of neglect and an absentee landlord had been its demise; now sticking out like a sore thumb among the trendy cafes, bars, and restaurants and high end fashion boutiques.  While it is no longer of use to the general public, it provides Tyler with exactly what he needs; an excellent vantage point of his four targets and the opportunity for clear and precise shots. And while the heat is nauseating and incessant, the weather is actually an asset; the air perfectly still, no chance of the breeze fucking up a kill by catching a bullet. It’s not uncommon; the elements working against you. Wind is especially troublesome, and he’d take the driving rain and even blinding snow over it any day of the week.

He uses the fire escape to get to the fifth floor; gaining access to the building through a shattered window. Removing the rucksack from his shoulder, he tosses  it inside before gingerly swinging leg over the edge and then the other. He pulls the  hood of  the sweater he wears under his tactical vest over his head; protecting himself from the remaining shards of jagged and dangerously sharp glass. It’s half an hour before ‘go time’ and he slowly and carefully navigates his way through the abandoned building. Floors bowing and loudly creaking under his feet; having to step over gaps left by missing wooden boards. A musty smell hangs in the air; accompanied by the distinct odor of rotting garbage and fecal matter, likely both animal AND human. So powerful that it not only makes him gag and forces him to bring part of his hoodie up over his mouth and nose, but immediately brings back memories of Dhaka. Of having to take refuge in the ‘worst sewer on the planet’; wading through shin high water filled with trash and attempting to avoid the rats that had long ago made the place home. Of the call to Nik and his insistence that she call Gaspar for help.

It’s almost seven years ago but it’s as vivid and real as it was just yesterday. The sounds, the smell, those brief feelings of defeat and hopelessness. And Nik’s voice. There’d been something in it; the way she’d argued with him and tried to convince him that calling Gaspar was a terrible idea. He hadn’t paid attention to it at the time. Anxious to get the fuck out of that sewer and to somewhere quiet and safe; where he could sit back for a couple of days and figure out a way to get the fuck out of Dhaka in once piece. It wasn’t just his life hanging in the balance, and even then he’d been more than willing to sacrifice his own for theirs. As long as the kid and the girl got out safe, that’s all that had mattered. Maybe he HAD been looking for absolution; a chance to do one thing right that would make up for all the bad decisions he’d made, all the wrong he’d committed through his thirty-five years.

“For fuck sake, get it together,” Tyler mutters aloud, then pushes all thoughts and memories of Dhaka out of his mind.

Now is NOT the time to dig up old ghosts. Not the place to be allowing the demons out to play; the worst possible moment to be dwelling on the past and second guessing decisions he’d made nearly seven years ago. And he hitches the bag further up onto his shoulder and rounds the bank of three elevators -iron gates as opposed to actual doors, now rotting and stuck in place- and heads for the south side of the fifth floor. Counting the steps in his head; remembering exactly how many paces it had been between where  he’d entered through and the beginning of the hall.

The room is empty; paint peeling off the bare walls and not a single stitch of furniture left behind. But it’s exactly where he wants it; a perfect view of the entrance of a busy restaurant/bar  belonging to number five on the list. A well known hang out for those in Mahajan’s circle; a place recognized for its live entertainment and world renowned chef and its abundance of top shelf liquor. He can hear the music and the crowd gathered inside from where his; pounding bass and muffled conversations and laughter. Too loud for  anyone on the street to hear as he proceeds to break out glass in the window; long screwed shit, the bolts rusted permanently in place. And he unzips and shrugs out of the hoodie without removing the vest, hastily folding it and then using it to line the window ledge; protecting his forearms from minute shards of class and protruding nails and shedding paints.

There’s a lone bouncer across the street; too busy flirting with a gaggle of pretty girls that want free entrance to notice what’s going on less than a hundred feet away. But once the first shot is taken, all attention will be diverted Tyler’s way, and it’s better not to give anyone a larger target to engage with. Staying low is the safest and best bet, and the rifle he’d chosen gives little to no flash back and will enable him to stay relatively hidden.  And he kneels alongside of the window, out of sight as he pulls the separate pieces out of the rucksack; effortlessly and efficiently snapping them into place and then slipping a magazine into the well. He’s brought extra. Years of having jobs go to complete and utter shit long ago convincing him that it’s better to be over prepared than under; extra clips stored in the pockets on the front of his vest, both for the rifle and the Glock that sits in the holster on his right hip.

From one of the rear compartments he pulls out a bottle of anti anxiety meds; dumping six into his palm and then swallowing them dry. His hands aren’t as steady as he’d like them to bed; the two whiskys and three shots of tequila he’d taken before leaving have done little to settle his raw and jagged nerves. A sleepless night -and afternoon when he’d tried to get some rest- leaving him irritable and on edge. It’s all starting to catch up to him; the difficulty being away from his family, the seriousness of the threats made against them, the reality of his own vulnerability and the very real possibility he won’t walk away from Mumbai.  It’s a lot to shoulder, and mixed with already existing mental health issues, constant physical pain, and the daily occurrence of horrific nightmares, it’s all becoming too much to handle. A year ago...two years ago...none of this would have been his issues. His confidence in his skills and abilities enough to get him through any job. And while it’s still there lingering under the surface, it’s threatening to be overshadowed by all the turmoil and suffering.

“You in?” Yaz’ voice pipes up through the receiver in his ears, and he taps a finger against the disk attached to the front of his vest.

“Yeah. I’m in..”

“Guy on the inside says things look like they’re starting to move already. Might want to be ready to go early. Just in case.”

“I’m already about two steps ahead of you.”

“Remember, don’t shoot the guy in the Florida State ball cap. He’s one of ours.”

“He gets in my way,  I’m taking the shot. I don’t care who he belongs to.”

“What’s the lighting situation like?”

Tyler grimaces as he pushes himself up onto one knee, then peers out the window. “Streetlights are good. I’ve got a scope just in case, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“You see Nathan? He’s in one of the apartments above the club.”

“I don’t see shit, Yaz. As long as he’s there, I don’t give a fuck. Just tell him to watch my back.”  

No sooner do the words leave his mouth, he catches glimpse of the beam from a flashlight in the building across the street. Once. Twice. Nathan letting him know his exact location. That had been the compromise he’d agreed to; a backup without having someone breathing down his neck.

He finds a discarded sheet of cardboard in the corner and folds it into fours. It’s still rough and ridged, but has more give then the old wooden floors and will give him something for his bad knee to rest on. Even the protective gear already strapped around his leg does little to relieve even the slightest amount of pressure put on it, and he knows that’s a sign that things have gone far beyond a simple fix. Whether it be complications from the replacement finally catching up to him or another injury all together,  he knows there’s time in the OR in his near future.  

“Things are starting to move,” Yaz says. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.”  Tyler picks a spot near the right side of the window; the slight diagonal angle gives him a better view of the front entrance and guaranteeing a kill shot to the side of the head as opposed to the front. He’s seen people dropped by those kinds of hits, only to survive and need a second bullet to finish the job. It needs to be quick and efficient; four victims, four bullets. There’s no time to waste, and if Mahajan’s people ARE that good, within thirty seconds of his first kill they’ll figure out his position. And it will seem like a ten mile hike back to where he’d come in if he has guys on his ass, gunning for him.

Outside the street lights flicker. Once. Twice. Followed by a brief pause before the flashing becomes more persistent.

“Rake, are you seeing this shit?”  Nathan inquires through the earpiece.

“I’m seeing it.”  

“Some kind of power surge? Wonder if it’s going to go off the grid.”

The flickering continues, and he pushes himself up onto one knee and looks out the windows. First to the left, then to the right. “Only two lights doing it are the one right in front of us. What’s going on, Yaz? You guys fucking with the lights?”

“Nothing on our end. Probably just malfunctioning. As long as you can still see, we’re good to go.”

Tyler uses a forearm to wipe sweat from his forehead, then briefly lays the rifle across his thigh and runs his clammy palms against his cargo pants.

“Hotter than Satan’s nut sack out here.” Nathan remarks, and he can’t help but chuckle in response. A sound that echoes in the empty room and then is quickly replaced by a string of profanities when the streetlights flicker three more times before going out completely.

“Fuck me,” Tyler growls. “What the fuck, Yaz? We have no light now. What the hell is going on? What are you guys doing? One of you dumb asses flick the wrong switch?”

“It isn’t us. We’re going to get into the system and see what’s up. Hang tight.”

Sighing, Tyler sets the rifle down beside him and reaches for the rucksack; fingers brushing against the fabric when he hears the creak of a loose floorboard behind him and sees the faint shadow cast upon the walls. His chest tightens; blood running cold despite the stifling temperature of the room.  It all happens so fast; hand reaching for the gun on his hip, only to have a solid punch land in the middle of his shoulder blade. It sends intense, crippling pain rocketing down to his fingers; muscles immediately contracting and tightening and locking up, rendering his right arm useless.  A hand wraps around his throat, fingers digging into flesh and muscle; grip shockingly strong and threatening to cut off his airway.  He drops to the floor, pressing his heels into the battered and weathered wood. Using the strength and the power of his legs to push both himself and his assailant backwards; soles of his boot desperately looking for whatever friction it can. And he drops his chin towards his chest; sinking his teeth into the hand that’s around his throat, biting down into the space between the thumb and forefinger.

His attacker screams in pain and the grip loosens, allowing Tyler to finally draw air into his air starved lungs. Still gasping for breath and his legs still pushing his body backwards, until his movement is stilled by the wall and he’s able to use it to his advantage; pushing through his heels in order to get himself up onto his feet and then directing his left elbow into the large -yet not as strong or agile- man’s ribs. Hearing the cry of pain and the distinct cracking of bone. He attempts to turn; reaching for the gun on his right hip with his left hand, only to have a boot slam into the back of his right knee. It causes the leg to collapse underneath him, and the surge of pain both temporarily blinds him AND takes his breath away. And he’s suddenly aware of the the press of his stomach  against the floor; trying to push himself towards the discarded rifle, only to have his movements made futile when his assailant’s heavy body comes down on top of his and a knee is pressed into each of his biceps in an effort to keep him still. The man above mumbling threats and profanities in Hindi when he refuses to give up. Attempting to use his left knee and arm to drag himself across the floor; the entire right side of his body numb and useless.

Through the ear piece he can hear Yaz attempting to reach him, and outside there’s the distinct sound of four separate gunshots as Nathan handles the situation out on the street. Tyler’s fight instinct refuses to let up; there’s too much to lose, five little kids that need him, a family that loves him, a long and happy future with the love of his life. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.

This ISN’T how it will end.

He’s able to push himself up onto his left knee in attempts to small the back of his skull against his attacker’s throat, only to have a hand grab a fistfulof his hair anad forecefully yank his head back. The other man wears a simple black ski mask, but his eyes are visible in the moonlight; dark and full of rage and determination. And enjoyment.

“Chhod do!” The assailant snarls. “Chhod do!”

Give up.

“Fuck you,” Tyler snarls.

The chuckle brought on by his defiance is just as evil as the eyes staring down at him. And the knees press deeper and harder into his biceps; quickly cutting off the circulation in his arms, and he tries once again to slam his head back in hopes of connecting with something...anything. Only to have the fist tighten its grip on his hair.

“Chhod do!”

He shakes his head and uses both knees to slide  himself forward; flat on his stomach, arms rendered useless, toes of  his boots pressing into the floor to give him a better push off.  The body above is heavier, but the reflexes not as quick and the instincts not as sharp. And he’s able to move himself far enough that his fingers skim the barrel of the rifle.  

A punch to the side of the throat has him both choking for air and collapsing onto the floor. Hand still reaching for the weapon despite the knee pressed into his arm. There’s no other option. If he keeps fighting, there’s a chance he’ll walk out of the room. If he gives up, no one will ever find his body. If there’s even any piece of it TO find.

The hand abandons his hair and wraps around his throat once more; two fingers pressing and digging into the side of his neck. Intentionally targeting the thick, still raised scar left behind from Dhaka. The agony that shoots through his body is intense, and he’s unable to stop himself from letting out a strangled, choked cry of pain; his entire body locking up and his toes curling within his boots. And the fingers press even deeper into that surgically repaired vein; the one that had been all but shredded and decimated by Farhad’s bullet. And he’s unsure if that spot being targeted or the other fingers firmly wrapped around his throat is what causes his vision to blur and the room starts to spin.

“Cchod do!”

“No,” Tyler manages. “Never. Fuck you. Kabhee naheen.”

He tries to himself up onto both knees but fails; the assailant’s still attempting to  keep his arms pinned down, and  he struggles to draw breath into his lungs; throat slowly collapsing and his brain swimming. Out of the corner of his eye he sees it; the tip of a hypodermic needle glistening in the moonlight.  And the brief glimmer of fear, the realization that this could very well be the end, give his body one last burst of energy. Forcing himself up onto his knees and managing to bring his head forward and then slam it backwards; successfully shattering his attacker’s nose and knocking out his front teeth. It does little to stop the man from his quest; a forearm wrapping around Tyler’s neck.  And he feels the initial pinch of the needle being pushed  into his skin; a pained groan and a litany of profanities tumbling from his lips when it's brutally jammed into his neck. Eyes briefly squeezing shut and his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he feels the cold, almost painful burning of the unknown liquid entering his blood stream.

“Motherfucker!” Tyler  roars, and sinks his teeth into the forearm wrapped around his throat; deep enough to break the skin. His attacker’s scream echoing through the room; the bitter taste of blood on his lips and tongue. It’s enough to get free, and he flips onto his back and reaches across his body with his hand to yank the gun from its holster; flicking off the safety and then pressing the barrel to the underside of the other man’s chin. Pulling the trigger just as two hands reach for his throat.

****

When he finally comes to, it’s with a violent gasp of breath and his eyes snapping open. The room is spinning; lights from the street and the shadows of passing cars dancing on smooth walls. The space is empty and bare yet colors and objects swirl around him; his brain attempting to make sense of what he’s seeing, what he’s hearing, where he is. There’s a metallic taste coating his tongue and a burning in the roof of his mouth and in the back of his throat and he feels numb; a cool, tingling sensation that he feels from the roots of his hair to the very tips of his toes. He can hear voices...sounds...muffled and garbled as if he’s listening to them underwater. Honking horns and police sirens and people yelling out on the street. Someone saying his name through the piece of silicone in his ear.  Confused and muddled mind desperately trying to make sense of what is being said; something about the cops swarming and Nathan taking off and being AWOL and someone coming to help and to just hang in there. Don’t move.

So many questions. Where the hell is he? Why is he here? Why are there cops around? Who the fuck is Nathan?

Tyler knows he should have the answers. That he DOES have them. That if his head would just stop swimming and the room would stop spinning, and the lights on the walls would stop flickering and flashing, he would be able to make sense of what’s going on around him.  He opens his mouth to speak; snapping his jaw shut when he realizes he can’t. That it feels as if his throat, lips, and tongue are frozen. That while his brain is able to come up with SOME words, they disappear before they actually reach his mouth.

It isn’t until he attempts to sit up that panic sets in; his body feeling as if it’s glued to the floor; head and limbs impossibly heavy and refusing to budge from their resting place. His heart thunders in his chest and the blood rushes through his ears; lungs and throat both tightening and aching. And he tries desperately to get his arms and his legs to move; groaning and growling in frustration, tears of both fear and confusing trickling down his face.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Forcing himself to inhale deeply and exhale slowly. Waiting several minutes until his breathing has slowed and calmed before trying again, Jamming his shoulder into the sternum of the body that lays on top of him; not knowing who it is or how the hell they got there and  wondering if they’re alive or dead. After he shoves them over onto the floor, he manages to roll over onto his side. Feeling groggy and dizzy as he pushes himself up onto his elbow; eyes rapidly blinking in a vain attempt to bring the room into focus. Everything is blurry; colour muted.  Sounds are becoming clearer and his body is beginning to regain small, slow movements, but his brain still struggles to piece everything together. He’s vaguely aware of a stabbing pain in the side of his neck, and with a shaky hand and fingers, he reaches up and yanks at the offending object. Eyes widening when his mind processes just WHAT he’d been stabbed with.

“What the fuck?” His words are slurred. Speech slow and measured. And he tosses the needle aside and attempts to push himself up into sit; nearly collapsing backwards.   Instead he props himself up onto his elbow once again and uses it and both feet to push and drag himself across the dirty floor. Until his back is pressed against the wall and he’s able to reach up and grab a hold of the window sill.

Tyler struggles to his feet; heaving to lean against the window ledge in order to catch his breath. Even that small bit of movement makes him feel tired. All he wants to do is sleep; lie down and curl up in a ball and stay there for days. But he has to move. Somehow...despite the dense fog cluttering his brain and his confusion regarding just where he is and what the hell happened...knowing that he can’t stay there.

He initially stumbles when he tries to simply put one foot in front of the other, then presses his back against the wall and uses it as a guide as he makes his way towards the door. Vision blurry and his heath both pounding AND spinning as he gingerly makes his way around the room. Each step taking him closer to the exit and his freedom.

The hallway is harder to navigate with no light coming in from the outside, and he tries to force his hazy eyes to focus in the dark. Legs seeming as if they’re made of concrete when he tries to pick his feet up to step over the gaps left by missing boards. There HAS to be stairs. Didn’t he come up a flight of stairs? Or was that outside? He can remember the sound of metal under the soles of his boots and the slight sway and shudder of the narrow stairs under his broad, heavy frame.

Where  am I? Why the fuck am I even here?

And where the hell is the exit?”

Tyler pauses. Suddenly aware that he’s back at the exact same spot he started at. Did he ever even move? He’d thought he was walking. Fairly certain that he’d actually been taking steps and not imagining them.

Confusion and panic set in once again. This time partnered with anger. And he manages to shout a string of profanities into the darkened building and puts a fist through of the decaying walls.

“Alright...easy...easy…”

He recognizes the voice that comes from behind him, and the hand that’s placed on his shoulder is both firm and comforting. And it’s not until he turns around to face them that he realizes he’s in the midst of a panic attack. That he’s making choked, gulping sounds as he lungs try to draw in air and that there’s tears streaming down his face; his entire body drawn incredibly tight and close to seizing.

“You’re alright, mate,” Koen says. “You’re okay. Breathe. Just breathe, son.”

Anil is there as well, a flashlight in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. And Tyler doesn’t protest when the latter is pressed against his lips and the ice cold liquid is poured into his mouth and down his throat; some trickling down his chin and landing on the front of his blood and sweat soaked vest.

Whose blood is it? His? The person who’d been lying on top of him? He begins frantically patting himself down, looking for any sign of injury.

“Can you hear me?” Koen grabs him by the face. “Tyler! Can you hear me?!”

Still no words will come. He nods instead.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Another nod.

“What happened?”

He shrugs.

“He’s pretty fucked up,” Koen says to Anil, who returns from a brief inspection of the room; rucksack over his shoulder, needle in his hand. “Like he’s in shock or something.”

“Did they give you this?” Anil inquires, holding aloft the needle. “That guy in there…” he jerks his head towards the room. “...did he give you this?”

Tyler nods, then places a shaky hand against his neck.

“He’s not in shock,” Anil says. “He’s doped up, Whatever they gave him? Whatever this is?” He nods down at the needle, then slips it into his pocket.  “That’s what did this.”

“What do you think it is?” Koen asks.

“Could be anything. Could be something illegal like heroin or meth. Could be something like propofol or ketamine. I have people who can check it out. There’s someone dead in there. He attacked you?” Anil addresses Tyler. “Hey!” He aggressively smacks the back of his hand against Tyler’s cheek. “The man in there. He attacked you?”

Tyler shrugs.

“He doesn’t remember shit,” Koen grumbles. “Now what?”

“We get him out of here. Before the cops search here too. Can you walk on your own? Do you need us to help?”

Tyler’s eyes briefly close.  He sways uneasily on his feet. Then turns and vomits on the floor.

“I think he needs our help,” Koen says,

****

Two hours later he finds himself fairly lucid; standing in the shower with near scalding water pounding down on his naked body.  The agony  is relentless; starting at the roots of her hair and settling in the tips of his toes.  Injuries already obvious; lines of deep  bruises beginning to form on every possible inch of his throat, upper arms and along the small of his back,  the pain in his shoulder only subsiding when his arm is motionless and laid across his chest, bloody, open wounds where hair had been yanked from his scalp. In the  coming days everything will be more prominent; horrendous shades of purple and black, various swellings that will be painful under even the softest of touch.  But for now he enjoys the relief the hot water provides his body with; eyes closed and chin tucked into his chest, palms flat against the tiles in order to keep himself on his feet. Some of the dizziness remains, but the events of the evening are slowly becoming clearer. He’s finally able to remember not only where he was and why he’d been there, but how he’d ended up in the fight of his life; passing out and regaining consciousness with a dead body lying on top of him.

Whatever had been in the needle had hit him hard and fast; far stronger than any pain med or recreational drug that he’d ever tried. Anil would find out what it was; friends in high places able to do tests on the syringe to tell them exactly what he’d been injected with and how to deal with the side effects caused by whatever remained in his system. The immediate plan is to rest and hydrate; get as much liquid into him as possible to flush his system and clean out whatever toxin is still lingering.

His eyes snap open at the sound of the shower curtain rustling, and he smirks at the sigh of Koen’s hand appearing at the edge of the plastic. A bottle of Gatorade in his possession.

“You alive in there, mate?”

“I’m alive,” Tyler confirms.  

“Drink up,” Koen orders. “Gotta try and clean that shit out of you.”

He takes the drink that’s offered, downing the entire bottle in record time.

“You need anything?” Koen asks.

“I’m good.”

“You feeling dizzy? Like you’re gonna pass out? Can you hear me okay?”

“I’m answering, aren’t I? And no; I’m not going to pass out.  I feel alright. Hungry though for some reason.”

‘Cause you just spent the last hour throwing up. Got nothing left in the tank. I’ll order you something. What do you want? What do you feel like?”

“Anything. I don’t care.”

“I’m on it. Towel and a pair of sweats are on the toilet. You need anything, you holler.”

“I’m not going to ask you to scrub my back or hold my cock when I take a piss, so you don’t get your hopes up.”

“You don’t mind if  I peek though, do you?” Koen teases, and looks around the edge of the curtain.

Tyler scowls. “Fuck off, you drongo. What’s wrong with you?”

“NOW I see why she stays with you. Looking like that before things even get to half mast? I don’t blame the girl for not leaving you. Where else is she going to find something like THAT?”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Tyler snarls, and yanks the curtain closed.

“Don’t be shy, blue eyes. Who do you think got you into the shower? Who do you think had to undress you and haul your ass in there? Nothing I haven’t seen before. I am jealous as fuck, though.”

“We can’t all be big boys, Koen. I’m sure you have a lovely personality the ladies just love.”

“Have we met?” Koen scoffs, then chuckles as he walks out of the bathroom.

It takes Tyler half an hour just to dry himself off. The dizziness returning every couple of minutes and forcing him to sit down on the edge of the tub in order to get himself together. The anxiety is still there; heightened by the realization of just how fucking close he’d come. Not to death. It had been quite that it wasn’t his demise that his assailant had been after. He was meant to be a trophy. A plaything, even. The drugs had been to render him incapable of fighting back; make him as vulnerable and weak as possible. More than likely there’d been a team of guys waiting to help transport him outside of city limits, where Mahajan’s people would get off on torturing him. Days. Weeks. Hell, even months. Until he was begging them to kill him. And he doesn’t want to think about that. Not just about what he would have been subjected to, but the fact that he would have never, ever, seen his family again. Mahajan never would have let him escape, nor would he have shown mercy and just let him go once he felt the lesson had been adequately taught. Each day the torture would have become worse and worse, until he had no quality of life and death was the only merciful ending.

His hands are shaking again; head swimming as he pulls on the gray sweats that Koen had left out for him. He needs meds. Maybe a drink. Definitely something to eat and a few hours sleep.

“Look at you,” Koen gives a playful whistle when he emerges from the bathroom. “All clean and smelling good. Look at that hair.  Look at how fluffy it is when it’s all clean and shit. Look how cute you are.”

His pace is still slow and measured; a side effect from whatever he’d been given and the agony in his knee. And he gives a wince and pained groan as he collapses onto his bed.   “If you’re trying to flirt with me, save your breath. You’re not very good at it.”

“You should  call your wife,” Koen says, then tosses Tyler his cell phone.

“It’s one thirty in the morning.”

“You got about fifteen calls from her and about as many text messages. You were supposed to call when things got handled, yeah? Well it’s been three hours and she hasn’t heard from you. Poor thing’s probably scared shitless.”

“What if she’s asleep?”

“You really think she’s going to sleep if she hasn’t from you? Call her.”   Koen climbs off his own bed, grabbing a bottle of beer from the nightstand. “Don’t worry, lover boy. I’ll give you your privacy.”

He picks the phone up from the mattress as Koen steps out onto the balcony and slides the door shut behind him.  And he frowns at how shaky his hands are; wondering it’s from the drugs he’d been given or if it’s his bad nerves. Or a mixture of both.   And he hopes he can keep it together while he speaks to her; that he sounds lucid enough that there’s nothing in his voice that gives away just how fucked up he actually is. She doesn’t need to know what went down. Not only will it add even more stress and worry to her already overflowing plate, but she’ll only want to come and stay with him. She’d FIND a way to make it happen. And while he desperately wants and needs to see her, their kids need her more.

“Are you okay?” Esme answers on the third ring, and he can hear Addie’s shrill, kitten like cry. “Oh my god Tyler, where have you been? I’ve been worried fucking sick!”

“What’s wrong with the baby?”

“Nothing. She just woke up for something to eat. She’ll be fine in a second. Are you alright? I’ve been trying to call you. Text you. You haven’t returned anything. What’s going on?”

“Things went a little sideways,” he admits, and the baby finally quiets down, comforted now that she’s at the breast.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Things went a bit to shit. Nothing too serious. Guy jumped me while I was getting ready to do the job.

“Jumped you? What…?”

“I’m fine. A little banged up. Nothing serious. Some cuts, a couple bruises. I would have called earlier but when the shooting started, the cops showed up and we had to lie low for a while. I just got back to the hotel.”

“But you’re okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”   She sounds dangerously close to tears.

“I’m fine,” Tyler assures her. “A little sore. Nothing some sleep and some meds won’t take care of. Are YOU okay?”

“I am no.  Now that I know you’re alright. That I know you’re alive. You scared the shit out of me. You called earlier but you didn’t say anything. All I could hear was you breathing and it sounded like you were trying to say something but I couldn’t make it out.”

Shit, he silently curses. He doesn’t remember that. At all. But somewhere in between shooting his assailant and passing out, he must have attempted...for some reason...to get a hold of her. Was it a call for help? Was it because he was scared he was dying and thought that was his last chance to tell her he loved her? Did he phone her because he wanted her voice to be the last thing he heard. Fuck.  It’s all a goddamn mystery. As if it never even happened.

“Tyler?”

“What time did I call it?” he asks.

“Quarter after eleven. Eleven thirty. Something like that. You don’t remember calling?”

“I must have pocket dialed you by accident,” he lies. “Things hadn’t gone to shit  yet. Must have hit something by mistake. Sorry, baby. I didn't mean to call. I didn’t mean any of the kids up.”

“This place is so big, there’s no way they heard my phone from their rooms.”

“Are they okay?”

“They had a busy day.  Lots of time in the pool, tons of time playing outside. They got to try new food and they were taught how to make naan bread and some kind of dessert I can’t pronounce. Millie’s over the moon because she got to hold a sloth. She even let it crawl all over her. That kid has no fear, whatsoever. She’ll try anything once.”

“And Tanner? He any better?”

“Talking to you did him a lot of good. He’s lightened up a bit. I think he’s finally grasping the fact that he’s NOT getting a new dad. I don’t even know what made him that in the first place. Like I’d ever trade you in.”

“Not even for Anil and his hundreds of millions?”

“Not for anyone. I like having you around. I kind of have a crush on you.”

Tyler grins. “I kind of have a crush on you, too.”

“We’re okay. It’ll get a little better each day. And Tanner’s in with TJ now. All cuddled up together in one bed. They’re definitely not ready to be apart from  one another for very long. I hope it stays like that. I hope they’re still best friends when  they're older. That they don’t start fighting over the same girls.”

“Bros before hoes, right?”

Esme laughs at that, “Right. Are you sure you’re okay? You sound a little...I don’t know...weird. Have you been drinking?”

“Not recently.”

“You sound like you have. You’re slurring your words a bit.”

“Just tired. It’s been a long day and I’m pretty beat. Gonna have something to eat and get some sleep. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I didn’t mean to worry you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says. “Maybe I can sleep now. I’d sleep a lot better if you were here. Even with your snoring and your cold feet. Is it weird I miss those things?”

“Is it weird I miss you talking in your sleep and hogging all the blankets?”

“I think it’s sweet. And cute. You’re sweet and cute.”

He grins. “You’re delirious from lack of sleep.”

“You ARE cute and sweet. And I miss you. I miss everything about you.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “I miss you too, baby. You get some sleep, okay? Give little peanut a hug and kiss from daddy.”

“I will. I love you, Tyler.”

“I love you too, Esme. So much. I’ll call you when I get up.”

“Okay,” she says with a yawn. “Sleep well. Or try to, at least. See you when I see you.”

“That’s MY line.”

“Not tonight it isn’t,” she says with a sleepy giggle, and then disconnects the call.

Sighing heavily, he drops the phone onto the mattress and runs his hands over his face as he leans back against the headboard. Eyes closed, a forearm across his brow. Unable to hold back the flood of tears that stream down his face or the heavy, painful sobs that wrack his entire body.

[mononyann]

a while back people requested that i share some of my headcanons for certain bnha characters, so here's some of the characters that i did

Shota Aizawa

- he absolutely has at LEAST 3 cats, he spoils the heck out of them too. that's why he's always eating those gel packs... he spends too much on his cats.

- he really does love his class. and we all know honey??? u haven't expelled any of them. ur soft for them ok.

- he likes to sleep with his cats bc he gets lonely at night... he will not admit it, but he likes having someone/something there :)

- he has reuccuring nightmares about the usj attack and how he could have failed to save his students

- has a very low alcohol tolerance and often ends up getting dragged back to his apartment by mic or midnight when they go out whilst he rambles and whines the entire time

- he hates crying and tries his best to keep his emotions held in, he's only cried in front of a select few people

- he tries not to let others opinions on him rule his life and tends to block it out if someone hates him

- he doesn't know it, but he is the entirety of class 1-a's dad.

- he really likes tea, and dislikes sweets

- as you would expect, he takes his coffee black

Hanta Sero

- he really likes kpop! he stans multiple groups and really wants to attend a concert

- though he seems really chill on the outside, he's actually quite sensitive and has some self confidence issues

- he loves being around people and finds that he gets his energy from being around those he loves

- definitely into e-boy fashion, and he is open about it

- pierced his own ears at 3 am and called kaminari crying about how he screwed it up

- he actually likes to draw a lot in his free time, it's very relaxing. he puts on some nice low-fi music and draws for hours

- he hasn't had many crushes in his life and doesn't find romance to be a big issue currently, but he's open to anything

- accidentally taped his hamster to the ceiling in 2nd grade, he didn't mean to and cried for hours (the hamster was ok)

Nemuri Kayama

- she is a BRO, she likes to crack a cold one open with the boys on the weekends

- she is bisexual and thinks everyone is beautiful in their own unique ways

- most likely talks shit about her coworkers to her classes

- she thinks children are adorable and loves them, often scaring them with her enthusiasm

- very touchy, she loves hugs and will probably not pass up a chance to use you as an armrest if she has the chance

- she secretly worries about aizawa a lot and is scared that he lets the past effect him too much

- did you guys know she has a cat?!

- i like to think she and mic are like... EPIC bros, she loves to paint his nails and do his hair while gossiping with him (aizawa would NEVER let her do this to him lmao)

- she isn't a mom, but finds the idea of having her own children very nice, for now having a cat will suffice

- she enjoys trying to make all might flustered, she thinks his reactions to things are always very cute and funny (it's all in good fun!)

- she's the mom friend! though she may seem very sexual, which she undoubtedly is, she is also very caring and has a very nuturing motherly personality, she's a lot more than just fanservice !!!!!

Todoroki Shoto

- completely oblivious when it comes to love... he doesn't even understand his own crushes

- "of course you can borrow my credit card uraraka" *pulls out endeavors card which he sneakily took*

- would be the person to tell a child that their pet guinea pig didn't go to heaven and be confused when they start sobbing... like "what... don't be honest?"

- allows his friends to huddle up to his warm side when they are cold

- is confused when people show him copious amounts of love and affection

- he would beat up anyone if they tried to do ANYTHING bad to midoriya

- he wants more friends. he really is enjoying meeting new people and having some new friends at ua!

- he gives really good hugs, he doesn't try to hug you too tight, but he doesn't half ass it either, very nice and warm

- he hates his scar. like. a lot. he wants to cover it up so bad but it just doesn't work. he's afraid it'll make other people scared of him.

Shinsou Hitoshi

- loves patd! and fall out boy, a brendon urie STAN

- loves to kiss his kitties on the forehead but dreads human interaction

- he loves to squish his cats' toebeans... he takes pictures of them and posts them to his secret cat social media acc

- he is gay but doesn't know how to feel about it and/or come out, he's really nervous and doesn't trust people to accept him

- he doesn't smile often but when he does it's the cutest thing ever

- he secretly really likes deku and kaminari and is hesitant about accepting their friendship, but appreciates the gestures a lot

- he suffers with social anxiety and doesn't really know how to make friends very well??? like, in middle school people were total dickbags to him so he kinda just closed himself off and decided he was gonna like... not make friends, but now that there's nice people around him he just kind of- doesn't know how

- this is actually canon! but he feels guilty about having to manipulate people when he uses his quirk, during the 4th school briefs book he feels guilty when he overhears midoriya and ojiro talking about him using his quirk during the sports festival, and he's like "i wish ojiro would say something rude about me to show he's angry so i wouldn't have to feel so guilty about this" since ojiro showed no ill feelings towards him

Izuku Midoriya

- "hold on I'll go get a blanket!" *opens closet* *thousands of all might figurines tumble out*

- watches cat vine compilations until 2 am, than freaks out when he realizes it is 2 am

- very good with children!

- used to be very self conscious about his freckles bc of bakugou insulting them; hid them with concealer for a while until someone told him they were beautiful

- loves his momma so muchhh he would do anything for her, he likes to surprise her with small favors to see her happy

- does not understand the concept of letting people handle their own problems

- stays after to class to offer his teachers help

- he has a lot of self doubts and is still struggling to this day to come to terms with the fact that he is worthy of having one for all

- he wants to learn how to cook for his mom and friends

Kyoka Jirou

- she is a lesbian!!!!! she has a crush on momo but is completely convinced that it's unrequited

- struggled with judgmental kids in middle school because of her sexual identity and style

- gets very easily flustered by anyone complimenting her

- that one person sitting at the back of the bus with their earbuds blasting full volume

- was a GOD at guitar hero

- acts like she's fed up with kaminari's (which she can be sometimes), but truly he's one of the people she can trust the most. she secretly appreciates the way he hypes up her talents and how he really helps her through the day sometimes!

- she loves heroes so much... when she was a little girl and didn't know what to do she'd ask herself "what would my favorite heroes do!?"

- she also secretly buys hero merch but hides it in fear of her being seen as sappy

Amajiki Tamaki

- would have trouble standing up for himself but if he sees ANYONE messing with mirio he WILL throw hands

- likes to watch bob ross videos when hes feeling anxious

- he once went to a butterfly museum with his parents and cried out of joy when one landed on his nose

- leaves food out for strays in his neighborhood, ends up attracting an entire hoard of animals.

- he can paint very nicely, he began to paint after he discovered bob ross

- mirio then saw his paintings and showed the entire class to tamaki's dismay, but everyone absolutely LOVED them!!!

- every day he becomes more and more capable and sure of himself, he is still very anxious, but he's learning to open up and embrace his talents <3

- he really loves to listen to music and any time he's not around others he'll probably have earbuds in, gently swaying back and forth to whatever he has on

- nejire loves to try out new hairstyles on him, and strangely enough, tamaki lets her, he loves it when people play with his hair

Shirakumo Oboro

- shares one collective braincell with mic

- that one person that brings EVERYONE valentine treats on valentines day at school

- most likely plays ding dong ditch

- *draws stick figure* "ah yes. just like van goh" (he cannot draw)

- hates to see his friends (and even random strangers upset) and will go out of his way to do dumb things to make them smile

- probably played soccer

- he's a massive flirt and likes to believe he will become a stereotypical anime protagonist with a massive harem

- he really wants to see aizawa come out of his shell more and tries his best to encourage him to see the best in everything

- he has most likely worn a schoolgirl uniform to class once

- he's very affectionate and loves to hug his friends (even if they don't want hugs), it's his way of showing he likes people

Hizashi Yamada

- he lives off of caffeine. he is a teacher, pro hero, and radio show host, im honestly not sure how he does it

- gives out stickers when students get the correct answer in class and has class parties when they are well behaved for the semester

- just like everyone else, he has his own turmoil as well, he likes to stay busy because it prevents him from having a lot of time to dwell on the past

- he gives really good hugs, and loves to feel the touch of others, it's very comforting to him

- was probably pretty troublesome when he was very young while he learned to get control of his quirk

- overall a really happy and excitable guy, he loves being the center of attention and if he can make people happy by being what he is, that's awesome!

- he shows his appreciation for people in odd ways, but he always means good, even if his wild antics can be a bit stressful lol

- he likes to sing a lot and does it a bunch when he's alone, he can also play a lot of instruments

- he can be very serious if needed, he does often put on a persona when he's present mic

- when he's hizashi (out of hero persona) he's even more of a dork than usual, very goofy, awkward and pouty. a manchild.

OK so I reached my image limit, if u guys wanna see the rest I might post some more later PLUS feel free to request some in my asks, I don't really know how all that stuff works bc I'm kinda new to Tumblr but ILL FIGURE IT OUT

[corescorner]

So That New Video Huh?

Okay holy shit, I��m gonna do an analysis for it. I’ve never done this before and no one literally has ever asked me to do this but youre getting it anyway cause this is the only place I can gush about this so freakin deal XP

First off, I woke up at two AM cause I’m A Disaster like that, and was greeted with this wonderful video. So naturally I make a pot of coffee and some Crofters toast and get on with my analysis.

Also! THE SWEATERS AND SCARVES! I WANT ALL OF THEM! On that note huge preesh to my Mum -even though she’ll never see this- who’s helping me buy one of the sweaters even though she doesn’t have to cause I’m a Grown Ass Adult ™ with my own money. Kind of. 

Anyway on with the analysis! Under the cut cause Daaaaaaaaaaaamn is it long.

- Thomas' jacket! I want it.

-That ad intro though XD 

-RAAAIID!!

-I be a real floozy XD

-Don't trust an old viking like me: Thomas Sanders (you know, the youtuber)

-PIrateS DiDn’T ReallY TAlk lIke ThIS! Reexamine your cultural biases!

-'what the hell is that accent?' going a liiittttle Remusy voice there Tommy.

-his ears scrunched down by the helmet and the beard string...

-Hahahahahaa, masculinity is a prison!

-SANDERS ASIDES! Nice.

-OKAY SO, this is literally the first thing I did when waking up and my mind was not ready for them TO BE HANGING OUT ON THE COUCH, suffice to say I had a mini freakout to myself and then excitedly continued.

-THE ONSIES I WANT VIRGILS!! THEY'RE ALL SO CUTE

-a florida dwelling man, who never leaves his house. Good point XD

-Romans immediate Sass™ Love It 

-Virgil’s Just As Sassy Thumbs Up. Hyello!

-*gasp* ohmygoodness it’s all Frozen. Oh whoever could have predicted that! Roman... Please.

-Virgil’s eye squint at Roman when he announced 100% of the votes were frozen and Pattons excited cheering even though he just said he didn't vote for it so there's no way it could have been 100%

- Now that I think about it, if Roman didn't rig it, I think they'd probably be at a standstill with, ya'know all their votes being on what they wanted to watch. 

-mmnnmmmnnn falsehood. It was so calm this time. soft falsehood.

-Paton’s incredulous 'too childish?!' he says this like he's recently seen Logan wear his and he's like 'what, but what'

-how can Thomas feel B.A.D with his inner D.A.D We👏 Get👏 It👏 You're 👏Adorable!

-VIRGIL: I CAN THINK OF A FEW WAYS. PATTON’S SAD LOOK!

-redirecting his attention to something good.... or neutral.

-ROMANS SASS

-Who among us can forget the absolute bop that is...... this weird ice cutting song. Roman with the sarcasm. 

-Pat: pretty cool/what it’s a chilled out groove! Lo: I might need you to leave. 

-Virgil's constant just Overthinking™ and not actually paying attention to the movie really. Mood.

-WHOS KID IS HE?! WHY DOES NOONE NOTICE THEY’RE LEAVING HIM

-some things need time.... Like evolution! Cute Nerd Alert.

-Patton blowing on his drink

-I ALso LOve you Olaf!

-VIRGIL’S LOOK AFTER THAT

- no you’re mine now

-I love that Roman commentates on movies he watches cause that is 100% Me

-’the heart is not so easily changed’ Lo: No it isn't. Pat: Hmm? 

-’but the head can be persuaded’ Ro: Can it though?

-’fear will be your enemy.’ Virgil’s looooooook T.T

-Pat and Ro: JOOOOAN! Virgil and Lo say nothing. Thomas:..... Joan... 

-it’s making me too aware of the passage of time! Ooooooof big Mood™ bro.

-REMUS!!! :D

-Of course he's naked, cause why wouldn't he be, they're all in their comfortable clothes.

- they're gonna die at seea! :D

-I sleep in the buff. Thank you Remus. No seriously, good to know.

-Virge: Did i screw everything up? Ro: No I threw out your vote so you couldn't do that. ROMAN!

-Patton’s head bob in agreement about missing the hand drawn movies

-Roman’s actual misunderstanding that virgil wasn't talking about frozen being the wrong decision.

-Verge: How are you telling me to settle into something right now when you've taken your sweet time to settle into things that you were uncomfortable with in the past? Virgil with the shaaaade.

-Pat: I just think we should all relax. Virge: You do realize who you’re talking to  right?

-Virgil's genuine confusion if Lo is asking him that question cause hes always so literal and then proceeds to tell him the number anyway.

-’why have a ballroom with no balls?’ Remus’ snicker, same.

-Just give in to the raunchy jokes Thomas, it's funny.

-Roman imitating Hans’ 'evil plotting face'

-Ro in Dude Bro Voice: aw man yea I’m so fucked up on chocolate fondue I don’t even know what im sayin right now

-All of the others smiling at that. Is Roman doing this to make them smile?

-Patton whines, Logan: Is something wrong Patton? UM Logan asking about FEELINGS Cute.

-there's no way shes coming out of this situation without trust issues. Mmmmmmyea.

-Ro: except for the footprints behind you. Lo:HEy YEa!

-Pat, quietly: don’t let them in don’t let them see. PATTON! SOMEONE HUG DAD PLEASE

-Virge: he may have been an idiot back in the day, but hes not anymore... Virge, are we talking in double meanings here?

-Lo: she shouldn't let go of more of her clothing that’s for sure, shes gonna freeze to death. Lo, she has ICE POWERS. I'm sure she’s fine. The cold never bothered her anyway.

-Logans confused, what about a bridge? Metaphors Lo.

-Pat: let it go! Ro: lie low in our kingdom of ICEolation, come on paton don’t go for the low hanging fruit.

-Lo: There’s a storm out tonight!? Well, obviously Thomas has to stay home why are we debating this. No, Lo honey, it’s still a metaphor.

-Lo: you think this castle has a lavatory? Pat: ICE TOILET! Ro: or a bed? Pat: ICE BED! Lo: this place sounds awful.

-Pat: his thing with the reindeer? Lo: outside of nature's laws? Re: he DEFINITELY FUCKS THE REINDEER! I THOUGHT THE SAME THIIIIIING.

-Ro: If OnLy ThErE wAs SoMeOnE OuT ThErE wHo LoVeD YoU 'hans evil plotting face'

-Logan pointing out Romans constant shade at he movie.

-UM! THIS IS HOW I SHOW MY LOVE UM EXCUSE YOU, My Prinxiety heart.

-Romans complete legit reason why Ana should have been saved by Olaf.

-Virge: I bet he’s talking about you right now. THOMAS' FACE.

-Pat: Thomas has talked about him to other people. Patton likes gossip?

-Ro: WERE ALL GOSSIPY BITCHES SOMETIMES!

-Logan AGREEING that they’re gossipy bitches XD

-OKAY I LOVE THAT RO IS THE ONE WHO SWEARS THE MOST

-Patton pointing a logans points in agreement

-VIRGIL IS SPIRALING, deep breaths kiddo!

-Virge: just think about it. Thomas: LIKE I HAVE A CHOICE

-Virge: he trusted you enough to share a history that he wasn’t proud of with you. Again talking in double meaning here Verge?

-Virge: ‘he wouldn’t have gotten around to some of the stuff you wanted to know about on his own. More backstory to unlock mayhaps?

-Logan doing the countdown thing to help with the anxiety.

-Thomas going along with it without question, Virgil.... kinda going along with it?

-Virgil’s soft ‘.... blinds...’ after naming things that were like existential crisis things XD

- Thomas and Virgil tasting the same thing? Do they all taste what Thomas tastes? Or were they eating together?

-Lo: You are safe. T.T Loooooooogaaaaan

-LOGAN TOTALLY OWNING THAT THOMAS CALLED HIM COOL! CAUSE YOU ARE!

-Virgil’s soft look when Thomas is talking about adjusting and then saying that he still thinks theyre friends! UM again with the double meanings?!

-Thomas: things will be alright between us. PATTON LOOKS AT VIRGIL Cuuuuuuute

-Roman’s metaphor that makes no sense to the situation.

-Thomas: thank you Roman, that’s barely applicable.

-and then his look of 'you're welcome' XD

-ROMANS SASS!!

-Logans list of Elsa’s powers

-Patton nodding along to it and then his 'yea it all checks out' XD

-Logan’s thoughts on Arendales military being just Elsa cause of her powers.

-Virgil’s soft smile and sigh.... ‘Too bad we didn’t go to that party.’ VIRGE!

-Anxiety music starts, what if your soulmate was there and now you’re never gonna get another chance to meet him

-Ro reaching in Virgil’s direction OH SHIT OH SHIT!

-Oof youre freaking out princey there Virge

-Lo: watching a film is too passive of an exercise to allay Thomas' troubled thoughts, Virgil’s cute shrug and thumb nail biting like 'welp'

-DECEIT!!!!!!! ROMAN WHY DO YOU HAVE HIS HAT DO YOU HANG OUT TOGETHER, WHY WERE YOU IN HIS ROOM WHY WAS HE NOT WEARING IT WHAT WAS HE DOING WHEN YOU STOLE IT!

-Dee: I was looking for this! So he doesn't always lie, that’s good to know.

-Virgil’s HISSING! Okay sure, but he wasn't even talking to you man calm down XD

-Dee: DONT TOUCH MY SHIT *finger waggle*

-Romans face! Like, yep I saw this coming and i did it anyways, and I’m probably gonna do it again in the future.

-HOW OFTEN DOES ROMAN RIG VOTES?

-Logans interest in rewriting Frozen

-Ro: no. yes. I don’t know what you’re asking. Roman, it was kinda self explanatory XD

-everyones expressions when roman is talking about how he’s gonna rewrite it.

-YEA YOU LET THOSE CREATIVE JUICES FLOW!

-Virgil’s little ‘aw hell yea’

-REMUS: eh not my kind of fanfiction! WHAT FANDOM DOES HE READ FOR!? DOES HE READ STUFF ON HIMSELF AND THE OTHER SIDES!?

-ALSO HE’S RIGHT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUCH NEXT TO LOGAN NAKED, HOW MUCH CAN LOGAN SEE?!

-I’m going to bed. IN THE BUFF. Yes, you’ve stated this before XD

-everyones contributions to the fic

-Pat: I see your point Virgil, but how about this: nobody dies.

-Joan at the end XD Joan should do more ads with Thomas, they’re great.

-Thomas: you just do it XD

-LOGAN APOLOGIZING TO HIS ONESIE! MY FUCKIN ASS YOU HAVE NO FEELINGS YOU'RE APOLOGIZING TO AN INANIMATE OBJECT MY DUDE!

-So this is obviously after DWIT, cause of Remus’ appearances and Logan’s ownage of being called cool. But is it right after? Or is there gonna be a prequel type video next that happens before this and exactly after DWIT?

-Thomas being sad hurts me.

-Did I mention how much I LOVE THAT THEY’RE JUST CHILLING WATCHING A MOVIE HOW OFTEN DO THEY DO THIS!?

-Logan drinking his... coffee? Kinda drinking it. If they taste what Thomas tastes(??) does it happen the other way around? Probably not right? Or is it one of those things where it’s a phantom taste or craving type situation?

-Roman lounging on a bean bag chair in front of an actual chair, yea same.

-BUT ALSO VIRGIL SITTING ON THE BACK OF THE COUCH. I do that too much, or like on the arm.

-Logan just fuckin wearing dress shoes like they’re not just at home on the couch watching a movie.

[miraculouscontent]

Have you written anything about what specifically you dislike about Gigantitan? I tried searching for it on my own, but Tumblr Is Not A Functioning Website

I haven’t talked about it much at the time of posting, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything.

“Gigantitan” is my least favorite episode of Miraculous from a strict watchability standpoint, being the only episode that I wanted to quit watching outright (and would’ve had I not been watching with someone else). There are episodes that have worse writing from a plot/character view, but “Gigantitan” is the only episode that I firmly believe has no value whatsoever.

[Lolliplot]

I have no problem with filler in concept. Filler can actually be very important to a show’s runtime, letting shows rake in some more views for the more high-budget episodes by filling in story gaps with fun little snippets about nothing.

But this episode isn’t fun. It’s just nothing.

Let’s start with what this episode actually offers for future plot points. Firstly, it confirms JARM (Juleka, Alix, Rose, and Mylene) being already aware of the fact that Marinette has a crush on Adrien.

We didn’t need to know this. Everyone could’ve guessed that anyone in the class already knew. If I’d skipped this episode completely and seen “Frozer”, I wouldn’t have batted an eye at JARM already knowing and making suggestions about what Marinette should do about Adrien.

The other thing this episode does is show that an akuma can switch targets, which happens later in “Zombizou” anyway. Not only that, but I don’t know how genuine this moment even is, because it’s just a “comedic” ploy to get a reaction out of Hawk Moth. I can see the result in two ways: either this is relevant because this is going to happen later (actually making this episode pointless because it’s going to happen in a later episode) or this was a one-off and no one will ever know if it was a legitimate thing or a comedic detail.

It just leaves me confused.

Point being, I don’t want to hear brags from the writing staff about how this season has “no filler” because it’s a cheap way to generate hype when all they really did was sprinkle in crumbs of establishing plot into this particular episode. If one were to ask the question, “Why couldn’t it be established that they know about Marinette’s crush in a different episode?”, the only answer would’ve been, “Because this episode would’ve been filler otherwise.”

It’s lazy. Simple as that.

[Don’t Cry Me a River]

I don’t talk about myself often on my blog, but I’ll have to say a little bit to get my point across. See, some things I’ve never mentioned about myself before are that my ears are pretty sensitive, my eyes don’t like saturated colors, and I’m easily disgusted (not amused) by gross-out humor.

Already, my next problem with this episode is obvious.

I don’t like babies. I hate them, in fact. Don’t like looking at them, don’t like holding them, and every scream feels like sharp nails being jammed into my brain. They’re gross and loud and I have no maternal instincts whatsoever.

As a baby, August has no personality. He has no traits and his shtick is “he’s a baby.” That’s literally it. He cries, he screams, he’s easily distracted, and he’s completely unintelligent.

An akumatized person isn’t even supposed to be the same exact thing as the person they akumatize, but that’s exactly what Gigantitan is; August, but with powers.

And those colors blind me. The neon pink and green are hideous. One might say that it’s the idea because Hawk Moth akumatized a baby (and those akumatized might get to pick their looks), but that doesn’t change the facts that they didn’t have to akumatize a baby and that the design is still terrible to look at even if there’s a reason for it.

And the model is disgusting. I outright gagged at the scene with Adrien’s bodyguard and the saliva and just–EUGH, EW, GROSS!!

Once the timestamp hits the point where August turns into Gigantitan, it’s nothing by baby humor for eight straight minutes.

And Hawk Moth can’t just, y'know, release the akuma, because that would end the episode.

Hawk Moth’s even been shown to be able to torment his victims to some degree to get them to do what he wants but oh no we can’t have that because it’s a baby.

Personally, I would’ve drop kicked this obnoxious little menace into the Seine like a sack of rotten potatoes.

[Character Dos and Don'ts Except It’s Actually Just Don'ts]

No one has their head on straight in this episode. No one is safe from the “Gigantitan” go-with-what-the-script-says flu.

Alya setting up this huge elaborate plan instead of focusing on Marinette’s actual problems concerning Adrien.

Rose not understanding the flower naming theme despite being rarely shown as incompetent, which is also something no one does anything about because everyone’s so hooked on using codenames.

Adrien’s bodyguard calming down out of nowhere right when the akuma shows up.

Hawk Moth not just releasing the akuma and accepting that this was a bad idea.

Adrien brushing off all of Marinette’s stuttering despite this being a thing he should be concerned about by now and instead just being like “OKAY BYE YOU SEEM STABLE TODAY”

It’s all just set up so the episode goes exactly how the show wants it to and it drives me nuts.

Alya can’t be smart and realize that codenames aren’t a good idea (given Rose’s confusion) or the plan couldn’t mess up in “hilarious” ways.

Hawk Moth can’t do anything intelligent or the episode will just fall apart.

Even just the little things, like the fact that Alix brushes off Marinette’s fear that the boys know about her crush as “nah of course not because they’re boys.” That annoys me because I don’t like the suggestion that the boys are oblivious about love just because they’re boys. This escalates further in “Glaciator” with Ivan and I’m constantly frustrated about it because there’s already a logical, actually sensible reason for JARM to know and none of the boys to: them being closer friends with Marinette and thus seeing more of her than the boys do. I don’t mind specific characters gender-stereotyping, but not when it’s the show itself doing it and imprinting that on the characters themselves to make it true.

On another note, Adrien’s bodyguard is also extra infuriating because he has to get over his rage immediately or he’d be akumatized instead of the baby, which would’ve been actually fun. I’ve said it before, but one of the worst sins an episode can commit is presenting a more fun and/or interesting idea than what they actually go with.

Heck. Adrien’s bodyguard in general is pretty inconsistent. He gets upset about everything going wrong for him, then calms down almost instantly. You’d think the latter is because he sees Adrien, but when Marinette’s talking to him, Adrien’s bodyguard starts honking rudely at them instead of letting Adrien finish a freaking conversation. This is why I hate this guy so much; he’s so inconsistent and constantly swaps between caring about Adrien’s desires and just being irritating.

And, oh boy, that ending scene. I already complained about it in “Treatment of Marinette (Season 2)”, but it drives me up a wall.

Marinette stuttering was not her fault. It was the writing’s. It’s so blatantly obvious, especially on Marinette’s second attempt where she rejects riding home with Adrien.

Yet, the episode still has her friends get annoyed with her. There just comes a point where things stop being Marinette’s fault and start being the writers tripping her up and tugging at her pigtails because “No, bad Marinette, you’re not allowed to make progress even if it’s completely in character for you at this point.”

Marinette goes through this whole plan (and I frankly don’t care if the intention was to get Adrien’s bodyguard in trouble because screw him, honestly), even stopping at one point and almost ruining everything because she wanted to help a baby, and for what?

Nothing. Marinette embarrassed herself in front of her friends, embarrassed herself in front of Adrien, and she gets teased.

I don’t have to wonder why Marinette is constantly fumbling and afraid of screwing up, because her friends and others are always teasing her for being clumsy/stuttering/etc. Alya teases her at the end and Marinette looks so embarrassed at what she’d said, but then the end card just pops up as if we’re supposed to forget about Marinette’s issues and anxiety. They go completely unaddressed and this episode is the worst example I can think of when imagining episodes that try to brush off Marinette’s problems as “you just gotta get it right this time.”

And of course, Alix makes a comment about how Marinette knowing Adrien’s schedule is “creepy.” Like, ‘k, cool, so if she does believe that, what is she gonna do about it? Confront her? Just accept it because she’s her friend and saying anything would’ve forced this episode to not happen?

The is one of the few times Marinette’s schedule (that she has only ever used for purposes of confessing/taking a confession back/tracking down Adrien for crucial reasons) has been brought up, but the show doesn’t want to dwell on it. The show doesn’t seem to want anyone its audience to think about, but it still wants to crack jokes at Marinette’s expense.

And instead of addressing Marinette’s core issues, all five of her friends just waffle around them. If this was actually fun, I probably wouldn’t mind, but with this being the unpleasant experience that it is, I feel like the glaring flaws are constantly being shoved in my face.

[Predictakillity]

This is probably the fourth-ish time I’ve said this in my blog’s lifespan, but one way to send my interest into a downward spiral is when I can predict an episode. There are exceptions, like when I see a scene or hear a particular line and go “Yes! This is probably leading up to [x]”, but most of the time, it’s negative.

And, from start to finish, I could predict this episode. After every scene that happened, I could predict what was going to happen next.

The second I saw this elaborate plan, I knew it wasn’t going to work. Even more insulting was when they threw the fantasy sequence in, because that made it even more obvious. After all, why would they show us what’s going to happen later in the episode instead of building suspense and then having us see the happy moment when it’s actually real?

Not only that, but the fantasy sequence is doubly terrible because it was some top-tier Adrienette and it’s fake. It just brings down the next Adrienette scene that follows it in whatever future episode because now they have to beat “having ice cream together” or it becomes underwhelming.

And that’s exactly what it did, because “Glaciator” was the next episode with Adrienette in it and it had the gall to set up the exact same premise without even letting them have ice cream together. It tore me up too because I knew that’s what they’d do; I knew they weren’t going to show the audience what they wanted to see because the fantasy sequence in “Gigantitan” already showed it. I wanted to be wrong and I wasn’t.

Back to “Gigantitan” itself, most of the jokes and dialog are so drawn out that it felt impossible to not know where things were going to go. They hold on jokes for way too long and everything is so in your face that things become obvious.

The second Rose started messing up the codenames, I knew she was going to be a weak link in the plan.

The moment Juleka got stuck, I knew most of them were going to have to swap jobs and be stuck doing something they weren’t good at.

The instant August appeared on screen (with spoken dialog from the mom, no less), I immediately pointed and said, “That’s who’s getting akumatized.” No amount of Adrien’s bodyguard getting annoyed fooled me because I knew it would be a red herring.

At the very first mention of August wanting a lollipop, I knew that it was going to be important to take him down when he was akumatized.

When the akuma went into August’s bracelet, I knew Hawk Moth would just run with it and wouldn’t give it up.

Even with the lucky charm, which is typically one of my favorite moments in episodes because Ladybug always gets stuck with the most random stuff, I knew what it was for before Ladybug’s Lucky Vision even went off.

And at the final moments of the episode, where Marinette wanted to just get straight to the point, I knew; I knew she wasn’t going to be able to do it. I knew this episode wasn’t going to let her have her moment. I knew her friends would get irritated with her. I knew the writing would just brush it off.

When Marinette’s friends kept asking, “Is she going to do it?”, I was pleading for them to just be quiet because it made the outcome so obvious. Everything’s obvious. When I realized that August was the next akuma victim, I knew that this episode would be nothing but baby humor and gross-out.

I hated that I knew. I didn’t want to know. With every passing minute, I kept begging–hoping–that the episode would throw me some sort of twist.

One wrench in the predictability. One instance where something wasn’t what I expected. One nanosecond where all the characters just looked at each other and went, “Hey, maybe everything that’s going on right now is actually really contrived?”

I got nothing. Once the episode was over, I got into a three hour conversation on why it was the worst thing I’d seen out of Miraculous from an enjoyability standpoint.

And every time Gigantitan shows up as an akuma again, I feel all that annoyance come right back. A full 26 episodes haven’t even passed yet since his episode and Gigantitan has shown up three times.

I hate this episode so much. I hate it because it’s a combination of nearly everything I could hate in an episode.

Character destruction.

Gross-out.

Babies.

Obviousness.

Predictability.

And worst of all, the promise–the set-up–of progress that the protagonist deserves but doesn’t get in the end despite all the garbage they’ve been through and WILL go through.

I think back to this episode and I just find myself unbelievably frustrated. In a way, I feel like I should be glad about how pointless it is. After all, its pointlessness means that I have no reason to ever go back to it.

But also, it didn’t need to exist, and those 22 minutes could’ve been spent doing literally anything else that this season desperately needed.

Instead, it’s 22 minutes of nothing.

[littlemarvelfics]

Come Back... Chapter Seven

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: about 2,100 Warnings: cheating mention, drinking kinda

A/N: Hello hello! There’s gonna be a second note at the bottom so check that out as well. Thank you as always for reading. Shoot me your comments or tag requests here. And check out the series masterlist here or my main masterlist here. Thanks y’all!

Previous Chapter

You pulled yourself from Josh’s embrace.

“Why are you here?”

“Why wouldn't I be? You wanted to spend time together right? Well, I'm here. Let's spend time together,” he responded.

You felt everyone's eyes on you as you battled what to do. Not wanting to cause a scene, you rolled your eyes and walked over to where Clint and Natasha were throwing darts. You could feel Bucky's eyes watching you but when you turned to look at him, he looked away.

The night continued on that way for a while, Josh seemingly always on his phone until you moved closer to Bucky, then he would suddenly be by your side, draping himself all over you. You could smell on his breath that he was drinking and from his movements, you could tell that he was already drunk.

You walked over to the bar and Josh followed behind quickly. You leaned over the bar and ordered yourself a Jack and Coke. Josh had set his phone down on the bar to get his wallet out and you happened to glance down. There, plain as day, you saw a texted from someone called ‘Alyssa’.

“Hey baby done with the gf yet? Come home to meeeee”

You could see that there was a picture attached to the message but you had no interest in seeing what it was. Josh looked over at you and he instantly knew something was wrong. Tears were forming in your eyes and you wouldn't look directly at Josh. He reached out and touched your arm.

“Baby? What's wrong?”

You slapped his hand away.

“Don't you fucking touch me. Who the hell is Alyssa?” You hissed.

“Who?”

“Don't you dare try and play fucking dumb with me! Who the fuck is Alyssa?”

“She's a girl I know.”

“And just how well do you know her?”

Josh started to answer but you cut him off.

“How long have you been screwing her behind my back?”

Josh sighed.

“A few months.”

“A few months? So all those nights with the guys? All those nights I was waiting in OUR apartment for you to come home, you were fucking her?”

“Yes but baby, I love you! She was a mistake. She didn't mean anything. I just slipped up. Me and you we started fighting and I slipped up. I made a mistake baby, please don't overreact.”

“I can’t do this right now,” you mumbled, turning to leave the bar.

You knew your group of friends were confused as you jogged towards the exit, you could explain to them later but you heard Josh calling to you as he followed you out. You just needed to be away from everyone else at that moment. Maybe some fresh air would clear your head. You weren't looking when you walked out the door, crashing straight into Bucky who grabbed your arms so you wouldn't topple over.

When you looked up at Bucky with tears in your eyes and running down your cheeks, his grip tightened on you.

“Y/N, doll what happened? Are you okay?”

You shook your head and tried to answer.

“I… um…. Josh he… and I…” you stuttered out.

He didn't hesitate before pulling you into his chest, holding you close in an attempt to calm you down. You heard a scoff behind you.  

“Of course. Of course, you run to him.”

Bucky pulled away from you and protectively moved you behind him.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” he said sternly.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to Y/N,” Josh replied.

By this point, Steve and Peggy had come outside to see if they could check up on you. Peggy spotted you with your head resting on Bucky’s back and a death grip on his hand. She rushed over.

“Y/N, sweetie, what's wrong?”

“Nothing!” Josh interrupted. “She's just being dramatic like usual! Y/N get in the car and let’s go!”

Bucky started to respond but Peggy beat him to it.

“I'm not talking to you, you sniveling little shit, so shut your goddamn mouth.”

She turned back to you and starting rubbing your back trying to get you to talk.

“He’s… he's been cheating on me,” you whispered.

That was all Bucky needed to hear. Steve saw the look in his best friend’s eyes and knew things were about to go from bad to worse quickly.

“Y/N, Peggy, let’s go back inside for a minute.”

You shook your head and pressed in closer to Bucky. He felt your resistance and turned around, putting his hands on your shoulders and leaning down to your eye level.

“Y/N, I need you to go inside with Steve and Peg okay?”

You started to protest when Bucky cut you off.

“Please, doll. We both know I gotta do this.”

You looked into his blue eyes and nodded slightly. Bucky looked over to Steve who put his arm around your shoulders and guided you back into the bar.

Steve sat you on a stool not too far from the door and grabbed you a glass of water. A few moments later, you heard shouting coming from outside and feet shuffling on the concrete. You knew exactly what Bucky was doing. He had never been a violent person. Bucky would never hit someone for anything they did to him. But God help them if they did anything to someone he cared about.

Not long after the shouting started, there was no more noise coming from outside. Bucky came bursting through the bar door, chest heaving and looking around frantically. When his eyes landed on you he walked over quickly, settling his bruised hands on your arms.

“Are you okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I just don't wanna be here anymore,” you sighed.

“Okay, I’m taking you back though.”

You just nodded and jumped off your bar stool. You quickly hugged Peggy and Steve while apologizing for the mess. They quickly brushed it off and said they would see you at the wedding tomorrow. Bucky kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you over to the truck he had been driving while you had his Jeep. He opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to slide in. You hesitated.

“Buck? I don't wanna be alone tonight.”

He smiled.

“Alright doll, come back to my place.”

You settled into the car with Bucky and he started driving. The radio was playing softly in the background and you smiled. The song that was playing was the same one that you and Bucky had your first ‘real’ kiss to all those years ago. You glanced over at Bucky and judging from the smirk on his face, he had been thinking about the same thing.

It didn't take long for you to arrive at Bucky's home. It was a beautiful smaller house, painted a light gray with white trim. The yard was neatly kept and you expected the inside looked the same. You were proven right when Bucky opened the door and gestured for you to go inside. He said something about getting clothes and left you alone to wander around. You looked at the books on his living room table, the art hanging on the walls before you spotted a mantle full of pictures. Some were newer and some were older, Bucky had pictures of his family and friends and upon closer inspection, he also had a picture of the two of you up.

It was at a bonfire, although you couldn't remember much about that exact night- they had all started to blend together through the years. You did remember how you and Bucky had become the subject of this particular photo. Wanda, always a sucker for anything vintage, had gotten a Polaroid camera earlier in the week and had spent most o the night snapping pictures of everyone. This picture was a little on the blurry side but you could tell it was you and Bucky. You were sitting on a bench together, you face tucked into his chest, laughing at something someone had said and there was no doubt about it, the boy in that photo was in love with that girl. He was looking down at you and grinning. Even though the blur of the photo you could see it in his eyes. He was madly in love with you.

“That's my favorite picture of us,” Bucky commented, making you jump since you didn't hear him come up behind you.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s really nice.”

“Here,” Bucky said, handing you a pile of his clothes. “I thought you might want something to change into so you were a little more comfortable. The bathroom is around the corner if you don't wanna get naked in my living room.”

You chuckled and mumbled a ‘thanks’ before heading in the direction Bucky had indicated. As you walked into the bathroom, you faced the mirror and took in your reflection. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, your makeup was running everywhere and your hair was a mess from running your fingers through it. You sighed deeply. How had things gotten this bad? You knew Josh wasn't the best guy anymore but you didn't think he would cheat on you. Deciding not to dwell on it, you splashed some water on your face and used a few tissues to try and remove your makeup. You looked in one of Bucky’s drawers and found a hair tie so you pulled your hair back and up out of your face. You changed into the clothes Bucky had given you, a soft old tee shirt and sweatpants, then headed back out to find him.

He was sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He was wearing sweatpants similar to yours and tank top which drew your attention to the scarring on his left shoulder that you hadn't seen before. Bucky noticed you observing him.

“Happened when I was overseas. A blast went up, burned my shoulder pretty bad. Could've been worse though,” he said to answer your silent question.

You moved across the room and sat down facing him, tucking your legs underneath you. You glanced at the TV and noticed a rerun of Friends was on.

“How are you doing?” You started. “After coming back from all that I mean.”

“It was really bad when I first came back. I had night terror almost every night. I still have them sometimes, and my anxiety is probably a lot worse than when we were kids. I don't think any of it will ever completely go away but I've learned to cope.”

“I’m so sorry Buck. God, I just abandoned you. All of you. But you went to war and I just never checked on you or Steve.”

“Hey don't apologize for that. I hurt you and you had every right to be mad at me. I know I don't deserve a second chance with you. Even if it’s just as friends.”

“I said before all is forgiven, Buck. I meant it. Everything just got so messed up. I left this town and maybe I left part of myself here,” you sighed.

“Can I ask you something? Two something's actually?”

You nodded.  

“Why’d you quit writing? You were so talented Y/N. And why did you ever start dating that prick?”

“I don't know why I stopped writing. I told myself and everyone else it was a money thing. And that's at least a little true but it was more than that. I think I was so scared of failing that I just never tried. Because you can't fail at something if you never try to succeed at it,” you answered honestly. “As for Josh… he wasn't always this bad. He was so sweet until we moved in together and I thought that maybe that was just what happened to people who lived together. And maybe I started believing all the stuff he was telling me. So I stayed. Because it was easier than facing the fact that I met the love of my life when I was eight and I had already lost him.”

Bucky had taken your hand while you were speaking and with his free hand he wiped away the stray tears that had begun to fall. You leaned into his touch and smiled a little. Bucky leaned in towards you and. You reciprocated his gesture. Just before your lips were about to meet, there was a pounding at his front door.

Bucky sighed and shook his head.

“Hold that thought doll.”

You watched as Bucky got up off the couch and walked over to answer the door.

“James Barnes?” A gruff voice asked.

“Yeah, that's me. Can I help you?”

You couldn't see who Bucky was talking to but you could hear the confusion in his voice.

“You need to come with us. You’re under arrest.”

Next Chapter

A/N(2): CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT THIS ENDING?! What do you guy think is gonna happen to Buck? Let’s chat!

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[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 8! (And on AO3, of course.)

I came back from my trip a day early, so here we go again. I should be back to posting a chapter every other day from now to the end.

Amy woke to a face full of sunshine.

She squinted her eyes closed and groaned, burying her face in her pillow. Several thoughts came to her, one right after another: Her pillow smelled weird, her pillow felt weird, and she had not once in the three years she’d lived in her apartment woken up with the sun in her face. Amy blinked her eyes open and rolled onto her back, and the night washed over her again, every lovely bit of it. She smiled up at the ceiling over Jake’s bed and then turned and smiled at the man himself.

He was asleep, curled up on his side facing her. His hair was a fluffy mess. One hand was tucked under his pillow, the other folded into a loose fist. Amy remembered falling asleep with his arm around her waist, holding her to him, but they must have separated in the night and now she was happy to indulge in watching over him.

She’d noticed from the moment they met that he was attractive, but over all of their shared meals and late-night outings, she’d never really taken stock of him: his full lips, his sharply defined cheekbones that were so often disguised by a smile or laugh, the dimple in his chin and the single, perfect curl that dipped over his forehead. His face, normally so expressive, was smooth in sleep and she thought about tracing the line of his brow, the ridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw. She thought about kissing his eyelids and waking him up.

When Jake had kissed her that first time a few days ago, she’d been momentarily overpowered by a physical attraction to him – and that was all she had thought it was, a gut-deep desire for a man who was undeniably hot. So she’d pushed him away, because kissing (that would likely to lead to much more than kissing) was absolutely not okay between reporters and their sources. Intimacy of any sort led to bias and poor decision making; it turned journalism into a trade industry.

Amy’s guilt and shame had been so profound that night that she swore she’d been marked in some way, as though even strangers would see her failure written on her face. It occurred to her that they had practically been dating for weeks -- that even before he kissed her, before she kissed him back, she had crossed a line. She felt awful for herself, for having betrayed her own moral code, and she felt awful for Jake, whom she had obviously misled.

So it was a gift that the next several days flew by in a crush of anxiety and exhilaration as she finally put her article to bed. She had no time to dwell on her personal mistakes when she was arguing over headlines with Terry and Charles and writing and rewriting every photo caption and fact-checking every detail, from the numbers in her bar charts to the hyperlinks and hashtags they would use on social media. On Saturday she convinced Charles to print out page proofs so she could do one last edit of the printed version of her story, and she suggested word choice and grammar revisions until finally, when they were on the verge of what was sure to be an embarrassing slap-fight over an Oxford comma, Charles shoved her out the front doors and told her she needed to relax and let someone wash her hair.

“I have just the person in mind,” he called after her, as Amy stomped down the block.

She’d slept fitfully that night, waking up just about every hour to check her phone. At daybreak, a post from the Bulletin Twitter account went out. Her favorite brother sent her a congratulatory email that Amy read over a breakfast of plain toast because she couldn’t stomach anything else. By noon, the story was viral (at least locally – it was never going to make The Daily Show, Amy kept reminding herself).

When the mayor announced on Twitter that he was personally looking into the jail situation and linked to Amy’s story, she was stunned and elated. And she was blindsided by a wave of sadness: She missed Jake.

She missed his smile and the way his eyes went soft when she was talking about something personal. She missed the way he tugged at his hair when he was looking over the documents she’d asked him to read for her. She missed his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves and the way his one eyebrow quirked when he laughed.

She even missed the gummy worms he consumed by the handful when they were meeting at a bar and he got snacky while translating penal codes, and she missed the ketchup and orange soda stains on her documents, and she missed having to rearrange all of her papers when she got home because he never paid attention to her tabs.

She just missed him. And she missed sharing this success with him.

Later in the day, when Gina had texted that the newsroom was getting drinks and it was definitely not because of her story but because they were all bored, Amy had been sitting at her laptop with a dozen tabs open on her browser for essays on journalism ethics and dating sources. She’d joined them for drinks because it seemed pathetic not to, and she’d been honestly touched by their support. But she’d also been miserable, because all she could think was that she’d messed up everything. Her life was amazing, and she’d screwed it all up.

Then Jake had texted. Just seeing his dumb code name appear on her screen had made her heart leap into her throat, and she’d known then that she couldn’t let him go. She had to at least see him, and try.

Now, she really did have it all. And lying in his bed, with the sun in her face and the smell of him in her (his) pillow, she felt content to just be. So she stared at him for a while, until the sun had shifted enough that it was blocked by the partly drawn curtains, and it dawned on her – so to speak – that she couldn’t remember if she’d set her alarm and she had no idea what time it was. She panicked for just a moment and quickly rolled over, hand slapping on the bedside table for her phone. She squinted at it – her contact lenses felt glued to her eyeballs – and sighed when she saw that she was only five minutes past her alarm.

Of course, she was going to need to go home and shower before going into work, and she’d wanted to go in early so she could check in with Terry and Holt before heading to Manhattan for the NPR interview, and she obviously hadn’t laid out her clothes the night before or set the timer on her coffeemaker.

Amy glanced at her phone again and did some quick math and decided that if she skipped coffee and didn’t wash her hair – it was just radio, it wasn’t like she had to look great – and planned her outfit on the way to her apartment then she could save six minutes, which still wasn’t ideal but she could make it work.

But then she glanced back at Jake, and the sudden pulse of affection for him pushed everything else aside. She could be a little late. She kissed his forehead, just beneath the curl, and each of his eyelids, and she covered his hand with her own as he blinked his eyes open and smiled back at her.

+++

Amy ended up texting Terry to tell him she was going straight into the city for her interview and he said that was fine. She didn’t get into the newsroom until noon, and by then she was famished and caffeine-deprived and still practically vibrating with joy. Her story had been a huge success and she had kissed the man she really, really liked and she’d had sex – three times! – the night before. The fact that they hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly 3 a.m. – because: three times – wasn’t a problem. Amy felt like she might never need to sleep again.

She spent the day working on a follow-up story around the mayor’s plan to investigate the jail recordings. She also fielded several unpleasant phone calls from the head of the corrections department and his deputies, until one of them demanded a full retraction and she finally had to pass them on to Terry and Holt to deal with, which was fine by her. They both had her back, and she’d never doubted they would, but it was still nice to be supported. So nice, actually, that by the end of the day, as Terry was editing her story, she started feeling guilty again.

“I have to tell you something,” Amy said, or rather blurted, when Terry had finished editing. It was 6 p.m. and it had been a pretty slow day so the newsroom was mostly cleared out; only Hitchcock was left, and he had his head pillowed on his arms at his desk and was snoring.

“Terry doesn’t love the sound of that,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Oh man, are you quitting? You’re going to the Times already? I thought we’d get at least another year out of you.”

“No!” Amy said, then, “Wait, what? You think I’ll be at the Times in a year?”

“Uh-”

“Wow.” Amy tried to think of a more appropriate response. “That’s- wow.”

She sort of spaced out for a moment, until Terry cleared his throat and said, “You had something to tell me?”

“Oh, right. I did.” Amy shook herself out of her Times fantasy and reminded herself of the task at hand. Immediately, nerves made her stomach flutter and her palms sweat.

She’d considered waiting a while to tell her bosses about Jake, just long enough for them to actually start dating and see where things were headed. But that was her fear speaking, and she knew she had to do what was right. She swallowed hard, working up the courage to tell Terry. She really liked her job, and she was pretty sure they weren’t going to fire her but they were almost definitely going to make her change beats, which was going to be disappointing. But she had to be up front with them.

“Santiago-”

“I’m boinking my source!”

It came out as a sort of squeak-yell and Amy was glad no one else was around to hear her.

“Um, I mean, I’m dating him. Well, I guess not technically dating yet, but sleeping with him. You know, like-” She mashed her hands together in a movement that definitely didn’t connote sex, unless it was really bad sex.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it,” Terry said, sounding both perplexed and slightly amused. “Well, this is...something that we need to talk to Holt about.”

Terry stood up and peered around her at Holt’s office.

“Now?” Amy felt suddenly like she might faint.

“It’s as good a time as any,” Terry said. He gently took Amy’s elbow and steered her across the newsroom. “He’s thrilled with your article and the response it’s gotten.”

“He is?” Amy said, pride pushing aside her nerves for a moment. “I mean, I knew he was pleased, but thrilled? Did he say that? Or are you just inferring? Because if he said that-”

“I can just tell,” Terry said. He paused outside Holt’s open office door. “Just be honest with him. And don’t say ‘boinking.’”

“Roger that.”

Terry tapped on the door before leading Amy inside. He asked if Holt was busy, and Holt said, “I’m always busy,” but he put down his pencil and invited them to sit.

Somehow, Amy pulled herself together. She explained, calmly, that she had developed feelings for someone who used to be a source, and that they had decided to start dating. She said that she had already informed him that she would no longer be able to use him as a source, and that if he told her anything newsworthy she would pass it on to one of her colleagues. She expressed that she wanted to keep covering the police beat, but she would understand if they didn’t trust her in that position anymore, and she would happily accept any new assignment they offered. When she was done, she folded her hands in her lap and squared her shoulders and forced herself not to think about what would happen if they fired her.

“I see,” Holt said, with no inflection that Amy could discern. “Well, it would seem as though you’ve taken the necessary precautions and insulated yourself from potential bias as well as possible. I see no reason you cannot remain on the police beat, for now. But note, I will be paying close attention, as will Terry, and if one of us believes you are compromised we will take action.”

Amy blinked, stunned that she was going to be allowed to keep covering cops. She smiled and nodded sharply, then stood up and stuck out her hand. Holt looked at her outstretched hand for a moment and then smiled a little and shook it. His grip was firm, and so was hers.

“I promise I won’t let you down, sir,” Amy said.

She turned and strode out of his office. She was just outside the door when she heard Holt say, “She knows she doesn’t have to call me ‘sir,’ right?”

“I don’t think so,” said Terry.

+++

Jake was pleased for Amy that her conversation about dating a cop had gone over so well with her bosses. It clearly helped ease her mind to have their blessing – or at least their not-firing – and that was great, he wanted her to be as relaxed and stress-free and not-guilty as possible when it came to being with him.

But there was no universe in which he was planning to similarly come out to the Vulture, or just about anyone else in the NYPD. He’d probably tell Rosa at some point – maybe, eventually; most likely after she figured it out on her own and forced it out of him – and it wasn’t like he expected to sneak around with Amy for the foreseeable future. He just would rather keep it between them (and Amy’s bosses) for the moment.

He was still in awe that there even was a them.

Jake knew he didn’t have much of a tolerance for wide-swinging emotions. In fact, his grasp on his own emotional health was at times staggeringly bad. He did a decent job keeping his feelings under control day to day – denial and compartmentalization were his go-to coping mechanisms and he excelled at both (thanks, Roger Peralta) – but when strong emotions hit, they hit hard.

Once, during a department-mandated therapy session after a lengthy undercover stint, a counselor had told Jake that he’d benefit from developing a toolbox of decompressing strategies for when things got rough. For some reason Jake had found the suggestion hilarious, imagining a literal toolbox filled with hammers and wrenches and pliers. When he’d mentioned it to Rosa, she’d said that bashing things with tools was exactly what she did when she was angry – that or glass-blowing – and Jake had actually bought a toolbox online that day. It was currently collecting dust in the back of his sneaker closet.

So yeah, he wasn’t great with emotions. And the past few days had involved a dizzying array of them. After the depressing lows that had followed their first kiss, the pure elation of their second kiss had been almost overwhelming. Jake had felt lighter and happier the next day than he could ever remember. He’d also felt exhausted, though it was a satisfied, dreamy, peaceful kind of fatigue.

They’d seen each other again that night, and every night after for the rest of the week, and though they’d had sex they hadn’t actually slept together again. They’d ordered takeout and turned on a movie and basically made out (and more) on his or her sofa until one of them yawned and they agreed it was late and they both had to get up early. It was kind of perfect.

Amy was kind of perfect.

But by Friday Jake had decided they needed a proper date, and so he chose a restaurant and made a reservation and texted Amy that he’d pick her up at 7. Then he and Rosa got called to a dead body, and a suspect in an unrelated robbery case they’d been working for two weeks had literally tripped over their crime scene, and by 6 Jake was covered in blood and subway muck and still had a report to finish. He texted Amy to tell her he’d meet her at the restaurant.

Which was how he arrived at their first official date almost half an hour late, hair still damp from the shower, fumbling the knot of his necktie as he pushed through the crowded foyer to the host station.

“What happened to your face?” Amy said, when he got to her side.

“What?”

Amy brushed her fingers over her own cheek and Jake did the same, wincing when he touched the small cut. “Oh, that.”

The host came then and glared a lot, but he took them to a table despite Jake’s tardiness. It was an intimate restaurant, quiet and dark with small tables clustered close together. The host handed them menus with a sneer that Jake had to believe was not in the employee handbook.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jake said, once they were seated.

Amy smiled back at him and shrugged. “I get the feeling it’s something I’m going to get used to.”

“You look nice,” he said. “I like the dress.”

“It’s not a dress, it’s a skirt and blouse,” Amy said, and then grimaced. “But, thank you. You look nice too. I’ve never seen you in a tie before.”

Jake ducked his head and ran a hand self-consciously over the wrinkled necktie. He’d only had time for about a two-minute shower at the precinct before coming straight to the restaurant. He was just lucky he always kept a spare tie and a semi-clean shirt shoved in the back of his desk for emergency court dates.

“So what happened today?” Amy gestured again to his face.

“It’s actually an insane story.”

“Wait!” Amy said, holding up a hand. “Like, the kind of insane I’d want to write an article about? Or insane like, your job is disgusting and/or hilarious but not fit for print?”

“Definitely the latter,” Jake said.

“Go on, then.” Amy leaned toward him, resting her chin in her hand.

“So Rosa and I got called to a dead body on the subway tracks near Bergen. But when we get there, the dead body’s actually a dog, and it’s been turned inside-out. Like, nose to tail. And the smell-”

Jake paused because Amy was shooting him a wide-eyed warning glare and darting her eyes back and forth. He looked to either side and saw that their dining neighbors were staring at him with looks of utter horror. The woman to his left set her utensils on the table and shoved her plate away.

“Uh, I’ll tell you the rest later,” Jake said.

“I think that would be best.”

They exchanged embarrassed smiles, and Jake said, “Well, what about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Amy said. “It’s nice being back on the regular police beat after all that time on the jail story. Like today, I got to do this story on a severed head-”

“Oh! The one they found in the fish tank?”

“Yes!” Amy said. “You know about that case? It’s so crazy.”

“So crazy!” Jake said. “You should see the photos.”

Jake was reaching for his cell phone in his jacket pocket when he spotted the same lady on his left staring at him with murder in her eyes. He glanced back at Amy, who was getting the same death glare from a different diner.

“Maybe later,” Amy said weakly.

They turned to their menus then, each fairly mortified. After they’d ordered, Jake grasped for a more appropriate topic, and finally asked Amy to tell him more about some of her coworkers.

“I’m always going on about the Vulture,” he said. “What’s your boss like?”

“Oh god, nothing like Pembroke,” Amy said. “Terry, he’s my regular editor, he’s really gentle and supportive but he knows how to get the best out of you. And Holt is incredible. He’s so smart and ethical and detail-oriented, and he has impeccable news judgment. He’s the most impressive man I’ve ever met.”

“So, what you’re saying is I should be jealous of your editor.” Jake smirked at her.

Amy turned red and said, “No! He’s great but he’s not- I mean, I love Holt, but I’m not in love with him.”

Jake fully laughed, and it occurred to him that his maybe-girlfriend was not exactly suave and that he maybe found that adorable.

Amy waited out his laughter with only a mild look of annoyance, then asked Jake to tell her more about Rosa. “Police partnerships must be so intense. I bet you know everything about each other.”

“I know her first and last name and that she lives somewhere in Brooklyn,” Jake said. He hesitated and thought that over. “Probably.”

“Oh,” Amy said, face falling. The waiter arrived then with their dinner salads, and Amy leaned toward him and said, in a low voice, “Jake, are we bad at this?”

He didn’t respond right away. Things were undeniably weird. And he supposed some of that was to be expected, given that they’d always had a kind of invisible barrier between them when they’d met in public – a professional line they couldn’t cross. He snapped his fingers then, startling Amy into dropping her fork.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “I think things were easy before because we were always surrounded by all your notes and binders, and they were like, I don’t know, a fortress keeping out the weird.”

“Okay,” Amy said, slowly. “So you need me to bring binders next time? Because I can do that.”

“No,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Not binders – liquor.”

“What?”

“Conversation grease,” he said, lifting a hand to get their waiter’s attention. “Four shots of-” He glanced at Amy, who shrugged. “Your medium-est shelf whiskey.”

+++

They stumbled back to Amy’s place from the restaurant, both of them a pleasant sort of tipsy that was warm and giggly and affectionate, Jake’s arm slung around Amy’s shoulders, her fingers tucked into the back of his belt. When she let them inside, Jake backed her into the wall beside her front door and kissed her, clumsy and teasing. She fisted his tie in one hand to pull him closer and felt him smile against her lips.

“You,” she said, tipping her head back to speak, “are an amazing detective.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I know,” he said, “but maybe be more specific?”

“The way you figured out why things were weird and then fixed it,” Amy said, and she cupped a hand over the back of his neck and pulled him toward her again, lips brushing against his. “That was brilliant.”

“Dear lord, you are good at this,” Jake said.

Then they stopped talking for a while. Jake took her hand and led them back to her bedroom, where he gently pushed her onto the bed and sprawled out beside her, and they undressed each other slowly and had sex on top of the bedspread, their bodies illuminated by the light coming from the hallway and the streetlamps outside her windows. After, Jake pulled the quilt she kept folded at the end of the bed up over them, and they laid facing each other, arms tucked under their heads.

“You never told me where you got this,” Amy said, brushing her fingertips against the shallow cut on his cheek.

He wrapped his hand around hers and kissed her fingers, one at a time, before answering.

“This robbery suspect Rosa and I had been looking for, he showed up at the dog-body crime scene, like out of nowhere. I think he was just going to get the train. He freaked out when he saw us and took off down the subway tracks, we pursued, and when I took him down we sort of scuffled and I guess he got in a hit or two.” Jake shrugged. “I didn’t even know he’d hit me until we got back on the platform and Rosa said something. I was way more focused on the fact that I was covered in subway slime.”

Amy shuddered at the thought. “I hope you’re up to date on your vaccines. I bet you can get diseases you’ve never even heard of from subway slime.”

“Or, if you want to look on the bright side, maybe I could become a slime monster. Oh! Like the Swamp Thing, only the Subway Thing.” Jake paused, a faraway look in his eyes. “That’d be so dope.”

“Didn’t you ever think it was lame that the Swamp Thing was just a ‘thing,’” Amy said. “Like, they couldn’t come up with a better description?”

“I had never thought that before, but I love the way your mind works,” Jake said. Amy smiled, and he smiled back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

They grew quiet, and Jake traced patterns across her shoulder and down her arm with his fingers, whorls and lines that made her shiver. Amy studied his face and marveled at the closeness they seemed to have developed, despite knowing not a lot about one another.

Amy had been in relationships, two or three serious ones, but they’d always just fizzled out, whatever small spark that got them started snuffed at the smallest huff of irritation. What Amy felt for Jake, after only knowing him for a few weeks, already seemed more vibrant, more durable.

“Did I ever tell you my dad was a cop?” Amy said, soft in the darkness.

Jake’s fingers paused on her skin, and he laid his palm flat on her shoulder instead. “No, you’ve never mentioned him.”

“He retired a few years ago. Victor Santiago.”

Jake’s eyes went wide, and his hand squeezed around her bicep. “Captain Victor Santiago? He’s your dad?”

Amy beamed and nodded. “You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s a legend, Amy,” Jake said. “Oh wait, wow, so Manny and Jesus are your brothers?”

“They’re cops too, yes,” Amy said. “And Tony.”

“Yeah, Tony. He’s kind of a dick.” Jake grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. He is a dick.”

Jake chuckled, and shook his head slowly. “Wow, I can’t believe you’re one of those Santiagos. It never even occurred to me.”

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” Amy said.

Jake caught her eye, and he moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her toward him, his mouth close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

Amy kissed him, hard enough to leave him breathless. “Later,” she said, and rolled on top of him.

CHAPTER 9

[ittakesrain]

Track Your Shit

I sat on the couch in my psychiatrist’s office with my arms crossed and steam billowing out of my ears.

“Are you on cocaine?” he asked without a hint of sarcasm.

“No,” I shot back, completely bewildered but appropriately defensive.

“Then you’re bipolar.”

Yup. That was how I was diagnosed.  And to my memory, that was really the only major piece of information my psychiatrist gave me that day.  There was no supplemental information given to me, no sort of enlightenment or introduction into the all-consuming project that would be managing my difficult and sometimes debilitating condition, and I left the office with what felt like a really random label and a higher dose of Abilify.  I was nineteen years old, I was a chemistry major in college, I’d kicked the hell out of an eating disorder, and I was bipolar. The facts didn’t matter too much. Right?

Over the next several years, I really didn’t hear the word “bipolar” all too frequently, in or out of my psychiatrist’s office, despite the increasingly, uh, intense fluctuations in my moods and energy as well as steadily growing anxiety and irritability. Weird, am I right? For a diagnosis that impacts pretty much all aspects of a person’s life, in one way or another, to not be mentioned nearly enough times? There are more fitting words, but sure, we’ll go with ‘weird.’

By the time I graduated college, I knew my diagnosis was playing a larger role in my life that I originally assumed it would.  I started keeping track of when I took my meds (and with that tried not to miss any doses). I recorded my moods more frequently.  I did some cursory research into my disorder. And I finally started noticing patterns in my cycle and knew to watch out for specific warning signs.  And mind you, doing all of that was a pretty big accomplishment for someone who was given virtually no guidance. Not to mention a medication regime that was significantly lacking.

The first thing I realized was that my episodes often began with feeling “emotionally itchy,” or “like I want to rip my face off” and “jump out of my skin and out of who I am as a person.” Thanks to the knowledge I have now, I can use different language to describe what actually goes on as I inch ever closer to a major episode. I become incredibly irritable and experience what’s called “dysphoric mania.”  I have the racing thoughts and flight of ideas that come with manic episodes, meaning my brain is running at a million miles a minute and I can’t keep myself focused on one idea long enough to think it through, but it’s not what anyone would call a happy feeling (not that mania is to be confused with mere happiness). In my dysphoric state, I have too much energy, so much so that it physically hurts me as it swells from within me and threatens to burst open at any second.  I often cut myself in such a state because I need the assumed and metaphorical emotional release as well as the physical release of endorphins in response to injury.

Then I began to see that if I missed my meds for any period of time longer than a day or two, I felt the effects about two weeks later. If I forgot (or “forgot”) to take my Abilify for let’s say a full week, I’d be in the middle of a relentless and torturous depression in about fourteen days. Sidenote, I shouldn’t have missed ANY days of meds, but lo and behold, I wasn’t exactly warned all too well against it. But to see a pattern, to determine the cause of a specific (and dramatic) dip in my moods, was hugely influential in my life. Not to mention, it brought me to google how the medication I was prescribed actually works. And, spoiler, every single human being who is prescribed any medication at all should be aware of what the fucking medication does and how it works and all of that. Seriously. So important. Turns out Abilify is “long acting” and takes about two weeks to leave my system.

Furthermore, Abilify is a type of drug called an “atypical antipsychotic.” Those types of drugs are frequently used as mood stabilizers. They’re the second generation of drugs that you’ve probably seen being used on dramatic medical shows or movies about psychiatric hospitals that knock people who are acting “insane” out. They’re used as tranquilizers. Haldol is an example of one that works fast and Thorazine is an example of one that works somewhat slower. Those are called typical antipsychotics. Atypicals like Abilify have fewer side effects. They work to influence serotonin (the neurotransmitter sometimes called the “happy molecule”) as opposed to blocking signals from dopamine (the “pleasure and reward” neurotransmitter).

Right. So as you see I’ve become fairly well-versed in the goings-on of impending episodes and the key pieces of information surrounding them. Again, this is phenomenally helpful. But my point is that I should have been given this information from the get-go. I should’ve been prepared and taught, should’ve been armed with education given to me by a human being who knew what the fuck was happening to me and how bad it would potentially get if I didn’t have the fucking said information! I got there myself, and I’m damn proud of myself for doing so. And it still brings me peace of mind and a sense of control to research bipolar disorder, and learn new things about treatments and meds and biochemistry, and to work through my recorded moods and symptoms to find existing patterns or warnings. But for fuck’s sake, why wasn’t I told about the importance of recording the fluctuations or about psychoeducation as a tremendously powerful tool?

Alright alright, not going to continue dwelling on the past and how I was royally screwed (at least not in this particular blog post). Because as I look to the future, I know things will at the very least make more sense. I’ll at least be able to understand this bullshit and from there hopefully combat it better.

Which brings me to a few months ago as I began to embark on a new and more um, intense journey of self-discovery and understanding –which, in turn, is allowing me to feel significantly less dread about my eventual (and inevitable?) next episodes. It started when I wound up in the emergency room for the first time in October 2018 when a depressive episode took a terrible turn for the worse. I was 27 years old and at the end of my rope. Exhausted from years of worsening symptoms and my cries for help going unheard, my begging and pleading remaining unnoticed, I collapsed into chaotic despair.

The good that came from that particular visit to rock bottom was that I subsequently found a therapist (no, I hadn’t been in therapy previously and yes, that was really dumb) who is literally the coolest person ever, in addition to being really fucking good at what she does. And a few months after that, my amazing therapist helped me find a better psychiatrist, and from there we all began the arduous task of getting my act together and trying to stabilize the shitshow of my life.

As it turns out, since I was on a medication that didn’t do much for me for such a long time, my bipolar disorder was able to “mature.” To further develop and overall just get worse. Literally look it up. It’s a known thing that bipolar worsens if left untreated, and I absolutely feel that mine at the very least wasn’t being treated properly. Lucky me.

But since beginning to see my therapist in November and my new medication provider in February, I’ve learned like, so so so much. I know to stop and breathe when I start to get worked up, because I know I have gone for long periods of time without inhaling and exhaling like a functioning human. I know that I fidget around and repeat purposeless motions (“display signs of psychomotor agitation”) because it comforts me when I’m anxious. I know I have issues with control, with the desire to feel safe, with things that aren’t fair.

Also. Insomnia is a huge red flag for me and for the majority of bipolars. It’s both a symptom of approaching mania and a trigger for it. Meaning, when you start staying up all night long, you’ve gotta find a way to get some sleep before it gets worse and leads to an episode. It also means that you can’t voluntarily pull all-nighters (if you can help it) because that might land you in the middle of a manic break as well. And as if that wouldn’t suck enough, a despairing depression would most certainly follow the agitated (hypo)mania.

Alcohol is another one. Now, I’m not huge on drinking. I never partook in any of that before I was of legal age anyway (which is perhaps a testament to my nerdy younger self haha), and once I started drinking, I had trouble getting past the gross taste. I still do. But when I drink as an adult (which I haven’t done in a few months, mind you), I drink to get fucked up. So basically, I drink in a way that’s literally terrible for my bipolar. It’s a cycle, too.  I’ll have a bad day and come home and take five shots of fireball, and I get shitfaced so I have a terrible day the next day. It’s similar to insomnia in that it perpetuates itself and that I’ve gotta be responsible about it.

[On that note, by the way, I should say that maintaining stability involves quite a few key things (such as sleep hygiene, med compliance, the nutrition you fuel your body with, the way you move your body, being mindful and having the ability to focus on breathing, following pre-set routines, your support system, your coping skills and crisis-management tools, and your healthcare professionals…to name a few). It’s imperative to keep up with each thing to prevent all hell from breaking loose.]

I’ve also come to see that, for whatever reason, my major episodes usually have a definitive end but not a clearcut start. As in, I can identify the specific day my depression ends, but the irritability and frenetic energy and aggressive outbursts start out kind of slowly and increase steadily until my moods surrender into despondent melancholy. At this point, I believe the phenomena has to do with my tendency to ruminate and nearly drown in repetitive thoughts. I really struggle with redirecting my brain away from negatives. It could also be because of my coexisting ADHD, but either way, I can’t knock myself out of a bad mood as easily as most people can. So even something small going wrong has the potential to send me spiraling. I can’t think myself out of it. But I can easily make it worse –by ruminating and letting the negatives repeat like a broken record in my head. The decline, therefore, moves like a ball rolling down a ramp. On the opposite end of a “crazy spell” (as I called them way back in the day before I learned all this enlightening information) we have the ball being yanked back up as if it was attached to a string or something. As in, something good can happen that completely “snaps me out” of a major depression. It’s wild to think about. Like, fuck, why can’t more good things happen? Maybe then I’d spend less time wanting to die. I have, however, come to learn how to put myself in the line of things that have the potential to knock me off the crazy train. File that under “bitchin’ coping skills.”

Thanks to psychoeducation, I’ve also come to understand some of my personality traits. I’ve often called myself “volatile.” I fly off the handle fairly quickly, I accelerate from zero to 100 faster than the Kinga Ka roller coaster at Six Flags. My therapist calls it being reactive, and I prefer that phrasing now. My reactivity is part of my personality, but I understand it more clearly by looking at it through the lens of what I know about bipolar disorder. Similarly, in addition to reacting more, I react bigger. I guess some people might call it being dramatic, but again, I prefer to think of it in terms of how my therapist explained it: I’m wired intensely. I feel things in a bigger way. She once said something along the lines of “you can light up a city with your emotions,” and I don’t think she used the word emotions, but that was the gist. My intensity if a part of who I am. And honestly, as much as it can be super annoying and anxiety-producing, it’s not all bad and I choose to label it as a good thing.

Oh, and I pretty much knew this already, but I like to write/type because in my bipolar brain, the thoughts move more quickly than my mouth can move. It causes me to stutter, or stumble over my words, or lose my train of thought because I didn’t say something the right way and I can’t make my mouth move in a way to correct myself because I have fifteen thousand other thoughts flying through my mind and I can’t focus on any of it now. I exhibit pressured speech. Oh yeah, that’s one of my faves.

Thanks to psychoeducation, I’ve learned why I cling to my routines with a death-grip. Doing so is legitimately helpful to people with bipolar. Which is why going on vacation or starting a new job or a new chapter in life can throw bipolar people off in such grand ways. Circadian rhythms are screwy in us. We need to work hard to keep that shit in check. And the sleep-wake cycle and yes, routines, are part of that.

Okay then. With all of this knowledge being attained and a few more trips to rock bottom (and the emergency room) since October 2018…here I am. Still holding on, and doing better at that holding than I have in a while. A month and a half of normalcy without anything rocking the boat? I feel pretty damn good, thank you very much.

Oddly enough, stability can be just as scary for me as the complete and utter chaos of the rest of it. Like, now I have no excuses for not moving forward. Ugh, I have to move forward. But ya know what, I will. Because I’ve got the bipolar symptoms under control at the moment. There’s really nothing stopping me, so I’m sure as hell not gonna stop me.

Keeping records is absolutely fucking necessary. I’ve got no choice but to record my moods, anxiety, and irritability. I’ve gotta take my meds every fucking day and keep track of if I ever miss a day (which I shouldn’t). I need to write down other factors that play a role, such as my periods and when I have therapy and life stressors and stuff like that.

It’s taken, holy shit, so much work to acquire the awareness I currently have. And moving forward will require consistently working on what I know and actively seeking more information. But dude, I’ve come this far. I’m not gonna stop now.