#also to be perfectly clear i am not a teenager myself anymore i am just thinking about it

[jennyfromthebes]

i gotta say I do think that the day the aliens came is probably one of the truest tmg songs ever. like. it's a song about when you are stuck in a house that is hurting you and you can nearly see the finish line you're so close you just have to make it there and once you do they'll all be sorry. everything else around you will go down in flames if it must and you'll walk out of there you'll finally for the first time be okay be free just as soon as that day gets here. sorry I'm having a lot of memories and thoughts about the way that being a teenager is a unique kind of hell and jd is the only person I'd ever heard actually acknowledge that yeah being a teenager sucks absolute shit. but it also doesn't last forever.

[redheadspark]

June Prompt Session (CLOSED)

Hello darlings and HAPPY PRIDE!

We are diving right into June and Pride month and I am SOOOO excited, it's a favorite month (also because it's my birthday month!). I wanted to wait a minute to do another prompt session since I was moving and wanted to focus on cleaning and sort my new space.

This is one of my fav prompts to right since we need to see more of this in fan fiction and in shows for that matter. And since we got a taste of this in the new season of Bridgerton, I decided I can write this for our new session.

This Prompt Session Theme is :

Friends to Lovers

Here are my rules:

1.) You may choose ONE character from my list Here. It’ll have the list of characters that I write for or have written for in the past.

*(If you have a character not listed that you wish for me to write, PLEASE MESSAGE ME AND CLEAR IT WITH ME FIRST TO SEE IF I CAN OR WILL DO IT!)*

2.) There are Twos Prompt lists for this session, so please request the numbers you wish for me to write.

Please provide BOTH the numbers you would like (Both the scenario and dialogue) AND the character to pair it with.

Example: May I have Azriel from ACOTAR with #5 for Scenario and #3 for Dialogue?

*I write out the requests as a first come first serve. I will try my best to fulfill every request that comes my way, but please bear in mind I work full-time as a teacher. Because of that, I’ll be busy most of the day so please be patient and I’ll write in my spare time as much as I can :) *

3.) If I get two requests that are exactly the same, (same character and same number) I will only write it once! Please don't be afraid to ask if someone has already requested the character and number, I don't mind answering that for you :)

4.) You can request in my ASK box neither as yourself or anonymously. Although I would LOVE to give you a shout if you request as yourself, anon is perfectly fine!

5.) I will stop taking requests for this prompt session on Sunday, June 23rd, at 3:00 PST

6) Have fun and enjoy :)

This Prompt Session was created by @creativepromptsforwriting

Dialogue Prompts

“We can’t go on like this. Like friends is all we are.”

“You know I love you, right? But maybe in a different way than you think…”

“We’ve known each other for so long. I can’t imagine my life - myself - without you anymore. And I really don’t want to.”

“I was always jealous of them and it took me some time to realise why.”

“Everyone is already thinking that we’re dating.”

“You and I together… would that be weird?” “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“We’re already basically an old married couple. What harm could it be to try it out for real?”

“I’m just scared of losing you.” “Don’t think of it as losing, it’s more like evolving. You’re not losing your best friend, you’re getting something extra.”

Scenario Prompts

Growing up together means that so many of their memories and experiences involve the other person, that if they talk with other people who never met their friend, those people still feel like they already know them.

Having had sleepovers together since they were little, it’s not uncommon for them to sleep in the same bed.

They have always known each other better than everyone else, so becoming teenagers and starting to change their behaviours in groups and having different hobbies is putting a strain on their friendship.

Because they have always been best friends, they accompany each other to every event, to family parties, sport events and school activities. When it’s time for their first school dance, they naturally want to go together, but they are at an age now, were this can become a little bit awkward.

Having so many inside jokes that just the two of them know, that other people often don’t understand their humor.

They had been best friends in their childhood, but then one of them moved away and they lost contact. Meeting each other again by accident and seeing someone they once knew everything about, but who is now basically a stranger is a weird feeling.

They have always been close and they are very comfortable with casual affections, hugging each other, laying their head in the other’s lap, even holding hands.

Having pet names for each other, that no one else uses, which confuse some people.

When they were in elementary school, they created a secret language to avoid their teachers reading their notes they passed back and forth in class. Now one of them uses that language to write a love letter.

There was always that one place they would both run off to - to escape parents, annoying siblings and just the world in general. They haven’t had contact in a long time, but when things get rough, they both end up in their safe place again.

Once again, I will no longer take requests on Sunday, June 23rd, at 3:00 PM PST

Happy Requesting and Happy Pride!

Tagging -@a-lumos-in-the-nox @botanicalbarnes @heliosphere8 @virtueassassin @ethereal-athalia @heartofwritiing @valeridarkness @pemberlyy @saradika @basicrese

[barthel]

Radiohead, "Creep" (Live in Oxford, 2001)

As a band, Radiohead has always been legible. They tell you how to think about them: what their story is, what their music means. And if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you knew they hated their first hit, "Creep." You knew this because they told you, but also because they made a series of albums that were aggressively the opposite of "Creep"'s anglo-grunge angst; because tour documentary Meeting People is Easy made clear their disgust with the kind of mindless fame a song like "Creep" engendered. "I want to have control," Thom had sung in the song, and now they were taking control of their narrative. They wanted to be smart, and "Creep" was not smart.

The problem was, if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you yourself probably loved "Creep." When I first heard the song, I was just the kind of teen to feel that crunchy angst deep in my soul, and even as I went to college and wanted to seem smart and do smart things myself (OK Computer, Kid A, and Amnesiac are all very "I went to college" sort of albums), every moment of "Creep," from its chiming beginning to its jet-takeoff chorus to its transparent self-loathing, was a blast. My gross teenage soul felt seen. And anyway, wasn't Radiohead's rejection of the song exactly the kind of self-loathing that "Creep" itself had managed to capture so perfectly? I was a creep, I was a weirdo; what the hell were we doing there? Let's not do that again, guys. Come on.

After college, I spent a lot of time online arguing with past versions of myself. I was  embarrassed about the college-age Radiohead superfan who'd spent hours decoding the band's inscrutable website updates, convinced that they contained some galaxy-brain higher message, some greater masterpiece. When In Rainbows came out, given away at the band's website for whatever you wished to pay, the fan narrative became that Radiohead had boldly pioneered a new economic model that would save the music industry. But by that point, I'd become knowledgeable enough about both music and the music industry that I could smugly point out to you the many ways in which that was wrong. (And, even today, I can do a solid 7 minutes on how In Rainbows devalued digital music.) I didn't listen to the album for years, even though, when I did, I liked it well enough. Your old self can get in your head, can become a region on your internal map filled with sea dragons and smoke. Don't go here. 

When you're in your 40's, like I am now, you can't just react to your last identity; you have too many to choose from. It's easier to look back with regret on the many old selves you've lost than to boldly forge a new identity opposed to your last one. I was a writer for a couple decades, then got a professional job that didn't allow me to write. Since leaving it, I've been trying to put my writer-self back together, but in assembling my last bio, I noted that many of my publications were in outlets that no longer exist. It's easy to fall into regret; to feel illegible, your self-perception out of sync with how others see you. You can't afford these arguments with your past self anymore. You have to find a way to embrace them.

In 2001, after releasing Amnesiac, Radiohead played a triumphant homecoming gig in Oxford, where they'd all met at university. (Like I said: a very "I went to college" band.) At that point, they hadn't played "Creep" in four years, even as they'd put out two confirmed masterpieces, and all signs pointed to them never playing the song again. They weren't planning on playing it that day, either. At the end of their final encore, they began to play "Motion Picture Soundtrack," the bleak love song that closes "Kid A." It was written around the same time as "Creep," but where "Creep" is easily legible, guitars and lyrics united in message, "MPS" pushes against itself, a cozy organ contrasting harshly with Thom Yorke's declaration that he'll never be with the object of his desire, and will only "see you in the next life."  But the crowd wouldn't hear MPS that day. The band flubbed the intro, and instead of starting again, Thom says, "Okay, I've got a better idea. This is a slightly older song."

As the first note of "Creep" hits, a sound erupts from the crowd: not just a cheer, not just a scream, but the clearest expression of release I've ever heard. It is a true surprise, a fulfillment of their heart's desire; one diehard Radiohead fans never expected to happen, or at least not that day. They sing along to every word. And the band shows no signs of the embarrassment they'd felt so strongly for the song since releasing OK Computer. Jonny launches into the first roaring chord of the chorus audibly out of tune, and you can hear a moment of hesitancy, the old embarrassment threatening to creep in, before he gives in to the song's pull. Thom sings it with a gleeful lightness. It's a reunion, a band realizing, in a flash, that they've had enough distance from their past self to love them again. You need that distance, need to see your earlier selves were right, or at least not wrong; not smart, maybe, but maybe smart isn't what really matters. Maybe what really matters isn't being smart or right but that feeling, that release, the crowd and the band together, in perfect purpose, deciding to love the sound itself and its adored history rather than the barren meaning of the words. The explicit legibility slips away into something richer and more complex, and together, they find joy in having made it far enough from that angst to view it with affection.

[popmusicu]

Being heatrbroken in a neon city in your 20s: Lorde's melodrama and her forever impact in sad young adults

The sophmore album of the New-Zealand singer and songwriter Lorde “Melodrama” has already positioned itself as a modern pop classic, that since it’s release in 2017 has accompanied sad heartbroken teens, such as myself, living in big cities in the healing journey of the heartbreak.

Lorde wrote Melodrama at 19 years old, same age as I am now, after the breakup of her first long term relationship, moved to New York and perfectly knew how to capture the feeling of late nights wandering through the city under neon lights missing a past love, her lyrics talk about the whole experience of grief after breaking up a romantic relationship, the regret, the  sadness, and the final acceptance that she’s just a girl dancing on her own swaying alone stroking her cheek. Elements that help us go through this are the two interludes from the album “Sober II” and “Liability (reprise)"  that touch previous themes from the lyrics but with a more accepting approach .

Not only the lyrics give us this feelings of flashing lights, city at night, smoke and youth, the synth pop production made by the one and only Jack Antonoff also help with this, it actually makes the album pretty visual, you can imagine this girl in the city, the visuals in the album go along with this, as you can see in the image below, a screencap from the "Green Light” music video the artistic proposal of the album being very clear, the loneliness under city lights

One song that I particulary love and has a very interesting production is “Hard Feelings/Loveless”  that has a breaktrough in the middle of the song, the first half of the song  ia very calm and almost a ballad that talks about the lingering nostalgic feeling right after the breakup, this one is interrupted with metallic sounds and the synth of production, the second part feels more agressive, like knifes, she talks about how she doesn’t care anymore about this ex lover or if he’s envious of her new life, even hopes he is. This one I feel defines the duality of the album, both the emotions of anger and sadness that come along with grief.

Along with this one I would say defining songs from the album  (and honestly personal favourites) are Liability, The Louvre, Green Light, and Perfect Places, this last ones being main singles of the album.

I think is pretty conceptual, very compact and cohesive visually and musically, and the perfect company for your lonely 20 year old self after your first breakup, for me defines a very specific part of my life, and even if you’re not a late teenager young adult going through a heartbreak, but once were, “Melodrama” can sure bring you back to that feeling!!!

Catalina Covarrubias

[lenkagainstcity]

Walk in your rainbow paradise

I´ve spent most of my life (my teenage years and whole 20´s) being platonically in love with famous men. And to be honest, it might brought me some joy and I had fun being passionate about those men, most of the time this platonic love caused me anxiety and made me question my own confidence because I knew there are hundreds, thousands of other women who love these men too. It brought me to a never-ending virtual competition me vs those other women, constant comparing if I am pretty enough, if I look good enough, if I fit the current beauty standarts, if my body is skinny enough and I am that "femme fatale" too or wondering how to become one. Occasionally some of those women were lucky enough to meet my crushes while I was watching it at home through social medias feeling desperate because I knew I don´t even have a chance to get this close to meet them nor hanging out with them. Some anxieties were stronger when that man was more reachable than others as I thought this and that woman might be beautiful/interesting/lucky enough that that man will start dating her.

Whole other story was the cliché that these men, crushes to thousands and millions women all over the world, were dating a super hot, super fit and perfectly looking female models. I used to have a friend with who I shared my love for those men as we were fangirling together over them for few years -

before I realized my points of views and mindset in general is totally different and I don´t want to be around this person and share my interests with her because not only I don´t share the same opinions with her anymore, I actually found some of her opinions incredibly stupid short-sighted, without knowing the larger context or understanding the situation right and these opinions of hers influenced me negatively and I´ve found our friendship rather toxic and I couldn´t bear talking with this person anymore

- and there was one specific moment when we found new boy/man to have a crush on and she immediately told me "And he´s taken, of course he´s dating some model." Just like being the model is the first trait for what men look for when looking for a partner (some actually do but I´m not interested in them and most of them I don´t even know). This quote of hers was like an epitome that I couldn´t win this wannabe contest at any chance just for the pure fact - I´m not fitting the beauty standarts to be a model in the first place and I was just depressed that I will never be pretty/skinny/good enough. Why would I try to be the best version of myself when I will never get even close to others?

-------

The situation started to change as I entered my 30´s.

Firstly I fell in love with a band when I haven´t cared at all what are the personal situation with those men because I was there only for their music, their vibe and their personalities. I even haven´t found them handsome enough that I will have a crush on some of them.

Secondly I fell in love with the man who I find extremely beautiful and sexy and he´s an epitome of the perfect man (who also at the same time have some imperfections and that´s what make him unique) but my thoughts about him never crossed that line when I have a wet dream fantasies about him with my person. His love situation might be clear as day for public but diving deeper into him, his past, early days and his background, it became clear to me that things about him aren´t that obvious as it looks at the first sight and it´s spread as a official narrative for him. Thanks to him I found out about the whole topic what it means to being closeted (especially against your will), to hide your sexuality, how gaslighting works to push the official narrative and don´t make people suspicious, how to sell what needs to be sold even it´s not the truth, it´s not who that person is. I found my place in the healthy-thinking fandom, I surrounded myself by the same-minded people who are in the fandom much longer and they experienced his past self first hand and they know the context of the situation much better than me. Me who had almost a revelation when I dived into one specific tag here on tumblr on one very early morning while waiting for the bus to Berlin and found a damn lot posts about this topic. It was literally minutes before I found he´s not that person as who he´s represented for the public but also there´s someone else in his life. Someone who´s close to him from the very first minute, who was there before they both even got famous and they shaped themselves into what they are now together. And who - as I and many others believe - is dealing with the same closet. I love these men both equally.

And now it came the moment when I just found another man. The man who is also literally the perfection, who fits into all my beauty standards what leads me to have a crush on him. He allows me to think about him, to drool over him and have a crush on him but - he´s openly gay. And so I know there will never be any woman around him with who my mind starts another endless and useless competition because...he´s not into women at all.

And this is the moment in my life when it comes to being a fangirl and passionate about men I can´t/won´t have came to the final and definitive peace. I don´t want to write that I´m getting old and so any male under 25-30 won´t impress me anymore. It´s more like the moment when I settled down with the realisation that those few men I have mentioned and I am currently totally obsessed with are totally enough for me and it will stay like that. They are the definition of perfection and I don´t think I will find anyone more perfect, more beautiful and more talented. Loving them doesn´t cause me any anxiety and quetioning my self confidence because - no woman can have them. Whenever they are closeted or openly gay, they are not into women. And I am allowed to love them, to drool over them, to be passionate over how perfect they are and why I love them. But there will never be that moment of anxiety, low confidence and desperation. And that´s the moment when my life as a young woman who falls in love with good looking boys/men found it´s definitive peace and calm. Go, gays, go!

[darlington-v]

I know different interpretations of a work are generally enriching and cool... but c!dream villan interpretations is like how to tell me you only watch Tommy without saying you only watch tommy.... which would be fine but its not a great place to be making statements about the whole nature of the dsmp lol

Wild speculation, but sometimes I wonder if like, because the dsmp didn't really start as a narrative, and a lot of fans don't nessecarily enter it expecting a narrative, but then there is one and the fandom is really discourse heavy and everyone is sort of excpeted to have an opinion while maybe not expecting to form one from the begining or not having a ton of experience with narrative in a way that would "expect" them to have an opinion or not take things at face value??, I don't know if I explained that well at all... and I don't really even think thats right nessecarily... but like wow sometimes some of the takes about power and government and villany...

Honestly, it makes sense!!!

I think something interesting is like.... looking at how animatics have shaped the like tone and culture of the fandom essentially. Like, an interesting fact that I didn't really fully grasp until SUPER recently is like...

c!Wilbur out the gate admits he is manipulating c!Tommy. Like his first youtube video on the Dream SMP he admits his goal is to manipulate c!Tommy and people like c!Tommy into helping him achieve a potion ("drug") empire to monopolize on potions because there were a lot of people on the server who like to min-max, which is to put all of your effort into this one specific skill essentially. so like... i know minecraft doesnt have a skill tree but if it did, it would be putting all your points into that one specific branch of a skill tree. So he wanted to exploit the labor of all the TommyInnits to.... maintain a Potion Empire.

THIS IS A LONG POST BC I GOT CARRIED AWAY SO BUCKLE UP

And I don't think a lot of the fandom who joined later on knows this. I certainly didn't until like a week or so ago? Like... I knew c!Wilbur had been manipulative from the start because I'm a mod of (shameless self promo incoming) @dsmpanalysis and we have a lot of different POVs in that mod team and discord and we talk about it really frequently. I joined the fandom as someone who was really big on L'manburg ESPECIALLY crimeboys, and have turned into.... *gestures vaguely to my blog*

And ngl I owe a lot of it to @1-michibiki-1 in terms of c!Dream "Apologism" but all of the mods there have expanded my thoughts and views on the storylines of this narrative.

My application consisted of like largely essays about like... how I think Dream was the villain but he was meant to be the villain because you don't get any insight into his character WHICH.... IS A FAIR ASSUMPTION AT FIRST GLANCE. People are easily villainized when you cannot get a glimpse into their thought process. It's easy to dwindle someone down into this flat character and starting out I knew Dream didn't stream the SMP on purpose.

And I personally came to the conclusion of "Oh! So Dream is supposed to be the villain." However as the story continued and I learned more about what Dream went through I began to realize that... it's more than likely a form of a red herring. My opinions on this were immediately solidified when I watched Ranboo's 2 MIL stream because both Ranboo AND Dream agree on enjoying red herrings.

There have been MANY times were Dream has said that c!Dream is a complex character and he's not a wholly evil guy and there have been times where the narrative has honestly just proved that.

Anyways, what's important though was that... I learned most of this from other people who were more focused on c!Dream rather than myself. Eventually I shifted from c!Tommy to c!Ranboo and c!Techno after c!Tommy betrayed c!Techno and I began to realize.... everything I learned before hopping in wasn't exactly what it seemed.

Part of this is because I'm older, I heavily identify with c!Techno's sense of loyalty and philosophies on government, but I especially identify with the anguish c!Techno voiced in... a lot of lore but especially the lore around Doomsday.

I'm not 16 anymore. I don't always feel wronged by adults, or older people in my case, whenever they absolutely have done something wrong by me, but I do feel wronged by my close friends. I also felt like c!Tommy's sense of loyalty didn't line up with mine after what felt like him constantly flip-flopping and refusing to understand c!Techno's morals on government didn't line up with his.

In short, it was easier to identify with Tommy in these animatics versus in the actual stream content because c!Tommy is played by a 16 year old. I'm not a teenager and my line of thinking doesn't entirely line up with people that age anymore. It's harder to place myself in the same shoes of someone's OC who is played closer to their actual age, because I'm not that age.

Regardless, I was still on the c!Dream is a villain train. I wasn't ever like... c!Dream is repulsive I hate him, but I was like omg hot villain lad go brrr.

Even when the first like... mellohi, panic room, Ranboo lore stream popped up I thought "Oh! c!Ranboo corruption arc?"

And I was excited because I really wanted this shy, nervous character to turn into villain buddies with his good pal c!Dream. I'm a total sucker for villains and corruption arcs and all that good shit.

SO I STARTED GETTING REALLY INTERESTED IN ENDERSMILE. I'VE BEEN ON ENDERSMILE SQUAD OUT THE GATE. NOT THE SAME WAY I AM NOW, BUT I'VE ALWAYS WANTED THEM TO TEAM UP.

So... upon not really keeping up with c!Dream and being relatively??? indifferent? I don't think I started arguments on c!Dream back then, but I might have. But I remember like... starting to participate more whenever c!Dream came up and looking more into Dream's character BUT ESPECIALLY TALKING WITH OUR SERVER'S C!DREAM SPECIALIST MICHI ABOUT DREAM A LOT MORE.

And because Michi has been a watcher since day one and was a DTeam fan rather than a SBI fan, she was able to provide me with more information on how the server worked pre-Tommy but especially pre-Wilbur.

Now, you could definitely argue well Michi probably has clear bias but it made sense to me when I looked back on how the storyline had been constructed and was going along, and everyone in the server talks a lot about our own biases and how we want people to maybe not lean so hard on them. Michi would also provide like anecdotes on what had happened and I'm sure links were probably provided at one point but the point was I felt like Michi had no reason to lie or manipulate how the story was told and if she did, eventually someone would have pointed it out because... Group of like... right now it's around 20 or more analysts but I don't remember how many at the time there were. POINT BEING, WE'VE ALL GOT POINTS TO PROVE AND IN MY EXPERIENCE NOT MANY OF US HAVE BEEN SHY TO PROVE THEM.

So if anyone ever had any differing opinions they would be talked about and we literally had and still have discussions.

REGARDLESS.... I DIDN'T FACT CHECK IN DEPTH BECAUSE I THOUGHT PEER REVIEW WAS ENOUGH WHEN YOU HAVE LIKE HOURS UPON HOURS OF STREAMS TO WATCH.

Anyways. Eventually I started paying closer attention and looking more into c!Dream lore but only recently have I started to triple check before speaking about c!Wilbur lore because I know everyone has biases and while I did trust everyone's thoughts and analysis in the discord, whenever I make essays I typically like it to be largely air tight and if theres a mistake, I want it to be because I forgot not because I just trusted what was said. Plus, I wanted to get down to the specifics of how Wilbur had always started with manipulation on the mind.

SO I WATCHED HIS FIRST VIDEO ON THE DREAM SMP.

AND WHAT I WAS NOT BY ANY MEANS EXPECTING WAS WILBUR TO SAY WORD FOR WORD, VERBATIM,

"SO WHY DON'T I START AN INDUSTRY WHERE I USE THE TOMMYINNITS OF THE WORLD TO WORK FOR ME, TO CREATE THINGS THAT THE MIN-MAXERS OF THE WORLD WILL WANT."

Like... this is in no way an attempt to like hardcore villainize c!Wilbur like everyone does Dream, it's just more so to like REALLY outline how far off a lot of fandom interpretation of c!Wilbur is....

Because of SBI focused animatics.

Now, when I joined I watched A LOT of animatics that really highlighted like... Wilbur being this self-loathing JD-esque, "I destroyed it because I had to because the world was against me because no one loved us, Tommy" type of character. At least... that's what it came across as.

And it definitely highlighted the fact that Tommy was a victim, which he is. He is undoubtedly a victim and no not even any dream apologist can change my mind otherwise. Tommy, despite being an instigator sometimes, didn't deserve the abuse he received.

But these animatics never shown the fact that c!Wilbur started L'manburg as a shady ploy to exploit people like c!Tommy and vilify c!Dream so he could have power.

And that was easy because Dream and Tommy had wars before. They had spars and pranks and here's the plan to take back my disks and here's the plan to out smart the thieving little child etc etc.

And all of the animatics I watched never mentioned this. Neither did the recaps though. The recaps gave the events flat out, there didn't sound like there was bias, and honestly I don't really know if there was rather than like... a lack of nuance. And it's hard to provide a recap with that much nuance in a short period of time for a youtube video, to be perfectly fair.

However, this creates a perfect formula for entirely rewriting the history of a server. c!Wilbur quite literally fucking succeeded TO A META LEVEL. He slandered and ran smear campaigns against Dream and like he even does that with Sapnap in the beginning. But what's crazy is that it transferred over into the meta! Most of this fandom understands Wilbur as a victim of mental illness, and yeah maybe? He definitely wasn't mentally well by the end of pogtopia, but he never started out with honorable intentions. L'manburg was never a victim, only its citizens. The TommyInnits of the world.

I just think it's like... such an interesting case study. Because this is like... an opinion like shared by at least half of the fandom, but the vilifying of c!Dream is shared by MOST of the fandom I would argue. Which is like even more crazy for me because that was c!Wilbur's goal!!!

LIKE I GO INSANE WHEN I THINK OF THIS BECAUSE HIS REACH IS JUST TOO POWERFUL. HE'S NOT EVEN ENTIRELY REAL, JUST A MANIPULATIVE PERSONA OF SOME BRITISH GUY.

And I mean... maybe people who have watched Wilbur's video on the SMP still maintain this idea that Wilbur wasn't always the bad guy, but honestly... I wouldn't be surprised if their introduction was still an animatic. Like bias is hard to check and I'm not going to lie I could have sworn I watched both Wilbur's AND Tommy's video on the SMP in the beginning and yet I STILL was a ride or die for tragic yet on some level still honorable Wilbur and a resilient Tommy.

Like... upon watching Wilbur's first video... possibly again I was surprised because I thought I did watch it like right before I even started watching the streams and yet I was still so invested in c!Wilbur as this tortured anti-hero.

It took 6 months of... not being in an echo chamber, full of multiple different people of different ages, different stream POVS, and people who joined the fandom at different points in time.

IDK IF THIS WAS EVEN ENTIRELY RELEVANT IT JUST FELT TANGENTIALLY RELEVANT AND THIS WAS SOMETHING I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT FOR A HOT MINUTE AFTER LIKE WATCHING WILBUR'S FIRST VIDEO AGAIN.

TLDR;

SBI CENTRIC ANIMATICS HAD A LASTING AFFECT ON THIS FANDOM AS IT'S HARD TO GO BACK AND ACTUALLY CHECK THE NARRATIVE FOR SOLID FACTS FOR YOUR OWN INTERPRETATION BASED ON THE FACT THAT THIS NARRATIVE SPANS OVER HUNDREDS OF HOURS WORTH OF TWITCH STREAMS.

[nawilla]

Fic Excerpt: Obi-Wan explains ABO issues with Master Yaddle

@masteryaddleisagilf I hope you like this snippet of Yaddle content.

Obi-Wan is doing an internship with Master Yaddle and they end up discussing A/B/O designations and dynamics.

Yaddle looked at him for a long moment.  “Mentioned another master did that advertise your designation you do not.  Unsure I am how supposed to treat you I am.”

“Ah.”  Obi-Wan paused, trying to figure out what to say. He had supposed people must wonder, but no one else had ever directly mentioned his designation.  “No, I don’t advertise it, or really present myself as any designation.  I was already a legal adult when my body finally decided to tell me what I was, and I had been for a while.  I was almost twenty-one years old.  I did not welcome the change.”  He shrugged. “I’ve also been told my designation scent is rather unpleasant, even at baseline, so I block it to avoid offending people.”

Yaddle pondered this, feeling him in the Force.  “Comfortable with your designation you are not?” she asked at last.  

“I’m not,” he admitted after a long moment.  “I found presenting to be an unpleasant and stressful experience, and my designation put a strain on my relationship with my master.  My build and body type aren’t suited for any designation, and I had already been an adult without a designation for so long it was just easier to continue that way.  I don’t deny what I am if people ask, but I don’t volunteer the information either.”

“So . . . the only one who does not know how to treat you I am not?” Yaddle asked cautiously.  

Obi-Wan shrugged. “You’ve been treating me like a person. A young person, but still an adult. There is no sexual aspect to our relationship, and you are my professional superior many times over, so does it matter?  Would it affect how you deal with me?”

Yaddle cocked her head, thinking it over.  “No. Affect how treat you I do it will not. But so many humans a big deal make of out of it do that concerned me that understand you well I would not and that understand your relationships with other humans I would not.”

“Most humans do make a big deal out of it,” Obi-Wan agreed.  “But they try to apply it to aspects of modern life where it shouldn’t be relevant anymore.”

“Other humans ask you do not?”  Yaddle seemed very surprised give how much attention they seemed to pay to it, how much they talked about it and how much they speculated about the potential designations on initiates and padawans as they grew up.  Still, as Jedi they were not living in isolated communities where marriages and breedings were far more strategic.  

“I think Master Jinn was asked a few times when I was a teenager, usually on worlds where there are strict designation roles and restrictions.  But by now, at my current age, I think they just assume I don’t have one. That can happen sometimes, but it’s not always recognized of differentiated from betas.”

Yaddle was staring at him, obviously fascinated.  “But have a designation you do?” she asked to confirm.

“I do,” Obi-Wan conceded.  “Though to be honest, my healers are debating what it is exactly.”

It was clear Yaddle was restraining herself from asking what the hell that meant. “Thought I did that obvious to healers that was.”

Obi-Wan chuckled at her expression. “There are three main designations, alpha, beta and omega, but not everyone fits into those categories perfectly, and some don’t fit into any of them at all.”

“More designations there are?” Yaddle asked, very surprised.  

“Yes,” Obi-Wan nodded. “You know how many human traits are on a spectrum, yes?  That they have different degrees of being?  And that they are outliers?  Sexual orientation or cognitive ability or height or coloring.  Designation has a spectrum too.  There are three large peaks, alpha, beta and omega, but they are wide, not sharp categories and there are other points on the spectrum.”  He glanced at Yaddle, cautious.  “But that’s probably more than you wanted to know.”

Yaddle leaned forward. “No, no.  Please, tell me more do.”

“I’m not boring you?” Obi-Wan asked, not quite believing her.

“No!” she huffed. “Explain this before a human has not. Just expect me to know this they do.”

“Okay.”

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: five

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.3k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, blood, gunshot wound, kidnapping, knives, murder, alcohol

When Kageyama finally parks the car for your “date”, you’re not at a fancy restaurant or the penthouse, but at an upscale boutique that you know Miwa frequents. Kageyama opens the door for you as you try to determine why you’re here, but he answers your question before you can fully think about it.

“I know you just got done with lab, but our reservation tonight has a dress code. I’ve had something custom ordered for you, but if you don’t like it, you can choose anything you want. I also need to pick up my suit.”

You look down at your stained jeans and old t-shirt before looking back up. “You custom ordered something for me?”

Kageyama just nods and leads you into the boutique, where you’re greeted by name by the saleswoman. 

“You’re here for the Elie Saab and Armani, yes?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The saleswoman disappears after Kageyama replies, and you have to stop yourself from scolding him for spending so much money on you. 

Apparently, he can read your mind, because he looks over at you and says, “Not going to say anything about how much it costs?”

You scoff. “I think I’d rather not know.”

The woman returns to guide you both to the dressing rooms. The dress is gorgeous, a black low-cut floor-length draped with sequins. You twirl a few times before you exit the room and come face to face with Kageyama, decked out in black Armani. You match perfectly, and the woman tells you so, causing both of you to blush. 

Soon enough, you’re heading towards your next stop of the night. The restaurant Kageyama takes you to is beautiful, with floor to ceiling windows showcasing Tokyo’s skyline. The waiter leads you to a private room (another thing you want to scold Kageyama for) and brings bottle after bottle of wine. The food is amazing too; a full five-course meal prepared by the head chef. 

“You mentioned earlier that you were okay with this being a real date.” Kageyama swirls the wine in his glass as he speaks, his eyes locked on the drink. “What has changed?”

Sighing, you take a sip of wine. You knew that this conversation would be coming eventually, but after spending so much time at the penthouse while he recovered, you think you’re ready for it. You’ve thought a lot about what your future might look like, and while initially, you weren’t sure, now, you’re positive. You want Kageyama to be in your future. 

“A lot has changed. I’m not eighteen anymore, and neither are you. I’ve started my adult life, I’ve gone to college, I’ve matured. When we were eighteen, you told me you were leaving to do this, and that wasn’t something that I could handle at that point. I told myself that it was fine, that we could part ways and I’d never have to be involved, but well, look where I am now. I’m not mad about it, though. I’m glad we somehow found our way back to each other.”

“So, you’re okay with everything I do?”

“I don’t think okay with it would be a good word, but I understand it. It’s not like I necessarily approve of it, but you do what you have to do. It’s part of who you are.”

Kageyama’s still looking at his wine glass, avoiding your searching gaze. “Do you want to be with me? Even with all of the risks, not only to me, but to yourself? With all the blood on my hands?”

“Yes.” He finally looks at you. “I can’t walk away from you again. I won’t walk away from you again. I want you, and everything that comes with you. I want all of it.”

“You do?” The hope in his eyes makes you want to cry.

“Of course, I do.”

Kageyama’s smile is so wide, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile this big. “I’m relieved, honestly. It was going to hurt a lot to watch you leave again.”

“Well lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

---

After a fulfilling dinner and far too many glasses of wine, Kageyama leads the two of you back to the penthouse. He’s very touchy now that you’ve confessed, his hand always on the small of your back or holding your own. You’re happy, thrilled even, for him to be yours once again. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be going down to the club tonight?” Both of you are currently sprawled on the couch, still in nice clothes, with Kageyama’s head on your lap. You run your fingers through his raven hair as he hums with his eyes shut. It’s hard to imagine him as someone that controls most of Tokyo’s underworld when he’s curled up in your lap like a puppy.

“I guess.” He sits up, his hair flopping into his eyes. “Do you wanna come?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Am I allowed?”

He looks at you incredulously, “Of course. It’s all yours now, anyways.”

“Aren’t you moving a bit fast?”

“Absolutely not.” He leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek. “It was always yours.”

You smile when he stands. “Can I change first? This dress is gorgeous, but it isn’t really fitting for a club.”

“Sure. I’ll meet you down here when you’re done.”

You nod and press a quick kiss to his lips before heading up the stairs to Miwa’s room. She’s still out doing whatever it is that Kageyama is supposed to be doing, and you left some of the clothes from your shopping spree here. You change into the zip-up Versace dress Miwa had suggested and touch up your makeup with Miwa’s stash before heading back down. 

Kageyama has changed too, instead of the Armani suit, he’s wearing what he had picked you up in earlier: black jeans and a dark coat. 

“Ready?” He holds his arm out to you and you take it, letting him lead you to the elevator.

---

You’ve been sitting in a booth on the main floor of the club for about an hour, nursing a cocktail, when Kageyama turns to you. So far, he’s just conversed with a few different people and kept an eye on things in the club. 

“I have a meeting in about fifteen minutes. I have a feeling it isn’t going to go very well. You can come with me if you want, but don’t feel pressured to.”

You weigh your options. If you’re really, truly, going to be a part of Kageyama’s life, you’ll need to know about this eventually. 

“I’ll come with you.”

“Okay.” He digs around in his pocket for a second, then passes you a small switchblade. “I’m not expecting you’ll need to use this, but things go wrong all the time. I’m sure you recognize this.”

You turn the knife over in your hands, nodding. It’s one that Kageyama always kept on him as a teenager; you remember summers of him showing you how to use it and how to sharpen it. 

“C’mon, let’s go.”

He takes your hand and leads you down a level and into a meeting room. A large rectangle table is the focal point, with two chairs at the head and five on each side. Kageyama’s guests are already there; you recognize Ushijima among them. You sit at the head of the table, to the right of Kageyama. The significance of the position does not go unnoticed by you or anyone else in the room; you assume that this seat is typically Miwa’s. You receive many ogling stares as you sit and you wonder how Miwa survives these; you’re the only woman in the room right now, and you guess that Miwa frequently is as well. 

Kageyama clears his throat as an attendant brings him a stack of papers. “Should we begin?”

“I’m more interested in knowing who this babe you brought is.” A man with blonde hair and an undercut leans forward and props his elbows up on the table. “I’m Miya Atsumu, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Miya,” the irritation is clear in Kageyama’s voice, “if you would like to keep your ability to speak, I suggest you shut your mouth.”

“Damn, I just wanted to know her name.” Miya raises his hands in innocence, and you sneak a glance at Kageyama, who seems to be regretting letting you come with him.

“Moving on.” Kageyama slides the papers to the center of the table. “Here’s the report for this month. Nothing of note on my side, besides Seijoh being a pain in the ass, as usual. Anything notable for any of you?”

Miya speaks up, “Seijoh placed their normal orders with us this month, besides one exception. There was an uptick in benzos, specifically Valium.”

“Do you think they’re planning something?”

“Hard to tell. I’d say possibly because Valium isn’t on their normal request list. Xanax is, but not Valium. It’s also not a typical party drug like Xanax, so I doubt they’re going to sell it.”

Kageyama hums. “Thank you, Miya. Next?”

A redheaded man that you recognize from your security detail speaks up next. You’re pretty sure his name is Hinata. “I’ve been busy with,” he gestures vaguely in your direction, “but Noya told me that Seijoh has been operating more out of their alternate base than their main one.”

The meeting continues in much of the same fashion, with each individual around the table giving their report on current events, until the last one. 

“Kindaichi.” Kageyama’s voice is commanding, and you immediately know that this is the person who is going to cause this meeting to go wrong. 

The man’s head snaps up, his voice shaking as he speaks. “Yes, sir.”

“You know what you’ve done.” Kageyama slides a knife down the table to him. “You know the rules. You know where your loyalties lie. Choose carefully. I expect your answer by tomorrow morning. Everyone, you’re dismissed.”

Kageyama remains seated, and you follow suit. After everyone has filed out of the meeting room, Kindaichi is still remaining. 

“Yes, Kindaichi?”

You can tell that the man is shaking, terrified of the consequences of whatever it is that he has done. “I-I didn’t mean to, it was an accident, he blackmailed me, and I had no choice, I swear-”

“Save it. You’ve broken my trust and put lives in danger. You will make the decision, or I will make it for you.”

“Sir, I-”

The bang of a gunshot shocks you. Kindaichi is slumped in a pool of blood, and Kageyama sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he returns the glock to the waistband of his jeans. 

“Sorry you had to see that.”

“I-It’s okay.” You can’t pull your eyes away from the corpse. You knew something like this was going to happen. You aren’t necessarily scared, just slightly surprised. You knew it was coming, but it still shocked you. 

“I’m done for the night.” Kageyama stands and puts a hand on your shoulder as you continue staring. “Why don’t we go back to the penthouse, and I can explain what just happened?”

You nod, your face blank as you finally look away and allow Kageyama to lead you out of the room.

---

When you’re finally upstairs, changed into one of Kageyama’s shirts and cuddled up in his bed with him, you speak.

“He wasn’t going to make it out of that room, was he?”

The movie neither of you are watching continues playing in the background as Kageyama sighs and buries his face in your neck. 

“No, he wasn’t.”

“What did he do?”

Kageyama pauses, just slightly. “He was the one who stole the files.”

Your gasp is audible as you sit up. “Really?”

“Yes. It was a huge betrayal, no matter what he was saying.” Kageyama winces before he continues. “Normally, I would’ve done much, much worse than just kill him, but I’m tired.”

You laugh a little as you lay back down, your head on Kageyama’s chest. “It makes sense. I can’t blame you, it's awful that he did that.” You pause, searching for your next question. “Who were the people in the meeting?”

“Members of other syndicates that I’m allied with, as well as some from my own. I’m sure you recognized Hinata and Ushijima. Miya Atsumu and his twin Osamu were there from Inarizaki. Akaashi Keiji from Fukurodani. Kuroo Tetsurou and Kozume Kenma from Nekoma.”

“Hm.” You’re getting tired, lulled to sleep by Kageyama’s deep voice and steady heartbeat.

“Enough of that. You’re exhausted.” He runs a hand up and down your back. “Get some sleep, y/n.”

“Hm.”

You fall asleep with a satisfied smile on your face, cuddled up in Kageyama’s arms.

---

When you wake up the next morning, the other side of the bed is cold. You check your phone to find a text from Kageyama. 

Had to go to work, I’m sorry. There’s breakfast downstairs. Miwa and I are both out, so take one of the cars in the garage. Keys are hanging in the foyer. I’ll meet you for lunch later.

You smile to yourself. Breakfast, your choice of sports car, and a promise for lunch. You could definitely get used to this life of luxury.

---

You walk out of your lecture hall with a sinking feeling in your chest. Ever since you left the penthouse this morning, you’ve felt off. You shake your head to try to clear it as you walk to your lab building. It’s a beautiful day, the late fall winds have started to die down, and the skies are clear. The campus feels serene with how empty it is right now, which also seems a bit weird. You jog up the steps and into the building, pushing open the doors. As you turn the corner, you swear you can feel someone breathing down your neck.

A rag is pressed to your face as someone grabs you from behind, dragging you towards an empty classroom. You struggle, throwing elbows and trying to yell, but your attacker is just too strong. Your vision blurs as you continue inhaling through the rag, which you now realize is soaked in chloroform. 

The last thing you remember before you lose consciousness is a man with brown hair leaning over your terrified face, a sickening smile on his face. 

taglist: @lilith412426 @itoshibaby @wallywaffle @princess-sunshyn @zukoslosthishonor @fatal-impact​

[pricemarshfield]

moments like these

A Figayda angst/hurt/comfort fic. Requested by @sapphic-tuesday even though they only requested it because I love Figayda. (ily bestie) Read on AO3 here.

Prompt: Figayda, angst, hurt/comfort, “You don’t need to stay.” “I don’t need to. But I want to.”

The forest is dark and damp and the worst fucking place Fig has ever been, and she's running as fast as she can to get away from herself. She'd point out how it's way too on the nose if she had any breath left, but as it stands, it's all she can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, slower and slower.

Eventually she has to just collapse into the nearest bush, hope somehow that's enough stealth even as the crack of the branches seems to echo out for miles and miles. There's a long, long beat, where she thinks, just for a second, that maybe she's done it. Maybe the other her isn't too perceptive, either.

She hears an oddly pitched laugh from right behind her ear, as though she isn't lying on the ground, and when did the branches tangle around her leg? Where'd her bass go? Why did none of her friends even seem to care that someone else took her place--

Fig wakes up with a start, sits up, hits her head against her ceiling which is, of course, the living room floor. Her horns scratch it a bit, but thankfully, her mom won't ever see it. Her crystal says it's 3 in the morning when she checks it, and fuck, she's gonna be stuck in here for awhile if she can't pass back out.

She could send a quick text to the Mordred group chat (the manorlings, despite Ragh vying for 'OWLBEAR HYPE HOUSE') and ask if anyone's up to let her out, but then there'll be questions about why she's up, so she just concentrates on mage hand until she nails the chord and the ceiling opens.

The house feels too empty with everyone asleep, too stifling when she can't make any noise, but there's not exactly anywhere else she can go. Her days of sneaking out in the middle of the night to go to concerts aren't nearly as fun now that she misses her friends the whole time. Also, now people recognize her for being one of Solace's biggest stars or whatever, and that's just kind of a hassle when she's not in the mood for attention.

The living room couch is an old, cracked leather thing, moved from Jawbone's apartment. It's not comfortable in any traditional sense, but there's a groove in it that fits her perfectly, and that's nice, in its own way. Sometimes she misses the couch in the old house. It got burned to hell in the attack on prom night, though, so. The whole house did, honestly; when she went home after everything, the window in her bedroom was shattered, glass all over her bed so that she had to pick up each piece, vacuum up what small pieces she couldn't see. She still woke up with a couple cuts on her legs that she didn't have before, but it was home, even if the posters and the pink wallpaper were both singed, even if the purple comforter she'd had since she was a kid didn't smell like it used to.

The old Faeth house never really felt like home after her horns, sure, but Mordred...

She does like it here. Loves it, when everyone's crowded around the table, Adaine arguing with Kristen about some minute difference in casting, Jawbone telling a wildly off-color story to a confused-but-interested Aelwyn, Sandra Lynn making sure Ayda has enough food on her plate while she blinks back fiery tears.

But it doesn't change the fact that she lived here for all of a day before spring break, and right now the hallways and secret passages and tall ceilings all feel ominous, not exciting anymore.

She turns on the light before her mage hand dissipates, scrolls through the games she has on her crystal. Most of them are things she's had on here back when she liked unicorns and glitter and all those girly things that she never got around to deleting.

It's something to do, at least.

The bright colors are nostalgic in just the wrong way, and she makes it through two minutes of matching pop rocks and cake slices before she's scrolling through the games again, on-edge for no goddamn reason.

"Fig?"

Part of her relaxes against the couch before she's even finished processing the voice as Ayda. "Hey! I didn't think you were staying here tonight."

"I wasn't," Ayda says, looking at her with an expression she can't read at all. She's in a deep blue chemise, like she'd been sleeping before she walked through the enchanted door into Mordred. "I--may I sit?"

"Yeah, of course," Fig says, patting the spot next to her. "Always, babe."

Ayda cries a little as she sits, and Fig wipes the tears away. The first time she tried, when she was a normal tiefling and didn't wear the title of Archdevil, it stung a little, like stepping into a too-warm bath. Now, it feels just like the hint of warmth against her hand, uniquely Ayda and not at all painful. (Which is also uniquely Ayda, to never freak Fig out even when she's in this shitty mood.)

"So," Ayda says. "I was in Leviathan, as I needed to--well, still need to, I've merely decided the task isn't as important--I'm getting sidetracked."

"Yeah," Fig says, and when Ayda stiffens, says, "Not bad! Not a bad thing! It's cute."

"Oh," Ayda says. "I--sorry," and bursts into tears again. Fig wipes them away, kisses her cheek just 'cause she can, kisses the other one because she can feel Ayda's face get even warmer.

"No worries," Fig says, too late, because she's not--this is still new to her. "So what's going on?"

"As you know, I am a divination wizard, though not an Oracle like Adaine, our best friend." Fig nods. "But sometimes my dreams have--not prophecies, but looks into the present, or even occasionally the past."

"Okay," Fig says. "Is there, like, a slumbering demon lord underneath Mordred?"

"No," Ayda says. "I asked a ranger I know in Leviathan to check before he left on a journey to Sylvaire. Unrelated to the Nightmare King. I checked, just to be sure, because I am sure none of us want to deal with that again."

"Mmhm," Fig says, willing herself to keep breathing slow and easy and not tense up like she wants to. It's just Ayda talking about preventing further Nightmare King stuff. The Nightmare King doesn't even exist anymore, they're Cassandra, they're cool. "So, uh, what'd you see in your dream?"

"You," Ayda says. "That isn't uncommon. I dream of you often. You're in more of my dreams than not. Is that strange? Should I not have said that?"

"Not strange," Fig says, sure her cheeks are red rather than pink. "Just--I'm flustered, okay, give me a second."

Ayda nods at her, not smiling but face relaxed in a way that suggests the same feeling. Fig grabs her hand just to ground herself, squeezes it once. There's a moment before Ayda squeezes it back, like she's thinking about whether it's the right thing to do.

"Totally normal," Fig says, just in case.

"Good," Ayda says with one long exhale. "I was worried."

"You know, it doesn't matter to me if what you do is 'normal'," Fig says. "I like you whether what you do is normal or not!"

Ayda nods. "I want to finish my thought, but after that I want to kiss you. That was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"You could kiss me and then finish the thought?"

"I would forget," Ayda says, like she doesn't remember everything, like Fig is enough to distract her. Fig can't quite meet her gaze, then, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. She squeezes her hand again. Ayda squeezes back immediately. "Um. I'm distracting myself. What was I talking about?"

"Your dream."

"Right. Thank you, Fig. I dreamed about you, and I think it may have been--it was as though I was standing at your bedside. I know it was a dream and not sleepwalking, because I can't actually stand in your room--it's too short and I don't want to set your house on fire. But you seemed upset, and while I don't know if that was real or a dream or not, I couldn't--I couldn't just sit in my room and Leviathan without checking."

"Oh," Fig says. "Um. I'm fine."

"Hm," Ayda says. "You know, you were the one who told me that if people say they're fine, it very rarely means they're fine. I don't understand the logic of it at all, but I trust your insight."

"It's stupid," Fig says, and then, in a twist, bursts into tears herself. "God. It's stupid, I don't even know why I'm upset? Like, it's literally nothing, nothing is going on, I'm just dumb--"

"You are not dumb," Ayda says, and Fig hates herself all the more for the panic she can hear in her voice. "You have taught me so much, and if it matters to you, then it's not stupid. Fig?"

"Yeah," Fig says, voice embarrassingly choked up. She clears her throat as best she can, which isn't very well, since she's still actively crying. "Yeah, I know."

"I don't know what you know," Ayda says. "But I know that when I cry, you wipe my tears away, and I'm going to do the same for you, unless you want to stop me, in which case I won't."

Fig doesn't move, lets Ayda wipe away her tears even though it makes her want to cry more, someone being nice to her right now. "Thanks."

"Any time," Ayda says with the weight of a promise and not at all like the platitude most people would mean. "Do you want to talk about it? It's okay if you don't. I often don't want to talk about the things I'm going through when I'm still going through them."

"I don't," Fig says, because the idea of explaining the nightmare and Mordred and her old house being destroyed and feeling so, so unmoored and stuck all at once makes her want to tear her own hair out. "I don't--you don't need to stay. I'll be okay. If I'm not--if I can't talk about it, you don't need to stay."

"I don't need to stay," Ayda says, carefully, and Fig grips her hand tighter without consciously meaning to. "But I'd like to. If I can."

"I meant it when I said always," Fig says, still not looking at Ayda because she can't.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah," Fig says. "I always want you to stay."

Jawbone walks into the room on his way into the kitchen, sees two teenagers holding hands and crying and slightly-burning his couch, and decides he can just get water from the bathroom instead of the kitchen. He's not one to interrupt a moment.

[safertokiss]

Don’t Call Me Doctor - Part 2

A/N: Heyo party people! Ok this is part 2 of DCMD and I’m super excited for you guys to read it. I’m so happy I finally decided to give in to my urge to write cause it’s so much fun! Thank you guys for all the support of the first part. Enjoy:)❤️

Pairing : SPENCER x READER

Category: Fluff and Angst and Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

ENJOY!

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

The moment she walked through those doors I knew I was a fucking goner.

Her beauty was indescribable. Unmatchable. Unattainable.

Dangerous.

She was dangerous. All she had to do was enter the building and I was already wrapped around her finger. Dangerous.

Even though the bullpen was bustling and filled with chaos at the time, the unmistakable creak of the front door rang clear in my ears. Glancing away from my work momentarily, my eyes were immediately drawn to her. I mean how could they not be? One look in her direction and it was clear she was nervous. She looked flustered, her face was flushed, but strangely enough there was a hint of a smile upon it. Even in her frenzied state, her beauty knocked the wind out of my chest. Who the hell is this girl?

As she surveyed the hectic room, I noticed her head perk up at whatever or whoever it was that she had located. Following her line of sight I was met with Hotch. Oh so she’s here for him, maybe a family member or friend.

Wait. Wait wait wait wait.

Remembering the conversation Hotch had had with us recently about a new recruit to the team, I was able to answer my own question. Oh god she’s the new recruit.

This is bad. This is really, REALLY bad.

I couldn’t go through this again, it simply wasn’t an option for me. My heart could not handle anymore pain, a pain that would surely accompany this girl if I let her in. Too much had happened in my life already at such a young age, from missing my chance with JJ to losing the one somewhat serious relationship I had ever had. Like I said, she’s dangerous. I had only been aware of her existence for a couple of minutes and I already knew that she possessed the key to unlocking my withered heart. However, she also wielded the axe that would run me through in a split second.

I knew in that moment that, as much as it pained me, I couldn’t let her have the chance. I had to take away her power over me before she was even aware she yielded it.

Looking back in the direction of my enchantress, I noticed her and Hotch had moved from their original spot and were now walking towards the center of the room. Towards the rest of the team. Towards me. Quickly, in order to avoid making eye contact I ducked my head down and pretended to work away at the papers sprawled in front of me.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the others shaking from excitement at meeting our newest agent and I didn’t blame them. It wasn’t often we got new blood around here. Certainly none of them had taken my breath away like she did.

I was aware of how rude it was for me to not join in on the welcome party, but I was still struggling to breathe correctly from the brief glance I got of her. From my position at my desk I was close enough to hear the conversations being held, well enough at least to hear her be introduced to the team.

Y/N Y/L/N.

It fit her perfectly. A beautiful name for a gorgeous woman. While the others were busy meeting our newest member, I decided I just had to hear how her name rolled off my tongue, even if just this once. In the most quiet voice I could muster up, I released my own personal curse from my lips.

“Y/N.”

Fuck. It just felt so right. It was as if she had been given that name just so at one point in life I’d be able to shout it out for the entire world to hear. Why did the universe hate me so much?

I had gotten so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed the woman plaguing my mind had already taken a seat at the desk next to mine. It wasn’t until she sputtered out an overly enthusiastic greeting directed towards me that I realized she was there.

“Hi I’m Y/N Y/L/N! Nice to meet you Dr. Reid.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Immediately as the words started pouring from her lips I felt my body tense. Suddenly I understood the allure of sirens. How a voice could be so enticing to reel in unsuspecting sailors on the sea. I understood their choice of action. But when she called me Dr. Reid. Fuck. That should simply be illegal. Hearing her use my title awakened something deep inside of me that I had been trying to suppress since the moment she waltzed through the door. It also awakened something below my waist, my body twitching as a result. Stop it Spencer. You can’t let this happen, you need to push through it. Make her stay away.

I must have been sitting there speechless for too long because before I knew it she was at it again.

“Sorry if I scared you! I’m not the most socially adept individual. I couldn’t help but notice that-“

Put a stop to this Spencer. Make her stay away.

“You’re rambling.” Fuck that was rude.

“Pardon me Dr. Reid?”

Holy fuck if I hear her call me that one more time I don’t think there’s anything in the world strong enough to prevent me from ripping her clothes off and taking her right here on my desk. Spencer stop! Make her stay far away from you.

“You were rambling. Thought you’d like to know. And it’s Spencer.” I am such a dick. But I had no choice. Letting her into my heart would only leave the both of us in shambles, longing for the pieces to be put back together. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, I accompanied my rude remark with a slight glance in her direction. Yeah that was a big mistake. Even if it only lasted a split second, I could clearly see the hurt plaguing her beautiful orbs, a hurt that was caused by yours truly. Wow this fucking sucks.

“Oh...ok”, she replied before turning her attention back to her files in front of her.

I really wish I didn’t have to treat her like that, but it was the only option that left us both unscathed. Returning to the task at hand, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander and imagine a life alongside the enchantress sitting next to me.

Maybe in a world where I wasn’t so fucked up.

~~~

Ok remember when I said this sucked? Yeah it was worse than I could’ve ever imagined. It had been about three months since Y/N had started working with us and I spent the majority of that time running away from her. She’d walk in, I’d briskly walk out before cracking. She’d wave at me and I’d have to look away before imploding on the spot.

The worst part of this whole ordeal was that it was obvious that she had a thing for me. The amount of times I had caught her staring at my hands or for some reason my hair while she was trying to be subtle, was a number almost too large to keep track of. I’d be trying to mind my own business and block her out of my thoughts, when I’d catch her biting her lip, lost in thought, while her eyes raked my body. It was getting to be too much to handle.

Most of the time while we were at the round table discussing cases she would take the seat next to mine, much to my dismay. Her close proximity always acted as a ticking time bomb to my poor, defenseless body, usually eliciting reactions not suitable for a work environment. Following nearly every meeting I’d hightail it out of the room straight to the bathroom. And while she probably assumed I was just trying to avoid her, the reality was much more humiliating.

What had she turned me into? I felt like a horny teenager all of the time. What would my friends think if they knew I had to run to the bathroom to take care of my arousal almost every other day? It was so embarrassing, but only she could provoke such a reaction from me.

As often as my bathroom escapades took place, I had become a pro at suppressing my true feelings for her. For some reason, however, my attempts to make her stay away triggered the opposite response on her end. I can’t even explain the amount of pain that filled my chest everytime I had to reject her offers to get together and spend time together outside of work. I had even stopped going out with the unit because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself around her, usually coming up some lame excuse about having work to catch up on.

I had no idea what to do. I wanted her so bad.

I felt like I was in my own personal purgatory that had absolutely no escape in sight. All I had to do to set myself free was reach out and touch the ethereal being in front of me and express the feelings I harbored for her. But I still refused to consider that an option.

Not only was she keeping my mind occupied at work, I couldn’t make it through a single night without seeing her beautiful face. While the dreams had started off pretty neutral and innocent, they quickly progressed into territory that shouldn’t have been accessible. I truly felt like a teenager again with the amount of wet dreams I had been having to deal with. I just couldn’t help myself. Her body was amazing. It was physically impossible for me to not picture myself ramming her into my desk or bending her over the round table, making her scream my name for all of D.C. to hear.

God it was getting harder and harder to ignore her. What was stopping me from grabbing her wrist, pulling her into an empty office and destroying her on every surface available. I had to do something or figure out a way to push those thoughts away.

“Hey pretty boy! Get over here!”

I swiveled in my chair to seek out Morgan, spotting him across the bull pen. Sighing quietly, I made my way over to my friend, trying to mask the internal conflict occurring between my brain and my heart.

“What can I do for you Morgan?”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on between you and Y/L/N?” Shit. Fuck. I thought it wasn’t noticeable. Play it cool Spencer.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me pretty boy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lies. All lies.

“Reid, come on man. It’s not really hard to notice that something is off between you two. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you interact with her outside of a case and you’re the kid who’s known to ramble to anyone within a five mile radius, nevermind the girl who sits next to you everyday. Did something happen?”

“No...no. Nothing happened and quite frankly I seriously don’t think it’s any of your business to question me about who I do and do not converse with, ok?”

“Geez! Calm down buddy. I’m sorry, ok. I won’t bring it up again.” I once again felt like the biggest dick in the world watching him walk away from where we had been standing. Recognizing that there was nothing I could do about it now, I made my way back to my desk, noticing that Y/N had returned from her lunch break.

After sitting down and working for a bit, I couldn’t help myself. The urge to look at the object of my affections was just too damn insistent. Glancing up at her, I was instantly entranced by the goddess in front of me. She was busy scribbling away at whatever was laid out in front of her, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her face. She was biting her lip in what I would assume was a way to help her concentrate, but all it did was stir things inside of me. Ok this was getting ridiculous.

It was crazy how even the simplest of things, like her eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled or the way she licked her lips like it was going out of style, would instantly prevent my mind from functioning correctly and make the world around me dissolve until all that existed anymore was her. God those eyes. So intricately designed that even the most beautiful gods and goddesses would be jealous.

WAIT. HER EYES.

Fuck. She was looking at me. She saw me staring directly at her.

As fast as I possibly could, I ducked my head down and cleared my throat, deciding to play it off and pretend like nothing had just happened. Except that that was kind of hard to do when my body decided to say “fuck you” and turned into a goddamn tomato within seconds. Oh god why did I do that? How was I going to get myself out of this already complicated situation? This was bad. This was really bad. Three months of rejections and cold responses down the drain with one stupid, meaningful glance in her direction.

Fuck.

To be continued...

https://safertokiss.tumblr.com/post/623412350001856512/dont-call-me-doctor-part-3

https://safertokiss.tumblr.com/post/623219810962178048/dont-call-me-doctor-part-1

Tag list: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 15: The Girl Who Woke Me Up

Sehun's POV

It wasn't like Lei to be late, but she was nowhere to be found half an hour into the New Year's party. Although she had been helping her mother set up just a few hours earlier, Lei was not by Manager Kim's side as she made frantic rounds about the room, tiptoeing carefully around Donghae's lingering gaze. Although she and Lucas were nearly inseparable, Lei did not stand by him as he downed another glass of champagne while laughing with Mark Lee at the NCT table.

I was about to send her a concerned text when Taemin said from his side of Jongin, "She is so beautiful."

Like everybody else at the table, I looked toward whoever managed to turn Taemin's voice into a lyrical whisper. It didn't matter that it was none of our business who held Taemin's heart. When somebody loves that openly, everybody wants to watch for a second or two— even me.

My jaw dropped as my eyes settled on her. She was Lei.

Walking beside Baekhyun, Lei held three hearts in the palm of her hand: mine, Baekhyun's, and Taemin's. And I don't even think she knew what she held, what she could destroy with a single touch should she so choose. I think she only felt the weight of my heart because I forced it upon her through forever-kisses at that Christmas Party.

But how— how light, how insignificant might my heart feel compared to that of her ultimate idol? How cold and callous and uncaring might my voice sound compared to his?

How dark, how dull might my love look compared to that of the boy standing next to her? How rough and careless and frozen might my touch feel compared to his when he catches her before she can fall?

My stomach twisted as I fought (and failed) to tear my eyes from the visual of Lei and Baekhyun. They matched so perfectly from head to toe that, had I not known better, had I not believed that she loved me, I would have assumed that she coordinated her outfit with him.

Their dark hair was parted on the left side. Their clothes were crafted from the same sparkling midnight blue material. Their silver masks were a perfect pair that accented their best facial features. Their flowers— their flowers were the worst part. Atop her head, Lei wore a crown of white roses accented by blue baby's breath; she looked like a princess. In the suit pocket over his heart, Baekhyun tucked a white rose; he looked like her prince.

At that moment, I realized that it is much harder to believe in coincidence than it is to believe in fate. At that moment when she was so far out of reach, it was easy to see that Lei and Baekhyun were written in the stars, and I— where was I written?

Suddenly, it was as clear to everyone in the banquet hall as it was to me at the foot of the stairs in Lei's house: they were meant to walk together. Lei and Baekhyun were meant to be viewed as a pair.

As whispers about them, some approving and some disapproving, overtook the party, the tips of my ears burned. My hands formed tight fists under the table. And all I can remember thinking is I have to hide my breaking heart. No, I have to keep it from breaking, at least for now, because it is in her hands. My heart is in her delicate hands, and the jagged shards will make her bleed.

It didn't matter that Baekhyun was standing right there, willing and ready to bandage her. It didn't matter that Taemin could stop the bleeding with a single smile. I didn't want to hurt Lei ever again; I didn't want to scar her anymore. If protecting her meant suffering silently— well— that wasn't anything I hadn't done before.

Quietly, Jongdae whistled. "Who knew that sweet little Princess Lei would grow up to be so pretty?"

Chanyeol laughed loudly as his elbow dug into my ribs. "Someone did, right, Sehun?"

Obviously, I wouldn't have responded to Chanyeol's jest even if I could have found my voice. I wouldn't have known what to say.

Afraid of saying or doing something to shatter the loving image I left with Lei on Christmas, I turned to walk away from the scene that threatened to destroy me. Of course, I wasn't going to hide forever. The plan was to stand some ways away long enough to untangle the knot in my stomach. The plan was to stand aside to remind myself that choices are as significant as fate, and I was Lei's choice. I am Lei’s choice. 

The problem, of course, was my promise to stand where she could see me. I won't go far, I told myself. I'll stand right there, right against that wall, and maybe— hopefully— wouldn't it be nice if she comes to me?

That's pathetic, isn't it— the fact that I still dreamed that she would take the first steps? I'm sorry that I wasn't stronger. I'm sorry that I wasn't bolder. Always, always I was aware of my inadequacies. Always, always I daydreamed about filling them with her. At that moment, however, it occurred to me that that was not right; it occurred to me that that is not love. Above all, it occurred to me that I wanted to give Lei the purest love in her life. 

And I— I didn’t know how. Nobody ever taught me how. 

On my walk, I nearly collided with Taemin. Despite his eagerness to escape the table, he said, "Excuse me, Sehun," through a small smile. The smile wasn't a forced display of manners; it was genuine. I could tell because little wrinkles formed around his eyes.

I had never seen a smile like that before. Although faint, it was not at all sad or indicative of a broken heart even though we were walking away from the same scene: the one we loved beside another. Taemin's smile was joyful, inspired merely by seeing Lei from afar.

I needed to be more like Taemin, I realized as my back pressed against the wall. I needed to learn to love Lei a little more quietly, a little more peacefully, a little more selflessly. Rather than loving her like the careless teenager I had been when we met, rather than relying on her for constant assurance in our relationship that endured storms over a decade, rather than hoping for her to meet me most or all of the way—

I needed to grow up. I needed to find assurance in the steady beating of my own heart. I needed to take the first step for the rest of forever. I would. I will. That’s the promise I made to myself, the promise I made in one of the hearts she held. 

I will love you. I won’t love you perfectly. I won’t love you through a smile as gentle as Taemin’s. I won’t love you with an unmistakable, inescapable warmth like Baekhyun. But I will love you in the best way I know. I will love you with every word I say. I will love you with the words I am not yet brave enough to say. I will love you so deeply for the rest of my life that you will never wonder how I feel. You will never wonder who hung the moon and stars in my sky. 

While Lei defended herself against Chanyeol’s allegation that she had broken my heart as if she could ever be cruel enough to do such a thing, I wrestled with the best way to express my feelings. A verbal conversation wouldn’t do; she enjoyed debating and pressing my buttons too much. I couldn’t very well write a song; that would require enlisting the help of someone like Chanyeol who had better knowledge of music production, and I didn’t want to share my feelings with him (or anybody else, for that matter). 

While Manager Kim captivated the entire room with her heartfelt good-bye’s to Super Junior and Heechul declared that she was resigning from her position as their manager because of her feelings for Donghae, I decided that I could best express myself in writing. Starting from the beginning, I could map out our stars, and there— there I would be written. 

There, I could point to myself on a page and say, ‘I belong here too. I love her too. Even if she wakes up tomorrow and chooses one of you, even if my nightmares come true and she outgrows me, once upon a time, she chose me. Once upon a time, she loved me. Once upon a time, we were the best love story ever written, and I— I— I will never forget that I was her first love, so you shouldn’t either.’

That’s what I wrote on the inside cover of the leather-bound notebook containing our story, by the way. That’s the first of my thoughts that Lei read in my handwriting; it made her break into laughing tears. By that, I mean she was gasping through laughter and tears. So I was also gasping through laughter and tears when she set the book on our bed, crawled to me, and cupped my cheeks with her soft, warm hands, whispering onto my lips, “My first love, my endless love, my Sehun— I am so glad the road led to you.” 

And I believe her. 

When I found Lei standing alone on the terrace where everyone gathered to watch fireworks an hour early at Changmin’s urging, I embraced her. I didn’t think much of the fact that somebody was always watching. I didn’t much care about lingering stares, and I told Lei plainly when she mumbled into my chest, “Someone is going to see, Sehunnie.” 

“I love you,” I reminded her in a whisper per her request. My heart melted into a warm golden puddle in my stomach because of the spoken nickname and because she didn’t push me away. She didn’t argue with me as I declared, “I love you so much that I want everyone to see.” 

That was a funny thing to say, considering that we were huddled together in the darkest corner where no eyes would have strayed. 

I dropped a kiss onto her flower crown because it marked her as a princess— my princess— and it didn’t matter that Baekhyun gave it to her. The affection, I hoped, I prayed, would make me her prince. 

“I love you so much,” I muttered against a rose, “that I want everyone to hear.” 

That was a funny thing to say, considering that I spoke in the faintest whisper that only she could hear. 

Lei giggled as she linked her hands around my waist beneath my jacket. Her laughter was, is, always will be the most beautiful melody in this world. I loved being its conductor. I loved being its audience. 

“I’m so happy, Sehun.” She said my name with the brightest smile I had ever seen. 

It so closely resembled the smile she gave me all those years ago when she first gave me her name. It was still too big for her face, and it made her look much younger than the scowl she hurled at Chanyeol in the banquet hall. The only difference was that she no longer spoke through a gap in her front teeth; the gap was closed. 

After assuring her that I was happy too— far happier than I ever imagined because she stood near— I said, “I miss your gap, Lei. You’re beautiful, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but I really wish I could see your gappy smile one more time.” 

“There are plenty of pictures of it.” The tips of her ears burned red at the compliment, and I thought that I had to call her beautiful every day. From the dimple forming in her chin, however, it was evident that she knew the limitations of photographs. “You know, I miss my gap too. I hated it when I had it, but the thing is: I always picture myself with a gap in my front teeth.” 

I stared into her wide eyes, finding my lovestruck reflection within them. “I always think of you with stars in your eyes.” 

I heard her breath hitch as she held me closer. Breathlessly, she reached for my hand. “I always think of you with my heart on your hand.” 

After bringing my frozen, trembling hand up her lips, she left a ruby-red kiss mark where she once left a fingerprint heart. I wanted to carry that mark everywhere with me. I wanted to boast it to everybody, and I promised to learn how to do that. I promised to learn who to tell. I promised to learn what to say to make them understand how much it meant to me— how much it means to me. 

I think I have learned. I think I have made you understand. I hope that I have. Please, tell me that I have. 

Her gesture rooted in our past, her touch— still electric— made my heart flutter. Her touch, even as my favorite memory, still makes my heart flutter. 

Her touch compelled me to say out loud, “I fell in love with you the day you marked your heart on my hand, you know. All at once, I opened my eyes and realized I was on the edge of a cliff, and I—” I choked on my emotions, but I forced myself to continue— “I was so scared that you wouldn’t wait for me at the bottom.” 

The wind blew and filled my eyes with tears that I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to become an overtly sentimental person, but every wall I ever built around my emotions tumbled at her touch. I didn’t want to shed a single tear, but Lei brought both hands up to my face, wordlessly promising to catch each tear before they fell. 

Lei loved me. She loved me so much from the day we met, and I— I am so grateful. I did not know whether love was meant to be repaid, but I resolved in that moment under her moon and all of her stars to return every loving gaze for the rest of my life. 

I held both of her hands against my cheeks because her touch made me brave enough to speak. “You said that I could walk with you anytime. And I just want you to know that I want to walk with you forever. I want you to know that I’m so sorry for—”

For trying to walk away. For breaking her mistletoe crown. For failing to regard her heart as the treasure it had been all along. 

But I couldn’t say any of those things she deserved to hear. My throat tightened around my words. 

Wiping my tears, Lei promised, “I forgive you. I forgive you, Sehunnie. Everything— everything painful is past, and now we are walking hand-in-hand on a path that doesn’t end.” Her thumbs stroked my cheeks, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Don’t carry things we don’t need, angel. Don’t carry things that will only hurt you. It’s okay.” 

Lei pulled me into the sweetest kiss. It lasted for about a millisecond, a blink in time, and I knew that was all we were, but God— God— we felt infinite. I think— no, I know this is love: when somebody makes you, a mere mortal, feel as though time has stopped; when somebody makes you feel as if forever, eternity, and fate were words written for you. 

“In case you forgot,” Lei said, “I love you too.” She beamed up at me, so I had to smile even as she winked in an attempt to dig under my skin: “In case you forgot, I loved you first!” 

Because I couldn’t argue with the truth, I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Okay. You loved me first, but—” I caught her around the waist and leaned to whisper in her ear— “I’ll love you longer.” 

“As if,” she scoffed, pushing me away so I could catch the furrowing of her brow. “How can you even make such a bold claim? I told you, Sehunnie, I’ve loved you forever, and I’ll love you forevermore. What could last longer than forever?”

Feigning deep contemplation, I hummed through puckered lips, hoping that Lei would rise to kiss them. (Note: Lei never disappoints.) “Maybe forever in writing? I think I heard once that a love recorded on paper, in a film, or in a song lives forever.” 

“If you’re planning to write about me,” she said, “you should know that I’ve been writing about you too. I’ve been trying to map out or stars since we kissed in your car, but I— I can’t figure out how the stars aligned.” Her head went aslant. “But I also can’t figure out how we could have ended up anywhere else with anybody else.” 

It had been made clear to me that any misstep could have led Lei to Baekhyun or Taemin. Maybe she will find her way to them someday no matter what I do, but I gave no voice to those thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I soared at the imagination of Lei writing to pinpoint the correlation between the me of the past, the me of her dreams, and the me of right now. I hoped she was proud to have created a place where we could be together forever, even if someday we should wake up on different paths. 

It’s romantic, isn’t it, that we separately experienced the same epiphany concerning our stars? 

“Some things are just meant to be,” I figured, sounding unlike the version of myself who struggled to believe in things like destiny, the version I had been for almost all of my life. “You and I— Lei, we are the greatest meant to be I can imagine.” 

When I stepped into the warmth of the agency building from the winter snow, I quickly found Lei asleep at that table by the vending machine where we met. Her face was almost completely nuzzled into the bend of her elbow, into the cloud-soft baby blue sleeve of her sweater. Her dark hair sprawled over much of the table; it was so long then, almost reaching her waist. She shouldn’t have been recognizable, but I would have known her anywhere, from any distance. 

“Wake up,” I whispered into her ear as I settled into the chair next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’m here.” 

Once Lei sat upright and set to rubbing her sleep-swollen eyes, it was obvious that we couldn’t go out on an adventurous date. That much should have been obvious, I know, determined by our roles as idols, but I hadn’t shaken that image of her and Baekhyun standing together at the New Year’s party from the front of my mind. 

I wasn’t jealous anymore. That initial towering wave of nausea and the drowning sense of inferiority had passed without casting me overboard. It just occurred to me once the storm cleared and the sun broke through the clouds that I wanted to be the person by her side forever; I wanted to stand by her in the light; I wanted it to be obvious to strangers from a glance that we were meant to walk together. 

Rising to her feet and slinging her bookbag— the tiny pink Hello Kitty bag she carried since childhood, the bag still donning the keychain I bought for her tenth birthday— Lei groaned, “I’m exhausted! And I didn’t even realize it until I woke up.” 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said as I followed her, “but there are more comfortable places to sleep, you know.” 

Lei had worked herself to the point of exhaustion, I know without a doubt, because she made no argument; she loved to argue. 

On our walk to the door, I reached for her hand, which was always much smaller than mine. She flinched at the contact probably because my hands were always cold, maybe because she wasn’t yet used to affection, hopefully because my touch was electric. 

As shocked as she had been at the start, Lei was the one who interlaced our fingers. Lei was the one who whined when I had to break the contact to open the passenger door and then round to the driver's seat. Lei was the one who reached for my hand as soon as I set it on the steering wheel. 

“I just want to feel you.” Her words blurred together drowsily, but her eyes shot open— wide awake— when I glanced at her. “Your hands are so warm, Sehunnie, and it’s so cold outside. I’m freezing!”

After turning the heat up, I said through a budding smile while starting down the familiar path to her house, “Nobody has ever called my hands warm. Then again, nobody ever held my hands before you.” 

“And nobody will hold my hands after you,” I almost said. Because I didn’t want to think of a time after her— I didn’t want to think of a time without her— I bit down on my tongue. I left those words unsaid. Unspoken words hold power too. 

“Your hand was warm at the drive-in too,” she told me. “Holding your hand made me feel like the moon and stars smiled down at us.” 

There was no moon and there were no stars that night, I remembered clearly, but I didn’t remind Lei. Maybe this sounds crazy, but I hope she misremembered a lot about those days before I could love her. In a way, I hoped she romanticized them; I hoped she saw them— I hope she saw the past me— through love-colored lenses. I hoped the stars smiled in all of her memories. 

With an almost childlike quality of honesty— the kind that I never wanted to argue with, the kind I only thought I had to argue with— Lei said, “Holding your hand makes me feel like spring has come.” 

Butterflies raged in my stomach and told me the perfect thing to say: “That’s funny. Looking at you makes me feel like spring has come.” 

I think that might have made her squeal had she not been drifting to sleep. Her head banged against the window every few seconds. 

“Lay back,” I tried to demand sternly, but my voice was nothing but a gentle whisper around her after Christmas. “Lei, lean your chair back and go to sleep. You’re gonna bruise your face or give yourself a concussion if you keep hitting your head.” 

Without opening her eyes, she argued, “I don’t wanna go to sleep! I wanna stay awake with you!” 

She was being rather childish, I thought, but she repeated that sentiment once we sat together on her living room couch, which was no longer tainted by the memory of finding Lucas atop her on her birthday. 

“But you’re tired.” Tightening my arms around her waist, I pulled her closer and encouraged her to lean into me, to fall asleep on me. “Just close your eyes, and I’ll go to sleep with you.” 

Lei didn’t resist my pull. Her eyelashes tickled the skin on my neck as she laid against me and allowed her eyelids to flutter shut. Without mumbling another word, she fell into that deep heavy-breathing sleep, and I wondered how many nights she had avoided sleep. I wondered how I was supposed to fall asleep with her laying so close. I wondered how I was supposed to close my eyes while my heart pounded in my chest, eager to break free and unite with hers. I wondered how I was supposed to breathe while her breath whispered across my skin. 

I was wide awake— I am wide awake— and I never want to sleep again.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter II]

Word count:  5,675

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link if you prefer that format.

chapter one

“But my Lord!” I exclaimed, doing my best to hurry after Judge Llewellyn and not slip on the wet steps of the Royal Courts of Justice. 

He opened his umbrella over his bald head, absolutely ignoring any attempt of being polite and offering me some cover. So I practically ran after him and stuck myself under his umbrella with him to avoid the pouring rain.

“Miss L/N!” he complained, furrowing his white caterpillar eyebrows. His dark eyes were tiny angry slits staring back at me as he continued walking. “Now you are being indiscreet! You were late. I am sure whatever motion you have got to present can wait until the courts open again on Monday.”

“But it can’t wait, my Lord. Not only that but my team has also uncovered important information-” I spoke so fast I was surprised that every word came out clear as day.

“It can wait. Good evening to you!” he bumped his shoulder on mine as if to dismiss me but I wasn’t letting it go.

“It cannot wait, Llewellyn! If you give me a chance to file these motions this evening, the Wilkes children can return to their mother tonight!” He stopped walking abruptly and turned to scowl at me. I was going to get scolded, I knew it, but I couldn’t for the life of me shut up. “These children have suffered enough, my Lord. I am begging you. You wouldn’t let this happen to your own family.”

“You are out of line, Miss L/N!” he boomed as if we were in the courtroom. I had trained myself not to flinch anymore under duress but the glances we attracted certainly embarrassed me, especially since a few of them were from colleagues passing on the street. “You will address me as it is proper and you will not attempt to put my position in check!  Those children are being well taken care of in Children’s Services. May I remind you that we are bound by oath to follow the law? Procedure is procedure and I will abide by it until I retire, which is far from happening. Do not presume that your pretty face will make things easier for you in my court. I expect better posture from you on Monday. Are we clear?”

I could not believe my ears.

Maybe I was out of line - I could agree with that - but I expected more compassion from a man who had been working as a Judge of the Family Division of the High Court for almost as long as I have been alive. But what truly left my mouth agape was the bit about my “pretty face”. If I hadn’t already made things bad I would have had a grand time of making a case of just how misogynistic that claim was. However, I was not going to give him any more reasons to hold me in contempt. 

“Crystal, my Lord,” I bit off, trying to meet his eyes without any defiance in them.

“I heard great things about you from Pauline McGowan,” I immediately unfurrowed my brows upon hearing the name of one the strictest professors I had had on Law School. “I hope she was not wrong. Use your brain, not your looks. Enjoy your weekend,” and he was gone, leaving me in the rain. 

“I am using my brain, you fucking twat,” I whispered to myself as I hurried out of the rain, taking shelter under a bus stop close by.

Judge Llewellyn had almost made it better by mentioning McGowan but then he ruined it by mentioning my looks. To say I was angry and insulted would be an understatement. Toughen up, I told myself.

Ignoring the stares of my colleagues on the other side of the street, I whipped my phone out of my purse to order an Uber and papers came flying out, dancing in the wind, treacherously out of my reach. 

“Fucking hell!”

God, if those papers were damaged that would mean that I would have to get new official ones and take them to Count Dracula, again. And I would not do that. Seeing my distress a teenage boy decided to help me gather them and stick them back in my purse.

“Thanks! Really, thank you so much!” I said for the third time in a row. 

He kept staring at me with a silly smile on his face.

“Huhh- can I like… get your number?”

I blinked, digging my nails on the palms of my hands so I wouldn’t burst out laughing. What a fantastic end to a day. Not only had a Count made an attempt to woo me, but I was also insulted by a High Court judge and now I had a 15 year old asking for my number. Cute, yes, but what had I done to the universe to deserve this kind of attention?

“I don’t think so, love,” I managed, putting on an apologetic smile.

“Are you sure? Cus like we can-”

“She’s sure,” said a velvety voice with a hint of finality. 

I pivoted to my left to see Count Dracula standing over my shoulder with a polite grin plastered to his lips. I was drilling a hole through his skull with my eyes but he kept his stare on the boy as if I wasn’t there.

“I can take care of myself, thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. Yes, maybe he was trying to be polite but years and years of people talking over me had made me develop a reflex of shooting someone down even if they were on my side. And I knew I most definitely did not want Count Dracula on my side. He was too handsome to be good news.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Y/N.”

“Are you following me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Finally taking the hint, the teenager shuffled to the other side of bus stop.

“Why would you think that?” he said very slowly.

“You live on the other side of London. And I’d say it is pretty unlikely we would bump into each other.”

“But not impossible. Perhaps fate is at play here, uniting us,” he bowed his head closer to mine, one hand dramatically draped on his chest.

“Charming...” I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing on Strand? There are far more beautiful sights in London.”

He made a show of looking around us as if to analyse the sights. Across from us, the gothic building that served as the Royal Courts was lit up in purple lights from below, casting shadows and highlighting every intricate detail of the structure. Our side of the street was all yellow lights and a mix of neoclassical and gothic design. 

Having lived in London all my life I barely realised just how unique and beautiful the city could be to a foreigner. Especially to someone who had lived most of his life isolated somewhere in Eastern Europe, as Renfield had mentioned to me. Strand had become part of my routine for the last years and I hardly paid attention to my surroundings during my daily commutes. Count Dracula, however, seemed to be quite fascinated by it.

“I decided to prowl the city in search of a good meal,” he said at last, taking a step closer so he was stood in front of me. From this angle I could see that he had something smudged on the side of his mouth. “Ended up there,” he indicated a corner at the end of the street with his head “and then I heard your lovely voice arguing with an old man as I finished eating.”

I surveyed him coolly. He smiled under my scrutiny, remaining very still. To be fair Strand did have fantastic restaurants and it was a tourist attraction. He could have just asked any cabbie to take him to a popular destination and ended up somewhere around here. If he was dropped off at Trafalgar Square, he could have wandered to the Courts. Finally, I decided it was not that unlikely that he had found himself all the way from Kensington to Strand.

“You have some sauce on your face,” was what came out of my mouth. I touched a finger to my lower lip to show him where. “What did you eat, bolognese pasta?”

He raised his thick eyebrows, smiling devilishly as if that was incredibly funny and pulled a handkerchief from an inside pocket of his blazer. 

“Rare steak, actually. Delicious. Thank you for warning me,” he said after wiping his mouth clean. I bobbed my head as a welcome. “What are your plans for the rest of the night? TGIF is what this generation says, right?”

Laughter escaped my lips before I could stop it. Hearing “TGIF” from a man of his prestige and age caught me completely off-guard. 

“Yes it is,” I answered, still laughing. “Until twenty minutes ago my plans consisted of going home, ordering takeout and binge watching Netflix until I passed out. But getting in argument with a judge certainly got to me. So I’m heading to Camden Town to get drunk. By myself,” I added so he would understand that I was not inviting him. Why did I even give him so many details? I questioned, suddenly struggling to break eye contact with him.

“May I give you a lift? Merely being chivalrous,” he raised his hands, showing me his palms as if to add to his “innocent” claim. 

“Do you even have a car?”

“Not yet. But Renfield has been kind enough to lend me his in the meanwhile. It’s parked not far away from here,” he explained. Moving closer to me he placed a hand on the small of my back, “Please, it’s dark and while you are perfectly able to take care of yourself I would rest easier if I was the one to drive you to this town.”

“It’s not a town,” I replied. “It’s a district.” 

“Is that a yes?” he pulled his eyebrows together. 

He was an attractive man, I would give him that. Sexy, even. But from my experience that didn’t always equal nice things. However, my brain was starting to disconnect from my body and when his eyebrows did that I felt butterflies doing cartwheels on my stomach. Those traitors. 

Use your brain. Hm, maybe Llewellyn could act as my conscience if all else failed. 

I felt something poke me on the back of my ribs and I dodged Dracula’s hand to turn and look. An old lady sitting on the bus stop’s bench gazed at me attentively, milky blue eyes shifting between the Count and I. Her hair was white as snow but her face was hardly wrinkled, withstanding the test of age. 

“Go,” she whispered, winking at me. “He’s a good one. They don’t make men like this anymore. Trust me.”

My body immediately relaxed as I chuckled. Leaning closer to her, I winked back.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said in the same amused fashion.

She grinned for a second then her expression closed itself again, as if Count Dracula hadn’t witnessed the entire exchange. She shooed me away with her hand and a gleeful glint in her old eyes. 

Turning to Dracula, I caught the triumphant expression on his face. If he thought he had won this round then he was seriously mistaken.

“I’ll let you be chivalrous and accompany me there. But don’t think this is an opportunity to make another pass at me. I haven’t got more insolence to spend today”, I took control of my lips before I could smile at using the same word he had accused me of earlier “and I’m trying to be friendly. So, behave.”

A grin slowly emerged on his face, exhibiting white teeth and pouring all his charm into it. His fine lines only appeared when he smiled or frowned which made me question his true age. It made him all the more alluring.

“For now,” he responded, placing a hefty hand on the small of my back again. 

_____________________________________________________________

Most of the drive to Camden was surprisingly quiet. I was the only one speaking from time to time to give him directions. But then when he finally made a curve that brought us right into the heart of Camden, an awed sound escaped him. 

The neon lights from store signs tinted the inside of the car in red and green. The cloudy night sky had gained a wonderful violet tonality that said that more rain would come but that didn’t stop the Camden streets to be overcrowded. Looking out the window, I could see people getting tattooed inside the nearest tattoo parlour. Vintage shops, pubs, restaurants and the food market all of them busy with boisterous noise from people and music. 

It was a stark contrast to London’s weather. 

“I love it here,” I told Dracula. 

“I… love it, too,” he almost whispered, gawking at two girls with pink hair passing on the street. “Uncanny.”

“That’s a good way to describe it. Hey, there’s a good parking spot,” I pointed ahead to an alley that ran between a salon and an adult store. 

He gaped at the adult store window display, showcasing a mannequin clad in latex, a cape and fangs drawn on over its lips. Handcuffs held the mannequin’s hands together while another mannequin was positioned as if to show them whipping the other one. 

Count Dracula laughed suddenly and I joined him when he couldn’t seem to stop. 

“It’s a trend at the moment in this side of the world,” I explained between laughs. 

The car behind us honked and the Count finally made the turn to the alley, parking behind a row of motorbikes.

“Vampires are a trend?” he asked, killing the car’s engine.

“They haven’t been out of fashion since the 90s, especially. But I was talking about the BDSM thing,” I grabbed my briefcase and purse and opened my door. 

Count Dracula was standing there a mere second later, holding the door open for me and offering a hand. Frowning, I did a double take between him and the driver’s seat. How had he moved so quickly? I shrugged it off, thinking that he must have gotten out of the car while I was distracted getting my things.

Accepting his hand, I let him support me while I got out of the car. We were awfully close to each other, I realised with a start. I had to look up from his chest to meet his eyes, which glowed red under the neon lights. 

“What’s that?” he muttered. It was pure luck that the alley was deserted, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hear him over Camden’s noise.

The alley was empty. And I was alone in the dark with a man whom I didn’t know very well. My heart hurt as if a hand had squeezed it. Shit. I could feel the tips of my fingers going numb and my legs getting cold from fear. 

When had I stopped using my brain and ended up here?

As if sensing my fear, his nostrils flared for a moment and then he stepped back, giving me enough space so I could breathe. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I was being-”

“Polite, I know,” I finished before he could.

Yellow light from a lamppost shone on him when he stepped back and I stared at his face. He was either truly sorry or very good at faking it. We looked at each other for what seemed a long time before I started to relax. 

I wasn’t particularly scared of him, I decided after analysing the situation for a second. Being a woman I had been brought up with an instilled and sensible fear of men in general, as it is with most women - unfortunately. 

Count Dracula opened his mouth to say something but I was faster.

“It’s fine,” I said reassuringly, to him or myself I wasn’t sure. “Your chivalry doesn’t seem to fit with how on edge I am as a person. Why don’t we tone it down for a minute?” Willing my heart to slow down by taking deep breaths, I sauntered past him towards the shiny and inviting colours of Camden’s markets. I turned around, seeing Dracula with his hands stuffed inside his pockets and a puzzled look on his face. “Are you coming?”

“You want me to come with you?” 

“You obviously like Camden. I’m not leaving you around someplace you don’t know, looking like that. You’ll just attract trouble,” I gestured with my head so he would follow me. 

Turning the tables for a second made me feel slightly better. He was a tall man and he had this vaguely menacing air about him that made me doubt that he attracted more trouble than the occasional horny person with working eyes. There was no denying he was nice to look at. He just would not attract the same kind of trouble as I would, that was a fact.

“Looking like what, exactly?” he asked when he caught up with me. 

“I don’t need to tell you how you look like. You have looked at yourself in the mirror, I trust,” I shot back with a smirk. 

“I try to avoid them, actually. I would much prefer if you gave me your thoughts on how I look like.”

Chuckling, I tugged the sleeve of his blazer so he wouldn’t go past the entrance of my favourite pub. The light banter was a good way to relieve my previous anxiety.

“I’m not feeding your ego anymore than that,” I turned to flash him an amused smile as I pushed the door open. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk,” he made, knitting his brows and making an excellent job at feigning indignation. 

An involuntary image popped into my head of him making that sound at me while holding the handcuffs from the adult store. I swiveled my face away so he wouldn’t catch the desire that had undoubtedly appeared on my eyes.

Use your brain, use your brain, use brain.

We made our way to the counter dodging the seas of people laughing drunkenly. It took us a few seconds but we managed to wiggle our way up to the nearest barmaid. I waved my hand to get her attention and she signaled back that she’d seen me. 

While we waited, the music changed to Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode and I absently started mouthing the words and moving to the beat of the song. I felt more than saw Dracula shifting closer to me and I stopped dancing, fully turning my body so we were facing each other and putting my hips well away from his grasp so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. 

Dark eyes met mine, a fire burning in them that could have made my cheeks blush a few years ago. I put on my best deadpan expression so he would give up but it was fruitless. 

Shifting closer still, he said “You didn’t answer my question before.”

“Which one?”

“What’s BDSM?” he asked precisely when the barmaid came to take our orders.

The barmaid’s mouth fell open for a second but she quickly recovered from it and sniggered.

“Okay…” she drew out. “What can I get you?”

“Rum and coke,” I looked at Count Dracula, looking curiously between me and the woman. “What will you have?”

“Nothing, thanks,” he nodded his head at the barmaid to dismiss her and she left. Seeing my furrowed brows, he added. “I don’t drink… alcohol.”

“I’m sure they serve non-alcoholic drinks here,” I raised my hand to get the attention of the barmaid again. 

“No need.”

A large hand closed around my wrist and politely pushed it down but did not let go. Instead, he used it to bring me closer. My eyes flickered from his and to his hand as a silent request to let me go. He loosened his grip but kept his hand on me. I pulled back to create distance between us. 

“BDSM stands for bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism… I think. I’m not entirely knowledgeable on the subject. Mostly it’s related to sex but that’s not exclusively the norm.” My response broke his attention on me for a second while he considered it.

“Oh!” He joined his hands and chuckled.  “So there is a name for it now. How delightful.”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish trying to find my words. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his, that’s how dumbfounded I was by the implications of his answer. Slowly, he let his gaze travel over me when he stopped laughing and a chill went down my spine. He was undressing me with his gaze, I knew it and I stood there allowing myself to feel desired for a second before taking control back.

I was still trying to work out how exactly I was going to regain control when the barmaid saved me by returning with my drink. Finally, I rescued my arm from the Count’s grip and took hold of my glass. I downed half of it in two gulps.

“You promised me you’d behave,” I declared. God, it was a challenge to maintain eye contact with him but I was not losing this battle. 

“I didn’t promise you anything, my dear,” his eyes shone mischievously. 

Fuck, he really hadn’t. But if he wanted to play a power game, I could do it. 

“I have no interest in you,” liar, my body screamed at me. “So let’s keep it friendly or I’ll leave.”

Dracula inhaled deeply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He straightened for a second on his barstool but then relaxed again, placing an elbow on the counter. The staring contest between us was put on pause and he met my eyes with curiosity instead of heat. 

“The judge,” he said simply. “You are clearly someone who does not accept being undermined, so why let him talk to you like that?”

I stared at him. A single black eyebrow jumped up, waiting. 

“You’d make a fine lawyer”, I conceded with a small smile.

“Why’s that?”

“You asked me a question that’s perfect to incriminate a defendant. Why would I surrender to him but not you?” I swallowed down the last of my drink, keeping my eyes on him and he grinned from ear to ear. “By following that logic, once I surrendered to Judge Llewellyn it is plausible that I surrender to you as well, is it not?”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” he rubbed his chin, a full grin still stamped on his mouth. 

“Mm-hm,” I grinned back. “I don’t have the option to be rude to a judge while working. I was out of line and he was right to call me out on that. As much as I don’t like being treated a certain way for being a woman and looking the way I do, withstanding that treatment is just something I’ve got to deal with on a daily basis.”

“Ah, I see,” his grin faltered for a second and then slowly faded. “And if things were different?”

“Oh, I would whip Llewellyn into submission until he granted me respect,” I shot back, laughing at my own joke. “But I’m not power hungry like that. I like having just enough to have some control.”

“Seems we are drifting back into BDSM territory.”

My laughter came easily again. The rum was obviously starting to affect me already.

“This conversation is taking a weird turn. Let’s go back to basics,” I suggested while showing my empty glass to the nearest bartender. He nodded back to indicate he’d bring me another one. “You sound quite English. I suppose you had a good teacher all the way in...  Hungary?” I guessed. 

“Romania,” he corrected, rolling his R and accentuating the last syllable. It was the first hint of his actual accent I had heard coming from his lips. “Indeed. Coincidentally, this teacher of mine was a lawyer like you.”

And with that, the conversation moved forward much smoother. Of course with the occasional banter that seemed to be a requirement whenever we opened our mouths. Still, it flowed nicely, the back and forth of questions we had for one another. By the end of the night, I had acquired a sense of trust in him simply because I knew more about him. 

He explained that his actual title was Voivode, which was closer to Prince than Count but he preferred the latter because he considered that “Wallachia’s principality was an obsolete system constantly defied by usurpers”. I noticed that he constantly referred to Wallachia, the region where he was born, rather than using the name Romania. 

He stated nonchalantly that he was a widower to many brides, which struck me as odd at first but everyone dealt with grief differently. More than once I saw him picking his words as to not give away too much but I didn’t judge him on that for I did the same. He only slipped once upon mentioning a friend by the name of Agatha of whom he had been very fond of but had drowned during a boat trip. When talking of her, I was fascinated by the wistfulness in his voice and the delighted smile that took control of his mouth. Perhaps the rum had played its part but I found it heartwarming to hear him speak so highly of someone who had clearly meant a lot to him.

The more we spoke, I realised he had much more depth than he let on. Sure, he was a cocky bastard but one that wanted more from the world than what his title could provide. Curiosity drove him. He wanted to “drink up” the knowledge from this era which he had been deprived of for so long. 

When he’d had enough of talking about himself he started prodding me with various questions, most of which I had laughed off because they were too complex for my brain on alcohol. Some of them were standard questions people made when getting to know one another, as why did I choose to go to Law School, did I have brothers and sisters, had I been abroad. But they got progressively deeper such as would I live forever if I could, would I kill anyone if there were no consequences, did I believe in magic. 

“Are you scared of dying?” he asked me at last. 

Too distracted eating chips and downing yet another glass of rum and coke, he placed his hand over mine when I didn’t answer right away.

“Are you?” the intensity on his voice made me blink.

I tried to focus and ground myself in reality. Fixing my stare on him, I let the darkness in his eyes engulf me and drown the sounds around us. For a second he was the only person in the room. My heartbeat raced. I was unsure if it was my body trying to sober me up or just him.

“This is an important question for you,” I stated. 

“Yes. And I would very much like to hear your answer.”

I licked my lips and shut my eyes in thought. It broke the bubble of darkness that had settled about us and the noise came crashing back, flooding my senses with music, laughter and excited voices. 

His hand was still over mine and I moved my own so I could interlace my fingers on his as an attempt to focus. 

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, still staring at the pitch black of my eyelids.

“What?”

“Death doesn’t matter. It just happens to people. Were there times I contemplated it? Yes. But it does not matter because I am alive and will eventually die as does everyone on this planet.”

His fingers tightened around mine and I opened my eyes to watch his reaction but there was nothing there. His face was empty, likening one of a statue.

“I think I’ve drank a little too much. Alcohol has a way of making me more insightful than normal,” mumbling and suddenly feeling like I had done something wrong, I withdrew my hand. It was as cold as his. “Will you take me home?”

___________________________________________________________

“You can stop here,” I told Count Dracula and he diminished the car’s speed until we came to a halt. 

“They all look the same,” said he, admiring the terraced houses that continued down the street. I could see the Clapham Common’s lights very dimly ahead of us.

“That one’s mine,” I pointed to the closest. It was the only one that had bushes of red and white roses decorating the small garden in front of it. Hugging my belongings, I gave him a small smile. “Thank you. You behaved quite nicely.” I patted his shoulder. 

“One of us had to do it,” he smiled back.

I scoffed.

“I was going to say I behaved like a perfect lady but I’m not a lady,” I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open in the same movement, which resulted in my purse and briefcase spilling out of my lap and falling to the street. “Ah, shit!”

Not a moment later, Dracula was out of the car and had taken my things under one of his arms. 

“I should show you to your door,” he said, offering me his free arm. “Wouldn’t want you tripping.”

I laced my arm with his and kicked off my heels, not minding that my stockings were the only thing between my feet and the freezing asphalt. I leaned down and picked up my shoes with one hand.

“Less likely to trip now but I’m still not fully sober, so I’ll accept the offer, oh good sir,” I giggled at my own joke.

The automatic light over my door came on when we stepped past the short iron gate that guarded my garden from the street. I wiggled free of Dracula’s arm and turned to him.

“I need my purse,” I informed. “To get my key,” I added when he didn’t seem to register what I had said. 

He swallowed and grimaced as if that took great effort. Staring down at the ground, he gave me my things. I frowned, thinking if my joke had been in poor taste while I dug for keys inside my purse. A small sound of joy came out of me when I found them much faster than I usually did. 

I was trying to fit them in the keyhole when a low groan reached my ears. I spinned to see Dracula standing way closer to me than he had a moment before. His head was thrown back, face turned upward and with parted lips, as if he was praying. He groaned again, harshly this time. 

“Are you alright?” I asked, already fishing for my cell phone inside my purse in case I needed to call an ambulance.

A step closer and then his hands were holding my forearms. I dropped my stuff to ground with the sheer force in which he grabbed me. He pushed my back against the door, standing so much taller than me that he completely obscured the light above us. 

“A taste. Just… a taste,” he spoke as if he was struggling to get the words out.

Barely breathing, I tried looking up into his face but he smashed his lips to mine before I could catch his eyes. My eyebrows shot up and I moaned in protest, struggling to push him away with my hands but he still had me well within his grasp. He stopped abruptly, leaning his forehead on mine. My nose was glued to his and I could feel my breath ricochet on his face. 

“Count- no. I don’t think we should,” I all but whispered because it was all the strength I had in me. Appealing to reason, good, I told my brain. 

And then his lips were on my cheeks, veering closer to my mouth for a second and then back to my cheeks, making a trail all the way to my earlobe and throwing all reason out the window.

“Please, please,” he whispered back, almost pleadingly. A kiss on my jawline made me shudder. A slow lick to the same place he had just kissed rid my body of all the stiffness it had built up. “Let me, my dear, let me…”

He retraced the path he had created and found my lips again. I exhaled, relenting to his touch. This time, my tongue greeted his and he groaned in response. His hands released my arms and circled my body, greedily seizing my hips and squeezing. My fingers found their way inside his shirt and I allowed my nails to lightly scrape the skin on the nape of his neck. He sucked my bottom lip to the point where it hurt but it only served to intensify the waves of pleasure flowing through my body. 

A cry of protest left my mouth when he stopped the kiss. But then he followed that glorious path to the skin on my jaw and I shut up. One of his hands snaked up, finding my shirt’s collar and pushing it down. I pressed my body closer to his, striving to feel more of him, and in response his fingers digged down on my ass harshly. 

Finally, his lips touched my neck and I tilted my head to grant him better access. Teeth lightly chafed the sensitive skin between sloppy and wet kisses until I was out of breath. Sharp pain followed for a second and I stiffened into his arms only to relax again when he held me tightly. A distinct mix of pleasure and pain flooded my body in a way I had never felt before and a moan tore out of me. 

I’m going to have the biggest hickey ever tomorrow, was my last coherent thought. 

[warmest-oceans]

A Non-Paradoxical Moment of Accepting Oneself While Falling in Love with a Best Friend

Set in Phuket, a beautiful large island in southern Thailand, I Told Sunset About You already wins the Best Picture category. The island is magnificent on its own — blessed with emerald clear water, bed of white sand, quiet calm breeze, but the island also has the charm of its old town scenery. Every shot feels like it was shot in a new world. The combination of laid-back island life with culturally rich town is visually pleasing.

Aside from its excellent choice of set, the storyline is the true gem here. In the peaceful island of Phuket, we’re brought into the not-so-quiet lives of our two male protagonists, Teh (Billkin Assaratanakul) and Oh-aew (PP Amnuaydechkorn). From the start we know that these two best friends are about to be involved in something that’s bigger than themselves, something that’s uncontrollable and something that will change their lives forever.

It won’t be a 10/10 series if the actors can’t bring the golden storyline to live. The actors who play our male protagonists apparently have been friends since they were teenagers, making every scene they act on-screen believable. The chemistry can be seen clearly with a dash of improvisation here and there by the actors themselves and the magical direction by Boss Kuno, the director of the series.

I can’t really wrap up my introductory of the series without mentioning the amazing soundtrack and scoring. We only have three songs as soundtrack (with different versions) sung by our male protagonists, but the quality is top-notch, you’ll fall for it!

OK, I’m done with my introductory piece. Now, let me gush about this series. To me, I Told Sunset About You has become a coming-of-age story that left a permanent dent in my heart. It’s everything I ask for in a series; a beautiful set, excellent story, magical chemistry, and incredibly fitting soundtrack. Sadly, the series is almost always lumped into BL category, which I find insulting to the series to be honest.

Although I don’t identify myself as a part of LGBTQ+ community, I relate to the series more than I initially thought. Let me be honest, I am INVESTED in this series. Let me just write down the things that I think make this series is in a whole another league.

Self-acceptance in the middle of everything else

The series is great at delivering the moment of being a teenager who’s in the middle of self-discovery, starting to think about the future (the protagonists are in 12th grade), falling in love (hard) for the first time (on top of that, with your very own best friend!), seeking acceptance and validation, and trying to stay afloat at the same time. The topic seems to be nothing out of ordinary, but its ordinariness that brings up its own charm when it’s combined with excellent character development.

We all go through self-discovery and we all try to accept who we are when we’re teenagers — how crazy it was, restless, tiring, but also exhilarating it was. That’s why I think the series will resonate with most people.

I love how the process of the protagonists discovering and accepting themselves also answers the dilemma of falling in love with the best friend. Personally, I believe that I need to love myself first to love another person (note: if you want it to work and if you want the relationship to be a healthy one).

Thanks to this series I had a pleasure of reliving the experience of self-discovery and self-acceptance once again. No kidding, after I watched the series, I did a bit of self-reflection.

Impulsiveness

I think the first emotion that the series successfully portrayed is the impulsiveness of hot-blooded teens. I love how chaotic and erratic Teh and Oh-aew can be. One day they’re best friend, tomorrow? Who knows. Everything is a mess and everything is truly a collection of fleeting temporary moments.

Nobody in the series got their shit together and it’s supposed to be like that. Nobody figures out shit when they are in 12th grade. Everyone in the series is scattered, explosive, tortured, yet sensitive and delicate at the same time. It really reminds me of my own 12th grade moments!

Most of teens would act out of their gut reactions and that’s exactly what the characters do in this series. They’re not perfectly groomed and planned. So if you’re no longer in your teenage years or maybe if you’re in your 30s, you may find some of their actions to be silly and atrocious even. Tip: try to remember your teenage years. Try to remember all the stupid things you did in 12th grade. It helps you understand the characters.

Jealousy among friends is real and valid

I rarely see a show can realistically execute the side story of jealousy in friendship or even rivalry. Sometimes it’s too mean, sometimes it’s not even brought up (mostly being avoided in a story). I Told Sunset About You portrays jealousy in the most relatable way, through microexpressions. Through Oh-aew’s subtle glance at Teh and Ma or through Teh’s smile when talking to Oh-aew. Really, kudos to the whole team!

Naivety that leads to boldness

I think we can all agree that we’re much bolder when we’re younger, no? That’s because we have this naivety vested in us. Like trying to learn how to ride a bike for the first time, we don’t think much about the risk, we just want to have fun with the bike. We think adults will catch us when we fall anyway.

It’s another thing from the series that makes me fall in love with it. These flawed characters, probably in their 17 or 18, think that everything will be sorted out eventually. While, we adult know that most of the time, we clean our own mess. You’ll know what I’m talking about in episode 4.

Everyone got their own idea of first love

I think love is a complex, hard-to-understand feeling for everyone in every age, let alone for a bunch of 12th graders. Deeply impressed with how the series handles the tenderness and also the chaos of first love. How the series shows different outcomes of loving romantically for the first time is also admirable.

Teh stole my heart. At first, he was so certain about his feeling. He was calm, loving, and patient, the best you could be when you’re in love. But later when he’s in turmoil with himself, he becomes petty, awkward, and impulsive. He thought he loved, but turned out, it wasn’t even the kind of love he’d imagined.

I’m the main character

No character in this series is a filler. Everyone got their own dream and ambitions. Tarn, the female character isn’t just an obstacle between our protagonists. She’s a fully-developed character, an independent woman that works hard for her dream and a dynamic person. Bas, a male character, a good friend of Oh-aew has his own likings and dream. He’s good at some things. He acts on his own. Everyone is the main character in their own world and it’s evident in the series.

Symbolism and color theory

This wouldn’t be one of my favorite series without hidden meanings, symbolism, and color theory. Almost every scene and every material placement is intentional in this series. I won’t talk about it much because it’ll spoil the fun of you finding them.

Nostalgia

I had fun watching, crying, smiling, and laughing throughout the episodes the way they are. Aside from warmth and the feeling of awe, maybe the production crew doesn’t realize that it also makes me feeling nostalgic.

It reminds me of how futile and just fragile some of the moments from my youth were. They looked like big deals when I was in my 17, but now they are just dust. They really don’t matter in the next 5 years.

It reminds me of how insanely good falling in love felt like. It was intense yet tender, messy yet everything fell into pieces perfectly. The feeling that you want to give the person the world, but sometimes that world isn’t what the other person wants or needs. The feeling that you can almost do anything for this person. The suffocating feeling of not knowing what to do, but want to do everything for the other person. The liberating feeling of falling into the abyss. The feeling of surrender… completely.

The series makes me remember how exciting and scary it was when I realized I fell in love with one of my best friends, how confusing it was to even talk to him the next day after the realization. I just wanted to be with him ever since. Nobody could take that away from me and everything just didn’t make sense anymore in my head, just like how Teh and Oh-aew felt.

As you can see, I only have good words for the series. I hope, after watching the series, you’ll feel various emotions but hopefully… they’re all good and warm, because that’s how I felt. I also think that the production crew tried really hard to deliver a heartwarming series (please watch the documentaries/their behind the scene videos, it’s amazing!). I hope this series can be a newfound joy for you.

[3pirouette]

Jc because you're writing is so good and flows together so perfectly and stuff.

Do you outline your work?

Like do you have an idea and outline it a big idea or chapter by chapter?

What's your writing process like?

Oh Anon, lovely anon.

First off, thank you for the lovely compliment. That was absolutely fantastic to wake up to on a day when my only feeling I had from the moment my alarm went off was “I don’t want to go to work today.” (I still have to go, but your compliment was a very nice little warm hug on a cranky morning)

So, I am SO sorry to disappoint you.

I write like a train wreck.

I have nothing valuable to share. 

I 100% write fic for fun and the process has always just been me, sitting down and writing. I almost never know how a story is going to get from beginning to end when I sit down to start writing them. That’s why I rarely post WIPs, since I usually have to go back and edit things. Like, 90% of the time the characters and plot surprise me with where they end up going. 

That’s also why I have something like 25 semi-abandoned WIPs on my hard drive for various fandoms - if the spirit isn’t moving me to write it anymore, I save it for another day. If I get a new idea, I start the fic and cross my fingers it gets finished. 

I don’t outline, but occasionally I’ll write myself notes in the word doc (Yes, I use word to write my fics. I’m old.) about what I think should happen next. The only time I’ve done any kind of real “outline” is in my super long fics (Like Nobody’s Baby) and it’s not so much an outline of what I want to happen but more like notes on what already happened so I don’t have to go back and reread everything to make sure the times and details are right as I move forward. 

Very rarely will I write the story out of order, but if I have a very clear vision of the end or something that I know is going to happen down the line, I’ll write it while it is fresh in my head and then try to fill in. Heavy edits usually happen because things are ALWAYS changing. 

I decide if it’s a chapter fic or a full story just purely based on my gut. 

I started writing fanfic (though I didn’t KNOW it was fanfic at the time since I was in middle school and we only had a family computer and I didn’t KNOW fanfic existed as a THING) somewhere around 1995 and started posting somewhere around 1998 after my best friend “discovered” fanfic. Because it’s something I enjoy doing I’ve worked somewhat hard at being good at it. I know what kind of fic I enjoy reading, and that’s the kind of fic I want to write. I am for SURE a little embarrassed at my first attempts at fic. I was a teenager trying to write about complex emotional states, it was rough. I like to think I’m better at it now.  

I no longer use a beta, even though I’ve worked with some amazing ones, because the betaing process stresses me out and this is for fun. (Though finding mistakes in works I’ve already published ALSO stresses me out). 

I’ve also VERY CLEARLY noticed that the amount I write, and the content of my writing, parallels my personal life and mental health. I usually turn to writing when I’m missing something in my personal life, and the sheer VOLUME that I’ve written for Steggy since last July has been purely due to the stress of the pandemic. The good news is, I turn to writing because it makes me feel good, helps me deal with everything, and is usually very cathartic for me. The bad news is that it’s very easy for me to walk away from it when my personal life gets more fulfilling or a fandom/show/movie/etc goes south for me (I’m looking at you, OUAT.) 

So, I know that’s not helpful. But in a way, it is. GO WITH YOUR GUT AND YOUR BRAIN. If you’re writing fic for fun, it should be fun. You should be able to get lost in it, and it shouldn’t be all that stressful. If it’s stressful, try to figure out why and eliminate that part of it from your process. I share stories I make up in my brain for fun. Let it be FUN. 

If anyone’s curious about the writing process of a SPECIFIC story or even fandom, because that seems to be a weird one for me, I’m happy to talk about them, too. 

[teamdoubleoh]

Q’s nephew

(Vaguely) based on this post by @needacuppa and @midrashic ‘s dialogue prompt. (technically) featuring @caffeinatedflummadiddlebutmerlin ‘s non-binary Merlin bc I like to see myself represented.

wordcount: 2312

Beware: Q is Holmes and has a fourth sibling, like in all my other fics bc I love consistency and Merlin.

TL:TR James thinks Q is married, Q thinks sleep is overrated and Mordred is very not-amused that James thinks Q is straight.

Q woke up in at 03:08 am because there was someone in his flat.

Someone other than himself, Mordred, Turing and Hawking. Q silently prayed that whoever it was could be killed quietly, so the cats wouldn’t wake.

He kept his eyes closed and listened. He could tell the someone wasn't moving, even though the door to the living room was shut. He turned his head to the bedside table, where his phone and glasses were sitting. He reached out, carefully avoiding to make any noise, put on his glasses, unlocked the phone and and logged into his security feed.

Apparently the intruder had had the decency to enter the flat trough the front door, which was a feat in itself.

Q selected the camera the monitored the door and went through the timeline. The feed was monotonous until two minutes ago, when a figure had walked up to the camera and opened the door with a key. Before entering the figure looked around, exposing their face to Q’s camera.

It was Bond. Who else would manage to steal acquire a key to his flat and show up in the middle of the night.

Q sighed and slipped out from under his comforter. He then reached under the bedside table where one of his personal guns was located and slipped it into the waistband of his pyjamas. He knew the double ohs well enough to know that taking a gun would be the best course of action.

Now armed, he opened the bedroom door. "Bond. What are you doing in my living room."

Bond was sitting on the couch, illuminated by the light of a half-moon that shone through the window. "Q! how nice to see you, what a coincidence."

"You've gotten yourself injured and the best thing you can think of is to break into my flat. Hospitals exist, you know that right?"

"Oh Q, I missed you. How did you know I was injured?"

"Posture." Q sighed.

"Ok, thats fair. You don't happen to have a bandaid or twenty lying around, do you?"  

Q sighed deeply and went to retrieve the MI6 issued medi-kit from under the bathroom sink. "Over here Bond. I don't want any stains on my couch."  

Bond stood and even in the relative darkness of the room Q could tell that it was a painful endeavour. Not a grazing shot then. Q searched the medi-kit for needle and thread. Bond sat down on the tiled floor, already pulling up his shirt over his left hip, where the bullet had dug into the flesh but had luckily been stopped by the hip bone.

Apparently the shot had been long distance, which would make the surgery relatively easy. Bond groaned when Q poured disinfectant over the wound.

"Honestly, Q. There is an intruder in your flat and you’re not even armed. What do they even teach you in basic training anymore."

Instead of answering Q pressed down a cotton swab on the bullethole and pulled out his P99 from his waistband.

"...Touché"

"Now if you'd be so kind and refrain from talking. You’re not making this any easier for either of us and I swear to god, if your noise wakes the cats or Mordred I'll-"

"Too late for that." Came a sleepy voice from the living room.

Bond was already half on his feet, trying to shield Q with his body, before Q could stop him.

"Hi. I'm Mordred." The boy, he could’t be older than 17, waved sluggish.

Bond looked hesitant but slowly sat back down again.

Q pinched the bridge of his nose with his unbloodied hand.

Bond smirked. "Didn't know you were the 'married with kids' kind of person."

"You do realise I can kill you, 007."

Bond looked stunned at the mention of his designation. he looked from Q to the kid and back to the quartermaster. "Uh, Q..."

"What."Q snapped.  

If the Quartermaster wanted to throw around his top secret designation so be it. Q knew what he was doing.

"...Nevermind."

"I don't think he wants me here. "the kid murmured turning away, obviously still half asleep. "I'll go back to bed."

Q sighed. "Now that’s is some good thinking. Bond, hold still." he picked the pair of tweezers. "This might hurt a tad."

Somehow James ended up in Q’s bed. With a very disgruntled Quartermaster in it. 007, being himself, couldn't resist commenting. "If you wanted to get me into bed, you should have just asked, Q. I mean I don't usually go for married people when off mission, but I'll make an exception for you."

"Shut up or I'll put you on the couch."

"Pray tell, if I’m annoying you so bad, why am I not already there? Should I inform the other agents that you're secretly concerned about our well being or do just like me?"

"That couch was my mothers, and she is ready to maim anyone who leaves stains on it."

"...Stains, huh? Got it. Thats the no-fun zone."

"You should know that I am also ready to maim anyone who keeps me from sleeping."

"Good night, Q"

Bond woke at 6:38 am precisely.

Someone was working in the kitchen, and since the bed was empty, save himself, it was probably Q. Or his son, apparently. Come to think of it, if Q was married and had a son, where was his wife?

The smell of toast and freshly brewed earl grey wavered into the bedroom and James decided that those were questions for another time.

The kitchen was, to Bonds surprise, well stocked and maintained.

He wouldn't have pegged Q for the cooking type but he hadn't pegged Q for the married-with-kids type either so that was that.

Q was just pouring a mug of tea when James limped in. The boy - Mordred, what a peculiar name - was sitting on a stool, nursing his own tea.

In the light of day his dark brown hair seemed to be a similar shade as Q's, while his pale blue eyes were a little unnerving, but that could be a side effect of him being a teenager. Everyone knew teenagers were dangerous creatures as they didn't need sleep and had fatal levels of cynicism, sarcasm and caffeine running through their veins.

Q handed James a mug of steaming tea, which tore him out of his staring.

"You should sit down." Q advised, pointing towards a kitchen table with three mismatched chairs. "And you should go to medical. I'm head of Q branch not a doctor." He hesitated for a second. "Well I am a doctor, just not of medicine. My point is: get that checked out, or I'll kill you."

"Aw don’t worry, I will, or it might kill me first."

"As if you wouldn't just come back from the dead to just to annoy me, hm 007?" Q smiled sweetly, something dangerous lacing his tone.

"I have before, I could do it again. Given a good enough reason." Bond eyed Q provocatively up and down.

Q just sighed and turned to take the slices of toast out of the toaster, placing them on a plate. "I assume you will join me on my way to work, seeing as your flat is on the way and you need to stop there for new clothes?"

Bond looked down at himself. He was wearing his boxer briefs and a tee shirt that definitely wasn't his. Since there was as science pun on it, he was pretty sure it was Q's.

“Yeah.... that might be a good idea.” James mused and went to find his slacks.

***

“So, what kind of a name is ‘Mordred’ anyway?” Bond asked the boy some months later.

He had broken in again and again and at some point Q had given in and made him his own key, which only made Bond come by more often.

Now he was sitting on the no-stains-allowed couch, enjoying a cup of perfectly brewed Rooibos tea he had gifted Q a few weeks prior. Mordred, currently located in the kitchen, was busy making dinner for himself and Q, who was still at Q-branch handling 009′s Washington mission.

Mordred, who rarely ever talked, much less with Bond, kept dicing onions and garlic. After half a minute of silence, just when James thought he might never get an answer, the boy opened his mouth. “It’s from the Arthurian legends. According to the popular legends Mordred was Arthur’s son.”

“You say ‘popular’ like you know better...”

“Well-” Mordred smiled ever so slightly. “-I know Arthur is my uncle.”

James grinned. “Is your mother a historian by any chance?”

Mordred shook his head and turned his attention back to the stove. “My mother is a PA. But her name is Morgause and her half sister is called Morgana - you know, like, from the Legends? -, so she thought it would be funny.”

James smiled and emptied his cup. Now that was something he could tease Q about.

Q chose that exact moment to stumble in through the door. He looked like he was dead on his feet. His tie was askew and his hair ruffled. He closed the door behind him, hung his parka on the mantle piece and placed his messenger bag on a nearby drawer, but his movements were that of someone who was kept awake only be caffeine and spite.

By the time he reached the living room his eyes where almost completely shut. He dropped down on the couch where James was still sitting, but Bond just steadied him as Q slumped against him.

“James?”

“Hello dear Quartermaster. You do know that sleep is essential for your personal health, right?”

Q only groaned and closed his eyes.

***

Four hours later Q woke to the smell of pasta and the clinking of cutlery being placed on a table. He sat up and opened his eyes, but everything was blurry. He groaned. Someone entered the living room.

“James?”

“No this is Patrick.” James answered deadpan. “Honestly Q, I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Firstly, You took my glasses. You should be glad I can distinguish you from Mordred right now. Secondly, why are you quoting Sponge bob at me?” Q asked in a tone that made it very clear that he was ready to murder someone or just fall asleep again at any moment.

“...Oh, yeah. I forgot about the glasses. You look adorable with out them, I have to say. Here you go--” James care fully placed Q’s glasses on his nose.

Q blinked twice and waited for his eyes to focus again. Right in front of him was James, smiling widely. Q shrunk back and tried to stand up in an effort to hide the slight blush on his cheeks.

“So. Why were you quoting sponge bob again?”

James took a step forward and held Q on his upper arms so he wouldn’t keel over. “I don’t know what Sponge bob is but that’s what Mordred sat to me when  I ran into him in the city the other day.”

Q rubbed his forehead. “Ah yes, he does that. And here I was, thinking you knew what memes were.”

“Whats a meme?”

***

Mordred cooking, James decided, was divine.

“You should become a Chef.” James mused, after finishing his third plate of Aglio olio and fourth glass of wine.

“How about I finish school first.” Mordred aswered snarkily.

Q snorted. “Aren’t you planning on becoming a pharmacist or bodyguard?”

James shook his head in confusion. “How are those two even related.”

Mordred looked at him weirdly.” They're not.”

“Then why would you? ...nevermind.”

Q rolled his eyes. “Mordred is interning with my uncle Gaius whose a Apothecary. if He’s good enough when Gaius retires he could have a change at taking, over like I did.”

“last I checked you were running Q-branch...”

“-and before me uncle Boothroyd was Q.”

James turned to Q. “Boothroyd was your uncle? That explains... so much.”

Mordred sighed. “could you leave the flirting till I'm back in my room.”

Q sat up straight. “He wasn’t flirting.”

“I was.”

“Since when?”

“Since before I broke into your flat. But sadly you’re faithful and straight and all that crap.”

Mordred let his head fall into his hands. “Here we go...” he muttered under his breath.

“And who would I be faithful to, exactly?”

“Your wife?”

“My--?” Q sputtered.

“Mordred’s mother?”

“Wait, you thought I was

straight

?”

Mordred raised his hand. “You do know I’m not actually Q’s son, right?”

James turned to Mordred. “Wait, what?”

Q looked almost gleeful as he explained. “Mordred is my sibling’s... .” Q turned to Mordred. “What do they call you?”

“Mostly ‘a baby’”

“No, no there was something else...”

“Lovechild? Morgause-spawn? Heir to the throne?”

“They really call you that?”

“I don’t have a second name, so they had to improvise when they were angry.”

Q shrugged. “Well, point stands. Mordred isn’t my son. He lives with me because he’s kind of my siblings adopted son? But he can’t live with them and their husband and apparently I can’t take care of my self or something--” the last part was muttered. “--So he lives with me.”

Mordred was staring at James wide eyed. “Wait. You thought I was Q’s son? Honestly? Q? Your Gaydar is BLOODY SHITE. YURUSENAI!”

James flinched and faced Q, who was rolling his eyes at Mordred. “Translation please?”

Q smirked at him. “He says your ability to build context about inter person relations and read peoples attractions is rather bad and that he won’t forgive you for thinking he was blood related to me.” Q paused. “I would be rather offended by that last statement if it wasn’t for the blatant sarcasm.”

James smiled dreamily. “This is why I love you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Mordred took a sip of his water. “He said he loved you.”

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

22. Unpacking a Few Things

Word Count: 3914 I have had most of this damn conversation written out almost since the beginning of the story! So, I am SO GLAD to finally be able to give it to y’all. I’m making my way towards the end of this fic, and I already know how I’m ending it and have outlines and notes, BUT, as readers, I want to know if there is anything in particular that y’all want to know or wish you could see/had more insight about whenever it comes to this story and this dynamic? Anything that you feel like I didn’t quite explain or just general questions? I’m gonna be open to those! So, let me know, and hopefully enjoy this installment.

Previous

Grace hadn’t wanted this to become a “Finally, we'll get the truth" type of hyped up event. Because she was mostly wanting to tell Simon to his face how he had affected her life and maybe gain a better understanding of why. She hadn’t wanted to expose him or dig up any of the old feelings. She wanted to move past them and never have to worry about them hurting her again. That was extremely difficult, as she tried to make notes of everything that she wanted to address and how she wanted to word it, she found that the words that she knew she should say were not necessarily the ones that she felt deep down inside. She even tried to get with her therapist to make the best selection of words. Then, to be on the safe side, she was sure to have the woman be there for this meeting. 

Whenever Simon arrived at the rented studio, he looked like a completely different person. He looked like he had gotten everything refreshed right before he entered the building. His hair was shiny and clean, brushed, but not pulled up into his ponytail. He had shaven, his eyebrows and lashes seemed to be perfectly maintained. She made notes of the amount of self care (or spa treatment, possibly) - the manicure, the glowing skin, the glistening smile. It was like that person outside of Julliard had been an imaginary, distorted doppelganger. 

He had a few people with him, and she recognized one as his lawyer, one was she thought his publicist, maybe, and there was another man that she had never seen before. She glanced at her own therapist, still so fly in her pantsuit, even though she was just on the sidelines, and they smiled at each other. Grace knew she would be okay with her there. Whenever the cameras began rolling, it was Grace’s doctor that nudged her head that she could begin. 

Grace held cards in her hands, just to not forget anything. Simon sat smugly across from her, staring at her like he was waiting on her, like he was impatient, almost… like he hadn’t come to her, begging for this chance to talk! That already rubbed her the wrong way, so she started with that. “Simon, it’s good to see that you look well. The last time I saw you, it was… more than a little troubling. Were you able to get things sorted out?”

Something flashed in Simon’s eyes like shame and shock for a moment, like he wasn’t expecting her to speak about that. He blinked, tilted his head, nodded and she noted the exact moment that he switched from his honest feelings to whatever lie he was ready to spin. “There have been some very hurtful, very potentially future threatening allegations made against me, and I suppose that I just made a few rash decisions in trying to cope with these sudden stressors. I didn’t mean to trouble anybody while I dealt with that.”

“When you say hurtful allegations, you mean hurtful in that the allegations could possibly affect what you value,” she said, “Not like it hurts you personally to know that people are speaking about what you did…”

“Allegedly. What I allegedly did.”

“What you told me that you did,” she blurted, and there it was again, that blend of shame and shock, now with a heap of anger. “Which… I will say, I never told anyone that, aside from my therapist, so the fact that other people have come around saying that you also told them the same thing does seem to be a little more than allegedly.” She sniffled, “Because, I didn’t even realize that you had said that to anyone else. I thought, at worst that you were bragging about sex. I mean, we were both virgins until that weekend and we spent a few days exploring. I did things that had never crossed my mind to do and I figured, a teenage boy will probably tell his friends at least a few of these things… But then whenever you told me that it didn’t even matter to you…” Simon clutched the arms of the seat tightly and tried to catch his breath, “I was heartbroken. Because, it meant the world to me. Then, well you know what you told me about it after that, and you know that I got really angry and I hit you.” 

He relaxed a little more. It was so much easier for him to focus on the things she did to him than to face the things that he’d done to her. “Right. You injured my gums and tried to give me a concussion,” he laughed a little and said, “I knew that was my fault. I even said to to your mom after she pulled you off of me.” 

Grace furrowed her eyebrows and she asked, “Are you trying to antagonize me right now? Because, that’s not why we’re here.” He ONLY told her mother that in order to make her look worse, and they both knew it, so the mind games apparently were still on the menu...

“Okay. I thought we were going to point out the shitty things that we did to each other so that we could both feel bad,” he said in an accusatory tone, as that was what it felt like she was doing to him at the moment.

“My list would be so short, Simon. In fact, why don’t I get it out of the way for you, because we both know that I didn’t do anything at all to hurt you or anger you until I told you that I was going to go to college!”

“You did plenty before then, I just always gave you a pass,” he said through his teeth.

“On WHAT, exactly?” she asked.

“Let’s start with the fact that you thought it would be good idea to display my pain about my family to get into your bougie ass school, because you didn’t want to be alone!” She flinched at that. She had absolutely forgotten about it, but was unsure if it warranted his hatred, especially because that was years before and it wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to take it back… 

“Then, whenever I got into the school, you didn’t even notice that they were making me miserable. You didn’t care that I had to rip my own heart out and serve it up to be near you because by then you had everybody so charmed that you didn’t need me or want me around anymore.” She clenched her cards and bit her lip. That wasn’t accurate. It was... a perspective, but not hers... “Your mother talked about me like I was a piece of filthy garbage when she met me, and you just stood there!”

“I was terrified of her, and you know that...”

“I shouldn’t have been a surprise! Why didn’t you TELL THEM that I was taking you? Because, you knew that she wouldn’t approve, even though we were going as friends and you were too ashamed of me to clear it up first. You didn’t care to even consider my feelings again until I almost beat a guy to death for you!” 

She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She… had sort of forgotten about that too. More accurately, she hadn’t thought about it in many years. “I’m not a fool. Grace. I took note of what made you happy, of what made you care about me. I only mattered to you whenever I was protecting you. You only cared about me whenever I was exacting revenge in your name. You got so mad when that girl called me your guard dog, but what the fuck else was I ever to you?”

“I THOUGHT you were my FRIEND! I thought we protected EACH OTHER!” She cried, “It’s not fair to bring my mother into this. You know that was different. Nobody else would have been able to get away with that in front of me. It was HER! What could I do? You know I was terrified of her!”

“That’s why I didn’t hold it against you. But, you wanted a list, Love.” He narrowed his eyes at her and she took a deep breath, centering herself as he scoffed and continued, “You smiled, laughed, cheered me on so many times when I was hurting someone for you, then when you decided that wasn’t enough anymore, you became bored with me and irritated when I responded the same way I always had. We never even had a discussion that we shouldn’t do that anymore! How was I supposed to know that you didn’t want that anymore? But, I took responsibility for you to not look like a violent brat… which. You. WERE! You just happened to not be being one THAT time!”

Grace didn’t feel like pointing out that she repeatedly tried to intercede that night and many nights like it. She definitely knew that he was the more violent of the two of them. Sure, she started it when they were 12, but she grew out of it when they were 15 or so, and according to the reports about charges against him, he STILL hadn’t. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. He looked suspicious. She nodded her head and said, “I’m sorry for convincing you to do things that you didn’t want to do for me. I’m sorry for making you hurt for me to feel comfortable. I’m sorry for any times that I was unfair, or untrue, or unclear. I’m sorry for being confusing. I guess I didn’t know enough about myself to know what I wanted or what I liked, so I was willing to try a lot of things out and I must’ve accidentally neglected your needs in the process. All this time, I honestly just presumed that the things we did together and for each other were the things that kids did for their friends, for people that they loved and respected. I just didn’t have the insight to realize that it would’ve hurt you enough to make you feel like you had to do what you felt like you had to do to me.” She bit her lip, trying not to cry and looked at her therapist. The woman seemed chill, so she guessed that she didn’t look as bad as she felt.

Simon was silent for a long time. His lip was quivering and his heart was pounding. He let out a shudder and leaned back, covering his face with one hand. This scared her. This was similar to what he did right after she told him that she was thinking about leaving. “I don’t need you to apologize for any of that. My entire point was that it didn’t matter to me. I loved you. I didn’t care about enduring those things. I cared about you… growing apart from me.” He uncovered his face and this might have been the first time all day that he had been genuine. “It didn’t feel good to watch you bloom and to feel like I was this weed that was wrapping all around you… but… I couldn’t stop myself. The more you tried to grow away, the tighter I wrapped myself around you and… and…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Hearing him say those words was something that she never thought would happen, especially when he came in today, acting brand new again. She offered him a gentle smile and chuckled a little bit. “This is why instead of me calling on all my witchy friends or leaning back on my parents’ wealth or something to get back at you, I basically told the universe that whatever happens happens. I feel like we all get what we deserve, eventually, and I didn’t know that it would be today, but I have to admit, I do feel like I deserved that apology.”

“What do you think I deserve?” Simon asked, tilting his head slightly, his eyes still damp, but smiling slightly. 

She shrugged her shoulders, “I think you deserve whatever you deserve.”

He sat up very suddenly, his body stiffened and he looked at her, hurt, confused, angry, again. She looked confused as well, because she thought the conversation was going well and she couldn’t guess what she said that he didn’t like! “You think that the things that have happened to me were deserved? My family, my trauma... those are things you believe that I deserved, as a kid?”

“What? No. I’m not talking about that. I’m just saying...”

“YOU’RE TALKING SIDEWAYS AGAIN!” He fussed and snatched off his mic. “You can never just be straight up! You brought me here JUST to throw it in my face that things have been going badly for me and that it’s my own fault for hurting you!”

“That’s not what I meant, at all! All I meant is that we don’t have to try to seek our own vengeance. You and I used to do that and it only brought us more pain and years of being apart. I thought that we JUST established all of this, Simon!” 

"You lied to me. You made me think you cared about me. You told me we were friends. You said that I was half of you and then you just cut me off like I was nothing! I was never anything to you! I never would be because you don't care about anybody but yourself and I loved you so I couldn't see it. THAT’S what we just established. Well, you're nothing to me now. I come here to settle things and you’re just feeding me more lies, this time for everybody to see? You really think I’m such a fool! Maybe I am for even agreeing to this. I THOUGHT you wanted us back.”

"I'm sorry that I made you feel that way Simon. I know you're hurting and I'm partially responsible for that. But, I loved you. I loved you for a long time and I think I maybe always will. I was wrong to say that you were half of me. I should have found ways to be complete without you. We were children! But now, we're both people who have gone our separate ways, done life without each other, and came out on the other end. We can make better choices. We can change. It doesn't have to be this pain between us, this anger, this hate... I can't make you forgive me but I promise you, I did love you and my life has not been the same without you.”

"Bored without your worshippers?”

"Sad without my friend.”

"You were never my friend. You were some rich kid who thought she could play with me like a toy until you got bored with me.”

"You left me, Simon. Not the other way around!

"YOU WERE GOING TO TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME!!! You were going to destroy what we built! You were going to ruin what I had. What I DESERVED.”

"I was going to give up things I didn't need. You were never on that list!!! You were ALWAYS essential! My biggest mistake was not letting you know that. I don't know where I went wrong. But, I’m sorry that i didn’t notice. I’m sorry for the things that I didn’t even realize or remember. For whatever part I played in all of this, I’m sorry and I want to forgive you for your part. But, I can’t even begin to do that, if you keep insisting that it was all my fault. And… I just want it to be over. I was extremely hurt. I still am, in a lot of ways that we haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of. But I missed my best friend. You didn't miss me?”

He had tears pouring from his eyes and quite frankly, he was sick of how frequently this had been happening to him, but what could he do? His life was falling apart and the one thing he wanted and needed back in it was trying to give him a lifeline… and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to take it! He wanted to, but it all hurt so much. Just thinking about what he did hurt, and they hadn’t even scratched the surface? Of course they hadn’t! You know what the fuck you did to her… 

Grace closed the space between them and said, in a soft voice, “Sometimes, I’m so angry that I can’t see straight. I think about how much you hurt me and I focus on all of the details, every single place that I might have went wrong, and I’m at a loss for coming up with anything that has made sense of it to how you were able to be somebody that would kill for me one day, then be the person who...” She sobbed, “I was crying. I was breaking right in front of you and you didn’t even budge. You were so harsh that sometimes, my mind can’t even believe that it happened that way. I think that whenever I snapped, I must’ve reimagined things and made you out to be more cruel than you were, because surely my Gray Eyes, my Partner in Crime wouldn’t have did the things that you did or said the things that you said.” She covered her face with both hands and Simon stared at her, unable to formulate a response.

I did it? Yep, it happened just like that. Now, you know good and damn well you didn’t imagine that... Like... what does one say to somebody whose life they purposefully tried to end in every way but physical? Someone that they once meant the world to? “And you’re still just standing there...” She said from beneath her hands.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. Not an easy thing for somebody like him to admit - a perfectionist, a know-it-all, a smartass... He knew nothing, especially not what he could do to help this clusterfuck that he both asked for and provided...

“BE SOFT WITH ME AGAIN!” She screamed. He jumped at her loud cry. “For fuck’s sakes, Simon, haven’t you been mad and mean long enough for it to suffice for the suffering you thought I deserved? I’m HUMAN! I did things that hurt people. I did things that hurt you and you got back at me, tenfold! I have to live with the mistakes I’ve made everyday. They bother me. I want to be a different person today. If you can live with being cold for the rest of our lives, I can’t change that, but unless we’re leaving here today, DEAD to each other, be. gentle. to. me.” 

His hand shook as he reached forward, scared to touch her, lest she crumble into countless shards. But, his hand connected with cheek and she let out an exhale that sounded like she had been holding her breath for years. He withdrew his hand, scared that this was a mistake. He should leave. Dead to each other wasn’t so bad. That was probably better than allowing himself to get caught up in her again, which he felt was right around the corner, if he didn’t leave immediately...

Grace hugged him as he tried to pull away and maybe she should have just respected his wishes, but she didn’t this time. He owed her at least a hug, damn it! “I loved you, Simon. I loved you in spite of the things that happened and besides the fact that you say you hate me... I think you'll always be loved, as long as I'm alive.” Simon broke down crying against her and started to collapse to the floor, a lot like he did outside of Julliard, but this time, Grace went down with him, instead of just watching, refusing to let him go and wrapped her legs around his body. 

Simon curved into a fetal position in her arms, crying uncontrollably, remembering the last time he held someone this close for this long... his sister... whenever he couldn't get her to wake up and he was crying and trying to bargain with her to get her to please wake up. “I’ll never hurt you again,” he said. “Please, don’t leave me. I need you.”

He had to be pried away from Hope for her to get medical attention, but it was too late. And his parents hated him for it. They never held him again. He was afraid that Grace wouldn't have him. He didn't know that he could still BE held. Even then, while it was happening, he expected to die from the shock, or the stimulation of the discomfort of being held again when the last time was so horrible and this time, he was so unforgivable...

Then again... he had been held since Hope. Not this long, but Grace had held him before - held his hand, had her arms around him, held him in place when she taught him moves. Held him lovingly against herself as they explored the more carnal side of their connection... 

She had been... a good friend. But... he’d shoved her away the moment she seemed like she might turn him away too. He had to hurt her before she could hurt him. He had to show her that he was the Apex and she was... a void. He had to make her meaningless. So he had forgotten the gentleness of her embrace. He had lied to himself about the warmth of her spirit and the softness of her arms. He had unlearned her goodness and convinced himself it wasn't ever real, and he had believed everything that he concocted about her... "What is wrong with me?"

"You didn't get the love you deserved, but you still have time to learn how to love yourself. You can still change." Grace kissed his hair and began rocking him on the floor. “Simon, I can’t be the person who saves you. You know that, right? I have myself to look out for. I have to make sure that I live my life with the least amount of hurt. But, you really need to get some help. It can’t be me, but... something has to happen.”

“I’m going to get help, so I don’t hurt you again” he said extremely softly. She nodded. It wasn’t the time to point out to him that he shouldn’t be hurting anybody, but she knew that if he got help, help would teach him that. After a while, he got up and started to leave, more calmly than before. She stood up, stretched and sputtered air out of her mouth. They stared at each other a while. What on Earth does one say after something like... whatever that had just been? She didn’t even know if he meant what he said. She knew that she did, but time would only tell if Simon actually listened to her. His publicist, lawyer and therapist collected him, making it easier to transition away from the awkwardness of having held on to Grace for dear life while he cried about things HE did to HER. 

They left the building, dragging him away as Grace watched, feeling at least on her end, she had done everything that she could to clear the air. Then, he just vanished. Nobody saw or heard from him for a while...

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