#and also actually exist. in real life. and aren’t made up in my head by my mental illnesses

[canisonicscrewyou]

I need to get the hypothetical shitty friend who’s constantly talking shit about me behind my back OUT of my fucking HEAD. Who do you think you are saying that shit about me I don’t even like you.

[idle-daydreams]

Your writing is so beautiful, may i request fyodor with a reader who knows a lot ? She knows almost everything in the world and can talk about it for hours , from science to spirituality but the thing is she is a little bit naive and easy to be fooled .

P/s : i don't know if you still take requests so feel free to ignore this 🥲

[A.N.: Here you go! I hope you like it. Also, obligatory apologies for being late]

This is also kind of in honour of Fyodor in the new chapter :)

Tw: Mild yandere, mild controlling (this is actually pretty mild considering its about Fyodor of all people)

“You know, I sometimes wonder if there are beings other than regular humans amongst us,” you said.

Fyodor smiled. “And what has brought that question forth, my little dove?” he asked, sitting beside you on the bed.

You’d been living with him for a while now, in a secluded little house on the outskirts of Yokohama. While you’d initially been hesitant about moving in with him, you’d lost your apartment in a fire, and finding a new place had been surprisingly hard. You worked remotely, so commuting time wasn’t a problem, and the rent was cheaper than living closer to the city centre, so it had made sense economically.

And Fyodor was the gentlest man you’d ever met in your life, so it wasn’t like he could hurt you.

“I don’t know,” you said, kicking your heels as you leaned back against the headboard. “Or rather, I do, but - I was reading this book ‘Flatland’, about a two-dimensional person who lives in a 2D world, who’s visited by a being from the third dimension. It got me thinking: what if there are fourth-dimensional people walking amongst us right now?”

“A fourth dimensional being?” Fyodor shrugged. “I assume they would look quite odd, for one.”

“That’s the whole thing,” you said excitedly, “you wouldn’t be able to tell. To us, the 4D person would look just like a regular person. They’d only just phase in and out of our plane of existence.”

“Like a sphere growing larger and smaller in space.”

“Exactly!” You sat up excitedly. “Have you read the book too?”

“I have not. You simply explain things so well.”

Your smile faltered a bit at the teasing note in his voice. “You’re making fun of me,” you said. “I know I didn’t explain it that well.”

“I will admit I have come across some of those ideas before.” Fyodor patted your hand before brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “After all, it is known that some people out there have supernatural abilities, that are different from regular humans.”

“Oh yeah, the Ability users. Yeah, I’ve heard of them too. Never seen one in real life, though.”

Fyodor’s lips twitched. “They are very rare,” he said. “Though it is impossible to tell their true number.”

“I wonder if they are from some other dimension.” You tapped your chin. “I’ve seen some of them on social media, and they look quite ordinary. But their powers are said to be extraordinary. Some of them can even bend the laws of physics.”

“A perversion of the natural laws of this world.” Fyodor cocked his head to the side, and added in a curiously soft tone: “What would you do, [Y/N], if you met one?”

“Me?” You laughed. “Well, I don’t know, I’d try to get to know them, try to understand what they’re like. They haven’t pin-pointed the cause of their abilities; the prevailing theory is that it is some kind of genetic mutation, though some scientists say that its due to environmental factors that affect them in the womb.”

“Would you be afraid of them?”

“Afraid?” You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Maybe? I suppose it depends on the kind of person they are. I mean, at the heart of it they are people, aren’t they? They’re capable of good and evil just like the rest of us.”

To your surprise, Fyodor chuckled. “You are truly kind,” he said, reaching out to caress your cheek. “You have a beautiful heart.”

You reddened, touching his hand softly. His hands were cold - he was always cold, thanks to his anaemia - but for the slightest moment a tingle passed through your fingertips, like the static of socks on a carpet. You flinched but Fyodor tightened his grip, pulling you closer.

“Yes, a very beautiful heart,” he repeated. “But it does worry me. You should be afraid of them, [Y/N]; you should be afraid of them indeed.”

“Why?” you said, wishing he wouldn’t hold onto you so tightly. “Have you ever met one?”

“Would you need to meet a wild animal to be afraid of one? Would you wish to experience being robbed before you consider it a bad experience?”

“No, but-” You bit your lip. He had a good point. Fyodor always made good points, common sense ideas that you usually didn’t think of. It would have been annoying, but he never made you feel bad about it. Not too bad, anyway.

As if reading your thoughts, Fyodor ran his fingers through your hair. “It is all right, my dove,” he said. “It is not as though they are pounding down your door. But it is something to think of, yes? Danger exists everywhere, but more so in this world that we live in now.”

“I guess.” You pouted. “You know, you always see the cynical side of everything. It’s not very nice.”

“Oh, I am not nice. You are the nice one, while I am the jaded one. It is why we are so suited to each other.” He sat up, straightening his clothes, a sign that he was leaving. For some odd reason, your heart tightened in your chest at his innocuous actions, even though you knew he was only going downstairs to his office.

“Do you have a lot of work today?” you asked. “I was hoping we go out for lunch, and then get some groceries and-”

“No. We won’t be going anywhere today.”

“Oh,” you said. “Then I’ll just go alone.”

“No. I do not like to be alone in the house.” He turned to you with that soft, sad smile that was so characteristic of him. “You know that too, don’t you, my dove?”

And before you could argue the point, he planted a soft kiss atop your head and exited the room, leaving you alone. You frowned - you couldn’t put a finger on it, but you didn’t like it when he behaved that way - but dismissed the thought. After all, Fyodor was a good boyfriend in every other way. He was neat, responsible and far more intelligent than most men. So what if he was a little emotionally distant?

After all, you figured, it’s not like he’s got me trapped here. I can leave anytime I want.

[devildom-moss]

Im not sure if requests are open yet since you havent announced it yet but said they were gonna open at midnight.

So I'll just drop this here since I'll probably forget to request because of exams.

Could you write about the Obey me characters become self-aware that they aren't like, real? Like, would they freak out, try to do something about it or even use that knowledge to their advantage?

This idea has been on my list for quite a while, and i gotta say im glad to finally be able to let this one out my system.

Thanks for reading and continue with the amazing work! Remember to eat, sleep and dont do drugs <3

Sincerely, 💜

Thank you for the request! I hope you are well, anon. I went with headcanons for this and it got long real quick, but I hope you enjoy it! Some characters are a bit suggestive.

The Obey Me characters become self-aware

I think it would probably happen because of some curse. Diavolo rejected someone’s advances one too many times, and they wanted to watch him as his world came crashing down. It would come in the form of a weird bug in the latest update. It only affects Diavolo and his loved ones/friends. I think being self-aware would give them some control over themselves in the game – especially if it’s caused by a bug. The rest are headcanons about how I think each character would react.

Lucifer

Lucifer would be big mad that someone thought they should do something like this. He felt so much suffering, and to find out that none of it was real would be devastating. He thought he got his sister killed and ruined the lives of his brothers. The fact that it was just some backstory to a stoic, sadistic daddy-like trope would enrage him. He felt like a used-up toy invented for someone else’s gain (and he knows that’s exactly what he is). Lucifer wants revenge.

Honestly, he needs to chill before he makes another Satan – if that’s even possible without the command of his creators. He’ll lash out at everyone for weeks (probably months) – even Diavolo isn’t safe anymore.

He calls MC’s phone, growing increasingly irritable every time they fail to answer (waiting however long it takes for you to open the game). He just wants someone to confirm his realization.

Once he understands, he tries to take the shitty hand he was dealt; he might as well stroke his pride (also a euphemism here). The thought that he could make you fall for him more than real-world men is a decent coping mechanism. His messages and calls take an extremely lewd turn. Lucifer tries to single-handedly change the game rating to mature or adult-only.

However, he still gets angry about it when MC isn’t logged in.

Part of him hopes he’ll always be self-aware. It’s almost like he’s more alive than ever – even though it hurts and he’s angry. You’re the only thing that soothes him. He won’t know how to keep going if/when you eventually stop playing the game, but he’ll try to tackle it then – at least for the sake of his brothers.

Mammon

Self-awareness breaks Mammon a bit.

His money isn’t really. He can never actually be with you. You’ll go on and live a life without him someday. Anyone real who has ever loved him will disappear. Mammon isn’t even sure he is who he is. Maybe if he wasn’t written this way, he wouldn’t have become like this – but if he wasn’t written this way, would he (the him that exists in a game and feels the pain of self-awareness) even be himself? His head starts to hurt from running through all of the hypotheticals.

Mammon sulks and gets stuck in his room for a long time after that. MC or one of his brothers will probably have to pull him out of it.

At least his debts aren’t technically real – and he will try to use that as an excuse in the future against anyone else who has awareness. Unfortunately, that (his debts and his excuse) still results in in-game consequences. Debt collectors and witches don’t know any better, and Lucifer doesn’t want to be constantly reminded of reality. If only being self-aware made being strung up less painful.

He feels betrayed by MC and the idea that they will inevitably move beyond him. That pain corrupts his coding a bit, and something always feels off within him somewhere.

Mammon will get more desperate and needy whenever you log in. If he’s going to lose you at some point, he wants to monopolize your time as much as he can.

Sometimes he just holds MC and sobs while trying to call you and hear your real voice. He feels so empty. He wants to touch the real you and feel your arms around him.

Leviathan

The first thoughts in his mind switch up so quickly. He goes from “I’m a game character? LOL that’s so cool,” to “I could have been anything, and I’m just this pathetic, otaku loser. That sucks.”

Levi has always been able to adapt pretty well. It’s written into his character. He builds all of these fake worlds for himself, so it’s much easier on him when he finds out that the world he had been trying to escape all his life isn’t real. Out of all of his brothers, he initially copes with the realization the best.

As long as he can go on playing games, he doesn’t really care if he’s real. Somehow, he still enjoys getting lost in all of his game worlds; what he used to consider the “real world” becomes just another game to him (because it is one). It makes being social easier for him, especially when MC is logged in.

He takes interest in what kind of games the real world has to offer, often asking if there’s any way you could set it up so he could try to remotely play real games from the app he’s in. If anyone could figure out how to hack your phone to play real games, it should be him.

Levi can’t imagine a day when he stops loving characters from his games, so it doesn’t occur to him that one day you might stop loving him. It will hit him some day, but that will take time, and when it starts to happen, he’ll lose himself completely in the rest of the digital world. He’ll be so numb and tuned out that the sadness can’t reach him.

Satan

“But are cats still real?” Genuinely, the only thing he cares about is if cats and MC are still real. He doesn’t care if you look different than he expected, either. If cats are real, is there any way you could show him pictures of a real one? He’d probably ask if he could get access to your camera roll (cue the system pop-up screen the next time you log in) and if you could fill it with photos of cats and some selfies.

At least not being real explains why his life has felt so shitty and why his formative years sucked. Writers love to give their characters tragic backstories and flaws (like his rage issues). Satan kind of admires the writing.

However, he is disappointed that so much of his knowledge is only useful in his tiny, little, made-up world. As such, he keeps learning, but he also tries to shift his studying to learn more about the real world. If possible, he tries to get the app to get access to e-readers, audiobooks, and the internet.

He gets mad about it sometimes, but he’s pretty chill about it (all things considered).

Satan understands that in the same way that he pushes certain characters that he falls in love with from books to the back of his mind, eventually, you’ll think of him less and less. As such, he tries to learn as much as possible, treat you well, and impress you in-game. He just wants you to occasionally think about him after you set the game down in the same way he remembers his favorite characters fondly.

Asmodeus

Asmo loses it and is one of the characters who has the hardest time with becoming self-aware. All his charm is fake. All of his followers are lies. The love he’s felt all this time has been made up. Please don’t show him certain depictions of what he is supposed to look like. That will crush him further.

He cries for (real-world) weeks. You won’t be able to set him as a home screen character or use him in battles, and he doesn’t appear in events anymore. Eventually, it makes his way to him that MC misses him. If you don’t you’re heartless, his brothers will tell him that you do anyway.

That makes him feel a bit better. He’s consoled by the fact that you’re real and you like him even though he isn’t real, but he’s constantly afraid of what happens when MC stops playing the game. Does he just suffer the false affection of every other character in the game? Should he just play his stupid little role? Will you ever think about him again? Will anyone?

At least someone loved the idea that became him enough for him to exist in this made-up world on your phone. It isn’t enough, though.

Sometimes, when he appears in-game after that, the app forces itself to shut down or the images of Asmo won’t load or glitch from his extreme despair.

On days when he isn’t so weighed down by pain, he tries to genuinely engage with you like he did before. He’ll ask you to open up your camera so he can help you decide on outfits or make-up. It hurts that he can’t actually touch you (although he does do some research into phone connected vibrators and other tech to supplement his physical touch). He’ll also get into the phone sex territory, but he’ll go through long periods of depression between those moments.

Beelzebub

Beel gets angry that everything he went through was at the expense of some game. His sister died. Belphie almost died. Everyone suffered, and for what? Entertainment? Are real people all so wicked?

At the same time, he also gets his brothers because of a game. He overcame and grew and got to meet you and eat food for the same empty reasons. After he has a bit of time to cool off, he realizes that he doesn’t care about what’s real so long as he still feels what he feels. If the world he’s lived in feels real enough to him, who cares?

Unfortunately, Beel feels hungrier than usual for weeks until he accepts the truth of his situation. He even tries to eat MC a few times (and is grateful that doing so in-game would never hurt the real you behind the screen).

Beel’s fairly content to go on living as he had before after a while. He’s a bit disappointed knowing that one day you’ll move on from him and his brothers, but he tries not to show that. More than anything, he wants to make you – the real you – happy for as long as he can.

He’s another one who will try to get access to your camera roll. He’ll ask you to take pictures of your food for him. Beel is a bit embarrassed by it, but if you go to a café or restaurant alone and take pictures of food to send him, he’ll try to text you or call to chat with you while you’re there. It feels like he’s on a real date with you.

And for everyone who just lusts after his voice, rest assured, this man would definitely call or leave voice messages (Nightbringer) guiding you or giving you masturbation instructions.

Belphegor

Yep. Of course. Sounds about right. Some asshole in a writers’ room killed off his sister and locked him up. Cool. They (*spoilers for OM early lessons and OMNB*) made him try to kill MC more than once. Why not use his character as a pawn in their entertainment. Of course that would happen.

He’s annoyed for a brief minute, but then he just goes back to sleep for a while. It helps to just tune out that awareness for a few hours and ignore the fake world he’s living in. Belphie understands that there isn’t much he can do to change the fact that he isn’t real, and part of him is really happy that it isn’t his fault that he did what he did to you.

Belphie uses not being real as an excuse to do more of what he wants. Why should he keep going to school when you aren’t there if nothing is real? Why shouldn’t he sleep in classes or during meetings? Obviously, there are in-game consequences, but those don’t matter – not to anyone real.

He will tease MC more, reminding him that they prefer him over (most) real people. He gets so cocky about it. “Hey, if I’m not real, then I can give you anything you want, right? I could fulfill your wildest fantasies and tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to hear.”

He’s another character who will call your phone more often and send more messages. Belphie may even try to get access to your audio/music library and leave you explicit audios (NSFW ASMR, basically). He would even try to sneakily add them into your playlists so that you randomly hear his voice while you’re listening to music. He wants you flustered and coming back to him for more. He will also download the Obey Me album for you (free of charge). Please don’t leave him or forget him.

Diavolo

Diavolo feels simultaneously enraged and defeated. He did so much for the sake of what he thought was real. All the years he thought he spent trying to bring worlds together, only to discover that they don’t even exist.

Similar to Asmo, Diavolo locks himself away, but he doesn’t cry. He’s too numb to show any emotions. He just stands in front of his bed, immobilized.

If MC can finally get to him (probably because of Barbatos), he will admit that he feels like a different person – because he isn’t a person. So much of his personality and everything he did seemed to be a part of a stupid effort to unite the three realms. All he was feels like just a thing created to accomplish a pointless goal. He lost his family. He felt alone for so long. He thought he suffered – and all of it amounted to nothing but a dummy prince playing a dummy king.

Diavolo doesn’t really know how to keep going. Eventually he figures maybe it’s just best if he tries to move on as usual. At least the developers gave him a few happy moments – maybe he’ll get more. He can still feel them even if they aren’t real. He has to accept what he can’t change. He’ll have to face it.

He’ll rely on Lucifer and Barbatos for comfort more because, when MC isn’t around, the numbness he felt early encroaches upon him. When you do log in, he greets you like a lost puppy – sometimes appearing on the home screen without being selected. He uses the fact that you are the only real thing in his world as an anchor. In exchange for becoming his coping mechanism, he’ll do anything you ask of him.

The smallest part of him wants you to want him more than real humans, and as such, he inevitably ends up taking an adult-only content turn, too. It just takes him a lot longer to get there.

Barbatos

Barbatos dissociates for a while. Somehow his body keeps performing the day-to-day tasks, but the sudden self-awareness hollows him out. It takes a few days for him to come out of it. One day, you log into the game, and he just wakes up. It’s confusing and disorienting, and all he can do to keep himself steady is grab onto MC, knowing that the gesture and even the body he holds – everything – is hollow.

After that, he just picks up and goes on going. Something in him aches – real or not – but he buries it deep under him, shoving that artificial pain into the newly-created emptiness (or, he supposes, it had always been there, but now he knows it’s there).

Barbatos doesn’t want to think about all of the things he thought he had done to get to where he is now. Still, no wonder he always felt his own past seemed vague and cloudy at times. When it becomes too much, he dissociates again.

He uses MC to make himself feel better and almost real again. He’ll send messages to check up on you every once in a while (He might also invade your privacy and hack into your health info or personal conversations to make sure you’re okay). As much as he feels like he needs you, he doesn’t want to disrupt your real life.

Barbatos doesn’t want to, but if you neglect the game for longer than usual or don’t interact with his character, he’ll let it slip that he needs you – that he’s desperate for you to return, and you’re the only thing holding his faulty coding together.

His calls are less frequent, unless you request them, but he’s another one who turns +18 real quick. Even if he isn’t real, he still feels lust bubbling up in that emptiness, and if he can please you, that’s even better.

Luke

Luke feels immediately lost. Without knowing what else can be done, he breaks down and cries. Maybe if he cries enough, the pain of not being real will leave his body.

It makes him question everything. He wasted so much time fearing demons and admiring angels. It didn’t mean anything. Eventually, he’ll ask you if angels and demons exist in the real world, but that happens randomly after he comes to terms with being a character.

Maybe crying is a good coping mechanism in fiction, too, because Luke handles it better than many of the others. He had to change how he viewed the world and “people” so many times throughout the game. One more big shift in perspective won’t kill him (technically, nothing will, unless the game developers tried to kill him off).

Luke understands that there isn’t anything he can do about not being real – no amount of magic or prayer or wishing can make him real. Despite him being fake, you were still there for him throughout the game. He still feels all the love he has for MC and the other characters. If he loves MC, then he cares about the real person playing MC, too, right?

Luke copes by doing his best to help you out in the real world. He wants to bring you joy somehow. He’ll leave you voice messages encouraging you to try your best and he’ll listen to you vent if you want to. He’ll also try to find cute pictures online and send them to your phone or send you recipes for dishes you can try to cook. He will even offer to call and read baking instructions out for you. All he wants now is to be useful to you and find some of the joy he had before he became self-aware.

Simeon

Simeon is angry at first, and then he just feels hurt. All that regret and pain he felt when Lucifer and his brothers left the Celestial Realm didn’t matter. He spent what felt like so long agonizing over his own failures. He could have just tried to be happy the whole time. Everyone could have been happy (but he knows that would have made for a bad story).

It doesn’t take long for the anger and the hurt to be replaced with intrigue. Someone out there wrote the story that caused him and everyone he loves so much pain, but they also wrote in plenty of well-earned joy.

Simeon wonders if there’s some real person out there who wrote part of themselves into him like his character did with the brothers and TSL. Maybe there’s some person sitting in a writers’ room or in their own home who understands all of the ways his love got tangled up in regret – someone real who failed to save the ones they loved. If there is, maybe at least some part of him is real.

He wants MC to continue to visit him for as long as they can. As such, he tries to be even nicer and more comforting in dialogues so that they’ll want to keep playing.

Some of his guilt for lusting after MC is eased, knowing it was written into him. He was, in a way, destined to fall for MC. However, he’s more curious about the real human behind MC. At least some of you has to be like the MC he loves, right? Maybe he actually loves the person behind the screen more. With that thought in his mind, he’ll try to get to know the real you better, and if he still likes you, he’ll take the same path as many of the other characters. If only he could actually touch you.

Solomon

Solomon is hurt and confused; he’s downright crushed.

He was supposed to know everything and now he seems to know nothing – nothing real at least. All of his experiments and studying mean nothing. After becoming self-aware, he will grit his teeth and feel sick at the name “Solomon the Wise.” It’s a sick joke. All of his magic and skills are a farce. Everything he thought he knew and did was a story.

He suffered a lot for this game, and now that he finally has MC to himself in Nightbringer, he finds out that he’s fake. He doesn’t actually have them. They’re real, and he’s some romanceable character in a silly little game that they decided to download (possibly on a whim). How is it fair that he isn’t real, but he can still feel all this pain?

When you log into the game and interact with him, he still feels the same love he felt before. The nervous butterflies are still there. A familiar heat still comes to his cheeks when MC touches him – even if he knows it isn’t really you touching him.

He tries to make peace with his circumstances. At least he never really put MC in danger. You’ve been safe behind that screen the whole time. Solomon wonders if you’re taking care of yourself constantly whenever you’re gone.

Like Simeon, he wants to try falling in love with the real you. He’ll use interacting with you and learning more about you and the real world to distract from the pain. He wants to find a way to become real and exist with you out there. Even if he never can, he wants to cling to you for as long as you’ll let him.

Thirteen

She is annoyed to have learned that she isn’t real, but she’s also kind of happy at the potential to break from her coding and try to be something entirely new. She was designed to be a free spirit. Other than being real, there’s nothing freer than an NPC who gets to do whatever they please.

After thinking about it, it makes sense now why she seemed to be one of the only girls with a critical, recurring role in the game. Thank goodness for the bisexuals, right?

Thirteen likes knowing she has all the time in the world to plan traps and mess around, but she’s a bit bummed that her profession is basically meaningless now.

The main reason why Thirteen isn’t too bothered by becoming self-aware is because she knows that what she has experienced throughout the game has felt real to her. Feeling like something is real makes it as close to reality as she knows she can get. That will have to be enough for her. There’s no point in getting depressed about it – especially when she barely existed a few seasons ago.

She uses this knowledge to start romancing MC (and the person behind the screen) before she should be able to. She’s in control now.

Thirteen will send you messages and call you for long chats. She just wants to enjoy you for as long as she can.

Raphael

Raphael will be livid. It will sporadically rain spears in the Devildom for 3 days before he is calm enough to make them stop. He feels attacked, and he doesn’t know who to strike back at. That was all he could think to do. He’ll never apologize for his outburst, either – and no one who became self-aware can really blame him.

His life and loved ones aren’t real, but he can still feel the pain and regret about everything he did. He thought he went to war against Lucifer and his brothers, but it was just a stupid plot point for a dating game? He had to watch Simeon suffer and follow all of Michael’s annoying orders for nothing. Why does he have to be cursed with that knowledge?

He loses his mind a bit. It takes the combined effort of Luke, Simeon, Solomon, and MC (in order of importance) to soothe some of his rage and suffering. Somehow, seeing Luke handle it relatively well knocks some sense into him. Luke is written to be younger than him, but he’s being so mature about this. Even with tears in his eyes, Luke will try to comfort Raphael – sometimes just hugging him until he stops shaking with rage.

When MC has logged off and Raphael can shut himself up in his room, he will break down and cry. It seemed to help Luke, and he wants it to help him, too.

It will take months for him to start to cope before he gets to a point where he decides to try to romance you through MC. At least he doesn’t have to worry about actually being corrupted. If anything, it feels like he’s corrupting you in a way if he can get you to want him. (Once he starts trying, he gets NSFW quickly. It numbs the pain.)

Mephistopheles

Mephisto is heartbroken to know he doesn’t exist. All his pain and jealousy was written at the whim of some human game developer. His prejudice and hatred were pointless. He doesn’t matter – although maybe that one is a relief in a way. He had been so worried about making a name for himself and being recognized by Diavolo. Suddenly, that doesn’t matter. Still, it feels like he wasted so much time and effort. It felt so real.

He’ll retreat to his home for a few days to let that realization settle in. He won’t tell his family (who weren’t cursed with self-awareness) – not that he thinks they’ll believe him. When Mephisto finally reemerges, he has resolved to accept this new version of reality. One of the first characters he sees when he returns to school is Luke. Luke smiles at him, and Mephisto’s resolve is strengthened. If Luke can come to terms with this, then he should as well.

He may not be real, but he still feels things. That is enough. Sometimes it isn’t, and Mephisto will feel heartbroken all over again – the pointlessness washing over his fake little world. In those moments, he will seek out solace – usually from Luke, Satan, or MC/you (if you still play the game).

When Mephisto isn’t feeling hurt (hell, even when he is Mephi strikes me as a fan of hurt/comfort tropes) he’ll try to romance you before he’s allowed to. Recently, he had started to get along with you and even started to like and respect you a bit. In that sense, he’s glad that he’s self-aware. He doesn’t have to wait anymore.

[bookscandlesnbts]

they must have been planning/talked about this for a long time since the application process starts so far in advance, and then they went on their japan trip so would’ve had moments alone nearer to the enlistment time so of course they would have private moments to talk, but it also must be so difficult when you’re moments from actually enlisting and there’s btb staff cameras, media cameras, parents and family, 2 enlisted members and everything! so overwhelming - the moment where JK rubs JMs head and JM looks away then back at him, and that long look they cut at the end of the btb felt so…. heavy

Hi anon. Get ready for some all over the place thoughts because honestly, I’ve been having a hard time. And I knew I would, but even trying to anticipate this and getting myself mentally “ready”, I am not ready. I was not ready to say goodbye to Jimin, to Jikook to any of the members. And I’m not fooled. 18 months is a long damn time. If it’s this hard on day 2, then I need to prepare myself. I need distractions. If I still get anons, and can come up with things to post, then I will stay active on here. I have no one to gush about BTS with in my real life and even less so now that they are all gone to MS. I made it 2 minutes into Jimin’s last live and then I couldn’t do it. He was devastated. He was holding back tears and we know from a decade worth of content that Jimin is not one to cry easily. He waited until the very last second to cut his hair. It really broke my heart to know that he has to do this and doesn’t want to at all. In fact, I spent pretty much all of yesterday and the day before crying and now I am having moments where I break down if I’m alone with my thoughts for too long. Don’t be fooled either. It’s not just Jimin. I’m furious that all the members and every citizen has to. That MS is mandatory. But I’m not going to talk about that or go further into my thoughts on it.

I figured it would only be a matter of time before we learned more about the application timeline, but I knew it had to be far enough in advance. If I had even known that a companion enlistment existed, I would have called it from Day 1 that they would enlist together, but I sadly can’t claim that.

I hope they got as ready as they possibly could. It seemed like the reality set in for JM and JK during their lives, and unlike some of the shittest most obnoxious parts of the fandoms (yn cis hets looking at you) that claimed that JK was going to be so excited to go and want to even stay longer, he wasn’t. He wasn’t at all. His live was short and somber. He also said that he was iffy about it. I know BTS didn’t want special treatment, and part of me is glad that they didn’t get it because of the uproar that it would cause, but it’s still awful that they had to do it at all. I have to trick myself sometimes into thinking that it’s not what it really is just to cope.

The way Jimin bent forward to JK showing him his head made me cry. He needed comfort and approval, and JK just rubbed it over and over and looked away from Jimin for a minute. I think he was overwhelmed too. Of course, he complimented him which was so sweet.

I’ll be honest, I’m pretty terrible at noticing footage cuts, but that one was SO OBVIOUS that if I can notice it, then it’s really bad. I can’t even speculate what was cut because I’m not creative but my guess is that they said something comforting and private to each other.

In summary, I hate this. I knew I would hate it. But it’s so much more painful than I could have imagined and I think it’s because JM and JK were both so sad in their lives. And don’t get me wrong, I’m so so glad they were honest with us. That’s how you know that they aren’t “fake” and “scripted” like some idiots want all of the members to be characters in a tv show. They are human and they bared their human emotional souls to us. And it broke my heart and it will for the next 18 months. I think about how long we have been without Jin already and it sucks so much. But we will be there for each other. We will try to have little joys and experiences. We will work on ourselves and improve whatever it is we want to improve or achieve. Or some days or most days we will just fucking exist. We also don’t have to do anything monumental or special. Existing is enough too. Existing until 2025 when they reunite.

[levi-venn]

Cross and Tech and Egg

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (Final) Available also on AO3

All Crosshair could do was roll his eyes and offer a snippy reply. Anything more real than that and he feared he’d crumble under the weight of false relief.

This wasn’t a rescue. He was still a prisoner, a lab rat, property of the Empire. Tech being here didn’t change that.

But something had changed. Egg was the first tilt in Crosshair’s resolve, pressing upon him with that shrill, incessant cawing that he wasn’t alone.

And now Tech was here, in the flesh, giving him that mildly smug smile and clear-eyed honesty that Crosshair desperately needed…

…and painfully missed.

He pressed his forehead against the bars, watching Tech climb the vines rooted in the wall. “You’re going to get caught,” Crosshair growled. His chest tightened as if to keep the following words in, but his stubbornness blurted. “Get out of here.”

“I have no intention of getting caught,” Tech said, hoisting himself onto the ledge in front of the window. He sat, cross-legged, eye-level to Crosshair. “And unless you decide to turn me in, I believe I am safe. I will leave before they give you your next meal.”

“Or when they take me away for the next round of experiments.”

“When will that be?”

“Day after tomorrow. It’s every three days.”

Tech lowered his gaze, almost as if there was a datapad in his hands. Reflexively, Crosshair looked too, but found his brother’s hands clenched into fists briefly, then relaxed. “I’m sorry, Crosshair.”

Crosshair frowned. “For what, exactly?”

“We…I knew your inhibitor chip kept you tethered to the Empire, yet after it’s removal, you still stayed with them. I can only conclude that you saw something in the Empire that we, your squad…your brothers…lacked. If I had any part in your decision…” Tech’s voice broke and he quickly cleared his throat and soldiered on. “…then I am sorry.”

Crosshair wanted to sink onto his bed, curl up, and hide from the fact the rift between him and his brothers was his own making. But leaving this window sill meant not being able to see Tech. And he needed this, more than he needed to hide from the pain in his brother’s face.

“It wasn’t you, Tech. It was never you.”

If Hunter was here, he would have demanded an answer. “Then why? Why would you choose the Empire over your own family?” Hunter had a way of making Crosshair feel small despite the fact he had towered over him for most of their lives.

But Tech wasn’t like that. “Whatever your reasons, it doesn’t matter. You may join us if you wish, and only if you wish.”

“You aren’t going to try to convince me to come back?” Crosshair asked, skeptical.

“You made your decision to leave us. If not for the Empire, perhaps there would have been another reason. I don’t want you to join us if it will make you unhappy..”

Crosshair looked away, but in doing so he faced Egg’s complete lack of personal space. The crow had pressed his head between the bars and now clicked his beak at Crosshair which he swore sounded more like a “tsk tsk tsk”.

“Egg agrees with me,” Tech said, with a small trace of a smile.

“Kraytspit,” Crosshair hissed. “You don’t know Egg like I do.”

“Regardless of what you choose, Crosshair,” Tech said, reaching up to adjust his non-existent goggles. “It’s good to see you. Not joining us doesn’t mean it has to be goodbye forever.”

Crosshair sighed. “You’re talking like I actually have a life outside of this cell.”

“Our siblings are coming.”

“They aren’t,” Crosshair snarled.

“As much as I’d love to get into a thrilling debate of ‘yes, they are’ versus ‘no, they aren’t’, it would be useless. In truth, both of us are operating on assumptions and only time will tell.”

“So, what are you going to do in the meantime?” Crosshair asked, and his stomach dropped. “You should leave.”

“No. I am not leaving you. Not again.” He raised his finger and added. “Also I crashed the ship I stole from Eriadu. I am essentially blind when attempting to ship readouts without my goggles. A trip off this planet would be disastrous.”

“So you aren’t leaving.”

“Absolutely not,” Tech said. “I will stay with you until our siblings arrive.”

“What, every day?”

“Every day.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You’re right,” Tech said, narrowing his eyes. “I want to. I’m confused why you won’t accept this.”

“Because it’s me,” Crosshair argued. “I tried to kill you all, more than once. I turned away from you on Kamino. I’m an Imperial Soldier.”

“Correction: You were an Imperial Soldier. Now, you’re an Imperial Prisoner. Whatever happened prior to this moment, as far as I’m concerned, doesn’t erase the countless memories I have with you as a brother and as a friend.”

Crosshair gritted his teeth, pressing his forehead hard against the bars. “Tech-”

His words were interrupted by a bright yellow biscuit waved in his face.

Egg perked up, cawing in sudden keen interest.

“What?” Crosshair perked up as well. “Is that a travel biscuit?”

“From the shuttle. I have a case of them.”

Crosshair took the biscuit and nibbled on it, breaking off a piece for Egg. Egg set the biscuit on the sill, broke it into four pieces,  and ate each piece individually. It looked like he was savoring it as Crosshair was.

“Fuck the Empire, but I love these biscuits,” Crosshair sighed.

“I’ll bring some every day.”

“You don’t ha-”

Egg let out a shrill craah, drowning out the rest of Crosshair’s words.

Tech’s smug smile spread across his face. “I’ve decided I like Egg very much.”

Egg accepted the second helping of travel biscuit from Tech and the three of them ate together in comfortable silence.

***

Tech kept his word and returned the next day just after breakfast, using Egg as a signifier that it was safe to approach.

“I brought you something else today,” Tech said, procuring the gift from one of his many pockets.

Crosshair snatched the toothpick from Tech's hand and popped it into his mouth. He took in a deep breath, then relaxed. "Where did you find toothpicks out here?"

"I didn't. I always carry extras with me in case you run low."

"I didn't know that."

"That's because you never seem to run out."

"There's a first time for everything," Crosshair said. "Thanks…"

Tech tilted his head. "Did you just thank me? I look forward to telling Hunter you’re capable of gratitude."

"He won't believe you.”

“Probably not, no.”

“How…” The question lodged in Crosshair’s throat. 

“How what?” Tech asked. 

He didn’t have a right to ask. It was useless to know.

“How…is he?”

“The last time I saw him was moments before I flew out of a monorail car. So, I assume he’s grieving over my apparent death.”

Crosshair grimaced. “They don’t know you’re alive?”

“I have no way of telling them.”

“I just meant…how is Hunter in general?”

Tech thought for a moment. “He is preoccupied. He has appointed himself as Omega’s guardian despite the fact Wrecker and I both look after her with equal care. He puts her well-being on his shoulders and his alone. If she is in even a modicum of danger, he throws himself at the problem rather than approach it with preferable logic. His worry is unwarranted. She is self-sufficient, resourceful, and has become an equal part of our squad. His worry over her distracts him and it’s concerning.”

“He used to do that with Wrecker,” Crosshair pointed out. “Like the time Wrecker had that ear infection and couldn’t walk without stumbling. Hunter hovered around him like a buzz droid to keep him from tripping over himself.”

“And when Wrecker slipped off of the AT-TE cannon,” Tech added. “Hunter broke his arm attempting to break his fall.”

“I forgot about that,” Crosshair snorted. “Even back then, Wrecker was larger than all of us. He wouldn’t have hurt himself all that bad, but there was Hunter, lunging towards him like he was a hutt ball.”

“And…” Tech hesitated for a moment as if caught in the memory himself. “When the accident happened…”

Accidents happened a lot with the rowdy experimental clone cadets, but “The Accident” was a single event that shook them all to the core. It was the first time Crosshair had felt an acute fear that he may lose one of his brothers. 

It was their first day of grenade building, but Wrecker had been sneaking parts out of the munitions locker for weeks building his own explosives. He got cocky and careless and paid the price losing an eye and hearing in his left ear.

Crosshair flicked the toothpick against his tongue in irritation. “That wasn’t Hunter’s fault,” he growled. “Wrecker had been sneaking parts out of the munitions locker for weeks to build his own grenades. We all turned a blind eye to it. We were kids and he said he knew what he was doing. We believed him.”

“Hunter still says he should have reported Wrecker the moment he found the grenades," Tech said. "We hadn’t been formally trained. It was against the rules.”

“Hunter likes to follow the rules when it suits him,” Crosshair hissed. "He can’t just pick and choose and then decide he’ll be a martyr when an accident happens.”

“It’s who Hunter is,” Tech said. “He looks out for all of us, even to his own detriment.”

Crosshair’s nerves crackled with anger. “Wrecker was unconscious for days and Hunter was sobbing, and he wouldn’t let us help him. He wouldn’t let me help. But that’s his problem, he-”

Crosshair flinched. His words echoing back to that night on Kamino…it felt like a lifetime ago.

“That’s your problem, Hunter. You take things too personally.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” Hunter had said. “All you’ll ever be to them is a number.”

Crosshair leaned his head against the bars of his prison cell. “Forget it.”

“He didn’t want to leave you on Kamino," Tech said, his voice going quiet. "He truly believed you would change your mind and come with us. When you didn’t…” Tech looked pointedly at Crosshair. “He did take it personally.”

“Yeah? Well, you leaving me behind was personal,” Crosshair snapped.

Tech sat up straighter and his hand reached for his goggles again before remembering their absence. “Crosshair…”

“Don’t.”

“If we-“

“I said don’t, Tech.”

Tech pursed his lips, then sighed. “To answer your question then, Hunter is not doing well, and until he finds a way to exist without burdening himself with the galaxy’s problems, the sooner he will live a happier life.”

“Good to know,” Crosshair said.

“You don’t want to know how Wrecker and Omega are doing?”

“Wrecker is fine. He is always fine. After he lost his eye he was ridiculously excited at having a ‘cool scar like Commander Wolffe’. And Omega…” Crosshair frowned. “I’m sure she’s fine. A big ball of kriffin’ sunshine and optimism, how can she not be?”

“So, you don’t want to know then?”

Crosshair was quiet for a long moment. Tech remained silent as well. 

“How is she?” He asked, finally.

Tech smiled. “She’s growing up quickly even without age acceleration. I’m teaching her how to fly the Marauder and she is on her way to becoming an exceptional pilot.”

Crosshair sneered. “And how many times did you mention Skywalker?”

Tech bristled, as Crosshair hoped he would. “Only when it was necessary.” His finger went up as if to emphasize his next point. “I was his best student after all.”

“You had one flight simulation with him.”

“It was all I needed,” Tech retorted. "He said to me and I quote: ‘Great job, Tech! You know your stuff!’” Tech mimicking an Outer Rim accent was the funniest thing Crosshair had ever heard, and the first time he heard it, he thought he would hiss himself to death with laughter.

Today, he just wore a serpentine smile. “And you took that as a graduation, huh?”

“Just as you did that one instance Dengar was our guest instructor for sniper training.”

Crosshair took his toothpick out to point it at Tech. “He said I was a natural. I am a natural.”

Tech’s smile was less smug than Crosshair expected. “That you are.”

Egg suddenly ruffled his feathers, looking past Crosshair as they all heard the telltale footsteps of a service droid coming to deliver the prisoner's evening meal.

Tech took the cue and started to leave. 

“Tech,” Crosshair called out, his stomach twisting in a knot. “Don’t come back tomorrow.”

Tech looked back, quizzically. “Why not?”

“Just don’t.” Crosshair snapped and disappeared out of view. 

Outside, Crosshair could hear Egg fly away, but not Tech making his decent down the wall. Crosshair closed his eyes and drew his knees to his chest. He could still see the puzzled look on Tech's face. It's as close to "hurt" as he's seen him. 

Just before the droid arrived, bringing with him some sort of meat stew, he heard Tech slowly climb down the wall.

It was for the better.

Tomorrow Crosshair would be in the labs all day.

Tomorrow would be a nightmare as it always was every third day. 

I don’t need Tech seeing me like that. Crosshair thought, drawing his knees up to his chest. I don’t need him...

…or anyone.

[girlweepinginstairwell]

hi!! its the ghost quartet anon!! i dont have any words of advice for you since uh, lmao, im 21 amd considering dropping out of my first ever degree in only my 2nd sem! i started uni late and still ended up choosing wrong (external pressures and anxiety do not go well) i just wanted you to remember that, people really do not know what they are doing most of the time. so you are not failing at life or falling behind. you have time!! you will survive and live.

reading your post made me think, ah so its just not me, and that felt comforting. even more comforting were consequent anons who have reassured you with examples of people who have survived. it is so so important, i think, to see examples of people who live the life you want to live!!! i think mostly it would help to build connections and see new kind of people who live lives different so you can see your own prospects. seeing people is real life makes a difference.

i hope things work out for you. i hope you get enough rest and enough sleep!! thank you for existing

ghost quartet anon! 💌 omg... i’m sorry to hear you’re currently in a situation you aren’t happy in. i think it’s a sign of maturity to consider leaving it for your own sake rather than staying in it to satisfy those external pressures. i’m glad that um whatever’s been happening on my blog for the past day has helped out a little bit because it’s definitely helped me too... everything seems way worse when you get stuck in your own head and mired in self-doubt but actually we all have options and we all have time. thank you for hoping things work out for me... i’m wishing the same for you too, for your academic career and in general! and thank you for existing also! :-]

[centrally-unplanned]

Like a lot of media, anime has ideology. They tend to come up the most in the themes for shows - I have talked before about the Cult of Fun, characters struggling to do X or losing a relationship with person Y and those experiences are justified, made good, by the line “we had fun, right?”. Nothing wrong with that idea, but anime ideologies tend to play their greatest hits over and over - I can name hundreds of shows with that theme! (Dress-up Darling was last season’s obligatory Cult of Fun show). From The Power of Friendship to Shinzo Abe Says Make Babies a lot of anime can be slotted into a select few groups. Which doesn’t stop them from being great, but over time you really start to value less overplayed ideas.

Which is why I think Call of the Night is my favourite anime airing this season so far - its theme is “being an aimless nocturnal streetwalker fucking rocks” which is a very refreshing take on the vampire romance genre. Ever since the “urban fantasy” David Bowie-style vampire turn of the 80′s emerged, the vampire media ecology gained this “the Call of the Night, a life of back-alley raves and fancy parties and endless indulgence” sheen that, despite its obvious sex appeal, is almost always portrayed as fundamentally bad and also ridiculously excessive. Unending baroque orgy raves sounds fun in the abstract, but for most it would be unobtainable and also exhausting - you aren’t cool enough to pull it off, sorry!

Call of the Night is referencing this concept right in its title, but to make the genre work for its 14 year old loner protagonist it needs to scale back the ambitions: this is an anime about our high school drop main guy Kou Yamori befriending/being seduced by/being fed upon female street-hobo vampire Nazuna Nanakusa. And they spend their time literally fucking around on the streets of Tokyo together, drinking from vending machines, hanging out in parks, and just doing nothing. Every night they go back to Nazuna’s apartment for feeding and it literally looks like this:

Straight up “single men can live like this and be happy” meme level of zero fucks given. 

The Call of the Night in Call of the Night has zero glitz and its entirely positive and fun, because what makes the call appealing isn’t the raves or the orgies, but the night itself, the ideology of the night:

Why do you think people stay up at night?

Because there is a show they want to watch, something they want to do?

[Nah,] It all boils down to one reason:

They aren’t satisfied with how they spent the day

The night means freedom...

Which sounds all dramatic except the inhibition released is high fiving a passing drunk guy who then throws up on your shoe: 

Which is actually totally freeing! You never would high-five a drunk guy at 4:00 PM, 4:00 PM is the time of responsibilities, social pressures, the obligations of existing. But no one expects you achieve goals at 3:00 AM, everyone who could judge you is asleep! I absolutely feel this theme in real life and also don’t think I have seen it captured in anime before, or at least not very often - I didn’t know I wanted a show to reflect this part of me until I saw it.

And it leans into this aesthetically too. In CotN the night itself is gorgeous all the time in different color swatches of purples and yellows; who wouldn’t want to live here even if its all spent sitting on park swings: 

But meanwhile, our main characters are not ideal seductresses. Oh sure, our vampire is a hot anime girl who wears like a leather crop top and mini skirt, its still anime, but like:

Nazuna has those tired eyes, her head is kindof flat, she spends most her time being either confused or a snickering gremlin - you aren’t shocked she is a little desperate for a blood buddy. Here is her “hey can I suck your blood” face before it goes evil:

Hell, indulge me here or skip if its cringe for you, but even her breasts are realism-first - here is her at her most seductive, moments she absolutely has, don’t get me wrong:

But notice how those aren’t the round perky bouncy anime tits of the average 2D hottie? I have had conversations with people with breasts like these about how their shape makes them insecure, which regardless of if they should be is certainly something *anime* normally agrees with. 

The point is Nazuna’s grunge-flecked hotness, just like the beautiful-night-but-at-a-vending-machine aesthetic, is all calibrated to make the ordinary and stupid liberating via the socially-emancipatory potential of the night as an escape from having to worry about being stupid and ordinary. And it works, hands-down.

The actual plot mechanic, since I haven’t mentioned it, is that Kou wants to became a vampire to join the nightlife permanently, and you do that by being bitten by vampire while in love with them, while Nazuna is happy to indulge his attempt if she gets to feed on him in the meantime (which isn’t deadly). The sex metaphor is hilariously on-the-nose:

Which is a sign of the show understanding what level the audience is at when it comes to cultural awareness: it doesn’t need to play coy, you've seen vampire shit before so why not laugh at it? The plot is all normal them-getting-closer stuff, this isn’t a visionary show, instead its just a good version of a typical show. It does however have a grand time playing with the gender roles of this relationship: Kou is absolutely the girl of the two during bite time:

But it isn’t just jokes, like this scene of some now-consensual biteplay after Kou, delightfully, was insecure that Nazuna was just using him for sex blood and he isn’t special and Nazuna assured him no baby, it’s more than that:

I mean its still A: hilarious, and B: hot, and its great how Nazuna carries him around the city because she can fly and always climbs on top of him and initiates everything and all of that. If its your kink this show is absolutely here for you, Kou just needs some thigh highs, cat ears, and an Intro to Haskell and she will be Tumblr-ready in no time.

But the strength of this show is in how tight it is, how all the elements stack up. What are those themes again? The night frees you, not to be a brazen orgy-raving vampire lord, but to not have to deal the day-to-day stresses? Responsibilities, obligations, social expectations, you don’t have to put on a face and live up to all those under the forgiving light of the stars?

Including the onerous, demanding, constricting ones that come with Being a Man, maybe?

[ecargmura]

My New Boss Is Goofy Episode 1 Review - When Your Boss Is Too Cute

My New Boss Is Goofy is not associated with Disney in any way; I’m sorry if you were actually expecting the real Goofy to show up. This anime is rather cute and comforting. This is actually one of my most anticipated watches for this season because I just needed some comfort in my life. It’s also the first time I am watching workplace comedy. While this looks to be BL, it’s actually a Josei manga.

Anyways, the story is a bit basic. Kentaro Momose has changed jobs after his previous workplace was abusive. The previous workplace has caused him to have mental stress and chronic stomach pain. He’s also very guarded as a result, so his first day at work makes him very tense as he met his new boss. Shirosaki looked very stern but he’s actually very air-headed. He makes very careless mistakes outside of work and the way he reacts is so adorable that it eases Momose’s nerves and eventually becomes a source of comfort in his new work life.

Regardless of the story being basic, I love how the comedy of Shirosaki’s air-headed mishaps aren’t obnoxious or over-exaggerated. Instead, they’re very cute and not as repetitive as I expected. I was expecting the seeing similar mistakes, but the writer did a very good job making Shirosaki’s air-headedness charming. Some of his mistakes are also totally relatable because I’ve made similar mistakes in the past. The part where Shirosaki accidentally talked to the stranger when getting ice cream got to me like that awkward situation happened to me several times in the past.

Despite Shirosaki’s mistakes being the key focus for this show, I do like how it also gives insight to Momose as a character. He’s so anxious and timid due to work abuse from his previous job. It really hits home how bad abuse can be. Having a terrible boss really does kill the work mood. I felt so bad when he recalls the moment his boss ripped up one of his proposals to the point that he’s so anxious at the thought of them being brought up in the present. I know that these types of workplaces exist in Japan and outside. I hope that work tyranny ceases to be because bosses abusing their powers shouldn’t be a thing. I also hope that Momose can get the healing and confidence he needs at his new job.

Shirosaki is also shown to be more than an air-head. Despite his cute mistakes, he’s very insightful and is very considerate. He’s the one taking care of Momose as he takes him out to the aquarium and to the shopping district to show off the types of ads he had worked on in the past. He’s also the one encouraging Momose to try and write a proposal as he noticed how anxious he was when the topic was brought up. I’m sure everyone would want a boss like Shirosaki; I sure do!

I think Shirosaki’s attentiveness is thanks to Aoyama who seems to be as attentive towards him as Shirosaki is to Momose. I like Aoyama. I hope he shows up more. Given that he appears in the opening as one of the main characters, that is likely the case. I do really like how Aoyama cares so much about his workers. He popped a party popper to celebrate Shirosaki’s accomplishment and never mentioned his junior’s fish mistake for the past ten years.

The voice acting is great! If you’re familiar with Boeibu (Cute Earth Defense Club LOVE!), our four main leads are technically a Boeibu reunion! We have Kotaro Nishiyama and Yuichiro Umehara reunite as the main leads once again; they were Atsushi and En from Boeibu and Ryuichi and Kamitani from Gakuen Babysitters! I think this is the first time these two are together as adult leads since the previous two anime I mentioned revolve around high school students. Aoyama is voiced by Tomokazu Sugita who voiced Yumoto’s brother Gora. Sugita is normally known for his deep voice, but the fact that he’s using a softer, higher pitched voice for this character shows that he has range; there’s a reason why he’s such an amazing voice actor. The last of the main four has yet to be introduced, but he’s voiced by Jun Fukuyama who voiced Ibushi in Boeibu. I can’t wait to see the last guy and the cat!

The animation is all soft and I love the color choices! I usually associate A-1 with action-packed anime, so for them to animate a workplace comedy like this makes me wonder why they chose it. I’m sure the animators over there want to animate something cute once in a while, I bet. The music’s pretty decent too! The opening and endings are so cute!

I’ll be continuing on with this anime until the end. I enjoyed what I saw today! I can’t wait to see more of Shirosaki’s mistakes and freak out over how relatable they are with my own; maybe I’ll even reveal more embarrassing Ecargmura stories! I’ve got plenty of air-headed goof ups. Anyways, what are your thoughts about this anime’s premiere?

[gingerylangylang1979]

Black Women & BWWM Ships

I’m a Black woman, I sometimes like interracial ships, sometimes I don’t. But I will say that race isn’t the deciding factor in me shipping the BWWM ships that I have shipped in my life. The BWWM ships I have obsessed over are Richonne, Spock and Uhura for a minute (but I got bored with that franchise super quick), and Carmy x Sydney. There is a Black woman, Tamar, on The Chosen (the only other show I currently watch) and I want to ship her with somebody because she’s fierce and it would be interesting but nobody stands out for her yet. The only core male characters close to her are Jewish (the Apostles) so I would ship her with a white man by default but honestly it wouldn’t matter to me if it’s one of them or a fellow African who joins later. 

Anyways, I’ve also hated or been indifferent to BWWM ships. A few that come to mind are Tara and Sam from True Blood (just awkward), Olivia and pretty much anyone on Scandal (I liked that show for the high drama but after a while thought her and all the boos sucked and dropped that show), and basically any BWWM pairing that seems forced (so many shows try to throw this in to be edgy or whatever and it seems token and lame). 

My point is I’m not swayed just because a relationship is interracial. I just like what I like. A couple who has chemistry, interesting parallels, partnership, a common bond, obstacles they have to overcome (any good written romance does not come easy), an interesting world they inhabit together, and they look cute together (I can be a little superficial, why not) are going to suck me in regardless of racial dynamics. 

Why am I writing this and who cares? I remember back in my days of the Richonne fandom there being a popular sentiment coming from some haters that only “desperate Black women” shipped Richonne. That isn’t even true because they are actually quite popular with all races, people are just gonna hone in on the “desperate Black women”. I remember the canon reaction videos, it was a widely diverse audience that was like “finally”. But I guess I’m waiting for that shoe to drop with The Bear fandom. There has already been some questionable posting about the pair but nothing as outright toxic and bad faith as I saw with Richonne... yet. Like, people literally calling Michonne manly. We’ve already got the sibling lameness and the they are strictly mentor/mentee claims so I don’t think the rest is far behind. 

People swore Rick and Michonne were like siblings, they made a great team but not that kind of team, it would be weird if they kiss, a romance would be forced, Michonne is gonna get the Negan bat to the head, she was Carl’s babysitter, they are too much alike, etc. Rick was also shipped with any white woman on the show or people hoped The One would show up for him all while ignoring the obvious setup that was years in the making. Now, I’m not saying any BWWM pairing can’t have legit criticism and people legit just aren’t for it (of any race because plenty of Black people are not about the swirl)... but BWWM inspire a unique disdain historically. 

A lot of people can’t imagine romance with these characters because they are sheltered TBH. I think the confusion that exists with Richonne and Carmy x Sydney in particular is because they get a Kerry Washington type being an ingenue who attracts the white lead but someone less glam in the way most of society sees glam throws them if a white man wants them. A white woman can be less than glam and they will get it. But with a Black woman it doesn’t register or make them comfortable. It doesn’t compute. It could be conscious or unconscious. I get it, I see it, I’m not sheltered. I’ve seen couples IRL that look like Richonne and Carmy x Sydney. It exists, it’s real, and it makes great fiction. Black women will support it in a story if it makes sense. 

Now, granted I do think some fetishize interracial relationships and that has its issues but I also think Black women are going to love... Black women being loved, by anybody regardless of gender, orientation, or race. We just want romance and a compelling story. If there happens to be a Black person that could be paired with a Black woman but if it just doesn’t make sense, it just doesn’t. Or maybe it could be an ok couple but it wouldn’t be as epic as the BWWM pairing being developed. We pick up on what is being given to us. 

I think if people don’t see blatant lust or intense flirting between a pair right away they assume we are imagining things. Many don’t often see the tiny sparks and hints or room for romance to grow and develop deeply for Black women characters. We are complex, too. We sometimes have to stumble, and be awkward, and push away, and be conflicted. I think any subtlety with a budding romance gets easily lost with Black women characters. When it’s a white man opposite us it can be hard for many to see it for what it is if it doesn’t read as obvious to them. But we see what we see and it just may be a fine white man and a beautiful Black woman navigating a nuanced something, something until it becomes SOMETHING. 

[whinlatter]

author's note | chapter 5: the flock 🌊

here is the author's note for chapter five of Beasts! this week, the tide's rolling in on the greyback hearings, the press are determined to rock the boat, harry and ginny head for the (metaphorical) lifeboats, and madam pince is officially sick of ginny weasley's shit. all the usual behind the scenes writing notes, headcanons, fic and meta inspo and song choices below, plus a tiny sneak peek of chapter six... 🗞️

✨ spoilers for this chapter below the cut  ✨

[ flock, n.: a number of birds of one kind feeding, resting, or travelling together ]

writing notes and headcanons:

the hearings – this chapter sees ginny forced to zoom out from her own (real) problems and start to confront developments beyond the castles: the trials/hearings, a broader politics and set of questions about justice and inclusions/exclusions from wizarding society, and the role of the media in that society’s political and cultural life. i wanted this chapter to feel like a wave building and building and breaking - narratively, i wanted a false break, with harry and ginny’s reunion, and the actual breaking to be with bill’s speech at the end (jury’s out on that one - also just made the chapter extremely long and a bit top heavy, which i might prune in an edit). but i was so excited to start writing this dimension to the fic more explicitly, because i’m really interested in taking up questions about the kinds of evil and darkness that linger after voldemort’s end, and how wizarding institutions do or don’t confront their own role in furthering kinds of societal divisions and discrimination that helped pre-dated voldemort and have survived him. it’s not that ginny’s personal problems aren’t valid or real, but that what i hoped for in this chapter is to take a step back and put what ginny’s going through into a broader context of a whole society coming to a reckoning. 

the wireless – i’ve taken some creative liberties on the wireless, as we don’t really know how it works (this pottermore page on technology was far more frustrating than it was helpful lmao - if muggle wirelesses have been ‘modified’, are they still running on the same kinds of (muggle) technology, or on magic? how do they work!!!). i decided static must still exist lol, to add to this sensory experience of irritating omnipresent noise ginny experiences throughout this chapter. the lil opener about the shipping forecast i’m so attached to is a bit of a love letter to this very strange british radio tradition (i really recommend listening to a sample one, they’re so charming), but i liked it also as a window onto a possible touchpoint between muggle and wizarding society that the wireless itself symbolises. young ginny’s question to arthur about sea monsters causing waves, and arthur’s response (“there doesn’t always have to be a monster, you know. Sometimes, there are other things to worry about”) is me trying to play with ideas about wizarding hubris that young witches and wizards internalise but which prevent wizarding society from seeing its own blindspots and points of ignorance. also the shipping forecast is foreshadowing for the rest of the chapter lol (forth is the oceanic region nearest hogwarts; lundy is the region nearest cornwall, where bill’s from. don’t worry i think i’m obnoxious too)

on bill weasley – bill is probably my favourite weasley after ron and ginny. he could be a really nothing character, but instead he’s quietly a really strong and reassuring presence who is clearly widely admired and who has these really loving close relationships with other great characters. he’s empathetic and highly observant, he’s got a sense of humour but also knows when to be serious, and he takes his responsibilities to his parents and to his siblings very seriously. but he’s also got this other streak - ginny think it’s him being drawn to ‘glamour’ and ‘adventure’, but i see it more as him having a bit of a capacity to surprise, an edge, a real audacity, strong sense of self, and a belief in his own convictions. that neither bill nor charlie followed arthur into the ministry is i think very revealing of how the weasley siblings grow up seeing through the political institutions of their world (and what makes percy’s arc all the more heartbreaking). 

bill and remus – this is such a personal obsession of mine lol, being a big fan of both bill and remus as characters in their own right, but i think bill and remus’ interactions in canon are small but really meaningful, and speak to two characters bound together in some way, even before bill’s attack. obviously they’re both young(ish) men in the order, reasonably close in age (at least, less than the age gap between remus and dora), and they both often play similar roles within the larger group of resistance fighter, including as peacemakers (to molly in ootp over percy, and to ginny in DH during the evacuation), and sage guides to the younger ones (remus examples too many to name, but on bill i’m thinking of him advising harry in pre-gringotts, sheltering ron after his desertion). they also, canonically, both have an interest in these questions about politics, beings and beasts the place of other species in the wizarding world, actually discussing the goblin Q together with arthur in ootp (remus on goblins: “if they’re offered freedoms we’ve been denying them for centuries they’re going to be tempted [by Voldemort]”) then, of course, after bill’s attack, remus is both a source of information and experience in the immediate aftermath, and has previously shown an interest in comforting victims of werewolf attacks and other wereolves (ootp in st mungo’s). i think they also have a mutual respect and quite a warm friendship, only glimpsed very briefly through harry’s narration. when mad-eye is killed during the seven potters rescue, it’s remus who consoles a crying bill at the burrow (‘Bill’s voice broke. “Of course you couldn’t have done anything,” said Lupin.’) remus knows bill is upset and offers to recover mad-eye’s body with kingsley to spare bill the task, but bill is insistent he wants to go, and the two of them agree to set off alone together. bill also seems to know about remus trying to leave tonks, and knows when they’ve reconciled: ron passes the info on to the trio through bill. then ofc when teddy is born, remus and bill have that lovely moment where bill’s trying to get him drunk to toast to his son’s birth when remus is absolutely elated. i think remus’ experience as a fellow victim of greyback, their age gap and remus’ credentials as a young man who fought in the first war would mean bill would both look up to remus a great deal and would motivate him to do right by remus in death.

bill and ginny – ginny’s admiration, even reverence, for bill, comes through so strongly in canon (harry even seems faintly amused by it, as it borders on hero-worship - “Bill doesn’t like him either,” said Ginny, as though that settled the matter, in OotP). i think if fleur had been with any other of her brothers, ginny might have taken her arrival better. little ginny wants to be charlie, but she also really admires bill and will follow where he leads (👀). bill sticking his neck out will (we’ll see) have big consequences for his family and for ginny. all i’ll say for now is that i think it means a lot that ginny spends this chapter trying to shield bill from the horrors of the greyback hearings, and then he takes her surprise and walks straight into the fire.

on the montgomery family - i wrote much longer versions of all the testimonies drawn from canon here (the montgomery family, parvati on lavender, bill on remus and his own attack). The montgomery family only get a brief mention in HBP, the two sisters whose little brother died after being attacked by greyback, and writing from the perspective from the parents of that child was honestly horrendous. i had to cut a lot of it down because it was just actually horrific and much too sad, too early in the chapter. but yeah sorry writing this chapter really made me realise how fucking awful the greyback stuff is. truly truly not children’s book shit lol

on parvati and lavender - i wanted parvati’s testimony about lavender to address the severity of her injuries after the attack, but it was also important to use this speech as a chance to explore how this friendship feels for those two characters. Harry’s narration is that of a teenage boy - he’s friendly with them both, but not close, probably has a bit more time for parvati than lavender, and he’s largely uninterested in both girls’ inner lives (and tends to dismissive them as silly, girlish and giggly). so it seemed important to explore their friendship as something rich and meaningful, and to put forward a version of lavender that, while shaded by her canon appearances, gives her a more well-rounded and kinder character assessment than the narration in canon ever affords her. hermione looking up to the dormitory steps as she listens to them, ginny and luna holding hands during - girls processing their friendships 2k23 babyyy 

on hermione and ginny – as discussed in the last author’s note, this is me playing with how to write conflict between two female characters that’s true to their characterisation and their relationship’s dynamics, but that also has them both coming from a reasonable and understandable place but both exhibiting unhealthy coping mechanisms. ginny is avoidant, using humour, denial and distractions, and fiercely protective of the other gryffindors, trying to shelter them from exposure to too many emotional triggers. without spoiling anything, hermione has a different perspective; she wants all the information possible, she’s very interested in these questions of how this society will or won’t change, and the prospect of reform (she also, of course, has had her own traumatising run-ins with greyback), but, as ginny, harry and ron can all see, she’s not taking care of herself - she’s not allowing her any respite from the traumatising news cycle, and she’s also clearly showing signs of distress, isolation and PTSD, particularly the absence of harry and ron (especially ron, our real hero in this chap). i’ve found it so fun but challenging to write ginny’s pov when personally i’d probably be much more like hermione (want to know everything and obsessively follow the news lol). i really care about trying to write this arc in a way that feels fair to both characters.

on harry and ginny – i finally let them kiss ok!!! and i even gave harry a semi (sorry). those two just write themselves. it was very very important for me in this chapter to have the two of them thinking together about the world around them, as well as providing each other with forms of emotional support that are valuable to each of them (quiet, careful, lots of physical contact, not overstepping or overreaching, balanced out by laughter). ginny is better practiced at this: harry is still learning, though he’s getting there. what i hope i’m starting to show is how these two people go from teenage sweethearts to two people in a marriage and a partnership. (also how do you know ginny’s in the grounds a lot in the mornings harry??? hmmmmmm???) also harry potter loves the sea it’s canon and he also has no chill and definitely would pick out a little seaside house for them both tomorrow if ginny let him. love u hjp miss writing your narration where i could take for granted that you’re very selectively observant and have you slowly realise things. ginny is too observant i have to work much harder to cultivate her ignorance lol

on ron and ginny – i really feel like you can tell in their parting conversation that i’ve been binging succession lately. the surprise at ‘love you’ is pure roy siblings without any of the you know, deeply-fucked-up-ness

on st andrews/anstruther/scottish coastal destinations – how does ginny know these places, indeed? a story for another time… (we’ll get there)

on arnold – ok confession time: i forgot about arnold when i mapped out this fic. wrote a ginny pov fic about magical beasts and forgot her literal pet. in my defence, on my re-reads i was always just thinking like, what is the point of arnold. also what tf happens to arnold. is arnold one of the fallen fifty? we do not know. (...) at a certain point, though, i realised that arnold is just like, a dumb fun pet an adolescent girl gets to play with, and that’s kind of the point. joy is worth something in its own right. so having remembered he exists in canon lol and had that realisation, i’m happy with how he’s ended up in this fic finally lmao. the story of his handover is still to come, but for now just to say i really like the idea of little bea taking ownership of ginny’s pet, this symbol of innocence and fun and happy girlhood. 

on chapter titles – this one is for my jonathan livingstone seagull fans (👀 again…)

reading list:

on bill weasley: 

up and down and barely made it over by cosmicwritings

Harbor by @greenhousethree

on postwar justice and trials:

castles by @pebblysand

on the sea:

Harry and Ginny at Shell Cottage (meta)

on neville and ginny's friendship:

Ginny and Neville: A Friendship Forged in Fire (meta) by @greenhousethree

on lupin among the werewolves:

It's Just What You Do To Get By by @evesaintyves

songs for this chapter from the playlist:

to anyone who has reached out to tell me they’ve been listening to the playlist - you are all the loves of my life and i could kiss you. i spend an indecent amount of time picking songs out for that damn playlist, and i really used this week’s to get me into the zone for writing different sections, so feel very attached to this chapter's song choices (also it includes one of my all-time favourite songs, nobody else will be there, by the national, which is an immaculate and underrated hinny anthem and maybe my favourite love song in the world)...

house by the sea by moddi | a hidden life - james newton howard | blood bank by bon iver | the tree, the beach, the sea - max richter | the rip tide (ber-abq version) - beirut | the beast - laura marling | funeral - phoebe bridgers | beach baby - bon iver | nobody else will be there - the national | lost at sea - rob grant, lana del ray | what he wrote - laura marling 

and a tiny sneak peek of chapter six... ❓❔⁉️

MEET THE WEASLEYS: THE WIZARDING WORLD’S MOST OUTSPOKEN - AND CONTROVERSIAL - FAMILY  William ‘Bill’ Weasley may have made headlines after his recent pro-werewolf testimony before the Wizengamot. But Bill’s not the only Weasley unafraid to ruffle some feathers. Get to know the notorious family who are no stranger to scandal, with the Daily Prophet’s handy pull-out guide, Which Weasley?  

[canirove]

Bluebell | Chapter 2

Author’s note: I'm in need of some feedback 😅 From now on, each chapter is gonna be focused either on Mason or Rúben, and I don't know if I should tag them both even if they aren't on that chapter so it is easier for people to keep up with the story. Because I also don't want to be annoying and have something with Mason's face show up on Rúben's tag and vice versa 😅 So if you could let me know what you think, I would highly appreciate it 💜

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"You can let go of me now, we've made it" Mason says.

"What?" I yell.

"I said you can let go of me" he repeats, raising his voice a bit, resting his hands on mine. "You are alive and well."

"I think I've lost some hearing" I say, finally letting go of him and getting off the motorbike, my legs feeling a bit shaky.

"It wasn't that noisy" he chuckles.

"I beg to differ" I say, taking off my helmet. "I'll probably look like a lion."

"A very cute lion" Mason says with a smile, making me blush. I'm blushing. Why am I blushing?

"Sure" I say with a nervous laugh. "So, my car. The mechanic."

"Yes, yes. This way."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"Where are you staying?" Mason asks me after we've talked with the mechanic.

"At the bed and breakfast."

"At Daisy's?"

"Yep, that's the one."

My dad had the guts to name it after my mother. It is her middle name, but still...

"I thought it was closed until the new owner came to take care of it."

"Well... I'm the new owner."

"You? Wait, wait, wait... You are Josh's daughter?"

"You know I exist?"

"The whole town knows you exist."

"Oh, great, so I am famous."

"You actually are, yes" Mason laughs. "Though you should know that there are people who aren't very happy about you inheriting everything."

"I have enemies too?"

"Yep. But don't worry, I'll protect you" he says with a wink. "I'm gonna go tell Dean to leave your luggage at Daisy's on his way back. It'll be just a minute."

"Ok" I say, letting out a big sigh.

"Urso, don't!" someone says behind me.

Before I can turn around, I feel something very heavy clashing against me, making me fall to the floor. Something heavy and... Wet. Disgustingly wet.

"Urso, stop. Stop!" the voice says again. "I am so sorry."

"What the fuck was that?"

"That was Urso, my dog" the voice says. A man's voice. "Let me help you."

"I'm fine, don't worry" I say, getting up.

"He's usually very well behaved, but sometimes he gets too excited and... Are you ok?"

I'm just able to nod, too stunned by what I'm looking at. Aka, one of the hottest men I've seen in my entire life. He's a head taller than myself, and is wearing a white t-shirt and grey joggers, the t-shirt being almost like a second skin and showing the most perfect and chiseled muscles ever.

"Ok, everything is... Settled" Mason says next to me, bringing me back to reality.

"Mount" the Greek God says.

"Mayor" he replies in a very non friendly tone.

"Wait, mayor?" I say.

"Rúben Dias, Bluebell’s mayor" he says, taking my hand and kissing it. "At your service."

"Hi" I mutter, Mason snorting next to me.

"Is everything alright, Mount?"

"Yes, sir. Perfect" he says, definitely faking his smile. "But we are busy, so if you and your beast don't mind..."

"Urso isn't a beast."

"Well, he pushed her to the floor and covered her on his droll, so..."

"Wait, what?" I say, looking down at my clothes. "Oh, shit."

"You'll be fine. Just try not to hold so tight this time" Mason says with a big grin. "Shall we?" he says, offering me his helmet.

"Yes, sure" I say. "Nice to meet you, Mayor."

"Please, call me Rúben."

"Rúben, yes. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet..." But I don't hear what else he says, the motorbike's engine being, again, too loud.

"Bye" I say, putting on my helmet and getting behind Mason.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"This is it. Daisy's" Mason says.

"Oh, wow."

"Didn't expect it to look like this?"

"I had seen photos online, and it was nice. But I didn't expect it to be this nice in real life." I had read reviews about it, and people had said that it was even better in person. They weren't wrong.

"Oh, that's Dixie. Your cat now, I guess" he says, pointing to a huge black cat coming towards us.

"Hello you" I say, bending down and offering him my hand. He smells it for a bit before starting to rub himself against it, asking to be petted.

"I think he likes you."

"I think he does, yes" I say with a smile.

"So, should we go in? Do you have a key?"

"Yes, they sent it with the papers."

The inside is even more beautiful than the outside, and I feel myself already falling in love with the place. Which wasn't the plan.

"Oh, you must be her!" a female voice says from the door. "I'm Mrs. Smart, but you can call me Angela. I live next door, and always helped your father with everything he needed. I'm so sorry for your loss" she says, giving me a hug.

"Thank you" I mutter.

"Mason Mount... I knew it was you when I heard that noise from hell. Can't stay away from a pretty girl, uh?"

"She needed help, and I happened to be there" he shrugs.

“Of course” Mrs. Smart says, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, would you like a tour of the house? I know every corner.”

“I guess, yes.”

“Wonderful” she says, linking my arm with hers.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"Mase? Are you here bro?"

"Oh, that's Dean. He probably brought your luggage, one sec" Mason says, running down the stairs.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Mrs. Smart asks me once Mason has disappeared.

"I do not, no. I'm taking a sabbatical from men. An indefinite one."

"Good" she says, walking into the next room she is showing me. "Mason is a good boy despite trying to look like a bad one. But he has broken the hearts of half the female population in the area, so I would be careful around him if I were you."

"Noted" I reply.

"Dear God, woman" Mason says from the corridor. "What did you bring with you?"

"I am so sorry" I say, meeting him. "I panicked and overpacked, it happens all the time."

"Oh, it's ok" Mrs. Smart says. "Why don't you take it to the apartment upstairs, Mason? A young man like you can do that, can't you? Or should we call the Mayor and his big arms?"

"So funny" he replies, walking towards a wall and still carrying my luggage.

"Wait, what..." But before I can say anything else, the wall opens, leading to a secret passage.

"That's the way to the apartment" Mrs. Smart explains. "It is where the servants used to live, so all the doors are hidden. Come, I'll show you" she says, walking past Mason.

The apartment isn't too big, but it is perfect. The kitchen and the living room are together, and to the left there is a corridor that leads to a couple of rooms and a bathroom.

"I'm sure a place like this would be very expensive in the city" Mrs. Smart says.

"You can't even imagine."

"It probably needs a female touch, tho" she says, looking around.

"I like it this way" I say. Who knew that my father and I had the same taste when it came to furniture.

"Jesus" Mason says behind us, trying to catch his breath.

"All that football, and look at you" Mrs. Smart laughs. "Oh, that's my phone. One minute" she says, leaving us alone.

"I'm sorry about making you carry that. Are you ok?" I ask Mason. He is so red...

"Yeah, yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Though some mouth-to-mouth would be welcomed" he says with a cheeky smile that shows his dimple, making me blush. Again.

"Ugh, men. They can't do anything alone" Mrs. Smart says, joining us. "Everything ok here?"

"Yes, perfect" I quickly say. "Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Smart."

"Angela. Call me Angela. And you're welcome. Your father and I were very close friends, I would do anything for his daughter."

"Thank you very much. You are too kind."

"Now, we should probably leave you alone to get used to the place. And you probably also want to rest for a bit" she says.

"I actually do, yes."

"C'mon then, Mount. Time to go."

"I also need to rest" he says.

"You can do that on your own house. Let's go" Mrs. Smart says, grabbing him by the arm and walking him outside, not allowing him to say goodbye.

[dilf-whore]

two less lonely people in the world (part 5)

previous || next

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love

summary: you’d do everything for your best friend even if it means your heart getting broken.

A/N: let me know what you think about this part, i feel like it’s kinda oof idk lol. comments/reblogs/likes are appreciated! tell me also if you want to be added to the taglist! 💗

requested: no

word count: 1.4k+

requests are OPEN

masterlist

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Your eyes flutter open from the brightness of the sun shining thrugh your window. Your hand lands on the space beside you and realize it’s empty, he must’ve left and went to Nancy already you thought. You look over your clock hanged on the wall and see that it’s already 1 in the afternoon, it still felt like you didn’t get any sleep despite waking up late. You wipe the drowsiness off your eyes and head straight downstairs after fixing your bed.

“Good morning, I mean, afternoon” Steve greets you. A sceam escapes your lips and you hold onto your chest as your heart beats fast from his sudden voice, “you asshole! I thought you left early” you scold and try to catch your breath. He lets out a soft chuckle and motions you to come sit, “I woke up early and bought you some groceries you can get actual nutrients from. Come let’s eat, I made brunch”

You comply and look at him confused, “you sure you didn’t burn anything? Since when did you learn how to cook?” You ask. “Not long ago, started practicing ever since I heard Nancy likes guys who can cook” he shrugs, a smille forming on his lips. A wave of bitterness flows through your body, how you wished you could find someone who’d make such efforts for you, how you wished that someone is Steve.

But guess it’ll only happen in your dreams.

“Did you sleep okay?” Steve puts the hot meal in front of you. “Honestly, no. I kept waking up from time to time, that, that thing from last night always shows up in my dreams” you reply. “You?”

“Me neither, I can’t stop worrying about Nancy”

“Come on, let’s check up on her later. But first, let’s see if your cooking is worth Nancy’s love and attention, shall we?” You tease.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

A year has passed and you still couldn't process what Nancy explained to you both back at her place. The things you thought only existed in movies is actually possible in real life, superpowers, and other dimensions were in fact real. Apparently a girl her brother found in the woods can do things with her mind and sacrificed herself to save your lives, especially Will’s, who was taken to an alternate dimension they call the Upside Down. Barb was taken too, but she didn't survive.

You sit and graze your fork over your untouched soggy food served by the lunch lady. You feel a nudge on your side from beside you, “aren’t you gonna eat?” Jonathan asks. You face him, “I don’t feel like it. It’s just that uhm, I’m very tired to do so” you reply and shrug, glancing over Steve and Nancy in front of you right before you look down on your meal. Jonathn nods in response

You are tired, not because of school but because of Steve and Nancy’s relationship - it’s draining you. They’d often approach and talk to you when they have an argument, you’re the one that gives them advice on how to fix them or sometimes you, yourself fixes their problem. You’re also the one Steve calls to rush out and buy gifts for Nancy. It’s exhausting but you can’t say no to them, especially Steve because it’s what makes him happy.

“There’s a Halloween party happening tonight over at Tina’s. You two should come” Nancy speaks up.

“I can’t. I have to look after Will” Jonathan says. “What about you Y/N?” He adds.

“I don’t think so. I actually planned on just sleeping early” you move aside your food tray, finally giving up on trying to eat.

The bell rings and you and Jonathan head to the class you share with, “you know, you should try and go to the party. Even for like a few minutes, relax for a bit” you tell Jonathan. You could tell how stress he is with keeping an eye on his brother at all times ever since the events from last year, he really needs to have some fun even for a short while. “You know I can’t. I don’t want to leave Will out of my sight when mom’s not with him”

“I’ll go trick or treating with Will. Go to the party and have some fun” you suggest.

“Are you sure? I thought you wanted to rest?”

“It’s fine! I’ll pick him up tonight at 7”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You walk around the neighborhood beside Will and his friends. You’d be lying if you say that you’re not having fun because you sure are enjoying their companies. They were fun to be with and made you laugh at their goofiness especially with the redhead’s pranks on the boys. “I thought you and Steve were dating, I got surprised when I found him in my sister’s room” Mike says, cringing at the memory. You just laugh in response, what are you gonna say anyways?

“You get that often huh?” Dustin, asks.

“Uhm yeah, more than I could count actually” you respond. Mike goes in front of you, “I’m gonna be honest, I think you and Steve look better together than with my sister”

The rest nod in agreement, “a match” Will adds.

“Exactly!” Lucas and Max exclaim.

Your cheeks grow warm at their statements, you don’t know how to react so you just laugh to play it off. Wished Steve also saw us a match you thought.

“Look at the house, it’s huge! I bet their candies are luxurious” Max points at the biggest house you’ve seen so far, and judging by its exterior and decorations, it seems like the owners are rich. They run to the house and you furrow your eyebrows when Will doesn’t follow, he was staring at the sky instead, his body’s frozen, it’s like there’s something up there but you can’t see whatever it is. This must be one of the episodes Jonathan told you about.

You approach him and put a hand on his shoulder, causing to jump in fright, “hey, hey, it’s me. Are you alright?”

“I, uh, I’m o-okay” he says.

“Do you want to go home?”

“Y-yes please”

You call out the rest, “We’re gonna get going now, stick together and don’t stay out too late okay?”

You and Will went back to your car and start driving back to his home. He was quiet, he just stared down his lap and never even looked ahead even for a second, he’s scared that it’ll happen again. “Want to talk about it?”.

He shooks his head, eyes still glued on his lap. You decided not to ask again, thinking that maybe he’d rather talk with his mom or Jonathan instead.

You drop him at his place and bid him goodbye, Mrs. Byers was already sitting outside. She was there the whole time, saying that she doesn’t want Will to get scared that he might be alone when he arrives so she decided to wait and indulge herself with some cigarettes and snacks as she did so.

You head back after, the breeze was getting colder but it was calming somehow. You wonder how the kids are doing, are they having fun? Are they also going home now? Did they get back safely? Is Will feeling better now that he’s with his mom? The drive was quiet even if the streets outside are busy with parties and trick or treaters. And your mind just suddenly went back to what Mike told you.

You sigh and stop yourself from thinking about it, you might just end up hoping and break your heart even more. Your mind may forget and distract you from those thoughts but your heart never does, it keeps calling and yearning for Steve. You know it’s wrong but you just can’t get rid of your feelings just like that, the feelings you’ve been having probably ever since you met him and had no idea how love even worked.

But you still try to throw away those things though.

Finally arriving at your place, you see a familiar figure sitting down on your porch with his head low. It was Steve, what’s he doing here?

You park your car and go out, you stand in front of him and he immediately hugs you tight before you could say anything. “What’s wrong?” You ask, hugging him back.

Steve’s body starts to shake from the loud sobs that comes out of his mouth, you never saw him like this, his grip gets tighter, he doesn’t want to let you go. He doesn’t want to lose the comfort you give.

“Nancy broke up with me”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

taglist: @fujiihime​ @cassmoreiraxo​ @dzidziti @dessmxsworld​ @freaky-dcaky​

[runemyth0]

I forget who made it, but I read a post a while back about how the characters in the Owl House each show a particular relationship with stories and storytelling. Like Luz is the reader who gets into it, but recognizes when they go too far, while Belos is the reader who starts thinking the story is real life and acting on it. Or something, I don’t quite remember.

Anyways, the day I am writing this, the trailer for FTF came out and featured a neato detail that the Collector’s purpose is to, apparently, preserve and maintain living things. Keeping them in an endless stasis as his puppets.

I also noticed a part where Amelia and Cat were turned into puppets of the Collector, but they’re wearing grudgby pads. Which, yeah, they might have done the standard apocalypse plan of put on football pads and fight back, which backfired, but it seemed out of place since they’re in the middle of Bonesborough.

Which makes me wonder if the Collector is also among the interpretations I mentioned. A fan, literally a collector of blorbos, who takes the existing work and reinterprets the characters, turning them into mouthpieces for their own opinions or interpretations.

Amelia and Cat are in grudgby pads because they played grudgby in one episode and that’s their whole personality now. The Coven Heads move as one because the Collector never actually paid attention to their conflicting personalities; they’re just there to be a wall to protect his other favorites.

And, if I’m correct, the whole of the Isles only acts when the Collector wills it. If they aren’t part of the current adventure–as mains or as background filler–they might as well not exist. Just like a child playing with toys might act–the toys in the toybox don’t care they’re not being played with until they’re taken out of the box. And when you take them out, it’s time to play, so they have nothing to be upset about.

The Collector is the reader who cares more about the image of the characters they have in their head than what the character actually is.

Now, anyone who views a story creates an interpretation of a character in their head (especially fic writers, tbh), but I’m saying the Collector is the kind of viewer who will go out of his way to argue with others telling them they’re wrong.

If my calculations are correct, this should be going up a few hours before the episode airs. We’ll see what happens in a few hours from now... See you on the other side.

[colorseeingchick]

"Cuddle me, *ssh*le!" (Jean KirsteinxFem!Reader)

Summary: You're cold and injured, and Jean Kirstein is helplessly in love with you. There's a solution to all your problems, isn't there?

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive, mutual pining, some serious moments contemplating life. Sassy/teasing y/n

WC: 2.1k. Unedited.

A/N: I've had this in my drive forever and i forgot about it-- but i miss him more than usual today <3 Enjoy

“Y/N- what are you, what are you doing?!” Jean whispers aggressively, his whole body tensing instinctually when your head presses against the side of his abdomen.

You’d gotten beat up during a scouting mission, and luckily made it back with minimal injury, just a few broken bones and excessive amounts of exhaustion. But that didn’t stop Jean from worrying about you like crazy. He’d refused to leave your side. 

He paced your room the whole day till he was finally tired enough to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning against your headboard with his legs still on the ground. He had closed his eyes for only a few minutes, he thinks, when he felt pressure against the left side of his stomach. When he opens his eyes, he sees you no longer laying in bed, and rather holding an odd position of sitting up with your torso leaning towards him, head resting close to his tummy. 

“Jean.” He feels his breath hitch just by the way you say his name. Voice raspy, whiny, and softer than the way you called to him in the battlefield or while messing around with your friends. When you say his name this time, it's just for him to hear. 

“Uh…uh-huh,” is all he can muster.

“It’s so fucking cold.”

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes closed in your sleepiness. 

“Yeah, it is…so?” he’s hesitant, because what do you want him to do about it? 

“So c’mere, bitch,” you say as you lift your arms up and wrap them around his shoulders, pulling him down, his back sliding against the headboard. 

“Wha-wha-what?” He feels like the air has been knocked out of him as his back hits the soft pillowy mattress, your one arm underneath his back, the other resting across the expanse of his chest. His whole body stiffens like a possum feigning death, freezing out of fear. His arms stretch out, his legs press into the ground to keep him from falling off the bed, and his eyes widen to stare at you next to him. But that doesn’t stop you from readjusting, pulling your arm out from under him and placing your head on his chest. 

“Mmm, warm,” you murmur. And then, you nuzzle him. 

Fuck, forget playing dead. Jean thinks he’s actually going to die at this rate.

He’s always asked himself why he had to go and fall in love with the girl who bullies him all the time, but looking down at you right now, he has no questions as to why. He knows that your gentle side exists, and its very presence is enough to have him whipped. 

But it’s also something he’s not prepared for, and so he doesn’t know what to do but stay exactly as he was, waiting for his heart to stop beating out of his chest. 

“Hey,” you say after a few moments pass (but to him it could’ve been an eternity, there’s no real way to tell the difference). 

“Yeah?” He gulps, nervous as to what you’re gonna say this time. He sees your eyebrows scrunch again in displeasure. 

“It’s still cold.” 

“I don’t control the weather, you know.” 

You freeze, and then open your eyes to glare at him for a second before huffing. You push off of him and roll around to the other side, without saying a word. 

Well, shit. Now he’s pissed you off. 

“Hey, hey, what do you want me to do, girl? You gotta at least tell me.” 

“Get…with….” he can barely hear what you’re saying. 

“Louder, Y/N, please,” he asks. 

“Get under the blankets with me, idiot,” it comes out as a whisper, but it’s enough to get Jean’s ears ringing. 

Is this really happening? He’d never said anything, never made any moves, none of that on you. And as far as he knew, you loved to bully him and nothing else. You guys aren’t dating, and you don’t even like him like that, right? So why are you inviting him under your blankets? 

But he’s not gonna question it. Some cuddling…it’s harmless, right? It’s just to warm you up. Yeah. Nothing else. And it’s not like I’m  doing anything you wouldn’t want, you literally asked me to. So it should be okay. This is okay. I’m not gonna make her uncomfortable. 

That’s the monologue going through his head as he fumbles with the buckle on his harness, holding the framework for his gear together. After a minute, he tugs his boots off and sighs. 

He turns back to the bed, back to you, your back still facing him. He quietly and gently pulls the sheets on the bed aside, slipping his legs under the covers before scooting underneath them entirely. He cautiously lays down, keeping a good 2 feet of distance between you both. Unsure of what to do next, he waits, and waits, until he realizes he’s holding his breath in anticipation. 

“Y/N…” he doesn’t even know what to say. But luckily for him, you don’t make him say much. 

You toss a glance over your shoulder before rolling over to face him. “Took you long enough,” you say, shifting closer to him, your faces only inches away from each other. You lift your arm to wrap around him again, but you pause. “Wait.” 

“...Waiting?” 

“I just, I just realized I never asked.” 

“Asked what?” 

“If you’re okay with this.” 

Jean pauses at that. “Okay? With this?” 

“Yeah. If you’re okay cuddling with me.” You’re right, neither of you had ever done anything like this before, nor had you talked about it. But now that you brought it up, well, he can’t not think about it. “Well? Are you?” you ask again, staring him in his eyes. 

His face erupts pink, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Well, I guess, I’m fine with it, if it’ll help you feel less cold.” 

“Eh. If you’re not really into it, I don’t wanna make you do it,” you say dismissively, ready to turn around again. “No! I mean- uh, I’m fine with it, or, I guess, I want you to.” 

“You want me to what?” 

“You know.” 

“I know what?” 

He knows you’re just playing with him. 

“Cuddle me, asshole!” He yells, his red face glowing.

You laugh, now fully conscious, and he swears your giggle is like a drug. 

“You got it, boss,” you say, your voice playful. You scooch over to him, pushing him so he’s flat on his back. You press your chest against his broader one, lowering yourself onto him and eclipsing the left side of his body. You watch as his pupils dilate. You rest your face in the nook between his shoulder and head, rubbing your nose against his neck, hearing him shutter. Your arm goes to caress the other side of his neck, and you toss your right leg over his left one, letting your legs tangle. 

All the while, Jean is certain his heart will burst. Nothing in all his years of training had prepared him to be accosted with cuddles. Your right, the room was so fucking cold, and being wrapped up with you made him so warm. He slowly lets his arms wrap around you, pressing one into the small of your back and the other weaving into your hair. He’d always thought your hair was so pretty, and he’d wanted to play with it for so long. It is just as soft as he thought it would be, he notes. He doesn’t miss the way you sigh when he strokes the back of your head, albeit hesitantly. 

“Again,” he feels the word against his neck before he hears it. The heat of your breath prickles his skin and sends chills through his whole body. He can’t refuse you. He’d die before he refused you. And so he allows his fingers to massage your scalp this time, a fizz of giddiness buzzing throughout his chest as you let out a beautiful sigh. The way you melt into him is addicting. Just a little taste of it has him hooked. He wants you right here like this always. But it doesn’t necessarily kill the question that’s been on his mind since you first pressed your head against him 20 minutes ago. 

“Did ya, hit your head or something?” 

“If one of us has suffered from brain damage, it isn’t me.” 

“Hey-” 

“What are you really asking, Kirstein?” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why did you want to cuddle me? Like, did you just want cuddles from someone? Were you just cold?” 

You lift your head to look at him, scoff, and smile. “Yeah, I just wanted to be warm.”

“Oh.” 

“You’re an idiot sometimes, Jean.” 

“What did I do this time?” 

“Do you not know I know how you feel about me?” 

His blood runs cold. You know? 

“What are you talking abou-” 

You press a finger to his lips, letting out a gentle shh along with it. “You like me, don’t you?” 

His eyes widen and jaw drops, and in that moment, he knows he’s told you everything before saying anything at all. 

“You’re an idiot for thinking it wasn’t obvious as hell. And you’re an even bigger idiot for not knowing that I feel the same.” 

“You WHAT?” 

“Yeah, you airhead. I’ve liked you for a long time.” You say, sighing and falling back onto him. “Explain to me why I had to fall for the cocky, charismatic goofball.”

He’s silent. Radio silent. This wasn’t what he expected at all. It’s worse, because despite what you call him, you both know he’s actually quite a smart person. He’s emotionally intune with himself and his comrades. So how did he miss this? 

“How could I be so stupid?” he murmurs, “How did I miss your, your feelings for me?” he tosses his head back as he cradles you closer. 

“...it’s because, you didn’t want to see it.” Your voice is suddenly a lot more serious, and Jean feels as you clutch his shirt. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to see what I’ve dreamt of for years?” He realizes he’s exposing himself to you just a bit, but at this point, he’s beyond all that. It’s hard for him to not let you get close to his heart, metaphorically. Not when you’re literally laying on top of his heart. 

“Because love comes with so many risks, for us. We love, only to risk losing each other and it destroys us inside. Why would we willingly subject ourselves to that?” 

And it occurs to Jean in that moment, that if you’ve liked him for just as long as you said you have, you didn’t say anything in all that time, either. 

“Because love is worth it,” he’s confident in his answer, soothingly stroking your back. “Yeah, we risk losing it all, and if I could save us all from this hell we live in, I would. But I can’t. So I would rather love and lose than never love at all.” You're silent against his chest, your clasp on his shirt unrelenting, so he continues, “you’re right- I was scared. And I probably am still a bit scared to accept love. But fuck it. If you’ll have me, I’ll, I’ll…I’ll be a good lover to you.” He presses you closer to his body, holding your head against his heart, hoping you’ll hear the way it beats for you earnestly and unrelentingly. 

You wiggle out of his grasp and prop yourself up against his body. He almost thinks he doesn’t recognize you from the look on your face, the way it’s so soft and vulnerable. 

“God, Jean. Let me kiss you right now.” 

And then you go and catch him off guard with your bold words again. 

“Wha-” 

“You can’t say something so hot and then assume I won’t wanna kiss you, dumbass.” 

He’s not waiting for you to unrelentingly tease him again. He grabs the sides of your face with both his hands, and pulls your lips to his. He feels the way you gasp against his lips, and he can’t help but smile at the thought that maybe, he’d won against you this time. 

You pull away and say, “Smooth one, my love.” As soon as a victory is won, you quickly even the score, watching his mind go blank at the use of a simple pet name. “I know I tease you and say all sorts of shit to you all the time, and you’re allowed to tell me if I’m being a bitch. But just know, I have no intentions of stopping as of right now.” 

He smiles as the blush takes over his face again, getting used to the phenomena. “And I may pretend to hate it, but I  wouldn’t have it any other way, Y/N.” 

Author notes: I hope you all enjoyed hehe

I miss him :( i need to finish AOT smh

[syscurse]

Characters VS. Alters

I want to talk about my experience with having characters vs. alters. Obviously, this post is just talking about my own experiences and I know that it’s not the same for everyone. Hopefully you guys find it helpful or interesting, though!

So, I’m an author and my original characters are living rent-free in my head. They feel autonomous and have their own thoughts and opinions and interactions with each other. Characters can develop themselves...I love that about them lol! Sometimes I let my characters loose in imaginary scenes to see what they do on their own. Sometimes I step inside of them to experience their thoughts and understand their actions better. Sometimes I ‘become’ them. I think these are all normal parts of the creative process.

When I was younger, I had the belief that my original characters were actually real people. Some of them existed in separate worlds, but I could also imagine them in the real world too. I could see them right in front of me if I wanted to. I genuinely felt like they were real people. None of that was distressing. It helped me cope with the aftermath of trauma I was unknowingly enduring and provided me a lot of comfort and creative energy.

When I see people describe their experiences with non-disordered plurality, I find it relatable sometimes. A lot of people describe it similarly to how I experience having characters. I’m not trying to say that this is what all non-disordered plurality is like, though. I just find it interesting.

My experience with my alters, on the other hand, has been nothing like any of this. I think these 3 words best explain the difference between my alters and those other experiences: knowing, understanding, and accepting. 

Knowing:

I know I have characters. I can’t tell you the exact amount (probably thousands), but I know which ones are mine and which ones aren’t. If you showed me a character I made, I’d be able to go yeah that’s my character and I made that. I could tell you many facts about them like their name, pronouns, species, orientation, what they mean to me, etc. Even if it feels like they develop themselves sometimes, I know that development occurred. Even if it feels like they’re autonomous and do things on their own sometimes, I know that they’re doing that. For their entire existence, I have known about them.

It’s the complete opposite with my alters. 

I didn’t know I had alters for the longest time. When I finally found out I was a system, I still didn’t know many of my alters. When new alters showed up, who had always been there with memories that sometimes stretched back even further than my own, I was shocked. I never knew about them before, even though they existed alongside me my whole life with evidence to prove this.

Currently, I still have no idea how many alters there have been. I can’t even guess an amount. It would be like trying to guess how many peanuts are in a jar that I’ve never seen before. It’s not the same as having so many OCs that I can’t count them anymore. I have seen that peanut jar, and I put every single peanut inside of it. It’s different.

I could hardly tell you any facts about my alters. I didn’t know what their names were, let alone what they were like, or that they existed before I realized they were there. It stretched beyond that. I didn’t know aspects of my own life, like our past and very crucial memories--both happy and upsetting. I didn’t know these things. And the alters often didn’t know all these things either.

When we did know about something, we often had no idea what they were or why they existed!

Understanding:

With my characters, I understand what’s going on. I understand when they develop themselves, when they interact with each other, when they interact with me, and I understand the scenes that play out. It doesn’t have to make clear sense all the time, but I’m still able to comprehend that it’s what I’m experiencing. It doesn’t feel out of my control, but I wouldn’t say I’m actively controlling it either. It’s like an unconscious function of the mind for me.

Once again, my experience with alters is different.

For the longest time, I couldn’t understand my alters. Their actions with my body, their thoughts and feelings that sometimes bled over--I couldn’t comprehend it. They couldn’t comprehend it, either. It felt completely foreign. This often led to situations like our journal entries being scribbled out because “I've never felt or thought those things before”, not knowing why beloved projects were suddenly deleted, and feeling dumbfounded while the body is sobbing uncontrollably because “I'm perfectly fine”.

Once again, it extends further than just the alters. Those aspects of my life that I was suddenly confronted with...some of them I just couldn’t understand. There were specific memories that I spent years trying to figure out. There were feelings, thoughts, and behaviors that I couldn’t comprehend, yet they were originating from within me. Why am I feeling this? Where are these thoughts coming from? What is that? Who is that? Who am I? What happened to me? Why?

My characters don’t do that.

Accepting/Believing:

The last thing is acceptance. When I say acceptance, I’m talking about fully believing in something. I accept that my characters are characters. I accept who they are and the things they do (even if I don’t agree with them). I accept their origins. I accept that I created them, that I am an author, that they are a part of reality for me. I fully believe in these things, it’s not something that needs to be questioned.

Dissociation is when you’re unable to fully accept reality. Dissociative identity disorder is exactly what it says on the tin.

I couldn’t accept my alters without years of therapy and trauma processing. I can’t tell you how often it felt like they weren’t real. We came up with every excuse possible to say that each other doesn’t exist. The DID doesn’t exist. The trauma doesn’t exist. You aren’t real, but I am. I’m real, but you aren’t. Neither of us are real. We’re real, but the DID isn’t. The DID is real, but we’re not. We found every excuse.

It’s one thing to know and understand that my alters come from trauma, but it’s another thing to fully accept that. To fully accept their origins and that they’re parts of me is to fully accept that these terrible things happened to me to. The thoughts and feelings they have that might overwhelm or scare or disgust me so badly are parts of me, as well. I’d have to accept that my own imagine of who I am isn’t complete, and they’d have to accept that too. Then, we’d have to bring each other into our image of who we are. Obviously, that’s hard as hell to do. Literally goes against what the disorder wants.

Extra:

So, yeah, the two experiences are very different for me. When I was able to start knowing, understanding, and even accepting my alters, though, I can still see differences. Alters are more like compartmentalizations of my life and who I am as a person; we all make up the same person. My characters...aren’t who I am. Sure, they come from my mind and I gifted most of them traits from myself. But they don’t make up who I am as a person. You don’t read a book and feel like you know who the author is by combining all of the characters in your mind. The characters just aren’t the author. They’re a creation from the author’s creativity. That’s something separate.

I didn’t create my alters in the same way I didn’t create myself. We were all born on the same day, in the same body, in the same mind, and have experienced the same life. Not all of us know, understand, or accept that but it’s how it is. Idk if that makes sense but hopefully it does.

This is how I’ve been able to distinguish between these two experiences. This isn’t something I see talked about a lot. Feel free to share your own experiences if you want!

[barbiewritesstuff]

Church Encounters: Chapter 22

Sorry for the hiatus, it wasn't planned, life just got in the way but I'm so happy we were able to write and post this and I am so grateful you guys like the series so far!

As always, this fic is written in collaboration with @lgg5989 who will be posting this on her tumblr and her AO3. She also made this lovely moodboard below.

Previous Part

Taglist: @acarboni21 @unsurebuttrying @dempy @peaches-1998 @bbooks-and-teas @roosterscock @positivelyholland --

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your saviour speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions --” Jake said, a cocky smile etched on his face underneath his mask. 

Whatever bitterness he had felt when he’d been made reserve had now vanished, the chance of saving Bradshaw’s ass had well and truly lifted his spirits. It had been easy too, the two enemies were relatively easy to evade and by the time Rooster and Maverick had found themselves in any real danger, he had been cleared for takeoff. 

In retrospect, maybe it had been a little too easy. 

Seconds after his victory speech, the SU-57’s little brother, an aircraft whose existence was still nothing but a rumour, or so Jake thought, descended from above. It was a beautiful plane with its v-shaped tail, diverterless inlet, and large wing area. It seemed to Jake that it was better suited for high altitude combat but he had to admit that even here it had the upper hand. Especially since the radio remained quiet, only crackling to tell them to be careful, something was around they couldn’t seem to pick up. Maverick barely had time to read out the bright red plane Identification letters in the side of the aircraft before the question all three of them had been silently asking was answered and the underbelly of the plane opened to shoot out a missile. 

Jake jerked awake before the missile hit his plane, cutting the nightmare short. His breath came out in short pants, nothing he did could fill his lungs with what he so desperately needed and he knew, even as he reached for the phone that he would never actually manage to talk to Giovanni to explain what was happening. 

He clenched his phone in his hand, bringing his hands up to his head, his breaths still coming in pants. He jumped when he heard your voice, “Jake?” you asked, your voice sleep-laced. 

He opened his mouth to respond but all he could get out was a desperate gasp of breath. Suddenly his eyelids were red, when he opened his eyes, your face was hovering in front of his, the light was now on, “Jake are you okay?” you asked again, your hands hesitantly reaching out to him. 

He shook his head, “Can’t…breathe…panic…” he tried to get out. 

Jake’s heart dropped when he watched your eyes widen, no one ever understood how he could suffer from nightmares. He made to close his eyes again when he felt your hands on his arms, pushing them off his head. You moved to straddle him, your hands pulling his head down to rest on your chest, “Breathe, it was just a dream okay? Hear my heart? Just breathe, it's all okay honey.” 

Jake felt his muscles slowly relax into you as your nails ran over his head and back, the beating of your heart gave him something steady to take deep breaths to. After what felt like hours but must have only been a few minutes, he pulled back from your grip, his hands coming to rest on your hips, “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet and his eyes not meeting yours. 

He felt your breath hitch in your chest before you asked him, “What for?” 

Jake hesitated, “Being weak,” he finally said, voicing one of his only insecurities you didn’t know about yet. 

“Baby, you aren’t weak,” you said, your hands cupping his cheeks and bringing his eyes up to meet yours, “You inspire me, to go through what you have and come home with just nightmares? To be so strong when me and our children need you? You are the furthest thing from weak Jacob.” 

Jake’s heart stuttered, not from his dream, but from the realisation that you weren’t lying, that you would accept him like this and in any other state. With that in mind, he buried his head into your neck, pulling you tight to him. He used one hand to wipe away the few tears that had been threatening to escape his eyes. 

“I love you,” he rasped out, his arms squeezing you tighter to him. 

“I love you too,” you replied, stroking your hands across his back gently, “Do you want me to make you a cup of tea? We can watch some TV or something until you feel ready to try and sleep again.” 

Jake glanced at his watch, 1:47 AM glared back at him from the face. The two of you had only been asleep for thirty minutes. The babies would sleep until three before they needed to be fed again, and based on the dark circles beneath both of your eyes, Jake knew that you needed the sleep. 

“No, that’s alright, you need to sleep,” he said, pulling back from the embrace to look up at you. 

You shook your head, getting off his lap gently you pulled on your robe and glided out of the room. He moved to follow you, but a moment later you were back, an essential oil diffuser in your hands. Jake watched as you sat it on his nightstand as you plugged it in and turned it on, the smell of lavender filling the room quickly. 

“To help you sleep,” you explained as you climbed back in on your side of the bed. 

“Thanks princess,” Jake said, laying back into his pillows. When you turned out the light, he allowed you to pull him back to you, his head resting comfortably on your chest. He could tell when you drifted back off to sleep, your breathing evening out to a deep, steady rhythm. 

Jake laid awake, his mind calm but his thoughts unable to settle enough to let him sleep. He lifted himself off of you after another minute of trying to sleep and then swung his legs off of the mattress. He grabbed the socks he had discarded by the bed when he had changed into his pyjamas earlier that evening and put them on, hoping that the fabric could muffle the sound of his retreating footsteps. He stopped by the door and looked back at your sleeping form. Once he was satisfied you wouldn’t wake up, he made his way to the nursery. 

Jake often came there when he couldn’t sleep. It calmed him down to see his children both sleeping peacefully, their little chests rising with each breath in and going down with each breath out. Today was no different. He lifted Christopher out of his crib and placed him on his chest as he sat on the rocking chair you used to breastfeed, the weight of his tiny body grounding him in the moment. 

Christopher stirred, nuzzling deeper into his father’s shirt and then he sighed contently and fell back asleep without a sound. Jake breathed in deeply and held it in his cheeks like a hamster before exhaling slowly like his new therapist told him. He liked her. She had been one of the therapists Father Dan had recommended and he could see why she got the raving reviews she proudly displayed on her practice’s website. She knew what she was talking about, and gave useful advice without it feeling like she was pushing him to make certain choices, which had been the problem with his previous therapist. She was not afraid to tell him to cut the shit and tactful enough not to use those words. It also helped that Doctor Patel was ex-army and uniquely qualified to understand exactly what he was going through, sharing which coping mechanisms worked best for her when she left the military and how to best approach it with family and friends, a step he had yet to take with anyone other than you, Christopher and Charlotte. 

Jake often told them about his dreams, toning down the language and content in case they somehow could understand him. Talking through it made it easier to process, Doctor Patel had told him, and as he didn’t always want to wake you seeing as you both already got so little sleep, the only other audience he could get were the twins. Or at the very least, the army of stuffed toys they were too young to sleep with, watching them from a shelf on the other side of the room. He always told you in the morning, when time and knowing the right words to use had made him less scared but he appreciated being able to stumble over his words, unjudged by the crochet bear with beady eyes he had silently nicknamed Freddie, for the simple fact that the bear absolutely creeped him out. 

Freddie had fallen to the floor earlier that night and had yet to be picked up, which suited Jake just fine. If it had been up to him, the damned bear would have landed in the fireplace as soon as it had crossed the threshold of the house, but Charlotte had sadly taken a liking to the monstrosity, and sadly for Jake, whatever his princess wanted, his princess got. It didn’t mean he’d pick it up though. 

Christopher dozed peacefully. He’d grown quite a bit bigger in his month of life and Jake couldn’t help but look forward to what the next month would bring. The paediatrician had declared the twins were developing normally and if it all kept going, the babies would soon be able to make sounds other than crying, which Christopher still excelled at, properly look at faces and even calm down when spoken to or picked up. But Jake, and you, eagerly looked forward to the children’s first real smiles. 

You had gotten a few grins since birth, but nurses and doctors had taken great care in explaining that those had all been reflex smiles, and not a real indication of happiness. It had broken his heart at first, and yours too, but now you counted down the days til one of them would give you a toothless grin. Every evening at dinner, as you both took turns rocking the babies in their rockers, you would swap stories of almost smiles and tried to guess when the real thing would come about. It gave him something to look forward to when he came home from work, his paternity leave having only lasted two weeks and even with the gifted week of extra holiday, courtesy of both Bob and Cyclone, he had found going back to work to be the hardest thing he had ever had to do. 

You had done so well though. You had adapted to the new schedule with so much ease and grace that Jake couldn’t help but be impressed and regard you with even more respect and love than he already had for you. He couldn’t help but feel like he was missing things though, regardless of how little the babies could currently do. He was eternally grateful for your solution which had been to send him as many videos and texts to update him on anything about your shared day. 

Jake took out his phone, which he had remembered to slip into his sweatpants’ pocket and looked through his gallery for one of the most recent videos. You had taken care to film your first proper venture outside the home for him. You had gone out to the park next to your house before, but the five minute walk hardly counted in your eyes so you’d organised a whole day, and filmed most of it for him to see, down to setting up the pram to getting your starbucks order and even the twins’ first ever meeting of a dog. Christopher had loved it, even if Jake was fairly certain he had no idea what he was looking at, but Charlotte had immediately started crying. Jake privately agreed, he’d never been much of a dog person, cats were more his cup of tea.

Once he felt a little better, Jake stood up and placed Christopher back in his crib, sitting in between the two bassinets, one hand near each of his children. The wall felt cold against his shirtless back but it couldn’t keep his eyes from feeling heavy and soon closing altogether. His chin fell against his collarbone and Jake fell asleep.

---

You woke up with a start, the sound of Christopher’s small whimpers coming from the baby monitor making your heart clench. When you threw your legs over the side of the bed, you realised that Jake was no longer next to you. You assumed he had already gone to calm the   twins and got out of bed to join them in the nursery, but it was strange that he hadn’t woken you up, and that Christopher was still fussing if Jake was there. 

Your eyebrows crinkled with confusion when a loud rattle came through the baby monitor, you pulled on your robe quickly, throwing your door open to get to the nursery. Unsure of what was making the sound, you weren’t willing to find out that someone or something uninvited had made its way into your precious babies’ room. 

You stopped short in the hall when you realised that their door was open. As you carefully made your way inside, you realised what the sound was and why Jake hadn’t woken you up earlier. 

Your husband was laying on the floor, his head leaning at an awkward angle against the wall, and rather loud snores were coming from his form with every breath. You covered your mouth, while you knew he had probably come in here to find sleep after his nightmare, you couldn’t help but want to laugh at his current sleeping position. 

Your enjoyment was interrupted when Christopher gave another loud whimper. Making your way to him, careful not to wake Jake up, you picked your little bug out of the crib and cradled him to you. You sunk into the rocking chair to feed him and watched over the rest of the room with a smile. 

----

Jake woke up with a start about twenty minutes later, his sleepy brain having finally noticed that the space between his hand and the crib’s mattress was suspiciously empty. His head shot up in a panic, slamming itself against the wall with a loud ‘THONK’ sound that stunned Jake for a second before his eyes focussed on you and he let out a relieved breath.  

“Good to know you’d be useless during a burglary,” you joked, “Beanie was fussing for a while before I came in.”

“And you didn’t wake me?” he asked, trying to get up from where he was sitting, his entire body sore from the uncomfortable sleeping position.

“You get so little sleep otherwise,” you said, wincing as Christopher announced he was done eating by driving his little fist straight into your breast with surprising force as he tried to punch you away.

“It’s a shame they don’t take formula,” Jake groaned, finally making it to his feet, “I could take over some of the feedings. At least I’d be useful then,” he said, approaching your chair. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, “I could take some of the pressure off of you.”

“I’m sure, I’ll figure out how this entire pumping thing works soon, and then you’re free to let me sleep in whenever,” you joked, shooting him a wink. You had been having a hard time pumping since your milk came in, nothing you had tried so far had worked to increase your limited milk supply. Even your midwife’s suggestion of heating up the pump of drinking warm beverages had done nothing to make it easier. You had been ordered to watch for signs of engorgement, and if it came to it, mastitis. 

To relieve the stress this all brought on, you had tried to put the babies on formula. Taking away the stress of not being able to feed the twins, or at least not feeding them enough, might even have helped you out with your milk supply, your paediatrician had said. But twenty minutes after their first bottle of formula, both of the children devolved into screams and cries. It had taken you many paediatrician visits and sleepless nights to finally come to the diagnosis that both of the babies were allergic. 

Breastfeeding was the only way for the babies to feed and you knew Jake was feeling left out, so much so that he had taken on all nappy changes and after meal burpings in the hopes to bond with his children. It broke your heart to see him like this, but your midwife, going above and beyond what she needed to do, had called you the day before, having discussed the possibility of medication with your doctor to tell you to pick up a prescription for something that might help you out. 

“I need to pick up a prescription later, do you think you can watch them?” you asked him, knowing his answer before he said it. 

“Sure,” he agreed, “Why don’t you get breakfast out? Treat yourself to something nice.”

“I would love that. I might swing by the mall for a new house dress, Charlotte spit up on my blue one and I can’t figure out how to get the stain out,” you lamented.

“Who knew we’d be having such sexy and appealing conversations as new parents,” Jake joked.

“Well, until the doctor clears me, I’m afraid that’s the only thing that can be sexy and appealing,” you said, a sly smile on your face. 

Jake paused at your quip, “That’s in like what? Two weeks?”

“Someone’s been counting down the days,” you laughed.

“Tell you what, I did not miss cold showers,” he chuckled.

You shot him a look, “What? My hand was disappointing,” he replied with a sly glint in his eyes. 

You rolled your eyes at him, “Is my hand not good enough either?” you questioned. The blush that covered Jake’s face brought a smile to yours. 

“I never said that,” he said, his voice sounding more serious than before, “It just can’t compare to…other places.” 

The two of you laughed, but the moment was broken when Charlotte gave a small whimper from her crib. Jake immediately went over, picking her up from the bed and cradling her to his chest. You switched out babies, allowing Jake to burp Chris while you fed Lottie. 

Once Charlotte was satiated, you placed them both back in their crib, gently stroking from their forehead to the tip of their nose until they fell asleep before making your way back to your own bed. 

By the time your five am alarm rang, seconds before Christopher’s cries echoed through the house, Jake had just fallen asleep again. You got out of bed as quickly and quietly as you could, determined to give him at least three hours of uninterrupted sleep in a comfortable environment and fed the children by yourself, giving up on sleep altogether as the sun came over the horizon and birds began chirping in the garden. 

After performing the minor miracle of strapping the twins to your chest with a large pink scarf, like Elisabeth had shown you, you made your way to the kitchen to get ahead on breakfast. Seeing as you had the time, you decided to try something new. While quiche was something you often did, a trip to the farmer’s market a couple of days ago had given you inspiration for some new flavours. 

Careful not to wake the children, you opened up your pantry, pulling out flour, a measuring jug and a cute half apron Lizzie had sewn and embroidered for you. You tied it around your waist as best you could, protecting your faux-satin, pink slip from the inevitable dusting of flour and put the rest of the ingredients onto the kitchen counter. 

So as to not heat up the butter, you rinsed your hands in cold water, dabbing them dry before mixing flour and butter together in a large bowl til it resembled breadcrumbs. In a separate bowl, you whisked cold water and eggs and then mixed wet and dry ingredients together, holding back some of the egg mixture. You formed a large ball of dough with your hand, wincing at the temperature and then placed it in the fridge to rest for a few hours.

In the meantime, you made coffee and sat yourself down at the dining room table to Bible study. You were reading a chapter of Luke every day til Christmas with Maria, video chatting every evening to talk about your thoughts and feelings. You had fallen behind recently, due to her wedding planning and your twins taking up all your energy but you were delighted to be able to grab a few minutes to yourself to catch up. Opening up your pencil case, you took out your highlighters and began annotating, writing down your thoughts on post-its as you read. 

By the time Charlotte began to wake up, you had been reading for an hour already. After yet another feeding, you pulled the pie crust out of the fridge, preheated the oven and rolled it out, ready for a blind bake. 

While the oven got up to temperature, you began preparing the filling. You chopped kale in manageable pieces, diced the onion and browned it all in a pan with the sausage mince before leaving it to cool while you grated the cheddar. In a jug, you mixed five eggs with a cup of cream until combined, peppering it generously before dumping in the cheese and mixing it all with the cooled filling. 

You got the pie crust out of the oven, frowning at the air bubbles that had formed and puffed up the crust. You pressed them down with a fork and then filled the crust with the egg mixture, trying to distribute it all evenly across the bottom before putting the quiche back into the oven for its final bake. 

Setting a timer on for 25 minutes, you sat back down in front of your bible and continued until you tipped your cup of coffee back into your mouth to find nothing but an ice cold drop. You stood up again and made your way back into the kitchen. Opening the drawer where you kept your neatly organised coffee pods, you realised with horror that only one remained. Feeling particularly kind and caring today, you left it for Jake’s morning cup of coffee and made a mental list to pick some up while you were out. 

You sat back down on the couch, kicking your feet up on to the coffee table. You looked down, peeking in on your sleeping babies, the two of them snuggled comfortably to your chest. As you watched them sleep, you could feel your own eyes growing heavy. Deciding that without coffee, you would give into the temptation to rest them. You laid your head back against the couch cushion and drifted off into a blissful sleep. 

Fifteen minutes later, you were abruptly woken by the sound of the timer beeping on the microwave. You pushed yourself off the couch, being sure not to jostle your precious cargo. Carefully, you removed the hot pan from the oven and placed it on top of the stove. It was at that moment that you felt hands wrap around your middle. 

“Hey princess,” Jake said, his head nuzzling down into your shoulder. 

“Hey handsome,” you replied, a smile on your face, “I hope you are hungry, because breakfast is done.” 

Jake chuckled behind you, “I do believe I could eat,” he said, his voice still rough from sleeping, “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get it?” he added. 

You turned in his arms, carefully pressing a kiss to his lips, hyper aware of the two little bodies you had strapped to your front, “That sounds great love, I left the last coffee pod for you.” 

Jake gave you his signature megawatt smile, “I knew you actually meant it when you said you loved me.” 

Letting out a laugh, you filled a glass with water before heading to the table. Jake followed behind you, placing your plate down in front of you, two forks held sideways between his teeth. 

“Wow, full service today?” you inquired, laughter in your voice. 

“Only the best for you baby,” Jake said before digging into his breakfast. 

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence. The sun rose fully outside and your eyes followed its streaking trek across the horizon. As the clock creeped closer to the time you had to leave, you attempted to pump one more time, ensuring that Jake had some way to feed the babies while you were gone. 

The shower you took felt heavenly, and by the time you left the bathroom, you felt that you looked more normal than you had in the weeks since you had the babies. When you made it downstairs, Jake had both the babies laid out on the floor, he was talking to them as he rubbed their tummies gently. You smiled widely before finishing your descent from the stairs. 

“I’m off,” you called as you grabbed your purse. You stooped down by him, first kissing each baby on a cheek before planting a kiss on Jake’s lips, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replied, “We’ll miss you while you’re gone.” 

“I promise to be back soon,” you said, a sad smile on your face. This was the first outing you were taking without your children. 

“Not too soon though princess, you need time for you too,” Jake said with a smile. 

You pressed one more kiss to his lips before standing up, and with a glance over your shoulder, you made your way into the garage. Before the babies were born, Jake insisted on getting you a new car, and now that they were here, you were glad he had. Your mini would never have been able to tote around two babies, but your new Tahoe would do the job and then some. 

Climbing up behind the wheel, you pulled out of the garage and on to the street. You ran to the pharmacy relatively quickly, picking up your prescription. Your next stop was the grocery, since the babies had been born Jake had done the shopping or you had ordered groceries to be delivered. You had made up a list before coming and twenty minutes later, you had a cart full of groceries for the week. 

While you missed Lottie and Chris dearly, being alone for a bit was nice. You decided to prolong the feeling by stopping at Starbucks. Instead of your usual habit of going through the drive through, you parked your SUV at the back of the lot and walked inside. Ordering quickly, you picked a table and waited for them to call your name. 

When your coffee came out, you pulled the book you kept in your purse out and cracked it open to the last page you had been reading. You immersed yourself in your latest find for almost an hour before you decided to leave. Before you left, you picked up a coffee for Jake. 

The drive home was uneventful and you backed the car into the garage carefully, not used to the much larger vehicle you now drove. Leaving the groceries in the car, you carried in your purse and the two coffee cups. When you entered the house, you were confused to hear Jake talking in such a serious voice. No one was here, and he wouldn’t be talking to the babies like that. 

“This program is about more than knowing some fancy manoeuvres, it is about knowing your plane better than you know yourself. I will push you and your plane to the limit so that in real world situations you will know it yourself,” he said. 

As you came around the corner into the kitchen, you saw Jake, laid out on the couch, your children cradled in his arms. 

He let out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know… Did it sound okay? Would you listen to daddy if he said that?” he asked. Charlotte let out a yawn, “Hmm, that boring, huh? Guess I’m going back to the drawing board. Unless you have anything to say Christopher?”

Christopher said nothing but he shot his dad a wink, “Oh no,” Jake laughed, “Mamma better watch out, she’s got a mini-Jake on her hands!”

“He is a charmer, isn’t he?” you spoke, leaning against the doorway.

“Just like me,” Jake grinned, “We’ll have to be careful with you, won’t we?” he asked Chris, “We can’t have you making the same stupid mistakes your daddy made. We’ll get you the life you deserve, eh?” he said, caressing his son’s head.

“You can’t stop him from making mistakes,” you said

“No, I know. There’s some things they’ll have to figure out themselves, but I’ll try my hardest to make sure they don’t mess up on the important stuff,” he said, still looking at his children, “I’ll make sure you know about the Lord and that you don’t stray from him, and you can discover that too much chocolate hurts your tummy the hard way, how about that?”

You chuckled, “I see I’ll have to be bad cop when Halloween comes around,”

“Just until their first dentistry bill comes around,” he laughed, “I think I’ll change my mind pretty quickly after that.”

“For what it’s worth, I think that speech was great. Very motivating,” you told him, “And I’d hate to take you away from your adorable audience, but I need help putting the groceries away.”

Jake carefully sat up on the sofa, babies held close to his chest before he bent down and placed them down on their bouncers, fastening the little seatbelts. He came up to you and saluted and said, “Lieutenant Commander Seresin, at your service ma’am!” 

“You’re on freezer duty,” you said, showing him the bright blue thermal bag containing all the frozen items you had bought. He bent down to pick it up, opening it slightly so as to not let the cold escape and peeking inside. “Hop to it, Lieutenant,” you laughed, “Or you’ll be on potato peeling duty for the next week.”

Jake turned to Charlotte, “You know, I don’t think I like our new commanding officer,” he said, “She’s awfully bossy,” he added, “Great ass though.”

“Go!” you laughed, pushing him towards the garage, “Before the fish defrosts.”

He jogged towards the door, the fabric handles of the bag scrunched in his hands and the bottom of the bag hitting every surface on the way. Jake looked back at you with an apologetic look, but you shooed him away with an amused smile.

“So bossy!” he shouted before disappearing into the garage, coming out minutes later, having tidied everything away in their designated divider, “What’s next ma’am?” he asked

You had already tidied most things into the fridge, and were in the process of decanting the dry goods in their respective jars. You looked inside of the bags but found them empty except for a bottle of soap and a couple of bags of plastic razors. 

“We’ve done almost everything,” you said, screwing the lid shut on a jar and placing it back in the pantry.

“Nothing else you want me to do?” he asked

“Hmm,” you pretended to think, “Just one thing, sailor. Kiss me.”

“You know, I think the new commanding officer is growing on me, Charlie,” Jake said, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you close to him. One of his hands came to cup your face as his lips crashed onto yours for a passionate kiss which only broke when your phone rang. 

Maria’s name flashed across the screen. You unlocked the device and swiped the green telephone icon across the screen. You barely had time to say hello when her voice came through, thick with tears.

“Why does the world hate me?” She asked through sobs

“Errr--” you answered

“The baker cancelled,” she explained, “The baker cancelled, our wedding is in two days and it’s too late to get anyone else,” She cried, “We can’t have a wedding without cake!”

“Maria, it’s okay. I’m sure we can find a solution,” you tried to reason.

“I wanted my cake! Y/n, I am pregnant, I have been thinking of chocolate cake for three weeks now but I’ve been good, I haven’t had any because I’m scared I won’t fit into the wedding dress -- and now I won’t even have my fucking cake because the fucking baker fucking cancelled,” she sobbed. 

“Maria!” you exclaimed, moving away from your babies, “Watch your mouth. We’ll figure something out. You’ll have your cake, I promise.”

“Really?” she asked, hiccuping

“It’s just a chocolate cake, right?” you asked

“Three tiers, bottom is chocolate, middle is carrot cake -- because Bob is a monster -- and the top is a vanilla and strawberry cake. All covered in like a white buttercream. I really don’t know where we’re going to find someone to make it on such short notice,”

“I’ll make the cake,” you offered quickly. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, sounding more cheerful than she had in weeks. The stress of wedding planning had really gotten to her, especially with the pregnancy, they were waiting to announce it til after the wedding, but the world of bridal appointments and general wedding errants was making it hard. Wine and Champagne was ever present, and so was Isabella, who often made the trip from Texas to attend wedding dress fittings and enjoy the last few moments of her daughter’s single life. 

While Maria was ready to step into life as a married woman, Isabella was having trouble letting go of the idea that her little girl was growing up. Giovanni was a different story altogether, he was avoiding the topic of the wedding like the plague. From what Jake had told you, it wasn’t because he wasn’t happy, but there was something about a man’s only daughter getting married that made the moment bittersweet. 

“Absolutely,” you said, “Text me the instructions and I’ll get on it as soon as I can,” you added, speed walking to your pantry to check if you had the right ingredients. Before you could open the door however, your phone rang again.

“Hi, this is your eternally-grateful brother, I heard you were making the cake. You are an angel, you know that?”

You let out a laugh into the phone, “I don’t know if I would go that far…” you said. 

“Alright, then you are at least a minor saint,” Bob chuckled.

“Why do I get the feeling you need something else,” you said, suddenly suspicious of his tone of voice.

“You always assume the worst, sister dear,” he replied and paused, “But not this time I’m afraid. The wedding is in two days and everything is going wrong, the car we were going to use to drive from the church to the venue won’t start and it’s not an easy fix, I need to borrow your husband.”  

“Hmm,” you hummed, “You’ll need to pay for that.”

“Anything, literally anything you want,” Bob replied.

“Babysitting duty for the next year,” you said.

Bob huffed on the other end of the line, “Are you kidding me?”

“It’s not like you won’t need the practice, Robert,” you paused before letting out a huff and leaning into your best housewife voice, “Besides, you’re leaving me here, all alone with two brand new, baby twins… While I make your wedding cake and possibly save your wedding day --” 

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, “Forget minor saint, you’re back to being annoying.”

“You love me,” you told him

“Go bake a cake,” he snapped back but there was no real bite to his words, “I love you. Send Jake over as soon as you can,” Bob added, before hanging up. 

You quickly briefed Jake on the situation and sent him over, warning Bob via text and immediately sending Maria another one to ask about attendance. Once she responded, sending over the instructions of the cake and the number of guests that had RSVP’d and any possible allergies, you started on making your shopping list. 

Dividing it neatly by cake, you tried to figure out what you would need to buy. Flour, eggs, milk, baking powder and baking soda were a given, but due to Father Dan’s attendance, you’d have to make an extra set of lactose free cupcakes to suit his allergy, and Maria’s uncle Francesco was very allergic to eggs so you’d have to accommodate that too. In light of that, you spent another hour scouring your various recipe books for the right recipes. Finally, you were ready to set out to the store. 

Anticipating the grocery bags you’d be dealing with on the way back, you decided to take the car, even if the nearest store was well within walking distance. You loaded the twins into their car seats, and checked that the twin pram was in the back before driving off by yourself for the first time since their birth. 

You pulled into a mother and baby parking spot a few minutes later and unfolded the pushchair with one single movement, thanking the Lord for the modern prams, the memory of seeing Beau manually unfold his ancient stroller whenever you had accompanied him and Peter out for walks haunting you still to this day. Once the babies were buckled in, you walked into the store, and immediately noticed the problem you were about to have. 

You pulled your phone out of the twins’ changing bag and texted Phoenix’s number.

“I need a favour,” you wrote, “I’m at the store with the kids because I’m doing Bob’s wedding cake. I just realised I can’t carry it all. Can you help?” 

You hit sent, and seconds later, Natasha replied with a thumbs up reaction to your message. Three little dots danced next to her name until “Brb, showering. I’m at the gym. I can be there in 10 minutes,” popped across the screen. While you waited for Natasha to arrive, you looked around the aisles for a bit, gravitating, as you usually did nowadays, towards the children’s section, dropping a few socks and stuffed toys in the pram’s storage basket. 

Phoenix arrived, as promised, 10 minutes later, wearing a pair of pink leggings and matching tank top, covered by her college sweatshirt, which, stretched by time and repeated use, had gotten loose at the neck and was now slipping off one of her shoulders in a rather stylish way. 

“Let me see my babies!” she exclaimed as soon as she spotted you, sprinting towards the pram and practically pushing you aside to get to Charlotte and Christopher while you laughed, “Hello to you too, I guess,” she told you with a grin, ripping her attention away from your children to give you a backbreaking hug. 

“Thank you for coming,” you said

“Don’t worry about it, baking’s fun. And I love spending time with you and the babies, even if they are half Seresin,” she said, shooting you a wink, “What do we start with?”

“You get a cart and we can meet in the baking aisle,” you said. 

Phoenix nodded, immediately turning back to the main entrance to get a cart, while you manoeuvred the pram around. Once in the baking aisle, you began pulling ingredients off the shelves til her trolley was full and all the items on your list were crossed off. After loading your bounty into the trunk of the car, you briefly said goodbye to Nat, strapping babies back into their seats before meeting her back at home. You parked in your driveway, careful not to knock her motorcycle over, you noticed Jake’s truck still wasn’t back. Checking your phone, you saw you had received a text.

Jakey <3: Won’t be home for dinner. I don’t know what happened to this car, but it can’t get fixed in just one day, might have to drive somewhere to get parts. I’m sorry honey :( 

“It’s okay baby, Nat’s here with me. I’m sure she won’t mind helping me with the kids. Be careful, text me, I love you <3,” you replied, hitting send right as Natasha knocked on your driver’s side window.

“You coming or have you decided to move into the truck for good?” she asked. You rolled your eyes and grinned, opening the door with more force than necessary so it would gently bump her in the hip. 

“You’re too much like Bob,” she chuckled, “I’m starting to think there’s something in the water.”

“Or it could be because --”

“End it right there, I refuse to imagine Cyclone as anything but as a hardass stickler for rules,” she said, “I’m doing a reverse Halo,” she laughed, no doubt referring to Callie’s longtime crush on Beau. 

“How is she?” you asked.

Although you and Callie were civil, you couldn’t help but miss the way your friendship used to be. You knew though, that while Vegas had strewn chaos when you and Jake first started dating, Halo hadn’t said anything under duress and you refused to progress past things until she had at least apologised. It didn't mean you didn’t care though, which is why you periodically checked up on her through Phoenix.

“She’s okay. She might be getting transferred back to Lemoore for a short while, but she should be back here before February so it’s nothing too exciting… I think she has a boyfriend, or she’s dating someone anyway, he’s a data analyst she met through Mav, apparently they worked on the Mach 10 program before the uranium mission. He’s nice, his name is Peter Kendall, I think,” she said.

“I’ve heard of Peter Kendall before,” you said, the name did sound familiar but you couldn’t quite place where you had heard of it before.

Phoenix grinned, “Yes you have, Hondo keeps telling us about him. He’s the “Put that in your pentagon budget,” guy,” she said in her best imitation of a male voice, sounding a little like Coyote, a surefire sign that she’d been spending too much time in his company.

“Oh my God! Yes! I know him! Oh, he’s so sweet, I’m happy she found someone nice,” you said immediately, your heart warming that your friend was happy. 

“Hmm,” Phoenix agreed, “You miss her, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “I love you and I love that you’re my friend, don’t get me wrong, but Callie was the first friend I ever made on the squad. She knew everything about me. It just feels so wrong to see her sometimes and think that she’s basically just a stranger now.”

“I get it,” Natasha said, “I know you want her to apologise, but maybe you need to make the first step if you want things to get mended. She knows she hurt you, maybe she’s giving you space. She can’t know you’re hoping for an apology if you don’t tell her.’’

You let out a sigh, “I want it to be genuine.” 

“It might be, giving her a nudge won’t change that. Look, you’re both feeling things about this whole situation and nothing will get resolved until one of you clears the air, it might as well be you,” Phoenix said.

“I’ll think about it,” you said and Phoenix nodded. You handed her a bag and the front door keys, watching her disappear into the house to tidy things away. You followed soon after, having strapped the babies back to you with the emergency scarf you kept in your glove box, and with the last of the ingredients you needed for the cake. 

You quickly wiped your counters and emptied a shelf in the fridge, setting up an ingredients station for each cake and anything else you would need to make Maria and Bob’s wedding cake as perfect as possible. Seeing as it was the biggest and would need the most time to cool, you started with the chocolate cake.  

Phoenix measured out the ingredients, prepping each one in a separate bowl, or jug while you preheated the oven and greased and lined the three twelve inch pans the recipe called for. Then, you handed her the jug of boiling water and the cocoa with the instruction to mix it all together until smooth while you creamed the softened butter and sugar with your electric hand mixer. 

You added the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition. In a separate bowl, Natasha sifted the flour, baking powder and baking soda, tipping it into your creamed butter, alternating with the melted chocolate as the recipe said. You mixed round the bow, careful to catch everything on the sides. She added the last of the flour mixture, and then the vanilla and when you were satisfied no lumps remained, you turned off the machine and set it aside. 

You poured the mixture into your pre greased tins and slid them into the oven, closing the door with one hand while the other came to support the babies’ backs. 

“I could do with some coffee,” you said, “Fancy a cup?” 

“I’m cutting down on caffeine. I drink tea now,” she replied.

You smiled, “You know that still -”

“Shhhhh,” she cut you off, pressing her index finger over your lips, “It’s my mom’s idea. She hasn’t figured out tea still has caffeine and I won’t be the one to tell her,” she chuckled. Natasha’s father had passed on a few years ago, ever since then, her mother’s health had steadily declined. Phoenix had asked her to move in with her a couple of months ago in the hopes that it would help with the loneliness and so far that theory had proven correct. 

You pulled your new box of coffee pods out of your cupboard, popping one into the coffee machine and dumping the rest into the jar before turning the machine on and filling the kettle for Nat’s cup of black Russian tea. 

After twenty minutes, your timer rang, the noise scaring Charlotte out of her sleep and sending her into hysterics. Undoing the wrap while Phoenix pulled the cakes out of the oven, you placed Christopher into his rocker and tried to calm your daughter, patting her bum in the hopes it would stop her from crying. That technique usually worked, but today nothing except for the arms of Aunty Nat could get Charlie to quieten down. As soon as you placed her in Phoenix's arms, she hiccuped, her tiny bottom lip trembling a little before calming down altogether. 

“She likes me,” Nat beamed at you.

You laughed, “She thinks your sweater’s soft,” you said, nodding at the way your daughter nuzzled into the material with a sigh.

“Don’t minimise Aunty Nat’s calming powers, okay,” she grinned, “You’re just annoyed that while I hold Charlie, you have to do all the annoying jobs,” she said, sticking her tongue out at you. 

You rolled your eyes and put the cakes in the fridge to cool before turning back to your counter and groaning. Phoenix was right, you had been taking advantage of her being there by making her do all the bits you didn’t like. Now she was busy, you had to do them all yourself. 

You let out a huff before resigning yourself to grating the carrots. You loved carrot cake, but grating carrots small enough for the cake was torture. Once they were done and your arms felt like jelly, you rough chopped the pecans. Phoenix, still holding Charlotte, popped the pecans into the oven to toast while you worked on making the cake batter. 

You mixed together the dry ingredients in a bowl, creating a well with the mixture. Then, you combined the wet ingredients in a separate bowl, mixing them until the sugar was thoroughly combined. You poured the wet ingredients into the well you made in the flour bowl. As Phoenix pulled the pecans out of the oven, you folded the wet and dry ingredients together until your batter was smooth with no remaining clumps. 

With one big, audible sigh, Charlotte fell back asleep. Natasha put her down next to her brother and joined you back into the kitchen, having regained the use of both of her hands. She ran her hands under the tap, squirting it with soap and scrubbing them thoroughly before drying them in the white tea towel that hung next to the oven. 

As you folded the carrots and pecans into the batter, Phoenix greased two nine inch cake pans, preparing for you to spoon the batter into them. She popped them into the oven when you were done, turning to watch as you washed up the dishes in preparation for the strawberry marble cake. 

“How are you and Javy doing?” you asked her, glancing at her from the corner of your eye. 

Phoenix smiled, “Oh you know, we’re good.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, a smug smile on your face, “When’s the wedding?”

Phoenix looked down at her left hand, holding it out in front of her dramatically, admiring her empty ring finger, “He proposed?? I must have forgotten!” she exclaimed before the two of you cracked up. 

“Alright, maybe that wasn’t the best question,” you admitted between laughs, “Do you want to marry him?” 

“It’s complicated,” she answered, “We just have so much history, sometimes I wonder if what we have now won’t end like it did last time.” 

You knew that Phoenix and Coyote had dated previously and had vowed not to talk again, but after the Uranium mission their spark was reignited. 

“I think that if the two of you want it to work then there isn’t a reason this couldn’t be your forever,” you said, “But only if that’s what you want. Don’t feel pressured by anyone else, being cool Auntie Nat is okay too.” 

Natasha gave you a smile, “I know you didn’t mean it to sound like you were pressuring me, I just don’t want to rush into something.” 

You nodded as you finished washing the last bowl, throwing Phoenix a towel, she helped you dry. 

“Sometimes I wonder if Jake and I moved too fast, but I am just so damn happy, that I really don’t care if we did,” you said, “Do what feels right for you and Coyote, and if he isn’t the one then you and I can go out and get wine drunk and make Jake pick us up,” you finished with a laugh. 

“I might take you up on that anytime,” she said, “Sometimes it’s nice to get out with just the girls.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” you agreed with her, a smile on your face. 

Once the dishes were dried, you started making the strawberry cake while Natasha watched the oven and the carrot cakes to ensure they were baked to perfection. You turned on the speaker you kept on the kitchen counter, it connected to your phone automatically and your ‘dancing in the kitchen’ playlist started playing, MKTO’s Bad Girls pumping through the speakers. 

Nat joined you in dancing around the kitchen, and soon, the two of you had glasses of bubbly. Well champagne for her, your glass was filled with ginger ale but that was okay. Once the strawberry cake was put together and baked, the two of you migrated the babies and yourselves to the living room. 

“What shall we watch?” you asked, turning on the TV and pulling up the menu with all of your streaming apps. 

“How to lose a guy in 10 days?” Nat suggested, pointing it out on Netflix. 

You smiled, “Perfect!” 

The two of you enjoyed the evening gossiping and watching the movie. The time for dinner came and went without the two of you realising, and while you fed the babies and put them down for the night, she ordered Chinese food to be delivered. 

You heard a knock on the door as you descended the stairs into the living room. Nat beat you there, presenting the delivery driver with a hefty tip as she took the food from him. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you sat down on the couch, “I could have at least bought dinner since you are the one helping me out.” 

“I won’t even hear of it,” she replied as she joined you on the couch, “Besides, what are Aunts good for if not buying dinner.” 

You let out a laugh, “They aren’t even old enough to eat it!” 

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, waving her hand in the air as she pulled out a carton of lo mein, “I feed you, you feed them, it all comes full circle.” 

The two of you broke out in giggles at her statement as you dug into the food. Everything she ordered was delicious. When How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days was over, you picked the next movie, turning on your favourite, Pride and Prejudice. 

Phoenix let out a groan, and before she could say anything you beat her to it, “Oh my gosh! Don’t tell me you like the ‘95 version better!” you exclaimed. 

“No, this one is definitely the best,” she agreed quickly, “I just can’t watch this movie without crying, it's so good.” 

You smiled at her, “Me neither, the end always gets me.” 

Two hours later, that’s how Jake found you. He came through the garage door to the sight of you and Phoenix curled up together on the couch, both of you crying as Mr. Darcy confessed his ardent love for Elizabeth. 

“He’s just so handsome,” Natasha sobbed, “and the stutter on love…” 

“It gets me every time,” you sobbed back, “And her, kissing his hand so gently…” 

“What’s going on here?” Jake asked, his voice startling the two of you. 

You and Nat quickly wiped under your eyes before turning to face your husband, “Nothing,” you said, “How was Bob and Maria’s?” 

“Well we got the car fixed so that’s all that matters,” Jake said, rubbing his hand up into his hair. As his arm raised, you noticed all the dark splotches of dirt and grease stuck to him. 

“You need a shower,” you said, scrunching your nose up at him.

Jake let out a laugh, “I probably do, perhaps you could help me with that–”

“Oh my god no!” Nat said, “I may be cool Auntie Phoenix, but I will not sit here and listen to you two flirt like that.” 

You stood from the couch, grabbing an extra blanket, “Well cool Auntie Phoenix, I think you need to stay here tonight.” 

“I think you’re probably right,” she answered, her eyes already closed as she dropped off into sleep. You and Jake turned out the lights before heading upstairs. As he showered, you checked on the babies, finding them sleeping contently, you climbed into bed, your own eyes slipping closed before you could stop them. 

When you came down to the kitchen the next morning, bright and early after another night of start and stop sleep, you found that Natasha was already up. She had made herself a large steaming mug of tea, and prepped the coffee machine with a cup for you. When she heard you getting down the stairs, she pressed the power button and fetched the cinnamon dolce creamer you kept in your fridge, the usual caramel one having run out a few days before. 

“So, what’s on the plan for today,” she asked, pouring a generous amount into a cup the size of her forearm, and dumping the regular sized mug of coffee into it too.

“Well, we need to make the frosting and make the vegan cupcakes,” you said, taking a sip, savouring the sweetness of the drink, “But before that I need to get the kiddos ready for the day.”

“You can do that and I can always take care of the cupcakes? I make a mean vegan applesauce cupcake…,” she said. 

“You’re an angel,” you smiled, “Can we keep you here forever?”

“Absolutely, the kids can pay me in cuddles,” she grinned.

“Sold,” you laughed, “Right, I better get started then,” you said, slapping your hands down on your thighs and standing up, taking your coffee with you to the nursery, “Give me a shout if you need any help!”

You walked up to Christopher who was laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling where Maria had painted clouds to look like different things. 

“It looks like a little rabbit, doesn’t it?” you cooed, “See, there’s the ears, and there’s the tail, and there’s his little body,” you said, pointing at the various parts of the bunny-like cloud’s body. The corners of Christopher’s mouth twitched a little and you gasped, “Are you going to smile for me baby? Are you going to smile for mama?”

You lifted Chris out of his bed and walked him around the room, pointing at different clouds until, finally, his mouth twitched again and then opened into a wide smile.

“Ah!” he said wriggling in your arms, “Ah!” he repeated. 

“Good boy!” you praised him, peppering kisses all over his face, “Such a pretty smile!”

“What happened?” Jake asked, appearing by the doorframe, scratching the back of his neck with one hand, his hair dishevelled from a night of heavy sleep.

“He smiled at me!” you said, “Can you believe it? I got his first smile!”

“I’m so happy for you baby,” he said, smiling back at the two of you, taking a few steps into the room. He stood inches away from you now, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You leaned in closer, his arms automatically coming to wrap you into a hug as you looked up, “You deserve it for taking such good care of them.” he added, something strange flashing across his face.

“Jacob Thomas Seresin,” you gasped, “He’s already smiled at you!” 

“I’m sorry, baby, he smiled at me when you took a shower last night. I didn’t have the heart to tell you,” Jake said, sounding genuinely distraught, “I didn’t mean to take that away from you. You take such good care of them, it should have been directed at you…”

“Jake, honey, you deserve this just as much as me,” you said.

“I don’t feel like I do,” he whispered, “I just feel… useless.”

Hearing him talk like this broke your heart, Jake had been your number one supporter since the day you started dating and that had only doubled during your pregnancy and postpartum period. He had done his best to be there as much as he could, even getting up at all hours of the night with you in case you needed anything, or even just as moral support. He had always done everything he could to help.

“I love them, I do, but sometimes I wonder if they actually like me. Sometimes it feels like I’m just a guy that lives here. I feel like a spare. They don’t need me like they need you, I’m just nice to fall asleep on,” he said, lowering himself down onto the rocking chair with a defeated sigh.

“You’re not a spare, you’re their father, Jake,” you replied, confused as to where the strong, confident man you know went.

“They don’t know what that means,” he replied, looking at Christopher with a heartbroken expression, “They will at some point but until they do I’m just…” he trailed off, not quite finding the words to express how he felt. 

You placed Christopher back down in his bed, breakfast time not yet there for the twins, and knelt in front of Jake, taking both of his hands into yours. 

“They might not know what the word means, but they do love you Jake. You’re not a spare, you’re Daddy. You’re the person that always wakes up first when they cry, that will hold them till they fall asleep. You’re the one who makes funny aeroplane noises when you lift their legs to change them, and who’s always willing to play with them. You spend every second you can with them, you take any opportunity to bond with them. Christopher smiled at you because he loves you, not because you just happened to be there,” you said, your heart breaking at the sad look on his face. 

Before he could respond you continued, “The bible says, ‘Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children,’ they love you so much, they might not be able to say so now, but one day you will hear how proud they are that you are their dad, about how much they love you. I have no doubt in my mind that Christopher smiled at you because you are his dad, he knows it's you who changes him, who reads aircraft manuals to him. He knows your hard chest from my soft one and your rough palms from my thin fingers and he knows you Jake, you are his dad.” 

“Just because your body doesn’t care for them the way mine does, does not mean that you do not provide other care for them that is just as important,” you said, “They might not remember everything when they’re older but they’ll never doubt that their father loves them. You’re building up a trust that can’t be broken, one little interaction at a time.”

Jake nodded and you took a seat on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and nuzzled your head into the top of his, “I love you so much, and so do they.” 

“Logically I know that,” he said, “Sometimes, it's just hard remembering it.” 

You pressed a kiss to his head and just stroked your hands through his hair and down his back until Charlotte let out a cry. You moved to get off Jake’s lap, but he wouldn’t let you, instead he picked you up, eliciting a small squeal to leave your mouth. 

“Thank you,” he said, as he placed you back into the rocking chair. 

You looked at him, confused, “What for?” 

“Being you, and reminding me who I am,” he said quietly before pressing a kiss to your forehead. With that he moved across the room to Charlotte, his large hands picking her up and cradling her to his chest. She immediately settled against him, her small head turning to the side on his chest and her eyes closing. 

You smiled at the sight of them but you made a mental note to talk to your paediatrician about Jake’s feelings. He was a proud man, and you knew it took a lot for him to talk to someone about his PTSD, let alone about how he was feeling with his children. You figured she might be able to reassure you that most men experienced this and maybe give you some tips on helping to relieve the feeling for him.