#but also its just some deeply cringe shit. who the fuck am i going to tell this to?

[coelpts]

i have got to talk about my gender with more people.

[dukeofankh]

The discourse about whether romance novel fans are porn addicts is dumb and hilarious. Like, are the books deeply pandering escapist fantasies that usually veer into deeply horny fuck scenes? Yes. Are they PORN though? Oh, absolutely also yes.

The issue isn't whether it's porn. It's that porn addiction isn't real, and getting mad at women for reading porn makes even less sense than being mad at men for watching it, considering at this point the people aren't even real so it's not even like there's a risk of exploitation.

Does it make someone an addict to consistently read books that make them feel good? No. Might not be the most challenging or enriching thing ever, but who gives a shit. People don't have an obligatory quota of deep existential thought that they're shirking by reading thinly veiled Reylo fanfic. Reading words isn't something you can be addicted to. That's not what addiction means. Just straight up. Even when it's compulsive or self-soothing behaviour, that's still not the same as an addiction and you need to stop acting like your youth pastor and/or favourite sex-negative tumblrista knows better than a field full of people with PHDs in neurochemistry, who consistently maintain both the conclusion that the only aspect of porn consumption that is bad for you is the shame some people feel for consuming it, and also that since people can develop compulsive relationships to anything including eating hair, laser focusing on that happening with porn specifically is pretty clearly just a basicass moral panic.

If I could watch movies about a cool awesome guy that everyone thinks is the coolest, and all the dudes are like "oh no here comes the coolest dude ever, I lose and you win" and the girls are all like "but you only have one penis and me and my gorgeous frenemy each have several holes how are we going to figure this out?"...I...would? And I do? Its not hypothetical. I am a dude. That's what a lot of media aimed at dudes has, historically, been. Wish fulfillment. Ladies should also get wish fulfillment.

Like, is it cringe to see people geeking out about their porn in public? Yeah. I don't tend to do that, personally. I think that since people tend to see women's desire in a toothless and objectified way, there's a tendency for some people to overlook how broadcasting it can put people off in public spaces. But that's more of an issue of social media cramming everyone into the same space and destroying the barriers between niche hobby spaces and adult spaces and people's public news feeds. The women reading the porn is fine. The women liking the porn is fine. The women talking to other women about how they like the porn is fine. Something annoying you or disgusting you is fine, but then that's kind of all that can or should be said. There isn't a step two. There isn't a step where you should shame and smear people until they never annoy or disgust you.

At this point society's morals are pretty broadly varied. Theres only a few things left you can call someone that are received with the scorn and shame you meant them with in any consistent way. And that's why everyone spends all of their time calling people they don't like either pedophiles or addicts. It's getting tiring.

[system-of-a-feather]

Also a lil more elaboration on this post from the OG guy in the system who talks this shit but it's also important to know when adopting radical self acceptance is that being a fucking idiot and a coward and crap literally has no inherent "oh Im a good or bad or cool or lame" person on it's own

Literally everyone is stupid in their own way and literally everyone has the things they are scared to deal with and face from time to time. I'm a part very dissociated from the concept of fear and my brain converts it fast to other shit, but I do fear letting myself down - both as a part and as a part ofba system - and doing harm by the few I deeply respect; momentarily I am prone to being scared of having my shit taken - trauma crap

That shits literally normal, being scared of shit is literally a completely normal and natural thing across almost all animal species (some argue all). There is no personal judgement attached to literally any feeling on its own.

The difference is whether you can look at that feeling and say "damn I'm scared and that a sucks ass feeling" and actually accept, address and deal with that feeling - or if you are going to deny-deny-deny.

And that isn't to say "Oh you are a stupid coward for wanting to deny it" because again, it is OK to admit you are scared and not ready to deal with something. That takes huge fucking balls to admit. If you aren't ready to deal with it, cool man that's fine, but do take a moment to actually affirm that with yourself - that CURRENTLY in the moment you are not ready to deal with it.

That is not "running away from it like a coward" that is acknowledging the truth of your current state and leaving space for it.

If you can get comfortable admitting that you are too scared to do something right now, you are inherently - in subtext - letting yourself know that 1) you accept that you are scared and it is a real thing about you that you are willing to embrace but also 2) that as much as that is a truth of your current state, that it is just that - a current state.

There literally is no shame or inherent judgement to be found in a feeling alone. Feelings alone don't mean shit. Feelings alone LITERALLY don't mean SHIT. It's how you handle and act in regards to them both internallyvwith yourself and externally with others that determines if you are being cringe (derogatory) or cringe (affectionate) and sorry not sorry, every action you do there will be someone who thinks you are cringe so theres no escaping being cringe WHILE being your authentic self.

Anyways, building radical self acceptance is a hard thing to do so I got mad respects for anyone building it. Most of the system doesn't get it yet either and so I get how hard it is and all.

I actively basically bully and harrass Riku about it 24/7 7 days a week 52 weeks a year for the past 3 years until they get it into their dumb skull. And while I call them a fuckin dumbass, I am pretty proud of how casually and readily they have learned to admit when they are being "a coward" which is easier verbage for them than outright saying "scared" which I'll take.

But honestly, get in touch with your vulnerable "not cool" parts of yourself that you are embarrassed about and just get used to stating it as it is. Those vulnerable and embarrassing aspects are only as embarrassing and insecure as you let them be. If you hide them and try to keep people from seeing it, of course you are going to feel scared to let others see it, of course you are going to feel insecure, and of course you aren't going to be confident when anything relating that comes up out of fear of your insecurity showing.

It's self assassination honestly. Judging your emotions and internal experiences like they mean anything other than a reflection of your current self and what you need us just not productive.

But I digress. Its a complicated and difficult thing to build and work on and itll always be more nuanced and specific to the individual than I can ever chart out in a casual ramble on some of my life philosophies and principles on shit.

So take home message? Try to stop judging your feelings and just, ya know, have them. They may suck but its just how it is in the moment and the moment can always change.

[sculptural-renaissance]

SGU Week Day 4 (Yes, 4!!): Favorite Ship

This is my new OTP. Idk exactly what it is, but buddy, I will take my serotonin from wherever I can get it these days.

Just kidding, I know exactly why I enjoy this. Most of it is that I just really, really like Amanda (don't hate me; despite what my memes may lead you to believe, I am not a Rush Enjoyer, because I know he would make me cry every day if I had to interact with him lmao), but OH MY GOD am I a sucker for The Grumpy One Is Soft for the Sunshine One. I love seeing them feel so safe and comfortable together. I love the ease of their interactions. I don't think anyone cares about spoilers at this point, but good Lord, she almost killed him and he wasn't even mad 😂

I NEVER enjoy canon ships because they feel like forced hetero nonsense. Another reason I enjoy this pairing so much is that to me, a demisexual, it feels very much like a demisexual love story. Think about it. Falling for your best friend, pining for the same guy for years... that's not unique to us, but it's definitely part of the demisexual experience (I'm not a piner, but most demis I meet seem to be). Im aware that they were originally supposed to sleep together in Sabotage, but, again as a demi, I'm glad they ended up taking a different route. I don't enjoy seeing characters who barely know each other hooking up, not because I'm prudish, but because I have no investment in the characters. This... We had to work for this. 🥰

In searching for other fan content, I've discovered that Rush and Amanda aren't a well-liked pairing (go figure, I like a canon ship and it's one no one likes lmaooooooo). I've found that I see this pairing quite differently from its critics; to me, it felt very female-focused. Yes, Amanda clearly only exists to be The Main Guy's love interest, but I found that, apart from the fridging, the ship was very much focused on her desires. She was not a thing to be pursued. She had agency and took initiative. She felt like a whole person to me, not just a pretty doll.

I also enjoyed the hell out of the awkwardness. I don't get secondhand embarrassment. I get the opposite of that. I LIVE for cringe. fr what even was this scene???

"So, you wanna make out or something?"

"Yes, obviously, I fist bumped you. That's pretty much 1st base."

God what a fucking dork

"No, 3rd base is not when a man rolls up his sleeve so you can see his forearms."

I drew them~ They're gonna hold hands bang >:] As you can see from the date, I drew this last year, very shortly after watching Seizure for the first time (I colored it yesterday, though, for this). I liked this pairing right away, and honestly, I was hoping Rush would pay Amanda a visit on earth via the stones after Sabotage. I'm not exactly thrilled that the writers chose to go for two double-fridgings, but the computer ghost thing creates a lot of possibilities for fanfic. I'd also like to have seen them interacting on earth before the Icarus mission.

As a final thought, I also love seeing someone who has been so deeply hurt learning to love again. I'm so disappointed SGU didn't get more seasons, because this would have been interesting to explore further with Rush and Amanda as a proper couple once she got off her bullshit and accepted that he did love her oh my God Mandy he killed that guy for you don't stand there and try to tell him he doesn't love you godddddddddddddd

Anyway, here are some of my favorite meme comics I've made. ^^

They were close friends for years. You cannot convince me that she didn't know exactly what he was like, nor can you convince me that she doesn't love it. 😉

"I'm not codependent! I'm obsessed with you a normal amount!"

In my experience, the key to a successful relationship is to find your person, and then you just annoy the shit out of each other for the rest of your lives (consensually, of course).

I also fully believe that there is no way on God's green earth that Rush would ever willingly watch a Syfy Channel original movie.

He does like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid... Through shitposting with friends, it has become "canon" that Bonanza is one of like, 3 TV shows Rush actually watches. The other two are Nova and House. Amanda, who watched a lot of classic sitcoms with her grandparents as a child with no social life, is unfortunately not a fan of westerns.

That's okay. He can fix her. 🤎

I have an ongoing series (up to 5 parts now) where Rush Definitely Understands the Trolley Problem. This is the first one.

I should really post those here.

She knows his secret >:]

Jim-jams

Also this takes place in the future so they're married now shut up let me have this they're cute

God what a lightweight

That's okay nothing's gonna stop her from getting white girl wasted on Brody's moonshine #YOLO

This was inspired by a fun exchange I had with a friend. It's "canon" in my comics and in progress fic that Amanda watched Wormhole X-treme to prepare for working at the SGC (she is so normal), and read whatever mission reports she had clearance for when she wasn't doing Mega Serious Spaceship Work.

If Rush can bully her into watching cowboy shows, she can bully him right back into watching space shows. This will backfire spectacularly. 😂

[galar-abortion-clinic]

🍀🧠🥊🎓 For Jules, Mauly, and Rory! Just curious about these three!

(Jules is getting his own post since someone else asked about him, so stay tuned. Same twat time, same twat channel)

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Conceptually, both Mauly and Rory are two sides of the same coin. At first I only had Mauly, but I decided to extract a few traits from her and squelch those out into their own character so that her personality wouldn’t feel so totally neutered by incompetence. She’s a little more idealized, whereas Rory is my worst fear of what I could turn out to be, or how other people might perceive me

Mauly is impulsive, brash, self-serving, and arrogant. She’s unapologetically angry, horny, and human. Rory is all of those things, but deeply insecure and constantly overcompensating. He’s pathetic and he makes me sick. Basically he boils down to “sid vicious if he were a bit less of a dick, purely because he’s subdued by cowardice”

Design-wise? Kalos’ rendition of the Punk Guy/Girl trainer class, man. I fell in love instantly. Also this one specific tank girl page:

Good shit

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Mauly takes no shit. Sure, that might mean she leaves a bad taste in some people’s mouths, but she knows when she deserves to be treated better. Something I’ve always struggled with has been not standing up for myself because I’m worried it’ll hurt or inconvenience other people. Mauly says fuck those other people, It’s not my job to accommodate anyone else’s existence by minimizing my own. Her whole arc is about self-acceptance through ambivalence. “Even if i don’t love myself, i can’t change who I am. You’re not going to change me either, and you look stupid for trying”

Rory’s best use to me is catharsis. I’ve shoved all the shit I hate about myself into this guy and exaggerated it by queefzillion, and it feels reassuring to see him being knocked down a peg for behaving like a little wart. It also feels kind of nice when he still manages to find occasional kindness in spite of his many, many glaringly hideous flaws.

🥊 - What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Mauly was one of those kids who every adult in her life would describe as “so creative” and “a free spirit”, which is actually grown-up code for “this poor bastard’s gonna be a starving artist and we’re hiding our disappointment”. If she had the means to create more often, she’d have a lot of fun honing her craft and fully leaning into art as an outlet for her angst

Because she’s so hands-on and skilled at improvised patching and the like, she often gets stuck with repair responsibilities by the other schmucks she lives with. She doesn’t mind slapping duct tape over stuff several times over or whacking things with a hammer til it fits right, she just would prefer not being assigned that job by other people. Never tell her what to do

Rory’s nimble fingers don’t only make him a passable thief, but also a possibly-not-the-worst musician. He’s never played for anyone else, which might be why he kinda sucks, but it’s one of the few things he keeps to himself instead of bloating to give his delicate ego some padding. His songbook is loaded with edgy cringe, but its the sort of raw soul-bearing stuff that reminds you there’s a person in there. Not a great person, but a person

Anyway something he hates doing is uhhhhhh giving to charity,

🎓- How long have you had the OC?

Mauly’s been around ffffforrrrrr i wanna say maybe two years now? For a long time she was just an idea in my head, i didn’t wanna touch that idea til i knew exactly what i wanted to do with it

Rory’s my freshest OC, only been around for like a month. Not even. Could still use some fine tuning

Bonus: some VERY rough first drafts of Mauly that’re a little closer to the source material (excuse the positively grimy state of the paper, i dont take very good care of my sketchbooks)

[minarcana]

sorry for all the ooc, things are wrong with me. anyways i was in prae for the umpteenth time and every time im there all i can picture is the gaius that lives in my brain being forced to go through prae and its him with his head in his hands like "please. dont. dont make me remember being Like This"

im going to talk about gaius, sorry

(caveat: i have a better werlyt in my brain.)

his arc is that he went from a True Believer to "ah. these are people.". me forcing him to live thru prae era again is the cringe punishment cube.

a clarification to werlyt arc rewrite: yeah he did war crimes and he did them on purpose. he was aware they were war crimes. he knew that other legions did bad things, though he consistently underestimated the amount and cruelty of human experimentation going on. he knew other legions tended to treat eorzeans as lesser

however he really did believe in Something. he believed varis's propaganda and that varis was a benevolent leader, that it wasnt just primals but eorzea's belief in gods in general that were killing their own land bc he cant tell the difference between a primal and a god. he was fully committed to "these people are savages and heres some fuckin, fantasy version of the white mans burden" which is obviously incredibly wrong and fucked but yknow, it fuels the war machine. he was a soldier who never even thought to ask questions.

all he did was believe wholeheartedly in the propaganda fed to him and therefore rationalize "torching this entire country is fine, right". cannot stress enough i am not excusing the war crimes. im just making him a consistent character with a mildly rational arc. he super did those war crimes and did them on purpose. but he also did protect the war orphans his own war caused and had no issue whatsoever letting eorzeans who wanted to join the army to protect themselves do so. equality of opportunity providing you pledged fealty to garlemald, bc being of garlemald's population made you Better and Not A Savage and therein lies the line of who it's fine to kill if they fight back and who can be treated with respect.

unfortunately, ascians. gaius got his ass handed to him and the result is [nervous laughter] oh shit the army is super not infalliable and always right and very capable of and prone to wanton destruction instead of targeted attacks specifically to claim territory, hence the depression arc. he's pissed at ascians and wants to die. two birds one stone, hunt ascians till one of them kills him. meet people who want him dead and yknow theyve got a fucking point.

though he did still believe in the last vestige of "maybe things arent completely fucked and i didnt spend my entire life believing in utter bullshit lies?" that varis was a Good Emperor and Capable Of/Genuinely Interested In Ensuring Protection Of Garleans until the black rose incident. he still had a weird loyalty towards him that maybe he could get varis to like. not enact biological warfare against his own men. if he were just able to talk to him. but twas not to be and gaius essentially just [throws hands into air] OKAY! FINE! FUCK ME I GUESS!

hed already entirely lost faith that anything in garlemald's extant ruling structure could be salvaged while they still tried to wage war, weapon series just brought into light how deeply rotten the army had been the entire time when gaius had turned a blind eye to any operations that weren't his own.

if he met himself from his prae monologue now he'd strangle one of himself he doesnt care which one just free him from whatever this is hed Rather Die

the only thing im keeping him actually genuinely 100% totally unaware of from werlyt is the weird Thing livia had for him. shes out there hollering HIS BODY IS MINE as gaius is like "[completely out of earshot every time she does that] haha livia shes like a relative of mine i guess" and thats because i think its very funny.

on a SECOND DIGRESSION ABOUT PRAETORIUM

like. look. garleans cant use aether. i desperately want the explanation for how the fuck this man is pulling shadow clones out of his ass when he repels magic. i choose to believe the X beams are either ceruleum fire or aether cartridges charged by someone else but this cannot explain fuckin naruto shadow clone jutsu going on. what the fuck, gaius.

[adhbabey]

here's some autism traits of mine that aren't symptoms, but they're things that are autism and im choosing to unmask n share this with you all.

biting. just i want bite fingers. i crave to put them in my mouth. i want to bite in general. i know its not socially acceptable to bite people, but i want to. i am a creacher and i cannote change that.

when i was like 14 i was really obsessed with random xd humor. I would say "ekop" instead of "poke", because its poke backwards. And I had this one friend I'd constantly do this with. like "rawr" and "cupcakez!1!1!". We were truly scene.

Speaking incredibly eloquently, as one alter put it, "Human language does not account for all the nuances that I wish to share, so I am using the language to its full extent, detailing every complicated sentence that I can muster. I wish to share my full thoughts and experiences, but it unfortunately does not do what I want to convey in justice. So I must settle for the english language for now." Some of our alters can't really speak because of that, and its difficult for them to communicate outside of visuals and vague feelings. It's really either hyperverbal or no verbality for us.

every fucking alter being some brand of autism. Tsuki is ace and hates to put a label on things, the only concrete feeling she has is anger. Rai can barely speak/communicate, they are very observant and quiet, and they feel the most disconnected from others being the host. Kaori is literally the most autistic creature you could ever come across, they are just literally what you think of, they love all the "cringe" culture type stuff and adore being nonbinary. etc etc. Like, how did I not realize when all of us are some brand of autism?

Feeling like an outsider my entire fucking life. Even when I related to others, I always felt separate from the rest of society, and I must sacrifice everything in order to be loved. This has been connected to spiritual beliefs of mine.

Another thing connected to spiritual beliefs of mine, feeling like I truly cannot see the world, as if I have a film over my eyes. The reason for my self entrapment is a "curse" that a "film" over my eyes exists and I never fully can break free from. I realize that the "film" is masking and my truly unique way of seeing the world is my autism, and I've had to move through the world not letting myself "see" truly.

alice in wonderland, coraline, fran bow, all characters I relate to are young and unique girls that move through a world that is crazy and full of madness. Something I find myself deeply relating to.

feeling misunderstood all the fucking time. even if i try to explain my feelings or thoughts, I'm constantly put on a high standard that I have not been able to achieve. I don't know how to change people's minds as I speak with genuine intent besides rather obvious displays of frustration, anger or sarcasm. I was also the person who thought others were always genuine, and rarely questioned one's intention behind what they said. This trait of mine has led me to become gaslit by a few harmful people in my life.

my disorders all linked together, makes for a bad time. this isnt an autism specific trait. i just. if i feel like an outsider (asd), and have trauma with being treated like an outsider (did), and get really upset with other people saying nasty things about me in regards to not being normal (adhd + rsd), im going to have a hard time and constantly blame myself for being an outsider (ocd) and im gonna hate myself (depression). so its just like. hey i found a piece to the puzzle, but i already know most of it. and thats just the egodystonic experience for me.

but hey, lets talk about more lighthearted stuff!! i love kandi!!!!! it jingle jingle and it has super pretty colours!! im afraid to stim but this is the shit for me. this is amazing.

i'd love to use word quirks and kaomojis a lot more!!! but unfortunately thats not the blog for this bc its not plaintext. but in my heart, thats what i want to do and who i want to be.

oh i remember the last one!! I read this somewhere, but apparently since a lot of autistic people struggle to communicate their needs, they'll do things that meet their needs somewhat, even if they don't know why they do it. For example, wearing hoodies and heavy clothes because they're touch starved and want to be hugged! And I really related to that!! I wear hoodies and lots of layers all the time, or like just wearing my day clothes, even if they're uncomfortable. So, I do that, not just because I'm cold, but I need the weight compressing me, and i've always been doing that since I was young. So I felt.

Not really being able to read big books until middle school. I know there's people who havent really talked until they were older, I remember not being able to comprehend big swaths of text until I was a teenager. maybe thats the audhd, but i feel like thats always been my sort of "i think this was my developmental milestones that i hit late". And yes, I was able to read quite a lot for my age, but it always felt like something that I hit late.

share your autism traits that aren't necessarily symptoms, or you can talk about the ones you relate to and I wrote. Sorry if this post is hard to read, I just wanted to talk about it. :0 so ya

[akaashisbabygirl]

you’re just a game he likes to play

pairings: akaashi x female!reader

genre: angst, romance, NSFW 18+

warnings: use of drugs, drinking, vaginal penetration, fingering, oral (female receiving), angst angst angst

words: 2.6k

a/n: i’m sorry for not posting as much. i’ve always wondered how people write really long fics, and here i am. i spent last night + this morning working on this, so i hope you all enjoy <3 this i planned to be a one shot so i probably won’t be doing a part two

‘are you awake right now?’ 

akaashi’s fingers ghosted over his phone, a slight cringe filling his mind as he thought about sending the message. eventually, everyone around him started to pick up on his quiet, drunken tone. 

“who’s the girl you’re texting?” kenma asked.

“it’s no one...” he said back softly, locking his phone. as much as he tried to play it off as if he wasn’t texting anyone, he knew that one of the boys were going to comment about it sooner or later.

“come on man, we all know it’s hayami,” kuroo interrupted. akaashi knew kuroo meant it as a joke. as much as akaashi knew that kuroo was joking, yet there was still that smirk that rested on kuroo’s face that akaashi was so desperate to punch. it had been a year since akaashi had fallen out of love with hayami, a girl he knew he stood no chance with. 

within that year, things had changed. he never used to drink or anything. he had changed so much. it bugged him whenever the other men talked about love and girls. he started to think why it couldn’t be him, why he couldn’t be the one talking about a girl he loves. he wanted to express the love he felt for the girl that ended up catching him by surprise when he least expected. the same type of love that everyone thought was for hayami.

one thing that akaashi was clear of was that he was deeply, and drunkenly in love with you. 

like his friends knew, there had been a time in his life when he was in love with hayami. but after finding out that she had hooked up with one of his high school friends after she had told him that she loved him, akaashi started to fall out of love; and while he was in his broken state was when you came along. just when he needed.

everyone in the group was sure that akaashi was going to always be in love with hayami, only because she was said to be the hottest girl on campus; and he himself was a very good looking guy. everyone wanted her. unfortunately, akaashi’s friends couldn’t see that the love he had once felt for her had now died down into the pit of his chest.

however, despite telling himself that he had fallen out of love with hayami, he also hid behind the thoughts of your beautiful soft hair and the way you felt so small compared to him behind the fact that he still loved hayami. because, what is the point of loving someone who is just your closest friend? 

akaashi brought the glass of alcohol to his lips once more, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat. he sighed as he just about finished his third glass. had the room gotten louder? it had gotten to the point where he couldn’t make out the words of what his friends were saying. it was just too loud. 

he desperately wanted to text you. he wanted to send you cute messages about wanting to cuddle you, and kiss you and about how much he misses your touch and how he loves the feeling of your tiny body against his. after his third glass, those thoughts began to turn sexual. he felt different. had the others given him something? 

he remembered asking kuroo earlier in the night for something that would ‘take his mind off of everything’, maybe kuroo had given him something. his hands held onto the glass again as he watched the man across from him fill his glass again. 

his hands fiddled with his phone again. he so desperately wanted to message you right now, but his mind was clouded with sexual thoughts that he had never thought about before. he thought about how good he would be able to fill you up, how small you would be against him. he closed his eyes and sighed to the thought mentally. he wasn’t a pervert, at least he thought he wasn’t. 

the two of you were just friends. he respected the boundaries of your friendship. he wasn’t going to push you, he didn’t even know if you felt the same way about him. but once again, his mind and everyone around him kept telling him that he was in love with hayami. 

‘stick with the girl that all your friends know you love. you don’t wanna ruin your friendship with her’ said the narrator inside his mind, as if he was telling akaashi what to do instead of letting him figure this madness out on his own. 

akaashi stood up from the chair, making his way to the bathroom. after minutes, he was looking at his messy reflection in the bathroom mirror. he knew it was time to go home. he could see it in his reflection. he was drunk. drunk and in love. he wanted you by his side right now. maybe fixing his jacket or his hair. how you would be on your tiptoes just to try and reach him. how fucking cute. or how you would stand on your tiptoes to try and reach his lips. 

akaashi left the house, standing outside on the street waiting for a cab to pull up.

“what’s the address?” the man asked.

without a thought, he gave the man your street name. space and time had began to blur, his phone in his hands as the thought of you rushed throughout his mind.

you were in your room, sitting on your bed in an oversized shirt. your eyes scanned along the messages what you had just received from akaashi.

‘are you awake?’ 2:43AM

one missed call. 2:49AM

‘i miss you’ 2:54AM

‘i need your touch’ 2:58AM

one missed call. 3:02AM

‘need you so badly’ 3:06AM

he was high.

you knew he was. there was no way in hell akaashi would ever text you like this. he was in love with hayami. you were sure about this. you felt a stinging pain in your chest because it was obvious that you were deeply in love with akaashi keiji. you hated the way you were so badly separated from even being close to a relationship with him because the narrator in your mind always came back to remind you that akaashi was in fact in love with hayami. 

your fingers typed back.

‘i am not hayami. you have the wrong contact’ 3:10AM

there was no reply back. you thought that maybe he reached hayami’s apartment and that he was currently somewhere with her right now. you threw a pillow over your head.

he was such an amazing man. you had fallen in love with the person that he is, how he would always be there whenever you needed him so desperately. he helped you when you were down. it made you mad that hayami only wanted akaashi for his popularity around campus and not for the amazing person that he is.

it was hard to try and get over those feeling that were painfully stabbing your heart. you wanted to be with him. god, you wanted to be with him so fucking badly. but you knew that it would never happen.

because akaashi was in love with hayami.

the sound of knocking on your door threw you out of your haze. you checked your phone. no new messages from him. you opened the door, your eyes widening as his drunken state stood right in front of you. you hated to admit that he always took your breath away, even right now. he was so tall compared to you.

“can i come in?” his voice asked softly.

you nodded your head, opening your door further so he could come inside.

akaashi sat himself down on your couch. he looked lost. he was lost. he watched as you sat down next to him, your eyes not even looking in his direction. 

“are you... um... cold?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

you shook your head, silence running throughout the apartment.

“let me stay,” he blurted out. in fact, he had surprised you.

“you’re drunk,” you hated to admit the fact that his tone was deep and intoxicating. 

your fingers gripped his chin harshly, fingers digging into his jaw. you looked directly into his eyes. “and i don’t want to sit here and listen to you drunkenly express your love for hayami. not tonight.”

he watched as you pulled away from him, “i don’t love hayami! i don’t love her, i don’t know why you would think that!”

you stood up, trying to leave the room. you didn’t want to be around him right now. however, his hand gripping onto your wrist stopped your movement entirely.

without thinking, your hand slapped his cheek. hard. you were so angry. angry at the fact that you kept putting up with the same shit after knowing he didn’t feel the same way about you. tears perked in the corners of your eyes as you tried to control your emotions.

his beautiful face was inches away from yours as he pulled you to sit back down on the couch. his soft lips met yours for the first time. the two of you sighed into the kiss, almost as if it was some sort of relief for the both of you. his kisses were gentle, even if he was messily drunk right now. he was always gentle with you.

a soft groan escaped his lips as you opened your mouth, his tongue finding its way easily. he softly whispered against the kiss, “let me taste you... please.”

so polite.

you pulled your lips from his, looking into his blue coloured eyes. your lips partly opened. he saw your shy little nod.

“that’s my girl.”

the next few minutes had went by slowly. his lips attacked yours, his large hands pulling your body to straddle his waist, your clothed cunt pressing against his growing erection. his hands helped you grind against him as his tongue explored your mouth. your hands held tightly onto his shoulders as his hands grasped your ass.

akaashi stood up, having you stand up with him. he walked you down to your bedroom, his lips stayed attached to yours. 

the two of you made your way into the bedroom, akaashi’s jacket long discarded somewhere on the floor of the apartment. he gently pushed you down onto the bed. 

his hands found your thighs, spreading your legs open. his touches were soft and careful. he didn’t want to hurt you.

“tell me what you want me to do.”

“i want you to touch me,” you said as he removed his shirt, “please touch me.”

his hand found your ankle and lifted your leg slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto your ankle. akaashi kissed his way up your leg, his fingers removing your underwear.

his hands pushed your skirt up, his hands now grasping your legs with a firm grip. all his attention was on your womanhood now.

“so fucking pretty.”

he gathered your slick with his tongue, before drawing circles on your clit. he loved how your moans started to grow in pitch.

you affected him more than the alcohol did.

your hands clenched onto the bedsheets so tightly. he listened to your moans as his tongue ran along your messy cunt. he knew that you were holding yourself back. he could tell that your hands were clenching tightly onto the bedsheets, holding yourself back from grinding on his face.

one of his hands moved from holding your thighs down to toy with your clit. he could feel your body shaking and squirming underneath his large build.

akaashi never pulled away. even when you were starting to cum on his tongue. one of your legs had made their way onto his shoulder, the other around your waist.

akaashi’s face was coated with your juices. he removed his fact from your cunt, looking at you.

“i need to ask you... do you want to continue?”

you almost wanted to cry out now. akaashi had just made you cum. he was here right now, in between your legs, shirtless looking at you. you loved him. you loved him so fucking much. you couldn’t believe that this was happening right now.

“i want to.”

“yeah?” he placed your leg back down onto the bed, “tell me exactly what you want from me.”

“i want you to fuck me. please... fuck me.”

akaashi gave you a little smirk as he reached for his belt. the sound his belt made caught your attention quickly, your eyes darting to his lower parts.

you watched as he removed his pants and boxers. the size of his length made you press your knees together.

“i-its not gonna fit,” you mumbled softly, a deep red blush spreading over your cheeks.

akaashi chuckled, “i’ll make sure it fits.”

his voice was soft. he made you feel okay, made you feel safe. akaashi helped you remove the shirt from your body, “look how pretty you are.”

akaashi’s fingers found your entrance in no time. he pushed two fingers into you, listening to how you started moaning again. he loved the feeling of your tight walls around his fingers. he watched you clench around his fingers and with the beautiful moans you were giving him, he was ready to make you cum again. his skilled digits curled inside of your cunt, a cry falling from your lips as he did so.

akaashi leaned down to kiss your open mouth. you could feel him smiling into your mouth.

“i’m ready,” you mumbled out against the kiss, “akaashi, fuck me, please.”

akaashi removed his fingers from you, gathering your juices with the tip of his cock. he made sure he coated himself before pushing the tip in. he could hear your small voice whimpering and your soft pants. 

he looked at you, tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to adjust to his size. he softly kissed both of your tears. 

“s-so big,” you whispered against his lips as you felt akaashi slowly start thrusting.

he smirked, his head dipping down to your neck to suck and kiss your skin. he looked at you, your voice broken and whimpering. you were crying for his cock. you could feel him twitch inside of you. he pulled his dick out before pushing back in, looking at where your bodies were connected.

akaashi could see the little bulge on your lower stomach. he grabbed onto your small hand, placing it down on your lower stomach so you could feel him. he gave you another deep thrust. your body moved with his thrusts. akaashi watched as your little body shook uncontrollably whenever his hips met with yours.

even akaashi was under the impression that your small body wouldn’t be able to fit him, but it was almost as if you were made for him.

“you feel so good around my cock.”

akaashi angled your legs, hooking them to his arms. the new angle made your eyes roll to the back of your head. one of your hands grabbed a handful of his hair, making him throw his head back. your lips pressed softly along his jawline. 

“s-so good, s-so fuckin’ good,” you moaned against his skin.

your forehead met with his as his thrusts became deeper and deeper. his voice was broken, his cock twitching. 

“cum inside me,” you mumbled softly, soft enough for him to hear. his thrusts were deep and he could feel you climax around his length. 

“i love you so fucking much,” he mumbled against your skin, “so fucking much that it hurts.”

“i know,” you cooed, kissing his cheek softly, “i love you too.”

he finished inside of you. you saying that was the last thing he remembered. he felt so safe in your arms, naked and bodies tangled. he knew his cum was dripping from your stretched hole. he fell asleep there in your arms.

you felt so at home, so safe in this moment. you shut your eyes too, falling asleep, enjoying this moment.

because deep down, you knew that in the morning, you weren’t hayami. 

© all content belongs to akaashisbabygirl 2021, do not repost or change

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.” 

[mountaingoatsfirstlineaday]

I've always wondered why John repeatedly says his guitar skill + compositional creativity has improved a lot from his early days (obviously everyone's does as they practice, not what I mean)—so much of his early lowest-fi stuff is really experimental and fun sounding to me! E.g. "Chinese House Flowers" with its G7, F7 E7 ending to say nothing of the main chord progression in the song, "Alpha Gelida" which is just fucking amazing, the coroner's gambit studio version of "Shadow Song" which is soooo much more powerful than the I V centric version of it I've heard live, tunes like "bluejays and cardinals" or "new Britain" that make heavy use of suspended chords... And a lot of these early tunes have little melodic picking parts in them too. I love all his stuff but to me the boombox stuff is a lot more sonically interesting than the heavily folk/country inspired instrumentation he sometimes uses on later songs. It's different and a lot of the new stuff is harmonically complex too, don't get me wrong, but I feel like he underrates some of the lyricism and songwriting of his early stuff. Sorry for the huge ask but I wondered if you had thoughts on this

ayyyy never apologize for a big ask!! i love getting stuff like this. give me your thoughts 😈

I get what you mean, though. And I agree with you -- I love the newer stuff deeply and with every inch of my soul but there is something very... interesting, and special, about the lo-fi era of tmg music. Imo it's a little less accessible, it makes you work a little harder as a listener to figure out what the hell's goin' on, and that makes it a different experience from the newer stuff. Not inherently good or bad, but very very different.

The first thing your question brought to mind for me is how he thought that The Sunset Tree was the last record he was ever going to get to make: "But then after we moved here, I, you know, I wasn't quite sure what we were gonna do and our original contract with 4AD was for three records, and I sort of, because I'm me and I'm kind of defeatist and I have a thing about worrying that nobody actually likes me and that someday this will all be taken away, you know, I was like, well, we're gonna get to the third album of the contract and then you have to go back to the nursing business, right. So that's why I sort of, like, opened up and said 'well, I'm gonna tell a story that is true for the third record 'cause it'll probably be the last Mountain Goats record that ever gets made', was the thinking in my mind." (source) (if anyone has a video where he says this speech, that'd be great! I only know it from the wikia page on tst).

And he thought this after he had made ahwt and tallahassee.

John Darnielle can probably see in a lot more detail than we can how and in what ways he's grown as an artist, because obviously he's privy to all of the inner workings of his music. I can speak as a person who's been doing creative things for my entire life, including songwriting, that having to interact with your old work can be incredibly painful. Not just in a cringy "I can't believe I ever made that" way, but also because it might remind you of old times, events, or feelings that you'd really rather leave behind. It can be easier and better for your mental health to diminish your old work to cringe, unintelligent drivel, novice shit, etc etc to make it hurt less. Obviously I'm not John Darnielle and am definitely speaking from my own experiences, but I feel like it's a valid theory. I also come from a mentally ill place, and was abused as a child, and all of that frequently makes its way into my art.

It's also possible that as cool and fun and experimental as his old stuff is, it just isn't what he wants his music to sound like! In the early days of tmg there's a really good chance that the music sounds more experimental because it is. He was probably playing around a lot more, trying to figure out what he liked and how to make those sounds. This is also something to consider in the context of the evolving nature of the band. We've got our core group figured out now (John, Jon, Peter, and instrumental mastermind Matt) but in the early days there were tons of lineup changes and studio changes and production + mixing differences from album to album, and even from song to song, especially in the case of the triplet comp albums of 1999 (Ghana, Protein Source of the Future... Now!, and Bitter Melon Farm) and in the case of an album/ep/etc that had recordings from radio stations. If I remember the liner notes of the 2013 ahwt rerelease correctly, ahwt is the only album that the descriptor of "one guy alone in his house with a guitar (and the Panasonic RX-FT500)". I suppose that now, Songs for Pierre Chuvin also fits this description :)

Honestly, I think he underrates his old stuff too. There will never be a love song that hits me in quite the same way that Masher does. Never another song that makes me feel as hopeful as Onions and Elijah do. Hearing Water Song at the show on the 19th, I mean, it was transcendent! It's really beautiful, special material; that being said I also understand why he might shy away from it.

I hope this at least sort of is what you were talking about? If not, feel free to send in another ask and I will happily discuss more! This is my jam, and we all know how jd feels about jam...

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes​ that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross​ that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

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gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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[goodlucktai]

the ship sways but the heart is steady

chapter one: the ship sways

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, lan zhan/wei ying word count: 2549 summary: Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying puts his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. To absolutely no one’s surprise except Wei Ying’s, his family goes with him. read on ao3

x

During family dinner, Wei Ying’s phone rings, cutting mother off mid-sentence.

Jiang Cheng cringes inwardly and his brother’s face goes two shades paler. They have guests over, so mother doesn’t do more than glare hatefully in Wei Ying’s direction.

She won’t make a scene in front of Yanli’s husband, or even Wei Ying’s fiancé—Jin Zixuan is everything Yu Ziyuan wants in a match for her daughter, and Lan Zhan’s family is one of the richest on the East Coast.

Lan Zhan is also willing to give as good as he gets. His eyes are already narrowing in mother’s direction, the tentative ceasefire of family dinner wobbling precariously beneath their feet as he perceives the great and unforgivable offense of insult to Wei Ying. A-Li resolutely tries to pick the conversation back up from where it lulled, with all the steely resolve of someone throwing herself into the path of a rampaging bull. Jin Zixuan has graduated from grimacing into his wineglass to gazing hopefully at the clock every three minutes.

Always willing to fall on the grenade, Wei Ying ducks his head meekly.

“Sorry, I thought I silenced it,” he says, the shape of a laugh in his voice even if he can’t manage to drag it all the way out. He’s rummaging his cellphone out of his pocket, presumably to turn it off as a gesture of good faith. “I’ll just…”

But his eyes catch on the screen, and something happens to his expression that Jiang Cheng has never seen before.

Wei Ying stands up, so abruptly his chair sails back with an awful screech, and excuses himself. Lan Zhan follows him out of the dining room without a single word or a backwards glance. That’s all it takes for mother to pick up a scathing tirade against Jiang Cheng’s good-for-nothing, ungrateful, waste-of-space brother.

He joins Jin Zixuan in watching the clock. Worry swims in the back of his mind like a school of startled fish.

#

Wei Ying’s apartment is really actually Lan Zhan’s apartment, but the two of them have been inseparable since they were fourteen, and it naturally followed that where one of them would live, so would the other. The place is ridiculous, modern and minimalist, and it would look like something out of a magazine if not for Wei Ying’s inevitable clutter. But even the stacks of books and magazines, and haphazard easels, and little jars of paints and loose brushes everywhere manage to make the place seem charming and lived-in instead of the horrible disaster tornado it rightly should be.

Jiang Cheng asked him once what the monthly rent was but Wei Ying looked so haunted by the question that Jiang Cheng decided he didn’t actually want to know.

They’re all crammed into the conversation pit, recovering from family dinner in the usual fashion. Jin Zixuan is much more likable when his tie is loose and he’s nursing a lukewarm beer.

A-Li is clinging to Jiang Cheng’s hand so hard he’s beginning to lose circulation but he’d sooner agree to amputate than he would shake her off.

“You’re on speaker, A-Qing,” Wei Ying says with mock-severity. “Keep it PG for the children in the room, please.”

“So Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are there?” Wen Qing asks rhetorically.

Jin Zixuan sighs but doesn’t rise to it. Jiang Cheng snaps, “Listen, assholes,” partly out of half-hearted irritation, and partly to hear Wen Qing sigh the way she does when she doesn’t want to reward someone with a real laugh.

“Yanli and Lan Zhan are here, too,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. His tone doesn’t match how worried his eyes are. “This is a family-only meeting. So tell us what those texts were about.”

Jiang Cheng realizes right away why Wei Ying bailed on dinner.

There was an apartment fire. The Wens lost everything. Wen Ning is in the hospital with smoke inhalation and second-degree burns because he ran in to make sure their neighbors got out safely. All of their savings are wrapped up in putting Wen Qing through medical school. She’s adrift now in a way that Jiang Cheng has never been.

“There’s... we have an old house, somewhere out in the country. It was sold to my grandparents cheap, but they never got around to renovating it. It’s not even livable, just bare bones.”

A-Li starts crying the second Wen Qing does.

“It’s too much,” Wen Qing forces out. “I can’t do this on my own.”

Wei Ying, to his credit, actually does hesitate. A whole five seconds. And then he says, “I thought you were supposed to be my smart friend. Who said you were doing this on your own?”

He says it as easily as if it was an absolute given that he would turn his whole life around and upside down for her. All she had to do was call.

#

There is a minor disagreement between Jiang Cheng’s siblings.

“A-Li,” Wei Ying says, holding both of her hands in both of his own and looking deeply, imploringly, into her eyes. “You’re way too pregnant to fly.”

Her face crinkles alarmingly, eyes already red and puffy from recent tears. Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Lan Zhan tense in exactly the same way, at the same time.

“I won’t have you going all the way to California by yourself,” Yanli says in her most eldest-sibling tone of voice. “I won’t have it, A-Ying.”

“I am a grown-up,” Wei Ying points out gently, with all the wisdom of his twenty-four years. “I pay bills and have a job I hate and everything. And I won’t be by myself, I’ll have A-Qing and A-Ning.”

“And me, obviously,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. Wei Ying whips around to stare at him.

“Oh,” Yanli says, a blanket of relief rolling across her face. “Oh, of course.”

“You can’t,” Wei Ying hisses at him, looking more panicked now than he has all night. “Your mother—”

“Okay, first of all, don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Jiang Cheng bites back, prickly with worry for the Wens and worry for his idiot brother. “Secondly, you, going by yourself, is not an option. It’s off the table. It was never on the table. Stupid,” he adds, on principle.

Lan Zhan doesn’t contribute much to the conversation at this point but Jiang Cheng learned a long time ago that that doesn’t mean shit. Lan Zhan has more opinions than any three people combined, whether or not he chooses to voice them. There is no fucking way he doesn’t have thoughts about his fiance picking up and moving nearly three thousand miles away.

Maybe there’s some strange alternate timeline out there where he would be content to stay behind and let Wei Ying go off without him, but Jiang Cheng would bet his entire trust fund that that’s simply not happening here.

If ever there was a world where Wei Ying would be backed into a corner and forced to help the Wens alone, this world isn’t it.

#

There’s a minor disagreement between his siblings, and there’s a whole fucking nuclear fallout at home.

“I forbid it,” mother snaps. She’s livid, but she’s livid so much of the time that it started losing its edge a few years ago. “Absolutely not. I refuse to allow this family to lose face because you want to gallivant across the country for some charity case.”

Jiang Cheng sees it when Wei Ying’s posture changes. The dreamy raincloud gray of Wei Ying’s eyes hardens into heavy steel, and his spine stiffens, and his shoulders go back; the absolute opposite of his downcast self at dinner earlier. He’s willing to fight any impossible battle as long as it’s for someone else.

Jiang Cheng grew up looking up to him. He spent all of his formative years as Wei Ying’s little brother. That’s why he’s willing, too.

“The Wens aren’t a charity case,” he says. Not very loud, but he says it. It’s a lot more than he could have done when he was a kid.

“You don’t even know them! They’re just some random people on the Internet. They’re probably scamming you, and you’re both idiot enough to fall for it!”

That’s so untrue and unfair that Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to argue for a moment. They’ve never met the Wens in person, but Wei Ying has been friends with them since he was ten. They mail each other presents for Christmas and birthdays. Jiang Cheng distinctly remembers calling Wen Qing for help with biochem homework, multiple times. Wen Ning always Skyped with Yanli when he was stuck on a recipe, the two of them cooking together from three time zones apart. They’re all tangled up in each other’s lives, comfortably, irrevocably.

Of course we know them, Jiang Cheng thinks, bewildered.

Out loud, he says, “They’re not scamming us. And we already told them we’re coming.”

Mother screeches and storms around the house and throws things, but she hasn’t actually hit either of them since they grew taller than her. She hasn’t been a source of real fear since Jiang Cheng started looking down at her instead of looking up. It’s mostly just miserable to be around her now.

He remembers that fear, though. It sticks to his body like a half-healed scar. It reminds him to flinch.

#

It’s early enough in the morning that it might as well still be nighttime when Jiang Cheng and his suitcases finally show up at Wei Ying’s building. He leaves his luggage in the lobby under the watchful gaze of the concierge and takes the private elevator up, keying in the code to his brother’s apartment.

The doors roll open to the living room. Lan Zhan is holding a tiny animal carrier in his hands, gazing at Wei Ying in an extremely gross and smitten way while Wei Ying discusses the upcoming trip with their pets. Pidan and Bao are not being particularly attentive, snuffling at his chin and chewing on a piece of his hair respectively.

“Diedie has decided to be stubborn and not listen to good sense,” Wei Ying is telling the rabbits seriously, “so you’re coming with me and ruining your life instead of being safe and comfortable here at home.”

“Baba is being dramatic,” Lan Zhan informs them in turn. “And also foolish, if he doesn’t realize that our home is wherever he goes.”

“This is the weirdest domestic scene I’ve ever walked into,” Jiang Cheng says loudly, since apparently the telltale ding of the elevator wasn’t enough to announce his presence. He has to interrupt before they do something horrible, like make out in front of him. It’s a constant fucking risk with these two. “Are we leaving or what?”

So the rabbits go into their crate with a frankly absurd amount of fanfare and Jiang Cheng helps wrestle the luggage downstairs. By then, the shuttle that Lan Zhan ordered is waiting for them at the curb.

He knows it isn’t going to be a vacation. Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying has essentially put his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. It’s going to be hard work. It’s probably going to be painful, and a little bit scary.

Jiang Cheng is only involved because he chose to be, but it never occurs to him to choose anything else.

If this is where his brother is going, it’s probably the right place to go. And if it’s not, if the whole thing turns out to be a horrible mistake and he regrets all of it, then at least he’ll be in good company.

#

Wen Ning is out of the hospital by the time their plane lands, and he’s waiting with Wen Qing at the airport. Wei Ying, who by all accounts should feel as foggy and queasy as Jiang Cheng definitely does, drops his bags and sprints across the terminal towards them.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan follow at a more reasonable human pace, possibly in part to give the friends a few moments together. The busy airport traffic moves around them like a river flowing around a rock.

Wen Ning is sobbing, almost a full head taller than Wei Ying but buried against him like the little brother he is. Wen Qing is leaning quietly against the two of them with her eyes closed, as if filling her reserves and shoring up her strength.  

She’s the type of person who would be able to cow his mother with a single glance, Jiang Cheng thinks admiringly, and more efficiently than Lan Zhan ever could. She must have a spine built out of steel to be able to stand there without crumbling under the weight of what she’s lost.

And Wei Ying stands there holding them up, tireless and steady. He’s talking too quietly for Jiang Cheng to hear, saying something that makes Wen Ning nod against his shoulder. He’ll hold them up until the ground falls out from under his feet if he has to. Thankfully it’s more like three minutes.

Introductions aren’t necessary. They all just trade exhausted looks and move as a cohesive unit towards the doors.

Wen Ning starts to help with the bags, bandaged hands and all. Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng both snap at him before he can so much as touch a suitcase, and then he just waffles in place anxiously, like he doesn’t know how to person if he isn’t actively being helpful.

“Hold the kids,” Wei Ying says in the spirit of compromise, taking the pet crate from Lan Zhan and holding it out to Wen Ning instead.

Somehow, they shuffle everything out of the airport and into a rental car. Lan Zhan’s phone starts to blow up as soon as he turns airplane mode off, so he turns airplane mode back on and returns the phone to his pocket.

“My uncle has checked the credit card statement,” Lan Zhan says calmly. “My brother is handling it.”

“Poor Lan Huan,” Wei Ying murmurs.

“We have to call A-Li,” Jiang Cheng remembers with a jolt. He digs his own phone out. “She wanted us to call as soon as we landed.”

Everyone clusters in close for the FaceTime call with Yanli, who is tearful and hormonal and indignant about being left behind. Jiang Cheng begs her not to get into a fight with their mother over this. Yanli raises her chin and says, “We’ll see.”

It’s a very long drive to the estate. Wei Ying’s head sinks against Lan Zhan’s shoulder in an inevitable, unstoppable act of gravity. He falls asleep within minutes.

“You have to help me thank him,” Wen Qing says quietly, tapping anxious fingers against the steering wheel. “Help me figure out how to thank him.”

Jiang Cheng snorts, not unkindly. “What makes you think I know how?”

An entire childhood spent raising each other, protecting each other, annoying the shit out of each other, and there are still some things Jiang Cheng has no idea how to say to his brother in a way that he’ll understand. Like I’m sorry, and thank you.

Lan Zhan turns his head to the side, so that his cheek is pillowed against Wei Ying’s hair. Outside, the sprawling California countryside sprints past the windows, wild and golden under a relentless summer sun.

[im-just-a-peach]

In my dream I was out running errands with my SO and we were on our way back to the car when a poster of Hozier outside this entertainment center type place (they sold cd's, video games, movies etc.) catchs my eye and at the same time that I looked over a group of men where heading into the store all joking around with each other and laughing. One of the men was taller than the rest and had big brown poofy hair. I immediately crossed the street calling after my SO to follow. We walked in and I wasn't that certain that I even saw what I thought I saw. Then I saw a guy sitting alone in one of the listening boths by himself, it looked like Hozier but I could tell that it wasn't actually him. My SO suggested that since we were here and they had a place to get some drinks that we just hang around for a bit. So we got a table and he ordered us drinks. I was a bit sad and he was trying to comfort me when suddenly I see *him* across the room.

He was across the room with a group of guys getting settled in to play a video game. I got up immediately and walked over to him but as soon as I was in his presence a huge wave of doubt came over me. What am I doing, why am I here, he won't remember me, who do I think I am right now? My mind races and I am frozen in place just a few feet away from him. Suddenly he turns around and sees me. He smiles and I can feel my skin again, "Hey there, don’t I know you from somewhere?" he is trying his best to recall. He gets up and walks over to where I am still frozen in place. "Oh yes, you are the one who gave me that poetry book." (from a previous dream where I gave him a copy of my poetry book: available here) I can't believe he remembers but I smile and nod. "It's quite good. You should be proud of yourself." he says. I smile more and some strange sound of absolute joy escapes my body "He read my poems!" I shriek inside my head. I immediately turn crab red. "Oh damn, I am sorry I didn't bring it with me. I didn't think you'd be here." he apologizes.

"It's okay." I smile, having I finally found words again.

"Do you have a moment?" he asks me. I am awestruck, I look back at my SO. He has been watching this whole scene play out. He smiles at me and raises his drink to say 'Cheers and good luck, I will be right here when you are done.' I smile at him. I am so grateful he exists. I turn back to Hozier and nod.

He guides me away from his friends to a more quiet corner of this bar/entertainment center. I have so many thoughts running around my head but mostly I want to find space to tell him how I feel about him. "You are a brilliant poet." He tells me. I say thanks "You are a brilliant musician." I state the obvious.

He laughs and orders us each a Guinness. He looks to me for confirmation, the smile on my face is permanent and immovable. I am flying. There is no way this is real. I am having a Guinness in a pub with Hozier!!!!

We talk about art, philosophy, music, poetry, love, our families. He is brilliant and beautiful and so very warm and kind.

One of his guy friends comes over to our table and whispers something to Andrew.

"Oh shit, I forgot about that." he awkwardly laughs. "Can she come too?" He looks over at me. His friend looks at me smiles and nods to Andrew and then leaves.

"I have a fan engagement thing I need to do out front of the store. Will you join me?"

"Um... abso-fucking-lutely I will!" the beer has taken its effect on me. I cringe at what just came out of my mouth. But instead of scolding me or pulling a weird face, he laughs out loud. His laugh is amazing. It's powerful and warm and inviting. I join him as we make our way to the front of the store pub. There is a group of people all huddled together. Cheers erupt as soon as Hozier walks through the door. I find a small corner to insert myself and observe as he works the crowd, interacting with fans and signing autographs.

He is so kind to every one of his fans. They have traveled far and wide to come to his concert this evening. He expresses a sincere gratitude to each person. I am surprised at how he is able to remain sincere through it all. As I watch him I fall even more in love with this man. My head is still reeling but in this moment time stands still. I decide that I must tell him how I feel as soon as we break free from the crowd.

"Andrew are you almost done?" I whisper the quietest whisper into his ear. A small smile forms on his face as he is still signing autographs and exchanging thank yous. He nods in response to my question but never makes eye contact with me. I retreat back to my corner and patiently wait, worried that I may have broken the spell with my impatience.

After a moment, he gets up from the signing table, thanks everyone for coming and tell them he looks forward to seeing them later on this evening at the concert "How did I not know about this concert?" I wonder to myself.

He says his final goodbyes to the crowd, finds me with his eyes standing in my corner and comes over to me. He is so tall he towers over me and if it weren't for his disarming smile it would feel more like a loom. "Shall we?" he asks me looking to head back into the pub shop. "Abso-fucking-loutely. " I smile. He chuckles and we head back into the pub shop.

I am thinking and feeling so many things but I want most of all to tell him how I feel about him but since I am not quite ready and it would feel awkward after watching him interact with fans I ask "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Act so sincere with every single fan."

"Oh that's an easy one." He's surveying the room trying to find us another table to sit at. He finds some very large barstools that are currently unoccupied. He sizes me up and literally picks me up to sit me at one of the stools. I am shocked and a little bit amused. The nervous excitement of this whole event builds in me and I laugh out loud.

He joins in, not entirely certain of the why. Eventually we both come to a silence and he looks at me and says, "I can act sincere with every fan because it's not an act. I am genuinely grateful for every person that listens to my music. It's something special to be an artist, you understand that."

He gently puts his hand on my thigh. I blush but I am also almost about to cry. I do understand that. I know exactly what he is talking about. I look directly into his eyes and I know that now is my time. "Andrew." I am shocked to hear myself calling him this but he responds favorably. I continue. "I know we don't really know each other and all but there is something that I have wanted to tell you for quite some time." He is curious he leans in closer "I am in love with you. Everything about you, your music, your art, your face, your body, your mind. The way you view the world. The sincerity of your art. I have never in my life felt so strongly connected to someone that I never met... I honestly don't know what to do with all this emotion. I am not trying to date you. I understand that you don't feel the same way about me and I am okay with that but I just wanted to tell you that you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, heard or known in my entire life."

He looks up at me. His face is unreadable for a very long moment. He takes a sip of his drink. I am having a heart attack waiting for a response from him. Something anything, just show an emotion please, even if it's just get out of here and don't ever come back. He swallows. A smile starts to grow over his face. "Thank you, Elizabeth. I appreciate your kind words and your honesty. I would very much like us to be friends, if that's alright with you." I nod emphatically, all I have ever wanted was to be a room in his house. "I would like to give you something." his smile sharpens and his face glows with a plan I am not yet privy to.

He picks me up off the stool and sets me on the floor. I am actually grateful because I wasn't sure I would have been able to get off that stool. I am pretty sure it's illegal to have stools that high.

He takes my hand and leads me to a vendor's set up inside this pub store. "This is where I got my ring from ages ago."

He shows me the slightly bent ring on his right hand, the same one I have seen in photos. I look up to him still slightly confused. "I would like to buy you a ring. That way you will always remember me and we can always be close to each other, even when we are apart." I am shocked, Hozier wants to buy me a friendship ring? This is absurd. But he is sincere in his insistence and his boyish charm is disarming. We both look at rings together. I mention something stupid about how it can't be a wedding ring because I already have one of them. He looks at me a little confused but then pulls up a ring from the pile that is shaped like a letter L. "Here he says wrapping the ring around my finger. "L for Liz. This is the perfect ring." I look at it on my finger, it's gaudy and bulky and golden. This is not something I would ever choose for myself. But I can't stand to look in his eyes and tell him this. I am afraid it would break his heart if I did. "It's perfect." I respond.

He is so excited. He pays the shop keeper and we exchange phone numbers so we can call each other and talk. I thank him for the ring and I give him a small kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for spending time with me, Andrew." I feel a tear in my eye. "Of course! You are a brilliant woman. Thanks for sharing your art with me. I promise to bring it with me to my next show and share it with the audience." I blush and thank him again. We part ways. I head back to where my SO has been sitting this entire time. "Let's go home." I say. "I will tell you all about it on the way but I am tired now and I want to go home." I put my hands on either side of his face look him in his eyes for a long moment and kiss him deeply. We walk out of the pub store and I wake up, feeling lemon yellow and full of raspberries.

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

I wouldn't mind that post on VNs!

So I was gonna write three different lists, but then after writing the first part I realized this is very long and takes a while to write and nobody cares anyway so I’ll just post my recommended list only. Well, I mean, you asked, but I doubt you wanted all this lol. Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about this stuff, though. Hope you enjoy my ramblings!

An explanation for what this list is: Sometimes I know a game isn't perfect in many aspects but I still had a genuinely good time playing it, hence why I'm recommending it. Also I should mention that I could talk for hours about some of these games so if anyone’s curious about more of my thoughts, let me know.

Alright, now that that's out of the way ...

How to Take Off Your Mask / How to Fool a Liar King / How to Sing to Open Your Heart (f/m): This is a trilogy of smaller, single-RO games where you can take one of two routes depending on how you act, and they’re all interconnected where you get to meet and interact with the previous games’ characters in the sequel games. I went into this expecting very little but what I got blew me away with how funny, charming and cute the games were. They don’t take themselves too seriously, at one point an angsty male character monologues deeply about some shit, and another one just slides into frame and starts mocking him. It was so fucking funny, holy shit. Also, a central theme is literally racism against catgirls? Which is monumentally stupid, and probably the games’ main flaw, especially in the final game where it pairs up a catgirl with a catgirl racist, but that one still ends with a literal bisexual queen literally making a man her malewife because she fell in love with his cooking, so like ... It speaks for itself. My favorite game of the three is the second one, where you get to play a punchy fake catgirl and romance a pink-haired prince. And honestly, all the female protags in these games are lovely and a breath of fresh air, and the male characters are fun and not abusive assholes either. There’s full Japanese voice acting, and two out of three female protags are literal catgirls who pepper in “nya” and “mya” into their dialogue, and it’s just treated as a quirk of their catgirl race. I AM NOT KIDDING. Yet somehow it never comes off as cringe, because it doesn’t take it self too seriously. These games are just cozy. That’s the only way I can describe them. Cozy and hilarious. Play them yesterday. Dream Daddy (m/m): Man tumblr did this game dirty. This is just a cute, wholesome daddy dating simulator with gorgeous art. Coming out on Top (m/m): So you know Dream Daddy? What if it was EXTREMELY, MAJORLY NSFW? Though I realize how bad the comparison really is, the only thing these games have in common is that they’re gay dating sims and don’t have an anime art style and oh, yeah, they’re both really well-written. Or at least, extremely funny. COOT (heh) is DDADDS’ horny older cousin, and I first encountered the game on a lesbian letsplayer’s YouTube channel. Yes I watched a lesbian play a gay porn game and it was GOOD. I was there for the cringe and fun and got surprised by how genuinely funny and sometimes actually touching the game was. I can’t give it my universal endorsement because it’s not a game for everyone, as I said, it’s extremely NSFW and the menu theme literally includes the singers screaming “SEX SEX” at the top of their lungs. There’s more to this game than the porn, but there’s just so much porn. It can be censored in the settings but it’s unavoidable. However, I still think it’s worth a look just because of how funny it is and how charming the characters are. If you don’t want to play it yourself, at least watch Anima’s playthrough of it. It hasn’t aged super well in some spots but I still go back to it every now and then. Akash: Path of the Five (f/m): This game markets itself as a more “professionally produced” western dating sim, and that’s accurate in some superficial aspects. The game is pretty poorly written, but it’s absolutely gorgeous and has really good English voice acting by actual professional voice actors. The premise is quite self-indulgent, but I genuinely respect that about it. You play as the only female elemental in a village with only men, and all five of your classmates want a piece of you. It’s clear the writers have put some thought into the lore and worldbuilding of this world, but barely any of it comes through in the actual writing and plot, which is basically just a vehicle for you to get together with your boy of choice. The ROs aren’t very well-developed either, and the plot is the same in every route with only minor variations depending on which guy you pick, up to the point where the protag has the same voice lines in some parts regardless of which guy she’s talking about. It also has one extra half-route that’s so bad and pointless I genuinely wonder why they wasted resources on making it instead of spending a bit more on the writing/adding some variations to the main plot. So why am I recommending this game? Well, it’s pretty, and it sounds nice. This game is a himbo, gorgeous but dumb as rocks. Enjoy it for what it is. I know I did. Get it when it’s on sale, I think if I hadn’t gotten it at half-price I would’ve felt a bit more cranky about it. Also Rocco is bae. Mystic Destinies: Serendipity of Aeons (f/m): Yes that’s the full title, no I don’t know what it means either. You may have noticed how most of the games so far I’ve enjoyed because they don’t take themselves too seriously? Well, this one does. It takes itself SO FUCKING SERIOUSLY. Like, way too seriously. It’s a little embarrassing at points because baby, you’re an urban fantasy dating sim. Calm down. But the game has gorgeous art and 3 out of 5 routes are very good. The last route, the one with your teacher, is both the most problematic yet somehow the one that breaks down the very concept of a dating sim within its own narrative (yes, this shit gets fucking META) and it got so wild at the end that 1) I still listen to the soundtrack for that route and 2) I still remember it to this day despite finishing it ages ago. My favorite route is Shou, he’s a sweetheart, but the mindfuck route is so buckwild that I think the game is worth playing just for that. There’s also a route that’s like a neo-noir mystery? I Do Not Know. This game is many, many things and it does them so sincerely and tries so hard, you can’t help but respect it. It doesn’t always stick the landing but man, just let this thing take your hand and wax poetic at you for a bit. Also get this one at a sale because it’s very expensive to get the full version. I got it for 9 bucks on itch.io and I felt that was a fair enough price, I’d say I wouldn’t have minded paying more for it because there’s a lot of content to enjoy and/or be baffled by. Arcade Spirits: This one’s a bit more weird from what I recall, and I honestly couldn’t tell you much about it, but I remember having a very good time with it and recommending it to a friend when she was going through some tough times and she said it made her feel better. I remember it making me feel better, as well. This is a VN about an arcade and the ROs are wonderfully diverse, with very real human conflicts that get explored in each of their routes. It can get quite existential and heavy at times, but in the end it’s a kindhearted game that I think everyone can enjoy. The main character was also, how you say, mood. It’s a game about getting possessed by a video game and then learning self-love. Ebon Light (f/m): This one’s free/name your own price on itch.io so go play it. It’s a weird plot where you play as a girl who ate an elven relic? And then the elves kidnap you because you’re the relic now. All the ROs are extremely pasty (like, literally white, as in literally the color white) dark-haired elves, except for one, who’s an extremely pasty blond elf, so ... diversity? I honestly don’t know what this game is aside from unique. I used to be a bit put off by the art style but now I think it contributes to the general atmosphere. It’s a weird game that technically doesn’t do anything groundbreaking but still left an impression of “huh. weird” in my mind and I think more people should play it. The ROs are all pretty generic dating sim archetypes but done well, with bonus points to Duliae who’s just a massive creep and I love him, and also Vadeyn who’s the only bitch in this house I respect. The worldbuilding is honestly a bit buckwild and I can’t give enough credit for how unique the elves’ culture is in this game. Definitely give it a go. Hakuoki: Kyoto Winds / Hakuoki: Edo Blossoms (f/m): These two are newer releases of an older Japanese visual novel. I wouldn’t call it a dating sim, it’s ... it’s more of a super depressing historical fantasy epic with some minor romance aspects awkwardly wedged in. It’s seriously some of the heaviest and most grimdark shit I’ve ever played in a VN/otome. I don’t understand why it’s a dating sim, it doesn’t read like one, it’s just historical fantasy based on real world events with characters based on real people, and they kill and they die and they grieve and they suffer. The games are literally about the downfall of the Shinsengumi, there’s no way of avoiding everything going to shit and you get to watch and be in the middle of it all as they struggle to stay alive and relevant in a world that doesn’t need them anymore. And there’s the protag in the middle of it all, being useless and submissive and bland just the way the usual otome protag is. I don’t think these games are necessarily fun, and the romance is certainly a lot more downplayed and deeply problematic just based on the age differences alone with some of the men, but the sheer amount of horror and sadness in these games make them stand out above its peers. It’s like watching a war movie. Since most of the characters are based on real people, they feel like real people instead of the usual otome archetypes, and they are so, SO flawed, it’s interesting to just watch them deal with the shit the world throws at them. It’s an Experience, and if you’re up for it, I think it’s worth the time. Cinderella Phenomenon (f/m): This game is free on Steam so go get it. You play as a really, genuinely shitty princess who gets cursed to be poor and forgotten and she has to help one of the ROs break his fairy tale curse so that she can learn about being a good person herself and return to her normal life. This game doesn’t look like much, but it has a genuinely well-written main character who’s actually at the center of each of the stories and in the overarching plot instead of just being around to make eyes at the real protagonists, aka the love interests. Aside from the main character, my favorite part of this game’s writing is how each route slowly but very smoothly expands upon the overarching intrigue. If you play them in a certain order, you get more and more info revealed to you that you didn’t see in other routes, gaps are filled in as you find out more about what actually happened and why, but every route also stands on its own as a full experience and none is more canon than the rest. There’s also some really heavy emotional parental abuse explored, which I found quite potent at times. The romances themselves were alright, I think Karma and Waltz were my faves.

[bao3bei4]

i have basically covered the material in this post several times on my twitter. but this is, in my opinion, the only s*xy t*mes with w*ngxian take you need. 

(cw transphobia, transphobic slurs, antiblack racism, mentions of csa and bestiality in fiction)

edit 6/10/21: hi! i’m realizing people are still reading this! this was written in response to aja romano’s vox article on the fic that was published in late february of this year. i had been frustrated with how their article seemed to miss the point in many ways, because they never talked about the substance of the fic. which, i mean, fair. i wouldn’t want to read a 1million word fic either.

but i already had, so i thought i’d write about some things that i believed needed to be part of the conversation. namely, that its author wasn’t a harmless troll, but a person i genuinely disliked who i believed should be deplatformed.

i think virtual1979 is a bad person. 

i think a lot of people mainly know about sexy times the phenomenon more than they do sexy times the fic itself. i have the dubious honor of being one of the few people who has actually read large portions of the million word fic, and that’s why i wanted to write this meanspirited hit piece. 

the fic is down right now and the author’s notes and comments have both been deleted, which is why i cannot provide screenshots. however, these are all quotes i have saved from when the fic was online, and i’m happy to talk with anyone if you feel any of these quotes are mischaracterizations of the fic. 

i also want to be clear this is not a “callout post” and i’m not trying to “cancel” them or whatever. i am just explaining why i don’t like them, why i don’t feel bad they’re being harassed, and why i do not find them sympathetic at all, and perhaps why you should also adopt these stances. 

let’s start with transphobia. 

sexy times with wangxian is transphobic. this much is apparent from the tags. virtual1979 tagged the following: F*tanari, d*ckgirl, Sh*male. they use this language in the chapters that include a character with both a vagina and a penis. 

they refer to this character (wei wuxian) with the pronouns “he-she.” the following excerpt is a fair representation of how this wei wuxian is referred to in the chapters where wei wuxian has a vagina and a penis. 

[Lan Zhan] would never be turned on by a female, and he would actually be turned off by a drag queen - but this… this Wei Ying, it’s Wei Ying, and he-she looks [...]

i know these words are common in porn categories, but they are also slurs. virtual1979 also uses hermaphrodite to refer to this set of anatomy, which is not strictly a slur, but definitely a stigmatizing choice of language. 

they have repeatedly made clear they are not open to criticism. they have also since removed the comment section. making an intersex character for the express purpose of using transmisogynistic language towards them in your million word porn fic isn’t annoying the way their tags are, it’s actively fucked up. 

fanfiction has a transphobia problem, and if we’re talking about sexy times with wangxian in any capacity, we must be clear: sexy times with wangxian is part of that problem too. 

secondly, virtual1979 is also complicit in ao3’s racism problem.

i think the way they write about chinese characters and settings is annoying and racist, but they are a malaysian chinese person, so i do have some sympathy for them. i am committed to having some patience for people who are annoying if they themselves are working through the prejudice they have faced. 

they’ve commented as much: 

Not gonna lie, this fic has been a steep learning curve for me despite my roots being Chinese as well, but I have absolutely zero knowledge in some of these aspects!

and i’m happy on some level they can get in touch with their roots. who among us has not been cringe and diaspora. any criticisms i have of their portrayal of chinese people will stay private and be made to other people of color.

i’m going to be clear here i don’t think the actual comment they made makes them super evil or anything. but this essay IS clearly in response to That Article, which did mention racism in fandom. so.

i think we have all seen the infamous karen comment they made, in which they compared people who criticized their tagging with “Karens,” equating antiblack state violence to... mean comments on ao3? and “SJWs,” which, eye roll. no ageism but you’re 41 why the hell are you complaining about sjws

anyway. i am deeply frustrated by the co-option of the word karen. a stand-in for a particular type of racist violence white women specifically can and do inflict has become fused with that reddit-type mommy issue “can i speak to the manager” internecine white resentment. 

so their trivialization of antiblack racism is another reason i don’t like them. again i KNOW it’s petty to point this out here, but this to me shows that virtual is afflicted with the same kind of fandom brainrot that aja is, where everything comes back to that same sort of self-centered bullshit. 

sorry for that jab. julian told me that aja thought that cql was about callout culture and all i could think was “wow! just like virtual thinking that--” because i also have spent too much time on twitter this week. 

this is just like. part of this ongoing pattern i’ve noticed with virtual, where they’re aware enough of real problems to acknowledge they exist (police violence, accessibility issues caused by their tagging) but are determined to double down on their minor relative persecution as king, shittily drawing parallels between like... real problems and fandom problems. equating the two or allowing the second to take priority over the former is like... par for the course for this type of person! 

third, this is just another clarification on more parallels between ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on by That Article. 

i would rather DIE than get into discourse. but why did they write this sentence: 

Lan Zhan’s rational mind finally broke with a tsunami of pedophilic lusts [...]

by the way that is the start of a 430 word sentence. and yes this fic does contain hundreds of thousands of words of aged down wei wuxian. make of that what you will. 

also why would you make wei wuxian teach baby chickens how to sexually pleasure him. do you hate these characters. what’s going on. i think mxtx should be able to sue virtual for that one. 

there’s a very obvious connection between mainstream ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on in That Article. sexy times contains multitudes and some of those multitudes are bestiality and explicit childfucking. 

this is not unrelated to fannish culture, they are not unfamiliar with fannish norms, blah blah blah. this is just normal fandom. they’re not subverting shit, they’re just a normal fan who unlike 99% of fanfiction writers on twitter, spends more time writing than posting. this has taken their fannish tendencies to cartoonish heights. 

finally, they don’t care about mdzs or wangxian. they’re literally just horny and spiteful that’s it. this isn’t a question of like... “ohh they were a good faith participant in fandom until they went joker mode” and the REAL villain is society/ao3. like no they wanted to write shitty porn, and when they found out they were annoying people, they decided to double down because they could be the main character of the mdzs ao3 tag every time they found a spare hour to write. 

here are some select receipts on that topic:

they do not care about canon: 

MDZS has quite a complicated and expansive plot and history, and enough content that one can choose to tune out certain parts and still get to the end of the story in one piece. Also, because of its source, some fans may not fully realize the nuances, cultural aspects (ooh, cultural appropriation is another triggering topic) or the full breadth and depth of the source material, such as a person like me, who is half-baked in terms of knowing what the canon universe is all about. So I end up playing with characters and settings technically borrowed from the story, and make them do things that would otherwise run counter to the original source material - and that draws quite some flak from those opinionated people I mentioned just now. It's part of what makes the fandom toxic. It's like they're the self-appointed guardians of the source material and they act like they own the rights to question such questionble fanworks, and dare I say, try to take down those that cross certain lines too.

they are just horny: 

After that giddines of extra drunken Lan Wang Ji scenes at the beginning, I'm blessed with Lan Wang Ji (Wang Yibo's, actually) fuzzy nips! Bless Bless Bless, and Amen! muahs the nips on the screen

anyway they did get nuked over wishing covid on people. 

so yeah. i want to be really clear. this is my thesis: i do not feel bad for them. you should not either. i do not like them. you should not either. that’s ALL!!!! 

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Steve//i can see a better time, when all our dreams come true

hey! last part! i just want to say thank you to everyone who’s read, liked, reblogged and supported this series! you all mean the absolute world to me. i know this is gonna sound cringey or whatever, but this series is more than just that. i was originally supposed to write and post this last christmas. but something that i can’t really remember stopped me and i was so disappointed in myself. then this hell hole of a year happened and i had a major mental health crisis (something i am still recovering from) meaning i couldn’t do anything but watch the same three tv shows and scroll through instagram for about 3 months, as well as a bunch of other awful things. i thought it would be a miracle to just start writing requests again, but then when i was going through a notebook, i found this idea and remembered how much i loved it and how upset i was that i hadn’t done it. so i thought i’d try and do it, and after many, many days and nights of me stressing about the littlest things and driving my girlfriend absolutely insane by only talking about this (sorry, i love you!), i’d done it! and i am so proud of myself! i know its not the biggest achievement of the year, but it’s mine. so again thank you to not only everyone whose read this series, but also thank you to everyone who has read and supported everything i’ve done this year. i really do hope that next year is a better one for all of you! happy new year my loves! 

They say that time moves in different ways depending on the situation. 

For example, the day you spent hours driving to the beach with Steve and Robin felt like it was over in five minutes. But the time stuck under ground in a really crappy elevator with them felt more like a week. 

From the time it takes Steve to take his bandana and goggles off and to walk the three steps to you, it feels like days and seconds all at once. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight to him and the two of you let out a breath you feel like you’ve been holding for the past week. Finally you feel like you can breathe again, and finally the weight on Steve’s chest shifts a little. 

Your hair is matted, your clothes dirty and torn and there’s a cut on your cheek, blood slowly trickles down your cheek, staining your face and your t-shirt red. But you’re you, and you’re alive and you look like you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” You’re the first to speak, your words stumbling over each other. A chuckle mixed with a sob passes your lips as you hug him again, you hold him tighter than he’s ever been hugged before, it feels like his ribs are being crushed but he doesn’t care. He just presses a kiss against your forehead, and runs his fingers through your knotted hair. 

Hot tears land on the top of your head but you don’t feel them, you’re too busy crying into his shirt and the two of you stand like that for a few minute, thankful and very overwhelmed that the other one is alive and well. 

“I think I do.” He sobs and you let out a short laugh. “I love you so much Y/n. I am so fucking sorry. I’m such an idiot.” 

“No, no. It’s fine.” You cup his cheeks. “I was overreacting and I shouldn’t have stormed off. It’s fine.” You say and press a quick kiss to his lips, they’re salty because of the tears but neither of you care. “I love you Steve.” You finish and he breathes deeply, his shoulders sagging and the only thing that keeps him from falling is you. 

“I thought you were dead.” He cries. 

“Nah. You can’t get rid of me that easy.” You try, nudging his shoulder but he doesn’t smile. 

“I thought I’d never see you again. I thought...I thought.” 

“I’m fine.” You cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “Look. I’m good.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He teases and you stare at him offended. 

“Rude. You do know that I almost died right?” 

“You’re so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes and yours widen. 

“Excuse me? I’m sorry who came all the way into an alternate dimension just to save me? Oh right. You.” 

“I only did that because I had nothing better to do. You know after boxing day things got a bit boring.” He shrugs and you slap his shoulder. 

“Asshole.” You mumble making him laugh. “How did you find me?” 

“Do you really think I’d forget the place we first met?” He replies, sending you a look and you squint up at him, the light from his torch blinding you slightly. “Sorry.” He mumbles and quickly turns it off.

“I thought given the circumstances you would have at least tried.” You shrug, staring at the floor. 

“Nah. Surprisingly it was the best day of my life.” He confesses and it surprises not only you but himself. That’s something he never thought he’d say. 

He thought Halloween 1984 would be a day that always hurt to think about. And yeah, thinking about what Nancy said to him still stung, but then he remembers you. 

You, in a costume he didn’t quite get. Your expression full of irritation that only softened when you saw him crying. You who asked what was wrong and stayed with him until he decided he wanted to go home. You who the next day found him to make sure he was okay. 

“Will you marry me?” He asks and your eyes widen.

“What?” You splutter and he stares at you hopefully. 

“I love you more than I have loved anything ever. You’re my favourite person ever, you make every day brighter. On days where I think I can’t do anything, when I think my dad is right about all the the shit he’s said and that little nagging voice in my head is shouting, you’re always there to tell me I’m wrong. You’ve helped me when I’ve been broken up with, beaten up and drugged. You fought a Russians for me and beaten up creatures from another dimension without even knowing what it was. I’ve never felt safer or happier with you by my side. I know I’m an idiot, but still...will you marry me?” 

“Steve.” You gasp, tears roll down your cheeks mixing with the blood and goo. “Yes. Yes I will marry you.” You reply and he lets of a sigh of relief. “Although, you didn’t get on one knee, and I don’t see a ring.” You tease and he rolls his eyes. 

His hands cup your cheeks delicately, he ducks his head down and presses a gentle kiss against your chapped and sore lips. 

“Steve? Steve? Are you okay?” Robin’s voice crackles through the walkie-talkie and you jump apart, suddenly remembering where you are. A loud crash comes from just outside and you and Steve freeze and stare at each other.

Thunder booms so loud it rings in your ears for a few seconds after and Steve feels the weight come back, only this time its shared with you too.

“I’ve got her.” He says slowly and eyes the bathroom suspiciously. “If you’re not already at the portal, go now. We’re on our way back...over.” He says and you hear a collection of relived sighs. 

“Yay! You said it!” Annie cheers and Steve rolls his eyes.

“What she means is we’re glad you’re both okay. Now get your ass back.” Robin adds and you and Steve don’t need to be told twice. Steve grabs the bat he dropped on the floor and reaches for your hand. He starts to pull you but is instantly stopped when he hears your cry in pain. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He’s in front of you instantly, looking you up and down for any injuries, and then his eyes land on your leg, and you watch him pale. 

“Stupid ugly thing got me.” You mumble and glance down at it, you cringe at the sight of the now brown blood, and inflamed scratches. Yeah, there is no way you’re going to be able to get that stain out.

“Can you walk.” He asks and looks around for anything to help. 

“I’ll be fine Steve. I just need to get used to it.” You reply. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “Come on. I don’t want to be in Tina’s bathroom anymore than I already have been.” 

“Same.” He huffs and wraps his bandana around you. 

“What about you?” You ask while he puts the goggles on you. 

“I’ll be fine.” He waves you off. “It’s only a bit of dust.” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “Now come on.” He says quicker and wraps an arm around you. The two of you hobble towards the front door, tripping on a few vines and branches.

Steve helps you balance against the wall and the front door creaks as he pulls it open. 

“Okay.” He nods and looks back at you. “Nothing is waiting to kill us so I think we’ll be fine.” 

Famous last words.” You smirk and he rolls his eyes at you while helping you walk again. 

As soon as your outside, the door slams closed making the two of you jump. Wind rushes around the two of you and brown and black works its way into the cracks of the sky. Buildings tumble down around you, almost as if an invisible force is stomping on each of them. You and Steve share a look as the chaos seems to get closer and closer to you. 

“Shall we go then?” Steve asks, his eyes wide with fear and you quickly nod. 

“Yep.” You reply. “I hate parties anyway.” You say and a small smile twitches on your lips. Steve returns it and the two of you make your way down the steps and onto the street. 

Thankfully, Tina doesn’t live that far from you. In the past that was something you hated because it meant you couldn’t get out of parties, this time however, you’re very grateful for the closeness of your homes. 

In an ideal world, it means you’ll be able to get back to the right and semi-safe world in less than twenty minutes. However, if the past seven years have taught you and Steve anything, it’s that you don’t live in an ideal world. You live in the opposite in fact. 

Like you said, the habitants of The Upside Down, don’t care much for cleaning, and it’s only made worse now that the entire things seems to be collapsing around you. Either it’s doing it on purpose so none of you can escape, or all of you just have some really bad timing. 

“So this whole place is dying?” You ask and look around. It certainly looks like it’s dying. It has done since you woke up and its only gotten worse. You also thought it was strange that you hadn’t been eaten by now. 

“Yep.” He replies. “Apparently all those times we thought we’d won but hadn’t. Did actually do something. It just took a while for it to feel the affect.” 

“And I’m in here because?” 

“Annie said that whatever dragged you in, was probably looking for anything to eat.” He replies and you think about it for a few seconds. 

“So why didn’t it eat me?” 

“How the hell am I suppose to know.” He says. “Do I look like the scientist here?” 

“Furthest from actually.” 

“Exactly.” He smiles. 

“So what’s the plan?” 

“We get out as quickly as we can.” 

“The more detailed plan?” You roll your eyes. 

“Dustin and Lucas got a bunch of explosives and fireworks. We’ve dumped them in here and as soon as we get out, El and Will’s going to explode them!” He says proudly and you look at him impressed. 

“Wo-Watch out!”

You and Steve narrowly miss being hit by a falling tree, only to trip over some sort of decaying monster. 

“Gross.” You huff and look down at your hands, now covered in blood and guts. “Are you okay Steve?” You ask while trying to stand back up. 

“No.” He mumbles and you frown as you turn around to face him. He’s hunched over in the middle of the road, dry heaving and your eyebrows furrow as you watch him. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, however instead of answering you’re just met with a groan. “Steve? We haven’t got all day.” 

“It went in my mouth!” He exclaims and turns around, throwing his hands up in the air. “That things guts were in my mouth. I can taste blood. Oh god. I’m gonna die. Or turn into one of those. Y/n, if I turn into anything like that please just kill me. You have my permission to take a baseball bat to my head...just please, bury me somewhere nice.” He rambles making you snort a laugh. “It’s not funny Y/n.” 

“It kind of is.” You reply and he glares at you. 

“It’s not.” He mutters and slowly walks towards you. However he freezes when he notices your eyes widening. “What?” He asks. “Y/n? What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t move.” You whisper and he feels his blood run cold. 

“What?” He squeaks and watches you slowly limp and pick up the bat lying on the floor. 

“Oh god. It’s happening isn’t. I love you Y/n. Tell Robin it was me that broke her Walkman. I told her it was Dustin, but it was me.” He closes his eyes, expecting the worst. 

Something scratches at his legs and he breathes in, this is it. He’s going to die, so are you and everything is going to be for nothing. He wants to reach out for you, to hold you close and then at least you’ll be together, but he can’t he’s frozen. 

And then he hears a thud, a small whine and your heavy breathing. Slowly he opens one eye, expecting to see some sort of toothy monster staring back at him. But instead he’s met with the back of your head. He watches you drop the bat, the noise echoing into the darkness and slowly he looks down. 

He’s not entirely sure what tried to kill him, it’s unrecognizable now that’s been beaten into the ground, but it looks scary anyway. 

“It’s the same fucker that dragged me in here in the first place.” You look over your shoulder and wipe your forehead. 

“I love you so much.” He stares at you in awe. “That was hot.” 

“Shut up.” You huff but wink at him anyway. “Are you okay?” You ask and glance at his leg. 

“Oh, yeah.” He shrugs and looks at the small scratch. “I’ll be fine. What about you?”

“I’ll live.” You shrug. 

The two of you stumble around the corner and into the forest and you watch as your friends climb through the glowing doorway to the real world. 

“Guys!” Steve shouts making everyone freeze. The kids have already gone through, leaving just Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Annie and Joyce behind. Tears form in your eyes as you stare at your friends. 

“Hurry up!” Jonathan shouts. 

“I’m trying! It’s a bit difficult though with my leg hanging off!” You shout back and watch as Jonathan pushes Nancy through the goo before running towards you. 

“Jonathan!” Joyce shouts, her voice can barely be heard over the wind. It blows through your ears and makes you shiver. Trees move wildly around you and you watch as the sky starts to fall away. 

“Well that can’t be good.” You gulp and walk a bit quicker. Jonathan stands on the other side of you, holding your waist and the three of you stumble towards the portal. 

They let go of you and push you through, you land on the forest floor with a loud thud and small groan escapes your lips. 

“Y/n!” The group shout and everyone moves to help you stand. You’ve never been so happy to see everyone. Robin and Annie pull Jonathan, Steve and Joyce through. And as soon as Joyce is stood up, El and Will press the detonators. There’s a loud bang that makes you all jump back, and you watch as the portal vanishes, leaving the brown of the tree trunk behind. 

“Is everyone here?” Joyce asks and scans the group. 

“It’s a bit late if they’re not.” Robin replies. “But yes...I think we did it. We actually did it! Yes!!” She cheers and jumps up and down. Everyone shares a look before looking back at her and even Annie looks a little concerned. 

“I can’t believe you all came for me.” You pull the goggles and fabric off of your face, and tears roll down your cheeks. 

“Of course we did.” Dustin hugs you. 

“You didn’t think we’d leave you in there did you?” Nancy asks also wrapping you up into a tight hug. The res of the group follow and soon you’re in the middle of an eleven people hug...not that you’re complaining though. 

“Jesus Christ. How long were we in there?” Steve asks and looks at the now dark sky.

“Who the fuck cares. Let’s go home.” 

Fireworks crackle and explode above your head. The sky lights up with red and oranges, leading the way home for the 12 of you. 

The residents hope that the bright lights will keep the darkness at bay, but from now on, they won’t have to.

“Happy New Year love.” 

“Happy New Year Steve.”