#but like... not all therapists are good at their job and i should have dipped the second i noticed it

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[monsterparade]

realized the massive mental backslide I've been in for the past year and a half coincides with when I started with my now ex-therapist, so that's..... interesting

[billiedeansbitch]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary: Larissa's unable to sleep and it's up to you find a solution

a/n: wrote this one because my heart craves for something soft and smutty :'))

warning/s: NSFW. soft smut.

Most often than not, Larissa stirs awake in the middle of the night, she slowly unravels your arm around her middle and softly, ever so gently, moves to pry herself off from your embrace and off the bed. Quickly, she would tuck her pillow under your arm to give you something to cuddle with. And a kiss on your cheek before she leaves.

Tonight was no different, she gets up, tucks a pillow next to you, kisses your forehead and puts her robe on before she leaves the bedroom, tiptoeing all the way to her private study. It has always been like this since she can remember, she wakes up and never goes back to sleep no matter how exhausted her body feels. She considers booking an appointment with the new therapist in Jericho but never does.

Larissa sighs and opens her laptop. She does nothing but stare at the angry red notification of her unread emails. 

The door creaks as it is being pushed open, her gaze shifting and that’s when she finds you, standing there with a sleepy look on your face, your hair untamed, the strap of your tank top fell from your left shoulder. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed.” The yawn that follows makes Larissa’s lips curl, and while she feels guilty to not have been by your side, she feels incredibly warm seeing this sight in front of her. 

You walk in, shutting the door behind you, “Can’t sleep again?” you ask while settling yourself on the couch. You heard her mumble confirming that she, in fact, can’t sleep again. “Come here, love.” you told her, opening your arms and prompting her to come. 

Larissa looks vulnerable and tired, she sits down next to you but you tug her arm and motion for her to lay on top of you with her head on your chest, she refuses and grumbles about being “too big” and “too heavy” which you dismiss with a glare. Defeated, she settles on the position you told her to.

She’s tensed, from her muscles to her breathing, you know she’s holding herself back, “Let go, baby. It’s okay. You’ve been on top of me for more than one occasion and I’ve been fine. You’re not going to break me. Just let go.” 

Eventually you feel her knots loosen after a while of whispering sweet nothings as you hold her closer, your lips leaving tender kisses on top of her head. You feel her letting go. “That’s it, my love. Good job.” you place another reward on her forehead making her blush.

“I love you.” she mumbles, nestling her face to the crook of your neck and her warm, steady breathing brushes against your skin rendering your breath to halt for a second, your mind rebooting itself. “I–I love you, too.” and you feel her smirk against you.

You continue the idle work of your fingers as they run through her silken silver locks, “What’s keeping you up, sweetheart?” silence. No answer. You thought she’s gone to sleep but she shifts, pulling away from your neck. It’s my dreams… she wanted to say, but it feels foolish so she doesn’t.

She feels your thumb gliding across her cheekbone, your eyes searching her own for an answer she denied herself to say and she’s thankful that you didn’t feel the need to push and just let it be knowing that eventually she will open up to you. 

So she leans closer, brushing her lips on your lips, silently thanking you. You knew what it meant based on the smile you have once she pulls from you. “Okay.” 

“You should go and sleep.” she says, her gaze never leaving yours.

You raised a brow, “And leave you here? No. I’m not going back without you.” Larissa rolls her eyes and buries her face on your chest, grinning towards your attitude. “Fine, let’s go.” she gives up.

The bed dips with her weight, and you watch her lay on her back on her side of the bed, “I know you’re the biggest cuddler so you don’t have to pretend that you don’t want to sleep on top of me.” that made her pause, “Come here, love. I want to hold you.” hoping it can ease her to fall asleep quickly.

She can feel her heart expand from the way affection fills your voice to the fond way you look at her. There’s nothing but warmth in her chest right now as the butterflies go wild in her tummy, her head empty of her previous thoughts. Even after all these years you still have the same effect on her.

Half an hour later, Larissa’s still unable to fall asleep, shifting frequently and grunting. You can feel her growing exhausted. It’s rendering you both exhausted. “I’m sorry.” she mumbles in the dark, her breath caressing your neck, “It’s okay.” you assured her.

“Maybe there’s something else that I can do…a solution”

Larissa quirks a brow though you can’t see her, “What is it?”

“Do you trust me?” Larissa nods, “Lay on your back please.” 

Now on her back, you switched your positions. You climb on top of her, straddling her, a smile swiftly curling on her lips. She knows. 

She instinctively bit her lower lip, hand caressing your bare thigh and confidently caressing higher until they’re right under your top. “So this is your solution?” she teased, pinching your nipples.

“Yes. Now, I want you to relax, okay? This is about you.” the shapeshifter finds her arms pinned above her head, as your breath tickles her neck. “Relax, baby.” you grin to yourself noticing her nipples are hard underneath her shirt but you decide that they can wait just a little bit longer.

Your mouth crashes against her and she welcomes you with an intensity that makes you shiver, her tongue darting out to play with yours, and even that remains soft, “I love you” she breathes against you. You abandon her lips to trail kisses down her jawline, she throws her head backward, exposing her neck. You know what she’s asking for. You smile while you place one final kiss on her jaw and repeat the process down her neck, sucking a bright bruise on her pulse point before soothing it down with your tongue. “Fuck me.” she whined, her voice faltering as she spread her legs even wider, “Feel me.” she begs. 

You know it never fails to make her cunt sopping wet, her juices leaking. She feels you underneath her shorts, a smirk appearing when you realize she lacks a certain piece of fabric. She blushes hard. You tauntingly gather her wetness with your finger, spreading what’s collected around her clit. Her arousal grows thicker. “Please.” she whines, her brows furrowing and she’s staring at you with those big, beautiful eyes, asking you to plunge your fingers in her sex and just fuck her.

“No need to beg, my love.” you husked, leaving a soft kiss on her navel as you slowly crawl down her body, situating yourself in between her legs. You won’t lie that hearing her beg you makes you even wetter, there’s just something about her desperate pleas that makes your mouth go dry and your whole body burns.

“Is this okay? You good up there?” Larissa melts once more, never getting used to every time you take a moment to check up on her, “I’m fine.” 

The sweet adoring look in her eyes switched to something dark once you run the tip of your tongue from her inner thigh to her dripping cunt, spreading the pink lips apart with your thumbs to reveal more wet area and plunging in your tongue. Her moans are fueling you, challenging you to go deeper and fuck her until she’s shaking, her cum trickling down.

As you alternate between licking her hole and flicking with her clit, your hands start to wander above her hips, to her waist until you’re cupping her perfectly shaped breasts. She moans even louder, filthier, more of her juice coats your tongue. She tastes divine.

The first thrust of your fingers into her, Larissa growls at the satisfaction of being filled, of feeling you curling inside her pussy. “God, you’re so tight, baby.” and she mewls, shutting her eyes and bucking her hips to feel more. 

As you begin to fuck her, your freehand released its hold from her breast and grabbed her hand, intertwining your fingers together, your tongue wantonly licking her clit drawing more sounds from your dear girlfriend. “Ugh–yes, yes, yes–fuck, fuck me!” something about her being so vocal while getting fingered so dirty will never cease to make you smile. “I’m close, hun. Fuck me.”

You fuck her through and after her orgasm hit and her legs shake, fucks her some more with a strap, your mouth latched around one nipple while your freehand never left the other holding it for support. Larissa keeps taking it all until she’s very much spent and pushing you off. The pace falters, you stop and pull the toy from her sore cunt. She’s breathing heavily.

“Are you okay, mi amore?” Even after all the filthy things you told her while you fuck her like a whore, Larissa finds how your tone quickly shifts to being concerned and soft in no time to be fascinating. “I’m okay, just sore and tired. I think…I think I’m–”

“Shhh, know, I understand. I’ll go get cleaned up and I’ll bring you some towels to clean you. I will be back, don't move.” she sleepily hums indicating it was a job well done. You kissed her cheek before you left. 

After less than ten minutes you’re back by her side with a damp towel to clean the sticky cum and a dry one to wipe away the sweat. She mumbles something incoherent while you try to push her short up her legs, “Go to sleep, my love.” 

Once done, you laid yourself in bed and scooted closer to her, draping one arm across her waist to pull her. “Good night.” you whisper, dropping one soft kiss on her shoulder. She’s already knocked down but you feel her turn until she’s facing you, her head nestled on your shoulder. "Sweet dreams."

The next day, Larissa curses herself, her eyes widening as the clock on her side reads 12:15 pm. It’s the first time she’s slept through her 5:45 am, 6:00 am and 6:15 am alarm…

She turns to you, “This is your fault” she says, throwing a pillow on your face hoping to wipe away your grin and you only shrug, unable to mask the smile on your lips seeing the headmistress in distress as she moves around the bedroom.

[katerina-marie]

Bathtub Confessions (Eres Tú)

Sukuna x Reader

Part 4

The one where you learn that certain confessions don't always have to be romantic, but others certainly do.

Word Count: 5.7k

Notes: Sukuna x Reader celebrity!au. Takes place directly after part three. Song of inspiration: Eres Tú by Carla Morrison

Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo, found family vibes, some angst, fluff, crack, humor, out of character Sukuna (he's so fluffy), suggestive, maybe lightly explicit, tho no sex actually occurs (sorry), so please avoid accordingly.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

-------------------------------------------------------------

“Should I change my name?”

A beat of silence. A drop of water.

“No.”

“Should I get a wig?”

Another beat of silence. A clink of glass on tile.

“No.” 

“Should I flee the country?”

A minuscule half second of silence.

“Not if you’re going to quit paying me,” Toji grumbled. 

His response made the frown on your face dip down further on your lips, and you rolled your head against the back of your porcelain tub to stare at the ceiling.

“Is that all you see me as?” you whined, “A paycheck?”

“You want me to lie?” 

“That’s it, I’m going to drown myself.” 

That gets a long, heavy sigh from your bodyguard and you can hear him readjust himself on the chaise lounge seated in the middle of your expansive bathroom before he carries on.

“First off,” he grunts, “no you’re not. That would require me to pull your sad self naked from the tub, and we both know we don’t want that. Second…you know you’re not just a paycheck.” Toji goes quiet for a moment. “I’d like to think that we’ve become a sort of family over the last couple years, you, me, and Nanami. Shoot, even Megs too when he’s around.” 

His soft confession brings a smile to your face, and you turn your head to the right to look in his direction from behind a large mahogany privacy screen. It stands tall, wrapping just barely around the ends of your tub where your feet and head lay, keeping you securely tucked away from any prying eyes. It found its way there long ago, because this wasn’t the first time that Toji had played therapist from his dedicated chaise while you lounged in a hot bath and the two of you shared a bottle of wine. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, “I’m grateful you’re my friend…and my family.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I know you are. But don’t go on getting too upset or sentimental just because you’ve had a rough day. Things haven’t been that bad,” Toji said, and you groaned at the reminder.

After finally arriving home safely—no thanks to you—Toji immediately went into damage control mode and spent the afternoon fielding phone calls and text messages, though nothing too serious had been blown your way yet. 

You had received a none-too-pleased email from the producer of the movie you and Satoru were co-starring in, accusing you of sabotaging the release by not waiting to reveal your relationship with Sukuna until after the movie premiered in a few short months (as if he couldn’t tell that what happened today wasn’t by choice). Luckily, Satoru swooped in with his sweet-talking words and buttered the producer right back into promising extra money for a job well done. Though Satoru’s idea of fixing things was convincing the producer that the only premise that sold better than a classic love story was the angst of a good ol’ fashioned love triangle, and he was more than happy to play the jilted lover dead set on winning you back. You wondered what it must be like to live in such delusions. 

What really put the cherry on top of a bad day was the text you received from Sukuna shortly after arriving home. It wasn’t anything particularly worrisome, a straight to the point, “I’ll call you this evening, busy smoothing a couple things out, x,” but it had you in a fit nonetheless. After sending a quick affirmation back, you threw your phone across the couch in your living room and flung yourself onto the nearest surface to bemoan your miserable existence. Toji was not amused when that nearest surface happened to be his chest, and he only offered you five minutes of soaking his shirt with snot and tears before he drug you upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the hot water to your tub, and shoved you into the bathroom with a promise to return with wine if you quieted down for just a second. 

So here you were, an hour later, soaking under a mountain of peppermint scented bubbles while you toed at the hot water handle at the end of the tub. 

“You think if I begged hard enough Nanami would let me come stay with him for the rest of his vacation? I’m afraid I’m in need of a tropical escape,” you told Toji, already calculating in your head how quickly you could pack your bags and be on the next plane to Malaysia. 

Toji chuckled, “No, I don’t think he would, considering he refused to tell us anything more about his trip other than what country he’d be in and when he’d be back. You showing up would take seven years off his life. Add three more if he opens up the door to you sobbing like you’ve been all day. Besides, running away to another country just because you’re afraid to talk to your boyfriend is a cowardly move.” 

You ‘tsked’ at him for calling you out on poor behavior and slouched further down into the hot water in shame-filled defeat. Instead of wallowing in it further though, you popped your ankles up on the rim of the tub, tossed your arms back to hang behind your head, and clapped twice to get Toji’s attention.

“Another glass of wine, please,” you mocked in as snobby an accent as you could manage.

“What do you take me as? I’m not your damn butler,” he complained, but you could hear the quick successive cracking of his back as he stood up from the chaise and stretched. 

“Just one more and that’ll be it, I promise.” You considered what else could entice him into doing your bidding. “I’ll let you be done for the evening and take the day off tomorrow if you also bring me a plate of cheese and crackers, please.” 

Toji was silent before letting out a begrudging “fine” and shuffling out the door without another complaint. 

You marveled in the silence, nothing but the occasional lap of water as you adjusted yourself in the tub to break it. After a few minutes, however, you realized the absence of conversation was the perfect environment for your thoughts to run unhindered, and that was not something you cared to partake in at the given time. Trying to concentrate on anything else though was futile, and perhaps trying to wade through your own head for a few minutes would leave you feeling better when you chose to pointedly ignore it once your butler…ahem, Toji, returned with your snacks.

Besides falling on national television—and underneath Gojo Satoru nonetheless—you had a particularly difficult time deducing from yourself what exactly about the accidental revelation of your relationship with Sukuna caused you so much embarrassment. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be associated with him or that you always intended for the relationship to remain secret until it had reached its course; your desire was quite the opposite, actually. It was a feeling best left to baser animals and bedroom activities, but the idea of staking a claim, proving that he belonged to you in a way, was not unappealing and not something you could talk your way out of thinking, especially with the world the two of you lived in. 

If you got down to it, the real problem lay in your unfortunate habit of caring what people thought. You didn’t want Sukuna to see you as childlike, only a few years younger than him in age but miles behind in maturity. You didn’t want him to view today’s incident as a misfortunate foreshadow into the “what if’s” of your relationship. Neither did you want the world looking at the two of you and questioning how exactly something like it came to be. Where Sukuna was all sharp angles and dark colors, suave nonchalance and carrying a presence that demanded to be seen, you felt painfully opposite. You wouldn’t self-deprecate and believe that you were unworthy of standing beside him, but just cognizant of how different you felt. More like something that could be just as appreciated, but more likely to be overlooked and favored over something brighter. A “mismatched pair” is what they would call you, something that struck you so vividly that the pressure in your chest increased ten-fold. You knew he would hear it, see it, be made aware of it, and while he may not agree right away, you wondered how long it would take for the sphere of influence to get to him too. The anticipatory grief (as your actual therapist called it, usually followed by anxiety) of waiting for someone you valued so much to realize that he had better options was enough to make you consider running away from the whole thing entirely. 

And that’s how you came back to scheming your departure from the country. If you hurried, you could probably towel off, pack a bag, and slip out the back before Toji realized (you wondered if the big oaf had decided to take a nap instead of bringing you snacks for how long it’d been since you last heard him). Surely Nanami wouldn’t abandon you in your time of need if you were wailing at him over the phone in the airport of a foreign country. 

But alas, you heard your bathroom door open, effectively cutting off any means of escape.

“It’s about time, Toji. What took you so long?” He neither spoke, nor took another step. “Eh, no matter. Bring me my snacks, please.” 

Footsteps continued again and before you could chastise Toji further, a voice spoke up from right behind your privacy screen. 

“Should I be concerned with the normalcy of your bodyguard attending to you while you’re naked in the bath?” 

The shock of hearing Sukuna’s voice caused you to jolt, sending your legs into the water with an unmistakable splash and leaving you to scurry back into a sitting position from where you had slipped dangerously close to submerging your whole head underwater. The indecency of it all would kill you if this conversation that was about to happen didn’t.

“I assure you,” you started, hoping you didn’t sound as wrecked as you felt, “it is not nearly as salacious as you made it out to be.” 

Sukuna hummed. “Really? Because it sounded as if you were expecting him, and when I ran into him downstairs he told me to tell you that he would be back up to deliver wine and cheese shortly. Sounds like a romantic evening to me if I’ve ever heard one.”

You were relieved to hear a hint of amusement in your boyfriend’s voice, but horrified at what he was saying. 

“Please stop implying things that’ll make me gag.” 

Sukuna chuckled, but was quiet for a minute until, “You have five seconds to tell me to stop before I move this privacy screen so we can talk face to face.” 

You shot upwards, looking around hurriedly as you tried to scrape the remaining bubbles in the tub to strategic places in order to maintain your dignity, though you realized a moment later that it was probably unnecessary. With a second left, you brushed tendrils of your hair away from your face and wiped your thumb across the top of your lip to remove any remnants of a wine stain from your skin. In the next, Sukuna was pushing aside the privacy screen and looking down at you with a blank—but not unkind—expression. You eyed him warily as he walked up to the edge of the tub and dropped a cushion from the chaise Toji was sitting on earlier to the floor. He settled himself down onto it and then placed his elbow on the edge of the tub so he could lean in close to you. 

“Hello,” you whispered to him, settling both your arms down next to his and then resting your head against them. A small smile crossed his face.

“Hello to you too.” 

You were surprised at the lack of tension in his face, no clenched jaw or heavy brow to be seen, and as you trailed your eyes further down his torso you noticed its absence there too. His shoulders were relaxed, and his chin was cupped in the hand propped up on the tub so he could gaze at you with those unnervingly observant eyes of his. You wished he’d been wearing a t-shirt instead of the thin navy turtleneck he currently had on so you could focus your stare on the black tattoos decorating his body. Aside from being intricate, and distracting, they always gave you something to look at when meeting his eyes felt like too much. 

The tenderness of Sukuna’s knuckles meeting your temple forced you to look back up at him, only to see that he was following the path his fingers were making over your skin. They grazed over your cheekbone, feathered down the bridge of your nose, and then were skimming over your mouth, his thumb catching ever so lightly on your bottom lip. His hand didn’t linger there, and it was quick to skate over your jaw before his thumb landed under your ear and the rest of his fingers tangled in your hair while his palm cupped your neck. With a slide of his other hand up your arm and down your back to press between your shoulder blades, Sukuna brought you close enough to him that he was able to reach the rest of the way over the tub and kiss you. His lips remained pressed against yours for a second or two before he broke away, hesitated, and then leaned in to do it once more, twice, and a third time. 

You were the one that put space between the two of you, sitting back in the water and drawing your knees to your chest. You desperately needed to inhale without smelling the crispness of his aftershave or the spiced warmth of his cologne, both of which were guilty of making your head spin. 

“You’re not mad at me?” you asked, breaking the silence before he had a chance to, before you lost your nerve. You watched as his head tilted slightly to one side, his expression a touch befuddled, but full of disbelief. 

“Why would I be mad at you?” He questioned slowly, moving himself to his knees on the cushion so he could go back to resting his arms on the tub. 

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be,” you told him, your voice a bit sharp. “I inadvertently told anyone with access to the internet that we were dating, without even talking to you about it, and then proceeded to flee the scene like a coward instead of getting back out there to present myself as confident enough to own up to my mistakes. Not to mention the fall with Satoru right before. It’s embarrassing. The whole thing made us—me—look like a giant mess!” 

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you bit down on the inside of your cheek until you tasted iron. Sukuna looked pained, and he reached a hand out to play with your fingers as they sat at the top of your knees. 

“You’re not a mess,” he said, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the middle knuckle of one of your fingers, “and I’m not embarrassed either. I never intended to keep us a secret, and I’m not trying to implicate you when I say this, but I don’t think I ever implied doing so that evening.” 

“Well, yeah,” you huffed, the twinkle in his ochre-brown eyes and the mischievous grin on his face as he hinted to the night the two of you cemented your relationship into the category of “official” making your face get warm, “we didn’t do a whole lot of talking after that point.” 

You tried to jerk your hands out from under his to cover up your cheeks, but Sukuna was unrelenting in his hold, and you gave up before continuing on, “I know you never implied that you wanted to keep our relationship hidden, but that’s been the theme of whatever we’ve had going on these last ten months. We were sneaking around from the very beginning, we lied about it to Yuji and Choso, and then let’s not forget about the whole incident of being caught by Satoru,” you pointed out to him, feeling the slightest bit smug when he looked chagrined. 

“I apologized for that,” he reminded you, his voice tone faintly defensive. You squeezed his hand in comfort. 

“You did, and I’m not upset about it.” 

You took a deep breath and cast your eyes everywhere except Sukuna, taking in the details of your bathroom as you tried to muster the courage to share your insecurities with him. He never let his attention on you deviate, and between that and the heat of the water you had been in for almost two hours, you were beginning to feel lightheaded, and everything finally came rushing out of your mouth.

“I feel like we’re mismatched! It feels like everytime someone looks at us, they’re going to wonder why, like we don’t fit well together. And I’m not saying I believe that, or that you would believe that, and I know this whole thing sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous, but it’s hard to get outside of my own head about this when I already love you so mu—,” 

The startled look on Sukuna’s face is what clued you in to the fact you had said something you had not intended to. You snapped your mouth shut with an audible click of your teeth and used your feet to push away from him and to the otherside of the tub, wrenching your hands out of his grasp. 

If someone asked why you never liked to talk about your feelings, this was why. Why the words that came out were never as eloquent—or as sane—as the thoughts in your head was something you’d pay so much money to figure out. And Kento was about to have no choice in letting you hide out with him for the rest of his vacation because you were no longer asking, and if he was interested in keeping his job he would do so without complaint. Even so, you considered that forcibly releasing Kento from the grip of a career that was so wrought with overtime would be another mercy for the overworked sal—,

“You know what I think,” Sukuna murmured, bringing you out of your own head to focus with rapt attention on the blissfully contented expression he wore. His fingers curled around the tops of your arms as he reached out to slide you back to his side of the tub, and when you were close enough again, he pushed his nose into the plushness of your cheek to nuzzle there affectionately. You were transfixed by a small tan freckle on the edge of his eyebrow that you somehow hadn’t noticed before.

“I think this whole time you’ve been so focused on pleasing everyone around you—which isn’t necessarily unadmirable, I promise—and treading with extreme care to take into consideration my feelings about our relationship that you haven’t noticed what’s been going on…or I haven’t been doing a very satisfactory job of making it apparent.” 

He said the last part more under his breath, but didn’t give you a chance to interject with an objection before he carried on, making intently sure your eyes were on his. “From the very beginning, even when all I had of you were fleeting touches and secret meetings in questionable places, I was always bound to fall in love with you.” 

You didn’t know what to say, what to think, and trying to wrap your head around the fact that what you considered to be one of the worst days of your life was ending with unintentional confessions of love in your bathtub wasn’t helping. So you did what you could and traced a finger down one of the tattoos under his eyes, hoping he would keep talking.

“We aren’t a mismatched pair,” he insisted, his eyelids fluttering slightly at your gentle touch, “I think we compliment each other quite well, so please, don’t try to hide or run away.” He fixed you with a pointed look that told you Toji had warned him of your current status as a flight risk, and you ducked your head slightly and in a way that you hope conveyed repentance.  

“Because you must know, I will always be chasing after you.”

You wasted no time in hurrying to crush your lips against his and throw your arms around his neck, because what else was there to do when words couldn’t suffice, other than to surrender to the melding of bodies? 

Sukuna reciprocated in fervor, breaking apart from you only to stand up from his place on his knees, and reached down to cup his hands under your bottom, lifting you out of the tub and securing your thighs around his hips while his mouth found yours again.

He seemed to care not that you were dripping water on the floor and soaking the front of his clothes from where you were pressed tightly against him. He stumbled back a couple steps until the back of his knees made contact with the chaise, and the two of you fell back onto it. Sukuna adjusted you to straddle his lap, his hands clasping at your hips while your hands scrambled down his back to pull up his shirt. You ground your pelvis down against him as he dropped his head to mouth at your neck, and the rough groan that elicited from his throat had you deciding that your bed was too far away to justify taking time to separate, and that the convenience of the chaise was worth going to the trouble of having to buy Toji a new one. You had no more than let the thought flutter through your head when an obnoxiously loud knock resounded through the bathroom. 

“You two haven’t drowned yet, have you?” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Sukuna ripped his lips away from where he was sucking a mark into the space where your shoulder blended into your neck, and met your gaze with one that dared you to intervene. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, using the grip he still had on your waist to hold you in place while he rolled his hips up into yours, and you prayed that the moan you let out wasn’t as loud as it sounded. Even if it was, you hoped Toji would get the hint and make himself scarce.

“Look, I get it,” your bodyguard remarked, sounding both amused and vaguely uncomfortable, “but it’s kinda, maybe important.” 

With both the mood dashed and your anxiety spiked again, you patted Sukuna on the shoulder in a bid to get him to let you slide off his lap. He rolled his eyes, exasperation—and lustful desperation—painted clearly on his face, but he helped you down without giving you any grief and grabbed a black fluffy robe from where it was draped over your privacy screen. He held it out so you could thread your arms through it, and then he proceeded to tie the belt securely around your waist. 

“Come in, Toji,” you called, moving to sit on the chaise while Sukuna came to stand at your back.

Your bodyguard waited a moment before opening the door, peeking his head around first and then sauntering in with his normal arrogance to lean against your bathroom counter just a couple feet in front of you.

“Glad to see that nobody’s drowned. There’s only one of you I’d be willing to do mouth-to-mouth on,” Toji joked, clearly proud of what he had come up with. You felt Sukuna’s hands come to rest on the tops of your shoulders, his fingertips digging into the muscles lightly. They relaxed when you bought one of your hands up to twine your fingers with his. 

“So, to what do we owe the interruption?” you asked. The amusement on Toji’s face vanished, and in its place came weariness. 

“I just got off the phone with Nanami, and—,” 

“You called him?!” You yelped, springing up from your seat, “I begged you not to!”

“Whoa, Whoa,” Toji cautioned, raising his hands up in a surrender, “easy with the accusations. He called me. He knew.” And before you could open your mouth to ask how, Toji’s expression darkened and his eyes flicked up over you to glare at Sukuna. “Uraume called him.” 

You whirled around to look at Sukuna, who—thankfully—seemed just as surprised by the news as you did. 

“I didn’t ask them to do that,” he assured you, then turned to Toji, “did Nanami say what they wanted?” 

“Just to talk about the whole situation, more or less. Nanami said they only talked for about ten minutes, but they’re planning to discuss things more when he comes back in five or six days.” Your bodyguard sighed and crossed his legs as he leaned back further against your counter. “He was nearly ready to hop on the first plane home, but I managed to convince him to finish his vacation. Told him it’d damn near break your heart if he came back early.” 

You plopped back down on the chaise, bone tired and completely ready for this whole day to be over. 

“Thank you, Toji. I’m sorry for jumping down your throat like that.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Princess,” he said, pulling a vaguely familiar set of keys out from his pocket and pushing himself off the counter to walk towards the door. “You two going to be okay if I head out? I have some errands to run and then I’ll probably crash at Megumi’s tonight instead of the staff quarters.” 

You nodded at him, sending him off with a wave before shifting to look back at Sukuna. 

“Stay with me?” you pleaded. He answered with a kiss to your hair, and then offered his arm so you could stand from the chaise. He followed after you into your bedroom, and the faint flutter of clothing made you glance back over your shoulder. Your heart began to race at the sight of his bare chest, tattoos displayed in full glory. You must have made some kind of noise because he looked up at you from where he was draping his shirt over the back of a lounging chair in the corner of your room.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said sheepishly, “my clothes are wet.” 

You shook your head, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched the muscles in his back flex as he bent down to push his jeans to the floor, leaving him in simple grey underwear. There must have been something written all over your face as he began to walk towards you, for he was reaching out to pull you into him as soon as he got close enough.

“I’m tired, Sukuna,” you warned as he pressed your cheek to his chest, though you wondered if you could muster up the energy to continue where the two of you had left off in the bathroom. Surely he would make it worth your while. 

“I know,” he told you, voice light and good-natured, and he tightened his arms around you briefly before stepping back and nodding in the direction of your bed, “why don’t you go get comfortable. Toji left your snacks on your dresser. Want to finish them off before bed?” 

With a grateful nod, you turned to leap onto your bed, sitting down in the middle and wiggling with excitement as Sukuna came to join you. He sat the tray of food and wine in between the two of you and crossed his legs underneath himself before picking up a piece of cheese and offering it to you. You smiled in thanks and began to nibble on it while he surveyed his options. 

“Mhm,” you started, an errant thought popping into your head, “I’m assuming since Uraume knows that Yuji and Choso know now as well?” Sukuna raised his head slowly from where he had been studying the various snacks, and the hint of guilt on his face wasn’t confidence inspiring. 

“They do,” he drew out, observing you carefully, “they were both watching the interview with me.” 

You groaned as white-hot embarrassment flooded your body, and you fell back against your pillows, grabbing one to shove over your face to muffle the bitter laughter you couldn’t control. “What do they think?” 

“It’s nothing you should be worrying about,” Sukuna said, suddenly sitting by your head and lifting the pillow off your face to set it above your head, “you know they adore you. Choso was his normal, level-headed self. He’s happy for us. Yuji was just as ecstatic once he got his laughter under control, if a bit disappointed that we hadn’t told him.” Your boyfriend paused, his face darkening suddenly, and you watched with interest as a muscle feathered in his jaw. 

“What?” you asked, pushing yourself back into a sitting position and poking him in the arm to urge him to explain. He shook his head, clearly annoyed.

“You know what that little shit said immediately after? He thought that you and Gojo had been secretly dating and were waiting till after your movie was over to say anything.” 

Obnoxious laughter erupted from you, and you hurried to slap your hands over your mouth to try to conceal it as Sukuna’s face fell. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you rasped out in between giggles, unable to stop it as you watched Sukuna sit back against your pillows with a huff and a crossing of his arms. 

“The little idiot is just dense. And delusional. Anyone could see that you and the q-tip don’t have any real chemistry.” He sounded an awful lot like he was trying to convince himself of the truthfulness of his own statement. You wondered, affectionately, at which brother was a touch deluded. You were a fine actor, thank you very much. And you were about to open your mouth and say so when something ‘plinked’ off the window next to your bed. 

Strange. Your bedroom was on the second floor. 

Sukuna jerked his head up, all traces of humor forgotten, and the two of you listened for the noise again. 

Plink. 

“What the hell,” he muttered, pushing off the bed so he could go inspect the noise, “stay right there.” 

You appreciated the concern in his voice as he began to lift the window pane open, and he had just begun to stick his head out to look around when something small smacked him right between the eyes, sending him butt-first to the floor. 

“Sukuna!” you gasped, rushing over to kneel by his side and lift his hand from where he had it pressed to his forehead. You didn’t get a chance to fawn over him any further before he was up on his feet and striding to your bedroom door. 

“Be right back,” he growled, throwing the door open and cursing all the way down the stairs. 

You heard something land next to you on the floor, utterly perplexed when it turned out to be a rock from your flower beds. You got up and tiptoed over to the window, just barely lifting your head over the pane as to avoid becoming another victim of a flying projectile, then shot to your feet when you caught sight of a familiar white-haired costar outside beneath your window.

“Satoru!” You screeched, dumbfounded by his mere presence and the way he waved up at you, completely unbothered, “How in the world did you get through the gate?!”

“Hey! There you are!” He called, with a lazy grin on his face, “that’s not really important right now.” 

“I would disagree!” You yelled back down to him, making a mental note to have Toji go over all the security points around your property after his day off. “What are you doing here?” 

Satoru laughed sarcastically before the smile on his face suddenly disappeared, and he propped his hands up on his hips. “Where is my car?” 

No. Way. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Satoru.” 

“Nope! Give me back my car. It’s one of a kind!” 

You groaned, reaching up to massage the burgeoning headache you could feel at your temples. “Are you sure it’s not out there in the driveway? Toji left just a bit ago, so you shouldn’t be boxed in or—,” you cut off when the memory of your bodyguard twirling an unfamiliar set of his keys around his finger as he left your bathroom flashed across your memory.

Oh god, that absolute bastard. 

Satoru must have caught the horrified look on your face, as well as how you suddenly stopped talking after mentioning Toji because his face blanched even paler than usual, and his voice was two octaves higher in distress when he hollered back up at you.

“Does that criminal have my car?!” 

You deserved a vacation at this point. 

“I’ll call him in the morning, Satoru, I promise. And I’ll make sure he washes it for you or whatever you want, just come back tomorrow.” You hoped placating him with the prospect of torturing Toji would convince him to leave, but no, he still stood rooted to his spot down below. 

“As fun as that sounds,” he mocked back up at you, “I can’t.” 

“What do you mean you can’t?”

He looked a bit like a toddler caught with his hand somewhere it shouldn’t be. “Suguru dropped me off and then left in a hurry. He said he had something to do.” 

You couldn’t believe that the universe thought that pairing those two together in any capacity was worth the absolute chaos they unleashed on the poor, unsuspecting population. 

The slamming of your front door caught your attention, and you figured your boyfriend was about to make himself known.

“Look,” you sighed, backing away from the window slightly, “you can borrow one of my cars and swap it tomorrow when Toji brings yours.” You ignored Satoru’s protests and started to close the window. “Just apologize to Sukuna for hitting him between the eyes with a rock and he’ll open the garage for you.”

You caught the confusion on Satoru’s face, and just barely heard his panicked remark as you shut the window.

“Oh, fu—.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Whew, that one took it out of me, not gonna lie. Angst and I are not friends.

[brilliant-red-eternity]

Psycho-Pass Providence:

my attempt to write a movie review.

I finally went to the movies and watched Psycho-Pass Providence with a friend last Tuesday. I knew the film would be packed with plot and action so we decided to see the German dubbed version. We just wanted to have a good time, and some nachos with cheese dip and beer. The cinema was maybe a quarter full which I don’t think is too bad for a weekday. There even was a girl cosplaying as Akane. I was pretty nervous the whole day. After reading so many negative reviews on Tumblr over the past few months, I prepared myself for the worst. Will Providence ruin this series for me? Is Shinkane dead? My friend encouraged me by saying, “watch the movie and form your own opinion”, and that’s what I did!

Providence is a diffuse colossus of a story but I liked it much better than PP3. The story is very action-heavy and plot-driven. You can feel the absence of Urobuchi’s writing because relatively little emphasis is placed on the emotions of the characters or their development. The dialogues are rather short and the action scenes quite long. Explosions and battles largely replace social criticism. Precious moments are few and far between. I think Ubukata came up with a really cool and offbeat plot, it’s just way too big for one movie. He should have made Providence into a series with many episodes, but that’s just my opinion. I can’t shake the feeling that he simply placed the characters into his massive plot as if they were chess pieces. Everyone does their job. They rush from one action to the next. Saiga is dead. On it goes. Akira is dead. There are no breaks. The ending is also very rushed and if I hadn’t already known why Akane shoots chief Kasei, I probably would have left the cinema with a massive question mark.

The Shinkane content in Providence is quite nice. And to say it right away: yes, I saw their hands touch in that bridal carry scene. It was very clear and less rushed than I thought. I’m just not sure if their fingers were intertwined or if Kogami had his fingers around Akane’s hand squeezing it. The phone call was also funny. My friend just sighed in her seat next to me and said a little too loudly: “I can’t believe Akane is in love with this clumsy idiot! Why can’t he just apologize?” Yeah, why? Akane hung up the phone and her face was so adorable. The romantic comedy was only perfect when Saiga cheered Kogami on in the elevator afterwards (“Come on, make an effort!”) and Ko acted like a petulant child (“I don’t know what you mean!”). Really, Ko? You were playing dumb in front of sensei? Was Kogami embarrassed that his former teacher was interfering in their relationship? However, these two were in dire need of counselling that’s why I found the idea of Saiga acting as their therapist quite entertaining.

I still don’t know what to make of Shinkane in Providence. I have too many thoughts and feelings, that’s why I’d like to deal with this topic separately in another post. Shinkane is not dead at all, but it hasn’t evolved either. Each of them basically does their own thing when it comes to work and I can’t shake the impression that Akane would have found Kogami rather unsexy if she had met him for the first time in PPP. I love Kogami, but he doesn’t contribute much to the story except that he saves Akane’s life in the end.

Now that I’ve seen the film, it sounds more than absurd to claim that they have no other relationship than a collegial working relationship. I mean, it’s obviously not work or a shared conviction that ties them together and makes Akane answer the phone late at night, but their old acquaintance. They have an unresolved personal conflict between them, and a wide range of unexplored emotions. All the social awkwardness fits in with that. And the creators even went one step further with the romantic scenes:

I already knew about the scene in which Kogami jumps on top of Akane (and between her legs) to protect her from an explosion but I didn’t expect the whole thing to play out in slow motion. Holy shit! My heart leapt. I mean, what am I looking at here if not a romantic subplot? You can see every detail crisp and clear: how his hands are embracing and protecting her head from the impact, how their bodies stick together rather indecently. And Akane and Ko don’t immediately get up and run, no. They stay put for the time being looking at each other and then Ko states the obvious like a brain dead fool: “It’s a dangerous place, we should retreat.”

Yeah, well… who would have thought that explosions and shootings would be dangerous? Kogami’s blood must have gone from his brain to some other part of his body, there’s no other way to explain this level of silliness. We’ve already seen Kogami protecting Akane from an explosion before. He threw her like a sack of potatoes in the movie but THIS is something else entirely. THIS is screaming “You’re the most precious person on earth to me”. Same goes for the bridal carry. The scene isn’t as rushed as their encounter in the wheat field, no. The animators kind of savour their last scene in Providence and you have to be wilfully blind to not notice Kogami’s affection for Akane or their touching hands.

I can understand the widespread criticism of Kogami’s strange behaviour in PPP. It’s not quite what I expected either, but I didn’t expect anything else. Sounds crazy, huh? I know. I don’t know if Ubukata’s writing style is to blame for Ko’s derailment. I guess the writers deliberately wanted to create some tension in the form of personal conflict which is a common and cheap trick that can also be found in romantic YA literature.

It is nevertheless credible to a certain extend. Kogami has returned to a world with a wall between latent criminals and citizens with healthy Psycho-Passes. Social conventions are a corset. They make us act differently. The fact that he doesn’t hit on Akane actually says a lot of good things about his character. He knows nothing about her life, except that it hasn’t gone down the drain yet. What role does he still play in Akane’s life? Does she even need his help? When you look at Kogami’s issue with addressing Akane properly, it becomes clear that he’s uncertain: kanshikan, omae, anta, yo. Akane has already gathered a team around her and Kogami is standing outside the door. He’s the odd man out. He’s also an incorrigible idiot who doesn’t have it in him to apologize.

They give each other nothing at first. That’s why I like the scene in the hospital so much because it changes their relationship for good. Akane’s visit is proof to Kogami that he is important to her. She cares about his health and she even takes the cigarette from his mouth. Akane also invites him to join her team (“We’re a team, right?”) and you can see the relief on Kogami’s face. After that, their interactions become lighter and more honest. Team PSB and Team SAD no longer go separate ways.

I really like the camaraderie between Kogami and Frederika. I found them both very independent in their work, which led me to ask whether Frederika is his boss at all. I read somewhere that they both have the same rank of “special investigator” which also fits in well with the way they talk to each other. I remember Akane asking Kogami during their phone call what Yabuki thought of his past actions. I guess that makes Shogo Yabuki his boss and Frederika his senpai? There was one thing that annoyed me, though, and that was that Frederika did everything her boss Yabuki told her to do. She even kept it a secret from Kogami that they were using Saiga as bait. Why didn’t she say “no” for once?

Providence has a few highlights that I just can’t leave unmentioned. It isn’t the best film, but it’s also not as bad as many have made it out to be. The scene in which Gino grabs Kogami by the collar, calls him an asshole and pushes him roughly against the glass pane of the office was quite the cliché. It could have come straight from a fan fic. Kogami remains calm and I don’t find him arrogant. Sugo tries to intervene, but I had the impression that it’s primarily Akane’s staged indifference towards Kogami that keeps Gino from exploding with rage. Gino pulls himself together the moment he sees Akane entering the office. If there’s one thing I love about their dynamics, it’s how they always try to protect each other in the most subtle but effective way. Gino is like the big brother we all want to have. He is by Akane’s side after Saiga dies and he reminds Kogami of the duty to not let Akane become a latent criminal. I can’t say often enough how much I adore Ginoza and his loyalty to Akane.

But Gino does not only protect Akane, he also saves Frederika’s life twice. These two have a little scene in Providence that I find cute. Standing amidst the ruins of the building after the battle, Gino asks Frederika how she is. She says “not too bad” while stroking her hair almost sheepishly like a schoolgirl. Is it the first time that a colleague asks Frederika about her well-being? Is this how things are at the SAD? I never saw Kogami turn around to look at her, even though she always saves his stupid ass from getting kicked. And her boss Yabuki only ever entrusted her with the most dangerous missions (aka “dirty work in the name of justice”). It really sucks to be a strong woman sometimes. It sucks when performance is always expected without complaint. That’s why it’s all the more refreshing when a hot guy like Gino asks if you’re still alive, right Frederika?

Overall, it was very cool to see Frederika on the battlefield since she’s quite capable and knows how to handle weapons. I didn’t like her passive role in PP3, where she just sat in her neat little office and gave orders. PP is kind of understaffed in terms of female characters so it was good to see Frederika having a more active role this time. I hope that in the future they will give her a backstory. It’s more the personal things that make a character interesting for me. I mean, what was her relationship with Yabuki? She shed a tear after his death, or was this just an optical illusion?

There was nothing to complain about the quality of the animation in Providence. It was first class. The wedding was beautiful and I really liked the colours and fireworks of the Chinese New Year festival in the streets of Dejima. It made a nice contrast to the gloomy dark dystopian world of Sibyl. The Chinese New Year also brings me directly to the scene that, oddly enough, touched me the most: Akira’s death. Atsushi Shindou shoots him on the roof of the MoFA as the fireworks go off and with his last words Akira says, “Take care of Kei, I want him to have a different life than mine.” It was a beautiful but also very sad moment. There were many deaths in the film but the pace of the story was way too fast for me to mourn them properly. It’s a shame, especially since most of the time was spent on action scenes. I don’t know how many minutes I watched Sugo trying to shoot a satellite out of the sky with his drone.

Saiga’s death is tragic but it has great influence on Akane. In the end, his last words (“justice and truth are multifaceted”) encourage her to stand up for her convictions and turn against Sibyl in order to uphold the law. I noticed that Saiga is already very tired at the beginning of Providence, as if he no longer expects anything great from life and prefers to pass the baton to the younger generation. Perhaps that is also why he tries to persuade Kogami to bury the hatchet with Akane. “You should apologize to her. Take this advice from an old man like me.” It seems that he wanted to leave the world in peace, knowing that he has given his students all he could give. So from that point of view, his passing is dignified. His hands are even folded and placed on top of his chest after he dies. I couldn’t help but think that it is meant as a religious gesture: that he will be accepted by God if not by Sibyl.

Sibyl is as disgusting as ever and that’s all there is to say. Their hypocrisy is simply unbearable. And then no one has the courage to stand up for the preservation of the rule of law – least of all the Ministry of Justice. What a joke! We also learn that it’s totally fine for Sibyl to give absolution and sovereignty to a group of criminals (the Peacebreakers) as long as they come from their own criminal ranks. Well, one crow does not peck out another crow’s eye, right? I don’t know whether Atsushi Shindou could be trusted or not, although he has pulled some important strings in the background. The old man seemed weary just like Saiga, but he thought very highly of Akane and campaigned for her in front of Sibyl which made him likeable in my eyes. He was also a good mentor.

I must not forget to mention the true antagonists of the story, first and foremost Tonami the White. He is the leader of the Peacebreakers, a group of former soldiers and mercenaries of Sibyl who see themselves in the tradition of a cult. They worship a similar AI like Sibyl that also has wired brains in boxes and they see it as their God and commander. The cult did seem rather bizarre and fantastic sometimes, but I got the impression that this is exactly Ubukata’s style.

Tonami is a despicable man. He tells Akane that despite his old age, he can still take on a young girl like her, then he draws a gun and starts to shoot her. Congratulations, man! She’s unarmed, and pulling a trigger is really not much of a feat. Asshole! He was clearly afraid that Akane would be superior in a fistfight.

I remember a heated debate on social media about whether Kogami should have killed Tonami or not. Well, I would argue that he had no choice but to shoot this man if he wanted to make sure Akane got out of there alive (“Protect Tsunemori!”). Akane looks relieved when she sees Kogami. She smiles at him as if she knows that her life is safe from now on. But then she continues to provoke Tonami with her words. The man points a damn gun to her head and she has already been shot twice and lies bleeding on the floor in handcuffs. Should Kogami twiddle his thumbs and wait to see what happens? Well, he does. But only for a moment.

Kogami’s face is empty while Akane is being tortured. It’s devoid of emotion, not even anger shows on his face. I was like: huh? I first thought it was bad animation or some artificial intervention to evade romance and keep the Kouakas from losing their minds, but in retrospect, it occurred to me that perhaps… Kogami is simply listening to the conversation in front of him? Akane and Tonami are talking about the Sibyl System and it’s true nature. They are talking about AI vs. humanity. They are talking about integrating this other AI into Sibyl and the boxes with the brains are standing just a few meters away from them. Snippets and fragments, but Kogami isn’t stupid. It was him who found a decapitated professor Stronskaya on the ship. Her head was taken away by the Peacebreakers and we later learn that her brain was put into a box for their AI. Kogami has been wondering for a while what kind of influence Akane has on the system. And even Tonami (who calls her “a witch that disturbs the social order”) is kind of astounded at what Akane knows and what she is capable of.

Kogami agrees with Tonami and then shoots him in the head. I really don’t know which part he agrees with. I can only explain it by saying that, unlike Akane, Kogami has lost faith in humanity. Kogami knows what humans are capable of and that they are easily corrupted. But he believes in Akane, so there’s that. It’s only natural that he would save her at any cost.

I didn’t perceive Akane as angry though. She knows Kogami well enough and wanted him to come with her on the mission. Kogami “breaking the law again” certainly saddens and disappoints her, but I don’t think she necessarily wants to enforce him. Atsushi Shindou shot Akira in front of Akane and she didn’t arrest him. If she were now to arrest Kogami, she would have double standards. I remember director Shiotani saying in an interview that Kogami voluntarily let Akane arrest him. Well, that actually sounds quite logical to me because I honestly don’t see Akane taking the initiative. But Kogami acting like a repentant little puppy in front of Akane, the “goddess and bodhisattva” he expects to make the world a better place? Yes, I can very well imagine that – only that at this point she is just a bleeding human being in his arms.

Akane’s incident was… wow. I knew what she was up to beforehand, but I still found the whole thing quite mind-boggling. Where did Akane get the gun she shot chief Kasei with? Everyone was looking forward to her inauguration. Gino, Sugo, Shion and Yayoi… they were watching it on TV. What has my girl done?

I wouldn’t go so far as to blame Kogami. There is a trend right now to make him the scapegoat for everything that happens to Akane, but somehow that is not right and would completely undermine Akane’s independence. There is no guarantee that the arrest and prosecution of Tonami would have worked. Sibyl is not a reliable negotiating partner. I think Akane chose a more effective way by immediately involving the public and getting them to discuss the preservation of the law. At least, it worked. But why the letter to Kogami? It wasn’t a tit-for-tat response. I think Akane wanted to say goodbye. She didn’t know what would happen to her or whether they would see each other again. These two threw their lives away and stood up for their beliefs in justice. Was it brave or was it foolish? Who knows. But the closing of a circle was pretty well executed by the creators of the series in my opinion.

I still have no clue why Kogami was released from confinement. I can only speculate that MoFA has negotiated a deal. I also remember that his Psycho-Pass was encrypted in PP3 and no longer accessible via Sibyl’s dominator. There is a strong competition between the ministries and certainly no help can be expected from Sibyl. Mika had to literally beg chief Kasei to allow her to send out a rescue mission for Akane who was already classified as a traitor because she went to take on the Peacebreakers on her own. Why would they let Kogami go, the traitor who killed a criminal pardoned by Sibyl in order to rescue the traitor Akane? No. He was released at the behest of MoFA. It is therefore not surprising that Akane has arranged the transfer of Gino and Sugo to MoFA. Nothing bothers Sibyl more than loyal dogs and I’m certain that these two would have been thrown into the isolation facility the moment Akane lost her position as inspector.

Okay, I’ll stop rambling now. I’d like to end this post with a quote from the friend who went with me to the movies. We saw Psycho-Pass together five years ago and I was very curious to hear her opinion. We both agreed that Akane's performance in Providence is once again superb. She’s a queen. One of the best female characters of all time. What she said about Kogami may irritate some but I can only agree: “It wasn’t his most mature performance, but in the end he could be relied upon!”

Providence was fun. It was okay. It wasn’t Psycho-Pass at its best but at least, it answered the question that has been on my mind for almost four years: what did Akane do that landed her in prison?

[the-wiggler]

I hope we kiss goodnight, it might just end my life

phyiscally cannot stop thinking about elliot and sunshine and im projecting bad in this fic but shhhh im allowed to.

sypnosis: sunshine cant sleep, except when elliot is around. [title is from Kiss Goodnight by IDKHOW]

word count: 1.1k

Their eyes slowly fluttered open, blue morning light washing over their room, tinting everything in the same hue. They were facing the ceiling now, their blanket tangled between their legs. 6 am. Their eyes fluttered shut, a weary sigh filling the empty room. That was what…2 hours of sleep? It’s better this way. Force themselves to sleep later, the self-induced insomnia meant that their brain prioritises deep sleep over REM, the dream-having sleep phase. That was what their therapist said anyway. Less sleep means less REM means less dreams means less nightmares.

Sure, it was an “unhealthy” coping mechanism, with its “averse” side effects, and a method their therapist “highly discouraged”. But if it meant fewer nightmares, Sunshine would brave the sluggishness, the irritation, the occasional nausea and the concerned looks from their friends.

Like now, as they sat on the worn, soft couch of Elliot’s apartment. Sinking into the worse-for-wear leather, scratched and faded in a way that perfectly matched Elliot’s second-hand-vintage-found-on-the-side-of-the-road-borderline-trash-esque design choices, they avoided the watchful gaze of their friend and hoped that their concealer had done a good enough job to cover their eyebags.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I think you look amazing as you are, Sunshine,” He chuckled, settling down next to them, “But, uh, you’re looking a little….worse for wear.”

Ok so maybe the concealer wasn’t doing the best job.

They waved their hand dismissively, making up some excuse about jobs, life, busy this, busy that, no time to rest. It came easily now. Lying, that is. And it wasn’t really a lie, they had filled and jam-packed their schedule full of random events to avoid a moment of rest, should they accidentally slip back into the ever-inviting embrace of sleep.

Not good enough for Elliot, though. As they watched his brow furrow in a way that made them want to instinctively smooth out, they racked their brain to reassure Elliot. There was, after all, no need to pile on more shit to Elliot’s plate.

“I’ve just been having trouble sleeping is all,” They reassured him quickly, “Nothing to worry about, I got some melatonin pills and it’s just taking some time to get used to.”

He conceded with one last concerned look, before turning his attention to the TV. “Alright, so, I was thinking for tonight, we could watch…The Tunnel? Or….Final Prayer?”

Now it was their turn to quirk an eyebrow. “You want to watch a horror movie? Mr. Never Watched FNAF, Mr. Scared of the Babadook, Mr-”

“Ok listen, I think we both know that the 4th FNAF game is genuinely horrifying. And, well, no, I’d much rather watch an actually feel-good movie. But if my bestest friend of all time has been raving about how wonderful this movie is, and has been feeling down, I will concede and watch whatever mind-fucky content you so eagerly consume as a coping mechanism. I’m simply fulfilling my best friend duties. No matter how messed up it is. And I will ignore how the fact that you watch horror movies as a coping mechanism is a major red flag and possibly a sign of a budding serial killer. Because I’m such a good friend. The best, even. ”

They scoff indignantly, “Ok, yeah I’m the serial killer. Says the one whose forever excuse is Sorry, was burying the bodies.”

It always starts like this. As Elliot loads up the movie, they make sure to maintain a completely platonic distance between them, two friends sitting on a couch, five feet apart because they are not pining for their ridiculously attractive, soft-hearted best friend. Elliot scoots closer, the leather dipping under his weight, forming a crater around them, cocooning them together, pushing Elliot closer to them. They feign annoyance as Elliot shoots a mischievous look at them. “Oh don’t think you’re getting away scot-free, Sunshine. I might be sacrificing several nights of sleep to cheer you up, but you’re going to be my human shield tonight. Trade-offs.”

Despite this, he wraps an arm around them, the dip of the couch pushing them snugly into his side. Who’s protecting who, Elliot? Regardless, they lean into his touch, his hand gently moving up and down their arm.

They blink.

The blanket around them definitely did not belong to them, but smelled familiarly comforting in a way that broke down all of Sunshine’s defences. Half asleep and not fully cognizant of their surroundings, they push themself deeper into the blanket burrow around them, instinctually chasing the fuzzy feeling of slowly waking up in the morning after a good, solid, rejuvenated night of sleep.

“Morning sleepyhead.” A familiarly husky voice; and the words don’t register, nothing but the groggy understanding that this voice emanated safety, understanding, and protection pulled Sunshine out of their dazed state. They push themselves up, rubbing their eyes to see Elliot standing there, morning hair unruly, beaming down at them. “You zonked out last night on my couch.”

Too groggy to come up with a retort, they lean into him as he sits next to them. He makes a noise of surprise, but otherwise lifts his arm to allow them to press into his side. “You’re oddly snuggly Sunshine,” He chuckles, pulling them closer, “And you fall asleep every time we hang out, am I that boring?” They half-heartedly slap his chest, feeling his chuckles reverberate through them. They sit there, in silence, simply enjoying the slow mornin in each others presence before Elliot clears his throat awkwardly.

“Anyways, uh, how was your sleep last night?”

“Good,” They mumble, “Slept well.” No nightmares, no dreams at all, actually rested. Better than they had all month

“That’s uh-that’s good.”

“Only ever sleep well when you’re around.” Still sleep-addled and fueled by the simple wants of the heart, they bring their arms to wrap around his torso, mumbling sleepily against his chest, “Maybe you’re magic.”

As they drift off back into a dreamless sleep, Elliot’s hands move to pull them in closer. Pressing a kiss to the crown of their head, he whispers, his voice impossibly soft, yearning dripping from his words, “Just for you, Sunshine.”

[bucky-h0e]

A/N: We getting spoiled this week! I'm working out the schedule, but just for this week I've got a few extra posts to make up for my absence - hopefully you enjoy them all!

Anyway, here's a short, late-ish Valentines' Day special.

Warnings: Fluff, Bucky and Alpine's father-daughter dates, Sam and Bucky embarrassing Alpine like good father's should

Serendipity Masterlist

Bucky and Alpine (+Sam) celebrate Valentines Day

There are many ways this day could go and have gone

The only constant throughout the years are that Alpine always gets Bucky and Sam flowers

and Bucky and Sam always get Alpine flowers

it started off as a competition, Bucky got Alpine flowers one year and Sam went out and bought a bigger bouquet

the next year, Sam bought a bouquet bigger than the one from the previous year, Bucky bought her two

so she basically gets given an entire flower shop but eventually she told them to knock it off

i mean, do you know how hard it is to look after and set up 30+ bouquets?

it's fucking difficult and she wasn't even getting paid to do it

now, if they all have significant others (unlikely because Bucky only has three contacts in his phone and one of those is his therapist) then they spend most of the day with them

Bucky and Alpine will always try to go out for food during the day

just a little father-daughter date

nothing major

Bucky denies it

Alpine has heart eyes and keeps telling everyone that the Winter Soldier is her dad

absolutely uses it to her advantage to get free cake

and to scare away dates

the most likely scenario though is that Bucky doesn't have a date, Sam does and Alpine's situation varies from moment to moment

if she doesn't have a date then she's all

"Bucky's all the Valentines I need"

"Unless Thor comes around cause goddamn"

"i'd stretch for Steven Strange too."

"or literally any Wakandan."

"Especially that M'Baku guy."

"Thanks Al."

if she does have a date

"I can cancel, i don't even know this man. I can just tell him to fuck off."

"I don't need some guy that I met randomly at work"

"At my bar job no less"

"Seriously Bucky, he ain't no M'Baku so-"

"Kid, shut up, go on your date."

"don't interrupt me you living fossil"

"fucking, rude grumpy ass"

once it's decided that yes, she will be going on her date

she drags him over to her place so he can keep her company whilst she get's ready

she'll aggressively sing songs at him

which bucky is very used to at this point

maybe force him into a little dancey-dance

which he'll say he hates but very much enjoys it

spins her at some point and dips her

she'll also cook him dinner, because if he's gunna be alone then she'll be damned if its not with a hot meal

Bucky won't admit it, but he loves when she cooks because it reminds him of coming home to a family and a food on the table made by someone who loves him

also it means he doesn't have to cook

when she's ready, she's normally a ball of confidence (apart from the time she dated a young history professor - she was a wreck)

so he doesn't need to give her a pep talk or anything

which is good because he doesn't exactly know how to tell a girl he hopes she gets laid?

bit of weird thing to say to his young neighbour who he views as a daughter

when her date comes to pick her up, he's standing right behind her glaring at the guy

sizing him up, committing his face to memory just in case

"okay, we'll be off now, lock my door for me would you Buck"

she'll lean up (thats a lie, she practically drags him so he lowers himself to her height) and kiss his cheek goodnight before taking her dates arm and smiling

as he's locking her door with his spare key (they'd given each other spare keys in cases of emergency but lets be honest Alpine uses them whenever she wants) he'll over hear a bit of their conversation which normally revolved around him

"It that-"

"No"

"It is!"

"It's not."

"You know the Winter Soldier?!"

"He's not the Winter Soldier."

That conversation normally tells him that the date isn't going to go well

he knew she hated when a date would focus on that aspect of him

like for fucks sake man is actually a living time machine

and alpine knows a lot about him

ask better questions

whilst she's on her date, he'll sit at home and watch movie recommendations from her and Sam

he'll read

listen to music

drink beer that will definitely not get him drunk

when Alpine comes back, he'll send her a text to make sure she's safe

he used to check on her by opening the door but she once caught her and an ex boyfriend in a rather

awkward

position to say the least

they couldn't look at each other for a week after that and bucky had very quickly learnt his lesson

if the dates gone well then he won't get a response until later that night

if it goes okay then it normally means there will be a second date before anything happens between the pair

if the night is bad, then Bucky had received the text first and had gone out to pick her up from wherever the date was

we love a protective dad

on the nights that don't end with Alpine in her place getting lucky (which is most years up until she meets the before mentioned professor - i've got a fucking plan for these two i swear)

they sit together on Bucky's couch, drinking beer and teasing each other

Alpine is normally still dressed up at this point

"Bucky rub my feet"

"fuck no"

"oh c'mon you're supposed to be a 40s gentleman"

"and you're supposed to be a lady, put the dogs away"

"i fucking sWEAR TO GOD I GOT NICE FEET BARNES"

"jar."

her unhinged and outlandish outbursts had led to Bucky getting a 'swear jar' of sorts

she'd have to put a dollar in for every one

"Fucking... jar you in a minute

"Nice threat Al"

"Grandpa, I swear to god"

"Which one"

now sometimes Sam will join them if he doesn't have a date but come on

you can't tell me that Sam Wilson

Captain America

doesn't have a Valentines' date

he isn't a social recluse like a certain Steve Rogers

Now, Bucky and Sam are very protective fathers

nobody can tell me otherwise

you also can't tell me that they wouldn't be the biggest fucking teases in the world

every valentines day, without fail, Alpine gets a video message from Sam

It's of him and Bucky, giving her "advice"

"This Valentine's Day here's a couple of things from a couple of guys"

Bucky looks physically pained the first few times she'd been sent it

"Rule number one, always make sure to give a gift instead of receive one, thats makes you a good person."

Sam is very obviously loving this, every single year

"rule number two, be yourself always and forever with anyone and everyone"

"that's very nice. Always, Always remember rule number one"

"but always keep in mind rule number two"

"number two has heart too"

"at the end of the day it takes two to make things right"

it was an ongoing joke that alpine was ready to end

especially when they sent it to the professor boyfriend on their first valentines day together

"I am.... so sorry"

"It's okay, love, it'd endearing"

"it's embarrassing"

"they care about you"

"i'm going to end them"

"one thing before you do, how did they get my number?"

poor baby forgot who he was dating for a hot second there

little does he know he's going to be cockblocked most valentines' by James Barnes

this poor man just wants to swoop Alpine off her feet and treat her like a queen

Bucky's sat there like a little gremlin with a beer and a smug little grin

he ain't ready to be an actual grandpa just yet

especially if the kid takes after Alpine

50/50 is just too much of a risk at that point

has 100% convinced Sam to crash one of their dates before now

Sam agrees but has a moment of clarity in the middle of it

"You ever think that we hang around this kid too much?"

Bucky's sat there with sunglasses looking through a newspaper with eye holes cut out

"No."

they're in one of the fanciest restaurants in New York and Bucky looks like a cartoon villain

"What happened to you man?"

"Parenthood."

he's joking, partially

he loves Alpine and the professor is the only boyfriend of hers he's like for her

but

Until the day comes where Alpine meets that man, Bucky is her main Valentine's bitch

and he makes sure of it

he really, really hates all of Alpine's ex-boyfriends

[buddie911abc]

911 Review Season 1 Episode 2- Let Go

Caveat: I am up-to-date on all 911 episodes. For my reviews, I attempt to rewatch and remember my first impressions. I will occasionally, compare it to what I know now. I’ll try to warn of spoilers that are current when necessary.

Emergencies: The first emergency is for a roller coaster malfunction. The emergency has a Buck focus, and the outcome leaves one of the victims dead. It wasn’t Buck’s fault, but it was his first loss. It hits him hard. For a show like 911, we know they can’t always win so I wasn’t surprised that someone didn’t make it. It has to happen. The rescue didn’t end well, but it was a good story to tell.

The second call is from a man cornered by a couple of Dobermans. Athena makes the rescue with a couple of burgers. The man leaves only for Athena and Hen to discover, that they helped a burglar escape. Athena doesn’t let that go; by the end of the episode, she has him. After all, the idiot called 911 from his cell phone.

The third call is for a window washer hanging from a building. Buck pulls back because he’s afraid of losing someone else. Not doing the job makes him feel worse.

The fourth call is a guy threatening suicide because he believes his wife is cheating on him. Bobby encourages Buck not to pull back. Instead, Buck pulls off a rappelling move to save the guy. It was a great save.

The final emergency is a cliffhanger. Athena finds her 14-year-old daughter unconscious from taking an overdose of hydrocodone pills.

Personal Stories/Getting to Know: We are getting to know Buck in small increments, but by the end of the episode there is a better picture of who he is or who he wants to become. Buck has already started to think about changing from his womanizing ways, and the tragedy on the roller coaster has him focused on something other than his libido. (Therapist aside) We get our first glimpse of a guy who genuinely wants to help people, and then have him face that he can’t always help everyone. This gives several opportunities for him to interact with other characters like Bobby, Athena, Abby, and Chimney. That is a definite plus.

We also get another look at Abby. She now has a connection to Buck through a first-episode 911 call that he was able to assist her and Athena in resolving. If you remember episode one, Buck had a small redemption arc by helping them, which earned him a second chance with Athena. It also made Abby curious about him. In episode two, she finally gets a peek at what he looks like when he is interviewed on the news about the roller coaster accident. Abby is older than Buck, but she is not creepy-older so I can see the potential there, and frankly, women should be able to dip below the line occasionally just like men do.

Athena and Michael are still working through their post “Michael coming out to his children story arc.” Some of how they interact is still intimate which has the potential to send mixed signals. Professionally, we see Athena in her work element. I am such an Angela Bassett fan. Queen!!! We also get to see her friendship with Hen. Special shoutout to Hen for her honesty. “Athena, spoiler alert. Your husband likes boys, so that ring ain’t gonna’ be on much longer.”

Bonus: We meet a new side character, Carla. She’s sassy and smart. This opinion never changes.

Subtext: I’m not great at picking up subtext unless it is blatant, so I’m not going to say there was no subtext in this episode, but there was none that I noticed.

Likes/Dislikes: One "like" for episode two is the way that the aftermath of the first emergency followed Buck's story for the episode while simultaneously not overshadowing all the other storylines present. Another plus is the conversation between Buck and Bobby about loss. By the end of the conversation, Buck has redeemed himself from the a*$hole he was in episode one. I can say this even though he slept with his therapist which I consider more of a failure on her part since she was supposed to be the professional in that situation.

Ships: Buck/Abby, Buck/Therapist-- The therapist was a one-shot to remind us where Buck is coming from, so it's safe to remove Buck/Therapist as a shipping possibility. However, Buck/Abby has all the elements to indicate where Buck is trying to go. It's still early, but the phone conversations, the way Abby initiated them, and his thoughtful response to being asked out all of those things have the foundations for a good ship. I'm pulling a dingy out of the bag to test the waters.

Favorite quote from this episode: There were a few great one-liners. See above for Hen’s, but the winner goes to Carla, referring to Buck and asking Abby, “You know that big hunk of man meat?” LOL That whole conversation between Carla and Abby was so good I had to rewind and watch it twice.

Rating: Four Stars. Mainly because we are still getting to know people.

[starkdirewolflove]

Only Murders in the Building

So that last episode had a lot going on with 3 separate couples, a flashback of the opening night and the return of Sazz Pataki.

I love when Sazz shows up randomly to wind Charles up and help him with his personal issues, it was so funny when she said the killer might have meant to kill Charles but got Ben by accident and weirdly she’s dating Jan (Charles’s crazy killer ex from season 1) in prison and they talk about Charles and all his idiosyncrasies. So Sazz acts as therapist/game show host for Charles to help him realise that Joy obviously is not a murderer, she’s just a kooky make up artist that actually loves him and is a bit of a nympho and he’s sabotaging their relationship because he doesn’t feel worthy of love. All these revelations are too little, too late for Joy especially after she finds out Charles didn’t mean to propose to her and he talked to everyone else about their relationship but her. There was also the reveal about what Charles was talking to Ben about before the curtain call on opening night. Charles saw him grabbing Loretta and her struggling away from him, calling for help (she also called him a “fucking pig”), then Charles punched him after he pulled Ben away. That was the make up emergency that Howard called Joy backstage for and how she lost her lipstick. When Ben called Loretta a “consummate professional” and a “snake” after he got back from the hospital I think she had staged that fight to make Ben look like a bully and her the helpless victim. She may be more involved in the murder than I thought.

Mabel went on a stakeout/date with Tobert, his suspect was Howard’s boyfriend Jonathan but not really since he tricked Mabel into going on a date with him instead of just asking her out which I found to be shady rather than charming, then he starts talking about wanting to have a partner to settle down with, like he’s known Mabel 5 minutes and that’s coming on a bit strong. I know all Mabel’s love interests have been suspicious in the past but I don’t trust this guy and I don’t think she should’ve shown him the murder board. Also he’d been following Jonathan for a week, decided he was innocent and then on the night Mabel was with him they happen to see Jonathan handing an envelope of cash over to this fixer type that Ben used to meet behind closed doors known only as Doctor C.

Oliver was so good in this episode, from his nerves at his date and asking Mabel for advice: “It’s been a while since I dipped my quill in a woman’s ink pot. Any new moves I should know about?” to the awkwardness in Loretta’s apartment when he accidentally pulled down the Murphy bed and lost a tooth trying to eat a pork chop. Loretta was extra suspicious tonight like bringing Ben up at dinner, calling him “a fucking pig,” saying he was an asshole to everyone, toasting his death and then trying to change the subject like she didn’t bring it up in the first place. Their date ends up going well with a trip on the ferry to throw Oliver’s tooth away, sharing a 30 year old joint and back to her place for “dessert.” That’s when the twist for this episode happens, when Oliver finds a hidden book filled with articles and newspaper clippings all about Ben charting his career and personal life. Lots of stalker/murderer vibes from that book.

So my new theory is: what if Loretta is actually Ben’s estranged mother? And her and Dickie plotted his murder because they were sick of Ben being in the spotlight and they were always in his shadow.

Ben said his first job on Brazzos he was 8 years old and supporting his mom and brother. What if Loretta was a show mom? She couldn’t get any acting jobs herself so she puts her kid into show business to live vicariously through him, make money and pressure him that their family relies on him to survive. So when Ben turns 18 he cuts ties with his mother, takes Dickie on as his manager to keep some family around but he is running his own life and treats him more like staff than family cos that’s the way his dynamic was with their mother when she was in charge. Then when they cross paths at the table read they pretend to be strangers but there’s all this tension bubbling beneath the surface, she gets close to Dickie playing the loving mother (she called Dickie a sweet boy when talking to Oliver about him) and the two start plotting to get rid of Ben and advance their own careers away from him.

[confrontthefamiliar]

Full Moon Aquarius

I hear in a video it’s lion’s gate portal.

There’s more light on earth now.

I believe it the way my heart has become like a beam of light again.

Wow it was bad.

Wow I got mad.

Snowboarders and climbers are poets. The artist’s world is in the mountains.

I go to Berkeley and immediately get pulled back into techie talk… AI, VR, machine learning.

With a mouthful of weird opinions I pretend to have I see how much I’ve been immersed in the hippie and the libertarian communities. My thought patterns feel bulky and out of pace in the city. But maybe that’s just because I see small things as big ideas that get blown up like giant air balloons.

“So then how do you get machine learning to map the vectors of language?”

I asked an AI developer advocate after a few minutes of conversation.

“Ah. Yes, a big part of natural language processing involves the models learning how to represent words as vectors (also called embeddings in this situation) in multidimensional spaces.

“Well that’s as far as I should go,” he said, when I asked him another question.

“Wait, why?” I asked.

The ex-hypnotist turned VR therapist told me we could take his ideas.

“Me?” I asked.

“Well I’m working with the same concepts too,” the ex-hypnotist turned VR therapist said.

He stopped being a hypnotist I think at the same time he decided past life regression was just imagination.

When are we gonna be able to read each others’ thoughts?

There’s a community that believes our powers have been corrupted and that the powers that be are corrupted. The other community takes accountability for it. But maybe we could read minds on our own without technology. There’s remote viewing in the CIA documents. Maybe we are more powerful without technology. Or it’s a balance. Or it’s just coming back to the present moment. Which basically means just don’t be in that other thing. Be in “present moment.” Be in us. Be in god mode.

I talk to someone on the phone a lot and I like to believe we’re doing each other good.

And then I start dipping more into Reno.

On this night of the full moon I watch these men play as boys. I love each of them fully and immediately. We’re all playing on the concrete playground with silly jobs.

Enjoying life feels revolutionary.

Why do we work more than we play?

It’s so criminal.

I buy a ticket to Sicily.

I’m going to work as a form of play.

I’m 100% a completely different person these days. I trust myself.

[fuwungi]

Alright so! Here’s the updates on what’s been going on! I was going to put it under a read more/cut thing but I can’t seem to figure that out on mobile so just general tw for mental health talk, trauma, etc

This isn’t going to exactly be linear or anything either cuz my minds just been all over the place but I haven’t been doing good. Haven’t been for a while. I’ve been working on getting help for years now and im thankfully seeing my therapist on the 8th and hoping this one actually stays (cuz my last trauma therapist ghosted me). I got a psych evaluation before hand that took a bit and got diagnosed with severe ptsd and bpd and also paranoid schizophrenia. I never really took my mental health seriously or as seriously as I should becuz for years I was so used to hearing from family and etc that it’s nothing, im just over thinking, “everybody does that” but it’s clearly not the case.

Everything started getting much worse in January, my health started dipping again. I had someone I considered a close friend abandon me and hurt me. Eventually my job I had pretty much set me up to be fired, me and others have considered it’s due to the fact I disclosed my diagnosis cuz it didn’t take long after for me to be fired. And what I was fired for was literally doing exactly what one of the managers told me to do. The next day I had an ex friend blow up at me and trigger my paranoia severely. And after that my abuser outted me and tried to spread harmful lies and misinfo in an attempt to I guess have me run off the internet. A little while after the shop I was apprenticing at also dropped me for my diagnosis but not until the spent a couple weeks straight up ghosting me and ignoring me for hours when I came in (I would come in to practice and work and all of my stuff was moved without telling me, and I also still don’t have any of my stuff back, and nobody would say a word to me or even look at me hardly. And after hours of waiting o would just eventually go home, which was also frustrating cuz I would have the person I’m about to practice on with me waking too. I reached out with messages abt things but was always just left on read.)

All of this just made things worse. I haven’t been able to significantly leave my house for a couple months now ( I say that cuz I still hype myself up to do smaller things like run out to pick up my meds, etc. but if there’s a way around physically doing said thing like ordering groceries, etc I take that). Outside of that I was already having a hard time getting myself to be social or talk to anyone. I haven’t really been talking to anyone or very active since 2020 (which I’m still working on fixing cuz it’s not that I don’t want to talk or anything, I want to so badly, I just really feel like I’m unable to do it).

My psych also diagnosed(? Idk if that’s the right word) me with agoraphobia. Which also explained a lot and helped me realize some things that help me cope and navigate my way socially and in life (and kinnie stuff is one of the things that really helps with that).

So at the moment I’m just freelancing and trying my best to work on myself. After finishing the rest of my comm queue I’m thinking of taking a break from taking comms and just focusing on my own/personal art and school (going for botany and economic science).

If you’ve read through this all, thank you so much for listening. I hope this was worded okay/sounds okay. And I can’t thank the ppl who continue to support me enough.

[hismercytomyjustice]

He. Hehe. HehEHE. HEHEHEHE.

I managed to convince my friend to watch Hazbin by subtly she said I was not at all subtle but shhh let me pretend exploiting my 17 years of knowledge of her particular brand of favorite character.

I am so excited because this fucking show has consumed the last week of my life. All because Spotify was like “hey, you love soundtracks, you should listen to this soundtrack.” And by god they were so right. They’re the one algorithm that really gets me. T_T

But I am so fucking excited to talk her ear off about the show. I am trying very hard to not be obnoxious about it but I know I am being VERY obnoxious about it. orz

Also there is so much amazing fanfic and fanart out there for it. I am a major radioapple fan and god what an endless bounty there is.

Alastor is my particular brand of favorite character, so she and I are suffering together. T_T

And now I have a renewed interest to finish this BG3 fic *gently covers my au poto wip’s ears* so I can write Hazbin fic.

I have already been brainstorming a stupid entirely self-indulgent crack fic. I have so many notes. orz

I haven’t lost interest in my BG3 fic. I just hit a major burnout wall in general due to work, so I haven’t spent as much time on it the past week or so which can be dangerous with ADHD and my ability to finish things. The struggle has been so real.

It’s kinda funny. I’ve spent the past few weeks wondering if I was dipping into depression again or something because I have just constantly felt exhausted and have been struggling for even a shred of executive function in literally every single area of my life. My sleep schedule has gone to hell, everyday tasks like tidying the house, feeding myself, showering, etc feel Sisyphean. My OCD has been particularly bad (stress tends to make it flare up). And yet it wasn’t until like last week when my husband said “do you think you might be burnt out from all the work stuff you’ve been dealing with since February” that it even clicked for me.

Like, huh, this all came crashing down on me almost immediately after I massively overworked myself to prove my worth because my prior manager was fucking awful at her job and made my life hell.

cOiNcIdEnCe?!

I have another extra therapy session scheduled for next week because of the burnout at my therapist’s suggestion.

It’s definitely a good thing. The better I get at recognizing the warning signs of impending mental health dips and burnout, the better I can become at mitigating them. I also could use the extra support in crawling my way out of the burnout hole.

It’s still fucking wild to me how completely unaware I was about how OCD is omnipresent in my life even when I’m not in the midst of a full blown catastrophic OCD crisis. I guess this is the point of seeing a specialist for it, lol. It’s just fucking wild the daily spirals I’ve been getting into that didn’t even register.

Stuff like “I need to take a shower. But I can’t take a shower because I need to do xyz. But I can’t do xyz because of abc. Why can’t I just make myself shower? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I like this? It’s never going to get any better. I’m a fucking failure. Why can’t I just do this one fucking thing?!”

I mean, ADHD/executive function definitely also play a role but the OCD is just constantly creeping under the surface.

I didn’t realize until recently that it impacted my writing too. I was constantly working myself into OCD spirals over not being good enough, not working hard enough, not having anything worthwhile to contribute, being a bad writer, being inconsistent, etc.

Just spiraling myself into self-loathing and avoidance and all that fun stuff instead of doing something I so greatly enjoy.

And I do this in literally every area of my life. Constantly. Finding out I have ADHD was also extremely helpful in understanding why I struggle with a lot of day-to-day stuff but the OCD is the sneaky bastard pulling all the strings in the background and making everything 10x harder than it needs to be.

I have lost so many years of happiness to undiagnosed OCD and ADHD. I can’t help but wonder how different my life might be if I’d known sooner and started learning how to navigate it all years ago. But at the same time, hitting a wall for both is what got me diagnosed in the first place so… *shrugs*

I guess at least we finally got there even if we wound up taking the scenic route.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 23 - Haunted Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Coming home can cause issues.

Series Masterlist

                          SIX MONTHS LATER

You flipped the knife in your hand as the guy tied to the chair glared at you.

“You know,” you trailed off, “I’ve had a really shitty couple of months, Johnny- can I call you Johnny?”

“No.”

“Rude,” you commented, “Fine. John. I’ve had a really shitty couple of months so you really don’t want to try me right now. Just tell me where I can find your boss.”

“You’ll never find him you stupid bitch.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Since I’m going to kill you in a couple of minutes I feel like I can share some things with you,” you said, “My best friend says I keep everything bottled and I should talk about my feelings.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“See, that’s exactly how I feel!” you pointed at him, “Thank you. I mean, I feel angry at myself. I kind of fucked up with the man I love.”

“Jesus Christ, just kill me already.”

“I’m waiting for a text to do that Johnny,” you pointed out, waving your phone at him. “So, I tricked him and used him and threw him to wolves. And then Accords 2.0 didn’t pass and he has been pardoned once again, and he’s a free man now. I have a strong feeling that he’s not the ‘forgive and forget’ type of guy. You know, assassin to assassin.”

“You’re the chattiest assassin I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you, I’m trying to improve myself,” you said, “I mean what exactly should I do? I don’t even trust my agency at this point, my handler lied to me and I have been at this fucking place for six months now, hunting you down. Well, your boss but…”

“You’ll never find him.”

“We’ll see about that my friend,” you said, “So anyway, like what am I supposed to do? I lost the one guy I actually loved. How do you cope with that? Because drinking doesn’t work, sleeping with others doesn’t work…. Nothing seems to—“ you were cut off when your phone vibrated and you touched the screen to open the text message.

From: Julian

Go for it.

“Wait, no no no, I’ll talk—“

“Kind of too late,” you pointed the gun at him, “Nice to meet you Johnny.”

With that you pulled the trigger, silencer doing its job as there was no loud bang or anything. His body fell back with the impact, and you heaved a sigh.

“Maybe I need a therapist I can’t kill,” you mumbled and walked out of the warehouse to approach the car before opening the door to the passenger seat to get in.

“Is it done?” Julian asked and you nodded, rubbing at your eyes.

“Yep.”

“Are you hungry?”

You made a face, “Just because the General sent you here does not mean we’re going to become buddies.”

“I’m not trying to become buddies with you,” Julian stated, “I just want to eat fries and there’s a two for one deal.”

You eyed him up and down.

“Fine, I could eat fries.” You leaned back in the seat as he started driving, keeping your eyes on the road. Soon enough, you reached the city center and Julian got fries from a food truck, then sat across from you.

“So,” he said, “You do realize this whole thing would’ve been over by now if we actually worked together?”

“I’m not going on the field with you.”

“The General sent me here to help you.”

You dipped the fry into sauce, then popped it into your mouth, “You can help me by pretending you’re not here.”

“Y/N.”

“You know what they say Julian. Fool me once…”

“Don’t tell me you’re still holding that grudge.”

“You mean when you left me behind to die on the last mission we were together?” you asked back, “That grudge?”

“I told you—“

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” you cut him off, “And I work better alone. Who told you we could waste the guy by the way?”

“The General.”

You grabbed the salt shaker to pour some salt on the fries, causing Julian to make a face.

“Are you kidding me? That was salty enough-“

“Why did he not text me?”

“No idea. Maybe he’s avoiding you because he promised you handler and here you are. Field spy.”

Your jaw clenched.

Or maybe he’s avoiding me because he fucking lied to me.

You had to give it to him, it was the perfect plan. The moment he had suspected you were getting too close to Bucky, he had come up with the one thing he knew that would make you switch sides.

And that-

That was below the belt yes, but that was also masterly.

But at the end of the day, you barely had two people to trust in the entire world, and you seriously doubted you could ever forgive the General for what he had done. You knew he held duty above all, above family and surely above you, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

You shook your head at yourself and grabbed another piece of fry.

“So um…” Julian shifted his weight, “Are you okay?”

You shot him a glare, arching a brow, “Peachy.”

“No I mean… About Barnes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This whole Accords 2.0 failure, there’s no way we could go after him again.”

“I don’t want to go after him again.”

“You don’t want revenge?”

That made you straighten up your back and you put the fry down, “And why exactly would I want revenge?”

That made Julian fall silent and you nibbled on your lip.

“What exactly did the General tell you before you came here?”

“That there was a job here.”

“Bullshit,” you replied way too quickly, “Did he send you here to be my babysitter? He thinks I’ll go after Barnes myself is that it? That’s why they sent you here months after I left the country but right after Accords 2.0 didn’t pass.”

Julian licked his lips.

“Listen, the agency wants to keep you safe—“ he started but then his phone beeped. He grabbed it to take aa look at the screen, then cussed under his breath.

“What?”

“Check your texts.”

You touched the screen and frowned as your eyes skimmed the text.

From: General

Time to come home.

“Well,” you muttered, your heart dropping to your stomach, “Shit.”

                                                   ***

Coming back home was harder than ever now. After catching up with Keith and Chloe, you were taken to your new apartment that was given to you by the agency as usual, and for the whole night you couldn’t sleep.

Even if there was no trace of Bucky in your new apartment –in your new life, you still couldn’t shake off this feeling. It was as if the moment you had entered the country, Bucky had entered your life in an instant.

Odds were, you wouldn’t really see him again. After all it was a big city, and Bucky wasn’t exactly the social type.

So your first week back in New York wasn’t exactly terrible. You were still waiting for your orders while getting to know to the city slowly, because after long missions it always took time for you to remember you had a real life there, real memories—

Well, as real as it could be, for a spy.

“Just see it as a vacation,” Chloe had said, “They threw you into another mission as soon as you got out of the country, it’s just a delayed vacation.”

As far as vacations went though, this one just sucked.

Maybe it was because you couldn’t keep away from places you and Bucky had been too, like this coffee place where you had first officially met.

You sipped your coffee, scrolling down on the news website as your eyes skimmed yet another article about Accords and whether you could trust superheroes or not, but you were soon distracted when someone pulled the seat across from you, making you look up from your phone.

And as soon as you did, your heart dropped.

You had to give it to the General, he was manipulative, he was a liar and he had betrayed your trust terribly but the one thing he had done right was training you well. Aside from that one second, you managed to adapt a look of nonchalance on your face, slowly putting your phone down.

“Hello Cap.”

Sam raised his brows and eyed you up and down.

“You’re back?”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat and you shrugged your shoulders, looking around.

“Yeah,” you said, “Big apple and everything.”

“So much for the small town girl.”

“I have never been a small town girl,” you drawled, “Never been to Oregon either.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

You turned your coffee cup on the table just so you could do something with your hands.

“Why?” he asked after a beat and you shifted your weight despite your whole training of feeling calm and collected, nervousness hitting you out of nowhere.

“You’re a veteran, Wilson,” you managed to say, “You don’t need me to tell you how the chain of command works. Army doesn’t care how we feel about orders.”

“I’m very familiar with how chain of command works,” he pointed out, “But you’re not a soldier, Y/N. You’re a spy.”

“That makes it even worse,” you stated, “I know it sounds like an excuse, but… you don’t know how my agency works. I don’t get to say no to orders, and I sure as hell don’t get to blow my own cover.”

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Jesus Christ, Wilson was really good at this observation thing.

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” you said, “I’m no use to anyone if I develop a conscience.”

“But you did,” he insisted, “Why else would you come to help us? Why else would you warn him beforehand?”

“He told you about that?”

He shot you a look, “What do you think, Y/N?”

You scoffed a laughter. “I was feeling generous,” you said, “No other reason.”

He kept his gaze on you for a couple of seconds, as if trying to see whether you would cave before he took a deep breath.

“You know he was going to propose, right?”

That-

That was just too much. You could feel your jaw hanging as you stared at him in complete silence, his words echoing in your ears.

“No,” you said after a moment, then shook your head fervently, your nose in the air, “No you’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Sam said, “Apparently he was looking for this… house painted in white with—a red door or something.”

Don’t cry.

Do not fucking cry.

Spies don’t cry over heartbreak.

You clenched your jaw and blinked back the tears, straightening your back.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t get to, then.”

“Y/N, he loved you.”

“No Sam, he loved someone who doesn’t exist,” you replied, “Sweet small town girl with sundresses and smiles and some house in the suburbs with kids and all that shit. Girls like me don’t get that ending, I have way too much blood on my hands.”

He pressed his lips together and you cleared your throat.

“How much does he hate me?”

“Why do you think he hates you?���

“Assassins aren’t good at forgiving,” you said, “I would know, we don’t have that talent.”

“That’s not a talent, that’s a choice.”

“It really isn’t,” you muttered, “So?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

You let out a bitter laugh, “Yeah no. Actions have consequences and I’d rather not cross paths with the deadliest assassin in the world after double crossing him.”

“But you want him to forgive you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Intuition,” he said and pushed his chair back to stand up.

“He didn’t kill your father, Y/N.”

You heaved a sigh.

“I know,” you said, “Trust me, I would’ve walked away so much easier if he had.”

“Enjoy your coffee,” he said and walked out of the coffee house. You threw your head back, closing your eyes.

“Yep. I shouldn’t have come back.”

                                                  ***

“I never thought I’d say this, but I kind of hate that we’re not living so close anymore,” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear and opened the door to your apartment as Keith chuckled.

“I knew you’d miss me.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re a softie deep inside. Very very deep inside.”

“If you repeat that in front of anyone I swear to God…” you muttered and he groaned.

“Have I told you they’re putting me in the same team as Julian?”

“You guys have a new mission?”

“Not a long one probably.”

“Why the fuck am I—“

“Because you’re on a vacation,” he cut you off, “And also they’re probably going to make you a handler, that’s worth waiting for.”

“That or….”

“We’re not talking about that on the phone,” Keith said quickly, “Amateur.”

“Careful there, I’ll outrank you soon enough,” you said, walking to the bathroom to wash your hands. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright, see you later!” he said and hung up. You put your phone into your pocket, then washed your hands and made your way to the kitchen.

It was only when you put the wine bottle back into the fridge that you noticed something was off. Your body moved on its own accord, before you knew it you had already grabbed the knife in your boots and threw it to the figure in the dark corner of the room but he easily caught it, metal hitting what sounded like another kind of metal before he stepped out of the corner. Your breath caught in your throat, and for the first time in your life you froze, all the training leaving your mind.

You were supposed to be looking for a weapon, any kind of weapon but somehow, your body refused to move.

Bucky turned your knife in his hands, his gaze pinning you to your spot before he tilted his head.

“Hi honey,” he said, his voice way too cold. “I’m home.”

Chapter 24

[miekasa]

mie!! i’m so late to the party but i absolutely loved ‘NICE’, it made me feel so warm and fuzzy <33 it’s so unique to its own and the flow of it is beyond wonderful!

what is married life like for oc and eren in ‘NICE’? is it just like before/do you have any nice!husband!eren headcanons?

AHH I’m so happy you liked it and that you took the time to come and tell me!! Married life for them... doesn’t really differ from what their lives looked like before actually hehe. They were basically married without knowing it 🙄🙄 idiots to lovers or something like that; but here are a few head canons of the months immediately following NICE!

You officially got married in Paris on the fourth, not too long after Carla’s wedding. You guys flew in some officials, checked through all the technicalities, and signed the papers right on top of the Eiffel Tower (access granted by the city of Paris upon request of one Carla Jaeger, of course). 

Aside from having the most picturesque location in the world to sign your marriage certificate, there wasn’t anything lavish in celebration after that. Carla’s wedding was just three days earlier, after all, and was still the talk of the local press. You did have a small party with your friends (Jean, Armin, Mikasa, Marco, Erwin, Levi, Hange came from the Alps for Carla’s wedding) in your overly large hotel room. Just some music, room service, and lots and lots of champagne.

Eren extended your winter break vacation by two weeks for an impromptu honeymoon to the Bahamas before you went home. Let’s just say you did not leave the safe haven of your hotel room very often, except to dip into the ocean a few nights (benefits of a private beach).

After getting married, the rings swapped places; the band with diamonds previously on your pointer finger was put on a chain (a new one since Eren threw the other one on the ground 💀), and you now wear the engagement ring on your ring finger.

Eren doesn’t like it when you take off the ring (the ring being the engagement ring). The first time you were going into the water, you were going to put it on the chain for safekeeping, but he protested very strongly. He would rather it rest safely in your suitcase than go around your neck again.

Your wedding bands are actually very similar to the band you already have: gold and diamond encrusted. Eren’s, however, has an emerald in the center, like the two emeralds that serve as the pistils of the sunflowers in your engagement ring (for reference, that ring looks something like this, but with a gold band). The bands were the first thing Eren bought when you guys got home.

Your friends in Dubai (Ymir, Reiner, Annie, Connie, Sasha) had no idea that you and Eren got married over winter break. Safe to say they were all… very surprised to hear the news. Connie was a little bit bitter because he missed it, and wolf whistles every time he sees your ring (even though he’s seen it before because you wore it on the necklace every day).

You got married in January, but have an official wedding in the process of being planned sometime around late summer/early fall. Carla insisted that you guys have a wedding despite already being married, and Eren agreed whole heartedly. They are both very into planning it, and yes, Eren is somewhat of a bridezilla, and his mom is enabling him 100% please.

The night you signed the wedding papers, Carla lent you an off-white satin couture gown from one of her past collections. She is designing and making your official wedding dress by hand, with the help of Mikasa.

The two of them are also making Eren’s suit, and all the outfits for your wedding party. Carla will murder you if you even so much as hint at just buying other suits/dresses. This is her baby’s wedding, and she runs one of the most renowned fashion houses of the modern century; she’ll be damned if you guys wear something off the rack.

You considered a destination wedding, but settled on having it in New York. You haven’t decided a location yet, and it’s the one thing Eren isn’t actually picky about (because you know he’s gonna go ham on the decor no matter where it is bye).

Jean doesn’t know it yet, but he’s your maid of honor. Good luck and best of wishes to Eren picking between Mikasa and Armin for best man.

Even before confessing and getting married, Eren never slept much in his own bedroom. You both have California king sized beds in your rooms, and more often than not, Eren would sleep with you in your bed. You didn’t always cuddle, but he just liked to be there (for your presence, and because he was grossly in love bye)… you ended up cuddling a lot of the time tho.

He wants to renovate your apartment now that you both “officially” live in the same bedroom, even though it’s not necessary. He just likes renovating things.

You guys go to dinner every weekend, and sometimes you even go dancing. Eren still can’t dance and he doesn’t actually care to learn; it just reminds him of being in Nice with you.

He kisses your ring finger every morning waking up and every night before going to bed; sometimes he even does it subconsciously in his sleep.

He holds your hand way more often. Not just because you guys are together now, but because he likes seeing the ring where it’s meant to be. He also notices that it helps to curb your anxiety, which is a good bonus.

Eren wants kids, but he hasn’t really brought it up yet. He knows you both are fairly young, and that you’re still technically in school, but that’s not really a deterrent for him.

The only reason he’s waiting to say something is because you guys have a lot going on with wedding planning and settling in to “married life”—there’s a lot of tedious paperwork to be done and documents to update. He’ll bring it up next year when all that is settled.

On the subject of school, you are still attending university, but have been eligible for graduation for a year now. You had enough credits to graduate last (the year before NICE) December, but there were a few more classes you wanted to take out of interest that hadn’t been running in past years, so you stayed for all four years. Eren picks you up from your lectures.

Eren graduated in December before you guys went on vacation. By normal standards, that’s a semester early. However, he was supposed to be in this Honors Arts and Sciences program, that should have taken him another two semesters. He decided it wasn’t worth it, and dropped the honors part, and with that, had enough credits to graduate, so he did.

A college degree is really more of an accessory for him anyway, and school was never his thing. He’s decently smart, sure, but he never enjoyed school because of the emphasis on exams; he’s more of a creative person, a dreamer if you will. The only reason he even went to Columbia was because you decided to go there. 

He and you both have enough money to live more than comfortably if neither of you decided to get a job after graduation… way more than enough/ But Eren isn’t doing nothing; he’s actually sorta been working his way into the world of professional interior design, and he really loves it. You’re proud of him, and more than anything, happy that he decided to go for something he loves.

Armin and Jean also graduated a semester early. Armin’s been living with Mikasa since Connie got his own place off-campus in January. Jean is a little upset blondie is living with his girlfriend before he is, but it’s whatever 🙄if it’s gonna be anyone, at least it’s Armin. 

Carla mentioned that Eren got married sometime during a NYFW interview (along with talking about her own recent marriage), and since then you both have interviewed for two magazines, one of which featured pictures from your smaller party in Paris. You’ve gotten requests from Vanity Fair and Vogue about your bigger wedding later in the year, but you guys haven’t invited any media officials as of yet.

You and Eren attend the MET Gala almost every year. You don’t walk the red carpet and nobody is scrambling to take your pictures; but you have passes because of Carla. Also, you could just buy your way in if you wanted you (and your friends have in the past). This year, Eren had to pay two security officers $10k in bribes because you two snuck away to fuck in… a part of the museum not sectioned off for the event. Whoopsies.

Even before Eren got him arrested, going out to brunch was kind of your and Armin’s thing. Eren insists he should be invited now that he’s your husband. He is not. (His bitterness grows when he learns that Jean has secured himself an invite somehow).

Eren sold the car he got arrested for drag racing in. He never told you why—and as far as transportation goes, it wasn’t a big deal because you guys have other cars—but, to him, it was a kind of symbol. He thinks it’s dumb if he thinks too long about it, but he just didn’t wanna have that there are a reminder of how he’d hurt you and his mom.

Jean still drives you to your therapy appointments, but now Eren picks you up. Eren also goes to therapy himself, and has been before you guys got married; his therapist says he’s undoubtedly happier in recent sessions… like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulder.

As far as drugs go, there’s, of course, weed on a happy occasion, or at a party; but he hasn’t touched coke since that one time (which was also the first time he’d ever done it). That’s not even him being a changed man, he just didn’t like it—he only argued with you about it because he was being stubborn. He’s more of a drinker than anything, and absolutely loves to get you drunk on a special occasion, too; he always has. He thinks you look cute, and he likes taking care of you.

You have lived in that apartment with Eren for years before marrying him, yet he insisted you needed to christen the place like it was brand new… at this point, the only places you haven’t fucked in are the elevator itself, the foyer, the storage closet, and the pool. The latter only because it’s been too cold in NYC… trust and believe pool sex is coming lmfao.

Eren bought the apartment and renovated and designed it, but he never did like being in it all alone, and that’s been magnified since you got married. If he’s there by himself, he’s usually in the living area, napping on the daybed. He waits for your faithfully every day, and is hardly in the bedroom if you’re not.

Eren has not stopped introducing you as his wife since January. Even to people in passing like cashiers and bartenders, everyone in the whole damn city probably knows you guys got hitched.

[darling-cas]

Hoax (an original story)

I amaze myself sometimes. 

My therapist says I need to go back to things that bring me joy, says I need to find happiest in life again. During one specific session, I was asked to name a time when I was truly at peace, a time I felt moments of pure joy outside of my partner and friends. The first thing that came to mind was a time years ago, when I would post stories here, on this website, for you all to see.

This surprised me honestly, because if you knew me personally (*cough* hi @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie *cough*) you would know the amount of stress and pressure I put myself under when it came to writing We Are Young, Whatever It Takes, etc, etc, etc. But despite all the negative emotions, the moments that always stand out to me is sitting on my laptop after I clicked post, watching all the love and adoration pure in from each and every one of you.

I say this monthly but, I really do want to get back into writing. Thanks to my therapist and business major partner, I’ve been dipping my toes into editing for others as a side job. But I want to make my way back to writing my own stories and sharing them with even the smallest corner of the world. This story, Hoax, I wrote actually one year ago, when I first started therapy and after a hard heartbreak. It helped me feel like myself again and lifted me out of the darkness.

I hope, for even the smallest number of you, it does the same. I hope you can feel the same magic that I felt when I wrote it. Take this as a thank you for, years ago, bringing me such joy and happiness.

Until next time...

Cas.

--------------------

The air was midsummer sweet.

It was an Indian summer of blue sky dreams and late evening tears, with the weather shifting moods in the blink of an eye. Grey clouds would eclipse the setting sun with their mighty fists, soaking up the colour of the earth like ink drenching a cotton ball.

And with the continuous alternating weather came the busty smell of sunblock and wet grass. Summer scents combined with the salty air and pungent fish that cling to Jake’s senses from the moment he started his journey along the coastal towns.

His mountain travels started just mere days ago. The task of hiking the grand peak was something he was finally going to cross off his bucket list. Dipping into his savings and requesting a week or two off work was a small price to pay when it came to the tranquility and beauty laid bare before him.

Born and raised on the outskirts of the city, there hadn't been much nature for him to appreciate and admire growing up. But from the moment Jake entered the first small, close-knit fishing town, all he could seem to do was appreciate and stare in outright awe.

The land laid undisturbed all around; the mountains, the trees, the ocean, they had all planted their roots, dug in their heels, and refused to surrender. Cities had been conquered, the vast expansion of country fields and towering summits were placed in chains, forced to give themselves to man. But here, on the coast of fishing villages, it seems as if Land and Man came to an agreement, a compromise, an understanding, to live in peace as one. 

Roads of all kinds swerved, twisted, curled up and down along the coast, between the trees. Houses of unnaturally charming bright blues, yellows, oranges, and greens sat gracefully against the mountain rocks, climbing up the forest-speckled cliffs. Homes and buildings of sea-weathered colour rested on the broken shoreline. Boats bobbed in the water, their docks reaching out towards the horizon like fingers longing to reach and touch a disappearing lover.

In the coastal towns, driving along the sunset stained ocean, Jake swore he would never see true beauty again.

Even now, when the sky wept tears of sorrow, its beauty never vanished.

The weather came on suddenly, as he passed the welcoming sign for Higdon's Harbour. The roads became slick, a  ghostly fog settled in, and the colours were muted a few shades darker by the clouds above. Rivers trickled down the mountain side, disappearing into shallow ditches. Waves started to leap and jump to catch the increasing wind. All while the sky cried on and on.

Jake drove on through the town. Classic rock thumped softly in the background and raindrops tapped on the roof of the car. He had planned not to stop for the night until the next town over. He had driven through several rain storms since the start of his trip, and this was nothing.

But the cracks in the sky's broken heart continued to grow with exceptional pain. Tears of despair quickly turned to tears of anger. The beating on the car became more aggressive as the wind wailed daunting threats and the ocean frantically waved its arms.

It became too much, too quick. Jake was used to driving through bad weather, but not seaside storms. Not gusting winds and sideways rain. Plus, he decided, he was already making good time. So when the flashing green neon sign reading Beaumont Motel came into view, he didn’t hesitate to pull off the road, into the parking lot, and turn off his car.

A bell jingled above as Jake pushed open the door. He stepped into the warmth of the lobby, drenched through his clothes and soaking the carpet under his feet.

“Turned nasty out there real quick, didn’t it?”

Jake threw off his hood, shaking out his damp, blonde hair as he caught sight of an older woman with long grey hair smiling at him from behind a wooden desk.

She pulled her beige cardigan closer around her, brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “Looking for a room, hun?”

“If you happen to have one available,” Jake replied, walking towards the desk and setting down his backpack. Judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot, he was more than confident there were plenty of empty rooms. Still, he glanced at the woman’s name tag and flashed her a smile. “Vera.”

“Oh, hun,” Vera chuckled. Her fingers tapped away on the computer that looked too new to be in the small, tacky, lobby with flower-patterned wallpaper. A lobby that was decorated with simply a small sitting area off to the side, a dusty fireplace warming the room, a dark wooden desk, rouge carpet, and outdated lighting fixtures. “I think I have one or two available. For how long will we be seeing your handsome face around?”

“Only a night,” Jake said. “I’m just passing through.”

“Storm pushed you off the road, huh?” Vera turned around and grabbed a key off one of the hooks on the wall. “It should only last the night. Nightly storms are common for us during this time of year. Here you go, hun.”

“Thank you!” Jake took the key before picking up his bag once more, throwing it over his shoulder.

“If you’re looking to warm up a bit, Kay & Elle, the pub next door, is open for a few more hours,” Vera informed him, fixing her wool cardigan on her shoulders. “A lot of the locals inhabit the place, but we’re friendly folks here. I’m sure they’ll keep you entertained for a bit.”

“Thank you for the suggestion!” Jake pulled his hood back over his head. “Have a good night, Vera.”

She waved him off with a dazzling smile. “Enjoy your short time at Higdon’s Harbour.”

Rain beat down around Jake as the lobby door closed behind him. The sticky air promised an onslaught of thunder and lightning, but it had yet to develop. With a glance at the metal key in his hand, Jake made out a marked 9 engraved at the top. His toes were cold as he quickly made it to the door and inserted the key before pushing the door open and stepping into the musty smelling room.

It was just as drab as the lobby. The double-bed was dressed in off-white coverings. Cream walls, dark carpet, and tacky seaside pictures. Along with two side tables by the bed, a small TV on top of a mini fridge, and a bathroom door on the far wall.

It wasn’t the nicest looking room he’d ever stayed in, but he would also be lying if he said he hadn’t stayed in worse before. 

With a tired and uncomfortable sigh, Jake tossed his bag onto the bed, peeled off his wet coat, and padded off into the bathroom.

He never really thought of going to the pub Vera had mentioned. His only plans that evening consisted of taking a scalding shower before crawling into bed. Maybe watching some TV or reading the book at the bottom of his bag to spice up the night.

Yet, once the two former items on his agenda were checked off, an uneasiness fell over him. Neither the TV nor his book could hold his attention. The bedsheets itched his legs. His heart thumped in his chest, just fast enough to be noticeable. He couldn’t sit still.

Lightning flashed outside and Jake’s head whipped in the direction of the window. The pub came into view; the two porch lights twinkled in the dark and laughter sounded in time to the pounding storm. It shimmered in the lightning’s afterglow, the rain creating a silver mist of magic around the stone building.

Jake tossed off the sheets and threw on some clothes and his damp jacket. The pull in the pit of his stomach pushed him towards the front door without Jake even really realizing what he was doing. But he chalked it up to boredom and the anxiety of being knocked off his schedule.

He left the warmth of his room behind, almost crashing into a figure as he gently closed his door. An apology was on the tip of his tip tongue when a feeling of nausea washed over him. He felt dizzy, stomach turning. But it was gone between one blink and the next, along with the person. Jake got a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye followed by bells and laughter as the door to room 8 snapped closed. 

The thunderous weather started to overload Jake's senses and the urge to get to the pub was greater. With his head down, the figure fading from his memory, Jake made his way across the parking lot.

A drink or two would kill some time, he thought to himself. At least it would help settle the uneasiness and put him to sleep.

The mist around the pub seemed to glow as Jake drew closer, but he was too busy keeping the rain out of his eyes to pay much mind to it. Warmth shot up his arm as he pushed the door open, a jingle filling the room.

The smell of liquor and smoke tainted with the slight scent of sweat greeted Jake as he stepped over the threshold of Kay & Elle. The low rumble of a banjo filled the space, bouncing off the wooden rafters, mixing with the low mumbles and chuckles of the clusters of people scattered around the room. It wasn’t a full house, but crowded enough given the storm outside.

With his footsteps sounding off the wood floors, Jake made his way to the dark-oak bar. He received a few stares and nods of acknowledgment as he walked by men and women alike, sitting at tables and standing by pool tables. As he walked past, he took in the stone walls, the empty stage in the back, the shimmering yellow lights, and the photos of fishermen, smiling ladies, and vast landscapes littered throughout the walls. 

He took off his jacket, his heart having settled from the moment he entered the pub. Jake wasn’t a man who believed in faith, but in his bones, deep in his marrow, he knew this was where he was meant to be, for whatever reason.

“Well ain’t you a fresh face,” the elder man behind the bar remarked as Jake sat in one of the barstools, just a few seats down from a hunched over figure nursing a glass of whiskey.

Jake placed his wet jaket on the chair beside him as he chuckled. “Hard to be a stranger in this town.”

“Small-town life, my boy. Everyone knows everyone.” The man threw a towel over his shoulder, his dark hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, causing the wrinkles on his slim, tan face to be on full display. His green eyes sparkled in welcome and his smile pulled at the faded scar on his left cheek. “Passing through?”

The dim lights jumped and danced off the many bottles lining the wall behind the bar. A muted glow hugged the bar, the music changing to the beat of a fiddle.

“I am, but the storm took me off the road for the night,” Jake explained.

“You staying at the Beaumont?”

Jake nodded. “The woman, Vera, recommended I stop by for a drink.” 

The words tasted bitter, full of half-truths and false tales. But Jake wasn’t sure why, just as he wasn’t sure how to explain his need to be sitting in the pub at that particular moment.

“That woman,” the elder man chuckled with a shake of his head. “She sends more business this way than any billboard ad ever could. Well, have a drink while you’re here…"

“Jake.”

The music skipped a beat as the fiddle played a harsh note. The air turned bitter and cold. Jake’s limbs urged him to run, screamed that he made a mistake, scolded him for giving his name so willingly. But it was a reflex; the word leaving his lips before he understood what was happening. An impulse came over him, the same one that pulled him to obey the man's demand and order a drink.

No one seemed to notice the odd behaviour, aside from the hunched over figure a few seats down. His depthless brown eyes flashed to Jake, grey hair falling across his pale, sweaty forehead. There was a look of pain and madness in those eyes. Jake opened his mouth to say something when a draft of beer appeared in front of him. And suddenly he couldn’t remember why his limbs felt tense or why there was a cold sweat on the back on his neck.

“Nice to meet ya, Jake,” the bartender smiled with a gleam in his bottle-green eyes. “Name’s Murphy.” 

“Likewise,” Jake raised his drink before bringing the glass to his lips, downing half of it in a few gulps.

The hunched man tipped back the last of his whiskey, slamming the glass hard on the bartop.

“Murphy,” he spoke in a husky voice, like the sound of asphalt and gravel.

A flash of irritation, with just a hint of sadness, came over Murphy's face. He didn’t say a word as he quickly prepared another glass, sliding it gently in front of the stranger.

“Take it easy, Harold. That’s your third now.”

Harold grunted, shooting back half the glass without a word.

Murphy sighed, every other emotion but worry washing from his face for the smallest moment, before he turned back to Jake with a smile on his lips.

“So, where were you headed before the rain knocked you off track?”

After another smaller sip of beer, Jake explained his mountain travel plans and his desire to reach the great peak that waited for him at the end.

“Good on ya. Do it all now while you’re still young and can move about,” Murphy said with a chuckle. “This a solo trip? Or are you with someone special? Perhaps they’re waiting for you back in your room?”

“No,” Jake chuckled, ignoring the grunt of clear annoyance from the man a few seats down from him. “Just me.”

A glimmer appeared in the old man's eye. “So no one speical then? No sweetheart waiting for ya?”

Glass rattled as Harold slammed his empty drink back down on the bar.

Jake cast a sideways glance at the stranger. Restlessness rushed through him as he slowly sat up straighter. Tension gripped his limbs as Harold turned to look at him. Those unnaturally dark eyes shined with intensity. They held so much knowledge, so much pain, so much fury that Jake couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t waste your time with such things, boy,” Harold grumbled, voice rough and firm. His brows were pulled together so tight they were touching, as the bar cast his face in shadows of back and grey. “Love is pointless.”

He said the word love with such hatred, Jake felt as if the stone structure surrounding them would cave in and collapse. 

Murphy, for his part, looked just as on edge. It was a fact that did little to calm Jake's sudden nervousness. 

“Harold,” he sighed. “Let’s take a moment-”

“There is one thing that is certain when it comes to love,” Harold continued, eyes gazing unblinkingly at Jake. “It is nothing but pain. Love is made up of pain and heartbreak and bitter ends. It is a useless and pointless part of the whole damn human existence.”

A hush fell over the bar, as if even the other guests could sense the mood Harold had brought about. The upbeat tone of the fiddle suddenly switched to a soulless wail. . A shiver ran up Jake’s spine and he begged his body to turn away, to dismiss the man and be done with it. But he couldn’t. His unmerciful gaze pulled him in and suddenly Jake was drowning in the scent of liquor and smoke and dead leaves and depthless seas. 

“You fight so hard." Harold gripped his glass, and a crack started to appear. “You fight with all you have and give yourself completely and it's no good. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is good enough. Love is about fighting a losing battle and in the end, only one person suffers the consequences. And it's usually the one who fought the hardest.”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was firm, loud, booming over the music as Jake jumped back in his seat. He didn’t realize how intently he’d been listening to Harold. How he was hanging on to every word like it was air. Or how, while talking to the terrifying man, for the first time since entering the town, Higdon’s Harbour glowed with colour.

An angry, remorseless, pulsating red colour.

Harold held Jake's gaze for a moment longer, intense eyes cast in complete shadow, before turning back to the bar.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jake found himself saying, voice shaking more than he'd like to admit. He didn’t mean to speak, the words simply rushed out of him with an aftertaste of smoke. 

Clearing his throat, Jake downed the last of his beer before pushing the glass towards Murphy for a refill.

A hush fell around them for just a few moments, the tension already starting to subside. Jake felt his shoulders drop as he slowly sipped his beer and Murphy slid Harold a glass of water. After some small talk with the old bartender, Jake felt himself able to breathe once more. His body started to relax, the fog lifting from his head. He was breaking the surface and forgetting all about the darkness of the ocean and the murdered limbs of the trees on the forest floor.

While on his third drink, Murphy started to get busy with the other parties of the bar. Tables started to ask for refills, and drenched couples walked through the door, the wind roaring behind them. He drifted more and more between the bar and the tables. And it was about that time that Jake decided he would soon be calling it a night.

“You shouldn’t have stopped, boy.”

Ice crawled up Jake’s spine at the sound of that sandpaper voice. Murphy was off to some seemingly remote corner of the bar. Jake couldn’t help but notice that every new body who walked in stayed far away from the bar, from him, and from Harold.

Jake gripped the tall draft in his hand, foam and condensation running through his numb fingers. 

He turned to face Harold, those black soulless eyes dragging him into the abyss. He was in a freefall, too much rushed through him all at once. A thumping started at his left temple and his heart dropped to his stomach as he fell and fell and fell from the bowels of the sky through the open arms of the corpse-like trees.

“You shouldn’t have stopped,” Harold spat, teeth clenched and head hung low. “You should get out of this cursed town before they get you too. They know you’re here. They knew you’d be here before you knew you’d be here. They got to the rest of this damned town. They got her. Get out before they get you too, boy.”

Fear rooted Jake in place. Fear for what, he couldn’t tell. But in the back of his mind, in the depth of his soul, he knew Harold was right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have stopped. Yet, the thought of leaving caused his heart to clench and spots to form behind his eyes. Without his control, he found his lips forming the words - 

“Who are they?”

The lights flickered with the time of the thunder clashing outside. The fiddle faded out and the haunting strings of a violin floated through the room, accompanied by a soulful woman's wail.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t provoke this man. He should just pay his tab, get up, and leave. But it was unexplainable, much like the whole night had been. He simply couldn’t help himself.

Harold completely turned to Jake. The harsh lines on his face caught the glow of the dim lights. His eyes burned with unattainable wisdom and passion. Jake's heart started to race, limbs locking into place as he noticed the music slowed. Along with, somehow, every other body and soul in the bar. A haze filled the room, a mist blurring and engulfing everything that was not Jake and was not Harold. Even the storm seemed to hush, with only the woman's cry continuing on.

“Let me tell you a story, son.” Harold’s voice turned mystical, the words floating in the air between the two. “Cause I’ve lost my friends, my family, this whole damn town, and yet no one will believe me. They think I’m a nut-case, a man full of grief. But I ain’t, you hear? And maybe you’ll believe me. Maybe you won’t. But they took my wife-”

“Your wife is missing?”

Jake’s pulse jumped as Harold leaned in close, his blood-shot eyes burning crimson red. “For years now. Cause they took her.”

“They?” Jake repeated, feeling physically ill.

Harold nodded. “The fairies.”

He should have laughed. He should have backed off. His mind should have been yelling at him that the man was senile, crazy, insane. He should have bid him goodbye, called over Murphy, and been done with this place, this man. This man who was staring at him with all the earnestness in the world.

Fairies.

The word danced around in his head, bells and whistles suddenly joining in with the escalating violin. Suddenly, the whole town made all the sense in the world and yet, none at all.

“Fairies?” Jake spoke slow and steady. “They’re just folklore. A myth.”

Even as he said it, the words turned to dust on his tongue. He wanted to wash the taste out with his beer, but found he genuinely couldn’t move. 

“The Harbour Fairies,” Harold whispered. “Nasty creatures. And if you believe they’re just a myth, you’re as foolish as the rest of them. If you believe there isn’t more to this world, that we’re the only beings here, you’re blin. These aren’t just some little buggers who pick your berries and sprinkle dust. They are savage, mischievous demons.”

Jake started to shake his head, mostly to clear the fog that had started to form. “I don’t-”

“We here grew up wearing our clothes inside out and carrying bread in our pockets to stop the little people from leading us astray,” Harold spoke with more urgency than Jake had heard all night, “But little good it did. Everyone was blinded by what was right in front of them. These creatures play tricks. Oh, they love tricks. And not the fun kind. No, the kind that leads you over a cliff or dead at the bottom of the sea. They are unpredictable forces of nature who lead you in the woods, and suddenly you're never heard of again.”

“And they got your wife.”

“They stole her,” Harold spat the words into the air. His gaze flicked towards the red-head who walked past them, beer in hand, before he spoke again. “They took her from me. Everyone here believes she ran away, but I know. I caught them you see, I saw it with my own two eyes. One day she was in the garden, the next…”

… she walked into the woods, never to be seen again. Jake knew because he saw it himself. He watched it play out in Harold’s aged eyes. And suddenly he was inserted into a story that was not his. He didn’t feel right; too tight in his skin, eyes unable to properly focus on the greys, blacks, and whites of the world. But he still watched.

A grass-stained seven year old boy cradled the arm of a pretty girl with messy blonde hair. They sat in a treehouse, feet dangling over the edge, kicking at the clouds. The girl had tear-tracks running down her cheeks and dead flowers stuck in her hair. She was biting her lip, nodding as the boy spoke.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” he whispered sternly.

“I didn’t mean to,” her lips trembled, gaze moving to anything but the boy before her. “It wasn’t my fault.”

The boy shook his head as he ran his hand over the forming bruise. “You gotta be more careful Cathy. What if something were to happen to ya?”

“Then let's get out of this town, Harry,” a seventeen-year old girl twirled in the headlights of an old pick-up truck. The waves crashed against the shore in the distance, the sun tenderly kissing the horizon goodbye. The girl’s blonde, messy braids whipped around her shoulder, dress bunched at her ankles. She stood before a brown haired boy, grass-stains on his jeans, leaning against the red truck. “Let’s pack up and leave after graduation next week.”

“And go where, Cathy?” The boy shook his head. “I have a job lined up on the boat and you have-”

“Nothing! I have nothing!” She threw her hands in the air. “I ain’t got nothing lined up. Just my next shift at the diner. I want to go to school, you know I do. But papa-”

“Don’t worry about your father,” the boy grabbed at the girls skirts, pulling her so close their hips touched. “I told you, I’ll protect you from your papa.”

The girl bit her lips, forest green eyes glancing over the boy's shoulder. Her face was tender but the look of caution never left. As if she wanted to believe the boy holding her but her heart refused to pay heed. “Promise?”

“I do.”

Applause thundered across the crowd, the waves beating against the rocky cliffs. The man lifted the woman's veil, tucking a piece of messy blonde hair behind her ear before gripping the back of her neck. He leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. Whistles and wails filled the air, a screaming violin starting to play as the newly-weds walked down the aisle.

She held on her husband’s arm like a life-line, biting her lip as her father clapped the bride-groom on the shoulder. Her eyes darted around the crowd, the same look of caution from five years ago still masked her face.

It was a look that never left her face, a look that was forever present in the back on her eyes. It was the only thought Jake found he was able to form; the look of a woman who was scared. The look of a woman who was holding a secret.

And maybe she was, for that look stayed with her for all the years to come, Jake noticed. He watched Harold's and Catherine’s life play out before him, just as Harold described. The twenty plus years together. The moments of tender love, the moments of bitter fights. The squealing laughter and howling sobs. The funerals and the weddings, The slamming bottles and doors leading to nights together and alone. It wasn’t the best marriage, but what marriage is, Harold said.

They never had kids, their life centred around just the two of them, their fading love and the growing tension. Every second leading up to that moment, in a garden of muted yellows, reds, and oranges.

Flowers in her messy hair, a near fifty year old Catherine knelt before a bed of dirt. Sunglasses covered her eyes, dirt stained her knees, finger nails, and cheeks. She was silent as she worked.

A door slammed in the distance. “Catherine!”

The tension became electricity in the air. Catherine’s head snapped up as footsteps made their way to the backyard.

Jake noticed it at the exact moment she did. The wind switched directions, bells jingled off the tree tops, mystical laughter floated out from the forest on the other side of the garden.

Catherine turned slowly. The flower fell out of her hair. She tossed the sunglasses onto the ground and her bruised, deep green eyes glowed against the muted world. She walked towards the tree line, footfalls light. Laughter bubbled past her own lips and, between one step and the next, she was gone.

“... the forest swallowed her up and I knew they got to her.”

Jack was back in the bar. Everything rested as it had, and he himself wasn’t even sure if what he had just witnessed was real. Surely not, but the description and details felt real, tangible. As if, for a moment, he truly stood in Harold's memories.

“The forest was the only way out,” Harold’s eyes were wide, urgent, and the brightest things in the whole bar. “It was either through the house or the forest. And she’d been acting out for years. Always in the garden, out on her own. They got her, it's the only answer. But,” a pause, eyes shifting. “I know where she is.”

Jake swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. “You do?” 

“An island just a few miles out in sea. A rocky cliff, that's where they stay,” Harold nodded, talking more to himself than Jake. “She's there, with them. I’m taking my boat out tomorrow morning. I’m going to get her and-”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was enough to make Jake jump back. He never noticed how close he had been leaning towards the old man. Just as he never realized how tightly he was holding his warm, untouched third glass of beer. He pulled his hand back, wiping it on his jeans as the pulsing in his left temple grew stronger. 

As he looked around the pub, Jake took in all the faces looking his way. Eyes bounced between him and Harold, whispers and murmurs accompanying the flute and violin pair. It was only when Murphy loudly, purposely, cleared his throat that the inhabitants of the bar started to look as if they weren’t listening. 

“Harold,” Murphy spoke softly, placing a hand on Harold’s tense shoulder. “I think it's time to head home, friend.”

There was a fight in Harold’s eyes, Jake could see it. That bloodshot, haunting, soulless gaze held a fire and life to them, ignited by the hatred for creatures that couldn’t exist. But the moment Murphy spoke, the moment Harold looked around the pub and saw all the eyes on him, the fire vashined. It was as quick as releasing a breath, there one minute and gone the next. 

Harold held Jake’s gaze. There was still so much left unsaid, unanswered, and Jake found he didn’t want him to go. His mind and soul craved to know more about fairies and their secret world.

A laughter echoed off the rafters, and Jake realized for the first time that night how terrified and exposed he truly was.

“Tomorrow morning,” Harold grunted as he stood, the invitation loud and clear. Jake didn’t understand why Harold was inviting him along but it somehow made all the sense in the world.

With no other parting words, with not so much as a glance at any other living soul in the pub, Harold walked out. Back hunched as he disappeared over the threshold, rain and wind howling as they swallowed him whole.

A hush carried on throughout the pub for a few heartbeats. Until the flute faded back into the plucking of a guitar. Someone cheered, laughter followed, and soon the lively atmosphere of the bar was back once more. As if the haunted man with an implausible story wasn’t present a few moments before.

“Is it true?” Jake found himself asking, tongue sliding across his chapped lips. He turned in his chair, facing Murphy, who now stood behind the bar. He hoped his shaking hand wasn't noticeable as he raised his beer to his lips. “About those… about the fairies.”

The word tasted like strawberries and metal on his lips.

Murphy glanced up for the glass he was cleaning, scar strained across his cheek as he pursed his lips. “They’re urban folktales. Myths passed down through all the generations of the Harbour.”

“And his wife?”

Murphy paused. He let out a sign, placed the glass under the bar before turning to Jake. Worry and concern shinned in his eyes.

“She left him,” he explained softly, mindful of the ears around. “Packed up and left, just like that.”

“Just like that?” Jake raised an eyebrow at Murphy’s hesitation.

“There were… rumours about cheating and drunken fights but…” Murphy took a breath, crossing his arms on the bartop as he leaned in close. “Look, Harry's a good guy, difficult but good. Our families know each other well. And Cathy… well she had a hard life with her father. She wasn’t all there before she left and Harold took it hard. He still won't get help and has himself convinced the Harbour Fairies are behind it. Says he’s seen things with his own eyes that explains it.”

Jake swallowed, leg bouncing restlessly. “He’s going out tomorrow morning-” 

“Yeah,” Murphy nodded solemnly. “We’ve tried to stop him, talk sense. But he won’t listen. And he’s at the age and point now where we've given up - what can ya do.”

A lot. Jake glanced around the pub, taking in the numerous people laughing, chatting, drinking. He didn’t know these people, he shouldn’t judge, but they could be doing something to help that man. He may be talking crazy but… was he? 

The more Jake studied the bar, the more it felt like a fog was lifting. The pieces were falling into place. The math was suddenly starting to make sense. And Jake refused to acknowledge the answers that were before him.

“Where is she then?” Jake asked, breathing through his nose to calm his racing heart. “His wife. Catherine.”

“No one knows,” Murphy admitted. “She got out of this town, that's for sure. And no one has heard from her since.”

“No one checks in?” Jake couldn’t hide the disbelief from his voice. “No one’s tried to find out where she is or what happened.”

Murphy watched Jake for an uncomfortable moment. His eyes looked him over, mouth twisting as if to say something. But then his lips shut, he blinked, and he shrugged before pointing to the still full glass in front of Jake. “You want another?”

Jake's breath caught in his throat. Claws bit into his spine. His skin felt too tight as a breeze brushed the back of his neck, red flashing in his vision. The room was too small and too big all at once. He didn’t know why he was feeling such a way or what had brought it on. But his gut knew it was because of this town.

And he knew he wanted to get out.

The door to the pub shut as a couple walked out, but the noise still rattled against Jake’s bones as he shook his head.

“No,” he stood up, hand shaking as he pulled out some bills and tossed them on the bar. “I think I’ll call it a night actually.”

Murphy picked up the money, either not noticing the odd behaviour or choosing to ignore it as he smiled. “Well, Mr. Jake, I hope you enjoy the rest of your short stay. Maybe someday we’ll get to see you passing through the Harbour again.”

“Who knows,” Jake gave a nervous chuckle, “It seems anything is possible.”

He left the pub in shambles. The smell of ashes and fowl fish followed Jake as he made his way to the door. Tables were knocked off centre, chairs were tipped over. The banjo played too loud and slightly off key. Men and women alike stumbled over one another, drinks spilled onto the floor. Even Murphy’s slicked back pony was a mess, falling into his dark, sweat covered face.

The illusion was breaking, the corners being pulled back to show something ugly and monstrous. Something those who inhabited Higdon’s Harbour refused to acknowledge.

Jake stepped over the threshold, blood pounding through his veins. He welcomed the rain beating down on his face, the wind biting through his damp jacket and nipping at his icy skin. The door to Kay & Elle closed with a thunderous bang. The banjo and hysterical laughter was replaced by sorrowful wind and wailing rain.

He stood there for a moment, face turned towards the sky as he tried to will air into his lungs. 

He needed to get out of this town.

Whatever force pulled Jake towards the pub earlier was controlled by a demon. He didn’t know what purpose it served him, to hear about Harold and the fairies… fairies that shouldn’t, didn’t, couldn’t exist…

Someone squealed and giggled across the parking lot. With a jump, heart in his throat, Jake started to make his way back to the safety of his room.

And he was almost there, just a mere few steps away, when his body suddenly felt as if it were stretched too thin. Nausea overcame him and his head spun. The rain pierced his skin like devilish needles and the wind sang a woman's lullaby in his ear. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, thunder crashing as someone bumped into his shoulder.

It was an innocent tap, the woman clearly too captivated by the lady on her arm to notice him. But it did all the damage in the world.

“Oh!” She gasped, the sound like a thousand bells. She grabbed his arm, full-lips pulled back in an apologetic smile as all the air vanished from Jake's chest. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn't breath, the pulsing in his left temple was suddenly magnified by ten. The warmth of her hand on his arm spread through his whole body. He no longer felt the wind and rain beating against him, he was too allured by her auburn curls, high-cheekbones, and hazel eyes that glistened like moss coated in morning dew. 

She was the most hauntingly beautiful creature he had ever beheld. And every part of his being begged him to run.

“Are you okay, Jake?” Her partner spoke up. They were holding one another so close, arms locked tight, it was as if they were one. Gravity pulled them together; where one moved the other followed. A simple stranger such as himself could not doubt their adoration and love.

Jake ripped his gaze away from the red-headed woman and looked at her partner. He took in her slim face, the dirty dress, and messy blonde hair pinned back with a flower.

It was then that Jake noticed that both women were completely dry.

It was then that Jake realized they knew his name.

It was then that his eyes met the blonde’s green ones, and he saw it all.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” a seven year old boy with grass stains on his knees told the six year old girl with a bruised arm.

“I didn’t mean to,” she trembled, and Jake realized she wasn’t avoiding the boys gaze. She was looking at someone else. She was looking at the young auburn haired creature standing a few feet away, invisible to the boy and eyes tense with worry. “It wasn't my fault.”

Be more careful, the boy told her at the exact moment the creature met the girl's gaze and said, I know. I’ll protect you.

“I told you,” said a seventeen year old boy as he gripped a sixteenth year old's skirts. “I’ll protect you from your papa.”

You know he can’t, Cathy, The auburn creature said, standing over the boy's shoulder as she held the girl’s green-eyed gaze. I’ll protect you from them both.

The blonde trembled. “Promise?” 

With all the power of the forest and the sea. I promise.

She was there, always there. She did all she could to keep her promise. But it seemed even she was limited in her abilities.

Jake watched Harold and Catherine's life play out once more. As the twenty plus years faded together, the moments of tender love vanished. The fights were more frequent, more aggressive than Harold let on. He stumbled home in the dark more than once, eyes bloodshot and words slurred. There were many years of fights and screams. Fists were thrown and bones were broken. And the red-head was there through it all, helping as best as she could. She cared for Cathy, tried to protect her, but it wasn’t enough.

Run away with me, Cathy. It's the only way.

And run she did.

It wasn’t a laugh that called Catherine to the forest that day in the garden as Harold’s raging voice bellowed off the walls of the house. No, it was not a laugh at all, but her name, spoken in bells and chimes, love and warmth.

Catherine stepped over the threshold of the forest, laughter on her lips, as she jumped into the arms of the beautiful red-headed fairy.

She didn’t leave, wasn’t taken. She willingly left her delusional old life for one of magic and wonder and respect.

Jake stumbled back a step, shaking off the hand of the creature before him. His head was spinning, his stomach turned and his vision blurred as he truly saw the two ladies before him. As he noticed the glow around them, the electricity that danced in their wake. 

This town, these people… how could anyone let a woman suffer as Catherine did and not do anything? How could they not see what was right in front of them?

And these creatures, the fairies, Harold painted them as the demons and yet, this fairy was Catherine’s saving grace, her lover, her protector...

They shared a look, the two lovers, before turning back to him. They didn’t say another word as the fairy smiled at Jake, white teeth flashing, and blew him a kiss. They turned to leave, Catherine giving him a wink over her shoulder, before disappearing into their hotel room. Right next door to his.

Jake stumbled as fast as he could to his room, slamming the door behind him as he tried to catch his breath and will his mind to understand what the hell was going on.

It took him a few moments to realize, for the first time all night, he was completely dry.  

----------

Light had yet to transform the morning sky when Jake sped out of the Beaumont Motel parking lot. The rain had stopped and the winds were whisked away. Grey clouds lingered in the sky, suffocating the rising sun on the horizon. 

What was once a piece of art to Jake was now the ugliest thing he had ever seen. 

The mountain reached its claws to the sky, holding all the trees and buildings in the palm of its hand. The roads swerved in and out of its fingers, weather-worn homes running up the forest-speckled hills, trying to escape. The ocean leaped for joy as it played with the rocky cliffs, trying to capture and destroy anything it could reach. The boats bobbed in the water, begging to be let free, while the docks pointed their fingers to the open sea, luring in any desperate and lonely souls to the corrupt town. 

The ocean was painted an angry blue against the grey light. The white-capped waves pounded against anything in their way. What Jake once thought was a place of harmony, he realized now, was an illusion.

The image had been shattered, broken beyond repair.

The land had won after all, he realized now. It had conquered Higdon’s Harbour and all within it. There was no agreement, no compromise to live in peace. For nothing could truly defeat nature.

The land cackled against the last remains of the raging storm winds. For it knew the game it was playing; it knew who truly ruled the town. And it was not man.

Jake made it out before the first kitchen light flickered on. Before the inhabitants of Higdon’s Harbour woke and started about their delusional lives. His heart pounded in his chest the whole way, hands shaking as they gripped his steering wheel. Even when he passed the city line, his body refused to relax. Not as the sound of chimes echoed on and on and on in his head.

By the time Jake remembered Harold, he was long gone. And he was too far out to turn back. Too far out to hear the news, or see the headline of the Higdon’s Harbour newspaper that morning. And to hear the otherworldly laugh that accompanied it.

Man Crashes Boat Off Rocky Cliffs In Desperate Search Of His Wife.

[fruitcoops]

Hi! If u have any time, I would love to read some fluffy Coops hurt/comfort! Maybe Remus having a nightmare about Greyback?

I can, yes! For those of you wondering why I didn’t continue the Greyback audio series despite a couple different asks: someone kept coming into my inbox and bothering me about progress, and I got tired of it. I write for fun, and if the story isn’t flowing I generally work on something else for a bit until inspiration strikes. Constantly asking (like, three times a day) about a fic will not get it out faster.

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for nightmares, past injury, and self-deprecating dream talk (briefly)

Greyback was out of the league, and rumors had begun to fly about a possible court case. Remus had received hundreds of texts, emails, and DMs from people expressing their condolences—his old teammates had contacted him more in the past 48 hours than they had in literal years.

And he was so unbelievably tired.

Hattie rumbled against his front and Sirius was solid and warm behind him, curved in a protective parenthesis against the endless unanswered messages. Upon Remus’ request, he had taken his phone and put it on the top shelf of the laundry room cupboards; anyone who wanted to talk to Remus would go through Sirius, first. He couldn’t think of anyone that mattered who didn’t have Sirius’ phone number.

“Are you still awake?” Sirius murmured against the nape of his neck. Remus nodded silently. “Do you want to take some melatonin?”

“It’s alright.”

Sirius shifted and pulled the blankets further onto their shoulders; Hattie wiggled up until her face was out of the sheets, then sighed heavily. “Do you want to talk?”

Remus shrugged, suddenly feeling shaky and untethered. He had only caught a passing glance of Greyback at the conference, staring him down across the lobby until his handlers took him away and left Remus alone with the media. The look in his eyes was almost murderous. “Just don’t let go.”

The arm around his waist tightened and he closed his eyes, matching his breaths with Sirius’ until his world narrowed to the heartbeat against his shoulder and Hattie’s fur in his hand. No aching feet, no pounding head, no verge-of-tears clog in his throat—just Sirius, just Hattie, just them in their bed and the whole world locked outside.

“We’re going to be okay, right?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Sirius moved and a small pocket of cold lodged behind Remus’ knees. “Re, I knew what happened before the story came out.”

“But know there’s…”He waved a hand in the air. “People. Cameras. So many people trying to contact me all the time, and I’m tired. I haven’t really been here for you.”

“Remus.” Sirius tugged on his shoulder until he rolled onto his back, but kept their sides pressed together. “You don’t have to be here for me right now. It’s my job to be there for you while this is going on. Besides, I’m used to dealing with media and nosy people.”

Remus exhaled slowly. “Thank you for taking my phone.”

“You asked me to do it.”

“Still. You could’ve said no.”

“You have enough on your plate already, mon loup.” Sirius trailed his fingers lightly through Remus’ hair and he closed his eyes. “Sleep. I know you didn’t last night.”

“I slept a little bit.”

“Yeah, for about two hours.” A gentle kiss pressed against his cheek. “Sleep.”

He took a deep breath and tried to relax, letting the tension drain from his muscles and allowing the tsunami of exhaustion to wash through in its place. His brain still ran at a million miles per hour and he could feel the beginnings of yet another headache—though who was he kidding, the last week had been a constant headache—but he focused on his heartbeat and breathed in the familiar scent of their bedroom.

Remus felt himself slipping, and suddenly all he smelled was sweat. Sweat and fear and the spongy plastic of the mats sticking to his cheek. He couldn’t feel any pain, but the terror of someone’s hands on his body bolted all the way to his core. Pressure on his thighs as the person’s knees pinned him down; pressure on his back and a palm by his shoulder blade; pressure, so much pressure, on one joint until it gave out and Remus was falling.

He was cold, colder than any ice bath, and gasping for air.

He won’t love you. He never did. Nobody will ever be able to tether you for long. He’ll get tired of trying.

“Please,” Remus begged as the roaring wave came up behind him. A blurry face appeared ahead, with cold eyes and a razor-sharp smile. “No, no—”

Fenrir wouldn’t let go. He was trapped like a fish in a net, struggling and fighting against the harsh grip until his eyes flew open and someone was talking right next to his ear and it was too much too much too much—

“No!” His elbow slammed into something soft and the warmth across his chest disappeared. “Get off me!”

Bedroom. He was in a bed, in a bedroom. In his bedroom. It smelled like lavender and laundry detergent. Hattie was on the floor, carefully sniffing his hand and watching him with huge gray eyes as he pulled his knees to his chest and waited for the last of the nightmare to tremble through him.

A hand brushed against his arm and he flinched, teeth chattering despite the warm room. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay.” The mattress dipped as Sirius sat up and crossed his legs, sitting patiently and rubbing one rib.

Remus’ mouth went dry. “Did I hit you?”

“Just your elbow.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. I hit you.”

“Do you want to take a look?” Sirius asked, his voice soft. Remus blinked rapidly and shifted to face him; he lifted the edge of his sleep shirt and gestured to his ribs. “See? No marks. You didn’t hurt me, just surprised me.”

“Part of me wishes they never found that video,” Remus said. The words tumbled from his lips—he had been choking them down for days now, but he was too tired to hold them in anymore. “I wish nobody ever knew except you and me and him.”

Sirius hummed. “That’s fair.”

“It’s stupid. He deserves what he’s getting.”

“He does.”

Frustration bubbled in his chest. “Then—then I have to choose one, right? He deserves what he’s getting and I deserve to move on and his name should be dragged through the mud, but I just want people to leave me the fuck alone.”

His shoulders folded in and he pressed his forehead to his knees; there were no tears left, but that didn’t stop the shivering that made his stomach hurt. “Can I touch you?” Sirius asked after a moment.

“Yeah.” Remus leaned into him, laying both his legs over one of Sirius’ and curling up like a barnacle against his side. “Sorry for dumping all this on you.”

“Re, this isn’t dumping stuff on me. This is communicating how you feel, and Heather says that’s a good thing.”

“Heather isn’t here.”

“When’s your next appointment?”

“Monday.”

Sirius gave him a squeeze. “I’m not a therapist, but I can hug you until Monday if you want.”

Remus laughed a little—there wasn’t much humor in it, but at least it was there. “That sounds pretty nice, actually. I’m going to take a shower and then make some tea.”

“It’s a mint with honey kind of day?”

“Yeah.”

Forty minutes later, when Remus was mostly dry and bundled in his most comfortable sick-day clothes, he went downstairs and found a steaming mug of mint tea with honey waiting on the coffee table. Sirius smiled and patted the couch as the opening credits of Avatar began. It felt…well, it felt almost normal.