#first thing i see after i wake up is a message from d telling me to post a lot on the stories today bc it’s a big day….

[blkwag]

working with controlling people my behated

[suitkive]

✩ just swinging by — k.yh

pairing. yoohyeon (dreamcatcher) x fem reader

summary. ever since the mysterious web-swinging spider-woman first collapsed on your balcony by accident after a long night out fighting crime, she keeps coming back around with thank-you gifts and excuses to see you—and you slowly start to find yourself falling for the clumsy, kindhearted girl behind the mask.

info. college au, yoohyeon as spider-woman

warnings. swearing, blood/injury

word count. 4.6k (oops)

(a/n) insp. this moodboard i made a while ago :D

of all the things you were expecting to happen to you on a typical sunday night, the sudden appearance of a masked vigilante at your balcony was most certainly not one of them.

alright, rewind a bit. a CRASH jolts you awake in the middle of the night—though really it's morning, according to the glowing red digits on your alarm clock that read 3:49 AM—and you nearly fall out of your bed because that was loud, what the hell?

nerves running high and any remnants of sleep completely shaken out of your body, you get out of bed and slowly open your bedroom door only to be met with a blast of frigid night air. you blink a few times, just to make sure you're not seeing things.

"what the fuck," you say out loud.

your balcony door is gone.

no, wait—it's broken. shards of glass are everywhere, and there's a giant gaping hole where the sliding door used to be. and lying crumpled in a heap on the floor in front of it…

you fumble for the light switch, something you probably should've done as soon as you opened the door. the sight that greets you when the light turns on makes you wonder if you're still dreaming, because this can't actually be happening.

there is a superhero on your balcony.

and she's bleeding all over your carpet.

"oh my god—" you hurriedly rush over to get a better look. red-and-blue spandex that's torn in several places, a trail of spiderwebs clinging to her wrists, a large spider symbol printed on the front and back of her suit… it's spider-woman. spider-woman just crashed through your balcony door.

and she's bleeding. on your carpet.

"okay," you mumble, trying to think. at least the fresh night air coming from the massive hole in your balcony door does well to invigorate you. "okay, okay, i need to do something… oh god, my landlord is gonna be so pissed at me—"

the body on the floor lets out a weak groan, and you quickly kneel down next to her. "hello? are—are you okay?"

with great difficulty, the girl struggles to lift up her head. her mask obscures the entirety of her face, so you have a hard time telling whether or not she's fully conscious.

"…ow," she croaks out at last, and then her head falls back to the floor with a thunk. seconds later, her chest begins to slowly rise and fall. a soft snoring sound emits from her mask.

you take a deep breath. okay. you can deal with this.

so here you are almost three hours later, nursing a cup of much-needed coffee as you stare contemplatively at the now-bandaged but still-snoring superhero laid out on the couch in front of you. you had done your best to clean and treat her wounds with your limited medical knowledge (and the suspiciously well-stocked first aid kit that your weird roommate handong keeps in the cupboard), so now you're just waiting for her to wake up. which is taking way too long.

the clock on the coffee table reads 6:15 AM, and you glumly swish around the cold dregs of your morning coffee. it's almost time for you to leave for your 6:30 chemistry class, but it looks like spider-woman is still completely out of it.

after pacing around the kitchen of your tiny apartment for five more minutes, you impulsively grab a post-it note and scribble down a message for spider-woman to see when she wakes up. thankfully your roommate is literally never home, so there's no chance of anyone coming in here and discovering the superhero conked out on your couch.

you sign your name at the bottom of the note and stick it to spider-woman's forehead, hoping she'll be alright. as for your balcony door… thinking about how much it's going to cost to install a new one gives you a headache, so you just stick a large sheet of cardboard over the opening and resolve to take care of it as soon as you get home.

"this has been a very, very weird morning," you say out loud, because nothing about this feels real.

(then again, the tedious hours you spent cleaning up bits of glass from the floor and picking the webs off of spider-woman's suit definitely felt pretty real.)

you throw one last glance at the sleeping heap on your couch before you leave, only hoping that your life will get back to normal after today.

yoohyeon wakes up disoriented, aching all over, and with the horrifying realization that she has most definitely slept past all five of her monday morning alarms.

she blinks sleepily, slowly processing her surroundings. she's lying on a couch, someone has bandaged her wounds and swaddled her in blankets, yubin probably, she's an angel and the best guy in the chair yoohyeon could ever ask for and… whoa, wait a minute.

this isn't her apartment.

with that horrifying realization, yoohyeon sits straight up and whips her head around in a panic. her surroundings are entirely unfamiliar, and she's about to call yubin before remembering that yubin is unreachable right now—away on some sort of top-secret mission that's supposed to last, like, three months. yoohyeon groans. why am i actually the worst superhero ever?

then she realizes that there's something stuck to her forehead and reaches up to find a neon green sticky note with some writing on it, which she slowly reads through with a good deal of trepidation.

hey, you crashed into my apartment last night—you were unconscious but i didn't see your face, don't worry! i fixed up your injuries as best i could but now i need to leave for class, so i hope you'll be okay when you wake up. just remember to put the cardboard back over the balcony door so birds won't fly in or anything :)

phew. so yoohyeon's secret identity hasn't been leaked, that's a relief… but she essentially broke into an innocent civilian's apartment, which she doesn't exactly feel great about. i need to make this right.

"oh, wait—" yoohyeon realizes something and jumps to her feet, the blankets falling around her. "shit, i'm late for class!"

you're dutifully taking notes as the professor drones on about chemical equations, though you're struggling to stay focused—seriously, who decided that 6:30am classes on a monday was a good idea?—when suddenly the doors to the lecture hall burst open and a girl runs in, flushed and panting heavily.

"i am so sorry," she wheezes, bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. "i overslept…"

the professor sighs and waves off her apology. "don't let it happen again," he says sternly, then continues his lecture.

you cast the girl a curious glance as she shuffles shamefully to an empty seat and starts unpacking her things. she's tall and lanky, with long two-toned hair tied in a haphazard ponytail and glasses that she has to push back up when they start to slip down her face. you make eye contact for a brief moment, then you resume paying attention to the professor without giving the encounter too much thought.

after classes end, you go back to your apartment to find the place superhero-less. the blankets are folded messily on the couch and there's a small tear in the cardboard that's covering the opening in your balcony, as if someone was in a hurry to leave.

you shrug off your bags with a sigh and go to dial up your landlord.

almost a week passes without further incident. you get your balcony door replaced so it's like nothing ever happened, and your life is just starting to get back into the usual swing of things when spider-woman shows up at your balcony again.

a thump is what wakes you up prematurely this time—it's literally 5am which is way too early for a saturday morning of all days—and you groggily stumble out of your bedroom, fearing the worst. you know it can't be a burglar since you live on the seventh floor, so there's only one person it could be…

luckily, the glass door is fully intact when you pull back the curtains to check. however, there is currently a superhero lying curled in a ball on your balcony. a very familiar superhero wearing a red-and-blue suit with a spider symbol on it.

"oh… oh, no," groans spider-woman when she hears you slide open the door. she weakly tries to drag herself to her feet, but she slumps back to the ground and you notice, with concern, the bleeding scratches all over her body. "oh man, i did it again… i'm so sorry, i'm gonna leave, just… wow you're so pretty… sorry, i should really leave—"

"no, it's okay!" you rush to reassure her, kneeling down next to her and offering your hand. "you can't go back out there like that, let me help you."

she winces, though whether it's from pain or embarrassment you can't tell. "i am so sorry," she repeats, and something about her voice seems oddly familiar, but you're too preoccupied with getting her inside to dwell on that.

the superhero keeps rambling as you half-drag, half-carry her to the couch. "i didn't mean to come here again, it's just i usually go to my friend's place when i'm injured but she's away and i got lost and mistook your apartment for mine the last time and i'm really sorry about breaking your door, it was just so dark and i had a really long day and i wasn't thinking straight and i probably gave you so much trouble—ow!"

"sorry!" you flinch and let go of her. "is your arm okay? what happened?"

"i… um." spider-woman chuckles nervously. "i kind of swung into a building? i didn't break any windows or anything! i might've broken my arm though."

you can't help but laugh, finding her awkward manner strangely endearing. "let me take a look, it might be dislocated or something."

it turns out it's just bruised, so you get her some ice and busy yourself fixing up her injuries. she repeatedly tries to convince you that she can do it herself in between a steady stream of more apologies, but she looks like she's one step away from passing out, so you insist on helping her.

"how'd you get all these cuts and scratches, anyway?" you ask, opening the bottle of antiseptic and setting out some gauze. "if you don't mind me asking, that is."

"no, it's fine! um…" spider-woman tilts her head, as if trying to remember. "the ones on my ribs are from some muggers with knives, kids really but there were four of them and only one of me so yeah… and the ones on my arms are from the black cat, you know, my nemesis? she was robbing a jewelry store and i managed to stop her but she still escaped and also got me a few times with her claws… oh, and there's this cut on my forehead that i got when i accidentally tripped and hit my head on a wall corner a few hours ago… but i can fix that on my own! you know, cause i'd have to take the mask off for that, and like, i can't reveal my secret identity 'cause dami—that's my guy in the chair—dami would kill me, haha…"

by the time she's done talking, you've finished cleaning and wrapping all of her wounds. there's just the cut on her forehead that's left, which is still bleeding despite her flippant assurances that it doesn't even hurt.

"that looks pretty bad," you note, kneeling down beside the couch and leaning in closer to inspect it. you gently press a paper towel to the bleeding area, using your other hand to brush a stray drop of blood from her cheek. "are you able to swing like that?"

there's a beat of silence. you realize that spider-woman has gone perfectly still, and also that your faces are extremely close together.

"sorry—" you shift away apologetically, worried that you made her uncomfortable. "you probably don't like it when people touch your suit."

"it's okay!" spider-woman's voice comes out as a strangled squawk, and she quickly coughs to clear her throat. "um. i was just. surprised."

"oh… well then." you stand up and glance awkwardly around your apartment, at a loss for what to do next. "so uh… how are you feeling?"

she springs up from the couch, startling you. "a lot better, thank you so much! i've caused you way too much trouble so… i should probably get going now, huh."

"are you okay to swing with your injuries and all?" you ask as she half-walks, half-slides to the balcony in this self-consciously exaggerated way. "they looked really painful when you arrived here."

"this is nothing," she responds with a casual wave of her hand, hoisting herself up onto the balcony railing in a quick graceful movement. "i heal pretty fast, so they barely even hurt anymore."

"that's good, then." you lean against the doorframe, somewhat saddened to see her go. strangely enough, you've actually been enjoying her company despite the fact that she quite literally crashed into your apartment and woke you up in the middle of the night.

spider-woman clears her throat. "uhh—maybe i'll see you around sometime," she says, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

the sun is starting to rise, peeking over the tops of the city skyline and bathing your apartment in soft golden light. spider-woman tilts her head at you, and you're almost completely certain that she's smiling under her mask.

"yeah," you respond, smiling back and raising a hand to shade your face from the sun. "i'll see you around sometime, superhero."

spider-woman gives you a jaunty little two-fingered salute, and then she's launching herself backwards off the railing with a carefree whoop. she disappears from your view for a few heart-stopping moments, but then a web shoots up and she's swinging away in between the skyscrapers until she's out of sight.

the next day, you open the curtains to find a small bouquet of red and blue flowers sitting on your balcony. they look wind-blown and slightly frayed, and the thought of a certain superhero swinging through the city with the little pot tucked carefully under her arm makes you grin despite yourself.

you get the feeling you won't be seeing the last of her any time soon.

"um, is it okay if i sit here?"

you glance up from the chemical equations on your laptop screen, meeting the eyes of a tall girl who's fidgeting nervously with the ends of her long hair. vaguely, you recognize her as that clumsy student who ran into class late last week.

"oh, sure," you say after a confused beat, shifting over slightly to make more room for her. something about her voice rings a bell, but you're not sure why it sounds so familiar. i've probably just heard her talking to her friends before, you rationalize.

"thanks!" she sits down and starts taking out her stuff, smiling hesitantly at you. "i'm kim yoohyeon, it's nice to meet you."

she has a pretty smile, you note while you introduce yourself. "it's nice to meet you too."

yoohyeon seems shy around you and doesn't talk much, but there's something captivating about her that you can't quite figure out exactly. she pays close attention to the professor during the lecture, though occasionally you'll look over to catch her stealing glances at you—she always blushes and quickly looks away, piquing your curiosity. hmmm.

after an extremely long and boring hour, the class is over and everyone starts packing up and filtering out of the lecture hall. you're packing up as well when your arm brushes against yoohyeon's by accident, and her cheeks flush bright red as she stares at you wide-eyed.

"i—" yoohyeon clears her throat. "bye!" she squeaks, and then she's shooting out the doors before you can even open your mouth to reply.

huh, how strange.

you're studying at your kitchen table one afternoon, curtains open to let some sun into your apartment, when you hear a tap-tap-tap on your balcony door and look up to see spider-woman crouched outside.

"i hope this isn't creepy," she rushes to say as soon as you slide open the door. "i was just, er, in the area and i thought i'd swing by and say hello… um, i brought you a croissant! as thanks for, y'know, everything."

"wow, thank you," you say in surprise, taking the paper bakery bag that she's hopefully holding out to you. the chocolate croissant inside is a little flattened, but you're warmed by the gesture regardless.

"no problem!" spider-woman jumps back up onto the balcony railing, sitting and swinging her legs like a little kid. "so, uh, yeah. just wanted to do that. i hope it wasn't weird. was it weird?"

you can't help but laugh. "you're cute," you say sincerely, the words slipping out against your will—flustered, you quickly change the subject before she can notice. "um, i'm not really busy right now so… you can come in and hang out for a bit, if you want."

"really?" she tentatively slides off the railing and trots inside after you like a lost puppy. "i feel bad for intruding—ooh, were you doing homework?"

"yeah, just studying for a test," you respond, sitting down and gesturing for her to pull out a chair as well. "do you know anything about chemistry?"

"i love it!" she exclaims, perking up and scooting closer to get a better look at your notes. "i first made my web fluid in my high school chemistry lab actually, it was… well, it was a learning experience. what are you studying?"

"acid-base reactions, most of it went over my head when my professor was lecturing about it…"

before you know it, two hours have gone by in a flash. spider-woman just has this bright and likable aura around her, and as she chatters about chemistry with infectious enthusiasm and tells you funny stories about her experiences as the city's resident superhero, you find that you already feel even more at ease with her than you are with your own roommate.

"we should do this again soon," you tell her when she has to leave, standing on your balcony surrounded by the bustling sounds of the city. "and be careful, alright? don't go swinging into any more buildings."

"i promise!" she assures you with a laugh, giving you a cheerful wave before she jumps from your balcony and swings off.

after that, spider-woman starts swinging by to see you a lot more often. you can tell she still feels guilty about accidentally breaking into your apartment, because she always comes with gifts of flowers or random pastries from the bakery down the street.

"you really don't need to go to all this trouble for me," you tell her, amused, when she presents you with an entire cake.

"it's no trouble at all!" she insists cheerfully, then gasps. "unless you don't like it. do you not like it?"

"no! i really appreciate it, i promise. it's just, you don't have to get me stuff if you don't want to."

"i want to!"

it's after a few weeks of the dorky superhero swinging by your apartment that you begin to realize you might be developing a bit of a crush on her. which is ridiculous, really, considering you have no idea what she looks like under the mask and you don't know her real name either. you don't know anything about her.

but you do know her, in a way. you know that she likes to pretend she's this cool badass superhero when in reality she's just a science nerd who gets excited about mixing chemicals. you know that she loves rescuing kittens from trees even though she's scared of cats, just because it's worth it to see the relief on its owner's face. you know that she sometimes swings by elementary schools during recess because a wave or a thumbs-up from spider-woman always makes the kids' entire day. you know that she's smart, she's kind, she's clumsy, she loves helping people more than anything.

you know her well enough for your heart to flutter every time you hear her tap on your balcony door, no matter the time or reason. she usually comes by during the day now, just to bring you gifts and hang out, but every once in a while she'll still crash on your balcony in the middle of the night with injuries from fighting crime.

this is one of those nights, apparently. a forceful knock on your front door is what wakes you up at 11pm one sunday night, and you groan as you're violently dragged out of your peaceful sleep.

"coming," you mumble half to yourself, throwing a random hoodie over your pajamas and hauling yourself to the door. "i have class tomorrow, who even—"

it's spider-woman, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "hi," she croaks. the knocking must have tired her out, because she topples into your arms as soon as you open the door.

"what…" you blink groggily for a few seconds, slowly processing the girl draped all over you. your half-asleep brain notes that she's very warm. it's like a nice blanket.

then you realize that your apartment door is still wide open, and the city's most famous superhero is just standing right there in the hall where anyone could see. "what are you doing here?" you yelp, pulling her inside and hurrying to close the door. "you're in your suit and everything! did anyone see you come up?"

"dunno," she mumbles, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. "i hit my head really hard. didn't think swinging was a good idea…"

you maneuver the superhero onto your couch, and she whines when you pull away to go get the medical kit. "hurts."

"looks like there isn't any bleeding," you say, kneeling down next to the couch and examining her head. "do you think it might be a concussion?"

"probably," she rasps, squishing herself further into the couch and looking like a burrito with the blanket you put over her. "should heal in a few hours."

you furrow your brow, still not used to what she calls her spidey-healing. "okay, get some sleep. you can stay here as long as you want, alright?"

"gotta wake up early," she says drowsily. "chemistry lab tomorrow…"

you blink. you… also have a chemistry lab tomorrow. "is that so?"

"yeah." you think her eyes are closed behind her mask, but then she shifts her head slightly and giggles softly to herself. "you're sooo pretty… i was so scared to talk to you in class."

wait, what?

spider-woman keeps rambling as she drifts off to sleep. "wanted to ask you out… but i was too shy without the mask. ran away, so embarrassing…"

wait, what?

"you're really cool," she mumbles. "and nice… and pretty… i like you a lot… want to take care of you like… like you take care of me…"

a pause. "you should go out with me," she says, then falls silent. tiny snores start coming out of her mask.

you slowly stand up, head spinning with all these new revelations.

huh.

you decide to go back to sleep.

it's around three in the morning when you wake up again to the sounds of someone shuffling around in the living room. you reluctantly slide out of your nice warm bed, slipping a hoodie on and heading out of your bedroom to find the source of the commotion.

"sorry, did i wake you?" spider-woman hovers uncertainly by the open door, dressed in civilian clothes—a hoodie and sweatpants—though she still has her spider-woman mask on, which looks so ridiculous that you have to smile at the sight.

"yeah… you're leaving already?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

"yep," she says, awkwardly shifting her bundled-up superhero suit from hand to hand. "um. you should go back to bed, i know you have an early class tomorrow…" and so do i, she thinks to herself ruefully.

"let me see you off first," you insist through another yawn, covering your mouth with one oversized hoodie sleeve. "be careful on your way down, okay?"

"i will," she mumbles shyly. you can't see it, but she's blushing so hard at the gentleness in your voice and the soft way you're looking at her that she's scared her mask might burn right off her face. i've got to leave before i do anything stupid, she thinks, embarrassed. why is she so nice… and pretty…

the superhero is halfway down the hall when you remember all of last night's events and suddenly get an idea.

"yoohyeon," you call out, leaning against your doorframe.

she stops and turns around. "yeah?"

a pause.

you see the exact moment she realizes. "i—oh fuck—i mean, um—" she flounders, wildly looking around and laughing nervously. "wh-who's yoohyeon? i'm just your friendly neighbourhood spider-kim—i mean—"

you smile teasingly. "next time you ask me on a date, do it when you're not suffering from a concussion."

you don't know what her facial expression is like under her mask, but spider-woman—yoohyeon—looks like she's about to pass out, if the way she's clutching her suit in a death grip is any indication.

your smile softens. "i like you too, just so you know. a lot." you step back inside your apartment, but then you poke your head out again (yoohyeon is still standing there, frozen in shock) and add, "come back and ask me again tomorrow, okay? properly."

you close the door and take a deep breath. you feel as if your heart had stopped beating momentarily, but now it resumes racing excitedly in your chest.

hopefully i didn't just make a huge mistake.

meanwhile, yoohyeon is practically having heart palpitations outside. she spends a while just gaping like a fish at your closed door, but then she comes to her senses and practically breaks her neck sprinting to the elevator.

oh god, i need to look nice tomorrow!

the next morning, you're sitting at the kitchen table doing some studying before class when you hear the distinct noise of feet landing lightly on your balcony outside. there's the sounds of someone pacing for a while. then a light knock sounds on the glass door, making you turn around.

it's yoohyeon. not spider-woman, but kim yoohyeon from your 6:30am chemistry class. she's wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater, her long hair falling in soft waves past her shoulders and her dark brown eyes bravely staring into yours. in her hands is a small bouquet of red-and-blue flowers.

"did you swing up here?" you ask incredulously, tearing your eyes away from her and looking around. the sun is starting to rise, painting the sky in a soft rosy hue that matches the blush on yoohyeon's face. "did—"

"wait—please don't say anything," she interrupts, eyes squeezed shut. "before i chicken out."

she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, meeting your gaze. "hi, i'm kim yoohyeon. um, i'm also spider-woman, and i… i'd really like to take you out on a date sometime."

she smiles hopefully at you. you step closer to her, taking the bouquet from her hands and leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek. yoohyeon's blush intensifies, and your heart soars.

"it's nice to meet you, kim yoohyeon," you tell her, matching her smile. "and i'd love to go out with you."

[meraki-yao]

RWRB: The Awardist Podcast Interview Thoughts

Alright after listening to the podcast giddily while aggressively stomping on the cross-ramp machine to work out my extreme happiness and excitement to the point that I burnt through twice as many calories than usual and soaked through my shirt, I'm here with thoughts

Pippin @pippin-katz, who sent me a voice message at 3 am my time to tell me to brace myself and be prepared for what's happening and what I'm going to wake up it, did their own version of a summary+thoughts with timestamps here, go check that one out

So my list of thoughts is gonna be a little more all over the place

Immediately burst out laughing with the "mouthful" joke, even more so when the boys both caught it lmao

"I am not happy to see Taylor's face" and "I have a Post-it I'll stick it over your face now" that is peak bestie behaviour

Nick honey I love you but I... do not believe you don't look through online stuff lmao we literally caught you likely fan content and edits you posted two Henry edits and referenced another one

I love how unintentionally in sync they are??? For the first question they started talking at the same time, and for the second they both started nodding and stayed silent forgetting this was an audio interview

"mate, mate, mate, MATE" and the last one being said in sync oh my god this is so much fun

The whole comment on the signing wars: what Pippin said, we were literally calling Taylor "that little fucker" yesterday when he started taunting us with more BTS (EVERYONE KEEP VOTING PLEASE)

"What possessed you? What have you got against me?", the same energy as "Why do you dislike me?"

Taylor's explanation of signing on Nick's face and how it started made me laugh and scoff a little because I translated that fucking moment: the first time it happened, Taylor was in China, it was the firstprince PR photo not the GQ magazine, he was on a boat, and he was the one to ask for the photos to sign lmao

Again, need to see them sign stuff in the same time and space: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!! :D

"Take it Nick" Nick's little snicker in response

A little heavy and personal but I wish I could talk to them and tell them how much the book, the movie, the characters and the boys mean to me and how it kept me somewhat afloat last October when I was drowning every single day, and how this story made me want to change myself and break out of my status quo

I know I've been saying Taylor knows Casey's pronouns and he gets them wrong when he's nervous, and I stand by that, but God the sigh of relief I let out when he used they/them

"Right Nick?" is so oddly comforting?

Oh my fucking God the "Top to Bottom" joke was a low-hanging fruit but it made me laugh

Also even the order was right! "Top to Bottom", "Taylor and I" (jkjk lmao) 😜

I really fucking hope that the "that's what I'm known for now, doing intimacy work on screen" is an offhand joke and that people don't genuinely label Nick as that

"Why don't you speak for this, Taylor" again, unexplainably comforting

"Seeing my mate at all these awards shows" made me remember a Chinese phrase "頂峰相見·", literally "meeting again at the peak", meaning "I'll see you when we're both at our best"

Nick's burst of laughter at the "who's a better kisser" comment

Taylor I swear to God 🤣 he combined the "is nick a good kisser" and the "who has your heart joey or Nick" questions together and said "I don't know, I don't know how to answer that question, I have no idea" DUDE YOU LITERALLY ANSWERED THE GOOD KISSER QUESTION WITH "YOU KNOW WHAT HE IS A GOOD KISSER WE HAD TO PRACTICE A LOT PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT" WITH ZERO HESITATION (that answer, on that day, was first thing in the morning for me, and I lost my sanity for the next two hours)

I'm so fucking happy and Matthew comes from a theatre too, speaking as a theatre person and someone who has been dissecting this film since its release

I really think there's gotta be more improvised scenes? Or at the very least stuff like the morning after V&A that was a last-minute decision to add in and wasn't in the script, or maybe scenes where there wasn't specific lines written and they just reacted and spoke based on the scenario? Or even little moments, the shoulder kiss or something?

"Tay" OH MY HEART

Ok I can make an argument on both how Nick is like and not like Henry, but Taylor is so ACD that he basically fell out of the book? How does he not see that? (personally think Taylor's very similar to Alex with a bit of Marco?)

Oh my god the whole segment of the DNC/getting caught scene and Taylor's ass

"I will take this one" "yeah"

"I love working with her, we both love working with her" That's sweet- hang on Nick you just have this one scene with her

I have so many more questions about this scene: Was Nick actually in the closet for that one shot? How many takes did it take?

Taylor referencing a detail in Bottoms from like a 30-second scene in the movie!!! Yes!!! We love seeing friends being supportive of each other (suddenly want to hear Taylor's opinions on M&G lmfao)

"And I'm not even going to get into M&G"

The text question is kind of the only question that made me think "Why would you ask that?" because that was definitely more of a directing/editing thing

Nick really freaking loves the cake scene, he mentioned that as his favourite scene three times at this point, all times on audio, twice on video

Aw Taylor's story about Jack... 🥺

But somehow everyone knowing it lmao, and Taylor's fucking awful British accent

And at this point Nick starts swearing lmao

Awww Nick's compliment to Taylor

Tangent: what the fuck is a fuel museum?

Oh I just love hearing them finishing each other's sentences when one of them forgets the word

Lmao imagine just recovering from Covid and then needing to make out for two hours

"Next to a witchcraft shop" What the fuck lmao

Tangent again but I could write a sociology essay on what Taylor said about architecture and history

I swear to God, Nick's "go on Taylor" somehow being softer, you can fucking hear that that little shit is smirking

Taylor saying that he wants a second book from Casey and me immediately going "BOTH OF YOU QUIT YOUR FUCKING JOBS" (I have complicated feelings about the bonus chapter)

"What-if world" exactly!

Taylor pulling out the stats about the queer population: did he fucking calculate that on the spot or he just casually have that information in his head?

the little wrap-up by the hosts was so sweet but somehow talking about Taylor's ass again oh my god (his body hair being digitally edited, it was minx right?)

"it's so sweet and nice and we need more of this in our lives right now" YES WE DO, WE FUCKING DO

"he's gonna be second-guessing his booty" is not a sentence I thought I'd ever hear but here we are

Culture shock moment: the number to call the podcast/American phone numbers is 3-3-4 which caught me off guard for a second cuz here it's 4-4

And that's it for now! God, I need so much more of this, like, if this is what we get out of a half-an-hour podcast interview what would press and promo be like?

Now that we're back for awards I really freaking hope these new RWRB content will be coming back, maybe like once a week or something

WE'RE BACK WE'RE FUCKING BACK WE'RE FUCKING WINNING

EVERYONE GO VOTE GO VOTE GO VOTE

[sqtorux]

first angst drabble!! i cannot write angst without tryna cryy :(

okk here it goes HELP srry this took while say i had go school to catch up works i miss when sick

imagine nanami sending you texts every time when he goes out for mission it start with "hey how are you?" and at night he give you heads up "mhm comin home late." it's always was a routine, one mission was going be his very last he text you sweet messages how he Forgot kiss the kids good Moring since he went early but he promise to you when he comes back he give them a sweetest night kiss, you guys texted back and fought before he had to go, he sent you a message d before he had to go, you were to focus on the Kids you didn't see it pop up, minutes went hours you were so worried you texted your husband wondering where he is, you saw a text that you missed "if anything happens, I love you." you reply back "promise?" why reply to someone who not on earth anymore?

WHHE2321MNEWD

(this was a diff idea i wanted when everyone was using reader and when she finds a boyfriend, Gojo he just like the same and uses her too tell me if u want this drabble to i thought it was bit mean!!)

-🐱 anon

honestly could go a little something like-

the day starts with the lovely morning text from your husband as usual, smiling to yourself at the endearment he called you and the apology saying he forgot to kiss your lovely daughter before he left. he'd make up for it when he arrive though, you had no doubt.

checking your phone right after you wake up to read your husband's text was your daily routine even before kento became your husband. it just didn't feel like your morning was complete without doing so.

this particular morning however, you find yourself crying for a reason you can't find yourself to pinpoint.

you: i think my period is coming, im getting emotional for no reason. come kiss me better when you arrive!

✓ 6.54 am

you set your phone down and take a moment to bask in the small rays of light falling from your windows into your room and sigh, wiping your tears away. you could really use morning kiss right now.

"mama!" your daughter scurried over to your bed and threw her tiny body over yours earning a giggle from both your mouths. you place a chaste kiss on her forehead and a second one, for kento. it was a charming moment until your daughter's smile disappeared.

"mama are you crying again?" you find your hands rubbing away the tears that happened to run down your cheeks. what is up with that?

"momma's fine, baby. how about we surprise papa with his lunch today? he forgot to give you your morning kiss hm?" you tuck her hair behind her ears, her own eyes slowly turning teary.

"you're doing it again" she pulls away from your hold, a frown now found itself on her adorable face.

"doing what baby?"

"talking like ... like papa is still here. i don't like it."

that's when it hit you. her papa, your husband wasn't here anymore. you knew it, you do but somehow it does not make sense. how could nanami be dead when you've just received your morning text like you always used to when he was here?

you scrambled among your sheets desperately searching for your phone to prove to yourself, more than anyone, that nanami was alive and well. of course he has to be.

however you were only met with disappointment and that nauseating feeling of jumping off somewhere high when you opened your chats to his number.

you: i think my period is coming, im getting emotional for no reason. come kiss me better when you arrive!

[message not sent. this number is no longer in use.]

! 6.54 am

ah. it wasn't for no reason that you were emotional first thing in the morning. it was your body mourning for the love of your life that your mind forced itself to forget about his death.

omg this concept of reader imagining/hallucinating beloved used to be one of my favourite tropes!! pls the way my world paused when i read your drabble because i knew it was angst but i didn't know it was about THIS topic crying crying

also im so glad to know you're better now, enough to go to school hehe i hope the workload isn't too heavy to catch up on <3

[coconutcordiale]

wasted + rooster please! congratulations 💝

golden hour

pairing- rooster x afab reader

warnings- 18+, unprotected piv, slight dumbification/degradation, light d/s, dom bradley, mention of oral (f receiving), completely unedited

length- 1.2k

an- thank you so much love!!! for the prompt "i know baby, i know" & many apologies for the wait on these celly requests. this was written in like....20 minutes. i have no idea if it's good or not

edit- realizing the next morning whatever took over my brain to write this was clearly inspired by @gretagerwigsmuse and the bradley & smart aleck cinematic universe (pls go read that it’s way better than this)

You don’t know how you ended up here. Mere hours ago, you were seconds away from killing Abby for making you go to the Hard Deck. Military bars all have the same kind of guy.

Now, your brain is melting out of your ears as you attempt to take in the gorgeous man above you, his sharp features glowing in the setting sun that filters through his salt-stained windows.

“Fuck,” Bradley groans from where he’s doing his best to bend you in half. “Feel so good, like you were made for me.”

That’s hot, your brain supplies as your eyes catch his biceps bulging where they bracket your head laid out on his pillow.

Shut up, you tell it, trying to keep some semblance of dignity in the face of having gone home with the exact kind of guy you swore you wouldn’t give the time of day.

You were excited when he first set down a fresh Jack and Coke for you at the bar, thinking this mustached man’s worn Hawaiian shirt equaled local instead of infantry. Unfortunately, his friends in khaki who kept trying to get Rooster’s attention quickly proved your instincts wrong.

It would’ve been easier not to end up in his bed if he didn’t look the way he does, brown puppy dog eyes so earnest and kind. If he hadn’t mentioned how much he loves to play Wordle, if his friends hadn't tried to coax him to the piano at least three times while you were there.

(If his arms weren’t threatening to break out of that old Hawaiian shirt.)

Your self-respect is getting shot to hell the longer you babble incoherent nonsense, breaking your gaze from his tan skin as your head lolls to the side, eyes going hazy and unfocused. He pulls all the way out to thrust back in again, slow and teasing, enough to bring you towards the edge again but not tip you over.

You know you’re whining, high-pitched and reedy, but you can’t find the wherewithal the stop any noises from tearing their way out of your throat.

It takes a Herculean effort to move your hands to his neck, tangling in those brown curls, wrapping your legs tight around his hips in an effort to ask for more, something your lips just can’t form right now.

Bradley grins, the edges a little sharp, a little mean as your pathetic whines must have gotten the message across. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Made you cum on my tongue and now you want more? Clench that tight cunt around my cock?”

Nodding desperately, you're feeling unhinged, your head bobbing up and down like a bobblehead. When you finally make yourself form actual words, your voice is wrecked. “Please – I need – ”

He catches your lips in a filthy kiss as those skillful fingers make their way down to your clit, stroking in strong, decisive circles. “I know baby, I know.”

Bradley speeds up and you get even louder, throat straining with the mewls leaving your lips.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs against your lips, cock hitting you just right on every thrust.

Your climax snaps through you almost immediately at his command, your back arching up into him and bringing him over the edge with you.

+

You leave the next morning before he wakes up. You can’t help it.

Sure, he’s hot, but you’re not actually going to date this guy. You just had a momentary lapse in judgment after seeing his deft fingers fly over piano keys, singing his heart out and so fully into the performance you thought the vein in his neck might burst. It was oddly endearing.

Every girl is a sucker for a guy who can sing. Serenades make logic and reasoning fly out the window. It’s totally not your fault.

So, it stands to reason that you nearly knock him down walking into the grocery store later that day. Because that’s the kind of fuck you the universe always has in mind for you.

“Hey,” Roos—no, Bradley, smiles, easy like you didn’t sneak out of his house without a second glance mere hours ago. He takes a look at the cold water bottle you have resting against your forehead, barely holding back his amusement. “Rough night?”

You want to glower at him but it’s hard to be mad at someone that looks like that under fluorescent lighting, turning away instead so you don’t have to stare at his unfairly beautiful face and remember what that ridiculous mustache feels like between your thighs. “Shut up.”

“I think you’re limping a little bit,” Bradley mock whispers as he follows you down the chips aisle.

He sounds way too proud of himself. You flip him off and he laughs, musical and happy despite the awkward circumstances. You can’t decide if you want to punch him or kiss him.

You and Bradley start talking at the same time, words rushed and overlapping.

“You snuck out before I got a chance to ask – ”

“Bradley, you seem like a nice guy, but I – ”

A tan arm reaches across you for a bag of salt and vinegar Lays and tossing them into his basket on the floor after you both fall silent. “You don’t like military guys.”

You freeze, mouth gaping open like a fish.

He shrugs. “It was pretty obvious last night.”

“I – yeah, I don’t – ” you stutter before pausing for a deep breath. “Not sure we’re a good fit, is all.”

Bradley nods. “I get it. I had fun with you though, and not just at my house. If you're willing to reconsider, I’d like to think I’m much more than my job.”

You purse your lips, wondering if your brain is actually broken as you consider taking him up his offer. He must catch on to your deliberation because he takes a step closer to you, big hand settling against your waist slow and gentle, giving you plenty of time to step away. Your feet are glued to the floor as you try not to sway into him and get lost in the spicy scent lingering on his tan skin.

“Breakfast,” he suggests when a few moments pass without you answering.

“It’s four p.m.,” you say warily.

He scrunches his nose like that’s inconsequential. “I’ll cook.”

“You know how to cook?”

He shoots you a withering glare and you smirk, pleased to have made him feel as wrong-footed as you’ve felt since he sat down across from you yesterday.

“Do you remember where my house is, or did you sprint out too quickly to notice?”

“I don’t remember saying yes.”

“You strike me as the kind of girl that isn’t afraid to tell me to fuck off.”

“So?”

He gestures at the lack of space between you with his free hand, where your body has betrayed you by leaning into his warmth. “This doesn’t feel like you telling me to go to hell.”

“It’s not,” you sigh, mouth twitching up at the corners despite your best efforts as you shove your basket into his hands. “Put my groceries on Uncle Sam’s bill.”

Bradley practically beams at that. “Of course. But you’ll have to come over to my place to get them, can’t have you sneaking off before I get a chance to play some Righteous Brothers for you.”

The picture that paints for you makes you want to melt. You’re fucked.

[coff-in]

Oh my god can that be my name? Devious Anon? <<<< I mean if you wanna kiss I'm not gonna say no.../j Also that's such a mood this game constantly invades my mind during working daytime hours, thank fuck I am done with finals sooo for now I have some time to fuck around :D Okok so first and foremost, I think the main reason Andrew might not kill baby sis reader is because he thinks she doesn't deserve to be dragged into their old sibling bullshit. Reader is still playing angel most of the time, so Andrew mostly thinks of her as innocent and she still has her whole life ahead of her! I like to think he would at least leave her some sort of message before he kills Ashley and them himself, but she doesn't take well to it because her siblings are dead and that was her whole life and now there's no life ahead of her! (This is compounded if Andrew was her favorite sibling and left the message behind because I think there's an extra layer here of "you'd die for Ashley but leave me behind, so clearly you care about her more than you care about me" and by god will she chase him to hell to terrorize him about this.) I WROTE THAT LINE BC ANDREW'S IN MY MIND WITHOUT RENT 24/7 LIKE AAAAA THIS MAN HAS NO RIGHT!! BEING!! SO DATEABLE!! Like hell I can't blame Ashley or Julia I just-rrrrghh. I read one of your past posts where you mentioned Andrew eating the reader out and all I can think of is him telling her that he'll take such good care of her and to relax when she wakes up to him eating her out first thing in the morning. Anyway. Ahem. Excuse me for that horny thought. If devious baby sis is left behind with the not-favorite sibling...I think she ultimately still loves both her siblings, just unbalanced, so she'll still stick around, but eventually the sibling will kind of realize that reader has lost her light. She can't joke around as much, she stops being a little shit, she's helpful and clings close and gives the sibling affection but there's some measure of distance unlike before (she probably also holds some hidden resentment towards the surviving sibling). This could ultimately go three ways—the surviving sibling eventually patches up with her and becomes her favorite sibling/or at least on equal grounds with the dead sibling (good ending), the surviving sibling goes off the rails as the realization that their baby sister no longer loves them (and maybe never did love them) the way they always thought she would (kinda bad ending bc I can see Andrew resigning himself to this, maybe thinking this is what he deserves, but for Ashley, this is another slap to the face because once again, not even her own little sister puts her first), or little sis reader eventually can't take it and kills herself (bad ending for sure bc I don't think Ashley or Andrew will be sticking around for long after that.)

notes from coff-in: AAAAAHHHHH DEVIOUS ANON DEVIOUS ANON WELCOME TO THE COFFIN!!!! im so happy to have you here! i was honestly refreshing tumblr on my phone waiting to see how'd you respond to my post im sorry!! tcoaal has been a daily in my life for a month now, like ive never been to attached to a piece of media this hard before (besides homestuck) ah anyway, your ask! my response!

[fem] reader-insert, [devious younger sister reader] continued, incest, NSFW, murder

andrew leaving a note for baby sis [reader] would fuck her up SOO MUCH, like holy fuck. this has gotten me thinking about how, what if, reader killed ashley for andrew? like classic yandere style stuff: [reader] sees ashley getting under andrew's skin and pushing his buttons and making him mad. when ashley goes to have her vision she sees [reader] chasing after her instead! "i don't know why you insist on pushing him so much, leyley. why can't you be a good girl like me and do as he says? hm? maybe it's cause you don't love him as much as i do... i'm pretty sure no one ever will really." i'm not the best with dialogue but like GGRRRRRRR I CAN SEE IT IN MY MIND

ashley would then have to worry about andrew leaving her AND her little sis possibly killing her! that's not even taking into accounts andrew's reaction to it since the visions always end after ashley dies... would he resent [reader] for killing ashley? would he kill her in turn and then himself? WHAT IF ASHLEY DEFENDED HERSELF AND KILLED [READER] IN THE VISION??? im really going into hyperdrive thinking all these thoughts

also never apologize for horny in my inbox, this whole blog is my excuse to write porn about me and the graves siblings (and now you guys too!! yay!!! :D) i saw it come up on the tcoaal subreddit that andrew would eat pussy and it just made so much sense in my head. i headcanon that andrew likes to eat pussy (idk if he's any good but he's eager to learn) and is an ass man. i mean he talks about ashley's fat ass in the motel room, and how he would slap her cheeks when climbing into their parent's house, AND THE SCENE WHERE HIS FINGERS ARE THROUGH ASHELY'S BELT LOOPS!!! god i can imagine his waking up baby sis [reader] with the most sloppiest head ever, rubbing her thighs and saying how he's "gonna be a good big brother and take care of you"

he's biting her inner thighs and sucking on her clit/dick (for all the lovely little sisters who have one) and just GRRRR ITS NOT FAIR HE'S NOT REAL!!! he tells her to "be a good girl and cum, cum in big brother's mouth" and i just... [reader]'s going to have to most intense orgasm ever because it's an absolute dream come true for her!!! probably passes out due to how hard she came... and it's only fair that she returns the favor when she wakes up, no? ;)

i can see the awkward and silent car rides with [reader] and her least/second favorite sibling. the empty space between that used to be filled with their bickering and laughs is just... quiet now. they ask her what's wrong and she just continues staring ahead of her until she lets out a silent, almost missable "i miss andrew/ashley..." i actually don't know how much more angst i can write until it becomes a full on oc/reader insert fic (man if only someone could write what they wanna see *looks in the mirror*)

ah... but thank you so much devious anon for adding ur brainworms to this blog, they have throughly burrowed their way into my head. and i dont want them to leave :) (*makes out sloppily with you*)

----

coff-in

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - SA!!,, mentions of divorce - if any of these topics make you uncomfortable the scene involving SA will be outlined and please don’t feel the need to read it, please take care of yourself🩷

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 23

I still loved Matt greatly, but over the next few months I knew I would have to make a crucial decision regarding my destiny. I knew that I must take control of my life. I could not give up these new insights. There was a whole world out there and I had to find my own place in it.

I wished that there was some way for me to share my experience and growth with Matt. From my adolescence, he had fashioned me into the instrument of his will. I lovingly yielded to his influence, trying to satisfy his every desire. And now he wasn’t here.

Accustomed to living in dark rooms, hardly seeing the sun, depending on chemical aids for sleep and wakefulness, surrounded by bodyguards who distanced us from reality, I yearned for the more ordinary pleasures. I began to appreciate the simple things that I would have liked to share with Matt and hadn’t: walks in the park, a candlelight dinner for two, laughter.

Matt must have perceived my new restlessness. A couple of months later in Las Vegas, Amber, Nora Fike, Red’s wife Pat, and I were having dinner in the Italian restaurant at the Hilton between Matt’s shows. The maître d’ came to the table with a message that Matt wanted to see me upstairs in the suite. I remember thinking how unusual this was. Matt rarely went to the suite between shows.

SA SCENE

I went upstairs, filled with curiosity, and when I arrived in the suite I found Matt lying in bed, obviously waiting for me. He grabbed me and forcefully made love to me. It was uncomfortable and unlike any other time he’d ever made love to me before, and he explained, “This is how a real man makes love to his woman.” This was not the gentle, understanding man that I grew to love. He was under the influence, and with my personal growth and new realities he had become a stranger to me.

END OF SCENE

I wept in silence as Matt got up to dress for the show. In order for our marriage to survive, Matt would have had to take down all the artificial barriers restricting our life as a couple. There was too much room for doubt, too many unanswered questions for the mind to play upon. It was difficult for him to come to terms with his role as father and husband. And since neither of us had the ability to sit down and squarely face the issues jeopardizing the family, there seemed to be no hope.

What really hurt was that he was not sensitive to me as a woman and his attempt at a reconciliation had come too late; I had taken possession of my life.

That night I didn’t close my eyes at all, grieving over what I had to tell him. This was my one great love. Looking down at him I thought of all the times I’d traced my fingers over his lips, his nose, brushed my fingers through his hair, always while he slept. And now, I waited for him to wake up, waited for the right moment, if there ever could be one. At this point in our marriage we were so seldom together that I was having difficulty envisaging his reaction to my news; it had seemed so much easier to play it out in my imagination.

It was shortly after 2 p.m. I had already gotten up and started packing my things when Matt awoke fairly alert and asked, “Where are you going?”

“I have to go back.”

“So soon? It’s early. You usually don’t go back this early.”

“I know,” I agreed. “But I have to get back. I have things to do.” I hesitated. “But first I have to tell you something.” I stopped packing and looked at him. “This is probably the most difficult thing I’m ever going to have to say.” I took a long pause, hardly able to get the words out. “I’m leaving.”

Matt sat up and asked. “What do you mean, leaving?”

Never in the entire time of our marriage had I ever suggested walking out on him.

“I mean our marriage.”

“Are you out of your mind? You have everything any woman could want. You can’t mean that, Sattnin. Goddamn,” he said, his voice filled with anguish. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. You mean I’ve been so blind that I didn’t know what’s going on? I’ve been so wrapped up I didn’t see this coming.”

“We’re living separate lives.”

Finally he asked, “Have I lost you to another man?”

“It’s not that you’ve lost me to another man, you’ve lost me to a life of my own. I’m finding myself for the first time.”

He looked up and stared at me in silence as I stood packing and snapped my suitcase shut. I tried to walk to the door but couldn’t stop myself from running back into his arms. We hugged, tears streaming down our faces. “I have to go,” I said. “If I stay now I’ll never leave.” I broke away, grabbed my suitcase, and headed for the door.

“y/nn,” Matt called. I stopped dead in my tracks. “Maybe another time, another place,” he said slowly.

“Maybe so,” I replied, looking back. “This just isn’t the time.”

And I walked out the door.

My trip to Boston was unexpected and brief and there was only one purpose—to get my belongings. I wanted to spend as little time as possible there. Graceland had been my home, and it was difficult saying goodbye to everyone. The staff, most of whom I’d hired, seemed to know without my telling them that I was leaving for good. No one said a word, but their tearful hugs spoke volumes.

I found Dodger in her room—now downstairs—and sat at her feet as she rocked in her chair. “Oh no,” she said, “don’t tell me that, Honey. You don’t mean it.” Then, realizing I did mean it, she hastened to ask, “You’re gonna call me, aren’t you, and keep in touch?”

“Yes, Dodger. I’ll always be there for you. I’ll come back and visit. We’ll talk just like we always have, and nothing will ever change.”

“You’re like my own,” Dodger said. “It’s not going to be the same here without you. Poor little things. I feel so sorry for both of you.”

Grandma wept as she tried to understand why two people who love each other should part. “I tried to tell him to spend more time with you—you and that baby.”

“It’s nobody’s fault, Grandma. It’s just life. We still love each other. We always will.”

“I believe you’ll get back together again, Hon.” She was wringing her hands. “God knows, you two young’uns love each other enough.”

There was a view of green pastures beyond Grandma’s window—Sun, the old barn, and all the memories that went along with the happiest time of our lives. Thank God it was a beautiful day; I always hated rainy days at Graceland—they reminded me of the lonely winters when he was gone.

In the warmth and sunshine outside, I strolled around the grounds, looking one last time at the front porch where Matt and I had sat on the steps, dreaming of a European trip that would have taken us back to Haptstrasse, where we’d met. Gazing over the lawns and the long circular driveway toward the Music Gates, where the fans always waited, I wondered if I’d ever return. I made my way back between the little craters left over from fireworks wars, and, in the garage, ran my hand over the shiny surface of a go-cart. I couldn’t believe it was over.

Like most couples breaking up, we went through a rough period before we finally accepted the fact that we were separating. We were divorced on October 9, 1973. Although Matt and I had continued to talk regularly, we hadn’t seen each other over the past few months, which had been a period of strain and tension as attorneys attempted to work out details. Eventually Matt and I resolved them ourselves. We were both sensitive enough and still caring enough of each other’s feelings to know that we wanted to avoid bitter accusations and futile attempts to assign blame. Our principal concern was Charlotte, whose custody we agreed would be mutually shared. We remained so close that Matt never bothered to pick up his copy of the divorce papers.

Accompanied by my sister Michelle, I waited in the courthouse in Santa Monica, California, for him to arrive, and when he did, I was shocked by his appearance. His hands and face were swollen and puffy and he was perspiring profusely.

With James and Michelle and our attorneys following, we went into the judge’s chambers. Matt and I sat before the judge and held hands as he put us through the formalities of the divorce proceedings. I hardly heard a word, I was bewildered by Matt’s physical condition and kept running my fingers back and forth across his swollen hands.

I wondered whether Matt’s new girlfriend, Linda Thompson, knew how much love and attention he needed. “Sattnin,” I whispered, “is she takin’ good care of you—watchin’ your weight and your diet, waits for you to fall asleep at night?”

Then the judge was finished. The dream I had had of a perfect union was over. The hope of an ideal marriage, which had consumed all my thoughts and energy since I was fourteen, had ended with the simple stroke of a pen.

As we walked out the courthouse Matt sang to me “I Will Always Love You”. I forever cherish that moment. Feeling a great sense of emptiness, I walked with Michelle to my car. Matt, his father, his attorney, and a few of the guys walked over to his limo. In passing I waved, he winked. The affinity we shared for each other would always be there. We continued to talk frequently, particularly about Charlotte, who we knew would be unhappy. We wanted her to know that she would not, in any way, be deprived of either of us. When we were together it was as if we’d never parted, exchanging loving kisses and sitting arm in arm with her in our laps, and, when we were apart, we never criticized each other.

She’d visit Matt often in both L.A. and Boston. He assured me that he would take good care of her, but his life-style was such that I could not help worrying. I’d call to check on her nearly every night she was away. It was 1 a.m. in Boston when I asked Matt, “Did Char have her bath, and is she in bed yet?”

“Yeah, she’s taken care of,” he said. “She’s in bed, fast asleep.”

Within minutes, Aunt Delta called me and complained that Charlotte wasn’t in bed and she couldn’t get her to take her bath. I talked to Charlotte, who said, “Well, Daddy wanted me to stay up.”

When I called Matt back, I said, “I thought you told me she was in bed.”

“Ah, let her stay up,” he said. “It’s no big deal.”

Her daddy handed everything over to her on the proverbial-silver platter, which created conflict when she’d come home and have to deal with reality. We had a running debate on how she was to be raised. “To hell with values,” Matt would say, joking. I knew that it was essential that Charlotte gain some perspective, but try to explain that to Matt Sturniolo.

As the months passed, Linda Thompson became his constant companion and was good for him, I felt. He began taking trips to Aspen and Hawaii, getting out more, because of Linda’s outgoing personality. When we spoke, he seemed to be in good spirits.

His movie career was at a standstill, and he focused on Vegas appearances and touring. Matt had trouble seeing himself “a forty year-old man still shaking to ‘Hound Dog.’” He had other ambitions. He once talked of producing, even directing, but he never took steps to pursue either.

Then came an offer. Barbra Streisand and Jon Peters approached him to star opposite Barbra in a remake of A Star Is Born. When Matt called me from Vegas, I got the impression he was going to do it. His energy and enthusiasm were electric. It was a film classic and he saw a chance to make a breakthrough into dramatic roles. He was confident he could play Norman Mayne.

“It looks like a sure thing,” he said. “Just the details have to be worked out.” But the project ran aground on those details. It was Jon Peters’s first movie. That he was to direct this film with no credits, no track record, presented a problem in Colonel William’s estimation. Another difficulty was the fact that Matt’s billing would be second to Barbra’ssomething the Colonel wouldn’t hear of. The project was rejected, leaving Matt despondent over the lost opportunity.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - im sorry yall.. if you think this is bad wait till next chapter😬 (next chapters the last chapter im so sad i got attachments to this story) 🎀

[melodyatlas]

for the only one bed prompt from a while back!

3 with dickjay, maybe an injured dick (his knee? :D) waking up to a jason who went out his way to get him to a safehouse and patched up. dicks totally bewildered/fighting back tears because what the fuck? i picture it a little post UTRH (ignoring bftc and bib and even their outsiders interaction) so this is their first 'meeting' since jasons Come Back

feel free to ignore/discard whichever parts of my idea you want btw no pressure LOL

Ask Game/Prompt List

dickjay!!! yessss!! i think i used most of what you said? this was super fun cause as much as i like jaydick i havent actually written for them before, hopefully i did it justice 😂❤️💙

i was smart enough to put this one under a cut after it got away from me in length lmao

Consciousness does not come quickly to Dick.

He's just so comfortable; a firm bed beneath him, a soft, vaguely familiar smell invading his senses, and a heavy warmth wrapped around him.

The only thing making this situation less than ideal is a sharp pain in his side and the twinge of his still-healing knee. It reminds him he needs to do his morning leg stretches, but surely those could wait so he can enjoy the embrace of- wait... He's on an off period in his relationships right now.

So who's arms are wrapped around him right now?

He forces his brain to actually wake up, scouring his memories for details of the night before.

His knee-brace has been slowing him down a little more than he would like to admit. And he /might/ have overestimated his flexibilty the night before because of it. He attempted a move that definitely would have worked before he was shot- but with the brace on, he can't tuck that leg as tightly as he needed to be able to in the space he was in.

It meant he didn't make it to cover as intended, getting grazed by a couple of bullets for his trouble. He would have been in real hot water had the newest Gotham rogue not chosen that moment to stroll into the fray.

And stroll he did- the Red Hood didn't seem to have a care in the world as he waltzed right into that crowded warehouse. The drug cartel that had been closing in on Dick had seemed just as surprised as he was by the addition to the fray- and his casual attitude.

It worked in Hood's favor, probably all according to his plan; the confusion it created made the perfect hole for him to announce that he was there to send a message to their boss about dealing cut drugs under his watch.

Apparently he had the whole warehouse rigged to blow and was magnanimously offering them the option of retreat before he blew the whole thing sky high.

His reputation preceded him, and most of the goons bolted at the news, the few who stayed behind arguing in favor of capturing Nightwing as their get out of jail free card getting shot in the arms or legs for their trouble.

Dick was a little surprised that Hood hadn't just outright killed them all. But the light maiming and the yelling that Nightwing was Hood's prize also worked to get the stragglers to finally run off.

Objectively, Dick /knew/ the Red Hood was Jason Todd. But seeing Hood walk up to where he was still laid up on the cold ground- hearing him tell those goons that Dick was his /prize/- it was slightly intimidating. Not that he'd ever tell Jason that.

Still, Dick knows better than to let anyone see him sweat, so he gave Hood his trademark grin even as he kept his hand on the deepest graze on his side. He's lucky it wasn't any closer to his body, no real bullet wound to worry about, but the longest one was bleeding a little more than he would've liked.

Red Hood just sighed as he looked down at Dick, "Sometimes you're really more trouble than you're worth. C'mon then, I was serious about rigging this place. We need to get clear."

He helped haul Dick up to his feet, where he immediately swayed and had to be caught in Hood's arm. Damn, as if needing to be saved wasn't embarrassing enough. He had to go and nearly faint in his arms too?

He must've lost more blood than he thought, because he did nearly pass out on Jason's shoulder- the bigger man nearly having to carry him to a nearby car. And isn't that just a slap in the face- that Jason was bigger than Dick now.

It's not even like Dick is a small man- he's not- but Jason still has a couple inches and at least 20 pounds (of what looks like pure muscle) on him.

No wonder his memory of the rest of the night is so fuzzy. Dick really had to have lost more blood than he thought. But he got what he needed from the memory- /Jason/ is the one wrapped around him.

/Jason/ is the one who crawled into bed with him after saving him from getting in over his head. After carrying him to a safehouse to patch him up.

And he did patch him up- Dick can feel the gauze wrapped around his stomach, the telltale pull of what has to be fresh stitches in his side. He swallows hard, trying to hold back his emotions at the revelation.

He hasn't actually seen Jason since he came back from the grave. He /knew/. Of course he did- he was around tangentially while Jason was taunting Bruce as the Red Hood. So it wasn't hard to find out who he was after Bruce knew.

Dick can feel out the fuzzy memory of Jason taking off the helmet last night, but suddenly he needs to see his face /now/.

So despite the ache in his knee and the pain in his side, he twists around in Jason's hold to lay face to face with him. His movement jostles Jason enough that he furrows his brow, even in his sleep, but the younger man seems to relax back into his sleep pretty quickly.

It's... overwhelming to see Jason like this. Grown. Grown so much from when he last saw him. Logically, Dick knows Jason is still only nineteeen- but he looks older than that. Years beyond what he should- he looks closer to Dick in age.

Muscle he didn't have before built up all over. Hair grown out just enough to really let his curls show. The white tuft at his forehead and long scar along his cheek stark reminders of what he went through.

Dick is reaching out before he even realizes, two fingers tracing up along the scar and then back down to where it cuts into his lips. Surprisingly, it doesn't detract from Jason's good looks at all, in fact, Dick thinks it makes him look even more handsome.

So he can be forgiven, he thinks, for being so entraced by the sight that he doesn't realize when Jason's eyes open.

"A guy could get the wrong idea, waking up to a half-naked bird touching his lips like that."

It's only his years of training that keep Dick from flinching at the new sound of Jason's voice. It sounds like him- but at the same time, it doesn't. Once again, those years twisting the image of Jason he had in his head, now at odds with the man before him.

Still, he can play this game, "You're the one who stripped me half-naked and called me a prize."

Jason just hums, nips a little at Dick's fingertips where they still rest on his lips, and then shoots him a smug little grin when Dick /does/ startle at that before joining him in smiling.

It's crazy how /easy/ this is. Laying in bed with a man he used to know, but certainly doesn't anymore. Jason's been through so much since the last time they saw each other- so has Dick, even- but he's still so comfortable with him.

It's hard to say whether or not he /should/ be this comfortable. He knows what Jason's been up to since he got back. But he also saved him. And is letting him flirt with him. Hell- he's flirting /back/.

Dick thinks he can relax into this for a little bit- let them both have something nice for once. So he doesn't let himself think too hard before leaning up to replace his fingers at Jason's lips with his own mouth.

Yeah, he can definitely let them both have this.

[cowboy-like-mee]

i wish i could change

summary: depressed! reader and boyfriend! harry

warnings: depression, mentions of wanting to d word

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hello. i am ending my year and a half long hiatus. i am writing this in the midst of a depressive episode, so it is based off real life me rn! it was kinda therapeutic tbh. i feel a lot better after getting this out.  i listened moon song by phoebe bridgers, my tears ricochet by taylor swift, and a different age by current joys on repeat while writing this. have fun!

p.s. i kind hate this :/ i feel like the end is rushed but whatev. i hope you enjoy. i feel like i might want to write more about this couple. i have many ideas also! if you have any requests let me know! or i can post what my ideas are and yall can tell me what you want first!

masterlist

Sitting in the filth of your room never made it any better. But you just couldn’t help it. There were empty bags of chips and dirty clothes everywhere. The floors need vacuuming. The bed hasn't been made in weeks- the fitted sheet isn't even on the bed anymore. You've just been lying on the bare mattress with a blanket covering you that doesn't even reach your feet. The smell of old food and dirty laundry stings your nose every time you breathe in a little too deeply. You needed a shower. There were clumps of your hair sitting next to a pair of scissors on your desk from where you had decided it was a good idea to chop a few inches off at 3 am yesterday. 

You're pretty sure you hadn't been to a single class in at least a month. You were failing only two at the moment, luckily. Last semester it was three. Emails and text messages were piling up in your inboxes. There was no point in setting alarms anymore. You knew you weren't going to wake up anyway. 

You really just missed your mom. You missed her encouraging words and her hugs. Her hugs. Any of your problems were made to be nothing with just one of her hugs. You know she would be beyond disappointed to see the state of your life right now. 

Nothing even happened to make you feel this way. It's just a part of that never-ending cycle of depression that seems to hinder everything you try to do. There are no words to describe what happens in your head when you get like this. No therapist or medication could ever stop this feeling. It's like the weight of the world sits on your chest. You can't breathe. You can't think. You can't move. You can't even provide yourself with the basic necessities one needs to survive. 

You try to tell yourself to get out of this funk, but nothing will help. Nothing has ever helped. 

Well...maybe one thing has.

Harry.

Your boyfriend on two years. The man who has helped you out of funk numerous amounts of times throughout the last couple of years. Of course, you don't always feel like this. It comes and goes. It seems nowadays it mostly comes. It never seems to go. But when it has come, Harry has been there for you. He has fed you and showered you and loved you and kissed you and never ever judged you. 

You feel like a burden. 

No matter how many times he tells you he does it because he loves you. He hates seeing you like that. He wishes he could take all of your pain away. You mean everything to him. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

You don't know why. What kind of man wants a girl who goes four days without showering at times. Or a girl who wakes up at 3 pm because at night her thoughts wander so far she has to hit herself in the head to stop them. A girl who can't just...be normal. 

Either way, you know one thing is for certain. You love Harry. You really do. You probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. He has changed your life. There have been more good moments with him than bad. He kisses you just to kiss you. He watches your favorite movie with you weekly (even though you know he despises it.) He goes out to brunch with your parents because he loves talking to the people who created you. He buys you flowers every time he goes to the market just because he loves to see you smile every time he gives them to you. 

He really was made for you. Nevertheless, you felt like you didn't deserve him. 

You wish you could change. You wish you could change for him. You wish it was easier to be alive. You wish you didn't want to die. For him. Not for yourself. You wish you could be the perfect girlfriend. The girlfriend he deserved, not one that rots away in her room.

Harry walks in. You hear the door to your apartment creak open and gently shut. Footsteps lead into the kitchen, probably putting down the food you know he probably bought for you. You sit up and try to put on your most neutral face. You sniff your armpits and wince a little. It's only been since yesterday morning you showered, but a little deodorant wouldn't hurt. Your door opens letting in light, making your eyes squint and your hand instinctively come up to block it. 

"Y/N?" Harry says. You smile for the first time since you saw him last a few days ago. "Hey, baby." He gives you the softest, pure smile you've ever seen in your whole life. He tilts his head at you with a concerned look on his face. 

"Hi." You croak out, using your voice for the first time in a while. He walks up to your bed and pulls the blanket down to lie with you. You scoot over to make room for him. He climbs in and immediately wraps his hands around you. His face buries into your neck and plants soft kisses along your throat. Your hand goes into his hair and softly brushes through his soft curls. 

He hums. "Mmm, I love you." He kisses you again right on your jawline. "I've missed you, baby. How has my girl been?" Your throat tightens. You're regretting not answering his texts. He's probably been worried. 

You smile sadly. "I love you more, angel. I-" You pause to think of an adequate answer to your disappearance the past few days. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't answered your texts. I've just been...not feeling well. I've missed you too. So much." Your eyes are welling with tears, but your room is dark so maybe he won't notice. 

He pulls back a little to look at your face. His heart breaks. His girl has been feeling bad and he hasn't been here for her. "Oh, honey. It's okay. You know I just want to make sure you're okay." He kisses you sweetly. Your heart swells. He really is perfect. "I brought you dinner. I hope you haven't eaten." He smiles at you.

You laugh wetly. " Eating hasn't really been my number one priority today." 

He frowns, "Y/N, you have to eat, love. It's important to take care of your body." He sits up and grabs your hand. "Come one. Let's go eat and watch Silver Linings Playbook." He pulls you up from your nest. He wraps his arms around you and engulfs you in a hug. Your head rests on his chest and you just breathe in. 

You reach up and kiss him. You will never understand how this man can be so selfless. He really has changed your life. You will love him at your highs, and you will love him at your lows.

[owlafterhours]

[ac6] rusty/freud : what happens in vegas, doesn't always stay in vegas

Hello sorry for being extremely distractible, absolutely astronaut things incoming but this has definitely been on the brain (thank you kiva and the rusty/freud thread!) and i do not have the willpower to write this out proper. This is pretty tame. Nobody is terribly unhinged, but it’s admittedly not a premise where anyone can be properly unhinged, except sorta drunk.

CW: alcohol

IN WHICH: Rusty’s sorta hungover and hitched, Freud’s got the cream and the canary and Raven?? Is being a great spectator, that’s what. Featuring Space Vegas and the nebulous idea that they’re still AC pilots but like, things are a bit different. A lot less life or death.

–

Rusty wakes up on the couch of his hotel suite. His mouth feels like it got bonded together with year-old glue. Head’s not pounding though, so that’s good. He’s got some idea of what happened the night before but honestly, not that great of a recollection right now. Not a problem - he’s familiar with this, he’ll remember when he gets a bit of food and water in him. 

His phone is going off - it’s his morning break alarm. Ugh. He’s been out a while.

Makes sense though. What was it last night? He and a few of the others had gone out after the mandatory Arquebus company dinner and complained a bit. Rusty always knew that O’Keeffe and Hawkins had it in them to drink like fish, and he’d been careful to pace himself but Freud had appeared and then…more drinking. He’d wanted to share a drink with the guy. But that many? There are sixty-something messages waiting for him. Well, that’s not much of a surprise.

O’Keeffe, Flatwell, Freud…Buddy? 

Oh shit. Something better not have happened. Rusty’s fairly sure he’s at least five hours away from Raven, so he hopes his buddy didn’t get himself in trouble ‘cause Rusty sure ain’t going to drive all the way over to bail him out. 

>>morning >>congrats

Huh???

Rusty scrolls up. He feels his brain freeze, juuust a little. It’s almost like that first time he met Raven, when the tyke had a bag of flour and a lighter. Except with more consequences! 

There are pictures. Of him and Freud. At one of those walk-in wedding places. He doesn’t look as drunk as he probably felt, and neither does Freud, which helps explain how it happened in the first place. It’s a string of like, ten pictures, and he can see that:

a) they did, indeed, get married b) no rings c) yes, certificates d) and raven had, indeed, been there if that one photo with a blurry officiant meant anything.

It’s at that time that the door to his hotel room swings open and Freud’s apparently just let himself in with two large paper bags. From the smell, Rusty can tell there are at least fries in it, but that doesn’t stop him from freezing. Freud just spares him a glance before setting the food down on the shelf by the door.

“Don’t tell me you forgot everything?” There’s a bit of a mocking edge to it. 

“Ah…no. I. remember most of it.” He mumbled back.

If his rapidly recovering memory is right, Freud had volunteered to take Rusty back to the hotel, while O’Keeffe and Hawkins had stayed behind to nurse a few more drinks. On their way back, Freud had complained about Rusty like, not taking notice of anything he was doing, and offhandedly mentioned that he’d probably have to marry Rusty to catch any hints. Rusty, drunk, had said ‘maybe’ and Freud had apparently, just.

Stared.

And gone. “Really now?”

“Sure, yeah,” drunk Rusty had slurred, “Fly with me.”

Rusty thinks he can remember that. (Damn. He. really said that. To Freud.) He’d looked straight back into Freud’s eyes, because they had been very nice under the lights at night, the flecks of LED colour reflected in them. 

It’d been a pretty alright kiss at the altar, all things considered, and he passed out on the couch pretty quickly after getting back. Who knows why Freud had just left him there, but he supposes it’s better than waking up half naked or something of the sort.

Rusty looks at Freud now, standing there with two bags of take-away and figures that alright, maybe yeah sure. They can. Work it out. 

It’s a pretty awkward breakfast, mostly from Rusty’s end, but it’s more or less Rusty being like, ‘not sure if. that. was. my best moment.’ and Freud being ‘I do not try. I do. so trying to catch you was horrid.’ and whilst Freud is very ‘why not just leave it as is’, Rusty gets the feeling that if he doesn’t deal with this in a Responsible Manner, he’ll have a minimum of three people on his ass, maybe more. 

Flatwell, at the very least, will be Very Disappointed. Ziyi as well. That is never a good combo.

Anyway, O’Keeffe absolutely finds out because he takes like, One Look at Rusty and Freud before sighing and wandering off for more coffee. Snail seems to suspect something, which means that Swinburne shoots glances at them, and Pater’s got a curious glimmer in his eyes. Maeterlinck is firmly in I Do Not Percieve territory. Nobody actually comments on it though, so they get through the last full day of this company working holiday with little incident. 

Freud absolutely finally gets to take Rusty on a ‘proper date’ - aka an illegal drag race. It’s a good time! The vehicles are very nice. It feels like what they usually do, except they’re not the ones behind the wheel.

It only hits him the morning after, that he has no idea what Raven was even doing at the wedding venue, let alone the area. He’s managed to corral Freud into neatening up the bedroom at least, so he shoots off a message while he’s checking the kitchenette for anything they might’ve left behind.

what were u doing there did i ask u to come?

He gets his reply twenty minutes later when they’re getting ready to leave.

>> no

Followed by a selfie. Raven never takes selfies. There’s a shit-eating look in his eyes. He’s wearing a jacket that isn’t his, and it’s got an uncomfortably familiar logo on it. He can also see that someone’s head is resting on Raven’s shoulder and, you know what, that hair? Also uncomfortably familiar. 

Rusty hopes that it doesn’t mean what he thinks it means as the photo gets pushed up.

>> but also >> i was ur witness >> dw >> it’s freud who owes me

“Is that Raven?” Freud comes and hooks his chin over Rusty’s shoulder and Rusty has to stop from startling - he gets the feeling that Freud’s going to be doing a lot of that, even after they sort out this entire marriage fiasco. Rusty scrolls back up again to the selfie.

“No idea what he sees in that man.” Freud mutters, disgruntled.

Well, that’s another thing they agree on.

[bluerskiees]

SEISHU INUI FLUFF ☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

♧ Has written many poetry about you but is shy to show it to you.

♧ Slightly insecure about his scar but dont worry, the way you kiss it makes it dissappear.

♧ He's pretty emotionless but its only because he has a hard time expressing it. After what happened to akane, expressing his emotions wasn't easy.

♧ I'm sure he bought heels as a joke first, but then enjoyed wearing it so yeah.

♧ Can watch a horror movie without flinching, so he absolutely loves it when you cuddle him when you get scared.

♧ Jerk. Would definitely make it seem like he forgot your birthday only to take you out later at night.

♧ NEVER do a cheating/hickey prank on him. Kicks the "other bf" in his face with his gorgeous heels without a second thought.

♧ Judgemental af (sometimes). "Baby, are you actually gonna wear THAT ?" "No no i mean it is nice but you know?..... it could be better?"

♧ Picks your outfit sometimes

♧ Would actually wake up at sharp 5.00 and open the screens not caring if it would disturb you. "Babe chill, it's vitamin d. If you want then I'll close it, I'll find another way to give your dose of vitamin D—😏" needless to say, your slippers kissed his pretty face that day.

♧ Actually a very sweet boi. You on ur periods ? Wait a sec I'll buy the whole shop for you.

♧ Has your contact saved as "Pretty monster". Dont ask me why, I just feel like it.

♧ Would randomly show up behind you and backhug you. Scared you a lot of times.

♧ Lives by the quote, "Less sleep, more Fashion"

♧ Insomniac.

♧ Fucked you in his bike many times.

♧ If he sees a guy talking shit bout you—

♧ Wouldn't tell you who his first kiss was for some reason. 🧐

♧ Leaves everyone on delivered most times except you.

♧ Not afraid to express his emotions/opinions.

♧ Bold af. Literally asked you out with an emotionless face looking straight into your eyes.

♧ You thought he was joking but apparently he wasn't.

♧ If he was an emoji, he'd be "🐡" . Wouldn't hurt you, but if you tried playing dirty, stings you back with no care.

♧ Does amazing work with his hands. No not that— as a devoted follower of Shinchiro, he learned a lot of things from him. One of which is handling motorbikes.

♧ Lover-boy. Has you as his wallpaper, a pic of you in his wallet, in his desk, everywhere.

♧ Not afraid to show others that he's taken and vise versa.

♧ Would never cheat on you. It's either he dumps you straightforward or a sucker for you. No in between.

♧ If he was a song, "LO$ER=LO♡ER" by txt or "Heather" by conan gray.

♧ Has inferior younger sibling complex. Can't beat me on this one.

♧ Always proud of you even if he never says it.

♧ Write you a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong text message to make you feel better.

♧ LITERALLY the prettiest lover boy. :(♡

⤷ ୨🎐୧࿐ @markedsweetly

[denimbex1986]

'When I originally saw All of Us Strangers at the 59th Chicago International Film Festival, I left the theater in awe of the movie and performances. I was also stunned by the ending. I immediately knew I wanted to dig deeper into it. It’s an ending that shocks you, but also leaves so much to unpack.

This film had a big impact on me in 2023 because of some of its themes, including love, loss, and loneliness. It’s one of the best movies that discuss grief. It tackles the subject in a way that feels more grounded in reality than some films, and shows it as something ever-present that never truly goes away. The All of Us Strangers ending explores that and more...

What Happened At The End Of All Of Us Strangers?

Adam (Andrew Scott) brings Harry (Paul Mescal) to his parents’ home to meet them. They refuse to let them in and, and in a panic, Adam freaks out and breaks a window. Harry leaves him. Adam wakes up back in his childhood home with his parents. They discuss Harry and Adam’s relationship. Then his parents tell him that they must leave. They notice how this situation is not good for him.

Adam pleads with them but they must move on so he can as well. The child and parents go on one last outing to his favorite diner. His parents say their goodbyes before slowly fading away. His dad fades first and then his mother, after losing her eyesight — similar to their deaths.

He arrives back at his flat but ends up at Harry’s apartment and notices a really bad smell. The TV is on and the place looks like it hasn’t been touched in a while. Eventually, he finds Harry’s dead body in his bedroom. Harry’s ghost appears. He breaks down about his death and the fact that no one has discovered his body yet.

Adam comforts him and asks him to go upstairs with him. They lie in Adam’s bed together, talk some, and then drift to sleep. “Power of Love” plays in the background.

What Happened To Harry?

The All of Us Strangers ending makes it clear that Harry died before they began their relationship. After Adam closed the door on Harry, he went to his apartment, drank himself to death, and possibly overdosed on drugs. It’s unclear if Harry intentionally died by suicide or was so depressed that he continued to engage in destructive behavior, like drinking and drugs, until it accidentally killed him.

It doesn’t really matter if he died by suicide or accidentally. The point is that he was so lonely and scared that he engaged in behavior that ended his life. All of Harry and Adam’s relationship happens after he dies. The conversation between Adam and Harry at the end heavily implies that Harry is also about to fade away. Like Adam’s parents, he is also about to move on.

This is another movie that thoughtfully talks about depression. Harry’s “sad eyes” are because of his own life tragedies. He doesn’t have his family because of his feeling of being an outsider in it. Then he has no friends and only starts a solid relationship with Adam after his death. Harry, in some ways, is also a cautionary tale to Adam. Don’t close yourself off so much that you are alone in the end.

The Hope In The Tragic Ending

It’s easy to interpret the All Of Us Strangers ending as sad and tragic. However, it’s more bittersweet if anything. Adam is likely about to be alone again, but his relationship with his parents and Harry allows him to do some emotional healing. His parents have given him some closure. Adam will never stop grieving them (as his mother states, there will never be enough time with them), but now they've at least gotten to know him. They accept and love him. Adam resolves one of the major things holding him back from love.

Harry is dead, so Adam experiences another loss, but he also experiences more love. Harry opened his heart to romantic love again. Even at the end, Harry tells him to not close his heart to love, and Adam seems to accept that message. We see a different Adam from the start of All of Us Strangers to the end of it. He won’t continue to isolate himself from the world.

He will go find love again. Additionally, Adam and Harry’s love story answers the age-old question: Is it better to have loved and lost or to never have loved at all? The film argues it’s better to have loved and lost. Just because there is no happy ending for Adam and his parents, or Adam and Harry, doesn’t make these relationships and love any less important. The pure existence of them makes it all worth having, even if they end.

Adam also realizes that if he let Harry in at the beginning of the film, Harry would have had a different fate. This makes him see the importance of not pushing someone away. They may need you. All of Us Strangers director Andrew Haigh expands on this idea in a Time interview:

There is hope in the fact that he has understood that, basically, he is capable of being in love and being loved and being there for someone else that might need him in that moment.

Adam (probably) doesn’t regret not opening the door for Harry at that moment, because they still have a love story. Just because it happens after Harry’s death doesn’t negate the impact and power of it. Let’s look at it this way: Some people discover their favorite artist after that artist’s death. Their death doesn’t diminish the impact and power of their work and life. Sometimes it makes it even more meaningful. Death doesn’t make love any less meaningful.

The Importance Of The Power Of Love

“The Power of Love” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood plays a few times in the film. It’s one of those perfect movie music moments. The song basically sums up why the All of Us Strangers ending is hopeful even in its sadness. It talks about how love has a way of healing the soul. The film is also about the ways love heals if you open yourself up to it, even after deep loss.

In the same Time interview, Haigh explained his use of the song and its importance to the LGBTQ+ experience of the ‘80s and his youth:

It's actually quite a subversive love song because it's written by a bunch of gay dudes in the '80s in a really tough time as AIDS was devastating communities. I always knew I wanted to get it into a film, and it made perfect sense for it being at the end of this.

One part of “The Power of Love” says “death-defying love for you,” which could basically summarize one of All of Us Strangers’ messages: Even in death, love cannot be destroyed. The song also mentions “make love your goal.” No matter how life may hurt you, don’t ever stop loving.

On the surface, the story may seem tragic but it’s really a beautiful way of looking at love and loss. The pain of losing someone crushes your soul, but the love you get from it and after it, makes the whole journey worth it. Death cannot destroy love.

All of Us Strangers is one of the best movies of 2023 and one of the best LGBTQ+ romance movies ever. It’s a film that stays with you in both a hopeful and heartbreaking manner.'

[definitelynotshouting]

WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS A WORM 😭😭😭😭 WHAT A THING TO WAKE UP TO!

-☀️

Oh my god thw wings being a physical manifestation of how Mumbo doesnt know Grian anymore. He is an entirely new person, definitely mentally, technically physically-- even if he looks the same. Mumbo honing in on the wings ("his wings ruffle...behind him" "it's a foreign motion...that escapes translation") that are the thing that's different and needs a "map" drawn of it, because it's the only thing that's actually different. Sure, Mumbo can tell grian doesnt even act the same anymore, but that's much harder to put a finger on. He didnt have those wings before.

^I like to think there's some form of uncanny valley effect that people who knew Grian before feel looking at him now, ignoring the wings.

-☀️

"Then he smiles, porcelain teeth flashing in the glistering sun.

The cold, open pit of his depthless eyes fails to catch it."

Really fucking love this description ough

-☀️

"“You’re not supposed to change me back!” Grian shrills, bristling."

IT'S TOO EARLY IN THE MORNING FOR THIS TEM WTF (it is past 10am)

-☀️

"with the exquisite delicacy of a Player"

I SEE YOU YOURE NOT SNEAKY

-☀️

The wings again!! *is in distress* (side note i love seeing the world building youve been telling us about finally in the fic!!) Ok this actually makes the way Mumbo focused on the wings mean so much more. Wings are dangerous to code in, thats why Players use spotters. Grian vanished from Evo and showed up on Hermitcraft YEARS(?) later, without a word to anyone, and reappeared with those wings. Imagine going on a trail with a friend whose never hiked before and then they stop responding to your messages only to show up again after a couple of months like "Hey I just climbed Everest". You would most definitely be distressed to say the least. (although, question: how proficient was grian's coding?)

-☀️

Man this one-shot. Too many feels this early in the morning 😭 The way you've managed to capture that sense of unease around Grian. His actions are unpredictable- you dont know if he's going to laugh or get upset- really nicely encapsulates Mumbo's internal feeling that he doesn't know grian anymore. Those moments where he laughs or stares with those blank eyes, those are normal-- but linger a second too long, or catch a glimpse of the worlds that have passed since Evo started-- and he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with Grian

-☀️

AAAAAAAAA HI SUN ANON!!! omg im so glad you enjoyed the oneshot!!! :D

Omg YES im so so glad what i was aiming for with the wings came through, thats exactly what i was going for!! This is the only physical indication that Grian has changed, and therefore the most distinct!!! Ofc Mumbo is gonna hone in on that-- its the clearest aspect he can see. And yeah, i think the first few times people saw him with the wings, it was definitely a little uncanny valley, until they got used to it

OKAY I'LL BE REAL THE EXQUISITE DELICACY BIT WAS NOT INTENTIONAL BUT IS A VERY HAPPY ACCIDENT ALDJWKDNEKNDKDE altho i did really enjoy messing with some wordplay in other areas. My particular favorite is the "inner machinations of a dropper" line-- it was such a fun way to refer to mechanical parts while simultaneously making it sound like the dropper is up to no good 😂😂😂😂😂😂

It was super nice to really put this aspect of the worldbuilding into the fic-- one of these days i'll probably rewrite chapters 1 and 2, and maybe do a little editing on 3, just so i can sorta bake those concepts in there with a little more deliberation than i did when i was first posting :] BUT YES altho its not so much dangerous (for a Player, at least) as it is difficult, and very finicky. Grian's coding is super proficient as a Player (he's still working on melding the instinctive coding of the Watchers with his Player brain tho), so he was always very capable of it, but like you pointed out, under normal circumstances he would have 100% asked someone to be his spotter while he coded them in, just in case he bugged out

And yep, we're talking a timespan of years here!!! This is a bit loose, so its subject to some minor changes, but my general timeline is that Grian, once Watcher-ified, was trapped with the Watchers for about 2-3 years before he made his escape. After that he bounced between hubs and servers for a few months, before ending up on Hermitcraft to stay. The fic itself takes place somewhere around early mid-season, i think-- since i headcanon each season to take place over a few years rather than a few months, i'd say this means Grian has been with Hermitcraft for, oh.... a little under a year now by the time this fic takes place, if that makes sense. Again these are not concrete but thats the general timeframe we're talking here. I'll probably make a separate post about this later, but in Player culture its not SUPER weird to go gallivanting on your own for a few years-- but the complete radio silence and abrupt exit from Evo are what make this notable from the norm to Mumbo and everyone else who knew Grian before

Im so deeply and genuinely happy that the sense of unease came across so well-- i was admittedly worried that the pacing was a bit fast for how Grian's reactions kept turning on a dime, but this reassures me that it works :] i wanted it to really feel like this is a familiar stranger we're looking at through Mumbo's eyes, and also i wanted to give Grian some room to display those uglier trauma symptoms that nobody talks about much in fiction. I like to think that first year back on Hermitcraft was a difficult one for him, mood-wise, because behind that rough facade his brain is about as scorched-earth as it fuckin gets

Sun anon i always ADORE your analysis thank you so so much for sending them 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 it makes my day every time, truly. Im so glad you liked the fic!!! :D

[niklausmikaelsonsproperty]

Maybe you are too late(part 2)

Pairings: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader, Damon Salvatore x Reader

Y/N POV

When I woke up Damon wasn't next to me, maybe he regretted staying after all. I got dressed up, opened my phones and what I saw surprised me quite a lot, Damon sent me a message saying that he left because Stefan needed his help but he had a really good time last night and he would love to hang out soon, I was so happy he didn't regret it.

I'm better today even though Klaus hurt me yesterday he made me understand that I had some feelings for Damon as well, I am still in love with Klaus but I don't want to be anymore. I guess this is a start.

I walked in to the living room where all of the Mikaelson siblings except from Finn were and greeted them. Kol looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back " Kol, is there something you want to tell me?" I asked him " Well actually there is something, this morning I saw Damon Salvatore walking out of your room" he said while smirking. I was blushing like an idiot "Well I asked him to stay the night with me yesterday" I said and my eyes trailed to Klaus he looked like he hadn't slept much last night.

"You never ask anyone other that us to stay the night" Klaus said looking at me "Don't worry Klaus I won't be asking you specifically to stay, plus I don't see where this concerns you, he was in my room" his heart arched when you called him Klaus and not Nik, "it concerns me because it is my house and I don't like you bringing guys over" I glared at him "fine then I will be going to his house if it bothers you so much" "You shou-" "So you are seeing him again, I think someone has a little crush" Kol interrupted Klaus "well maybe I do like him just a little bit" Klaus seemed to sadden when he heard me say that.

Suddenly my phone vibrated meaning I had a new message, it was Damon

(Messages)

- wanna go to the Grill tonight?

-sure:)

-be there at 7, see you soon babygirl ❤

-see you Damon😘

(End of messages)

And there I was smiling like an idiot yet again, Bexs looked at me with a smile " it's him isn't it?" "Yes it is" she smirked "What does he want?"she asked me " To hang out at the Grill" i said smiling "Well we have to figure out what you will be wearing, come on". I got up with Bexs and left for my room, I could feel Klaus' eyes burning holes in my back." Have fun, but not too much fun" Kol shouted and I heard Klaus growl,weird why is he acting like this?

KLAUS POV

She is going out with him again, usually she comes to me first when she wakes up she asks me what I need or my schedule for the day, but not today. Today she looked different, she looked distant but only to me. She didn't smile at me today but she was smiling at his texts. Have I really lost her?

Her and Rebekah have finished and now she is heading to the Grill, I should talk to her make things right, i grabbed her wrist "Y/N, can we talk?" she looked at me with a cold expression "I can't I'm going out with Damon" I sighed and let her go.

Half an hour has passed since she left and I can't seem to do anything else other than thinking of her, the way she used to smile at me, her beautiful e/c(eye colour), her laugh, I could have her all for me, I had her and I threw it away. I gave Damon a chance, a gave him the chance to be the one to cuddle her to sleep to be with her right now.

I think I'm in love with her, I can't just let him take her away from me she's mine and mine only. I have to go and get her. I got out if the mansion and drove to the the Grill.

I entered and saw her sitting with Damon, eating pancakes and laughing, I should be the one to make her laugh. It's my turn now Damon.

I walk over to her "mind if I cut in" I glared at Damon "actually we do so please leave" Y/N said, she never said no to me before. "Come on Y/N we need to talk" Damon got up "She doesn't want to talk to you, so leave" I flashed my hybrid face "How dare you tell me what to do" I drove my hand in Damon's chest ready to rip his heart out, but Y/N slapped me. "Can't you let me be happy for once, are really that selfish" she turned to Damon helped him up and left not looking back at me once.

[helianskies]

Hi! Dialogue prompt 10 for Nedport (romantic) please?

Thank you! I am in a Nedport mood as of late haha <3

haha, bet! >:D (p.s. this is the last ficlet i'm doing before the holiday ficlets appear!)

Delivery

When João doesn’t show up for work, Abel is a bit worried. As much as the other may complain (in private and away from the workplace) how much disdain he holds for the office and their colleagues, if João is not in, there are limited reasons for it. It feels a bit odd that he checks his phone and sees no message, so he drops João a text himself—a snappy, Are you OK?—and then, because he must, he continues with his work.

It is in the early afternoon that he receives a reply to his text that tells him just as plainly, in bed, bit sniffly, and while he is of course then worried, at least he has an answer. After he sends João his well wishes, it means he can properly focus on his work, right up until he shuts down his computer at five o’clock on the dot.

On his way home from work, Abel decides to make a detour. 

Or, rather, a few detours. 

The first place he stops by is the supermarket. There are some things he needs to buy and with a list in hand, he is able to whizz around the shop in about ten minutes flat (well, that is, before having to face the crowds around the tills). By the time he gets back to his car, it is nearing twenty-to-six. 

His next stop is his own home. There’s just one thing he wants to grab from the airing cupboard upstairs, which he can then take with him to his next stop. 

By now, it is six. Luckily for him, his next stop was not too far away.

With a single big (reusable!) shopping bag in hand, Abel leaves his car in the communal car park and heads off in the direction of João’s apartment. 

When he goes to knock on the other’s front door, he feels bad, knowing that he might wake him, or otherwise is forcing him to walk to the door as a minimum. As his fist hovers in front of the wood, he debates it—he debates turning around, going home, surrendering—but then he thinks about João, ill, buried in a pile of tissues, probably hungry and cold… and he knows it could be a small price to pay to make him feel better.

So, he knocks. He knocks and he waits, not brave enough to look directly at the door in case it suddenly flies open and he’s met with an upset (or annoyed) João. 

He waits for about half a minute, before he finds himself debating, once more, maybe I should go. He finds his feet moving before he can make any kind of counterargument. And then—

“Abel…?”

He halts. He feels stuck like a deer in headlights, fingers clutching the handles of his bag tight. He feels guilty—he feels so incredibly guilty—and he gingerly turns, to find João standing just outside his front door, drowning in layers of clothing and his nose quite red. Guilt anchors its roots only deeper.

“What are you doing here?” João asks him in the face of silence. 

“I… wanted to check on you,” Abel says hesitantly. “Sorry if I’ve disturbed you…”

João, however, shakes his head. “You haven’t disturbed me,” he assures Abel. “You can come in, if you want. Have a hot drink with me? Tea? Coffee?”

“Are you sure?”

“Would I ask if I wasn’t?”

Upon receiving a smile from the other, Abel resigns. He still feels bad. But if this allows him to make sure João really is well and looking after himself, then—

“What’s in the bag?”

Abel glanced at João, then down to the bag in his hand and the items inside—the honey, the lemons, the ginger, the tissues, the sweets, the small bunch of cheerful daffodils, some simple dinner products, the extra-thick blanket he’d brought from home. His face begins to warm, and quite rapidly.

“I, um…” He takes a breath. “I brought you some things.”

“Things?” João says, his smile growing on one side. “I like ‘things’.”

“Ah— It’s nothing special,” Abel feels a need to emphasise all the same. 

Yet João tells him, “You came to see me, make sure I’m okay. That’s special enough for me.”

Face well and truly warm, Abel slowly finds himself easing. João once more prompts him to go inside the apartment with him, and this time, there is no pause, no hesitation, 

Over the next two hours, they have that hot drink. Abel makes João a quick dinner to help him save his energy (though João insists on supervising the cooking), and they end up settling together under that nice thick blanket as João puts a film on at Abel’s suggestion.

“Are you sure you want to stay? I don’t want you to get ill too,” the brunet says as he settles down with a box of tissues in his lap, a Dutchman at his side. 

“Would I be here,” Abel returns, “if I wasn’t sure?”

João tuts and grumbles. Abel apologises, and excuses himself to go and maybe make a fresh drink before the film starts, but then the other grabs his hand and stops him before he can get up. 

“Please… Stay…” João asks of him. “Stay with me…”

And how could Abel deny him? If it will make him feel better, then it is the least he can do.

[ full fic collection on ao3! ]

[zarvasace]

It All Began (4/5)

The last chapter might take a bit to come out thanks to me being busy and then committing to febuwhump XD AO3 link to this chapter here!

---

If Zelda had to name the one thing she disliked the most about being kidnapped, besides the whole, you know, being kidnapped part, she'd probably say that it was the boredom. Vaati didn't exactly provide her with reading material. 

Close contenders included the small space, the hard bed, the bland food, and the black device on the other side of the bars that looked like it could hold a single person, like a coffin. She'd been wary of that for a long time, thinking they'd use it to shut her up, but now she just glared at it whenever it pulsed and interrupted her sleep. 

Shadow gave it weird looks whenever he came in, too. 

He'd first visited a few days after capturing her. He'd gloated, she'd demanded. They carried on like that for a week or two, until Zelda decided that she was very tired of it and switched up the script a little. 

The day started as usual, with boring but filling rice, and then her self-mandated schedule of light exercise and magic practice. As the princess of Historic Hyrule—an inherited title that just meant she was the strongest living descendant of the Hero of the Sky—she had quite the natural capacity for magic. Everyone expected her to be a prodigy, so she'd been practicing since the day she'd turned nine. 

She still wasn't very good. But that didn't stop her from using what useful tricks she had. 

Shadow's entrance startled Zelda out of her trance, which had been going very well. She'd almost been able to hear the conversation of the guards in the break room above her. 

"Princess," Shadow smiled, smug as a cat as he leaned up against the doorway. 

Zelda grunted and rubbed at her head to dispel the sparks. "Dust bunny." 

"Nice to see you, too. You know where I just came from?" 

"The garbage disposal?" 

His smile turned a little brittle. He never liked it when she insulted him, for all that he played up the charming trickster persona. "The R&D ship. You know that Link has relatively recent Yonaill ancestry?" 

Zelda had to wrack her brain for the term. "I didn't. What do you have him doing for you now?" 

"He's never done anything for me, personally," Shadow said. "For Sorcerer Enterprises, though… well, he's our new test subject." 

"You kidnapped him, too?" 

Shadow laughed and started to pace. "It wasn't hard. He's sitting over there right now, waiting for the drugs to wake him up. After that, well, either he'll be dead, or he'll be different." 

It was about this time in the conversation that Zelda would probably start telling Shadow that Link was heroic and smart, and that she had better be on the next shuttle home. 

Instead, she looked Shadow dead in the eyes and said, "He won't die, and no matter what you do to him, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'll make your life hell." 

Shadow blinked. He stared for a long moment. "Did you just…" 

"In fact," Zelda continued, "this whole operation is a bit shady."

After several more seconds, Shadow dissolved into laughter. For once, he left her cell visibly happier than when he'd entered. 

He hadn't been lying about Link changing, though. Link's mind remained the only one Zelda could consistently sense, if not communicate with or hear, but after that day, it felt… fragmented. Different. It was like messaging a best friend only to find out that their whole family was on a group chat. 

Shadow explained what had happened, and the names each of the Links had given themselves. Zelda found it just as funny as Shadow did, perhaps even more, since she was familiar with Link's habit of finding awful names. She mourned Link, but each of the new four seemed good, healthy and relatively happy as they were. She could reach their minds easier than ever, as if their split had left them open to her. 

She managed to actually contact Green once, but only because he was on the verge of passing out. She didn't want to rely on that. 

Though Zelda and Shadow weren't friends, they began to get along. He even brought her a deck of round Gerudo playing cards, extra-shimmery, and she taught him how to play six-seal slap. They didn't get much of an opportunity to play, though, since he started visiting less often. 

"Vio's on my side, now," Shadow told her one day, settling down to lean against the bars and pick up the hand she'd dealt him. "We're best friends. You were wrong."

"Maybe," Zelda allowed. She dealt three cards face-up to start the round. "But I doubt it."

Shadow put down his first card. "Green is dead."

On principle, Zelda never believed anything Shadow said right off. Instead of panicking, she laid down her own first card and looked at him. "Is he?" 

"Vio killed him," Shadow said with relish. He started laying down cards, and Zelda was caught off-guard. She began to lose. 

Zelda frowned down at her cards and tried to play catch-up, though she didn't know if she could hope to win this round. 

Shadow kept talking. "Vio is mine. Green is dead. Red and Blue are idiots with too much enthusiasm and too little brain. They'll be easy to keep in line now."

"Don't count them out so quickly," Zelda warned him, eyes on the cards. "Even at his weakest, Link was…" Stronger than you. "...formidable."

"Hmph. No, no. You're right. I need to make sure. Vio's always saying that I should try to be more responsible and follow through with stuff." He slapped a pile and pulled it over to his side.

Zelda frowned and concentrated harder. "Those are good habits to get into."

They finished their game, and Shadow won, but by a slimmer margin than Zelda had expected. They argued about noodles versus rice (noodles were superior), magic versus force energy (Zelda liked technology, Shadow didn't want to trust it as much), and education versus schooling (Zelda considered herself to have both, while Shadow was mildly fascinated by the idea of schooling. He didn't have much to contribute on the matter.)

When he left, Zelda sighed and sat back. Green was dead, was he? Despite how tired she felt, she closed her eyes and ran through her meditations. 

There was Vio, feeling happy but anxious. Blue, mostly just anxious with a nice sprinkling of excitement. Red, pretty happy. And Green, driven to move forward as always. 

He wasn't dead. Yet Shadow thought that Vio had killed him… Zelda didn't know the specifics, but she could guess well enough. She worried for Shadow. She also worried for Vio, and the rest, but their danger would be more physical. Shadow's was emotional.  

Zelda didn't see him for a few days. 

She played solitaire several dozen more times and made up another few janky games to play alone. She wore herself out trying to figure out how to do a handstand. She kept trying to reach out to one of the boys, or the dreams of one of the Maidens. She discovered that she could sense Shadow's presence, which just made it all the more disconcerting when she felt that presence suddenly dim, like a light going out.

Worried but still carefully not panicking, Zelda went still and checked up on the others. Green: sad, worried, and relieved. Blue: confused, impatient, and determined. Red: very upset, keeping it together, and also very relieved. Vio: more upset than Red, but hiding it better. Shadow didn't have any emotions. Shadow… was dead?

Hold on. That wasn't fair. Not to anyone. 

Zelda sighed. She clawed her way out of the meditation and pulled her knees up to her chest. It seemed like Shadow would have few mourners. She decided to be one of them. 

The digital clock on the door's control panel ticked forward. Zelda sat in silence for about fifteen minutes. 

And then the coffin beeped. The three gauges on the sides lit up with bright colors, each fluctuating for several seconds before settling. The level in the blue gauge fell slowly, at the same rate the level in the green one climbed. The yellow stayed still, and a few red lights blinked on and off. 

Zelda uncurled her legs and stood. She couldn't help being curious. That thing had haunted her this whole time. 

She heard a violent hiss, and the horizontal seam split, opening just like the coffin she'd imagined it to be. Steam billowed out, oddly jagged and sharp in the corners. It took thirty long seconds to clear. 

Inside… Zelda's mouth fell open. 

Shadow flinched at nothing, then opened his eyes, wincing at the light shining into them. He raised a hand against it. Cyan sparks skittered over his exposed skin. 

"Shadow?" Zelda said in disbelief. She didn't fall into a trance, but she did reach out with her senses, and yes. It was Shadow. She'd just spent fifteen minutes mourning him! She felt a little cheated. 

"Mm." Shadow grunted, still clearly out of it. He sat up slowly and with shivers. He looked a little thinner than Zelda had last seen him, and he'd gotten a messy haircut. He was also a lot less clothed. She glanced away. 

"How are you alive? I felt you die! What happened? Where are the others?" 

Shadow glared up at her. "Shut up, Princess, and let me think!" 

She shut her mouth. 

Shadow struggled a little to move. He seemed stiff as he reached into the lid of the coffin and picked out a glowing crystal. Zelda recognized the shape—another of those necklaces. He'd never given her a straight answer about what that did. He held onto the crystal tightly, then finally turned to her. 

"They killed me. What do you think happened?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean"—Shadow put his feet on the floor and rifled around inside drawers under the coffin for some clothing—"your precious Link hates me, and set off an explosion right under me."

"Okay, then how are you alive? You died, then you woke up in here? How—" 

Oh. 

She was an idiot. This might be Shadow, but it wasn't his original body, was it. "I thought clone editing technology was highly regimented and rarely successful."

Shadow tugged on a plain shirt and pants. "You underestimate the power and reach of Sorcerer Enterprises. Or, more accurately, Ganon." He spat the word. 

Zelda grabbed one of the bars in front of her loosely. "Shadow. Are you okay?" 

"Hell no. Would you be?" 

She hesitated, then shook her head. She really only had one thing to offer him. "Do you… Would you like to… play a game of six-seal slap?" 

Shadow paused and looked up at her, red eyes shining with an unidentifiable emotion. He was surprised, as wanted so badly to agree, she could tell. He'd been wrung out until all he had was his veneer of spite. 

He answered far too late. "I can't." He stood up straight and flexed his arms out in front of him. "Those idiots are going to be taking on Vaati next, probably, and I… I…" Now he scowled, confused. 

"You what?" Zelda prompted. 

Shadow bared his fangs at her. "I'll help Vaati take them down for good."

"Is that what you really want?" She asked the question softly, trying not to aggravate him, but she needed him to really think. 

"Yes! It is." Shadow turned around and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "I want those idiots to die, and - and suffer while they do. I don't belong with them, okay?" 

Zelda took a breath. "If I try hard enough, I can sense the boys' feelings. Magic stuff. You know I use it."

"So what?" 

"So, Vio was really happy up until tonight. And now, he's not just sad, he's devastated. Shadow… he cares about you."

Shadow whipped around. A few drops of blood fell from his fists where his claws dug into his palms. "He was trying to kill me! And then he did! Don't try to tell me that!"

She hadn't lied. She lifted her chin and stared him down. It may have been her inside the cell, but it was Shadow who looked trapped. She let him read her face and see the truth. 

More cyan light pulsed under his skin. He blinked. "...Vaati is stupid. Maybe I can let them take him down."

"Do you think they can?" 

Shadow pressed his lips together and looked at his hands. "No. Maybe. If…" He stared for a long time.

"I'm falling apart. Did you know that? Clone editing tech really isn't that refined yet, and the only reason I'm actually alive is because of all the force. This body's been incubating for a while, but… it doesn't work as well. They might decide I'm useless and just deny me force again."

Zelda frowned. She wouldn't say that it would be better if Shadow had never existed, but where was Sorcerer Enterprise's Din-damned board of ethics? Just one more thing to add to the list of reasons she had to make sure they were shut down for good. 

"You know what?" Shadow looked up at her. He grabbed his necklace and stood a little taller. "Let's burn it all down. Vaati won't let me live, but if he's dead, maybe…" He shook his head, then reached out for the door of her cell. 

"Wait, you're letting me out?" Zelda blinked, watching the door open. That was one thing she could honestly say she hadn't expected. 

"Sure." Shadow grinned at her, though it looked a little fragile. He held the door open for her. "Let's go get your Maidens on a ship back to the Plains, too, just to rub salt in the wound when we inevitably fail." 

She smiled back at him. "Cool. Let's cause some chaos, then, shall we?"