#fuck anyone still supporting him after that sorry excuse for an explanation & then apology when it didnt work

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 3 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hey gang, I wanted to give y’all another update this week because I know there wasn’t a lot of hotch in the last chapter. This is a long one! 

Read previous chapters here!

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: canon-typical harassment and violence, swearing

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee

It’s closer to the afternoon than the morning when you finally get out of bed the next day. Aaron had set you up in his guest room before going to bed himself, and had dutifully woken you up every two hours. You emerged into the kitchen to see him sitting at the table with his laptop open, surely working even though he was technically out on sick leave. 

“Good morning” he says when he sees you appear in the doorway. “The coffee’s still hot, if you want some. I don’t have any RedBull, though.” 

You rolled your eyes as you crossed the kitchen to make yourself a cup. “Is it still morning? It feels like I must have slept through the whole day.”

“Well, you needed it. Long night.” He tells you, and you let out a little hum in response. “Hey, uh. Your cell phone is on the counter. It was making a lot of noise and I didn’t want it to wake you.” he admits sheepishly. “I didn’t read anything, but Josh’s name popped up a lot.”

You pouted a little. “I guess I did kind of just disappear. I probably owe him an explanation,” you said, crossing the kitchen and picking your phone up.

“You don’t owe him a god damned thing.” Hotch said a little harshly, but you knew his tone wasn’t aimed towards you. 

You powered your phone on-- Hotch must have turned it on after he took it. 13 missed calls and 27 texts, sheesh. Not all of them are from Josh, thankfully. You shoot a quick text back to JJ, Garcia and Emily, who had all individually checked in when you didn’t show up at the office. With a little more trepidation, you opened up your thread with Josh. 

“Where are you?”

“You never came to bed last night.”

“Off fucking the boss man?”

 “Did I catch you before you got down to anything good?”

“Fucking slut.”

“Couldn’t even finish cleaning the carpet before you left.”

“Fucking answer me.”

“Did I bash your skull so hard that you forgot to pack my lunch before you left?”

“This is ridiculous.’

“So you’re just running away?”

“Don’t be such a baby.” 

“You are so in for it when you get home.”

“I should have killed you.”

There’s more, but you’re not sure you can stomach it. You drop your phone to the counter, swallowing back a bit of bile that has risen up from your stomach. Aaron is at your side in an instant. 

“Can I look?” He asked quietly. He’s looking you right in the eye but you feel like you can’t see him at all, like he’s not really there. You must have nodded your head, because he picked up your phone and started scrolling, but you have no way of knowing how you even told your body to do that. After a moment, he sets your phone face down on the counter, and turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on each of your upper arms. “We are going to figure it out, okay? You’re not in this alone, and I’m not going to let you get hurt again. You did the right thing. You got out. And now you have help.” 

 He’s staring into your eyes as he promises to keep you safe, and the dam breaks. All of the emotions that you’ve bottled up for the last ten hours are flooding through you, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably before you have even recognized how upset you really are. Aaron gathers you up in his arms in an instant, and you wrap your arms around him, crying into his old sweatshirt. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out,” he whispers in a mantra, rubbing your back.

You realize in this moment that Aaron is truly your best friend-- you’d always known that you were closer to him than anyone else in the office, and the same was true for him, with the possible exception of Dave. What you hadn’t realized, is that somewhere along the way, your college friendships, your academy friendships, your girlfriends, had all faded into the background, and Aaron became the person you wanted to tell good news to, the person you drew comfort from, and the person you called when you realized you couldn’t get the blood out of the carpet. The realization surprises you, enough to let you get a few deep breaths in and calm yourself down, untucking from Aaron’s shoulder and dabbing at your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

 “Thank you,” you say through your choked voice, even though it could never be enough.

“How’s your head?” He asked, looking over the top of your head to the clock on the stove to see if it was time for you to have more pain meds.  

“Ah, well, I don’t think the crying really helped.” You shrugged, attempting to bring some levity back to the situation as you picked your phone back up. 

“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, eyeing you and the phone. 

“I’m calling Josh back.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Okay, now I’m sure you hit your head,” he said, swiping the phone out of your hand before you could place a call.

“Hotch--” 

 “Can you at least tell me why you want to do this?” He said, and you can see the concern etched into his face. 

“I’ve got to go back at some point. I’m sure it’ll be easier for him to cool off if I’m not completely ignoring him in the meantime.”

“Go back? What are you talking about?” Aaron asked

“I live there, Hotchner. I can’t avoid him forever. Even if I move--”

“You’ll stay here. For as long as necessary. It’s not safe for you to go back there.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Do I get a say in this at all?” 

“Not if your only defense is that you don’t want someone else to take care of you. Because right now you need caring for, and I’m not letting you talk your way out of it.” Hotch said resolutely, and you sighed. The silence lingers for a moment before you speak up again, quietly. 

“I could use some more pain meds.” You admitted. 

“You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach. Let’s get you some toast, drink your coffee to clear up your sinuses and then you can take your next dose and go back to bed.” 

“Hotch, the day’s half over. I can’t go back to bed.” You argued, with significantly less heat behind it, lifting the steaming mug of coffee up to your face at his suggestion. 

“It’s a sick day. You’re injured. You’re supposed to rest all day and let your body heal. You won’t be arguing with me once you’ve taken the pills.”

Hotch had tried to get you to take the rest of the week off, but you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around in his apartment doing nothing. You also knew that an extended absence would catch the attention of your teammates-- and you weren’t sure if you were ready to share all of this with them yet. That was why you were perched in front of the mirror in Hotch’s guest room, liberally applying concealer and powder to your healing black eye. Aaron had made you promise to take it easy, and you already know he’d have eyes on you all day to make sure you weren’t overdoing it. No need to attract any more attention. There’s a soft knock from the hall. 

“Come in,” you called.

“Hey,” Hotch said, swinging open the door. “We’ve got to leave in a few minutes.” 

“I’ll be ready,” you assured him, dipping your brush into the powder before brushing it over your nose and cheekbone, wincing a little. 

“When did you learn to do that?” Hotch asked softly.

“Hotch…” You responded softly. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t need to answer that.” He apologized, averting his gaze to the floor.

“If I answer, are you going to stop blaming yourself for not noticing?”

“I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t… I’m not a battered woman, Hotch.” 

“Of course you aren’t.” He’s quick to affirm you, to make sure you know he doesn’t see you as a victim.

“No, I mean, this was excessive. Was he rough? Sure. Did he leave marks? Yeah, he did. But I wasn’t getting tossed around and beaten like that. He’s not really like that, normally. He was just drunk, I think.” 

“You’re not seriously making excuses for him, are you?” Hotch asked, and suddenly you’re indignant, even though you know he’s right.

“He had a bad night.” You protest weakly. 

“He almost killed you!” Aaron raised his voice, just a tad.

“He was just trying to scare me.” You countered. 

“He was escalating. I know that you know that,” Hotch said, searching your face, looking for something to profile. You didn’t blame him, you knew your behavior was erratic. You draw a deep breath, your chin quivering as your eyes welled up. 

“It worked. I’m scared.” You squeaked out, trying not to let the tears fall and ruin the makeup you’ve worked so hard on. Hotch wrapped you in his arms again and you breathed in deeply, letting his cologne fill your lungs and lull you into a calm.

“You don’t need to be scared. I’ve got your six. I’ve got you.” He reminded you, and you pulled away from him. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to share this with the team yet.” You told him, and he nodded. 

“Like I said, your pace. When you’re ready, you’ll tell them, and if you want my support, I’ll be there. I’m gonna go make us some coffee, meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You were silly to think that you could hide anything from a group of profilers-- none of them have guessed it, yet, or if they have, they’re too polite to say anything about it, but they’ve certainly noticed something. They surrounded you with concern and peppered you with questions the second you walked into the office, and Hotch’s devotion to making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard certainly wasn’t going unnoticed. It was during one of your Unit-Chief-Mandated-Breaks that you snuck into the kitchen to refill your water bottle. Almost silently, JJ slipped in behind you. 

“You know, you can just say the word, and we’ll all stop pestering you.” She says, and you can hear her gentle smile.

“That’s okay. If I call you off, I lose the right to fuss over whoever’s next.” You tried to crack a joke. 

“Good point.” She chuckled. 

“I really am okay, Jayje.” You assured her. 

“No, honey, you aren’t.” She shook her head. “But you’ll tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll support you even if the secret dies with you.” She laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the kitchen together, sharing a small conspiratorial laugh, your heads thrown back as you pass through the doorway. When the ping of the elevator doors opening grabs your attention, you drop your water bottle in shock. 

“You okay?” JJ asks, bending over to pick up your water bottle as he storms through the glass doors of the BAU. 

“You whore!” Josh spat out, catching the attention of the whole bullpen. So much for keeping them out of it.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Morgan asked, rising from his desk immediately. 

“Josh?” Emily says, the first one to recognize him. Your eyes dart around the bullpen, and you spot Reid at his desk phone, no doubt calling security.  

“You fucking bitch!” Josh says, still advancing towards you. Your brain is screaming at you to run but you can’t get your legs to move. It’s a literal childhood nightmare, playing out in the flesh.

“Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen” JJ says softly, her tone betraying none of her fear as she practically shoves you back into the kitchen. You stumble into a chair, and the sound is muted because of the door, but you can still see and hear everything through the glass. Josh takes another step into the bullpen, but Morgan’s in front of him. 

“Turn around and walk out of here, man, because there’s no other way this ends well for you.” Morgan puffs out his chest, trying to stop Josh from looking over his shoulder and seeing you. 

“Not until that slut gives me some fucking answers,” He spits out, and you feel JJ squeeze your hand, but you’re too laser-focused on the scene in front of you to acknowledge her.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to walk away.” Morgan hisses through his teeth, advancing closer to Josh. 

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Hotch said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Josh. You hadn’t seen him come down the stairs. 

“Ah, good old boss man.’ Josh jeered. “How’s my sloppy seconds? I hope she’s treating you real good seeing as how you stole her right out from under me in the night.”

Without warning, you watch Hotch’s fist connect with Josh’s face. Josh stumbles away, holding his nose, when security comes in through the elevators. 

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. He turns around to face Hotch once more. “This isn’t over.” He says, bringing his hands back to his nose and following the security officer into the elevator.

There’s a stunned sort of silence that hangs over the unit for a few moments before you hear someone break out into a sob. When you feel JJ’s hand start rubbing across your back, you realize that it came from you. The door flies open and you startle, but when you look up, you see a clouded figure of Hotch through your tear-saturated eyes. 

You hear JJ and Aaron whisper to each other, but you can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying. Whatever it is, the conversation ends with JJ slipping out of the kitchen just as quietly as she came, and Aaron sliding into the chair across from you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, his voice only just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of your own labored breathing. You nodded, unable to verbally respond. He smoothed his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, taking your hands into his own. “You’re okay, he’s gone. Security knows who he is now, he won’t be allowed back in the building.” He tells you, and you nod again. 

“I’m okay.” You manage to choke out. 

“I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.” He asked of you, disarmingly calm, as he modeled the deep cleansing breaths for you. You take a deep, shaky breath in, trying to force the oxygen all the way down into your lungs before letting it back out in a huff. “Good,” he told you. “Good job, sweetheart, keep going.” he encouraged you, tucking a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to your tear-stained cheek behind your ear. When you were finally calm enough to look up at him, you did so. “There you are,” he smiled at you. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay. Your hand--”

“I’m okay--” He assured you, but you flipped his hand over in your own anyways. It’s swollen. 

“You need ice.” You said, standing up and crossing to the freezer. 

“You need to sit down before you fall.” Aaron stood up to follow you, shaking his head. 

“I took my deep breaths, Hotch. I’m not an eighty year old woman.” You chastised him as you pulled a few ice cubes out of the freezer, putting them in a plastic bag and wrapping a paper towel around it. 

“My hand is fine.” He argued with you as you pressed the ice pack to his knuckles. 

“You are in absolutely no position to argue with me about letting someone else take care of you, hypocrite.” You fought back, with nothing but concern behind it. 

“Okay, fine, but can you sit down, please.” He begged of you. 

“Don’t I owe the rest of the team an explanation for all of that?” 

“They can wait. Sit down.” He said, and it was no longer a request. You sat down in the seat across from him. “How’s your head?” 

‘It’s been better.” You tell him honestly. 

“Take a few more deep breaths, please.” He tells you, and you roll your eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m--”

“You’re holding your breath. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears. Plus, it would make my hand feel better.” He says, shooting you a grin that would be wholly inappropriate for the situation if it didn’t make you feel so at ease.

You roll your eyes at him in mock-contempt, taking the breaths to appease him and dropping your shoulders. “How is your hand, seriously?” 

“I’m fine. I’ve thrown my fair share of punches.” He smirked at you, still trying to distract you, to lighten the mood. “We can just leave. You must need more pain meds, if not a nap. We don’t have to get into all of it today.” 

“Well, they all basically know now. We should probably just go to clear the air that I’m not sleeping with you for a promotion.”

“If you’re not up to it, we can--”

“No, Hotch.” You stand up, shaking your head at him through a smile. “Let’s go get it over with.” 

 The team, of course, didn’t need you to explain that all of what Josh had said was false. Your integrity and the trust shared between all of you was louder than any stupid asshole that could bluster in through those glass doors. You’d cried all of your makeup off, so your black eye was now fully exposed to the team. Aaron left a protective hand on the small of your back the whole time you spoke, never once speaking over you or interrupting. As soon as you finished, you felt silly for ever thinking you needed to hide this from them-- they were supportive without being pitying, and JJ, Emily and Garcia had wrapped you up in hugs just as soon as you finally got it all off your chest. 

“We’re going to head out, obviously call us if there’s an urgent case notification.” Aaron explained to the team. “You all should feel free to leave as soon as your paperwork is done.”

“Hotch, I’m really fine,” you tried to insist. 

“Are you gonna tell the team they have to keep working?” Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you and you scowled, knowing there was no going back now. “I’m just going to pack some of my stuff up.” He told you, turning back to his office. You followed suit, going to your desk and tidying up. 

“Hey, cupcake.” Morgan whistled to get your attention before crossing the bullpen to get to you. “If I had known--if I had seen that bruise on your face before he walked in here -- I would have taken him down myself. Hotchner showed an... impressive amount of restraint.” He told you with a humorless chuckle. 

“Thank you, Derek. But he’s not worth it, seriously.” You told him with a smile. 

“No, he’s not.” He agreed. “But you are. Don’t you forget that, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.” 

Instead of responding verbally, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, crushing you into his chest. It hurt, a little, but the overwhelming security you found with him holding you was far stronger than any pain.

You pulled away and bid your goodnights to the team, following Aaron out to the car taking off towards his apartment. 

“You were really brave back there. I’m proud of you. As your friend, not your boss. Or, I guess as your friend and your boss.” He tells you, taking one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze yours briefly. 

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” you rolled your eyes with a small smirk. 

“There’s always a choice. You chose to get out, and you chose to let your team in. That’s not nothing.” He told you as he parked the car in front of his place.

 “Thank you,” you said, choosing to accept the compliment even though you didn’t believe him. Aaron saw it in your eyes, but he let it slide. You’d see, eventually.  At her pace, he reminded himself. 

“I was thinking I’d cook tonight. Do you have anything particular in mind?” He asked as you settled into the apartment, hanging up your coats. 

“Aaron Hotchner, you can cook?” You laughed, turning around and beaming at him. He couldn’t help but return your smile. 

“I’m not Dave, but I manage.” He said coyly. 

“I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious.” You told him graciously. “And I’m very excited to try it.”

He tossed you an orange from the bowl of fruit on his counter, and then your pain meds. “Go take a nap.”

“Hotch, I’m---”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I let you spend six hours squinting at screens and paperwork under fluorescents. None of that was good for your head. Go.” 

You rolled your eyes at him goodnaturedly before going to the guest room, stripping your work clothes off in favor of a pair of sweats and an FBI Academy t-shirt. Truth be told, everything that had gone down at work had been exhausting, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep. 

[literaphobe]

I once found a tt that had an interesting take regarding dream's apologies.

Sth along the lines of "some ppl will accept an apology more easily when you explain why you've done it (or just generally explain yourself and your thought process on the action) while some ppl hate the 'excuses' and just want to hear the person owning up to their actions and give a genuine apology. Which could be the reason why dream's fanbase is so divided sometimes. And why he still has a big crowd of ppl supporting him after those 'shitty apologies'".

Idk I just think about it a lot. It makes sense imo. I personally do prefer ppl explaining how and why, just a simple 'sorry' wouldn't be enough for me. But for others it is the exact opposite. The explanation becomes an 'excuse' and the apology comes across as disingenuous.

me too. i've thought about it in the sense of like. actually in certain cases it's important to know whether someone had malicious intent when they fucked up? because there's a difference imo between a person who messed up out of ignorance and a person who messed up out of ill intent, like genuinely actively hating a group or individual is different from a meme you didn't realize was insensitive and hurtful. but some people see a person explaining why they did something as an excuse and im not saying that's wrong its just there's so many perspectives and contexts and situations at play all the time and looking at how you spin it you can make anyone sound bad for doing anything when they apologize

[curiosity-killed]

hua cheng, the accidental person

okay this is for @bodhimcbodeface because i can’t shut up and make this concise enough for discord. spoilers ahead yeehaw

this is...not comprehensive. i’ve written 11 tgcf fics and am generally a bit fixated on Hua Cheng as a character so. there’s definitely things missing but i tried to hit the main points that i thought of while writing? also obviously this is just my interpretation! i do not expect anyone else to be like “ah yes curio the sage is so correct i have changed my thinking on this” like go live your life with your own versions of hua cheng! this is just the hill upon which i have firmly planted myself and from which i refuse to be budged. as u do.

anyway, LONG explanation of my very niche and very uh self-indulgent, not-necessarily-support-by-canon hua cheng apologism LMAO

tl;dr: (this is really Too Long i’m sorry) I think Hua Cheng reluctantly becomes a person during his 800 years of searching, starting from a point where he views Xie Lian not as a person but as an immutable god and focus of devotion and developing into a person who doesn’t really acknowledge that he’s a person because realizing that you want to live and do things for yourself is scary and overwhelming at times, and he ultimately falls in love with Xie Lian during the novel itself as he recognizes and is in wonder of the humanity of Xie Lian instead of his divinity or absolute judgment.

POINT 1: Hua Cheng doesn’t actually fall in love with Xie Lian till the ox cart

but curio! you say, “my beloved!” he calls him his beloved! and the land of tender!!

shhh. IMO Hua Cheng is more Wuming than Hua Cheng for those 800 years. By which I mean, for most of that time he’s, at his heart, a nameless soldier trying to find and serve his crown prince/general/god. He still views Xie Lian as this perfect and immaculate figure—a sculpture, a painting, a work of art that is untouchable and immutable. And he’s utterly and wholly devoted to that figure but devotion is not the same as love

So Hua Cheng is searching and trying to serve Dianxia all these years and then His Royal Highness finally ascends and is a god again and Hua Cheng shows up in all his glory to give this power and strength and wealth to serve him and—

and he’s met not by a powerful and reckless martial god or an unstoppable calamity but by a young man dressed in bridal robes who lets Hua Cheng lead him up a darkened mountain, who doesn’t lash out with spiritual energy or a sword but instead, only eventually, with the cursed bandage he was carrying back in the darkest part of his life.

and i think that throws hua cheng. like he’s had this image of his god all these years, this divine painting made over and over and over again—and he carries that belief and devotion with him, but there’s a crack in the sculpture and the stone is starting to flake off to reveal a human underneath it

so he puts on an approachable, malleable, unassuming skin and finds xie lian collecting scraps and being a lil awkward, a lil bumbling, generous and kind — and i think hua cheng, after 800 years of knowing everything, having everything — I think he looks at this discovery with wonder

Bc tbc this does not mean Hua Cheng views them as equals. For him it’s like, dianxia has even more to him, is even more than I knew. He’s seen Xie Lian as the flower crowned martial god in all his glory and as the white-clothed calamity in all his horror — and now here he is, wonderful, multitudinous, and human

Meanwhile I don’t think Hua Cheng even views himself as a person really, much less a human.

also i mean. the internet & allo ppl prove time and time again that you don’t need love for horniness so. land of tender’s right out as proof on that

POINT 2: The Live For Me thing

so obviously and undeniably, using one person as a reason for living is....not healthy. Not going to argue that. but my take on it personally is that, when Hua Cheng’s a kid who really, actively wants to die and sees no reason for living, Xie Lian gives him a reason to keep going. he doesn’t have to live for himself—that’s too much, that’s too big of an ask—but he’s been given a command and purpose by the one person who’s been kind to him/whom he respects. it’s a little like... “My life has no meaning but my cat needs me to feed him and clean his litterbox and so I need to keep getting up and taking care of him even if I don’t see a larger intrinsic purpose to my life.”

and i think like...it’s easy to forget that for all of books 2 & 4, Hua Cheng is young. He doesn’t live past 18—he’s still like...a kid. And that’s not to say that teenagers/young adults can’t make moral and rational decisions but I’m going to be honest, when I was that age I contemplated joining the Air Force because of tuition assistance and the snazzy uniform despite the fact that I was a vocal pacifist and repeatedly got into arguments with teachers about school rules and conservative politics. It’s not like. The Most Rational and Mature Age, lbr. 

so Wuming is absolutely capable of looking at what Xie Lian is doing and being like “hey maybe war crimes aren’t a great idea” but he is young and traumatized and the one person he believes in, the one person who gave him a reason to keep going, is deadset on this task which tbh I don’t think either of them (or...necessarily...the society in which they live) views as war crimes in the modern sense (which isn’t to say that we as readers should view it any more lightly bc i think the narrative directly and firmly contradicts that idea) but as revenge, as an eye-for-an-eye. so, bad, but character-wise, I think it’s more nuanced than we sometimes consider

anyway back to the fixation on xie lian. i stand by the assertion that in those 800 years, hua cheng wasn’t exclusively focused on xie lian. like was finding and serving him his top priority? oh god yes. undeniably. there is no other version of this story. BUT eight hundred years is like....a lot of time. and i think in that time he started doing things for himself, even if under the guise of serving xie lian. hua cheng is curious and adventurous—he clearly likes to learn even if he plays it off as nbd—and i think he starts to realize that about himself in those centuries even if he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge or consider it. 

POINT 3: Mt. Tong’lu in General

“okay, sure but what about the thousands of sculptures and murals of xie lian, curio. what the fuck about them.”

Yeah. FINE. okay we will DEAL with this. dealing with this is the entire reason i wrote “(like i do) in the tall grass.” 

disclaimer: this is probably not supported by canon! i also. Do Not care. My Ghost King Now.

so I have two general avenues I take with this:

going back to the devotion > love — when Hua Cheng reaches MTL, he’s seen xie lian beaten and cast down. what do gods need to survive? worship! we see throughout how important divine statues/portraits/etc. are throughout canon. in this interpretation, the cave is a concentration of all that worship in an effort to support and serve xie lian and hua cheng doesn’t view himself like...as part of it. the sculptures could have been carved by any hand so long as they are xie lian and the worship and devotion that goes into their making can support and bolster him.

my personal favorite version: amNESIA IN THE CAVES —okay i don’t have the text pulled up rn but y’know how Guoshi says Hua Cheng was almost dispersed, in terrible condition, etc., when he reached Mt. Tong’lu. so if baby boy is in terrible condition, barely hanging on, etc., then my immediate favorite option is that he doesn’t, at that time, have even the...uh threadbare sense of self he did in life/as Wuming and is running on only a vague and urgent sense of Something driving him—something he has to do, someone he has to serve—and in that case, the paintings and sculptures are part of his trying to piece together and process his memories as he can grasp them and figuring out who he is/what his purpose is. Is this canonical? PROBABLY NOT. and yet here i am. firmly planted on this hill

Also w/ MTL I think a thing that’s often skated over is the mortals, creation of E’ming, and his ascension. Which is important from a meta lens of Hua Cheng and Xie Lian vs Jun Wu but that’s not the point of this rambling monstrosity and i’m trying not to get too distracted. ANYWAY I think this is one of those times when Hua Cheng does something that he would probably excuse as like “well His Highness would’ve wanted me to” or “His Highness wouldn’t have been willing to sacrifice the mortals” because Xie Lian is still largely his moral compass—but it also is a peek at the complexity Hua Cheng doesn’t acknowledge within himself.

uh i got distracted anyway and no longer know what point i was making here. Hua Cheng Ascension Important....maybe i will remember this at some other point...

POINT 4: Live For Me (Revisited)

I sort of got distracted writing that point but anyway coming back to it now: I maintain that although Hua Cheng’s primary pursuit is protecting and serving Xie Lian he also does develop/realize his Accidental Personhood throughout his 800 years. this includes a lot of things, as previously stated, that are under the guise of serving Xie Lian (I’d put learning the Banyue tongue, finding out about the Gilded Banquet, collecting swords, beating the 33 officials etc., in this category) and things that maybe could be but...are not really (e.g., his friendship alliance with He Xuan, Paradise Manor* in general, the Gambling Den, learning the Wuyong tongue, bullying Qi Rong*, bullying FengQing*, playing with gold foil palaces, etc.)

(*these are ones that like...could be said to be for Xie Lian and I think he might say are for Xie Lian but also have a personal element that is just for him. 

Like yes Paradise Manor is a lavish and well-stocked residence fit for a god or crown prince...but it’s also a luxurious and extravagant collection of all the things he couldn’t have in life. it’s like giving a kid a credit card with no limit and letting them run wild through uh. Fuck. A Fancy Department Store. 

And sure Qi Rong was awful and turned on Xie Lian in pretty damning ways, but I also genuinely think part of Hua Cheng’s grudge with him is from the childhood abuse and from just...hatred that Qi Rong is around and looks like Xie Lian and gets to be there when Hua Cheng can’t find Xie Lian (which is about  Xie Lian but for Hua Cheng). 

Similarly with FengQing, sure a lot of his hate is for them abandoning Xie Lian—but he doesn’t even know till Book 3 when they abandoned him, and consider how much more he hates Mu Qing, the guy he blames for kicking him out of the army, etc. Some of it is totally “in service” to Xie Lian but some of it is because Hua Cheng carries a grudge like a goddamn pro and finds catharsis in beating the shit out of immortals who bounce back and can’t stop tripping over themselves and onto his blade.)

[angelathewitch]

Okay I just finished the ACOTAR series for the first time and I have so many thoughts so I'm gonna write them down.

Also I have not looked at any fan theories or been a part of this fandom very much so all these headcannons are straight from the noggin:

Literally what the fuck is tamlin doing.

Okay getting this out of the way cause its a hot topic. Azriel is my baby I love him but

I would have mixed feelings about him being with both gwyn and Elaine. I love the idea of Elaine being azriels sunshine he deserves light in his life (also their scene in ACOSF had me ejdjbdksks) but also all three bat boys being with all 3 sisters rubs me the wrong way idk.

Gwyn is amazing because she's a badass bitch and if azriel doesn't snatch that up I will. I feel like azriel almost gets bulldozed over by the other bat boys (like he will do the dirty work only because he feels inferior) And I want gwyn to help him stand up for himself.

Gwyn is an adult jfc. I'd be more worried about her trauma.

I am totally a elucien shipper I'm SORRY lucien deserves the world

But at the same time I would totally understand if Elaine couldn't forgive him for his involvement in the cauldron business. That shit was wack. I just want this relationship to be the biggest, most "period drama esqe" slowburn.

I have very mixed feelings about lucien. On one hand lucien has never had a home and when tamlin took him in I can see how that loyalty blurred the lines of right and wrong. But at the same time lucien messed up MANY times where the archeon sisters are concerned.

Nesta deserved her kick in the ass because it was needed. She did not deserve everyone to be a little bitch to her. It felt like feyre was the only one who wanted her rehabbed for nestas sake. I definitely would have preferred Nesta to hit rock bottom and choose recovery for herself (cause alcoholism and things can only be truly solved through self help) Everyone else was uncharacteristically nonempathetic. Idk how Cassian could be okay with her treatment after they mated.

I'm still digesting Rhys and nestas relationship. I like that they don't like each other for most of ACOSF. Nestas reasons for treating feyre poorly are valid, but not excuses. The feyre, Nesta, and rhys relationship thing is weird cause I see all sides. I need more feyre and Nesta bonding they always get interrupted.

I HATE what SJM did to Mors character. What the fuck is up with mor not liking Nesta. Maybe we will get an explanation in the next book but I feel like mor was set up to be a great LGBT character with himbo allies but SJM just dropped her off a cliff. Big mad.

However I do want eris and mor to end up together. Not necessarily romantically, but I want them to have it out and I want eris to support mor. Kinda want them to be mates. Kinda want eris to be gay as well. Kinda want them to get married and them have consorts.

WHY does everyone treat feyre like a porcelain doll when the IC has more collective trauma than anyone else in this universe. Don't get me wrong I'm all about the hurt/comfort but it was so inconsistently written LOL. When the IC was telling their stories the first night they met and then feyre told hers I cackled like sorry but she is a baby

Rhys's trauma is just as recent as feyres... yeah he's a lot older and seasoned but oh my GOD he was consistently assaulted for 49 years. Feyre does very little to comfort him. Idk I feel like it was SO glossed over.

Like in ACOWAR feyre admits that amaranthas hatred wasn't personal it was general, unlike Tamlins hatred. But amarantha and rhys had multiple personal vendettas against each other. Like his amarantha is vaguely feyres tamlin. Rhys didn't even get to kill amarantha. His trauma is untapped. Rhys is the main character feyre is the love interest idc

Idk what yall say rhys is my baby my lovebug my everything. He's got his flaws but you can't love Nesta and hate him at the same time without being a lil hypocritical

But he's fucked in the head for thinking he was justified in drugging feyre every night for 2 months. Almost more mad about that than the SA (I dont really blame Rhys since it is not cannon to me. SJM just messed up 😌 it was so out of character) did he ever really apologize for that??

ALSO I know smj wanted to write like #consentking but half of what he allowed was so unnecessarily dangerous (like the first AND second weaver encounter- if my SO ran off in the middle of a battle to track down a mysterious creature when the task could have been done after the battle I would have be livid. Mor was justified in being mad.)

I'm so mad rhys didn't flatten tamlin during the high lord meeting. Either it will happen in the future or I will burn these books.

THE BAT BOYS HAVE CONNONICALLY BEEN IN THE SAME ROOM WHILE HAVING SEX. the foursomes in my head gets clearer by the day

I HATE the fact that rhys almost had an existential crisis over feyre being so young when she found her mate and not having "lived" and THEN GETS HER PREGNANT??? Are you kidding me. I'm so mad. I don't wanna deal with babies. I hate babies.

But I DO have a fun headcannon that since the bone carver is a death-god or whatever he KNEW nyx wouldn't survive and that is why he appeared as him. Also when the bone carver offered to take feyres first born in exchange for help rather than the oroboughs I think that was also foreshadowing. The only reason nyx survived was because of Nesta and the bone carver had trouble seeing the cauldron.

((Maybe nyx should have died during the birth idk))

Literally I would have enjoyed ACOSF if instead of the pregnancy feyre was busy looking for bryaxis. Literally what happened to him. Wtf

I know the plot armor is crazy thick around the IC but it would have been nice if one of them died. Well, not nice, but more believable. Maybe thats why nyx should have died. Lol I need therapy.

FREAKING HEADCANNON: the archeon sisters are partially fae. Their mom was definitely a descendant and that's why all three sisters have mates. It was hinted that the sisters had mated because they were powerful and cauldron made but Cassian and rhys could feel the pull before the sisters were turned.

Tarquin is the hottest high lord

The whole blood rite thing was stupid. I would have loved if it was spread out over a longer period of time but it was so unrealistic

You know we all love a good #girlboss🤢 moment but the whole valkarie thing seemed 1. Out of no where 2. Really quickly forced (ACOSF should have been like 2 books) 3. If emerie and mor get together life=complete

The inner circle and ther archeon sisters would not get along if they weren't mated to like 50% of the gang

They're too whiny

It's so weird that the mating bond can only be felt by guys??? Lol wut

Okay I know this is a complicated subject but having LGBTs in a universe with mates based in evolutionary advantage seems more homophobic than having a universe without LGBTs LOL. Like their connection can't be as deep cause they can't procreate?? I did like that SJM made up for it a little by saying not all mates are complementary souls.

Hybern was so powerful and for WHAT. I don't understand

Vassa, lucien, and jurian being a trio is so weird 😐

I WANT A NOVELLA ON THE STORY OF AMREN AND VARIAN. They are my otp. If anyone has made it this far and knows of some good amren and varian fanart pls let me know

Okay that is all for now thank you if you read down to here xoxo gossip girl.

P. S. Also I am starting throne of glass and am having a hard time getting into it. Can anyone vouch for this series please I'm conflicted.

Edit: omg I was zooted when I wrote this and didn't realize my phone autocorrected cassian to Caspian RIP

[slasherkisss]

Blood Day Truce

Blood Day Truce

You find yourself on your period in the realm of the Entity. To make it worse you find yourself alone with Evan Macmillan, the Trapper, while you are also on your period. LUCKY for you, though, Evan seems interested enough in your predicament to offer something of a truce, so long as both of you can benefit from it.

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Period Play, Vaginal Fingering, Blood Play, Rough Sex, Choking Ao3 Link Here

A/N: My first piece of a period play series I’ve been itching to do! Reader is AFAB but I tried to keep the pronouns as gender neutral as possible! Basically Evan fucks you on your period to help you with your cramps. I hope you enjoy!

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You watched him with terrified eyes, pupils tracking his every move. His every stretch of muscle against hooked skin as he towered above you. Simply his breathing was enough to twist your gut a little more than your cramps were already doing. The Entity normally brought four of you when it was time to face a Killer. The Entity, for all its foreboding attitudes, was at least kind enough to give you warning as to when you were about to be thrust into a life or death situation. It gave you time to mentally prepare, as a group, for the slaughter that would without a doubt happen one way or another in your time out and about on the turf of a walking slaughterhouse like the Trapper.

This time, however, you were alone.

The Trapper shifted forward, one heavy foot in front of the other, and you scrambled back on instinct. This wasn’t a formal match, but you were still unsure if the killer thought that an excuse to miss out on torturing some prey. The way you shifted made your stomach snarl and your uterus quake your body with another gut chilling cramp.

The soft squelch of your aching muscles pushing out some more blood against the lining of your pants echoed in the deafening silence between the two of you, causing you to whimper out in pain. Maybe letting him kill you would be easier than this. At least, for a while, you’d get to ignore the pain while the Entity worked on re-summoning up your body from the depths of its sacrificial limbo.

You shoved your back against the nearby wall, another squelch of blood sounding between your thighs and you bit back a groan of discomfort as you felt the stain between them grow. You slid down to the ground, almost in defeat, and tried to even your breathing through the fear.

The unfamiliar noises made him pause in his advancement, masked head tilting to one side in what one might almost consider a cock of curiosity. You brought your legs up to your chest, the position momentarily lessening the pain as warm pressure pulled itself against your aching abdomen. You hadn’t even realized that, through the intruding cramp, you had kept your eyes shut as tight as possible out of pure endurance. Through the darkness of your eyelids you heard each of the movements The Trapper made above you. The floorboards creaked as he moved closer, groaning louder when he leaned down. You felt his hot breath against the front of your face, rancid but familiar, and shivered.

You dared to open your eyes, meeting the thin slits of his mask boldly but with the proper apprehension. He was down on one knee, using his cleaver to support himself in his leaning. Putting his weight on it made the weapon sink deeper and deeper into the floorboards, splitting the wood slowly underneath it. You held your breath and allowed him the closeness. So long as his weapon was buried deep into the wood, there was no chance of him being able to pull it out swiftly and without a struggle, giving you a clear chance to struggle upwards and make your way out if need be.  

His head tilted down as you let out another surprised whimper at the pain in your body. Though you couldn’t see much through the mask, you could almost feel his gaze holding onto the area between your legs. Suddenly self conscious of the embarrassing stain growing against it, you tried to delicately shift your legs so that they covered up the bloodied area more discreetly.

Suddenly The Trapper’s hand shot outwards, causing you to gasp in terror. Your heartbeat quickened and your blood ran cold as he formed his grip on one of your knees. You were ready for it. For him to rip you in half or drag you by that leg towards a hook. To saw you in half or something equally as gruesome so that the rest of your body’s blood joined in with the type already leaking from you.

Instead you felt him release his grip on his cleaver so he could put his other hand on the opposite knee and slowly pry your legs open. You tried to keep them shut, mostly out of embarrassment, but his strength wasn’t anything that you could fight against. Instead you resigned yourself to his movements, growing curious as to what exactly he was doing.

The Trapper’s eyes lingered on the bloody pool in your jeans for a long time. The position he had you in began to grow painful and awkward as your body pumped out more blood. Reaching out, he touched his hand against your ass, using his thumb to press against the growing stain of blood. The pressure caused an audible squelch to hum through the air a second time. A warm sense of relief that shouldn’t have been there flooded your core as the pressure hit your clit, temporarily jolting your body to relieve the stress pains it was feeling. When you let your breath go from when you were holding it, it came out as a sigh of relief.

This caused the pressure to stop and you momentarily feared that you had fucked up somehow. You had snapped him out of his fascinated reverie just long enough for him to remember that he could kill you easily. Your worries were shattered when, instead of murdering you there, he applied more pressure to your clit with his thumb, rubbing careful circles against the bloodied fabric as he did so. You felt another gasp tear its way up your throat but, this time, you bit your lip and shut your eyes tight. Just what was going on? Was this a new way he wanted to practice toying with his victims before he killed them?

Your brain argued with you, loudly proclaiming that you shouldn’t let whatever this was keep happening. That you should kick the Trapper away and run. Give him the chase you always did when you faced him. The part of your body that was running on hormones, blood, and pain, however, insisted otherwise. In a three against one vote, you felt your body accept its verdict and slowly loosen the tense way you were sitting. Your legs slackened in his hold and you let your hips push forward against his hands in the slightest of ways.

The movement must have surprised him because no sooner had you done it did his hand stop and move away slightly, as if afraid he had hit something or done something he shouldn’t have. The loss of the sweet pressure made you whine softly in your throat.

He pulled himself away to examine his hand, blood shimmering on his thumb from where it leaked through your jeans. The Trapper tilted his head and watched you in silence. You watched him in return, confused as to just what it was he was trying to understand. A blush leaked onto your cheeks as you realized that you just tried to grind against the hand of a killer while on your period. To be fair, you reasoned in your mind, that would require an explanation for anyone.

“I-I’m on my period,” You choke out softly, daring not to speak above a whisper to him, “It’s heavy and hurts pretty bad, but, pressure eases it a lot….Uh, s-sorry about your finger.”

His hands were literally bloodied all the time, you realized immediately after you spoke, why on earth were you apologizing?

There was another long moment of silence before he gave a slow nod as if in understanding. Suddenly his hands reached for you, all of you, and hoisted you upwards. You shrieked in surprise, wiggling as an immediate panic response to being heaved over someone’s shoulder again. You must have satiated his curiosity and now he was going to kill you because he didn’t actually care about why you just did that. Your headshot around, terrified that there might be a hook in the room you two were in. What if there was one in the adjacent room and he was simply toying with you before easily moving you over? Your breath came faster through the aches and squishes as you tried to free yourself from surely imminent death.

You were shocked when you found yourself moved only a short distance. The length of the room was covered in a few easy steps thanks to his height and, with a rather unceremonious grunt, he dumped your body down onto the nearby bed. For a moment you lay there, shocked at the turn of events that seemed to transpire, before struggling to sit up. The mattress was old but soft. You found yourself sinking into every part of it as it dipped down with your weight. The springs underneath groaned further when The Trapper joined you on it, sitting down on the edge so that his legs were off of the edge, feet planted firmly on the floor below you both.

You were picked up again, but, this time not lifted all the way. It was more like he was guiding you around now, shifting you from one part of the mattress to the other. Still confused and slightly terrified, you allowed yourself to be manhandled until you were sitting down on one of The Trapper’s knees, straddling it. Reaching out, you held onto his shoulders for purchase as you looked down from the position and up to him with confusion. To your gaze, The Trapper only tilted his head to you. You slowly realized that this wasn’t going to be a slaughter.

He was offering a temporary truce. A moment of tense parlay while the two of you waited in limbo for others to begin a true ritual.

To emphasize, he ground his knee against you and the pressure is tantalizing sweet. After a few more experimental pushes and grinds on his accord you decide that, hell, if you’re going to die you are going to at least be able to say that you’ve done something like this with The Trapper ONCE. It’ll come in handy in ‘never have I ever’ you supposed. Your grip tightened resolutely on his shoulders before you ground down on his knee, feeling the way it pushed the wet fabric of your jeans up and against your clit. As you met each movement soft mewls of delight began to escape your lips. With every bit of pressure building in your stomach, your period pains dwindled into dying embers.

You dared not look up at his eyes, but you felt his hands reach for your hips, gripping them tight as he brought you down harder against his leg. You ground faster, pace stuttering as you felt yourself beginning to come undone. God, you were close. You were so close, but it wasn’t enough. You craved more than just the soft release of pain. Your abdomen and uterus clenched with excitement at the possibility of a fuck. Despite knowing who it was you were grinding into, something about it made wetness mix with your blood.

Suddenly his hands gripped you all too tightly, stopping the rhythm you were building. A desperate keen escaped your lips between curses and begs to let you finish. You would have offered to let him kill you even, but, after you finished. You barely recognized the babbles and begging please that fell from your lips as you looked up, at last, into his eyes. Your expression was watery with redness and tears threatening along your cheeks.

There was a long pause in his movements, his body stone against your form as you caught the raggedness of his breaths coming through the mouth of his mask. You tried to squint further through the eye holes, the momentary safety of your truce giving you a sense of bold curiosity as you wondered just how much of Evan’s face you would be able to catch a glimpse of in the barely there light of the room.

The result was another warning grip on your hips before you were thrown to the bed, back to resting your spine on the softness of its edges. You almost wanted to apologize, but your breath was stolen from you when you felt the dip of it again. This time, though, The Trapper towered over you with his knees on either side of your hips. His arms caged your face between their girthy tendons. You could see the bend of his muscles flex as they kept him steady. You could hear the heavy breathing that echoed over him.

“What…” You started but you trailed off, licking your lips in thought. What were you going to do? It was a bit obvious. What should I do? He wouldn’t really care about that would he?

There was no answer as his fingertips brushed down your stomach, the tips of them finding your uterus and digging into the tender flesh. He pressed down with all the fingers on one hand, the calloused thumbs of them rubbing along your jeans and making you bite your lip to stifle a moan. Seemingly displeased with the action, his free hand found your face and squeezed your cheeks painfully in his grip, causing your jaw to clatter together as he forced you to look right at him. Despite the mask covering his features, you were sure the look was a stern, communicative one somehow.

Don’t be quiet.

You could only attempt at a nod in his grasp. When he was seemingly pleased with the reaction, he released your face and allowed his hand to join the other down near your jeans.

With movements far too delicate and careful for you to ever have considered someone like The Trapper to have, he undid the button of your jeans and peeled the zipper down with a satisfying ripping noise. You watched his fingertips graze the edges of your hips before holding the fabric in a firm grip and yanking harshly down. Your underwear was taken with the jeans in his movements, leaving a momentary trail of sticky blood stringing between your core and the fabric.

The embarrassingly long trail of slick made your face heat up and you moved to cover it with your hands again. This time there was a true, feral growl somewhere deep in The Trapper’s throat as his hand rose up to grab at yours with impatient frustration, squeezing your wrists together with a bruising hold before slamming them over your head and into the soft mattress, bending you so that you arched your back to him as he pressed further. His anger had risen and it was clear why, and you still couldn’t help the whimper and struggle you briefly put up with a huff in his face.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered as you averted your gaze glaringly, “I - uh - h-haven’t exactly DONE this with anyone before, especially not one of YOU- “ You put an emphasizing roll of spite onto the ‘you’ as you gestured with your head to his entire form - “I don’t know what to expect.”

This seemed to give him pause as he tilted his head, thinking about your words before somehow deciding that he didn’t care, his grip still hard on your wrists as he moved himself again, his body shifting against yours and his thighs brushing along your own as his free hand reached downwards to touch at your bleeding hole.

Deft fingers slid in easily with the amount of lubrication from both your blood and the previous wetness of having ground so needily along his thigh. Two entered you with ease and the thickness of them stretched you more than you had been in so long. You felt full, stuffed to the brim with his shifting digits as you let the moan of surprise fall from your lips and your head bend backwards into the mattress. Your hips arched themselves upwards, greedy for more of his touch, and you swore that you could hear a cocky chuff of laughter echo from behind that smug mask of his.

He scissored his fingers inside of you, watching your lips spread against his movements and coat the entirety of his hands and the mattress with thick streams of blood. He could feel your walls contract around him from time to time, pushing more of your sickeningly sweet blood out and creating trails of dribbles along his palm and wrists. You took each finger easily up to the knuckle as he forced his hand in and out of you at a tortuously methodical pace.He edged you with careful planning, tilting his head this way and that to get a better view of your blushing, open-mouthed face as he fucked you at such a sensitive moment. During such a peaked sensation.

Your hips moved on his fingertips again, demanding and needy as you gasped.

“Come onnnn,” You whined up at him with a shift of your head, “Y-You’re such a -ngh- fucking tease… Will you- can you just-!”

Your face turned red as the words threatened to spill from your mouth. This only seemed to make The Trapper’s hands slow down even more, scissoring carefully and leaning in closer to your face. His breath washed over your nose, too hot for your already warm body, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from tasting it as you moaned. HIs thumb reached up to barely brush against your bloody clit and a third finger danced in a deliberation on if he should give you what you wanted, making you keen more as you stared upwards.

From here you could see his eyes, though not much of them. They were narrowed and sharp as they gazed into your own, a deep brown that glowed crimson in the right light as he stared.

When he opened his mouth it surprised you. It wasn’t that you didn’t think The Trapper couldn’t speak, but having never heard his voice even in a trial made the noise that pulled itself from his lips, dark and heavy and deep in his throat, something of an amazingly unique sound to grace your ears. Even if the one word he whispered made them turn red:

“Beg.”

You were tempted to protest. To wiggle and demand more in the most bratty tone you could be able to get out, just to spite the killer, but then he pushed a firmer pressure to your clit and made you keen in delight before quickly removing it with a gruff, sadistic laugh. He wouldn’t give you this without getting his way and, bit by bit, you could feel your pride slipping away as you tried to shift your legs more beneath him.

“P-Please,” You gasped out softly, “God - fuck - please! I don’t know what else to say, please, please, please j-just finger me already! Fuck me, I don’t care just please please- ah-!”

It was apparently enough for him. Without warning the bending digits in your aching cunt pistoned back and forth with incredible power. Each time they left your legs there was a sick, squelching noise as your body tried to keep hold of him with its bloodied grasp, and the same noise echoed as he slid them back in and crooked his fingers in just the right spot in the center of your nerves.

He was fucking you with his fingers in earnest now, each thrust and squealch sending a fresh wave of blood down your body and against the edges of the mattress to the point where you could feel it stain your thighs and ass the longer you wallowed in it. In the moment, with a building orgasm of hot, sweet pleasure you couldn’t really bring yourself to care as The Trapper watched your brows furrow and your lip catch itself in your teeth as you concentrated on bringing your orgasm crashing over you. When he sensed you were close he slowly freed your now bruised hands, allowing them to scramble and claw and whatever they were able to reach, first the mattress and then his arms as you clung to the killer for dear live.

You came with a gasp, moaning as your legs clamped themselves over his hand and kept his deliciously thick fingers inside of you, milking yourself down on him with all of your efforts. The spill of slick cum and blood pushed from your body with little reserve as to what a mess it was making and Evan sat back to watch your entire form contract greedily around his fingertips.

The moments it took you to come down from your high were a blissful thing, no cramps edging you against your period as you caught your breath. Looking up, you were just vigilant enough to watch the Trapper bring his hands up to the light of the room and examine the mess you had made on it. Each of his fingers was coated in sticky blood, chunks of uterine tissue clinging to his fingernails and some dribbling down his palm and wrist as he shifted each fingertip for a better look. You felt yourself grow sick with embarrassment over the fact that you had just had an insanely bloody orgasm over the hands of a man who had killed you more than once at the Entity’s request.

Maybe it was best not to think about that right now.

Not that you were able to, for in the next moment you witnessed The Trapper reach down to the edge of his mask with his clean hand and pull it upwards. It was just enough to reveal his lower half of his face, the chiseled jaw littered with ashen scars across dark, stained skin and full lips. He brought his fingers to his mouth and opened wide, bringing his large, broad tongue across each digit with a slow, methodical lick. He looked as though he was tasting some sort of wine, identifying the taste carefully as he slurped it from the edges of his knuckles and between the stretch of skin against each finger. You were hypnotized as he brought his mouth down and licked a trail from his wrist to his knuckle, cleaning up the leftover blood trails that followed suit.

With a final lick of his lips he brought his mask down against his face and watched your reaction in turn. Your mouth had gone dry and your body was trembling, the center of your stomach already building up with more wetness at the actions you had witnessed. Why was this turning you on? Something about it didn’t seem fair, but, one quick gaze down his body to the prominent tent in the edges of his overalls brought you the satisfaction of knowing that you weren’t the only one.

The silence was heavy. You could hear every creak in the floorboards and settling wood around you as you shifted your legs, wincing at the sound of the sheets beneath you, and licked your lips.

“You know um… The more orgasms I have… the less pain I get.” You whispered suggestively, your confidence fading as you furrowed your brows, “Wait you like pain though don’t you? So I guess less orgasms would be better if that was the case. L-Look all I’m saying is that bodies are weird right! No that’s not what I’m saying at all I’m really just- FUCK-”

The curse fell from your lips as he startled you by reaching down, pushing your shirt up and over your head before grabbing your face to open your mouth wide with his fingertips. You could taste the light flavor of your cum and blood on each digit, making you screw your face up into one of annoyance before he shoved your shirt into your mouth, the strip hanging like a poorly fit handkerchief gag against your mouth. The fabric soaked up your saliva and made you gaze up in shocked confusion at the killer.

“You talk too much.” Was the only cheeky response you got before he adjusted himself with a heavy grunt.

You sat there, gagged and paralyzed as you watched him stand. As you watched him undo the straps of his overalls with slow efficiency, moving each piece of clothing down his body to reveal a taught, muscular back. The hooks in his skin glittered dangerously alongside his scars, dancing down the massive muscles of his shoulders and spine until they faded into the smooth curve of his ass. You swallowed around the gag as his outfit fully fell to the floor with a solid ‘thunk’ of its overly metal parts hitting the fragile wood before he turned to you, mask and boots still on as he tilted his head.

The Trapper’s cock was larger than you were expecting it to be and the mere sight of it made you wet again. You thanked God or  the Entity or whatever hell monster was watching over you that your blood made you extra slick and receptive, otherwise it would have scared you more to have it anywhere near your body.

To be fair, you were already pretty terrified. This WAS the Trapper after all.

You expected him to lean over you again. To tower over you form as he took you with an intense, greedy sort of hunger you had come to understand that these killers felt. It left you surprised and slightly frustrated when, instead, he lifted your body up as though you weighed nothing to him and replaced it with his own form, sitting you down on his lap instead. Your shirt still clung tight to the skin in your mouth, drying your tongue out as you hissed around it with muffled frustrations. They stuttered and stopped, however, when you felt the hard head of his cock throbbing along the edge of your ass. You squeaked, your legs trying to squeeze together as you felt another dribble of blood fall from yourself, pooling along his abdomen and dripping down his hips.

The movement of your blood seemed to draw a moan from the man beneath you as a large hand came down and slapped at your ass, stinging the tender flesh with a red handprint that made you yelp and squirm more. More blood pooled as a result and it only seemed to rile the Trapper up more, his chuckle deep and baritone in his chest as he let you squirm against him, your hands reaching out to put themselves on his chest as you glared with a teary eyed huff at him. At least he couldn’t make you beg with your words now.

Curiously you reached up to tug at the shirt in your lips. You response from him was a fierce growl and another smack to your ass, making you drop your hands and whimper around the fabric again as, without warning, he lifted you up and plunged your blood soaked cunt down his dick.

Despite your lubrication your body stretched to accommodate him, the head of his cock warm and throbbing as it sunk deep into your throbbing pussy. Your yell devolved into a moan of contentment and, as you gushed one more time around his dick, The Trapper let out the loudest noise you had heard from him to date. A strangled cry that masked a moan as he leaned forward and put his head into your shoulder, his fingertips gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he reveled in the feeling of you around him. Of your bloodstained walls swallowing him and dripping down his thighs, staining his skin further along its cracks and scars.

There was no further warning other than that brief moment of residual revelation before he lifted you upwards, the tip of his cock just barely still inside of you, before slamming down again. You gasped, wiggling on his lap as he set a brutal pace with near desperate immediacy. The feeling of him filling you was overwhelming and you could smell the coppery scent of your blood mixed with your slick as you let him pull you like a cock sleeve. He was so thick. So long and just so - so perfectly what you needed that your cramps had long since fallen into the background of your mind.

It was all you could do to reach out your hands and cling to his broad shoulders, tugging at one of the hooks embedded in his skin without thinking about it. The Trapper responded with a growl, deep and sharp in his throat as you did so, and picked his pace up with an even more feral animosity. Every thrust all but hit your cervix, sending stars to blot your vision as you ran your nails down one of his shoulders, leaving a series of welting scratches in its wake. Your own mark for him in return for the ones you’d have on your hips and ass, surely.

There was only the sound of the two of you rutting into one another. The disgusting squelch - smack - squelch - smack - squelch that signaled your desperation and his command as he reached upwards to grab your neck and squeezed with a tight, firm hand against the softness of your flesh.

The sudden lack of oxygen left you reeling, your head sparking with warning bells and pleasure all at the same time as he continued to push you up and down on his cock. Your fingertips rose up to touch at the wrist holding you around the neck, feeling the intensity of his pulse beneath his calloused flesh as you choked for air, your  vision fading into black between the attempts to moan from the pleasure and the inability to gather the air to do so. Was this how you were going to die? Choked by a killer as he used your body like a cocksleeve? Your mind teased between the hazes that, hey, there were definitely worse ways to go.

Just as you felt the suffocation overtaking you, his grip released you ever so slightly. It allowed air into your windpipe for the briefest of moments before clamping mercilessly down again. You knew you’d have matching bruises to your ass along your neck. It’d be fun to explain those, certainly.

It wasn’t something you were worried about at the moment. Not as your body began to careen towards the sweet precipice of a second orgasm and your mind hissed with blank, needy hunger as you bit down hard on your t-shirt, whimpering as tears formed in your eyes and fell down your face with the overstimulation of his hands and cock. Your hand reached away from his own and down your body, finding your clit and gently stroking where his cock met your cunt, feeling him slide in and out and feeling the messy blood of your period slobber itself upon your fingertips as you went to rub your clit with desire.

His hand suddenly left your neck, freeing you up from the bruising grasp of his choking, and proceeded to swat your hand away from your clit. It caused a noisy whine form around your gag, but soon it was replaced with pleasure as his thumb found the small bud and began to rub it in tandem with his intense thrusts, each one growing more and more sporadic as his cock seemed to grow to fill every edge of your cunt. You could feel its heat throbbing into you, the sign of his oncoming orgasm as obvious as the grunts and growls in his voice.

There was little warning before you came, a loud and keening noise that made you arch your back and help him to drive deeper into your hungry core. You felt a series of muscles contract to gush out more blood atop him, pooling an impressive amount beneath you both that only aided in the echo of his hips hitting yours as you collapsed down onto his chest in a heaving mess of exhaustion and bliss.

There were a few more violent thrusts into your abused pussy before The Trapper stilled within you, coming with a long groan that shook his entire chest and sent a shiver down your spine as you felt his hot seed pulse unceremoniously inside of you. He held you against him, fucking you slow through his own orgasm until his hips came to a halt and he stilled inside of you with ragged, gasping breaths.

Silence overcame the small room once again and you could feel the obnoxious amount of liquid between your thighs, making you wince as you dared look back at the mess you had made. Sure enough, both you and Evan were littered with spots of thick red blood from your thighs down. It had soaked into a decent third of the mattress at this point, dying the white edges red and mixing with the strings of pink semen mixed with your blood that dribbled from your abused hole. You shuddered at the sight and felt your hands clench against the Trapper’s muscular form.

Your needs satiated and your cramps abide for the time, you felt the sudden fog of a heavy sleep rolling over your entire body. You looked upwards at the Trapper for a moment, brows knit in confusion as you stared at him with a curious gaze. His eyes remained that same shade of crimson brown behind the holes of his mask as he watched you back, his breath already returning to its even, unreadable state. The bastard and his good stamina…

A hand reached up to remove the gag from your lips. Your dry mouth heaved for sweet fresh air between it. He took a hold of your neck again, thumb fondly rubbing at your bottom lip with something of a rough adoration before you felt your eyes droop fully and your mind faded into a distant darkness, his breathing a lullaby for you to sleep away the rest of your pains.

---

You awoke to a fresh wave of cramps, gnarly and rude in their twisting of your uterus, and you groaned as you sat up to clutch your stomach with annoyance. Dizzy with the pain, you pushed yourself forward a bit to find your bearings, the memories of the previous night flooding back to you in a panic of realization. Heat rose in your cheeks at the thought of the Trapper and you scrambled to look around you, biting your lip in terror as you gazed at your surroundings.

You were back at the camp with your fellow survivors, clothing neatly in place and  uterus still pumping out unnecessarily impressive amounts of blood much to your chagrin. You found yourself missing the blissful sleep you had gotten after the orgasm, regardless of who had brought it to you or not. You exhaled and tried to soothe the ache with a rub of your fingertips as you curled into a ball and suppressed a smirk.

You wondered if the Trapper would ever be up for another truce again?

Maybe you should go find out.

[laynemorgan]

These past few weeks -- this past presidency really -- have been wildly eye opening for me. As a liberal white person, I’ve spent the better part of the last few years learning and unlearning, checking myself, checking my peers, etc. But these last few weeks it has been even more so. Unsure of what to do with my voice in the din of twitter, and preferring to elevate voices of people of color around me, I wound up taking to facebook, spending the better part of the last months sharing political posts that I had died off on posting after Trmp’s election, confronting relatives and family friends that i had, a few years ago, decided i’d need to just come to terms with. Through all of it, I have seen a lot of grace. I’ve seen a lot of learning. And I’ve scene a lot of stubborn refusal to learn. And I’ve been those people. I’ve been learning but I’ve also refused to. I’m hoping to change that now. 

A few months ago, a girl on twitter approached me. She was angry. She confronted me flat out about how I felt that it was okay for me to preach equality and social issues as someone who had been so bad at confronting and apologizing for my own missteps in the past. As someone who had hurt people without consequence. She was right. I told her that. She told me that my previous apologies had been shitty and selfish. And she was right. I promised her I’d write a new one. 

And then I never did. 

When our world erupted into protests and marches and major social movement this last month, I became immediately embarrassed. The words I had promised had never made it out. I prioritized a million other things in my life instead of the people I had hurt. I regret that. So so so much. I regret not immediately writing an apology that I truly meant when it was pointed out to me how much I had let it all fall off my radar. I regret only thanking that one girl on twitter for her time and education and not the many, many other voices who had been trying to reach me over the years. I should have done that right away. I should have done that even before, without it having to be brought to my attention. I thought that because I had learned and knew better, because I personally knew where I had gone wrong and wouldn’t do it again, that it was over. But the truth is, that was a lesson I hadn’t been ready to learn either. That the people we’ve hurt don’t go away, that shitty apologies don’t make up for pain, that having selfish things to do with our time doesn’t excuse not prioritizing growth and reflection and acknowledgement. So for starters, I am sorry for that. I am sorry that it took me four years to say anywhere on the internet that i KNEW that apology I wrote was shitty. I’m sorry it took me four years to acknowledge to anyone how wrong it was that I was constantly requiring them to push me toward change. I am so sorry it has still taken me a months since that twitter exchange this year, and a full month since I realize I’d STILL forgotten about it to be here. And writing this. I’ve been selfish. I’ve shoved all of your important words and experiences and thoughts and lessons to a place where I could look at them when it was convenient for me. And that was fucking selfish. And ignorant. 

To now skip all of that intro and go into more detail, this whole story begins in my fandom days. When I loved and adored The 100 and was a very active member of that fandom. The reveal of Clarke’s bisexuality, the introduction of their Lesbian character, Lexa were important to me. In making that clear, I said in a tweet that another character, Bellamy (portrayed by Filipino actor Bob Morley) was less important and received preferential treatment by the fans due to his ability to be seen as a “hot white guy.” In short, I entirely erased Bob’s lived experience as a non-white man, I erased the visibility that Bellamy created for men like him, and when it was pointed out to me, I doubled down. I defended my stance, I fumbled to explain myself over and over. I thought that because my intent was not to harm that it excused me from the impact of what I had said. And it didn’t. What I said was wrong. It was erasure, it was ignorant and came from my own unchecked racism. I know that now. I didn’t then. I was embarrassed and upset that people thought the worst of me. When what I should have been was humble and willing to listen. And THAT is what is truly embarrassing. 

Then came the apology, several years later. I had spent time arguing about a cause that effected me personally and suddenly, was moved to more properly address what I had done. But again, my apology was about me. It came on my time, a day late and a dollar short. It wasn’t an apology at all. It was an explanation, a plea for understanding, laden with white fragility that I hadn’t yet examined. It was an apology that had learned how to fix what went wrong but hadn’t actually learned what was wrong about what I’d said and done. It stepped over the voices of the people who had been fighting to teach me. It re-centered myself, my experience, my emotions. And again, it was selfish. 

To be explicitly clear: the way I behaved toward the people who corrected me and tried to educate me in both of those instances was shameful. My inability to listen something I am actively working on as much as I can. I am so so sorry to those people especially, to Bob whether he knew about this incident or not, and to the entire fandom community at large for setting such a shitty example. 

This apology isn’t only about that moment, though. I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately, and I wanted to make sure to talk about other stuff too. Other stuff that no one has been publicly calling me out for, but that is still bad. Whether it’s pointed out to me or not. Because I think growth is important and I think it’s important to humble ourselves to know when we were wrong, to look back on our actions once we have learned better and pull out the bad parts, show people, teach others. In my years in fandom, I made a thousand missteps. I was quick to get upset, when someone said a show or character I loved was racist or had done something racist. I was the person always shouting that not everything is racist. I was a fucking ignorant. I dug my heels in simply to defend things, without taking time to listen, without understanding the history of pain that people of color face when it comes to stories and representation. I thought I was smarter than I was. 

I didn’t listen when I was told that you can’t dreamcast a next gen character of a mixed race couple with just one of those races. I didn’t listen when white washing was explained to me. I was too stubbornly wrapped up in the things I wanted and my own perceived kindness and correctness to think that I could get something wrong, that I could need to put in a modicum of effort to change my ways. “There just aren’t that many mixed actors,” I’d say. But because I couldn’t name any off the top of my head didn’t mean they didn’t exist. And frankly, the fact that I couldn’t name any was shameful too. I know now, how important racial representation is. Again, I am sorry for not listening. I am sorry for whitewashing and for thinking that simply dubbing myself a good person and good ally didn’t make it so. I was too proud to learn. I’m working on dismantling that fragility too. 

I work in television now. I work in television because I want nothing more than to tell stories about everyone. This year I got my first script. And that same girl who called me on twitter a few months ago told me she didn’t want to support the show I worked on because she didn’t trust a project that I worked on. That fucking devastated me. I wanted to proudly wave the expectational diverse show I loved over my head and say “but look what we did!!” And when that instinct hit me, this time, for the first time, I checked myself. Because what I did didn’t matter without fixing what I had done. Without earning that trust back, without making it abundantly clear where my head and my heart are now. Something that felt “so long ago” to me was fresh and painful for other people. Being able to shove it away was a privilege I had and didn’t see. I had sat in the writers’ room on that show and advocated for our representation and felt proud of the stories we told. But none of that matters if I haven’t checked myself, and fixed the hurt that I’ve caused, personally first. 

I am truly sorry. I’m sorry for the mistakes I inevitably forgot about making that did not make this post. I’m sorry for the ignorance that made them less important to me than they are still to the people of color who witnessed them and the things I perpetuated. I’m sorry for not understanding that I can contribute to the problem, that I can BE the problem. I’m sorry for talking over you, for not listening to you, for letting you be the villain in my head and my heart and out here on my public profile for so long. I’m ashamed of my past, but I don’t want to keep letting time go without talking about. I want to bring my selfishness and my ignorance into the light and talk about it. I don’t want to cause anyone hurt for any longer than I need to, and I’m so sorry for never giving anyone closure on any of this before, even when I thought I had gotten it for myself. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for trying so hard to explain shit to me that I just didn’t hear. I know I’m inclined to wordy bullshit. I want you all to know that I’m listening. I’m late. But I’m listening. And again, I am sorry for having hurt you in the first place. I was wrong. I will likely be wrong again. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to never, ever be as unwilling as I have been to learn. I am educating myself all the time now, in hopes that you won’t ever have to educate me again. But should that day come, I promise to meet you with the grace, humility, and open mind that I should have a long time ago. 

[dystopiandilfs]

Apparently people think I hate Hbomb which I genuinely don't. I said before that I was struggling during MCC 14 with sensory which already made me upset and then after seeing Scott telling his team all that's unknown tricks and traps I just became frustrated which isn't an excuse but an explanation. I've cleared up a bunch of shit regarding the drama that 404twt created using out of context clips and spliced audios. Like I genuinely like Hbomb I'm literally always watching his streams. I don't gamble and lose over 700k channel points for someone I hate lol.

Then regarding a few others I personally don't like Phil for a few reasons but I'm not going out of my way to cancel him. I literally don't care if you like him or hate him I'm not telling people who to watch or avoid. Most jokes made aren't super serious in terms of me saying stuff like he needs to be put in a nursing home and me stealing Kristen for myself.

For Techno I personally think the Lesbian jokes are in incredibly poor taste and was mostly the jokes of the time which doesn't make them okay but does explain them. When I first saw the tweet I identified as a lesbian and found it offensive even in the context because it to me was him making the lesbians the joke rather than Hitler. However whilst I don't wish death on him for the joke it still leaves a sour taste in my mouth of him. However what I have no issue shitting on is his stans for using his reply to a donation about supporting lesbians as proof of him being a good person and using it to dismiss genuine reasons for not liking Techno. Not everyone is going to like your favs and the sooner you realise that the better and less toxic your life would be. Regarding the other jokes I still have a negative opinion solely because he refused to apologise. I don't care if your apology is bad just at least act like you're sorry.

I personally have a love hate relationship with Schlatt. I hate him but if he wanted to fuck I wouldn't instantly say no. I personally think he deserves some of the hate he gets but people need to learn that he says shit to get the reactions same as Minx. You're not going to get an apology so there's no point even engaging with him asking him to apologise. Once again his stans just make it worse for him with their excuses. Every time they say he can't be racist because of his fucking cat I like to tell the persistent ones to google the name of HP Lovecrafts cat purely because that always shuts them up.

I used to like Karl but ever since he started moaning and started Tales he just annoyed me and it just got worse every stream. He's fine when he's on his own which unfortunately is very rare. On his own he's a completely different person because he's not trying to be the loudest person which is fine yet when he's with literally anyone he just scream talks and moans and fake sneezes which just fucks up my ADHD and sensory.

For a few other smaller ones I don't hate Ranboo I just personally don't like him or his content, I don't hate Punz I just think he needs to stop involving himself in drama then lashing out like he wasn't the one who got involved, I don't hate George he's just infuriating sometimes but that's on being a scorpio and finally I don't hate Wilbur I just think he needs to tell his stans to stop putting him on the highest pedestal and trashing his friends to do it. Like you don't need to compare everything he does to other people.

[severetimetravelnerd]

Change (ft.G Dragon and Yoo Yeon-Seok)

Part 15

While you desperately wait for Yeon-Seok, things suddenly become more serious.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

Taglist:

@unabashedturkeytreeslime​

@starlighttaek8​

@happiestgirlontheeastcoast​​

If there is anyone else who would like to be tagged, you can comment or leave me a message :))

——————————————————————————————

Your mind went blank the moment you felt Jiyong’s chapped lips touch yours. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe his nerve. How dare he do that after everything that happened? It brought back so many old memories, hopes and wishes, now all of which made you sick. It took you back to what happened that night, and you couldn’t stop yourself from picturing how he kissed her that night, after wanting to cause you pain. Although you were frozen, the overwhelming urge to throw up made you push him off, and you ran to the nearest bathroom, stumbling and puking your guts out in the end.

The moment Jiyong realised you weren’t just a dream, he knew he had fucked up, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, because he also was frozen from the shock of figuring out that it was actually you in front of him. As he saw you push him away and run to the bathroom to puke, he was overcome with hatred for himself, only just then realising how many bad memories it would have brought back for you. He was worried about you, because he saw you fall on your way there, and the way things were sounding, you weren’t doing too well. Wincing as he got up, realising that it was unfamiliar as he was never sober enough to feel pain, and this was the first time in a while that he was sober, he hobbled over to the bathroom. As he watched you on your knees, face pale, and obviously in pain, he wanted to move forward, hold your hair back and comfort you, but this time, he had the sense to realise his touch would only make you feel worse. He silently made his way to the kitchen, got you a glass of water, and left it near you. He then moved back, watching you from a distance, ready to help at the slightest indication.

You slowly helped yourself up, wiping your mouth, and standing up on shaky feet. You brushed your teeth and gulped down the water, slowly pulling yourself together. Seeing Jiyong had pretty much torn you up to shreds. You made your way out into the living room. You sat down and stared straight ahead, deep in thought. Jiyong watched you nervously, knowing that things weren’t going to go well. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you, but he had no idea you were real. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice. Stone cold, you said, 

“Jiyong. Sit.” 

And you pointed at the chair next to you. He sat down. You paused, struggling to stay calm. With icy fury evident in your voice, you said,

 “How dare you Jiyong? How dare you kiss me? After everything that happened, I was kind enough to bring you here because I didn’t want you to ruin your career, and then you kiss me?” 

You turned towards him and fixed him with your gaze, feeling him wince at the daggers you were shooting out of your eyes. 

“Do you have an explanation for this Jiyong?” 

Scared, and hating himself for having upset you, but still feeling some little happiness deep down that he found you and you cared about him enough to not leave him there, he gulped. 

“Y/N, I … I didn’t know whether you were real. I know this sounds like a terrible excuse, but after you left, I’ve been having a rough time. I haven’t been able to differentiate between what’s real and what’s not. And I’ve been seeing you so often in my hallucinations, that when I woke up, I thought I was seeing another hallucination. But Y/N, please. Please let me apologise for what I did. I’m so sor-” 

You cut him off by laughing. A piercing, painful laugh. 

“Don’t say another word Jiyong. I don’t want your apologies. I want you to get the fuck out of my life.” 

You smiled at him; a mocking, sardonic smile. 

“Is all that talk about you having a ‘rough time’ supposed to make me feel sorry for you? Because that’s not working. I couldn’t care less about what you do with your life. If you choose to fuck up by turning to alcohol and drugs, that’s not my problem. Out of courtesy, I helped you once. I won’t do it again. I will just leave you there if I see you collapsing again. You know why Jiyong?” 

You paused, disgust and anger evident in your eyes.

 “Because I refuse to let you enter my life again and fuck things up all over again. I’m happy now. I’m dating Yeon-Seok, I have a new job and a new life. I don’t want you coming back in and jeopardising any of this.” 

Looking him up and down, you continued. 

“You seem well enough to take a cab back to your place. If so, please leave.”

 And you got up, and walked into your bedroom, barely managing to shut the door behind you before breaking out into a sob.

As you slid down the door, curling into fetal position, it was your turn to feel scared. You were also terrified of Jiyong coming back into your life. Even if it was only this once, it would ruin all the progress you made. You didn’t want to go back to how you were a year ago. You had made so much progress. You moved on. You had a new job. You had new friends. You had finally found a relationship that made you happy. That was what you were most scared of. Yeon-Seok had also had a tough time. It must have been horrible for him, your boyfriend, to have to hold you and comfort you while you were crying over another man. You knew he had gone above and beyond for you. He had put himself through so much for you. You knew he didn’t have the strength to do all of that again. You were scared that you would lose him.

Jiyong felt awful. Once again, he really hated himself, and wished there was someone to hurt him for what he did. He knew he had hurt you incredibly, but he couldn’t fathom the actuality of the damage. He knew he was wrong to come back into your life, but he had to try again. You were the best thing that happened to him, and even though he was the sole reason you left in the first place, he valued you too much to let that happen again. He knew he shouldn’t jeopardise your relationship with Yeon-Seok, and neither would he actively go out of his way to do so, but he definitely wouldn’t let you go again. He would respect your wishes. He would give you your space. But the fact that you brought him back home left him with a glimmer of hope. Maybe, maybe after a long time, she may forgive me. He left when you asked him to, but he paused to memorise the address. He wouldn’t bother you in person, because he knew you would hate that, but every now and then, he could maybe leave you a letter or flowers.

 Yeon-Seok walked out of the door that day after seeing his worst fear come true. This was something he was always scared of. He knew that you’d want him around. He knew that you’d need the support after seeing Jiyong, but he was certain that you’d go back to Jiyong, since you still cared enough about him to not leave him there. And after he saw you kiss him, he had lost all hope. He couldn’t bear to watch the person who meant the most to him hurt him and hurt herself in the end. He knew he shouldn’t give up that easily, but he couldn’t watch you leave him. He didn’t have the strength in him. He knew he’d have to end things, but if he saw you at that moment, he knew he’d just give in and stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt him. And he couldn’t do that to himself again. That night, after he was thoroughly drunk, he made up his mind. He’d break up with you in a week.

  The next week was rough for you. You waited up for Yeon-Seok every night, desperately hoping against hope that he’d come home that night, although, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t, because he needed space. You called and texted him, but there was no reply to any of them, and you tried to be understanding, you really did, but it was getting tough for you. You knew he needed space, so you tried to give him space, but you needed someone around, because you weren’t feeling well. For the first day or two, you thought it was just the emotional strain from seeing Jiyong again that was making you feel nauseous and fatigued, but when it stayed after that, you got a little worried. You were throwing up a lot and you felt exhausted all the time. You needed someone to help you around the house, but you couldn’t get a hold of Yeon-Seok. After you threw up for the fifth morning in a row, a small, niggling doubt found its place at the back of your mind. The next day, however, it was a full-blown panic in your mind. All the signs were there. You were throwing up. You were exhausted. You were having mood swings. And you missed your last period. By now, you were terrified. You didn’t have any pregnancy tests in the house, and you didn’t want to go and buy them. You needed Yeon-Seok. You loved children, but you were scared. Were you ready for this? Did you want to keep the baby? Would the two of you make good parents? How will Yeon-Seok react? You tried calling Yeon-Seok, but he didn’t pick up. Hands shaking, you picked up the phone again, and called Mino.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” 

He realised something was wrong by the way you were trying to steady your breathing. 

“Y/N, where are you? Where is Yeon-Seok hyung?” 

Your voice shaky, you replied, 

“Mino, hyung isn’t here, but I really need your help. Can you come over?” 

He was grabbing his car keys and getting ready to leave, reassuring you that he’d be there in minutes when you interrupted him.

 “Mino… stop by the pharmacy and pick up a couple of pregnancy tests on your way here.” 

Mino thought his heart stopped beating for a second there. He paused, and said, 

“Sure thing Y/N.” 

desperately trying to keep his voice calm for you.

 As you and Mino sat in silence, waiting for the test to show a result, you couldn’t help but long for Yeon-Seok to be there with you. He was the one you wanted by your side, especially in moments like these. As you were getting lost in your thoughts about Yeon-Seok, Mino too, was thinking about Yeon-Seok and wondering why he wasn’t there. He knew the two of you, and he knew that even if it was mid-fight, Yeon-Seok would’ve been there for you. He would never have left you alone for something like this. As you stared down at the test in your hand, you saw the second coloured line appear and you dropped it. Mino jumped. 

“Y/N… what does that mean?”

 With your face pale, you turned around and said, 

“It means I’m pregnant, Mino.” 

As you bent down to pick up the test, your phone buzzed. Blankly, you picked it up, expecting it to be a telemarketing service, but your face lit up when you saw it was Yeon-Seok. He had texted you asking him to meet you at a restaurant the next day. You showed Mino, and both of you heaved a sigh of relief, but somehow, you still felt uneasy about it.

You spent the entirety of the next day worrying about how to tell him. That day was also particularly rough on you, because you couldn’t keep any food or liquid down. All of it made you feel sick. You had an ominous feeling about the date, but you told yourself to ignore it. You prepared all day to reassure Yeon-Seok that things weren’t going to turn out that way and that you wouldn’t leave him.  As the time to meet him drew closer, you grew more and more nervous, so you tried to distract yourself by getting ready, but that just made you feel worse. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t suspected pregnancy earlier, because your face was bloated and splotchy, your back was aching and you were experiencing many more such symptoms.  Exasperated with how disgusting you thought you looked, you just put on the first thing you grabbed out of your closet and left, wanting to be early.

When Yeon-Seok reached the restaurant, he was mentally prepared to end things, but when he saw you sitting there, waiting for him, looking pale and exhausted, his heart wavered a little. Shaking his head, he sat down in front of you, forcing out a shaky smile. 

“Hey Y/N.” 

You jumped a little and smiled at him, anxiously searching his face for any clue as to what he was feeling. You took a deep breath, and you reached out to hold his hand, but he pulled his hand back. You looked up at him, shocked. Looking straight into your eyes, he started off in a shaky voice.

 “Y/N, I need to tell you something.” 

You tried to interrupt. 

“Oppa, I know, but can I please,”

 He cut you off. 

“Y/N, just this once, I won’t be hearing you out. I’m sorry.”

 You tried interrupting again, because by now, you could feel the desperation rising within you. 

“Oppa, please, just hear me out. I’m- “

He cut you off again, by snapping at you. 

“Can’t you see this is hard enough for me as it is Y/N?!” 

You jumped at his raised voice.

 “Y/N, I want to end things. I can’t watch you fall for him and pick him over me. I love you, and I think I always will, but just this once, I’m going to be selfish and ask you to let me go. I need some space from you. I’m going abroad for a while. I don’t know for how long. When I feel better, I’ll come back, and then, maybe, I’ll be able to come back into your life. Maybe by then I’ll have the strength to see you with someone else. I don’t want to walk out of your life forever. I just need time. You can stay in my apartment while I’m away and look for another apartment, so by the time I get back, things will be sorted out. I’m also going to block you. Please don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate you. But I can’t allow myself to give in after seeing a message from you or hearing your voice.”

 His voice broke as he said,

 “I wish you the best for your future. We’re done.” 

And he got up and left. And as you sat there alone, numb from what just happened, with a sole tear running down your face, the only thought you could process was how this was all Jiyong’s fault.

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 30: Recovery

(We'll bring you back to life.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 30: Recovery

Word Count: 5766

Relationships: D(LAMPR)/DR. PAL (platonic)

Warnings: Suicide attempt aftermath (it isn't really talked about much, but it is mentioned), not unsympathetic Patton but he is kind of an asshole in this and he sees the error of his ways (hopeful ending), Remus-typical disturbing/violent language, angry confrontation, mentions of a scar/violent altercation, mentions/implications of brainwashing, cursing

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. i meant to get this out in time and then i had a really bad bit of writer's block and got super unmotivated, but... anyway, enough excuses! i really hope this makes up for the wait, if even a little bit. this is a direct sequel to day 1: shaky hands (bringing it full circle babey!!!!) and it is the longest one yet! pls enjoy hehe~

When Deceit wakes up, he realizes three things simultaneously. One, it’s fucking cold, so cold that he can’t feel his hands or feet. Two, his head feels like it was just run over by a truck, like his brain got melted into mush and now he can barely think properly. Three, he’s not dead. He knows he’s not dead, he’s not gone, because Logan is sitting in a chair across the room quietly reading a book. If Deceit had truly succeeded, Logan wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t have woken up at all.

Shit.

“Wh… What happened? Why’m I not gone?” Deceit asks hoarsely, words slurred and throat gravelly from disuse. Much of his existence has been defined by his innate ability to repulse people, to scare them and push them away, so it’s more than a shock for him when Logan glances up from his book and gives him a small smile. That warm look is always reserved for the others, the ones who actually deserve it, so seeing it directed towards himself steals the breath from his lungs.

“You’re awake, I see. Are you in any pain?” Logan asks as he strides over to stand in front of where Deceit is lying propped up on a stack of pillows. He raises his hand to check for a fever, the backs of his fingers a warm balm on cool skin. When he detects nothing unusual, Logan tucks a loose strand of hair behind Deceit’s ear, tilts his head and listens with rapt attention as Deceit describes his points of pain (throat, stomach, head). The care he’s being given is so unexpected, and surreal, and Deceit is almost desperate to keep receiving it. He doesn’t remember the last time he had any kind of affection directed towards him, the last time someone cared enough to ask if he was okay. It’s odd, yet addicting in a way.

“Why aren’t I… should’a died,” Deceit whispers as his brows pull in, an unmistakably sad look echoing in his distant eyes. It doesn’t feel like there’s much else to say when his legs curl up to meet his chin, when he gazes ruefully at the blankets in front of him, and yet Logan somehow knows how to quell even a little bit of the turbulence in Deceit’s mind. He just sighs and sits on the bed, adjusts his glasses, and clears his throat with restlessness barely hidden below a mask of indifference.

“Roman found you in the tub. We immediately got to work caring for you and attempting to keep you alive, however you fell into a coma, which is obviously irreversible when the injury is self-inflicted. You have been asleep for approximately three weeks, and it… has been, well. Chaotic, for lack of a better term. As you did not die, there was no replacement to act in your stead, but since you were not awake to properly facilitate your function, Thomas was unable to employ your trait at all. It caused a lot of havoc, you know,” Logan says softly, exhaustion clear in his face and voice. A gentle finger wraps around one of Deceit’s own, holding it in a gesture of comfort, a promise. “I’m… I apologize for not saying anything that day, for not stopping Patton. I should not have been so cowardly as to enable the casting away of such an important side.”

And though Logan’s voice is thick, his sentiment remains steady, a quiet regret laced in the atonement that’s just as heavy as the tears building in Deceit’s eyes. He never thought in a million years that Logan would ever apologize to him, that anyone would ever care enough about him to feel guilty. It tears through him like a whirlwind, switching back and forth between joy and grief so quickly it’s causing a migraine to poke tauntingly behind his eyes.

“Logan that’s… s’not your fault. You didn’t wanna get hurt, and that’s good. I’m glad you didn’t. I’m… ‘m self-preservation-- not just for me and Thomas, but for you sides 's well. You getting mistreated would be far more painful than anything I’ve had to endure,” Deceit mumbles, wet eyes shining as he finally raises his head to meet Logan’s sorrowful scrutiny. Logan swallows hard as he moves his fingers to thread through Deceit’s own, unusual tactility breathing in a space meant for rest. His posture is tense, a sure sign of discomforted remorse, and it takes all of Deceit’s effort not to reach forward and gather him in a protective hug.

“It’s not an excuse, though. I still shouldn’t have allowed them to push you out like that, should’ve tried harder to get them to understand how valuable and important you are to Thomas. Like you are to me,” Logan stresses, and Deceit’s breath catches in his throat. He… does he really care that much? He thinks Deceit is important even when Deceit doesn’t believe that himself? That he’s of value? That… that he isn’t worthless?

And Logan has never been one for brevity, has always been ready to go on tangents of information and explanations and reassurance. He always clarifies things, breaks them down to the true basics to expose them for what they really are. He teaches, and cultivates minds and knowledge, and he’s so incredibly fascinating to watch. His mind is mesmerizing, the way he forms his thoughts so clearly and concisely that it’s impossible to have things be lost in translation.

“You keep Thomas safe, Deceit. You are his verbal shield, of sorts, what gives him the ability to protect himself and others. You strive for him to better himself and to do things for himself. You allow him to treat himself kinder, let him live easier without so much stress and responsibility and exhaustion. Although I don’t agree with some of your viewpoints, you only want what’s best for Thomas and will fight for it despite everyone pushing back on you anyway. You’re the only one of us who is truly alone and yet you’re brave enough to face the scorn just so that you can do your best to help Thomas. I… I admire you, Deceit. You are much stronger than I could ever be. It’s why you can’t leave us. I know selfishness is in your nature, and wanting to disappear is understandable given the circumstances of your existence, but… Thomas can’t function properly without you. He’s almost lost three friends just this week, which would only be detrimental to his mental and emotional state. We need you to stay. I need you to stay.”

And, well, if an immeasurably vulnerable Deceit is only able to burst out into tears, bury his sobs in the fabric of Logan’s button-up shirt while they both rock soothingly back and forth, then maybe it was time to really, truly let go.

-

To Deceit’s surprise, the second person he sees after waking up is Virgil. Logan has apparently allowed Deceit to stay in his room throughout the duration of his slumber, but Deceit is seriously starting to miss his pet snake, Ethel, so he managed to convince Logan to let him switch to his own bedroom. It’s odd to walk after not moving at all for weeks, so leaning on Logan’s shoulder for support is crucial to making sure he doesn’t fall over and take a nose dive into the floor.

It’s in the hallway that they run into the anxious side, and where Deceit is sure he’s about to get yelled at or something. Although they had been close in childhood, once Virgil left them, his attitude flipped like a switch for no apparent reason. For a long time, Deceit wondered what he did, thought that Virgil’s hate was warranted, but now… although he still doesn’t truly believe he belongs with anyone, he’s done throwing a pity party for himself. He didn’t do anything wrong, has never done anything to purposely harm Virgil, and hell if he’s gonna let the other side's scalding remarks poke holes in his self-esteem.

“D… Deceit?” Virgil breathes when he sees them, stops in his tracks and hides further in his hood. Logan looks at Deceit questioningly, as if telling him that he will absolutely walk right past Virgil without a word if Deceit wanted him to, and it’s so reassuring that Deceit immediately feels a thousand times more ready to finally face this. “You’re actually awake.”

“Yeah. I am,” Deceit says, and then he realizes that he needs to say this now before he loses his courage again. A sigh escapes him as he rubs his eye tiredly, and Logan squeezes his waist comfortingly. “I’m not leaving, Virgil. I don’t know what your problem is with me, I don’t know why you hate me so much when we used to be best friends, and I don’t know what I did to you that was so awful that you have to fight with me every time I’m around. I don’t. But I’m tired of spending night after night crying to myself and wondering what I did wrong. I think… I think it’s time for me to ask what you did wrong, and I don’t know if I can really forgive you for the things you’ve said to me right now. But I’m here, and I’m staying for good, and you’re gonna have to learn to get over that because I’m seriously getting sick of feeling like I'm not good enough for you.”

Wow. That little rant made him feel the best he has felt in a long time. Although he’s pinching himself hard and using the pain as a way to be able to tell the full truth outside of their rooms, a certain clarity befalls him with each word. It’s immensely relieving to finally say the things he’s been wanting to tell Virgil for years, to finally let himself think that maybe it’s not his fault for once. And he can tell Logan is proud of him, judging by the way his eyes shine with respect despite his neutral expression.

Virgil looks miserable, and Deceit wants to feel bad, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t regret what he said a single bit, doesn’t wish to take back any of his words. The anxious side opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but aborts the action at the last second, instead going to stare at the floor while he chews on his lip. His silence means a lot more than Virgil himself likely realizes, meanings and intentions and unnamed thoughts spilling out in the space between them, and Deceit nudges Logan so that they can walk around him and into Deceit’s own bedroom.

They have a long way to go, but Deceit can already feel the tiniest bit of hope shining inside him.

-

A lot has changed in the four months since Deceit’s attempt. For one, Thomas has allowed him a more permanent spot in the group, after a particularly heated argument with Logan than ended with the three of them finally coming to a mutual understanding with one another. Secondly, Virgil is talking to him again. Not the passive-aggressive banter, not the scathing insults, not the glares and hostility that Deceit is so used to. Now, he’s really trying to actually talk to him, will speak about something that happened in the news with him at the dinner table or show him memes when they’re both chilling in the mindscape living room. There’s so much more there, so much more respect and care, and Deceit has a feeling that they might even be friends again sometime soon. 

Thirdly, Deceit has barely seen and hasn't talked to Patton outside of filming videos.

Although Deceit doesn’t particularly want to speak with Patton, listen to him say that "he's a bad influence, Thomas is a good person, you can't be here", it’s still odd that he’s somehow able to never be in the room when Deceit enters. When he does catch him off guard, the older side only gives him an unreadable look and makes his exit as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, typically taking advantage of the twins’ commotion to slip out undetected. Deceit notices, because of course he does, and to his own surprise, it doesn’t bother him as much as he expects. He’ll just wait for Patton to come to him, whenever he’s finally ready to admit his faults and apologize, so there’s no point in fretting over it.

However, Deceit does need to talk with the twins, Roman more so than Remus, and it’s this need that leaves him standing outside Roman’s door at one in the morning, a fist raised to knock. It’s not like he has to worry about Roman being asleep, because he’s always awake into the late hours of the night, frantically coming up with new ideas just to veto them all anyway. His process is almost manic, completely self-destructive, and it garners a lot of sympathy from a part of himself that can sorely relate.

The three swift raps on the door evoke a surprised squawk from within the bedroom, and multiple loud thumps can be heard before the heavily decorated door swings open. Deceit just stands there with a judgemental expression, lightheartedly raising an eyebrow in amusement at the sight of the creative side. He’s covered head-to-toe in glitter, multiple colours sparkling when the plastic reflects the dim light coming from the hall. He looks ridiculous, with the flakes in his hair and eyelashes and clothing, but he manages to look confident even despite that. It’s fake, Deceit knows it’s fake, but he humours him anyway.

“What’re you doing in there?” Deceit asks, a sly smirk playing on his lips, and Roman has the humility for an embarrassed blush to spread across his cheeks. He fidgets with the bottom of his coat even as he puts on a brave face, and Deceit can see through him so easily. Maybe it has to do with his purpose, the fact that the very arrogance the princely side portrays is a lie in itself, or maybe it’s because Roman is just that transparent.

“Just-- Just creating art! None of your business! Why’re… why are you here?” Roman asks, initial loudness tapering off to reveal uncertainty and vulnerability, and it’s a wonder the others haven’t figured this out sooner. Roman is so painfully obvious in his insecurity, shows how much he truly doubts himself and his work like a flashing neon sign above his head.

“I wanted to talk. Come to an understanding, if you will,” Deceit hums, adjusts his trusty bowler hat on his head casually despite it actually being a nervous tic. He doesn’t actually know what Roman is going to say, doesn’t know if he’s going to fall back on yelling and accusations and swing out his sword just like he did before. Will Deceit be left with a scar this time, too? Will he gain another streak of raised white, another lightning bolt stretching across the expanse of his skin, marring the smooth surface just like last time?

“Oh. Uh, um. Come in, then, I-I guess,” Roman stutters, picks at a flake of shimmering chipped nail polish as he steps to the side. His room is just as much of a mess as Deceit expects if not more, but the vexation he feels as he scans the aftermath of a creative tornado is just as acute. Stacks of parchment paper are piled in high towers around the room, looming overhead like a thundercloud of loathing. Pens and pencils and fabric and threads are strewn about, placed in such an intrinsically accurate way that it feels like the chaos is almost organized. It’s meticulous in its frenzy, a passionate craze that seems to be woven into so much of how the other side functions.

“I came to ask you for a favour. I ask you to not whip out your katana at me any time we are in the vicinity of one another. We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time, no?” Deceit asks, smooth and suave and uninterested on the surface. Of course, underneath he isn’t faring as well, but Roman doesn’t need to know that. Deceit is just waiting for Roman’s congeniality to flip on its head like a switch, for the civil nature of their interaction to turn sour when he decides he’s done listening to him. He’s expecting for Roman to yell, or maybe even for a fist to come his way, and he’ll have to start back at square one again. That’s just how Roman is. Fiercely protective, headstrong even when that same stubbornness and fire causes him to stumble, to put his attention in the wrong place.

But he doesn’t. Roman doesn’t get angry, in fact, he gets quite a sad look in his eyes at Deceit’s words. The way his gaze probes far into Deceit’s own, pulls him apart and examines his intentions and thoughts and feelings, it all leaves him feeling incredibly vulnerable. And he is uncomfortable when against all odds, Roman just darts forward to pull Deceit into his arms, smushes his half-scaled face into a broader chest with a passion that has never, ever been for him.

“But of course, small snake! A true prince would never brandish his blade at anyone other than a foe, and you, my Daring Deception, are far from it,” Roman tells him with a full tone and bright eyes, and the way he looks down at Deceit with such compassion and care to completely contradict his usual regards leaves Deceit’s head spinning. The snake-like side looks up at Roman from where he’s snuggled into his chest, gives him wide eyes and a look of surprise that he forgets to mask, and Roman’s smile is so much more gentle than Deceit thought he had the capacity for. “You are a friend. You’re a brave, shining knight to protect Thomas, just like me! If you ask me, I think we’d make a pretty good team.”

The endeared grin Deceit gives him in return surprises both of them equally.

-

Deceit doesn’t expect much to happen when he rises up in Remus’ room. The place is just as messy as always, just as chaotic as Roman’s is but in a different way. While Roman can make sense of the chaos, search through the whirlwind with such accuracy as if rifling through a file cabinet, Remus simply takes a sniff and hopes for the best. He doesn’t bother with organization of any kind, doesn’t bother with making things easier on himself, and Deceit supposes that very tendency can account for a lot of the behaviour Remus has portrayed in the past.

“Double Dee! What’cha doin’ here? Wanna try the sandwich I made? It has strawberries and eel meat and tartar sauce! Here, have a bite!” Remus demands excitedly, childishly, and despite the disgust Deceit feels while looking at the absolutely abominable excuse of edible food squished between Remus’ fingers, he only shakes his head neutrally. He just needs to get this over with, make sure everything is okay between them.

“I’ve already eaten today, Remus. Maybe next time. Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” Deceit dismisses, waves a gloved hand as he clears away some garbage for a spot to sit on Remus’ bed. The owner of said bed perks up from where he sits cross-legged on the floor, a rigidly-postured Remus surrounded by a circle of discarded candy wrappers. Deceit only hopes Remus actually ate them, and didn’t do something stupid, like glue them to his legs or see how many he could shove up his nose. “Do you… do you hate me?”

“What? ‘f course not! You’re fun, Dee-Dee! Almost as fun as when rollercoasters go flying off their tracks and smash into a building and go up in flames with the screaming passengers still inside! Hey, what did dying feel like?” Remus answers, jumping and shifting from one topic to another so fast it’s giving Deceit whiplash. He doesn’t like to linger on a particular topic for very long with the exception of him being the one to bring it up, unless it’s immediately or inherently shunned by someone else for existing. That only adds fuel to the fire, gives Remus a reason to keep perpetuating the idea, because the more Thomas doesn’t want to think about something, the more he’s guaranteed to toil under it. “You wanted to die, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t’a ate all those pills. ‘cept I already know that we can actually die ‘n’ be replaced, since that’s what happened with our ol’e pal Lust. And the new one got thrown in the subconscious a week later, so. Are y’a wantin’ to leave? Wanna… wanna leave me behind?”

And Deceit doesn’t really know what to say to that. They didn’t talk much when they were still living together in the “dark” part of the mindscape, not even when they were three instead of two. They’ve never been particularly close, and yet Remus sounds genuinely upset at the notion of Deceit leaving for good. His impact must be much larger than he’s thought all this time, to cause such hurt and betrayal in someone he was sure was indifferent to his presence. 

“Of course not, Remus. It was a mistake, and I won’t make it again. I’m staying, this time, and I’m not gonna leave you alone,” Deceit consoles, reassures despite the fact that Remus isn’t outwardly upset. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t lash out, he doesn’t scream or shout or yell. He simply sits there, stares with his wistful, bitter brown eyes, and it makes him simultaneously all too easy to read and yet incredibly difficult.

“Oh. Well, good! That means I can make y’a more sandwiches! Chef’s special!” They’re sure to be disgusting. But maybe Deceit can pretend to like it just to see delight burst to life on Remus’ face.

-

Confronting Patton is the scariest thing Deceit has ever had to do in his entire existence as a side.

Despite what Logan said the day he woke up, Deceit is a coward. It’s a direct result of his purpose; after all, what kind of self-preservation would run straight into danger with no regard to what might happen after? His caution is certainly warranted, given the situation, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that it isn’t still difficult. It’s hard to be so distrusting of someone who’s supposed to be a helper, someone who’s supposed to be Thomas’ morality. And Thomas is a good person, at times dangerously so, which makes Patton’s actions that day so many years ago so confusing.

Despite how part of him rings a pulsing red alarm when he’s even within a twenty-foot radius around the patriarchal side, there’s an even bigger part that’s yelling at him to hurry up and instigate an apology already, because this is getting annoying. He just wanted to wait, to let Patton come up with the correct conclusion on his own, because how else will he truly learn? But Deceit can’t even be in the same room with him without the other side scampering away at the first opportunity, and he’s tired of playing these cat-and-mouse games. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if he’s the cat or the mouse.

Having already made amends with all of the others, Deceit decides it’s time to stop putting this off. If Patton won’t suck it up and apologize, or if he really is just that oblivious to the point of all of this, then fine. He can be like that. Deceit will just come to him. And so he does, manages to sneak up on him while he’s in the kitchen, humming as he makes himself a salad. It’s late, so everyone else is either asleep or pretending to be, and it creates a space where Deceit can do this on his own. Although he’s embarrassed, Deceit isn’t too proud to admit that he is a little afraid, that he can see Patton turning on him and hurting him as a vivid mental image playing in a loop. He just hopes this doesn’t go that way.

“Patton,” Deceit says stoically, not exactly a greeting, but more of an accusation. Patton lets out a little shocked yelp and whips around, butter knife out as if he’s going to actually use it. Deceit may be scared, but apparently Patton is too, and he has no right to be. Before Patton can sink out and run away just like every other time, Deceit grabs his shoulder, gently but assertively pushing him down into the kitchen chair scooted away from the table.

Patton looks up at him with terrified eyes and an almost nauseous expression, and it takes a lot of personal control for Deceit to not be offended. Who is he to be afraid of Deceit? What has Deceit done to hurt and scare him so badly? What gives him the right to be so frightened, the nerve to seem petrified of this encounter after how he treated Deceit? Anger boils up in Deceit’s throat listlessly, a nebulous animosity that yearns to explode. It only builds when Patton cowers under the snake-like side’s unimpressed stare.

“We need to talk. No more of your running away,” Deceit demands, stern and obstinate, but he’s sure his firm demeanour appears much more inexorable to the fatherly side. Although Deceit really is trying his best to not be antagonistic, his ire is only fueling his volatility, leaving his self-restraint put through the wringer in the face of his almost overwhelming sense of betrayal. What took place that day should never have happened, the events seemingly a direct antithesis to Patton’s usual intentions and motivations as Morality, but it did, and he can’t go any longer trying to escape responsibility and repercussions while Deceit shoulders all of the stress it caused.

“W--W-What do you wanna t-talk about, kiddo?” Patton stutters, stumbles around a feigned ignorance as his eyes dart between everything but Deceit’s own steely gaze. His fingers tremble as he fidgets with them, attempts a distraction from the confrontation, and it’s so unfair that Deceit almost wants to turn and kick the side of the counter in an angry outburst. He doesn’t, of course, because he’s not that brazenly juvenile, but he sure does wish he could.

“I’m not your kiddo, not after what you did to me. Don’t you dare call me that,” Deceit hisses as he slams a hand down on the table right beside where Patton is leaning. The latter of the two flinches, jumps with a tiny scared squeal dying in his throat before it can even be released into the silence left after Deceit’s outburst. He swallows hard as tears prick at his eyes, shine in the dim light of the kitchen, and Deceit feels no sympathy at all.

“P-Please don’t hurt me!” Patton rushes out as he curls in further on himself, tries to make the space his body takes up as compact as possible. Deceit scoffs, pulling back to stand up straight once more. He may be the shortest out of all of the sides, but his dominant, authoritative fury lets him loom just as well. There’s really no point in drawing this out any more than it needs to be, and although Deceit certainly would take an immense satisfaction in seeing Patton squirm, he needs to be the bigger person here.

“Hurt you? What, like you hurt me?” Deceit’s words are simple, biting, but they accomplish their intended effect all the same, maybe even more so. Patton shrinks back as if he’s been slapped, and he kind of has, at least metaphorically. The only way he will truly understand the nature of his actions is by being blunt and upfront about it; no sugarcoating, no dancing around the subject, no room to make excuses or twist the imperative words. Guilt is a powerful thing, and when utilized correctly, it can be the one thing that truly shifts the interpersonal tide.

“I-- I… I’m sorry!” Patton blurts out, uncertain under Deceit’s withering glare. His admission feels fake, hollow, empty. It echoes in the room for a round, allows Deceit a moment to quell the curses that well up in his throat and dance on his silver tongue. “I didn’t mean to--”

“Yes you did, don’t lie to me,” Deceit spits, interrupting the fake reassurance and stopping it in its tracks before it can become bigger than it deserves to be. Patton’s mouth snaps shut as he looks down at his lap, arms slowly shifting to curl around himself in a mockery of an embrace. Fine. Let him garner all the comfort he can get, because he sure won’t be comfortable when Deceit is done.

“You made me think I was safe, that I had a family. I had existed in the mindscape for a total of two hours before you threw me out for something I couldn’t even control. And I’m half-snake, you know that-- did you know that snakes are cold-blooded?” Deceit asks, and he laughs humourlessly when he sees a dawning realization that turns into horror on Patton’s face. “I almost died out there. When Virgil found me, he had to literally bring me back to life moments before I would have fully faded away. Do you know how much that fucking scared him?

“You turned everyone who I ever thought could have been a friend against me. Roman was so happy to finally have someone to go on adventures with, and the next time I saw him, he hated me. I wonder why, hm? Did you know that after he switched his sword from plastic to metal, after you made him believe that I’m the evil villain he needs to slay, he tried to do exactly that? I still have the scar,” Deceit says bitterly as he lifts his hand up. He ignores Patton’s flinch in favour of pushing aside the fabric of his capelet and shirt, showing the paternal side the raised white line that jaggedly falls from the top of his shoulder to about halfway down his arm. A whimper spills from Patton’s lips, desperate and ashamed, and Deceit really hopes he’s finally starting to get it.

“Not to mention what you did to Logan. He was so fucking terrified to speak up about what you did to me that he stayed silent, went directly against his purpose as a side just to make sure that he wouldn’t be thrown out and ostracized too. Do you know how much that hurts me, as self-preservation? What’s even worse is that I’m glad he stayed quiet and kept himself safe, because who knows what could have happened if he dared to go against Morality.”

With the words shot from Deceit’s mouth like a bullet from a revolver, tears finally breach Patton’s lashes, roll over his cheekbones and fall in droplets onto his pants. His shoulders shudder under the weight of silent sobs, and even as Patton’s lips twist as he tries not to cry audibly, he still keeps his head held up while he listens. The action is peculiar, and Deceit knows what he’s trying to convey, but atonement is much more than just that. It’s a start, but there’s certainly a long way to go.

“Virgil was my best friend, you know. I cared about him so fucking much, and he was the only one who truly had my back when I was still recovering from what you did. But even he wanted to have a taste of acceptance, and it wasn’t a surprise in the slightest when he suddenly hated me the next time we were able to talk. Your brainwashing knows no limits, truly,” Deceit sneers, contempt in his eyes and pain in his heart. He doesn’t want to open up. He doesn’t want to be honest like this, doesn’t want to pinch himself until he’s numb just so he can focus long enough to finally show Patton the truth about what he’s done. He doesn’t want to, but he has to, because he’ll just regret it if he doesn’t.

“I wasn’t really ever close friends with Remus, but that doesn’t matter because Remus shouldn’t even exist. In fact, neither should Roman. You split Creativity apart, forced them apart based on your arbitrary set of rules for Thomas to abide by, and shoved him into a harmful, narrow mindset. And if that wasn’t enough, you couldn’t even let them properly be brothers and grow up together as siblings, like they should have. No, you shoved Remus out just like me, and it caused him to hole himself up in his room for nearly twenty years just so he could use his part of the Imagination to make a world where he wasn’t separated from his literal other half. He likes to act like he doesn’t care, but I know he does, and he shouldn’t fucking have to.

“You’ve only brought suffering upon me, and Remus, and Virgil at one point. To those who needed you the most, you scorned and demonized, and left us with no guidance or warmth simply because you don’t like our purpose. But we are all sides of Thomas, just as much as you are, and whether you like it or not, we are important and needed. I’m done trying to convince myself to be the villain, to play into your fantasy and the knowledge that I’d never get accepted or be listened to. I deserve so much more than you’re giving me, and I’m never going to make the mistake of inherently trusting you again. This time, you have to earn it.”

“I’m so sorry, Deceit,” Patton whispers, slow and thick and watery at the same time, and the soft, quiet words cause Deceit to completely deflate. He’s so tired, so fucking exhausted, and he knows that it’s going to be this way for a long time.

And maybe it’s too much. Maybe it’ll take too long, or maybe it’ll never happen. Maybe they’ll never truly fix this, mend and repair the cracks driven between them as a result of how Deceit grew up. Maybe Deceit will never work up the courage to forgive Patton, to be able to look at him without fear and anger leaping up into his throat. But none of that matters, not really, because Deceit finally has people who care about him, people who will stand up for him and support him when he can’t do it himself. And for now, maybe that’s all he really needs.

[rogueonme]

I feel so very inclined to write this down

After years and years of trying to find a way to relate to my family without burning myself to the ground, I might have finally had a big leap forward...

It is no secret that humankind can reproduce and still not know how to raise or love a child, actually, most reasons for adults to reproduce seem tied to the system that is our society, not thinking about the consequences of their actions.

My parents did their best and their best looked like abuse and mostly being absent, ignoring the emotional depth they had put me in by denying me human emotions as a child. The abuse went from physical to mental and back and for the longest of time I have swung myself between all the stages of grief, just to cope with the family dynamics I was born into, affecting me so much as an adult.

A first breakthrough happened over a decade ago, when they could finally face their actions and apologize to me, both my parents did. For the first time they acknowledged and owned up to all the things they did and they said sorry. My feelings did not change, I noticed that I still had a long way to go in forgiveness and showing myself that the past was not by my doing, yet, how I stand in the present and future is on me, and so the past is no excuse, only an explanation we should use for the better, knowledge is everything.

After that first breakthrough it did not get better, being near my family was draining and triggered the fuck out of me, even when they thought they were doing a better job, they were not ready to face their own demons and heal parts of their souls that needed it so badly, and I was still going through all these stages, I was far from ready, too.

Last December my father asked me if I wanted to have dinner with him and catch up, something we don’t do very often, because... life, and for the first time in my whole life I actually wanted to go and have dinner, better yet; I wanted to have dinner with him and for the first time decided to leave my ‘shield and weapons’ at home.

I felt like I didn't need to weapon myself, the child I was had to weapon herself, but I am an adult now, I am a woman, no different from him or my mother, equal and I have been living on my own, doing my own taxes, creating a life for myself without any financial support, or other forms of support from anyone. And my parents, they are people, they have personalities and flaws and their own path and struggle in life, it must have been hard for them, too.

I sat there with my father and we had an amazing dinner, we talked so much and for the first time he opened up about the time he was married to my mother and how he did not know how to be a monogamous husband and that he regrets not telling her the truth, how she is and always will be his one soul mate and how much he loves her, still. He also understands now that they cannot share their lives anymore, they were married for 25 years and they were so young, and so young when they became parents. They have been divorced for a long time now.

There was a person sitting in front of me, he was telling me how he had become more spiritual and finally has some answers to life questions he had been struggling with all his life. And I am sure that he did not have to get out his weapons because he saw me walking in with none, it started with me, all these years I was busy blaming most of it on them, always so closed and angry, no, they were a reflection of me, too. He even mentioned he hoped for me to become a parent one day, and added that he thinks I’d be the best mother ever, describing me as a loving person, who likes to care and nurture and provide so much stability and a loving environment for a child. Never in my life did I ever dared to dream him saying this to me and I must say that I had to agree with all of it. It felt right, regardless if I ever will be in that position of being a parent, I agreed with everything he said.

After the dinner he hugged me and told me he loves me, something not easy for him to say and we both agreed on how much we had grown. I was away for Christmas, I usually go skiing without my family and as I was in Austria, my sister sent me a picture of her family, my mom and dad, and grandmother, celebrating Christmas, together for the first time since the divorce. Only I was missing and they wanted to let me know they miss me and hope I’m having a good time.

For the first time since years... I saw my family as a family, again, on Christmas day. And it warmed my heart. And it was so very obvious that the absent one, was still me. This I’d like to practice for 2020 - I feel like this is going somewhere, somewhere good, I wish the same for all of you <3 always. It is love.

[detroitbydark]

Moonbeams and Ridinghoods Chp 2

Pairing: werewolf!haz x reader

Summary: Harrison contemplated his next move and gets support from a friend

Words: 1740

Warnings: None, safe for now my pretties.

A/N: anyone interest in a taglist? Playlist? This thing is beginning to sprawl in my head and I’d love to know what y’all think and what you like!

“If you stare at your phone any harder it’s going to explode.”

Harrison looks up from his spot sprawled on the sectional to see Tom giving him a curious look from across the room.

They’d only arrived home a few hours ago from their “boys weekend” out at the cottage and all were feeling a bit lazy. Harry and Sam had fucked off to their flat, while Tuwaine had taken up residence in their spare bedroom. Tom and Emily has been spending some “alone time” together but by the looks of his slightly rumpled appearance as he sunk into the loveseat, she’d gotten her fill.

It was always nice when the full moon fell on the weekend. They could take their time coming and going and recovering afterwards. Midweek changes were the fucking worst. Battling the bone deep exhaustion that came after a transformation while trying to be productive at work? You could fucking forget about it, worse than a hangover.

Harrison glances at the contact he’s pulled up again. “Little Red”. He can’t help but smile at the joke. Tom grumbles across the room.

“Come on, tell us what’s gotten you so obsessed over there.” Harrison rests his head back against the arm of the couch, resting a hand over his bare stomach. He lets out a soft huff before looking at the man across the way.

Tom was his best friend, had been since they were children. Their parents had run with the same pack and it was no surprise to anyone when the boys became thick as thieves or that they’d formed their own ragtag pack when they’d come of age.

“Met a girl the other night.” He finally admits, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket. Tom raises a curious brow.

“Little bird caught your eye? Anyone we know?” Haz knows it’s a loaded question. ‘Anyone we know?’. Was she a wolf? Who does she run with? Harrison can’t help but roll his eyes. Tom was his alpha and Haz knew he wanted what was best for every member of their small ‘family’ but sometimes he was just a little too nosy for his liking.

“Naw, nothing like that. Just a girl who chatted me up at the market the other night.”

Toms brows rise into his hairline. “The night before the moon?”

“A couple nights” Haz clarifies, he feels a little uncomfortable by his friends close scrutiny. So what if he was talking about a normal human girl. He wanted to ask him why he cared so much but the explanation walks in before he can.

Tom’s girlfriend Emily had moved into the neighborhood when they were teens and it had been instant fireworks between the pair. Em was bright, outgoing, and smart as a whip. Tom had been absolutely gone on her before he’d even been able to mouth the words “I love you.”.

Of course, with dating a ‘normal’ girl came problems. There was a certain code of secrecy their parents had insisted they keep and Tom had been forced to keep Em in the dark for years. It wasn’t until she’d been attacked by a member of a rival pack, mauled badly, that Tom was able to explain what he was but by then the damage had been done. It had nearly destroyed them.

The wolf could be a curse or a blessing depending on who you asked. The Hollands and Osterfields had all inherited the trait from their ancestors. Emily had been thrust into it, infected by a bite. It had been five years and she still struggled to come to grips with her other half. Some months were good and she’d join the boys at the cottage, run and hunt by the moonlight while others, like the most recent, she’d lock herself in her bedroom for the night and refuse anyone (not even Tom admittance). It tore Tom apart and, while he hadn’t made it law, he let it be known he wasn’t keen on any of the lads bringing in outsiders.

“What are you talking about?” The brunette asks sliding into her mates lap. She’s wearing one of Toms button up shirts and and a pair of sweat shorts that say HBIC. Harrison had gotten them for her for Christmas. She was the only woman in the pack and definitely a bit coddled and spoiled by all the boys. She deserved it though, acting as a surrogate Mum and looking after the lot of them making sure they behaved like human beings and not animals (except for one day a month). She was a hell of a baker and doted on each of “her boys”.

Tom nuzzles against her neck, nipping lightly while she giggles.

“Haz met a girl.” He explains. Em’s head whips in the blonde’s direction. Tom groans knowing he’s lost her attention.

“Is she pretty? Have you taken her out yet? When can I meet her?” Harrison laughs at her rapid fire delivery.

“She’s very pretty. American.” He starts out as he hears Tom groan again.

“An American? Really?”

Emily swats him upside the head and nods for Harrison to finish answering her questions.

“I’ve haven’t exactly asked her out yet. Haven’t even called her, so I don’t think you’ll be meeting her anytime soon. If ever.” He finishes. He can see the wheels in Emily’s brains turning. It was never a good sign. She really was smarter than the whole lot of them and once she got something in her head it was nearly impossible to dissuade her.

“Well you should definitely call her.”

“And why’s that love?” Tom asks, tucking an errant wisp of hair behind her ear.

“Because, Thomas,” She starts off primly, “Harrison deserves a bit of happiness and I need at least one of these dogs to get a girlfriend I can hang around with.”

Chuckling, Tom glances at his friend. “Man, if you want to call her go ahead and do it but know your going to have to share her with Emily.”

The woman in question shoots Harrison a sly wink. Tom was the head of the pack but, when she wanted to, Em had her own bit of control over the alpha.

There was something both frustrating and relieving about being given the go ahead from Tom and Harrison wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He watches the pair snuggle closer on the couch, wolves tended to be more tactile than humans and the pair were no exception. While he enjoyed piling into the living room with his pack mates, drinking beer and playing video games after a tough day at work, he longed for what Tom and Emily shared. He wanted that connection. He wanted to find the one that completed him.

Excusing himself, Harrison pulls an old jumper on and heads out to the back garden before taking up position on a deck chair. The waning moon shines her light down on her child and Harrison takes the phone out of his pocket.

You’re developing a palate for curry. It’s something you’ve never eaten prior to coming overseas but you find yourself falling in love with the mixture of spices that leaves your tongue burning and you wanting more.

You’ve also grown incredibly sick of TV dinners and there was an Indian restaurant with great carry out on the corner of your block.

You roll your eyes. Since you’d met Harrison you had been hesitant to walk alone after dark. It was completely ridiculous, honestly. You’d only met him once but you’d taken his concern to heart. He knew more about the area and if he was concerned maybe you should be too.

You’re not sure why you’re so concerned with how the handsome blonde would feel about you doing something, you’d only met once and for such a short time. Hell, you hadn’t even called him, nor he you. He’d probably forgotten all about you.

Flipping the page of your magazine you try to concentrate on the article at hand but you just can’t get into the fashion spread and designer spotlight. You're restless and completely bored, spending all your time out of work holed up in your flat. A deep sigh escapes you as you set the carryout container on the coffee table.

Taking the overseas contract had seemed like a great way to break out of the rut you’d been in. A different country. A new set of faces. It had all seemed so easy. A bit of excitement! A whole new world! Except it wasn’t really panning out was it?

A ding from your phone has you retrieving it from the table. Your eyes go wide when you see the name.

Big Bad: are you up?

You glance at the time. It was only 8:30. Of course you were up. You can’t help but smile at the message, thinking about a reply, before you can even get a word out your phone is ringing.

“Hello?”

“I bet you didn’t think I was going to call you.” Harrison’s voice is warm like honey and you feel a smile spread across your face.

“Maybe not.” You conceded, “but here you are calling. What do I owe the pleasure?” Snuggling down into the couch you pull your knees up and into your body as you speak, the fleece blanket you’ve been using gets pulled up to your chin.

“Would you laugh if I told you I was trying to work up the nerve to call you all weekend?”

The smile on your face just won’t give up. “Would you, if I said I’d been hoping to hear from you?” The chuckle from the other end confirms your suspicion.

“Sorry for being such a div and not doing it sooner. Was out in the country for a couple of days.” The apology makes you melt. “I’ve been thinking about you.” He says and you hum quietly in response. The line gets quiet for a moment and you wonder if the calls been dropped.

“Harris-“

“Do you want to get coffee this week?”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks as you both speak at the same time.

“I work the next couple days but I could pencil you in for Wednesday?”

“Wednesday it is!” His enthusiasm is contagious and you already find yourself looking forward to it. “Now that that’s out of the way” he continues, “how was your weekend?”

[planetsam]

Malex Prompt: Alex has been relearning how to train due to his prosthesis (fighting, working out, shooting, etc.) with the help of a military friend. Michael finds them training outside of the cabin.

“Breathe through it. Come on, just give me a few more breaths.”

Michael frowns as he comes around the side of the cabin. He’s not expecting what he sees. A very attractive woman is standing over Alex, pressing both her hands onto his leg. Alex is laying on top of a massage table, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and hugging his other leg into his chest. He’s obviously not very comfortable in the position but Michael has a feeling the sweat that darkens his t-shirt and sticks out on his forehead has a lot more to do with the weights and exercise ball that are resting nearby. The woman doesn’t let him up as he breathes and finally she relaxes, pressing her fingers along the sides of his kneecap.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him.

“Like crap,” Alex says, releasing his leg.

Michael feels his frown deepen. Alex admitting physical pain is rare. Almost as rare as him being in shorts. Alex was never a shorts kind of guy, but it’s taken Michael longer than he wishes to realize that Alex isn’t comfortable showing his prosthetic. He’s actually more comfortable showing his missing leg, not the device he needs to walk. The injury is preferable to the help. It’s a quintessentially Alex thing to do. The woman glances over and their eyes lock. Surprise flares on her face but she immediately shifts her weight. Given the amount of pressure she’s clearly capable of putting, Michael has few doubts she’s prepared to kick his ass. The change in pressure has Alex pushing himself up and following her gaze. He too immediately goes defensive, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“Guerin,” he says.

Michael raises his hand and slinks out of the shadows he definitely wasn’t hiding in. Of course Alex would be doing all the exercises and fighting to get better. Alex isn’t the type who would let a major life altering injury siderail him for a decade. Michael wishes that he hadn’t left his hat in his car. Or was late instead of early. There’s nothing to do but come stand in front of them.

“I’m Michael,” he introduces himself.

“Lily,” she says, “I’d shake your hand but I’m lotioned up,” she looks at Alex, “back down. We’re not done.” Alex’s face falls but he lays back, fighting to keep his face straight as Lily goes back to manipulating the limb, “so how do you know Alex?” She asks.

“We grew up together,” Alex cuts in, “we reconnected after I got back.”

Quantifying what they are hasn’t exactly been a strong suit for either of them. Friends isn’t adequate, lovers isn’t honest. Actually the only thing they’ve ever truly named each other where the other can hear is family. Michael is okay with that, except when other people ask for an explanation. Family is a weird word for both of them. And he’s not sure how to tell Alex he’s in love with him and also refer to him as family. So ambiguity is a great fall back.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Stretching him out,” Lily says, “Alex?”

“I overcompensate on my leg,” Alex says. He’s flung an arm over his eyes, “and the muscles get tight.”

“Oh,” he says.

He knows Alex is missing a leg. He knows it every second of every day. Alex takes responsibility for going to war but Michael knows he was a catalyst for that decision. It’s hard not to blame himself for Alex’s predicament. And Alex who is obsessed with being strong enough—whatever that means—refuses to let Michael feel guilty about it. Refuses to be treated differently about it.

“I’m around a lot. Can I help?” He asks abruptly. Alex’s arm rises and Lily looks at both of them, “I’m a mechanic,” he adds, “I’m good with my hands.”

Lily bits down on her lip. Michael realizes that she’s waiting for Alex to say something. That’s good and consent is important but Michael can feel the awkwardness. Shit he didn’t want to make it awkward. Just when he’s about to apologize and make up an excuse to get the hell out of there, Alex drops his forearm back over his eyes.

“His hands are freakishly strong,” he says.

“Stronger than mine?” Lily asks, pretending to be offended. Alex nods, “I’m going to remember that,” she tells him and produces hand sanitizer from her pocket. Michael shoves his hands out and cleans them, “I’m just going to show you how to assist Alex stretch.”

Michael nods and focuses in as she explains and points where to put his hands. Or he tries to focus. He hasn’t exactly been allowed to touch Alex in a really long time. Which, to be fair, he more than deserves given his behavior. He’s been clear that he’ll go as slow as needed, but he can’t pretend it’s not difficult to keep from touching him. Especially when they are right next to each other more and more. Alex will sit next to him, but Alex isn’t big on showing a lot of skin. He likes being covered. They both do. It’s fucking twisted and they both know why, even now that there’s no one to put marks on their skin.

His fingers hesitate only a moment before he puts them onto Alex’s knee. He’s under no illusions that Alex is suddenly going to communicate what hurts, but his plan of carefully watching is thrown for a loop when Alex’s breath catches. Michael knows from him that his body temperature is unusually hot. But he thinks if it wasn’t, Alex would probably know his hands better than anyone’s. It’s weird to see all ten of his fingers neatly flattened against Alex’s skin and when he’s directed to put his hands on top of each other, it’s his left hand he presses to Alex’s flesh.

“Now gently apply pressure,” she instructs. Michael slowly leans his weight onto his hands, “a little more,” she says, “you’ve got a long way to go until you hurt him.”

Michael ducks his head, embarrassed at how wrong she is before he forces himself not to read more into this than what is actually happening. He pushes his weight firmly unto his hands and Alex makes a noise. Before he can jump back though, Lily holds out a hand and directs him to stay there. She takes Alex’s other leg and carefully manipulates it, until Alex makes another noise.

“Breathe,” she says to Alex, “deep breaths.”

“I hate both of you,” he says.

“We’re going to hold this here,” she says and glances at him, “you know that’s—“

“Alex for ‘ouch’?” He offers.

Alex raises his arm to shoot him a truly venomous look that Michael answers with a smile before Alex groans and throws his arm back over his eyes. Most of his weight is on his palms. Before he can think about it, Michael gently strokes his pinky down Alex’s leg, doing his best to time it with his breathing. He’s not sure if it helps but eventually Alex relaxes into the stretch and he almost loses his grip when he feels his muscles go. He definitely jumps and Lily smiles and Alex presses his lips together in an effort not to laugh.

“Sorry—“ he starts and looks down at the leg under his hands with confusion, trying to remember everything he read. Reading about it only works if he doesn’t think it’s Alex.

“It’s just the muscles,” Alex says. Michael looks up and nods, “it feels weird,” he says, “I’m not used to it yet.”

“You will be,” Lily assures Alex, a smile passing between them.

It occurs to him that Lily doesn’t know if he’ll be around. That it’s very possible that he won’t be. Or it is on paper anyway. He has no intention of not being there until Alex is used to everything and long, long past that. Until him not having a leg is more normal than when he had two. Or they figure out how to get Max to regrow him one or something.

He plans on being there. That’s the thing.

“Why don’t you roll over?” Lilly says.

Michael mourns the loss of contact as soon as he has to take his hands off of Alex. He tells himself the shiver that works up Alex’s body is just because of the temperature change. Slowly and steady, that’s what he told himself. He watches as Lily tightly rolls up a towel and slides it under Alex’s hips as he rolls over. Michael’s usually distracted by other parts of Alex’s anatomy when he’s rolled over. The back of his leg is smooth. If Michael thinks too hard about it, he gets a headache from thinking the back of Alex’s leg is on the front of it now. Lily gently supports the leg until Alex taps the table.

“Here, support this while I get another towel,” she says, “don’t move it up.”

Michael carefully takes the weight of Alex’s leg. He glances back to see Alex turned and looking at him. Their eyes move and he tries to smile. But he can feel that thing starting between them again. Son of a bitch, he can tell Alex feels it too. He watches his throat work and his lips part as he tries to calm himself down. Physical therapy is not the time for it. For this tension, for everything else. Michael makes sure he’s got a good one handed support on Alex’s leg and moves his other hand up. Alex’s eyes widened.

“Do not—“ he starts.

“Are you still?” Michael asks.

“Guerin,” he warns.

Michael lightly scratches the back of Alex’s leg, right under the knee.

As it turns out, Alex is still ticklish.

At least for him.

Michael doesn’t push it but Alex still snorts with laughter when he tickles under his leg. If Michael wasn’t aware that Alex is probably the only person who can get him to be ticklish, he wouldn’t think much of it. But most people skimming their fingers up his sides or asking if he’s ticklish are dismissed. But when Alex does it accidentally, the sensation is unmistakable. Giggling isn’t something he does around people either.

“Okay okay,” Lily breaks it up with a smile, “put his leg down,” she says and slides the other towel under his hips, “I’m guessing you two got into a lot of trouble in school.”

“I did,” Alex says, “he got me out of it.”

“So you were the well behaved one,” she says looking at Michael. He shrugs, “you’ve been very helpful.”

“I’d do anything to help Alex,” he says without thinking.

Lily smiles and Michael looks at her for as long as he can before he finally has to look at Alex. There’s something soft in his eyes that Michael hasn’t seen for a very long time when he looks at him. And something in his own chest seems to open at the sight of it. He shambles closer to the front of the massage table. As long as he lives he’ll never forget when Alex reaches out and catches his hand. Lily’s sigh makes both of them look back at her.

“I’m sorry, that’s just—“ she sighs again, “I’m a romantic. You two make a very cute couple.”

Alex squeezes his hand.

“Thanks,” Michael says.

“Let’s see if we can get this leg a bit higher with this great moral support,” Lily says coming back to business. Michael tightens his grip on Alex’s hand as he groans. He leans down so he’s closer to Alex’s head, which is cushioned on his forearm.

“Breathe,” he says.

“I hate you,” Alex says.

“I know,” Michael tells him, covering his other hand with his free one, “but do it anyway.”

So Alex breathes.

[opheliasbrokenmind]

new chapter - john shelby

requested by: anon said ‘3 from the prompt kiss for John Shelby ❤️’

prompt 3 : A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

word count : 2.7K+

a/n: well well well, so i made up the monastery and nursing education thing, don’t know there is something like that lol. btw this one doesn’t include martha and the kids bc i didn’t want to make the reader suffer much more hahaha. enjoy yourselves loves <3333

When you heard a knock on the door, you jumped slightly and closed your book. ‘Who the fuck is that at the three in the morning?’ You murmured and wore your cardigan on your silk nightgown. The person knocked again but you wouldn’t say that knocking, he was hitting the door wildly. You frowned, a little afraid but didn’t worry so much because you knew people can’t dare to come to your house, knowing who you were. In the end, you were a beloved friend of Shelby’s. At least most of them. They knew you since you were a teenage girl, you moved to Small Heath when you were fifteen. After a short time, you became friends with Ada and of course, with the rest of the Shelbys. 

Ada was your best friend and you always got on well with Tommy and even his family thought you were something.. more than friends. You always see him as a friend, though and same thing for him. You two supported each other and gave advice, but nothing more. You also got along with Arthur and Finn, even with Polly and his son Michael. The only problem was John Shelby. You had to admit, things weren’t that bad before but now you hated each other. You were at the Shelby house when you first met him, he asked you if you were a whore. ‘Excuse me? You know nothing about how to talk to a lady, do you?’

You shouted and he threw a cocky smile in your way, ‘A lady?? You’re a teenage girl or a whore who looks so young, love. I’ll vote for the second, considering your clothes.’ He said the last part slowly and turned his eyes to your naked legs, you were wearing just a nightgown. You opened your mouth to talk and stop his glances but Ada burst into the room, ‘John! Stop looking at her like you’re about to eat her!! What the hell you thinking you’re doing? She is my friend you lunatic idiot!’ Ada screamed and Polly came in, ‘What’s happening?’ She turned your eyes to you, waiting for an explanation.

‘Well, last night I stayed with Ada and came here for a glass of water and I saw him, h-’ Ada cut off your sentence, ‘John was eye-fucking her when I came in! You need to do something Pol.’ Polly rolled her eyes, ‘You’re not little kids Ada, figure this out yourselves.’ You went upstairs, ignoring John’s eyes and Ada followed you. ‘I’m sorry, y/n.’ You smiled gently, ‘‘s okay, A. You’re not responsible for him, he didn’t know who was I also.’ She let out a heavy breath, ‘Thanks for not freaking out right now.’ You laughed and hugged her, ‘You’re my best friend.’

So your first meeting with John was not great but that didn’t stay like that. Soon, he apologized and when Ada went to a monastery for nursing education, you two got closer. You had blood phobia and you were definitely not a religious person so you didn’t go with her. John took you out of the country sometimes and you had so much fun with him. When that summer ended, you were like twins. Oh, but twins don’t have feelings for each other, do they? Feelings that make your heart flutter, you wanted to scream every time you saw him. You understood you fell for him when Ada asked you questions but all you could think was John.

‘From earth to y/n, what’s wrong with you?’ She asked and waved to get your attention, ‘Nothing, just thinking.’ She smiled, ‘Thinking about who?’ You looked at her, ‘John. No! I mean, Jews. What do you think about the Jews?’ You asked, trying to hide your stupidity. ‘My sweet y/n, you think you can fool me? Don’t tell me you fell for him. You’re not that stupid, he is arrogant.’ You grinned sheepishly, ‘Of course not. We spent some time together when you were away and he is a good guy. That’s all.’ Ada smiled but looked suspicious, she didn’t ask more questions, knowing you won’t answer.

Your friendship with John didn’t end but you weren’t close when Ada came back. You were too afraid to tell him how you felt, what if he ridicules you? You couldn’t bear it, you knew this. He was only two years older than you and years went so fast as you turn to eighteen. You thought your feelings would disappear as you grew up, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Even looking at him became torture for you and seeing him with random girls... You didn’t believe life after death but if there was a place called hell, yours would be just like this.

Then your worst nightmare came, the war. You didn’t want to let him go, you thought of everything to stop him from going there, but you didn’t do anything. You wanted to tell him, write to him. The years were so painful, they were like centuries. You didn’t spend a day without thinking about him, wondering if he was still alive. You prayed to God you didn’t believe for him. You prayed for all of them, every fucking hour of every fucking day. ‘You’re really going.’ You said when he was leaving for the war. ‘I am, aren’t I?’ He smiled widely as your heart skipped. ‘Come back here one piece, alright?’ You told, trying to sound like you don’t care. ‘I’ll be here.’

He looked bemused, ‘You’ll be here?’ You frowned, ‘Of course I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.’ You whispered under your breath, he heard you anyway. You stepped closer and planted a kiss on his cheek, moved away when his hand touched your small one. You ran to the Tommy and hugged him, leaving a shocked John alone. He stood for minutes, his hand on his cheek you kissed. That little kiss was the only thing you did on purpose to show him your feelings, but in your thoughts, he’d think you were just like a sister for him. You never believe that he’ll love you back and maybe that was the reason why you didn’t tell him.

You couldn't sleep when you haven’t heard from him. You couldn’t sleep when you reminded yourself that what could he’s dealing with right now. You couldn’t sleep when the news wrote that there were bodies they couldn’t specify their identities. You couldn’t sleep when the war ended because you didn’t hear from the boys for a while. You couldn’t sleep, you were too afraid. But they came back, they came back to their family. You were helping to Ada and Polly with the business. You went with them to the train station. 

You saw the three eldest Shelby boys, you knew they changed before you saw them. They came back as men. When you looked into John’s eyes, you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t see the boy you loved for years, there was a broken man in his eyes. You didn’t know what to do so you greeted him simply and left there, saying that you didn’t feel good. You couldn’t sleep that night, it was like the boy you love was gone. You cried all night and didn’t go to work for a few days. Ada came to your house and found you in your bed, sobbing. She didn’t say anything but she understood you even though you said nothing.

The conversations you had with John was only formal, you didn’t speak to him unless it was necessary. His family noticed but didn’t say anything, Tommy tried to talk but you refused. You couldn’t sleep when you heard that John was going to marry Esme. You didn’t expect anyone to ask you or tell you but it was so unexpected for you. You didn’t go to the wedding, finding pretexts. You heard that he was happy, you didn’t do or say anything but when his lovely wife started to work in the betting shop.. that was too much, even for you. 

John was there when you rudely opened the door of Tommy’s office, ‘Can we talk?’ You asked Tommy, ignoring his brother’s eyes. ‘Yeah, I’m listening.’ He noticed you didn’t want to speak in front of John, of course. ‘Alone.’ You insisted. ‘Whatever you’re going to say, you can tell him.’ Tommy pushed you and you did everything to stay calm. ‘Alright, I’m quitting the job.’ John’s lips parted apart, a shocked expression covered his beautiful face. ‘What?’ Thomas didn’t say anything like he was waiting for this. ‘I want to start a business of my own.’ That was all you said.

You cried that day when you left the building. You didn’t bother to pick your things, you knew Ada would bring them to you. You had plenty of money, you bought a place near your house and turned it to a flower shop. There were women to help you and you weren’t so sad for a while. But one day the doorbell rang and you saw the man you never expected, John. He came in and walked to you slowly, you froze. ‘Hey.’ He said. ‘How can I help you?’ You asked like he was a stranger to you. ‘I came here to buy some flowers, for Esme.’ That was enough for you, you called a woman. ‘Can you help this man? I have some errands to run.’ 

You left the shop, went to your house and after drinking some alcohol, you allowed yourself to break into tears. You wanted to die, to disappear. You’d be thankful if someone came in and killed you. Someone actually came, but he was Tommy. He knew, of course, he knew. He took you into his arms and you cried, stopped holding the tears. The pain you felt made you feel sick, you couldn’t take it. ‘I’ll kill myself.’ Your voice cracked, Tommy held you tighter. ‘That’s not happening, love. Not as long as I live. John was there because they fought. I don’t think they can continue this.’ He explained and you asked, ‘What?’

‘When I forced him to marry Esme, I thought he’d love her and I’d win. I didn’t expect him to act wild, he hates her. I mean, he always tells that he can’t be with a woman he doesn’t love and I’m tired of this, you know. If he doesn’t want this, I can’t control him for years. I just want to ask you one thing, are you going to tell him how you feel?’ You looked at Tommy and gave a shaky breath, ‘No. I stayed silent for too long and I’m not willing to reveal my feelings now. Do they even matter, to him? I don’t think so, Tommy. This is a thing that should have ended years ago, I’m just being childish.’ He didn’t say anything and left after comforting you. 

It’s been two weeks since all of these happened, you continued to work and Ada came to see you nearly every day. You didn’t see the other Shelbys, at least you didn’t see John. Finn brought you some pastries from the cafe you used to go when he was a little boy and Michael asked you if you needed anything. You also spent some time with your other friends but you weren’t expecting anyone. ‘Hello?’ You asked as you opened the door and you were speechless when you saw the person outside your door. Your jaw dropped to the floor as you stared at him with wide-open eyes. ‘W-what are you doing here?’ You forced yourself the speak.

‘Can I come in?’ was all he said before stepping in, you closed the door behind him. He walked and sat on the big sofa you were reading on until he came. ‘What’s happening?’ You talked again, trying to put a stern expression on your face. You walked to where he sat slowly, dragging your feet. You stopped when you stood in front of him and couldn’t speak when you saw his face. John Shelby’s beautiful face was covered in tears, you brought your hand to your mouth as you stepped back. A new feeling attacked you, fear. What could make him came to your house at the three of the morning and cry? ‘I’m sorry.’ He whispered as a tear fell down from his cheek. 

His hand reached for you and then you saw that his wedding ring was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t protest when he pulled you to sit next to him. ‘Why are you sorry?’ You asked but didn’t wait to hear an answer and hugged him shyly. ‘Jesus, y/n. I’m so sorry. I should have known.’ He cried softly on your chest and you squeezed his shoulder, tried to show that you were here. ‘Shhh, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want. You can tell me later.’ You spoke kindly, reaching for the thin blanket without leaving him. ‘No. I have to speak, you have a right to know.’ He stopped you and you gestured him to speak. 

‘I.. I don’t know where to start. You probably don’t know, we divorced with Esme cause I couldn’t stand anymore. Tommy told me something... something that I should know before. I thought you hated me y/n. You always seemed nervous whenever I came. You didn’t even look at me, you didn’t speak to me when we came back from France. There was always a distance between us and I thought that was what you want. I wanted to be with you, I wanted to tell you that I love you but I was scared! I was scared because I thought you saw me as a friend, as a brother. How could I be so stupid? I should have talked to you. We lost years, y/n and I broke your heart countless times, didn’t I?’

You couldn’t say anything when he stopped talking, you were stunned. You knew that he was telling the truth and the truths... are bitter. You didn’t realize that you were crying until a big hand covered your cheek and his thumb wiped the tears away. You tried to stifle a sob but you couldn’t.. You sobbed as he took you in his arms and hugged you but you escaped from him. ‘I can’t believe.’ You whispered to yourself and closed your eyes, ‘I love you, John. I loved you since the day you took me to picnic the summer when Ada wasn’t here. But... I don’t know what to do right now.’ Then, the first time that night, you looked at him. You saw the deep meaning behind his ocean eyes, you saw how different he looked.

John looked at you, your lovely eyes still shining with tears but they were looking at him directly. His stares fell from your eyes to your lips, your mouth parted slightly as he licked his dry lips. He thought how vulnerable you looked before talking and then, a breathy demand fell from his lips, ‘Kiss me.’ You felt the feelings in his voice and you didn’t hesitate for a second before touching to his lips with yours. You kissed him softly at first but passion took you over and he responded to you, capturing your lips. You took off his cap as his hands cupped your cheeks and he deepened the kiss. When you parted away, both of you were breathless. You didn’t open your eyes and John rested his forehead on yours.

He moved away from your face a little to see you better, he was mesmerized with the sight. That was the face he wanted to see every morning when he opened his eyes. ‘I love you since I saw you that morning, in the kitchen. You were the most natural and innocent girl I’ve ever seen in my life and I was captivated. I want you since that day, y/n. I’m sorry for not telling you how I felt earlier.’ You opened your eyes and smiled brightly, ‘I’m sorry, too. But we wasted enough time.’ He looked nervous and you continued, ‘I told you I’ll always be here when you were leaving for the war. I’m still here and I won’t leave.’ A small smile played on his lips, ‘What do you want me to do now?’

‘Now? Oh, kiss me.’ You said and he attacked to your lips as his smile widened and you laughed into the kiss. It was like you were sixteen again, the boy you loved was in your arms and kissing you. Yeah, you waited for too long but it worth it. It was the beginning of a new chapter and both of you were ready for it.

[bentaylorrogerhardy]

Lily of the Valley - Part 2

Joe Mazzello! x Reader!

Summary: Being a young, single mom that worked full-time was hard. When you weren’t working, you were taking care of your five year old daughter, Lily. You had given up on dating after many failed attempts. That was until after a rough day of dealing with your ex boyfriend, your best friend introduced you to Joe.

Word count: 2,017

Warnings: cussing, mentions of drinking/being drunk/alcohol

A/N: next chapter features a certain somebody....enjoy!

(part 1 is in my masterlist in my description!)

You pulled into the employee parking lot of the hospital, parking the car and heading up to the third floor. Heading to the nurses station, you were greeted by Kristen and Jana, who were sitting at two of the computers behind the desk.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Kristen said cheerfully, a smile beaming on her face.

“Morning, K,” you said, returning the smile and setting your purse under the desk. You walked over to the other available computer and started reading through the reports, checking to see if the doctor’s left any notes regarding your patients, if anyone needed any medications, and checking to see if anything else needed to be done.

“So,” Jana said, wheeling her chair over to you, “how was Lily this morning?”

“So excited,” you smiled, pulling out your phone and showing her and Kristen the photos you had taken that morning.

“She is literally the cutest kid ever,” Jana laughed, “she’ll do great today.”

“I hope so,” you smiled, locking your phone and putting it back into your purse, “I have to pick her up from Chad’s when I get off.”

“Ugh,” they both groaned with looks of disgust on their faces.

“What?” you asked, “he’s still her dad whether we like it or not.”

“Unfortunately,” Kristen mumbled, turning her attention back to the computer.

“Hey, now,” you said, holding your hands up in defense, “he’s been stepping up lately.”

“Only because he doesn’t want to go back to court for child support,” Jana said, crossing her arms over her chest,

“Which he has yet to pay you,” Kristen added, “but it is hard to pay child support when you don’t have a job.”

“We can discuss all of this later, girls.” You sighed, getting up from the computer chair and grabbing your clipboard, “we all have a job to do.”

---

A few hours had passed and before you knew it, it was time for your lunch break. You, Kristen, and Jana all took lunch together and decided to go to a little restaurant near the hospital.

“So,” Jana said, taking a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich, “what are the plans for tonight?”

“We should go out!” Kristen exclaimed, “let’s go get dinner or something.”

“That sounds fun and all, but I think you two often forget I have a five year old and a bedtime of eight o’clock,” you laughed, taking a sip of your water, then setting the cup back down.

“Eight o’clock? Really, (Y/N)?” Kristen asked, “you work hard, you deserve to have a night out!”

“When was the last time you actually went out and enjoyed it?” Jana asked, turning her attention to you.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, fiddling with your fork, “a couple months ago?”

“You’re never gonna meet anybody staying at home watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians reruns,” Kristen said, “you have to go out and meet people.”

“I gave up trying to meet someone ages ago. After that last date I went on, it’s gonna take an awful lot to impress me. Plus, I have to look out for Lily, too,” you stated, “who all would be going out tonight, anyway?”

“Well, Oscar and I, and Jana and David,” Kristen said. Oscar and Kristen had been together since high school, around the time you and Chad started dating back then, and Jana and David had been together for almost two years.

“Yeah, see. I’m not for the whole fifth wheeling thing,” you sighed, “maybe another night.”

“Oscar can bring his friend Isaac!” Kristen stated. Jana turned to her with a look of disgust on her face,

“K, he smells like hot dog water,” she said, causing you to burst into a fit of laughter.

“I’ll just take a rain check,” you laughed, “I’ll come another night.” The three of you finished up eating and then headed back to the hospital.

---

“What about him?” Jana whispered to you, motioning to the attractive doctor that was walking past the nurses station.

“He’s married,” you said, flipping through your paperwork.

“How do you know?” She asked, putting a hand on her hip,

“I don’t know, I think the wedding ring gave it away,” you chuckled, shaking your head. You picked up the clipboard from off the counter and headed over to the computer to start filling out your patients reports. You glanced at the clock and noticed it was already four o’clock; only two more hours until your shift was over. Just then, the phone on the desk that Kristen was sitting at started ringing.

“UCLA Medical Center, this is Kristen. How can I help you?” she answered the phone, “Yeah, just a second.” She put the phone on hold and set it down, “(Y/N), phonecall.”

“Who is it?” you asked, turning around to face her.

“Lily’s school,” she said. Your eyes got wide, quickly getting up from your chair and walking over to her desk, picking up the phone, “this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Hi, Miss (L/N). This is Mrs. Martin from Meadowlane Elementary. I’m calling to see if someone was on their way to pick up Lily,” she said, “carpool ended about 15 minutes ago.”

“Yeah, her dad was supposed to pick her up,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“We tried calling Mr. Prescott and got no answer,” she said, her voice almost filled with pity. Of course he didn’t show up.  

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thank you,” you sighed, slamming the phone down, letting out a frustrated groan, “son of a bitch.”

“What happened?” Kristen asked, leaning back in her chair.

“Chad didn’t show up to pick Lily up from school,” you said, grabbing your purse from under the desk, rummaging through it to grab your keys.

“Typical,” Jana mumbled, “can’t wait to hear his excuse this time.”

“I don’t wanna hear it right now,” you snapped, throwing your purse over your shoulder, “cover for me?”

“Yeah, we got it covered. Go!” Kristen said, shooing you out. You speedily walked to the elevator then got in, pressing the ground level button. When you reached your car, you started it and headed to the hospital, all while trying to call Chad.

First time, it rang and rang. No answer. Second time, it rang and rang, again. No answer. Third time, it rang and rang.

“What do you want?” he said when he finally answered the phone.

“I really hope you have a good explanation,” you snapped, turning out of the parking lot.

“For what? I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he laughed on the other end of the phone.

“You do when you forget to pick up your daughter from school!” you yelled, “what the fuck, Chad?!”

“Oh, shit,” he said, followed by an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“So now, I have to leave work early, go pick her up, bring her to my sisters, then go back to work, if I even have a job anymore; all because what? You got drunk last night, again? Spending all that money on alcohol, when you can’t even give me fifty bucks to feed your daughter!” you yelled, “I have no issue taking you back to court if that’s how you wanna do things.”

“I don’t have a job, how the fuck do you expect me to give you any money?!” he yelled back.

“THE SAME WAY YOU GET MONEY FOR BOOZE!” you yelled, turning into the school parking. It was empty, being that school was over and everyone was gone for the day, with the exception of a few teachers. You turned into a parking spot and slammed the car in park.

“Just let me know when you’re home, I’ll come by and see her for a bit,” he said, his voice calm now.

“No,” you said, “you can see her another day. Now, I’m gonna hang up, so I can go get Lily. Get your shit together.”  

“(Y/N), I-,” he started, but you hung up, cutting him off. Shutting the car off, you got out and headed inside and to the front office and up to the counter by the secretary.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Lily’s mom,” you told the woman, presumably Mrs. Martin. There was a small window looking into one of the offices behind the desk, where you could see Lily was sitting. Her pigtails a mess from the day, she sat at a table doing what looked like some coloring.

“Let me go get her,” she smiled, standing up from her chair and heading back into the office. A few minutes later, she returned with her, hand in hand, while Lily’s other hand was clutching onto her artwork, and her little, pink backpack on her shoulder.

“Hi, mommy!” she giggled, running up to you. You smiled and leaned down, engulfing her in a big hug.

“Hi, my baby!” you said, kissing the top of her head, “how was school?”

“It was soooo fun, mommy. I love school!” she giggled, holding up the coloring sheet she was holding. It was a pig, colored in every color imaginable. “Look!”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, then looked up at Mrs. Martin, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“No need to apologize,” she said, “I loved having the company.”

“Lils, what do you say to Mrs. Martin?” you asked, taking a hold of her hand.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“Oh, you’re very welcome!” she smiled back at her, then the two of you headed back out to the car. You got Lily into her carseat and settled in, then got in drivers seat, then headed to your moms to drop her off.

“I’m sorry you had to wait, my girl.” you said, looking back at her through the rear view mirror, “but, I’m gonna drop you off at Aunt Casey’s, because I have to go back to work for a little bit.”

“Daddy was supposed to come get me,” she said, fiddling with a toy she had found in the back seat.

“I know, and I’m gonna talk to him about it later. Tell me how school was!” You said, quickly changing the subject, “meet any cute boys?”

“Eww, no!” She giggled, “boys are gross.”

“That’s my girl,” you laughed, pulling into your sisters driveway then getting out and heading up to the door.

“Lily!” She exclaimed when she opened the door, “how’s my girl?”

“Good,” she smiled, pushing past her and walking inside.

“Can you watch her till I get off?” You asked, “Chad was supposed to get her, but…”

“Typical Chad?” She asked, rolling her eyes, “wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Yeah, I’m not getting into it right now, but I’ll pick her up when I get off,” you stated.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” she smiled.

“Thank you,” you sighed with relief, “I owe you.”

You made your way back to the car, then headed back to work.

—-

“Everything good?” Kristen asked when you got back to work and set your stuff down.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, plopping down in the computer chair.

“He have a good excuse?” Jana asked.

“Does he ever?” You scoffed, “he ‘forgot’.”

“Woooow,” Kristen said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s good now. My sisters gonna watch her,” you said, getting up from the chair and walking over to the counter, looking through your last patient files for the day, sighing, “I need a drink.”

“Come out with us tonight,” Kristen said, leaning back in the desk chair, “it’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, resting your elbow on the counter, “I suppose I can get my sister to watch Lily for the rest of the night.”

“Yes! I’ll get David to bring one of his friends, Joe, for you,” Jana said, “he’s an actor, he lives here in LA, and he’s looking to start dating, too.”

“I told you, I kind of already gave up on dating,” you said.

“Just give Joe a shot,” she said, pulling out her phone to text David, “I think you two will really hit it off.”

Tags: @pietrorunsforme @okiegirl24 @joalsglasses @toger-raylor

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam France season 3, episode 9 reaction

Okay, I finally did this one! I’m not sure how many people still care since Skam France S3 ended back in March, but I wanted to complete the whole season. Sorry for the delay, anyone still interested! I apologize if I forgot some crucial details in writing this since there was such a large gap between viewing the rest of the season.

Episode 9

Clip 1 - Guru advice for a sad boy

Lucas is lying on the couch after his rough night. Are they still going to make him sleep on the couch after this shit went down? Why is he even there anymore after he told them sobbing that this was his room now a few episodes ago? Or when he stumbled in with his boyfriend to fuck on the sofa and Lisa was like, yeah, make Manon sleep on the couch instead since she’s not getting any? Because I refuse to believe that Lucas chose to camp there voluntarily either when he was a) getting laid or b) in the throes of despair.

Mika checks in on him and tries to comfort him. There’s a nice, humanizing part where he says just because he seems happy all the time doesn’t mean he’s never sad, and just because he sleeps around now doesn’t mean he’s never been in love. Lucas apologizes for saying a dumb thing and Mika says it’s OK to be dumb when you’re sad. But don’t be dumb too long, meaning don’t be sad too long. He gives Lucas a kiss on the forehead. So at least we’re getting some of this affection between them later in the season. 

Lucas asks Mika how you move on and Mika is just like … shrug. Like he literally shrugs. I mean, I get that there’s no easy answer, but you could have said that instead of leaving Lucas hanging, dude, give the guy a little relief.

Clip 2 - Lucas’ dad suuuuucks

Lucas is doing laundry and looking up bipolar disorder on his phone when Eliott sends him a picture, kinda similar to the one on IG of his raccoon fursona throwing away crumpled drawings? I think it’s be the same one. It’s like he’s trying to say something to Lucas but doesn’t know what. He sends another pic where the raccoon seems to want to call out to hedgehog but the hedgehog spurns him and doesn’t want to talk. Eliott then sends him a bunch of photos at once and Lucas texts him not to contact him because he's not dealing well right now. Which is kinda different from Isak’s reply to Even the night after? It might be lost in translation, but Isak was more “I don’t know what’s going on” and Lucas is like “I’m not dealing well with this,” so confusion vs. hurt/upset feelings.

More dramatic piano music as Lucas gets another text. not from Eliott, but from his dad, asking if it’s true he has a boyfriend. OK, so Dad is a homophobe? Because he sure took a while to answer his son (compared to Isak’s dad who answered him immediately). Like did he need almost a full week to process that his son was dating a guy, he didn’t text or call in the meantime? Dad says if that’s true that Lucas has a boyfriend, it’s not a good idea to bring him to church. He attributes it to Lucas’ mom not being able to understand, but this seems way more like Lucas’ dad’s problem. 

Isak’s dad wasn’t a great guy, but I think he genuinely didn’t have a problem with Isak being gay, or at least not a huge one. He responded to Isak’s coming out right away, said it was nice if Isak had a boyfriend and he would like to meet him, and checked in with Isak about whether he was sad about breaking up with his boyfriend. It’s very possible he wasn’t 100% fine with it, but it seemed like he was awkward at worst rather than actually disapproving. Lucas’ dad feels like he is seriously not OK with it even if he’s trying not to come across that way. He waited almost a week to respond to his son coming out to him and then didn’t say anything nice like “I’m happy for you” on top of that, he just said went into how it wasn’t a good idea to bring his boyfriend to church. Lucas’ mom’s possible reaction felt like an excuse for his own problem. And I don’t think it was even her potential response as a religious person, but maybe the dad thinking that Lucas should keep his gay relationship away from the church as a general rule.

Lucas starts to type out that it was a joke (about having a boyfriend), but deletes the message and doesn’t reply, then seems about to cry again. So like Isak, he can’t bear to say it wasn’t real. 

Also, by this point in Isak’s season, Isak had come out to both his parents, and he got his mother’s acceptance text right at his lowest point, when he needed it. So at least that weight was off his back. Lucas hasn’t even told her about having a boyfriend yet, so it’s just pure misery for him with no relief. He’s probably even more anxious about his mom rejecting him because of his dad’s text.

Clip 3 - Charles is THE ACTUAL WORST, NO EXAGGERATION

Manon and Emma are talking about Charles when Lucas gets home. Can we please inform the remake writers that this storyline is not even necessary in adaptations where the William actors don’t leave the show? Remember how much Noorhelm there was in S4? If it’s like this in S3 what will the Manon and Charles drama be in Imane’s season? Or will it be toned down in that season and is only more prominent in this one as a way to incorporate the girl squad more in a boy’s season?

However, Manon says Lucas can stay to hear about what happened with her and Charles, which is seriously a sweet moment since it shows how close they are and how much she trusts him. Additionally, he gets to return the favor (of sorts), because Manon supported him and Eliott and was there for him when he was falling apart, so now Lucas can listen to Manon’s story and support her in her time of need.

Manon tells her story. At first it was great with her and Charles, then he got busy working for his dad and Manon had classes, and she didn’t make many friends. I like that she’s all “not my strong point” to Emma; that’s nice continuity, since Emma was the first friend she made at her new school, and they bonded over not having friends, heh. Manon got summoned to testify against Nico and she was upset about it; Charles noticed but she couldn’t talk about it. Then Charles went back to Paris to see his mom and Nico was invited without warning. They talked, Nico cried a lot, he was depressed and regretted what happened. Charles thought Nico needed therapy, but prison would fuck up his life. Especially because Nico didn’t even rape Manon. Yes, that is what Charles actually said to Manon. The fuck.

Charles said he would support Manon in whatever choice but really, while he didn’t impose anything on her, he also didn’t support her. The day of the trial, she went to court but ended up leaving before it happened. Charles asked how it went and she told him the truth, but that she wasn’t coming home, either. Manon didn’t tell anyone what happened because she was embarrassed about leaving for London with her dream man and coming back after only a few months. She felt so stupid. Manon cries, Emma is supportive, Lucas suggests they all drink. Emma is like YESSSSS. Lucas is not surprised Emma wants to drink.

Manon is like, the last time I drank wasn’t exactly great. I mean ... good point, maybe not the best idea to remind her of Nico right now. Except Emma is like, I won’t make out with you, OK? Lucas is like, neither will I. Heh.

I’ll pay a compliment before I get into my rant: Marilyn Lima did a great job depicting Manon’s breakdown. I really felt for her. And that made me angrier at this narrative choice, honestly.

OK, I’m just like ... exasperated. And disgusted. I am not a Noorhelm fan. I didn’t like this story in Skam about why Noora left London. I think it illustrated why Noorhelm were not compatible as a couple, because the same mistakes were happening in S4 that happened with them in S2; just like when he ditched Noora at school when he heard from Niko and then ignored her texts telling him it was rape for days as she begged with him to talk to her, this incident again showed that William was not capable of supporting Noora to the degree she needed it. Sure, it’s a lovely moment when he holds her as she’s panicking, but what about when he cruelly removes that tenderness and love when he finds out why she’s panicking? It was her sexual assault, not his, and I know it’s more complicated because his brother was the perpetrator, but he still needed to put his own feelings aside and support his girlfriend, the victim. When he can’t do that, repeatedly, then we really need to question whether he is the right person for Noora. Not to mention that this issue was resolved off-screen, with Noora being vaguely like “we talked and I understand him so much better now” as if Noora’s failure to understand William’s feelings is the real problem here. Not to mention any other criticism I could say about Noorhelm. And in some ways I think Marles was worse than Noorhelm; there were times when Charles was more of a domineering asshole than William (the scene where he leaves Manon crying on the ground, for example, is even nastier). 

So I say this as someone who doesn’t really care about the pairing … did they have to make Charles so much of an irredeemable asshole here? 

Charles probably has some “good” reason for his behavior that we’ll find out later. Too bad I don’t give a fuck what it is. He minimized his girlfriend’s sexual assault because the attacker - his brother - didn’t technically rape Manon, because the brother is just so upset about it and crying and he needs therapy, not prison. Fuck Charles. Nico is probably manipulating him, or maybe Charles is doing this for his mother’s sake so her son doesn’t go to prison, who knows, but whatever the reason, he basically planted the idea in Manon’s head that Nico didn’t need to go to jail. He downplayed her need for justice. He downplayed her trauma. Like … the only acceptable explanation is that Charles was replaced by a pod person or an evil clone in Paris, and in S4 the real Charles fights his way out of the underground secret laboratory where he’s being held hostage and tells Manon the truth. That is the only way I will accept Charles and Manon endgame after this.

I would not have a problem with this development were I confident that Manon and Charles were going to break up for good. Okay, that makes sense as a factor that permanently separates them. I do still think it’s kind of frustrating and pointless, like why the fuck did we spend a whole season on their supposedly great and epic love if Charles was going to commit the same selfish and hurtful mistakes he did in S2? I think it would be fine to do a storyline where Marles/Noorhelm doesn’t work out because Charles just can’t be the guy Manon needs him to be, but like … that should be the story of S2. When they’re the focus of a season. When you can develop that idea clearly because the POV allows it. You could get them together earlier in the season and do an arc similar to Eva’s where the Noora realizes that while she loves William, it’s best if they break up because they don’t work as a couple (even if this might be a redundant storyline after S1, I think it could still have value in trying to portray girls not putting up with their boyfriends’ bad behavior). But not “we spent a full season trying to convince you they belong together, but something happens off screen and they broke up.” That’s narratively unsatisfying. And anyway, this whole rant is probably pointless, because my issue is that I don’t think they’re going to break them up for good. Charles will come swooping back later in S4 just like William did. He’ll likely have some weak excuse that we’re supposed to accept as justified for putting Manon through all of this pain. For fuck’s sake, even if, IDK, Nico was threatening Manon if she testified against him, or something dire like that, so Charles had to find a way to discourage her - in what world is it not better to tell Manon about this than to keep it to himself?

You know what? Even if you have sympathy for Charles, even if you think it’s understandable that he doesn’t want his brother to go to prison, however loathsome said brother might be - that still doesn’t mean he’s right for Manon. Maybe they love each other, maybe it’s not fair, but if he cannot support Manon entirely over his brother here, then this relationship will never ever be healthy. She is a victim of sexual assault; Nico is the one who assaulted her. There is no grey area to this situation. So if Charles cannot accept that, then he and Manon cannot and should not be in a romantic relationship; Manon deserves someone who can support her through her recovery of a harrowing experience wholeheartedly. I do understand if Charles has complicated feelings about the issue, but frankly then he needs to go to therapy and work them out with someone who is not the victim of a traumatic crime.

I mean, shit happens, sometimes you have to account for sudden unplanned factors, like when Thomas Hayes left the show. But Michel Biel didn’t as far as I know, so there was no reason to insert this frankly evil drama into the narrative. There was no reason to send Manon to London at all? She was going to move in with Charles. That was literally what was planned for them after S2 to free up a room for Lucas. It’s just so goddamn dumb. 

I’m trying to consider if maybe the purpose of this crap was to make a parallel to Lucas’ situation, maybe to show Lucas how Eliott must feel to be abandoned by the one he loves by showing Manon breaking down? But nah. If that was the case, it’s really not highlighted enough, I don’t think we see Lucas clearly link it to Eliott. I know subtlety isn’t this show’s strong suit, but this would have been so subtle as to not be present at all (which is why I don’t think it was intended). And it’s also way too big as drama not to have drastic consequences in itself.

God. I just. Why. Whyyyyyyy.

Clip 4 - Pity party turns to pity rave

They’re all hanging out and drinking, nice to see all three season leads so far get a scene together. Manon’s lying in Lucas’ lap, that’s cute. They’re bemoaning their love lives and it’s Emma’s turn to vent about her relationship with Alex. Manon suggests talking to him to find out if he has good qualities other than sex. See, I would buy this if all we knew about them was that they were hooking up, but we’ve seen through social media that they do hang out together outside of the bedroom? They go places together enough to document their experiences on IG. So they would’ve attempted conversations already, they would’ve tried to bond. I think it’s time for Emma to call it like it is: a satisfying sexual relationship, nothing more. 

Lucas is like, you’re lucky, you have a boyfriend unlike Manon and I. Dude, Lucas, come on. Emma is just FWBing it with Alex anyway, according to her. He’s drinking and getting sloppy and telling them about Eliott’s freak-out and him being bipolar and Emma is like, I have it worse. Lmao shut up, no you don’t. I get it in the sense that having a bipolar boyfriend is not a terrible thing, but Eliott’s manic episode is certainly a more drastic and serious thing than just being with some conversational dud who knows how to maneuver his penis. Even Lucas is like BUT MY BOYFRIEND IS BIPOLAR, though in his case I think it’s still the ableism peeking out.

Manon is like, excuse me, I have it the worst. They agree. I also agree. Charles is undoubtedly the worst.

Mika and Lisa come home and join in the debauchery. They put on a disco light and everyone dances. It’s very tonally jarring and I think it’s supposed to be kinda not actually happening? Or rather, some version of this is happening but Lucas’ POV is exaggerating or distorting it because he’s drunk. The lyrics are like “Take control” so I suppose this is his desperate way of reclaiming his messy emotional state 

I do like the shot of Mika showing off his nipples and Lucas seeing it and being like … nope. 

Manon and Emma make out and Lisa and Mika make out and I’m kinda cranky about it, because I don’t need more straight girl hawt drunk make-outs or a gay guy kissing his female roommate, like what a double dose of bullshit. More generously, I can attribute this to Lucas hallucinating and being out of sorts while he’s drunk and so imagining “wrong things” like everyone around him standing still, Manon and Emma kissing when they’re not a couple, Mika and Lisa kissing when Mika is gay, etc. 

It’s all fun and games and party electronic dance makeouts until Lucas slows down and gets miserable. Things get blurry. He can’t drink his angst away, not for long. 

There’s a shot spliced in of Eliott making eye contact with him on the dance floor in episode 3, as Lucas is coming down from his high. Nice inclusion as Lucas is trying to escape his problems but of course he can’t get over Eliott or his sadness that easily.

There’s possibly more you could analyze about the composition of the ending but the editing kinda gave me a headache so I only watched the clip once, sorry.

Clip 5 - Basile isn’t a dumbass for once

Lucas is very hungover at school on Monday. Yann is like oooo, night out with Eliott? Lucas explains that it’s because of Eliott that he got drunk. He says Eliott is bipolar as Arthur and Basile sit down. Arthur is like, Kanye West is bipolar. Maybe not the best example to use in 2019, bro. 

Honestly they’ve ruined Basile SO FUCKING MUCH with his horrible creepy sexism that I can’t even enjoy this moment from him where he talks about his mom. I mean, this is easily the best Basile has been all season, and if they hadn’t made him so disgusting, it’d be a great scene for him. And I completely understand people liking him in this moment. Hell, divorced from anything else in this season, I like him in this moment! But I cannot get over how atrocious their depiction of him has been elsewhere in the story, like I’m glad he dropped some wisdom on Lucas but this isn’t some magical fix-it that will erase my negative feelings about him.

Like for example, Basile says the first time his mom saw a Tom Cruise movie, she fell madly in love with him and flew to LA and went to his house and got removed by the cops. And not to be insensitive since this is an example of her mania, but my first thought was, “Oh, stalking runs in the family.”

The rest of the dialogue is pretty similar to OG where Basile inquires about how Eliott is doing and he suggests Lucas talk to Eliott, Lucas is a dumbass for listening to Eliott’s ex, etc. Basile says it seems like Eliott really wanted to be with Lucas, and that there are times when it will suck, but if Lucas wants to be with Eliott, he’s got to do it, you have to take people as they are. I dislike the music intruding over the end - I don’t think it’s well-timed and it feels forced - but other than that, the message is fine.

Clip 6 - Bye bye foyer

I like how Lucas and Yann are kinda cuddled into each other as they share earbuds and the couch. Lucas is still wearing his ROMANCE sweatshirt despite being deep in heartbreak. I admire his commitment to love.

There’s a little meta joke because they’re watching a show on Yann’s phone, and he says it’s episode 9, and it’s almost over. Which is of course a reference to it being episode 9 of Skam France with the season almost over, heh.

Lucas gets a text from his mom about going to confession and how God forgives those who deviate from the path as long as they come back to it. This leads into the coming out from his mom, and THAT GODDAMN TINKLY PIANO MUSIC starts up again. I do think it’s been used appropriately at times, but at other moments it feel so soap opera-ish and overly dramatic. Sometimes it seems like Skam France is a really insecure show, like how they have characters state the obvious like they were afraid the audience wouldn’t get it, or they go for the OTT music as if the writing, acting, and directing won’t be enough to elicit an emotional reaction.

I mean I realize it is Bad and Wrong to compare Skams but remember in the original version of this scene where Isak just sat and typed out this entire, very long message, and it was silent except for the cafe noises and the camera stayed still on him the whole time, because Julie trusted the audience not to fidget and for Tarjei’s acting and the importance of the scene to hold everyone’s attention? And in Skam France we get the music and the camera will not stop moving like they assume the audience is made of easily bored toddlers who need stuff swirling in front of their eyes at all times. Speaking of, WHY ALL THE FUCKING PANS, why does the camera need to move so much, whyyyyyyyy. It’s distracting and doesn’t even fit for the emotional tone of the scene, really? Like isn’t he actually pretty steady writing this to his mom? Shouldn’t the cinematography reflect that?

Lucas starts to type a text about how he met someone and don’t get mad at him, but he deletes it and just types out a message saying he’s gay, sorry if it hurts or disappoints you, see you on Friday, love you. And Lucas’ mom texts him back immediately to tell him she loves him, too, and that she’s proud of him.

Heavy sigh. I feel bad being negative about this scene because it is important and beautiful for Lucas to hear, he’s profoundly touched by his mother’s acceptance, but boy oh boy did they minimize the impact of this scene, even aside from my gripes with the cinematography and music. 

So the Religion clip was the catalyst for Isak coming out to his mom, and he specifically uses Sana’s words to come out to her. None of the S3 remakes seem to understand that clip’s importance to the Isak character except that hey, talking about religion and homosexuality is good! It aggravates me because it makes it seem like the writers missed a basic connection within the story; they think stuff just happens in the season Just Because and don’t get the cause and effect (like the generalization dialogue earlier in the season, something both France and Italia included without really seeming to get why it was there other than “the message is important”). And I mean, you can adapt the religion scene so it’s not the same! You can adapt the message, it doesn’t have to be verbatim. But not connecting the religion clip to Lucas coming out to his mom makes that relationship between Lucas and Imane less meaningful. It makes the scene more of a tangent rather than an important stepping stone in Lucas’ coming out narrative. It’s just there.

Again, I hate being sour about this but it just makes me grumpy, like I feel this is a demonstration of the differences between Skam and Skam France. Skam did this simple, quiet coming out scene where we just lingered on the actor for a while and which was built up to within the narrative by a prior scene that linked the two thematically, and which delivered the “punchline” with some excellent pacing (where Isak’s mom didn’t reply until when we least expected it, and with powerful timing and execution, when Isak most needed to hear it), and Skam France flies by this pivotal scene and does it in under two minutes like it’s getting it out of the way, with nothing remarkable about pacing and timing, but with dramatic music and camera movement.

Part of my problem is that honestly, I feel like Skam France kind of ... doesn’t care about this moment. Consider the amount of time given to Lucas’ coming out to his mom and her acceptance, versus the amount of time for the foyer stuff that takes up the rest of the clip. I feel like other than Yann’s random initial rejection, all of Lucas’ coming out stuff has been so smoothed over and easy, not just from an outsiders’ perspective, but from a personal psychological perspective. And it’s not that I expect CONSTANT TORMENT but it feels massively oversimplified, like these scenes are just obligatory. I hate to say this because I know the screenwriter is gay and I don’t want to diminish any personal anecdotes on coming out he brought to the story, whether this reflects his own experience. But I almost feel like they knew the Evak fans would flock to this season (which is true, we know with all the behind the scenes stuff and cast interviews they were doing that were blatantly to appeal to shippers) and so they allocated some screen time to getting in the shippy romantic content while pushing aside some of the pesky, less exciting stuff that doesn’t have to do with romance. Like for instance, coming out to one’s mom.

I do like that when Lucas is crying, Yann asks him if he’s OK and Lucas is just kinda like, yeah, I’m fine, and Yann smiles at him. It’s a simple, nice moment.

But here I go again. Just the fact that this incredibly pivotal and meaningful scene is cut off so we can get to the fucking common room drama?? The common room is more important that Lucas coming out to his mom?? They could have at least made the coming out moment a separate clip from the foyer stuff with the principal. It’s not like they haven’t been doing that all season, splitting up big scenes into two or more clips. (And yeah, Isak’s coming out to his mom didn’t have its own clip, but the content surrounding it was at least extremely important and concerned Isak on a very personal level, compared to the foyer stuff.)

The principal storms in and yells because the students have been snatching the Wifi. Daphne takes the blame and gets in trouble for it. Then the principal hears giggling from another room and there is the nerd dude who set up the Wifi and Chloé’s friend Maria, getting cozy on the mattress. They get up and run off when the principal yells at them. Okay, who the FUCK thought it was a good idea to put a mattress in a room behind a closed door, in a school full of hormonal teenagers??? Did you not think this is where it would lead? Idiots.

The principal is roaring mad and yells at Daphne more. What’s next, a Fight Club (lmao, I wouldn’t be surprised) or a heroin den? He singles out the mural as peak bullshit and tells the students to pack up their things. The foyer is closed. And they have to come in on Saturday to repaint the mural.

Lucas is like, no, that’s where I lost my virginity! It’s a monument to my first experience with gay sex! No, actually he just defends it as an homage to Jackson Pollock. Yann defends it more calmly, but the principal gives them both detention. Well, that’s not fair, Yann didn’t deserve that.

Imane stands in front of the principal and gives a speech about how they all participated in the mural and how it means something to them and represents their differences, difference races and sexual orientations. It shows how they can all live together. And now he wants to paint over the mural in white, of all colors? It’s a good speech not because she means it, because L M F A O they did not all paint that fucking mural, Lucas and Eliott splashed some paint on the wall before fucking against it, but because it appeals to the principal’s sense of self-preservation. Does he really want to erase the mural that represents his marginalized students and the harmony and diversity of the school? Does he really want to risk the backlash?

The principal backs down from the mural and leaves. Wait a minute. Imane didn’t actually mean that speech did she? Because lmao, this mural did not mean anything about diversity. There’s an ass print on the wall, for fuck’s sake.

I think she was definitely manipulating the principal and going over-the-top, but the issue is that the rest of the season then tries to play her words as sincere, like that’s the whole point of them standing up for the foyer in the finale, that it’s a place that brings different people together.

Anyway, they’re all sad. The foyer is closing! Daphne says there will be a solution, the others comfort and reassure her. 

Maybe because I’m in a bad mood from the coming out part of the scene but: I do not care about the foyer. Actually, I care about it a tiny bit in that Daphne would be sad if it closed and Daphne is my girl but other than that? Nah. 

And you know what? The principal had a fucking point! Multiple points! They did host a party after school hours where dozens of students broke into the school and potentially caused mess or damage. They were stealing Wifi to the point where it was slowing down the network. They did have a room with a mattress where two students were just caught in the act of trying to hook up. He was being petty about the mural, but other than that? He’s not wrong. I love Daphne but looking at it from the POV of a meanie adult, she’s enabled a lot of irresponsible actions with this foyer regardless of possible negative consequences.

But mostly? I don’t care about this. I’m weary of how the foyer has encroached on Lucas’ season the way the bus took over Sana’s season. I only gave a shit about the bus because as it meant something to Sana with reconciling her Norwegian culture with her Muslim/Moroccan culture, and because I wanted to see the girl squad have fun in the bus, not because I cared about the bus in itself and how big it is or whether it has certain features or if they can afford a bus as opposed to a van. Likewise, I care about the foyer only in how it relates to the main characters, and so far mostly it’s just Daphne’s investment in it.  Lucas’ investment in the foyer is mainly that he and Eliott did the mural and fucked there, a scene that was ridiculous in itself, so I have a hard time caring about it. 

But like … if Lucas really cared about this foyer instead of seeming just along for the ride for most of its development? It would make more thematic sense in the season. Like if he and Eliott were more actively involved in fixing up the foyer all season instead of just the mural scene, if it really represented something to them. Say he and Eliott had more meetings and flirtations in there. Or Lucas secretly crashed here when he was having problems at home. If this foyer really felt important to Lucas. Because honestly, I feel like his involvement is mostly “the girls asked him to do something and he did it because he had nothing better to do/got railroaded into it.”

He does text later that the mural is all he has left of Eliott. But the mural is now safe? The principal backed down from painting over the mural. So again … who cares.

IDK, I feel like there were so many ways this could be better. For example, if the foyer was more actively a place that represented diversity and LGBT rights and anti-racism and political activism. If the mural had some legitimate political commentary behind it, or they’d hung a pride flag somewhere and the principal came in and told them to take it down. Or maybe he just got word that a gay couple (aka Lucas and Eliott) were being snuggly in here - not that they banged, just that they were kissing and holding hands in a place that made them feel safe and welcome, and he came in to shut it down in a way that was loaded with microaggressions against them. Then the foyer would genuinely feel like something that needed to be protected. As it is, I’m just like … he’s not wrong about anything he said, lmao, and the idea that the foyer is some haven of diversity and different people coming together feels totally tacked on.

Clip 7 - Lucas’ mom is great

Lucas goes to church and meets with his mom. His mom greets him warmly and hugs him, so that’s very sweet. But it turns out Lucas’ dad isn’t coming. Mama blames it on leaving too many voicemails for him, and that she thinks he doesn’t want to see her anymore since the separation. Nah, I think Lucas’ dad is just a turd, and probably a big homophobe.

Mama says people are the way they are, you can’t try to change them, they have good qualities and their faults. We just need time to understand. So kinda similar to what Basile said earlier about taking people as they are. Lucas ponders that and they go inside the church.

I’m kinda ehhh on them using a church for this scene, considering there hasn’t been as much religious symbolism in this season? Lucas’ mom did send him Bible texts, and there was the Lucas light/dark stuff, but that didn’t seem explicitly tied to religion the way the Isak birth/rebirth stuff was through the 21:21 reference, or the baptism imagery, Even’s Halloween costume, the presence of Christmas? However, I could totally just be missing something. And I don’t think it’s wrong for them to use a church, just that I think it’s a church because it was a church in Skam, rather than because they built up the religious symbolism in this season.

Clip 8 - Run for your love

Lucas and his mom are in church. There are some shots of candles so I guess that’s a tie-in to the light/dark imagery. Or that Lucas is finally seeing the light, heh.

The mass starts and soon Lucas gets a text from Lucille about how no one can find Eliott and they’re freaking out. So Eliott himself doesn’t send Lucas a text, let alone a goodbye text. He’s totally gone off the grid.

We get a montage through Lucas and Eliott’s relationship as the priest talks about how believers can find peace and comfort in God, God gives us the strength we need. No matter your sorrow, God accepts you and you’ll never be alone because God is with you. The church is your shelter. Mixed in with the priest’s words are images of Eliott, so it comes across pretty clearly that Eliott = God in this scenario? Lucas finds peace and comfort in Eliott, he gets strength through him, he’s not alone with Eliott.

I think this would come across a bit stronger if they had built up that religious symbolism throughout the season, because otherwise the Eliott = Lucas’ God thing is a little ... random. I get that they probably just wanted the priest’s words to resonate with Lucas rather then trying to say Eliott = God as a metaphor, but it’s one of those those things where they could have subtly planted connections all along. (I don’t remember any but I’m also finishing this recap like two months later, so I could’ve forgotten something.)

The montage is kinda funny if you consider that Lucas is in church, flashing back to the better times of him boning Eliott. I mean ... who wouldn’t, really.

I enjoy Seinabo Sey and appreciate Skam France using so much of her music, but at first I wasn’t sure how I feel about this choice of song. Is it too on the nose (“I’ll remember you” for a flashback montage)? Skam used plenty of songs with lyrics that described what was happening on screen. Does it fit the church setting? Eh, I don’t think a church scene needs a religious soundtrack. So the song choice has grown on me a bit since then.

I think the reason I was somewhat hesitant about the montage is that Lucas gets a text that Eliott is missing and he just sits there for a few minutes flashing back to the good ol’ days instead of reacting immediately like oh shit, Eliott’s disappeared. Even if they’re not in a relationship, that’s still cause for concern. Whereas with Isak, he didn’t quite understand Even’s text at first; he just smiled and sat down because Even loved him and he read the text in a purely positive way. It was when he realized Even’s text was a possible suicide note that he left the church to go after him. I guess because Lucas was remembering his relationship with Eliott, he was able to figure out where Eliott might be? But still, seems like he should’ve reacted instantly to Eliott possibly being in trouble.

Lucas decides to go and tells his mom. They exchange I love yous, which is sweet and a great closing note for this relationship. The shot of him walking down the aisle feels like a direct homage to OG.

“Remember me under the sun” - OK so I guess that’s another light reference.

The growing intensity of the music is good and I was getting into the scene but dear lord, the slow mo of Lucas running is ABSURD. Why did this turn into Chariots of Fire all of a sudden? Why is Lucas running through the actual street and not the sidewalk, he’s going to get by a car!

OH MY GOD HE ALMOST DID GET HIT BY A CAR, WHY WAS THAT NECESSARY, I STARTED LAUGHING MY ASS OFF

Like was that some outtake where Axel Auriant almost got mowed down because they asked him to run in the fucking street and they decided to keep it in for the ~drama? Talk about a mood killer.

I do like that Lucas knew where to go because he knew it was a place special to Eliott, and to the two of them. And that he found Eliott in the dark and that Lucas brings the light on both of them (literally, with his cell phone). Maxence does a nice job of crying and looking heartbroken.

This scene isn’t bad (except for the running and almost getting hit by the car…. why) but it does makes me think the remakes really need to start from scratch with the climax of this season. Not just recreate an O Helga Natt-ish clip with similar setting, music, dialogue, or story beats, but to look independently at what the themes of the season are - not OG, their season - and then build up something that’s consistent with that. That’s a big part of why O Helga Natt is such a masterpiece: It ties together Isak’s main lessons throughout the season, as well as paying off foreshadowing and incorporating multiple motifs and threads of symbolism that have been developed along the way. 

So for example, just a small observation: Lucas tells Eliott he’s not alone anymore. Which is of course a line from O Helga Natt, and a line that does have a powerful meaning in this context. I’m not saying it’s a bad line in the slightest. But in O Helga Natt, Isak was saying it as a direct response to Even’s text message, in which he says “everyone is alone anyway.” And also in response to something Even said back in episode 5, about “the brain is alone” and being alone with your thoughts and the only way to escape is death. And to some degree in the hotel clip when Even said the alone way to have something forever was to lose it, just after they were talking about Isak and Even in infinite universes, as if Even was talking about losing Isak and being alone. It was established that Even had a fear of being alone. Here, Eliott does not send Lucas a text, so “You’re not alone anymore” is not a direct response to anything. And I don’t remember Eliott saying anything about being alone in episode 5, having that line of Even’s, or in episode 8 (Again, I took a long break between recaps so it’s very possible I just forgot Eliott’s prior comments about being alone to Lucas, feel free to remind me.) So while the line is sweet and supportive and powerful, IMO it lacks the extra punch that Isak’s “You’re not alone” did simply because Skam’s writing was tighter. I mean ... if Isak hadn’t said “You’re not alone,” would Lucas have said it to Eliott? Might he have said something else relevant to their relationship, rather than recreating an existing iconic line? I don’t know if I’m explaining myself clearly, and I truly don’t mean to make a mountain out of a molehill, because the line is perfectly fine here. It’s just that I think the remakes need to not lean on O Helga Natt so much, and instead rely on their own ingredients in the season to craft this climactic scene, if they want to create something with the most impact.

Social Media/General Comments:

Lucas doesn’t text Mika after the boat clip, he texts Manon. Which seems completely in line with those relationships, in my opinion. Isak texting Eskild and Eskild dropping everything to go home after the hotel is a testament to that relationship’s strength, but Lucas and Mika still don’t seem to have that degree of closeness, even if their relationship has gotten stronger. It’s Manon who Lucas seems closest to, the one who can cry with him and sit in silence together just for comfort. 

However, Lucas doesn’t give Manon the details or even imply something is wrong in his text to her; he writes a (typo-filled) draft where he explains what happened on the boat and then deletes it. I’m assuming he told her afterwards, but this is a really good detail! Skam France and other remakes sometimes miss innovative ways to use social media to enhance the story, and I think this small touch is quite clever. Lucas is shaken and distraught after the boat and writes this messy draft of a text to Manon, spilling everything, but he deleted it and went with a neutral text, holding back the information. The reason I think he deleted his explanatory text is not just because of how messed up it was, but because writing out everything - Eliott disappeared, he’s bipolar - would make it more real, and Lucas cannot handle that it the moment, it’s too much.

Mika sends Lucas a link to a sad song, for help with his wallowing, I guess. Maybe not the best thing to send tbh, but it was kindly meant. And Lucas posted on his IG story that he was listening to it, so perhaps it helped him.

The pity party was documented quite well on IG. I wonder what Eliott thought if he saw any of it? Lucas drunk and dancing ... could go “he’s upset” or “he’s glad to be rid of me” which tbh I could see happening in a depressed mindset.

Eliott posted colors to his IG - like just colors - and deleted them really fast. Which is another good use of social media here, possibly to illustrate his changing moods, to hint at his mindset (like his depression being just a dark gradient) I’m kind of like ... why didn’t they do something like this last week to hint at his mania?

Lucas contacted Eliott via text, saying he wanted to see him or talk. That would’ve been good to see in a clip, really.

People using Imane’s BS speech on IG to promote the common room cause = LMAO.

Lucas says the mural is all he has left of Eliott, which is at least some reason he’d care about protecting it and the foyer. The boys encourage him to go to Eliott’s place, and Lucas is hesitant, saying he was told to stay away. However, then there’s an IG story of Lucas outside Eliott’s building. 

Lol, OK, that’s something that definitely would be better as a clip rather than a stalker-y IG post. I mean, when you think about it, isn’t it kind of weird for him to broadcast that to the world? I guess he hoped Eliott would see it and know Lucas cares and wants to talk to him?

But sooo many questions. Like ... did Lucas try to ring the bell or contact Eliott while he was there ... or did he just stand looking up at his window like a creep ... how long was he standing there ... I don’t think they thought this one through. Yeah, absolutely should have been an actual clip so we know what the hell happened. 

Ok I realize it is sooooo after the fact, and regarding this topic that has already been discussed to death, I hate to come back with another rant like AND ANOTHER THING!!!! but at some point I came to another realization about why Yann’s reaction to Lucas’ coming out is bad and stupid and I wanted to get it out because it has been bugging me.

Yann’s reaction is bad and stupid because the “you weren’t honest with me/told everyone else but me” reaction is often fake and disingenuous. Like I hate to generalize and I’m sure that somewhere in the history of the world, someone has genuinely been hurt that their friend came out to other people before them, but also, sorry, I don’t think it’s a common authentic reaction. It’s a smokescreen for homophobia. 

So let’s talk about Please Like Me. Please Like Me is one of my favorite non-Skam shows ever. Like Skam S3, its protagonist, Josh, is a young gay man just accepting that he is gay and coming out (although he’s older than Isak). Like Isak, Josh has a mentally ill mother. Like Skam S3, Josh gets into a relationship with a mentally ill person. It’s less idealistic and more painful than Skam, but still completely worth a watch, I highly recommend checking it out.

At one point in Please Like Me, Josh goes with his boyfriend, Arnold, to Arnold’s birthday party with Arnold’s family. Arnold is not out to his family yet and is planning to come out to them at the party. However, in a previous episode Arnold told his friends that his dad has said he doesn’t like gay people and told Arnold to quit singing in a choir because people would think he was a (homophobic slur) and beat him up. So, Arnold’s dad is an established homophobic asshole!

At the party, Arnold announces to his family that he’s gay and dating Josh. Arnold’s brother and mom are like “Yeah, we knew,” which is not the best thing to say but they’re overall chill and supportive. Meanwhile, Arnold’s dad stands there with a sour look on his face. When he does finally speak, he says that he’s been “backed into a corner” - presumably because the rest of family supports Arnold, and because they have other guests with them looking expectantly at him waiting for him to say he’s OK with Arnold being gay. Like he’s basically saying he doesn’t have the freedom to react negatively. You know, something a total non-homophobe would say! Then he starts going in on Arnold for lying to him, and saying the biggest problem is that Arnold didn’t feel he could be honest with him. (Then he knocks over a croquembouche.) Arnold’s dad leaves, but not before telling his wife that Arnold should be gone when he gets back.

Why am I bringing up Please Like Me? Because Please Like Me, created-written-directed-acted by real-life gay man Josh Thomas, is smart enough to recognize that homophobes often direct their disapproval into other excuses to be upset when someone comes out. Arnold’s dad didn’t stand there and rant about how homosexuality is wrong or gross. He didn’t say anything about homosexuality at all. Instead, he funneled his feelings into the weaselly excuse of “you weren’t honest with me.” (This right after Arnold has said, in his coming out speech, that his best chance at happiness is to be honest. Honesty in this case acknowledging he’s gay and has a boyfriend.) But let’s be real: if that were the case, if Arnold’s dad were upset about the lying rather than his son’s sexuality, would he really get that angry? Enough to effectively kick his son out of the house? To knock over a goddamn croquembouche? No, this scene is obviously about a father being pissed that his son is gay. But he feels “backed into a corner” and it’s not like he can say he’s upset that his son is gay in front of everyone else, in front of the guests, his son’s boyfriend, his wife and other son who have known for a long time and are fine with it.  

Circling back to Skam France: we had Yann upset enough with Lucas coming out to him, for Totally Non-Homophobic Reasons, to walk away from him because he was hurt Lucas didn’t come out to him first. And I do believe the writer intended for Yann to not be homophobic at all! But it’s such a shitty, cheap excuse for drama, such a flimsy rationale for Yann’s reaction, one that doesn’t fit his prior behavior at all, that frankly, it pings too close to a smokescreen. Like Skam France is trying to pass off this blatantly artificial reaction as genuine. If someone reacted like this IRL, my gut feeling would be that they were a fucking homophobe. They’re most likely homophobic but aware that openly saying bad things about gay people, openly expressing their disapproval, is not a good look for them. Or they’re homophobic but trying to tell themselves they’re not by channeling their disappointment into other reasons that don’t rely on discomfort with homosexuality. It’s completely plausible and even probable for people to have some homophobic hangups under the surface, that in theory they were OK with gay people but when your best friend is staring you in the face telling you he’s in love with another man, those hangups might suddenly rise up.

And if somehow we give these reactions the benefit of the doubt, that someone is truly upset because “you lied to me” or “you didn’t tell me first?” - that person’s still a selfish asshole. Think about it. Your friend is confessing an extremely vulnerable secret about themselves, something that may have caused them great internal stress and pain, and you’re mad that they didn’t tell you sooner? Fuck off. 

Anyway. The point I’m making is: in a Doylist sense, I think Yann’s reaction is not homophobic. The Skam France team really didn’t think of it that way. In a Watsonian sense, I call bullshit. Yann walking off during the coming out scene is most plausible if Yann actually had a homophobic reaction to Lucas’ coming out, and needed some time to process it before accepting Lucas’ sexuality. His explanation to Lucas is weak and unlikely. If it is true, that makes Yann a self-centered asshole. I know people don’t react perfectly and obviously Yann stepped the fuck up for Lucas afterwards but let’s acknowledge it for what it is, prioritizing one’s entitlement to someone else’s deepest, most painful secrets over their comfort and safety in keeping those secrets. 

To be clear, I don’t hate Yann, not at all, and I attribute this mess solely to bad writing. It’s one of those things where the intent is different from the finished product. In analysis of Yann or Skam France or whatever, I’d acknowledge the intended purpose of that creative decision to make Yann walk away. But I’m also acknowledging that this creative decision is some stupid shit, lmao. And I’m aware the screenwriter is gay, and for all I know this is based on personal experience, but for now this scenario feels fake and manufactured only for drama, and inauthentic to how people would genuinely think and react in these scenarios. Someone who walks out on their friend when said friend comes out is probably homophobic to some degree, or else self-centered as fuck. Simple as that.

I am not French, so please feel free to correct me on any translation or cultural notes that I missed.

Like I said, I took a break from recaps, so I also might have forgotten certain details of this season, feel free to remind me of any of those, too!

If you got this far - and if you are still reading this after all this time - thank you very much, I love you!

[doyouevenshipbr0]

gruvia drabble

author’s note: imma keep it real w/ yall... im a lil drunk rn!!! hope this fic is still good tho lmao! this is pertaining to the plot of the anime rn like how gray and juvia reunited after six months... well we never did get to hear gray’s explanation or apology..... so here it is! enjoy! side note: after actually writing this 1. im not rly drunk anymore, a shame. and 2. all my fics as of recently literally have the same exact format lol!!! cool! great!! we love a boring queen! ok hopefully i can stray from this format in the future but for now! here is ~this~.<3

*

“Oi, Juvia,” Natsu turned and called out to Juvia. They were finally beginning their long awaited journey back to Magnolia, to reform their guild, after just defeating Avatar. “Did you and Gray wanna’ go back to your cabin and get some of your stuff before you go back?”

“G-g-go back?! Just the two of us?! After all this time?!” Juvia’s face turned a blistering red as she cupped her fiery cheeks in her hands. It had been so long since they were both alone in that house together. What would it be like? How would they act? Would things be different?

“Oh yeah.” Gray calmly chimed in. “There are some things I wanna’ get.” He then turned to Juvia. “We should probably go.”

“O-of course! If Gray-sama insists!” She perked up, suddenly eager to go.

They caught a train back to the village they stayed in and made it there in a fairly short amount of time. Gray looked around their old home with suspicion.There wasn’t a soul to be seen. The town was once so full of life, and bright with spirit. Now the grey clouds above seemed to reflect the dreary village.

“Did something happen?” Gray asked Juvia as they casually walked through the town. “There’s nobody here.” He continued looking, looking for any sign of life.

“Oh.” Juvia remembered, and slouched slightly, partially ashamed. “Everyone kind of, well, left.” She said simply.

“What?” Gray was surprised. “Why?”

“Well...” She paused and took a moment to breathe. “Juvia’s rain sort of... came back, and it was, well, constant.” Her voice was sheepish. “It sort of drove everyone out of the village Juvia supposes.” She forced a smile and a fake lighthearted laugh.

That got Gray’s attention. He stopped looking through the village and snapped his focus onto Juvia. “What do you mean it came back?” He seemed annoyed.

“After Gray-sama left, Juvia’s rain came back.” She shrugged. Once she saw Gray’s look of what seemed like agitation, she began to panic. “It’s not a big deal or anything! Juvia was just being over-dramatic!” She gave another plastic smile, attempting to ease Gray.

“Tch.” Gray looked away from Juvia and turned back to the path to the way to their house, dropping the conversation.

Eventually, they approached their cabin. The wood that the house was built out of was seemingly becoming moldy, or at least dingy. All of the drapes to the windows were now closed, although Gray remembered Juvia always insisted they leave them open. The plants that Juvia adored that were littered around the porch were dead from drowning in her storm.

“Juvia is sorry the house is so out of shape, Gray-sama!” Juvia was embarrassed. She only ever had Gray on her mind, so she never took the time to worry about the appearance of their home once he was gone. Even though that place meant everything to her, she seemed to completely disregard it.

“Stop it.” Gray said, harshly. He didn’t need Juvia to explain herself. It was ridiculous of her. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re just here to get our stuff.”

“Right.” Juvia nodded.

Inside, the rooms were dark, and dusty. It was hard for Gray to believe they even lived their at one point, that this was the same home they shared. He remembered Juvia always making a fuss about keeping the place clean, and decorative, and so full of life: some things that this foreign lot was lacking.

Gray was finished packing up first. He had all of his belongings in a duffel bag with a couple other things held in his hand. The door to Juvia’s room was open, so he walked in and leaned on the frame of the doorway.

“Yo.” Juvia flinched to Gray’s low voice, it had been so long since she heard it. She paused her packing and turned around. “I’m all packed up. If you need any help just let me-” Gray paused. As he looked around, Juvia’s room seemed to follow the same format as the rest of the rooms. Dull, gloomy, muted, but something caught his eye.

“What’s this?” He set his belongings down. He walked over to her bedside table towards a vile of red liquid, which was now almost empty. 

“Oh, well, nothing really.” Juvia sporadically said with a forced chuckle and quickly was at Gray’s side, hoping to take the bottle before he could get a good look at it.

“Medicine?” He read the label of the bottle. “And it looks like Wendy’s handwriting.” He turned to Juvia.

“Y-yes.” Juvia took a step back and nervously held her hands together. “Wendy-san made that potion for Juvia.” She looked away.

“Why?”

“Juvia was, uh, well, sort of sick.” She remained avoiding eye contact.

“Sick?” Gray’s voice and tone raised. “You were sick? And Wendy couldn’t cure it with just her magic? She had to make a potion?” All of these little things were building up to one big slap in Gray’s face.

“Juvia had a very bad fever. I was sitting outside most of the time, so it was caused by my rain...” She said to the volume of that of a mouse, fidgeting her hands.

“Oh my god.” Gray sunk. He put the bottle back on the table and collapsed onto the bed, holding his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. Just what had he done?

“B-but none of this is Gray-sama’s fault!” She was quick to perk up and defend Gray.

“All of this is my fucking fault!” Gray lifted his head and snapped his gaze to Juvia with sharp, blunt eyes, glistening with a sheen of tears. Juvia dropped her defense, and looked back beneath her.

“If it weren’t for me, this place wouldn’t look like shit, your rain wouldn’t have come back, and you wouldn’t have gotten sick!” He was angry. Juvia said nothing. “Am I wrong?!”

Juvia’s shoulders began to bog, jaggedly, up and down. She had finally broken. She was out of false excuses.

“Why did you leave me, Gray-sama?” She looked back up to him, tears overflowing in her piercing, yet helpless gaze. 

Gray’s eyes widened, the sight before him caused his breath to catch itself in his throat.

“I-it was a secret mission.” He looked away, bringing the blank look back to his face. “It was to get more info on Zeref. I had to go, and Erza told me I couldn’t tell or bring anyone.”

Juvia’s tears fell onto her face, and then onto the floor.

“Juvia knows.” Her head was down, once again. She gathered her composure, slightly, for a mere moment. “Juvia understands. Putting and end to Zeref and E.N.D is very important to Gray-sama. This was all for the best.” She sniffled. “So, why..?” She brought her hands up to her eyes, and lost the weak grip she had on herself for that second, and began sobbing into her palms.

“So why is Juvia so hurt?”

Gray said nothing for a brief instant. He looked at her, although she did not return the contact, with shock and sorrow in his eyes. He didn’t know what to think, and he couldn’t place Juvia’s emotions, but he knew what he was feeling.

Remorse, guilt, responsibility, sadness, Gray’s heart was a melting pot of these horrible things. He couldn’t bare to see her in so much pain before, and all because of him. He would not be the reason she shed tears. He refused, especially after all she’d done for him. She was by his side, supporting him through everything. Even after he abandoned her for six months, she still did nothing but be there for him. 

He quickly arose from the bed and wrapped his arms around her, with her hands still covering her eyes, causing her breath to stop in surprise for a second.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry.” His words were soft though his face was flinty. He stared at the wall as he brought his hand up to the back of Juvia’s head, firmly bringing her face to his chest, as he rested his chin atop her.

“G-Gray-sama should not have to apologize.” She shook her head as she sobbed into his chest, her voice muffled.

“Like hell I shouldn’t” His voice was even lower. “So cut the crap. You’re allowed to be sad. From some aspects, what I did,” He paused. “What I did to you was a shity thing. Really shitty.” Her cries were much softer as he spoke. He remembered all the scolding Natsu gave him, and manifested it into his words.“So let me say I’m sorry.” He grumbled through his pouted lips as his cheeks were colored pink.

Juvia finally removed her hands from her face and wrapped her arms around Gray, being encased by his warmth. The warmth that she had missed, so very much.

“It’s ok.” She hummed; her mood was already much better just by appreciating being in Gray’s hold. “Juvia is glad Gray-sama is ok.”

She held on even tighter, and in about a minute, her instincts kicked in. Her mind began to soar with thoughts of Gray, and his big, toned arms that were engulfing her. She subconsciously began to sniff him, and exhale with delight.

“Ahh.” She swooned. “Gray-sama still smells just as delicious as he always has.” She snuggled up against him. 

“O-kay” Gray announced. “That’s enough of that.” He said, avoiding Juvia’s odd comment. He pulled her away from him and turned back to his things. “We should probably head out. The guild isn’t gonna’ rebuild itself.”

“Aw!” Juvia said, defeated, and dramatically slouched over.

“Don’t sound so disappointed cause’ I stopped you from smelling me! Don’t you realize that ain’t normal!?” He exclaimed.

“Juvia doesn’t care about what’s normal! Juvia hasn’t smelled your sweet scent in six whole months! You can’t blame me!” She defended, reaching her arms out for Gray.

“Quit bein’ creepy and meet me in the living room when you’re done packing.” Gray asserted with an annoyed, but familiar look on his face as he quickly made his way out of her room and shut the door, as Juvia sulked on her bed.

They soon packed all of their belongings and walked through their front door, back into the village where a ray of sun peaked through the dispersing clouds.

“Juvia is so sad to say goodbye to she and Gray-sama’s home.” She frowned with exaggerated sniffles.

“I wouldn’t call this a goodbye.” He said frankly. “It’s more like a ‘see-ya-later.’“ He turned to Juvia with a smirk on his face. Her eyes began to glow, and she settled onto a content smile.

“Yes, Gray-sama.” She looked to the ground with her fulfilled smile.

On their walk to the train, Gray grabbed his arms and gave a small shiver.

“It’s gettin’ kinda’ cold out.” He simply said.

Juvia pondered and looked around a little to see any signs of anyone or anything being cold, which she did not, and felt her own body temperature at a fairly normal level, and for Gray especially, this weather was hardly anything.

“Really? Juvia doesn’t think it’s too co-” She turned back to Gray with confusion and quietly gasped as she saw him wrapping himself with a grey, poorly knitted, homey/cozy looking, seemingly worn in scarf. He did not make eye contact with her, and kept his sharp expression on the road ahead.

She knew that scarf all too well.

“Actually, Juvia is a little chilly.” Attempting to keep her overjoyed reaction in line, she simply wrapped her one arm around Gray’s and with the other she reached out and held his hand, causing him to initially flinch, but he kept his hand intertwined with hers.

They made their way to their true home, Fairy Tail, walking in bliss, putting the bad parts of the past behind them and looking to a hopeful future.

One where Juvia’s rain would never return.