#hate when i feel the Cosmic Emotions and putting them into words is not going to happen

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s6 episode 10 "tithonus" thoughts

hmm… scully seems to be black and white in the image for this episode. maybe she has had this power to turn greyscale the whole time and she has simply never chosen to wield it until now. how fascinating of her!

ah, i see that the one after this is likely a two-parter, based on titles alone. so i had better focus now before things get crazy.

the description here emphasizes that scully will be the one pursuing this photographer!! i hope that bodes well for our girl!! i need lots of scully time!! or else terrible things happen to me!!

post-episode thoughts: we need to release the cut of this episode where mulder and scully team up to destroy this ritter fellow. i know mulder had to physically restrain himself from choking that dude out. frankly, he usually has FAR less self-control, so this was a big step for him.

but first and foremost, this was a scully episode. and there is so much i want to say. about living!! and dying!! and loving!! and what scully wants for herself!!! and i am sad, but i am pondering!!! and i want her to be happy!!! and in the process of editing my notes, i got myself so worked up over the whole thing that i simply cannot articulate anything!!!! which is such a shame, because if i had words, i would use them!!! at length!!

we open in new york city, where a woman gets help pushing a shopping cart out of an elevator to deliver some mail. mail time!!! wait. who is behind her?

get away from her. she is working. STOP FOLLOWING HER. I’M SERIOUS. now the elevator is taking too long to come get her…. and the creepy guy gets in. GET OUT OF THERE. YOU’RE MAKING ME ANGRY.

why can creepy man see everyone in black and white? until he steps out of the elevator, and all of the color returns.

oh shoot. he gets out and then the elevator starts breaking. so he takes the STAIRS. and it falls!!!! 

he’s taking a picture of the collapsed elevator?? with the bodies in it??? 

now who does that help….?

why is he documenting it… is he working for OSHA or something…..? 

shortened intro, you will not sneak your tricks past me.

someone else is doing a background check here at the FBI!! are scully and mulder free?? well, they’re stuck on the same floor, so probably not. mulder is on the phone and fiddling with his pen.

no; they, too, are sadly stuck performing background checks. this is so sad!!! she can save lives!!!! and they use her for this!!!

she asks if mulder is ready to quit and he says “no. that would make way too many people way too happy” <- LMAO well, that is entirely understandable

ohhh, she gets a strange call and is on the move. she was asked to go to kersh’s office!! this cannot be good!! he hates her!! and she was the only one called!

OOO, WE SEE HER FILE. she’s 5 foot 2!!! i didn’t know that!!! but i figured she was somewhere in that area. and she lives in annapolis, maryland. like learning that mulder lives in alexandria, i do not know enough about geography to know what that means.

seems she was brought on in 1990 as an instructor of forensic pathology, and she was recruited right from the university of maryland. i did know this. but not the years during which it happened. 

ARGH, i wish this screen wasn’t so dark so i could SEE. it says something about physics. BA in physics?? ARGH! this is so frustrating. mulder had described her thesis as her “graduate thesis”, so maybe she did physics undergrad, physics grad school, then med school, then FBI. 

well. it’s not focusing other than that, so i can’t make any conclusions unless kersh announces what he sees inside. because he is the one reading her file.

some agent named ritter is here from new york. who are you, man? he found an old crime scene photo of a woman who passed away from an overdose. but the clock in the photo is 45 minutes earlier than her listed time of death. scully points out that a clock can be wrong. why is this ritter man, like, quizzing her?

hmm!!! from the newspaper, the other photograph of the body shows a totally different time, an hour and a half later!!! that is very weird. from the same photographer, too. i’m guessing he wasn’t just hanging there for 2 hours and spacing out his picture taking.

alfred fellig is the photographer. ritter thinks that maybe he poisoned the woman and photographed her for personal pleasure, then came back later to do his job for the police and photographed her AGAIN. and while scully says that is “quite a theory”, there are 3 other photos of fellig's that show very different times according to different negatives.

she says there’s no consistent MO, and he says there is no consistent anything. and he wants her help. kersh asks him to leave. what is afoot here….

“i would say he has a promising career ahead of him. so did you… at one time” <- OH MY GOD??? 

(furious scully face)

“AGENT MULDER and i will begin immediately” <- OH!!! she stood right up for him!!! what a good friend!!

but kersh says he is a lost cause. and that he hopes she isn't as well.

so now she has to go to new york city with this RANDOM GUY. oh, i’m pissed off FOR HER!! kersh must be trying to separate them….

fellig is getting off a bus and watching some guy have what appears to be a heart attack. heart attack (or coughing fit? chest pain?) guy is in black and white!! 

he goes somewhere and gets some mail, patting his head with a cloth while fellig watches out the window. and he grabs his arm!! and falls!!!! AND FELLIG COMES CLOSER TO WATCH????

he pulls out his camera and takes a bunch of pictures of the dying guy, who he sees in black and white. very weird.

mulder is looking through a bunch of photos on his computer. ohhh, it looks like he found the pictures from fellig. “mulder. what are you doing?” “being nosy. eating my heart out. they’re sending you on an x file” <- OHHH, HE LOOKS SO SAD AND LEFT OUT :(

“it’s not an x file” “that’s not what i’m reading”

“i’m thinking murder by telekinesis. i’m thinking maybe a shamanistic death touch. i’m thinking about the muslim superstition that to photograph someone is to steal their soul” <- OHHH, LET HIM ON THE CASE :( 

fascinating look into how he starts gathering leads based on the little information he knows about the case and his wealth of memorized strange facts....

he thinks they’re splitting them up!!!! and he’s so sad!!! oh!! she tries to tell him it’s a one-time thing, but he isn’t buying it.

she bites her lip, closes his tabs as agent ritter walks in, and introduces them. he very visibly wants to beat the guy with a hammer. and makes a point of calling him by his first name.

jump to new york city. ritter and scully are asking some cops about fellig. he has yearly renewals for his job a very long time, and he’s been doing it since 1964!!! he doesn’t seem to have aged. 

OH! this ritter guy seems fine enough, but he called her "dana", and that made me flinch. he doesn’t seem to think it’s that weird fellig hasn’t aged at all.

meanwhile, some other dude is being chased and calling for help. whoever is chasing him pulls out a knife and kills him!!! and fellig is there to take pictures of the scene!!

but the murderer finds fellig and starts stabbing him…… he steals fellig’s camera as the blood pours everywhere. but fellig gets up!!! and pulls the knife out of his own back!!! ack!!!! 

the blood from his body is red and didn’t cause any gassing, so i don’t think he’s one of the shape-shifting aliens, but maybe he’s some sort of vampire or vampire-like creature?? maybe he sucks energies from the photos of dying people he takes??

ritter and scully find the knife with fellig’s prints on them.

“what’s this?” “a whole lotta blood” “yeah, i got that” <- LMAOOOOO, do not separate her from her bonded pair or she will be mad. scully clearly does not think there is a second victim because there is no second body.

ritter says it is “january 4th”. so does this take place BEFORE rain king, somehow? or did we jump ahead a year? you know what? i’m gonna try not to think about it. 

that seems like a weird detail to include for it to just prove the timeline wrong.

(i'm still annoyed about this 24 hours later btw)

they’re interviewing fellig. scully watches from the corner. he says he saw someone stealing a kid’s shoes and tried to run him off. he claims he touched the knife after the murderer left. 

OHHH, she picks up on the fact that he is in pain and is closing in on him like a shark smelling blood. yeahhhh, noir detective. ritter seems fascinated by this but like, come on, we all are. he’s not special.

fellig confesses to being cut. and she helps take off his shirt to see the gashes. ritter says to get his blood drawn and take pictures.

“hey, i’m confused. i thought we were trying to bust this guy, not look for reasons to let him go” “i thought we were looking for the truth” <-YEAH, YOU TELL HIM 🔥 

he gets pissed and leaves

AWWWWW, MULDER CALLS HER AND SAYS IN A STUPID VOICE THAT THEY USED TO SIT NEXT TO EACH OTHER AT THE FBI :,) AWWWW, LOOK AT HER TIRED SMILE!!!

WAIT, WHY DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE STABBING, LMAO????? “i told you, i’m nosy” <- WHAT DOES HE KNOW??

they found another murderer’s prints on the knife and fellig’s blood all over the place… yeah. so fellig probably isn’t killing these people outright.

DID HE HACK INTO THE NYPD DATABASE SOMEHOW?? LMAOOOOO???

NO, HE GOT THE FILES FROM KERSH SOMEHOW, AND HE SEES THAT FELLIG HAS A HEALING FACTOR. LMAOOOO, oh he is gonna get in TROUBLE!!

but he says kersh has (mostly) nice things to say about her. which is kind of him to add.

he whines his way into doing a background check on the murderer, saying it’s what he does now. and you can tell she wants to say no, but also knows that saying no to him won’t do a damn thing, lmao.

why does he have access to kersh’s files….?

scully is joining ritter in a car at 1 am. seems he’s doing a stakeout on fellig. ritter tells her to have a LOVELY evening in a way that seems like he really hates her. man. i thought he was kinda chill at the start of this episode. except for the way he was quizzing her. and ignoring fellig not aging. maybe he was a jerk all along and i simply tried to be kind.

time for scully to flip through some more murder photos. OH NO!! she hears the camera clicking in the distance… and ritter just walked away!!! IS HE GONNA BE DEAD???

she knocks on fellig’s door and says “explain this” LMAO, get those answers!! how did he take a photo of a murder an hour before the police arrived?! 

she says he needs to explain himself or he will not know a moment’s peace. and trust that she means it.

fellig says to take a ride with her, which has me scared. and then he drives her around for an hour!!! he says he is looking for the shot. 

he finds a woman on the street corner, saying she’s about to die, could be a minute, could be an hour. scully grabs her gun, thinking he’s going to do something nefarious. he says the way they die is always a surprise- he just always knows when. 

“you want me to believe that?”, she asks

but then a man comes toward the woman on the side of the road, and they start fighting. scully gets out of the car! and she grabs the dude!!! he is under arrest!!! i fear she may only fulfill the prophecy somehow… 

she takes a gun off of him, and when he claims it isn’t his and calls her “red”, she slaps him on the face, omfg…. just a little slap…. but it was enough

BUT NO!!! when scully goes to ask the lady on the side of the road if she’s okay, the mystery woman gets hit by a truck!!!

OMG????? and fellig comes in to get the shot…

ritter is mad as HELL with scully when she rolls up with this random dude under arrest. she is also very mad at him!!! she does not need his permission to do her job!!! but he says he has something to show her. 

the murderer who killed that kid over the shoes claims that fellig did it. and scully accuses RITTER of making the STORY UP, OHHHH!!!

“fellig is a murderer. whether or not he did this specific one, i don‘t care-“ WELL, YOU SHOULD???

omfg… is this some sort of moral test for scully? is kersh torturing her like this is the good place? he says he knows the judge and he’ll get the warrant

OHHHH!!! “you know, kersh warned me about you.” “uh, he did?” “yeah, you and your partner. god knows his reputation precedes him, so i guess i should have seen this coming. you muck up my case, and kersh will hear about it. are we clear, dana?” “scully.”

WHEW!!!! THE WAY SHE SAID HER NAME ALL CLEAR AND QUIET GAVE ME GOOSEBUMPS

you tell that pathetic rat.

“and we’re done with this conversation” YES MA’AM 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

wow. still playing this on loop in my brain, 24 hours later. the implications... the defining of herself... the resistance... yeah.

phone call time!! it’s mulder!!! she admits that it is an x file, which prompts him to sound worried. “what happened?”

mulder says that fellig is 149! under the name henry strand, someone applied for a press license way back in the day, and henry’s prints match fellig’s!! and before henry, there is an L.H. rice who was born in 1849 and has the same fingerprints!!

how did he track the fingerprints down… get mulder out of this office and into a research lab, maybe!

“i’m not good at math, but i figure that’s a whole lot of candles on the cake”

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! he doesn’t think he’s good at math!!!

man, i haven’t gotten to do a lore reveal text format like that in a while. that felt nice.

scully finds fellig's age hard to believe, but mulder says she should find him before he vanishes again. she turns up at his apartment and looks so scary, LMAO. 

but she warns him that he will be arrested in 2 hours and charged with murder. which makes her seem to be the the good guy here, and not as scary as her angry face would suggest.

fellig says he just takes the pictures, but she hits him with “what you showed me was a contemptible lack of compassion for another human being. you showed me that you profit off of people’s deaths” <- OHHHH, GET HIM!! that strong moral code kicks in again!

“now, why shouldn’t you go to prison?” <- oooo, she’s playing hardball. but he says they’re lucky!!! and he doesn’t take them, “he” does. girl, who the hell is "he"?

fellig must be jealous that these other people can die… 

scully follows him into his darkroom. i feel such fondness for her as she moves the curtain. 

he points to someone in the photograph and says “he’s the one who takes them” BUT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! 

it’s a glimpse of death itself. he’s trying to photograph death!!!

“mr. fellig, i know you know more about photography than i do, but this is just a lens flare” “you’re right, i do know more about photography than you” <- LMAO, okay, that did make me laugh.

she asks him why take a picture of death, and he says he wants to look into his face so he can die. nothing will kill him. he's tried it all.

hey man, i’m unfortunately really distracted by the terrible feelings of tenderness that scully has sparked in me right at this very moment. yeah, idk. i don’t really want to focus on this guy right now. it’s very sad, genuinely, but look at her face. 

he says he doesn’t want to be here, and he got left behind. 

“you know, i don’t believe you” “yes you do. that’s why you’re here” <- OHHHH, he called her out…. the cracks in her disbeliever facade keep growing… is it that she doesn’t believe him, or that her greater commitment to needing to know the truth and therefore do the morally correct thing in handling this murder case brought her here?? can they be separated???

she flips through his photos, touching one of a young flapper. she asks how he knows when they’ll die, and he says he knows.

scully has to step outside. and she calls mulder, asking if louis brady (name on the flapper photo) was also one of fellig's names. he says no, but there is a big gap before 1939, so it could be.

but somehow, fellig disappeared!!! just kidding, he’s back. he wanted to get his film. i thought he vanished for a few seconds there.

mulder is in the FBI archives at 9:30 am. ahhh, i wish i could go there. and he finds fellig’s photo!! it shows him wanted under the name louis brady for double murder!!!

mulder calls ritter when he learns of this news, because he cannot get ahold of her. he tells him about how fellig killed two patients and walked away!!! he tells him to find agent scully NOW. and ritter, of course, is shocked that this murder happened like 80 years ago, but whatever. you better go check on her, ritter.

meanwhile, scully is still with fellig. she asks “how can you have too much life? there’s too much to learn, to experience” and this hits hard because she, of course, was very recently dying.

(moaning in pain as i think about scully wanting to experience and learn everything there is this world has to offer.......)

he says you start to wonder what everyone else gets to know

OH, SHE ASKS ABOUT LOVE??? he wanted to look up his wife 40 years ago. and he couldn’t remember her name. 

(scully, you damn romantic...)

“love lasts 75 years, if you’re lucky. and you don’t want to be around when it’s gone” <- oh stop… you’re going to make her cry…

but, is he actually going to try and kill her…..?

WAIT! she turned black and white… and tells her to count her blessings.

IS HE GOING TO KILL HER BECAUSE HE WANTS TO HELP HER???

(author's note: no)

she wants to know how to prove his thing- that he can live forever, and that he can sense when people are going to die before they do. fellig says someone took his place. he had yellow fever. and he’s getting his camera around…

he saw death back when he was sick. and he saw him dancing around the room, taking people. but death didn’t take him. 

a nurse sat with him, and when death came, he looked away. she looked at him instead. and the fever broke, and she was the one that died. 

he tells her she’s very lucky. she gets in his face and insists she is NOT going to die. she tells him to turn it off. he took her phone!!!

he says death is coming and he needs to make her peace…. 

but it’s ritter!!!! he fires his gun at fellig!!!

SHE COLLAPSES???? WHY IS SHE BLEEDING??????? there is blood coming from her throat???? did ritter miss and shoot her instead???

fellig tries to take a photo of her with his other camera, and asks if she sees "him". he says don’t look, close your eyes. and he holds her hand in his. AND HE LOOKS INTO DEATH INSTEAD. and he gasps softly…. oh my god…. he finally dies.

scully is in bed in the hospital a week later. mulder is waiting, telling ritter he’s a lucky man. which is better than i expected.

OH, he grabs her hand. and he sits on her bed. and he smiles, saying her doctor says she is making an amazing recovery. but she seems so sad, and in so much pain

he says “death only looks for you once you seek its opposite” <- OHHHH my god…

and we fade to black.

so i rewatched the scene where scully gets hurt because at first i couldn't tell what was happening, and this DUMBASS ritter shot fellig, and the bullet went STRAIGHT THROUGH HIM and INTO SCULLY???? like. what the HELL WAS HE THINKING????

holy fuck, if i were mulder i would have done a lot more than tell him he was a lucky guy. look at her enduring ritter's presence while she’s in her hospital bed and he was such an awful person the whole time they worked together. i would have told him to fuck off and let me recover from the bullet YOU put in me in peace.

and mulder grabbing her hand. and the flowers in her room. and his smile at her news. but she’s so sad. people don’t live forever. 

she wants to live, and she wants to have a life, and holy HELL need to lay down.

oh my god… this episode was super dark. and usually i don’t really like the dark ones. but it has scully, so i liked it better. because we got to contemplate her worldview. 

and she wants to LIVE. she wants a LIFE. she wants LOVE. the way she got in fellig’s face and REFUSED to let him take her picture… the way she tried to understand how he could be jealous of death, because she always wants to understand and to learn and empathize… the way she helped fellig, and fellig helped her by telling her to look away from death, so he could look instead… oh my god.

we need to do something about this ritter guy. hopefully, he will simply be fired. you can’t go around shooting your own agents. OH! and the way he didn’t care about justice at all- how he got the warrant because he knew the judge, and he told scully that if she got in his way he’d go to kersh… and how she told him her name is SCULLY and this conversation is OVER…

oh!!!

and mulder helping over the phone; mulder using her sleuthing skills to find out that fellig WAS a murderer and she WAS in danger, and he called ritter immediately and said you had BEST find her. and i can only imagine how he went to bed that night thinking of all the ways he wanted to kill ritter. how he sat by his phone for her. bouncing his basketball until the hospital sent him word of her recovery. 

now, i’m still puzzled as to why he has access to kersh’s files. perhaps this is some sort of clue. but to what? i cannot say.

i just love scully SO MUCH. she saw that the woman on the side of the road was going to die, and she stepped right in and did everything she could, even if it was ultimately doomed. she couldn’t sit back. and she wants a life. she’s in love and she wants a life and she wants a house and a dog. and to save people. and to do work that is satisfying. and all of these things she has been denied.

(screams into my hands)

she’s been slowly starting to believe- maybe not in the traditional sense, but in the sense that she recognizes something she cannot understand is afoot, and she finds herself curious about how and why. i found it very interesting that fellig called her out for this and gibson did as well. and we know that gibson can read minds, so we know it to be true. i don’t think “believes” in the same use of the word that mulder does, but she is finding it harder to compartmentalize, maybe. and can you blame her? i mean, she is miss "there HAS to be a scientific explanation for this". belief not in the supernatural sense, but in the sense that there is so much more to learn and understand and experience. be it love and life or the guy who lives forever and can somehow sense death. maybe the spiritual and the scientific aren't that separate.

god. this really was a scully episode, and i am so grateful. i deserved this. even though it wasn’t one where she laughs and enjoys the gift of being alive, we still got to dive into her thoughts and emotional state. AND we got bonus angsty mulder- angst about them being separated, and angst about nearly losing her. is this not the ultimate kind of mulder angst? 

i shall go to bed a bit sad this evening, but content. 

as i edit my notes to make them readable the day after watching this, there is still so much on my mind. in the sense that i want to write a thinkpiece on what this means for scully's character. maybe this will be a turning point, when she once again confronts her own mortality. how easily death can come. maybe she'll tell him how she feels because she realizes that now is all she has. maybe she'll confront kersh and tell him to get them off of their nonsense assignment so she can go back to saving people. maybe she'll think about all of the times she felt so certain that she was going to die in the past and once again try and make a meaning for why she didn't.

i am also thinking about how sad mulder was when kersh separated them and then how horrible he must have felt when he heard that she was SHOT in his absence. and there was nothing that he could do for a week while he could only wait to hear if she was okay. and then he drove up there as soon as he could. and he KNEW that it was ritter's fault she was lying in that bed fighting for her life, but he somehow managed to say only how lucky he was instead of slamming his head through the drywall. and how he held her hand, smiling, so happy to see her, taking his spot on her bed, thinking of how he loves her and how many times her has nearly lost her. and her thinking the same thing. and neither of them saying anything. just touching.

the feelings i am experiencing are large and difficult to put into words, which is frustrating because, like AUGH! (gestures wildly) do you get what i mean?! do you SEE what i am saying?!?! (grabs your shoulders and shakes them vigorously)

please share your thoughts with me, especially if you are a scully girl like myself. to me, this felt sort of like scully's version of paper hearts, in a way. at least, i see some parallels. even if i cannot elaborate at this time because my brain is flopping.

[zalrb]

the summer i turned pretty 2x06 review -- no, i swear, tho, conrad was just sad...

Episode 6, the episode anons have wanted me to watch.

"I don't know I'm kind of happy here" after one day. THE MAGIC OF COUSINS.

"I know things are not great right now but it's always darkest before the dawn, right?" Why make him speak in cliches?

Cam Cameron WHY. ARE YOU HERE?

I like how Belly could've just said "We should throw a party" but because we're supposed to understand the closeness of these families through dialogue alone she has to say it in a roundabout way so she can talk about a memory of her mom and Susannah that Conrad and Jeremiah should already know if it's like they all grew up together 3 months out of the year.

This zen conversation with Steven and Conrad is legit like the first real conversation I've witnessed on this show.

This volleyball conversation is so forced.

"Your subconscious brain takes you there" You can just say subconscious, Jere. Who wrote this.

Oh look, ANOTHER taylor swift song. jesus christ.

I think I got a few requests to do a vid to this song and I remember just not getting over "is it chill that you're in my head?" because I thought it sounded like when you go to the thesaurus and look up synonyms for "cool".

They're both trickling their hands in the water, are their fingers going to touch and it's going to be ELECTRICITY?

Yes.

But this is her I FEEL THE ELECTRICITY face

You know, we can't even consistently stay here

at marginal almost kind of chemistry

"I'll come too!" Taylor's "Uh huh" is the only time I've marginally liked her.

You can't scoff at him calling her his muse with your cliched valedictorian speech, Steven.

LOOK AT MY FAKE I.D. k.

"Wooooooow, your I.D. didn't work Mr. Herbertson??" "Fuck off, at least I have one" oh my god, a moment between them that ACTUALLY sounded genuine. I am amazed. It will most likely die of loneliness.

And Jumper laughing then pointing at the sign is legitimately the only funny moment I've seen throughout this entire season.

BELLY WILL SAVE THE DAY. SHE WILL GET THE BOOZE. BECAUSE SHE IS BELLY. AND IT IS THE SUMMER SHE TURNED PRETTY.

She doesn't even sound sincere.

i am laughing so hard, this is the first time i've read rap on this show and it's because SHE'S SO GANGSTER SHE GOT THE BOOZE BECAUSE SHE'S BELLY.

Conrad asserting his dominance after Belly got Jeremiah a drink but not him one by drinking from Belly's straw is actually pretty funny though. It would be better if Belly wasn't so ... herself.

I love that Skye and Cam Cameron are the ship I care about the most (and I'm using the word 'care' SO loosely).

"The sacred emergency Amex??" It went back to being phony.

I can't deal with more Taylor and Steven.

And she'll put the boa around him because this show loves cliches.

And Jeremiah will see because this show loves cliches.

"Belly, you don't have to apologize for that" she kind of does though. She was kind of completely terrible.

Girl, you can shrug and shake your head all you want, it doesn't compensate for a lack of emotion in your face or voice.

And he's blinking trying to find his well of emotion and that shit is dry, my friend.

It's not like he was kissing Aubrey, it's not even like they were hugging, he had his head in her lap and you can say "teenager" all you want but this is ridiculous.

This is also the closest they've come to executing what they want with these two and it's still not done well but when he says "Aubrey was just the one who found me I wish it was you" I can at least say I believe that.

There we go.

So I'm guessing she's supposed to have this cosmic, soulful, reach into each other's soul connection with Conrad and a fun, chemistry-filled familiarity with Jeremiah. I've just seen both things done properly so this is just very big shrug.

I was going to say something about the 'how to kiss' conversation but then I was like, lol there are too many youths on my blog. So, moving on.

"I always hated when Mom made us take these pictures but it's like she knew we'd want them later" yes, Jeremiah, that's the purpose of a picture. He would annoy me less if they stopped giving him asinine lines.

"Looking at you mooning over Conrad" "That was a LONG time ago" how long ago was this break up, Belly?

she's saying the same thing twice. That's just called moving on. What it should be is "mourning your past and moving on in the present" or "remembering your past and moving on in the present" or "celebrating your past and moving on in the present" or "appreciating your past and moving on in the present". WHO. WROTE. THIS.

So Jere is Dean and Conrad is Jess, which anon essentially told me. Except Conrad is nowhere near as bad as Jess. He is just a boy who's been sad. LMAO.

she needs to be stopped.

"I don't want to talk about Conrad, he really hurt you" BY BEING SAD?

"You don't need to hurt yourself to get my attention" that was almost hot but he lacks the conviction necessary for me to be like ... sir ... and they don't actually have the i-need-to-jump-your-bones tension they need to have

"Just don't fucking break her heart again." He was quiet at prom. I...

OK so I'm really on neither side here because I don't care but there is a bit of a difference between Conrad telling Jere to suck it up and let him be with Belly, which was insensitive, and Jeremiah about to make out with his brother's ex girlfriend in public.

"When things aren't perfect instead of trying to fix it, he decides to throw it away" but we literally never see him do that?? Like he leaves Brown to go to the house to stop the sale, he's like Liam or whoever, he got a judge to let him access the trust, let's do that. Jeremiah did you think of anything you could do to help save this house except bring flowers to Julia, which failed, or did you just go let's not give up every time reality hit? Because even the "let's get Syke on our side" plan was Belly's? Idk dude, you're talking a big game for a character who I've seen be effectively useless??

"When shit got tough, he couldn't handle it and he dropped you", he literally said he couldn't go to back to the prom and Belly was like LET'S BREAK UP THEN and then he tried to be like wait that's not what I mean and Belly refused to listen?

I ... WHAT?

See, this isn't a blowup. This is a very contained, very quiet fight and this is when it's supposed to be a dirty OH SHIT fight. We should get a version of this, GET IN HIS FACE JERE

rail up on him

be specific

don't be afraid to have a fight! Not to mention I can't believe this fight because like 98% of the things he's accusing Conrad of, I don't think Conrad actually did, that would make him too much an active character. He is literally just a guy who's been sad.

And I know they hinted that Jeremiah has to deal with stuff because he was putting together Susannah's receipts or whatever but this is when juxtaposition would work where we see him see her wither away, we see him give her ice chips, we see him take care of her and Conrad is with Belly or at school.

Belly, why are YOU drunk? omg, at least Marissa's drama was FUN.

"I'm not leaving you, Belly." "But you already did!" I mean DID HE? And he also explained WHAT happened with Aubrey?

Someone said Conrad is like a ticking time bomb but what happens when he explodes because I haven't seen it. I've just seen him be sad.

And ALSO THIS SHOULD HAVE THIS KIND OF ENERGY

Belly, you are actually a ridiculous person

If they really wanted me to believe that Conrad was slipping away little by little throughout their relationship then they can't just leave that up to prom and a voiceover. I needed to see him actively shut her out, I needed to see her actively try to talk to him and him refusing to let her in. I needed to see him be Jess. Otherwise, this is RIDICULOUS.

Oh good, you know what I needed now? Another Taylor Swift song.

And then Belly turns around and kisses/chooses Jeremiah after this? BRO. WHY DO EITHER OF YOU LIKE HER?

[obislittleone]

HoM: Order 66 PART III

Warnings: leaving a lot of the warnings the same as it all entails- angst in the beginning, middle, oh and a lot a the end. Angst with Padme, more mentions of pregnancy. Did i mention angst? I did? Well there’s more. Death, mentions of blood, violence, friends turning on friends. Anakin is a warning, literally, angst, Mentions of sickness and death… lots of death tbh

Summary: Anakin finds you and believed you to be dead, and it was his fault. Perhaps the dark side had taken more from him than it was giving.

A/n: it’s 3:21 am, if someone does not buy me a coffee i will die

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

(Please buy me a coffee, i beg… i’m exhausted)

Words: 3.7k

Anakin didn’t have a shred of regret in him thus far, until you came back to the temple. It was then he realized the weight of all this. He may not be able to kill you, but he knew the clones would, and he was powerless to stop them, though his power had now tripled from what it had originally been. He was shaken after you ran from him, hopefully to an escape. Hopefully to where you would be taken care of until this was all over.

He had been thinking of you as he paced the halls, wondering if you’d made it out okay. He was beginning to feel eerie about all of this, the pressure put on him. If you weren’t able to look him in the eye and forgive him after this, he doubted Padme ever could, and then all of this would be for nothing. If he didn’t have her by his side, it was like she was dead to him. His mind raced with these thoughts, and as he came back around the corner by the Archives, he froze.

You’d been struck down, several blaster shots penetrated your body as you lay there on the ground, sprawled out over yourself in a way he knew could not be of comfort. You were motionless however, and Anakin knew it was because you were gone, lost to the cosmic force forever. He felt a deep pain rip across his chest, and he knelt down to see your face growing pale. This had just happened. The members of the 501st had been patrolling the grounds for hours, now, and he knew that this just happened. The scene was still fresh, and your blood had not yet turned cold. That meant you’d been here a while, probably helping others to escape before they would face the same fate.

You were always helping people, helping him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He’d told your friend to accompany you somewhere in the city, where you would be safe, but you came back for him. All of this, every little thing that happened was caused by him, and he had no choice but to take the blame for it. Once this was over, he was going to kill the chancellor. To exact revenge for making him do all these awful things just to get the power he wanted. There must have been an easier way, but Anakin was blinded at the time, unwilling to see the future effects, how he was feeling right now in this moment as he swept aside your hair from your face. Your eyes were shut peacefully, as though you were sleeping, and he wished it were so. He couldn’t feel your signature anymore, and knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to even if you were still alive. You would probably have blocked him out, never to be trusted again.

He wanted to sit there and cry, to mourn the loss of his best friend, and little sister. He’d always looked out for you, but today he failed. He wanted to grieve, but he couldn’t, the anger and the hatred that had consumed him was unwilling to let him feel those emotions right now, not when there was still work to be done. He hated what he had done, but he would still finish it, because it was too late for him. He was already condemned. Your death signified that. He have inadvertently killed the most gentle and kind Jedi in the galaxy, so how could he now redeem himself?

There were tears in his eyes, begging to fall, to run down his cheeks and absorb into the skin to let him feel his pain deeper, but they stayed within their confines, never spilling, and beginning to dry with each moment passed.

He noticed something had fallen out of your robes, a small necklace of some sort. Upon further inspection, he found the small kyber crystal pendant tied to the bottom of the leather string. It was blue, obviously not yours. Obi-Wan…

He hoped he never had to face him again, if not for the anger that was growing in his heart against his former master, then for the fact that he would never be able to explain, nor apologize for what he had done. You were Obi-Wan’s little one, his pride, his joy, his entire galaxy. The light of his path. He remembered what his master once said to him about you, the night that he’d confessed to Anakin how he truly felt for his younger padawan. She is the light incarnate. And he really believed it.

Anakin ripped the necklace from its place and tucked it into his belt, though he knew it wasn’t going to make him feel better, he wanted to take it with him, to have a small part of you. He was in shambles over this, and felt even more reckless now that you were gone. Obi-Wan made him promise to keep you safe while he was away, and though everything had changed drastically in that time, he had still planned on keeping that promise. He was meant to protect you, now he was partially your killer.

He wanted to take you body, to bury it somewhere of importance, or to give you the honor of a proper Jedi funeral. It’s what you deserved, but he knew it would never be allowed of him. The chancellor did not carry the same sympathies he did, and would deem it improper, and treasonous to now give any form of respect to the Jedi. Even a dead one.

He stood to his feet and walked away, prepared to leave to Mustafar, where the chancellor wanted him to end the lives of every separatist there was left. This was something he could do with a clear mind, because he’d been trying to do it for years, along with you and Obi-Wan. The war would end, at the cost of his sanity, and the lives of most everyone he knew, but it would end. He would use this newfound hatred, in and of himself over what happened to you, in order to destroy something you would have been perfectly fine with him destroying.

He looked back to you once he got to the end of the hallway, and as painful as it be, he forced himself to let a tear fall for you. After that, he was set back in his ways, his path to sure destruction.

-

When Obi-Wan had landed on Coruscant with Master Yoda, he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to see the damage done. Even walking up the steps of the temple was hard to take in, as the bodies of his friends and colleagues were splayed over the stairway and into the entrance. There were some clones awaiting their arrival, but they dealt with them swiftly and surely. Most of the clones were now stationed outside the capitol, where the emergency senate meeting was taking place. All the Jedi left in the temple were dead, no one had survived, not even the younglings. There was however, a scrape of blood on the floor, where an injured child or master may have gotten up and left undetected. It was a stretch, but perhaps there was hope.

Obi-Wan went into the archives and changed the outgoing signal to any remaining Jedi, telling them to keep hidden until the time was right. The time may never be right, and he realized that, but he refused to give up hope. He was stronger when he was optimistic, though sometimes it was hard. Especially when it concerned you. he hadn’t had contact with you in a long time, but having you just entered his mind, he wondered if you were close by. If you were safe. He valued you over any other in this universe, and though he knew it would do him good to stay calm, you weren’t going to leave his mind until he’d reached you. He extended his signature, just on the off chance that you were still here.

When you felt his presence, reaching to you, you took it, hoping that it would be enough for him to know you were alive. You were becoming dizzy and nauseous from within your hiding space, the darkness and tightness of the space was killing you. You wanted to leave, but knew there were probably still an abundance of clones, ready to finish you off should you show yourself.

Obi-Wan could feel the closeness of you, and Master Yoda wondered what he was dwelling on for so long, in a state of meditation.

“Reaching out, I assume you are,” he was trying to tap into the connection, but it seemed whoever Kenobi was in tune with, there was no room for outsiders. It seemed to be a private and previously established connection. “But who?”

“My padawan, she’s still alive, but she’s hurt,” he winced at his own words, and the more he synced himself with you, he began to feel immense pain. “She’s hiding nearby.”

“Know where she is, do you?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked to Yoda, his expression was something that hurt to behold.

“Yes,” Master Kenobi began to head to the back of the archives, to a place he had not long forgotten, where he thought he may find you.

You were not in such good condition anymore, as you hadn’t been since getting shot repeatedly. The shots you received were lucky if you were being honest. If you’d been shot in the chest, you’d still be laying on that floor in the grand hall.

Your ears perked at the sound of rapid footsteps approaching, and your heart began racing like it was the end. Perhaps it was, maybe they had found your secret hiding space and were here to kill you once and for all. There were so many times in your life that you almost died, so many close calls. It all began with the time you sacrificed yourself for Obi-Wan, when Count Dooku set the trap. He had intended to kill you, but never got the chance. You were a good cheater when it came to death, but cheaters never win, not in the end.

You were going to use the last of your energy to fight, to give it everything you had before falling. You knew you would, you were too weak to go on.

When the steps became so close you could feel the ground vibrate with them, you readied yourself, taking deep breaths and raising a hand in front of you. The vent panel, as old as it was, could still slide open quickly, and it did, revealing you to the opposing forces on the other side. Without taking a second glance, you threw your opponent into the wall behind him, falling out of the vent shaft and onto your hands and knees, which eventually gave out as you crumbled to the ground.

Obi-Wan was shocked by what had happened, but didn’t dwell on it, as you laying on the ground with three blaster shots in your body was where his immediate focus traveled to. You had a bloody lip, and your eyebrow had a gash in it, where a scar would probably form later on.

“Obi?” Your eyes were closing, and your voice wasn’t even as loud as a whisper.

“Little one,” he panicked, watching the color drain from your face, though you were already pale as snow. The cauterized blaster shots were beginning to break open, and you your bleeding on his hands. You were dying, and he wasn’t ready to face that tragedy, not with everything that’s happened. “Stay with me, please.”

“To Senator Organa’s ship, we must take her, if alive she is to stay.”

Yoda’s words were fuzzy when they reached him, but he understood it was your only chance, so once he processed it, he was scooping you up into his arms, following the Grand master through the temple until again they were outside. Passing by the bodies made Obi-Wan think about the horrors you must have seen to survive this. It was horrific, something from nightmares.

There was a speeder waiting once they descended the steps again, -rather quickly considering he was carrying you- with one of Organa’s advisors. It was the one they arrived in, but Yoda didn’t plan on leaving so soon. He knew that in order to put a stop to whatever was happening, they would need to investigate. Enough at least to find out the true cause of this.

Obi-Wan loaded you in the back the best he could before trying to board alongside you, thought it would be difficult, without disturbing you. One wrong move could cause you to lose an abundance of blood, and he was reminded of another time when he was put in this exact same position, the day he realized he could not live without you. That had been his driving force then, and it would remain his driving force now.

“Done, we are not. Stay to find answers, we will,” Yoda interrupted Obi-Wan’s haste, and the man looked at him with disbelief.

“I can’t. She could die, and I need to be with her,” he was all but about to continue his efforts of climbing into the speeder before Yoda stopped him yet again. This was very out off character for Kenobi, but of course, he was always very crucial about things when it came to his padawan. He always had been.

“If her time, this is,” Yoda hobbled up to be next to him, looking over you before regaining Obi-Wan’s attention. “Then let go of her, you must.”

“I can’t lose her,” Obi-Wan became more aggressive, and it was now that Yoda put the pieces together, immediately recognizing the attachment the council feared resided for years. It had been there all along, though it had grown far deeper than they had previously worried for.

“See your attachment, I do,” Yoda nodded to him, but did not give him the compliance that he could yet leave. “Made you to fear loss, it has.”

Obi-Wan realized it only now, but he had glassy eyes, becoming blurry to his vision the longer he let the tears pile up. He blinked once, letting them fall freely and revealing to Yoda yet another piece of this puzzle. Obi-Wan loved you. Not like a Master should care for his padawan, but real love, true and deep, and unending for eternity.

“I won’t let her go, she needs me,” his soft trembling words were not anything he ever thought he’d say to Master Yoda, someone he’d known since he was a boy, and had grown to know ever since. He was the epitome of what the Jedi stood for. He was strong and wise, and powerful with the force, never straying from the light, or the rules that bonded him to the order. He knew that since all cards were out on the table, that perhaps he should let just one more being in on your secret. It couldn’t hurt to try… “She’s pregnant.”

Yoda’s look of surprised rivaled pure astonishment. He couldn’t believe that someone he’d known all this time, who sat beside him on the council and fought alongside him could have hidden such a secret from him. He was sure that by any others this could be seen as wildly inappropriate, and would seem as though Obi-Wan took advantage of you, but knowing you, it wasn’t likely. Obi-Wan would have never been the one to start this, it must have been you. You were wild and reckless and though a good Jedi in most aspects, you didn’t seem to agree with the rules of the order.

“If to survive, she and her offspring are, send her for help, you must.”

“She’ll be alone,” Obi-Wan was uneasy about this, but the more he though about it, he was only going to slow the process down, as he was doing right now.

“But safe and taken care of, she will be,” Yoda signaled the advisor who was piloting the speeder to go, and he did, without giving Obi-Wan another chance at going with you. He had to have faith that you would be alright, you and his child. He doubted that would be the case, but he couldn’t think like that. If he began to lose hope that things would get better then they definitely would not. “Much to discover about this tragedy, there still is.”

Yoda lead him back into the temple, where again his heart would be ripped out of his chest, and crushed. He would soon find the security holograms of Anakin’s siege over the temple, and when he did, he would begin his descend into a sadness for his brother, who would forever be lost to him.

-

Mustafar was full of red light, by the molten lava that flowed through the planet’s many falls and cavernous grounds. It was a horrible and miserable place, meant for the evils of what was to come of it. The chancellor, nay, emperor, had already made plans to make base here, to run Darth Vader’s dealings for the new empire. Anakin didn’t like how it sounded, but he was becoming more accustomed to Palpatine’s plans as it were. He was angry at Obi-Wan, for as far as he knew, his former Master had visited with his lovely wife the senator, and that was the reason why he saw her ship coming to land on the pad beside the base. He knew that she was probably here to confront him on what she had been told was true, and it was.

When she ran out of the aircraft, his first instinct had been to wrap her up in his arms, to keep her close so that she could not escape him, even if she chose to. He was doing this for her, to keep her and his child alive. Little did he know about yours and Obi-Wan’s, which was surely dead by now.

It was when she began spewing out all the things he had done, and reprimanded him for it that he let the darkness wash over him again. He couldn’t even control himself from harming her, now, as he used the force to wrap pressure around he throat. It had even come to this, the love of his life about to die by his hand. He had never been prepared for the side effects of the darkside, but since his mind wass clouded by it, he knew no better anymore.

Looking up to Obi-Wan at the top of the ship ramp, he scowled in anger.

“Let her go, Anakin,” he descended the ramp, ready to fight the boy he once knew. That boy was gone, and there was little chance of him coming back.

“You turned her against me,” he jeered, his pain and anger showing through at once. Funny, how the darkness compelled away the other feelings but allowed him to keep the pain, expressionless.

“You have done that yourself.”

Anakin looked at Padme, where she lay unconscious and in complete disarray, likely injured and now bruised. He continued to hurt the people he loves, and he couldn’t even help it anymore. That was the saddest thing of all, because one day he would wake up and have no one, and it would be his doing.

“You will not take her from me!” He shouted, ready to engage his old master, even from where he stood across the tarmac.

“Your anger and lust for power have already done that,” Obi-Wan discarded his cloak, letting it fall to the ground as he obtained his saber in hand, ready to end this if there was no other way to stop him but. He didn’t want to kill Anakin, but he came to terms with the fact that this was not Anakin. This was not the boy he trained, the one who laughed at ungodly hours of the morning along with you, accidentally waking him up before the early mornings. This was not the boy who tripped over his doorway every night before bed, thumping against the wall to stablize himself. At last, this was not the boy he promised to train, to do good by his master and to raise into the chosen one among the Jedi. This was a Sith Lord, clear as day. “You’ve allowed this Dark Lord to twist your mind until now… until you have become the very thing you swore to destroy.”

They circled each other, trying to decide their strategies before hand. Obi-Wan had taught him well, but Anakin had never beat him before. His new power, now, however… that was a different story. The field had been leveled, and it could go either way.

“Don’t lecture me, Obi-Wan. I see through the lies of the Jedi; I do not fear the dark side as you do,” even his voice was different. It was so much harsher and violent than his usual soft and compassionate tone. Though it could change when he became upset, it had never reached this level of intensity. “I have brought peace, justice, freedom, and security to my new empire.”

“Your new empire?” Obi-Wan almost pitied him, because he honestly believed he had any say in this mess. He couldn’t see that the Emperor was using him as a puppet, pulling the strings before he would inevitably cut them.

“Don’t make me kill you…”

“Anakin, my allegiance is to the republic, to democracy!”

If you were here, things would be different, both of them knew it… but as far as Anakin knew, you were dead, and you he would never see you again.

“If you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy,” Anakin was ready to fight, but with you on his mind, there was one more thing he needed to do. Even though he was going to try and kill Obi-Wan he would make peace with himself before he did.

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes, I will do what I must.”

Anakin watched Obi-Wan ignite his saber, but before doing the same with his own, he dug into the pouch of his belt, reaching in then casting his arm out, throwing at Obi-Wan’s feet the pendant he stripped from your neck at the temple. It was then that Kenobi was broken. Anakin had been the one to try and kill you… Though there were shots of a blaster in your body, he was there, and probably gave the order.

“Though you will choose not to believe me, there is one thing I regret in all of this,” Anakin said, his tone unchanging, and his expression the same.

“What have you done?” Obi-Wan’s furrowed eyebrows and trembling lip hit a nerve with Anakin. If he should be able to cause mass hysteria all over the galaxy, murdering his allies in order to keep his love, then why should Obi-Wan have to suffer by losing his? “She was pregnant, Anakin!”

If just for a second, Anakin was himself again, and felt overwhelmed. You were in Padme’s position, but you never even had a chance. You were probably scared and alone when you died, and knowing that your unborn child was going to die with you was probably agonizing.

Obi-Wan didn’t even think before he used the past tense ‘was’, and now that he had, it became real… your future that you both had planned out, was completely gone. Everything he’d ever wanted would now be lost at the hands of his former apprentice, but he would pay the price for it, not Anakin.

“What you have done cannot be undone, I fear there is no resolve left but to destroy the Sith.”

“You will try…”

Within an instant, sabers were clashing, and the battle had begun, the fight between good and evil which would determine the fate of the galaxy.

-

You woke up to bright lights, and though it was sudden, you scanned the room quickly. You were not in the temple, you were in an infirmary, republic made by the looks of it. Perhaps a diplomatic chip for long off-world journey. You were numb from the waist down, unable to move, or even feel the lower parts of your body.

You were alive, and given the two heartbeats on the monitor, so was the life inside you. You tried to find Obi-Wan, but he wasn’t in the room, surely he was the one who brought you here, wasn’t he?

Branching out your presence, you met a familiar one in the room beside you, Padme… but-

No. Oh no, this can’t be happening. She was dying.

Her life force was fading away, and you were unsure of how or why this was happening. She was perfectly fine when you left her, but since you never came back… Could this be your fault? Had she gone to look for you and Anakin?

The parts of your body that you could feel started to become numb, but now by any medication they were feeding you through the many tubes and wires connected to you… you had already felt the numb sting of loss in the last twenty four hours, and new it was coming again. This probably wouldn’t be the end, either. Whatever you had done in your life to deserve all this pain and suffering, you did not know, but the force around you kept giving you endless tests that were weakening your spirit, along with your body.

You called out for Obi-Wan, using your connection to simply put a few simple words into his head, but he heard them loud and clear, excusing himself to go find you.

When he entered the door, coming to sit by you, you sighed out. He looked worse for wear, and had little burn marks all over his robes.

“You’re awake,” he smiled softly, kissing the side of your head and keeping himself close to you. He had seen you when he first arrived, and you looked utterly dead, despite your vitals still continuing.

“Obi,” you weren’t even sure how to say it, but you needed to. “You need to go to Padme, I feel her, she’s dying.”

“I know,” he said with a scorn expression, dropping his face to the ground and wishing that it weren’t so. Only a day ago, everything had been fine, what the hell happened that now you were almost killed by you best friend, and his wife was dying unexpectedly. “They are prepping her for a procedure to save the children.”

“Children?” You twisted your face into a confused stare, and he moved to explain it to you.

“She’s been carrying twins.”

All this time, and you didn’t think to sense the life force of the child, knowing she was pregnant. You could have told her days ago, when none of this had happened. You were unsure how you had missed it every time.

“Go to her, Obi. She won’t last long,” you knew he wasn’t as in tune with her presence as you were, for you always felt everyone’s life force so deeply. Consulars are the force made living, and you were no exception. You were crying at this point, and there was no way to soothe you. He nodded to your words, and stood up, reaching for your hand to squeeze it before he took his leave.

You began to sob to yourself when he left, loud and uncontrollable. No one was around to hear it anymore, so you saw no need in holding it back.

You could feel her pain, of losing her husband, of losing her life, and not being strong enough to keep going for her children. She wanted to, but an unforeseen force was drawing her life away, and it could not be stopped.

You waited, and waited, the process of her birth taking more time than usual, because she did not have the strength to push as she should. It was a horrid labour, and when it was over, you felt an immense peace, but only for a second, as right after that, the smallest bit of spirit she had been hanging onto, let her for good.

Padme, the former Queen of Naboo, and Senator of the galactic republic, had painfully succumbed to death.

You screamed out in pain, and this time, a medical aid, as well as a droid came rushing into your room to see what the problem was.

You monitors were going crazy, and as they tried to stabilize you, it seemed the problems that were quickly stemming from your physical form were being caused by your mental state. They gave you a sedative, lowering an oxygen mask over your face to keep you breathing properly until they could figure out what was wrong. The two heartbeats shown on the screen were fluctuating by the minute, raising and lowering against the other, as if taking turns trying to find a steady rhythm, but failing.

The droid stayed to help you, and the aid left to find Kenobi, who had warned him to come and retrieve him should anything change with you.

Obi-Wan didn’t like what he saw when he rushed back into the room, as you were again unconscious, and there was a mask on your face. The loud beeping coming from beside him made him fear the worst, and he ran to your other side, trying to feel you through the force, and find your signature. He held onto it tightly, as if keeping it from leaving you, though it wasn’t really trying, there was something wrong.

“What’s happened?!”

The droid was able to even the monitor, but he didn’t know how long it would last. His programming told him that the situation was impossible, but it was happening sure enough.

“It appears her emotional stress has affected her body’s ability to support the fetus. It’s causing her to miscarry,” the words were Obi-Wan’s detriment, but he listened on, as the droid had more to say. “Though it should be impossible, the fetus seems to be… fighting back. It’s drawing her life force to try and survive, but if it succeeds, they will both die within the next few minutes.”

He didn’t know what to do… what could he do? He didn’t want to lose either of you, but what choices did he have?

“What can be done to save her?” He questioned, awaiting impatiently for the droid to answer him.

“If we terminate the fetus, now, she will recover.”

It was killing you, he told himself. It wasn’t going to live either way, but you could still be saved, and you could recover. There may be down the road another opportunity, however small, for another child to enter your lives, but this one was going to take you away from him and he couldn’t let it. It had been three years, seven months, and eighteen days since he realized he loved you, and could not live without you. It was then he decided he was always going to make the choices that would save you, even if you didn’t like it. He was always going to do whatever was necessary to keep you alive and by his side… if he didn’t, he would be in pain and misery for the rest of his short life, which would end far sooner without you in it.

“Do what you must,” he said, closing his eyes in defeat. He was depressed beyond measure, as he sat down in the chair and held your hand, keeping his fore head against the side of yours to keep him in even a semblance of calm while they continued with the procedure.

Though it sounded rather grim, he was so thankful that a procedure like this existed, that he may keep his little one, that she may live a long life by his side and in his heart.

-

tags:

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

[bullet-prooflove]

Bad Day: Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz x Reader

Tagging: @shay-o-fiction @kimm4710 @k-k0129 @cosmic-psychickitty @daniacat @enchantedblackrose @ikbenplant @crazy4chickennuggets @neapolitantoebeans

It had been a bad day, one of the worst that that Mouse had ever endured and that was saying something considering some of the shit he had seen in Kandahar. It was the first time in a long time that he had felt powerless, out of control. The sensation made him want to scream, to rage, to destroy something and he kept all of that locked inside of him like a caged animal. He had always been an active participant before, sitting behind a desk like the fucking civilian he was infuriated him. He was as good as any of the cops that he worked with, better even but just because he didn’t have the fucking credentials, he hadn’t been able to go out there with them to rescue Jay. He’d just had to sit back and watch.

That frustration it had bled into his life, made him lash out the way he had before. When you’d tried to pacify him, he’d snapped. His words, his voice, he didn’t even recognise himself. He’d seen you flinch at the coldness of his tone, the brittleness of his emotions and that made him hate himself more. You deserved better than that which is why he came to apologise.

He stood in the doorway of the shooting range, leaning against the doorframe watching as you examined the paper target in your hands. The bullet holes were practically perfect, centre mass, clustered together. You were infallible, resilient. A constant in his life when everything else went to hell. You removed the headphones and put them down on the surface before you turned your attention towards him.

“I wanna apologise. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You were just trying to help and I…” He looked away, his jaw tensing. “I was an asshole.” “I get it.” You told him, folding up the target before tossing it into the trash. “This thing with Jay had us all on edge. I know that it was worse for you.”

He folded his arms over his chest, swaying back and forth on his heels. He looked withdrawn, anxious, the nervous energy from the hours before flooding from his form. He wanted to reach out, break down the distance between you but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how, doubt plagued him because he thought he may have damaged this thing the two of you had, maybe irreparability. “Greg, come here.” You said, snagging his sleeve and drawing him closer. You guided his hands to your hips, placing them there. You reached up and touched his face, your thumb ghosting along the line of his jaw before you pressed your forehead to his.

“I could really do with that hug right now.” He murmured, his voice trembling.

You drew him close; you could feel him coming undone as you held him in your arms. His face buried in the curve of your throat as he clung onto like a life preserver after he’d been washed out to sea.

“It’s alright baby.” You whispered; you palm stroking soothingly along his spine. “Everything will be alright.”

Love Greg? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[tomatograter]

What are your thoughts on JuneVris?

I like the ship, but sometimes I wonder if the romance is really There or if I just want to complete the Junevrisrezi Triad or w/e. I loved how their friendship developed over the course of homestuck, I just keep getting stuck on the pesterlog where June tells Vriska that she "kind of hates her". Ultimately they're still friendly after that, with June joking with Vriska by saying "if you ever need someone to punch you in the face again, I'll be there" and all that, but I wonder if June would ever really want a commited relationship with Vriska after that

June says a lot of negative things she doesn't fully mean or, if she means it, she has not taken into account how it will affect others; if jake is on the high end of the constantly-performing-for-acceptance spectrum, june is somewhere at the bottom.

The ease with which she can detach herself from her entire friendgroup and go into extended periods of complete isolation— marked by her friends worrying about her but that worry not being reciprocated, since she's mostly stewing on her own fog of bitter NEET malaise— is something that marks june's biggest flaw but also cements her story-role; she's the Protagonist. Things are secondary to her, not the other way around. She can tune the whole world out of her sight and focus only on whatever she deems worthy.

When she seeks affirmation and justification or even comfort, its not from her Fellow Friends, it's from the general cosmic ideal of... her doing something. The importance/meaning of her existence. The fact that She Needs To Do Something to fulfill her own abstract expectations, and keep busy. Of course our biggest point of comparison for this is when she's still not out to anyone, not even herself, so I'm partial to saying the self-actualization she desperately craves but can't even name has something to do with how she's transgender, and realizing that can be a great step 1 to getting out of that headspace, and moving on.

But related to the above statements and more closely tied with the purpose of your ask: June can and does designate certain people as stand-ins for why "things are going wrong" - and with nobody else to turn to safe for a big boss, these people are mostly her friends. This doesn't mean june is justified or right, and this also doesn't mean she doesn't truly love her friends, just that her feelings are easily overtaken by frustration, and from that frustration surges anger and spitefulness, a trait she closely shares with Jane.

They toe the flimsy line of meanness and arrogance, and sometimes blow up spectacularly. Their sense of inflated self-importance makes them transform everyone else in a liability, under the absolute lens of "I am justified, you are not."

June will holler to the skies that davesprite has somehow driven her out of her mind with his idiosyncrasies, and that her once favorite movies are truly fucking stupid shit for stupid fucking babies, and that roxy is a subhuman robot entirely out of her goddamn mind, and that vriska is a freak phony psycho she wants nothing to do with and is embarrassed to ever have liked; and she feels righteous in her fury. The excuses work, it doesn't matter if they're real. Make up a guy and get fucking mad at him! He's ruining your life! Doesn't that make you feel better? Doesn't that instantly give your life a clearer objective, and the assurance you are better than them? It's so easy. Here's a big red game target; catch it. kill it. scream at it.

It doesn't last, though. And in the aftermath the only thing it reveals is more of that same familiar emptiness.

The frustrations she has personified in her friends are still there, and they remain unaddressed, because the root often laid in june herself. She's mad her friends aren't exactly as she pictured them to be, or else she's mad at herself for ever making something out to be what it wasn't— or she's mad because she believed they could hold all the answers to make life better for her, but they don't.

The june-vriska example is particularly relevant because 'vriska' is part of june's dream of utter escapism; from seemingly nowhere, here comes a cool girl that knows exactly what june has to do always, and shes quirky, snippy, not like the other girls, and she has aaaaaaaall the answers. Except that personality shield has a complex and bloody backstory to all its 'epic' antics, and just as soon as vriska reveals her fragility the dream breaks a little. June has to cope with the fact vriska has flaws she cannot understand or justify, and after having looked up to her for so long she defaults to the emotion "maybe you always sucked after all." - it simplifies the situation. It makes her feel better about projection. That's where "I kind of hate you." comes from. She could have said 'i envy you/want to be you/am frustrated by you/disappointed in you' but the former is quicker.

The words 'June' and 'committed relationship' aren't really some i'd easily associate (She has a bit of a permanence=stagnation problem), but I do think her Protagonitis can only be put in check by the story's own favorite. Vriska can dish it out, and she has a backlog to argue she's important - if not MORE important than june, providing some perspective. Similarly, they can just sort of hang out sometimes and not feel utterly bored by each others presence, as they're picky in similar ways.

When I picture junevrisrezi, it is with june coming and going after vrisrezi have figured it out. They will always be a bit more partial to each other than they are to june, and june's drive to be constantly moving isn't exactly the same as two women who basically spent their childhoods in a murder-happy hellscape and could use a little slowing down, actually. It's not bad, they just have different priorities.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Counterpart to this

(Chat noir's side)

Shadowmoth had entered here!

Chat noir was sure of it.

Ladybug had told chat noir to sit tight while she and Rena Rouge went to get help. Sentimonsters were running rampant and the trio agreed that it was too much for them alone.

But how could he when Shadowmoth was right there! This could be the only chance they had of tracking him down!

The Cats night vision helped him naviagate the dark underground of the city. It didn't take long for the cat hero to realize he was in the catacombs.

"Spooky. Oddly fitting for Shadowmoth."

He pulls out his communicator to contact Ladybug... but no signal.

"I can't connect, strange... Ill jump out and call..." Chat noir's sentence was stopped as he collided with a wall.

"What the... I could have sworn that there was a door way behind me." The cat commented.

He decided to start walking. Perhaps finding the villain would make finding the way out easier.

Chat noir began making his way through the catacombs. The place emitted a feeling of ominous dread. He never did like this place.

The tight dark spaces, the creepy feeling of being watched, and the nasty smell. Of course Shadowmoth would feel right at home.

Chat noir found himself hitting a dead end.

"Jeez this place is like a maze."

His nail to scratch an X on the wall.

"Thats one dead end."

The Cat hero made it a habit of doing that whenever he ran into a dead end.

As he encountered more and more dead ends her felt his calm start to shake.

"Is this place getting smaller?" He said in a joking manner to himself, but clearly was more panicked than he was trying to let on.

He started moving a bit faster, trying to find an exit, but every path seemed to take him to an X.

"No way, I know I haven't been down this way before..." Chat noir spoke in disbelief.

He was starting to get frustrated. Surely Ladybug noticed he was gone.

"Calm down Chat noir, Ladybug likely noticed you're missing and will be here to help."

"Hey where's chat noir?" a voice calls out. A familiar voice.

Chat noir focused on the sound, it was Rena rouge! He rushed to find the location of the sound.

"Rena! I am so glad to..."

Chat noir found himself looking at a wall, but something was different. Instead of a blank wall, it was projecting something. Chat noir could see Rena Rouge and Ladybug as clear as day. He could hear them.

"Where is that cat, I told him to wait here." Ladybug stated with a bit of annoyance.

"Should we go look for him?" Rena Rouge inquired.

"Look at the city! we don't have time to search. Im sure he will catch up." Ladybug insisted.

"Right!"

The two fist bump and run off as they head into battle.

Chat noir took that as a sign that he needed to find a way out. But as he turned, he noticed the way he came was gone. There was no door. He was just stuck in the room, with the broadcast. Chat noir finally realized it, this place was alive!

"So its a sentimonster's doing! Lets see how you like it when I destroy..."

Suddenly a pair of eyes show up on the wall. Then another pair.

The cat realized, the sentimonster WANTED him to use his power. It would cause the place to go haywire and he would be put on a time limit. He could be exposed if he tried it. What should he do?

Chat noir looked around the small room and noticed the broadcast was continuing. He took a deep disappointed sigh. All he could really do was watch. If things get really desperate for Ladybug, he will cataclysm the sentimonster and rush to her, consequences or not.

So Chat noir sat down and continued watching the broadcast.

He heard every quip, every word. He saw how Ladybug got down on herself when the guardian's Su Han had called got controlled.

He saw the reveal of Rena Rouge being Alya as she had to fight her akumatized family. That was a shock! And he could see the emotion of the whole situation.

He even saw Ladybug hit her lowest point which seemed to happen whenever Shadowmoth did something extra nefarious.

Chat noir tried calling out to her, trying to cheer her on, but he wasn't needed. Rena Rouge took over. She told Ladybug the encouraging words in his place.

"Even if its just the two of us, we can fight the whole world." Rena Rouge stated confidently. "Trust me."

Ladybug smiled as she met the fox's fist with her own.

"There's no one I can trust more!'

Chat noir felt his heart shatter. Was this real? Was this really happening? Was this just an illusion made by the sentimonster that trapped him? Regardless it was torture.

But he couldn't stop watching. He saw how Ladybug and the other heroes turned it all around. Scarlet shadow moth was shocked. He was in awe of ladybug and the other heroes. He was giving the cliché villain speech of how it wasn't possible, and then at the moment the Rena Rouge snagged his staff, the broadcast ended.

"I wasn't needed..."

He hugged his knees.

"Was I holding her back? Rena Rouge didn't need to sacrifice herself. She did everything I would have done but better..." Chat noir whispered as he felt his heart sink.

Was she just humoring me by keeping me around? Was I there just to be comic relief? Does she even trust me? Did she notice he was gone the whole time? Would she even care if he left?

These thoughts flooded the depressed cats mind.

Was she my partner only out of obligation?

That last thought made him stand up.

"CATACLYSM!" He roared as he hit the wall infront of him.

He heard the wailing of the creature that made up the maze. He saw the walls shifting like crazy! Some expanding and other's tightening. He needed to get out of there!

He still felt those negative feelings and it clouded his mind as he failed to dodge one of the moving walls, snapped on his leg like a mouse trap.

"No!"

Chat noir felt his despair grow as he noticed more walls moving and pulling him down. He was doomed.

"No wonder Ladybug wants to replace me." He said as a tear streamed down his face.

Thats when the cat noticed a black butterfly move towards him.

"No!" Chat noir tried to struggle but he couldn't get away as the akuma flew into his bell.

Chat noir screamed as the akuma tried to get into his head, but he can hear the sweet calls. It can give him the power to escape, he can have the power to show Ladybug he isn't replaceable.

He can show them all.

Chat noir did his best to resist. But all of the emotions he had been trying to suppress had burst to the surface, he couldn't resist.

He felt his resistance slip. The sentimonster stopped moving as Chat noir heard Shadowmoth's words.

“Chat Blanc! I give you the power of infinite destruction, to destroy anything and everything that causes you pain. In exchange, you will bring me Ladybug’s miraculous.”

Chat noir felt himself give in.

His black costume shift to become white. His green eyes turned a cold ice blue. His blond hair also matched his costume.

A new emotion filled him.

Pure rage.

"Mega Cataclysm."

A massive burst of destructive energy burst from his hand. He erased the rampaging sentient maze. He could finally see the outside.

He looked around and saw the Eiffel Tower.

"There." He said to himself before sprinting towards it.

Chat blanc noticed a few foolish individuals trying to stop his approach, but they were not strong enough to stop him. He casually swiped them without slowing his pace.

In a matter of minutes he had reached the top of the French monument.

“Excellent timing Chat Blanc.”

The Cat looked at the villain for a moment, expressionless. Internally he was seething in anger. All of the pain the villain had caused him. He hated him

“Ladybug we might need a lucky charm here”

The cat heard Rena Rouge say.

“It happened again…”

Ladybug muttered in horror.

She seemed to be zoning out. Was he not even worth her attention.

“Now Chat Blanc. Take the miraculous!”

Chat blanc had no interest in the villain's commands. But a thought popped into his head.

“I shall.”

Shadowmoth Laughed only to suddenly de-transform into Gabriel Agreste, right in front of the two heroes.

He had snatched both miraculous from him, and was looking at the villain with sharp eyes.

The cat villain was shocked for a split second. But it made sense in a sick cosmic sense. He decided he didn't care. His father was a monster that didn't care about him, so why should he care about his father?

“Chat Blanc! How dare you disobey me! I am your…”

“You are nothing…”

Chat blanc cataclysmed the man before he finished his sentence.

“… but a failure of a father.”

He turned his attention to Ladybug and Rena Rouge.

“Wow… that was excessive… But no worries. Just pass ladybug the akumatized item and we can undo all the damage done today.” Rena Rouge said as she composed herself.

The cat looked at the fox with contempt, how he wanted nothing more to destroy her for replacing him. But... a new more sinister thought pops into his head.

Chat Blanc raised his hand in the air.

“Cataclysm.”

A ball of white light formed in his palm and began growing.

Ladybug snapped back to reality as the gravity of the situation became real.

“Chaton stop! You can’t destroy everything! This isn’t you!”

He would destroy her legacy.

“Destroy Akuma Charms” He spoke.

Little balls of energy bursted out from the large cataclysm. The tiny energy balls located and destroyed every anti akuma charm Ladybug had ever created.

After that task was finished. Chat blanc lowered his hand, and a Cheshire grin appeared on his face.

“So I finally have your attention.”

[herstarburststories]

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam. 

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration. 

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’ 

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’ 

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas. 

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

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[gaycrouton]

Ray of Light

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he’d actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

Alternatively; Mulder and Scully's first time after he's returned.

angst and pregnancy smut | discussions of trauma | msr | 7k | ao3 | dedicated to the wonderful @sclly​

Before Mulder had been abducted, he was finally in a relationship with Scully, or at least that's what he thought of it as. They didn't use the words dating or boyfriend and girlfriend, but they spent every night together, they were intimate in every possible sense of the word, and he'd never felt more loved in his entire life.

When he returned, she was pregnant, had a new partner at work, and on his first night back she drove back to her apartment and left him alone.

Looking back, he knew she was respecting the fact he said he needed time to process everything, but she had no idea how much it added to his confusion. He was uncertain of where he stood with Scully, so he buried himself in his work since it's where he felt most secure, despite her protests. Mulder knew people thought he was being rude, hell even he did at times, but every time he looked into Scully's eyes, he saw nothing but worry and sympathy.

Yesterday he'd broken into the census bureau with Agent Doggett, only for it to be a bust. They'd been laying low at Scully's apartment ever since, and the awkward tension between them just kept mounting. He tried to think of what to say, only to end up feeling like anything he said would come across as curt, and he wanted to avoid saying something else that might hurt her. The last thing he ever wanted was him coming back from the dead just to continue making her sad.

The first thing he noticed about his apartment was that it didn't look like the apartment of a man who'd been missing for months. It was spotless. Cleaner than he'd ever seen it. It made his heart ache thinking of the Scully who was so firm in her convictions he'd come back that she had clearly spent a lot of time making the apartment look great for his return. It made him feel even worse thinking of what response she'd imagined he'd have upon seeing it, only to be met with pure apathy.

As soon as he realized the molly was dead it just felt like a cosmic kick while he was already down. It might've just been one fish that could easily be replaced for $2, but that particular fish was part of a pair Scully had given him early in their partnership when she wasn't sure what he'd like as a gift. She'd been shy and sweet when she presented the black and white duo swimming together in a bag. "These were the only two left and I didn't want to split them up." He'd put them in the tank and, while the black one blended in with the others he had, the white one always swam around and reminded him of her. Now he couldn't even have that.

Despite the lack of communication happening right now, and how much work had been put into making him feel like his space was ready for him to come back, he still found himself staying at her apartment most nights. That first night he spent alone in his place was filled with dream after dream getting tortured — saws going into his chest, his skin being pulled from his body, the pain he could still feel resonating in his bones like a phantom limb. He'd wake up every few hours to the sounds of his own screams resonating off the empty apartment walls. There was always a pause where he waited for her to roll over or for the sounds of her footsteps to rush down the hallway, but it never came. The only thing that brought him comfort was that the bed smelled like her.

It didn't matter how clean his apartment was because that was never what he was coming back to. Scully was his home, and without her, he felt lost. Yesterday he never made a move to leave and she never asked him to. He wasn't sure if he was welcome in her bed, so he purposefully stayed up later than her and passed out on her couch. As had been their rapport as of late, she didn't say anything, but he could tell from her hurt expression that he'd made the wrong decision.

Luckily he could always trust Scully to know how to be his ray of light whenever he managed to lose his footing in the darkness.

"I know how you feel," she murmured lightly while sitting next to him on the couch.

It was so out of the blue he wasn't sure what to respond. The show they'd been watching had gone to commercial break and, apparently, so had them pretending everything was normal. He turned to her, wanting her to know he was giving her his full attention.

"When I came back, I um," she paused, her fingers starting to play with the silken edge of a maternity pajama top. "I felt so out of place within my own life. I felt like I didn't know how to be myself in a world that had gone on without me."

The irony was not lost on him that what he remembered most of those few months after she came back was how frustrated he'd been with her pushing herself. She'd taken a mere week off to recover from they didn't even know what injuries, and she was demanding to work as if all was fine. Mulder recognized it as a diversion tactic, it was more comfortable to focus on work than to process trauma, but he'd gotten frustrated with her, and here he was doing the same thing. The only difference seemed to be she knew from experience it didn't help.

"It took me years to feel like I'd caught up. I still have a hard time grappling with those months I was gone, and that I'll never get that time back. All the things I might've done in that time that were robbed from me. I remember when three months passed since I'd been returned, when I'd been back as long as I'd been missing, I still didn't feel fully like myself. Every external factor was the same, it was just me having a hard time adapting."

He listened to her, entranced by her admission. When he asked how she was doing back then, he'd gotten a lot of 'fines,' and he ended up not asking anymore in fear he was prying and annoying her. To hear her speak so candidly about her experience made him want to go back in time and hug the young woman who felt like he did now. He knew he was empathizing as best he could back then, but now having experienced what it's like, he realized there was no way he could have fully understood the depth and complexity of her emotions.

Scully turned to him with a deep breath and took his hand in her own. "I couldn't imagine coming back to every aspect of my life being different. I at least had the comfort of familiarity when I returned, and I could assimilate back into my old life while trying to process my trauma. I'm sorry if I was rushing you earlier when you said you were having problems processing and figuring out how you fit in."

Her ability to articulate what he was feeling was a relief, and almost eerie. Mulder knew he should say something so she didn't feel like she was talking to a brick wall, but she was saying it better than he ever could and he had missed the sound of her voice.

"I guess what got me through your absence was imagining your return," she admitted, confirming his earlier belief about her being at his apartment which now felt like a diorama of her grief. "I hate it when you're sad, so I didn't want to imagine you that way. It was wrong of me to cling to an image of you who'd come back and react like everything is fine when I know firsthand how unrealistic of an expectation that is to meet."

Mulder knew it was a sensitive question to ask, but he wanted to know. "How did you get through it when you thought I was dead? When it didn't seem like there was a possibility of me coming back?"

Scully's hold on his hand tightened as her face crumpled slightly. He squeezed her hand and stroked the skin on the back of her hand encouragingly. "I tried not to think of how you looked laying in that field," she stated, her voice quivering before a sharp staccato inhalation.

Shit. He hadn't even thought of the fact Scully might have seen his body like that. It made sense she'd want to see it and confirm for herself, Scully was a scientist who needed proof above all else, but he'd imagined her mourning his body on an autopsy table in the comfort of her own domain. Not that she'd seen him in whatever state he was crudely discarded in.

Mulder didn't think he could ever voice to her what he would have done if the situation was reversed and he had found her body dead in a field.

He could tell from her response that it was an image that had traumatized her, something that would no doubt haunt her for the rest of her life; but she managed to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and turn to him to continue.

There would never be a moment in his life where he wasn't astounded by her strength.

"I spent a lot of time in Karen Kosseff's office, and I just tried to focus on staying alive for the baby," she said, putting her other hand on her stomach.

His attention was drawn to the hand rubbing her stomach and that familiar knot of jealousy formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. Someone else had granted her the miracle he wanted to give her and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't even know if it was his place to be upset about it or if he was overstepping. The first time she'd done IVF, when she'd asked him, he felt included — like no matter what, he'd be a part of her and the baby's life. But clearly, she did it again and it made him feel like he hadn't actually needed to be a part of the process. That his involvement wasn't expected or, even worse, truly wanted.

While their conversation had made him feel better, it was that bump underneath her clothes that made him feel like he wasn't invited to a part of her life he wanted to be in more than she knew. Mulder wanted to tell her he'd raise the baby like his own if she'd let him, but the thought of her saying no felt like the last thing he could take right now.

"You can always touch me. You know that, right?" she asked softly off his look.

His hand itched to reach out, but it stayed in his lap. "I'm glad the IVF finally worked for you," he replied, putting all his effort into smiling to show he meant it.

Smiling looked like the furthest thing from her mind. "What?" Scully replied, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?" he repeated, confused by her confusion.

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she bit it in concentration, a look of pain passing her face. "Mulder," she stated hesitantly. "Do you really believe this baby isn't yours?" she asked, hurt she was trying to hide leaking through her words.

Mulder shook his head, dumbstruck. "How could it be?"

"You were right," she shrugged. "I just couldn't give up on a miracle."

"I thought the in-vitro didn't work?" he replied.

"You do remember all the sex we were having before you were taken, right?" she deadpanned. "I trust you got the birds and the bees talk?"

"It's mine," he whispered in shock.

"It's yours," she confirmed with so much conviction his knees would have given out if he was standing. Then, with a layer of vulnerability, she added softly, "You didn't really think…"

Mulder's mind was reeling, but he could still tell she was hurt by his unspoken implication that she'd move on so quickly after how long it had taken them to get together, but he just hadn't known.

"I thought you tried in-vitro again. I thought maybe you asked someone else," he answered weakly, the statement out loud sounding ridiculous to his own ears.

"Who else do you think I'd ask? Skinner?" she asked.

He wasn't going to admit it, but he'd considered it. When he was in the hospital he saw how protective Skinner was of her, how close they seemed to have gotten since he'd been gone. Retrospectively he could see that they likely didn't have many people they could turn to when they were looking for him, so it made sense they would have gotten closer.

"I thought maybe an anonymous donor," he answered with a grimace.

"I could barely get out of bed when you were taken, let alone decide it would be a great time to have a baby," she replied. "Though I will say, I'm glad I had a part of you with me to get me through this. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if I wasn't so concerned with keeping myself healthy for the baby. If I even could have."

Mulder couldn't handle thinking about that, so he focused on her delicate hand resting in his own, the hands that had healed him in more ways than he could count. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed her fingers, inhaling the smell of her lotion as he reveled in the feeling of her skin on his lips once more. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I-I just thought since it didn't work that time and then I saw you pregnant that maybe it was my fault it failed in the first place. I didn't mean to make you feel like I resented you. I never did for a second. I was just depressed that the life I'd been wanting for you and I was happening without me."

Her fingers tightened around his as he pressed their joined hands to his heart. "You're here now," she replied with an encouraging smile.

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he'd actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

He looked down at her swollen stomach and felt a smile break out on his face. Scully was pregnant with their baby. The words didn't even feel real. It felt too good to be true. She tugged his hand towards her and brought it to her stomach, pressing it against her bulge while splaying out his fingers. When Mulder looked up, she was smiling back at him and he realized how much he'd missed seeing that. He had never touched a pregnant woman's stomach before, and he was shocked at how firm it was. "What does it feel like?" he asked, astonished.

"At times, lovely, but most of the time I'm exhausted, feel disgusting, and look like an elephant," she chuckled.

He looked up at her and took note of how long and shiny her hair looked and how she truly exemplified that pregnancy 'glow' he always heard people talk about. She was absolutely radiant.

"You're beautiful, Scully," he murmured firmly. "Always."

He watched as tears immediately pooled in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Hey, hey, hey," he replied, scooting over and wrapping an arm around her to pull her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck, pressing kisses to his skin after littering it with her tears. She smelled like cocoa butter and her skin felt unimaginably smooth. "Are you okay?" he murmured into her shoulder.

Scully pulled away slightly with a chuckle and shook her head. "Yeah, I've just been so emotional because of the hormones and I've hated how things were between us and I'm just so happy you're here," she explained, her voice quivering near the end. Without a moment's hesitation, he closed the gap between them, pressing his mouth to hers as if the mere act could be his benediction — a plea for an absolution only she could give.

She met him with equal fervor and for the first time in days, he was home, he finally felt alive.

It was different, kissing her while she was pregnant. It took more maneuvering than he was used to, but he liked it. Every time her stomach grazed his, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and overwhelming affection for her. "I missed you," she whispered against his lips between kisses. "So much."

He let his hands roam through her hair as they kissed, amazed at how thick it was and how the longer strands felt weaving like water in and out of his fingers. Mulder was surprised at the tonal change, but he figured it made sense. They deserved this little piece of heaven after the hell they'd just been through. Being in her arms was exactly where he wanted to be.

Somewhere between Scully pulling on his shirt and their legs shifting against each other, they ended up with Scully laying on her back on the couch while Mulder hovered above her. He was being mindful of not putting any weight on her stomach as he began kissing one of the tendons of her neck, smiling as he felt her pulse thrum under his tongue. A shiver went down his spine as he felt her rake her long fingernails sensually down his back. He moved to the other side of her neck and kissed the vibrations of her moan.

The moment he registered something tickle his inner thigh, she already began palming him through the front of his grey sweatpants, eliciting a hearty groan. He felt his eyes flutter shut in ecstasy as she deftly moved her wrist, stroking him firmly through the fabric. "Scully," he rasped between clenched teeth, burrowing his face into her neck while pumping against her hand.

"Mulder," she rasped.

He pulled away to look at her and watched as she turned away and coughed. Realizing her rasp was out of a lack of breath and not lust, he sat back on his legs out of concern he'd been pressing on her. "Are you okay?" he panted.

She reached out for his arm and he pulled her up into a sitting position. "Yeah," she nodded with a smile. "The baby just smashes my lungs if I'm on my back for too long."

"Do you want to stop?' he asked, rubbing her arms.

"Absolutely not," she replied firmly before she all but pulled him off his feet and led him by the hand to the bedroom.

"What they say about pregnant women's sex drives must be true then, huh?" he teased, following behind her with his own bounding footsteps.

Upon entering her room she turned to him with a mock-severe look, "You have no idea."

Her intensity and the hunger in her eyes made his cock twitch. Mulder pulled her to him, pressing his arousal to her stomach. "I think I can help with that," he murmured.

He brought his hands up in between them and started undoing the buttons of her nightshirt, noting how her nipples were protruding against the fabric. When he'd done research after she initially brought up in-vitro and having a baby, he learned about how much more sensitive women's bodies became. Out of curiosity, he let one finger stray from his mission to flick one nipple teasingly.

His eyes widened with the intensity of her gasp. "Sorry, my breasts are sensitive," she chuckled breathily, confirming his suspicions.

"I didn't even know that was a possibility for you," he teased, knowing he'd made her come from breast play alone before. Not wanting to neglect the other side, he let the back of his index finger graze over the other pebbled nipple and watched as it seemed to become impossibly harder, her breath almost becoming labored from just that.

This was going to be fun.

When the last button was undone, he raked his fingers up her body in between the flaps of fabric. He gently touched the darker line that was running up the middle of her stomach, only pausing to lightly touch her now protruding belly button.

She laughed huskily and did a little pivot sway away from him. "That tickles," she chastised playfully.

He chuckled along with her as he went to her shoulders, sliding his hands under the fabric so that it slid down her arms behind her, fluttering down in a heap at her feet. The sight of her standing shirtless while pregnant in front of him was enough to take his breath away.

It was initially almost imperceivable, but he saw her hands instinctively go to cover herself, only to hesitate and join self-consciously in front of her stomach. At that moment it struck him that it hadn't been a one-off comment in the living room: she really felt insecure about herself. She was trying to hide it, her trust for him feeling like the greatest honor, but he could still see it in her demeanor change. "You have no idea how sexy you are," he praised when he caught her eye.

"Mulder, you don't ha-" she began with a slight shake of her head.

"Don't," he whispered. Mulder raised his hands and cupped her jaw in his palms, coaxing her to look at him fully and see his sincerity. "I love your body. You're carrying our baby, and I'm in awe of you. Scully, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire life, and that most certainly hasn't changed. I don't want to see you doubt yourself."

He was glad to see he hadn't lost the ability to make her blush since he'd been gone. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were misty again. "Thank you," she mouthed, her voice a ghost of a whisper. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, each cheek, and the tip of her nose before finally resting on her lips, hoping to convey his earnest adoration.

Scully's tongue slid into his mouth to deepen the kiss as her hands wrapped around him, sliding up under his shirt to play with the skin of his lower back. His hands slid away from her jaw and one entangled itself in her hair while the other reached around to cup the back of her neck.

However, where he anticipated meeting the slightly raised line of where he knew her little implant scar was, he felt something that felt significantly more raised. His eyes shot open as he pulled away, all other thoughts temporarily forgotten. Scully had a slightly chagrined expression on her face as her eyes tentatively peeked open.

He didn't wait before walking around her, gently moving her hair aside so he could have a better look at the back of her neck. The ghost of the white little scar he was anticipating had suddenly become paired with a raised, red, and angry scar next to her old one, only this one was far newer and deeper.

This was one of his favorite spots on her body. The tiny little scar was a reminder of her strength. He liked to kiss and touch the spot he knew held the miracle that helped keep her alive. Seeing this new wound right next to it made his heart race and his body go numb. "D-did someone cut out your chip?" he asked. Immeasurable guilt started to fill him at the knowledge that someone hurt her while he wasn't there. That someone tried to take something so important. Would her cancer come back?

She turned around quickly and reached up to mirror the centering touch he'd just given her as she cupped his face with her hands, her fingers gently scratching the fine hairs near his ears.

"No. No one tried to cut out my chip," she replied firmly.

"But did they inadvertently do so? What happened?" he asked, falling into his reflexive habit of becoming one-track-minded where Scully's safety was concerned.

"It's still there. I had them x-ray me when I got to the hospital. I promise, I'm okay," she pressed. "I can fill you in on all the cases you missed later, okay?"

There must've been something on his face that made her realize he'd be focused on it until he got a little more assurance than that. With a sigh, she stroked the skin of his cheeks and stated, "I initially had a hard time letting myself trust Doggett so I went on a case alone and some cultists tried to make me a host for their God. I'm not going to go into details right now because it's gross and I'm trying to have sex right now, but Doggett found me and I had to have him cut something out of me because we were running out of time. I promise it's not as bad as it looks."

"Doggett did that to you?" he repeated, the image of the man cutting her burning into his mind.

She rolled her eyes and looked at him pointedly. "I think you missed the part where I said I told him to. He saved my life, Mulder." She moved her hands down to rest on his chest, roaming his muscles with clear appreciation. Then she looked up at him with big eyes while teasingly pouting her lip. "I don't want to talk about Doggett or cases right now. I've missed you so much and I thought about this for months. Please don't make me wait anymore. I promise I'm okay and I'll fill you in on everything later. Just be here with me," she pleaded.

Mulder could never say no to her when she asked like that, so despite his curiosity, he smiled and nodded. They were in no rush, they had plenty of time. He'd ask questions tomorrow.

Tonight was for her.

"Okay," he replied, tucking an errant hair behind her ear.

"Good," she smirked triumphantly, a devilish gleam twinkling in her eye. "I don't want to be the only one half-naked anymore," she demanded.

His hands slid down her body and he smirked when he felt goosebumps arise in their wake. "You're right, you should be fully naked," he replied, tugging on the elastic waistband of her pajama pants. She let him slide the silk shorts down her legs, no underwear much to his delight, and she was visibly shivering in excitement as he palmed her bare hips in his hands as he stood back up.

Not wanting to dismiss her wishes though, he quickly rid himself of his shirt and his sweatpants so they were both standing nude. "Get on the bed," he commanded lowly.

She hummed in appreciation and crawled onto the bed, the roundness of her stomach visible between her thighs as she made her way up to the headboard and her arousal glistening prominently. She was so wet it was already leaking onto her inner thighs and he felt proud to have been the cause. His erection that had weaned when they were talking about her injury had sprung back in full force upon seeing her fully naked again. God, he missed her.

Despite his arousal and excitement, he couldn't help but feel robbed of the opportunity to see these developments occur over time. Mulder wished he could have seen her body slowly change and develop as new life grew inside her. Suddenly he painfully related to her earlier sentiment regarding feeling indignant about the time that had been taken and all the moments he was robbed of. He wanted to hold her hair back when she had morning sickness, he wanted her to jump his bones anytime she wanted because of her hormones, and he wanted to be there every time she had a moment of doubt that told her she was anything other than beautiful so he could tell her how wrong she was.

They'd made love quite a lot in their short time together between her coming to his bed that night he got back from England and his being abducted, but as far as intimate relationships went, it was all still relatively new. He had only just started feeling confident he was proficient in the body and pleasure of Dana Scully. He'd been cataloging every freckle, memorizing every moan and gasp in the hopes of recreating them, and now he felt out of practice. Her body had changed and he was determined tonight to worship her and become reacquainted with her. He wanted to know the intricacies of Dana Scully both inside and out.

Mulder wanted to take his time. Crawling onto the bed after her, he approached her sitting form and kissed her while on his hands and knees. He knew there were going to be many new pregnancy-related changes, but now he was going to look out for any new scars or injuries that happened since they were last together. He just wanted to know so he could start to create a new future. Her skin was pale and delicate, her veins pale and blue underneath her skin like the blue lines on pulpy parchment. He wanted to use his tongue to write odes on her skin, he wanted to fill the spaces between the lines with 'I love you's, pink scrapes of his stubble, hickies left in his mouth's wake — he wanted her body to be a diary of his love. It was his goal to replace the memory of harsh, cruel hands and evil intentions and leave behind nothing but reassurances of his love and affection for her.

He pulled back, enjoying the way her body leaned forward instinctively to keep them connected, and watched as a content expression crossed her face. Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned impishly at him.

"What positions work best for you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied in amusement. "I've never had pregnancy sex before."

"We're like virgins," he joked.

"Oh absolutely," she deadpanned, placing a hand on her severely pregnant stomach for emphasis.

Mulder snickered before he maneuvered onto his back, his cock bobbing in the air emphatically. He was adjusting himself when he felt Scully's knee come to nestle against his hip, her other going over him so she was sitting on his lap. Pausing his movements, he watched as she grabbed his erection and brought it closer to herself. However, instead of easing up on her knees and guiding him inside of her like he thought she was doing, she rocked back and forth while pressing his cock against her folds, rubbing his head against her clit with each movement.

"Fuck," he moaned, his hips inadvertently snapping up from pleasure and causing her to moan at the unexpected contact.

She continued her ministrations until her knees had his hips in a death grip and her movements were becoming erratic as her orgasm built. Mulder watched as she lifted herself up, but he pivoted his hips before she could sink onto him.

"Wait," he rasped.

"Mulder," she whined, dragging out his name as she pouted.

The sight amused him, and he nearly gave in. "There's something I need to do first," he explained.

"Do you have to do it right no-"

"Scoot up here and grab the headboard," he instructed.

Her pout quickly turned into a smile and an enthusiastic, "Oh!"

Doing as he instructed, she made her way up his body until she was straddling his face. "It's weird not being able to look down and watch you," she remarked once she braced her hands against the headboard.

Utilizing the way her stomach eclipsed his head underneath her to his advantage, he latched his mouth onto her clit without warning and added suction. "Shit!" she gasped, her body jerking in surprise. He reached his arms around her thighs so she was locked in place as he ran his tongue along her seam. She was so wet the mere contact had already drenched the lower half of his face. Her labia was swollen red from arousal and if her movements a moment ago were any indication, she was close to coming already.

He plunged his tongue inside of her and curved it so he was pressing against her inner wall, alternating between the pointed tip of his tongue and the flat of it when it was relaxed. He licked his lips and savored the taste of her. It was distinguishably Scully, but slightly different, sweeter, than he remembered. Even though his arms were around her thighs, she was still squirming as best she could. Knowing going back to her clit was what was going to send her over the edge, he swirled around it teasingly. Once, twice, then he latched on with suction while flicking the pointed edge of his tongue mercilessly against her clit.

A gasp tore from her lungs and was immediately followed by her panting his name with so much reverence it sounded like a prayer. Mulder felt her thighs start shaking and quivering against him with the power of her orgasm, and he didn't stop until she jerked away from him and placed a hand on his shoulder to signal she was too sensitive.

Scully adjusted herself so she was back in her original position, only stopping once to give him a deep kiss on the mouth. Mulder was too focused on what she was going earlier to notice much more, but now that she was sitting on his lap in the glow of the lamp, he realized her breasts were fuller now. Sitting up without dislodging her, he brought his hands up to cup them, playing with their weight in his hands. Scully's eyes shut in pleasure as her head rolled to her shoulder, leaning forward into his touch.

Mulder bent his head down and flicked his tongue over a pebbled nipple before taking the darkened areola into his mouth and sucking. "Mmm," she moaned, squirming against him in desperation for any contact. His cock was grinding into the flesh of her ass as she ground her clit desperately into his pubic bone.

He let go of one nipple to take a few deep breaths before moving onto the other one to give it the same attention. One hand was resting on the curve of her hip, stabilizing Scully, while the other rubbed her other breast and sternum. Mulder was so focused on playing with her, that he didn't fully register her grab his forearm so she could bring his hand to her face until he felt her lips clamp around his thumb. He felt his cock throb at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth sucking on his thumb.

Mulder released her breast with an audible suction as he looked up at her. If he let himself, he could have come from the look in her eyes alone. Scully kept her gaze even as she swirled her tongue around his thumb lewdly. He playfully bent it in her mouth and watched as her lips opened into a breathy chuckle. Pulling his hand away, he lowered it so he could spread her saliva around both her nipples, blowing a stream of cool air on them to make her shiver. He watched her nipples tighten in front of him before resting his hand on her inner thigh so he could swirl his thumb around her swollen clit.

"I want you," she gasped as she swiveled her hips to compliment his ministrations.

"Like this?" he asked.

"No," she mused. Then with displeasure added, "My knees are starting to hurt."

"Try laying on your side," he suggested, easing himself up as she got off him.

She laid down and faced the wall, presuming he was going to spoon up behind her. "What're you doing?" she asked when she saw him at her knees.

"Face the other way," he replied, straddling her bottom leg while bringing the other to rest against his hip. This way she could lay down on her side and wouldn't have to exert herself as much.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

While she was still laying on her side, she was pivoting slightly so she could face him. "Yeah," she replied while rubbing her top leg against his encouragingly.

He reached down and grabbed his shaft, rubbing the tip tauntingly between her folds before slowly easing himself into her. He watched her face to make sure he wasn't hurting her, but all he saw was an expression of content bliss. "You feel so good," she sighed, tilting her hips to give him room to go deeper.

"Jesus, Scully," he groaned in ecstasy as her walls clamped down around him like a vice.

One of her hands went to one of his legs and she began grasping at him, seemingly just wanting to touch him in any way she could. "More," she demanded.

As much as he wanted this to last for as long as possible, he was in no condition to deny her. He began pumping his hips against her, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate him as he slid in and out of her. Her breasts were bouncing tantalizingly and he watched as she brought her other hand up and began cupping herself, moving from one breast to the other haphazardly.

Leaning forward slightly, Mulder let his hand roam across her stomach, feeling the way it moved with each thrust. It was an odd experience, but insanely erotic at the same time. He repositioned his knees a little bit so he could angle his hips to try to hit her g-spot. Mulder had been pretty proficient at finding it before, but he felt his spongy head rubbing against the grooves of her front walls and he hadn't heard her telltale gasp yet.

He rocked his hips a little differently, trying a little farther back, and he saw her body tense as her breathing hitched. There it is. "Please don't stop," she begged breathlessly, her hands moving to grab fistfuls of the bedspread. He picked up the pace, hitting the same area repeatedly with the tip of his cock while sounds of pleasure flew out of her mouth mindlessly. "Yes. Need. Please. So good. More. Mulder," variants of those words at different volumes and tones with intermittent moans.

He felt a coil start to tighten in his abdomen and he knew he was close. Scully was too as she reached around her stomach to rub her clit with her middle and ring fingers. "That's it, Scully," he praised, locking eyes with her while their mutual bliss grew.

With one quick snap of his hips, he watched as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open as her body trembled with her orgasm. It was clearly taking a conscious amount of effort to keep her eyes open, and he was grateful for it because seeing her come undone was the single most beautiful and erotic thing he'd ever seen. The visual combined with the feeling of her spasming around him caused him to come right after her.

Scully stroked his hair as he caught his breath. "You mean so much to me," she mused out loud, her hand moving to cup his jaw while her thumbs carefully brushed over the scars on his face.

He still felt self-conscious about them, even though he knew it was silly and Scully herself said they'd heal soon. Trying to ignore his insecurities, he bent down to kiss her before he moved so that he was spooning her from behind, pulling a light blanket over them as he put his arm around her.

"Thank you, Scully," he murmured into her hair.

"I think you're the one who deserves the thank you. My knees would have given out a long time ago," she replied, placing her hand on top of the hand he'd placed on her stomach.

He chuckled lightly before shaking his head. "I wasn't talking about that, though I think you deserve some appreciation anyway," he remarked, kissing the crown of her head.

"Then what for?" she yawned.

"Everything," he stated simply.

He felt her about to say something but he interrupted her with a gasp when he felt something press against his palm. "Did you feel that?" she replied excitedly, her hand pressing into his and moving it slightly.

"Was that-"

"The baby kicked," she replied, the smile audible in her tone.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, it felt pretty strong against his hand, he couldn't imagine the internal version of that.

"Not really. It's oddly comforting unless it's on my bladder," she replied. "It's probably going to happen again."

They both laid in silence together for a moment in anticipation, only to simultaneously disrupt it with excited laughs when the baby kicked again. "That's amazing," he replied in awe.

"It really is," she mused in kind.

"Do you know what it reminds me of?" he asked.

"You better not say-"

"- the movie Alien," he replied, smiling when he heard her amused sigh.

He rubbed her stomach gently, both to touch Scully and to start trying to connect with the kid. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"Maybe, but I won't tell," she lilted cheekily.

"That's evil, Scully," he tsked, nudging her lightly with his knee. "I guess it doesn't matter. No matter what, the minute their little arms can hold up a bat I'm going to teach them how to play ball. You can help me since you've received top-notch training from the best," he declared.

Instead of responding, she turned so that she could look at him, and he realized she was crying. "Hey, hey. It's okay," he stammered, moving to stroke her hair and wipe away her tears.

"I'm so relieved you're here. I missed you so much and I was so scared I was going to have to do this alone," she sobbed, clutching his hand like he was going to disappear again if she let go.

Mulder felt his throat start to tighten in sympathy and he held her tighter while kissing her temple. He'd suffered so much when he was taken, but so had she. They were only ever going to get through the emotional scars if they were together. "I'm here, Scully, I promise. I'm yours forever."

[let-them-read-fics]

Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders. 

"...Y/N." 

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly. 

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby." 

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you." 

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship. 

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement. 

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was. 

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy. 

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere. 

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today. 

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again. 

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer. 

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter. 

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded. 

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her. 

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return. 

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke. 

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life. 

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit. 

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast." 

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person. 

"You're too good to me." 

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time. 

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head. 

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond. 

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy." 

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this." 

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you. 

"Okay." 

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in. 

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care. 

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy." 

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over. 

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips. 

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes. 

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again. 

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again. 

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics. 

-------

The Second Anniversary 

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction. 

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Come on, let's go inside." 

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house. 

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today. 

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us." 

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there. 

"Okay, we'll be there." 

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return. 

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much." 

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter. 

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now. 

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something. 

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other. 

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone. 

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely. 

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend. 

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh. 

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 5.5

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (references to much ecchi this chapter)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

She can't stand herself right now, so she makes him feel like he's the untolerated one

She just wants to be alone.

Between the abandonment from her parents, the fact that she wronged Hanabi and will deserve the worst outcome for it, to the way Naruto skillfully fucks up her emotions without even trying, she just wants it all to stop.

It's all… so itchy.

These events and circumstances, they gravitate to her, they stick to her fly-trap skin and die. And she can't be rid of it.

It's all fated.

Her whole existence is one incurable allergy, and continued exposure will only lead to anaphylaxis.

However, if she closes her eyes and lays very still atop her covers, she can dream of a world where everything is as it should be.

One where her parents cherish her and she and Hanabi are one of the closest sisters you'll ever see.

A world where Neji didn't lose his parents, yet it would still feel like he's always lived with her in the same house.

A world where Naruto had never been orphaned, had grown up secure in the love of his parents so that he didn't have to inebriate himself on his vices.

She just can't stand being his sister, because it makes her feel depraved.

She can't stand all the ways that she wants to compete against those other girls.

She's got the home advantage.

Proximity is everything, or it should be.

She doubts he would hate it if he found the hole had grown bigger. She doubts he would hate testing it out.

She pictures it and pictures it, and it's exciting. Tingles shoot down into her belly, traveling lower and lower.

It's so wrong how much she wants to be claimed.

She knows he wouldn't dare.

She knows he would hate it if the one offering themselves on the other side was her.

She can't stand how she had wanted to be curled against his side on the train ride to Neji, how she wished his voice would tickle her ears again like when they were kids, giving her the reassurance that she needed.

She can't stand how she had conspired with Neji to make Naruto feel off-kilter, like he didn't know her at all, just to hand off this whole cosmic unfairness onto him.

Any effort on her part brings them closer together as foster siblings, so really, could anyone blame her for giving up at this point?

She's starting to feel itchy again.

Hinata sucks in a sharp breath as she wills her legs to work.

She needs to apologize to him.

She wobbles out of her room, then leans against his bedroom door. She knocks against the wood. Her efforts are weak at first, hesitant pauses punctuated between each knock. Then desperation finally takes hold, and her knocking picks up as much volume as intensity.

She knows what she's here to do.

It's not that hard.

But the hushed desires crowding the back of her mind, the clawing need to clear the air and put her anxieties down for good, these make it so hard for her to breathe.

These make her not trust herself to be alone with him.

The door handle rotates, the click hitting her ears like the cocking of a gun hammer.

Her heart seizes in a panic.

He greets her with an affronted frown, then tugs at his earbud wires. Thunderous drums and riotous electric guitars buzzed like industrial wasps from the earbuds. When he hit pause on his phone screen, the absence of noise made their home feel like a cave.

Cold and vast.

"I-I have things to say." Her nose wrinkled with embarrassment.

Naruto stepped away from the door, allowing her passage into his room.

It feels like it's been forever since she's stepped foot in here. The posters were all different, and there was an abundance of them plastered along his walls. To her shame, the ceiling over his bed was also well-decorated with the ripped out pages of Gravure models. They all had different looks, different shapes and sizes.

Did he really have no preference?

As she hovered awkwardly in the middle of his room, he took a seat on his bed and patted the empty spot beside him.

She stared, her skepticism all too open.

"Hinata…" His eyes implored her, but when she would still go no closer to him, he was reminded of a life he had thought long-forgotten, back when he was treated like a germ. He shut his mouth, and buried that pain down deep. He couldn't bring himself to say those words. It felt way too pathetic.

His eyes followed her as she headed for his desk and slid the chair out from it. But then she stood there, staring at it too, like it would infect her.

With a growl, he collapsed onto his bed. "You're not going to sit, you're not going to talk--"

"I am going to talk."

"So talk." He laced his fingers behind his head, staring at her pointedly.

She pushed the chair back, and turned towards him, her hands wringing themselves to the point of splintering bones.

"I'm sorry. Neither of us have had a choice in all of this. The only thing we can choose to do is be better to each other."

His pointed look evolved with a lifted eyebrow. "Yeah, we kind of decided that early on, didn't we? I made sure to get along with Neji, and I protected you. It's what I could do. The bullying you endured didn't just stop for no reason."

"I-I know. And what I'm saying is, I'm the-the one whose g-given up on--" Her stuttering caused him to sit up.

"Hey, Hinata? Hey, hey, hey," He stood up and walked over to her, his hands clasping over her strangled ones. "It's okay. C'mon, it's okay. Try to breathe," he extricated her hands from each other and squeezed each of them in his own, offering her strength. "Breathe. Breathe."

But that shaky breath she took caused a few tears to let loose, and for her to question her purpose here.

When he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight, her mouth smashed against his shoulder, the sobs wouldn't stop. The air was like pins in her throat and she felt so, so itchy.

His bedroom was caked in perfume and sex just as she had always imagined, and she wanted to wipe that all away.

"I c,c,can't be a g,good s,s,sister."

She wanted to love him fully.

He stroked her hair and shushed her.

"You'll be an amazing sister. That little brat already loves you. Hell, sometimes I think I won the lottery myself, y'know?"

She wanted to pound her fists against his chest. Instead she clawed the fabric of his lounge hoodie, because she may not be able to hold onto him like this for much longer.

I don't want to be your sister.

I don't want you for a brother.

These are the things she wishes she could say. With every intention of making it up to him, if he would have her.

Before she came here, she needed to gauge how badly he wanted to be part of this family. But now that he went and said something like that… she doesn't have the heart to take this away from him.

"I-I'll do better, Naruto-lun, I,I,I'll do better."

"Geez, you push yourself hard enough, don't you?" He teased.

In the world she dreams up when her eyes are closed, she's able to press her lips to his, all questions erased from both their minds as they melt into the rightness of each other's bodies.

In reality, this is as far as they can go.

AN: I didn't feel comfortable leaving them all passive-aggressive and whatnot, because I no longer like that part of my writing? I think in the past I was fascinated with the whole concept of 'this is what happens when you let things be', but lately it's not all that fascinating, it actually feels pretty dumb. So maybe this is just one of those stories where it's like, 'Yeah, this ain't working for this'. Also, I used to think communication, even if it's healthy, was boring no matter what. Like, 'Easily solved! There is no story!', but lately my mindset on that has evolved and maybe that's because of exposing myself to better stories and media. Anyways, another short one, unfortunately, but I hope you liked it! This chapter has allowed me to go back to advancing the plot with summaries, so I'm quite looking forward to speeding things up. IDK if there is actual NH juiciness up ahead, but we'll see the story allows. 😅 I really had imagined Hinata getting up to more bold 'hint-dropping hijinks' like she did with her shirt, but it seems like it wrote itself out. :( lesigh.

[cupidcreates]

Hi, I hope the last day of 2020 will be a success for you. I have a request for yandere Dabi and / or Chisaki when they hear that their dear, affectionate s/o call them "love" or "happiness of my life"

Affectionate Names

With Yanderes Dabi and Overhaul

(Oh my fucking GOD beech I’m SO SORRY this took LITERAL MONTHS to post. I promise I’m never gonna let an ask sit for that long again holy crap. I really hope this was worth the wait bestie, I tried really hard to make it cute for you nonny. Hope you like it!)

Touya Todoroki - Dabi

Disgust, Anger, Hatred, Fear, Dabi’s used to these emotions playing across the faces of the people he interacts with. He knows how he appears to others, how his very visage causes visceral reactions of discomfort in others. He’s fine with that, in fact he revels in it.

If it’s not the abject loathing of a stranger than it’s the cool detachment of his allies. Dabi finds a sort of warmth, even an odd sense of comfort in their gazes. It’s distant, reserved, and to the point; Dabi never has to question what his allies want from him or what their intentions are.

The indifference many find cold is rather temperate to Dabi. 

The fair weather is what he likes. Nothing too cold, nothing too hot, nothing can be resurrected from mild memories.

Dabi was content with this treatment.

Until he met you.

It had been a long time since anything stoked the kind of fire in his chest like you did. Heat typically coincided with anger, but you didn’t make him angry.

That’s not to say he didn’t mistake it for anger at first. He definitely wanted you dead, seemingly at random, for a few days after seeing you pass by him on the street.

But after a while of reflection he realized you didn’t ignite his hate the way thoughts of his family, his father, or society did.

No, this was a completely different feeling, something brand new.

Something to be explored, immediately.

There was something about you he needed, something you had that he had to get for himself.

And Dabi’s not one to not get his way.

He set out to have you, and have you he did. It took longer than he might have liked (though, anything but immediate compliance is too long for Dabi) and you put up a better fight than he would have expected but he did eventually get you swept away from your previous life.

In his mind he won you over.

In your mind, and in reality, he stole you away from your home in the dead of night and trapped you in an undisclosed location until you eventually broke and developed Stockholm syndrome.

After all, he wasn’t mean to you. He kept you fed and watered, the basement stayed a nice mild temperature, and the rats that scuttled about were actually kind of cute when you looked at them the right way.

You were eventually happy, which is what Dabi wanted as it finally allowed him to get close to you.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted from you. He’d started by simply sitting by your side (once you had calmed down enough to let him do so without screaming) then he progressed to holding you (awkward as it was at first) and once he could trust that you wouldn’t run off he allowed you free roam of the hideout.

Free roam as in you were attached to his hip.

He brought you nearly everywhere, as if he was a child and you were his favorite stuffed bear. He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed you around, but he figured he’d find out if he gave it enough time.

And it’s not like you were trouble, you were actually very helpful, getting him out of more than a few scrapes and sticky situations.

He eventually surmised that this, whatever you two had going on, was something like the affection he missed out on in his youth. It was nice to hold your hand, nice to sit you in his lap as he listened to Shigaraki drone on about his next plan, nice to spend a night with you on the rooftops. 

The time he spent with you didn’t strike a chord in him like his first encounter with you did, but he was content.

He could only ever be content.

He didn’t need anything stronger than baseline serenity.

Or so he thought.

He thought right up until the night he was sitting alone in his room (room being a generous term for the hovel hole in the wall he kept his nearly flattened mattress in) dissociating after a very long day.

Dabi tried not to dissociate frequently, it was best to stay aware of your surroundings when you’re a wanted criminal, but when he did allow himself to fall into this state he was typically here for hours. Nearly comatose as he fled back into his mind.

You knocking softly at the door went completely unnoticed, in fact he didn’t even realize you were there until you had entered the room and sat next to him on the mattress.

Your presence took him completely by surprise and shocked him out of his stupor. It took him a moment to recover his composure and re-mask, and in those several seconds with his guard down you saw Dabi’s face more youthful and innocent than you ever had.

You’d asked him a question, he was aware of that much, but the only thing he caught, the only thing he registered was the word at the very end of your sentence.

“Are you okay, love?”

Love

Rather forcefully Dabi was taken back to his childhood; before his quirk manifested, before his siblings were born to replace him, before his own family turned on him in favor of his youngest brother. It had been so long since someone had called him love; so long since his mother would come into his room early in the morning and brush his bangs out of his face, softly calling to him to wake him up and ready him for the day.

Having already been in a vulnerable state, the name cut through him like a knife. Shaken to his core by the memories ripped fresh in his mind he was, for the first time in his life, grateful that his tear ducts had been burned away so long ago.

He gave nothing away, his face already masked up again and his demeanor its typical cool indifference. He spoke to you as he always had, the tremble in his voice only perceptible to him.

He pushed his head into your shoulder and was silent for a while, just taking in you presence, before offhandedly telling you that he didn’t mind if you called him that again. In private of course.

Love

He thought he could get used to that.

Kai Chisaki - Overhaul

Open affection was not only not necessary in Chisaki’s life but also abjectly disgusting.

Perhaps he never really had good examples of tender kindness and open endearment as a child. Maybe he simply couldn’t comprehend affection in the way others could.

In any case, physical fondness and other such displays of the sentiment were completely foreign to Chisaki.

He didn’t mind this, he had much more pressing matters to attend to. Having a partner of any sort other than business would only slow him down.

Oh but you just had to come along, didn’t you? Had to go nosing around where you didn’t belong, a foolish venture already, and then you had to be incompetent's enough to get yourself caught waist deep in his business.

It didn’t matter, you didn’t matter, whatever you knew about what he was doing didn’t mean a damn thing. All he had to do now was keep you quiet.

For good.

He had to kill you, this much he knew. He’d have no issue doing it, after all who were you anyway? A nosy little cashier at a run-down shop on the brink of bankruptcy. You had no family, if you did they certainly didn’t care about you if the state of and neighborhood your apartment was located in was anything to go by.

You were a threat to the sanctity of his mission, a potential interference to his operation. Simply put you had to go. This was fine, nothing personal. Just business.

But oh you just had to didn’t you? Had to look at him with the most pathetically pleading eyes he’s ever seen as you begged him to let you live. You already knew what he was up to, undoubtedly you understood the torture and death he willingly inflicted upon others. You knew the pleading would do you no good, surely you knew your death was inevitable.

Except that it wasn’t, was it.

Because you had to, you had to come along with a face too sweet to be atomized. Had to, somehow, worm your way into his brain and stop him from dismantling your upper body.

Was this your quirk? Were you somehow influencing him? It had to be something of your doing, the tightness in his chest and warmth in his stomach was something of your doing.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself to destroy something so precious, so pure even. He just couldn’t do it.

But no obstacle comes without workarounds, and he didn’t have an underground labyrinth of empty rooms to not be used.

So if killing you was out of the picture, his only recourse was to keep you hidden away. At least long enough for him to figure out a permanent solution for you.

Living toys are so much more fun to play with anyway.

He kept you holed up in a secret room, watched your every move as months passed. You were very interesting to him, in fact he found almost all of his (precious little) spare time consumed by you. He made sure to visit you daily, though your fear kept you mostly mute at the beginning.

Once you were sure he wasn’t going to obliterate you, he noticed you relaxed and even opened up a little bit. You even allowed him to touch you gently a few times and, to his surprise, he never broke out after his skin made contact with yours.

He figured you must have been sent to him, by some divine or cosmic intervention. You grew on him quickly and he made sure to pamper you in any way he could, moving you to a larger, more luxurious wing of the lair and making sure you had three meals a day of only the best quality food.

One morning he’d decided to visit you earlier than usual, walking down the long hallway towards your room and considering the topic of conversation today.

As he neared your room he overheard you speaking with the associate assigned to your meal delivery today. Pausing just outside the door he caught the tail end of your conversation.

“...so lonely until Chisaki visits. The room is lovely but he’s truly the only happiness of my rather dull life.”

Chisaki considered this for a moment. Perhaps it was a clever deception? Something for him to intentionally overhear and cause him to lower his guard?

Couldn’t be though, he’d never visited you this early, if you wanted to deceive him you’d have waited until your evening meal to speak these words.

A sudden, rather disconcerting warmth overtook Chisaki; Like a flower of light suddenly blooming in his chest he was overtaken by the urge to abandon everything and stay by your side until he withered away and his bones turned to dust.

Regaining his sanity he shook the thought from his head. He’d worked too hard for too long to let go of this now. No, he’d have to continue with his operation, the consequences of letting go now would be too great.

He was, however, sorry to hear that your life thus far had been dull. Had you said this months ago he would have scoffed, because of course the life of a cashier was dull; but now, after months of you having been here, it should have improved.

The only assumption left for him to make was that this must have been his doing. Fair enough on his part, as he couldn’t be sure trusting you was a wise idea.

But if this was how you truly felt about him, maybe he could consider letting you have greater roam of the property. He might even allow you time outside.

Only if you brought your happiness along, of course.

[cosmiclatte28]

minors do not read (heavy rage, more sinful than smut) not a fanfic (please, its really me raging like the world is ending. its embarrassing but it kinda calms me down 1%)

When I decided to stand up, dust myself off, and take another step... life just directly throw a big ass lemon on my face.

WARNING : THE WORDS BELOW THIS LINE ARE STRONG, FULL OF RAGE, CURSES AND YOU NEVER SEE THIS SIDE OF ME BEFORE. SO, if you're a minor, you never read some rage message, never want to see me as a monster, pass over this post thank you so much. no one has to read this, i'm just screaming to the world

I want to cry :) but I know it's not gonna solve anything

I am tired. Why am I knocked down back to the ground just after I convince myself things will be okay

I'm so mentally confused, afraid, exhausted, and tired.

Give me something to hold on. Inject me happiness, whatever.

I'll be away again. I am so sorry why am I so unstable like this.

I want to end everything, but again it's just a "small unfortunate bad day" said people

f you universe. you won, i'm tired. I'll just sit down here and watch as I realize just how bad my decisions are to stop but I am exhausted.

I WANT TO THROW A WATERMELON TO THE GROUND

I WANT TO SQUISH A FLUFFY BALL OF CAT

I WANT TO BITE A HAND

I WANT TO BURN MYSELF :)) NO NOT ROAST, BURN

FUUUUUMMMMM i hate my unstable emotion what is this. DO I HAVE A DOUBLE PERSONALITY?

should i call the mental help line? should i start making appointments? is this my breaking point?

I still have lots to do tonight but I'm just so close to fuck everything and just well be a disappointment 🤐

THIS IS A RAGE POST. IT'S MY RAGE. MY FRUSTRATION OF TODAY AND MY REGRET OF TOMORROW

fuck me like literally and figuratively

on my way to just go make hinge tinder and find guys

i don't care anymore

don't be like me. i'm a bad example

how am i expected to survive in life if something like today just made me overwhelmed

a lot of things make me overwhelmed eew what's this

who is this weak girl. the real me? eew :) let's keep on being fake strong . keep the weak girl aside..

and tonight as you still have to sit and meet people and talk. don't break down there, don't rage there and don't get mad at innocent people.

shut the lips. distract your mind or well at least think of nothing. keep acting and don't let anyone know.

LET'S SEE WHAT ELSE AM I HEARING TONIGHT HM?

will tomorrow be different? IT BETTER BE. FFS I'LL REALLY TURN CRAZY IF TOMORROW IS EVEN WORSE THAN THIS

my keyboard could broke if i continue writing this. ITS FURIOUS ITS SCARY AND I could feel myself disgusted b y me.

i am the storm, i am the monster, i am just another regular human without a perfect life. who has flaws, a lot of rage, a lot of unstable emotions, a lot of bullshit and well a holy virginity thats all. but idk

i want to take a walk but that won't be a great idea seeing how i will doze off in the middle of the road.

my head feels like exploding and no it's not an expression

is my blood pressure rising? or is it too low?

i know my mistakes, i know my sins, i know my secrets and i hate all of that. What's the point of people seeing you as a good stable girl when in reality is you're a total opposite? PUBLIC PLAY . life is prettier with lies right?

I'm scared of what I've become

MINORS AGAIN... SKIP THIS OR WELL JUST IDK unfollow for a while if this scares you.

PLEASE THERE'S MANY TRIGGER HERE. DON'T READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO PUT AS THE TW. but don't. It's scary. I don't know where else to put. I want to write it and burn it but i shouldn't play with fire not at this state of mind....

*******************************************************

A great liar. A double personality? Or just a lonely lunatic 🤷‍♀️

My lies in the web is >>>> irl lies. I didn't lie when i meet people irl, but once I am cosmic or someone else ... i'm a totally different person

Gosh i'm a good spy material except for the crybaby part hahahah fuck i keep calling myself crybaby but til now i couldn't cry. Coz my head keeps yelling to me that i shouldn't cry because "crying won't solve any problem"

Can I get all the science part of tumblr and teach me how do I inject happiness but not in form of drugs to this amazingly still clean blood vessels?

Can I get all the optimistic side of tumblr and fuckin block my head from thinking pessimistic thing even for a 1/10000000000 sec

Can I get all the doctors here in tumblr to just check me if my heart is actually still beating with life and not just oxygen and bloods.

Am I still alive or is this heart just trying its best to make me live but not feel alive

I know I shouldn't spend my time being like this. No one knows when your story ends. I've always been that annoying person who says "Life is so short. Enjoy every moment" WELL YEAH NOW I AM ENJOYING MY SUFFERING thanks?

One time i was so happy life really slap hard in the face. NOT EVEN IN THE ASS..COME ON.. IF ITS IN THE ASS I might like it and ask for more.. but well life is bitch

LIVE IS EVIL if you read it from the other direction. Yes once again perspective won

Perspective dang it. Idk i'm tired of existing. I need to stop lying, but once you lie and once you got used to it.... its so hard to stop

Like me ... you slowly become a monster. Who loathe herself for not stopping herself to become a monster

Yes i am your beauty you meet irl in web but once i'm alone and facing life. Well I might be the wicked witch but i'm not gracious or tall enough to be them.. so.. i'm a monster

The one you don't dare to look at night or day. The one who makes you sleep with one eye open..the one who makes you ask your parents to check the closet and under your bed.

I am the monster in your nightmare and I am taking over cosmic as she writes this.

This is not cosmic. She's never like this.

Reach out cosmic, ask for help and see how no one cares because they all got their problems to face. Come back here cosmic, stay with your darkest fears. Feed us with your happiness. Drown yourself in our darkness and close your eyes as you make yourself get used to the loud silence of eye stabbing darkness

The monster inside my soul

[mittensmorgul]

Incoming sad rant about the spn ending. Don't read if you're not interested in reading something like that, but I literally don't know anyone in real life I can talk about this with, and I really need an outlet:

Sometimes I can put the way SPN ended out of my head and think "it's just a stupid show. I don't have to accept the finale, and the writers/network are wrong." But other times I just get gripped with really intense sadness at the disrespect that was done to my favorite characters. To the point where I'll sit still for hours a day, just wallowing in it. It ruins my whole day and mood. And then I think to myself "I'll just find some other stories that end better!" but then I get sad again, cuz I don't think I will ever love other characters as much as I love Dean and Cas, and then I spiral again thinking about all the potential this unique beautiful love story had, and how we're never going to get the closure we deserve.

I really hate that after all this time, I'm a grown ass adult getting sad over fictional characters. I know it's not that trivial, but I sometimes wish it was so I could get over it 😞

Hi hi, and first of all *socially distanced internet hugs* I’m sorry you don’t have an outlet, but you’re always welcome to chat with me (if you come off anon we can talk privately if you want. My DM’s are always open, even when it takes me a bit to reply. no one should have to feel alone in this.)

I’m actually gonna start at the bottom of your message and work my way up, because I also, as a grown-ass adult, get sad over fictional characters. And I need to emphasize that this is the *point* of fiction. A well-written and developed fictional character is *indistinguishable in our minds from an actual real human being.* The way we react to them *feels exactly the same to our brains and bodies* as how we react to real people, and that’s a testament to just how well developed Dean and Cas were in canon.

I am not a young person. I have engaged with a lot of media over my life, and have *never* felt this strongly about fictional characters before, so I understand what you mean when you struggle to think about finding another story that ended better, or struggle to think about finding other characters you might become this attached to or experience this sort of emotional investment in. And I think there is another factor you didn’t consider there: The vast majority of other media I have engaged with, I was able to relate to on a level of “oh that’s nice for them” or “wow that sucks for them.” I have never, and possibly never will again, feel so utterly invested in fictional characters, to the point where it affects my real life as much as Supernatural has. Period.

I will likely never experience *literal physical lovesickness* over two fictional characters ever again. I hadn’t ever experienced it *in my own real life* before, and yet 15.18 triggered all those symptoms in me. As an aromantic person, this was pretty shocking to me. It also says a lot about just how real these characters feel to us, and how important they have become to us. They make us feel this! This is not an accident. It’s *incredibly difficult* to create fictional characters with this range and depth of emotional connection, and yet here we are.

I think that’s the biggest evidence possibly to present in defense of the statement that THIS IS NOT JUST SOME STUPID SHOW.

Other evidence: this fandom, still going strong after 15 years. Look at every SPN convention for proof. Look at AO3, where there are more posted stories about Dean and Cas than literally any other pairing on the planet (by a not-small margin, too). If that isn’t enough evidence, we have fanart to look at as well. Look through @theroadsofararchive where at the time of this posting there are over 40,000 artworks catalogued, and more being added all the time. Same with @canonspngifs where you can search through through nearly 75,000 gifsets organized by an excellent tagging system and made by dedicated fans out of love for the thing. This is all proof that you are not alone, that so many of us care just as deeply about them as you do. Not even mentioning the people who have written hundreds of millions of words of meta, articles, and even masters theses and doctoral dissertations on Supernatural and the fandom. This is a unique thing, even within the larger fandom culture. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that your feelings for it are stupid or irrelevant or wrong.

But also don’t let anyone try to convince you that you must accept the finale as part of the story if you don’t want to. Don’t even let *yourself* believe that if you don’t want to. This show has done more to play with the themes of “what is reality” and “who gives a story meaning” and alternate universes and curses and djinn dreams to easily account for whatever the heck the finale was.

my current go-to theory: everything after Chuck’s defeat takes place in the Mockumentary Alternate Universe... it fits way too uncomfortably well... and then I just apply the fic I received in a cosmic transmission from the actual supernatural universe wrote detailing the events of what *I* hoped would transpire afterward. I know this doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for me, mostly because it *has* to. It means far too much to me not to.

You are not alone in having invested yourself into this story, and these characters. Your feelings about them are not wrong or stupid or frivolous. And the proof is everyone else who feels the same exact way, who connected to this story (and to each other through this story), and whose lives have been forever altered through this journey together. The fact that Dabb turned out to have been Chuck Junior and couldn’t see (or was prevented from showing us) what Team Free Will would’ve chosen to do with that after defeating their original creator just stands to prove to me that the finale can’t possibly be The Truth, you know?

I don’t know if any of this will help you, or provide you some small comfort right now, but maybe it will eventually. We’re all processing the loss of the show and the abject failure of story that was the finale in different ways, and I’m sure our emotional reactions will shift over time. It was just A Lot to process all in the span of a few incredibly emotional weeks-- not even mentioning how all of that emotional response was compounded by the american elections and surrounding nonsense, the general stress of enduring a global pandemic and all that entails, and *waves hands around broadly at everything else contributing to the trauma occurring in the collective of humankind right now.* We’ve all been emotionally compromised, so be kind to yourself in how you feel you’re coping with it all.

And know that no matter what, you are not alone in how you’re feeling. The grief is real, and our brains don’t care if it’s felt for fictional characters or real people. This was honestly a once in a lifetime experience for a lot of us, and not even the wtf of the finale can kill it for us if we don’t let it. I reject that particular piece of rusty rebar and choose to believe in a just and narratively coherent resolution. To do anything less feels like dishonoring the story and characters who have drawn me in and made me feel so much for them over the years. If the story itself couldn’t honor them properly, then I can choose to do so myself.

<3

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 2.1k words    ➷Humor, fluff, awkwardness, mild miild nsfw but not explicit, I will say I can only assume this kinda thing happens when you swap bodies lol    ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, ✈Part 3, Part 4

You initially dreaded the conversation with Hajime’s parents, wincing on the way through the door with a slight panic washing over you. But after a short and pleasant talk with them, you came to find the conversation flowed more naturally than you’d anticipated.

They’re not as doting to Hajime as they are to you, you note, but they’re friendly and pleasant and you feel as if you’re talking to your own family. Much like your own parents wanted a son, Hajime’s always wanted a daughter, so they often acted as your second set of parents. You feel a bit silly in retrospect, they’re as charming as ever with Hajime as they are with you.

They mostly inquire about Hajime’s day, and after a bit you excuse yourself to ‘study’, escaping to Hajime’s room. You’re beginning to feel positive about the next school day after the interaction, confidence boosted.

Who knew you would turn out to be such a good actress, better than you thought! Award winning, honestly. This whole body swap will be a cake walk. You can totally pull off being Hajime!

It seems you can definitely pull off the acting portion, but the sweat sticking to your clothes from your exhausting (emotionally and physically) practice is starting to make you consider the hygiene aspect of the swap. Which, has you feeling wildly uncomfortable.

This cosmic joke, shitty trope of a situation has you experiencing humiliation and embarrassment at levels you didn’t even realize were possible to achieve.

Normally after a grueling practice, you wouldn’t hesitate to hop straight into the shower and blast the hot water over your skin, feeling your muscles and aches soothed. But this isn’t your skin, or your muscles. You’re consistently reminded every hour, minute, and second, that it’s all Hajime. You should feel comforted that he’s definitely experiencing the same emotional crisis as you, but it only serves to heighten your distress.

Cheeks immediately heating at that, you recall the conversation with Hajime from earlier at the park.

“Just... let’s not think about it. And let’s definitely not talk about it. It’s a natural part of life.”

You know full well of the agreement you came to with red stained cheeks, but is there any way you could go without it? And drench yourself with Axe body spray? Or whatever it is guys like to use. You bet it would make a good repellent, no one would want to talk to you if you smelled like that.

You scrunch your nose, dashing the thought immediately, definitely not. Not only would it make you feel gross, Hajime would whack you first thing in the morning, and probably shove you in the shower himself.

‘No big deal, no big deal, it’s no big deal, you can do this!’

You find yourself chanting silent encouragements as you peel your shirt off, pitching it into a laundry basket. When you catch your reflection, a dark pink creeps across your features.

Yep, that’s still Hajime’s face, 

‘Gaaah, don’t look at me like that!’

You press your hands to your face, but you end up peaking through your fingers anyways. The low sweats definitely don’t help, and neither do Hajime’s well defined abs.

You’d been true to your word when you told Hajime you hadn’t seen anything, but now you’re a little desperate to know what the deal is downstairs.

You won’t look. You shouldn’t.  You don’t look. You definitely do not look.

You look,

pulling the sweats down, and shoving the briefs just past your thighs, you bite your lip at the revelation.

Okay.

Alright.

This is fine.

This is totally fine.

Hajime is just secretly packing.

WHAT THE FUCK?

You suppose it wasn’t necessarily a secret, it was always assumed of Hajime. You’ve also been privy to the third years’ cock talk at lunch, and he always did exude big dick energy, but damn Hajime.

Wait. Are you—

NOPE.

NOPE NOPE NOPE YOU ARE NOT DEALING WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.

You cover your face again, a recurring action today it seems, cheeks burning rampant and hotter than ever before. You feel a prickly hot and itchy feeling light a fire up your back to your neck, the heat of pure, unbridled, embarrassment coursing every vein.

Were you... getting a boner?

NOOOOOOO.

From being turned on by Hajime? While you are Hajime?

This is some paradoxical bullshit you are simply not having right now, not tonight, not tomorrow, and hopefully never again.

Despite the shame and humiliation beating down on your psyche, you risk a glance to see how much bigger he looks than before.

“Cold shower, yep. Cold shower helps, right?”

You immediately shove the briefs the rest of the way down, before hopping in the shower, starting it up at the coldest setting. Hopefully the freezing water will wash away not only your transgressions but also your mortification.

You squeak at the cold, bite your lip and shiver, tough it out, and will away the uncomfortable situation.

You sigh, hoping the morning will go smoother than the swell night you had, hopping down the steps of Hajime’s house.

You cross the street to meet up with him and Tooru, already seeing their figures across the road.

“Ha-Hey.”

You almost slip up with his name, but you make a clean save. Mentally patting yourself on the back, you glance to see Hajime’s bitter expression and—

Your jaw drops when you catch sight of... yourself. Your silent wish for a trouble-free morning is cast aside as you examine his appearance.

Hair unkempt, face completely bare, not even moisturizer or at least sunscreen to be seen, did he even try?

“Ha hey to you too, Iwa-chan.”

Tooru raises a brow at the odd introduction, clearly noting the slip up (and also the fact that Hajime usually settles for a short grunt and never a ‘Ha-hey’), but you can’t be bothered to entertain him right now with the current Hajime dilemma.

“Right, whatever,” you direct your attention to Hajime, “can I grab that thing I lent you yesterday?”

“What are you talking about? You’re being weird, Hajime.”

He warns you with a stern look, but you aren’t having it,

“I’m not, I know you have it, we can grab it right now. Tooru, you go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

You push Hajime back in the direction of your house, and Tooru frowns at his abrupt seclusion with zero explanation.

“Are you guys seriously ditching me?”

Tooru raises a brow, arms akimbo with a disgraced look.

“Yeah, we are, Shittykawa. Let’s go.”

You hate to diss Tooru without a solid reason, but it’s pretty on brand for Hajime, so you bite out the nickname with minor discomfort on your lips. You impatiently grab Hajime, before pulling him towards the steps of your house, Tooru’s complaints going unheard behind you.

“Hajime! You’re not wearing any make up! And my hair is a mess!”

You whine out, sitting him down at your vanity.

Hajime merely scowls,

“Seriously? That’s what this is about? Don’t scare me like that, I thought there was something wrong.”

He moves to stand, but you shove him back into the seat with a little more aggression than intended, you lowkey forgot how strong Hajime was.

And Hajime looks up at you with a incredulous expression, feeling a little scandalized, as a woman, that you would handle him like that.

“There IS something wrong though. I look awful! At least wear some foundation and mascara, that stuff is easy to apply!”

You pull out your make up box, flicking on the mirror light.

“I think you look fine this way,” he huffs, “you don’t need all that shit.”

A frown tugs at his lips, and you feel your heartbeat quicken at his earnest display. You bite back a wistful sigh, this is exactly the reason you’ve always been so drawn to Hajime. Rough around the edges, but there there’s no bullshit when it comes to him. He doesn’t disguise his intentions, doesn’t waste time saving face. He’s just genuine, unadulterated, Iwaizumi Hajime, what you see is exactly what you get, and you honestly wouldn’t have him any other way.

Setting aside your thoughts for another time to privately dwell on, you ignore the feeling. 

“Really? That’s nice of you to say. Keep going.”

You smile, pink dusting your cheeks. You hope your expression doesn’t look too soft as you continue to apply the makeup to his face.

“Fishing for compliments now? No way, Shitty-L/N.”

“Nooo! Don’t call me that!”

You pause mid powder to cry out in your indignation, to which he masterfully ignores fixating his gaze on something more interesting than your whining, like the window sill.

After a bit of complaining, back and forth bickering about how uncomfortable the make up feels, you continue with a light highlight and mascara. You stop once you’re satisfied with your work, not bothering to deal with any extras like eyeliner or eyeshadow.

“All this for what? It tickles, and you can’t even touch it.”

Hajime’s hand hovers over his cheek, careful not to smudge anything. You must’ve smacked his hand away too many times, it seems.

“You get used to it. Plus it can be fun to try different brands and colors, and the little confidence boost isn’t bad.”

“Not that you need it.”

Hajime sighs out, standing from the seat to stretch. You’re sure it’s meant to be an insult to the crude ego you (and Tooru) tend to display, but you sense an underlying meaning that winds up boosting your ego even more.

“Anyways, we’re all done! And with time to spare.”

You chrip, gleaming with pride at your work. Add that too the list of things you should be, actress, and make up artist (next to pro volleyball player of course).

Hajime glances to the mirror, “’looks nice, I guess,” he hums in very faint approval.

That’s as good as a compliment to you, so you’ll take it!

He shifts to make way for the door, hooking his school bag over his shoulder.

“And it was definitely easier to do it on you than myself. Hey, maybe when you learn how to put it on yourself, you can do it for me when we switch back?”

You hover around him eagerly, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to not smack his own body.

“No way in hell. The most I’ll do while we’re switched is that eyelash shit and the foundation or whatever,” he pauses, averting his eyes, “and only because it makes you so happy for some damn reason.”

You grin, ecstatic with his unexpected compliance, pulling him into a hug,

“And that’s perfect, eyelash shit and foundation or whatever is good enough for me!”

“H-Hey! Knock it off!”

It feels weird, being so much taller and hugging your body, but it still feels right considering it’s Hajime despite it all.

He tentatively returns the embrace, albeit awkwardly with one arm.

“We’re gonna be late if we keep bullshitting. Let’s go!”

He gently pushes you off and hightails it out of your room, and you laugh trailing after his awkward stomps.

 “Also, wear your skirt higher!”

You call out behind him.

“What? No way in hell! This is the school standard, you always wear it too high!”

He spins around, uncomfortably smoothing out the skirt pleats as if the action could make it lengthier.

“I have nice legs, and I want to show it off!”

You growl, chasing Hajime down the stairs, grabbing onto the waistline of the skirt.

“That’s stupid and you know it. Just who are you trying to impress?! They shouldn’t like you for your legs!”

He holds a tight grip on the skirt and you scowl, prying Hajime’s hands away to yank up the garment.

“No one, it’s called fashion!”

You successfully tug the skirt higher, but a bit too much considering your panties are on full display.

You snort at the sight, “Hajime, you dog, are you wearing my strawberry panties?”

Hajime feels a sense of shame at the sudden breeze, mockery, and unfathomable humiliation.

“Knock it off, it’s just a school uniform idiot! And what the fuck else was I supposed to wear?!”

He tugs the skirt back down and you click your tongue, grabbing a fist full of the fabric to hike it back up. 

“What are you two doing, we’re gonna be late!”

Tooru swings the front door open with a huff, eyes locking onto the both of you. You freeze position, instantly dreading the conversation that’s sure to take place shortly, whereas the tall setter halts at the display before him.

His precious, dear, sweet, childhood best friend’s hands are grasping at his brutish, caveman, heathen of a best friend’s biceps.

Said precious bestie’s hands are trying to shove aforementioned despicable heathen’s grip from her skirt, cheeks bright red

“Uh, this... isn’t what it looks like?”

A/N: I had extra extra fun with this part hahahaa,, sorry for the cliffhanger but I had to do it to ya, next part soon!

taglist: @cybergovl​

Masterlist, Part 4

[lmjupdates]

Lauren Jauregui on her Sense of Self, the innate magic of spirituality, & her upcoming EP

Portrait by: Halie Torris

Portrait Reference Photo by: Munachi Osegbu

Interview by: Isabella Vega

Photos by: Tristian Hollingsworth

One of the most surreal moments of my life was sitting in the Zoom room, waiting for Lauren Jauregui to enter. There was a plethora of thoughts swirling in my head, mostly nerves - I had never met someone who I had such a deep cosmic connection with, someone I'd spent the last eight years following and looking to guidance for.  What if they weren't all I thought they would be? Then, I spotted the Lauren Jauregui Edition of Coup De Main on my desk shelf, and that's when it hit me: I had manifested  this entire conversation. God put this person in my path for a reason, all those years ago, and I was about to find out why. As I let her into the Zoom, I had no idea the emotional journey the next forty five minutes would lead me. What unfolded was something I always dreamed, and somehow, almost predicted: that in meeting the woman I had spent a lifetime loving and learning from, in truly baring our souls and sharing our life philosophies, a few of my internal puzzle pieces would click together with every laughing breath and anecdote dripping off of her with intellect and authenticity. I present to you: a candid conversation with Lauren Jauregui - how she describes her Sense of Self, her ideas on the current mental health movement, and her upcoming EP.

Isabella: How would you describe your Sense of Self in one sentence?

Lauren: I guess my sense of self is just kind of… This is complex now that I’m sitting and thinking about it! I’m like ‘what does my sense of self mean?!’ I guess it’s just kind of the awareness that I’m embodying. Yeah, like, how much I’m showing up for myself and the self care aspect of all of it. That’s usually when I feel the most sense of self, when I’m aware of my body and my mind and my heart and how it’s feeling, so self-care.

Isabella: Now more than ever, there seems to be a growing awareness/spread of information on mental health, a sort of movement throughout social media platforms. Is there any facet of this growing movement that you would want to change or is there anything you would like to add to the conversations?

Lauren: I mean, I think there is always room for improvement in how we approach things. Again, this is a topic that is new to all of us as a collective, we’ve been under the oppressive thumb of capitalism, imperialism, and colonization for a very long time, and we still live in a settler-colonial state. I think that the disparities between how mental health affects different people is definitely a nuanced conversation. I think that acknowledging state violence can not just be talked away is important, and I don’t think that we talk often enough about how people of color’s mental health suffers because there are systemic things in place to oppress them and to hurt them. That are still in place and that we still debate and that we still have to have conversations about, which has been centuries of people talking about whether or not it’s ok to brutalize people of color.  I think bringing that into the conversation a lot more - state violence’s impact on our mental health. A lot of the time we are just, like “Oh, I’m traumatized because my parents treated me a certain way” or “I’m traumatized because this person did something to me” but what we don’t really address is those behaviors of other folks like parents - something I’m trying to acknowledge is saying “I know my parents didn’t have the tools, and that’s something I’m learning through my mental health journey.” That’s not something I understood off the bat. I thought that the things that had happened to me in my life were the reasons why I was this way.

When you start going into the journey, and when the journey involves the spiritual element of the journey. That’s another thing, I would love to have more conversations about spiritual illness. Where the lack of faith and the lack of belief in self is the root cause of a lot of depression and anxiety. That disconnect from God and the disconnect from the belief that reality can be what we manifest it. We have to take responsibility for the way that our world looks right now, and the way we look, and the way we operate and hold one another or don’t. It really has to come down to every individual person wanting to show up for themselves more and understand themselves more.

I would like to have more conversations about the connectivity between everything, the intersectionality between this stuff.

Isabella: I love that. As someone who’s religious and has a very strong spiritual connection to all of that, that’s what I love about you so much - a lot of people are scared to talk about religion and spirituality, whilst you just go there, and talk about something that is so foundational to our beings.

Lauren: Yeah. I’ll challenge that a little bit and say it’s not necessarily religion. I feel like religion can be an instrument used to pin us against each other. It’s about spirituality because God is a reflection of us and lives in each of us. That’s why God looks so different everywhere because everywhere you go, God looks like the people there, because God is self. Self is God. As far as, like, when you think of the higher self, when you pray, whoever you pray to - this being is here for you, and you see yourself in them. Whilst you can understand that they are there for the rest of the world, as well, that connection regardless of religion, that understanding that there is something greater than yourself, is benevolent?

Isabella: Yeah.

Lauren: And that’s so important. I think we often forget about that, and I know that my darkest times were when I forgot that God existed. And when I didn’t trust in God and their vision for me. A lot of times, we feel like things are happening to us, but really, they’re happening for us.

Isabella: So, I’ve heard whispers through the grapevine of there being an EP in the works. Congratulations! I’ve been waiting!

Lauren: Hahaha!

Isabella: How do you plan on continuing your pure self expression through the release of a shorter form project and an eventual album?

Lauren: Well, I think that music is where I am the most self-expressive. It’s my safe space. I think writing in general, whether that’s my journal, or if that’s my notepad, or wherever. I used to just think a lot, and thinking a lot really messed me up, it gave me a lot of anxiety, and I used to think in loops, which I still do, but I’m better at catching myself now. That self expression is just a pertinent element of why I do music. I feel like I naturally just wanna talk about feelings! I’m just an emo shawty, I really love to put my stuff into words, and I feel like the challenge of putting it into a three minute or four minute song is kind of dope, because you get to kind of get it out. You don’t have to think about all of the things, you have to curate what you’re talking about and how you get the audience to understand your storyline in a concise, intentional way. Whether that’s short form or long form, it’s definitely my approach to making art.

Isabella: I love that! So, I don’t know how much you can say, and it’s alright if you can’t say much! I just wanted to know - what’s the vibe? I know you’ve worked in the past with the brilliant Kid Harpoon, who helped make Fine Line by Harry Styles, which is my favorite album of all time and saved me in so many ways, so will you two be working together on this project?

Lauren: On this specific EP, I am not working with him. I have other songs with him, because he and I make beautiful music together. I love Kid Harpoon. He’s a good friend and a really beautiful collaborator. On this EP, nothing’s produced by him on it, that’s not to say that we won’t work together again or the songs that we made won’t be released in some other format, but this one, I’m almost done with mixing now.

Isabella: Oooo!!!

Lauren: Yeah! I’m just in the process of getting all of the visuals together and making sure everything is packaged nicely and looking good for everybody!

Isabella: I’m so excited!

Lauren: Yes! I think it’s very close, and while I totally understand why everyone is expectant of something from me - I get that and I totally understand - this process of making this music has been WAY more profound than just the music itself, it’s been a huge rediscovery of self. It’s been unlearning like no other. It’s been a messy and painful and joyous process in all kinds of different ways. To me, it’s been so much more than what I can give people. That’s the beautiful after effect to me, so people feel seen, heard, and safe, like there’s someone else who understands where they're at. I focus a lot on the things that I think about, so I hope that whoever listens to it can feel the potency of the self-discovery that went into this and realize why it took so long. Self-discovery isn’t something you do in a couple of weeks, especially everything that I’d been through. I’m a very sensitive soul, and everything that went on really shifted my perception of self into a very toxic place that I needed to come out of, I really needed this time. Everyday, it’s made me trust more in God and God’s plan. Everytime I thought I had it figured out, ready to release, every single time, God would derail and say “Wait, there’s something bigger.” Every time, I was like “God! Let me put out this freaking music!” Isabella: Hahaha!

Lauren: And God’s like “yeah, yeah! I know! But people have to know who you are! And YOU don’t know who you are! When you know who you are, then we can give it to the world!” I know who I am now!

Isabella: That’s amazing to hear. I really hate when fans try to claim the intimacy of “knowing you” when we only know the public version of you, but I’m a very big empath, especially with the public figures I vibe with, I choose them very wisely. I’ve followed you for a very long time, so I can see the change from “Expectations’'' to “50 Ft.”

Lauren: Right!?

Isabella: Yeah! You’re a new, spectacular whole, and I hope you know how proud I am.

Lauren: Thank you!!!! I’m proud of you, too! You’ve been on this journey with me.

Isabella: Thank you! I really think I have! It’s taken a while for us to put this interview together, and I really feel like God put us together at the perfect moment, because mentally, I feel like I’m in the perfect place to meet you.

Lauren: God’s timing is something else!

This introduction and interview has been condensed for the online format. The full interview appears  in Issue 2: Rumination, open for orders until June 10th. If you've read this whole thing - I love you to actual pieces - use code 333 at checkout for a special discount!

https://www.senseofselfzine.com/product-page/issue-2-rumination

Source: https://www.senseofselfzine.com/post/lauren-jauregui-on-her-sense-of-self-the-innate-magic-of-spirituality-her-upcoming-ep

[some-stars]

Fic writer questionnaire! Tagged by @deputychairman, thank you!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

65....just waiting for 69 so i can celebrate

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

288,609

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

okay, so, there's a lot so we're gonna collapse some. So, 16: The Witcher (games and show), Supernatural, Dark Angel, Glee, Stargate (both SG1 and SGA), MCU, Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, due South, DC (comics and movies), House of Leaves, Sense8, Harry Potter, Les Miserables (book), Doctor Who, and X-Men movies. Oh, and I wrote a lot of NSYNC RPF back in the day but you will never see it. (Unless you literally read it back then and remember one and want to reread it, I’m not ashamed of them if you were also in the pit with me. If that is the case feel free to ask.)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?  

all some children do is work: this one surprised me, i did NOT think there was this kind of appetite for almost-gen turned-into-a-kid fic, but i do really like the fic itself so i'm contented with its acclaim

method: i mean, it's fake dating, written back when there wasn't much non-modern-AU fake dating in witcher fandom (possibly there still isn't?) so, not surprised

Emergency Pants: this is the one that the Claw chose back in 2012 bc i had written very pornographic tony/bruce about a month after Avengers came out so there was a big appetite for it. i don't much care for it these days except i do still think the tony voice is good

warm you like the sunshine: deeply unsurprised this one is popular (and it's one of my own fics that i reread a lot), it's extremely tender BDSM with a juggernaut pairing, that gets the readers

As often as from thee I go: honestly kinda surprised about this one, which is just a 2500 word confection i wrote for my own satisfaction, but it does have explicit sex and jaskier crying about his feelings so maybe it makes sense

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I almost always do, but usually just with "Thanks!" unless it's a detailed or lengthy comment.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

"Long black night, morning frost" (Les Miserables) for absolute certain. One of the very few fics I've written with an outright unhappy and pessimistic ending (although I found it very cathartic to write). For Witcher fics, "Kind" and "go ask alice" are about as sad as I get.

7) What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Almost all of them, honestly. There's a point in happiness of endings where you really can't distinguish degrees. Probably the most--not saccharine, but distinctly Happy Ending-ish is either "Water like a stone" or "Darling, if you only knew," which to my eternal shame are both Glee fics. In terms of Witcher fics...it's still hard to pick! I think the kidfic trilogy ended very, very happily; I think "If you live through this with me" ended TOO happily.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

I do not, and I don't read them, at least not since the days of the late 90s/early 2000s when I once read a really good Highlander/X-Files crossover (oh, and Martha's cosmic horror fic where Stargate and Angel and I think something else all cross over but it feels quite natural and right). I don't like fusions, either, most of the time.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Never! In 20 years! I've been extremely lucky.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

ahahahahahahahhaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

yes...yes you could say i write smut. on occasion. you know, when the urge comes on me. i write mostly kink or at least kink-adjacent fic, but i've done some vanilla scenes too, and i write m/m and m/f and (occasionally) f/f. fun fact, my only rimming scene to date was in a f/f/f threesome!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so? I can't remember, honestly, which sounds dreadful but like...I don't READ the translation, because I am sadly monolingual, but I get a burst of delight when someone asks to do it (or to make a podfic).

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have tried--me and a friend once got like 12k deep into a co-written Tiger and Bunny fic--but it doesn't really work out for me. I am a massive control freak when it comes to writing and absolutely miserable to work with. (Although I wasn't so bad back when we wrote the T&B fic, we just sort of never got around to finishing it. Which is sad, because it was GREAT.)

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

Max/Alec from Dark Angel. I shipped it when I only started watching DA for Jensen's episodes, I shipped it when I fell in love with Max, I shipped it when I frantically hand-wrote notes about the fic I wanted to write, I ship it right now as I'm typing, I will ship it in my grave. Also it's not a het ship bc neither of them are heterosexual, thank you very much.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I only post finished fics, but in terms of things I haven't posted, I still think my "For A Good Time Call" fem!jaskier/yennefer(/geralt) AU would have been truly incredible. If you haven't watched that movie go watch it immediately so you can share this beautiful idea with me.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Ohhh, this and the next one are hard, because I truly don't know. Well, besides "porn." I am genuinely good at porn, which is HILARIOUS considering how many more sex scenes I've written than participated in. But overall, I have so much angst and neurosis and tenuous self-worth tied up in writing, I'm a very bad judge of my own skills. Also, it depends on the fandom! In some fandoms I'm good at dialogue, in others not so much. In some fandoms I'm good at pastiching the tone of the source and in others...Not So Much.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

If I had to pick a weakness, though, I'd say concrete imagery/detail. Like, the things that characters are physically doing either out of emotional reaction or just, they're doing something in that scene. Dialogue is usually easier (not sure if it comes out better, but it's easier).

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?  

I used to be mildly annoyed at it but! Now! On AO3! You can put a footnote by the French or whatever, so the reader can jump down to read a translation and then jump right back up. I now feel that if you choose to include dialogue (or any words) in another language from the rest of the story, this is the only acceptable method.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I remember vaguely in 1996 or so writing a couple pages of Kit whump for the Young Wizards books. I wrote some execrable nonsense in X-Files, but in my defense I had just turned 13. I don't THINK I wrote anything for Star Trek, which was my first fandom. Oh, and I attempted to write fic for Homicide, which I watched in 7th and 8th grade and lied about my age to get onto the good mailing lists (they were actually the bad, racist mailing lists, I would later realize, but again I was 13).

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

Sorry to disappoint anyone who follows me for Witcher content, but it's either "The absolute absurdity of end-series items" (House of Leaves) or "A quite unlosable game" (Dark Angel). They are both Big Idea fics, and I feel like in both of them I got the Idea across brilliantly, and I'm truly proud of them and think they're the best things I've ever made. (In terms of Witcher fic, it's the kidfic trilogy for sure.)

I am not going to tag anyone because that always makes me mildly anxious, but if you read this and you want to do it you can say you were tagged by me! :D? :D?