#i have mostly everything i need for them written i just need to design them

[nefariouslystupid]

dippin my toes in the water how would you guys feel abt Tropy twins?

[lis-likes-fics]

Music to My Eyes

Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.

Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.

You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"

The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.

Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.

You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.

You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.

Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."

The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.

You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.

"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."

Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.

One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."

You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.

/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.

Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./

You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./

Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.

He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.

His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."

He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.

"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."

That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.

He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.

Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.

Then again, no one likes tapping.

When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.

"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.

You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.

"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).

"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"

You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.

Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."

Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"

You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/

Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.

/I'm only being honest./

Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"

Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.

"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.

/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./

Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./

You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./

Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."

Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."

As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"

Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/

Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.

~

The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.

At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.

It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.

You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.

Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.

Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.

His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.

"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.

"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?

He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.

"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.

You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.

"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"

You make a face, one that says "not quite".

He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."

You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.

Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"

'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.

As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.

"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.

You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.

"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.

You nod and he hums.

You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.

When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.

And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.

Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.

The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.

Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.

He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.

"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.

You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.

He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.

/Signing or writing./

Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.

"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"

His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.

You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.

He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"

He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.

You shrug again.

/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/

The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.

He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"

You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./

You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.

Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.

You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".

But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.

He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.

Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.

You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.

When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.

He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"

He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.

F. I. N. N. I. C. K.

You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).

You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/

You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.

He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.

"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.

You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.

/Mentor cannot speak?/

"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."

You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.

/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.

His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."

Your own smile grows.

He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.

"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"

You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./

He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"

He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.

/Yes./

His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.

You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.

/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./

The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…

"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.

But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./

He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"

You shake your head. /Do not like to./

He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.

You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.

You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.

After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.

Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.

"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.

He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.

"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.

After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.

He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.

He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.

/What do you like to do?/

He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.

Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.

You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.

But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.

“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.

He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.

When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”

You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.

“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”

You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./

The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.

He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.

“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.

You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.

/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./

He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.

You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./

He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”

Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

~

The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.

Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.

"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.

"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"

You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"

His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.

"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."

"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"

He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.

"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.

"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.

"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."

"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.

"I wish I could."

He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"

"As do I, Lucky. As do I."

He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"

You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.

"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine."

He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"

They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.

/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.

You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./

He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.

/You've got to keep them happy./

You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.

/I know,/ you nod.

The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.

Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.

"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.

"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.

"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"

You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."

"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"

You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.

"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"

You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.

Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."

You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.

"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.

You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.

His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."

You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./

Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.

When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...

[ham1lton]

you said u read ao3 fics! what are your f1 recs?

ahhh!!!!! this is the best question you could have ever asked me like ever i love you so much. i’ve been dying to talk abt this for a hot minute. i opened myself up to any sort of ship mostly because i cared more abt the fic quality then the ship you know? kinda glad i did it because my fav ones are not necessarily ships i am a fan of. it’s really long so i put it under a read more!!

okay so number one has to be the fic that was my first fav f1 fic. this is steal the air out of my lungs (make me feel it). now this has a lot of elements that i love. guy who’s in his own head vs other guy who’s also in his own head but pretends he isn’t. also idk why but i’m always a sucker for a good medical au and this one fucking delivers!!! another maxiel fic i read was three rounds and a sound which has coffee shop owner daniel w/ stressed out student max. a lot of introspection but it’s also unfolding while the romance is. idk i just love this. it’s so good. last maxiel fic is come on, star boy which is a alt universe where daniel is the american guy he always wanted to be and max is the new transfer to his small town’s football team. it isn’t just incredibly written but everyone feels so real and vivid. i can visually see this in my mind everytime i read it. i listened to a lot of ethel cain while reading so that helped. i love this so much and the brocedes in the background?? you’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves youuu 🗣️

i’m not really a landoscar girl, i’m gonna be honest. however, where i am going is right where i am, is just incredible. alt universe where the drivers live on a street version of stars hollow? brocedes that influence everything even though they’re long over? charles being insane over max? pierre hating on esteban every second that is possible (i was laughing every time he would just cuss his ass out unprovoked) and annoying george being their street’s version of gilmore girls’ taylor?? what more do u need in ur life?? also oscar in this fic is just my dream man. i think a croissant from him would fix me. actually i read a lot of this author’s landoscar fics and they’re so cute i was sending kudos as much as i can. like already home! just want to bite them both and put them in my pocket. they’re so obviously in love i want to shake them down and scream and smoosh them together. lawyer!oscar i love you. check out their profile!! incredible writer :)))

i’m also not a galex truther but the two of us, in sympathy is so cute!! rich boy!george with broke junior doctor!alex. george attempting to court alex and just absolutely failing. i love it. they’re such a mess i need them in my life. also this loscar future fic is so intense but incredible. i’m really bad at describing but i binged it on my train home and i was really glad i did - i promised to forget you now.

the reason i even got into f1 aka brocedes. this fic i think was one of the first i read. on the faultline which is just amazing. i can’t recommend it enough. read it if u can. another fav is a brocedes threesome with their toxic fucking each other via proxy aka new money, and it’s all cash. cute brocedes!! nico thinks lewis is his sworn enemy but everyone knows otherwise. roseberg’s vs haminkton. this was so cute and funny. cause why was nico saying lewis, the owner of a tattoo shop was stealing business from him… when he owns a florists… he’s so dramatic i want to tuck him in my pocket. this job will take my sole has the same premise but they’re both shoe shops which makes a lot more sense. i just love stupid rivalries and dramatic nico.

now back to my sweethearts, the lights of my life, the fires of my heart - sewis. all of these fics have past brocedes just for context. every tongue should confess talks about religion and queer identity in such a nuanced and delicate way? i adored this fic. transmotion which is another alt universe with fashion designer!lewis and footballer!sebastian both figuring out their careers, themselves and their relationship. maybe together we can get somewhere - this is an mpreg fic which usually isn’t for me but it’s about seb and lewis going on a road trip for an abortion and it’s so good. honestly the ending line of ‘it’s a good feeling, to know that sebastian’s outstretched hand is right there.’ it just stuck with me. i loved it. the numbering at bethlehem which is thee sewis fic to me. professor au?? this was made for me. like perfectly moulded. everything about this is art. i could do a full essay on this fic. just read it, it’s incredible. just amazing. sebastian as the child prodigy who has nowhere else to climb?? i love them both in this fic so much!!! tnab sewis get behind me!! i’m gonna protect u!!

okay i’m sorry this is so long. i just love art. i love writing. i just love the work these authors’ have spent putting together these masterpieces for free!! check them out!! leave kudos!! comment!! <3

[floralcyanide]

𝐃𝐚𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Ghostface x Reader

Headcanons of how each of the guys would be as a dad. (No Ghostface)

warnings: mentions of infertility, mentions of illness of a parent, not much else other than that, this is mostly fluff

word count: 1127

author’s note: hiii I know it's been a while since I've written and posted. but I wanted to write a little something for father's day for our fave slahsers. I hope you enjoy!!

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Billy:

❈ Billy is such a girl dad, and you can’t change my mind

❈ you end up having twin girls, both of which look just like Billy

❈ they are attached to him in ways you can’t explain

❈ your girls love you, and you love them very much, but their dad is definitely the apple of their eye

❈ Billy spoils the hell out of the girls growing up

❈ they’re still very humble despite them getting everything they want

❈ you and Billy made sure to teach them values

❈ when they’re teenagers, they’re drop-dead gorgeous, which makes Billy nervous

❈ he’s definitely the dad who threatens the boys who date your daughters, even though you tell him to be smart

❈ but, knowing Billy and his past, you know for sure he would definitely kill for his girls

Stu:

❈ Stu is also a girl dad

❈ when your daughter is born, he’s a mess

❈ Stu has this huge smile he can’t wipe off his face every time he looks at your daughter

❈ he takes her everywhere with him when she’s a toddler and buys her any toy or candy she points out

❈ when school starts, you don’t who cries harder, Stu or your daughter

❈ prom and graduation are also very emotional times for Stu as his daughter is now grown up

❈ Stu is protective of his daughter, but not so much that he’d go into a murderous rage

❈ but he still scared the boys in her life enough to where they never hurt her too badly

❈ Stu is ecstatic when your daughter gets married and has children of her own

❈ just as he was a cool dad, he’s now a cool grandpa

Mickey:

❈ Mickey has always wanted a son to teach everything to

❈ so when you find out your baby is a boy, Mickey is beside himself with excitement

❈ he has a whole list of names picked out already

❈ when your son is born, Mickey stares in awe at him and how much he looks like the both of you

❈ he has your eyes and Mickey’s nose and smile

❈ Mickey is the perfect father, getting up to take care of him at night when it’s his turn

❈ sometimes he’ll do it when it’s your turn, too, so that you’ll get more rest

❈ and he’s just enthralled with his son and loves spending time with him

❈ skin-to-skin contact is Mickey’s favorite part of your son being a baby

❈ when your son is old enough to do things, Mickey is over the top with getting him into sports, art, music, and so on

❈ he wants his son to be happy no matter what he chooses to do with his childhood and his life

Roman:

❈ you have both a boy and a girl a few years apart

❈ the girl is older and very sassy, just like her father

❈ the boy is very shy and to himself, also just like his father at times

❈ Roman loves teaching the kids about art and film

❈ your daughter picks up photography, much to Roman’s delight, while your son is into costumes and designing them, which also makes Roman excited

❈ you both decide to send the kids to an art school, and Roman is upset that he won’t see the kids as often as he’d like during their teen years

❈ but he knows they love what they do and need the necessary education for those subjects

❈ once your kids are no longer kids and have graduated university, Roman makes sure that they get good jobs in the industry in Hollywood

❈ watching your little family be so close and working together makes you incredibly happy

Charlie:

❈ Charlie was very terrified when he found out you were pregnant

❈ but god, does he love his son more than anything

❈ your son looks like Charlie spit him out, with his large, round eyes and rosy lips

❈ your son is just like Charlie personality wise

❈ but your son can be very outspoken sometimes, which can make Charlie a little mad

❈ however, Charlie is very patient and learns how to handle your son and his attitude

❈ when your son struggles in school due to attention problems, Charlie researches and does everything possible in order to help his educational needs

❈ when your son graduates high school, he decides to go on to college for something Charlie isn’t a big fan of

❈ but upon seeing how skilled your son is in the career field, Charlie grows happy for him

❈ once your son has a family of his own, Charlie helps him a lot with raising his own son

Richie:

❈ at first, Richie wasn’t too keen on the idea of having children

❈ but when you both find out you’re infertile, his attitude changes

❈ suddenly, he wants to do anything to make you happy, including having children, even if they aren’t your biological ones

❈ you both decide to foster kids for a little while

❈ Richie is surprisingly wonderful with every kid who comes through your household

❈ one kid specifically holds a dear spot in your and Richie’s hearts, so you decide to adopt them permanently

❈ soon, you adopt a few more kids, making your family grow larger

❈ once all your kids have completed school and the house was empty, you realize just how much your unluckiness with fertility changed everything in your and Richie’s lives

Ethan:

❈ when your last living parent falls ill and is no longer able to take care of your little sibling, you have to step up and have temporary guardianship

❈ you and Ethan have been together for a while, but kids haven’t really been brought up quite yet

❈ so it’s weird suddenly having the responsibility shared between both of you for a child

❈ but the weird dynamic quickly becomes habit and routine

❈ Ethan takes your sibling to school, makes breakfast and packs their lunch, helps with their homework, and just about anything you can think of

❈ you and Ethan discuss having children of your own once your parent gets better and has your sibling back in their household

❈ but when your parent doesn’t get better, and it seems your sibling living with you is permanent, life throws another curveball, and you become pregnant

❈ so you and Ethan raise your sibling and child together very happily

❈ Ethan is great with kids because of his personality, and it definitely has reflected onto the kid he helped raise as well as his own child

taglist:

@bridgergf @criminalmindsfan13 @axen-gers @belovedtylerr @bonbekahsfav @jokersgrf @snazzynacho @cobra-kaii @im-a-slut-for-this-man2 @nicepeony @her-violent-delights @justacosplayerlol @chiimiki @radiant-whore @ppanemorfii @teleiophiliac @18lkpeters @vampyrgoff @roryculkinsbf @leilani788

[xjulixred45x]

I need to ask from morbid curiosity mostly. I have heard of diabolic lovers mostly from top 10 unfortunately not good ones. What are your unadulterated thoughts on the brothers?

I have talked individually of Subaru and Reiji, and there is a post where i Say which Diaboy i HATE the most, but i Guess is therapeutic talk shit about them all :)

in order from oldest to youngest, not in order from worst to """best"""

Carla to me is practically a P3d0, and it's worse if we consider that canonically she likes Yui to call her "Onichan"🤮 and he's such a son of a bitch, he tortured her SO MUCH (along with Shin) that it made her think about COMMITTING SUICIDE. a scourge

Shin is the definition of Carla's lapdog, and since he has the power he feels comfortable mistreating everyone (but if they were stronger? He comes out with his tail between his legs) GOD THE SCENE WHERE HE MAKES YUI LICK HIS OWN BOOTS. just as bad as his brother. Only he's not a fetishist.

Shu just seems boring and bland to me, I'm sorry I can't say much about a character who literally does NOTHING. Her background is fine, but I think she was very wasted on a character in a bad story.

Reiji IS A SON OF A BITCH, he not only decided to kill his brother's friend BUT THE ENTIRE VILLAGE, OUT OF JEALOUSY, and on top of that kill his mother who wasn't even abusive (compared to the other two, she was quite loving). honestly an idiot.

Ayato is unbearable, I just can't stand him, he acts like a little child. apart from the fact that he is the one who objectifies Yui the most and who insults her the most along with Kou. without forgetting that he is considered the "hero" of the franchise😑

Kanato is all of the above combined in an amorphous and delusional mass in believing that he is the victim and that he is right in everything, being also a necrophiliac and cannibal, there is no need for me to say more.

Laito is, sadly, one of the best written in the entire franchise but at the same time he is a FIRST DAMN, he was the first to cause Yui's suicidal ideas, apart from the fact that HE IS a sex offender who should stay away from people .

Subaru is a hothead who gives me certain Incel vibes, he believes that all women are equal and that gives him the right to treat everyone like shit and be physically violent. Even if he has the most "justified" trauma next to Laito, it doesn't make him any less of a horrible person.

Ruki is simply a control freak who, since he is now a vampire, believes he is above everyone else and is honestly a second Reiji but with a cheap background. but he has my eternal hatred for the cat.

Yuma just doesn't catch my attention beyond his design and being just as aggressive as Subaru, he has literally beaten Yui to death in almost all of her endings. I don't like.

Kou is INSUFFERABLE and eager, not only for being so materialistic but for the way he messes with Yui's self-esteem makes my heart bleed.

Azusa is a MANIPULATOR, no matter who it hurts, he literally Guilt Trips Yui to make her hurt him! and then he cuts her! He might be the "Best" but he is still trash.

Kino is similar to Kanato in that he is spoiled and a horrible being at the same time, he has no consideration for those other than him and that makes him DESPICABLE ON HIS ROUTE, he literally killed a child in front of Yui so that he would not try to escape . it's bullshit.

Overall, I think that would be it. They're all trash, but different trash.

____

en orden de mayor a menor, no en orden de peor a """mejor"""

Carla para mi es prácticamente un P3d0, y es peor si consideramos que canónicamente le gusta que Yui le llame "Onichan"🤮 y es tan hijo de puta, la torturo TANTO(junto a Shin) que le hizo pensar en SUICIDARSE. una lacra.

Shin es la definición de perro faldero de Carla, y como tiene el poder se siente comodo con maltratar a todos(pero si fueran mas fuertes? el sale con la cola entre las patas)DIOS LA ESCENA EN LA QUE HACE QUE YUI LE LAMA LAS BOTAS. igual de malo que su hermano. solo que no es un fetichista.

Shu simplemente se me hace aburrido y soso, lo siento no puedo decir mucho de un personaje que literal no hace NADA. su trasfondo esta bien, pero creo que fue muy desaprovechada en un personaje en una mala historia.

Reiji ES UN HIJO DE PERRA, no solo decidio matar al amigo de su hermano SINO A TODA LA VILLA, Por CELOS, y encima de eso matar a su madre que nisiquiera era abusiva(en comparación a las otras dos, era bastante amorosa). sinceramente un imbécil.

Ayato es insoportable, simplemente no me lo puedo aguantar, actua como un niño pequeño. aparte de que es quien mas cosifica a Yui y de los que mas la insulta junto a Kou. sin olvidar que es considerado el "héroe" de la franquisia😑

Kanato es todos los anteriores combinados en una masa amorfa y delirante en creer que es la víctima y que tiene la razon en todo, siendo también un necrofilico y canibal, no hace falta que diga mas.

Laito es, tristemente, uno de los mejor escritos de toda la franquicia pero que al musmo tiempo es un MALDITO DE PRIMERA, fue el primero en causar las ideas suicidas de Yui, aparte de que ES un delincuente sexual que deberia manterse lejos de las personas.

Subaru es un hiracundo que me da ciertas vibras de Incel, cree que todas las mujeres son iguales y que eso le da el derecho a tratar como la mierda a todos y ser físicamente violento. aun si tiene el trauma mas "justificado" junto a Laito, no le hace menos de una persona horrible.

Ruki simplemente es un maniático del control que como ahora es un vampiro cree estar por arriba de los demas y sinceramente es un segundo Reiji pero con trasfondo barato. pero tiene mi odio eterno por lo del gato.

Yuma simplemente no me llama la atención mas alla de su diseño y ser igual de agresivo que Subaru, literalmente ha matado a Yui en casi todos sus finales a golpes. no me gusta.

Kou es INSUFRIBLE y con ganas, no solo por ser tan materialista sino por la forma ej la que se mete con el autoestima de Yui hace que me sangre el corazón.

Azusa es un MANIPULADOR, le duela a quien le duela, el literalmente le hace Guilt Triping a Yui para que lo lastime! y encima después la corta el!

Kino es similar a Kanato con lo de ser un mimado y un horrible ser al mismo tiempo, no tiene consideración por quienes no sean el y eso lo hace alguien DESPRECIABLE EN SU RUTA, literalmente mato a un niño enfrente de Yui para que no intentara escapar. es una mierda.

en general, creo que eso sería todo. Todos son basura, pero diferente basura.

[ladyluscinia]

I think they were so worried about not getting a season 3 they ruined both the viewers expecting one and the viewers who would've liked it to end there. they've created an easily destroyable status quo because of course something needs to happen to get everyone back together for season 3. so it's not even a happy ending; it's so fragile, it's designed to fall apart the second that anyone learns that the show is back on. i get not wanting to bank on having a third season and wrapping it up but like. Galavant did that and did it better. WITH THE HEROES RETIRING AND THE TWO MINUTE MARRIAGE CEREMONY TO BOOT. But it gave an outline of where the plot might go from there and how the adventure will continue if it gets to. And it never got to, and season 2's ending is good because it's not /fragile/--it's not a cliffhanger, but you get the idea that they could keep going from there still. whereas this one didn't want to be a cliffhanger so much that they created the most breakable new status quo in history and if there is a season 3 it'll immediately be undone and I'll probably still watch it but like I'll /know/, y'know? They could fix everything in the first episode of season 3 and I'd still have to know that at one point, this was considered an acceptable outcome.

The thing that is driving me absolutely insane is they DID NOT HAVE TO DO THIS!

There's so many people looking at it like "well it's a shame that 2x08 clearly had to cram several episodes into one for budget reasons and it made the development weaker but that's the situation MAX put them in" and I cannot emphasize enough how much that is not true.

MAX did not break it to them after episodes 2x01 - 2x07 were written and half filmed that they would have to wrap up the whole plot in 30 minutes. Like absolute worst case scenario they had 10 eps mostly written and budget came back 20% over and they had to reduce to 8 total. More likely they knew they were getting 8 from the start.

It is absolutely nobody's fuck up except David Jenkins and his writers' room if they were unrealistic about what character beats were needed and would fit in the timeframe to reach a satisfying wrap up.

Worries about no S3 were on the table the moment it took until JUNE to get confirmation of S2. This wasn't sprung on them. If they wanted their story to have a "just in case" happy ending and then a "fully realized arc" happy ending, they should have fucking acted like it???

I was shocked when the first three episodes that dropped were so hardcore on destroying Edward's relationships and laying bare exactly how deep his issues went. It only made sense to me if they were going all in on getting a S3 and prepared to spend all of S2 focused on the implications of all that, and then the not-even two week in-universe timeline of the season reinforced my understanding that was happening.

"Shame we don't have time for our main couple to even start addressing their relationship or having moments of self-realization and sharing their issues," says guy who decided to make the first half of S2 about adding more problems on top of well established ones from S1 and the second half of S2 about throwing in a second breakup cycle instead of dealing with the fallout from the first.

Want Edward to end on a beat of feeling part of the found family? Well maybe adding a timeskip after 2x05 and then a crew chat in 2x06 where you make it clear he did an apology tour offscreen could help, but you also could have just not focused hard on him poisoning his relationship with every single one of them in the first place???

There's multiple different ways you can do Act 2 of a three act structure, and they did not have to choose one that ends on another dark cliffhanger beat or right at the open ended turning point toward growth? Like they didn't even do the one they picked in a way they could fit in their season. I feel like by the end of a struggles Act 2 both your protagonists need to have self-realized their issues and maybe had one conversation about it? Edward still wasn't talking about his guilt, and Stede wasn't talking about anything.

They aren't even at the turning point of growth and out of the backsliding / lessons learned era yet, that's why potential S3 will start on another backslide when status quo breaks and Stede starts "that's nice, dear"-ing Edward during the day and slipping out at night to vicariously listen to pirate stories or whatever (and they frame it like he's cheating).

We have two out of three seasons in a show that might only get two, and I feel like the characters have barely moved from their starting position.

Like idk maybe they are really good at coming up with character flaws - ex: Stede is repressed and bottles up his traumas until he mentally checks out / runs away - and just drawing blanks on how to believably "fix" them, but just going "well what if we just used this flaw to throw another miscommunication roadblock in their relationship?" is not getting them where they want to be.

The season was fundamentally designed against their stated goal and did not make what seem to be necessary writing concessions to the reduced screentime if they wanted their finale to land as an even plausibly happy ending. It's hollow.

And possibly not even salvageable in S3 since they aren't demonstrating the skills to salvage it.

[dailyadventureprompts]

So, I mostly just need some advice. I want to introduce stuff like the combat wheelchair into campaigns I run and play in, but some players say it’s “unrealistic” for stuff like that to be in a campaign because “why wouldn’t you just get greater restoration or regenerate casted on you or something”. I know that’s a bunch of bull crap, but I’m not sure what to say to convince them.

Heavy Topics: Disability in Fantasy

I'm going to start this off with saying that people with a lot more education and experience than me have written quite a lot about the inclusion of disabilities in d&d, and I encourage you to seek out their testimonials.

Next, you don't need to convince anybody about introducing things in your campaigns, especially when that introduction is specifically to highlight inclusion and diversity . They're YOUR campaigns, and people that cry "realism" when it comes to matters of inclusion are almost always covering up for their own prejudice.

Now what I can do with expert efficiency is address the bullshit claims that people try to use to support their prejudice, how it doesn't line up with the mechanics of the game, and how it doesn't line up with good storytelling.

TLDR: Disability is a fact of life, and so it is a fact of stories. In trying to brush it aside by saying " oh magic could fix everything" we also brush aside the lived experiences of millions of people, equally deserving as seeing themselves as characters in the fantasy epics we tell. Purely form a storytelling and world building perspective, it's also far more interesting to see how people adapt to challenges then it is to make those challenges simply not exist or be easily fixed by author fiat.

First lets talk over the mechanical issue: In vanilla d&d there's no way to restore lost limbs short of the regeneration spell, which is 7th level and thus requires a 14th level character to cast. 14th level characters are thin on the ground, meaning that your average person would have to undertake an arduous journey to find such a caster willing to perform this working , to say nothing of finding one willing to perform the service for any payment a commoner could provide.

Likewise, regeneration specifies that it's SEVERED limbs that are restored: rules as written it doesn't fix neurological damage, birth defects, or congenial traits. As someone who's needed glasses from youth onwards, I find it hilarious that a flimsy pair of lenses can fix what high level divine magic ( possibly even the wish spell) cannot, but that's more a matter of the designers thinking more about the lives of adventurers than the worldbuilding implicit in their rules.

Turning to 3rd party material and homebrew, we enter into some very interesting territory. There's much back and forth about magic that "fixes" disability outright and where I fall on the discussion tends to land on the idea that said magic lets the character overcome many of the hurdles of their impediment but doesn't negate it completely. Here's some pop culture examples:

Toph from ATLA is always go be the go to for disability representation in media: She's blind, but uses her earthbending powers to be able to sense vibrations in contact with the ground allowing her to "see". In a badly written show, this would totally negate Toph's disability, but thankfully ATLA is written by people who know what they're doing so instead Toph's blindness provides just as many novel drawbacks as it does advantages. Toph can detect things happening on the other side of walls and doors, but is vulnerable to projectiles that don't touch the ground. She can sense if people are lying, but can't read printed text. Force her onto a small, isolated platform or into water and you cut off her ability to see just as much as a fully sighted character in pitch black darkness.

Edward Elric from fullmetal Alchemist is missing an arm and a leg, and uses a pair of integrated robotic "automail" prosthesis which seem to give him all the functionality of a regular set of limbs. That said, any utility the automail provides is matched with whole host of downsides, ranging from their lack of touch, their weight causing discomfort, and the expense of having them in the first place. What's most pressing is that these limbs are mechanical and prone to malfunciton from overuse, requiring Edward to see a specific technician to get them fixed. When they break ( which is often) or simply require refitting, Edward needs to travel days or weeks out of his way and then suffer through a painful process of reattachment in order to get the use of his limbs back.

Professor Xavier from the Xmen is paraplegic, but in many depictions has some kind of hoverchair that lets him go out into the field and navigate difficult terrain without the aid of others or other mobility devices. While certainly an upgrade over a totally mundane wheelchair it again doesn't completely compensate for his inability to walk or his vulnerability should the chair be damaged or taken away from him.

With these examples in mind, we can look at how different 3rd party resources can model various forms of accommodation, giving characters with disabilities the utility they need to go out adventuring, without removing their disability in the first place.

The "combat wheelchair" is a great example of this, giving characters unique options while at the same time making them atleast partially reliant on a somewhat cumbersome object. In terms of logistics, it's not much different than having a centaur in the party and the fact that most dungeons aren't wheelchair accessible just means the party has to do maybe one or two more platforming problem solving challenges.

In my own time running steampunk games I’ve usually instituted a “misfire” rule onto most technology, including the ubiquitous mechanical limbs. A natural 1 using that limb means that the limb is suffering a malfunction, and until the malfunction is fixed, another natural 1 will break it. It’s an easy way to get across that these marvellous contraptions aren't perfect yet.

Now lets talk storytelling:

Upfront I'm going to say that I don't consider myself disabled,I have some mental health hurdles that I have to navigate on the regular, but my body works at a solid 6/10 most days. 

I think there’s a lot potential in examining disability in stories, and not just in the “overcoming adversity” inspiration porn sort of way. The loss of a limb can represent a sacrifice and the toll of war, prejudice against disfigurement can drive a character down a dark path, sometimes there’s no greater thematic reasoning behind it and a character is living with disability because that’s a thing regular people live with. What I will say is that disability introduces vulnerability, a theme that power fantasy games like d&d don’t often deal with as their centeral arc is about characters getting stronger and stronger and stronger until they can challenge the gods. 

Vulnerability runs counter to that desire for strength, but it makes a better story because what a character does with vulnerability makes them a more interesting character: Do they rely on others? Close themselves off? Come to terms with their weakness or strive to overcome it? These are all fascinating questions that you wouldn’t get to ask with a character that was 100% able bodied, well adjusted, and socially accepted.

It’s not a stretch to say that people who have regressive political views are terrified of vulnerability. that’s why the right-wing chuds are so vehemently opposed to the idea that someone with a disability could be a hero. To them, adversity is all about the superior overcoming the inferior, and the thought of someone with weakness or disadvantages, someone they consider “inferior” triumphing against someone stronger is a direct challenge to their place inside their own worldview.

Finally I’m going to leave you with something relating to vulnerability to consider from my own campaigns:

In my home games when someone fails their death saving throws, I generally don’t kill them, killing them cuts the narrative short and I want to see how things play out. Instead I give them an offer: do they pass on into death, or do they let me take something from them? 90% of the time they chose the latter option and I make things interesting. What happens to the master archer who can’t string a bow anymore, or the fame hungry bard who’s scars distract from their performance? What price will the wizard pay to regain the use of her eyes?  Forcing players to confront these questions takes a lot of tact, and a lot of trust, but always yields better stories but given enough time to develop.

Art

[actuallyadhd]

Book: The Procrastination Equation Subtitle: How to Stop Putting Things Off and Start Getting Stuff Done Author: Piers Steel, PhD Publisher: Random House Canada Year: 2010

This isn't going to be a really formal book review or anything, I just thought I'd provide you guys with the pertinent information, in case you want to read it yourselves. :)

So, basically, Piers Steel is an industrial psychologist who specializes in procrastination. He teaches at the University of Calgary, in the Haskayne School of Business. He started studying procrastination because he procrastinated, so once again we have an expert who used his own problems to influence his studies. :D

The procrastination equation isn't a real equation - that is, it's not something you can plug actual numbers into and figure out what your procrastination number is. It's more of a theoretical approach to the definition of procrastination, that explains how and why people procrastinate. Written as a mathematical equation, it looks like the picture at the top of this post.

In other words, what we expect to receive for a task, multiplied by its intrinsic value (to us), all divided by how impulsive we are times how far away the due date is, equals how motivated we are to actually work on the task in question. The less motivated we are, the more we're going to put it off. This is why so many post-secondary papers are written the night before they're due: the papers are assigned months ahead of time, there is no certain expectancy of a good grade, and young adults are rather impulsive and don't really like working hard on things anyway. So the motivation to write the paper is really low until just before it's due.

One of the things I found really interesting about this book was the stuff about how brain function affects procrastination. Basically, it's the conflict between the limbic system and the prefrontal cortex that buggers us up. In reading about this, I kept thinking to myself, "he's describing ADHD!" but he never uses the term once, in the entire book.

The limbic system is the part of our brain that makes us do things when we want to do them. It's basically the seat of impulsivity. (Oh, by the way, he uses the word "impulsiveness" throughout the book. I prefer "impulsivity," even if my spell checker doesn't believe it's a word.) The limbic system is perfect for a hunter-gatherer society. Of course, evolution means that we are always perfectly designed for the environment we no longer live in. :)

The prefrontal cortex is the part of the brain that deals with executive functioning. It's where we make plans, follow through on plans, and all that other great stuff that is basically contrary to the nature of the limbic system.

On to the practical stuff...

First there was a self-assessment quiz (it's in chapter two, if you decide to read the book). People procrastinate because they have low expectancy, low value, or high impulsivity. As it turns out, my problem is mostly with impulsivity. In other words, I postpone doing things until the last minute because other stuff keeps catching my attention. I do the other things first, not because I don't think the first tasks are important (value) or will pay off in the end (expectancy) but because whatever it is that I end up doing instead is just way more interesting in the moment--long-term thinking just isn't my strong suit. (I'm pretty sure this is due to ADHD because I would always do all the research for a paper right when it was assigned, and then sit on my notes and let things percolate until the night before it was due. So I'd be completely prepared for the assignment and not complete it, even though I had everything I needed in order to do so.)

Chapters 7-9 are the ones that have the actual practical approaches to combat procrastination. I took notes on all of them, but of course not all of them are techniques that are going to be useful for me. I'm going to copy my notes anyway, though, because some of you guys might get something out of it, too. :)

Each bold header below has to do with a reason for doing something; the italicized sub-headers are the names of the ways you can deal with problems in that area, and are followed by explanations of how the methods work.

Expectancy

Success Spirals (+)

Set an ongoing series of challenging but ultimately achievable goals; maximize motivation and make the achievement meaningful.

Think of an area of life of real interest and strive to improve just a little beyond your current skill set.

Break town the tasks that daunt you into smaller and smaller pieces. Keep formal track of your progress. Count your successes.

Vicarious Victory (+)

Find an inspirational role model and/or a positive social peer group.

Seek inspiration from stories or others; it is easier to believe in yourself if you are surrounded by people who believe in themselves--or you!

Join a community, service, or professional organization.

Start your own support group; can be anyone, as long as it is mutually encouraging friends.

Wish Fulfillment (+)

Visualization, either mental contrasting (what you want vs what you have) or creative visualization (what you want, as per The Secret; not as effective as contrasting).

Think about the life you want; focus on just one aspect (break it down!); elaborate on what makes it attractive (e.g., diary, collage, quiet concentration); mentally contrast future with present, focusing on the gap.

Plan for the Worst, hope for the Best (-)

Rather than believing you can entirely and easily beat the problem of procrastination, believe that you can beat it down.

Determine what could go wrong, reflect honestly on past experiences, and ask for advice; list ways you habitually procrastinate and post it where you work; avoid pre-determined risks as much as possible; develop a recovery plan ahead of time; use the recovery plan.

Accept that You're Addicted to Delay (-)

Acknowledge powerlessness over procrastination: truly acknowledging that any single failure of willpower inevitably leads to the collapse of all your self-control gives you far more motivation than believing that occasional lapses can be safely contained.

Keep a daily log of procrastination habits; acknowledge that a weak will is the biggest problem, and "just once" is the beginning of the end; accept that the first delay justifies all the rest of them.

Value

Games and Goals

Finding the balance between the difficulty of your task and your ability to do it is a key component for creating flow, a state of total engagement.

The rist of procrastination diminishes when tasks are relevant, instrumentally connected to topics and goals of personal significance.

You need a string of future goals that you find intrinsically motivating to hook your present responsibilities onto.

Frame long-term goals in terms of the success you want to achieve (approach goal) rather than the failure you want to prevent (avoidance goal).

Make tasks more challenging; connect tasks to long-term goals (what you find intrinsically motivating); frame goals in terms of what you want to achieve rather than what you want to avoid.

Energy Crisis

Spoons (mental and physical).

Do difficult tasks at peak performance times; don't get hungry; exercise lots; make sleep predictable; respect your limitations.

You Should See the Task I'm Avoiding

Doing other things instead of the thing we're supposed to be doing - getting things done, but not the "right" thing.

Identify something you've been putting off, then things that are more enjoyable and do them instead/first.

Double or Nothing

Procrastinators tend not to reward themselves for getting things done.

Anticipated rewards make the work more enjoyable, which helps winning.

List rewards you can self-administer, promise yourself these rewards; consider ways of making tasks more enjoyable (pairing) without overriding the work.

Let Your Passion be Your Vocation

Finding work you want to do is a major step toward avoiding procrastination.

http://online.onetcenter.org/find/descriptor/browse/Interests

Look at careers involving activities you love or like doing; filter out all the occupations for which you don't possess skill or ability; rank by demand.

http://careervision.org

Impulsivity

Commit Now to Bondage, Satiation, and Poison

As you get closer to a temptation, your desire for it peaks, allowing the temptation to trump later but better options.

Throw away the key: eliminate the alternatives.

SatiationL meet your needs in a safe and managed manner before they intensify and take control (schedule recreational activities first, then add chores - "unschedule").

Try poison: punish failure.

http://www.stickk.com/

Identify your temptations, then...

Put them out of reach or far away;

Satisfy your needs first; or

Add disincentives to make them unattractive.

Making Paying Attention Pay

Inside out: pay attention please!

Frame in terms of abstract and symbolic features.

Ascribe negative qualities and consequences.

Outside in: now you see it, now you don't.

Regain stimulus control by making it harder to access or even notice the temptations.

Declutter and replace the clutter with triggers for tasks you usually procrastinate on.

Make workplace a cue by working until motivation disappears; then go elsewhere to goof off (this could be just another profile ont he same computer so you have to log off and back in if you are going to goof off).

Use covert sensitization to make distractions less inviting; focus on abstract aspects of temptations; eliminate cues; replace distraction cues with work-related cues; compartmentalize work and play as much as possible.

Scoring Goals

The finish line is just ahead.

Set corporeal goals with real deadlines, use mini-goals to get started on a task, structure the goals so that they are appealing (i.e., inputs [time invested] vs outputs [what's produced]).

Full automatic.

Intentionally adopt a routine; make an explicit intention to act (if-then is pretty good for this).

Frame your goals in specific terms so that you know precisely when you have to achieve them; break down long-term goals into a series of short-term objectives; organize your goals into routines that occur regularly at the same time and place.

"Optimal self-control involves not the denial of emotions but a respect for them."

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Now You're Everything [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@unheartbreakable) Center (@milla984) Right (@poseidonsarmoury)

Prompt: It’s been a long time coming and after an emotion-heavy year, Aaron finally shows the BAU-reader how much he wants them. 

Pairing: Aaron x fem!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: fluff/comfort/minor whump. 

Word Count: 9.9K

Content Warnings: Light swearing and drinking, mention of kidnapping and torture [Hotch], Hospitals and IVs, Minor unwanted advances [reader]. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi, loves! Happy New Year's Eve! This is for my love @silk-spun. It is the second fic I’ve written based on my December Prompt List (linked) Dialog prompt #6: “Let’s skip the office party and go out on the town instead!” I changed the wording a bit, but this is basically all the times Aaron and the reader don’t have the right words to confess, and the one time they don’t need them to get their message across. There is one short mention of Aaron being tortured on a case, and I plan on turning that into a full fic soon. So look forward to that (?). I hope you have a great evening and stay safe. If you like this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List wil all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_y/l/n_ = your last name 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

_y/f/c/b_ = your favorite caffeinated beverage (i.e. coffee/tea/energy drinks)

_y/l/f/d_ = your least favorite designer 

_y/f/d_ = your favorite drink 

Aaron looked around the room which was shockingly full for it being 9:30 p.m. He scanned the groups of people clustered around tables and sitting in chairs talking. Some had plates of food, others glasses of alcohol or sparkling soda. The person whom the supervisory special agent was looking for wasn’t there. He wondered if she was using the lady's room. The last time he’d seen _y/n_ she was being cornered by Freddy from finance. Aaron hadn’t attempted to listen in on the conversation because it was mostly Fred talking to _y/n_. It seemed the pox-faced man wasn’t letting _y/n_ get a word in edge-wise. That sounded like a personal hell that he would avoid at all costs. He had to do enough wine-ing and small talk at the annual Winter Holiday party as it was. He’d talked to Strauss, the Director of the Pentagon, and all the other heads of teams that had made it to Quantico for the party. He’d heard about so many cases that they started to blend together, but for Aaron, nothing would top his team or the crimes they solved. Hotch listened to Bernard Shaw, head agent for the Tax Fraud department, as the white-haired man droned on about a new loophole for the Cayman Islands and how much of a pain it had been that year. Aaron looked over his team with a soft appreciation for how hard they all worked, how they had gelled to feel more like a family than just profilers doing a difficult, dangerous job. There was Derek, who could always be called on to help with anything. The built agent was talking to Spencer. The genius had been so young when he joined the team. Aaron had taken on a fatherly role with Spencer without even thinking about it. Before Jack had ever been born. Rossi had just taken Aaron’s place with Strauss, and they were talking about some half-shared hobby or new bureau policy. Both of those conversations looked the same. Hotch caught Dave’s eye and the older man gave a small shrug, indicating, “This is what the holiday party is for. Making nice one last time before we get a break.” Aaron gave a small nod of agreement before turning his attention back to Shaw. The man hadn’t noticed as Aaron’s attention had waned and then returned to him. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to refresh my drink, but it was good to catch up, Bernard, and good luck in dealing with the fallout of S.B. 103b.” Bernard nodded, and the two men shook hands before Aaron walked back to the table with the alcohol on offer. As Hotch poured himself a glass of white. He guessed at how much the liquor alone for this party cost. His guess was around 2,000 dollars. The FBI didn’t ever recommend frivolous spending, but even they realized that sticking a hundred agents and department heads together required the good stuff. 

As Aaron sipped on the cool chablis, he swirled the liquid in his glass slightly. The rare sound of mirth at this dull and quiet frankly depressing party was coming from his team. It was Emily, JJ, Garcia, and _y/n_.” As he looked at _y/n_ in her semi-formal _y/f/c_ dress that was just long enough to be appropriate, Hotch assumed it was some cocktail dress _y/n_ had pulled from the back of a closet behind all of _y/n_ business formal and work attire. The black tights made the outfit work in a fashion way that Aaron didn’t have the right words for. He had to tear his eyes away because if he kept looking at _y/l/n_ much longer, the butterflies in his stomach would soon unfurl their wings and move into his ribcage in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aaron moved to Rossi, who was free now for support. Dave grounded him, which he needed right now. His feelings for _y/n_ had been coming to a head for months now and somehow, Aaron didn’t feel the bureau holiday party was the place for a confession. Even if _y/n_ was receptive to his advances, he worried. His role as her superior and the age gap had him wondering if they had enough in common to sustain a relationship. They’d grown up in different decades, and y/n_ seemed to have the youth and energy he lacked as he neared late middle age. The part of Aaron that longed for _y/n_ in unexplored ways knew that Hotch’s concerns were self-imposed. That _y/n_ had been sending him small signs of affection and care that didn’t even think he deserved. But Aaron’s fear was real and steeped in policy and power dynamics that would come with having a committed relationship with _y/n_. Hotch moved next to Rossi and asked his friend about his New Year's plan. If he was currently seeing anyone. The basic life and catching up questions that they rarely had time for during work. As Dave answered, Hotch’s eye kept flicking back to _y/n_, as she laughed at some comment of Penelope’s. Rossi noticed and stopped talking about himself. Instead, he said, “She’s not going to wait forever you know, Aaron. _y/n_’s a patient person, but I think she deserves to know how you feel about her.” This comment had Hotch flush and take a breath in. Aaron had tried very hard to keep any of his feelings for _y/n_ hidden beneath a cloak of professionalism and feigned disinterest in the team's personal life as a whole. After all, he was their boss foremost, but it was hard to tune out when the team spoke of their weekends. It was doubly so when it was _y/n_. He’d overhear her complaints about bad dates and rent, and how her dryer was broken in her unit. Hotch had wanted to offer to fix it himself but stopped himself before the words could slip from his mouth. He’d also heard her when she talked about the good things like a new cafe she had found, or getting tickets for a band she adored. If _y/n_ was talking and Aaron was around, he listened but tried to look very hard to not look like he was listening. He wondered if he had played into that a little too hard. Hotch looked at Rossi and asked, “Is it that obvious? And what if _y/n_ doesn’t feel the same way? Her feelings could just be due to proximity, or that I’m her boss or something.” Rossi scoffed and said, “You’re deflecting, Aaron. This isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey. A young woman is allowed to have feelings for a guy, who in my opinion is a pretty good catch.” Dave’s complement had Aaron scoff, but that didn’t stop Rossi from continuing. “Listen, Hotch. I knew you liked her and that she liked you ever since you were in the hospital after the case in Indianapolis. I think what happened in that hospital room told me that there was more than just a feeling of friendship between you and _y/n_. As for whether her feelings are the same way for you and you do for her, I can’t tell you. I’m no love expert. But you’re never going to know how she feels about you unless you ask. And I think you both deserve to know the answer, Hotch.” 

With those words of advice, Dave gave Aaron a pat on the arm and excused himself for the night. The older profiler had done the rounds with the higher-ups and was excited to head home, nurse a whiskey, and watch an episode of The Suprano’s. Aaron on the other hand still had about five people to speak to before he could excuse himself. The added discussion about _y/n_ wasn’t going to make small talk any easier. So, with wine still in hand, he steeled himself for another hour of conversation. Hotch had almost made it through the last of his people. He needed to “catch up with.” The room had cleared significantly since his talk with Rossi. Derek, Spencer, and Em had all left, waving or saying a quick goodbye to him as they exited. Garcia was talking to a tech friend of hers from the third floor, and JJ was speaking in hushed tones to Will. But _y/n_ was nowhere to be found. Hotch watched as Arnold, the last person he should talk to approached him. Aaron didn’t think he could take any more small talk, and because Arnold was in Legal, he always asked Aaron loads of questions. Although Hotch didn’t mind flexing his JD now and again, he preferred to do it in a courtroom, not at parties, and not with Arnold Shortes nearly taking notes over their conversation. Aaron turned on his heel and walked quickly to the elevator before Arnold could catch him. Even after a few minutes _y/n_ still hadn’t come back into the second-floor conference room which had been cleared and rearranged for the party. He considered that _y/n_ might have dipped out with Emily, but he was sure she would have told him goodbye before she had left. She always told him goodbye unless he was in a meeting or seemed overly absorbed in his paperwork. _y/n_ introducing her comings and goings had become so routine that he used it as an informal clock now. _y/n_ would always enter the bullpen at 7:45 a.m. sharp unless there was something amiss. And then in the evenings at 5:10 p.m., she’d knock on his office door and wave before skipping down the stairs and to a life that Aaron assumed was filled with much more interesting things than his own. In fact, Hotch had become so accustomed to using _y/n_’s timeliness that he had almost missed a meeting with Strauss because of it. 

Hotch had been sitting in his office looking over a case report, waiting to hear _y/n_’s chipper, “Hey guys,” down in the bullpen. He knew once he heard that he’d have just enough time to grab a coffee, wave to the team, and then make it to Strauss’s office. But it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Concerned, Aaron looked at his watch and was startled when he realized it was already 7:55 a.m. Aaron had to run to the elevator and just barely made it to the meeting on time. After the hour with Strauss, he had found JJ and asked, “Where’s _y/l/n_?” A tinge of concern laced his voice. The media liaison had replied, “She caught a bad cold last night. She just called Emily to let her know that she’s taking the day off with PTO.” Aaron nodded, absorbing the information. He was glad to know that _y/n_ wasn’t in any trouble, or stuck in traffic, but being sick didn’t sound great either. Aaron had spent the rest of that day fiddling around anxiously. Hotch knew it was because of _y/n_ but refused to admit it. Finally, when 5:10 came around, he pulled out his cell and called _y/n_. She’d picked up on the third ring and sounded terrible as she said, “Hey, Hotch. What is it?” Aaron let out a breath and said, “Sorry to disturb you, _y/n_. I just wanted to see how you were doing?” There was a muffled cough on the line, and Aaron cringed as _y/n_ hoarsely replied, “I’m still feeling pretty bad, but the fever is down at least. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a day or two.” Hotch nodded and replied a little too quickly, “Take all the time you need, _y/n_. When you feel better, come back.” There was an awkward pause because Aaron didn’t know what else to say, and _y/n_ hadn’t expected to hear such genuine concern coming from her normally very composed superior. At least not over a little cold. Eventually, _y/n_ who was feeling sleepy again said, “Thanks for checking on me, Hotch. I’ll be alright, just need some sleep.” Again, Aaron nodded. He replied, “Okay. Rest well, _y/n_. See you in a few days.” After that, he hung up and put his head in his hands in desperation. He knew he shouldn’t be having the feelings he was for _y/n_ It was inappropriate. His inner voice reminded him, “She’s sick goddamn it. She probably doesn’t want you around right now.” Aaron did justify his line of thinking slightly because he was just picturing making her some tea to smooth her throat and tucking the blankets around her more tightly. It’s not like he was having sex with her… though he’d had those thoughts before too. In his waking mind, he could stop those images with ease, but in his dreams when he made love to her, it was always overpowering. A time or two, he’d even waken mid-dream to find his body aroused and tense. On these occasions, he’d had to go to the bathroom and find release below a steaming shower. The guilt of doing this weighed on him heavily. One of the times he had done this was during a case, and he hadn’t been able to look at _y/n_ most of the day without flushing and internally reprimanding his body and mind like a teenager. But a majority of Aaron’s thoughts about _y/n_ centered around mundane things like waking up beside her, or cooking dinner together. Aaron knew he was boring, and led a boring life, but if it was possible, he’d like to lead it with _y/n_ beside him. Aaron sighed as the elevator reached his team’s floor. He wished he didn’t sound so melancholic, so lovesick. It wasn’t like him. But _y/n_ pulled the emotions from him like the moon pulled the tides. If nothing else, Aaron had learned something valuable tonight; as Rossi had said, _y/n_ wouldn’t wait for him forever, and they both deserved to know how the other felt about the other.

The bullpen was mostly dark with a few lamps on some desks still on, plus the lamps in Aaron’s office burned down on the rest of the space with their soft halogen glow. Hotch didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he wondered where _y/n_ had wandered off to, or if she had just left without telling him. The latter sounded unlikely. Hotch moved to her desk and noticed that _y/n_’s chair was pulled out with her bulky coat draped over the back, and her sneakers and socks sitting underneath the desk. This indicated to Aaron that _y/n_ was still around. Aaron leaned against the desk, much like Morgan did every day when _y/n_ got into the office. Hotch flushed at the idea of _y/n_ sitting in the empty chair. Being so close and causal like Derek or Garcia were with her. Hotch rarely found himself jealous of Morgan for many reasons, but in this case, he was. He couldn’t afford to be too casual with anyone on the team, especially not with _y/n_. If he was, he knew he’d fall head over heels for her. It was hard enough thinking and dreaming about her. He didn’t need more fuel for that fire. Thinking about this sparked a memory from earlier in the year, and suddenly, Aaron had a sense of where _y/n_ was. It had been after a long day in October. The time change had meant that it was dark outside before anyone left the office. The whole team was still around filling out some reports, except _y/n_ seemed to be missing. Hotch approached Emily and asked, “Where’s _y/n_?” Prenitess chuckled at his question and said, “Licking her wounds up on the roof. Freddy Hareld from Finance just made a big deal about “Just how keen _y/n_ looked. And how she must just be dying to get to know the city better now that she’s part of the BAU, and wouldn’t she let him show her around on Sunday.” Hotch’s eyes grew wide at the story. He was rarely privy to office gossip, even though he knew stuff like this happened around him all the time. However, his co-workers kept him out of the loop, which he didn’t mind until now. Aaron cleared his throat and asked, “Did she seem alright?” He wasn’t one to notice or judge men much, he knew he wasn’t perfect either, but Freddy didn’t seem like _y/n_’s type. Hotch was surprised the man had mustered up the courage to ask. Emily nodded and said, “She just looked annoyed. Apparently, Fred talked, loudly, for about five minutes before she had to shut him down and tell him that she wasn’t interested.” Even though Aaron trusted Prentiss, he wanted to make sure that _y/n_ was okay for himself. Office drama could be uncomfortable. Hotch had spent a good bit of time on the roof himself when he was new to the team. It seemed to be one of the only places in the building where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but now that Aaron had his own office, he didn’t need to find an escape from the team or his own thoughts anymore Much like the first time he had found _y/n_ on the roof seeking an escape, _y/n_ was leaning against the railing, looking out onto the canopy of trees that surrounded the Quantico office and the highway beyond them. Hotch cleared his throat, as he stepped closer to _y/n_. She turned around and felt a blush paint across her face when she saw it was him. 

_y/n_ had just been thinking about him, and there he was. _y/n_ had been considering how they had both been dancing around the other's feelings all year. And two things _y/n_ knew for sure, she wasn’t great at dancing, and her feet were fucking tired. _y/n_ had hoped that there would be a way for her to tell him how she felt without it being awkward or jeopardizing her job. She hoped that she’d at least shown Aaron her care with her actions if not her words. Unfortunately, the few times that had seemed perfect had been cut off by Haley and Jack. The first time had happened in June. A terrorist group was planning on poisoning the largest high school in the region. It had all been a test run for a bigger operation that would take place in D.C. The team had caught on the terrorist’s trail first. But not before Hotch had been taken and tortured for information. The few seconds of audio that Aaron’s captors had shared were so sickening to _y/n_ that she crumpled in on herself and almost vomited. She couldn’t hide how much hearing Hotch in pain was hurting her. When the cell had been caught, the other half of the team moved to Aaron’s location. _y/n_ had shot and then subdued three men before she, Rossi, and Spencer found Hotch black and blue and tied to a chair. He was barely conscious with his mouth gagged. The wad of cloth in his mouth was soaked with sweat and blood that had dripped down the side of Aaron’s face from a large gash on his eyebrow. _y/n_ helped free his mouth while Spencer cut off the zip ties around his battered arms and legs. Rossi was on the phone with the paramedics who were already en route. Once Aaron’s limbs had been freed, he slumped heavily into _y/n_, who supported his weight. She and Spencer helped him to the ground, and he groaned in pain at being shifted. _y/n_ quickly took off her outer jacket and covered his waist. His kidnappers had stripped him of everything but his briefs, and _y/n_ was certain he didn’t want to be so exposed. The paramedics came shortly after and took Aaron to the nearest hospital._y/n_ was grateful that she didn’t have much time to see or think about all the cuts and burns littering Hotch’s prone form. Seeing him like this felt so wrong that it twisted her insides. 

Later, when the doctor had methodically detailed Aaron’s injuries, _y/n_ burned with a fit of anger even _y/n_ didn’t know that she possessed. When he was cleared for it, the team had all gone and saw Aaron in his room. He was surrounded and attached to multiple medical devices keeping him medicated and stable. Even though everyone appreciated Aaron and what he had gone through, no one particularly wanted to stay with him long after wishing him a good night’s rest. No one except _y/n._. Aaron knew it was his fault. He hated hospitals. He would gripe and groan and generally be in a foul mood until he was released as quickly as possible, so he was surprised in his pain-induced state to see _y/n_ pull up a chair close to his bed and just plant herself there. Aaron shifted on the bed to look at her better. That was a bad idea as a sharp pain moved up his side. Hotch muttered, “Fuck” under his breath. He moved his left hand which was attached to an IV toward his stomach to apply some pressure where the pain was radiating from. _y/n_ watched as Aaron moved around. He was straining the line of his IV, and _y/n_ jumped up softly saying, “Hey, hey. Take it easy there Hotch. Just stay calm if you can.” Aaron grunted, but acquiesced as _y/n_ took his left arm and rested it back by his side. She looked at him, concern etched on her face as she asked, “Where does it hurt, Hotch?” Aaron swallowed and almost said everywhere. But his stomach was especially tender and he said, “My, my stomach, but you don’t have to do anything _y/n_. You don’t need to stay here. I’m a pain in the ass when I’m like this.” _y/n_ nodded in understanding as she gently applied a bit of pressure to where he had been trying to reach earlier. He closed his eyes as _y/n_ gently rubbed circles over the inflamed flesh of his torso. Any words about protocol or regulations left him as soon as _y/n_’s hands met his clothed skin. He let out a breath and _y/n_ asked, “Is this okay? I can get a nurse for you?” Aaron shook his head no. He was sick of being poked at. Having three IVs was already putting him on edge. The possibility of more medical equipment was too much to bear. And whatever _y/n_ was doing was soothing him. Hotch softly said, “No nurse. Please. This is good.” Even saying those words seemed to exhaust him. _y/n_ just nodded and kept gently running her hand over his stomach. She didn’t want to think about how this was probably breaking ten rules, or how Aaron’s body looked under the flimsy hospital gown. She just kept moving her hands and watched as Hotch seemed to still and then finally sleep. When his breathing had evened out, _y/n_ pulled the covers over him again and took her seat once more. She didn’t care if he was in a mood or snapped at her. _y/n_ just didn’t think he should be alone right now. So she was going to sit with him until either he told her to leave or someone in the hospital kicked her out. It was at that moment that all of her disparate feelings for him coalesced into one of love. Not a fling or a passing fancy, but the kind of love that lasts through illness and grief and every other part of life. _y/n_ sighed and thought, “What a time to have a revelation like this,” as she kept watch over her boss, unable to leave his side. 

Aaron had shown interest in her too. _y/n_ felt a bit better that she wasn’t the only one falling in love. He was more subtle about it, or at least he was trying to be. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing how he looked at her, how his gaze lingered just a second too long in meetings. He’d pull his eyes away quickly as if he’d been caught doing something improper. Then there was the time he’d called her when she was sick and how he’d seemed a little too excited to have her back after a short four days of illness. And he looked out for her on cases. Not that Aaron didn’t look out for everyone, but he seemed to take her comfort more seriously than he needed to. He held the door for her and let her sit in the passenger seat so they could throw ideas back and forth. At first _y/n_ had thought it was just because she was the newest member of the team. But the behavior from Hotch continued, and just one time on a case, he’d pulled her out of a line of fire and rolled on top of her even though he probably didn’t need to go that far. As Aaron let out a breath of excitement over the case and the woman below him, _y/n_ caught the tells of desire on his face. It didn’t help that they were in what could be an intimate position. His pupils were wide and his breath came in little gasps. _y/n_ didn’t need to see his groin to know that he was excited down there too. After a second, Hotch quickly got up and helped _y/n_ stand too. Aaron nervously straightened his shirt and tie and after quickly asking _y/n_ if she was okay, and her response of “yes,” he moved away from her to gather some semblance of composure. The fact that Aaron was flushed and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the day told _y/n_ all she needed to know about Hotch’s thoughts about her. Or at least the uncontrollable whims of his strong body.  _y/n_ didn’t let herself get carried away. Aaron was still her boss, and she was his agent. And because of this neither had said anything or acted like they were falling in love with the other because it didn’t feel like it could happen. Not to them. But now as _y/n_ sat by his hospital bed, she wondered what it would be like with Aaron. To peek behind his well-kept facade and just be close to him. _y/n_ assumed this was the nearest she’d ever come to that, so she settled in for a long night and decided if this was all she was getting, then she would accept it. Fate had never been so kind to give her something as lovely as Aaron, Hotchner, and she accepted it. 

It was a long night. Hotch woke almost every hour in pain or needing to adjust for his comfort. _y/n_ moved his pillows and blankets for him, helped him drink a glass of water, and called a nurse when he needed to relieve himself. The next morning she was tired, but when Aaron woke, he seemed much improved. He softly said, “_y/n_, thanks for last night. For being here. You made being here, comfortable for me.” _y/n_ took his hand softly and rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. Gently she said, “It was nothing, Aaron. I’m just glad you’re okay.” _y/n_ was so tired that she was about to speak transparently and say, “I’d do this all the time if you needed me to. I don’t mind staying up all night with you whether you’re sick or not.” That was the closest thing to a confession that _y/n_ could think of. But she had been interrupted when a nurse knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Hotchner, your son, and Ms. Brooks are here to see you. Should I let them in?” Hearing this, _y/n_ dropped his hand and her head a tiny bit. She stood and said, “I’ll give ya’ll some space, Hotch.” Aaron nodded yes to the nurse, and watched as _y/n_ left the room. He felt like he’d just missed something big,  but didn’t know what. _y/n_ passed Haley and Jack in the hall. _y/n_ gave the pair a small smile and nod, and she made her way to the hospital lounge to get some much-needed coffee. The Hotchner-Brooks divorce was still very new, and _y/n_ wondered where things had fallen apart between the two of them. She also wondered if there was any chance at all for her and Aaro.  It didn’t feel like it at the moment. 

_y/n_ snapped back to the present when Aaron said her name more loudly. He was holding out his suit jacket for her and saying, “You look a little cold.” Hotch was right, she was cold. _y/n_ had wished she’d brought her coat up to the roof almost as soon as she had stepped outside. However, she was too lazy to want to go back in. She’d escaped Freddy’s boring conversation and looked at Aaron right before she moved to the roof for some fresh air. _y/n_ was pondering if she should just give up her dreams about Hotch. Neither of them seemed to be making any moves out of fear that they might say no to the other or that they might ruin the strong friendship they had now. _y/n_ was getting tired of it though. But then there was Aaron as always being a gentleman and looking out for her. _y/n_ nodded and Aaron slipped behind her, placing the jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed over her exposed skin, and _y/n_ felt that familiar spark burn through her anytime she felt Aaron’s hands on her. Those times were few and far between. She looked over at Aaron and decided that tonight she was going to give him a line and see if he took it. If she didn’t seem interested, she’d let her infatuation go and move on. She could be happy not loving Aaron. At least she hoped she could. Hotch moved to her side next to the railing and he asked, “Was Fred trying to ask you out again?” _y/n_ flushed because it was so rare for him to ask her about her personal life. She remembered the first time it had happened she’d nearly dropped her _y/f/c/b_. That first time had been Freddy-related too. That time they both seemed embarrassed to be talking about it. Now _y/n_ was much more comfortable being open with Aaron. She looked at him and replied, “No. Not this time thankfully. I think the third time actually did it. No today he was just asking about the cases the team has been on recently, and then, inexplicably, he started talking about his pet lizard.” Hearing this, Aaron couldn’t help but cringe. _y/n_ chuckled and said, “You know he’s not a bad guy, just not the guy for me. But bless him, he needs to learn to read a room.” Aaron hummed and said, “Well I’m glad he’s ended his crusade.” _y/n_ laughed at his commentary and replied, “You know he’s right about one thing. I still don’t know this city at all. The cases keep me tired enough to not want to explore on my days off. What do you say we skip the party and you show me something worth seeing?” And here was _y/n_’s line. All Aaron had to do was give it a tug. Hotch looked at her with some surprise, like he had when he was half-dazed in the hospital bed. He cleared his throat and said, “Are you sure it’s me you want? Garcia, or even JJ could show you a better time. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…” _y/n_ could sense that he was deflecting, and said, “No. I want you. You’ve lived here longer and you’ve gotta know the places that aren’t tourist traps. Plus, Garcia is flirting up a storm with that tech down there and JJ only has eyes for Will. I wouldn’t dare break up either of those conversations right now.” After a pause, _y/n_ added, “Come on Hotch. You looked miserable in there. You’re honestly telling me that you want to go back?” 

Aaron let out a warm laugh and said, “Alright, I wasn’t particularly enjoying myself. Too much small talk makes me feel like a dog that’s been bred for show. And I never understood why they held this thing after Christmas and between New Year's. That time feels sacred in some unspeakable way.” _y/n_ was grinning and said, “Totally. I know the director said there was some sort of conflict, but that just read like bad code for, ‘Let me take my ski vacation with my family first.’ And don’t mention the playlist in there. Nobody was enjoying that, I swear to god.” Hotch had to stifle a harsh laugh to not sound unbecoming. That was another thing about _y/n_, they synced with each other’s humor. Sometimes he had to look away from her in meetings to avoid bursting out laughing. The fact was a joy and a pain in equal measure. Aaron looked over to her again, and he realized that she was still waiting for an answer. He took a breath to steel himself. Aaron left like it was now or never, and he didn’t want to let _y/n_ go. Not after all they’d been through this year. He did, however, need a moment to think about where exactly to take _y/n_. He hadn’t exactly been on the town himself since the divorce. Hotch slowly said, “I’d be happy to show you around, _y/n_, but would you give me a minute to think about where exactly to take you? I’m, um, particular about places.” _y/n_ nodded and relaxed into the railing. Aaron looked her over again. She looked ravishing in that dress, and it didn’t hurt that she had his jacket on too. He rested his hands on the cool metal and looked out onto the highway. Gently he asked, “What do you think about when you come up here? I used to spend a good deal of time up here too. When I was new to the BAU at least.” _y/n_ looked over him. Pondering the question. Trying to picture him as a green agent under Gideon. Trying to imagine him in his early thirties instead of his late forties. That all felt like a different time. She hadn’t been there then. _y/n_ moved her gaze to the highway and said, “Well most of my time up here is spent far less productively than yours was. I’m sure. In fact, three of the seven times on this roof have been an escape from Freddy. The other four times, I’m sure I was just annoyed, at myself or someone else. It’s a good place to cool off. Shake the cares of the day away.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. Most of his time up here had been spent sitting against the wall and questioning his life choices, but he didn’t verbalize that thought. He didn’t need to as  _y/n_ continued, “But sometimes I like to close my eyes and pretend I can see D.C. from the rooftop. The capital or Washinton Mall. I know it’s silly, and I’ve explored that city even less than this one, but that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? To keep people safe. To keep the dream alive for everyone who doesn’t have to see the dark underbelly of this country. It gives me comfort.” Hearing this, Hotch stepped forward and placed a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why. He replied, “I don’t think that’s silly at all, _y/n_.” Something _y/l/n_ had said had sparked an idea in Hotch. There was a place on the border between D.C. and Virginia that he’d liked a long time ago. Politicians from either side of the aisle would meet there to make deals and broker favors. As a younger man, he had thought it was cool. Aaron looked at _y/n_ and said, “How do you feel about jazz?” _y/n_ nodded yes and said, “I don’t mind it. Improvisation is good for the soul. Gets you out there. Is there dancing?” Aaron tried to remember the intimate club and eventually nodded yes, saying, “I think so. But I wouldn’t trust me with that. I’ve got two left feet.” _y/n_’s laughter cut through the cold night and she said, “It’s alright. Me too most of the time.” Aaron shifted his hand to her lower back as he asked, “This place is too far to walk. Did you drive here?” _y/n_ replied, “No. Em took me. I was planning on taking an Uber back when I was done with my private roof party.” Aaron noticed her eyes slowly blowing out and her breath coming in faster in her chest. Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Well, we’ll take my car if you're comfortable with it. I can drop you off at your place after?” _y/n_ agreed and said, “Sounds like a plan.” 

The pair made a quick stop by Aaron’s office and _y/n_’s desk to grab their things before heading out. Neither made any formal goodbye at the party. Hotch felt oddly free as he stepped out of the field office with _y/n_ by his side. On the drive to the jazz club, he pointed out different areas of the town to _y/n_. He knew he sounded like a dad, but _y/n_ seemed interested in learning more about the area and asked follow-up questions as they cruised down the dark streets. There was no parking in front of the club, so Aaron found some down the road. The club was unassumingly nestled into the facade of a street full of high-end stores. Now it was _y/n_’s turn to point out interesting trends in the window and designers she despised. Aaron got a small tirade about _y/l/f/d_ when they passed that storefront. _y/n_ was sure Hotch had lost interest at that point, but when she looked at him, he seemed engrossed. He looked over at her and said, “Well, I’d have never known that unless you’d told me. Now I’ll have something smart to say when there’s more small talk to be made at parties.” _y/n_ smiled at Aaron. She knew she had her eccentricities, but he took them with such grace and she wondered what she’d done to earn even an hour of this man's time.  _y/n_ spared him any other commentary. When they stepped into the small, dark space of the club, Aaron told the matre de that it was just two, and the man led the two toward the back of the space. The head waiter graciously motioned to a small couch near the live band playing soft jazz in the back corner of the room. Aaron let _y/n_ take a seat first, and he followed after her. Shortly after being seated a waiter came and took their orders. Aaron got an old-fashioned, and _y/n_ ordered _y/f/d_. As they waited for their drinks to arrive, _y/n_ asked Aaron, “So, how did you find this place?” Hotch did his best to summarize his first year in the BAU. How unsure he was about the shift in jobs. How Haley had been the one to get him out of the house and office. As Aaron recounted his story, _y/n_ didn’t pull away or, cringe at the mention of the former Mrs. Hotcher. _y/n_ realized as much as anyone how important Haley was to Aaron. He’d loved her for a long time before things had fallen apart. And she’d loved him too. _y/n_ was far less insecure about this fact now. She was ashamed about how she’d felt about Haley at the hospital that one time. Not only was Haley important, but _y/n_ realized that Jack was the zenith of Aaron’s life. And she respected that. Fatherhood seemed far from easy, and add being head of the BAU on top of that? Hell, Aaron made it look easy. So she listened to him open up in a way that he never had in front of her before, and _y/n_ got her small peak behind his work facade. She realized that he was just a man doing his best. Trying to juggle all of the plates at his feet, and somehow that was the most attractive thing possible about Aaron Hotchner that she hadn’t ever noticed before that instant. 

Hotch looked at _y/n_ after his long-winded story and expected to see boredom there. Or disappointment at how often he’d brought up Haley or Jack. But he didn’t find it. Only a look of admiration that he couldn’t quite place. And suddenly Hotch wanted to say everything that he’d bottled up over the year and wanted to lean down and kiss _y/n_ on the lips like he had in his dreams. And _y/n_ watched as Aaron shifted in his demeanor. How his eyes were wide again and he seemed to be building to something new. Something yet said or explored between them. The sudden and insistent beeping of Hotch’s phone cut off that moment in an instant. Aaron pulled back from _y/n_ a bit and murmured, “Sorry,” as he accepted the call. After a second, Hotch’s mood changed again, as he replied to the other end of the line. “Is he alright? What’s the matter?” _y/n_ pulled back a bit more, realizing this was a private conversation and she was a bit too close to Aaron for it to be happening like one. His frown and worry lines increased, as he listened to the dialog she couldn’t hear. After a minute he replied, “Yes, I’ll head over right away. You said the doctor was on his way too?... Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be twenty minutes or so… Okay. Tell Jack I’m on my way… Yeah. Bye.” Aaron dropped his hand with this cell in it and looked at _y/n_ with sad eyes. She looked back and him and said, “Is it Jack?” Aaron nodded and replied, “Haley said he has a bad fever, and it’s getting worse. She called a doctor and she thinks I should come over. _y/n_, I’m sorry.” _y/n_ gave him a pat on the arm and said, “Go be with your son, Aaron. There are more important things than me in the world. At least in your world.” Hotch nodded with the same sad eyes. He realized how much of a sacrifice _y/n_ was making for him, how life in the BAU was a whole big load of sacrifice. Aaron stood, and just to show a fraction of how grateful he was for _y/n_’s presence in his life, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was chaste, and he pulled away before he could get ahead of himself.

Aaron was gone before _y/n_ could even fully register what had happened. The bell at the door told of Hotch’s departure, and _y/n_ could have screamed out of desire or despair at how the night had come to a quick conclusion. But she didn’t. _y/n_ knew how important Jack was to Hotch. Everything else but his son was at the periphery of Aaron’s life, and Jack was at the center. As _y/n_ settled back into the loveseat, now alone, she contemplated how yet again any plans or revelations of their feelings had been dashed. But _y/n wasn’t mad about it. _y/n_ had to remind herself that for the half hour, they had been together that night, Aaron had allowed her to see more of himself. And he was, as _y/n_ expected, as good a man as they came. _y/n_ thought, “How often does a girl really get to see a good man?” It was a pleasure, even if it was for just an evening. 

The final few days of December passed in a wave of the hand. _y/n_ had asked Aaron if Jack was alright the morning after their night on the town, and he’d said that the fever had broken in the night and that his son was on the mend. Aaron had asked _y/n_ in the same text exchange if she’d gotten home okay after his sudden departure. She had told him that she’d called a Lyft soon after he’d left to get home. And then, before _y/n_ knew it, she was packing her bags for a long weekend at one of Derek’s properties on a lake outside the city limits. She was carpooling with Emily and Garcia. _y/n_ had heard that Morgan’s New Year’s Eve parties were times to remember and she was finally going to experience one for herself. _y/n_ was already excited to be spending time with her friends, but when Emily said, “You know Aaron’s coming too? He apparently called Morgan last minute and asked if there was still an empty bed, _y/n_’s jaw dropped. _y/n_ quickly composed herself and said, “Well the more the merrier.” Em rolled her eyes and said, “The more the merrier my ass, _y/n_. You know he’s just going there for you. When are you going to catch on that he’s in love with you?” Penelope agreed from the backstreet and said, “Honestly. _y/n_. He’s been making googly eyes at you all year. And what was that with him taking you out after the Holiday Party? Do you see Hotchy doing that with anyone else?” _y/n_ sighed exasperated with her friend's encouragement. She half-heartedly said, “Well, he could have been.” this had Garcia and Prentiss cackling and Penelope said, “This is the time, _y/n_. I swear. If it’s not, I’ll pull Hotch aside myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Despite _y/n_’s friends banter, _y/n_ felt reluctant. None of the other times seemed to work out, and she didn’t see how this was going to be any different. 

As Morgan’s lake house came into view, _y/n_ tried to let everything go. Whatever happened would happen, and she planned on having fun no matter how the next day and a half went. The trio of women were the second to last to arrive. Spencer joined them a half-hour later. Derek quickly showed everyone to their rooms. It felt like an adult sleepover and an energy charged the air. For the first hour or so the team just relaxed and unpacked. Derek, Rossi, Spencer, and Aaron sat on the leather couches and talked about the year. Their highs and lows. They also debated which case was the most interesting from the year. As the men talked, Emily, _y/n_, JJ, and Garcia all tried on the dresses they had brought for the end of the night. As they were helping with the zippers and hemlines, _y/n_ said, “I’m sorry Will couldn’t come tonight, J.” JJ smiled and said, “Yeah. But I think it’s fine. We’ll be married soon enough and we’ll have the rest of our lives to be together. Tonight feels like the gang is back together in a nostalgic sort of way. You know what I mean?” The other nodded alone and Emily said, “I feel ‘ya JJ. What a year it’s been. But we’re all happy for you know. I think you got the last good guy on the market with Will.” JJ grinned and helped _y/n_ slip into her ‘dress.” The media liaison seemed to glow with a pre-marriage, I’ve-found-the-love-of-my-life aura even four months before her wedding day. And suddenly all the women were dressed, and they all looked at each other and complimented each other. Emily was in a sleek purple pants suit. JJ was in a fitted black dress. Garcia, as always, was wearing a bright orange tulle skirt with a pink top, plus white fingerless gloves. The tech noted, “And I’ve got about ten million little things to put in my hair too!” Lastly, _y/n_ was wearing something far slinkier than her friends. It essentially amounted to a lot of large, shimmery _y/f/v_ sequins held together with tiny metal rings. _y/n_ hadn’t worn it since before turning twenty and she couldn’t remember why she’d bought it. “Maybe for a rave?” She thought. Because the garment was so sheer, she was wearing sensible black underwear and a matching bra underneath, but _y/n_ flushed at the one time she’d gone clubbing without the undergarments beneath. That had been a fun evening.

The compliments made the rounds, and Garcia told _y/n_, “You look drop-dead good in that, _y/n_. The boys won’t know what hit them.” At the mention of “the boys,” _y/n_ looked at the ground and said, “You know I would have picked a different outfit if I’d known Hotch was coming.” The others snickered, and _y/n_ laughed too, saying, “I’m being serious. I’m not trying to look like a slut in front of him. The brief said ‘Fun New Year's attire and this is the funniest, New Years-ist dress I’ve got.” Emily moved forward and gave _y/n_’s shoulder a pat saying, “You’ll be fine, _y/n_. You look glorious. Plus you’re the youngest one here. That means you can get away with wearing something more risque. I’m just shocked you can wear something from that long ago. I’m lucky if I could pull off something from two years ago and it look good, I can’t even think about five or ten.” Prentiss shuddered at the thought, and that got a good laugh out of all of them. 

 A knock at the closed door, had them all look away from each other. It was Derek saying that he, Aaron, and Rossi were going to take a walk along the path that went around the lake nearby. And if any of them wanted to join them? _y/n_and Em jumped at the chance. The pair quickly changed back into their casual clothes and headed out with the guys. The walk was pleasant and they all just took in the fresh air and saw the trees surrounding the water. Aaron was walking a few steps behind _y/n_ and he contemplated his feelings about her once more. Even he was getting annoyed with himself. He blamed it on being indecisive in the worst possible area of his life, partnership. But he’d decided today was going to be the day. He was going to bite the bullet and ask _y/n_ how he felt about her. Even though he couldn’t picture the words leaving his mouth, he swore to himself that it was going to happen. The walk concluded, and then everyone got some drinks which Aaron happily and skillfully mixed. Then Derek and Rossi made dinner and everyone ate outside around the fire. And by that time it was already ten and the first fireworks were dotting the sky. Aaron and _y/n_ were sitting next to each other. Close enough that he could move his arm just an inch and he would be touching hers. Hotch’s eyes stayed on the sky as he asked, “Do you have any plans for the New Year?” It was too cliched to ask about resolutions, but he did wonder what someone like _y/n_ thought about the future. _y/n_ turned her gaze to him, and replied, “I don’t know. I want my apartment to feel more homey. It’s still giving college vibes if I’m being honest. I’d like to buy some better furniture, like the opposite of the stuff from IKEA. And then there’s helping JJ with the wedding, and then just going out more. Seeing the city like we did after the party.” _y/n_ felt like saying, “I’d like doing that with you,” and also, “Does this make me sound boring?” But _y/n_ couldn’t vocalize either of those thoughts as Gacia stepped out onto the patio and proclaimed, “It’s dress-up time, baby girl!” _y/n_ shook her head and chuckled. Aaron gave her a hand up and watched as she disappeared into the house. _y/n_’s list sounded just up his alley, and he wondered why he’d been putting off his feelings for so long. Why he couldn’t just man up and tell her he loved her? That he was mad about _y/n_. Aaron sighed and walked inside after _y/n_.

It was 11:15 when the girls were all dolled up with their outfits, heels, and makeup. Derek had the TV playing with the countdown to the ball drop on as ambient noise. The champagne was ready to be popped, and the new year was rung in with friends and laughter. Garcia and Derek were both oddly big about watching the ball drop. _y/n_ had interrogated Penelope about this on the way up to Morgan’s house. Garcia had just said, “It’s tradition, and you don’t mess with tradition.” Just as the group of women stepped into the light to be seen for the first time, the power went out. There was a moment of silence and then Derek said, “Really house. You do this to me now?’ That got everyone laughing, and Aaron asked, “Where’s the breaker Morgan? I’ll give it a look.” Derek told him and Hotch stood outside for a second. While Aaron was gone, Penelope and Morgan talked about what they would do about a countdown. Nobody wanted to just look at the clock. That, Morgan had said, “Wasn’t festive at all.” Aaron came back and said, “It’s not good news, the main fuse is fried.” That had Derek thinking and he announced, “Alright, change of plans. There’s a dive bar down the road. If we book it, we can make it there before midnight.” There was little complaint from the group as Morgan and Penelope hustled everyone into two cars and down the street. There was so much excitement that nobody got to see the women’s outfits until they were standing outside the bar. The space was a dive and it was packed with partiers. The walkway up wasn’t paved, so Aaron took _y/n_’s hand with his left, and even though he didn’t need to, he placed his right on her lower back. Again he felt that spark shoot through him. The cool sequins juxtaposed to _y/n_’s warm skin were doing things to him that he didn’t want to think about right now. Or maybe it was the dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Either of those was a good option. Inside, the team found a spot to stand and watch as the time ticked down from 11:55 to midnight. Derek joked and said, “Alright, who’s kissing who when it’s time?” Emily raised a hand and teasingly said, “I volunteer for you, Morgan.” The team laughed and then started counting down. Everyone except Hotch, who was standing a bit farther back. _y/n_ sighed, knowing he was never a big fan of crowds. She stepped close to him. Even as Aaron sought a moment of reprieve, both _y/n_ still had to stand almost body to body to avoid bumping into anyone. As “THREE, TWO, ONE” were unanimously chanted in the tight space, _y/n_ was going to try and pick up where their conversation had stopped earlier in the night. To see if Aaron had any plans going into the New Year. But she didn’t get the chance to as the call of “Happy New Year!” Hotch bent down and pressed his lips to hers. 

Aaron had meant for it to be a little peck. Just something to ring in the new year with. But _y/n_ only stood in shock for a moment before she realized what was happening, and she’d waited so god damn long for this very moment that she quickly leaned into it, pressing her body to Aaron’s as her arms wrapped around him. Aaron reciprocated in kind and placed one of his hands on her hip and the other on the crown of _y/n_’s head. Holding them together like he might fall apart if he let her go. Aaron's lips were slightly chapped and his cologne, which _y/n_ knew well, crept over her like a sunray. As soon, as they’d started, they didn’t want to stop. Then it dawned on both of them, like they hadn’t been yearning for the other for over a year, that they didn’t have to stop. So they didn’t. Not until they had to pull away panting for air. And once they’d gotten breath back in them, they came together again. This time it was more cautious.  More subdued as Aaron began to memorize the shape of _y/n_’s soft mouth pressed against his own, _y/n_ made a small contented sound that only he could hear and smiled as she placed her hands on his chest. _y/n_ his body in a way that indicated an intimacy that had always been there between them. The rest of the team watched them with Garcia saying, “About time. My god, I thought I was going to have to lock them in a closet together later tonight.” Rossi joked and said, “Well, there’s still time to do that later,” as he came back with a handful of champagne flutes. Dave handed one to each member of the team and then walked a pace over to _y/n_ and Aaron. Hotch was looking into _y/n_’s eyes but stopped when he noticed his friend. Rossi smiled and said, “Alright you kids. How about you take a moment and join us for a toast?” _y/n_ flushed, but nodded taking a glass from Rossi. Aaron chuckled and got a glass himself. He never let his hand lose contact with _y/n_’s side as all three walked back to the table. Rossi gave Aaron a strong pat on the shoulder as they moved to the group and winked at _y/n_, which only made her flush further. Hotch didn’t even care as the whole team's little “oohs and ahhs” sounded at their return. Aaron realized that scrutiny or affection didn’t feel so bad with _y/n_’s hand in his. He realized with full clarity that she’d been there all along, and he’d just not moved his hand to meet hers. He’d tell her he was sorry for that later. For stringing her on so long. He’d tell her he loved her more times than he could count too. But for now, as everyone lifted their glasses saying “Happy New Year!” The future never looked brighter.

______________________________________________________________

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[arc-misadventures]

The VTuber

The, ‘Errantry Paladin.’

This was the adopted name of the online persona belonging to a man named, Jaune Arc, and he was a, VTuber. His persona was of a character from the highly popular fictional universe adeptly called, ‘The World of Remnant.’

‘The World of Remnant’ was a famous fantasy series than went from a novel written by the famous author, Ozma Wizradem, to an entire book series that sadly was never finished due to his untimely death due to the flu. But, his legacy lived on through spin off novels written by his children, and future authors, comic book writers, RPG creators, to video game designers, and full length feature film directors, and tv series producers of various makes. Peoples love for, ‘The World of Remnant has lasted for decades, and the, VTuber’s embracement were just the latest avatars to this wondrous world.

Through the vast depths of, ‘The World of Remnant’ their were dozens of, VTuber’s who inhabited the world of Remnant. These VTuber’s, or ‘Hunters’ as they called themselves to align along with the in universe lore. Each exploring the world in their own unique way.

Each, Hunter belonged to an agency often referred to as a, ‘Huntsmen Academy.’ The Academy’s each belonged to one of the four nation states of, Remnant. There was the academy of, Vale: Beacon Academy. The academy of, Vacuo, Shade Academy. The academy of, Atlas, and Mantle: Atlas Academy. And, lastly the academy of, Mistral: Haven Academy.

The Academies/Agencies each served a purpose of supporting, and aiding the various Hunters/Vtubers in their collective groups, by monitoring, and supporting the actions of each individual. Helping in collaborations, or in producing events, music videos, and so forth. It was a prestigious honour to gain entrance into one of these four academies/agencies to help boost themselves up, and really create a name for themselves. However, one didn’t need to join on of the academies to create a name for oneself.

For there was a, ‘Fifth Academy.’

In the lore of, ‘World of Remnant’ their was a secret organization know as the, ‘Grimm Cabal.’ A organization that sought to sow discord, and chaos throughout the kingdoms, for the their quest to fo fill their desires to destroy the world itself.

This is all fictional of course. In the real world, ‘The Grimm Cabal’ is just the name of another, VTuber agency, that was just like the rest of them.

All these, Hunters/Vtubers have their team, and their Academies, or friends of other Academies, and Teams they like do be around. Each sharing in the joys, and pains as they went about their days. Laughing, loving, crying, and hating within the moments they each individually, or collectively come across.

For all, but one that is…

For the, ‘Errantry Paladin,’ ‘The Broken Paladin,’ or simply, ‘Errant,’ was the outsider. For he was part of no, Academy, nor secret, Cabal. He simply stood alone, and went where he wanted, and did what he wanted to do. He did occasionally joined members from any group for a short while, but he never stayed for long.

Why you may ask? For many have asked, but the answer is always the same: ‘I just prefer not to.’

A answer that answers nothing, but asks everything.

And yet, while he may stand alone, his channel was among the largest their was. Thousands of people tuned in to watch his live streams; Some people came to watch him, and the games he played. Others came to listen to him, and what many called, the ‘soothing tone of voice’ he carried. Others because it was a relaxing to watch him in the background while they carried on with the various day-to-day activities during their lives.

And, then there were the, ‘Fair Maidens.’ A self proclaimed group, of mostly woman, who flocked towards him, and throw themselves upon him in a quest to obtain his affection.

Or, to simplify: The female equivalent of, ‘Simps.’

There are many things people came to see, and experience when watching the escapades of the, ‘Errantry Paladin.’ Things his viewers, and fellow, VTubers watched with baited breath, overflowing excitement, and anticipation.

And, the, ‘Errantry Paladin,’ Jaune Arc was the one who was always the most excited to see what would come next.

~~~

So… What if, Jaune Arc was a, VTuber? Sounds interesting, no?

So, lets take a little break from everything else; I’m grinding my gears on anything else I’m trying to write.

So. Feel free to ask questions to get the ball rolling. But, I want to do stories involving the other characters of, RWBY being, VTubers as well. So in order to do that, I need your help.

I am absolutely shit at naming anything! RedReaper as, Ruby’s, VTuber name is pretty shit. And, I need these people to have some cool nicknames for their, VTuber personas. So, this is where you guys come into play!

You guys give me a nickname, or two for a character, and I’ll collect them, and put them into a pole, and let you decide which name is best. Okay?

Great, lets have some fun then!

[corvidpaws]

🪻🦋 GENESIS. 🔮📋

kirby oc tournament entry.

“Lucky is she, who lives unaware, who doesn’t get bothered by all that’s unfair…”

PERSONALITY.

Genesis is a kind, caring figure haunted by a past only they remember- and it doesn’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things, anyway. They have taken on the role of a therapist, and their personality generally fits the stereotypical view of a therapist. Of course, they aren’t without their flaws- often trying too hard to reach a goal or blaming everything on themselves.

BACKSTORY.

Genesis is from the Forgotten Land. Or, as the residents prefer to call it, the New World.

Their origins are mostly hidden. I mean, you don’t really want to tell people that- well. I’m not going to tell you their secrets. That’s just rude. They’ll tell you when they’re ready.

Hopefully.

All I can tell you is that they have a strange connection to Fecto Forgo.

Oh, well, I’ll tell you a bit more.

Let’s see… I’m sure it was written down somewhere around here.

“Since it’s capture, ID-F85 has only shown activity once- it’s brain patterns seem to suggest that it is dreaming. But that is a fanciful observation, and we are not fanciful people. A monster cannot dream.” — Retired Lab Discovera Tour, Year Unknown

The creature known as Fecto Elfilis had split into two- Fecto Forgo and Elfilin. The Ancients had long abandoned the planet, taking off to Shiver Star. Imprisoned, alone, unable to move and lost in a world without any creatures capable of thought- yet, they drifted. They dreamed. And in their dreams surfaced memories.

A land of dust and fire. A trickster magician.

A world of flora. A sorrowful spindler.

And their own great form, lost to the cruel experiments of the people who lived here, so desperate to leave.

From those dreams, came Genesis. A creation of stardust and love. They wandered throughout the abandoned land, watching as the beasts gained intelligence, and talking with them. When trapped in a collapsing tunnel, they met Elfilin, who saved them. The two then became friends.

They also met Gamma Knight, who landed in the forgotten land after [REDACTED]. Genesis helped them flee to [REDACTED].

When the Beast Pack was formed, Genesis stayed out of the way, recognising the work of their progenitor. But when Elfilin was captured, they followed Kirby from a distance, leaving behind Maxim Tomatoes and vanishing without a trace.

When Elfilis was defeated, Elfilin and Genesis reunited, and the former took the latter to Dreamland, where they both settled.

And they decided to settle on a rather successful career.

It had been a solid five hours since Kirby had started telling Genesis about the 'monsters' they'd fought, with Dedede and Meta Knight himself chipping in when needed; sometimes to explain their actions while the puffball had been defeating the newest threat to Popstar, sometimes to correct him or add a detail. But instead of getting frustrated or tired, Genesis had only listened politely, nodding as they talked. […] "Those monsters you fought... I'd be terrified, honestly. But you've survived all of it, and you're still here, ready to face the next battle, and that means you're exceptionally resilient. But life isn't all about battles." Genesis continued. "It's pretty late, so I'll end the session here, but think about it. Come back if you need to." — Chapter Two, Session One, These Creatures I’ve Seen

Well, that wasn’t a bit more, that was a lot more. But there are still some mysteries. Will you uncover them? Let’s find out.

OTHER.

Themes:

The Dream Discoveries Tour Juliet - Cavetown Blow My Brains Out - Tikkle Me Gilded Lily - Cults Meteor Shower - Cavetown Treehouse - Alex G

Toyhou.se Page: https://toyhou.se/22030569.genesis Ginjka Design: Here

“Unlucky me, who knows way too much, and fights to make changes through music and such, unlucky me, aware of the pain, all ‘cause I happen to have some brain…”

@kirbyoctournament sorry about the lore dump! It will happen again

[gacha-incels]

genuinely dont get why western pjmooners dont get treated w the same level of disdain as like. western hp fans or like on a more similar Bad Company level western niji fans. like idk man if a company cant treat their workers right who gaf abt what they have to say abt capitalism and marginalization? theyre clearly not doing the work?

yeah this is frustrating for me as well. I genuinely see many westerners here, on twitter and other social medias talking up the company and its games for being progressive or anticapitalist (this kills me for limbus company especially, like at least have a little shame about this one) and just not mentioning their role in the surging amount of misogynistic witch hunts still happening in South Korea, their incel pandering, their suing of labor unions, their treatment of the artist monggeu. I guess for many of the western fans and audience it’s not happening directly to them, where they live or to people who they consider like them so they don’t care. there aren’t thousands of posts being blasted out per day reiterating this issue again and again like people do with harry potter. there shouldn’t have to be for you to take this issue seriously just because maybe less people in the west know about it. Seriously I feel embarrassed for the people that need it explained to them in this way like “ok, you see these issues you clearly don’t give a shit about (project moon- misogyny and labor rights, happening in the east). what if you imagined them as something you do care about (harry potter and transphobia, happening in the west)?” furthermore, for the fans who consider themselves progressive, it seems not to really “hit” them how serious this issue is and how equally serious project moon’s actions were. these aren’t flippant little mistakes the company made. look at the reaction it caused from project moon’s long-standing female fans and how much they try to explain the gravity of these actions to westerners. you would think learning about these things, which many of us have written about in English and Korean, would have anyone who sees themselves as allies for women’s rights and unions sounding the alarm about this company. but mostly you will see them talk the issue down (“vellmori left on her own” is the latest baffling explanation), saying it’s just how things work in South Korea so poor little company project moon just had to fire her and they can’t actually be misogynists 🥺, you know this type of thing we’ve seen etc. but I guess because Limbus Company gives the façade of some anticapitalist story and there’s a non-binary gacha protagonist and you like the character design then everything’s fine? It’s worth supporting an antifeminist company? if you were boycotting hogwarts legacy and someone told you it’s fine because you can make a non-binary player character would you think ok nevermind this is fine now? like how do you explain it to these people? Do you really need it explained like everything is fucking Harry Potter? i know I’ve probably written this same thing before regarding fan reaction so I’m sorry if this seems derailed maybe, but it hasn’t stopped being a frustrating situation to continually watch happen and I agree with you.

[laura1633]

Have you ever written secret omega for lestappen?

I have written a secret omega lestappen but it was also an alternative universe with Charles as a secret omega F1 driver and Max as an alpha cuddle therapist. I actually removed it off ao3 as I wanted to work it into a longer story so I can't link it but I have included it below the cut.

Max could still very vividly recall just how surprised everyone was when he presented as an alpha. He too had long suspected that he was an omega. It was a reasonable assumption, he seemed to possess all the qualities people liked to associate with omegas and very few alpha traits.

His dad had been overjoyed, apparently alphas were strong and far more likely to succeed in business. He tried his best to look at the positives, his father was technically correct, society seemed to have some very outdated views about omegas in the workplace. At least presenting as an alpha gave him more opportunities in life. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

During his teenage years he tried to fit into the mould that had been laid out for him. He was boisterous which at times spilled into anger and aggression. He tried to go into everything full on without fear and take what he wanted. For the most part he got away with it. When he picked fights people wrote it off as just something young alphas did, when he argued people mostly backed down or backed away. It never came naturally though and as he got a little older his behaviour started to feel more erratic and out of control rather than strong and stable.

A complete misjudgement in his early twenties changed the course of his life for the better. After a few too many drinks he had gotten himself into a fight with a much, much larger alpha and had ended up in hospital. When he was eventually discharged, still battered and bruised, he decided to stop pretending to be something he wasn’t and set out to become the alpha he always wanted to be. He let himself be vulnerable and display his emotions openly, he softened and calmed. The best part was that the more he settled into his new ways the more he realised that everything he had learnt about omegas and alphas was based on oversimplified ideas.

Whilst his new outlook may not have impressed his father it did lead him to his job and he loved his job more than anything because he was finally doing something good in the world.

The alpha buzzed the apartment for his newest client. Today was the first meeting, a time to reassure and explain all the benefits that came along with cuddling. It was also a chance for the client to set their boundaries and really think about their needs. Max was realistic, he knew a lot of people did not understand the virtues of cuddle therapy but he one hundred percent believed in it. He had evidence to back it up too, he had helped so many people.

Yesterday he had spent the morning cuddled up to an elderly omega who had lost her husband a year prior and just wanted to feel some level of intimacy and warmth without the guilt or hassle of trying to find someone new. Then there were clients who were dealing with stress but had no-one else to turn to, he would feel them settling into his arms and slowly relaxing. Then there were omegas who had had traumatic experiences with alphas and needed reassurance. When it came down to it most people had a basic need for comfort and kindness but didn’t always have a support system in place to provide it and he was more than happy to be there to help them through the tough times.

This client was his first ‘celebrity’. Not that they would be treated any differently. Each client was special and unique and the sessions were designed around their individual needs. It did however mean he had had to sign a very lengthy non disclosure agreement, and that was how he came to discover that F1 World Champion Charles Leclerc was not an alpha but an omega.

Max knocked on the door and patiently waited, when Charles eventually answered he looked a little hesitate but let him in.

“I don’t know how we start..” Charles mumbled, clearly a little stressed.

“We can just talk first” Max smiled reassuringly.

“You can’t tell anyone any of this can you? I just, if people find out then I will not be allowed to drive” Charles chewed on the sleeve of his oversized jumper.

“No I can’t and I would never. The whole point of this is for you to relax. Why don’t you tell me what you are hoping to get out of this?”

“Honestly, I just… I just want to be held. I have to spend all my time pretending that I am something I am not, sometimes I just want to lie in an alpha’s arms” Charles felt his face blushing red.

“That is understandable”

“It is?” Charles looked up hopeful.

“Of course. Human interaction is so important, genuine human interaction”

Charles smiled, “See this is what I mean, I can get a friendly hug or a pat on the back but I just.. well I am off my suppressants for winter break and I just.. I just need…to be myself and feel nice”

“We can do that” Max assured, he knew a little about trying to be something you weren’t. He may not have had to go on suppressants but he had certainly suppressed his true self for years. He would never push Charles to reveal his true designation but he would certainly give him as much comfort as he could.

“Can we just .. I mean I would prefer not to talk much”

“That is fine, this is your time, whatever you need” Max reassured. He preferred to talk first, to find out what the client needed so he could plan appropriately but some clients just wanted physical contact straight away, which was fine, he found those same clients opened up eventually.

“Do you do it here or like on a bed or in silence or ..”

“It is however you are most comfortable. We can of course cuddle in bed but I find most clients prefer something a little less intense the first time. Maybe cuddle here, in front of a movie if you would prefer”

“Sure, yes that would be good” Charles exhaled deeply, already flicking on the television and finding something inoffensive to put on.

“Okay I am going to hug you now Charles, let me know if you want me to move away or if anything is uncomfortable or overwhelming”

Charles nodded, he wasn’t entirely sure how a hug could be overwhelming but then again he had never actually snuggled up to alpha properly before. He had pretty much given up intimacy for racing. He took breaks in his suppressants and lived as an omega in the confines of his home during winter break but he could never chance a hook up or a relationship.

The omega shuffled a little closer into the alpha’s arms and tried to settle against their chest. Max’s body was warm, his chest broad and soft, his arms large and muscular. It was exactly what Charles was hoping it would be. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of cedarwood that blended so beautifully with his own sweet scent.

As Max wrapped his arms around him and held him close Charles felt himself drifting in and out of sleep, each time waking up to hear himself purring contently until he felt like he was floating. The omega took steadying breaths, moaning softly as he concentrated on Max’s chest rising and falling and the sound of his heartbeat.

“Are you okay Charles?”

“Yes, I …I…” Charles suddenly realised he was crying, Max’s t-shirt was wet where he had been resting his head, he moved away quickly, completely embarrassed, “Sorry I am not sure why I am crying”

“It is normal” Max tentatively soothed an arm up and down the omega’s arms and ushered them back closer to him, “It is just a lot, yes?”

“Yes” Charles mumbled, he really hadn’t expected such a physical reaction to being held but it truly was overwhelming.

“Just relax Charles, I’ve got you. You are safe”

“Okay” Charles tried to let go of the tension in his body, thinking about each of his muscles in turn until he felt weightless again, only being held down by the alpha’s strong grip., “It…. It feels nice”

“Good, would you like me to talk to you?”

“Maybe” Charles looked up to meet the alpha’s eyes, “And say what?”

“Just the truth” Max smiled, “That I think you deserve only good things. That you deserve to be able to be yourself”

“I wish” Charles hummed contently at the thought of finally being free, of finally letting everyone know that their precious alpha world champion was actually an omega.

“Perhaps one day” Max held Charles tightly, the omega’s body relaxing more and more as they held each other.

“One day” Charles closed his eyes and relaxed. One day he was going to do it, he was going to turn up as his true authentic self, was going to pave the way for other omegas. Today though, today he was just content to be in Max’s arms.

[uninformedartist]

So a review on Helluva boss So2 ep 6

Ok so gonna break this review down into positives and negatives with my additional thoughts.

Positives:

So always start off with this, big props and love to the animation team we know know and see your struggle working under Vivienne and animating her over-complicated designs. Props to the BG team really stunning backgrounds, was actually a bit over the top for me (Ozzie's palace and especially the dildo factory shit was moving way too fast) but did pause to have a look at the BGs it is really pretty, the shit pacing made everything a visual blur tho.

VA work stunning love always a joy to hear Alex and James in any VA work tho Fizz's song was eyyy not the best but don't blame Alex it was a shittly written song in general especially when it went to the heavy metal part, overstimulating af and again shit pacing during the song and the flashing visuals gave me a headache. Striker's new VA, Ed's voice really grew on me he should've been Striker in the 1st place because I know for a fact Norman couldn't reprise his role for future episodes.

I loved Ozzie and Fizz's relationship especially the end scene where you can see Ozzie development or got hold of the best technology to give Fizz functional limbs, was a tender scene their relationship and interactions made me smile. I'll give Viv 1 ty for not fucking up their relationship, ty Viv (I can be nice to her :). Tho 1 scene that bothered me... the 12 sec Ozzie dong scene 💀 my soul it was just so jarring especially with the fast pacing. Felt like a race car coming to an immediate stop then speeding off again. Would've like the scene replaced with Fizz telling Bliz something nice about Ozzie, why Fizz likes him. I'm tired of queer couples/pairings in this show describing their partner in 2 ways, 1. how good they are in bed or 2. they got x anatomy that's amazing. But its Viv writing this ep, sigh her and her damn middle school sex jokes I'll let it slide.

Now negatives:

I said it before I'll say it for all eternity, the pacing was dogshit bad oh my soul wtf... Viv, Adam whoever I know you guys don't listen to criticism but if any criticism you take fix your damn pacing 😑. I had to pause multiple times just to see what has happening, what was said, what this paper/sign etc said. It was bad, and that paired with the overdetailed BGs and character designs, for the 1st time ever I got overstimulted from a HB ep and had to take a 5 min break to rest my eyes (was by Fizz's song). Its a noisey spinning kaleidoscope this ep, so unpleasant and its all pacing. Stay on certain scenes a bit longer and allow the audience to take in the scene before them (that flackback scene) its makes a difference. If you get overwhelmed/overstimlated ect by such visuals I recommend watching the leaked episode its much better in terms of pacing since its mostly storyboards and there is no color, plus its just the VAs talking with no background music and zero to minimal sound effects.

I didn't care for Crimson in this episode, I know he became Viv's favorite 😒 but seeing this fucker back so soon, it wasn't enjoyable, especially since the only reason he's in this ep is for a "big score" 😑. Also I'm tired of this over convenient plots, Fizz so happened to be in the greed ring and so happened to run into Blitz and Striker so happened to be in greed meeting with Crim who need a man for a "big score" AND SO HAPPENED Striker sees Fizz/Blitz fighting outside the window 🙃. Its all too convenient for me it takes me out and I then think how the plot coming together is ridiculous.

Striker is so under utilized. Since Viv hates him (confirmed by sources I can't pull now apologies) and she wrote this episode, everything established of Striker in So1 is destroyed. He's a husk of his intended character, all talk no show, a misogynistic clown who you can see Viv has no care writing him properly because she doesn't like him which is fucking horrible, this woman will butcher an integral villian, one with a good motivation (he hates blue-bloods) all because "oh I don't like him he's not in my fav OC list", petty af.

Fizz's disability and how its handled, spoke about it in this post:

It still remains the same though now we see it wasn't Wally holding the cake just some other imp and the card Bliz made for Fizz was a love confession still doesn't justify his reaction shoving the imp and his still underlying jealousy of Fizz since they were young. Yes it was backing off from a love confession/ashamed he's not as good a performer as Fizz, Blitz was jealous of Fizz. Made another post saying how I like how Fizz sees his disability, he's content, happy, has Ozzie who understands him and even made/went out his way to get Fizz the best prosthetics to better his quality of life, I like that good on Fizzy :).

5. Going to be a separate long post on (ಠ_ಠ) Blitz, THE FUCKING BIRD IS BACK 💀💀💀 why your rotisserie chicken ass not in hospital or we just skipping past that and how Viv keeps I'm gonna say it, forcing her characters to have daddy issues by writing this fucking irritating basic fanfic trope of killing the mother offscreen/not having the mother in the picture/us seeing her face. A commenter pointed this out and it irritates me because its the 3rd time she does this, she show Tilla (Blitz's mom) in pictures, you think there would be an episode revolving around Blitz's childhood etc but no she's "in" a fast paced pitty party flashback. This woman really can't show an ounce of respect to any female characters.

This is all for now, will be making more posts the more this ep settles in.

Score: 4.7/10

[themculibrary]

Spider-Man's Identity Revealed Masterlist 2

part one

5 Times Someone at Midtown Knew a Hero (ao3) - Nexas_Hart mj/peter T, 6k

Summary: +1 Time They All Realized They Knew One

closed for renovation (ao3) - love_on_a_wire G, 1k

Summary: Peter Parker and his Academic Decathlon team have finally made it to regionals. Everything goes great!

Well, until the building comes crashing down.

Decathlon Dicks (ao3) - spectators T, 18k

Summary: Cindy: Alright, so I know this might sound crazy, but it's really not that far-fetched. You know how Peter just disappears for no good reason? And how he's always making up some bad excuse to make sense of those disappearances? And how he's always coming into school late, usually sporting some black eye or bruise covered up with really bad makeup? And, guys - the Stark internship. Look me in the eye and tell me that's not sus.

Cindy: Guys?

Cindy: Guys?

Cindy: I know you're ignoring me. It won't work. I will literally annoy you into submission if you don't answer me within the next five seconds.

Cindy: Okay, seriously. You've got five seconds to answer, or I promise you won't sleep for the next ten days. I'll make sure of it. _

The trials and tribulations of One Cindy Moon and Her Idiotic Friends as she attempts to convince them that Peter Parker is, in fact, Spider-Man. As told from Cindy's iPhone (mostly) and abetted by the (occasional) help of third-person.

Don't do anything stupid. (ao3) - Spicysauce T, 5k

Summary: “You think I should do something?” Peter whispered, staring at the door.

Ned's grip on Peter's arms tightened, as if he was scared the teen might run off at any moment, “Are you crazy? You can’t just - just, no - “

“But you’re right, someone could have a gun. I can’t just do nothing!”

“Parker, I swear to god,” Michelle spat, “Don’t you even think about doing something stupid.”

-

Or: After failing to sign the Accords, Thaddeus Ross and a group of guards storm Midtown in search for Spider-Man. But Peter would rather not live out the rest of his days in the raft, so figures his best chance is to stall until Mr Stark gets here. He will know what to do

Do Spiders Even Like Coffee? (ao3) - Ace_Of_Spades7 G, 2k

Summary: “I have a large caramel macchiato for, uhh,” the barista, Emily, called, unsure of how to proceed. The name on the cup was written with perfect penmanship, unable to be mistaken. And yet, there was no way. “Spider-Man?”

OR

Peter uses "Spider-Man" as his Starbucks name and things get a bit out of hand

How Not To Keep Secrets (ao3) - whydontyoucomeonover T, 10k

Summary: Occam’s razor is the problem-solving principle that suggests that the simplest explanation is usually the best one. Suzan Yang had used this idea when putting together the pieces of the mystery of Peter Parker and arrived at the obvious conclusion. He must be a male escort.

When Betty Brandt told the acadec team this theory, at first, they laughed. Stopped for a moment of consideration and collectively looked out the window. Peter was running down Midtown’s stairs to an Audi R8, with his top few shirt buttons undone and designer sunglasses across his face. They watched a large guy in a suit step out the car and attempt to tame Parker’s curly mop before pushing him in the backseats. A moment of silence lasted as the car drove away before the entire academic decathlon team dragged in a breath and realised, “huh. This explains everything.”

i'd start a riot (ao3) - multiworlds111 G, 5k

Summary: If it’ll make Flash go away, there’s no harm in taking a stupid selfie with him. He needs to head back to his apartment in about an hour, and there’s no telling what he’ll be dealing with in that hour. He doesn’t want Tony or May breathing down his neck about missing curfew. The sooner Flash left, the better. Peter nods in agreement, and Flash grabs his phone from his pocket. He wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulder, aims the camera at the two of them, and grins. Peter grits his teeth, thinking of how Flash had shoved him last week and called him a waste of space. It really doesn’t bother him, coming from Flash, but he still doesn’t love making his bully’s dreams come true.

Especially not when Flash grabs the back of his mask and yanks it off of his head.

OR: After Spiderman saves Flash from a robbery, he pulls off the mask. Peter turns to Tony for help.

I Hate Mondays (ao3) - Odd_I G, 5k

Summary: It was a Monday. And Mondays were the worst. That was just a known fact. 

However, Mondays were especially the worst for teenage superheroes who just so happened to have spent the weekend fighting off the villain of the week. God seriously, people needed to start getting a life. This time it had been a bit more than he could handle if he was being honest. The guy was just a normal human guy but had somehow gotten his hands on alien tech. 

— OR —

Peter's really just trying to get through Monday, but it seemed like Flash had no intention of letting that happen.

in this moment; we are infinite (ao3) - merikai tony/stephen T, 10k

Summary: Clint feels a chill run through him. Sixteen. A high school student, not even in college. Probably the same age as Cap was when he enlisted.

His eyes feel wide as plates, his hands just slightly borderline clammy, and he squints even more at the photos popping on the screen. The room has gone dead silent, and he watches as photos of Spider-Man holding back trains and saving people from street fights and pulling cats out of trees is shown. Spider-Man.

Ah. Ah. Clint audibly lets out an oh.

Peter's identity is revealed—and people he'd never expect come to his aid.

Itsy Bitsy Spider (ao3) - MellarkandArt T, 5k

Summary:“What,” Tony’s voice broke and he coughed to clear his throat. “What are you- no, wait, maybe first just, who are you?”

There was a long and awkward pause before Tony received a response from the lunatic stuck to the building. “I’m- I’m Spider-Man.”

OR

after Civil War, Tony aims to distract himself from the trauma by focusing on developing his nano tech, and somehow gets caught into a spider's web along the way.

Oh, snap. (ao3) - OoBooksAreLifeoO N/R, 7k

Summary: The Midtown Decathlon team are curious about Peter's odd behaviour after the blip, so they do some digging. What will they do when they discover his secret?

Pieces of the Puzzle (ao3) - sabertoothhousecat G, 6k

Summary: The entire Decathlon team figures out Peter’s identity. He has no idea.

Or: The Decathlon team takes Peter’s Secret and names it Our Secret

Or: Peter is a dumbass in a school full of geniuses

Seeing Double (ao3) - inkinmyheartandonthepage G, 2k

Summary: Peter forgets to keeps his own identity a secret and reveals it in the most Peter Parker way.

The Tale of Flash Thompson (so3) - sinkinnie mj/peter T, 4k

Summary: Flash Thompson hates Peter Parker, and he absolutely loves Spider-Man.

But Flash Thompson has morals.

So, when he saw Spider-Man steal a kiss from Parker’s girlfriend MJ in an alley, swinging away while she looked around with a blush on her face to make sure no one saw them, he felt weirdly honour-bound to tell his nerd of a classmate what he saw, even though it would mean betraying his ultimate idol. Who may or may not be a cheater.

the web of our life (is of a mingled yarn) (ao3) - lemonlillybee G, 8k

Summary: Michelle Jones is a people person. More specifically, she loves to people watch. Sometimes, she types out lists in her Notes app about people she encounters– not that she’s obsessed with people, or anything. She’s just observant.

One night, Spider-Man lands on her fire escape and she gives him a scarf she knitted. After their interaction, she starts a note on her phone about him, too, and she’s starting to notice some pretty interesting things about the superhero who may or may not go to the same high school as her.

the wind; the leaves (ao3) - Hale13 mj/peter T, 4k

Summary: “Not this again,” Peter groaned as he blinked sore eyes open and rolled his aching head up to survey the room dizzily. The cold metal chair he was seated in was bolted to the floor and his arms were restrained in, what had to be, vibranium behind him. Unlike the first time he had been kidnapped, Peter felt only annoyance with the whole situation even though he was wearing his Spidey suit with the mask torn to show a chunk of his forehead and hair. He tugged ineffectively on the cuffs and tried to pull the chair off the ground before giving up and letting his head dangle forward to rest his chin on his chest.

Tribute (ao3) - ForEdwall G, 1k

Summary: Peter and the Academic Decathlon team are watching a Spider-Man tribute video, and Morgan Stark interrupts

who needs gym class anyway? (ao3) - DiveInsideMyMind G, 1k

Summary: It was just one backflip. One little backflip. Followed by- maybe- followed by sticking to the ceiling. It's all Flash's fault.

Or

Peter Parker's identity gets revealed in the most Peter Parker way.

worthy is the spider-man that lifts the hammer (ao3) - Singing_Siren T, 3k

Summary: “No, it’s okay, Tony,” Peter says. He unzips his backpack and stuffs Thor’s hammer into it. It stretches a bit but holds. “I’ll drop it off at the tower after school. I can’t just leave it where anyone can take it, that would be irresponsible.”

“Um, kid? Did you pick it up?”

“Yeah, why?” Peter shrugs his backpack onto one shoulder and starts kicking dirt into the hole that the hammer made from the impact of Thor’s throw.

“No reason,” Mr. Stark sounds strangled.

You Know What They Say (ao3) - patrochilles_trash T, 5k

Summary: The moment Mr. Harrington stepped further into the classroom, revealing the figure standing behind him, Peter was pretty sure that he had stepped into an alternate reality. That, or someone was playing a nasty joke on him.

The person standing directly behind his teacher, waving cheerfully at the decathlon team, was dressed in a replica of the second gen Spiderman suit. It was about as close as one could get from referencing pictures and videos, and they guy was a similar enough build that Peter could see how people would be fooled.

A frightening thought struck him that he might be fooled too if he wasn’t actually Spiderman.

OR

Harrington does his best, but Peter really isn't a fan of impersonators.

[fantasy-mixtapes]

Kristen Applebees S3 Playlist: Side A

Here's Part 1 of Kristen's Junior Year Playlist, I am obsessed with it so far and will probably continue to be. Descriptions and key lyrics below. Spoilers for Episodes 1-10

Genres include: Pop-Punk, Alternative, Punk, Folk

1. Lavender Bones, Stand Atlantic

I know I'm out of my depth, but I just float in it I try to do my best, stop picking fights with it I wanna be upset, you're not alright with it I can cover it up, I can cover it Try to speak my mind, wish it was by design But I can only confess to having doubts with it Don't wanna feel regret, I'm not alright with it I can cover it up, I can cover it

So this is a perfect background music for the start of a movie about Kristen's life right now and I LOVE finding those songs. It's perfect on so many layers, it talks about feeling trapped, wanting to fix empty habits, and not to mention how "lavender bones" really hits home to my queer little heart. This entire playlist is really a game of guessing when the "you" in songs chosen mean Tracker and when they mean Cassandra, level: impossible

2. Starchild, Sweet Pill

What do you want from me? I am not a charity Work hard at everything Do it all for free What do you want from me? I am not a guarantee Go all or nothing Lose your money ... Set up to win Wind up disappointing everyone In the end I am disappointing mostly myself In the end Hang your Head

I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS SONG Guys its like it was written for this very specific situation. AND THE TITLE???? FOR A CLERIC OF THE GODDESS OF MYSTERY, DOUBT, THE NIGHT, AND STARS???????

anyways just please please listen to it its so great like even without the connection to Kristen, go support Sweet Pill they have a new album being released tomorrow (March 15th)

3. Uneeda, Deady

What about the bones The bones have no problem Turn them into ash And this never happened Your ashes big asses Your brains on the pavement Oh no! I can feel myself rot Unless I take your hand

Ok so this is kind of a genre outlier on the playlist since it is very very alt punk but for me it represents the rage at the mall, Kristen's relationship to Cassandra, and both of their respective reactions to what happened. It's very chaotic, but it was a very chaotic situation and I stand by it plus I love adding modern bands to things

4. Bite the Hand, boygenius

I can't hear you You're too far away I can't see you The light is in my face I can't touch you I wouldn't if I could I can't love you how you want me to I can't love you how you want me to

Yeah, sorry had to whip out the queer break-up big guns. I don't feel sorry I feel right.

5. Untitled God Song, Haley Heynderickx

When you're drunk near a sunset, look straight in her eyes She's a quick glimpse of heaven, forgetting her headlights are on When you misread her fortune, don't misread the joke She's the note on your lampshade, the honeycomb holdin' you And she spins me around like a marionette Oh, my web is still spinnin' My web is still spinnin', you can't see it yet

Immediately going from having total contact with a divinity figure to having to grasp for straws once again to a memory you hold onto, literally holding onto the shards of your faith. Having to both embrace doubt and faith at the same time. Girlies, I'm ruined

6. C'est Comme Ça, Paramore

In a single year I've aged one hundred My social life a chiropractic appointment Sit still long enough to listen to yourself Or maybe just long enough for you to atrophy to hell ... I know that regression is rarely rewarded I still need a certain degree of disorder I hate to admit, getting better is boring But the high cost of chaos Who can afford it?

I love Kristen, and I think her arc this season is extremely relatable; currently, 90% of what she does are bits, and I KNOW it's a coping mechanism, but STILL, WHY ARE YOU SO MESSY. I love you; keep being 17, but god, keep your clothes on and stop going to the steel plants girlie you're gonna give Riz a heart attack