#if you don’t see this about her she can feel kind of cold and remote

[purgatorily]

everybody seems to comprehend tashi loving tennis the most which is good BUT. i don’t see anyone getting that tashi also loves THROUGH tennis. it’s how she connects to people. when she tries to coach patrick in college she’s not condescending to him, she’s reaching out. and yes, she coaches art to play through him, but their marriage lasts because she’s able to shape her relationship through the language she knows best. it’s the ultimate form of connection and understanding to her, and it hurts her when the people she loves reject her form of reciprocating that love. words will never be enough for her—she wants to play.

[parasolids]

i am having a genuine core memory type of bad day today like serious SERIOUS things are going down and i missed a flight because genuine life changing events are happening and got put on standby for another which got delayed multiple times til i would’ve missed my connecting flight home and anyways it was overbooked so i didn’t make it on, and then now five hours after they left me at the airport im finally heading home and i was like “well at least i can eat the fries i bought that i didn’t get to eat yesterday” but my useless cousin who has not only been completely useless through this weeks long ordeal but has also been making things worse stepped in and ate the whole giant box of fries cause he “thought we were leaving” even though my mom clearly left half her stuff behind at the house and told him we did not make our flight so she was going to stay in town and try and get me home and also this whole situation (except for the fries) is straight up my fault cause i didn’t wanna get out of bed for 20 minutes when we woke up and like normally this would be fine especially since i went to bed at 2 am packing suitcases and then had to wake up at 7 and also slept super poorly anyways but i still have no self discipline and everything has gone wrong because of that

[discordantwritings]

Practice Makes Perfect (Katakuri x Reader)

Warnings: gn AFAB! Reader, Reader is normal human size, virgin! Katakuri, some feelings, size difference, big giant ass size difference, it’s basically monsterfucking, oral, premature ejaculation, grinding, frottage

WC: 5.2k

Summary: Katakuri is worried about his lack of experience in the bedroom should he get married off by his mother. You, a kind and concerned friend, are here to help him out.

Notes: this was supposed to be just a little warm up……. Oh well

Tagging: @keiva1000

While neither of you nor Katakuri would say it out loud you were both the closest thing either of you had to a friend. You didn’t verbalize it since it would be improper- you were one of the few high ranking pirates in the Big Mom Pirates that wasn’t a part of the family so you knew your position was precarious. Katakuri had his reputation to think of so you never blamed him for his occasional distance. But in the precious moments you two got alone, both of you relaxed just a little bit.

Like now.

“And that’s all the reports from the morning. Any news from your breakfast with Big Mom?” You sat on the edge of Katakuri’s desk, the only spot in his office that made it so neither of you had to strain your neck to look at each other.

“No new movements of changes to current plans.” Katakuri answers, his slightly muffled voice through his scarf as always but there was something in the way he answered that gave you pause.

“Was there something else?” You know how much he loves his mom- but everyone knows that she can be beyond overbearing.

“She says she wants me to be happy.” Katakuri sighs and you immediately understand the situation.

Everyone knows Big Mom is obsessed with growing her family. And while Katakuri is spared some of the overbearing pushing of his mother due to how much responsibility he took on- Big Mom still wants to see her darling commander in a happy relationship. But for someone like Katakuri finding someone casually isn’t an option and you know how long he’s been pushing back from an arranged marriage.

“Well, it might be nice?” You offer, but you both can easily tell you’re just trying to make him feel better.

“It’s not like I don’t want something like that…” He pulls on the overlap of his scarf, securing it even further on his face. “I just don’t want to force someone to be with me.”

“I know it’s not a great situation but anyone would be lucky to be married to you.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “You’re one of the kindest people I know. I’m sure you would make a wonderful husband.”

It isn’t until you see a blush creep over the edge of his scarf that you realize you might have gone a little too far. It was all honest- perhaps too honest- but you should know better than to be so upfront with him. Despite his cold exterior he’s incredibly soft underneath and the few times you’ve complimented him he’s practically ran away.

“Ah- well-“ You watch him flounder and decide to help out.

“I mean all of your siblings who have had their marriages arranged and that’s worked out pretty well for them! Sure it might take some getting used to but this is a really nice place to live.” You take the heat off of him and watch him relax a bit, still buried more than usual in his scarf.

“I guess…” From his voice you can tell there’s a bit more going on but you decide not to push him just yet.

“Well I have to get going and take these reports but I’ll be back later for the evening debrief?” You grab the reports sized for normal humans and slide off his desk, landing with a small thud.

“Yes, of course.” You can’t see his mouth but you can see the smile in his eyes as you wave goodbye.

You don’t stop thinking about Katakuri having an arraigned marriage for the rest of the day. Big Mom has clearly been bringing it up more recently and as much as you also wanted him to be happy you couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness whenever it was brought up. He was the one person you felt even remotely comfortable around and him getting a partner might disrupt the small world the two of you shared.

Of course, you couldn’t have a crush on your commander. There’s few things that would be worse than that. It would be catastrophic if you pictured yourself with him, spending time in his large embrace, sharing food, seeing what was under that scarf…

So, of course, those are things that are not happening. And even if they were to happen it’s unrealistic for so many reasons. Not only the fact that he was a commander but- well- he was big and you were not. Sometimes you forget that you’re an average size person when you spend your days with the Charlotte family. There’s no way Katakuri would want someone basically a third his size.

You though?

Well you wouldn’t mind being with someone basically triple your size.

It’s shameful the way your mind wanders when you look at his massive hands or the way you’re directly in eye line of his broad chest when you sit on his desk. The way he could overtake you in every sense of the word-

Your body had carried you back to Katakuri’s office for your evening debrief while your head swam with thoughts you quickly shoved deep down as you knocked on his door. Katakuri’s voice calls for you to come in and you really really hope observation haki can’t secretly be used for mind reading.

You take the ladder specifically set for you up to his desk, laying out the fresh reports for him. “Nothing noteworthy, just resupply requests and normal Marine movement.”

“Mhm…” Katakuri looks through the papers but you can tell his eyes are glazing over the words and not actually reading them.

“And tomorrow is a quiet day, just a few meetings that everyone will come to you for.”

“Ok.” He’s still staring at the paper that you know has no interesting information on it.

“Katakuri?”

“Mhm.”

“Katakuri!” You yell, not out of anger but just to get his attention- and it works.

“Ah- sorry- I was just… thinking.” He sets the papers down, adding them to a stack on the corner of his desk.

“You’re not still worried about this arranged marriage thing are you?”

“I… yes I am.” He admits, eyes looking shamefully to the side.

“We talked about this- I know it’s not the best but it’s not like you’ll be holding someone hostage.” You offer, sliding closer to him in an effort to get him to look at you.

“I understand that.” He sighs and finally glances back over to you.

“But?”

“But… it’s-“ He shakes his head and pulls up his scarf more. “Nevermind.”

“Katakuri.” You reach you and gently touch his forearm that’s laying on the desk next to you. “You can talk to me.”

You watch a blush creep up over his scarf at the touch but you don’t move your hand away. “It’s… I don’t want to be crass.”

Now that has you even more curious. “I won’t hold it against you. Besides, if it’s troubling you this much I want to help.”

“It’s- ah-“ He turns his gaze away again but does answer you. “I just have… no… experience.”

Ah.

Well.

Honestly, now that you’re thinking about it, it makes totally sense. Katakuri won’t even show his face to anyone and you’ve never seen him be casual with anyone besides very close family members or you. He was someone who took his duty very seriously so running off in his youth and having fun would be out of the question too.

“I’m sure the right person wouldn’t care about that.” You reassure him honestly.

“But there are certain expectations- and I can’t even be sure it would be the right person since I won’t have that much of a say-“ To hear a man of few words nervously ramble catches you off guard and makes you realize how painfully insecure he must be about this.

“Katakuri- hey-“ You lean into your hold on his arm.

“And- I mean there are only so many people in the world as tall as I am Mama was lucky enough to find people with comparable heights for everyone else but what if that isn’t an option-“

“There are ways to make it work.” Both of your hands are on his arm at this point, leaning to try and catch his gaze.

“And I could just accidentally hurt-“ He stops mid sentence as he processes what you said to him.

There a moment of painful silence as both of you catch up on your words. You’re probably blushing just as hard as Katakuri at this point, realizing where the conversation was headed.

“I mean- that-“ It was your turn to flounder, embarrassed that even a sliver of your thoughts had breached the surface. “There are… less than traditional ways to- never mind!”

You pat his arm and stand up, planning on leaving the desk and hoping you bash your head on the way down so you can forget this ever happened. However, as you’re about to do so Katakuri’s hand hovers in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. You don’t turn to look back at him but you can still hear him clearly.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but…” There’s a long pause and you turn to see him staring down at you, gaze surprisingly serious. “I would be indebted to you if you gave me some guidance.”

“Of course.” You answer before you can think yourself out of it. “What are friends for?”

There’s something that flashes behind his eyes at your words but you can’t read him before he’s awkwardly settling back into his hair and giving you space to sit down again. You sit back down, suddenly aware of just how hot your body has gotten.

It’s probably best to start easy. “So you haven’t- I mean I know you keep your face covered- have you ever kissed someone?”

“When I was really young, just some silly childhood stuff…” He’s back to not making eye contact with you, nose buried in the scarf. “But even kissing is…”

You’ve heard stories about what lays under his scarf- all sorts of tall tales that you’re sure aren’t true. You scoot closer to the edge of the desk.

“Can I see?” You ask softly- hopefully.

You watch his hand slowly creep up to his scarf, hesitating at the frayed edges. It’s unnatural to see him scared. You’ve watched him decimate hundreds of Marines without a change in expression- but here even you could notice the fear.

“Just don’t- please-“ You’re not sure what he’s asking but you nod knowing you would do anything for him.

He slowly pulls the scarf down and away from his face and it’s all too clear why he’s hidden that part of himself away. Large fangs rest at the corner of where his mouth should end but you see the thin line where his mouth continues close to his cheekbones. Despite how unnatural it is you can’t help but feel like it fits his face perfectly. The contrast of his pink blush against the sharp fangs is so perfectly him- nothing looks out of place. He’s watching your reaction closely, you can tell he’s using his observation haki from the way his eyes narrow but you don’t have to hide a single thing.

“Katakuri you’re perfect.”

You watch your honesty sink in with him, long moments of silence as he grows impossibly redder before he forces his gaze away to the ceiling.

“I guess- ah- well you can see why kissing would be a problem.” Thankfully he doesn’t move his scarf back up, content for now to tug at its ends nervously.

“Well…” You hum thoughtfully. “There would have to be some caution but I don’t think it’s a problem. Besides, if a person isn’t as big as you are then their mouth could fit right in between your bigger teeth.”

“I guess…” You watch him shift in his chair, occasionally glancing back over at you before refocusing back on a spot on the ceiling.

“So, see, nothing that can’t be worked around.” You nudge his knee with your foot, trying to make the air in the room less heavy.

“You’re right…”

There’s more quiet as the next part of the conversation looms, both of you knowing the real issues he was thinking about. You try not to be eager to talk about it, not wanting to push him too far and not wanting to come across as some pervert. You give him the space he needs and after a minute he speaks up again.

“I just don’t see a way around the… size problem.” His voice is quiet and breathy and you force yourself to ignore the heat rising in your stomach.

“There’s a lot that can be done without… insertion.” You cringe a little at your own word choice, but that was the least sexually charged term you could come up with.

“But I thought…” You see a small flash of embarrassed panic as his eyes dart back to you. “I mean- I’m aware of the other things! I just didn’t think that was, you know, enough…”

“It’s enough. More than enough if you know what you are doing.” Your gaze was locked on him and it seems like neither of you could look away anymore.

“Oh that’s… good to know. Very good.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears as you fight to keep your face normal as he slowly responds. “I guess that I just… need to know what I’m doing.”

“And I’m sure that you would be receptive to learning.” You know that not all men are but you know that Katakuri would be.

“I like to think I would.”

The way he’s looking at you so intensely and speaking so softly- you throw caution to the wind.

“I can help you learn, if you want.”

“Please.” His response is so quiet you almost think you’re making it up in your mind but when his large hand softly runs over your leg you know it was real.

You nod, not trusting your voice in the moment as his hand travels to the outside of your thigh and his thumb rubs comfortingly into your side. He leans in, large face taking up your whole vision as he hesitates just a hair away from you.

“We should probably go to my room.” His breath fans over your face as he talks and you nod, even if your body is screaming that you need to touch him now. “Is it alright if I carry you?”

The idea makes you giddier than you care to admit. “I’d like that.”

He smiles down at you as he stands up, easily picking you up with one hand and holding you close to his chest. Instinctively you reach out to steady yourself against him, your hands finding his chest. Your face burns as you realize you’re practically groping his pec but that doesn’t stop you from leaning into his skin.

You’re thankful there’s no one in the halls between his office and his room, unsure how either of your would explain this situation. He quickly pushes into his room, locking the door behind him before gently setting you down on his large bed. As much as you try not to you’re right at eye level to stare at Katakuri’s crotch. His large bulge strains against his leather pants to the point it must be painful for him. Before you can fully process just how big his cock is you force your gaze up to his face where you find him watching you carefully. Smiling up at him you push yourself further up into the bed, settling your back against his large pillows.

“Come here.” You say softly and he follows your request automatically, crawling overtop of you.

You reach your hand up to hold his face and he leans into your hand. You don’t push him to go faster, letting him slowly adjust to your physical contact as he hovers above you, propped up on his elbows. His chest presses down into your legs, a comforting weight against your body.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, full of sincerity.

You nod and he slowly moves down, hesitating just before his lips touch yours. From there you close the gap, gently pressing your lips to his. Your mouth fits snuggly between his fangs, only the smooth outsides press into your cheeks. Katakuri is frozen against your mouth and after a few second you pull away and look up at him with concern.

“If you don’t want-“ Before you can get the rest of your sentence out he surges back down, eagerly pressing his mouth to yours again.

He’s clumsy as moves his lips against yours but he more than makes up for it in how enthusiastic he is. Katakuri isn’t pushy though, letting you take the lead as you mouth molds to his. You take it slow and steady as he learns to match your motions. He’s a quick study though and the both of you easily transition to him being in control of the kiss. You don’t pull away until your lungs force you to, gasping as he nuzzles your nose with his.

After you catch your breath you press one more quick kiss to his mouth before speaking. “How do you feel about kissing now?”

His wide mouth cracks into a smile. “I think I like it but I’m not quite sure yet…”

You giggle as he captures your mouth in a kiss again, now more confident in his movements. You let your hands tangle in his hair as you lose yourself in the kiss. Eventually he releases your mouth to press more kisses into your jaw and neck. You can’t stop the breathy moan that eases out of your throat at his actions as your hands pull at his hair. He clearly hears you because he stops in his tracks, darkened eyes glancing back up to you.

“Tell me what to do next.”

You nearly faint at how sincere he is- but at the same time there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind that you might be using him. “If you lay on your back I can-“

“Tell me how to please you.” He shifts so his weight is held by one elbow, large hand running down your side.

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, barely clinging onto your reservations.

“Please let me.” Fingers lay at the waist of your uniform and the last coherent thought flies out of your mind when he pushes your shirt up and kisses your stomach.

You lift your hips up to quickly shove your pants and underwear down to your thighs before Katakuri helps them the rest of the way, tugging them off your legs and discarding them. He moves down the bed slightly, large hand splayed over your left hip and thigh gently keeping your legs open. Your breath is heavy as he stares between your legs and you fight off the urge to be insecure.

“Tell me- show me-” His breath tingles on the soft skin inside your thighs.

You let one of your hands drift down your body and between your legs, fingers seeking out your folds. It’s no surprise to you just how wet you are as you use two fingers to push apart your folds, to show Katakuri what you’re doing. Your other hand follows and you use your pointer finger to slowly draw circles around your clit. A whine drags its way out of your throat, already so worked up and on edge.

Katakuri watches you in a trance, fingers digging into your skin on their own accord as you whine and moan at your own motions. Ready to take it further you use your hand previously holding your folds open to dip inside you, two fingers sliding in with no resistance.

“You don’t- fuck- you don’t have to be inside but a lot of people like a- a mixture of internal and external-“ You do your best to explain as you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the lewd sound of your slick loud between your words.

“My fingers might be too big.” He’s not wrong as you watch them drift to the inside of your thigh and close to where you are working yourself.

“Don’t have to- you can use your mouth if you-“ Just the idea of him eating you out has your walls clenching around your fingers.

“Can I try- please-“ He sounds desperate, on the edge of begging you.

“Yes- fuck please-“

You let your hands drop as Katakuri uses his fingers to part your folds. His other hand maneuvers your legs up and around his face, your knees settling near his temples as he gets his mouth closer to where you need him. You watch his mouth split open and his tongue slip out, anticipation killing you as he moves slowly. Finally his tongue moves, the large muscle dragging a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit and you moan loud at the sensation. One of your hands grips into his hair as he repeats the motion, tongue digging deeper into your folds this time.

“Is that good- you taste good-“ He doesn’t even wait for your answer before he dives back in again, movements gaining confidence.

“Yeah- fuck- just like that just-“ You grind your hips into his face when his tongue reaches your clit again and he understands what you need.

He uses the tip of his tongue to press against your bud before sliding the thick muscle down again to slip between your folds. Slowly he presses his tongue into you, the size already overwhelming compared to your fingers. Despite his careful movements he pushes in too far too fast and you pull his hair hard.

“Hey- easy-“ You warn him and he pulls out of you quickly to look at you with concern.

“I’m sorry did I hurt you? We can stop I-“

“Just too much too soon- you just have to let me stretch out a bit.” You run your hand through his hair, petting him to calm him down.

“Okay, I can do that.” He presses a kiss to your thigh before diving back in.

He’s careful but he’s messy- part of it due to just how big his mouth and tongue are really. You feel your slick and his saliva coat your thighs as he laps at you, tongue seeking out every inch of you. The next time he pushes into you he’s much slower, letting the muscle flex inside you as you writhe beneath him. It’s wonderful but it’s just not quite enough. Your free hand goes between your legs and you almost have your fingers on your clit before Katakuri sends you a glance that stops you in your tracks.

“No-“ He says, barely pulling away. “Let me.”

You retract your hand and feel Katakuri’s thumb move to take its place, pressing down lightly as his tongue snakes it way back inside you. You swear loudly as he moves, grinding your hips into his fingers and tongue as he lets you use him to chase your pleasure.

“Just need you to- just move your finger a bit-“ You guide him and he obediently follows your direction, thumb moving in small circles like your finger had done before.

Looking down at him you watch as he’s lost in your taste, moaning into you at every grind of your hips and pull at his hair. You don’t miss the roll of his hips on the bed, no doubt desperate for the friction of the mattress beneath him. It’s all too much for you and you cry out his name as you cum, white blocking your vision. Katakuri doesn’t stop though, eagerly lapping at your juices even when you regain the strength to pull at his hair.

“Kat- fuck- baby stop-“ You don’t even register that you’ve said the pet name as he finally pulls off of you, confused.

“Did I hurt you again?”

“No ‘m just sensitive and it was a little too much right after I came.” You explain with a dazed smile.

“So you…” You nod and he smiles wide. “Didn’t want to assume-“

“Me screaming your name is a safe indicator.” You say with a small laugh.

He rests his head down, squishing your thigh and stomach a bit but you don’t mind the pressure at all, combing your fingers through his soft pink hair. The two of you sit like this for a bit, the silence comforting. Eventually though, you break that silence.

“I know you don’t like laying on your back but if you just want to sit up-“

“Oh- um- I’m-“

You’re a little confused at his reaction so you prop yourself up lightly to get a better look at him. “This is a mutual thing Katakuri- I don’t want to just-“

“Please, really don’t worry about me-“ You watch his face bloom with pink again and it clicks for you.

“Did you finish already?” You ask softly, no traces of judgement in your words.

“I’m sorry-“

“No- don’t be sorry.” You push yourself down so your face is level with his. “If you ask me it’s really hot that you came just from eating me out.”

“Oh- well-“ You press a light kiss to his mouth before he can stumble any further with his words.

“If you don’t want more I understand but if you can go another round there’s still some things on my mind…”

He captures your mouth in a messy kiss, a far cry from the chaste one you gave a moment ago. You can taste yourself on his lips as you’re pressed back into the bed by how eager he is. When you push on his shoulder lightly he breaks away and lets you breathe.

“Just don’t tell anyone about me being on my back.” He says seriously and you nod.

He rolls over, careful not to squish you in the process. As he does so you throw your shirt off, finally fully naked. Once he’s settled you climb onto him, his muscles flexing under you as you settle on his lower stomach. You watch as his hands ball into the sheets, forcing himself to stay still. As you slowly slide back though, he catches you off guard with a quiet question.

“When you said you had some more things on your mind… have you thought about this before?”

That freezes you in your tracks, embarrassment and shame filling up your stomach and catching in your throat. You lock your gaze to the side of him as you try and find your words. Logic tells you it’s stupid to be embarrassed at this point- he’d already enthusiastically ate you out- but your emotions dragged you down as you wonder if this really is just a practice run for him.

“You probably don’t want to know.” You answer, suddenly aware of how naked and cold you are.

“I just want to know if- hey…” One of his hands untangles from the sheets and a finger lightly presses against your chin to make you look at him. “I just want to know if you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

That catches you off guard and while you think for a second he might be lying to you you see the honestly in his eyes. Of course. Why else would he show his face to you, lay on his back for you. You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner.

“I have been.” You confess, leaning your face into his hand.

You let yourself enjoy his touch, the warmth of his skin finally seeping into you and giving you the confidence to slink back down his body. You drag yourself down over the bulge in his pants, his cock already hard again. You slowly undo the large belt and fastenings of his pants, opening them up to see the dark patch in his boxers. Taking both your hands you tug the elastic waistband down and his cock springs out.

“I’ll just-“ One large hand gently picks you up as he raises his hips and shoves both layers down past his ass with the other, setting you back down where you were.

You would say thank you if you weren’t caught up staring at Katakuri’s cock. Obviously, it’s big. He’s big it makes sense but there’s a large gap between knowing something and seeing something. He’s flushed a beautiful shade of pink, large veins standing out along the underside. Your hand moves on its own accord to slide up it and the second you touch him you hear him groan. You scoot up closer next to him, and you would compare the length and girth to about the size of your thigh.

“Ah- I get the sensitivity thing now-“ He gasps and you smile.

“I have an idea- just let me-“ You swing your leg up and over so you’re straddling his length.

You’re still slick with saliva and your own juices, making it an easy glide as your grind yourself against his length. Katakuri’s hips buck up and you fall forward but before he can apologize you take advantage of this new position, licking at his smooth tip as you let your body slide against him.

“Fuck- that’s-“ You have the prefect view to watch his abdominals contract after every slide and lick you give him.

Your movements are not entirely selfless though, angling your hips so your clit grinds against him, bumping against his veins. You use your feet to slide up and down but it’s a bit hard to find a good rhythm as your legs aren’t used to this kind of movement.

“Need your help. I want you to slide me up and down.”

Katakuri looks at you, hand hesitating in the air. “But- I don’t want to just use you-“

“I want you to use me- please- this feels good for me too I just can’t keep it up.” You beg with him and that’s all the encouragement he needs as his large hand wraps around your midsection and slowly moves you.

There’s something about him using you, letting the soft skin of your stomach and thighs and folds grind against him, that makes your head go fuzzy. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before and it was bliss. It’s not very long at all until you feel Katakuri’s dick twitching under you and you know he’s going to cum again.

“Just let go for me, please Katakuri I want to see you-“

Your pleas are more than enough as you watch thick ropes of cum spill from his tip and onto his stomach. He holds you down as he cums and you don’t mind at all, getting a great view of his face from here. Eventually he relaxes and you slide off of his cock and wiggle your way up to his shoulder to lay your face next to him.

“Feel good?” You ask nuzzling into his neck.

“Very good.” He responds, still catching his breath. “Did… did you..?”

“No but that’s okay. Felt good.”

He huffs and you’re about to comfort him again but suddenly you’re flipped around with your back on the bed again. He stares down at you with a now confident smile.

“I think I could use some more practice then.”

[lirational]

Yandere Shalom x Chief reader?

Yandere!Shalom x Chief!Reader

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, stalking, read at your own risk.

Dark content under the cut!

SFW:

Actually didn’t start big. Hell, she even hides it well. You won’t notice at first, after all, she was an expert of hiding her emotions. When you meet, her gaze will linger for a moment longer, her touch imparting a coldness that only lasted for less than a second before she pulled back, her demeanor as statue-still and perfect as usual.

Her emotions is most prominent in her gaze. Literally, if you’re not within conversation range it’s hard to know what she’s thinking and even if you are it’s difficult to really discern her thoughts. She’s a master of looking at you then right when you realize it and look to confirm, she seemed to be busy with something else.

Shalom will offer to accompany you to interrogations. This is done under the pretense of ensuring your safety (which is kind of correct) even though you don’t trust that damned device of hers, but, it’s also an excuse to observe you… which you certainly notice.

She fell for you, and she fell hard, but those feelings of hers cannot be overtly expressed, or the people behind her will find her defective.

She writes her diary like it was an investigation report, hiding personal tidbits about you under observational data. There are complicated codes of written material about your preferences, interests, and even daily activities, and as much as she detested it, the sinners you seem to like. What was it that makes them attractive to you? She can do the same, and she will do it better, and she won’t have their flaws.

Her passion is hidden beneath what passes as fake smiles and perfect disguises. You will be watched, and the only hints of her feelings will show through only when the Schorl is sent away. Expect her to sometimes send the thing away and use those minutes to, ahem, get you up to speed with her feelings. No confessions are made, but the fervor with which she expressed her desire more than make up for it.

NSFW:

She wants you to feel good, sure, but on the other hand? She wants to be in control of every aspect. She will tease you and won’t mind leaving you teetering on the edge for hours until you do perfectly, exactly as she asks, which is quite an ordeal thanks to her damned fingers. She’s so good at pleasing you, part of you wonder how much she actually knows. What kind of relationship did you both share in the past?

When she bottoms, she wants you to serve her, expect her to be teasing, playing with the remote that controls the device nestled between your legs while you eat her out, playing with the speeds to reward or punish you depending on your performance. Your fingers are the perfect length to press at that spongy, sensitive spot inside her, and she’ll save that for when both of you were isolated from everything else - including her Schorl.

I think she likes to leave back scratches. It’s pretty discreet and can be covered up with clothes, keeping you both professional for when you have to return to your duties. Shalom usually would take a sharp inhale seeing your scratched-up back, though, and at the very, very rare times she could afford to slip up, she’ll indulge herself and fuck you a second time. Perhaps she’ll even use her strap, the toy rarely seeing action save for rare circumstances.

I believe she has the ability to actually make a lot of things sound dirty, like damn, that voice—

[lovecla]

OCEAN EYES | connor bedard

chapter two.

➴ warnings: swearing, underage drinking.

➴ word count: 2.8k

➴ author’s note: thank u to everyone who read the first chapter. it's insane for me. thank u thank u thank u. hope u like this one too :))

CONNOR didn’t speak to you for the rest of the night.

You knew he still was at your house but no matter how many laps you and Chloe walked, you couldn’t find him for the love of God.

And honestly, it made you feel sick to your stomach. Lying to him was just the worst and all you wanted to do was call him and apologize.

But you couldn’t do that with Chloe, could you? You already felt like the worst friend of all time because the truth was: you didn’t want them to date. You didn’t know the exact reason for that but you still felt that way.

You decided to call it a night and go back to your room, saying goodbye to Chloe— she said no when you asked her to sleep over— and going upstairs. You removed all of your makeup and clothes, putting on your favorite pajamas, trying to find some comfort in them.

Trying to sleep was useless, the downstairs noise not helping at all. So you just grabbed your TV remote and accessed your Disney+ account, pressing play on the first Marvel movie you saw.

It was going to be a long night.

—

“YOU look like you had a long night. Too much partying?”

Alex’s voice sounded too loud and too annoying for your taste, but it was probably due to the fact that you only managed to sleep two hours last night.

“I fucking swear to God, I’m gonna punch you in the face right now,” you mumbled, grabbing the cereal from the counter and pouring a large amount into your mouth.

“No, I’m serious! And you look crazy as hell with the Spider-Man hoodie and the sunglasses. Did you join a crackhead community in which you have to dress like that to be a member?”

“Alex! Fuck!” You yelled, annoyed as hell. “Go play some Hockey! Do some research on fucking cancer! I don’t know, just leave me alone.”

You knew you were being difficult for no reason. It wasn’t Alex’s fault you hadn’t slept well— or that Chloe was trying to make Connor her newest prized possession. But somehow your stupid, sleep deprived brain thought otherwise.

“Boo, you’re no fun today. Hit me up when you leave The Crackheads.” Alex smiled, leaving the kitchen after grabbing his gym bag.

Gym. Hah. He’s probably going to work out with Connor.

The thought made you want to crawl out of your skin. You actually missed Connor a lot. It was almost the end of the season and they travel a lot for the games, so you didn’t get to see him or Alex for a long time. And now that he is back, what did you do? Kind of forced him to go on a date with your friend and lied to him? Yeah. Can someone give me the award for being the worst person ever? Thank you.

You laid on the couch, thinking about your situation. Sure, maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe Connor would hate Chloe or maybe Chloe would hate Connor.

But what’s there to hate? Sure, he can come off as a cold, awkward king to everyone and his smiles almost always look forced (even if they aren’t) but Connor has so much to offer.

In these two years you’ve been friends, he never let you down, not once. Whenever you had movie nights with some of Alex and Connor’s teammates, he would always sit beside you and vote for the movie you wanted the most. He’d always let you rest your head on his shoulder, and even sit on his lap if you wanted to take a nap.

He buys you gifts and takes you to the movies at every chance he has, besides buying you tons of Marvel merch and different candies from the states he visits. Sometimes he sends chaotic photos to you, looking like a mess after a game or practice.

Besides checking on you at every chance he got, whenever he was away.

He was everything you could ask for and then some more.

Truthfully, it had been a long time since you had someone who cared as much as he did. Yeah, you have Alex and your parents, but besides them? You only had Chloe. And also Madi, but you weren’t sure if she considered you as a friend like you did her.

So Connor liking you was unexpected but so welcome. Maybe that’s why you were feeling so down about this whole situation.

You don't want to lose him.

“Fuck,” you whispered, still laying on the couch like a starfish. “I need to get a fucking grip.”

A second after you finished your sentence, your phone rang in your hand.

You smiled for the first time that day. Frank was just another one of Alex’s teammates and he was funny as hell. Usually he just wanted to see you whenever he fought with his girlfriend and needed someone to comfort him.

You groaned. Men are so weird.

You got dressed anyway and exactly an hour and a half later, Frank was at your front door, waiting inside his expensive ass car.

“I’ll start charging you since I’m basically your therapist,” you said, as soon as you got inside his car. “How is Josie still dating you, that’s the million dollar question.”

He smirked. “I can name a few reasons.”

“You’re gross. Where are we going?”

“That one Irish pub everyone loves. Hopefully no one will be able to recognise us and I’ll be able to drink my ass off.”

“Not happening, big guy. I can’t carry you while sober, much less while drunk. You’re like twice my weight.” You smiled, feeling a little bit better.

“Stop fat shaming me and be quiet.”

The rest of the drive was cool, Frank talking your ears off about Josie and how in love with her he was.

It was fun to see such a young guy talking about a girl like Frank talked about Josie. He wanted to marry her and be the father of her children, completely ignoring the fact that he’s only twenty-one years old and she’s still in college.

The pub was half full when they arrived but thankfully no one recognised them— or if anyone did, they didn’t say anything.

“I’ll get myself a beer. For you, a Diet Coke, right?”

Usually, you’d just nod and say yes. But you were feeling really shitty. And even though you absolutely hated the taste of alcohol, you wanted your mind to shut the hell up about Connor and Chloe, who were probably having the time of their lives on their little date.

And yeah, what would a little bit of beer even do? It’s not like you’ll get drunk with just one beer. Nah.

“Actually, I’d like the same thing as you.”

Frank smiled. “Ooh, feeling brave today? I see you, girl. Don’t let Alex know that I gave you beer though. He’ll beat my ass.”

“Aye, aye captain.”

—

TURNS out that one beer can get you drunk.

You don’t remember how it happened. If it had been the beer you drank or the several vodka shots you took afterwards.

The only thing you knew was that Backstreet Boys were really good and you totally had to get on the table to dance.

Only if Frank hadn’t stopped you.

“Frank, come ooon,” you said, not really sure if your words were coming out the proper way. “Let’s sing everybody: I want it that way!”

“Tell me why!” Some people answered, or at least you think they did. You’ll never know.

“No more singing, dancing or drinking for you,” you heard his voice from afar, which was really weird since you were sure he was holding you. “Gosh, I didn’t know you couldn’t handle your alcohol. I need to call someone. Wait here.”

He left—probably— and you stayed there, singing Backstreet Boys with your new friends. You were having the time of your life, really, and turns out that drinking is super cool and you probably should do it more.

“I want it that way…” you mumbled, feeling sleepy.

Some time passed before Frank returned, saying something about someone sober picking her up. She started to wonder who it could be, and came to the conclusion that it was probably Alex since Connor was busy.

Busy with your best friend who’s probably on her way to fuck him like she did with half of their school.

No. That’s just… mean. You shouldn’t think that of Chloe even if it is true. She’s your friend. Just because she and Connor were probably on each other’s throats it didn’t mean she wasn’t your best friend anymore.

“I really like him,” you whispered, or at least you think you did. Your lips felt like moving but no words reached your ears.

After snoozing for half an hour, you felt a hand on your hair, caressing it gently. It felt so, so nice. It reminded you of Connor, because he usually did the same thing to you before you fell asleep on him. And maybe this beer was Bedard induced because you were actually smelling his perfume too.

And… hearing his voice?

“Why did you give her beer? You know she doesn’t drink, asshole.”

“She asked for it! What the hell was I supposed to do?” Frank sounded funny. Like Rugby in Regular Show. Or was it Rigby? Maybe Ragby.

“I’m taking her home. How are you getting home?”

Frank answered something but you couldn’t hear it, since you were really busy trying to get your head up. Why does it weigh so much? Actually, since when does it weigh so much?

You felt two cold hands on your hips, making you shiver. They felt too familiar.

“Come on, El. Let’s go home.”

You finally managed to open your eyes and stare at the man holding you.

Connor.

"Con," you heard yourself saying, not trusting yourself to say something as complicated as Bedsy in that moment. "Hi." You whispered.

His eyes softened and he smiled a little at you. "Hi, El. Why did you drink so much?"

"Dunno," mumbling, you leaned forward, resting your face on the crook of his neck. "Wanted to forget."

"Forget, huh? We'll talk about that later." He said, starting to move your body around until you were out of the pub.

Frank forgotten somewhere else. You didn't really care.

Connor smelled too good for you to think of anything else.

—

SOMEHOW, you ended up at Connor's place. You knew it was his place because 1) he had a 98 Bedard jersey plastered on the wall and 2) he was the only one to buy an apartment instead of a house.

It was nice and cosy and you actually loved coming here, but you limited yourself to only visiting when Madi visited him too. You didn't want to seem needy or anything like that.

Even though his place was a lot nicer than Alex's.

"I'm gonna give you one of my hoodies and sweatpants so you can change. I'm not sure if you can wash yourself so you'll have to sleep without showering. I hope you don't kill me in the morning."

Something inside you wanted to talk back and tell him that he could wash you if he wanted to, but you had a feeling future you would absolutely die at that so you just nodded once, regretting it immediately because it made your world start spinning fast.

"I wish the world would stop spinning," you confessed.

Maybe drinking isn't that cool.

"It will soon. You just need to change, eat and sleep." True to his words, Bedard did give you a change of clothes-his clothes- and food; plain black coffee and plain toast, but, yeah! Food.

You were still feeling like you had done a hundred cartwheels in a row but now you were only seeing one Connor and you could talk without sounding like a three year old.

"Thanks for picking me up." You say, after eating the last bite of toast.

"It's fine. Why did you drink?"

You shrugged.

"El," he got closer, frowning. "I know you. You hate drinking."

He was right. You did. And usually, you'd be happy with your diet soda. But forgetting about Connor's date with Chloe seemed like a good reason.

Oh my god. Connor's date.

"Connor," you started, voice quiet. "What about your date with Chloe?"

"I left."

Your eyes doubled in size but you couldn't help but feel a bit... happy.

"But... what do you mean?"

"Ellie, I only went to that thing because you wanted me to."

Oh.

Oh.

"Because apparently, you had a super important date with a guy— Frank— and couldn't make it tonight." He sounded hurt. Maybe you were just too drunk.

"I didn't have a date with Frank. It was a lie," you whispered, eyes starting to feel wet. You took a deep breath. You weren't going to cry over this. "M sorry I lied to you, Con. It's just that—"

"We can talk tomorrow, El. Let's get you to bed." He got up and started pushing you towards his bedroom.

But your heart still felt heavy on your chest. And your eyes were still wet.

"No, Con, I need to tell you—” you stopped him, both of your hands on his chest, your eyes focused on his. "I didn't want to lie to you. I swear— I would never lie to you willingly because I lo—” you stopped yourself and swallowed down your words. Is it okay for you to say you love your friends? Yeah it probably was. Fuck that. "I love you, Con, and I would never hurt you on purpose. It was just that—"

"El, you're drunk and you're going to regret all of this tomorrow." He tried to stop you once more, his hands on your waist as he forced you to start walking again.

You snapped. "No, Con, please, fuck," Great. Now you're crying. "Just listen to me, please."

"Come to bed and I will."

You frowned but nodded. Despite all of your visits to his apartment, it was your first time in his bedroom. It was all Connor-like, neat, clean and tidy. Some pictures of his family and some kockty trophies adorned the walls and shelves. You caught yourself smiling. One of the pictures was of the day their team won some championship, in which you somehow ended up in the Bedard family picture beside Madi.

He made you lay down on his extra large bed— why would he need a bed this big?— and put the duvet on top of you. It was a chill night and the warm it provided made you sigh happily.

"Are you going to sleep with me?"

Connor stared at you for what felt like a year. Those blue eyes awkwardly staring at you and you felt yourself cringe, just now realising how you worded the phrase.

You both had already slept together, but on the couch and in front of everyone. Never alone and on a bed. But you didn't want to sleep alone, not really.

"Well," he finally said, taking his shirt off and laying down right beside you. It wasn't long until you moved, so that your head was on top of his chest and his arm around you, holding you close to his body.

"Chloe likes you," you mumbled, looking at his chest going up and down, calmly. "At least she thinks she does. I don't think she really likes you. Not like I do, anyway."

He chuckled. "Like you do?"

"Yeah," whispering, you started to draw little patterns on his left peck. "She asked me to introduce you both and I told her that it wasn't a good idea, because you're you and... well. You're not much of a people person."

You heard his soft laugh.

"That I am not."

"She didn't care. She wanted it either way. I didn't know she was going to put you right on the spot like she did. I swear."

"I believe you. And it's fine."

"It's not," you sniffed and stopped moving your hand, trying to wipe your own wet face. When did you start crying anyway? Being drunk is weird. "I shouldn't have lied to you, even if it wasn't on purpose. I didn't have a date and there isn't a guy. I just wanted Chloe to be happy. And even if I don't want to admit it..." you bit your lips. "You guys would look awesome together."

You felt his body stiff underneath you. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well. She is your perfect girlfriend. She's blonde, gorgeous, rich and looks good as hell on cameras. It'd be good for your image." Your own mouth felt bitter after saying those words, but sometimes the truth felt like that.

He took a while to answer, and just when you could feel your whole body falling asleep, you heard his voice saying, softly:

"Yet she's not the one laying on my chest right now."

[microwave-core]

Red-Hot Paean

Cynthia x Fem! Reader

Cynthia has always been one to praise you whenever she sees fit (which is always), but she can’t seem to hold her tongue when it comes to interviews. At least she’s always willing to indulge you after putting you through such embarrassment.

“So, a little Starly recently told me that you were thinking about taking a vacation to the Alola region. Do you have anything to say about that?” 

“Ah, well, there isn’t much more to say about it other than it’s true. Being champion is my passion, but everyone needs a break now and then. Besides, I’ve been meaning to check out the Battle Tree, and I’ve been sorely missing quality time with my wife.”

“The Battle Tree, huh? I’ve heard that the trainers are quite formidable, especially the battle legends leading the whole operation. I suppose that’s a kind of challenge you won’t find anywhere in Sinnoh!”

“Indeed, it’s been quite some time since an opponent has backed me into a corner. The thrill of battle spurs me on, but exploring the region is also a must. The island challenge feels a bit beneath me at this point, but the beaches are quite alluring, especially with beautiful company.

“And the apparel shops are simply darling. Most of the options are not my kind of style, but I can’t help but want to pick a few things up, anyways… Ah, but my darling beloved, now she would look wonderful in them. Afterall, she looks gorgeous in any and everything she wears.

“But whenever I see any kind of cute clothing, I can’t help but see her in them. Especially outfits for the warmer climates, since I see her in them so rarely with how cold Sinnoh is and all. Alola certainly won’t be the first time I end up purchasing clothing for her on a vacation, but that just leaves what I should get for her this time…”

“Oh yes, I must agree. Alolans are quite fashionable! From adorable to elegant… everything seems to look good. Your wife sure is a lucky woman to have someone such as yourself as a vacationing companion. Is there anything else about this trip you are looking forward to?”

“Besides that… I am looking forward to exploring the ruins. From what I’ve read, there aren’t many mysteries surrounding them, especially in comparison to ruins in other regions, but I don’t think I will be able to keep myself away from them…”

The TV remote clatters to the couch cushion with a soft thud. You're not sure why you keep up with Cynthia’s interviews when they always end with you becoming far too flustered for your own good. This was far from the worst she’s ever gushed before, and yet it still gets you all the same.

And speak of the devil, the moment you lean back into the cushions, the front door creeps open, followed by the gentle clacking of heels, accompanied by less-gentle thuds. She leans over the couch, arms laying over your chest and head perched atop of yours.

“Hello, dear…” She practically purrs. You can’t see her face, but you can hear the sweet smile on her lips from her tone alone. Garchomp sidles up to you, forcing your arm over her flat head in the hope that you would pet her. You mumble out a ‘hello’, yet to overcome your embarrassment.

“What were you watching? I could have sworn I heard the TV on when I was unlocking the door…”

“Your interview from the other day.”

“Oh, you saw it already? I wasn’t expecting to be asked about Alola, but I suppose it was going to come up eventually.”

“I, uh, just caught it, actually and… (Azelf, give me strength) I turned it off after you got off track talking about… me. I know that you think very highly of me but… it gets embarrassing watching you talk like that… especially when Arceus knows how many people are going to see it.”

“Aww, really? And here I thought I managed to tone the gushing down for once.” You know that Cynthia gushes because of how deeply she loves you, which makes your heart pound with both love and embarrassment, but the teasing tone lacing her words allows the embarrassment to outweigh the former.

“Besides, it’s not as if I was lying… I’m looking forward to seeing your adorable self on all sorts of tropical backdrops.” She moves her hands to your face, squishing your cheeks softly. 

“Is it so wrong of me to want everyone to know how much I care about you? I just can’t help myself when I’m so easily reminded of you… “ Her voice wavers from teasing to soft, each word barely above a whisper.

“The fact that I get to call you, someone so beautiful and caring and intelligent, my own… It doesn’t feel real sometimes, that someone as wonderful as you exists, and is willing to stay by my side, no less!”

Her words feel far too much, far too praise-filled, borderline reverent. You place your hands on her own, feeling the heat radiating off your face through her skin. Your body was boiling, yet you couldn’t help but yearn for her warmth, both her body and her words. Yet all too soon, she begins to pull away.

“Well then, how about I get cleaned up and pick us up something to eat? It’s only fair that I treat you to something nice after putting you through so much embarrassment, right?” You can only respond with a feeble nod.

She leans over and gives you a quick peck on the forehead before pulling back completely, presumably going to your bedroom to clean up, leaving you to huddle into yourself (and the Garchomp practically sprawled out across your lap). 

In interviews, Cynthia would always find new ways to embarrass you with her off-track side tangents, and in private, she would always find new ways to set your heart aflame. 

But while her seeming unending love for you would make you beyond flustered, it would always lead to her treating you to whatever your heart desired. She could be teasing, and she was sure as hell embarrassing, but it was certainly worth putting up with once it was all said and done, leaving nothing but the sweet, endearing Cynthia ready to melt your heart away.

[apatheticlexicographer]

all of the lighting in stranger things is intentional, please stop saying it isn’t ( -sincerely, somebody with industry experience)

i’m pretty sure that the people who shit on the byler light symbolism theories have never been near a film set before. the idea of any kind of light being “accidental” on one of the most expensive shows ever made isn’t remotely credible if you have any kind of experience with the film industry. that being said, i know that most people don’t have firsthand experience or even secondhand knowledge of how the industry functions on the ground. as somebody who has both of those things, i figure i can try to spread the knowledge around a bit!!!

so, here we go!!! lexi’s fun fact science corner about film lighting, from the experience and knowledge of somebody who’s been on and around film sets and surrounded by filmmakers since they were 6 years old.

first of all, all the light on your screen is a lie.

(well, not all of it all of it, but most of the fun stuff is Big Lightbulb’s doing)

you see huge lights like these:

pretty much anywhere you go on a film set. any film set. and yes, that includes outdoor scenes: the sun is a ball of fire and spite with a specific vendetta against filmmakers and the clouds are its loyal minions. natural light is a bitch and should not be trusted. 

all light in a scene, even seemingly ambient light, has been curated very intentionally. the angle, the intensity, the tone, how sharp or soft it is. part of this curation is done in postproduction using editing software, but a lot of it is done on set by moving and covering lights. the quality and angle of light is pivotal in changing how a scene comes across. 

let’s look at an example unrelated to byler, to prove there’s no conflict of interest here:

here’s max while she reads her letter to billy. she’s backlit, leaving her face in the shadow. this is a lighting technique commonly used to communicate dramatic effect, tension, and an ominous feeling. the shadow cast by the backlighting isn’t hugely intense as the outdoors light conditions are otherwise very flat and quite pale. this gives the whole shot an exposed feeling: there is nowhere for max to hide. in retrospect we know what’s about to happen to max, which now makes the accuracy of that emotional signaling very blatant. while watching it for the first time, however, this lighting motif is intended to make you subconsciously uneasy. even before you know exactly what’s coming, you’re set a little on edge. as you should be!!! there is no tension without foreshadowing, just as there is no tension with too much foreshadowing.

here’s a closeup on her face, to show it more clearly:

notice how no direct light at all is hitting the right side of her face.

now here’s max a few minutes later:

...sorry.

anyway, see that light hitting half her face, while the other half is shadowed??? the position of the light source hasn’t changed, it’s still hitting her left side, but because the camera has moved she’s now being sidelit. sidelighting usually communicates mystery and conflict. Of course max is conflicted here!!! she’s facing the physical manifestation of her trauma, right after forcing herself to verbally process her joint feelings of relief and bereavement over billy’s death. as for mystery, there’s the short-term uncertainty over whether max will live or die, and the long-term uncertainty pertaining to vecna and what exactly his deal is. These are mysteries to both the viewers and the characters.

also, briefly: the tone of the light has changed from slightly warm in the first picture (nostalgia, comfort) to slightly cold (fear, death). it’s a subtle shift, but very clear.

the whole sequence is actually a very neat piece of lighting work!!!

“but lexi, how do you know that was intentional??? are you sure the sun didn’t just happen to be shining that way while they were shooting???”

yes. 

see, the biggest bitch about natural light is that it doesn’t last. the entire scene with max in the graveyard takes place within a very short span of time canonically, but there are a lot of different shots involved. it’s also a highly important and emotionally charged scene, which means it needs to be acted perfectly, however many takes that requires. the sidelight would not remain consistent across the filming of the entire scene if it wasn’t artificial. it probably wouldn’t last a single take!!!

“oh, but lexi, you’re talking about a really important scene. the lighting here might be intentional, but that doesn’t mean it’s always so important!!!”

wrong!!!

well, you are right to an extent. the lighting isn’t always super pivotal, but it’s not an optional element of film production. you can’t film your important scenes with super thoughtful lighting and just rely on the sun and the ceiling lamps for the rest of the show. lighting definitely isn’t always inspired and meaningful but it does always have thought and intention behind it (and effort!!! lighting guys are criminally underappreciated).

also, the byler scenes that people analyze the lighting of??? they’re all important scenes too!!! they might not have much bearing on the main plot at the moment, but they’re keystone scenes in the joint arcs of two of the show’s main characters. the graveyard scene is important to the plot, obviously, but it’s huge in max’s character arc. and what do you know??? most of the lighting symbolism is tied to the character aspect of the scene, and not the plot aspect.

so, to recap: the sun is evil and mostly fake, lighting symbolism can be clearly mapped, and it’s typically used to communicate deeper insight about the character being lit, which will register subconsciously.

i’m very much not done here yet lol, i have a lot more to say about colour, the lighting work done in postproduction, and the way lights are physically manipulated on set. however it’s also 7am and i’m an idiot who stayed up all night reading scientific journals about mould. i’m gonna turn in, but i plan on making a part 2 in the not too distant future!!!

hopefully this has been at least mildly interesting or informative lmao. when i see people saying stuff about what they think of byler as people working in or studying film i always forget that i am... also that lmao. also though, those posts tend to come at things from the perspective of scripting and preproduction. since most of my experience is on the ground i hope i can provide a slightly different angle to that of other film people of the tag.

til next time <333

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 15 The Interrogation

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Cassian is forced to face his superior officers.

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 15: THE INTERROGATION

Once again, Cassian’s status afforded him the right to a private room aboard the Redemption, which, similar to his quarters on Yavin, were hardly larger than a closet. After thanking the 2-1B medical droid for its care, he made his way through the winding ship passageways to the new place he would call home. There was a bunk partially built into the bulkhead with storage underneath, a narrow upright locker, and a small desk. Cassian never needed much to be comfortable; the room had a door that locked, which was all he wanted.

He snapped on the desk lamp, preferring its warm glow over the blinding, sterile overhead light. He didn’t have any possessions—they’d all been abandoned on Yavin—except for the blood-stained imperial uniform he’d been rescued in, but he pulled open the locker anyway. A half-smile crept over his lips. Two fresh shirts and pants hung inside, and a new pair of boots sat on the shelf. Amused, he thumbed through the garments. They were all the right sizes. “How does she know this stuff?” he wondered aloud.

Then something else caught his eye; behind the clothes hung a familiar item. Cassian pulled his well-worn Corellian jacket off the hanger, surprised by the relief it aroused. He slipped it on and pulled it tight against his chest, appreciating how a commonplace item could become a touchstone. The jacket made him feel a little more like himself and he knew he had Jyn to thank for it. Despite her aloof exterior, she was one of the most thoughtful people he knew. Cassian figured she wasn’t consciously aware of her kindness; it was a reflexive behavior that he’d observed in her many times.

A rap on the door interrupted his thoughts and he opened it to find one of Draven’s aides. “Sir, the general has asked that you please report to the Intelligence ready room asap.”

Wasting no time, Andor mused internally. “Let me change and I’ll be right there.”

The man saluted and left.

Cassian pulled out the clothes Jyn had bought for him and dressed. He shrugged into his jacket, feeling more confident than he had in a long time, and hurried to the unavoidable meeting he’d been dreading.

Draven, Mon Mothma, and several other high-ranking officials stood around a glowing, greenish-blue holo table in the dark ready room. “Andor,” Draven acknowledged him as he approached. “Good to see you up and about.”

“Thank you, sir.” Cassian took position at the table’s edge and crossed his hands behind his back. In truth, he didn’t feel remotely prepared for the interrogation that was about to take place, but he knew a debrief was a necessary evil. He’d been in the same position, forced to question comrades before they were ready to talk, evaluating how a tortured fellow spy may have compromised the Rebellion, choosing the cause over his own humanity.

“You know why you’re here?”

Cassian nodded.

“Then let’s get on with it.” Draven was pragmatic and had no desire to drag unpleasant business out longer than necessary. “Lieutenant Erso retrieved footage of your time in captivity. This was from an IT-O interrogator droid?”

“Yes.” Andor felt his pulse begin to rise; he tried to subtly steady himself with a deep breath.

“There is missing footage, correct?”

Cassian forced his nerves to go cold. He had a job to do and he would damn-well do it right. “Yes. The IT-O droid wasn’t present at first.”

“How long were you in captivity before documentation began?”

“I don’t know. I had no sense of time.”

“Can you confirm whether or not you divulged Alliance secrets during this undocumented period? According to the footage we do have, you looked as though you had already undergone…” Draven suddenly seemed as though he couldn’t find the words, “…harsh interrogation,” he finished.

Cassian continued controlling his breathing. “I can confirm that I did not divulge anything during the undocumented period of my captivity.”

Draven eyed the young man, waiting for further explanation.

“They didn’t ask me any questions,” Andor finally offered.

“Did you resist their efforts?”

The rebel commander smiled mirthlessly. “I didn’t really have the chance.” Hoping to satisfy Draven and prompt him to move on he said, “Tarkin wanted to loosen me up. They wanted revenge for Scarif. So, there was a lot more punching than talking to begin with.”

The general nodded once, understanding. “Did you divulge crucial information at any point?”

“Have you watched the footage?”

No one responded.

Cassian knew their silence was a tactic. They were testing him, seeing if he would lie. “Yes,” he said, silencing his internal shame. “I identified Lieutenant Erso by name.”

Mon Mothma lifted her chin and looked as though she had won a wager. She’d been certain Cassian would be fully honest with them.

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Andor admitted. “I honestly can’t remember even telling Tarkin Lieutenant Erso’s name, but he proved beyond a doubt that I had. As for any other admissions, I really can’t be sure. By the time I was beginning to break I was barely conscious. I’d been injected with an array of toxins. When I try to remember what happened, I have large empty spots in my memory. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific; the details are murky.”

“What do you remember?” Mon Mothma asked gently.

Cassian glanced at her, not sure he wanted to be entirely honest now. Screaming. Pain. Cold. He suppressed the unpleasant memories and, instead, reached for one that would satisfy the senator. “I remember Rogue One coming through the door.”

After a long silence Draven spoke. “That will do for now. We’ll spare you reliving details we can glean from the recordings. If we have questions about any specifics, we’ll call you back in. We only need to know one more thing. What happened to the rest of your crew?”

Blood instantly drained from Andor’s head and his chest became tight.

“Where did things go wrong?”

Cassian’s eyes drifted down as he struggled to breathe. He could not bring himself to speak.

“Commander?”

“They were waiting for us,” he finally said, his voice struggling to stay even. “Tarkin knew we were coming. Our contact on the Death Star was a double agent.”

Mothma and Draven exchanged concerned looks.

“They lined us up on our knees.” Cassian still couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. “Death troopers shot everyone in the head.”

Draven was visibly disturbed. “Why did they let you live?”

A dark expression passed over Andor as he looked at the general. “Because I was a Scarif rebel.”

Though the endeavor had been worth the risk, Draven knew the Alliance would be paying Scarif’s price for a long time, knew the Empire had kept Cassian alive so they could punish him. Humiliating a man like Tarkin would always have consequences. “Does anyone else have questions for Commander Andor?” he asked the others. No one spoke so he turned back to Cassian. “Do you have anything else you’d like to add?”

“I’d like to ask for some paid leave.”

“I think you’ve more than earned it, given this and what you endured on Scarif.” Draven turned to his personal aide. “Four weeks, paid, full rations, no access to ships.” The aide started inputting the details into a datapad. Draven spoke to Cassian again. “Since the armada is in a state of flux, we cannot let you leave the ship. Firstly, we can’t spare the fuel and secondly, if we did let you leave, we can’t be certain you’d be able to rendezvous with us upon return.”

“Understood. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to sleep.”

Draven smiled. “You’ll have plenty opportunity.” He closed the file he’d been referencing during the debrief. “Stay available. We may call you in from time to time to answer questions or provide intel, but you have my word, no missions for at least four weeks.”

“Thank you.”

“Dismissed.”

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE ROGUES" - Time to balance things out with a fluffy interlude.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 "The Interrogation"

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

READ CHAPTER 24 “The Hand”

READ CHAPTER 25 “The Heart”

READ CHAPTER 26 “The Beginning”

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

The Caroline thing bugs me. I’ve watched seasons one and two multiple times and genuinely not a single thing in season one hints at all of Caroline being a villain except for her parroting what Chucky told her about killing her family. She just acts like a child that was either canonically autistic or heavily hinted at being autistic then suddenly the show just dropped that. Just like the show dropped how genuinely cruel Lexy was towards fucking everybody.

The finale of season two is the shittiest episode for me. It feels so random almost like a bonus episode with no real relation to anything else. Caroline suddenly out of fucking nowhere saying Tiffany is her bio mom and Chucky is her bio dad is so fucking stupid and out of nowhere. The Belle doll meant nothing and I still don’t get why they kept lying and pretending the Belle doll was anything else other than Mancini thinking he’s clever by once again claiming something is important only for it to never amount to shit.

Unless the intent is the entire time Chucky, the only Chucky left was in drag. Which I hate because again this whole ass finale was rushed.

Caroline being super into violence and murder and being a cold killer is out of nowhere and the kid playing her is nowhere near good enough at acting for me to take her remotely seriously. If you’re going to random plot twist this small child is a murderer then cast a kid with better range and acting skills.

This show has the Gotham issue of introducing more characters than it can handle all at once and not knowing how to appropriately handle everybody at once without losing the plot along the way. Except with Gotham I can understand; there are a billion Batman villains and you wanna show them all off.

Chucky though has no excuse. These are just characters Mancini randomly pulls out of his ass and proceeds to do fuck all with until an idea hits him and the show changes course two seconds later and he pretends this was the idea this whole time.

Also fuck I hate Nica and I hate Tiffany too honestly. Which sucks because in the movies I loved Tiffany and in the movies I loved Nica. With the first season I was intrigued by them both then that left turned and got fucked so incredibly fast by random making Tiffany fall in love with Nica.

Bu the way I am fine with female characters being horrendous but don’t fucking pat yourself on the back for having Tiffany break up with her “abuser” feminist bull shit then a second later have her cut the arms and legs off a woman she abducted and sexually assaults. Like her dumping Chucky wasn’t a fucking feminism moment or a breaking free of her abuser. You can’t do that while having her somehow be a worse person than her abuser.

I also kind of just hate a lot of the franchise retcons and honestly it the show had ended with season two minus the Christmas episode then I wouldn’t complain oddly enough. I would accept Chucky as a flawed but decent horror tv series, but now we have season three and a movie starting soon and Mancini desperate for a Chucky v M3gan crossover and a Chucky in space movie and claiming he needs more seasons and a billion more movies to properly tell his story and oh my fucking God I hate Don Mancini almost as much as I hate Paul “who wants to see men kiss?” Simms.

[pinkthick]

Maybe a monster

Pairing: Simon Petrikov/Betty Grof

Simon Petrikov & Kid!Marceline

Summary: “Hey. Hey, Simon. Breathe with me.”

“Don’t” Simon snapped, before he looked horrified. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I meant-"

Simon sat in the back seat of Noah's car, the world outside passing by in a blur. His mind was a tumultuous storm of confusion. He'd spent what felt like an eternity confined within the cold, sterile walls of the secretive organization, a place where they had forced him to feed on animal blood, slowly weaning him off the human craving.

Which they succeeded in, I suppose.

Betty was sitting beside him, her worried gaze fixed on him as she squeezed his hand gently, trying to offer him some comfort.

Noah was the one driving them home and the silence weighed heavy on the air, the tension in the car palpable. It was actually him who broke the silence, his voice filled with a sense of unease "How was Tiffany treating you?" he asked, his eyes briefly darting to the rearview mirror.

Simon furrowed his brow, struggling to recall who Tiffany was. The name seemed vaguely familiar, but his memories were a jumble. "Tiffany...?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

Betty sensed his discomfort and held his hand even tighter. She didn't want this conversation to go down that path. "Noah, maybe now isn't the best time to bring that up," she said softly, her eyes pleading with him to drop the subject.

Noah sighed, not realizing his mistake. "Oh, you don't know her name," he mumbled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "She was the woman who... helped you get used to animal blood. She wasn't that hard on you, was she?"

Simon's eyes suddenly turned crimson, a dark anger flashing within them. He clenched his jaw, his fangs pressing against his lips. " Helped me? How can you say that?" he hissed, his voice laced with frustration and anger. The memories of the torment he had endured from her were flooding back.

Betty felt the tension in the car escalate and squeezed Simon's hand with all her might, silently imploring him to calm down. Noah winced, realizing that his choice of words had been far from ideal. "I'm sorry," he stammered, choosing his words more carefully this time. "Help wasn't a good word, I suppose. But she was trying to make the transition easier for you, even if it didn't feel that way."

Simon's anger flared, and he felt an overwhelming urge to lash out at Noah. "Were you there? To see what she was doing to me?" he seethed, his nails digging into the palm of his hand as he fought to control himself.

Noah let out a weary sigh, keeping his eyes on the road. "No, Simon, I wasn't there. But I know the procedure. You think I don’t do it too?" He tried to convey a sense of understanding, but his voice was strained.

Simon's resentment simmered just beneath the surface. "So you tortured people," he accused, his words dripping with bitterness.

Noah's grip on the steering wheel tightened even more as he wrestled with the weight of Simon's accusation. "Simon, it isn't like that—“ he began, his voice low and apologetic, but before he could explain further, Betty intervened.

"All right!" Betty interjected, her voice tinged with urgency. "I was thinking maybe you tell us about the collar he's wearing." She pointed to the sleek silver collar around Simon's neck. It glistened under the soft interior car lights, and there was something about it that felt off to her.

Simon's attention was momentarily diverted from his anger as he touched the collar, his fingers tracing the cold metal. "I don't even know why they put this on me," he mumbled, his voice a mixture of confusion and resignation. "It's supposed to be some kind of tracking device, I guess. But I can't get it off, and it's been driving me crazy."

Noah nodded, his eyes focused on the collar. "It's a standard precaution," he explained. "They use it to monitor newly turned vampires until they're deemed safe. They can control it remotely, restrict your movements, and even incapacitate you if necessary. It's not pleasant, but it's something they do to keep tabs on you."

Betty's curiosity led her to another question. She leaned closer to Simon, her voice soft but inquisitive. "So the collar has some kind of microphone in it?" She was trying to understand the extent of the surveillance they had been under.

Noah nodded, confirming her suspicion. "Unfortunately, yes," he admitted. "They can listen in on your conversations, but don't worry too much. It's mostly the ones in charge of you who have access to the information. They use it to make sure you're adapting to your new life and following the rules."

Simon's anger simmered, and he clenched his fists, the idea of constant surveillance making him feel like a prisoner once more. "So they hear everything?" he growled, his frustration mounting.

Noah, realizing Simon's discomfort, tried to offer some reassurance. "If it makes you feel better," he began, "in about two months, they'll likely remove the collar. It's a probationary period they impose on new vampires. If you prove that you can live peacefully with humans and control your instincts, they'll grant you more freedom. That's the goal, Simon, to get you back to a normal life."

Simon leaned his head back against the car seat and let out a heavy sigh. "Great," he muttered, a mix of exhaustion and resignation in his voice. It felt like an uphill battle. He was already so tired, how can he keep going?

Betty turned to him, her expression filled with tenderness, and gently kissed his cheek. "Hey, everything is alright," she reassured him, her lips lingering against his skin for a moment. She wanted to convey her love and support, to let him know that they were in this together.

Noah, perhaps not sensing that he had said enough for the moment, chimed in again. "But the good thing is," he began, "you don't have to go back to our base. Unless, of course, you do something, which wouldn't be ideal—"

Betty couldn't help but interject, giving him a pointed look. "Thank you, Noah ." she said with a hint of exasperation in her voice. "I think we get the idea."

Noah, feeling the weight of the awkward moment he had caused, chuckled nervously. "Right, uh—I'll stop talking," he said, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. He focused on the road ahead instead, his eyes returning to the task at hand.

Simon couldn't help but chuckle as well, the tension in the car easing slightly. He appreciated Noah's concern, even if it sometimes came out in odd ways. He was an idiot sometimes.

Some things really don’t change after all.

With a little smile, Simon leaned his head on Betty's shoulder. She began to make soothing patterns on his hand, her gentle strokes offering him comfort and reassurance.

Simon and Betty finally arrived at their home, a sense of relief washing over them as they stepped out of Noah's car. Betty turned to Noah, a grateful smile on her face. "Thank you, Noah," she said sincerely. She knew that despite their differences, he had helped bring Simon back to her.

Noah nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. "Yeah, no problem," he replied, genuinely concerned about Simon's well-being. "Just, uh—take care of him, okay?"

Simon couldn't resist a teasing scoff. "Think I can't take care of myself ?" he retorted, his mood lightening.

Noah smirked, his tone teasing, "Nope. Go get some rest. You need it."

Simon and Betty exchanged a look, and Simon took Betty's hand in his. He turned back to Noah and said, "Just be careful."

“I will.”

As Simon and Betty entered their apartment, Noah discreetly took out his phone and called his superior, Tiffany. He had questions that had been gnawing at him. "So, why did you make me ask him this?" Noah inquired, his voice tinged with frustration. He wanted to understand the purpose behind the uncomfortable conversation he had initiated in the car.

Tiffany chuckled on the other end of the line. "Just wanting to see how he'd react," she replied, her tone suggestive of a hidden agenda but also filled with sly amusement.

Noah didn't sound convinced, but he knew better than to press the issue further. "Right," he muttered, a touch of frustration in his voice.

Tiffany continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "At least we know you can act like an idiot. This will come in handy in your next missions." With that, she hung up, leaving Noah to sigh in exasperation.

Noah couldn't help but share Simon's sentiment about Tiffany. She was indeed a difficult and manipulative woman, and he, too, had his own grievances with her. She just had a way of making everyone’s life difficult. He sighed and looked at Simon's file on the passenger seat next to him. He couldn't help but smile a little, realizing that his friend had made it through a challenging ordeal. He knew that Simon was strong, and he had faith that Simon and Betty would find their way through this together.

As he drove away from their apartment, he couldn't help but hope that things would get better for Simon. You got this man.

As they reached their apartment, the soft glow of the moon spilled into the room, creating a tranquil ambiance. She moved closer, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his back. "I'm glad we're back," Simon whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

Betty's eyes filled with understanding and compassion as she looked at the man she loved. She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Me too," she replied.

Betty's concern never wavered. She looked into Simon's eyes, her gaze filled with empathy, and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Simon's throat tightened, and he shook his head gently. "No. Not yet, at least," he replied, his voice trembling. The memories of the torture and captivity were still too raw, too painful to put into words. And besides, he didn’t want anyone hearing what he’s feeling or has been through while he has that goddamn collar on him.

Tears welled up in Simon's eyes, and Betty reached up to tenderly wipe them away. Her touch was a soothing balm, and she whispered, "Take your time, my love.”

Simon couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer. He pulled Betty into a tight, comforting hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She continued to offer words of solace and reassurance as he cried silently. Betty whispered softly, "You're so strong, Simon. You survived the worst, and now you have me, and I'll do everything I can to help you." She ran her fingers through his hair, her touch gentle and soothing.

As a newly turned vampire, Simon had gained strength and abilities, but in that moment, Betty felt like he was more vulnerable than ever. Not physically, but emotionally.

Simon clung to Betty as if she were his lifeline, tears streaming down his face as they sat on the floor of the kitchen. How did they get on the kitchen floor again? Weren’t they standing? She held him tightly, offering the security and comfort he desperately needed.

The blood pounded in his ears as his heart thudded in her chest. His hands shook and his feet tingled. His vision disfigured, as if he was looking through a fish-eye lens. He was still clutching Betty, his hands wrapped so tightly around her that his nails dug into her back. Nails—not claws, right? Breathing was hard. Too hard. As if he just ran a marathon. He cried harder, his chest growing tight as bile rose in his throat.

“Hey. Hey, Simon. Breathe with me.”

“Don’t” Simon snapped, before he looked horrified. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I meant-"

“Simon. You're panicking. Breathe. We can talk later." Betty took a deep breath, making sure to exaggerate her breaths. "See? Inhale. Exhale. Come on, Simon, this is easier than finding artefacts."

Simon made a sound that was half laugh, half sob, but he copied her, inhaling and exhaling until his panic attack recedes.

"Better?"

Simon didn't even bother to reply, staring at her with a look of such terrible pain in his eyes that Betty had to look away. It felt like she was looking at a wounded animal, those eyes begging her to just get it over with already and end his suffering.

It took some time, but eventually, the storm of emotions began to subside. Simon sniffled and whispered, "Sorry." Betty continued to hold him close, her voice filled with love and understanding. "You know you have nothing to apologize for," she said gently.

Simon's voice was shaky as he confessed, "Fuck, I don't—I don't know why I reacted like that. Nothing happened."

Betty's response was filled with compassion. She squeezed him gently and said, "Just try to relax my love" Simon nodded, still trying to regain his composure. She continued as her fingers gently brushed his cheek. “What matters is that we're here together, and you're safe now. We'll face whatever comes our way, as long as we're together.”

Simon's heart felt a bit lighter with each passing moment in Betty's comforting embrace. He turned to her and said, "Can we stay like this for a little bit?"

Betty smiled softly, her love for him shining in her eyes. "As long as you want," she replied, holding him even tighter.

You’ll be okay, Simon. You’ll see.

Notes: Hope you guys enjoyed it. I kinda rushed this, will probably edit it later though. As usual, if you have any ideas leave them in the comments or just write what you think about this chapter. (I love comments)

Next chapter we’re back with Simon and Marcyyy. (And Ethan oops) 😭

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/?

Masterlist

[holding-monsters-hands]

okok also. headcanons for the puppets from puppet master (specifically blade, jester, leech woman, torch, pinhead, tunneler and six shooter) how they celebrate christmas. what are their favorite parts abt it? do they enjoy the snowy weather? are they just little things with jackets, red noses and carrying fire wood to the fireplace? maybbeeee if you have any ships you like do something for those too? i’m asking for you to go buck wild man. begging.

FINALLY PUPPET MASTER REQUESTS‼️‼️ Yippee!

warnings: small mention of hunting/an animal carcass

The puppets during christmas time!

I’m a simple man, I enjoy blade x jester.

These two absolutely snuggle next to the fire, tiny little shot glasses of egg nog (not alcoholic! they just can’t handle big glasses) next to them while jester is nestled into blade, torch always tells them to get a room.

honestly not many of the puppets besides leech and torch enjoy the cold weather! leech just enjoys it because she loves the season, while torch can cool himself down by plopping himself in the snow when he’s overheated.

However you’ve taken it upon yourself to stitch little sweaters and coats onto them anyways, even if they don’t really have to worry about hypothermia or frostbite- they just look so darn cute in their little personalized sweaters and scarves!

Leech woman however LOVES to decorate, it reminds her of when she was alive with her husband and they’d make the house look gorgeous! she’ll decorate the tree with some of your assistance, do tinsel, and hang up stockings! of course she’s more so directing you to do it, but it’s fun for both of you regardless!

Torch of course, likes to help gather the wood and light the fire himself! he feels like a big man when everyone gets impressed with his pyromaniac skills, he’ll puff his chest out with two hands on his waist- especially for you to see!

Pinhead also likes to help gather wood and lift anything remotely heavy! even if it’s you passing him a freshly wrapped gift to put under the tree, nothing puts him more into the holiday spirit than helping out his friends!

Tunneler wants to help you bake cookies and decorate! is he good at it? nope! but he gives it his all, and leech woman comes to help as well, all three of you just having a grand time making sugar cookies and gingerbread men!

Six shooter will offer to shoot and kill something for dinner, even when you repeatedly tell him that is not necessary and there is a grocery store 15 minutes away, he’ll just look at you like “>:)” because you know when you turn away he’s gonna drag in some kind of animal carcass.

[lindszeppelin]

Clearly you’re getting to a few folks so congrats there — not that it’s your goal because, as you repeatedly point out, this is your blog and you can say whatever tf you want and nobody has to read it.

Re the K&A eras tour spectacle… I’m gonna throw in my 2cents.

At this point I feel like about 80-90% of what I see screams PR setup with those two. But I’ll be completely blunt and say I don’t really know wtf I’m looking at. Isn’t that kind of the point? We are on the outside looking in so we don’t know what actually goes on between these two. We don’t know and we may never know — unless one of them spills the tea and that’s no doubt forbidden in such arrangements.

I have a feeling that when all this started it seemed like a fine idea for both of them. Austin probably very much needed to have someone around who could handle herself on a red carpet and wasn’t expecting a lifetime commitment (in that case, youth a definite plus). I believe they are both avid readers, they have fame and celebrity in common, they understand themselves as commodities of the entertainment industry, they both travel for work, etc. My point is they would have enough shared interests and work experiences to get along nicely, and even genuinely date.

Now, I ask you, how is a 20-year-old NOT going to fall in love with him in these circumstances? We’re all gaga over him and we’ve never even gotten to hold his hand, talk to him, sit next to him, or *gasp* kiss him. Austin isn’t an asshole (by EVERYONE’s account at this point except V), so I think he’s not going to be disrespectful or cold or rude or even withhold affection from her, cameras or not.

Even if this was always a “real” relationship, it could only ever be a rebound (from both V and Elvis). Because he had just painfully ended a NINE YEAR relationship and was coming down off the most intense acting gig of his life and rushing headlong into film promotion.

But the fact that he may have benefitted from the lack of challenge and longevity of an arranged situation at that time is exactly what may be so bothersome now. How can someone as young and privileged as K provide the kind of supportive partnership that a man of substance would require? He’s been through so much more than she has. I don’t mean to suggest that famous young people don’t have pain and hardship, too. But the difference in what he has endured and what she has endured is stark.

He’s a kind human, and he can no doubt truly enjoy witnessing a bunch of people have an absolute blast at the TS concert. Despite the few moments of PDA, he looked a lot more like a big brother escorting lil sis to the concert than he looked like a man swooning over his love. And anyone who has seen a few extremely vivid photos of him and V knows that K&A simply do not click on even remotely the same level. So however it started, whatever it is, it really seems to have a limited shelf life.

Bottom line: I have no idea because I’m not either one of them and it isn’t my life, or my business. In my case the only reason I’m even thinking about them this much is because there are things in my own life I am currently desperate to avoid. That’s okay, that’s kind of a great advantage of being a fan, but I feel like a lot of people do not know how to make that distinction. That’s okay too but when you come into anon asks and insult people, you’re fucked up.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

honestly MJ my darling, im just trying to blog normal stuff in between all these asks and it seems like its never ending lol idk how this ended up spiraling the way it did but well, here we are. since you took the time to send me a well thought out ask, im going to give you a well thought out response and let that be it for tonight haha

i don't know if i would necessarily say that the point is for it to be grey area. i think personally when it comes to a relationship you're either with somebody or you're not. you're either in love with somebody or you're not. there are nuances to each of those sides on the spectrum, but generally you will know without hesitation or doubt what you're looking at. and because they keep it teetering on grey area of "are they or are they not PR?" then that is deceptive. in my opinion. the idea in PR is to keep them in the media's eye whenever often.

i absolutely agree that in the beginning austin probably was onboard with the set of facts that he was given. i mean, how can you truly know somebody that you're with and know if you're going to like them long term when he was presented with the choice? he probably thought it wasn't a horrible deal - she gets press from being seen with the new it guy and breaks into the acting world like she wants, and he gets a girl on his arm for the red carpet stuff. she probably seemed unassuming, and i highly doubt he did not know anything about the crawford/gerbers. like i said, over the period of time you start to see for real who these people are and who you're dealing with. he might have been cool in the beginning to be in the PR thing, but then as time went on and he's spending time with her and her family then the gears start forming. and the "oh shit, im in a bind here" starts to crop up.

and yes you're right, what young person wouldn't want to be in that deal? she dates the hot new guy on the block and gets press from it, then moves on to the next. cookie cutter process. austin was only in genuine relationships, how the hell would he know that this would turn out to be a disaster (or ZIZZASTER as grandma lois would say). austin is a very nice guy, and to your point exactly, he would not be outright rude to her. does he walk away from her, wear a mask and disguise around her, and other such things he does as his own form of acting out? yes, i think it's safe to say that austin doing what he can to distance himself from her in a respectful way is his way of saying "i do not agree with this, nor do i want to be here".

you are also correct with this point - how can a young girl like her know how to provide and support a grown ass man of his caliber? she doesn't, simply. she has never dated anybody like austin before, and she is simply not experienced enough in life to know how to do that yet.

and big bro escorting little sis is right. i also saw it as he looked like her bodyguard hanging around while she does her thing lol. or babysitting gig. he is so sweet and lovely, i just want the best for him and it's clear you and so many others do as well. im so glad you took the time to message me MJ! I always value your incredible and thoughtful insights!

[isfjmel-phleg]

@lady-merian: #I feel like there might be some kind of lesson in this.. ye have not because ye ask not #except Josiah hasn’t previously given them any indication that he’s going to be so generous #so I don’t know

The character who grows the most in this story is Josiah, who briefly puts aside his dislike of Tamett to help out Emenor. He's not by nature a generous person, and he's been raised to regard generosity as a performative gesture that makes himself and the royal family look good. But here he is empathetic to Emenor's plight, as one musician to another, and the genuineness of his choice to give her one of his violins is shown in his not bringing that up, letting her and Tamett think that it's the one Tamett used to use. He's capable of kindness, and although he's got a long way to go, this is a promising start.

Perhaps a major factor in breaking through Josiah's stony, self-centered exterior was how Lovisa approached him. She's the first character in this narrative to attempt to see the humanity in him. Tamett (and Emenor, who takes her cues from him) sees Josiah at his worst and has understandably formed an understanding of him accordingly. But Lovisa is compassionate enough to guess at what's behind this boy who looks sad sometimes while playing music, and that's who she's writing to, more than the cold, remote figure that Josiah's image presents. Josiah is probably used to being treated with distance, and here is someone who believes he is kind, who believes he is the kind of person he might have been if things had been different. That strikes a chord with him.

And it's a surprise to Tamett and Emenor when Josiah does come through to help her! I don't know how much thought Tamett gives it at this point, but it certainly complicates Emenor's understanding of Josiah, and they will start to form a sort of friendship through letters.

This turned out to be a story about compassion, how the choice to show it brings out the best in oneself and others, and how kindness can be found in unexpected places. I didn't sit down and consciously tell myself I was going to write those themes, but that was the natural emergence.

Thank you so much for reading and commenting on the story! I enjoy what you have to say :)

[paigelts05]

Escalation [FNAF Renegade AU]

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/Escalation-FNAF-Renegade-AU-904724101

Renegade File Server Location: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36608917

Published: Jan 23, 2022

So this fic has been in my notes for a while and was needing some art, and, you know, to be finished. So, I managed to finish the fic and a counterpart second fic, and made three drawings. One fit the second fic, the second was supposed to fit this one but looked too generic, and then theres the third I used for this fic. The second drawing will be posted, don't ask when, but given all us Vannis shippers are starved, it'll be posted soon enough.

So, this fic takes place almost immediately after my multi-chapter fic: "Remote possession experiments: in the field". It's basically all plot.

Also, that "old site"? Remember one of my first posts with these two? "Thanks for the coffee, dear"? Yeah, that's the place mentioned in this fic. It's all connected. The plot train rolls on.

Sorry, but I can only write plot.

Anyway, here it is. One of what will be a set of three (the third drawing and third fic are not the same. There will be more food for us Vannis shippers yet) these two, and a longer fic.

=°•.🌹Story🌹.•°=

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"So Steve has either been ditched by his childhood friend or said friend is being used or abused by his employer, and Anna's been bullied since she was five. Where do I come in?" Luis didn't expect to be talking about everyone's childhoods in the middle of a work day, practically immediately after Ness had gotten zapped by some apparently paranormal static. Today sure was weird, and Luis knew it wouldn't get any less weird any time soon.

"You," Anna said between sips of hot chocolate, "are exactly like me. You just repressed your memories, it seems. As I said, I've been meaning to ask about why you always cut yourself off, but I guess I've figured out why now. You were picked on. It's no use asking why, but it's clearly effected you more than you realize. But there is one thing."

"What is it?" Luis panicked. He didn't remember much from his childhood, and didn't want to disappoint anyone by not remembering something.

"Who." Anna said, calm and cold. She was only like this when she could tell something was wrong, "Who did this to you."

Luis didn't remember much. He didn't know if he just didn't want to remember, or if he couldn't remember.

"I don't know. It was someone. One of the popular girls. That's all I know. I don't remember what was said, or anything that happened. I just know there was this popular girl and that one of her friends would basically stalk me and told people that I was a loser and whoever associated themselves with me was a loser." Luis seemed to have begun to panic, and was struggling to remember. "I don't remember much of the actual bullying. It was probably more of a 'no you're not allowed to hang around with anyone' kind of thing anyway."

Anna nodded a bit and said, "I see, so what about your childhood do you actually remember?"

"Well," Luis planted his elbows on the table and rested his face on his hands, "my mum usually took me to parks away from the local area. I met this girl there. I just remember that she had brown hair and that her mum was blind. We were good friends and hung out often, but then she just stopped going to the park one day."

Ness practically jumped out of her seat after hearing this.

"Luis, that girl at the park was me!" She was clearly estatic that Luis had remembered her, but confused as to why he didn't recognize her sooner. "I stopped going to the park because we hit some financial troubles and mum couldn't afford to take the bus and buy food anymore, and the walk was too long and dangerous for a blind woman and her kid. By the time the financial problems were over, I was just too old to go to the park I guess."

Luis seemed a bit shocked. "That was - oh my gosh I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you. I feel like an idiot, I-"

"No," Ness interjected, "you're not an idiot and you don't need to be sorry. People look different when they grow up, and before I started working here, that was the last time I saw you too, and to say your appearance has changed would be a massive understatement. I can only recognise you because of your eyes and hair now that you've mentioned that was you! The rest of you looks totally different! And if you didn't bring up my mum a minute ago, I probably wouldn't have known you were talking about me! I mean, we only ever met at the park so, I wouldn't expect you to remember what I looked like."

Luis smiled and practically melted into a bubbling mess, "I - I .... Thank you! Even though I only knew you for a while back then- I know it sounds sappy, but - thank you for being my friend back then!"

Ness, not exactly sure as to what to do, put her arm around Luis and ran her fingers through his hair.

"I'm just glad we found eachother again." Ness said, pulling Luis into a hug. She kept running her fingers through his hair. Luis made her feel safe, and she made him feel happy. They both needed eachother during these times.

After a few minutes, Anna piped up again. By the looks of it, she had gotten up and fetched herself another cup of hot chocolate.

"Do you have any other memories of when you were a kid?" Anna asked.

"Yeah, there was this girl with black hair who was always getting picked on by the same girls that picked on me. I think me and her were friends."

"That black haired girl was me," Anna said, "didn't expect you to remember me, but glad you do. I honestly thought you'd have remembered me back when we met again in college, but I guess the purple hair kind of made you not recognise me."

After a quick sip of hot chocolate, Anna continued talking.

"So that's our connection to Kayla - primary school bully. Not much, but a connection," Anna said, "and Steve is connected to Jim Campbell, but they both seem to be part of a department outside thier stated department, and the identity of thier manager may be crutial to figuring out why this is happening to us..."

Anna sighed and looked at Luis, "when you went to that old site with Ness, did you get anything?"

"Yes," Luis said, "not had the time to check it yet. Been busy trying to help Steve with the onslaught of viruses FE's junk is hitting us with. First the email bug, now this one from the circuit boards that took us offline and it seemed to be trying to hurt Ness."

Luis had been vauge about whatever "it" was, but it was clearly important.

"Take a small break from work, look over the data you got when you get home." Anna said, knowing that whatever data Luis had retrieved had to be important.

"As soon as I get home. Won't risk looking at it here. That's just a recipe for disaster." Luis nodded.

"Good. Send me a full data set once you're done. Even if you only check a little bit. Private emails." With a nod, Anna then looked at Ness. "Ness, make a new email. Yours may be compromised."

"That's just my work correspondence email. Replacing it won't take five seconds." She pulled out her smartphone, then put it away, "I'm out of data so I'll do it when I get home. No need to risk anything else getting compromised."

"Good. This should give us time and information. Two things we need as much of as we can get." Anna necked the rest of her hot chocolate, "who knows where things will escalate to from here, but it won't be good."

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Next

[thewestern]

Chapter 12

Kitty’s legal instincts were on the mark as usual. You don’t need a process server to deliver a Cease and Desist letter. You don’t even need an attorney to write one. Anyone can do it. And you can just send them by mail. 

To this, the Mick said, Great, so we can blow it off then. Come to think of it he had been sent a similar notice by a much larger enterprise than #x_brüing for pirating episodes of the premium cable show Entourage in his college dorm room. Nothing ever materialized of that. So I suppose we’re in the clear. 

But Kitty insisted they see it through. Again, she had a funny feeling in her stomach. Something just wasn’t sitting right about Mockingbird commandeering Hank’s memorial party. And who was right there with him but Jaime? Neither of those two had so much as set foot in the Newfy since the day they hightailed it out of there. Then four hours later he sends a threat of legal action via Pony Express? She didn’t say so but whereas the Mick felt put upon, Kitty felt a kind of tingly feeling of sensory awakening, having been called out like this. Like jumping in cold water. Who knows? Maybe Mayor Larry and Jimmy were in cahoots. Wouldn’t that be something?

That being an albeit remote possibility, Kitty insisted that she accompany Mick, acting as his counsel. Grace was coming along for no reason other than she heard #x_brüing was actually kind of tight. When he found out Grace was going, Zeke invented his own reason for tagging along. Social media, the Six Bus, something, something. So then here they were, a Gang of Four. 

Piling into Kitty’s station wagon, they set out from the New Frontier. The #x_brüing taproom was on the industrial outskirts of town, not far from where the planned production facility was being quite painstakingly constructed. This would have presented a perfect opportunity to drop in on the way and have that chat with that foreman, fuckhead, but the Mick didn’t think today he could stand to. One migraine headache at a time.

Even half past rush hour, traffic remained at a standstill in spots. A night crew had shut down three of six lanes on the main thoroughfare. Kitty tried to shortcut around a side street but got caught trying to turn westbound on a one-way eastbound. You are being rerouted … Your arrival will be delayed by … Fifteen … Minutes, said the robotically feminine voice on the navigation system. For the duration, Zeke would stay locked into place, his legs scrunched up against the driver’s seat, and his large head cratered somewhat firmly into the nylon upholstery of the decidedly non-lunar roof. Grace was fast asleep, unconscious to all the world’s suffering, including and especially the Passion of Zeke, who was directly to her right, currently succumbing to this onsetting case of unrequited romantically-induced rigor mortis. 

The Mick — sitting shotgun, a seat he’d offered to Zeke who as a matter of course, demurred — stared a thousand yards out the passenger side window. When he started at the Newfy, the surrounding neighborhood had been a ghost town. Abandoned buildings on every corner. Broken glass in every window. An open-air, intravenous drug market, it was. Back then you needed a reservation to take a shit on the sidewalk, as Russ would oft-reminisce. That was until the New Frontier was among the first businesses to kickstart a Downtown Renaissance, as Mayor Mockingbird called it on the campaign trail when he took complete credit. Good on him for getting out while the getting was still good. The Mick could already see the cracks forming. The few remaining independent storefronts were being priced out and replaced systematically by franchise concerns. Generic-brand Bar and Grilles for expensed lunches and joyless happy hours, catering to the office parks towering above. Below, an open-air shopping mall of small kiosks selling defective nick nacks to the out-of-town suckers — the socks and sandals, tucked-in t-shirt crowd — and big box stores slinging triple-quilted toilet paper in bulk. Sooner rather than later, the city would eat itself from the outside in and the cycle would begin anew. The Mick knew how things worked. He’d seen The Wire.

However, he could also see signs of life flickering, the further out they drove from the dysrhythmic beating heart of downtown. The Warehouse Manufacturing District was gaining a reputation as an Artists’ Enclave. For a fact there were count ‘em-three studios of Western Art which occupied the same city block — the world capital for watercolor renderings of cattle drives. Then branching off like arteries from Gallery Row, there were boutique vendors of decidedly more fashionable trinkets to more discerning travelers, smatterings of cafes and coffee shops, a food court-style collective of farm-to-table restaurants and perhaps the belle of the disco ball … The Fulfillment Centre — a scalable, state-of-the-art concert venue and special event facility. (Scalable insofar as the audience capacity could be adjusted via a retractable wall, so as to accommodate demand flexibility for a wide range of acts spanning all genres. Thusly it was designed by its owner, the Achtung Group, the world’s second-largest dynamic ticketing marketplace brokerage and presenter of live entertainment.) Although all of the above properties were developed by the same property development firm — Hindenburg Partners, Inc., which maintained no visible ties to Mayor Lawrence K. Mockingbird — they had the appearance of having grown organically, like roses from concrete. A sleight of hand made possible in no small part by the large murals which adorned many-a-brick exterior across the WMD. Some were subtitled by irreverent sloganeering, written in the literary tradition of refrigerator magnet Haiku. Others were portraits, broadly canonizing celebrities of the counterculture who were considered to be off-beat in some way, but were nonetheless very famous, often in the throws of recreation in some obscure form, as if in theme park caricature. [A trivial pursuit of art as Madlib: Proper noun, verb that ends in -ing — Johnny Cash, rollerblading; Che Guevara, riding a go-cart; the world heavyweight champ Mike Tyson, reading a Harry Potter book with his boxing gloves on.] All were coloured very vibrantly and between the lines. Seemed as though to the Mick they must have been professionally commissioned. As of course they were — carefully curated Works of Street Art. No, these were no fucking amateur hoods out tagging. Here, behold, as they passed by one spray-painted depiction of Doctor Lupus giving Little Red Riding Hood a physical atop a firetruck examination table. 

Women’s Healthcare is Human Healthcare, his voice bubble said as he handed her a lollipop for being so brave. 

(According to Lupus canon, pediatric medicine was not one of his specialty practice areas. Those were gastroenterology, orthopedics and the intersection between the two, more specifically.)   

Nearing their destination now, they could see how halfway down the block and around the corner from #x_brüing, a line was already queueing up the sidewalk. Zeke was aghast. What theme of event could possibly draw such a crowd? Suffice to say they’d never gotten a turnout like this at the Newfy during his brief tenure, even for the ever-popular Halloween costume contest or Hank’s funeral. As Zeke exhausted himself efforting to count the head of every man, man and occasional woman in line for this mystery fete, Grace was in a deep sleep. As they rounded the last right turn, the centripetal force slumped her head neatly onto the lap of Zeke, who thought he might himself now pass out until mercifully, the Mick intervened. 

Hey, G … Wake up. We’re here. 

Serious props for snagging a power nap on this a fifteen-minute car ride, thought the Mick. Grace surprised him every day. Now he had a funny feeling though, looking at the outstretched beerline. Dandy Jim was up to something, that much was for certain. No wonder that fancy letter gave a time and place to respond in person. He had half a mind to think that whole business with the fake cowboy was just his elaborate, Aspergers-assed way of inviting him to his party. Wouldn’t that be Jamie all over.

Street parking was naturally a nightmare. There was a gargantuan, five-level garage just across the street, but Kitty considered pay lots to be akin to unconditional surrender to forces of evil, the terms to which she could not abide. So then she had no choice but to circle around three times and parallel into a tight spot between two of the biggest fucking pickup trucks you ever saw. 

A couple of times she had driven Hank’s wagon, to pick up a cheese plate or something for Club Wed. (She and Mick were a one-car family, not counting his dirtbike, from which he was taking a sabbatical of indefinite term.) It had a little candid camera on the rear bumper, so as you could see what you were backing up into. Now, back in her swag wagon, every time she threw it in reverse, she couldn’t help look down at her dash for the monitor that was not there. 

They ended up walking right down the line they had driven alongside thrice times previous. Kitty’s skittish glance lingered on the seldom few females among the huddled mass, seeming to be long suffering significant others. (Blink thrice if you’re being held here against your will.) It couldn’t have a degree or two warmer than freezing. And yet here they were, standing duitfully at attention in the dark, wet cold. How come it was nobody seemed dressed appropriately anymore, Kitty noted. Could this maybe be a byproduct of the ubiquitous convenience of modern travel? For those commuting above a certain station wagon, of course. With the privilege to plan their comings and goings with GPS precision. To whom it would usually prove superfluous, preparing for those unplanned inconveniences along the way, like road work or lousy weather.

Walking on by, they were themselves on the receiving end of more than a few sneers. These people were VIPs at best, or they were line cutters at worst … Either way, fuck ‘em, was how the dirty onlookers probably felt about Kitty and her crew. That they were the objects of such scorn, only Zeke really noted. Were we supposed to wait, he couldn’t help but thinking. The Mick hadn’t given it a moment’s consideration. Recall how he hated lines so.

Finally reaching the entrance, the door was manned by a substantial gentleman with a barbed wire arm tattoo, sitting on a plush leather stool behind a red velvet rope. In all his years in the craft beer industry, the Mick had never seen such a thing at a taproom before. Somebody working the door. Maybe you send Grace or somebody out there to check IDs on a busy Saturday, for appearances’ sake. But as far as security was concerned, if it were that a customer ever got over-served to such an extent that would warrant his or her ejection from the taproom, one could safely assume he or she had consumed — at a bare minimum — half a dozen beers, of heavy ABV. Being that bloaty is no form for putting up much of a fight. Usually you could just tip the offending party over and barrel roll ‘em right out the door. If for some other reason they ever had needed a cooler-type at the Newfy — a local power broker dispatching his henchmen to stir up trouble … Knife fights, and the like — Zeke could probably do in a pinch, the Mick supposed. He was thereabouts a bouncer’s average size, anyway. Mentally though, the Mick wasn’t sure he had it in him to go full Swayze, and go for his assailant’s jugular. Even if he had possessed a philosopher’s depth of soul, which the Mick thought Zeke well might. 

This beef stick on the other hand, judging primarily by the scar running the length of his left face — from the red biker bandana, that clinged for dear life around his steaming bald head, down to his rock formation of a jawline — was content to live and die in the physical world. Perhaps more concerned with banging plates than banging out Plato, he had all the ocular trappings of a real fucking hard case. Naturally, his bare arms were exposed and so adorned in prison-quality body art, bulging out from a black leather motorcycle vest, which was itself plastered in iron-on patches. Demerit Badges — outlaw flair for commemorating one’s committing felonies of escalating classes. One above each breast, diamonds outlining numbers — twenty-five on the right (the Mick’s left) and six-percent-er on the left. Then, just about in line with the liver, a Jolly Roger with the skull swapped out for a hop cone. And opposite of that, a flaming white cross. Lastly, a name tag stitched in cursive right above his heart — Herbie Horsecock.

Quite deliberately with two fingers, as if taking some faint pulse, he touched his transparent plastic earpiece, connected to a concealed Walkie-Talkie via a coily cord that ran in parallel to the throbbing vein on his steroidal trapezius. Looking down to his clipboard with the intense focus it might well require him to read, he said in a gravelly voice: 

You’re not on the list.

But you didn’t ask for my name.

End of the line, please.  

No thank you. I don’t care for lines. 

I’m not asking.

Then I’m not answering.

Last chance, asshole.

Hey, hold on a second, Big Guy. That type of name calling is uncalled for. Maybe we got off on the big foot. I’m Mick. I know the owner. He’s a huge douchebag that might be suing me. 

Frankenstein’s monster here was not fully understanding of nor amused by the Mick’s smart tone, and quite honestly why should he have been. As he sized him down and further down, menacingly, a young woman about a third his mass materialized as if from within him like a nesting doll, and tippy-toed up to whisper something in his cauliflower ear. While she had no vest nor accessorizing patches, she did have a credential attached to lanyard, in addition to an earpiece and clipboard of her own, of course, signaling that she pulled rank over this door troll. Begrudgingly then, the sentry unclipped the brass hook from its stantion while the girl cuffed them with cloth sashes — the familiar pattern of red paisley with tie-dye accents — designated for: friends + family. With thee wristbands, the New Frontier Four were henceforth granted entry into an alternate beer reality.

[lesucremygic]

Re: Life is love

“You don’t even know how to love. Because you have never felt love for anyone.” said someone who was frustrated when I shared them, most of the love I felt throughout my previous romantic relationships don’t really speak to me anymore. As they have lost their meaning and relevance once I know, those weren't love only infatuation and the feeling of being scared to be lonely. 

The interesting take about those sentences is that they only applied to people who knew and understood one type of love all their life. For me, I’m confident to say that I love. Immensely. In various kinds, shapes and periods of time. 

“I love, therefore I am.” I exist because I love, that I am a lover. The source and power of my life is my ability to love. 

I love the wind, when it calmly caresses my skin with its biting coldness or whenever it has the leaves whispering softly as I walk my springing steps. I love when the sun still warms me up despite the coldness I’m feeling all over my body. Or the faint smell of the earth when you got too close to the soil to bend down and inspect the interesting flowers you found along your walk. 

The beauty of the sky, stormy, cloudy or when they are clear. Telling you that it’s okay, there are many more possibilities for me to sail and see. That more in life awaits you despite all the raging storms inside your head. I love to take a random trip with any public transportation to look out the window and let myself set free in a pause. Away from people’s and my own expectation, away from the prying eyes and curious ears, away from the horror of mundane routine. Just to take a pause and love myself all over again.

I love the hustles and bustles of people in a packed cafe where the music is playing low. I love when people laugh so hard at a joke from a friend that I only find remotely funny. I love seeing the squint on their eyes whenever they smile. I love witnessing when people try their best to translate love into small careful actions. Actions that show the world “I think of you greatly.” 

I love music, how they sometimes can articulate my thoughts better than I ever will. Songs that speak to you, conversing like old friends under a shaded tree. I love to awkwardly dance in my room to songs I’ll never tell a soul I played through my headphones or speakers. Just to toss out all the care I have out of the window momentarily before scrambling trying to get my dignity back before someone can walk in on you being silly. 

I love the book I find throughout my life, complex and complicated thoughts from like minded people or even others that I don’t really fancy to ever revisit. I love books that unlock gates after gates of intricate worlds and wonders in me.

I love to read poems that slice and pierce right through my heart, making me sob uncontrollably or even hide the tears until my head hurts from holding them back. 

I love every miniscule change on actors' faces when they’re on a roll. How there are a lot of people who are really good at what they do. How my mediocreness means that I’m alive. I am still alive and loving.      

I love my mother, in all of her weary and tired years, in all of her soft but loud beauty, in all of her unwavering kindness and stubborn strength and in all of her nags, even her cute efforts to be the pacifier. I love my dad, despite everything, despite our constant clashing opinions and views. I love my siblings, with all of our distances and silly inside jokes, with all of our fights and silent make-ups. I love my friends, people who taught me, who show me that I can also choose my family. People who show me kindness and selflessness, people who think of me as much as I think of them greatly. 

I love the arts, I love nature, I love the people in my life, I love the unpredictability of my life, the stability, endless dreams and even all the boring routine. 

I love myself, even when I lost her before. Even when I don’t even know who and what she is. Even when I’m still searching for what and who I am. 

I might have never actually had a pleasant experience when it comes to loving another person romantically, since I have never known peace when I do. 

But to say that I never love, that only does injustice to love itself. 

As Kim Namjoon on his song, Trivia: Love, says, “I live so I love.” 

I bid you adieu. 

This proves that love is solitude and togetherness. Love is you. Love exists, love prevails, love is us and all the things that bring us peace. 

L.

This writing is originally published on Medium