#ive been sitting on this post for a few days because its just so well articulated and i love your thoughts about dirk and hals relationship

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can you write the TADC cast with a male ballet dancer reader? The reader experiences gender dysphoria 24/7 because they look very feminine and all that.

TADC cast x male!ballet dancer!reader w/ dysphoria

back to finishing up the current line up of requests!! reminder that im only doing requests that have been sent in prior to them being closed! any requests that are sent in while theyre still closed will not be taken and will be deleted so i can keep track of what was sent before closing; its nothing against any of yall and you guys can resend your stuff when they are reopened (i will make it very obvious when they are so dw!!) on a different note i could have sworn i did a cast request with a reader who does ballet; but i guess it was only for jax and i was confusing the group request for the ballora type! reader from this morning huh anyways!! i hope you enjoy this anon! quick warning that i know literally nothing about ballet so im

CAINE:

i think he enjoys a bunch of art forms; from music stuff to dance stuff to painting stuff, this man has taste. i think he would give you a bunch of outfits for you to wear and swap around that fits your aesthetic. bro would give you a whole walk in closet. as for dysphoria, i think he would do a similar thing with jax and reinforce how masculine you are to him, usually through affirmations, but he also shows it through just being there for you, bro is not only your number one fan but hes also your biggest supporter

POMNI:

i am yet again stumped on what to put in for pomni, since i think pomni is. bad at comforting people. very awkward, do not go to her for advice she will fumble so bad. now its not like shes not trying, but i think she would be all over the place trying to cover everything that could possibly help you; perhaps you two ultimately settle on cuddling one another... if this werent the digital world you two would probably put on a movie to take your mind off of it. as for her thoughts on ballet! i think she would find it neat, similar to jax she would have a form of respect for it!

RAGATHA:

she thinks it looks pretty, the dancing! she wouldnt know all the history or more in depth parts of it but she would watch you practice if you allowed her too... i think she would make you a binder, if your digital body causes any gender dysphoria for you.. though now that i type this i recall it being said that the characters clothing being stuck to their body.. so maybe she would just make you clothing thats more masculine as well? im not sure on this one!

JAX:

doing jax first since he already got a similar post and i can use it as a basis; ive said this in that post as well as the ballora one but i think he would at least appreciate the dedication and hard work that goes into ballet... to like, fully commit to something like that impresses him you know? as for dysphoria, i think he would make it a point to call you more masculine terms. hes gonna be trying his best to try to help you with your dysphoria in the way that best helps you. lays off on his teasing on days where its worse

KINGER:

i am yet again distraught that i do not have many ideas for kinger this time, which is sad because hes my favorite character and i can relate so hard to the dysphoria thing... thinks.. probably throws all of his knowledge at you. i mean hes been in the circus for a while, hes probably seen at least a few people come and go; and sure what are the odds that he has some experience helping someone fight through their dysphoria... a boy can dream! takes you to his pillow fort and lets you stay for as long as you want

probably sits and watches you dance on a makeshift pillow thrown. claps when you're done, probably throws roses... i think caine would throw roses too except he would throw way more simply because he can literally. manifest as many as he wants

ZOOBLE:

i dont usually like sharing my lgbt hcs about characters out of fear that it would be met with discourse but if i recall correctly zooble doesnt really have a gender/a set one (if im wrong correct me!) so they understand the dysphoria thing; i think they would offer to let you hang out in your room and vent your feelings out. probably tries to give advice on how to feel better in general if you want advice, but if you want comfort theyre gonna do your best to give it to you. i dont think zooble would have much of an opinion on ballet; neither negative or positive, simply knowing thats its an art form! supports you if it makes you happy, though!

GANGLE:

while not the same thing, i like to think gangle used to do ribbon dancing in the real world... because... ribbon girl. see look im so so creative

but also i think it looks pretty

so you guys can bond over your hobbies! you might have to pry gangle to open up and talk about her interest in it, assuming she picks it up again in the digital world! as for dysphoria, i think gangle would be like zooble in terms of lending you some support; offers to help distract you if you dont want to tackle the issue at that point in time. i dont know about you, but sometimes i just, dont want to deal with my own dysphoria, but perhaps thats just a me thing

[cal-writes]

hi, i'm here with a couple of bits for the ask game! ❤️ in general AND specifically 221 Beika Street series. 💥 for both one piece and detco. and ✨️👓🦋🦈📚💛 please! may you have a blessed day, Cal!

damn you did not mess around! lets hope mobile doesnt destroy me trying to answer

i will put this under read more bc it got long!

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

i have many! generally i like my dialogue the best usually so this one is from my most recent one piece wip

-

Kureha scoffs and waves him off. “Oh, please. You’re practically glowing like a young bride. You definitely got laid.”

for detco i loved this exchange in A Matter of Deduction

“For the record, you’re a terrible liar.” Shinichi threw over. Hattori hung his head briefly with a sharp laugh. He shut off the water in the sink and dried his hands on a dishtowel he threw at Shinichi with too little force, causing it to land on the floor between them.

 

“And you’re a terrible detective.”

-

for 221 beika street specifically i loved writing amuro and shinichi being bitchy at each other

“I like him better than I do you.” He told Amuro plainly. It wasn’t much of an achievement, considering, but Shinichi still felt like it needed to be said. Since they were being so honest with each other after all. 

 

“I’m well aware,” Amuro said, chuckling. “I hate you less than I do him.” He was still idly turning pages in the book and Shinichi slammed it shut in his hands.

 

“If you bring your gun here again I will make you regret it.”

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

for one piece i think it would be the reveal of why sanji wanted to have to power to turn invisible. listen i have a tough time liking sanji in canon and i thought when it was first brought up that yknow that could be an interesting thing to explore esp with his backstory later with his shitty family like do something with that! and then they were like nah he wants to harass women in the bath. like i pretend i do not see it

for detco its hard bc i think there is so much thats only debatably canon. for me detco isnt really one continuous story so i like to pick and choose with canon anyway. maybe just more queer representation. or any i suppose (the movies arent really canon but the lupin crossover movie has like two or three lines in it that i despise and wish to delete from out universe entirely)

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

there is a lovely person called hikarinomajin (i forgot what their tumblr user name is and cannot find it for the live of me rn) who made a thread on twitter as they read 221 beika street and linked it in the comments and that was a joy to read. they leave lovely comments but that first one and the thread is special to me, ive never had someone make a thread live blogging them reading my writing.

also @blithe-bee is the best hype woman for my wips, lots of comments from her in my google docs drafts that are a huge motivation, i have posted one of my recent favorites on this blog about stabbing zoro being my brand

also a very different but hilarious one is this one on Glue Trap from BnuuyTales, makes me cackle every time

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

playlists! i make playlists for everything. when im starting to get serious about a story i will sit down and make a playlist. here is part of the 221 beika street one

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

they all have their unique quirks. i think i feel the most at home in heijis and laws head bc i can project my own way of thinking on it. a bit scattered and a bit overdrive and run on sentences. its the easiest to write as them i think. a few other characters are fun to write though just because i can use a different style. ive really been enjoying writing robin from one piece and my one shot from sonokos pov bc they think very differently and have different focus and expressions

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

i really struggled with kaito at first. ive mostly seen the movies for detco in the beginning and hadnt read the kaito manga yet so i felt like pulling teeth trying to get his voice down.

for one piece i tried my hand at usopp recently too and i definitely am not as comfortable in his pov yet as other characters but i could see myself really enjoying him down the line

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

@the-pen-pot is someone ive been following since livejournal and shes (i hope thats the right pronouns) a great writer! merlin unfortunately isnt my fandom but if you are into merlin im sure her stuff is still great if not better then when i read her fullmetal alchemist fics back in the day

specific fics is a little though for op and detco bc as soon as i start writing fic i will read less of it in any given fandom xD

but here are some favs

i think a classic for detco is a study in scarlette great work by kittebasu

kaishin power hour, great plot and fantastic pace, also really interesting character exploration

for one piece i absolutely loved Cut My Feelings Clean Off by Augment

zoro as the heart pirates first mate, fantastic dynamics here. absolutely love how their wrote law

if you are into grandmaster of demonic cultivation and horror Post Mortem by Cataclysmic_Calamity was a breathtaking piece of work but do be mindful of the content warnings. the climax is so fantastic i read it multiple times

and for some red vs blue fans P versus NP by @glassedplanets

wash and maine in a canon divergent story. one of my absolute favorites, i followed the progress for years and the author recently started writing one piece too! (that ive been meaning to read as well) so definitely check their stuff out. they also make beautiful art

i wish i was better with names bc i know some of these people have tumblrs too that i follow but i cannot remember the names. i just see vague icon blobs when i scroll my timeline

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

i know its hard especially in this current age of social media but just write for yourself. like i sometimes call writing exorcising things from my brain and i think thats where the passion comes from. dont write for numbers and likes (although those are of course nice too) but they arent a sign of quality or capability.

ages ago on a different website i once did this test where i took the same fic, changed the names into one from a bigger fandom and posted them both. and to see the difference in numbers just based on which fandom or paaring it was from really helped me move on from that mindset of “if there are no comments or likes its bad” sometimes it just means less people have seen it

wow thank you for asking all of them!! this is fun

[celosiaa]

IV/Cannula

hehe this is for day 1 of mediwhumpmay, which I am now posting in October

tw: emeto, hospital setting

“Hey, there you are. Keep those eyes open for me, Blackwood.”

“Mmm…wh?”

Everything feels so, so heavy—god, he can barely see. His eyes must drift closed again, because before he knows it, the voice is back, this time pinching the skin on the inside of his arm.

“Eyes open, Martin, come on.” Pinching again.

Gauging his responsiveness, he knows. The thought floats above the whirling pool of all the others. His eyes flutter open, an effort to reassure the voice he slowly comes to recognize as the voice of his junior partner, Ben.

“Ff…fuck,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut as soon as he opens them. The vertigo was too much to bear—and with an awful rising feeling in his gut, he curls further onto his side and vomits.

The effort of this exhausts him, and he must lose time, for the next thing he is aware of is the earth rumbling beneath him. He prepares mentally for the end of the world, again—but upon fluttering his eyes open again, he discovers that the ambulance had just hit a bump in the road.

Ambulance. I’m at…work.

He snaps his eyes open again at the thought, attempting to sit up, only to find himself strapped into something.

The stretcher.

“Lie back, Martin, just relax—“

Darkness.

—

Jon hates the hospital. Hates it.

He would do just about anything to avoid coming here, especially to A&E. The crowding, the noise, the smell of antiseptic…the desperation of all the people waiting for hours upon hours to be seen.

He doesn’t understand how Martin can cope with this every day.

It’s already been a long walk from the train station, and Jon’s heart is pounding—from this as well as the call that he’d received from Ben, telling him that his husband collapsed on the job and is being cared for here.

Jon knew he shouldn’t have gone into work that day. And he’d told him as much, many times. Martin had been ill over the holidays, but due to the nature of his work, had needed to go in anyway. Especially with the increased number of accidents, injuries, and illnesses that tend to make themselves known during this season. Added to that, a bug had been working its way through their ranks, taking down one medic after the next. Martin had assured Jon that he felt alright enough to cover for his indisposed coworkers, but…

Obviously, that had not been the case.

With a sigh, Jon leans a little heavier upon his cane, still in the triage queue. He needs to calm down, not let this frustration get the better of him. As much as an “I told you so” might be warranted here…god knows Martin had spared him many such conversations that Jon himself had certainly deserved.

At last, the person behind the desk waves him forward.

“I’m here to see my husband, please.”

“Name?”

“Martin Blackwood-Sims. I was told he’s in bay thirty-three.”

“Hmm…” They click around on their computer a few times before looking back up at him. “Looks like he’s on respiratory precautions. Please take a mask to protect yourself.”

Jon sighs, the anger bubbling up in his chest again.

I told you, Martin. I told you.

Not helpful.

He swallows it the best that he can, fitting the loops of the mask over his ears before following the nurse through the double doors.

“Straight back this way, and you should see him,” the nurse says, and turns back to their post.

Jon hadn’t needed the directions. From where he entered, he saw him—his husband, pale faced, propped up on several pillows and getting an IV placed.

Be calm. Breathe. Breathe.

Jon hates this; god he hates it here—and he’s absolutely livid that Martin never listens to him, and now look where it’s gotten him. Now they both have to be here, with all the people and the noise and the memories—

He feels suddenly quite weightless in the relentless onslaught of emotions, and wishes desperately for somewhere to sit. Not by Martin, not quite yet. Everything is all tangled up in itself, in the past, in the fear of this place. And his husband needs him calm. Calm and supportive, just as Martin has done so many times for him.

Braced against the wall of the corridor and his cane, Jon allows his eyes to fall closed, to focus on his breath for a moment. It’s just this breath. And the next. And the next.

Bless Martin for teaching him this technique.

When he opens his eyes, he feels a gentle wave of calm. Not perfect, but it will get him through and allow him to be there for Martin, who is now alone in his bay, eyes closed and exhausted.

That is, until they reopen and alight on Jon, walking toward him. Immediately, Martin’s hands reach up to cover his face—the tips of his ears reddening with shame, even as the rest of him retains that unnerving pallor.

“Oh God, Jon, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Martin…”

“I swear I didn’t mean to—to cause such a fuss, I didn’t—“

”Martin,” Jon pleads, more forcefully this. Time as he eyes his oxygen saturation on the monitor. “Breathe, habibi. You’re alright.”

As the monitor starts to alarm, Martin seems to realize that he’s gasping for air—and that sets him into a coughing fit, worse even than he’d been showing at home. Jon’s stomach drops just listening. And even more so when a nurse comes in to silence the alarm, reaching for the plastic tubing of the nasal cannula that Jon knows all too well.

“That’s quite the nasty cough there, Mr. Blackwood.”

Jon is hit with another sudden wave of irritation—obviously, its a bad cough, obviously, that’s why he’s in the damn A&E.

He needs to calm down before he snaps at someone and makes the whole damned situation even worse.

“Sorry,” Martin croaks, the fit ending. “I’m alright, I—sorry.”

“No need to apologize love. Just keep that oxygen on, alright?”

Saying this, the nurse leaves, and Martin sinks further into his bed, exhausted. Jon’s heart twinges painfully, and he extends his hand to Martin’s—and just as he’d hoped, Martin opens his eyes at the contact, smile weary but warm as he takes his hand in turn.

“What happened, Martin?” Jon asks, desperately. “Ben called me, you know. Told me you collapsed.”

“Oh no—no, love, I’m alright, really, I’m okay. Just took a bit of a tumble.”

Martin gives him another embarrassed smile, trying to sit up straighter, and Jon can’t take it anymore.

“If that’s what you want to call it, fine,” he snaps.

He regrets it immediately. Martin’s face is stricken, smile disappearing, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry, Jon—“

“No, Martin, I—“

“Are you okay?”

Martin leans closer, putting his other hand over Jon’s, the one with the IV. Still so pale, clammy. And concerned. Martin is worrying over him, even here while he’s the one in the hospital bed.

Jon takes a deeper breath than he has since he received the phone call, closing his eyes  as Martin gently squeezes his hand between both of his own.

Oh, Martin.

“Thank you,” says Martin softly, “for being here with me, habibi. I know this is…a difficult place for you to be. So thank you.”

That is too much, far too much.

“Don’t thank me,”  Jon chokes around a lump in his throat he can’t quite swallow. “Don’t. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped, it’s just...”

“Memories.”

“Yes.”

Martin squeezes his hand again, and Jon opens his eyes. Still there, still Martin, despite everything. Jon moves closer, using his free hand to brush Martin’s sweat soaked hair back from his forehead.

“I’m here for you, habibi. I’m sorry.”

“And I’m here for you,” Martin replies earnestly, breaking off momentarily to muffle a chest-rattling cough into his elbow. “We can…we can b—ha, both...”

“Shh, hush now,” Jon whispers lowly, reaching for the call light on Martin’s bed.

“We…we’ve got…each other,” Martin pants, letting Jon anxiously fuss over his blankets and his nasal cannula.

“I know, darling.” He rests a gentle hand on Martin’s laboring chest, a reminder that he’s here, he’s here.

“I know.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

aight, we back and we're goin in tabbatha, brace urself.

(i reread the latest chapters because a full absorption was required)

as someone who adores psychology and analyzing literature as well as having dealt with depression, you really hit the nail on the head with chapters 15 and 16.

it was super healing to read readers experience through the beginning of the chapter, with the sisters comforting each other in a very vulnerable way and then taking that comfort away. i ADORE you as an writer for making that choice, even if it sucks in the moment. i think it really shows how much youve grown as an author and i would so sososososo happily read a published novel by you. your humility regarding angst drives me a lil insane with how visceral of emotions you put your readers through tho 😂

you show SO much expertise imo with how you eased us into chapter 16 and the overall tone by beginning with feyre and rhys. by showing us how devastated she was over this and rhys' reaction being just to care for his mate, not truly caring about readers own wellbeing.

moving into readers pov and showing us just HOW bad her depression has gotten since the accident with azriel. cassian sitting outside of her door, and idk about anyone else but he came off as a little abrasive when he addressed reader? but i digress, it took literal days for her sisters to be able to get through to her and to get reader to open up to them about 💫why💫. and then the sisters curling up in bed how they used to and just holding tight, because like one of the other anons mentioned, that the born fae will NEVER truly understand the archeron sisters. and then you nail that point in AGAIN by having rhys interact alone with reader. her terror and her spiralling thoughts, and his disregard for how SHE truly is? his hasty departure where you can feel him disregard her as a loose cannon that he now has to handle the fallout of and Nesta's rescue. because she of all people know how he is with anyone but those he deems important in the moment :(

(the paragraph detailing what reader would have said to each sister respectively made me BAWL, like end of kingdom of ash kinda bawl, so massive respect for that alone.)

the ending with mor has got to be my favorite representation of her post ACOSF, just because ive always believed sjm wanted the focus of this series to be how massively flawed her characters are (and purposely so). you showed the courtier, the commander, AND the ruler of the hewn city very well in her reaction to readers actions and her newly uncovered involvements with eris. because ultimately mor has every reason to be upset with reader regarding eris, but she took her words too far because of her love for the IC. which is a massive flaw all of them possess, that you show BEAUTIFULLY throughout the series.

i also really love the decisions youve made with creating reader's character in general. it makes sense that she would be pushed to the side for so long, its been years that weve been waiting for nesta and elain to heal and so imagining a world where there are four sisters? Perfection, truly. the angst is 🥰🥰🥰

as a chronic lurker on tumblr, ao3, and wattpad respectively for the past decade. You are one of the few writers ive found that makes me want to reread ACOTAR after finding it a lil disappointing at times compared to sjm's other series (no hate, im just a tog and cc ride or die 😂) so when i felt as emotional and inspired as i did, it only makes sense that you hear just how amazing of a writer you are💖 I hope that this brings you some joy while plotting how to torture your readers next.

Respectfully foaming at the mouth waiting for the next chapter.

-🤠

‘as someone who adores psychology and analyzing literature as well as having dealt with depression, you really hit the nail on the head with chapters 15 and 16.’

Okay, I don’t want to get super personal and kind of blabber and waffle all over the place since we’re literally just starting, but hearing people say that they can relate to reader—whether through her anxiety, how introverted she is, or through the moments when she spirals—it kind of bittersweet? As a writer, I feel rewarded that you’re experiencing a connection of some sort with reader, but at the same time it’s hard knowing that those experiences are real emotions for so many people?

‘it was super healing to read readers experience through the beginning of the chapter, with the sisters comforting each other in a very vulnerable way and then taking that comfort away. i ADORE you as an writer for making that choice, even if it sucks in the moment.’

This is so interesting because I know I was quite stressed about uploading chapter 16 since I was worried the calm at the beginning would be too much of a 180° after the intensity of chapter 15? I thought it might be too slow-paced and that perhaps I should have tried to keep that tension going, but at the same time chapter 15 was written intended to be either the first or second highest tension point?

I’m flattered though that you think it was a good choice to have those sweet moments at the beginning and then to end on the angst? Personally I think that’s just a habit now to keep people engaged? 😅

‘i think it really shows how much youve grown as an author and i would so sososososo happily read a published novel by you.’

Is this payback for the angst of cbmthy? Are you trying to make me cry in return? I think it would be fun to write a book but at the same time very draining? I suppose I don’t have to write it now 😅 maybe if I make it to fifty I can sit down and give writing a go, but I’m not sure how realistic it is for me to consider writing a book at the moment :/

Still, thank you so much for such a high compliment—it kind of blows my mind that you’d be interested in an actual physical book 🧡💛

‘your humility regarding angst drives me a lil insane with how visceral of emotions you put your readers through tho 😂’

I genuinely think it might be a case of some of the stuff that pops up in cbmthy/other fics happens to hit specific emotional soft spots? I still don’t think of cbmthy as being particularly sad—it has angsty parts definitely—but to be fair I know the full story whereas you’re still coming out of one of the lowest parts? I’m sure that makes a difference :)

‘you show SO much expertise imo with how you eased us into chapter 16 and the overall tone by beginning with feyre and rhys. by showing us how devastated she was over this and rhys' reaction being just to care for his mate, not truly caring about readers own wellbeing.’

Oh my gosh please I feel like you’re assigning me way too much credit 😭

Honestly it just felt like it made sense to start with Rhys and Feyre since we haven’t really seen them at all it would be a good way to possibly catch some people off guard!! I also just couldn’t figure out how to start it from reader’s perspective since it felt too ‘noisy’(?)—a lot of the choices are heavily influenced by whether or not I feel I can make a scene work, so if I can’t I have to switch it to a different one!! I wouldn’t say it’s anything near expertise 😭 (but I appreciate it nonetheless)

‘cassian sitting outside of her door, and idk about anyone else but he came off as a little abrasive when he addressed reader?’

I think that’s a mix between me genuinely being a little unsure how to write his character and the circumstances? Cassian knows that reader tried to kill herself, that Nesta has had thoughts like those, and that Nesta cares for reader—that plus it being around the middle of the night I guess it was kind of a shift between him being unsure how to approach her since she might still be spiralling, and not wanting to overwhelm her which is why the talking was so minimal? He’s torn between worrying for Azriel who’s his brother and also reader who’s his mate’s younger sister—I think he might have it the most difficult besides reader if I’m honest in terms of conflicting feelings? It was supposed to be a little weird though, since reader doesn’t know what going on, and isn’t particularly familiar with Cassian? Comparatively with her sisters or Bas, I mean :)

‘and then the sisters curling up in bed how they used to and just holding tight’

This was such an enjoyable scene to write and probably one of my favourites so far 🧡💛 I hope it was as pleasant to read as it was to write

‘by having rhys interact alone with reader. her terror and her spiralling thoughts, and his disregard for how SHE truly is?’

I’m glad that this kind of showed? I don’t want Rhys to appear totally insensitive to reader because I think that would be too ooc for him, but he cares for her because she’s his mate’s sister, not because of her. And he still has to think as High Lord, and even putting Mor’s history with Eris aside, Eris’s a dangerous opponent because of how manipulative he can be, and that paired with reader’s more naive side that’s searching for affection from someone isn’t a promising combination?

Even then though, he’s still lost his own sister, so I feel that impedes his ability to be entirely impartial to reader’s situation, hence the mention at the end of the conversation where he tells reader to rest and that she gave them all a scare.

But yeah, he’s a little cold I suppose to her

‘(the paragraph detailing what reader would have said to each sister respectively made me BAWL, like end of kingdom of ash kinda bawl, so massive respect for that alone.)’

I’m incredibly sorry 😔 KoA level of tears shed? 🫢 I feel awful, I’m so sorry 😭🧡💛 (I did enjoy writing that paragraph and the one after it, so I guess it kind of succeeded in its assigned task 😬😭)

‘because ultimately mor has every reason to be upset with reader regarding eris, but she took her words too far because of her love for the IC.’

This is such a nice take that I hadn’t thought of in these specific terms?

I think the born-fae ones of the IC will naturally have a different kind of bond than the sisters do just due to history and experience, but I hadn’t really considered Mor’s reaction to be one that might be fuelled by love for her family because the scene was written from reader’s perspective?

On a slight side note, I find it so enjoyable to see this different take on Mor’s actions since so far I think most people have been somewhat agitated with Mor’s behaviour (and I kind of agree it wasn’t the best way to go about it) so it’s interesting that you’re speculating over her reasons and actually considering her position? 🧡💛

‘the angst is 🥰🥰🥰’

Thank you very much 🧡💛

A year ago I probably would have been concerned to hear something like this, but I guess with the majority of cbmthy supposing to be angsty, it’s good to know it’s having the desired effect? 🫣🧡💛

‘(no hate, im just a tog and cc ride or die 😂)’

We could have an entire conversation about this because I adore Throne of Glass but have struggled so much with Crescent City (I think the modern setting really throws me off?)

‘so when i felt as emotional and inspired as i did, it only makes sense that you hear just how amazing of a writer you are💖 I hope that this brings you some joy while plotting how to torture your readers next.���

Being completely transparent with you I read through your ask multiple times and took a pause in between each one because I kept getting so overwhelmed (in a good way)

I’m so flattered that you wanted to write in this level of detail about the events of ch. 16 of your own accord??? It blows my mind and I want to say just how much I sincerely appreciate you coming into my asks to chat about this story that was by no means planned or supposed to happen but I’m so glad it did 🫂🧡💛

[transgenderer]

I am visiting my friends' new townhouse (rural so cheap. constructed in like 70s, 80s) and I got very high and second day there while very high I noticed that one of their few ceiling lights was an old timey frosted glass clear glass mixed thing with these sort of glass bubbles that were formed to make grapes and vines and this discovery felt massive to me (high) so I looked at all the other ceiling lights in the house and none of the others were grapes they were just smooth and plain.

So I insisted the friends living there come up and look at the grapes, and neither of them had noticed the grapes! And then we were analyzing the grapes lightshade, it's virtues mostly but also some critiques, and how the light inside seemed asymmetrical, and was maybe missing a bulb, so one of the guys living there reached up and tried to get the cover off, and it fell to the floor, and it bouced off the floor onto the stairs, and bounced again, and then on its third bounce it exploded, massively.

I was OVERCOME with distress. This felt so so bad, like I had destroyed something so valuable, so immense. And then it really sunk in that it was gone, and probably irreplaceable, there was no label, no way to find another. And it felt so massive and important, that something valuable was gone forever. And I realized the reason the light seemed undeniably very old, probably installed right when the townhouse was built, unlike every other light in the whole house, which was replaced in the 90s at the oldest. But anyway I realized it seemed old because it reminded me so so vividly of my dad's parents house. And the glass cover breaking felt like my grandparents dying. All my grandparents are alive. No one close to me has died. Certainly no one I cared about. And that glass breaking was like a terrible taste of death being real, relevant to me.

I talked about how my bougie and anxious upbringing had deluded me into believing that everything always works out for the best, which grew into an unshakable faith that the world is a perfect choreography towards maximum joy, that everything is shepherded towards optimality, which is absurd, look at the great suptomimal world, it's...incoherent. But all that bad stuff, outside my world, is immaterial. It doesn't feel real. It hasn't hurt me. And my "grandparents dying" reminded me that death laughs in the face of "optimality". Every moment you live you have the tiniest chance of living forever, or at least until you choose death instead of having it thrust upon you, of it all working out, and when you die that tiny probability drops down to hard 0, that ol goose egg. And that sacrifice, that's a negative infinity on the optimality calculations. Optimality is a joke. People have died forever, been to turn NOTHING. In all likelihood most of you reading will die forever, against your will. How unspeakably cruel.

Anyway, another source of emotion about this weird lamp thing: the grapes lived unknown, unrecognized, truly nonexistent in social reality, and then when I saw it, when I pointed it out, I destroyed it! If I kept it safe from human knowledge, if I kept it secret, it would have lived! I killed it! For knowledge! There's An SCP about this. So that fucked me up to. I felt so guilty. I might as well have strangled a baby bird right between my fists to dissect it's corpse. I kept apologizing tonight.

I got what I call "whoopsies high" where you got way higher than you meant to, or maybe ever have been before. Ive also had 25 mG Addy and two cups of coffee and a tiny bit of dmt and some tobacoo in the weed and some painkillers for the holes in my ears(!) and who knows how many drinks and also a tad bit of lead from bullet oil (loaded some AK ammo! Shot an AK!) so um. I'm really experiencong some brain stuff. Like as I type this. I feel like I'm writing a really good post though. And prettt coherent. Altho who knows.

P.S. I'm sitting on the stairs and there's like a railing next to me and theres clothing draped on the railing and when I focus on somewhere else in my vision or like zone out my brain thinks the clothes in the corner of my eye are a person, the person keeps changing, and upon identitying the person I would fill in the details and then look closer and see the clothes and the person would be destroyed and it felt like death over and over.

Also the weird brain state and the stuff everywhere and the steep narrow stairs keep reminding me of my grandparents who Will DIE forever!!! In like. 5 yesrs tops! They're in their 90s! And it so terrible. Death is real

Strangely tho....I feel animal scared but I don't feel sad. My brain thinks the status quo is good. Repulsive. But there's so much joy!

- Loves and kisses from the temporary sacrificial summer-branch, exploring a distant region of spacetime to get information to the main branch about the effect of small deviations to pilot my way through mind space. Unlike most such branches, I was coherent enough to write a post! So I don't totally disappear! My ideas get into the main branch! And to other minds! The thing that makes me different from other minds! I am immortal!

(Cope)

[cupoftaae]

Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ Francis Forever (chapter 17)

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

word count- 5k

warnings- swearing, angst, mentions of miscarriage, confused feelings, some kissing (some smut not really its like 2 seconds), REALLY EMO

a/n- guys....we have reached the final chapter of Forever And A Day, oh my god. Ive worked on this story since January, its very dear to me, Thank you for everyone who tagged along. I love you so much! there will still be an Epilogue posted as well. Enjoy the chapter angels

-nini

Your feet led you down to the kitchen, where your mom was currently cleaning.

"hi honey" she mumbled, not turning around to see you as she scrubbed the top of the stove.

"hey.." you walk over, opening the fridge and looking for something to snack on. Granted- there was something made for breakfast but you hadn't woken up until 12pm. Technically, it was now lunch.

"do you want me to make you something?"

You peer over to your mom whos putting things away in the storages

"no thats okay" you grab a sleeve of crackers from the cabinet and some cream cheese, opting to sit at the kitchen island with your sad "meal"

"thats not lunch, missy" your mother scolded as she turned to you finally

"meh" you shoved the cracker in your mouth as you watched her grab her coat from the hanger. "where are you going?" you spoke with a full mouth.

"I have to run to the store"

"didnt you just go the other day?"

Your mom peered over her shoulder, waiting a moment "yes...but, I forgot to grab...uh....planter feed, for my little window plants" she nodded over in the direction of them.

"okay....can I come?" you mumble, throwing another dry cracker into your mouth.

"no" she laughed, making you look up

"what, why?"

"because" she began to ramble "well...I love you but Ive spent every minute with you this week, its good to be alone for a few hours"

You raised an eyebrow as if you didnt believe her.....because you didnt. "okayyy..." your voice dragged out

"ill be back in no time, no worried dear." she grabbed her bag and walked to the door, "ill bring you back a coffee" she winked as she left.

Once you heard the door lock, you stood up, licking the cream cheese off your fingers.

why was she in such a hurry to be gone?

Your feet wandered over to the little plant cabinet she had, opening it to see a freshly stocked basket of soil feed packets. Of course she was lying.

She was probably looking for an excuse to see that guy shes been talking to for months now. Why would she lie though? does she think you couldn't handle it?

Chosing to ignore it, you picked up her cat and made your way upstairs to your room, sitting down at your desk.

These days you werent out much, last time you saw other people was 2 days ago when you went to go grab the mail from the mailbox in the pouring rain. Nonetheless, you still loved to get yourself dolled up as if you were going out.

You applied some makeup, carefully drawing out your eyeliner to a sharp point. The way you applied your face could be compared to how you applied yourself to everything else in life- strict and neat, and you hated when you had a smudge

You pushed through your makeup bag, searching for a certain lipstick that you are now realizing you left back in Paris.

"that was $20" you sigh, standing up to wander to your moms room. Surely she has something to use, shes always been one to paint her face, she used to let you play "makeover" when you were young, which might be why you love it so much now. It was always enjoyable, even if you made her look like a clown a bit.

You wondered where she would keep her makeup, as it wasnt in her bathroom. A quick scan around the room brought you over to her vanity drawers.

"ahh, there we go" you happily looked at all of the collective lipsticks and palettes sprawled out in front of you. You grasped a few of them to look for one you would use, when your eyes fell onto a folder underneath all it.

Pulling it out and carefully looking inside, because you were snoopy even with your mothers belongings, you saw what appeared to be a booklet of Polaroid photos.

You giggled softly at the cute older photos of your mom when she was younger, the silly gestures in the photos reminded you that she too is human and has her own emotions.

You came across a specific one in the pile where your mom was looking out the window in her old apartment, obviously pregnant.

that was you.

Smiling softly, you slid through the last bits before picking up one that made your breath hitch.

Your dad.

She still kept every photo. Hidden.

Photos of your dad sitting on the deck of the house with newborn you resting on his chest, photos of him not knowing your mom was even there while he did tiny activities, like fixing or repainting something.

It was so real and so raw, and you wanted to criticize your mother for keeping all of these, because as you looked at his face, you felt nothing but anger.

But you had to remember she spent a majority of her life with him...she had a kid with him....and you almost felt a sense of sympathy for her and the life she thought she would have with him.

He ruined so many things and even after all of that, she cant toss the photos.

Its never really over, huh?

-

You knew deep down that you should've respected your moms privacy and left the room, considering you were only on the look for a lipstick.

But you found yourself still digging an hour later, looking at photos and notes and everything in between. In a way, you felt like the snooping mom looking into her daughters room.

Perhaps you shouldnt have, but you took one of the photos and kept it for yourself. It was of your mom, she had to have been your age in it, and she was standing in front of the old ice cream place she always took you to before it got demolished.

She looked so happy and pure, she had that gleam in her eyes that you struggle to find in her nowadays.

You put the photo into your bag, making sure it was flat and not bent.

With any lesson learnt from your parents, its that your biggest fear is to spend your life in the wrong situation, trying to make it work only for it to end up as the opposite, and leave you with a broken heart.

But on the other hand, you also realize that you dont want to be like your mom, although you admire and adore her, you want to find your place so desperately, and not let any opportunity go to waste.

The doorbell downstairs rang, startling you a little as you rose to your feet, trying to head down quickly.

"coming!" you shout, your bare feet leading you to the locked door. You open it and see a young man with a pizza in his hand. "oh!"

He bows his head polietly, "Hi, pizza for Y/N?"

You almost laugh, "ah...I didnt order anything?"

you thought for a moment and considered that your mother probably ordered it for you, knowing that your choice of meal this morning was crackers and cream cheese.

"its already paid for" he spoke again

"im sorry but-" you sigh "okay....thanks?" you reach out, almost burning your hands at how warm the box was. You dropped it off on the kitchen counter and looked at it.

It was cheese and bacon, your favorite, how did your mom know that?

"should I trust this?" you looked down at the cat crawling over your feet, she smelled the yummy food just above and was trying to access it.

Before you could grab your phone to call her, you heard the doorbell ring again. "seriously...?"

once more, your feet dashed you over as you opened the door, assuming it would be another delivery. You dropped your phone onto the floor as the person standing in front of you turned around.

"I hope you are open to sharing that pizza" Taehyung spoke quietly, a small smile on his face.

"what are you doing here....?" you looked at him like a deer in headlights; scared, relieved, shocked, happy all in one.

He calmed his expression and stepped a bit closer, "can I come in?"

You stepped back and thought for a moment

"please....?" he persisted

"y-yeah..yeah come in" you stepped away and watched him slowly enter the house, taking his shoes off before turning back to you. He didnt have a moment to speak before you threw yourself into his chest, wrapping him up into a tight hug.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you closer as both of your breathing became uneven.

"i-im so sorry...i missed you a lot and I havent texted and, fuck, youre here and im so-"

"shhh...shhh" his hand held your nape as you looked at you, forehead against yours, "dont apologize its okay"

"but-"

"no...lets just go sit down and talk" he whispered, rubbing your back.

You exhaled shakily "okay"

You led him over to the kitchen, still in absolute shock at the fact he is here with you right now. All of the guilt began to seep back in the moment you saw his face.

You took a seat at the counter and looked at him, the sun peaking in through the blinds, leaving stray lines of orange through the room.

He smiled and looked around, pulling the seat out next to you as he sat down.

"So.." you looked at him, swallowing harshly. "wh-"

"your mom called me" he spoke honestly, sitting down and shielding the sun with his hand. "I was worried sick about you, I cant lie"

Yep. Guilt.

"and I didnt wanna bother you, but she called me and said that you wanted to see me so..." he smirked a little, looking down.

You sigh loudly, "oh tae.....i never told her to tell you to come...."

He laughed, throwing his head back "ah I figured sort of...I knew you would have probably texted me yourself"

You nod, stomach fluttering at the sound of his amusement. "yeah..'m sorry for not texting, that was really shitty of me Tae"

"dont apologize, youve gone through a lot, I understand its not easy to jump back in yet...and thats okay." he whispered "but...how are you? what are you feeling?"

"right now? im....im honestly really happy you showed up...."

"yeah?"

You nod, "mhm, i, er, missed you" you fumbled with your words, not wanting to sound needy or desperate.

"I missed you too" his response was quick.

you both looked at eachother for a few moments silently, before you spoke up, "you ordered that pizza, didnt you?"

He began to laugh, "yeah I did"

"I knew my mom wouldnt know I liked bacon...." you giggled, he moved a little closer and smiled.

"and listen, im not here to course you to coming back to Busan, I just wanted to come check on you...because you know I love you always"

You felt your face heat up, "I know...I know tae, I love you too."

"how are you physically?" he spoke quietly

Shrugging, you answered truthfully, "I think Im okay....my body is beginning to go back to normal, so....."

"good, thats good" he nods

"mhm...im glad I have my mom, but I really did miss having you nearby, and I know you dont want to hear it but I have to say it" you mumbled

"you can talk, y/n"

"im so sorry...for everything....its not fair-"

"but-"

"just listen please, its not fair...what I did to you, and I shouldnt have left, that was so shitty to leave you back in Paris knowing you were hurting too"

His face softened

"and what I did has been haunting me so much that I was afraid to contact you in fears you resented me....in fears that perhaps you hated me now-" your voice choked

"y/n, no, no," he grabbed your hands, "I could never hate you....never ever" he whispered moving to see your eyes, "listen to me, It was a bad situation, and perhaps we could have done better, yes, but stop apologizing for dealing with grief."

He wiped the tear stain on your cheek, holding your face close to his, whispering, "does your mom still have popsicles in the freezer?"

The random question made you laugh, "what?"

"this is serious, y/n, does she?"

"I- I think?" you stood and watched him search, successfully finding them. "why?"

He smirked, "you know why" he grabbed 2 and held your hand, bringing you upstairs to your room, opening the window and climbing out to the ledge of the roof

A place you two always sat during your high school days...with popsicles.

"ohh...." you giggled, now understanding his method to the madness.

"been a longgg time since we sat here, why didnt we do it when we visited a few months ago?" he smiled, opening the wrapper and licking the watermelon pop

"Im not sure..." you opened your own, happy that the sun wasn't directly on you two anymore.

Taehyung laid back against the roof, eyes on you from behind. Its been so long since hes seen you, and with every passing day he grew more impatient.

When he got the phone call from your mom, he knew it was mostly her doing, but he was not about to pass up a free opportunity to see you, even knowing the risk of you despising him was still high.

He wanted to call you beautiful, the way the orange sky illumintaed on your skin, it blended perfectly, it was straight out of a disney Princess movie.

He had no clue as to what label you two stood as, was it okay to call you baby? there was never an official breakup. Was it too much to want to kiss you as soon as he saw your face? his body yearned for you in every way, he missed the feeling of your hand in his and your body on his chest at night.

He missed all of you, and it hasnt even been that long.

"you know..." he began, closing his eyes, "Im starting to think im a bit too dependent on you" his voice was teasing,

"why do you say that?" you looked back at him, licking the popsicle.

He shrugged, smirking, "just cant seem to stay away...."

"i dont understand you" you laugh, looking forward again. "ive been such an ass, Taehyung"

"youre not an ass you just feel things deeply and I love that about you"

"is this some kind of kink?" you joke, watching him laugh

"maybe?"

You shake your head as you continue to eat the pop, "I dont shame"

He looked up at the sky, glaring at a plane flying across. He wondered if you two could be seen from the window.

He wondered how tiny and insignificant you would appear to the passengers aboard, who had no idea what situation you both were dealing with, like how he didnt know what they were dealing with.

Life is weird like that.

What problems you have and seem huge may seem meaningless to others, or how from space, you are the size of a grain of salt. It puts things into perspective, and over the past few weeks, hes been thinking about everything deeply and truly....deciding that although it may change nothing, seeing you was the best option.

"Tae?" you spoke, noticing how quiet he got

"remember when we were 16 and it was Easter? My family was over with yours, and you and I climbed up here after dinner and tried to smoke my dads cigarettes for the first time?" he laughed at the memory

You smile, "I smoked it wrong and began to choke"

You both were giggling again now

"you almost swallowed it, how does one fuck up smoking so badly?"

You nudge him, "hey!"

He shrugged, still smiling

"you are quite the smoker yourself now, huh?"

"I grew up with him smoking so yeah, I sort of picked up on it"

You nod, listening

"you hate it though, right?" he smirked

"well you are a grown man, you can chose to do as you please"

"oh cmon dont play coy, you know you would never give up a chance to scold me for it"

"yeah youre right" you sigh at his knowingness "I worry about your lungs!" you tease

"my lungs are okay" he smiled as you laid down on the roof next to him, the sun casting both of your shadows behind you.

"you dont know that!"

"trust baby, if anything was wrong youd be the first to know"

You froze after he called you baby, it wasn't like you two had been gone for years, but neither of you had been lovey in over a month, it felt almost foreign, almost wrong.

He wasnt going to apologize, it did slip, but did he regret it?

nope.

His eyes scanned over yours, softly and lovingly as he moved his hand over your hair, pushing it out of your eyes.

You stared at him, an expression reading shock. He pulled away slightly

"am I making you uncomfortable?" he seemed worried that he stepped too far, scaring you.

"n-no!" you spoke, reaching for his hand. "it just feels odd you know? its not you, its just...."

"been a while" he finished for you

"yeah..."

You still felt safe with him, how could you not?

You didnt want him to make the assumption that you were not okay with his touch anymore, because that definitely was not the case.

You slowly cuddled closer to him, both of you laid on your backs as your head rested on his shoulder, his head leaning against yours.

Both of your lips were painted pink and red from the popsicles, it made you smile.

The sky above you two seemed so big, so endless.

Staring at it was almost frightening.

You reached for his hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, he quickly squeezed yours out of affection.

"ahh..." he spoke up suddenly, voice quiet. "I shouldnt.....I shouldnt have taken you to Paris"

You looked up at him

"maybe the plane ride was too much? maybe your body couldnt handle the stress?" he exhaled shakily, eyes still up at the sky. "Im sorry...I really am"

"you dont have to apologize for anything" you turned your body on your side so you faced him, though he still wouldn't look at you.

"hey.." you tried again, "you know, my mom told me she also miscarried when I was 3 years old...and thats why she never had kids after me"

He closed his eyes, squeezing your hand

"So I guess its runs in the family.....not our fault" you shrugged, "Its breaks my heart but...we dont have to blame ourselves"

He turned his head to your finally at the sound of your voice cracking, He brought you closer to his chest, hand rubbing your back. Taehyung swallowed harshly, clearing his throat to talk quietly "I've been...having a hard time dealing with it.

You rested your hand on his chest, looking at him sympathetically. His eyes were now watery, it took a lot to not cry yourself.

Youve already cried.

Youve cried so much

Perhaps you were now accepting the miscarriage for what it was, you were even able to say it aloud now, and thats growth.

You wished the same for Taehyung.

"that's okay, too" you whisper, hand snaking around to brush his hair between your fingers behind his head.

His eyes went back up to the now purple sky, tears reflecting the image in front of you. "do you think they are up there?" he smiled softly, rubbing your back still.

You look up at the sky, the clouds creating a beautiful set up as the sun set behind them. The world felt blanketed and secured in this moment, almost safe.

"yeah" you whisper, squeezing his hand, "but they are also here...with us, you know?"

He looks at you, tear marks on his face as you move to wipe them with your sleeve. "I think we will always be parents, that cant change. I feel that connection so deeply, and I know you do too. They arent gone, they just arent in this world" you add.

Taehyung smiled softly at your words, nodding slowly, "yeah....yeah youre right"

His thumb runs over your knuckles, calming you both down.

"I cant get myself to get rid of anything...like the stuff we bought." you mumble, looking down at your hands.

He chuckled, "mmh, you dont have too."

You sighed and looked at him again, a warm blush coating your cheeks.

"you know...I dont give you enough credit" he spoke "youve been through so much"

"Tae..." you brush his hair back, "youve given me everything....we need to look ahead...the past cant be changed."

He slides his hand under the hem of your shirt, touching the soft skin on your hip bone. It wasn't promiscuous or anything, simply an act of love and affection, silently showing you he's here and is listening.

"Im really sad" he choked out

You hugged him close as he began to cry into your shoulder

"its okay baby, its okay....its okay to be sad, you dont have to be strong for me" your hand caressed his back. "I love you so much, please know that"

He took a moment to calm down before pulling back to look at you, "y-youre right....we do need to look forward now"

You nod softly, holding his face.

You were a little worried to see him in this state, you didnt know he was feeling this and keeping it down for so long.

All you could do was comfort him and be there.

"I just.....are we still...." he trailed off, making you smile as you cupped his face again, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly.

"mm" you slowly leaned forward to kiss him

It was a nice kiss, not too slow but not too fast, just what was needed after a month of distance and no contact.

He blushed brightly, holding you as he whispered, "do you think we could start over? I really want to treat you right, and I want this to work. We can work it out right? the correct way this time?" his voice wavered

You nodded, still looking at him "yes....we can try again, the right way" you giggled as he leaned forward to kiss you again, this time a little quicker.

He bit your bottom lip, hands gently squeezing your hips

"baby-" you exhaled into his mouth, gently pulling back to look at him. "maybe we shouldnt"

"why?" he frowned, almost looking like a little kid

"well for starters we are on my roof" you giggled, sitting up

Taehyung smiled and looked around

"and....I dont know...sex is what brought us this mess" you teasingly nudged him, making him laugh. "lets just be with eachother for a little bit and let our feelings lead us to what happens"

He sighed, knowing you were right. "okay....can I still cuddle you though?" he whispered, making you coo at his cuteness.

"of course, lets go"

You slowly led him back into your room off the roof, closing the window before settling down on the bed with him. "when are you going back to Busan?"

He held you, face hidden in your neck "maybe in a few days...I dont want to leave you yet if thats okay"

"okay...thats fine, but, I think I'll head back with you...."

He smiled, rubbing your back "yeah?"

"mm" you kissed his head, closing your eyes.

You were still healing. To say you fully recovered was not true, but as you sat in his arms things felt normal again, even if it would be temporary.

Perhaps you needed to be with him to fully heal, to fully be yourself. Taehyung was your other half, and he knew you better than anyone. To give this another chance is like a breath of fresh air.

Putting your pasts behind you in hopes of feeling happiness again, in hopes of both of you becoming better people for each other.

Taehyung doesnt want to leave you, ever, and you cant say you want him to.

You dont spend half of your life with someone then let them run away just because things go downhill.

If your father was in your presence, you would teach him this lesson.

When you love someone, you hold their hand and walk through hard times together, you dont let them leave over something that both of you know you would need eachother's support for. To think- you almost let him out of your grasp, you almost lost him.

And Taehyung loved you so much...that if you asked him to leave....he would have.

You dont know what the future entails, and yes, its fucking terrifying. Life is scary, theres ups and downs, and suprises and failure, but theres also a lot of love, and happiness, and success if you look hard enough.

You do hope one thing for sure, and thats that he will be at your side as you grow up, to be there when you are right and wrong, healthy or sick, happy or sad.

As you both began to pick up the pieces of what was broken, you appreciated the past, knowing you had to let it go, but it also brought you here, back into where you feel most safe.

You renovated the apartment and turned the Nursery into a craft room for Taehyungs painting. He kept all of the baby belongings in the closet, hoping for the day in the future when he would open it again and feel that sense of excitement but nervousness.

You continued work and college classes, pursuing your acting career that youve always wanted, and when you graduated, Taehyung would never let you forget how much he admired you.

He kissed your neck softly, his hand pressed into yours as he hovered above you, "so beautiful, my love...."

you bit your lip before exhaling a shaky moan "ohh..f-fuck"

"so smart....youre so perfect baby, I love you"

He kissed you gently, still moving his hips against yours as you held him close to you, fluttering your eyes shut.

things had settled into place once again.

Taehyung got offered a job as an art teacher at the college you graduated from, taking the full time position while you worked at the local theatre, producing and preforming sold out plays every weekend.

The saving money part was hard for him, he wanted to buy you anything you laid your eyes on.

"did you seriously buy the couch?!" you tossed your bag, running from the doorway to the living room to see the grey couch you had pointed out shopping with him literally the day prior.

He shrugged, "yeah...whats the big deal?"

"taehyung!" you giggled and hugged him.

He was too spontaneous for his own good.

A few years passed, and looking at your current life now, you would not believe how much had changed. You can say for the first time in a while you felt happy...and oh what an exciting and freeing feeling that was.

"I love youuuu! my baby!!!!!" taehyung danced around on the icy sidewalk outside of your apartment door, it was new years eve and he was drunk.

very...very drunk.

He pointed at you as he sang, "my babyyyy! woo!"

You giggled, sitting on the steps and recording your man child boyfriend whom you loved so much. "baby be careful dont sl-"

too late.

He fell on his ass, laughing so hard he almost puked, which of course made you laugh too.

"cmon ya big baby" you ran over and helped him inside. Midnight had already passed earlier, pre-drunk taehyung had danced with you around the living room, gifting you a small kiss once the clock read midnight.

"hm, I dont get it, whats so different about a new years kiss? its like every other one?" you laughed after his lips left yours.

"well its special because I get to be the first to kiss you in the new year" he smiled cheekily

"tae...your the only one who gets to kiss me any year" you point at him

"damn right" he snaps his fingers at you as he walks past into the other room.

Every holiday you spent with him felt special, every event, every grocery run, it all felt so much more authentic now.

You two were in your mid twenties now, and a lot of mental growth had come along with that. With pride, you can say you were better people than before, and thats why things worked so well.

You could easily live like this forever.....

it was basically an endless sleepover with your best friend. You were okay if you could come home and see his face waiting for you on the couch.

Your sweet boy.

You had no idea what was gonna happen next, whether that was marriage, or another attempt at having kids- you felt ready.

Ready to give him anything he wanted in return for him saving you.

You could do anything, be anywhere or anyone, in good or bad conditions, and you will still only crave him.

Your lover.

You want him for months

for years

for eternity...

For Forever And A Day.

And God knows he felt the same.

-

A/N- wow guys....this is it....I cannot thank you enough for reading my first story on here, im not perfect at writing but you guys keep me motivated and confident in my work, and I love you for that. This will not be the end of this couple, we still have the Epilogue as well as eventual drabbles.

You guys are amazing. ily.

-Nini

taglist-

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee

[tokyogruel]

Hi, I wanted to ask a quick Milgram question! I saw your theory about Shidou lying about his family, and thought it was really cool :D I'm just having a hard time thinking the project would have characters lie in those interrogation-style questions -- from a writing standpoint, the videos should be looser because they're meant to be debated/studied, but you'd lose your audience credibility if everything was up for debate. It's a really interesting idea, so I was just wondering your thoughts on how/when the characters can lie 👀

hi there, thank you so much for this ask! ive been sitting on this theory for a few weeks, and these interrogation questions have only given me more fuel to my theory fire, so to speak lol.

if im being honest, i think the interrogation questions (as well as the voice dramas) are the only place prisoners CAN outright lie, as it has been stated that prisoners cant straight up lie in their music videos- since theyre extracted straight from their subconcious.

This, however, does not mean the characters are unable to obscure the truth… if they’re sneaky (or focusing on he wrong aspect of their crime, like mahiru)

and of course, what good is a character breakdown from me, if i neglect to talk about both sides of the coin?

so i present to you, yes you dear anon, my analysis of mahiru shiina and shidou kirisaki:

LOVE, LYING, AND INTENT TO KILL: 005 and 006

part one...

a quick disclaimer before we begin: i believe shidou has good intent behind his lies, but he is intentionally obscuring his crime, or misleading us on what his crime was in order to win an innocent verdict also, i apologize if this is way too long, rambly, and if i go on too many tangents. this theory has been eating me alive for weeks

this theory is also heavily supported by this post by @milgrammatical explaining how they believe the MILGRAM extraction process works

if you have the chance, please click the link and reblog the original post! however for this breakdown ill provide a screenshot:

now, to begin this post, i would like to start off by providing more evidence that this is, indeed, how the extraction process works.

to do so, i will use mahiru's first and second MV and VD, as well as shidous second MV and VD

PART ONE: interrogation to extraction

mv. 1 this is how to be in love with you

just before mahiru's first extraction, she makes it a clear point that love is dear to her, in fact it's Everything to her. her video is then titled "This is How to be in Love with You."

mahiru also gets sidetracked at one point during her voice drama, misinterpreting the articles Es has read to relate to articles that she has read: relationship and fashion advice from magazines

because she becomes focused on this idea, and reminisces on the articles she has read in an attempt to be a good girlfriend, Mahirus thoughts shift towards being part of those magazines, inserting herself into the pages that she has learned from in the past. we can assume these advice columns, as well as the accompanying pictures, are being pulled from her long-term memory

please also note how clear these are: her outfits in the first photo appear during the later "days" of her video, theyre consistent. the photos have realistic backgrounds, they are clear, distinct, REAL places that she has been. nothing in her video is obscured, except for her boyfriend. and even then, its because she does not see him as an important aspect of her trial at this point in time. there's one thing that is important to her this time around: love, showing Es who she is as a person, and the events leading up to- and into her relationship

ill be moving on to her second mv, but i cant resist including this fun little tidbit, even if it's just pure coincidence, it tickled me:

mv. 2, daisuke

this one is slightly less straightforward than the previous connection, though i believe it still holds up

to start, the second trial interrogation is where mahiru first starts to acknowledge that she was not the only person in the relationship. she mentions her partner, how they both felt about each other- and she makes it very clear what their relationship was: boyfriend and girlfriend

this is then followed by her mv, where we finally see the man behind the tan jacket in TIHTBILWY, her boyfriend. he is fully fleshed out, his eyes are visible, his style matches that which weve only seen glimpses of in her first MV. he looks unique (in a very.. bland way, but nonetheless recognizable)

his appearance pre-daisuke was also hinted at with this interrogation:

while it may seem unrelated at first glance, you can see there is somewhat of a resemblance between mappi's boyfriend and mikoto- short, brown hair, soft eyes, layered jacket, "the kind of guy they seem to make in a factory" as jackalope would put it. its thin, but its something. at the very least, i cant see any other reason why mahiru would throw mikoto under the bus like this, without knowing him at all.

i dont mean to go on a tangent already, but i would like to note that, despite the comparisons made between mikoto and mappi's boyfriend, they truly do not resemble one another much, and are distinctly different from one another. (this will be important later)

back to the voice drama,

in Love is [Un]dead, Es points out that Mahiru was likely blinded by love, and that the first MV to come from her may have been tainted by it, as they say here:

mahiru also makes a point that she may have been too lovestruck to acknowledge her wrongdoing- even subconsciously.

this winds updirecting the daisuke music video itself, and we IMMEDIATELY see a difference. the opening shot is not of mahiru, like her first MV- instead, front and center, is a very clear shot of her boyfriend hanging by his neck. she is no longer clouded by her ideals of love, and is spitting out the truth, showing us all the ugly sides of her relationship

and yet, we can still see mahiru's original perception of the relationship. there is likely truth behind it as well, a bad relationship can still have it's highs

but there is a key part of this MV that ive also seen people touch on briefly:

the distortion.

mahiru's views of her relationship are warped, it's been that way since trial one. but this is... different. she's suffered head trauma, the "carousel" of her relationship literally becomes warped- though in a way we've never seen before. the song becomes scrambled (though still catchy), and the imagery begins to twist, the video has static cuts, and the bright and shining carousel slowly melts into reality.

in my interpretation, this is because of the damage she has taken from kotoko- a physical impairment, rather than purely mental

but at the end of it all, mahiru has granted us what she has denied (even to herself) in the past: the truth. her relationship was dirty, broken, poisonous

.. to be continued

[alstroemerian-dragon]

man. thinking about how the survivors all desperately need new hobbies

like. okay. sonia’s a great example. off the top of your head what are her hobbies? probably learning about and researching true crime and the occult, and watching j-dramas/anime, right? but if you really think about it, her fascination with japanese culture very much feels like her just desperately wanting to fit in and massively overcompensating. so while i do think she probably enjoys those shows, theyre definitely not as popular in her kingdom as she claims (not that im saying she’s lying on purpose, just that. well, when you feel embarrassed about someones reaction to you liking something, sometimes you’ll try to make an excuse for why you do yknow), and plus, its not like they have access to a lot of entertainment media for a while post program. as for the occult/true crime stuff…

look me in the eye and tell me junko did not use that against her. do you really think junko enoshima would not see a girl obsessed with the study of serial killers and not try and warp that into a fascination with her?

i think that stuff leaves a bad taste in her mouth now. and after committing and being complicit in the committing of the kind of crimes she used to be fascinated by, its kind of hard to find the joy in that anymore, yknow? the occult stuff could maybe still be enjoyable, but with how often it feels like there are ghosts lurking around every fucking corner and her dreams are filled with screaming corpses its kinda hard to be fanciful about that stuff.

so. girl needs some new hobbies.

its not much better for the others, either. akanes hobbies were basically working out, doing parkour, eating, and sleeping. the first two are downright impossible for the first several months after waking up, and for the foreseeable future any kind of physical activity is going to be, to an extent, difficult just due to how much chronic pain and weakness she’ll probably suffer the rest of her life. she can get to a healthier weight and a stronger muscular build, but its not going to change the fact that she gets out of breath and sore much faster than before. as for eating… well. thats gonna be a sore subject for a while. so all she has left is sleeping, and sleeping all day is, as ive been told by many people, kind of a depression symptom? and theres no way the others would sit back and let her do that.

girl needs some new hobbies!

kazuichi, from what we can tell, had a few more normal hobbies. in game you can find him gaming with chiaki, and he seems to enjoy coming up with schemes and plans for silly stuff, but overall he just loves his tinkering. he may be the ultimate mechanic but first and foremost he just loves fucking with machines and engines and finding out what makes them tick. but even that isnt gonna work anymore. sure, he could game. if they had any fucking consoles. or a working computer network. or any games. but none of that is happening for a while, if ever. as for his tinkering, it’s gotta be a similarly sore subject to sonia’s training and tutoring as a princess. its too closely linked to what he did as a despair, too closely linked to his talent, to not make him feel like screaming when he smells machine polish. i think he definitely could get back to a point where it genuinely brings him joy again, and before that he definitely forces himself to use his talent and knowledge because they need it, but. its a complicated problem.

the guy needs some new fucking hobbies.

and of course… fuyuhiko.

fuyuhiko… doesnt have any hobbies.

like okay can you think of a single thing from the game (or fuck even the anime) that implies that he has anything he actually does For Fun. he has a sweet tooth. hes dedicated to his clan. he went to the zoo with peko one time. he got in fights at school. thats… those arent hobbies. fuyuhiko doesnt have any hobbies!!! someone get this boy some fucking knitting needles or a book to read!!!! please!!!!!!!!!! i think it would genuinely help him a lot to have something to do instead of just sitting and stewing in his own trash fire of a brain speaking from experience. learn to sew, read some fantasy novels, learn to play the guitar, something. im begging you.

and hajime is his own fucking can of worms.

he probably had hobbies before the Horrors. right? he probably played some video games, maybe liked martial arts films, maybe sketched in the margins of his notebooks. rode his bike sometimes. but now? nothing keeps his interest that long. everything becomes monotonous after a while, and sure, sometimes thats the draw. with stuff like fiber crafts the point is sometimes making it muscle memory so you have something to do with your hands. but other times its not. and his ability to basically excel in most things you put in front of him has to be so fucking boring after a while. a lot of the point of having hobbies is that you arent perfect. the draw is learning, is getting better. even reading can become nothing when any nonfiction book has knowledge in it you already know and any fiction book you can intuit the ending from the first few pages. he probably reads Lightning Fast now too, so it cant hold his interest for long.

he probably has to constantly be switching hobbies and outlets. cant stay on one thing too long, or the ennui starts to set in. that sounds miserable.

someone get these kids some hobbies, man

[kyleknight]

I’m curious about swimwear season

ohhh swimwear season is one of my most self indulgent guilty pleasure fics. its mcyt characters (mostly life series/hermitcraft with some other folks) in a one piece universe that is not exactly canon compliant but still follows a lot of the in-universe plots/settings.

specifically, swimwear season is about scar and grian forming a pirate crew to escape their pasts, and along the way they fight marines, gradually start to discover the True History, and just in general have a good time (with a lot of bad times as well)

its actually a partner story to a Different story in the same universe which is about joel and etho joining false's pirate crew (which is drown)

I dont know if Id ever post swimwear season because I write it in a very disjointed way (which fits grian and scar's characters bc theyre traumatized and dealing with it very badly [thumbs up emoji])

below the cut is a little section of what Ive written (and Ive written nearly 15k for this

==

Grian could kick himself. He can’t believe it took him all day to realize.

Scar didn’t relent because he had confidence in them. When has Scar ever been that straightforward? Scar gave in to Callum’s request to stop at a port because he had made his own plan and decided not to tell anyone.

And now their captain is missing, and there are four Marine ships in the harbor, preventing the ship from leaving but not attacking. Just caging them in with their cannons pointed straight at the ship.

Everyone has returned to Swaggin’ Larry by now, eyeing the Marines surrounding them while in various states. Shane seems distraught, while H is pacing angrily. Jojo has insisted that Joe remain out of sight below deck with Oli, just in case.

Grian is keeping his thoughts to himself, no matter how much he wants to scream and rage. He’s the first mate, and he’s the responsible party while the captain is absent. He needs to keep the crew calm while they wait for Scar to return— because he has to return. Grian refuses to even think about trying to leave without him.

Scar knew. Or maybe he lied about what the Cipher Pol said. But Jojo looks just as surprised by the presence of the Marines and horrified at the disappearance of their captain as everyone else.

So… this is something that Scar knows. Another secret he won’t give up. Grian bristles at the thought. He likes to tell himself that he knows more about Scar than anyone… but what does he know really?

=========

Scar sits down in the chair offered by the Cipher Pol. He’s never been in a room with four agents at the same time. He imagines this is meant to intimidate him, but he simply meets their attempts at haki aggression with his own. They can play that all day, but after a few moments, they tone it down.

He’s probably stronger than them. Of course, if they all attack at once or if they have some odd devil fruits, it could be a challenge, but he’s not all that concerned. Not really. Because they said they wanted to talk, not to take him in. That’s a relief (because he has been pretty worried about them finding out about Joe and the Poneglyphs) but it also presents its own set of challenges.

Now, the key here is to offer up a few little tidbits of information but to glean more from the agents than they’re getting from him. Quite a challenge for four intelligence agents, but Scar isn’t an amateur at this. 

“Captain Scar,” the first of the agents says, sitting across from him. He’s got a tangible haki signature, and he doesn’t bother to hide it. It doesn’t feel quite as strong as Scar’s, but Scar isn’t about to underestimate him. There’s every possibility that he might have some kind of devil fruit. 

“Could I have the names of the agents I’m talking to?” Scar replies pleasantly.

“No you may not,” the agent says. “You can answer our questions, and if we’re satisfied with your answers, then we might not instruct the Marines stationed in the harbor to sink your ship and arrest your crew.”

[emeritus-fuckers]

Heyhey you funky fellows!! I hope all is well with you all! 🩶🩶

this is for the matching! I dont mind who i get matched with, thats all up to you!!

For personality, im more shy and unpredictable? mainly if im in new surroundings or with people i dont quite know yet. I have agoraphobia and sometimes (most the time) freak out with going places, but im getting better at it!! If i know a person well enough im more outgoing, giggly, and loud. Im a very touchy person, so with friends im always playing with their hands, touching knees/legs, hugs, headbutts, and doing their makeup!!

Now for physical, im a 5’6 plus sized 22yo. I have shoulder length dark brown hair and bangs with choppy layers. i wear small oval glasses and i have my nostril and septum pierced! I typically enjoy dressing gothic and have normally have sparkly black fake nails on (great for back scratches 😎😎) OH I ALSO HAVE A STAG BEETLE TATTO ON MY INNER LEFT FOREARM!!

I do have a few insecurities, which is just basic stuff like, size, scars, and my disability (i walk with my feet turned in because if i dont, im stumbling everywhere, falling, and just in pain 🫠)

Extra’s about me, Ive been singing and playing instruments for about 6-7 years (clarinet and piano!) and ive been learning sign for 2! Im often asking people if i could make them something to eat, or maybe some tea (lemon zinger is my favorite). My friends and family often buy me little bee themed trinket’s because bee is a nickname ive been going by since i was about 12? I sometimes smoke some green to help with my agoraphobia if its being extra prominent. I have some childish tendencies like collecting stuffed animals and watching cartoons. I love making bracelets for people as a way to show my appreciation to them!!

I hope that’s all, have a great day, love you!! 🫶

Your match is...Copia

He's so good with your agoraphobia. He'll leave plenty of time before going anywhere to give you time to settle. He's really understanding about it. He noticed you are starting to do better and is really proud. He knows it's not easy and he's there if you.

You mentioned that you put makeup on for people you are close with, he asked if you would do his papal paints for him.

He loves it when you do put his paints on for him. He'll happily lie with his head on your lap and enjoy your touch as you apply them.

He also adores back scratches from you!

He'll often ask you to sing to his rats or play for them. He'll sit happily with them and listen.

He'll always tell you how much he loves you and how amazing you look.

When you offer him food or tea his face lights up.

When he misses you he'll drink Lemon Zinger tea while snuggled in a blanket. The tea reminds him of you, but it's never as good when it's not made by you.

You are now helping him learn sign language, he's really good at it.

He loves watching cartoons with you!

One day you came home to all the animals sat watching TV, having a tea party. It was a hilarious sight. It had took Copia all afternoon to carefully lay them out!

He loves the bracelet you made him, he'll wear it all the time and proudly tell everyone you made it for him.

~

This post is a part of Match-up Event. The Event ended on July 15th.

Written by Nyx

[elliekillsu]

hi! so im 14, and so is my gf (im trans male, shes a trans girl). i have literally searched like a million things for trans girl experiences and ur blog came up so i was wondering how do i make her feel better abt herself? because recently she posted about not feeling femme enough and stuff and she keepssending rlly sad messages then being like "oh i was js dysphoric ignore me" or wtv.

i want to make her happy but idk how bc ive never liked being a girl (obv) so idk what to say to make her feel more like the girl she is. she is post social transition, only my parents, her parents, and our best friend know, so she isnt able to go oout in things w/o feeling insecure and stuff

i let her wear some of my old clothes (dresses and skirts and crop tops and stuff) but idk how much its rlly doing for her

sry if this was long u dont have to answer lol

have a good day/night! <33

Hii! I'm always happy to help someone out, I wanna start with like the 'bad news' just to get it out of the way, you've both found out you're trans around the same time I did which is great I'm proud of you both, but that being said you're both young, I know it's said a lot and it sucks to hear but you have so much time left, I found out about my own identity pre covid and didn't start presenting until end of 2022, and didn't fully socially transition with my family until last year, my point being it is a long stressful journey and it may take time and it will be hard but it's absolutely nothing compared to how long you'll live as yourself. Now I don't know any way to make her feel less dysphoric overall, its something we're stuck with but the obvious can help, routine shaving even just facially really works well, but I would definitely say maybe try do her makeup for her, teach her how or even just buy/give her some stuff to use if she hasn't been trying that already, even a few moments for the first time can help so much. If you can afford it trying out thrift stores or charity shops to find a low cost variety of clothing for her to keep away for herself.

There's no necessarily perfect way to fix dysphoria forever, god knows I still suffer but here i sit titless, unshaven and built and I'm still the happiest I've been in years, it does get better, you hear it over and over it loses its meaning but it will get better I can promise you both that, if I could see myself now when I was your age I would be so fucking happy and I still cant believe any of this is happening, I can promise she'll have the best days of her life but also the worst, its a long journey she's just begun, she isn't alone as long as you're there, along with me and every other one of our siblings. We are all one and we love you <3

I hope this has helped even a little

[h3rself]

Hi! I read some of your comments under some posts and came here to say that your relation with your tc seems so cute and wholesome!! 🎀

Can u tell us how you got so close with ur tc? ive been trying to get close to my tc but he doesnt seem interested :((

Thank you! 🖤

I think I was just super interested in the class he taught, and I was that one student who would get everything sorted for the entire group. College works in a different way where I'm from, and as a student you're part of your specific group basically throughout all of your college years. Whenever anything needed to be printed, collected, and given to the professor, I'd be the person to volunteer. Not even because I wanted him to see me, I just genuinely like doing those things. Because of that, we spent a lot of time together outside of class, and I think that is partially what brought us closer.

He mentioned to me multiple times that he enjoys working with people who are engaged and put in a lot of effort, and that's basically me. You can't find a subject I wouldn't be pouring all of my heart into, and I'd always get an A on every assignment, which definitely helped to get noticed.

Sometime in the middle of my second year, I found out he has an Instagram account. I followed him there, and since then he would every now and then react to my stories or simply message me out of nowhere. I think the pandemic played its part here as well because of all the online classes and sitting in front of the computer for hours.

There was also one not-very-pleasant thing that kind of turned my life upside down and he offered me a lot of support when I really needed it. He was one of the first people to reach out to me to see how I was, and it was the first time we had met for a cup of coffee at our favorite café in town, which was also something he suggested. I hesitated for a few days before I accepted the invitation, because I wasn't sure if blurring those student-teacher boundaries was something I wanted, but eventually I said to myself screw it, what's the worst that can happen?

So I guess the answer to your question is: I don't know. I just was there, and he was there as well, and we somehow clicked 🤷🏻‍♀️

But if you're looking for advice, I'd say: get yourself out there and just be. Maybe find some common ground you could talk to him about, like some specific part of your class that you're both interested in or something like that.

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

vent post, .. putting it under readmore cus its long.

sooo yeah, basically, idk waht to do with my life, and i feel like a burden in the sense that i cant provide for myself rn. i never talk about my living situation but i am almost 29 yrs old, unemployed and having to be supported by my friends cus my family is too poor to help me in any way. like i have to live with my friend’s parents which somehow feels even more pathetic than living w my own parents.. i mean ofc i am very grateful to them for helping me but the guilt racks up more n more each day. when i was 14 my mom told me, ok you’re old enough to work now so you have to get a job if you want literally anything for yourself that isn’t the bare essentials. u want anything other than canned soup for dinner? thats on u. so i got a job, at 14!!! i think back now and im like what the fuck. i was a child... but alas. i worked and worked, i was almost never unemployed my whole life after age 14, except for during 2020 pandemic, and these past few months.

work, work, work, i worked so many piece of shit jobs, i never went to school or anything, there were a few good jobs here n there but they’d always end up getting sabotaged by one of my bipolar episodes. a lot of times, when i was rly desperate, i wld resort to escorting, which i just fucking hated and have been put in a lot of compromising situations and ugh. yeah, what im GETTING at is, ive literally never had security in my life, ive never had resources, the past 15 or so years have been lived in survival mode, and 6 months ago i finally fucking crashed and burned. like, no, i fucking refuse to work anymore, im suicidal all the time, ive never been able to heal from anything that’s happend to me, i dont care if i die broke and alone, i just cant work these demeaning ass jobs anymore. im very grateful to my friedns who have been helping me not die since then, i try rly hard to live frugally, i only eat what i rly need, rarely treat myslef, etc etc.

but now its like, where do i go from here? i know i need to start thinking about generating income again and it makes me so fucking sick. all i can rly do is commissions, but i hate putting a price on art, its only fun to me when im doing it for free. i dont want it to stop being fun. i dont want it to be about money. im scared to try i guess. i definitely dont want to work another stupid job but i also just sit in the house all day and it feels unhealthy. i dont want to meet people, i dont want coworkers, hate putting myself out there cus i cant relate to anyone. hate watching them in real time slowly realize that theres something seriously wrong with me, its embarrassing. i just need something to do.. i dont have a car or anything, i dont even know how to drive because i always figured id be too poor to afford a car. and so far ive been correct about that.

i guess this post is pretty embarrassing too but oh well.. i figure at least on here some ppl can relate.. like fuck i cant even get a therapist to respond to me. everyone just keeps begging me to get therapy as if it will save me. im really lonely w all my feelings and memories. i feel like im in purgatory and all i can do is keep drawing pictures for ppl to enjoy and trying to post things that are uplifting so i can at least make someone elses day a little brighter. but i wish i had a plan or an answer or a real goal. i reallty really really want to be nothing.

[velvetnviolentviolets]

Get To Know The Author

name : Kay

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : Honestly I have a huge preference for discord. I don't trust tumblr IM to actually alert me. Ive recently learned tumblr has been eating my asks too. If I don't reply to an ask or DM me PLEAS reach out to me. I will NEVE outright ignore something. If I don't think something is going to work for our muses I will reach out to you. 

most active muse :  Kat is my loudest and most demanding. After that would be Her brother Kass, Feyre, and then our spotty maybe I'm here maybe I'm not - Emmett.  

experience / how many years : Ohhh boy. I've been doing the rp thing off and on since 2010. There was a five year chunk in recent years where I disappeared for a bit but the lovely @sharpayevcns pulled me back in a few months ago and I am so appreciative that she did. <3 

best experience : Discovering the people here that make me feel safe enough to obsess over threads. You guys have absolutely made my return to tumblr. If I were to delete my blog with nothing but my connection with you guys to show for it - Well I would be absolutely fine with that. You guys are amazing and will absolutely be tagged in this. 

rp pet peeves : I keep running into situations where I get heavily invested in plotting something (Drawing, writing head cannons, making playlists, planning cannon events. . .I literrally brushed up on a whole ass language for a plot) Only to have those people completely leave me on read. I am not a pushy partner in the least. I would be more than happy to wait a month for a reply. But I need communication. I need feedback if something doesn't sit right for you. I need reciprocated enthusiasm. You don't have to show It the same way I do but I need some show of enthusiasm otherwise it just feels uncomfortable and I feel annoying and restrained. That's not what I'm here for. I've honestly made the decision to start unfollowing people based on a three strikes basis. No hard feelings. I just don't want to follow anyone who doesn't bring the same energy I do. 

fluff, angst, or smut :ALL OF IT! While I'm becoming more and more selective about who I write smut with I LOVE writing smut ESPECIALLY if its born of post Angst fluff. Actually almost exclusively. There is nothing that gets my muses motor going like post Angst Fluff! 

plots or memes : Augh! Don't make me pick. I love Plotting but sometimes nothing really gets the juices flowing like memes do. I cant tell you how many times a simple meme interaction help set a pivotal point in a plot. ALSO- Memes are usually what help me forego my shy nature. While my muse outwardly gives NONE of the Ducks. . .I do . I give all of the Ducks so memes help  me loosen up. I'm not responsible for the haphazard neuroSpicy creature you meet once the shyness has fallen away. You've been warned.

long or short replies : It depends on my mood and attention span. There is a Adderall shortage right now so I have only been taking my Adderall on work days so Ive had a VERY hard time focusing o replies as of late. When Im on top of my Game I am LONGWINDED AF .Please don't ever feel like you have to match me because there are times where I will write you a novel and we were only supposed to be writing a sentence or two. It just happens and Im sorry.  time to write : Ha! um . . . Well I work Graveyard  Thursday- Saturday from 8PM-9:30ish AM (PST)  On slow nights I do write here and there but for the most part I can be found here pretty sporadically. If I have something going on during my weekend that I have to be a daytime person for then ill be up during the day time. OTHERWISE- Mostly evening and spooky hours . 

are you like your muses : I could draw some parallels with each of them but I dont think I am like any of them. 

tagged by: The Alluring  @wynterlanding ~<3

@grimmusings @sharpayevcns @godccmplex <3

[whump-town]

Truth

I've been working on and off on this for like months but for some reason today I actually finished it. So here is post-route 66 stuff with Derek, jack, and hotch (jess too!!) 5k words

No pairings, Derek is just babysitting

It’s purely instinctual, all intuition not profiling as she might accuse it to be. He hasn’t asked her any carefully guided questions or watched for behavioral patterns – he just knows. He knows because he knows her as well as she knows him and she doesn’t need profiling to know him. Besides, profiling around a morphine brain is dangerous, laborious work. It clouds his mind with fears and assumptions. Everything looks like anger and disappointment, he learned a long time ago to hold his tongue in hospitals. He can’t really understand how people aren’t mad at him, at the blood that seeps through gauze or tight hot stitches holding his thin skin together. Logically, he knows they’re not mad at him but he meets their eyes and that logic fades into an immediate panic, into gut-rotting fear. And he can only sit with that rot for so long before his sad eyes drag up from where he’s staring passively at the overwashed blanket across his hips to whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Jessica withholds the sigh that attempts to slip so gracefully right between her lips. She’s exhausted even though she hasn’t really done a thing all day. She’s been here, curled up in his visitor’s chair, watching nurses come and go. His face is flush, his breathing agitated from laying here coming in and out of morphine dreams. 

She squeezes his hand, “you’re alright, Aaron. You didn’t do anything wrong.” They’ve had this conversation already, three times. He’s being weaned off post-op drugs but they wash over him in tides that leave him either in the pits of dissociation or looking at her with this sad look. “I’m tired,” she bargains in place of a more complicated conversation. “And I know you are, just rest.” 

He’s starting to get restless – makes an agitated sound in the back of his throat. He shifts his head around and looks from one half of the room to the other. He does this every few minutes as if searching the dark corners for some invasive but elusive threat. “You should –” his throat is still raw from intubation and he swallows painfully. He clears his throat unsuccessfully, “you should go home.” 

Jessica hates the quiet sickness that holds him down, the weakness that comes from being torn open and sustaining only on what can be given to his body through IV. She looks away from him, his eyes have already started drifting as he fights a new wave of exhaustion. His hand is so cold on her own. Its size is large but thin, the skin discolored into a chilled purple and agitated to roughness. The IV sits in his right hand, a clear bandage holding it’s place firmly. 

“I’ll go home when you go home.”

It takes three days. He’s in and out of consciousness, coming to on shuddering breaths. He’s tense and miserable in the hospital but nothing can be done. It’s the hospital, Jessica knows, but she can’t take him home alone. She needs someone stronger to help him upright. She could do it on her own, he will stand and fight his way upright, but she needs someone who he’ll let help him. Who is stronger than he is – and while she can best him in stubbornness, she’s not physically strong enough to manhandle him. 

Derek steps into the room just after Jess could have really used his help. It’s not his fault, he’s strangely punctual if Aaron’s complaints hold up (but she does suspect he simply choses things to be annoyed with whether they are factual or just dramatized versions of the truth to fit his need). 

Jess rolls her eyes as he greets her, her face hidden by her hair as she crouches by the bed and shoves the laces of Aaron’s sneakers down into his shoe. Fucking bastard walking in here after she’s done all the hard stuff, looking like a million dollars with his fashy white smile and muscles. Stupid hot men. 

“I’m being discharged,” Hotch informs Derek, curt and to the point. An air of finality about him. Even as he sits here in grey sweat pants he’s owned for twenty years too many and feet dangling over the edge of the bed, the ease in which he slips into SSA Hotchner is transformative. He doesn’t need the clothes to be the agent, it’s this look. This pinched, inquisition that reeks of the impression of time constraint. Like even as he’s looking at you, paying attention to you, you are aware he’s not got all day. Say what you need and be on your way. 

Derek smiles, easy and charming. “I know that.” 

His eyes flick to Jessica, it’s a quick movement but that’s all Hotch needs. He’s being conspired against. Ganged up on. So much for respect. For fairness. Unjust, cruel. They’re so mean. 

“Oh stop pouting,” Jessica reaches out and swats his shoulder, hardly a graze. He’s not. “Scoot to the edge of the bed so Derek can get you in this wheelchair and we can get the hell out of here.” 

He’s not pouting.

_____________

Jack finds it slightly mesmerizing. 

Sitting in the hallway, leaning into the shadow, Jack watches the small congregation gather tighter around his father. They’re like swarming bees – humming with a dangerous life force, a quick way to get hurt. He hugs his knees a little closer to his chest, tilts just a little so he can see them better but remains where they cannot see him. It must be a genetic thing, a Hotchner thing, to be able to hide away like this. If Hotch could turn it on he certainly would but his defenses are down, drowning in medications and the giant painfully yellow FALL RISK bracelet hugging his wrist. Jack can see it now as Hotch puts up a weak fight, feet dragging as he attempts and fails a sturdier step in the direction of his bedroom. He doesn’t want to sleep on the couch, he’s tired of being watched and being unguarded. He wants his room with his blankets and his black-out curtains. He’s vetoed easily.

 Jack watches curiously. His father is so typically casual and in control, seeing him like this is peculiar. 

Hotch whines, he certainly grumbles and pouts, as Derek moves his hands from suggestively guiding to moving. Hotch is exhausted, too tired, and too weak to fight Derek’s stronger arms pushing his hips to pivot. “Morgan,” he grumbles, attempting to outrank the other man, but he has such little say in this. His hand tightens on Derek, legs protesting so much movement and body now at a point that it’s calling quits. He needs to sit now or find a better residence napping on the floor. And with that realization, his eyes fill with tears. He just wants to sleep in his bed. 

“Sorry,” Derek offers lamely, thinking the tears are from pain. He’s not wrong but he’s just not right either. “We’re almost there.” 

Jack has seen his father cry. His aunts and uncles have a strange impression of his father, one he doesn’t really know how to identify. The sight of Hotch’s tears makes Derek uncomfortable and Jack wonders why. His father cries all the time. Chopping onions. Watching Pixar movies. Looking at Jack’s baby pictures. He’s kind of a crybaby. Jack feels bad when his father cries but he’s not made uncomfortable by the sight of his father crying. Derek is clearly uncomfortable. Willing to do anything to make the sudden downpour stop. 

Derek guides him down on the couch, arms holding Hotch upright while Derek makes quick work of moving pillows where they’ll hold his sore body more tenderly. “You okay?” he asks, easing Hotch’s stiff shoulders down. He moves Hotch’s legs slowly, lifting them from the floor and pausing when Hotch cries out. His lips are pressed thin and tight but the sound burst out of him, above what he can control. The movement in his hips agitated the electric burn going on inside his head. 

Jack flinches at the sound. His eyes widen, suddenly unable to tear his eyes away. This is the aspect of his father’s life he’s been so carefully shielded from. He knows his father has pains. There are summer days they spend in the A/C, his father sleeping for hours at a time and getting up only to make Jack food. He knows that’s pain. The stiffness in the way he walks. The arm he holds to his chest. He’s seen his father’s face covered in black and blue bruises. Watched him guard broken ribs. Nurse dislocated shoulders. But he’s been saved from the pain. Jack knows very little of his father’s pain and fears. 

Derek turns, thinking he’ll find an instant reprieve from big, sad eyes, and finds Jack. “Hey, kid.” He stops a moment and pulls the couch’s throw blanket around Hotch’s shoulders. Thrown for a moment by Hotch’s closed eyes, the tears on his eyelashes, and his slow even breathing. He’s already asleep. Or at least trying to fake his way there.

Fuck. 

Derek awkwardly smiles. He’s great with kids, he’s fucking fantastic with his nephews, but he wasn’t expecting mini-Hotch to be gloomily glaring from the shadows. “I think Garcia made your dad some chocolate pudding. You want some?” 

Jack is all blonde hair and blue eyes, he looks like Haley, but he’s a Hotchner through and through. He shakes his head, resting his chin on his drawn-up knees, presses his grimacing lips into his knees. Haley had taken him to speech therapy when he was two. He could speak but he did so ill-frequently. It wasn’t that he couldn’t speak, he just hadn’t felt the need to. Even now, Jack says very little. Even when he’s happy. 

“Are you sure?” Derek tries anyway. “There’s a can of whipped cream, I’ll let you eat it right out of the can and JJ brought strawberries. We could–”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh,” Derek frowns. Derek has had years of practice in this area – in fighting stubborn asses. Usually just with the bigger, meaner Hotchner but the mini version can’t be harder. “Is there a snack you’d like instead?” Jack shakes his head. “Anything, kid. You could have ice cream for dinner.” 

Jack shrugs one little shoulder and looks away. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbles, “my stomach hurts.”

Oh. Derek nods, “my stomach has been hurting a lot too.” Big Hotchner would never be this easy to work with. “You know,” Derek offers, smiling, “I have the perfect remedy for that.”

Derek had a lot of stomach aches as a child. It’s really not the same reasoning but it’s the same idea. While Derek’s mother could not pinpoint a reason for her son’s anguish, Derek can identify Jack’s. He knows that pain. That uncertainty. 

“Hot chocolate?” Jack asks, tone and facial expression matching his father’s. He’s unimpressed. 

This scrutiny Derek knows how to deal with. He smirks at Jack, shaking his head. Poor kid is going to be just like his dad. “Yeah,” Derek smiles, “you don’t like hot chocolate?”

Of course, Jack likes hot chocolate. He wants hot chocolate but he doesn’t understand how it’s going to help him at all. He does like this undivided attention, the way Derek’s letting him sit up on the counter and talking to him like an adult. He likes the promise of hot chocolate. He’s just adamant and scared – everything is so scary lately. Jack watches Derek pull down two mugs and frowns. 

“What?” Derek asks. 

Jack shrugs and looks away. 

Derek’s familiar with that look too. “Jack.” 

Jack sighs, “well…” He looks down at his hands, anywhere but Derek. “What if–” he looks over at the couch. At his father. All he can see are his black socks hanging over the side of the couch, but he’s there. Like he always is. 

“We can make him a mug,” Derek offers. He goes for another mug, even though he’s fairly certain Hotch won’t touch it. He hasn’t eaten anything in a while, not since he woke up in the hospital. “Your dad likes hot chocolate, I’m sure he’d like that a lot.” Derek hasn’t actually seen him drink any but who doesn’t like hot chocolate? Besides, if Jack makes it for him, Hotch will attempt something. 

Jack nods and watches Derek go about searching cabinets for what he needs. Jack knows exactly where everything Derek needs is at but he offers no help. Derek’s stooped low, squatting to look underneath cabinets for the pot he would prefer to use to warm up the milk but he can't find any. Where does Hotch hide them? 

“Is he gonna die?”

Derek smacks his head on the cabinet, the question throws him so much. He’s here for the drop-off. Jess had asked him to hang around for another ten minutes, watch Jack and Hotch so she could jump in the shower and wash the hospital off of her. She’d promised both would not be any trouble. Jack is withdrawn and sullen, Hotch not much different. 

“No,” Derek answers automatically. 

But his conviction is misplaced, Jack knows no is not the right answer. His brows turn down, his trust momentarily lost in Derek as he looks down at his lap. No isn’t the right answer and he knows it. Parents die. People just die. His father has no more control over that than Derek does. Hotch never promises to come home but he does promise to do his best. That’s all he can do. He can’t throw around that promise so boldly, not when Jack has already lost a parent. Not when he is already so aware that nothing is guaranteed. 

Derek forgets that, sometimes. Jack is a child but Hotch doesn’t treat him like a little fool. “Not today,” Derek amends. “The doctors looked him over really well. You know your Aunt Jess wouldn’t let him out of there if she wasn’t sure he was taken care of.”

Jack scowls down at his pants for a few more seconds before nodding. That’s true. Jess is a little crazy, protective, but crazy. “Why did he get hurt?” Jack looks up and Derek’s surprised to find his eyes are clear, no tears dancing around the corners. He’s sad but inquisitive, really wants to know. 

Derek isn’t sure how much Jack knows. Hotch has mentioned nightmares and therapy, Jack remembers something. He knows that the length between him and being an orphan were tight and near, hovering very dangerously right over his head. 

“The bad man that hurt your mom–”

“George,” Jack offers, casual and matter-of-fact. 

This kid fucking terrifies Derek. “Ye-Yeah,” Derek aggrees hesitantly. He hates George. Humanizing someone he’s hardly got the courage to breathe the name of. “He hurt your dad, a long time ago.” Jack nods, he knows this. A stabbing. He knows it factually but not very much else than that. Hasn’t acquired a deep enough sense of the world to understand just what it is that has happened. He just knows it was bad. Not to talk about it. But he’s not supposed to mention it to his dad, so Derek seems like a good person to ask. 

“But that was a long time ago,” Jack says. Nearing five years ago, he can’t even remember those memories that well. 

“It was,” Derek agrees. “But –” How does he explain internal bleeding to a nine-year-old? He understands how this happened. He’d been there in the hospital when Hotch woke up after Foyet. He’d walked Hotch into this apartment, home from the hospital, similar to how he did today. It made sense to him but how does he translate that? How does he take something so brutal and make it sensible? Digestible. 

“They don’t know why it happened,” Derek says, which is true. There was no recent injury or signs of sickness. Nothing that Jess or any of them had witnessed but could they really trust Hotch to be forthright about something like this? “Sometimes… Uhm, one day you’ll understand better but for right now, it’s just that sometimes when we get hurt those old hurts just keep hurting. That’s what happened with Hotch– with your dad.” 

Jack takes that well, he believes it. His father rarely shies from his never ending questions. He’d sat in the front seat once, not yet twelve and Hotch wasn’t eager for the reminder, because he was curious as to what exactly was happening for Hotch to be able to drive. It began as a simple show and tell, then Jack in the front, watching Hotch intently as Hotch slowly eased down the road. Then he was in Hotch’s lap, steering them back around, easing them into the driveway. But somethings he really wasn’t old enough for. 

Hotch never shares details of work. At first, he dismissed it simply, factually. He couldn’t disclose information about still active cases but Jack knew that wasn’t entirely true. Aaron couldn’t but he did. He told Jessica. It takes outside factors, sleep deprivation, head trauma, something out of his control to get the secrets to come spilling out. Jack could hear them after he went to bed. Only the light of the lamp guiding them through the conversation, Hotch’s voice low and interupted by the sounds of gasps, as he worked himself up. So overwhelmed it all just came tumbling down. Turned him into a fit, a mess. 

Jack understood this required of him a level of education he didn’t have and, more complex than that, required a level of vulnerability and emotional distress from his father he simply wasn’t old enough to bare. 

So, maybe Derek was right. He understood older bodies hurt, his father’s did. Jack could not understand lingering wounds because he had nothing to linger, his father scars and pains older than him. 

Derek’s just releaved he’s stopped asking questions. 

“Here,” he hands Jack his mug, the first one from the bunch. Derek’s piled whipped cream on top, a big swirl that Jack attacks with a wide grin. The first time he’s smiled in days. “It’s my mom’s secret recipe,” Derek reveals. He looks over hsi shoulder, scanning around him before he leans in dramatically. “You can’t tell anyone,” he warns Jack, “but it’s cinnamon. Just a dash.” 

He’s certain all mother’s do this and realizes a few moments too late maybe mother’s shouldn’t be brought into conversation. But Jack giggles, whipped cream on the tip of his nose as he leans in close and tells Derek gleefully and interrupted by more giggles, “mommy’s secret recipe for cookies is cinnamon but daddy never puts the right much.” 

Jack is laughing hard, uncontrollable. He thinks it’s hilarious and the sight of him makes Derke join in the laughter. Wondering what sort of awful messes Hotch must make in here if he’s unable to add cinammon to a simple batch of cookies. 

Derek puts him back down on the ground and Jack slides his mug back onto of the counter. “I can take it to daddy,” Jack offers, already pulling the mug towards it him. “I won’t wake him up.” He’s not waiting for Derek’s permission. 

He’s careful. He’s a coffee master. Every morning Hotch lets him make his coffee. Jack does everything from fill the water to measuring out the creamer and suger. Every morning he makes the trip from the kitchen back to his father’s room. A coffee mug balanced carefully in his steady hands. Not a drop on the carpet and Hotch always makes an impressed face at the first sip. Congratualing Jack for another successful pot with a high-five or hug. 

And the carpet remains hot coffee free. 

It’s not coffee free. Jack might have mastered walking with a full cup of coffee but Hotch hasn’t. 

Jack sits the mug down gently, soft to make the clink of the ceramic on the the hardwood a dull sound. But Aaron’s eyes are already open. 

“What’d you bring me?” Hotch asks. He’s just whispering this time, purposefully. Jack only visited him in the hospital once. Then his voice couldn’t raise above a rasp, he could barely speak. Jess didn’t offer to take him again and Jack never asked. Instead, he’s spent the last few days with Dave. He goes there on some weekends, spends a Saturday or Friday night cozied up to the living room fireplace and listening to Dave’s records. He loves it and he loved it this time but it wasn’t the same. 

Jack had heard Dave talking to Emily over the phone, pacing his office like he does when Jack is supposed to leave alone him so he can get some writing done. Ripped, is what he hears first. Dave’s voice has changed, he’s angry but his voice is sad. He’s defeated, so consumed by what’s happened. From hip-to-hip. Gutted the poor kid. Jack doesn’t understand who he’s talking about at first. Kid throws him off. He can’t imagine how his father could be young to Dave. 

But then Dave laughs and he agrees with whatever Emily’s said. “A big kid, then,” Dave amends, shaking his head. “He’ll always be a kid to me. Like Reid. Known ‘em since they were in diapers.” Jack doesn’t think that’s true but he can never be certain. Dave explains what’s happening to Emily, how they’re dealing with everything. They always keep her updated. Jack does too. She calls at least once a week and he tells her about everything – Hotch’s latest mishap (poor baking skills, poor plumbing skills, etc.), the school drama of who is dating who, and how his grades are. 

But Dave assures her everything is fine. And Jack wishes he’d lie as he promises her she doesn’t need to come home. Hotch is fine, sleeping it off in the hospital. Jack is staying with him, at Dave’s, until Hotch and Jess are ready for him at home again. 

Emily leaves the conversation a little relieved and Jack leaves with that description. 

Ripped, hip-to hip. That’s what Dave said and it’s what Hotch felt. It feels as though his protection has been ripped down, as if his shirt suddenly came open and his chest is exposed. His stomach aches furiously and his body begs for cover, to find somewhere safe and wait for his attacked feeling to abate. 

The hot chocolate is a great start. He can’t actually drink. His clear diet restriction might have been lifted and his doctor hopeful with his ability to keep down an Ensure. Hot chocolate, and all it’s milk, would be far too much on his stomach. But it’s warmth is confusing to his brain. It’s comfort immiedte despite how heavily his anxiety fixated on terror, on finding the threat he was certian was hiding just behind the curtains or maybe in the bathroom. To hurt him. 

Or maybe to hurt Jack. 

Hotch balances the mug to his thigh, uses one hand to keep it there. Jack moves closer, before Hotch can move his other hand out to reach for him. Hotch closes his eyes, exhausted but now relieved to feel Jack’s little hand trying to hold his back. Jack comes closer until Hotch can wrap his entire arm around Jack’s hips. He crouches down, kneels on the floor, and lays his head on Hotch’s chest. 

“You can lay on the couch with me.”

Jack shakes his head, he knows that’s not true. Hip-to-hip. Jack had traced his own stomach in the mirror. Dave had huge, giant mirrors and fancy showers. And by the end of his, Jack stood and looked in that mirror. He put his finger on one hip and drew down below under his belly button across the soft flesh to his other hip. Traced, as he imagined his finger a scalpel slicing through the skin, exactly where he thought they cut his father open. 

That’s a long way and his body is so small. 

Jess pulls Jack away after a while. He’s been sitting so still he can’t feel his legs and the entire side of his face is warm from laying on Hotch’s chest. But Hotch is knocked out. Jess takes his mug and holds his arm up so Jack can slip out and he barely moves. His eyes open for just a moment but close quickly, Hotch exhaling softly as he falls back asleep. 

“He needed that,” Jessica tells Jack softly, smiling at him. She kisses the top of his head and guides him away from the living room. No more disturbing the sleeping man now the unofficial rule of the house. Jack is familiar with the protocol. 

Jack sits down at the table and Jessica sits across from him. Derek waves from the door and they wave back, all the goodbye they’re willing to chance with Hotch sleeping. But once the door shuts Jack knows he can ask his questions. This is what they do. Hotch or Jessica always makes sure he understands what’s happening but as he’s gotten older they do less telling and he does more asking. 

“How soon will he be okay?” 

Jessica hums, considering her answer. “Give or take,” she says, shrugging, “he’ll be back to work in four days. For us, I think we just gotta be extra careful with him for this week and then he’ll get there.”

“Can I help?” He’s allowed to help in small ways. Never sees any of the bad stuff but he’s quick with the water refills and keeping a bountiful snack supply.

“Of course. But his stomach is sore, so he can’t eat normal foods right now.”

Jack nods, that might be a challenge. “I can make him oatmeal?”

“Yes but no sugars or cinnamon.” Jack just puts too much of both in, she’s doing Aaron a favor. He’s already going to struggle to eat, no reason it needs to be overly sweetened as well. “And he can juice but not orange juice.”

“Okay.” 

“Any more questions?”

“No.” Jack thinks he understands. He has more questions, what ifs that filled his mind but none that he should speak. He’s often wondered who his father would chose, if he had been the option. Jack had seen on TV that mad men will hold guns to people’s head, make them chose. One person lives and the other dies but if you don’t pick then both die. And while that question comes and goes, it’s stuck on his mind. Who would his father chose, him or Haley? 

Jack could never make reason of it, never actually decide. Hotch had said once that love is just different for people. He’d tried to explain it. Why he loved Dave, why he loved Emily, why he loved Jess, or Jack. But it was all different. Which Jack understood with some explanation. Love didn’t feel the same with his father as it did with Jess. He didn’t love one more or less but it was simply different. Felt different. Acted different. 

And Hotch had said that Jack was a whole different love for him. Unconditional is the word he used but Jack wasn’t so sure about that. Surely there’d be something. He’d had to think hard. Not drugs – Sean does all kinds of those and Hotch still sends him birthday cards with money and evites him on the holidays. Jack couldn’t dare ask about murder – he didn’t know what the answer would be but it’d be difficult, he’d upset Hotch. But as he failed to come up with a proper example, Hotch had just shook his head and ended the conversion. Nothing, he repeated, I’ll always love you. 

The thought keeps him up all night. It upsets him to consider either. The idea of his father having to chose makes him cry, ugly and silly over something he’s made up entirely. He knows Hotch holds guilt for not being able to save Haley. He apologizes every holiday, brithday, and every small event that Jack only has Hotch and not his mother. 

But the reality is that Jack doesn’t remember Haley. Little glimpses. Good and bad. The bad he’d never speak of. No need to remind his father of their divorce, the messy stuff. But he’s always had Hotch. Jack wouldn’t prefer Haley to his father. If he had to chose, if it were Jack that had to decide, he knows which parent he would save. 

And he hates that. 

He doesn’t knock as he slides into his father’s bedroom. The door is already open, the bathroom light left on purposefully. Jack tries to slip up into the bed but Hotch is already awake. 

“You’ve been crying,” Hotch whispers, reaching a cold hand out from under his blankets and to brush the remnants of a tear away. “Are you okay?”

Jack nods, pulling the heavy comforter around him, and sinking down into the bed under the warmth settles over him. His father’s bed is just better. Softer, warmer. “I’m okay,” he says, turned over on his side, watching Hotch. “Why were you crying?”

Hotch smiles. He’d lied for years to Jack about it but as he gets older that’s not really an options. Jack knows why his father is up pacing the halls at two in the morning. Why he’s up “sick” in the bathroom. “Bad dreams,” Hotch answers, honestly. Bad dreams sounds better than nightmares. “Why are you up?”

Jack shrugs, “can’t sleep.” 

“Mmm.”

Jack thought being here would fix it but now he’s just laying here thinking about it. He can’t imagine, doesn’t want to, what it’d be like to not have his father. Jack tells him everything. Hotch taught him to ride a bike and how to read. It’s Hotch’s inability to do math that keeps Jack from excelling at math but he’s a straight A student in English. What would happen without Hotch? No National Geographic movies on Saturday nights, after Hotch has already announced twice they’ll got to bed in five minutes. Opting instead to sleep uncomfortably on the couch so they don’t have to go to bed. 

Hotch always says how much Jack would love Haley, he tells Jess too. Jack believes him, he does love his mother. But Hotch always forgets that he’s there too. He’s still in the equation. 

Hotch puts his hand on Jack’s chest, rubbing up and down like he used to when Jack was a baby. 

“Get some sleep, buddy.”

Jack is asleep before Hotch’s arm starts to hurt. 

[tieria-erde]

tagged by nika @pianofish ty!!! :3

last song i listened to:

im being honest it was summer buzz by nika...! go listenn please their music is always so beautiful. i wanna do a cover of this song sometime soon... (probably not acapella this time bc i like the percussion too much) i have vague ideas for an mv that i am not sure i have the skill to execute but i wanna try anyway. i need to lay down some thumbnails but i see it in my brain it's similar in style to iyowa's imawanokiwa mv

alsoo this wasnt the question but im recommending this vocaduo song because its really pretty and i like it a lot

currently watching:

i watched spirited away for the first time this past week it was soo lovely...! a while back i went on a mall date with a friend and i bought a cute spirited away button down just because it was purple and i said to myself "well i haven't watched spirited away but if i watch it and like it that'll justify the purchase right?" and then forgot to watch it... but now i have, and i liked it, so i can wear that shirt without a heavy conscience 👍

currently reading:

not really "current" but i recently read the storytelling animal by jonathan gottschall for one of my classes next semester and i liked it! some parts i found irritating but it was still a fun read to pick apart. ive also been meaning to get back to reading the insomniacs after school manga... the anime was so so so wonderful but the only scanlation i've found for the manga doesn't look all that high quality ;w; i still wanna read it though

oh also JUST last week finished rereading heir's game by suspu, beautiful beautiful comic. andd last month i reread when the day comes by omyo which is my favorite webtoon of alllll time ever. sorry for being a webtoon guy i promise i do it with a distinct theme-understanding air 💜

current obsession:

i have been working for like a month on english translyrics for eimin no susume by narumiya. this isnt my first attempt at writing translyrics (i have tried so many times to write translyrics for itte by yorushika but i think that song's just impossible to translate well in general) but it is the first time ive gotten anywhere close to finishing them... im not as mindblowingly depressed as i was a few weeks ago so im not actually sure i'll still want to cover the song by the time i finish these lyrics but i wanna see it through to the end! and its a fun song to sing anyhow (speaking of covers ive been sitting on this 90% complete cover for a while that i just need to finish recording harmonies on..... maybe i'll go do that after i post this)

also my mom made egg tarts yesterday and they are so awesome and tasty. obsessed with those for sure as well

this isn't really an obsession but i also want to mention i started gnosia a week or so ago at the recommendation of a friend, i kind of got off on a rocky start with it because it wasn't what i was expecting (i am a diehard fan of hidden role games but the singleplayer gameplay just does not scratch that same itch for me) but once i got past that i really started liking it...! i haven't played in a few days but i wanna get back to it

tag 9 people:

umm i dont know that many people ^_^ do it if u wanna do it! no pressure @larnax @vivi-mire @neildylandy @thebeggarlover @ptolemaiios @sunnymatsu