#lack of family + past issues i guess

[tiny-feisty-gay]

it’s 5am, i’ve been up for an hour because body decided it’s time for Awake and now i’m just sad about my lack of sleep

[sad rambling in tags, feel free to ignore]

[cobaltperun]

Lost (22) - So Far Away

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 3.8k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-I have so much to say but you're so far away-

The room he sat in was the last place he’d associate with the woman who owned this apartment. The walls were hidden behind shelves, filled to the brim with books. Books in English, Russian and German, he guessed, ranging from classics to modern literature, from massive encyclopedia to magazines, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere near them. The last time he saw the woman she was fifteen and so stuck in her martial arts training he doubted she ever touched a book. Perhaps he was, as a twelve-year-old in awe of her, simply mistaken. The room had a vintage feel to it, with heavy table in the middle of it, and two tall armchairs on each side. The chandelier above him didn’t seem like it was often used, instead it was there more for aesthetics, instead, he believed the lamp on the table was used for reading during the nights.

There weren’t many people who intimidated him. Sidney Prescott did, with her refusal to be defeated by one of the Ghostfaces despite already being past her prime. Samantha Carpenter did as well, her brutality against Richie Kirsch and his father a year later was frightening. His cousin frightened him even more.

Anya Golubeva lost her title when she fought against you, but she regained it right away and considering you were forced to retire, she reigned supreme for the next three years, until she went and retired, now, at thirty-four, she was still a formidable fighter. She would be the counter to you, a fighter that spent even more time training, a fighter that nearly defeated you, because that match could have gone either way. Thomas made a mistake, he made you angry, he got cocky, she wouldn’t, because she knew exactly what you were capable of.

“So, cousin, what brings you to me?” Anya walked through the door, holding a tray with two cups of coffee. “This far from home?” she sat down, at ease in her home, at ease because there truly wasn’t much that could hurt her.

Cousins… Yet he was nothing like her. Despite his admiration for her, Igor wasn’t a good fighter, he had no talent for martial arts, or sports in general, he didn’t have the dedication needed to overcome the lack of talent either. No, he wasn’t the best fighter, but he had other skills, he was a good hunter, resilient, good with knife and various guns, and, if he could say so himself, he was conventionally good looking, dark hair and blue eyes, in good shape.

“I,” he hunched a bit, making himself seem smaller, trying to remind Anya of how he was as a child. “got into trouble,” he spoke slowly, regretfully, just for a moment glancing up to meet her eyes and then immediately looking down. “With a cult, and now I don’t know how to get out,” there, he said it.

He heard Anya lowering her cup and leaning forward. “What cult?” she sounded more concerned than anything.

Instead of telling her anything, he pulled out the mask with a bear painted on the side. His Ghostface mask.

“Ghostface?” her eyes widened as she watched the mask. “Why? You’re neither young nor stupid?” she demanded, so forcefully he genuinely flinched at her tone.

“I didn’t realize they were serious, I swear! I thought they’d stop after Richie and Amber got killed, but they didn’t! At that point it was too late to back out, they knew me, they’d kill me!” he exclaimed, frantically grabbing the mask and shoving it back into his bag.

“Fine, fine, settle down,” Anya calmed down first, and now she looked more concerned than anything else. “What changed now?”

“If you can help me get rid of one person I can walk away,” knowing how it sounded he quickly raised his hands. “No one will know it was us! Please, it’s either her or me!”

She remained silent, and he just hoped this would work out, that Anya would be willing to hold you back enough for someone to finish you off.

“Who is it?” she asked after several long, dreadful minutes.

“Y/N L/N,” Igor said and her eyes narrowed. For a moment he feared she’d reject him, but instead, she nodded. Perhaps the sting of loss caused resentment toward you.

~X~

No one knew where you were.

No one knew where you were.

No one knew where you were.

Those words repeated in Tara’s mind as she stared at the wall in front of her. She didn’t say a single word since Danny gave in and told her what he knew.

You were gone. No one knew if you were alive, or if you were hurt, or who had you. No… that was obvious. Ghostface had you. She barely registered a glass of milk and a plate filled with pancakes being set down on the coffee table next to her.

“Tara, you need to eat, for your baby if not for yourself,” Danny crouched next to her, likely trying to get her to look at him.

Pancakes. Of course he went with that. It didn’t take long for anyone to find out how often you made them for Tara. They were your comfort meal, a meal she didn’t feel bad to ask for while you were kids, the first meal you made after you two got together, and then again and again, every time exactly how Tara loved them.

Danny knew how to cook, definitely better than Sam, but not as well as you did. She still nodded, picking up the plate and eating more out of obligation to your child than anything else. She barely ate two pancakes when her phone buzzed, signaling she got a message.

Tara frowned and saw it was a photo, and then her eyes widened and she dropped her fork. “Danny!” she yelled, making him run back into the living room.

“What?!” he frantically looked around for an intruder, but Tara just got up and showed him the message she got. It was a photo, of a muscular woman whose face was covered by a Ghostface mask tied to a chair. “Is that Y/N?” his voice wavered a bit, as he spoke what went through Tara’s head when she saw the photo.

A moment later an address popped up and Tara nearly grabbed her jacket right then and there.

“Wait, we need to call Kirby,” Danny grasped Tara’s forearm just firmly enough to keep her from leaving.

“I need to get to Y/N!” she shouted, yanking her arm away from him.

“We don’t know when the photo was taken! It’s an obvious trap, Tara!” he argued back, this time choosing to step between her and the doors.

“I don’t care, she might be there!” she knew she was being unreasonable, that you’d berate her if you knew she was willing to just walk into such an obvious trap, but she knew you’d do the exact same thing.

Luckily, Danny understood her by now. “We’ll go, okay? But we need to call Kirby first, in case we need a back-up,” she could work with that.

So, she sent the photo to Kirby as Danny set up a Zoom call and while they waited for Kirby to join it, Tara just looked at the photo.

Finally, Kirby joined them. “Hey, Tara, Danny. Tara, I’m sorry we kept these things from you,” Kirby opened with that, but Tara shook her head, there’d be time for that conversation later.

“Can you do anything?” Danny asked.

“Not much, but the address does match a warehouse near the harbor,” she said.

“It’s not Y/N,” Tara suddenly declared. “It’s not her, I know it isn’t her,” she knew it, even if three weeks passed, this wasn’t you. Ghostface would taunt her with your face, or at least show a scar so she wouldn’t have any way to doubt it was you. And the woman wasn’t as muscular as you, she was muscular, no doubt about that, but not as much as you. So, no, it wasn’t you.

She was still going to walk right into that warehouse, because there was a chance someone there knew where you were, and she’d never forgive herself if she let this opportunity go. If she had to go alone, she would,

“Tara, listen to me, you’re pregnant, don’t get both of you killed by being reckless,” Kirby told her, but Tara was already getting up.

“Either come and help, or don’t do anything, but I’m not waiting here for someone to tell me what’s going on. You’ve already proven you won’t tell me anything anyway,” she snapped, glaring back at the screen before putting her jacket on and grabbing the biggest knife Danny had.

“Shit! Tara, wait!” she heard Danny running after her, but she didn’t slow down, she just glanced back, saw that he also had a knife and smiled appreciatively at him. “Well,” he shrugged. “I can’t let you go alone,” he said.

~X~

The warehouse was abandoned a long time ago, the windows were broken, glass was everywhere, and there was a lot of dust. So much, in fact, that Tara coughed a few times when they stepped inside. There were a few exits, through the windows, though that would likely be very painful unless they could open the window before jumping through. The doors they just came through and there were two sets of stairs leading to the first floor, that might give them a chance to maneuver if needed.

“There’s nothing here,” Danny said as the two of them looked around, for clues, for any sign of presence, for anything really. All they saw was the chair the person on the photo was tied to. The fact that the chair was whole was just another proof to Tara that you weren’t on the photo. If you were, and if you were untied, you would have fought back, and that chair would have been at least damaged.

They heard them before they saw them. The boots stepping on the shattered glass, steps indicating there were at least two people with them. Tara pulled her knife out and turned around, pointing it toward Ghostfaces.

“Where is Y/N?” she demanded, for the first time coming face to face with the redesigned Ghostface, the robes were the same, the mask was almost the same. These two had animals painted on the side of the mask. One had a bull, the other and elephant. A way to differentiate each other now that there were so many of them. At least the entire cult didn’t come to greet her.

The one with a bull just tilted his head to the side, as if feigning confusion. The two remained silent, slowly approaching her and Danny.

“We’d rather avoid a fight, just tell the lady what she wants to know,” Danny warned them, stepping in front of Tara and she had to admit, he did look imposing, even with two Ghostfaces coming closer and closer.

One of them lunged forward, aiming to stab Danny, but he clashed his own knife against the Ghostface’s blade and closed the distance to land a good punch to the side of Ghostface’s head. Tara’s eyes widened slightly, she knew you and Danny often sparred, but she didn’t realize Danny could hold his own outside of sparring. And he was proving he could hold his own, as he went for the neck with his knife, after all, they needed just one Ghostface alive.

But he stopped, his hand shaking as if he just realized what he was about to do. Tara jumped in, ready to finish the job he clearly couldn’t while the Ghostface was still dazed from the punch. She managed to stab the Ghostface’s chest and stomach, before the other could step in. She pulled away, knowing better than to stay in one place for long as the other Ghostface, the one with the bull painted on the mask pulled his partner back and engaged Danny in combat.

Danny deflected and dodged several stabs, but he struggled to find another opening to land a hit himself. Finally, he got an opportunity to kick the Ghostface away just as the one Tara stabbed was getting ready to jump back in.

“Run!” Danny exclaimed, ushering Tara toward the stairs. They were out in the open, and there was a good chance someone else was in the building with them, so staying in the middle of an open space wasn’t the best option for them. Not right now. And… a small part of both of them, hoped that maybe, just maybe you were held here despite not being on the photo.

Tara took off, running for the stairs with Danny right behind her as the Ghostface duo chased after them. Though risky, the moment Ghostface duo began climbing up the stairs, Danny abruptly stopped and slammed body first into one of them, sending them down the stairs and just barely managing to stay on his feet. He grunted though, and Tara could see the handle of the knife sticking from his side.

“Shit!” she exclaimed and stopped, ready to go back down for him.

“Keep going!” he began running again, pushing through the pain and Tara could see the determination in his eyes. “I’m going to yell at Sam when she comes back. If she was here we could have easily taken these two,” he complained jokingly, mostly to reassure Tara.

Tara nodded, seeing through him, but still appreciating the gesture.

They reached the top of the stairs and realized every door was locked. The only way out was back down, and the Ghostface duo split to cover each side of the stairs.

Tara looked at Danny and then looked toward the Ghostface she stabbed. She’d handle that one. So, they waited as the Ghostface duo began slowly climbing toward them, they stood, back to back, ready to fight the two.

And it ended so quickly Tara barely registered what was happening. Danny took initiative, attacking the one with bull on the mask. He ducked under the blade, grabbed the Ghostface’s leg and pushed him down to the ground, grappling the way you usually did when you were in a rush. This time he didn’t hesitate, and stabbed his knife through the Ghostface’s chest several times.

Tara on the other hand clashed her knife against Ghostface’s, she stepped to the side, slicing quickly and managing to cut through the robe, but not through the flesh of Ghostface’s arm. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Ghostface swinging his arm toward her head and just barely managed to grab and stop it from hitting her. Thinking fast she lifted her leg, kicking Ghostface between the legs. Ghostface grunted, but didn’t fall to his knees, instead he tried to stab her again.

Tara dodged the blade, but hit the wall and in her daze she couldn’t move out of the way. She could only put her arms between her attacker and her stomach. The knife never came though, as a gasp came from Ghostface in front of her. She opened her eyes and saw a knife sticking out of the Ghostface’s neck, courtesy of Danny. Both Ghostfaces were dead, both killed by Danny.

“Damn,” he took a step back, letting the dead Ghostface fall to the ground. “Guess we’ll have to find clues some other way,” he said making Tara nod.

“Thanks, let’s get out of here,” she wasn’t any closer to finding you, but two enemies were dead.

Danny nodded and the two of them began walking to the doors, carefully watching for any movement.

A loud sound pierced the silence, pierced right through the illusion of safety and Tara’s eyes widened when she saw blood staining Danny’s shirt. She watched in horror as he looked down, shakily touching the red spot just below his chest that was growing larger with every second. “Danny!” Tara cried out, somehow managing to catch him before he fell to the ground. There was too much blood, as hard as she tried, as much as she pressed her palms against the wound she couldn’t stop the bleeding and his breathing was getting shallow. “Stay awake, you hear me! Come on, you need to yell at Sam for leaving, remember?”

He chuckled a bit at that. “I’ll leave that to you,” he said and moved her hands away. “They hit my liver,” the blood, the bullet going through it, the stab wound, Tara just sat back, tears streaming down her face. There was nothing she could do. Even if she could call an ambulance they likely wouldn’t make it in time.

Not that it mattered. Footsteps came from behind her and she turned around just in time to see three Ghostfaces approaching her. Three marks, bear, fish, and monkey, and the one with bear on the mask was carrying the gun.

“Don’t resist, or else,” that voice, the same voice she heard when Amber first attacked her, the same voice that so often haunted her nightmares, she heard it again and this time… instead of pointing a knife at her, the monster pointed a gun at her stomach. “I heard you played a game like this once, only there isn’t an MMA fighter to save you,” Tara narrowed her eyes, but didn’t move.

The Ghostface holding the gun motioned toward her and Danny.

“Let her leave,” Danny demanded with what little strength her had left as he tried to sit up.

“I don’t think so,” one of the other two Ghostfaces said as one grabbed Tara’s arms and pulled them behind her back. She heard the click of handcuffs, felt the cold metal around her wrists and knew there was absolutely nothing she could do.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she knew it was over, she knew exactly what would happen next, she still flinched when she heard Danny yelping as he was slammed back onto the ground and then she heard the knife slicing through his neck.

“There, just like Samantha cut Richie’s throat,” one of them said and Tara dared to look at him, dead, with blood pooling around his body.

~X~

She knew she should have assigned someone to watch over Tara, and now she was gone and Danny was dead. Kirby sat with her head between her hands and photos laid on her table. The Ghostface she was sure was Sam, the tied-up woman she was sure was you, even if Tara denied it, and painted masks, and other photos she had painted a picture she couldn’t understand.

“Tara is right, this isn��t Y/N,” Gale Weathers being there definitely wasn’t helping.

“How are you so sure?” Kirby demanded. They couldn’t see any scars to confirm if it was really you, but there weren’t as many women as muscular as you.

“It’s not her style. If she even suspected this photo would reach Tara she would have given them hell,” Gale gave her a cheeky, though small smile. “Besides, if someone can recognize Y/N underneath all this it would be Tara.”

Kirby had to agree with that. While she wasn’t there when Richie and Amber did their killings, she was very much aware of what you did for Tara, and while she never got to see you actually hurting someone, she did get to see how protective of the younger Carpenter you were. She had the front seats experience when you came into a bar her and Sam were at once to confront Sam. It was civil, but she could feel the tension, the barely restrained anger on both sides.

It was baffling, really, watching you and Sam argue, after years of seeing the two of you getting along. Sam was never as happy as she was at your and Tara’s wedding, and she more than once expressed how much she appreciated your protectiveness over Tara. And then it was like someone snapped their fingers and the relationship fell apart along with Sam.

And now no one knew where you were, Tara was captured, Danny was dead, Chad, Mindy and Anika couldn’t come, or they would not only be in danger but would be able to kiss their careers goodbye and Sam was… likely a Ghostface. How did it all fall apart like this?

Knocking on the door brought her out of her thoughts and she looked up just as Sidney walked in. “Since when does Ghostface try to blow up cars?” she demanded, distraught, filled with panic and almost desperately looking for answers.

“What?” Gale asked, as puzzled by the question as Kirby.

Sidney slumped into one of the chairs and leaned her head back as she dug her fingers into her hair. “He called me, said I’ll never see my family again. I managed to call Mark and get him and my children get out of the car. Less then a minute later the car exploded,” she explained, fury burning in her eyes. “I need to get this fucker before he harms my family.”

Gale approached her and placed a hand on Sidney’s shoulder. “We’ll get them Sid,” she promised and caught Sidney up with the situation. From suspecting Sam, to your situation, to Tara being captured and Danny being killed.

“I want Tara alive as much as you two, but how do we know she was just kidnapped? Why would they keep her alive?” Sidney asked.

Kirby sighed, frankly, she wasn’t entirely sure what the actual reason was, but she had her suspicions. “It’s either Y/N, or Sam that they are afraid of,” that was the core reason.

“If Tara is alive, they can blackmail one or both of them, if they kill Tara, those two won’t let that go,” Gale agreed and took the photo of Ghostface with dog mark. “Guard dog,” how ironic.

“Even if Sam joined them, she’d turn on them if they hurt Tara,” Sidney agreed, now seeing the logic. “We need to find Y/N.”

And that was the plan, because even if they couldn’t count on Sam being sane enough to help them, they could count on you. Especially when you learn that Tara was captured.

Kirby’s phone rang and all three of them nearly jumped out of their skin, but Kirby relaxed when she saw the name of one of her colleagues. “Yes?”

“Special Agent Reed, we identified the number the message came from. It belongs to Samantha Carpenter,” there was no doubt anymore.

Sam was Ghostface.

A/N: Well… people are dying, I wonder who is next… Anyway, recently someone suggested a tag list for Woe out the Storm, so I figured, If I'm making it for that story, I guess I could make it for Lost as well. So, if you want to be on the tag list either send a message, an ask (though I won't answer it if it's just that you want to be on the tag list) or tell me in a reply. (Note that tag list is story specific, so specify which story you want, and yeah, that's about it)

[shallowrambles]

It's fascinating to me how much I've changed my mind about Dean in The Trap. I'm waaaaay more sympathetic to the whole Cas-being-forgiven aspect of it, because yes, Cas apologized initially, but the root of the issue was Cas's painful withdrawal of his partnership and his withholding of critical information. Full stop. He and Dean are NOT equally culpable in this one.

It's not just about Mary and Jack, and yet Cas keeps pivoting to "Dean blaming him for Mary." Which oversimplifies the whole thing in a terrible way. Yes, they're all culpable, and yes they all saw that things were wrong with Jack, but next to Donatello, Cas is THE authority on souls and physically the strongest of TFW. To make matters worse, he all but demanded Dean to parent Jack and take care of Jack's emotions, even though Dean expressed discomfort over his memories of soulless Sam. Dean has repeatedly expressed how he wants Cas to be open and honest with him, especially now that they're co-parenting, and although Cas demanded Dean parent Jack, he then turned around and hid Big Parenting Stuff from him and went off to meet Anael.

Barring Cas's one feeble and poorly-timed, "I tried to fix it on my own because I was afraid of losing this family," he doesn't really spell out his part in the communication failures or apologize very well for withdrawing from Dean, specifically. He sorts of sulls up and say, "I already apologized and I'm not doing it again." Yet, Cas has a continued, longstanding pattern of withdrawal from the partnership. I'm floored that my Cas goggles kept me from seeing it before, and maybe I'm a little embarrassed, too. I mean, honestly, it's amazing that Dean takes him back at all. :/ Once you look past, "Oh no! Dean said mean things!" anyway.

I think by The Trap, Dean has given up trying to get Cas to change or hold him accountable for his lack of communication. Cas sort of gave Dean ultimatums over it, if you squint, and Dean rolled over. And Dean wants to get back together. He needs Cas's support and Cas need his. He looks at everything Cas is and decides that Cas's avoidance and want to protect the family is just woven into the fabric of him, and Dean decides to accept that. It's something he loves about him as much as he resents it. Cas's chivalry is a feature and a bug. Dean loves him for it. It makes his life a Hell sometimes.

Occasionally, I still see people harping on how horrible Dean was for "forgiving" Cas, like Cas doesn't need to be forgiven. And with some distance and clarity, I find that pretty baffling now, but I also remember feeling that way when I wasn't looking at their partnership equally and giving Cas too much leeway on his continued absence from the partnership. I almost...respected Cas more. That thought makes me wince. But his bad decisions I was way more likely to stamp as protective or tactically genius, at least compared to some of Dean's similar decisions. Dean's things I tended to group as "too angry/emotional/irrational." :(

I guess I've come a long way when it comes to holding Sam and Cas accountable for their actions, too. Much of the time, my issues with Dean devolved to unfortunate tone policing or not liking him to express his anger and be angry at his boundaries being breached over and over, even when he was taking his anger out on inanimate objects. I balked just because it made a loud sound that made Sam wince (oh noes, not the wincing).

///

On the other hand, I'm quite impressed that Dean and Cas were finding their way back to each other after the Death of a Child. That's about the hardest thing a marriage can go through, and they were getting back together and trying to heal even before Jack reappeared. Clearly, it's a stress-tested relationship. WAY more stress-tested than your everyday marriages; they've been through multiple apocalypses. On the whole, they often have good communication, even when they disagree, they knew where they stood (like with Donatello). It's just these huge, incredibly unusual horrible earth-shatteringly terrible things that throw them. Chuck's grooming is such a bitch.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Sirius Black X Reader: The older brother

Warnings: making out, flirting, cursing, party games, drinking, smuty behaviour.

Summary: You've found yourself intrigued by your friends older brother little did you know he's taken an interest in you as well.

Part 2

You’d always found the Black brothers intriguing. Their family line made it look like they were prepositioned to be pompous arses and although they were certainly privliged in the wizarding world you were surprised to find they weren’t as snobby as you’d expected. You’d never imagined you’d have the chance to talk to either of the brothers, after all you weren’t exactly part of their crowd.

It seemed the universe had other plans. 

It all started one day in potions class. You had strolled into the classroom like you’d been doing for the past weeks stopping to bid the professor good morning before making it to your favorite seat. To your surprise instead of finding your usual table empty your eyes made out a familiar frame. Your eyebrows knitted together for a moment. Well this was new. You walked up to Regulus, setting your books on the table before taking a seat. Regulus didn’t shift in the slightest, his eyes focused on the book in front of him. You watched him from the corner of your eye trying to come up with a reason to talk to him.

“You’ll end up burning a hole through my head with your staring.”

You rolled your eyes at Regulus’ words.

“Sorry Mr Black it’s just hard to not stare at such beauty.”

That made him stop in his tracks, his eyes leaving the book before him to look at you. You gave him a smirk. Regulus watched you with amusement for a moment before he broke into a grin. Playing to his vanity had been a smart call but what had surprised him the most was the lack of fear you showed towards him. It was refreshing.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Regulus put his hand out to you, his eyes never leaving yours. You took his palm into your own, giving it a firm shake as you introduced yourself. Once the pleasantries were over Regulus turned back to his book waving his wand to turn the page. You glanced around the room observing the other students.

“You want to ask something.”

Your eyes snapped back to Regulus finding him already looking at you.

“How come you’re not sitting with your friends?”

“Ah well Theo decided he wants a chance with some girl.”

You turned your head to look at where Regulus was pointing. A small grin formed on your face as you watched one of the slytherin boys try to flirt with one of your housemates. 

“So you decided to play wingman?”

“Something like that.”

“Seems like it’s going pretty well.”

Regulus followed your gaze watching his friend conjure a flower from the tip of his wand.

“Yeah I guess so.”

“Don’t think you’d be getting your spot back so soon.”

“That's alright. I like my new one just fine.”

You smiled at Regulus sensing the sincerity in his words.

It was safe to say that you were right from that day on, Regulus' friend only sat with his girlfriend leaving Regulus stuck with you for a partner. No that either of you minded, in fact the two of you hit it off so well that soon enough the two of you couldn't be seen without the other. Being friends with Regulus had its benefits: you got invited to all sorts of wonderful parties, the purebloods left you alone and you didn’t have to worry yourself with being dragged back in any classes, after all Regulus was quite smart. However there was one small issue with your friendship. That issue had a name. And a pretty face as well. Sirius Black. That right, Regulus’ dashingly charming older brother was proving to be an issue. 

Not because he was an arse to you, quite the opposite actually, whenever Sirius saw you around he’d go out of his way to talk to you which didn’t help stop the massive crush you’d developed for the older Black boy. Regulus seemed unaware of your feelings for Sirius. He was far too busy admiring the Potter boy to so much as notice your gaze following Sirius when he walked past with his group of friends. Sirius on the other hand seemed perfectly aware of your lingering gazes and nervous fiddling whenever he approached you. Sirius was known to be a flirt. It was the one thing that identified him and sure most of the time he just did it for fun but with you it was different.

He’d found himself searching for you in the halls and during meals a smirk forming on his face once his eyes found your frame. He envied his brother for having contact with you so easily while he had to fight for a chance to even hear your voice once during the day. It had been a while since Sirius had found himself fancying someone. Not to mention someone younger than him but he wasn’t against the idea. In fact he’d embraced the thought of walking around the castle ground with you latched onto his arm. The marauders teased him relentlessly, often yelling out your name in random intervals just to watch Sirius spin on his heels as he searched for you in the crowd. You didn’t know Sirius shared your feelings. In your head all the compliments and flirty remarks he sent your way were just him being well…Sirius. 

It all changed at one party.

The party was open invitation meaning any house was allowed to participate as long as they acted civil and brought some form of booze with them. You and Regulus had arrived a bit late, his vanity having gotten to him and making him try on five different combinations before deciding on the perfect one. He’d come up with some bullshit excuse about representing the Black family but you knew the real reason behind it was to impress a certain brunette. The two of you had made your way to the room of requirements and waited. You stared at the empty wall for what felt like hours until finally a door appeared before you. You turned to look at Regulus with a smile.

“Bloody wonderful isn’t it?”

“You could say that again.”

The two of you pushed the door open immediately being greeted with loud music and raving crowds. You weaved your way through the groups of people bundled together, making your way to the drink table and placing down the bottle of firewhiskey you’d brought with you. Regulus did the same, turning to look at the crowd around you before tapping you on the shoulder. You looked at him throwing up your head in a questioning motion.

“I’ve just found some of my mates.”

You followed Regulus' gaze falling on a group of slytherin boys in a corner. They waved over to the two of you calling you to join them.

“I’m gonna go over there. Are you joining?”

“Nah i’m okay. Not really in the mood to hear them gloat about the last quidditch match. I think I'll take a walk around.”

“Alright. If you need anything-”

“I know. You’ll be the first to know. Go on, have fun Reggie.”

“You too, love.”

You watched Regulus make his way over to his friends, a small sigh leaving your lips as you turned to pour yourself a glass of firewhiskey.

“Didn’t take you for the whiskey type.”

You jumped at the familiar voice hand moving to swat at Sirius arm.

“Bloody hell Sirius! You scared me.”

Sirius let out a laugh, taking in your frightened expression. You rolled your eyes at him leaning against the wall as you took another sip of your drink. Sirius poured himself a glass of butterbeer before joining you. You stared at his drink.

“Taking it easy today Siri?”

Sirius smiled down at you, his gaze making you shiver.

“For now.”

“You can admit you're a lightweight Siri. Your secrets safe with me.”

“You and I both know that wouldn’t be a secret. It’d be a downright lie.”

That was true you’d seen Sirius at parties before. Watched him down shot after shot of firewhiskey without so much as stumbling. He didn’t get wasted easily but was never one to deny a glass of something strong so it was odd to see him “playing it safe”.

“Any particular reason you’re taking it slow tonight?”

“I want to remember tonight, I guess.”

“Is something special going to happen?”

Sirius stayed quiet, his eyes skimming the rest of the party before looking back at you. There was an intensity in his gaze you’d never seen before. You sipped your drink, trying to hide the slight shake of your hands as Sirius observed you.

“Yeah, you could say that. If all goes to plan.”

Sirius whispered the last part, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself rather than answer you. You couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. Loads of things happened at these types of parties and none of them could be considered decent. Your mind began to conjure all types of ideas, thighs rubbing together slightly as you thought. Merlin what the hell was wrong with you. You closed your eyes trying to clear your head when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulder. You kept your eyes shut allowing Sirius to pull you in front of him, a gasp leaving your lips once you felt his breath on your neck.

“Open your eyes, love. You’ll want to see this.”

You did as he asked. You were no longer pressed up against the wall, Sirius had moved you into a position that allowed you a clear view of a portion of the room. You searched for what  he was talking about, eyes widening once you saw it. In one of the various couches scattered around the room were two students, lips latched to each other in a frenzy. You watched as they made out, your hands clenching and unclenching at your side. 

“Now that's a hell of a snogging.”

You could feel Sirius hair brush against your neck as he leaned down to whisper in your ear once more. His hands moved up and down your arms sending shivers through your whole body.

“Been a while since i had a snog like that.”

Sirius let out a small groan of need behind you, his arms you pulling closer to his body. You stayed silent, unable to tear your eyes away from the couple. The more you watched the more you realised the resemblance they had to you and Sirius. You wondered if he’d called your attention to them on purpose or if it had been a mere coincidence. A sort of heavy feeling lingered in the air between you and Sirius, his skin feeling warm on your body. You contemplated turning around to face him. You knew he was teasing you but you wondered if he was just bored or if he meant something by it. Before you could conjure up the guts to ask Sirius had released you. You turned to look at him beside you, your eyes taking in his frame. He was very pretty. Sirius felt you gaze on him causing him to turn and give you a smile.

“You know what that means?”

You knew he was still referring to the snogging couple. You shook your head which caused Sirius' smile to grow larger.

“It means, darling, that they've started playing truth or dare.”

You looked over to the couple once more focusing on what was happening around them. Sure enough there was a circle of people around them, all sitting eagerly as if waiting for their turn. Sirius moved forward walking in the direction of the circle. Before he’d made it a couple steps he turned to look at you reaching out his hand towards yours.

“You coming, love? Won’t be as fun without you.”

This could go horribly wrong but it was also an opportunity to have some fun. You glanced at Sirius hand then back at the group of party goers. Oh fuck it. You placed your hand into Sirius smiling at the boy brightly.

“Well Black, what are you waiting for?”

Sirius grinned at your response tugging you towards him as the two of you made your way to the circle.

You made your way into the group finding an open spot and sitting down. Sirius did the same moving to sit next to his friends on the other side of the circle. James glanced at his friend, a smile appearing on his lips.

“Look who decided to join us! Was wondering where you were.”

Remus found you in the crowd giving you a small nod of greeting which you returned. Even though the boys pestered Sirius about you they understood the appeal.

“Spin the bloody bottle Potter!”

You turned to look at Marlean as she shouted at James.

“Well someones impatient.”

“You bet I am, now spin it!”

James put his hands up in surrender before waving his wand causing the bottle on the ground to spin rapidly. You watched as Sirius leaned back on his palms, an unbothered look gracing his features. You wondered what it must feel like to be him, not having to wonder if people liked you because they were constantly proving to you that they desired you. It must do wonders for the ego but it also seemed rather annoying. You’d watch girls follow Sirius around stumbling and giggling like maniacs everytime he did something. Maybe it annoyed you because you fancied him but you could tell that sometimes it got on his nerves too. You glanced around the circle observing the fleeting glances that were shared between players. Glances of desire. These games did always seem to be an excuse for hookups. Not that you minded. 

The game went on for a while, truths were revealed and dares were successfully attempted. You’d begun wondering if you’d ever get a turn when the bottle landed on you. You followed the line of the bottle to the other side, eyes falling on the lanky frame of Remus Lupin, not who you’d have hoped but not a bad choice either. Remus smiled at you, his head tilting to the side.

“So what will it be love, truth or dare?”

You thought for a moment you didn’t know how long it’d take for it to be your turn and you didn’t really feel like airing any dirty laundry, not that you had anything exciting to hide anyway.

“I choose dare.”

You didn’t spend much time with Remus but from what you’d heard he seemed like a nice guy. Whatever dare he had in mind you were sure it wouldn’t be that bad. Boy were you wrong. You’d been so focused on paying attention to your challenger that you had failed to notice the way Sirius had stiffened when the bottle had landed on you and Remus you’d also missed the way Sirius eyes had darted between James and Remus once you’d picked dare. You were oblivious to boys' schemes but Sirius knew. He knew from the moment you’d opened your mouth to pick dare what was about to come.

“Very well. I dare you to….”

Remus paused for dramatic effect. That bastard was really trying to sell it. Sirius would have to remember to get him back for this later. Your eyes fell onto Sirius, taking in the look of slight fear on his face. It was only then that you noticed the sly grin that had appeared on Remus' face. Oh merlin, what had you gotten yourself into.

“I dare you to spend seven minutes in heaven with…. Sirius.”

There it was. Your face dropped at Remus’ words, your gaze finding Sirius as the other players began to let out ‘owwws’ and ‘ahhhs’. For a split second Sirius' flirty persona seemed to drop but then it was back again. He gave you a wolfish grin before turning to look at Remus.

“Haven’t got a closet mate.”

Just as the words left his mouth a closet appeared on the wall behind you startling several of the other players out of their spots. You noticed Sirius cursing under his breath, whispering something along the lines of “damn this room”. 

“Problem solved. Go on then.”

Sirius was about to retort his anger towards Remus’ sly behaviour becoming obvious but then you got up. The moment you stood all eyes were on you. You made your way to the closet passing James as you went. The brunette gave you a small smile.

“Show him a good time will you? Godric knows he needs it.”

You turned to face Sirius across the circle extending your hands out.

“Well, you coming or what?”

Sirius rose to his feet and made his way to you but not before stopping to give a harsh slap to the back of Remus' head. Once Sirius got close enough he placed one hand against yours opening the closet door with the other and tugging you inside.

“Whoa!”

You were engulfed by darkness, the party disappearing completely as the closet doors closed. It was surprisingly spacious inside. You turned around searching for Sirius since he was no longer holding onto your hand.

“Siri, where are you?”

You felt hands wrap around your waist pulling you flush against his body.Your head spun as Sirius smell surrounded you, his hands kneading at the skin of your hips. You sighed, leaning into his touch.

“I’m right here.”

You turned around so you could face him. Even though it was dark you could make out where his eyes were. The two of you stayed in silence for a while, just taking in the presence of each other. Then Sirius released your hips and stepped back, his hands going to his hair.

“We don’t have to do anything you know. It’d kill my reputation but I want to respect you.”

He fiddled with his leather jacket, clearly nervous. 

“We can just talk.”

It was odd seeing him so vulnerable but it made you a little more confident. You stepped closer to him, placing your hands on his chest as you gazed up at him through your lashes.

“Who says I just want to talk?”

Sirius' lips found yours before you could even react. You moaned into the kiss pulling him closer by his jacket. He got the message deepening the kiss, his tongue running against your lower lip. You opened your mouth allowing his tongue to meet yours. Siriuspulled back for air chest heaving as he breathed in.

“Been wanting to get you alone all night.”

“Could have just asked.”

“And play my cards in the open, where's the fun in that?”

“Right, I forgot you’re a tease.”

“And you like it.”

You gasped as Sirius leaned down to kiss your neck. Your hands weaved into his hair for support as you threw your head back in pleasure. You tugged at Sirius' hair forcing him to latch off your neck before pushing your lips onto his again. The two of you groped desperately at each other, your hands trying to feel every part they could reach. Your hands skimmed against Sirius crotch causing him to let out a growl, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

“Ah shit, love.”

“You’re hard.”

Sirius let out a laugh.

“Yeah sorry. You got that effect on me. It’s okay i'll deal with it later.”

You bit into your lip mulling over what you were about to say over in your head.

“I can help. If you want”

Sirius's body shuddered against you at your words, his head lifting to look into your eyes.

“You’ve done this before?”

“Believe it or not Black but you're not the only one who gets action around here.”

Sirius stayed quiet for a moment, his head spinning with a million thoughts.

“What is it?”

“Was it with Reggie?”

“Oh godric no. We’re just friends.”

“Oh good, messing around with my little brother's fling wouldn’t go over well.”

You reached to cup Sirius member through his jeans shutting him up in a second. You were about to reach into Sirius boxers when there was a knock on the door.

“Times up!”

Sirius let out a groan of frustration.

“We’re coming out!”

Sirius turned to look at you pulling your chin up for one last kiss. You leaned your forehead against his trying to steady your heartbeat.

“Meet me in my room in ten. I’m not done with you just yet.”

With that he exited the closet leaving you rooted to your spot. Merlin you were in for the night of your life.

[myechoecho]

Queen of Tears, ep6 - edit actually it’s ep 4. Oops

I think this episode really confirmed that many of Hae In and Hyun Woo's issues stem from a lack of communication. Why else would Hyun Woo be so shocked that her phone password was the due date of their baby, whom I assume Hae In miscarried? They clearly haven't dealt with it properly, together. There's a reason that one of the glow in the dark stars remains in Hyun Woo's room that was to be their baby's nursery. It's the same reason Hae In's password is the due date. But I'm guessing that Hyun Woo thought she just got over it and moved on, but now he knows she hasn't forgotten and it was an important enough date for her to have as her password.

When Hae In has her confrontation with her mother, she doesn't even notice that Hae In is not well. She calls her a heartless, selfish bitch and she blames her for her brother's death. Which given what her mother says I am guessing they were together and Hae In is the one who survived whatever happened. After when Hae In and Hyun Woo talk in her room it's one of the few times they've had an open conversation. Hyun Woo gives his reasons that she should tell her family. He thinks she doesn't want to lose anything but that's not the main reason. Her parents had already lost a child. She doesn't want to scare them, thinks she's a bad daughter and doesn't to be a more terrible existence for her family. The more she opens up like this, the more he understands her.

You can see this too when he finds her in the village. One of his first instinct is to yell at her so she yells back. But when she really looks at him, and sees how sweaty he is from searching for her that she gathers her courage and tells him the truth. For her to admit that she had an incident and was scared, is really huge for her given her insistence that she is not a patient. She's also not the type to admit any weakness in general. Just as she did with him, he really looks at the state she's in. This, coupled with her admission is what he needs to hear from her.

And of course, what kdrama would be complete without them meeting briefly as teens?? Plus the parallel of him finding her with scrape on her knee to him finding her in the village as adults with a scrape in the same place.

I think Eun Sung, the secretary, the grandfather's girlfriend and the wife of the brother are all in this together. I don't know why though. I would say that Eun Sung was Hae In's brother they thought was dead but then they dated in the past. I don't think the drama would go down that route.

The village set up went on way too long. But it shows again that Hyun Woo's family, except his mother, are all terrible.

[seasonsbloom]

all the love (under a mistletoe) . benedict bridgerton

pairing ; benedict bridgerton x female!reader

synopsis ; modern!au. you have been in love with your best friend's older brother for years. on Christmas eve, things finally come to a head.

wc ; 6k

warnings ; explicit lanugage, some allusions to reader having a shitty family, christmas angst, pining, one mention of margaret thatcher

note: i'm not british (english isn't even my first language) so pls excuse any inaccuracies in any slang etc etc... also this was supposed to be a smutty thing and no instead it's exclusively tooth-rotting fluff so I'd like to apologize.... merry Christmas??? if anybody does want a steamy part two... well, hit me up I guess!

i stole the title from britney spears' my only wish (this year)!

You never thought something like Christmas at Aubrey Hall could exist outside the hour-and-a-half runtime of Hallmark movies. They've got it all - the stockings above the merrily crackling fireplace, the Christmas crackers twinkling on a long table, the boughs of holly climbing up doorways. It's like a Selfridges on the 21st of December just vomited all over the place.

"Seriously," you say, blinking in a mixture of awe and fear, "how big is this thing?"

Eloise, much more accustomed to her family's display of wealth and Bridgerton harmony, shrugs without looking away from her phone screen. "No idea. Benedict is like 6 feet, and that thing is twice his size, so, like… 12 feet? I don't know, it's Christmas. You do the math."

She turns away, still glued to an Instagram page plastered with pink graphics informing about various social issues in carefully-designed typography, and leaves you standing alone in the entrance hall. If you didn't like the Bridgertons so much, you'd be the first to say their Christmas tree is obnoxious. It's a ridiculous thing, wide enough to commandeer half the room. It's covered top to bottom in tinsel, dark blue ornaments dangling from every branch and reflecting the light until the thing looks less than a tree and more like a hallucination one might have two hours into an LSD trip.

The London townhouse you've crashed at more than once after a night on the town gone to shambles is impressive enough, but the Brdigerton's ancestral home in the countryside is a whole other beast. From the sprawling gardens to the sheer endless rooms, from the stucco ceilings to the servant stairs, from the life-size portraits of nineteenth-century family members to the white marble busts, you half expect a tourist group to round the corner at any moment. You're pretty sure you saw a hedge maze on your way in.

Sure, you've known your college best friend Eloise Bridgerton was loaded, but you didn't expect this. Then again, her sister is married to a Duke and shows up on the Sun's front page semi-regularly, so maybe this one was on you.

"So what do we think? Sufficiently Christmas-y or too much?"

You sink your teeth into the tail-end of a scream, letting out a strangled sound instead. Benedict Bridgerton really is six foot tall, and fuck him for that. Couldn't he at least have been some sensible height? Five reasonable feet and seven nice inches? Has he got to be perfect? Has he got to be the six feet you've been dreaming about for the past four years in increasingly more frenzied fashions? 

He stands with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, with his hair tousled and his face relaxed into the same friendly, good-natured smile he always gives you.

"Uh… What?" Immediately, you curse your lack of eloquence. And earlier on the ride over, you'd sworn to yourself that, for once, you wouldn't act like an actual idiot in front of him.

Benedict, grinning, points forward. "The tree."

"Oh." You crane your neck back to look at the star mounted to the top, floating somewhere above the marble railing hugging the walkway to the second floor. "Well. It's very… big."

Benedict chuckles. "Yeah, I agree. I did tell Mom it was excessive, but she insisted. I'm pretty sure Hyacinth would mutiny if she ordered anything under ten feet."

You hum, faintly wondering what it must feel like to get a tree, let alone one big enough to get put up in front of the Rockefeller center. "Hyacinth can be pretty persuasive," you acquiesce, thinking with a shudder of the time the prepubescent girl stared you down until you gave her your brand-new Charlotte Tillbury lipstick. Sort of like being bullied out of your lunch money.

"You can say that again." 

Benedict falls silent, and for a moment, you just stand there, side by side, staring up at the tree. Dean Martin drifts over from the dining room. Your stomach is on the most terrifying rollercoaster ride of its life. 

Then, out of nowhere, Benedict says, "You're wet, by the way."

"I…" You splutter. "What?"

He nods down toward the floor. "Your shoes, I mean. You're soaking the rug."

You follow the line of his eyes down to your boots, still caked in the snow and sludge you drudged up on the way up the ten-mile-long driveway. A grey puddle has accumulated around you.

"Bugger," you mutter. "Eloise did say I could leave the shoes on…."

A conspiratorial grin crosses Benedict's face. He says, "Remember when you and El caught me smoking that joint in the study? I won't tell if you won't."

This is the thing: Worse than Benedict's six feet, worse than his messy hair and blue eyes and dimples, worse than all of that, is that he's actually nice. A genuinely good guy who talks to you like you're more than just his little sister's best friend, more than the annoying girl that gets invited to family holidays because her home life isn't the best, who moons over him at every turn. That's the thing that keeps you hoping, stubbornly, stupidly.

"Maybe you should go change for dinner," he suggests. "I'll take your suitcase up for you."

"You don't have to!" you protest, even as he's already bending over to retrieve it, even as you're secretly glad you won't have to try and lug that thing up all those stairs yourself.

"It's fine." Benedict waves you away, then tests the weight of the suitcase. "Jesus. I thought you were only staying for three days. What the hell did you pack in here?"

The sight of your bedroom floor at home, every inch covered with discarded clothes and toiletries and last-minute Christmas present purchases, overcomes you like a war flashback. "Uh… Books," you say, falling into step beside him as you climb the stairs together. "I brought a lot of books."

If Benedict knows you're one of the worst liars in England, he doesn't let it on. Instead, he hums Wham! 's greatest hit while ascending the stairs two steps at a time. You try your best not to stare at his butt when he overtakes you and focus instead on the plush velvet carpet and the actual footsteps you leave on it, cringing.

You follow him down a long corridor, past decorative Chinese-style vases filled with out-of-season greenhouse flowers. "This is your room," Benedict says, pushing the door at the end of the hall, somewhat separate from the others, open with his hip. "Eloise is just down the hall."

Like everything else in Aubrey Hall, the room is so tasteful you're scared to touch anything. Held exclusively in shades of pastels, in the softest blues, pinks, and creams, a huge four-poster bed is pushed to one wall, flanked on both sides by nightstands. The opposite side of the room is covered in floor-to-ceiling French windows that offer a spectacular view of the grounds, powdered with snow. Somebody lit a fire in here too, and above the mantle…

"Oh, God," you squeak, staring at a huge oil painting depicting perhaps the most miserable-looking man you have ever seen. Margaret Thatcher and her iron lady posturings have nothing on this bloke.

"Right, that's Uncle Barnaby." Benedict deposits your suitcase on a stuffed armchair. "Us kids just call him Uncle Fester."

"Yeah," you say slowly. "That checks out."

Benedict laughs. "Sorry, you got stuck in this one. All the other guest rooms are in the West wing, and Mom figured you'd be more comfortable not being that far away from everybody else."

The West wing. You get the sudden, spectacular image of yourself in an ankle-length lace nightgown wandering down stone hallways with nothing to light the way but a single, flickering candle. If you can fantasize about Gothic romances set in your own home, you decide, you should start thinking about downsizing.

"Right." Benedict runs a hand through his hair, and you track the movement, watching the muscles rippling in his forearm. He's wearing a grey cashmere sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight could make a stronger woman swoon. "I'll let you get settled in."

You don't want him to leave. All your time spent with Benedict is stolen, clipped, bookended by family dinners, or movie nights with his sister. The closest you've ever gotten to him was when you all crowded into the back of a cab on your way to a club, his thigh pressed against your own and his arm awkwardly angled somewhere behind your neck. Just half an inch of space between you, but your ribcage cracked open like somebody wedged a crowbar in there.

"Where are you sleeping?" It's a desperate attempt to prolong the moment, to keep him in this room alone with you for just a little longer, and you regret the question the moment it's out. Either he now thinks you're a stalker or, even worse, that you're secretly trying to draw up a layout plan of the estate to prepare for your inevitable heist. You wouldn't be surprised if there were several million pounds in cash stashed in a vault somewhere in Aubrey Hall, and rent in London has reached astronomic heights. Who could blame you for indulging?

But Benedict doesn't look concerned. Instead, he pauses just a step or two from you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours, and answers, "I'm right next door. Just knock if you need help with anything."

For a split second, Benedict's hand finds the curve of your spine, fingertips pressing through the thick knit sweater and painting a shiver down your back. It goes through you like a bolt of lightning.

Then he draws back as if nothing happened, gives you a crooked, curling smile, and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

You drop down onto the mattress with a groan, bury your face in the 400-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, and pretend you're not actively trying to strangle yourself. 

"Well," you mumble, voice muffled by the pillowcase, "Happy Christmas to me."

+

Christmas dinner with the Bridgertons is a bizarre experience. Everybody talks over each other, Hyacinth and Gregory chuck spoonfuls of peas at each other, Colin spills a whole ladle of gravy across the tablecloth, Anthony and his wife Kate spend half the meal whispering to each other and the other half stealing kisses, Eloise starts debating politics with Simon (who isn't half as stuffy as you expected a duke to be) at the top of her lungs, and Benedict drinks at least five glasses of sparkling wine before his mother takes the bottle from him.

You watch the whole thing with a feeling in your stomach like a bullet wound.

After a dessert of indefinable mush Hyacinth swore up and down was her homemade plum pudding, you move to a large sitting room. There is a second tree in here, this one a little less obnoxious and covered in homemade ornaments, the exploits of eight children and countless pre-Christmas arts and crafts sessions. The crackling fire paints flushes into the family's cheeks and gives the whole room a homey, rustic atmosphere that seems at odds with the overall elegance of the house.

Everybody is allowed to open one present. You think you see the instantaneous regret on Violet Bridgerton's face when her youngest son unpacks his new portable speakers with a whoop of joy loud enough to bust several eardrums. Watching the pandemonium unfold before you, you sit squished into a corner of the sofa beside Eloise, your hands trapped under your thighs, and try not to feel out of place.

Maybe this was a mistake, you think to yourself. Maybe you shouldn't have intruded on a family holiday as you are, regardless of Eloise's invitation. It must have been a pity thing anyway, what with you saying you were just going to stay in London for Christmas, in your shitty flat with the broken radiator and the leaking pipes. You pretty much guilt-tripped her into that by mentioning the frozen curry you were planning to get from the Tesco frozen section, now that you think about it, and God, you were definitely forcing yourself on them, weren't you, and they were all just way too nice to mention it and…

"Here," Violet's voice tears you from the downward rollercoaster ride about to plunge neck-deep into the pond of anxiety. "Merry Christmas."

She places a flat present in your lap, wrapped in deer-print paper. 

"Oh," you say softly, and your chest feels tight like somebody is pulling a cord taut around it, "you didn't have to…."

"It's just a little thing." Violet has the kind of smile so warm you suspect it could melt ice cubes within seconds. "We're so happy to have you for Christmas."

You feel self-conscious as you unwrap the present, aware of all eyes on you. The paper reveals a picture frame, simple yet tasteful dark wood that feels smooth and supple against your skin. Behind the glass is a watercolor painting, a study of a tulip. The pink petals seem almost life-like in their detail as if a drop of dew should drip off the edge and roll down the picture any moment. You can practically feel it, wet and cold against your fingertip.

"Eloise said you're very fond of flowers. I thought you might find a place for it in your room."

For a head-spinning, gut-wrenching moment, you think you're going to cry. "I… thank you," you choke out. "It's… lovely."

Violet smiles and pats your hand. "It wouldn't be Christmas without a present. You didn't think we'd forget you, did you?"

They move on to Colin, who tears at his wrapping paper with such eagerness he gets a papercut, but you feel stuck. There is a lump in your throat, and you clutch the picture too tightly. Somehow, you realize, you did think they'd forget you. Only that's not really right. To forget you, they'd have to think about you first, and you can't imagine any of the Bridgertons wasting a single thought on you, apart maybe from Eloise. Sure, you spend more time at their house than in your own flat, but that doesn't mean anything, does it? It's not like your own family misses you much this Christmas. You've gotten more than used to being invisible.

"I want this one," Benedict says and, to your horror, lifts one of the presents you left there earlier. "I like the sustainable vibe."

Feeling obliged to get presents for everyone, you'd spent yesterday running through a department store for at least three hours. Mostly it's boxes of chocolates and a book for Eloise, stuff that diminished your already meager savings more acutely than you'd planned for. And then it had come time to choose something for Benedict, and you'd spent an embarrassing amount of time agonizing over possible presents. By the time you'd made it home, only to realize you'd forgotten to get wrapping paper, all the stores were closed. So you'd wrapped everything in the newspaper the ancient couple living next door hadn't picked up off their welcome mat yet. They're in Cardiff visiting her sister for the holiday, and you're supposed to be watering their plants while they're gone. Which is a task that might be a bit hard to accomplish, seeing as you're currently several hours outside of London. 

"Oh, that's… that's mine," you pipe up, then immediately clear your throat. You've somehow managed to sound like a cartoon mouse. An especially squeaky, pathetic cartoon mouse.

Benedict glances at you, gives you a smile he most certainly inherited from his mother, and says, "Perfect."

Whatever that's supposed to mean.

He has a similar approach to unwrapping presents as his younger brother, but at least he doesn't injure himself in the process. As you watch him, your heart beats somewhere in your throat. Suddenly you're right back where Violet picked you up, on the verge of anxiety about to perform one of history's most spectacular dives.

It might be dramatic to say that your whole life depends on whether your best friend's older brother likes the gift you picked out for him, but apparently, that's where you are now. In the most pathetic turn of events of all time, you're pretty sure the trajectory of your future hinges on this moment.

The improvised wrapping paper floats to the carpet like that plastic bag Katy Perry immortalized in her magnum opus Firework. For a moment, Benedict says nothing, staring at the gift in his hand.

"I can… If you don't like it, I can just return it," you say, even as you start frantically searching your memory for where in the world you put that receipt. Your heart is pumping blood through your veins at a pace that makes you dizzy. "It's not a big deal. It's fine, it was…."

Benedict holds the box of watercolours in front of his chest like some sacred artefact. He opens the lid and peers inside, examining the different shades wordlessly. Then he closes it, looks up, and right at you. A beat passes with him just looking at you, with your heart fluttering its feathery wings against the cage of your teeth, with you squirming in the spot. And then Benedict smiles, wide and bright and honest. "I love it," he says, "thank you. It's fantastic."

Your chest caves in.

"Oh," you whisper, half deaf over the rushing of blood in your ears. "Okay. Cool."

For a second, it looks like Benedict will say something else, like there are words forming on the tip of his tongue, and you feel like you're clinging to a cliff's edge by the tips of your nails. But then Hyacinth pulls the box from his hands to look at the paint, to run her fingers over the shades, and the moment passes.

If somebody asked you later, you wouldn't be able to tell them how the rest of the unwrapping goes. It's all a blur, a mirage of different exclamation and laughter and more or less well-thought-out presents that passes in front of you like a supercut, all of it accompanied by a playlist consisting mainly of Mariah Carey and Michael Bublé. You stay in your spot on the couch, still sitting on your hands, trying not to think about the way Benedict looked at you. Trying not to dream.

When the younger kids rope Colin and Anthony into a game of charades that requires an exorbitant amount of physical movement, you help the others clean up the abandoned shambles of the dinner table. Benedict is doing the dishes in the kitchen when you enter carrying a pale of plates so high you see nothing but the dried gravy Jackson Pollock sprinkled all across the edges.

"Careful." Benedict's fingers brush yours as he takes the plates from you and places them gingerly on the countertop.

"Thanks," you mutter, then spend just one second staring at the broad expanse of his back, holding your hands uselessly in front of you, before turning back toward the dining room, intent on finding something else to occupy yourself with.

Benedict's voice stops you. "Do you want to help me?"

You whirl on your heel embarrassingly fast, clearing your throat when you find him smiling at you. "Uhm. Sure."

He nods toward a dish towel on a rack and asks, "I wash, you dry?"

"Yeah. Sounds amazing." For a second, you genuinely consider slamming your head into one of the kitchen cabinets. Since when has drying dishes ever sounded amazing?

Benedict gives no indication that he thinks you might be the weirdest girl he's ever met, though, so you take that as consolation. He's rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue button-down again, his arms elbow-deep in the sudsy water of the sink, and you pretend not to notice the droplets running down his skin. Outside the window, snow falls in thick ribbons, covering more of the grounds. The faint sound of the Bridgertons enjoying themselves drifts into the kitchen's silence.

You accept the pan he was washing and start running your towel over it. A wet stain soaks into your dress where you press the Teflon-coated edge to your stomach.

"We can put the plates in the dishwasher later," Benedict says, filling the silence gaping like a canyon. "But I think the big stuff we should do by hand. Pots and pans and all that."

Unsure how to answer, you nod. Your mind is whirling, reeling, somersaulting. For so long, you've wanted to be alone with Benedict, have imagined it, dreamed it, conjured it up in your mind. And now here you are, and you can't seem to open your mouth. And it's not even like you have nothing to say, quite the opposite. You have so much to say you don't know where to start.

Like: You look great in that shirt. I hope you like my present. I think you're a great artist. If the Torys keep passing that PM cap around instead of letting us vote, I'm going to scream. I think capybaras are criminally underrated, and I'm glad they're having their moment on social media. How do you feel about turnips? I might have been half in love with you since the first time I met you.

Benedict, putting an end to your spiral, says, "It can be a lot, right?"

"Sorry?"

"The whole thing." He jerks his head in the direction of the dining room, an indulgent smile on his face that tells you all you need to know about Benedict's feelings for his family. "The whole Bridgerton Christmas chaos."

You shrug, lowering your head so he can't see your face, can't see whatever emotion might betray you. "I like it."

"Even Hyacinth's plum pudding? I think that could pass for a murder weapon."

"Yeah," you say, and find that your voice is much too sincere. "Even that. It's not… I've never had this." You cut yourself off immediately, not even sure why you said it in the first place. It's much too easy to be honest with Benedict, and it scares you in ways you can't describe.

"What do you mean?"

It feels like an impossible task to look at him, so you don't. You're too afraid of what you'll find - pity, maybe, or incomprehension. How could someone like Benedict possibly ever understand?

If you turn on a TV around Christmas time and watch a commercial or a movie, if you walk down a shopping street and look at the advertisements playing on screens or smiling from posters, if you pick up a holiday-themed novel, there is a certain feeling being sold to you: of warmth and joy and community. Of smiling grandparents and colorful sweaters. Of presents heaping like molehills beneath gleaming trees. Of roasts and mashed potatoes and peas and carrots and Christmas puddings and beaming families devouring them in perfect harmony. It's the same feeling you encountered right here in this house, in the perfect rooms populated with perfect Bridgertons. In those images, people are always happy.

Christmas, to you, has always been terrifying.

"It's not…." You hesitate. "In my family," you say finally, and hope your voice sounds steadier than it feels, "it's never been good. It was just a lot of yelling, and… I've never had this. The laughing together and enjoying each other's company and all that stuff. The love. And I… I look at it, and I can tell, you see? That it's just so normal to you guys, I think maybe you don't even notice it. But I do. And it just… it doesn't really seem fair."

You don't wait for an answer, instead turning away from him in a way you hope makes it clear that this is not an avenue of conversation you want to pursue. It's like you've just stripped yourself bare in front of him, exposed yourself to his ridicule and his gaze under the unforgiving kitchen lights. It's like you have handed him a map to the innermost parts of yourself. All those ugly, pathetic parts you've spent your life hiding.

Benedict seems to understand because the next thing he says is, "Thank you again for the present."

For a beat, you close your eyes. There, you think. You've got what you wanted. He's ignoring it. He's looking away.

You chance a glance at his side profile, at the furrow between his brows as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn bit of charred carrot sticking to the pot. "You're welcome," you answer. "I'm glad you didn't think it was shitty."

"Why would I think that? It's perfect." When you chuckle, shrug, when the self-deprecating note sneaks into the sound, Benedict ceases his scrubbing to look at you. "I mean it. It's really special."

"It's not even…." You hesitate, wondering if maybe you're fishing for compliments here. Whatever, the validation feels nice, and Benedict seems willing to give it to you, even if he probably finds you annoying. "It's not even a very creative gift. All things considered, you know?"

Everybody knows Benedict likes painting, even though there was some botched stint with the Academy a few years back. He eventually dropped out, but you don't think his aspirations changed.

He shrugs and turns back to the pot. "It is to me. My family all seem to think I'm not serious about the whole art thing, so it's nice to be acknowledged. It doesn't happen that often."

You pause to glance at him. Thrown into relief by the golden spill of the light, bracketed on one side by the winter night, for a moment, he's so pretty you feel your stomach clench. 

"But you're so…" You break off, swallowing. Your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. "Everybody sees you."

"What do you mean?" Benedict looks at you with real confusion scrunching up his face, and you feel almost stupid.

Helplessly, you shrug, dry the last drops of water off the pan, and put it down on the counter. "Just… People always notice you, you know? When you enter a room or when you go somewhere. I just thought… I thought you must feel really acknowledged. Like all of the time. I don't know."

Your heart is beating so furiously that you wonder if he can hear it. Embarrassment leaves a bitter taste on your tongue as the words escape you. Now he really should file a restraining order, you think. It would be perfectly justified, with you exposing just how much attention you've been paying to everything he does. God, you're a freak, aren't you?

When he smiles at you, there's something sad to the expression. "I've noticed," he says, forming the words carefully, "that what most people acknowledge about me is my family. But that's not the same as acknowledging me. That's not the same as seeing me."

For a moment, you imagine what it must be like. There was such warmth in that room earlier, such joy and love, but there were so many people, too. All of them loud and charming and lovely. All of them wonderful. All of them captivating in their own way. How easy must it be to get swallowed up by the sheer force of all of them? How easy must it be to feel passed over as the second of eight children, always surpassed by somebody else? Always somebody cleverer or funnier or more lovable? Sometimes, you think, it must be a lonely thing to never be alone. Sometimes, you think, he must feel invisible.

"I do," you say, and your face feels hot, your voice sounds far away, your palms are sweaty. "I see you."

Something in Benedict's gaze changes, something transforms, and then he whispers your name, holds it in his mouth like something precious. "I think you…." He swallows, and his eyes rake over your face as if he's searching for something, as if he's hoping for something, and finally, he pushes on, his voice as uncertain as you feel, "I think there's so much more here than you realize. Because I do, too. I see you. And I know you're lonely, and I know you're scared, maybe even as scared as I am, but I think... I think maybe you don't have to be."

It's like being on a frozen lake, right in the middle, side by side, moving step by step, nothing solid in the world but his hand in yours.

He takes a step closer to you at the same time that you move forward, his hip bumping yours, his gaze on your mouth, his knuckles knocking against yours, your breaths hitched, your hands shaking, your head spinning…

"I've got more dishes," Kate chirps, stepping into the kitchen. Immediately, you and Benedict jump apart. You busy yourself with drying the pot furiously as he accepts the new pile of tableware, eyes on anything but you. Then, completely ignoring her brother-in-law, Kate wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you away. "I'm supposed to tell you guests don't have to do dishes. And that's coming from the hostess herself."

If Kate noticed anything off between you two, she doesn't comment. But you could swear you see her casting a long, searching look at you when she deposits you on the couch.

You spend a little longer enjoying the overall Christmas charm of the night. You and Eloise pull apart a cracker together, put the paper crowns on each other's heads, and sit on the rug by the fireplace for hours, chatting, ignoring the general mess around you. When Violet starts making people sing Christmas songs whether they want to or not, you excuse yourself. You've been hiding yawns in the crook of your elbow for the past half hour anyway.

On his way back in from the bathroom, Benedict almost bumps into you in the doorway.

"Oh," he says, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder, and then you both say sorry simultaneously. By now, the eggnog and the absolute shame of whatever passed between you in the kitchen have caught up to you and you giggle like a school girl, staring at the bit of skin exposed where his shirt is unbuttoned.

"Off to bed?" Benedict asks. His voice is gentle enough that, for a moment, the yearning resonates somewhere in your bones.

You nod. "I'm tired."

"Okay." It might be wishful thinking, but he sounds almost disappointed to your ears. "Sleep well, yeah?"

It's definitely wishful thinking. Right?

"Hey, Ben!" You glance over your shoulder to find Hyacinth grinning at the two of you with something in her eyes you can only describe as the glint of the devil. A dawning sense of horror sends a shiver down your spine. "You're, like, right under the mistletoe, you realize that, yeah?"

Following the line pointed out by her finger with your eyes, you feel the dread pooling in your stomach. And lo and behold, above your eyes, fixed to the doorway, is an unassuming twig of mistletoe.

Have you mentioned that you feel like you're in a Hallmark movie? One with an exceptionally uncreative screenwriter?

When you finally tear your wide eyes away from the mistletoe, feeling helpless, you find Benedict already looking at you. "Ignore her," he says, smiling the smile of the long-suffering. "Hyacinth just wants to stir up trouble. It's fine, nobody's going to make us…."

"Well." From her perch on the arm of Anthony's chair, a saint-like expression on her face, Kate looks once from you to Benedict. "It is tradition."

And then, to your horror, she winks at you. Your stomach plummets down to your feet.

Benedict stares at Kate like she just told him she thinks the moon landing was faked. "I… I don't think…."

Anthony, after exchanging some private glance probably only decipherable to spouses, shrugs and leans back in his chair. "I agree," he says. "It is tradition."

"And a very nice tradition, too," Daphne affirms, crossing her legs and taking a dainty sip from her wine glass. No wonder not even the gossip columns ever have anything bad to say about her. She's perfect. "It would be a shame to let that opportunity go to waste."

With a look on his face you can describe only as aghast, Benedict turns to you. “I… uhm… Is it… okay?"

If you lived in the nineteenth century, you'd be asking a servant to bring you your smelling salts by now. Slowly, you nod, even though you're so dizzy, you're not sure you don't completely mess up the movement. "It… it's fine, yeah," you agree.

Benedict's hand finds the side of your face. You're so aware of all the eyes on you that, for a moment, you think you might be sick all over Benedict's shoes. He's so close you can feel his breath on your face and smell his cologne. Your toes are going numb.

"You sure?" he mumbles, leaning even closer, only an inch separating you. He has very kind eyes. If you said no now, you know he wouldn't even be mad.

Beyond words, beyond any thought past oh god I can't believe this is really happening oh dear god he's about to kiss me, you just nod. 

"Oh, for god's sake!" That's Simon. "Just kiss the girl and be done with it, Benedict."

So he does. It's little more than a quick press of dry mouth to dry mouth, but your heart almost beats out of your chest. You feel his fingers tighten against the side of your face, feel his slightly-chapped lips, taste the eggnog and the chocolate and the wine. Then, when he pulls away, just for a beat, he lingers, his exhale a gasp, and for that instant, it's like you're the last two people on the planet, like he's the only thing that matters, like nothing existed before you and nothing will after you're gone. Suspended in time.

"Great!" Eloise calls, throwing her hands into the air. "First, Colin starts going out with Penelope, and now Benedict is snogging you. Will you people ever leave my friends alone?"

A collective burst of laughter travels through the room, and then the chattering returns, the paused music resumes, and you stand there, unsure what to do with yourself, unsure how to continue on when it feels like the whole world just shifted an inch to the left and nothing is where it's supposed to be anymore.

Benedict's hand is solid against the small of your back. "Will you… will you stay a little longer?" he asks, his voice hesitant.

It doesn't sound like he just means tonight. You don't think he just means tonight.

You swallow, exhale a shaky breath. And then you say, keeping your eyes on nothing but him, "Yeah. I'll stay."

Benedict beams. It's a sight that lights up his whole face, rivaling that ridiculous Christmas tree out in the Bridgerton's entrance hall. "Lovely," he says. For a beat, his eyes flicker back to your mouth, but then he just grins. "Merry Christmas."

You can't help it - you laugh. There's relief in the sound, the kind you haven't felt in a long, long time. Here, with the fire crackling and Gregory and Francesca delivering what could perhaps be the worst rendition of All I Want for Christmas Is You the world has ever known, it feels a little like maybe, just maybe, being seen isn't half as scary as you thought it was.

"Yeah," you agree and slide your fingers into the spaces between his. "Merry Christmas, Benedict."

You never thought something like Christmas at Aubrey Hall could exist outside the hour-and-a-half runtime of Hallmark movies. But, God, are you happy you were wrong.

[mysteriesgalplusdamianthings]

We Got More Info!!!

The newest update just came out today, and we get some more information on our girl Maps. Buckle up because this is going to be a long one.

We're diving back into Maps' abilities.

○ So it turns out Maps had designed and created her own technology to Teleport and Time Travel. Which is a crazy feat all on its own! So teleporting requires her to have some sort of line of sight and organic material. Which means it's safe to assume she can appear just about anywhere she wants. (Sort of like instant transmission)

○ Another thing about her "instan transmission" is that it only applies to herself. So there isn't much she can do in regard to teleporting multiple people at once. But does that include objects? I feel like this could be a downside in the long run, but I can also see the benefits.

I like that she fizzles in and out of places, like lighting. The voice changer on her helmet is a nice touch, too.

○ Her fighting style is something to be desired, though. She uses an electronic shock to attack her opponent. I was hoping to see her use some offensive/defensive styles that the Bat family could have taught. (Cough Damian cough)

I definitely wanted to see another set of her abilities outside of just her device. But just seeing her in action was nice. Maybe once the real fight starts, we'll see more of her defense.

Another thing I noticed was a lack of a mask. I'm not sure how safe it is to not be wearing a mask without her helmet. I guess it's not a big deal since she introduced herself using her real name from the beginning.

But I doubt she does this in the future, Batman must not have been her mentor if this was allowed.

○ The time traveling isn't really explained much in the chapter, but what we do know is that it's only got a limited time frame, in each time period.

Referring back to that time, when she got that little notification on her device.

We're not sure what the "specific limit" is, but it's safe to assume it's not long. On top of her limited time remaining in the past/future. She probably won't give out much information about her future and how she became Meridian.

I've said this before, but I hope Maps gets her own issue about her journey of becoming Meridian. That would be so hyped!

All I'm all, I love the amount of "screen time" Maps is getting in this chapter. Hopefully, we'll get more action in the last chapter.

.

.

.

Bonus:

Their faces in this panel sent me!!!!

[cosmerelists]

Top 10 Candidates for the Third Bondsmith

[major Stormlight spoilers!]

Subtitle: A List Of People Who Don’t Have Radiant Bonds Yet 

Three Bondsmiths are theoretically possible on Roshar: whoever bonds the Stormfather, whoever bonds the Sibling, and whoever bonds the Nightwatcher. We’ve got two...so surely the third is only a matter of time. But who are our candidates, and how likely do I personally think they are for no real reason?

#10: Kaladin again, somehow

I do not think this is likely, but let’s be real. If it WERE possible to form a second Nahel bond, the person to do so would be Kaladin. World’s first Bondsmith Windrunner, anyone?

#9: Rlain

I bring up Rlain mainly because, per this post, he’s apparently a popular guess/desire? To be fair, Rlain was nearly the Bondsmith for the Sibling, and I know that some people felt cheated that that never came to fruition. But Rlain is about to bond a spren of his own, so I don’t personally think it’s very likely that Rlain will abruptly refuse his offered bond and then go bond the Nightwatcher instead. But who knows!

#8: Evi

Evi is dead, of course. But every now and then, we learn that characters secretly had Radiant bonds way in the past--like Tien nearly being a Lightweaver or Shallan’s first spren. So I was just thinking: wouldn’t it be interesting if it turned out that Evi had already bonded the Nightwatcher before her death (if she’s even dead!!)? She does have the connection with the Old Magic, after all...

#7: Moash

Okay, now let’s go through various candidates who don’t yet have a bond, starting with a very unlikely candidate. Moash doesn’t have a spren yet, mostly because he’s on the Fused side, and the spren have mostly sided with the humans. But I think it would cool if Moash ultimately became the third Bondsmith, either because the Nightwatcher agrees that the colonizing humans are in the wrong or perhaps after Moash has a heel-face turn. 

#6: The Mink

Now this I would love. Dieno aka The Mink is a Herdazian General and one of the few characters to consistently bring up the whole “Alethi commit war crimes” business. Right now, not only do the Alethi have a Bondsmith monopoly, but our two Bondsmiths are even in the same family. It’s a Kholin household monopoly. So if The Mink were able to become the third Bondsmith, it would somewhat counterbalance the Alethi dominance of the Radiant order, and I would also LOVE to see the cool things he’d do with that power.

#5: Dabbid

Dabbid formed a close relationship with the Sibling during Rhythm of War, and I know that there are some readers who felt that he should have been the Bondsmith rather than Navani. He’s also, I think, the last remaining member of Bridge Four to not have a spren yet. So there is some setup for Dabbid to become the third Bondsmith and bond the Nightwatcher.

#4: Demid (or another unbonded Listener)

Okay! Now for my actual Top 4 both in terms of what I think might happen and what I wouldn’t mind seeing happen. I’ve seen people express hope that a Singer will be the third Bondsmith--we know Singers can bond a spren, and it would be nice to see the Singers start to recapture the bond they originally had with the spren. The one issue is that our main Listener characters have been Eshonai (dead), Venli (bonded), and Rlain (basically bonded). So...what then? There is Demid, Venli’s once-mate who could well become more of a main character in Stormlight 5. And if he does become a main character, perhaps he can be the Listener Bondsmith?

#3: Adolin

Adolin is the most main character we have who still lacks a Nahel bond. Plus, the other two Bondsmiths are his dad and his aunt/stepmom. I’m still hoping for Adolin’s Radiant / Radiant-adjacent plotline to center on Maya--that he will perhaps find a way to restore Maya and bond with her, or simply stay un-Radiant for Maya. But this just seems SO likely on paper that I have to include it, and at nearly the top spot.

#2: Lewshi 

Can a Fused form a Nahel Bond? Probably...not? But I don’t care! I love Lewshi, and I want her to become the third Bondsmith, especially now that’s she’s living among the Listeners. Now that I’m writing this, I feel a little bad putting someone so unlikely so high up but...eh, whatever! Lewshi Bondsmith supremacy!

#1: Someone who is currently a child

But if I’m making a real guess, I don’t think anyone will bond the Nigthwatcher in  Stormlight 5. I think it’ll happen after the time skip sometime in the later books, and I think it will be someone who is currently a child--like Gavinor, maybe, or even more likely to my mind, Shallan and Adolin’s kid who is surely on the way.

What do you all think? There’s a poll!

[batgrldes]

My God, I just woke up to pandemonium on here! And what do I see but some freshly baked buddie content! I told myself I would step back a little and reduce my expectations but how am I supposed to do that when they give us this? I am trying like an addict to not take another hit of buddie cannon thoughts but here I go again.

I'm not sure what to make of the top picture with Eddie. There's a relaxed nature to him. The familiarity and comfort of his hand on (Buck's?) shoulder says whatever is going on, Eddie is in a good place. He may be talking about his dating life. I still say dating and not relationship because this Era of Eddie is about putting himself out there, not about finding a marriage worthy partner (*grumbling* he's already married to someone.) He's not ready for a serious relationship but is having a good time.

Next we have Buck and Chris. This is a serious conversation of whatever they could be talking about. There are a few possibilities of what it could be:

-Problems at school

-Issues with growing up, puberty, teen stuff.

-Dilemma with his dad

-A lack of Buck in Christopher's life and pulling away

-The Buckley-Diaz family is starting to fracture big time.

These all kind of correlate with each other, which is why it's so hard to pin down what it could be. What I can see is Buck is trying to talk to Chris, but it's not face to face. He is looking away as if it's difficult to talk about, possibly holding back something, or even downright lying about it, (Buck's a terrible liar so it may also be denial or ignorance driving him).

And Christopher is the big red flag here. He is not invested in this convo. He is not looking at Buck and is busy writing in his notebook. Now, I guess he could be writing down what Buck is saying. I see some people saying he's asking Buck about past traumas for a report, but I'm not too sure about that one. This is giving me more, "I here you but I'm not listening" which I could be wrong about, but I feel like it's time for Buck to realize he's not Christopher's number one friend that can do no wrong anymore and has to face the fact that Chris is growing up and is more perceptive about what is going on in his life and in his home.

He's probably wondering why Buck isn't around as much. Teenage life is turbulent and confusing, and neither his Dad nor Buck is around for him to ask stuff. He may be feeling left out or left behind. He may feel a little jaded by Buck since he promised Chris he would always be around. (Gavin is such an amazing actor. I cannot wait to see him in this scene.)

There, I have said my piece about these photos. I may add to this but I'll try not to only in that I don't want to overthink it, as if I already haven't.

- Bonus thought: I really think Buck and Eddie are heading for a break up this season. There is a lot being left unsaid, plenty of trauma between them, and for buddie to work, there needs to be a breakdown and rebuilding of foundations. Not that they have to go clean-slate, but re-evaluate who they are to each other and face their feelings about one another. I need at least one of them to say 'I need you' and realize they are in love. That passion needs to come forward and it most likely will come in the form of a fight.

Okay I'm done.

[schizopositivity]

I see a lot of "smooth brain" memes, or people calling other people "smooth brained" to call them stupid.

But do people know that having a smooth brain is a real condition called Lissencephaly.

Lissencephaly is a rare congenital condition that causes a developing brain to appear smooth instead of having normal bumps and folds.

The symptoms may include: seizures, difficulty swallowing and eating, developmental delays and learning differences, muscle spasms, issues with psychomotor functions, slow physical development in a baby or child, a smaller than normal head size and congenital limb differences.

Also the life expectancy of someone with Lissencephaly is generally short. Many children with the condition do not live past the age of 10.

You can read more about it here:

I cant help but feel that all these memes and jokes are at the expence of disabled children. By substituting the word "stupid" for "smooth brained" you are literally calling children with Lissencephaly stupid. By making or sharing memes implying that a smoothe brain is ideal because it lacks pain and sadness you are erasing the very real pain and sadness of children with Lissencephaly. Theres even "smooth brain" merch, and Im gonna guess none of that money goes to the children with Lissencephaly or their families. Maybe reconsider thinking about smooth brain as an idealic abstract concept to feul your memes, and understand the dibilitating and difficult reality of it.

[impromptu-sketches]

So we’re almost at chapter 30 already! And we know Jinx will probably go to or past 100 chapters, and the author said that the main plot hasn’t even started yet!!

(Jinx chapter 29+ spoilers)

There’s a lot of elements at play here:

- Kim Dan’s debt to Jaekyung. How long does he have to work for him to pay it back? Probably years.

- Kim Dan’s sick grandmother. Who will probably die at some point during the story. I don’t think it would make sense for her to miraculously get better and then Kim Dan can take her home? He doesn’t have a home.

- Kim Dan’s sexuality. It’s never stated that Kim Dan likes men! All we know is that he was SA’d at his last job, had to leave, and now is doing this with Jaekyung because of his debt. I want to know his preferences! Btw, was Kim Dan a virgin before? I forget.

- Jaekyung‘s entire backstory. Where is his family? How did he become a fighter? Why? Before Kim Dan, he was all alone in his huge apartment training 24/7 with random dudes/fwb coming over before his matches. Has he ever loved anything? How did he become so obsessed with winning and being the champion?

- Jaekyung‘s insomnia and general lack of rest. Will he work himself past exhaustion and collapse?

- Jaekyung‘s bad shoulder. Will he continue to fight through the pain with no issues?

- Jaekyung‘s jinx. Will there come a day when Dan refuses him before a match?

- This new guy, Heesung. Jaekyung‘s childhood friend? Ex-boyfriend? Distant cousin? New rival? Just some actor who has studied MMA fighting with him in the past for his acting roles?

- Potato. Okay, is something going to happen with Potato? Everyone except Kim Dan is kinda mean to him or at least doesn’t take him seriously. Will he and Kim Dan become friends? (I hope so).

So what is going to be the main plot?? I’m guessing it’s this new Heesung guy because otherwise idk what his purpose is. Love triangle with him and Dan?? ♡♡

Or maybe if he sees the situation Dan is in... either because he likes Dan or because he wants to get back at Jaekyung, maybe he’ll offer Dan another job and pay off his debt to Jaekyung. Seems like he’d have the connections and money.

And if Dan doesn’t owe Jaekyung anything anymore, he’ll surely leave, right?

-

Ok, new theory ~

Heesung either likes Dan, wants to take Dan away from Jaekyung, or for whatever reason, pays off Dan’s debt to Jaekyung. Meanwhile, drama between Dan and Jaekyung ensues ~ then, Heesung offers him another PT job. Dan, for obvious reasons, takes it and leaves Jaekyung. Although knowing Dan, he’ll feel a little bad about it.

Then, Jaekyung can’t find anyone to sleep with before a match, loses, basically hits rock bottom either because of the loss itself, or because he gets seriously injured, or both (I’m still kinda hoping for the whole amnesia thing to happen).

Because of this, he’s out until he can recover. Kim Dan learns of this and because he’s an angel, he goes back to him to help him get better because he feels responsible.

[xatsperesso]

Really we need more fics/headcanons about Iruma's traumas. What his parents did to him is often showed as a joke but it's not.

The trauma of the Harvest Festival showed that he suffers of big abandonnement issues, that he fears to be alone again. He FEARS his parents and what their presence would mean.

His kindness/willingness to help every people who ask for it is a result of what they did to him, even if Iruma has naturally a very kind nature.

Of course he starts to change, but until recently he was not used that adults care for him and protect him. When he has asking to Kalego to save him against Atori was very new. It was literally the first time that he really asked to a adult to save him.

It probably mean that the teachers in the human world didn't pay attention at him. They didn't realize that he was abused and neglected, that he was more a slave for his parents that their child. No adults noticed that he was suffering. No adults asked question about "why a child works for me". No one CARED.

No wonder that he didn't trust adults/teachers before. It take one year for that he feel finally safe with his demons teachers, enough to scream "sensei" when he felt in danger. Or to feel enough comfortable to be alone with them/eats with them/feel asleep near of them (in the teacher dorm visit).

He get used to the friendship in this class but I think that it may be too soon for romantic love for him. He doesn't need it for now. He needs to feel loved. He needs to get first used to feel safe, loved by friends and family and all.

And finally Iruma and Food. It's turned as a joke but Iruma eats a lot. First he was saying "you'll never know when you'll be able to eat again" but in this world he has never lacked food, so he should eat less after some time. And if Azz and Clara needed to create the "snack police" it's that Iruma eats too much snacks in a day (he hides to eat his snacks sometimes).

He didn't gain weight so i guess that it's just for the laugh.

I really wonder if some teachers didn't have some "red flags" with Iruma, especially at the beginning. I think that Murmur would the best to speak with Iruma about his traumas but then Sulllivan would be forced to put him in the "secret gang" with Balam, Opera, Bachiko and himself.

Ya see, this is why fanfics hit differently. Why i read them

Because unlike the official manga in any series I've read so far, fanfic tackle the trauma

Past trauma, recent trauma. The fanfic author gives our characters space to breathe, to heal. Something the manga writers can't really do

Because they need to grab readers attention. While fanfic writers are just doing this for free. They're doing it for themselves, so they do whatever feels right to them without worrying about the readers getting bored (some do worry, and this is your daily reminder that those who read fanfics are already attached to the characters, so do whatev you want in your story. No matter what you'll find a lil' cult loving it)

Iruma went through a lot, and I dont think he's yet processed how fucked up his life has been until now.

His parents absence = never feeling safe. Never feeling loved

His parents manipulating him to work and earn money for them (not sure if it's manipulation but it's still awful)

As you said, all the adults not saying/noticing anything, so they cannot be trusted

All the near death scenarios he's went through

Him living in a forest. No roof over his head, food not guaranteed. Having to fend off predators and other animals off his food

And then when he went to the demon world it just kept getting worse

He almost blew off his limbs, and a teacher said to his face that they wanted to see it happen (I understand there's a difference between human and demon culture, but this was iruma's first week)

Almost falling to his death because a teacher pushed him (again, difference between humans/ demons so can't really be blamed)

Kirio, the first person to really show him the difference between humans and demons

Almost losing his first friend (making an assumption here) because of his own choices

The harvest festivals. I don't think one breakdown is enough for the shit that has happened in his past life

And then iruma almost getting kidnapped by atori. I refuse to believe he was able to sleep for a while. I heard the elevator in my apartment complex moving and got up to check the front door was locked. There’s no way he was able to just sleep after what happened in the heartbreaker.

A lot of shit happened since he came to the demon world

but his life in the demon world is way better than before.

Now he has guardians that truly care about him

Now he has friends that love him, and teachers that support him

And even if something happened. If somehow, in the very worst scenario possible, he'll still have Ali-san, his number one supporter (tied with sulli and azz)

There's more danger, his chances of dying is higher, the very maddening thought that once his secret comes out everyone will reject him is always there

But i still believe that his life in Babyls is better

At the very least, if something was to happen, he would have known what it feels like to be loved, if even for a moment

[team-sanvich2]

Is it Speeding Bullet O'clock? No?

Well too bad, I can't sleep and these two are in my head now, so, ENJOY!!

Riffle to the heart, and a bat to the knee.

Tagging @kombucha-enjoyer

"It is a simple mission I believe you can handle" the mysterious woman spoke from the TV Screen at both Team BLU and RED'S base, explaining their latest task...that was simply a made up plan to test the limits of the two she felt were lacking in their own ways in their fields. "Do this flawlessly and I shall take back my latest employee reviews of your performance, I know yhat family means a lot to you in particular, but it cannot be something you should LET take over your thoughts in this line of work, after all, you don't want them to see you in a casket once you're out of here, right?"

"Yes ma'am" both men said but at opposite sides of the territory.

Starting with Mick, the RED team's Sniper, a man of few words, takes his position and work very seriously, and won't let the opinions of others dictate wether or not he'll succeed in it. However, familial issues are hard to simply not ignore, specially when everytime you look into making contact, the people that were supposed to love you unconditionally now take every minute to criticize your choices, even if nowhere else was open for you, not even your dream profession.

As for Antonie, the BLU team's Scout, his own struggles were more direct, his father had been a victim of torture and experimentation at the hands of the RED Medic, his head had recently been retrieved from the enemy base, but his body remains unresponsive, Dell and Fritz are doing what they can to make sure their leader can go back to being his former self, even if their options were running low. Antonie had retrieved the head after discovering it in the abandoned hospital, Antonie brought him quickly to his team's Medic to wake him up from his coma, he was successful...but what is a functional head when there were no arms and legs to move around with it? Worst of all was that the Scout refused to see his own father wake up and visit him, it felt like it was his fault for getting himself killed by the RED spy, it was his fault for not doing enough, and it was his fault that his dad was almost lost forever.

"Here's the scene, in a abandoned Mann.Co field dubbed "harvest", a piece of important information was lost there due to my...late Assistant, Mr. Bidwell was his name, being too careless, but seems like Mann.co decided that moving him upwards in the company was the better option...But enough about old grudges, retrieve that document, Ms Pauling will be waiting to pick it up in the morning, you have the entire night to find it, I heard the enemy team has their eyes on it, do not disappoint me". The TV was turned off and both mercenaries went on their own to the abandoned field.

The Scout arrived on a scooter provided to him by Dell, he made sure to take his lessons with soldier to heart and explored the area for a back entrance, or at the very least, a hole on the fence. The Sniper however was more calm about it and simply drove over and parked somewhere he wouldn't be noticed, and immediately jumped over a fence, he searched the property on foot, taking note on his gut feelings, that he wasn't alone, but that in that very moment, he was being watched, prompting him to pull out one of his recent crafts, the cleaner's Carbine.

The Aussie man could take a few guesses on who it was that was stalking him, the enemy team was almost a copy and pasted version of his own, perhaps their spy was back in action, maybe the traitorous Dell was building some sentries to try a ambush, perhaps they sent over their Pyro, but he was not expecting that they sent out their own speedy "force of nature", as a couple of gunshots caught him by surprise, forcing him to crouch around the scene.

Antonie held similar thoughts, he was relived he wouldn't have to see the RED Spy again, or their Pyro, hell, he thanked whatever being was watching over the earth that it wasn't the Medic, but their Sniper? He had forgotten about their interaction, at least until he saw him again. Their last encounter almost repeated itself if Anotnie did not dodge a literal bullet from his riffle, what was worse? It was a quieter version. He needed a different approach, he knew the Sniper was aware of his presence, he knew he could get taken down ANY MOMENT, so what to do? He rummages through his bag, and finds a old friend, just what he needed.

Mick had settled in a safe zone that allowed him to view the entire property, every blind spot was now in his sights, that Scout would not get through him...Although, he thought about it for a moment, unless team Blu employed a new one, Scout was much different, maybe it was his countless encounters of being met with bullets, blades and explosions that made them pick someone more adapted to the job...Or he BECAME that someone, fact was that...it was too quiet, at least until he hit himself with his riffle thanks to a baseball hitting the tip of the lenses that were now broken, making him realize that this was the same Scout with the bloody sandman baseball bat.

He runs downstairs with his submachine gun in hand and from time to time he hears the running steps of the runner, he doesn't talk much, at least not anymore if what the Soy said was to be believed, he doesn't call much attention to himself, in fact it made it seem like he was merely part of the wind blowing outside, and he seemed to be more...experienced, perhaps team Blu found his match made in heaven, professional versus professional, and that was solidified by getting hit by a spiked baseball bat right om his back, making him bleed.

"AUUUGH! YOU BLOODY-" And he was gone again, thankfully, Ludwig was kind enough to lend him some spare medkits, after one sip from the bottle, Sniper gathered his stuff and changed the lenses on the riffle, and while doing so, he hears something climbing on the roof, he quickly tosses the ball back as a distraction and was met with the dark blueish shadow, who collected the ball and was ready to jump to the next roof, only almost get his foot shot, and the chase was on.

Antonie doesn't jump Into battle immediately, he runs off while delivering shots with the Soda Popper, it doesn't scare off Sniper from his spot, but he got his attention, signified by the many bullets that destroyed the walls of the wooden buildings. It was like both were stepping comfortably out of their comfort zone, Scout was using his speed in the means of blending in the darkness and not being noticed, and Sniper was now more on the move cause his only target knew where he was and was taunting him, but not in a way that felt like mocking, more like two similar minds playing a game of chess.

Eventually, both men run out of bullets, and thus, the chase has to stop and both meet at the center of the "Harvest". Their melee weapons were drawn, both shocked that they had the same idea of packing more than one blunt object, Antonie had equipped the Boston Basher, and Mick had a Prinny Machete, they give the other one look and charged towards each other like two Demoknights, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Antonie used his speed and smaller build to his advantage to slip through but Mick’s longer limbs were also a advantage and he pulled the younger male and almost gave his neck a second scar.

"Running around like a coward will get you nowhere!"

"Is called preserving energy Moron, you should try that since you seem to use most of it on headshots"

The Aussie man charges at him once more, "I am a professional with standards, I need to be efficient! Besides, at least I'm doing my part! You just run around and go back to your team with nothing!" He gets a punch on the stomach but blocks the bat with his blade.

"I am TRYING to Improve! And is not like any of them cared, and the only that did probably stopped after I ROYALLY SCREWED UP!" He gets pushed back but tries to strike the Sniper repeatedly, in the same motion, hoping to hit him.

"A price to pay in this industry! Those are still your coworkers! If you don't trust their abilities then you might as well not trust yourself!"

"Easy for you to say! You probably get praised a lot for, let me guess, sitting still, shooting asshats all day long, and having the most calm time of your life!" At this point, neither are using their weapons, seems like the fight became more psychological...or...it was a weird...bonding moment.

"Says the one that probably strokes his own ego that might as well be 12 feet tall!"

"OH I WISH! All I have is the weight of failure slowing me down! And my team underestimating me DOES! NOT! HELP!"

"WELL I WISH MY WORK WAS MORE RECOGNIZED! I have done plenty for those Poggers, and do I get a thank you? No! SLEEPLESS WEEKS OF SURVIVING ON NOTHING BUT COFFEE AND FISH CAKES ALL DOWN THE FUCKING DRAIN!"

"AND I WISH I WASN'T SUCH A BIG SCREW UP THAT I ALMOST LOST THE ONLY PERSON IN THAT FUCKING BASE THAT SEES ME AS A PERSON AND IS MY ONLY FUCKING FAMILY..."

"...family?" He dropped the Machete in hopes the Scout would trust him.

"...Look, we got off track...what are you looking for? Folders? Weapons? Food? Just grab it and get out! I'm...I'm not in the mood anymore..."

Antonie feels his shoulder grt grabbed, but not Ina way that felt forceful, it felt...warm...welcoming, he turned and saw the Sniper had taken off his hat as a sign of a truce,

"Please...I insist, you have no obligation to tell me the rest but...you fought good, dare I say this was the most fun I had in a while" he let's out a chuckle at the end, followed by the muffled giggles of the Scout, who finally takes off his gas mask.

"The feeling is mutual, good to see a Sniper that actually puts up a fight unlike Ke-..My Sniper"

"Hehe, and is nice to see a quiet Scout for once...I think that spot has a nice view"

"Lead the way then".

Once both were on the roof, Mick offers a bottle from the Medkit, taking notice of some bullets that left some cuts on the runner, he made a expression that looked outrageous after kne gulp.

"Why is this stuff so bitter?" Antonie said, while trying to find a label with anything written on it that could shed some light ton the Ingridients,

"Trust me mate, you DON'T want to know what they put in there, just chug it with your nose plugged" the poor guy follows his instructions, only to feel his nose burning up,

"FUCKING HELL! AAAH!"

"Pffff, HAHHAHA! Bloody hell, I can't believe you fell for that!"

"Oh haha, very funny...you wanted to talk about something or just mock me?"

The Sniper adjusted his posture and took a deep breath,

"You had mentioned family...I couldn't help but...find your situation similar to mine...my...relatives aren't that fond of my position"

"Well, at least they aren't here...As in, not in the base...cause...that's where my...Person is...and he went through a lot...it was my fault and...I can't face him! What am I supposed to say? "Sorry I tripped and got myself killed as well as getting a scar as a memento?!"...I...can't even look at him..."

"...seems like you are going through a lot"

"Says you, you put up a good fight but...I don't remember your team saying anything"

The Sniper scratches the back of his neck, "I might have exaggerated, is not that it NEVER happens...but I see your Sniper and think..."I want that"...tho I guess if he's actually some lazy asshat then I guess I shouldn't compare myself"

"Yeah...same...your Scout is...Loud but...the team at least acknowledges that he's there...and they don't seem so harsh on him too...weird how the other person seems to have it better"

"But you don't know the whole story...it is weird"

Both look at the night sky for a while, Antonie had also taken off his goggles as Mick did with his glasses, it took a hour but they eventually went back to looking for what they were there for, oddly enough, there were two safes there, they open it with their IDs and find the folders they were looking for, the weird part was both were copies, not the original.

Antonie decided to let Mick drive him back to his base along with his scooter as the gas was down to zero, both talked some more until they were close enough for Antonie to go back safely but also far enough so that Mick wouldn't get shot by the sentries.

This odd friendship developed more and more as both would randomly see each other during matches, Antonie accidentally finding where Mick is hiding to chat or to share some sandwiches or to even nap on the same spot. Other times, Mick would see Antonie looking over the territory and use the light on the riffle to show him where there's ammo and medkits.

It flew under the radar to both teams, even Anotnie’s father...but Ms. Pauling had other plans with that information, after informing the administrator, she tried to pull the same stunt she did with the RED Demoman and the BLU soldier, but no matter what, the two seemed to be back together, soon enough she just gave up as those two were selective on what to tell the other, and Pauling even has a feeling both men never believed her words.

Unlike her and the Administrator, Mick and Antonie seem to talk their loudest in silence...but also in each other's company, maybe this would inspire some old friends to reconsider their hate if they were to be found out...and maybe the lines of like and love would get blurry for the Blue Runner and the Red Silencer.

[nightzombie]

dean was a complete asshole to Jack in every way for so fucking long i think while watching every single damn episode they're in. i do not doubt that they care for one another, and that they love each other as father and son. i will never doubt that. and i understand it was for symmetry. john dean sam. dean sam jack. it is on purpose. but holy shit if i see one more fluffy fix-it that doesn't slightly acknowledge the shit they put each other through, the daddy issues that literal God has, etc etc i will shit myself.

the relationship between dean and jack is one of a parent and a child, one that is fraught, filled with anger resentment and love like every damn relationship in this goddamn stupid show. they have wronged each other and yet we are explicitly told (though not shown) they are still family, still love each other. because they don't know how to not.

and they deserved to hash out their issues. jack deserved to yell and kick and scream at dean for his lack of unconditional understanding that should be extended from every parent to every child, even if there is a blatant lack of forgiveness. they deserved to talk about mary past jack breaking down in 15x14, the punishment that was seen as "deserved" (it was not. no one deserves that).

they are so complicated and had such a good fucking set up and guess where that went??? no where!!!!

[teeth-cable]

You everr realize that Vivziepop is completely bullshitting when it comes to ethnic casting because of Millie?

Like we are definitely getting imp human disguises for merch reasons so its definitely going to come up.

But like if Millie is black then her family should be played by black VAs but all of them are white VAs. Like I don't think Millie is adopted since she looks like a younger version of her mother.

The best course would then be making Millie white and no we can't use Erica being the original VA as evidence because that was always meant to be a temp casting.

But then this creates an issue in Helluva Boss having no fucking diversity like Vivziepop doesn't have to answer to corporate demands to make the ENTIRE CAST white. She can choose to add diversity.

If she makes Millie black that's also showcasing a huge issue in Helluva's lack of diversity in its main group of characters and Millie could come off as a token. Then you have the fact Morgana and Ed would come under fire for taking POC roles as well as Spindle allowing it unless Vivziepop retcons Millie as adopted or half siblings with Sallie.

Like Into The Spiderverse had half its human cast be POC and it answered to corporate demands. Then Across The Spiderverse without spoiling anything has a MAJORITY of the cast be POC.

Now you can argue Spiderverse is based off existing material unlike Helluva but those existing materials had put effort into adding POC in the first place. And guess what Spiderverse had consulted actual minorities when it came to development of the project.

Vivziepop is latina but she's white passing so she needs to consult people who don't pass to get a better understanding overall on things. Like I'm disconnected from my own culture but just because I'm part of it doesn't mean I have a full picture of it.

Vivziepop also isn't black, asian or indigenous so if she's telling stories that features them she needs to do research and consult people.

She actually consulted Morgana about Sallie May being trans thankfully but... I never hear any talk about other people she talks to which shows poor ass attempts. Like Morgana's insight is valid but she does not speak for all trans people and yes you aren't going to please everybody with representation but just consulting a SINGLE PERSON is insane. We also know Viv according to leaked screenshots has or had some form of transphobia so she absolutely needs to consult more people if she's trying to change and do better especially if she's writing about a trans character.

Like Morgana being a white transwoman will not have the same experience as a black transwoman for example. Like I know that from actively trying to learn about trans people.

Like there's a youtuber UnicornofWar who made a video about how the show RWBY is terrible at handling its racism allegory. Now Unicorn is white but actively went out of their way to consult multiple POC for the video and did a shit ton of research. Now I will say Unicorn in the past has said ignorant things about stuff like white washing (thinking its ok because of art style color pallets back then) in earlier videos but currently denounces that viewpoint (note: Unicorn as far as Im aware has never said anything with vile. I have to clarify so I don't misrepresent their person and people don't assume Unicorn like said a slur) and actually apologizes for their ignorance.

Has Vivziepop ever denounced her old views or behavior? Has she apologized for being ignorant in certain things? Is making a serious effort to change? Has Vivziepop researched throughly and listened to POC insights or concerns?

As far as I'm aware she hasn't.

I have noticed Viv's weird choices for Millie as a black character. I hate to say this but Millie is supposed to be token rep which to me is weird because nobody was pressuring Viv to add rep to her shows. I will say this even in a universe where Viv hired black VAs to voice Millie's family and did do properly research and consulted black people, Millie would still be considered token rep because she is the only the only main character in the show to not have an self-centered EP and has the least amount of screentime.

It makes me wonder if the reason why the IMPs don't have a canon human form yet is because Viv doesn't want to draw POC characters. She has shown she knows the importance of these disguises and they sell well on merch but the only characters who have canon human forms are Stolas and Loona, two white characters who arguably don't even need them. Blitzo is voiced by Brandon Roger who is a mixed Filipino (It's also canon Blitzo looks like Brandon Roger and Blitzo and Brandon Roger are intertwined together so it doesn't make sense for Blitzo to be white), Millie being a black woman, and Moxxie, despite what you might believe is a mixed Latino.

The POC rep we already have isn't good either. In Spring Broken, Verosika and her gang, who the majority are POCs, gets arrested and Verosika makes a joke about sucking police dicks to get out of jail. Having a POC character make a rape joke about police corruption unironically is not funny. Moxxie's mom is obviously supposed to be Latina, falls into the trope of nice POC women who get brutally abused and killed by their white husbands. This actually could have work and wouldn't be as tokenizing if 1. we got to learn about Moxxie's mom as a person and 2. her death wasn't solely use to be angst bait for a male character.

The Spiderverse crew actively puts effort and consulted with POC about characters from their culture. During the early stage of writing for Pavitr Prabhakar, the writing team struggled writing his character and called his VA, Karan Soni to help them write and consult on the character. Thanks to Karan Soni's contribution for Pavitr Prabhakar, he is beloved by desi people alike. Viv doesn't do that and probably will never. She has shown time and time again, she doesn't respect religions, using their symbols as an aesthetic and for monetary gain. Viv's designs for black and other POC characters are terrible, them alway never having POC features and looking racial ambiguous as hell and she ignored the criticism from black and POC people for these POC characters.

[nerdzzone]

Bubbles, Bedtime & Bliss

Summary: Chris comes home after a month away to Madeline and Grace who are eager for some time together as a family.

Part of the Back To You series

-----

February 2023

“Daddy!” Grace grinned as she toddled over to the door. “Hi!”

Her enthusiasm and her bouncy little baby jog had a smile sliding onto Madeline’s face as she hung back to watch the reunion that was about to happen. Her body itched to follow her and race into Chris’ arms as well, but she wanted to give Grace her moment and let her greet him first. Dodger, however, didn’t have the same restraint and Grace wobbled slightly as he barreled past her. The sound of Chris’ laughter echoed around the room as he half-heartedly scolded the dog who’d immediately jumped up to say hello, but after letting him get in a few happy licks and giving him a few scratches behind his ears, Chris moved him out of the way with a firm warning to sit so he could squat down and hold his arms out for Grace.

“Hi, Gracie! I missed you!”

“Miss you!” Grace cheered back, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck. “Up!”

Chris didn't need to be asked twice as he lifted her into his arms and stood up while Grace immediately snuggled in close. Just seeing them together again was a heartwarming sight for Madeline, but the look of pure joy and adoration on Chris’ face as he closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling that she knew he’d missed was almost too much for her to handle. He’d only been gone for about a month - definitely not the longest he’d ever been away - but she knew he worried every time that Grace would forget who he was or be shy and nervous around him when he came home. But so far Grace had proved to be very resilient and every time they’d reunited had been a very happy occasion.

“How’re you doing?” Chris posed the question to Grace after taking a moment to simply enjoy her embrace, but he only received a mumbled ‘good’ in response as she was too busy soaking up the cuddles that she’d so desperately missed. He was happy to oblige, but Madeline’s anticipation built as he posed another question. “Should we go say hi to your Ma too?”

That question earned a more enthusiastic response as Grace leaned back enough for him to see her nodding her head.

“Mama sad.”

It was endearing how quickly Chris’ face creased with worry, but Madeline simply shrugged when he looked over towards her for more of an explanation.

“Mama was sad?” Chris asked Grace when he realized that Madeline had no more information for him. “Why?”

“Daddy gone,” Grace informed him. “Mama sad.”

“Oh,” Madeline groaned as a rush of understanding hit her. “Did Mama get sad today because Daddy was gone or did Mama get sad today because Gracie wasn’t listening?”

The clarification had Grace’s lips twitching into a hint of a smirk before she slowly shook her head.

“Daddy gone,” she insisted. “Mama sad.”

“I don’t think so,” Madeline smiled before filling Chris in. “Someone had some trouble listening when we were getting ready this morning and I made a comment about how it was making me frustrated and sad and she started telling me ‘home soon, daddy home soon’ so I guess that’s what she thought I meant.”

“Well, duh,” Chris smirked. “Because obviously your lack of patience must have stemmed from your own issues and would never be Gracie’s fault.”

Despite knowing that she wouldn’t have been able to understand exactly what they’d just said, Grace’s attention was caught by the end of Chris’ sentence as she nodded in agreement.

“No fault.”

Her input had Chris letting out another chuckle as he shook his head before pressing a kiss against her cheek.

“Oh, Gracie,” he smiled. “I missed you.”

Grace murmured another soft “miss you” back before burying her face into Chris’ neck as he finally moved across the room towards Madeline. She managed to continue controlling herself long enough to resist the urge to throw herself into his arms the way their daughter had, but a soft sigh of relief slipped through Madeline’s lips when Chris finally got close enough to slide his free arm around her waist.

“I also missed you,” she informed him, relaxing into the little family hug. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Eagerly agreeing, Chris leaned down to press a kiss against Madeline’s hair, but almost immediately Grace let out a whine of protest at the affection that didn’t involve her.

“Gracie too,” she demanded, pointing to her cheek. “Kiss!’

“Don’t worry,” Chris assured her, pressing his lips against her cheek as requested. “I’ve got enough kisses for both of you.”

“Yeah, Gracie,” Madeline agreed, stretching up to press a kiss against Chris’ jaw. “You have to share.”

They watched as her eyes shifted into a suspicious glare before a sigh and a reluctant agreement fell from her lips. Her attitude had Chris and Madeline both biting back a smile and Madeline couldn’t resist pressing a kiss against her chubby little cheeks too.

“Have you eaten?” She asked Chris as she slipped out of his grasp. “We just finished up dinner, but I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

“No, I’m good,” Chris assured her. “I ate on the plane so I wouldn’t interrupt the bedtime routine too much.”

His consideration had Madeline’s heart filling with warmth once again and she flashed him an appreciative smile.

“Perfect because you’re home just in time for bath time,” Madeline informed him. “Do you want Daddy to give you a bath tonight, Gracie?”

The cheer that Grace let out was a clear and enthusiastic confirmation and Madeline was relieved that the novelty of having her dad around had made Grace more amenable to the part of bedtime that she usually hated the most. She followed Chris as he carried Grace into the bathroom, letting him take the lead as he was clearly happy to jump right back into his dad duties as he sat her on the counter before kneeling down to open the cupboards under the sink. 

“Which kind of bubbles do you want?” He asked, showing her two bottles of bubble bath. “Strawberry or watermelon?”

“Um…” Grace’s brow creased in concentration as she pondered her choices before a grin slid onto her face. “Water-lemon!”

Her mispronunciation earned a chuckle from both of her parents, but neither of them corrected her as Chris stood up from where he’d been crouched to start running the bath. Madeline moved closer to keep Grace steady and make sure she didn’t slip off the counter, but her attention was fixated on Chris. She watched as he tested the water, making sure it was the perfect temperature before adding the soap and then he moved back to the cupboard to pull out the basket of bath toys that were the only thing that made bath time tolerable for Grace. Even after a month away, he slipped effortlessly back into their routine and the sight of him maneuvering around the bathroom filled Madeline with comfort.

Once the bath was ready, she helped Grace slip out of her clothes and carefully settled her in the warm water surrounded by bubbles before sitting on the closed toilet seat to leave room for Chris to sit on the floor beside the tub. Grace immediately searched through the bubbles for the toys, but one that floated to the surface caught Chris’ attention.

“Hey, who’s this guy?” He asked, scooping a purple rubber duck out of the water. “I don’t remember him.”

Grace glanced away from where she was collecting the other various animals swimming around her and a grin slid onto her face at the sight of what Chris was holding.

“Ducky!”

“Is that his name?”

Grace nodded and Madeline reached to take the little duck out of Chris’ hand.

“Should we show Daddy how he works?”

The question had Chris looking intrigued as Grace eagerly voiced her agreement. She stretched out her little hands to grab the toy and Madeline let her help submerge it under the water as she squeezed it tightly. As they released it to fill it with water, Madeline took her hands away to let Grace demonstrate her newest toy, but before she had the chance to remind her to be careful where she was aiming, Grace pointed the duck in Chris’ direction and squirted the water directly in his face.

It was a move that shocked them all and the way he gasped and sputtered had Madeline immediately dissolving into giggles, her amusement only growing as Grace appeared to be just as stunned as Chris.

“Oopsie!”

The exclamation came with eyes wide and her genuinely remorseful expression had Chris flashing her a smile as he wiped his face with his shirt.

“It’s okay, Gracie,” he assured her. “But let’s be careful where we shoot that thing, okay?”

Grace nodded, but as Madeline was still struggling to control her laughter, Chris shot her a playful glare.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he argued. “You’re setting a bad example, Maddie.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

Madeline gasped for breath through her seemingly endless giggles, but the image of his shocked face was stuck in her mind and made it hard for her to pull herself together. She reached up a hand to wipe away the tears of laughter in her eyes, but as her vision was obscured she didn’t see Chris take the duck into his own hands before she felt a stream of water dousing her. Letting out a shriek of surprise, Madeline desperately tried to shield herself from the far more forceful and long lasting blast than the one that hit Chris, but his strategy did work to put an end to her laughter as she stared at him with her jaw dropped as water dripped from her face.

“Wow,” she scoffed. “Now who’s setting a bad example?”

“It’s called retribution,” Chris smirked. “It’s an important lesson.”

His words had Madeline letting out a reluctant snort of laughter, but the way that Grace was scowling told them she was less amused.

“No, daddy,” she scolded him. “Daddy bad.”

“Thank you, Gracie. That wasn’t nice, was it?” Madeline smiled at her daughter’s support. “I think Daddy owes me an apology.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris quickly conceded despite his lingering smug expression, reaching behind him to pull a towel off the rack. “Here, let me help you.”

He stretched up to gently wipe the water from her face and she smiled at his tenderness, following his hand when it moved back until she was leaning far enough forward to press her lips against his. It was a sensation she’d missed while he was away and it would have been almost too easy for her to get lost in the moment had Grace’s little voice not interrupted as she demanded - the same way she had earlier - for a kiss of her own. As always, Chris was happy to oblige despite the air of reluctance as he pulled away from Madeline and he leaned in to kiss her forehead before settling into the rest of the bath time routine.

Grace reintroduced Chris to all her favourite bath toys, Madeline helped her make a beard out of the bubbles and took a picture of her matching with Daddy to Grace’s endless amusement and Chris washed Grace’s hair so gently and with so much care not to get even a drop of water on her face that Madeline’s heart felt it might just burst in her chest. To most people it probably would seem mundane and even for their family, bath time was usually more of a struggle than a time to relax, but having Chris home made even the most boring tasks feel enjoyable.

Once bath time was over and Grace was wrapped tightly in her favourite towel, Madeline suggested that Chris handle bedtime while she cleaned up the mess in the kitchen from dinner. Her plan served two purposes as she thought it would be nice for Chris and Grace to have a little time by themselves and she knew that if she got the cleaning out of the way early it would leave more time for her and Chris to relax together once Grace was asleep. Chris agreed and scooped Grace into his arms, letting Madeline say a quick goodnight before he carried her down the hallway to her bedroom, already discussing which story she’d like to read before bed.

-

It wasn’t until the quiet hum of the dishwasher filled the kitchen that Madeline realized how long Chris had been gone. It wasn’t entirely surprising due to how excited Grace was that he was home and how she would therefore be much more resistant to falling asleep and missing even a moment of time with her dad, but considering the excitement had led to her having an incredibly short nap earlier that day, Madeline worried about the potential of her being overtired and impossible to put to bed. After taking another moment to wipe an earlier forgotten spill off the counter as she waited for Chris to appear, she crept out of the kitchen to check on how the bedtime routine was going.

When she got to the hallway outside Grace’s bedroom and heard the sound of Chris singing in the soft and low tone that he seemed to save just for lullabies, she braced herself to find a cranky and stubborn toddler who was fighting sleep at all costs. However, when she nudged open the door, she was greeted by the heartwarming sight of Chris holding a soundly sleeping Grace against his chest as he gently walked around the room, rocking her as he sang.

“Hi,” Madeline smiled, keeping her voice quiet so she wouldn’t disturb Grace. “Is she sleeping?”

So wrapped up in Grace that he didn’t hear her enter the room, Chris startled slightly at the sound of her voice but as he turned to look at her the emotion was clear on his face.

“Yeah, she is,” he nodded, the smile on his face matching Madeline’s. “She was pretty exhausted.”

“I know, all the excitement of Daddy coming home really wore her out, but I was worried that she’d be too exhausted and give you some trouble.”

“Nah, she was an angel,” Chris assured her. “She did talk me into reading an extra story, but I don’t think I took too much convincing.”

Biting back a laugh so she wouldn’t wake Grace, Madeline shrugged her shoulders.

“She’s a great negotiator, you didn’t really stand a chance.” Her comment earned a chuckle from Chris, but Madeline was surprised that even the shake of his shoulders didn’t stir Grace. “She seems like she’s sleeping pretty deeply, you can probably put her in her bed now.”

“I know,” Chris admitted, a sheepish hint creeping into his smile. “But I think I’ll hold her for a little bit longer, if that’s okay?”

As if the sight of Chris with Grace’s little arms draped over his shoulders as she slept against his chest hadn’t been heart melting enough, that question almost brought tears to Madeline’s eyes.

“Of course,” she nodded. “There’s no rush.”

Chris flashed her a smile before turning his attention back to the toddler in his arms and pressing a kiss against her head. Not wanting to intrude on their little father-daughter moment, Madeline slipped away with her heart feeling very full. She headed into their bedroom, ready to relax after a long day filled with excitement and anticipation, but once she had changed into her pajamas and curled up on the bed to wait for Chris, she found herself growing impatient.

The book she was currently reading sat open on her lap, but she couldn’t seem to focus on it. After reading the same sentence at least seven times and still not retaining what it said, she gave up pretending to pay any attention to it and let her eyes drift to the door as she hoped every little creak she heard was Chris walking towards their bedroom. She was happy for both Chris and Grace that they got to spend a little time together - she knew the time apart was hard on both of them - and she was happy to wait until Chris had soaked up as many Grace cuddles as he wanted, but she really had missed him too and was eager to have him to herself.

When she heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps in the hallway and saw the door slowly start to swing open, she felt a twinge of embarrassment at how giddy she was at the thought of spending time with him.

“Hi,” she greeted him, knowing her happiness at his presence was written all over her face. “Is she still asleep?”

“She is,” Chris nodded, matching the smile that was stretched across Madeline’s face. “And she’s safely tucked in bed. Even though, I probably could have stayed in there holding her all night.”

“I don’t blame you. She’s pretty sweet, especially when she’s asleep.”

Chuckling at her observation, Chris nodded in agreement as he took in the sight of Madeline already curled up in one of his old sweatshirts and nothing else. Inspired by her comfy attire, he wasted no time ridding himself of his own clothes - still stale from the flight home - before digging through his drawer.

“Is your suitcase still by the door?” Madeline asked, watching him nod as he slipped into the pair of loose sweatpants he’d found. “Okay, I can throw some laundry in tomorrow. Grace has some stuff that needs washing too.”

“I can do it.”

Chris accompanied the words with a shrug as he crawled onto the bed to lay beside her, but Madeline smirked as she quickly rolled over to wrap herself around him - her arms sliding around his neck as she almost instinctively intertwined her legs with his.

“I know you can, but will you?” She questioned. “Or will you leave all your clothes sitting in your suitcase for weeks until you need it again like you did last time?”

“Hey now,” Chris murmured, pulling her tight against his body, apparently as eager for the physical connection as Madeline was. “Can you blame me for getting hopelessly distracted every time I get home? I get so excited to see my girls that laundry is the last thing on my mind.”

“I guess that’s understandable,” Madeline decided with a playful roll of her eyes. Her attitude had Chris chuckling as he dipped his head down to capture her lips with his own and the sensation had a flush of contentment washing over Madeline as she soaked in the feel of his lips that she’d missed so desperately until she pulled away and let out a happy sigh. “We really did miss you. January felt like it lasted forever.”

“It was a long one,” Chris agreed, sliding his hand up to rub gently against the side of her thigh. “But how were things here?”

“Busy,” Madeline admitted. “But we survived.”

Chris cringed at her honest response as a guilty look slid onto his face.

“Is it harder now that she's getting older?”

“In some ways, but in some ways it's easier,” Madeline assured him. “And, to be honest, we’re pretty lucky. Most of the time she’s a pretty easy kid.”

“Maybe when she’s not being sassy and stubborn.”

Despite sounding critical, his comment was said with a proud smile and Madeline knew that Chris embraced all of Grace’s traits - including the ones that were harder to deal with - just as much as she did.

“I know, but I like that she’s sassy,” Madeline admitted. “I know it’ll get harder when she’s older, but it’s so hard not to laugh sometimes. Like, she gives me this look when I ask her to do something where it’s so clear that she thinks I’m being ridiculous and when I finally convince her to listen to me, she makes such a big show of doing it begrudgingly. I swear she’s like two going on twenty some days.”

“I know the face you’re talking about,” Chris chuckled as he nodded in agreement. “When I suggested we only read one bedtime story earlier, the look she gave me screamed ‘are you serious?’, but as I said I was powerless to resist.”

“That’s the one,” Madeline giggled. “It gets easier to resist the more often you see it.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to resist it,” Chris sighed as the smile on his face faltered slightly. “I’ve got too much guilt about leaving her all the time to not just give her everything she wants whenever I’m home.”

His words made Madeline’s heart feel heavy in her chest as she slid her hand over to cup his cheek, forcing his gaze to meet hers as she reassured him.

“You don’t need to feel guilty about anything,” she insisted. “Gracie loves you so much and you’re an amazing dad.”

“I try my best, but floating in and out is hard, especially right now. She’s changing so much and growing so quick, I feel like I have so much to learn about her every time I get home.”

In a way, there was some truth to his words. With her second birthday looming in just a few weeks, Grace seemed to develop new skills and grow her ability to communicate more and more every day. She was hitting new milestones all the time and sometimes even Madeline felt like she couldn’t keep up with how fast she was growing up despite seeing it all unfold right before her eyes. Even though they were incredibly meticulous about phone calls and video chats while he was away, there was a lot to catch up on whenever he came home, but Chris had always taken it in stride.

“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Madeline assured him, letting her thumb brush gently across his cheek. “You had no trouble slipping back into it with Gracie tonight. It was like you never left, wasn’t it? You know how to talk to her, you know what she likes and what irritates her, you two have such a strong connection and I don’t think any amount of time apart will change that.”

She watched as her words seemed to ease the tension that was creased across Chris’ face and a smile slid onto her face as he ducked his chin to nuzzle against her cheek, but his next words had her expression shifting into a frown.

“I appreciate that,” he murmured against her skin. “But I feel guilty about leaving you too. I know it’s unfair that I basically force you to be a single parent all the time.”

“Chris…” Madeline’s disappointment shined through in her tone, but the sound only made Chris bury his face even deeper between hers and the pillow below beside them. “Where is all this coming from?”

“I’ve just been getting in my head about it lately,” he admitted, his breath soft against her skin as he spoke. “I worry that I’m not pulling my weight around here, I feel like I should be home more.”

There had been a moment around the time that they found out that Madeline was pregnant that Chris had toyed with the idea of taking a break from acting to prioritize their family so she knew that his desire to be more engaged at home wasn’t new. However, while it was an easy thing to think about during the pandemic when all his projects were on hold, it was a less appealing idea when things started to open up again and it wasn’t a sacrifice that Madeline was eager for him to make. While being a parent definitely meant putting your kid’s needs often above your own, Madeline felt fairly confident that miserable, unsatisfied parents would end up raising miserable, unsatisfied kids and she felt it was important that they didn’t give up too much of their own lives just to focus on their family. If Chris was wanting to take a break and looking for a reason then that was one thing, but if he stepped away from his career out of obligation then she knew he would regret it.

“You absolutely pull your weight,” she assured him. “We’re a team, Chris. Maybe I have to pick up the slack a bit when you’re not home, but you support me too. Like with my dance studio, you made the whole process so much easier just because I knew you’d have my back if it all fell apart.”

“Of course I would,” Chris agreed as he pulled her tighter against him, his indignant tone implying that he found any doubts about that fact insulting. “I just don’t want you to ever think that I take all the hard work you do for our family for granted.”

“I don’t and I hope that you don’t think I ever take all the hard work that you do for granted either. We balance each other out.” Not wanting to leave room for any arguments, Madeline used her hand that had settled on Chris’ neck to tilt his chin up and out of where he was hiding his face so she could press her lips against his. She hoped that the connection would offer him the same feeling of contentment that it had given her when he’d first crawled into their bed, but just in case he still had doubts she offered another reassurance when she pulled away. “Besides, Grace really is pretty easy, she makes solo parenting no problem most of the time.”

Their close proximity made it impossible for Madeline to miss the flicker of pride that lit up Chris’ eyes - as it seemed too whenever anyone spoke highly of Grace - and she nodded as he prompted her with a quiet, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, she’s really good at playing by herself which is handy when you’re not around if I can’t always give her my undivided attention,” Madeline explained. “And she is pretty reasonable. I mean, she’s not the kinda kid that will ever accept ‘because I said so’ as a reason for doing anything, but if you can explain why something’s important then she’s usually pretty good at listening.”

There was a smile on Chris’ face as he was clearly relieved to hear what Madeline had said, but it shifted into a smirk.

“Except for whatever ridiculous thing you were asking her to do earlier, right?”

His reference to the conversation they’d had when he’d first arrived home had Madeline giggling as she scrunched up her nose.

“Okay, well, yeah, sometimes the sass wins out,” she admitted. “But for the most part, she’s really sweet and very kind hearted.”

The proud glint returned to Chris’ face as he stole another kiss from Madeline’s lips.

“She gets that from her Mama.”

“She gets it from you too, contrary to popular belief you are a pretty nice guy.”

Her backhanded compliment pulled a deep chuckle from Chris, but his hand drifted up from where it had rested on her hip under the sweater to pinch at her waist as payback. The tickling sensation had Madeline pressing herself even closer towards him as she wiggled and squirmed to get away, but when her movements eventually led her to flipping onto her back, Chris rolled with her and let his body hover over her.

“You’re a brat…”

The feel of his breath against her lips as he spoke sent shivers down Madeline’s spine as she flashed him an innocent smile.

“Yeah, but I’m your brat,” she reminded him, rubbing soothingly at the hairs on the nape of his neck. “And I love the life we’ve built together. It might not be super conventional and I do miss you when you’re away, but I like knowing that you’re doing what you love and it makes the time you’re home even more special.”

Her words had any lingering doubt or tension softening off of Chris’ face as he let his forehead rest against hers.

“I love it too,” he agreed. “And I love you.”

Before Madeline could even open her mouth to return the sentiment, Chris leaned forward to silence her with a kiss. She knew that he knew she felt the same without needing to hear the words and let herself relax into his embrace as the comfort of having him home washed over her again. 

Everything just seemed brighter when he was around. Their home felt more cozy, the day to day problems that sometimes seemed so overwhelming and stress inducing seemed trivial and unimportant and she just felt like a better person when she had him by her side. She was being honest when she assured him that things were fine when he was away and he had no reason to feel any guilt for continuing the work she knew he was so passionate about, but she would still admit that her world felt more stable when she had him in her arms and she fully intended to soak up every moment of time with him that her and Grace were given before he dipped away for his next adventure.

-

Next

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