#mrs fallback

[bethanydelleman]

Okay but (if you don't mind--please ignore this otherwise) what is your take on the "strategical importance of Jane" post? I read it and op makes an interesting assertion about Elizabeth's plans for her life. Definitely not one I have seen before, either on Tumblr or by Austen scholars and I was wondering how you would critique it.

Here is the post. Also, I said this in the notes of that post, so this isn't a sneaky take down. I made my opinion clear to OP.

The part about Elizabeth not wanting love but respect in marriage and about her watching her parent's horrible marriage is absolutely correct and in the novel. The Gardiners would also likely help if Mr. Bennet died, though they have 4 children of their own and possibly will have more, which would stretch their funds.

Here are the problems:

This posts states that Elizabeth's backup plan is to live with a married Jane, as if this is a fact, not headcanon. It is headcanon at best, a gross misinterpretation of Elizabeth at worst. There is zero textual evidence in the book for this interpretation. And Austen has given such evidence: Anne Elliot in Persuasion thinks to herself that if her father marries she'll just live with Lady Russell.

Elizabeth does not refuse Collins because she has Jane as a fallback, she rejects Collins because she cannot marry such an idiot. She is risking genteel poverty because for her, being married to someone like Mr. Collins is worse. If you say she wasn't worried because she has a backup plan, you make her less brave and less principled.

Elizabeth has no reason to be so sure Jane will marry. Jane's been "out" for seven years now and has 1 (one) flirtation for her mom to brag about. As Austen says in another novel, "But there certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world as there are pretty women to deserve them."

That post is a headcanon, and I think it's a very wrong one. Elizabeth is not consciously thinking to herself, "Eh, I can reject as many men as I want, because Jane will marry rich." She is just living her life as best she can, hoping to meet someone to love and marry.

[ereardon]

The Backup || Jake Seresin x Reader [teaser]

“That can’t happen again.”  

“It will.” 

You sighed loudly, flinging yourself backward onto the mound of pillows, knowing that he was right. Jake rolled off the bed, tugging on his boxers. 

He grinned. “Any more bad dates planned for this week?” 

“A blind date on Friday,” you replied, rolling onto your side to face him as Jake got dressed. “Someone that a secretary from my work knows.” 

“A blind date, really?” 

Ignoring his comment, you replied, “What about you?” 

“No plans.” 

“Which means that you’ll have a date lined up by Thursday.” 

“And it’ll be a flop and we’ll be right back here on Friday night.” 

“I’m serious Jake, this can’t keep happening.” You stepped out of bed, slipping on a silk robe and tying it tightly around your middle. “We can’t be each other’s fallback every time a date goes sideways.” 

“So end it,” he said. “You’re the one that called me tonight, remember?” 

“I’m weak,” you replied and Jake chuckled. 

“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart, but weak isn’t one of them. Except when it comes to those mall pretzels.” 

“Well those are objectively the best.” 

“True.” 

You watched as Jake finished getting dressed, tying his shoelaces, slipping on his jacket. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

“Are we fucking each other up by doing this? Like are we the reason that every single date goes bad? Because I feel like lately they all end up sucking.” 

“The dates are bad because our options are bad,” Jake replied. “We’re not cursed, Stinky. That’s just how these things go. You date and date and just when you think you want to fling yourself over the Golden Gate you find one person who suddenly makes things work. And then you live your weird Hallmark lives together forever.” 

“You, Jake Seresin, believe that?” You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to the guy I met three years ago who didn’t realize that girls don’t want to come over to your fucking Tenderloin apartment and see a bed without a bed frame?” 

“I loved that apartment and it was dirt cheap,” Jake argued. “Besides, you’re not much better. Remember when you thought guys actually liked girls who wore Birkenstocks?” 

“They’re comfortable!” 

“You looked like you were going to yell at me for not using a reusable jar to grind my own peanut butter at Whole Foods for twenty dollars an ounce. It was heinous. Also they smelled like ass.” Hence, the nickname that you hoped would die but never did. 

“You’re just saying that because your type is girls who stomp around in size five Aquazzura heels on Market Street and have their daddy’s Amex card numbers memorized.” 

“Better than your type. Mr. Couch potato, looks practically homeless and asks you to split the check at dinner because he’s too cheap to pay for your baked potato.” 

“That happened twice, that’s not a pattern.” 

“More than once is concerning.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed because I can’t fucking stand you.” 

“Stop stroking my ego.” 

“Goodnight, Seresin,” you said, walking toward the kitchen, your back to him. “Slam the door on your face on your way out, won’t you?” 

“Night Stinky,” he said and you could hear his footsteps trailing down the hallway. “See you next weekend!” 

You grabbed a half-empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge door and slammed it, a little too hard, the sound of bottles inside rattling as you unscrewed the cap and chugged directly from the bottle. It was acidic, probably too old, but it would do the trick. Anything to block out Jake’s words that haunted the quiet air of your apartment even after he was gone.

He was right. Somehow the two of you always fell into bed together. The dates always went belly up. Hinge, Raya, Bumble, League. No app worked. No blind set up. It was like clockwork: you’d spend an hour getting ready for a date, and within five minutes you’d know that at the end you’d call an Uber to take you to Jake’s. Or vice versa: he’d show up at your door with a pocketful of condoms and a smirk. It always ended the same way. For almost a year, you and Jake had been filling the gaps of your dating life with each other. Friends with benefits. No strings. 

And, of course, you made a point to keep it from the friend group. Coyote would throw an absolute fit if he found out. 

[Note: Special shoutout to @clancycucumber230 for the idea!]

[faytelumos]

Into the Black With a Matchstick, pt5

I have no idea what the word count here is but this feels kinda long. @_@

Also, I am so sorry for all of the exposition; I am trying to make it gentle but it feels like a lot! I think we're at/almost at the hump of this story, though! :0

@c00kieknight, @hypersomnia-insomniac, @jxm-1up, @midnight--architect, @robinparravel

@thepotatoofnopes, @those-damn-snippets

@mr-orion, @tildeathiwillwrite, @thelazywitchphotographer

cw: some peril, descriptions of vertigo and vomiting

first previous

---

Ten minutes.

That was no time at all.

The Skel. What in the name of Creation were the Skel doing in this sector? Paxie was here to monitor smuggling, to discourage unlicensed vessels from flying, to report unusual star activity.

The squad of five ships were not equipped for a skirmish with them.

"All ships!" Paxie ordered across the emergency channel. "Spool FTL drives and make heading for nearest fallback position! Defensive power allocations!" Ten minutes. Ten minutes! If the ships weren't all ready in time, if the Earthlings couldn't get ready in time—

They had no FTL travel—

"Ready automated fighters to scramble!" they added hurriedly.

The Earthlings. What were they going to do about the Earthlings.

Kime was scrambling, and she clamored in a rush through the narrow hallway. Paxie got out of her way as she bumped and clawed her way to the shuttle.

"Admiral!" Klte hissed. They looked back towards the med bay to see it looking at them, its helmet already back on its head. "The Earthlings!"

"I know," Paxie barked affirmatively. They couldn't leave this ship behind. But there was no way for it to possibly travel fast enough to keep up.

"Admiral," Harrison said, stepping into the hall. His eyes were wide, and his skin was pale. Paxie worried for a moment he might faint again. "How do your faster than light engines work?" Paxie blinked. They had no idea. And why was this a question to ask? Surely there was no way for the Earthlings to make an FTL drive in ten minutes with the technology available on this ancient ship. "Do they dematerialize?" he asked. "Do you use wormholes? Is it a space deforming drive?"

"It-it warps the shape of space," Klte hissed. Harrison turned sharply to look at them. Ramirez stepped into the hall.

"Does the space around the ship remain unchanged?" Harrison asked. "Is it distorted inside of the rings?"

What was the Earthling talking about? How did he know how FTL drives worked if Earth didn't have them?

"No," Klte said, their voice almost awed. "No, it's distorted in a bubble through the rings and projectors." Harrison turned sharply to Paxie.

"Admiral, we have to move this ship onto the belly of one of your vessels," Harrison said. "If your ships have ferrous hulls, we can clamp onto you to avoid falling off. But we have to begin maneuvers now."

"That's out of the question," Paxie breathed, blanching. The risk of the ship falling out of alignment and crossing the warp barrier.... "If you fall away, your ship will be smeared across open space."

"And what are the chances of the incoming vessel killing us?" Ramirez asked. She was stoic again. The look in her eyes was... haunting. She had the focus of any Xoixe. Of any apex.

Paxie looked again to Harrison. To Klte.

"Unless you have a ship large enough to dock our vessel, we don't have time to think of another solution," Ramirez said. And Paxie didn't. This mission had been routine, and the Earthling's ship was too large and awkwardly shaped to store on any of the Xoixe craft.

They opened a channel to Captain Eme.

"Captain, prepare The Water's Kiss to align and attach to the Earthling vessel, belly-to-belly."

"A-Admiral?!" Eme choked.

Ramirez and Harrison both sprinted to a different room in the ship.

"They know the risk, Captain, and it was their idea."

"This species is completely suicidal," Eme gasped. Paxie considered the conversation Ramirez and Kime had just had.

"I'm inclined to agree," they breathed. Then they looked up to Klte. "Into the shuttle, we have to get back."

"Aye, sir," it said, already getting down on all eight and running headlong for the airlock.

Adina could hear Paxie making their massive way back to the shuttle from the gear room. John swore again, yanking on the thermal regulation layer, and Adina finally managed to get her damned cryo suit off of her body.

"What a fuckin' day," John gasped, getting the tight-fitting undersuit on and zipped up. Adina just laughed bitterly. She'd barely gotten two minutes with the damn IV before she had to yank it out of her arm again.

John shrugged the top half of his spacesuit on just as Adina heard the low-pitched thump of the outer airlock door sealing. A moment later, there was a deep clang as the alien shuttle detached. "Solstice!" Adina barked, yanking her thermal layer into place. The computer chimed. "Override collision controls and roll ship 180 degrees!"

"Right away, Doctor Adina Ramirez," the computer said in its slow, melodic, feminine voice. The ship immediately began to tilt.

"Shit," John hissed, stumbling as he stood on one leg, stepping into the bottom half of his suit.

Once John finished suiting up, he helped Adina get clamped down. They both waddled to the bridge.

"Which chair do I sit in?" Adina cried.

"How many sim hours did you log?" John asked. Adina stuttered, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to remember.

"Um, uh, uh, th-three hundred and f-forty!"

"You're on comms," John said, pointing to the first chair on the left. He took the one mounted facing forward, and she thanked whatever the fuck was left of God that it wasn't up to her to fly this thing.

There was already a hail request open, and when Adina answered it, she got video of the purpley-green Xoixe.

"Earthlings, you have six minutes before the Skel arrive!" the thing boomed. John swore.

"Adina, are you buckled in?"

"N-no!"

"Get buckled, we have to move!"

Adina stumbled and grasped, her breathing coming loud and hard. The buckle was large, made to be used even with the massive spacesuit gloves, and she was able to get strapped in even as the ship kept spinning.

"I'm in!"

The ship lurched downwards, and Adina squeezed her eyes shut against the vertigo.

"Collision shield disabled!" someone in the room on the alien ship cried.

"Away vessel successfully docked!" another announced.

"FTL fully spooled! Bubble zone partially obstructed!"

"Lieutenant Harrison, you have to move faster!" the alien captain cried. Adina could barely hear them over the sound of her breathing. She kept her eyes closed, trying not to remember how close the helmet was to her face, trying not to think about what would happen if they got stuck here or sliced apart in the warp bubble, trying not to think about how it felt like she was going to throw up again.

"If I hit you too hard, I'll bounce off and lose my alignment!" John yelled back over his shoulder.

"Harrison, we don't have time, I promise you will not bounce off of our hull!" the captain yelled back. "Clear the bubble zone, now!"

John swore loudly and Adina cried out when he punched the maneuvering thrusters. It felt like they were free-falling, the entire ship rushing down faster and faster, flinging her stomach into her lungs, and then they slammed to a stop so fast that Adina's teeth cracked shut.

"Bubble zone clear!"

"Engage drive!"

The entire ship seemed to yank to the right, like some kind of twisted roller coaster and rubber band hybrid. Then everything shuddered all at once, and then there was aching, deafening stillness.

Adina could hear her panicked breathing like it was blasting through an amp right next to her face. Her head was spinning like a top but she knew in her body the cabin was unnaturally still. Her breathing picked up — she heard it more than felt it — and suddenly she was scrambling at the latch of her helmet, her gloved fingers clawing at the bottom of her visor.

She got the helmet off in time, but forgot about the seat buckle. The channel was still open in front of her as she coughed up bile. Her ears were ringing. She didn't feel any better at all.

"Adina?" John said. He held her face in his gloved hands, suddenly standing next to her. "Hey, can you stand?" Adina closed her eyes. She would have shaken her head, but even the thought made her want to wretch again.

"N, hh, n, nn-nn...."

"Stay right here, then," John uttered, letting go of her. "We seem stable, so I'm gonna grab the IV again." Adina couldn't speak, and she couldn't move her head, so she just kept trying to breathe.

---

By the time Paxie got out of their suit, The Water's Kiss was well away from where it had come across the Earth vessel. Once again in open hallways, free of the environment suit, Paxie had abandoned propriety and sprinted for the command room.

They ran full-out, their claws scraping against the decks, their blood rushing. Everything was sharp. Their scales buzzed, and they were keenly aware of how hard their muscles were pumping to move them like this. Their body was alight, electrified. Their mind was focused, the Earthling pair their only thought.

They burst into the command room and slowed, their scales itching. They scraped their claws against the deck, panting hard, eyes snapping to the front of the bridge. There was an open channel, and Captain Ramirez was slumped in the display, breathing hard as Lieutenant Harrison worked around them.

Paxie relaxed, and the weight of fatigue settled over them. They padded heavily to the captain's chair. Eme flinched when they came into view and hurriedly vacated the seat. Paxie laid down in it, their chest heaving, and laid their claws down flat.

The Earthlings survived the initial jump. Good.

"Status report," Paxie huffed.

"The Earthling vessel is secured to the bottom hull, sir," Eme explained. "Our Ghost volunteered to engineer the dampener settings to keep them stable. We've evacuated the bottom two decks to keep our personnel from getting sick, but…." Eme glanced at the screen. Ramirez was trembling, and Harrison was wiping their face with the same thing they had given him earlier.

"She'll be okay," Lieutenant Harrison said. It felt all too familiar, to have Ramirez looking close to death and Harrison dismissing the matter. Perhaps it was another quirk of the species. Another avenue of their… self-destructive attitude. "We didn't suffer any damage during the maneuvers, thankfully," Harrison added. He stooped down to look into the feed from over Ramirez's shoulder. "We didn't hurt anything, did we?"

"N-no," Eme said. He was keeping his voice very proper. "No damage was sustained during maneuvers, and we did not have to scramble any automated fighters to escape." He looked again to Paxie. "All four vessels reported clean spool and initiation. We'll arrive at the fallback position five minutes behind them."

"It's going to be a long five minutes for them," Paxie mused. Maybe it felt closer than it was, but Paxie had been terrified the new aliens were going to get The Water's Kiss killed, or die in the retreat, themselves. If it was them waiting at the fallback position for a ship to arrive, they were sure they'd be inconsolably worried.

"Captain Ramirez, Lieutenant Harrison," Paxie said. Harrison looked up, but Ramirez only grunted. She was clearly in bad shape. And she wasn't getting better the way Harrison had. Paxie swallowed thickly and straightened up taller. "On behalf of the Interstellar Federation of Alliance, I, Admiral Uten Paxie, offer you and your species sanctuary. Under Article six of the Orphaned Body protocol, you all will be afforded medical care, nutrition, and housing without the need to prove citizenship of the Federation."

Harrison was staring at Paxie now. He curled one side of his lips upward, and chuffed softly. Ramirez seemed to be barely lucid. Paxie flattened their ears.

"As the commanding officer of this squadron, and your current head of authority, I'm authorizing an extended rest for the two of you," they went on. Harrison's expression went back to something more neutral. "You are both excused from any further duties for the day, and are not required to check in at a specific time."

Harrison nodded his head. He looked more serious now, more focused, the way Ramirez had earlier. He kept his hand on Ramirez's shoulder the entire time.

"Will do, Admiral," he said. He then gently patted Ramirez's shoulder. "We'll… hail you when we're feeling better."

"See that you do," Paxie said. "Rest well."

Harrison nodded again. Paxie nodded to the communications officer, who cut the feed. Then they took a long, deep breath.

"Announce ship-wide rest," they exhaled. "Keep half again extra medical staff on standby."

"Yes, sir," Eme said, opening the ship-wide channel.

---

Paxie roused with a start when their door chimed. They checked the time. It had been almost seven hours since rest had been announced. They still had another hour left.

They clambered up and out of their low bed, then padded over and hit the floor control for the door. It slid open, revealing a Qomo officer.

"The Earthlings have roused," it announced in the Xoixe language. "They've requested council with you and a highly skilled xenomedic at your convenience." Paxie quirked their jaw.

"Has something gone wrong? Are they injured?"

"No, sir," it said, "Captain Ramirez seems to be fairing better, already. But they wish to discuss the lives of their crew."

That was right. Ramirez and Harrison were the only crew members who had been thawed from their cryonic sleep, but there were more Earthlings than them on board. They would all need to be awoken as soon as possible. Keeping any creature in such a state, let alone for so terribly long, was absurdly inhumane.

"Very well. Rouse Ensign Kime and Lieutenant Tapide."

"Aye, sir."

Once Paxie was refreshed and the two xenomedics were gathered, the three entered the bridge. There was an open channel, already, and the second captain stood and relinquished the chair to Paxie. Paxie nodded their head and padded over, but they watched the feed distractedly.

Nobody was in frame. They could tell they were looking at a part of the ship near the helm station, but all there was to see was metal and wiring.

"Captain Ramirez?" Paxie said. They switched on the translation protocol when their words weren't repeated. "Lieutenant Harrison?"

There was a metal clatter. One of the Earthlings said something too quiet for the translation protocol to pick up. Then Harrison came into view. He looked pinker in the face now, and his eyes seemed clearer. He bore his teeth widely.

"Admiral, hi," he said. He was very close to the screen, and the untranslated version of his voice was loud. "How did you sleep?"

Paxie huffed a laugh.

"I think I should be asking you that," they said. "Is Captain Ramirez okay?"

"She's much better now," Harrison said, looking off-screen in the direction he'd come. Then he looked back to them. "She slept like a rock and got some water in her, so now she actually looks like a scientist."

"I can hear you!" Ramirez's voice shouted from off-screen. She sounded agressive, but Harrison was laughing, baring his teeth. Paxie quirked their ears. He didn't seem to be worried about confrontation or repercussions.

"Anyway, Admiral, we have a few questions," Harrison said, hiding his teeth again. He moved, and seemed to lower himself before the screen. Perhaps resting in that odd chair design. He was serious now. "We have around two hundred people on this vessel, six of which are presumed dead."

Paxie jolted, eyes wide. "What happened?" they demanded. "How long have they been dead?"

"They failed to wake from cryo sleep."

Paxie stared. Eight creatures had been awoken from cryo sleep? And only two of them had survived? They knew cryogenic stasis was cruel, but to be so dangerous?

"What is the state of the six individuals?" Lieutenant Tapide asked. She wasn't Xoixe, but a species with long, bright green and blue feathers across her body, small, delicate hands, and a smaller, more delicate voice.

"Once they fail to wake, the system re-suspends the body," Harrison explained. "The hope there is that they'll be preserved enough to resuscitate, if it's an option."

"Then they haven't been dead long enough to degrade?" Tapide asked. She was already going through information on her tablet beside Kime.

"That's the hope," Harrison said. He lowered his voice now, looking away. "We haven't exactly… checked on them. In person. But the computer says they're still viable."

Paxie felt a pang in their gut. Harrison wasn't looking at the feed now, and he had dropped his voice. Nobody knew the body language of these creatures yet, but this was not what they had observed as Harrison's normal demeanor.

Two hundred Earthlings. And six of them were possibly dead. What may have been a small wound to the Xoixe was a great blow to the Earthlings. No planet, no bearings, no familiar species, hunted in open space, and with barely enough of them left to survive.

Paxie rested their weight further back, dizzied with the idea. They could have very possibly witnessed an extinction event had the Earth ship not made it away with The Water's Kiss, had they not made such a risky and unsound exit plan. Not just the death of intelligent life, but the death of an intelligent species.

It was a difficult prospect to swallow.

"We're unable to dispatch a medpod to you during our jump," Tapide said. Paxie looked to her. She was especially unflappable among her people, they knew this, but it always took Paxie off-guard. "How accessible are your cryogenic compatriots?"

"Uh, well," Harrison said, glancing between Paxie, Kime, and Tapide. Paxie already knew Tapide would fit in the Earthling ship better than they did, but still not as well as the Earthlings. And since their spaces seemed to be made compact on purpose, they could only imagine what the stasis array looked like. "We would probably want to remove the pods from our stasis chamber. We can take them wherever you need to work on them once we've… landed?" Harrison raised his shoulders and twisted his hands to be downside-up, then relaxed again. "I don't know how it works."

"Once our jump is concluded, we can dock properly and shuttle your pods aboard," Paxie explained. "The Water's Kiss should have plenty of resources to evaluate your kin, and determine their revivability."

Harrison nodded, looking down. "Okay," he said. "How long until the jump is over?" Paxie turned and looked to the engineering station, manned by the off-rotation crew member. Eme knew their name, but Paxie didn't.

"We have another six hours," the engineer announced. Paxie didn't let it show how disappointed they were to hear that. They couldn't send or receive any messages while jumping, which meant they weren't going to get any further answers, and couldn't even consult command.

This was probably the worst First Contact in recorded history.

"Alright," Harrison said. He got to his feet again. "I guess we'll see you in six hours, then."

"Very well," Paxie said. "If you have further needs, do not hesitate to hail us again."

"Thanks," Harrison said, and he bore his teeth. He reached for the screen, but then stopped suddenly. "Oh, and before I forget," he said. "Thank you for sending the-the Ghost over."

Paxie tilted their head.

"The Ghost is there?"

Harrison raised the fur patches over his eyes.

"Oh," he said, turning to where he had come onscreen from. "Uh…." He glanced to the screen again.

Paxie heaved a long sigh. They hadn't cleared the Ghost to go aboard the Earthling vessel, but they supposed they hadn't specifically barred it, either. This Ghost wriggled through regulations like water through a leash.

The video feed blurred briefly, and then Harrison moved aside. A transparent, blue-gray mass waved into frame, seeming briefly to obscur the video with a sparse star field.

"Greetings, Admiral," the translation protocol said. Paxie withheld a laugh.

"Hello, Weak Force. You were supposed to wait to be introduced." Paxie couldn't help but notice their words weren't translated to the Earthling language, despite the translation protocol still being active.

"These creatures took my appearance with great grace," the automated voice said. "They understand better than we expected, and did not require coaching to comprehend me."

"Oh, that's good," Paxie said. When Harrison had… fainted, well…. Paxie wasn't worried now, because he seemed fine. But he would have been if Ramirez had been the one on screen, and Harrison remained hidden.

"Admiral," the voice said again. The blur on the video solidified somewhat, obscuring much of the background in a faint haze. "I have been searching through the data on this vessel, and I have discovered two important things." Paxie nodded for it to continue. "Number One: The Earthling vessel, The Solstice, had its course artificially altered, beyond the influence of celestial bodies or the intention of the crew." Paxie blinked, but before they could ask about it— "Number Two: These Earthlings are the species self-designated as Human, currently known as the Five-Fingered Ones, from the planet Areterra."

Areterra? Paxie knew that planet.

"They're from the same planet as the Mauilen," Kime gasped.

Paxie's eyes widened.

"That's excellent news," Paxie said. They looked to Tapide and Kime. "We'll need to adjust for environmental shift, but this should mean we know their chemical biology already."

"Correct, sir," Kime said, typing eagerly on her tablet. "We'll want to run tests first, but we should know then what medicines and foods will work for them."

"Admiral," the voice said. Paxie looked to the screen again. "It would be prudent for the Federation to treat the route alteration of this vessel as sabotage."

Paxie felt almost cold to hear those words. Sabotage. But it seemed as likely as anything else. But if these Humans were from Areterra, then there was more to know here.

Areterra's biological lexicon had no example of a species like the Humans. So there was less hope that their twenty-six million year mission clock was a malfunction. And it would cause some unprecedented administrative strife, assuming it was accurate. Did it mean they were truly an orphaned species then? Perhaps it was up to if they could survive the current climate of their planet? If it truly had been so long as that? Would the Mauilen have any responsibility over them, or would these two species be treated as entirely independent? Did the Maulien have any responsibility to home the remaining Humans and the method by which they rehabilitated their numbers, or was that weight solely on the Federation?

Paxie shook their head subtly. These were not questions for a patrol admiral.

"Thank you, Weak Force," Paxie said.

"Signing off," the voice said. The feed cut, then, leaving the bridge in silence.

"This is exciting," Kime uttered. Paxie wasn't so sure. And they couldn't help but wonder how old the Skel were, and if they were or had ever been capable of sabotage like this.

"Notify Gunnery Sergeant Appi," Paxie said. "When rest is concluded, she will be to meet me in my office."

[stayandot8]

A Case of Friends and Lovers

Genre: Fluff

Relationship type: best friends to lovers

Important Contents: Thank you @bangtanmix73 for the idea 😙😙

WC: 6.1k

masterlist

Chan became my friend in the third grade. 

Mrs. Yoon’s class was tough enough. A tall, slender woman with her black hair streaked with the gray of her years of experience with us youngins. Constantly dressing like she was stuck in the 80s with her long skirts and her turtlenecks, she was a no-nonsense kind of lady, which wouldn’t have been the ideal kind of teacher for third graders if you asked me. If she peered over her glasses at you, you knew from her beady eyes that you wanted to never be the subject of that gaze ever again.  As the “talker” of the class, she sat me next to Chan, the quiet and good one, in hopes that he would encourage me to behave like him. Unlucky for her, her plan backfired. I instead opened him up and brought him out of his shell to his own demise. The first time I got him into trouble was still burned into my mind.

Mrs. Yoon was droning on and on about something called fractions and I had had just about enough of her voice for the day. My worksheet long since forgotten on my desk, I leaned over the aisle to poke Chan in his side rather hard and quickly sat back straight, my eyes back to the front in case the mean lady was watching. Chan yelped and pursed his lips to the side in fake anguish. I would continue to see this look a lot over the course of our friendship. Mrs. Yoon heard his squeal and glared at him. 

“Mr. Bang, do not interrupt my class.” Her angry eyes were enough to make Chan’s face burn bright like a tomato. I couldn’t help but snicker as he apologized. He didn’t sit next to me at lunch that day. It wasn’t until I brought him the prettiest rock I could find, a smooth, round, white stone with dark spots to look like the moon, that he finally spoke to me again, all forgiven. That was the longest we had ever gone without speaking.

Chan became my best friend in the 6th grade.

We were walking down the cold hallways, the stench of rubber erasers and preteens still learning about deodorant forcing its way up my nostrils. It was an effort not to scream daily in those hallways, children screaming every direction you looked. This particular day was the day my period decided to rear its ugly head for the first time. It wasn’t like I didn’t know it was coming, my female friends had gotten theirs fairly recently so they had prepared me for what was to come. What I didn’t expect was for it to be quite so…. messy. 

It was a very normal conversation we were having, about how his mom had gotten his lunch mixed up with his sister’s again, when I felt it; a sudden gush coming from between my legs. I stopped mid-step, kids shoving my shoulders as they kept moving. Chan had stopped a few steps ahead, just realizing that I wasn’t by his side anymore and turned back with a confused look. And then those kids started looking at me to find out why I had stopped walking, that was when the laughing started. And the pointing. I had my first panic attack that day, under the cruel eyes of everyone in that hallway. 

Chan rushed to me, seeing the tears and panic in my eyes and quickly took off his jacket to tie it around my waist. He grabbed my shoulders and rushed me to the nurse. He followed me around all day to make sure no one else laughed or pointed or stared. And when someone even glanced at me with what he deemed the wrong way, he would shout at them. 

“And what are YOU looking at, huh?” 

They would quickly find something else much more interesting to look at and rush past us. Chan would nod at his job well done and continue whatever we were talking about, trying his best to get my mind off of this sudden change. That day we had some of the weirdest conversations we had ever had, him pulling every bizarre subject he had in his arsenal to shock me into talking about it. It was a very effective method and became a fallback in the years to come.

Chan became my secret crush in 10th grade. 

It was my birthday and while my mom was a good mother, she sometimes just got too busy with her work to pay enough attention to what was going on around her. This particular birthday she forgot about. I had gotten to school and looked for Chan but he was nowhere to be found until lunch period. I was sitting by myself with my headphones in, listening to my own personal curated playlist by my one and only best friend when the doors to the lunchroom flew open and a slew of balloons were pushed through them, everyone turned to stare at the loud bang. I wondered who could possibly be coming through the doors and assumed it was for some sort of prom proposal or something. I turned my attention back to my chips and was putting one in my mouth when I looked back up to the collection of helium when I saw who was attached to them. My chewing paused and I took out my headphones.

Chan was beaming as he scanned the lunchroom and locked eyes with me. That was when I realized the balloons had ‘Happy Birthday!’ written on every. single. one. He sprinted as safely as he could without tripping over to my table, a small cake and a fast food bag in his hands along with a bright pink gift sack. My jaw dropped. I felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head. 

“Happy birthday!” He yelled as he drew closer. He set down the cake, balloons, and gift bag to throw his arms around me and suffocate me with his love. I couldn’t help my grin as he let go, his own smile infectious like always. He sat down, grabbing the food bag and laying out a nice spread in front of me.

“Is this why you’re late to school?” I giggled as I put my home lunch back in my lunchbox.

“Well duh. I couldn’t let you get away with going unnoticed on your birthday. I had to get the best for my girl!” My heart fluttered in a way I hadn’t noticed before when he said that. My veins sang as the butterflies took a hold in my stomach and remained there. 

We had our lunch as the rest of the school watched, people wondering what the balloons were for when their friends explained it to them in hushed whispers. They weren’t there as far as I was concerned. All I could see was him. 

That’s also when other girls started to notice him.

Chan became distant in college.

He had started dating and I hated all of the other girls that weren’t me. He always wondered why his girlfriends and I never got along, not one of them. He only saw what they wanted to see, them putting on their sweetest, most perfect facade for him as I glared at them from the sidelines. Our friendship started to suffer too. 

I couldn’t blame him for wanting to be the perfect boyfriend. I just wish he would’ve realized he didn’t have to try so hard for them. He was perfect the way he was. None of them were worthy of him anyways. It annoyed me to no end how hard he would try for them while they took it and never gave it back to him like I could have. They simply weren’t good enough for him.

He hated it when I told him that. The conversation would always start the same. He would bring up some petty argument they were having and I would try my best to be objective for him, but it was so hard. It was simply that all of the fights he ever had were always the girl’s fault, either demanding he spend more time with her or do more for her or that he was too much work for them. I would make this point and he would retort with a way that it was somehow his fault. HIS fault that she felt this way. That he needed to be better. I would say it wasn’t his fault, he already spent so much time with her. We disagreed every time. I was surprised he couldn’t tell that I was in love with him. He was oblivious when it came to me. But his friends weren’t.

Feix questioned me first but Minho was the first to break me. He got me intoxicated and asked me one too many questions and the beans came tumbling out in a drunken babble. In front of all of his friends and God herself, I wouldn’t shut up about how I missed his laugh, his smile, and his hugs. The boys just looked at each other awkwardly, taking turns trying to comfort me in their own ways. Minho tried to tell me Chan’s poor qualities, walking around naked all the time, he worked too much, he never bought anything for himself. But these were all qualities I already knew and loved about him. Seungmin was just calling him old and ‘why would you want someone so close to old age in the prime of your life’ and such things. I wasn’t much younger than Chan so in reality, he was also calling me old. He ran out of things to say after that, not wanting to put his foot in his mouth any more than he already had. Jeongin and Hyunjin offered to take me shopping the next day, which I took them up on. Hyunjin pat me on the back gently and grimaced. Changbin just tried to tell me that exercise was the cure for everything. That earned a glare from everyone, to which he just shrugged and looked away sheepishly. I thanked him for his suggestion. He meant it in earnest. Han took my mind off of it, offering his best controller to play video games with him all night long. And when I had successfully beaten Han enough for him to admit defeat, Felix followed me to bed and just cuddled me until the heavy weight on my chest had lightened. 

Every time we fought about his girlfriends’ issues with him, it was always on the tip of my tongue. It was always ‘Just talk to her, try to work it out’ instead of ‘I wouldn’t treat you like that.’ It was a laborious effort, keeping all of the emotions inside. I would feel the build-up when he was in between girlfriends, he would get more touchy with me, no longer under a watchful eye or a guilty conscience. I could feel myself begin to tell him my feelings and then another girl would pop up and they would last too long that the moment was over. But I was always the one he ran to when he had problems. And they hated that. 

The first girl that had a problem with how much time he spent with me didn’t last long after that. But after the third girl, he noticed that it was maybe not just a single issue. So I saw less and less of him when he was involved. Then she appeared a year later. 

She was everything I was not. She was popular, beautiful, and just cool. She still didn’t deserve him though. I hated that I could tell she did care about him a little more than the others but not enough it seemed. She became obsessed with the idea that he would cheat on her with me. Eventually she convinced herself that he did. That was a particularly hard fight for him to get through. He came over afterwards and explained it to me, that he couldn’t spend more time with me if he wanted to keep her, so that was it. I haven’t seen him in a while.

That was a couple months ago. I’m in my own apartment now, reading my book far too late into the night again. The pounding at my door broke me of my trance and I scurried to open the door to see Chan, his curly hair a little wild and his eyes rimmed with red. 

“She cheated on me.” 

His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in a bit. I opened the door further to let him in but he just fell into my arms, his emotions hitting him harder. I hugged him closer, closing the door behind him. He fell to his knees in the hallway and brought me down with him. We stayed this way until his sobs turned to sniffles. My only form of comfort was rubbing his back up into his hair. When his breathing slowed enough for his strength to return to his legs, I nudged him up to bring him to my couch where I left him only long enough to make him something to drink. I decided tea was the way to go, alcohol no good for him in his current state. He simply stared blankly at my coffee table, his silence scarier than yelling. I nudged him with the mug and he took it, letting it warm his hands. I sat beside him gently, letting him talk if he wanted to. When he didn’t, I asked the only question I would dare about the subject.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His eyes still looked blank. His mind was elsewhere. I didn’t think he heard me and I was resigned to stay quiet when he shook his head. I could only nod faintly, finally looking him over fully for the first time in months. His eyes were tired aside from their current puffiness and his clothes smelled like him a little too much, as if he’d been wearing them a little too long. 

“Do you want to sleep here? You’re more than welcome to.” I said quietly, hoping he would take me up on it. I could feel my body yearning to be closer to his natural warmth but I stayed where I was, not wanting to invade his space just yet. He nodded slowly, his mug remaining untouched by his beautiful lips. I had forgotten…

“Do you want to sleep on my bed? I can take the couch.” He leaned to place the cup on the table in front of us and he grabbed my hand. He stood, forcing me to move from my spot as he led me back through my own bedroom door. He only dropped my hand to land face first on my pillow. I couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped my lips. The way he fell was just a little comical, like a cartoon almost. Luckily I had been in my pajamas for about an hour now so I just turned off the light and climbed in next to him, still not touching him. I was too keenly aware of every breath he took, every small movement he made. He turned his head to face me, still stomach down. His eyes bleary, he took a breath in as if he was about to speak. And it was taking all of his strength.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered the words I didn’t need, but craved anyway. I shook my head.

“Don’t worry about it. Just sleep right now, okay?” He nodded, closing his eyes. 

“Don’t leave me.” Never. I tentatively pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, testing his limits of the moment. He didn’t shoo me away. In fact, he hummed in contentment. His breathing slowed to even draws and gave me the opportunity to really look at him. I thought with these months apart my feelings would die. I should’ve known better. If they could survive college, they would unfortunately survive anything. Simply looking at him was enough to bring them back to the surface in full swing. Maybe this is my opportunity. This time I’ll tell him, I promised myself. Maybe when he’s better. 

“I love you.” I whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. 

I woke up before him the next morning. I felt more than saw the arms around my waist, the leg intertwined with mine. My heart broke slightly as I untangled him from me, moving off the bed as slowly as I could so as not to wake him. He didn’t, simply rolling over, remaining in his slumber. I watched him sleep, the crease between his brows a cause for concern. I tore myself away and exited back to my kitchen. I didn’t know how hungry he would be, so I figured I could always make more if he wanted. As the waffle iron was warming, I heard his shuffling coming down the hall. I kept my back turned to give him a second to breathe and collect himself if he wanted to. When he crept up beside me at the counter, I gave him a half hearted smile and weak ‘hi’, still unsure of his mood. I thought I still knew how to read him, but he had changed so much in these past months, I found it harder than I remembered. 

“I didn’t know how hungry you would be so I was preparing for the worst.” He simply nodded, turning to the coffee pot. He started it up and returned to the couch he was on the night before. He turned on the TV to the morning news. I got the feeling it was just for background noise. 

Once the waffles and coffee were done, I put on my best display of domesticity. I brought him his own plate, which he scarfed down. I talked about anything but the one thing I was dying to ask about. He merely nodded along until a particularly awkward silence hit us. 

“I’m running out of subjects here, Chris.” No response. Another long pause.

“She broke up with me a while ago. I’ve spent the past couple months trying to get her back but it wasn’t working. She finally told me why. She slept with some guy back near the end of our relationship. Didn’t even remember his name.” He got quiet again. Then uttered the few words that consistently broke my heart for him. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“Not everything is your fault though.”

“I had to have done something for her to do that. Why else would she have done it?”

“Some people don’t need reasons.” It was the only response I could think of. He shook his lowered head. 

“It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. So I ran to the only place I thought of. I’m sorry I barged in on you like this, I didn’t know where else to go.” He finally looked me in my eyes, I could see his apology in the gleam between blinks. 

“It’s okay, really. You’ve clearly been busy.”

“But you’ve done nothing to deserve me ignoring you for so long. And then to just show up here? Out of nowhere? I’m sorry, I should go.” He started to rise, eyes, aiming for the door. I panicked, not knowing when the next time I would see him would be. I lunged for his arm, grabbing it tightly. He jerked, but didn’t pull away, looking back at me. Those same apologies still in his eyes. 

“You don’t have to go. I promise, it’s okay. I’m just happy to have you back. No matter the circumstances.” His shoulders fell in relief as he sat back down. He gave me his best smile, which was only a sliver of what I knew it could be. It still made my butterflies jump.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Boy, you have no idea…

That was a few weeks ago. He still wasn’t completely over the betrayal, but he was slowly getting better. He showed up to my apartment regularly, just like before. We would talk about everything but that night. And when he got particularly down on himself, I would drag him out with all of his friends to take his mind off of it. Being of the legal drinking age had its perks.

This particular night, he had been the one to initiate it. He texted the entire group asking which bar we wanted to start on our pub crawl for the evening. We knew what that meant. If it was a club night, he just wanted to forget the day. If it was a club crawl, he wanted to forget the week. But an actual pub crawl, something had to have happened. Minho was always ready with a suggestion. He knew all the best spots in town. And walking through the doors of our first stop of the night, everyone could tell Chan was ready for the night to begin. 

“Let’s gooooo!” He shouted at the top of lungs, approaching the bar and smiling at the bartender, a short woman with enough cleavage to make a porn star jealous. I respect the hustle of it, but did he have to smile at her like that? He flashed one of his famous grins that reached his eyes, which she of course returned. It was hard not to. 

“What can I get you, sweetie?” She wiped down the glass in her hand with the rag in the other, used to the shouting of men ready to forget their troubles. Chan leaned on his elbows on the bartop and cocked his head, ready to charm whoever was a willing victim. 

“A round of shots for me and my friends, angel. And make them doubles if you please.” She smiled and nodded, grabbing the bottle from the shelves and nine bigger shot glasses. Chan started to chat with her as she poured, making my fingers go numb. The intense eye contact between them was enough to force my hands into fists. Felix noticed, because of course he did. I was surprised he couldn't hear my raging heartbeat. Thundering so loud in my ears I could barely hear what he was whispering to me. I felt his warmth bear me as he said

“Don’t take it too close to heart, you know he does this when he needs to release.” That didn’t stop the chill down my spine though. I wanted to deck the poor girl. She had no idea who I was or what I was going through. But if she laughed at one of his stupid jokes again…

Chan grabbed the tray of shots and winked at her, making her blush. God damn it.

“Relax. He’s not going home with her.” More whispers in my ear. I couldn’t place the voice until Seungmin gave me a shy smile, nodding in encouragement of his words. I nodded back, trying to breathe as we all followed Chan to a table near the shadows of the back of the place. Seungmin placed his hand on my back, following my lead and staying close. 

Chan was doling out the shots in everyone’s direction, each conversation happening in tandem, the noise level doing the best job of drowning out my own thoughts. I decided to let this night be as much for me as its initiator. We all clinked our glasses together, tapped the table, and downed our shots in one go, Felix coughing a little as he got used to the burn. 

“Another round!” Jisung shouted over the noise happening around us.

“I’ll go!” Chan started to walk towards the bar, but Jisung stopped him with his arm. 

“Don’t worry buddy, I’ll get this one.” But Jisung’s eyes were on me. I could swear he nodded to me, a small sign of solidarity. 

“Was I that obvious?” Hyunjin shook his head a little too quickly to be anything but honest. I grimaced in his direction, sure that everyone would see through any kind of mask I could put on. Well, everyone except the one it mattered for. He was currently balls-deep in a conversation with Changbin about something to do with…sports? Cars? I couldn’t tell nor did I care. Jisung came back quickly with twice the amount of shots as the first round. I shot him a greatful smile, our unspoken plan working. Another round of shots and we were off to the next bar, pulling the same routine until it was evident that Chan had had quite enough when he wouldn’t let go of my shoulder. He hung on my arm like he hadn’t known anything else in his life, clung to me like he had for the first ten years of our friendship. It was like nothing had changed. 

“Baby, let’s go to another one down the street. They’ve got the best margaritas on the block.” Baby. It almost made it feel real when he called me that. Like, maybe one day, I could be… I snapped back to the moment at hand.

“I think we both have had quite enough there, mister.” His eyes were drooping, his gaze unfocused. His words were blurring together, all of the alochol he had consumed finally hitting his system. He would be turning into one of two people and I didn’t want to be there if the one that wasn’t the cuddly, kind Chris showed up. Not being quite as drunk as the others, I volunteered to take him home, thinking we had had enough for one night. None of the others were ready to go home as much as I was, so they let me take the invalid home by myself. 

The weight of Chan’s body was too much for my single shoulder as we stumbled down the hallway to his apartment. His giggling had turned into a small laughter here and there, which eventually had made him go quiet now. We arrived at his front door, just as I remembered it. 

“Chan, where are your keys?” He grappled with his pockets before he giggled again. 

“Doormat.” was all that came from his mouth. This mother… His spare key was hidden under the mat.

Once we were inside, he went straight for the couch, sighing as he lay flat on his stomach. I couldn’t help my panting from carrying him up his stairs, my breath the only sound in the room. I leaned on the counter, just watching him as he closed his eyes. 

“Chan?”

“Hm?” 

“How are you feeling? Anything coming back up?”

“Not yet. Give me a few minutes though, you never know.” A slight chuckle from the man across the room followed by a groan of regret.

“That is true.” I laughed along with him, not feeling great myself. “Come on, let’s get you set up in your room before I go.” I started for the hallway when his head snapped up from his resting place, his eyes now sad and full of something I couldn’t place. I blame it on the alcohol. 

“What?” His voice had gone high, cracking. “You’re leaving me? Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. I’ll have no one left.” I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. The words he was saying didn’t make sense in response to what I meant, the fog in my head from the multitude of shots I had clouding every logical thought. 

“Huh? I have to go home at some point. I can’t live here with you, Chan. As much fun as that would be.” There was some truth to that, I realized. I could picture it in my drunken mind’s eye and for a split second, it was everything I had ever wanted come alive. A reality that would always be there in another life where I had the guts to say something. And the even rareer chance that he felt the same. 

“Ha. That would be fun. You would never have to leave then. You could take care of me all the time.” What I wouldn’t give… He was slow to rise from the couch, I suspected any sudden movement would make his insides turn out. And that was a mess neither one of us wanted to clean up. 

“Come on, superstar. Let’s go.” He grabbed another hold around my waist now, his touch more intimate than the one around my shoulder when we first arrived. I tried not to read too much into it. It’s not like it meant anything to him. He was out of his mind, didn’t know what he was doing. We shuffled down the hall to his room, him falling on the bed like he fell on the couch. He burst into laughter into his pillow, my fit of giggles not far behind. 

“Why did you fall like that? You looked like a domino.” I sat on his bed at his feet, getting comfortable.

“I don’t know.” His laughter got louder before it died down. What I couldn’t see was his face scrunching up as his own memeories of the day flew together, ready to attack him as soon as he would let them. I wasn’t expecting the sniffles to come. Well, maybe I should have considering how many shots he had. 

“Chan?” I said again. A long pause, the air thick with a new sadness. 

“I saw her again today.” I knew he was talking about her. I sighed but stayed quiet, afraid of what I would say if I spoke. My words tonight had slipped past every filter I ever had, a new sense of honesty I never had before. Another thing to blame the alcohol for. 

“Why didn’t she love me? Why doesn’t anyone love me?” Not a question meant for my ears. 

“I do.” 

It was barely a whisper. A response to a question that didn’t require one. His retort was too quick for him to realize in what way I meant. 

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend.”

“But that’s not how I meant it.”

He was still. I wasn’t sure if he was breathing but I didn’t care. Now was the time. This was the moment. When I had no filters or second guesses. Now would be the time I would spill it all out, everything. Risking our entire friendship in sixty seconds. I could only stare at the wall.

“I’m in love with you. Have been for a couple years now. I hated keeping it from you but I had no other choice. So all those old girfriends were right. Of course, all the other boys know too. Have for a long time. And now that I can face the fact that you don’t feel the same, I can tell you this and I can move on. I can release it. I can let you go. I love you. I am in love with you. And you do not feel the same. And that’s okay.” I took a deep breath, still without the courage to look in the space around his direction. “Because at least now you know and I can start to kill these feelings one by one until I can stomach you being around other girls. Beause it kills me inside when you talk about yourself like that. Every time you and I would argue about your girlfriends complaining to you and you think it’s your fault. It kills my very soul. You are the best person anyone could ever know. They way you make people feel about themselves, they way you make me feel… I’ve never found that in anyone else. Only you. The way you care about me, you make me feel loved.” My shoes were dirty from the path we walked. I would have to wash them when I got home. 

“I love your laugh the most I think. It makes me feel whole. I love the little squeak you get when you laugh too hard. It sounds like a door hinge.” I smiled to myself, a sudden sadness as I thought I wouldn’t hear it again after this. Not for a long while at least. “I always get butterflies when you touch me. They started back in high school and they never left. I would always try to hug you when I could, which was good because I knew you liked touchy people. But the more I would do it, the more I craved it. I started to crave you. I never knew I liked attention until I tasted yours. And that was it. I was ruined.” Another sad smile as I stood up. He was probably asleep by now, listening to me drone on and on. I could make it home now on my own, the sudden pouring of the build up of the last however many years finally coming to a breaking point. I was never drinking again. I longed for some fresh air, this room suddenly too small. My hand had just brushed the door handle, ready to leave the dream I had held onto for so long in this room, in this moment for good. My life’s sustainment, the only reason I had bothered to come this far. To leave it all on the table for it to be brushed under a rug, never to be looked at or mentioned again.

 Until I heard it.

“And what if I love you too?”

It was so quiet, I thought I had imagined it. 

“You don’t mean that like I want you to.” I opened the door further, certain that I didn’t want to hear his next words.

“But I do.” The grip on my heart, my veins, tightened. There was no way.

“But-” I turned slowly, still not sure if I was dreaming. But if I pinched myself, I wouldn’t get to see how this dream would play out. “What-” I couldn’t think of any words. I could only shake my head in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Look at me. Please. And tell me if you think I dont know what I’m saying.”

I looked, really looked at him, for what felt like the first time. Into those eyes that held nothing but clarity and truth. And I felt like I was falling into them all over again. 

“I don’t believe you. I can’t. I don’t believe this is actually happening to me right now.” 

He sat up to lean against his headboard, head lolling to the side, no doubt feeling heavy.

“You know that box I keep by the front door for my keys? Have a look inside. If you still don’t believe me, you can call Changbin and tell him he has a free pass to hit me as hard as he can.” On shaky legs, I raced as quickly as I dared to the front door, eyeing the little wooden box, just big enough for keys and… 

A small, round, white stone. With dark spots. To look like the moon.

I cradled it, afraid it would break or disappear if I blinked. I simply stared at it, unaware that Chan had crept up behind me on silent steps. I felt his eyes on me a second later.

“Why did you keep it?” My voice was as shaky as the rest of me, still coated in disbelief that the one thing I wanted more than anything could actually be mine. 

“Because that was when it started. I’ve been yours ever since.”

I felt myself turning to face him, still locked on the stone in my hand. I heard him come closer, tilting my chin up to look him in his beautiful eyes. Open for me to see every wonderful thing he had ever thought of me, the warmth inviting me in to stay forever. His hands moved to cup both my cheeks, his body so close I could feel his heart racing alongside mine. 

“I still feel like I’m dreaming.” I whispered against his lips, so close to mine. Too close. There was nowhere I could run to, nowhere I could hide from his fire, his want for me. For me. 

“Me too.” He whispered back.

And then he kissed me.

He poured everything he was into me, his apologies, his laughter, his sincerity. I threw everything I had at him. My darkest thoughts, my hardest moments, my deepest fears. He still did not budge. He waited for more, wanting, needing everything. Every part of me was his for the taking. My soul was his for good. 

It was the feeling of finding money in the pocket of a pair of jeans you hadn’t worn in a while. It was a warm summer night after a day spent with friends, comforting and familiar. It was love, wrapped in your favorite blanket with a warm drink in your hands. He was love, finding me at long last. 

He was mine. 

No one else’s.

Not back then.

Not ever again. 

Only

Mine.

[marzipanandminutiae]

First off, your blog has increased my sympathy for Lucille's character, so congratulations, I hope you're proud. Though, to be fair, I was never in the EvilTM camp, more of the Batshit Crazy Because Of Massive Trauma viewpoint, which, you know, she was.

Anyways, my actual reason for the ask is about Eunice. I've never read any of the extra source material so I don't know if this is explained somewhere. But basically why Eunice McMichael?

The Sharpes presumably met the McMichaels while they were visiting Alan in London (perhaps his graduation?). There's no father in the picture, but otherwise, she doesn't seem to fulfill any of their criteria. She has family and is highly social (lots of people to notice and care if she went missing/died), she's young and desirable to have as a wife (there must've been some competition for her back home at least), she's not older or widowed (i.e. "undesirable"), and while she's clearly rich, she's not the sole inheritor of her family's estate (they'd be working solely with her dowry, a much lower figure).

It's heavily implied (/stated outright?) that Lucille is the one who chooses Thomas's brides. There's no logical reason to choose Eunice. But following with your "sapphic" take on Lucille, I think she just has a thing for Eunice.

A lot of words just to say that but what are your thoughts?

Welcome to the Lucille Appreciators Club! Meetings are Fridays at 7:30. I'll bring snacks.

So, this is such an interesting question. The bios don't shed much light but they do provide some on how the Bride Selection Process works

Namely, that it's far from an exact science.

Per the bios, Bluebearding has never been Plan A. Plan A is finding investors for the goo-mining business. Marriage + Murder is the fallback option- that they keep having to fall back on. They've never actually chosen a bride on purpose before Enola, exactly- Margaret developed a passion for Thomas on her own; Pamela's dying father begged Thomas to marry his disabled daughter so she'd be cared for. Enola seems to have been the first one who didn't just fall into their laps, so to speak

And Thomas picked her.

So no, it's not always Lucille's choice- she encouraged him to go along with Mr. Upton's notion and propose to Pamela, the first time, but how much she was involved with the inception of the other marriages is up for debate. Which makes me think Thomas picked Eunice- I can't imagine such a fluttery little social climber being other than annoying to Lucille.

Why EITHER of them thought she was a good idea when she had so many friends and family to miss her...well, the Sharpes aren't very good at crime, frankly. Enola still has relatives writing to her five years later, so I suspect they would have come looking for her eventually. The snare seems to have been tightening around Thomas and Lucille for a while now, without them knowing it.

I do imagine that Edith's superior "qualifications" made a key lynchpin of Thomas' argument to convince Lucille to switch targets, though. And an interesting Word of Actor tidbit: Jessica Chastain thinks Lucille's desire to protect Edith by leaving her alone, at first, was genuine. Because she loves delicate, beautiful things, and saw Edith that way.

[thedroneranger]

Hi, Jay!

Ooh I love this idea! Give me your headcanons on Jake vs Mrs.Seresin's childhood. Where they latchkey kids? Were they doted on? Do they have siblings? Did both of their parents work? Anything and everything.

- XOXO Star

Star! I love these questions!

Let’s start with some basics: Jake grew up with two parents and two sisters. He’s the middle child. His immediate family is very tight knit. Although, they have their differences, he does get along with his sisters and fulfilled the protective brother role, growing up. 

Mrs. Seresin is an only child to a single mother. Fortunately, she lived close to her grandparents, so she spent much of her time with them (when her mom was working). She also has a plethora cousins, many of which she’s still close with as an adult. 

Both were popular in school with plenty of friends. Jake was a jock. He played football and was the first freshman to make his high school’s varsity roster in 40 years. By the time he was a senior, he was the starting quarterback. Academically, Jake excelled in STEM, especially math.

Mrs. Seresin leaned more into academics, aiming to get a scholarship for college. She played sports (soccer, basketball) throughout her youth but prioritized work over extracurriculars as a teen. Given her single-income household (her mom was a medical receptionist), she was responsible for her own gas and spending money. 

Given their successful cattle business, Jake never had to worry about money. However, he was still taught the value of a dollar and held summer jobs throughout his youth. Jake was fortunate his mom always worked from home as the ranch accountant. She also made sure her children understood budgeting and investing.

Mrs. Seresin recognized her eye for design in high school and began to laser in on going to design school. Jake was dead set on the Naval Academy, but his fallback was to attend UT Austin. He was a legacy but was also recruited for UT Austin football. He was a two-time All American football player in high school. 

Fortunately, Jake was accepted to the Naval Academy, and Mrs. Seresin got a partial scholarship to the Design Institute of San Diego. That’s how she got out West!

[mitigatedchaos]

2 question. 1 what was the idea behind clint manstock. 2 I’m not sure what the joke/idea behind the trans/religion post was.

Clint Manstock is a hypothetical highly prolific writer of pulpy detective fiction and science fiction, presumably from the late 1960s to around 2010, with dates applied to contextualize the non-existent stories as belonging to a particular cultural period.

For making a joke, it's not necessary to write the entire book, but just an excerpt, or even the title.

For instance, the most famous Clint Manstock post:

The year is 2056.  My name is Kal Royan, and I’m a gender hunter.  My job is to bring those who traffic in illegal modifications of the gender synthesis implant to justice.  Or at least, what they call justice. - opening lines of Clint Manstock’s The Manhunters (1972)

This hypothetical book was published in 1972, shortly after Ursula K Le Guin's 1969 genderbending The Left Hand of Darkness.

He is, in a sense, hopping on the bandwagon, but also in this case he's closer to the leading edge than with some of his other books. Clint Manstock books aren't necessarily good, though.

(The 1970s are also a time where there is more scientific uncertainty generally, more belief in things like ESP or experiments that wouldn't survive review today like the Stanford Prison Experiment.)

There's a lot going on here, but the punchline is the title of the book.

It's not just the play on words. What's the (primary) gender being regulated? It's right there in the title. Men. People talk a lot about regulation of women, but they also talk a lot about male violence, male sexuality, male competition, male hierarchy... so from an insurance-minimization standpoint, and from a blind "anti-oppression" standpoint, we could imagine a society that has set things up so that there are few men in the first place.

Such a society would not be lesbian, but sexless.

Regarding the 2019 post you're asking about,

“Certainly,” the man said, “it may seem to be in contradiction, but if I do this…”

The central sci-fi technology at play is a computer which estimates political coalitions and ideology. Political coalitions are based on a feedback between ideologies and interests. The interests and beliefs of different coalition members aren't always in alignment with each other, so every coalition will have some tension. (This may be the source of the "contradiction" mentioned here, but not necessarily.)

The presentation board even paused with a twirling icon for a moment, before the node finally came loose, and Mr. Blanstak dragged it to the other side of the board. …dropping it in a category named “religion.”

Previously, transgenderism was pursued as 'transmedicalism,' defining transgender people as a tiny minority of the population who were experiencing a diagnosable medical disorder. In this frame the rights and privileges granted would be similar to those for someone with a disability. This implies a pretty significant amount of institutional gatekeeping.

However, while the medical establishment is influential, this left the status of transgender people ambiguous (just how far can you go with a doctor's note?). As such, activists pushed for the idea of transgenderism as a 'basic human right,' with unlimited gender self-identification.

This is a bit of an all-or-nothing strategy. If activists win, they get to teach their gender views in public schools as fact. This places them above all the established religions, on the same level as the implicit peace bargain between those religions. If they lose, even the medical framework could collapse.

Positioning transgenderism as a 'religion' is a kind of fallback position. The United States has pretty substantive protections against religious discrimination, so both medical procedures and presentation would receive legal protection. However, this would be a demotion to one valid worldview among multiple competing worldviews, and rules on teaching the view in public schools would be similar to teaching "Christians believe X," not just teaching "X".

(In practice, this approach wouldn't work, as religious beliefs are generally understood as being about the supernatural, and people generally don't believe in transgenderism as supernatural.)

In this case, the reclassification causes a whole bunch of cascading updates to the ideology and coalitional makeup throughout the system.

“So you’re saying,” I said, “that this was the latent equilibrium all along?”

The perspective character asks if this is the future, because this isn't his technology and he's more of a normal guy, so he's thinking that this is the big ideological change.

Blanstak looked at me over his shoulder. “There are many semi-stable equilibria, Mr. Whipple. The matter of entering one is choice.”

However, in this case the technology's creator is using the shift as more of a demonstration not merely of the technology, but of the idea that there are other self-reinforcing states of society that can be reached.

It is likely that the book would follow on the consequences of such a technology, however...

excerpt, unpublished Clint Manstock manuscript, 1991

It wasn't considered good enough to actually publish.

[pleasetakethis]

all of ‘em for the rnm ask meme 🤭❤️

Yessss!!! Link to the original in case anyone else wants to reblog/play.

Who is your favourite Rick and Morty Character? This is like asking my favorite It's Always Sunny character... because I love them all for their terribleness. Probably Rick, though Rick wouldn't be nearly as compelling without Morty. Favorite side character would be Squanchyyyyy or Mr. Nimbus.

Which Beth is the clone: Domestic Beth or Space Beth? As a mom, I want to say Domestic Beth is the real one because a parent wouldn't leave their kids... except this is Beth Smith we're talking about, so I think Domestic Beth is the clone. I think our "scared little overachiever" pursued freedom when she knew her family had a fallback.

Do you think that Rick-C137 and Rick Prime were previously romantically involved? "Infinite shit happens." Yes, absolutely.

What do you think would be a good name for Birdperson and Tammy's daughter? Phoenixperson II aka PP aka Peepa (terrible The Office reference).

How many seasons do you think Rick and Morty will eventually have? No clue but I'm here for alllll of them.

Rick C-137: smash or pass? Smash.

Who is your favourite Rick and Morty villain? Evil Morty. I love that manipulative little asshole who found a way out.

Your favourite Rick and Morty episode? How do you pick just one ;_; For Rick's character development, I'd say Rickternal Friendshine of the Spotless Mort. Seeing Rick deal with his feelings for others always hits me hard because he spends so much time denying those feelings. For fun, I'd go with Mort Dinner Rick Andre because I love Mr. Nimbus and I also love seeing Jessica become more than just Morty's obsession.

Your least favourite Rick and Morty episode? One Crew over the Crewcoo's Morty (the popular choice seems to be Claw and Hoarder: Special Ricktim's Morty but I love the slut dragons--currently fostering four cats for a friend while said friend is moving, the youngest is female and going through her first heat, and I will randomly mimic the wizard when she's yowling: "You slut! Shame on you! Shame, you slut! You slutty, slutty slut!" I am giving her lots of lovings and she has a heating pad, though, so she's okay).

Who is your least favourite Rick and Morty character? Beth and Jerry without character development (pre-separation).

What is, in your opinion, the worst thing that Rick C-137 has ever done? Real answer: use his grandson the way he does (codependent, grooming, the list goes on and on). Fan answer: torn between taking Morty's memories and the "save a point in time device" from Vat of Acid.

Do you think that Rick and Morty will be affected substantially by having to change the voice actor for Rick and Morty and a bunch of other characters? Affected, yes. Substantially... I don't know but I'll give anything a shot, especially since Adult Swim did the right thing dropping JR. The cool thing about the show is that there are infinite (heh) ways they can address this, if they choose to address it at all, so I'm excited to see what happens next.

What's a good Rick and Morty blog? All the Rick and Morty peeps I follow are awesome! I hesitate to recommend anyone I don't interact with because DNIs pop up all the time based on stuff I saved in my drafts and later go to queue and have to delete because they have some hateful anti/TERF rhetoric going on, so check out my reblogs and likes to find my favorites. :D

Who is the Rick and Morty character that you relate to the most? This ties back in with IASIP. I don't really relate to any of them, I just enjoy them and their fucked up relationships and situations.

The funniest Rick and Morty bit/scene, in your opinion? This is the one that hooked me on the show, the moment I knew I was a goner for these assholes: Butter robot: What is my purpose? Rick: Pass the butter. (Butter robot passes butter) Rick: Thank you. […] Butter robot: What is my purpose? Rick: You pass butter. Butter robot: [looks at its hands] Oh my god. Rick: Yeah, welcome to the club, pal.

Best Rick and Morty season? My favorite so far has been season 6 (they did such a good job with character development, including Rick backsliding into his obsession with Prime--just chef's kiss).

Worst Rick and Morty season? I've enjoyed all of them so far for different reasons. Much like some of my other favorites (The Office, IASIP), I would say push through season 1 if you're unsure and wait until you get through season 2 before you make a decision about the show.

Would you stop watching the show if Justin Roiland returned? I don't know. Depends on whether a public statement was involved and how much responsibility he took for his actions (versus playing it off). I can't listen to Marilyn Manson anymore (because Brian Warner is an abusive POS) and that band was formative during my middle + high school years (almost as important to me as NIN and I would mourn that loss if Trent Reznor turned out to be trash). Roiland coming back might ruin the show for me.

Your favourite Rick and Morty quote? Hard to pick but right now it would be: "Nobody exists on purpose, nobody belongs anywhere, everybody's gonna die. Come watch TV." This gets me right in the feels because it's true. Life is short, probably meaningless, so might as well enjoy while we're here and have a chance... because this all ends.

If you had to be one member of the Smith family in the next season, who would you want to be? Ooo, I'd want to be Space Beth.

[flutefemme]

First Chapter below!

The Fallback Plan

Chapter 1: Panic Rising

As Zelda stood waiting outside of Akkala Analytics CEO's private office, dread began to slowly overtake her. Heart pounding, she glanced at the flash drive clutched in her hand. How had it come to this? Her career, her reputation, her dreams--hanging in the balance over a stupid flash drive.

"This is one thing I absolutely cannot lose," she whispered to herself as she shoved it deep inside the inner pocket of her blue blazer. She definitely couldn't lose it...and definitely couldn't let Ganon know it even existed...or she could kiss....well....EVERYTHING goodbye.

"He's ready to see you now, Zelda," chirped the secretary as she slowly opened the massive oak door to Bela Ganon's office. Zelda buttoned her blazer, briefly holding her hand over the place where her inner pocket was located. Inside it was information that could essentially bring to ruin the most powerful and influential man in all of Hyrule. For the very first time since she began working for Akkala Analytics, Zelda stepped inside Ganon's massive, cold office.

"Someone could easily live here...this is a small apartment!" she thought as she took a look around the room. Huge, glass-paned walls offered a spectacular view of downtown Akkala, the second largest city in Hyrule. Skyscrapers cut through the skyline all around, as the entire office was encased in glass, offering a panoramic view of the city. Glass stairs in the back corner of the office led up to a second, unseen level, and there were sleek gray and white couches and lounge chairs scattered about the room. Right in the center was the largest desk she had ever seen. A deep mahogany, it was pristinely laid out with organized cabinets, an ornate, modern chandelier above the workspace area, and a very, VERY large and plush office chair.

"Excuse me. Are you just going to gape, or are you going to enter?" a booming voice startled Zelda back to reality. Standing by one of the far windows with a glass in his hand stood a formidable looking man. With fiery red hair coiffed into a flawless pompadour and a well-groomed, thin beard, his startlingly green eyes flashed as he took a step toward his desk. His 6-foot-6 inch frame towered above the large piece of furniture.

"My apologies, Mr. Ganon," replied Zelda in a forced tone, "I was just admiring your beautiful office."

"Call me Bela." His serious tone suddenly changed and his irritated countenance was replaced with a slight smile as he took a seat in his executive office chair. Setting down his glass on an intricately carved, wooden coaster, he motioned to the seat across from the huge desk.

"Please. Have a seat."

Nervous but poised, Zelda took her seat across from Bela Ganon. His gaze lingered briefly on her golden hair draped in loose curls around her shoulders, then met her eyes directly.

"It has been brought to my attention that, through no fault of your own, you have witnessed some...concerning behavior at my company. Is this true?"

"Here it comes," Zelda thought as she swallowed. "Whatever you do, don't flinch!"

"Yes, sir. It seems to be so."

"And this...incident...you are about to describe to me...you are the only one besides the offending parties that has been privy to this information?" Ganon's voice slowed to a hypnotic cadence.

"Well...I....um....I'm not sure about that," Zelda's voice began to waver. "No, no. This is not how this is supposed to go. This is NOT giving me a good feeling," she swallowed again and took a deep breath. "The incident I witnessed could very likely have been brought to the attention of others, sir, but I am unaware of others who have knowledge of the particulars," Zelda held Ganon's gaze despite the panic rising in her chest.

"I see. Well. In that case..." he shifted slightly in his chair and his gaze rested briefly on Zelda's hair again before returning to her bright green eyes. "I have a proposition for you." He stood up and motioned her toward the far side of the room by one of the large windows. Zelda followed behind cautiously.

"What is this...where is this going?" Zelda thought as she began to feel increasingly uneasy. Once at the window, Ganon took a step closer so that his arms were just inches from her shoulder.

"You have been here for about 6 months, is that about right?" His tone was smooth, and he turned his frame slightly to look at Zelda directly. As she slowly looked up to meet his steady gaze, Ganon's expression changed to something she couldn't quite read.

"Yes, that's right," she shifted her weight uneasily. He was close. Too close. But she didn't dare flinch.

"You have been one of my most accomplished developers, Zelda. In the short time you have been here, I have watched you and have seen you consistently outperform my senior development staff. Even Ghirahim can't hold a candle to your abilities." He shifted closer. His hand lightly brushed against her arm, sending a shiver of electricity through her and made the hair on her neck prickle with fear. But she stood rooted to the spot, unwavering.

"This company--this team--means the world to me. Akkala--Hyrule even--needs this company. I...need this company. Anything or anyone that would jeopardize the reputation and well-being of what I--what we have built cannot remain. I don't..." he hesitated, looking intently into Zelda's eyes. "No. I want you...to be a part of its success." As he spoke, he gently took a section of her hair and twirled it around his fingers. With his other hand he traced Zelda's face and lifted her chin to make his point. "I want you to be a part of my success. I want you to forget what you saw and partner with me to achieve your dreams. Zelda, I want you--" As he leaned in, Zelda gasped and jumped back, no longer able to remain calm. Adrenaline surging, she felt her fight-or-flight response begin to kick in.

"Mr. Ganon, I-"

"Bela. Please..." he stepped forward to close the distance between them, but Zelda stepped back again.

"NO! I cannot. I...WILL NOT!" she cried. Frantically looking around, she added, "This isn't how it was supposed to work," she took another step back, her voice choking, "This isn't how any of this was supposed to work. I wanted this job so badly," the tears began to fall, and Ganon's face turned from soft pleading to a cold, menacing stare.

"I'm really...sad to hear you say that, Zelda. If your interests no longer align with this company, I'm afraid I'll have to...let you go." the tone of his voice was quiet and threatening. As he began to slowly walk toward his desk, Zelda's adrenaline response fully kicked in and she chose flight.

She could barely think as she crashed through Ganon's office door and fled down the hall, almost tripping over her feet as she ran like her life--quite literally--depended on it.

Read more on Ao3! Story will be wrapping up in 5 chapters or less.

[squadron-of-damned]

Any headcanons you have about Phoenix Wright?

Well, as I am still getting through the original trilogy, I don’t really see headcanons to have much of a point. Phoenix is purposefully written like a blank slate so the player can project on him. In that manner, any headcanons made about him are more of a psychological analysis of self via proxy. Anyway, here are some headcanons:

He is half Japanese (in the localisation, anyway) - his mother is Japanese and his father is white, might be of Irish origin.

While he is not shredded, or have well-defined muscles, he is quite strong, especially core, backs and legs. He moves around heavy stuff often.

He has a very good memory and can “memorize” texts in the manner that he remembers the page and reads the text out loud without a single word passing through his brain on the way.

He’s finished the Art Major. His fallback plan if being a lawyer didn’t work out was to become police sketch artist and get to Edgeworth this way.

After every trial he calls his mum and tells her all about it. He keeps in touch with his parents

At some point during the college years he had to make a reproduction of a known painting (our art teacher back in high school loved that), and Phoenix ended up re-creating a painting of Barok van Zieks (teacher’s choice “I know you are studying law also, Mr. Wright, this might be of your interest.”), so now Phoenix has personal beef with him because he had to use a bazillion shades of lavender and it was not fun.

He’s a snuggly drunk and ugly weeper.

[erijonarexhepis-blog]

STAY

SEASON SIX, EPISODE FIFTEEN

Masterlist

THEY WERE IN THE COURTROOM again, and this time it was Jorge who had taken the stand. "Mr. Castillo, during the times that you were speaking with your daughter, Laurel, how would you categorize your relationship with her?" Lennox asked.

"Troubled."

"Why?"

"Did you ever catch your daughter lying to you?"

"Of course," Jorge answered. "When she was 14, she lied about using cocaine—"

"Behavior while a minor is improper character evidence, judge," Annalise interrupted him.

"Sustained," the judge said.

"Let's, um, move on to governor Birkhead," Lennox continued. "Mr. Castillo, have you ever met or spoken with the governor?"

"No."

"Have you ever contacted the governor or anyone associated with her to enact ill will against Ms. Keating?"

"Absolutely not."

"And do you believe any of the allegations that say the governor was involved in your son Xavier's death?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I've made a lot of money in my life— enemies too— so I can think of a long list of people who would have wanted to see my son dead."

Lennox kept glancing over at Annalise. "Mr. Castillo, one of the theories Ms. Keating has put forth is that the FBI is part of this conspiracy against her. Have you been in contact with the FBI about this?"

"No. The FBI's who put me in jail." So, he was still mad about that. "Based on misinformation from an informant. That's her sitting right behind Ms. Keating." Jorge pointed.

Annalise stood. "Objection!"

Jorge turned to the jury. "Those two women are conspiring against me."

"Mr. Castillo, don't address the gallery," the judge told him sternly. "I'm censuring the witness. Jury, disregard the last part of this testimony. Mr. Lennox, meet me in my chambers. Adjourned."

FLASH FORWARD

Shots were fired outside the courthouse. People, who were standing on the steps outside the building, started running and screaming in fear and panic. Some fell and stayed, hoping they wouldn't be hit. They were terrified.

The officers inside the building took action. They grabbed their weapons and ran down the hall to catch whoever was shooting before they killed someone. They ran past Annalise's mother, who was in distress. She hadn't seen Annalise and was worried. Her other daughter was holding her back.

"Is my baby hurt?!" She cried out. "Please tell me! Is she hurt?!"

Someone had been shot. Tegan looked down at this person in terror. How could this happen?

꧁   ꧂

"THANK YOU FOR BEING here, governor," Lennox said.

The governor had taken the stand. "You say that like I have a choice."

"Well, let's not keep you too long, then. Did you order the death of Nathaniel Lahey Sr.?"

"No."

"Do you know if Xavier Castillo ordered the death?"

"Yes, because that guard named him during the civil suit."

"Did you know Xavier Castillo?"

"No, nor have I ever met or spoken to him."

"Do you know his father, Jorge?"

"No."

"Governor, did you ever coordinate with any member of the Castillo family or the FBI to exact revenge on Ms. Keating for defeating you in a Supreme Court case?"

"No." She couldn't even look at Annalise.

"You weren't protecting your re-election?"

"No, because I plan to win my election by convincing the public I'm the best person for the job. The way not to do that is to commit a series of violent murders. That's more Ms. Keating's fallback."

Annalise stood. "Objection. Censure the witness."

"Governor," the judge scolded her.

"My apologies."

"No further questions," Lennox stated.

"Governor, when I beat you at the Supreme Court with my class action, were you upset?"

"More disappointed," the governor answered.

"Because of the damage to your political career?"

"To the taxpayer. Your victory cost the state millions."

"Money well spent if it saved thousands of poor people from unjust convictions."

"Argumentative," Lennox stated. He seemed calm.

"This speaks to the defense's theory of motive," Annalise protested.

"Sustained."

"Do you know Xavier Castillo?"

"As I stated earlier, no."

"What about Hannah Keating?"

The governor paused for a brief second. "I don't know who that is."

"She's my deceased husband's sister, Hannah. You don't know her?"

"I do not."

Annalise went over to her table. "And yet, Hannah Keating recorded herself on a phone call to Xavier Castillo saying this."

She played the recording. "I just saw the governor on tv saying Nate Lahey Sr. died."

"He did die."

"Because the governor killed him?"

Lennox stood up, not wanting to listen to more of it. "Objection. We can't authenticate this recording."

"I wish Hannah Keating were here to speak to its authenticity, but she just died." Annalise looked at the governor. "Gunshot to the head."

"Your honor."

The judge made a decision. "Falls under the death exception. I'll allow it."

Annalise hit record again. "I just saw the governor on tv saying Nate Lahey Sr. died," they heard Hannah's voice once again.

"He did die."

"Because the governor killed him?"

"Calm down."

"I wanted Annalise to go down for my brother, not hurt all these other people."

"I'm hanging up." The recording stopped.

"If you didn't know Hannah Keating or Xavier Castillo, why are they speaking so intimately about you?" Annalise approached the governor again.

The governor shook her head. "I have no idea."

"What about Nate Lahey Sr.? Did you do what Hannah said and kill him?"

"Absolutely not."

"So, if Xavier and Hannah were alive to testify, they would say the same thing?"

"Objection," Lennox spoke up but was ignored.

"Did you have them killed to cover up your lies?"

"No! My god."

The judge cut in and stopped the questioning. "I'm ending this cross!"

"Good," Annalise stated. "I'm done with this witness."

꧁   ꧂

NATE TOOK THE STAND THE next day, and he would be the last to do so. "Mr. Lahey, were you involved in any way at all with the death of Sam Keating?"

"No."

"You were arrested and almost charged for his murder, though. Why?"

"I was the boyfriend. That's always the first suspect."

Lennox nodded. "Any other reason?"

Nate looked over at Annalise. "I was framed."

"Who do you believe framed you, Mr. Lahey?"

"At the time, I thought Annalise."

"Did you ever get confirmation of this?"

"No. 'Cause she wasn't the one who framed me."

Lennox glanced over at Annalise for a brief moment. He took a step closer to Nate. "You mean she had an associate do it for her?"

"I mean, she didn't do it. That was Hannah Keating. She wanted to connect Annalise to Sam's murder, and now it's very clear to me how Hannah did it— by using the Castillos and the governor."

"Let me stop you, Mr. Lahey. Did Ms. Keating coerce you to change your testimony today?"

"No. That was you and special agent Lanford when you offered me twenty million dollars to say what you want. I'm just guessing that's so I don't tell the jury that an FBI agent working for the Castillo's murdered Asher Millstone."

꧁   ꧂

THE LAST DAY OF THE TRIAL started the following morning. It was time for the closing arguments. Lennox went first. "Forget everyone else. The Castillos, the governor, the supposed conspiracy. That is all noise to distract you from the person who brought us here— Annalise Keating. She wants to play the victim, and she is good at it too. But you know the real victims."

Lennox showed the pictures of the people as mentioned them. "Asher Millstone. DA Ronald Miller. ADA Emily Sinclair. Rebecca Sutter. Sam Keating. It all started with this man. That is the original sin. You start there. Then there's no doubt that Annalise Keating is not a victim. She's a murderer."

"I'm no victim," Annalise started. "USA Lennox was right about that. But that's the only true thing that he said today. So, here's the truth about me. I've worn a mask every day of my life. In high school, it was a smile that I faked to get boys to like me. In law school, I changed my name to sound more New England. At the law firm, I wore heels, makeup, and a wig. And when I got married, I... threw myself into becoming a Keating, and it was all to create a version of myself that the world could accept. But I'm done."

"Instead, I stand before you, mask off, to tell you the god's honest. I have done many a bad thing. I've coerced witnesses, got clients to lie on the stand, bullied students to tears, manipulated jurors like you. But those are not the crimes I'm being tried for. It's murder. And I am no murderer."

"What I am is a survivor. I survived getting taunted by the n-word when I was in grade school. I survived the sexual abuse by my uncle when I was 11. I survived losing my first love, Eve, because I was scared to be gay. Then the death of my son in a car accident, the murder of my husband, then alcoholism, depression, grief, and every death leading up to this trial."

"But today, you decide. Am I a bad person? Well, the mask is off, so I'm going to say yes. But am I the mastermind criminal who pulled off a series of violent murders? Hell no."

"Who I am is a 53-year-old woman from Memphis, Tennessee, named Anna Mae Harkness. I'm ambitious, black, bisexual, angry, sad, strong, sensitive, scared, fierce, talented, exhausted."

Annalise let out a shaky breath. She glanced from one juror to the other. She said everything she needed to say and moved almost every person in the room.

"And I am at your mercy."

April was sitting between Laurel and Connor— with Michaela on his side. The jurors had made a decision, and they were anxiously waiting to hear what they had decided for Annalise.

"Ms. Foreperson, I've been told you've reached a verdict."

"Yes, your honor," the juror responded. Some papers got passed on to the judge. The tension in the room was thick. Laurel was gripping April's hand. They had no idea how this was going to end.

The judge looked through the stack of papers as the people in the room waited anxiously. "Please stand."

Annalise and Lennox both stood. "For the charge of conspiracy to murder Sam Keating in count one of the indictment, the jury finds the defendant Annalise Keating..." she paused for a while before revealing it. "Not guilty."

When those words left her mouth, April breathed relief, as did the people sitting behind Annalise. But it was not over yet. "For murder in the first degree of Rebecca Sutter, the jury finds the defendant not guilty. For the murder in the first degree of Asher Millstone, the jury finds the defendant not guilty."

Laurel leaned back in relief, tears threatening to escape. Connor and Oliver had a somewhat similar reaction. April couldn't help but smile, her eyes watering. It was over.

Michaela, on the other hand, was not as happy. 

"For murder in the first degree of Emily Sinclair, the jury finds the defendant not guilty. For the murder in the first degree of Ronald Miller, the jury finds the defendant not guilty. For murder in the first degree of Caleb Hapstall, the jury finds the defendant not guilty."

April looked over at her professor, who was hugging her family members. They were happy. Annalise wasn't going down for something she didn't do. And that was when April knew she had done the right thing.

The judge read the rest of the charges; not guilty. Those were the words that kept repeating themselves. Annalise was free. It was over. And she was enjoying the moment with the people closest to her.

Her students stood in the hall sometime later. Connor and Oliver didn't know how to feel, but they didn't have to wonder much longer.

April turned to her friends— her family. She just looked at them and took in the moment. It was over. It was finally over.

They could go back to when they worried about silly things, not murder. Their lives could go back to normal— somewhat normal.

But not for April.

She was ready. She knew it was the right thing, but she hadn't told anyone.

Her friends watched the two police officers approach them, and they were confused. Especially when they cuffed April. There was a lot she hid from them.

They questioned the officers— asked them why they were taking their friend away. What did April do? She told them she got probation.

April looked at her friends as the officers put the cuffs on. "I lied," she shrugged. "I'm the one who takes care of you. So that's what I'm doing."

They looked back at her with tears in their eyes. They were also confused and panicked. "I'm going to be fine. Fifteen years is not that much. Take care of yourselves."

"No, you can't do this!" Connor yelled at the police officer when they dragged her away. He was the most affected by this.

"Connor," Oliver pulled him back. He was crying too. Michaela reached out in an attempt to comfort him, but Oliver pushed her hand away. "You don't get to do that after everything."

"Oliver—"

"You betrayed everyone," Oliver cut her off harshly. Michaela was taken aback. She didn't have anything to say. She knew what she had done. She decided to walk away, no matter how much it hurt.

"Let's leave," Laurel spoke. She turned her stroller. And the three made their way to the exit. For a moment, they had enjoyed that feeling of happiness and relief. They hadn't felt that in a long time.

April gave up information and her freedom for her friends. She considered them family. She had lost her father, and her mother was being rearrested; that was a part of the deal she made.

As she was taken away, she thought about her friends and where they would end up. Annalise was free, and her friends were leaving. They were all going to start fresh.

April was unaware of the shooting outside the courthouse as it happened. As fast as that happiness appeared, it was gone. They were gone. It was over.

It was finally over.

She would be alone in prison, but that was how it had always been. Alone. But she took comfort in knowing her family would be okay.

No more worrying about people going after them or who killed who. It was over. It was finally over.

[ereardon]

The Backup || Chapter 1 [Jake Seresin x Reader]

Summary: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, cursing

WC: 3.2K

Masterlist here

[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]

“That can’t happen again.”  

“It will.” 

You sighed loudly, flinging yourself backward onto the mound of pillows, knowing that he was right. Jake rolled off the bed, tugging on his boxers. 

He grinned. “Any more bad dates planned for this week?” 

“A blind date on Friday,” you replied, rolling onto your side to face him as Jake got dressed. “Someone that a secretary from my work knows.” 

“A blind date, really?” 

Ignoring his comment, you replied, “What about you?” 

“No plans.” 

“Which means that you’ll have a date lined up by Thursday.” 

“And it’ll be a flop and we’ll be right back here on Friday night.” 

“I’m serious Jake, this can’t keep happening.” You stepped out of bed, slipping on a silk robe and tying it tightly around your middle. “We can’t be each other’s fallback every time a date goes sideways.” 

“So end it,” he said. “You’re the one that called me tonight, remember?” 

“I’m weak,” you replied and Jake chuckled. 

“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart, but weak isn’t one of them. Except when it comes to those mall pretzels.” 

“Well those are objectively the best.” 

“True.” 

You watched as Jake finished getting dressed, tying his shoelaces, slipping on his jacket. “Can I ask you something?”��

“Always.” 

“Are we fucking each other up by doing this? Like are we the reason that every single date goes bad? Because I feel like lately they all end up sucking.” 

“The dates are bad because our options are bad,” Jake replied. “We’re not cursed, Stinky. That’s just how these things go. You date and date and just when you think you want to fling yourself over the Golden Gate you find one person who suddenly makes things work. And then you live your weird Hallmark lives together forever.” 

“You, Jake Seresin, believe that?” You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to the guy I met three years ago who didn’t realize that girls don’t want to come over to your fucking Tenderloin apartment and see a bed without a bed frame?” 

“I loved that apartment and it was dirt cheap,” Jake argued. “Besides, you’re not much better. Remember when you thought guys actually liked girls who wore Birkenstocks?” 

“They’re comfortable!” 

“You looked like you were going to yell at me for not using a reusable jar to grind my own peanut butter at Whole Foods for twenty dollars an ounce. It was heinous. Also they smelled like ass.” Hence, the nickname that you hoped would die but never did. 

“You’re just saying that because your type is girls who stomp around in size five Aquazzura heels on Market Street and have their daddy’s Amex card numbers memorized.” 

“Better than your type. Mr. Couch potato, looks practically homeless and asks you to split the check at dinner because he’s too cheap to pay for your baked potato.” 

“That happened twice, that’s not a pattern.” 

“More than once is concerning.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed because I can’t fucking stand you.” 

“Stop stroking my ego.” 

“Goodnight, Seresin,” you said, walking toward the kitchen, your back to him. “Slam the door on your face on your way out, won’t you?” 

“Night Stinky,” he said and you could hear his footsteps trailing down the hallway. “See you next weekend!” 

You grabbed a half-empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge door and slammed it, a little too hard, the sound of bottles inside rattling as you unscrewed the cap and chugged directly from the bottle. It was acidic, probably too old, but it would do the trick. Anything to block out Jake’s words that haunted the quiet air of your apartment even after he was gone.

He was right. Somehow the two of you always fell into bed together. The dates always went belly up. Hinge, Raya, Bumble, League. No app worked. No blind set up. It was like clockwork: you’d spend an hour getting ready for a date, and within five minutes you’d know that at the end you’d call an Uber to take you to Jake’s. Or vice versa: he’d show up at your door with a pocketful of condoms and a smirk. It always ended the same way. For almost a year, you and Jake had been filling the gaps of your dating life with each other. Friends with benefits. No strings. 

And, of course, you made a point to keep it from the friend group. Coyote would throw an absolute fit if he found out. He had made a point the first time he introduced you to his friend group, which had later adopted you as one of their own, to steer clear of Jake. 

“Before we go in, there’s one rule.” 

You frowned, looking up at him. His face, normally so relaxed and chill, was creased in concern. The two of you had known each other for more than half of your lives, growing up in houses across the street from each other. At night, sometimes you would flick the lamp on your desk off and on as a kid to get his attention. He would do the same, powering up the old Walkie Talkies your mom had given the two of you one summer so you could whisper to each other in the darkness, your own secret club. This was all before cell phones were stapled to every kid’s ear, even before AIM or Facebook. Javy had been your friend for what felt like every minute of your life. 

“Don’t fall for Jake’s bullshit, OK?” Coyote said. “He’s suave and shit, but he’s going to hurt you if you let him.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

He shook his head. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

Coyote had seen you at every low point in your life. When your prom date stood you up and he stepped in. When you almost failed out of sophomore year because your math professor had a chip against you. When your dad died after freshman year of college and the two of you stood side by side in your backyard in the rain, not speaking, but you knew he was there and that was enough. 

Coyote had been there for all of it. You knew, deep down, that he had your best interests in mind. 

But then you had walked into the bar on 22nd Street and Jake’s golden head had been thrown back in a laugh and you felt your heartbeat speed up in your chest. The way he looked at you that first night — it was like you were a prize and he was operating the claw machine with an endless supply of quarters. You flirted with him, to Javy’s disdain, but at the end of the night when he slipped his hand onto your bare knee you pulled away with a grin. 

You weren’t going to make it easy for him. 

At first that’s all it was. A chase, flirtation. Coyote’s eyes darting angrily between you and Jake as the two of you argued over the pool table or in a game of darts. The time all six of you — Jake, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob and Bradley — rented bikes in Golden Gate Park and the last mile was just you and Jake, ahead of everyone else, racing as fast as you could until your lungs threatened to give out and the greenery of the park opened up onto Ocean Beach. 

The two of you had ditched your bikes, plopping down into the sand, gasping for breath, the waves slapping softly along the shore. 

“You win,” Jake said. 

“I know, I got here a solid ten seconds before you.” 

He looked over with a grin. “No, I mean you win, Y/N. I’m not going to try and sleep with you. We can be friends, or whatever the hell it is that girls want.” 

You shook your head, laughing. “All it took was getting beat in a physical competition and you’re giving up? Jake Seresin, I’m appalled.” 

He laid back against the sand and you did the same, heads only a foot or so apart. 

“What girls want,” you added, “is to be pursued not chased. Is to feel wanted but not smothered. Sexy but still intelligent.”

“That’s too much to ask for.” 

“You asked what we want, not what’s attainable.” 

“Is that what you want, Y/N?” 

In that moment, you wanted him. You wanted to feel his hard, sweaty muscles pressed against your body. Feel his silky golden hair beneath your fingertips. His rough voice in your ear. 

You rolled over on top of Jake, surprise lacing his face, your hands digging into the sand on either side of his head. Your hips grazed over his, just a hint, and Jake reached up one hand, brushing the hair out of your face where it had fallen from your ponytail. 

“I’m not going to tell you what I want,” you whispered, smirking. “More fun this way.” 

“Oh you’re evil,” Jake grinned, rolling the two of you over until you were pressed against the sand, his much larger body pinning you down, this time his hips grinding you down against the soft beach. You could feel him everywhere and it took everything in your body not to moan out into the open air for all the families and tourists to hear. The rush knowing that any minute the rest of the group could catch up and find the two of you only made your heart beat faster in your chest. “I’m up for the challenge.” 

“You better be.” 

The two of you laid there, Jake’s arms boxing you in, his chest lifting against yours. If you reached up a few inches you would be able to slide your lips against his. 

But instead, you shoved him off and he landed in the sand as you laughed. You saw it in his eyes at that moment. 

You had Jake Seresin’s interest. For now. 

***

“Hey, you’re early for once.” Coyote leaned in, kissing your cheek gently. 

You grinned. “Snagged a front row parking spot.” 

“Grab a table, I’ll get us some coffees.” 

“Flat white?” 

He nodded, heading off toward the counter. You picked a spot in the corner, a big round table. The door swung open and Bob and Bradley walked in. You waved, Bradley sliding into the booth with a grin. “Hey Stink,” he said and you rolled your eyes. The nickname had stuck, despite your best effort to shake it over the last few years. 

“Bradshaw. What did y’all get up to last night?” 

“The usual,” he said as Bob sat down with two black coffees and slid one to Bradley. “Started out at the bars in Richmond.” 

“And ended up in some twentysomething’s bed in the Marina,” Bob finished. 

You shot him a smile which he returned with a shy grin. “Just you two idiots out on the town.” 

“Phoenix was there, and Jake.” 

His ears must have been burning, because the moment his name was said, Jake sauntered through the door, looking far too fresh for nine in the morning after a night of drinking and debauchery. 

You should know. The two of you had, predictably, landed in bed together after your blind date. Just like Jake said you would. Just like you had hoped you wouldn’t. He spotted the three of you in the corner and smirked, lifting a pair of sunglasses onto the top of his head and heading toward the counter. 

Coyote slid into the spot next to you. “Flat white. And I got you a croissant. You look hungover.” 

“You’re a dick.” 

“Just smile and look pretty,” he replied and you grunted, ripping off a piece of croissant and stuffing it into your mouth. “Where’s Nat?” 

“Running late,” Bob said, checking his phone. 

Jake took a seat across the table from you, a cup of hot coffee in one hand, a donut in the other. He took a bite, powdered sugar coating his upper lip in a faux mustache. “So everyone here got some last night?” 

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Bob’s face glowed pink. Coyote dragged a wet tea bag out of his cup. “Could you be cruder?” 

“Yes.” It rolled off of his tongue effortlessly. 

You scowled and took a sip of coffee. Phoenix crashed through the cafe doors, flinging herself into the remaining chair and swiping the last of your croissant, shoving it in her mouth. “Hey.” 

“Morning Princess,” Bradley said. “Long night? We lost you after the second bar.” 

She shrugged and leaned over, taking a sip of his coffee. “Ew, no cream, really Bradshaw? Anyways, I ran into Nina.” 

The group groaned. Nina was Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend and it was communally agreed that she should stay an ex. If Natasha’s belongings on a curb and her box of coats on literal fire weren’t proof enough, Nina had also stolen from her once and racked up a monumental credit card bill that Phoenix later managed with the bank. 

“She’s changed!” 

“Nobody changes,” you replied. 

“Well how was your night, Stink?” she asked. “That blind date work out?” 

“He smelled like Fritos and told me his goal in life was to quit insurance sales and start a Lord of the Rings themed coffee bar.” 

“That’s lowkey kind of cool,” Bob replied. 

“Let’s just say it didn’t work out.” 

“So you went home alone?” 

Across the table, Jake smirked. You hid your face in your coffee mug. “Yeah. Alone.” 

***

“So you work at a bank. That’s cool.” 

You sighed, taking a sip of wine. “I’m actually a hedge fund analyst.” 

Bill, your date for the night, frowned. “Bob told me you worked at a bank. I thought you were a teller or something. So you work.” 

You were going to kill Floyd. Bill was tall, you’d give him that. But this was the third hint he’d dropped that screamed of misogyny. The first was when you ordered a steak and a glass of red and he asked why you weren’t getting a salad. The second was when you ordered a second glass of wine and he frowned, saying wasn’t it bad for your fertility to be drinking so much? “Yes, I work,” you replied. “And do you work?” 

He puffed out his chest. “Of course. I’m a real estate agent.” 

“And does that pay well?” 

He went ashen and then a bright fiery red. You tried to hide your grin behind your wine glass. 

“I’m going to use the restroom.” You slid out from your chair, grabbing your purse and heading toward the front of the restaurant. When Bill looked away, you darted right, out the front doors, practically jogging around the corner. “I’m going to murder Floyd,” you said into the phone. 

Jake’s laugh on the other end was warm. “Again? I thought you were still mad at him for that sous chef-turned yoga instructor who tried to crack your back in the middle of the restaurant.” 

“Just come pick me up?” you begged, looking around. “I’m at some place in the Mission, I’ll send you my location. And hurry, before my date comes out here and tries to get me to put on a costume from Little House on the Prairie.” 

Five minutes later, you were stretching out in the passenger seat of Jake’s car. He had one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, cruising down Van Ness toward the Marina. You resisted the urge to study him: his golden hair illuminated by the headlights of oncoming traffic, the way he smelled like pine and fresh laundry and the smirk that you knew was practically tattooed on his lips. 

Those lips that, try as you might, you couldn’t stop aching for. 

It always ended the same. You and Jake in a pile of tangled limbs in crisp white sheets, sweat pricking at your skin, hair a mess, a soreness already starting to form between your legs. And you’d do it again and again, even if it was wrong. Even if hiding things from Coyote and the rest of the group was becoming next to impossible. Because ending the night with Jake was a hell of a lot better than being alone in your apartment. 

“Stay,” Jake said as you pulled on your jeans, buttoning the top button and turning around in your lacy bra, searching for your shirt that had somehow been flung onto the coffee table. 

You yanked it over your head. “What? No, that’s rule number three.” The two of you had started a list of informal rules for your friends with benefits situation. Rule number one: no getting attached. Rule number two: keep it a secret. Rule number three: no sleepovers. 

“Rules are made to be broken, babe.” 

“Don’t babe me, Seresin,” you grunted, slipping on one stiletto and then the other, examining your hair in the mirror above the dresser. 

“For once, what if you just pretended to like me for more than five seconds when we’re not horizontal.” 

“It’s not an act, Jake,” you replied, whipping around to look at him. He was sitting up in bed, sheet covering his lower half, top half ridiculously muscular and drenched in a thin layer of sweat that only made him glisten in the dull light from the lamp. “You and I? We’re two totally different people. We have good sex and we have the same friends but the similarities stop there. I want someone to actually be in a relationship with. Not just a booty call.” 

“Feeling pretty used over here.” 

“You use me and I use you,” you replied, “that’s how this works. Two-way street.” 

“For a girl who claims to want more than this, you seem to be jumping into my bed a lot.” 

“Fuck you,” you said, but it was lighthearted. 

“I mean it, Y/N,” Jake replied and there was something serious in his tone. “You say you want a real relationship but you don’t even give guys a chance. You find something wrong with them, every single time.” 

“You literally said not two weeks ago that everyone in this city is insane and that’s why none of our dates ever work out.” 

Jake stood up, slipping on a pair of boxers. “That’s true, too. But you’re part of the problem, Stinky. And I think you know it.” 

“I’m leaving,” you said, stomping down the hallway toward the front door. 

“You'll be back here in a few days,” Jake called out. 

You slammed the door behind you. There was nothing but silence on the other side of the door. Jake wasn’t the type of guy to rush after you, say he was wrong. 

And why would he? Because the truth was, he was right. And you both knew it. 

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[shawnjacksonsbs]

Video clip on my fb.

Titleless plan for a higher evolution . . .(revolution?) 7-20-24

"There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind." - Mr. Fred Rogers

I debated for a minute, on whether or not to share a video, specifically this video, as my blog entry as my entries are supposed to be . . .the emptying of my thoughts and feelings, and, usually typed out, but . . .

After a brief internal struggle, lol, I've decided to do just, that . / . this, or whatever.

My fallback is always, in here, it's my way, however I want, and this really resonated with me, so. . .

And,

Thanks bayba, for the assist.

Be kind.

Be grateful.

Learn these and watch how far they'll take you.

Until next week;

"Don't live in the shadows of people's judgement. Make your own choices in the light of your own wisdom." - Amitabh Bachchan

[skidqrow]

"So, what brings you back to Vale, Mr. Branwen?"

Asked an unknown voice, it was Edward Skye of the Vale Police, though he looked tired and had seen better days, the reason why was a long story, but hey, why not have a look around the city, including a trip to the Crow Bar, though Edward wasn't here to drink on the job or annoy Qrow just for being here, it's not Junior's was police friendly either.

"Trust me, the VPD cycles who's information we have based on Scroll and license distance the CCT, so I know who you are, at least, what we're allowed to know."

There were a few choice words Qrow could have chosen for that question. Your mom was always a fallback, though neither classy or deserving in this circumstance. Guy was just doing his job.

"Vytal Festival, innit?" One of his brows quirked, unamused but not hostile to this interruption to his bartime visit. "Came to watch the kids compete. As for here specifically?" Qrow gently rattled the sphere of ice in the whiskey he held. "Drinking, waiting for the right fight."

[op9no4]

oh my god a tag meme on the year of our lord 2023

Last song: fallback by nightlife

Currently watching: my adventures with superman, link click season 2, mr. sunshine

Current obsession: finding a damn job

tagging: anyone who feels like doing it ✨

[moisummertime]

Im currently reading this book called Mr. Unavailable and the Fallback Girl.

There was a section in this book that provide you certain statement to determine how available you are by just agreeing with it.

1. Im all over my exes - this means I'm in neutral position and am not emotionally invested in either negative or positive way. I don't have anyone dipping in and out my life.

Agree. That's why I don't keep them around. I make space for a new person ;)

2. I've typically been available and have at least one mutually fulfilling, healthy, and committed relationship.

I think I'd agree to this one.

3. While I did find myself involved with a Mr. Unavailable, it was a one-time thing and I wouldn't be interested that behaved in this manner.

Yep. Normally I threw 'wtf dude', 'you son of a b*tch, how dare you!', 'Bye' followed with blocked, 'I am not interested.'. But yea I did some exceptions in certain cases and usually one exception.

4. Im not afraid to be vulnerable in my relationship and while I have fears like average person, Im not run by my fear.

Agree. Bitch gonna face those. confront them, and try to address this. My fear wouldnt be my image.

5. When I experience a breakup or someone that Im interested in doesnt work out, I work my feelings and don't try to avoid them.

And as you can see this blog, Im working on all those emotions I feel and try to address them. 6. While I've had one-night stand or an occasional fling or even casual sex arrangement here and there, they;'re few and far between. Yea, getting fewer and fewer every year.

7. If someone rejects me/turn me down/my relationship doesnt work out, I don't internalize it and change how I feel about me.

Yea, it is what it is. But I do always review and reflect. I gotta make sure I learn from that experience.

8. Im okay with being honest or receiving honesty even in the face of hearing information that I might not like and I will act upon.

Better than ghosting ;) So yep, I agreeeee.

9. If someone doesnt make an effort or isn't in position to commit to me, this is a turn off and I walk away. I don't become interested and try to push them into a commitment.

agreeeee. Who wants to have a relationship by forcing them into one? not me.

10. I accept responsibility for sorting out any emotional issues that I have and I don't try to get partners to fix me.

Yep. I might have to cry first but I am more resilient than I was. I know what best for me.

11. while I don't mind being kind or helpful, or even compassionate, I know that it's wholly inappropriate to fix someone else's problem.

Agree. If they have issue, they should decide to fix it themselves.

12. I don't have a type, and tend to look for people who, while Im attracted to them, share similar values with me. I don't have any criteria about how they should look, their job, how much money they have.

Agree. If I look back, there's variety of people, with variety of jobs, and variety of hairlines lol Finding one with same value and I am attracted to at the same time is hard.

13. If I met someone and they were still attached, I'd walk away.

Yea, Im not rehabilitate anyone from their heartbreak.

14. While there are things that I wouldn't mind improving, on the whole I accept myself and like and love me.

I'd give myself the love and life I deserve. I am my baby :3

15. While of course I don't want to be hurt, Im not so afraid of being hurt that it affects how I see people and relationships and my trust issues.

I'll always bounce back. It's gonna be a life story or just a short story? we decide it baby ;) Im not afraid of getting hurt for sure.

16. When I feel uncomfortable I listen to myself and when I get signals from my gut, I trust the information I'm getting.

Yes. And a little extra help from my tarot reader, I def gonna keep my distance when I feel something 'Off'.

17. I'm aware of inappropriate behavior and I have boundaries and limit to what I'll put up with.

AGREE. 100%. behavioral thing is very critical to me. you pick on it, nu uh. bye.

18. I don't engage in denial, rationalizing and minimizing.

You got what you see, what you feel. when you try too hard to make sense of someone else's behaviour, they really got a problem. That's red flag waving at you.

19. Whether or not I had a healthy relationship with my parents, I have addressed everything from my childhood that impacting my adult life and/or am I actively working on it.

Constantly working on it. It's not an easy task, but it's not something that hold me back either.

20. There's nothing Im trying to avoid, really!

Yep. But I have to admit I try to avoid poverty lol Soooo... I think Im ready. When you are? ;)