#since I lack the confidence to write it myself-

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @ttipa @joonwater

[benihime-ayoshi]

Y,know, I kinda wanna see a MDZS reaction fic where the people watching are the cultivation world from the Yilìng Làozū era, in about the Qiongqi Path, see the future in... let's say, 200 years, a time when the Wens just became a part of history and Yilìng Làozū is just an old tale, the new Xue Chonghai, a boogie man if you will.

They also are warned that some of them reincarnated there (HanGuang-Jun, Jiang WanYin, Nie MingJue and WWX must be included). They're seeing a reflex of their generation, the Jins being the new Wens, just as WWX said.

This generation then deals with it the exact same way they did, including a new Yilìng Làozū and a new version of Jins, but make it another Great Sect. Then they watch the same thing happening further in the future, rinse and repeat, again and again, untill all the Great Sects fall and new ones take places.

They see that this cycle keeps happening, and are all horrified. Wondering, what happened for this to keep happening??? Why is the future so bleak? How can we fix this?

Sometime while they're watching, WWX should go and say "See? This is what happens when you just follow the loudest voice instead of doing what's right. This is why you should investigate what's happening by yourself, why you make sure that nobody is doing anything wrong."

Now they see the consequences of their actions.

I leave to the writer to end it however they want-

[dw-flagler]

ward fanfic where victoria asks ashley to say “park the car in harvard yard” and they don’t speak to eachother for a week

[skuntank]

tries not to feel too bad every time i flood peoples dashes with 1000 text posts about characters only five people in the world care about

a sincere and heartfelt thank you to anyone who does actually read the shit i post. ultimately this is all for myself and just to make myself feel good and to indulge my younger self that would be over the moon over the stuff im posting but it is nice if others get even a little enjoyment out of it

[cryptidghostgirl]

I have another chubby reader for you! I was only gonna ask for one but YOURE SO AMAZING I JUST HAD TO PUT IN ANOTHER REQUEST😞😩 Alastor x chubby!reader, where reader goes out with angel Dust to a party or something wearing a *cough* slutty *cough* outfit and Alastor SEES THEM WEARING IT 👀 and he gets possessive of reader and won't let them leave with angel (whose smirking in the background and fluttering his eyelashes like he's innocent because reader and Alastor are bother emotionally constipated or something and haven't confessed to each other😤) and reader is nervous enough wearing something so revealing already (but they felt good enough in their own skin to wear such an outfit; that confidence is quickly fading when Alastor stops her from leaving with the outfit) so she gets the wrong idea that Alastor thinks she disgusting or body shaming her 🥺 but Alastors just ranting about being ladylike and "dressing like a proper lady" , Angel Dust is now watching this heartbreaking train wreck happen and tries to intervene but then Alastor turns on him about tainting the reader or something but reader has heard enough and just quietly just turns around and walks to her room heartbroken 😭 then angel yells at Alastor and tells him everything *shocked Pikachu face* and goes to reader to fix this misunderstanding, you take it from here????? BUT THEY DO CONFESS

(I LOVE ME SOME HURT/COMFORT AND LOVE CONFESSIONS! YUMM!)

A/N I love your requests and I'm so glad you liked how Sweet turned out. I am actually really proud of that one myself. Of course I will write this. 11/10.

Pretty Bunny (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Body image and weight stuff. I feel like Alastor is a bit ooc but I think this is cute so I don't super care.

Word Count: 2,049

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

“And where exactly is it you two are off to in such a hurry?”

Y/n and Angel froze, Angel's hand resting on the handle to the hotel's door.

"Well?"

Exchanging a covert look, Y/n and Angel turned to face Alastor. Y/n clasped her hands innocently behind her back, looking up at Alastor through her lashes which Angel had done up in silver falsies, and Angel fixed a smile on his face.

"Just out." Y/n hummed.

"Yeah," Angel chimed in, draping one of his lower arms over Y/n's shoulders and bringing her into his side, "little Y/n here deserves a night out on the town and some fun."

Y/n quickly elbowed Angel in the side. The spider demon knew Alastor and his opinions on the night life of Pentagram City. He was tempting fate. Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"You deserve 'some fun,' do you?" Alastor asked, fixing his gaze on the shorter of the pair of demons.

Angel released his grip on Y/n, shoving her forward slightly. She stumbled a bit, shooting him a glare before looking carefully back at Alastor. His scrutinizing gaze traversed her form with care. Angel had insisted on dressing her up and while the outfit he had put her in was a bit out of her comfort zone, Y/n felt incredibly pretty. The little white satin dress hung from her hips, playing gently against her thighs when she walked, and the black knee high platforms made her at least a couple inches taller. Angel had even placed black satin bows around the bases of her rabbit ears to tie the whole thing together.

There were also the chains, thin and dripping off her body. A necklace here, a carefully placed waist chain there, she looked practically angelic. Alastor crossed his arms, tapping his foot menacingly as he impatiently waited for an explanation.

"Well, we've been working so hard to become better people and it's been three months since we've done anything... fun. Besides, it was my birthday last week."

"Uh-huh." Alastor nodded, his lack of amusement with the situation obvious, "And where exactly are you two planning on going?"

"Oh come on, Smiles. It's just a club I know." Angel sighed, "You're starting to sound like Charlie. I thought you wanted to see us fail."

"That is true." was the only response the Radio Demon gave Angel before fixing his attention on Y/n once again.

She was beginning to grow uncomfortable under his piercing stare. Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, her shoulders hunching slightly.

"So what is the issue, Alastor."

The name felt foreign on her tongue. Although she had been a guest of the Hazbin Hotel practically since its creation, she avoided Alastor. At first, it had of course been due to intimidation. Then, as he had slowly begun to reveal his true colors to the residents of the hotel, it had morphed into something entirely other. Y/n thought that the Radio Demon, one of the most feared overlords in all of Hell, was pretty.

Y/n had never been good at dealing with crushes or flirting or anything. She avoided him like the plague. Her tail twitched thoughtlessly with trepidation, shifting her skirt just the slightest bit, revealing just the smallest big more of her thighs.. It was the last straw for Alastor.

"You're not going out in that."

Angel pressed his palm to his forehead, shaking his head. Love was his specialty, the act and the feeling. It was obvious to him Y/n had a thing for the Radio Demon, and not just because she had revealed the information to him in one of their late night talks. He never brought it up with the rabbit demon who had become a dear friend in the time they had known one another, but he was relatively certain Alastor had some interest in her as well. The Radio Demon seemed to constantly be a few steps behind her, entering rooms she had just left, letting his eyes linger on her when they did their group exercises.

At Alastor's words, Y/n's mouth fell slightly open. Her breath caught in her throat, a shiver running through her.

"Oh."

Her voice was strained and Angel could tell she was holding back tears. Y/n turned away from Alastor, her shoulders slouching even further.

"That is no way for a proper lady to dress." Alastor continued, not seeming to notice the effect his words had had as he lectured the smaller demon, "I mean, you're barley wearing anything at all! For goodness sake, your shoes are covering more than that dress an-"

"Alright," Angel cut in, stepping up beside Y/n and pulling her into his arms, "that's enough big guy."

"You're clearly tainting her with your promiscuity." Alastor sighed, "What, you want to bring her to some club so ignorant wimps can drool over her all night? Or maybe that's what she wants to have happen."

Y/n pulled herself from Angel's grip and marched right up to Alastor. Her eyes wet with unshed tears, he looked down at the finger she was jabbing into his chest in mild shock.

"You are mean." she stated, "I can't believe how wrong I was about you. I thought... god!"

She let her finger fall and crossed her arms over her stomach once again.

"You ready to go, sweet cheeks?" Angel asked and she shook her head.

All the fight had gone out of her.

"No, you go ahead without me. I think... I think I'm just gonna go to bed. Thanks for... yeah."

With those parting words, Y/n stormed upstairs. Angel and Alastor watched until she had long since disappeared into the depths of the hotel. Slowly, they turned to face each other once again.

"What." Alastor said in the most deadpan tone Angel had ever heard come from the demon.

"How could you do that?" Angel asked accusatorially, taking a step towards Alastor, "She is the sweetest little menace on the planet!"

"Do what?"

Alastor's brow furrowed in confusion. He didn't think he'd said anything wrong, done anything wrong. Y/n was the one who had over reacted, stepped out of line, right?

"Do you have any idea how long it has taken her to be confident enough to wear something like that? She has worked so hard on her relationship with herself and... and... she felt pretty. Why would you say that shit to her?"

"I... what?"

"She liked you, ya dumbass! She cared about what you thought of her!"

Alastor took the slightest step back, his hand not grasping his microphone raised to his chest, hovering over his heart.

"I am afraid I don't understand you."

Angel sighed, trying to calm himself.

"Look. Y/n has a crush on you and you just told her she wasn't pretty."

"No I didn't. I told her she should be more ladylike. A crush on me?"

"Yeah well, that's not much better. She is who she is and she is wonderful! The way that she dresses doesn't change any of that."

"She has a crush on me?" Alastor asked again, dumbstruck.

"Yes you idiot."

"But she never speaks to me. I thou-"

"That's cause she's nervous. Geeze, you are dense."

Y/n jumped in shock as she caught sight of Alastor using his shadows to teleport into her room through the reflection of the mirror. Her makeup half off, she turned to him.

"The fuck are you doing here?"

Alastor opened his mouth, about to make a comment about her language before thinking better of it and closing it again. Y/n rolled her eyes, her anger and hurt having festered into irritation. She turned back to the mirror, using the cotton pad in her hand to take off the last of her mascara. Alastor watched her face through the mirror as she tossed the cotton pad to the side.

Reaching up, she slowly began to disassemble the sculpture of a hairdo Angel had put her in.

"Why are you here?" she asked again, placing a bobby pin on the table.

"I came to... apologize." he replied, taking a small step forward.

"What, did Angel force ya' to?"

It wasn't often her accent slipped out. Y/n had been raised in Brooklyn but her parents had been insistent she work not to have the accent. People didn't take people who had them seriously, they said. It only ever made an appearance when she was drunk or feeling any emotion to it's extremity, especially anger.

"No, I am here of my own volition."

"Yeah, sure." she scoffed as she pulled the last of the pins from her hair, allowing it to fall freely around her face as she turned back to him over her shoulder, "I totally believe that."

"It was not my intent to make you feel like you weren't... pretty." Alastor carefully said, avoiding her eyes, "Just tha-

"If an apology involves an exception, is it really an apology?"

Alastor had never been good at this. Apologies or any of the other feelings he had been actively suppressing about the rabbit demon since he had come to the hotel. She stood up from her chair, walking over to him.

Y/n knew the clock was ticking, felt the heat of the tears building in her head again.

"What." she asked, throwing her arms out to the sides and looking around the room, "Ya' think I'm ugly? Unladylike? Is that because I let Angel dress me up or because I'm not stick thin?"

"Y/n."

There were tears dripping down her cheeks now. She looked away, crossing her arms tightly across her stomach in protection.

"Just leave, Alastor."

"Y/-"

"Leave!" she commanded, "Get outa here!"

"Y/-"

"I don' wanna talk to you! What don't ya' get about that!"

"Y/n!" Alastor grabbed her shoulder, turning her to face him.

"What!" she yelled back, tears streaming hotly down her face, "What, Alastor."

"I... I think you're beautiful."

The tears stopped, Y/n's eyes wide. Fueled by a sudden wild courage Alastor continued, grabbing her hands in his own.

"I do. You... I don't have the words. You..." he shook his head, "I really don't. You are a wonder."

Her nose twitched subtly, her ears adjusting themselves atop her head.

"But then why... why did you say those things to me?"

"I was jealous." he anxiously admitted, "I never meant to make you cry."

"Jealous?" Y/n repeated with a slight laugh and Alastor nodded.

His cheeks were hot and his heart pounding in his chest but he refused to look away from Y/n. Releasing one of her hands, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. Gently, he raised it to Y/n's face, patting away her tears.

"You were jealous."

He wasn't going to be able to escape this one.

"That some other guy was gonna see you like that? Was going to charm you and hold you in their arms while I did nothing? Of course I was."

"I have a confession to make." Y/n said after a moment.

"And what might that be?" Alastor asked as he took another step closer to Y/n, still holding one of her hands in his.

He tried his best to repress a smile, her bashfulness was so endearing.

"I maybe, kind of sort of... think you're beautiful too?"

She looked up at him through her lashes. He let go of her hands, grabbing her by the waste and pulling her body into his.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." she nodded shyly.

"You know, I might have heard something along those lines from Angel just a bit earlier."

"From... that little bitch! I mean snitch! I mean both actually I guess."

Alastor laughed at her antics.

"So, pretty bunny, what are we to do with this revelation?"

Y/n's ears cocked. Alastor could feel her tail twitch, brushing up against his arm where he held her. A shiver traveled down his spine.

"Oh I don't know." Y/n feigned indecision, her hands finding her way around his waist as well, bringing them even closer together, "Maybe you should ask me on a date? If you're interested."

"Interested?" Alastor laughed, leaning down, "Of course I am."

[thankskenpenders]

Happy new year, everyone! Welcome to 2024, the year that will mark the 10th anniversary of Thanks Ken Penders. I'd like to go over my plans for the blog for this year.

First of all: in the very near future, I'll have a post with my thoughts on Sonic Dream Team, and I'm sure I'll write one last Sonic Prime review once the final episodes drop on the 11th. I've also been sitting on an unfinished piece about the Sonic LEGO sets. I wanted this to be longer and more detailed piece that not only reviewed the sets but also went into the weird disconnect between homogenized image of Sonic the Brand and the actual fiction it's based off of, but it'll probably end up getting cut down a lot just so I can put something out. Let's just say I did a fun little thing with one of the sets.

Second: yes, I would like to return to regular TKP updates this year. As I've said many times, I wanted to do this in 2023, but I've been suffering from creative burnout after finishing SLARPG and have generally been unable to focus on any of my creative goals this past year. I'm hoping that this year will be better and I'll be able to get back into the swing of covering Archie Sonic issues. Even doing one issue every week or so would be vastly preferable to continuing the hiatus. I'm still only halfway done!! But aside from burnout, my other main hurdle is that I need to reread my own archive to refresh myself on all these things after nearly three years away. This will take some time.

The thing is, though, this year I'll have an extra incentive to go back through my previous writing and brush up on all things Archie Sonic. Because you see...

I've decided that I want to make a video essay about Penders. The comics, the copyright battle, The Lara-Su Chronicles, everything.

The why

I've thought about doing this before, but I never committed to the idea. I was too busy with gamedev, or I thought it'd end up being too long, or I figured that there were already enough videos on the subject, or I just lacked confidence in my ability to put together a video essay. So I told myself it wasn't meant to be, and let the multiple YouTubers who have cited me as a source on their own Penders videos fill that void.

Recently, though, a few things have happened that have convinced me it might be time. For one, YouTube video essays/media retrospectives/etc. are just getting longer and longer. When Quinton Reviews is out here doing 21 hours of videos on Sam & Cat, a subpar Nick sitcom that only lasted one season, I don't feel so crazy for wanting to make a video about several hundred comic books and two lawsuits that'd be at least an hour or two long lmao. Admittedly, I've also been self-conscious about doing a long video essay like this as a trans woman who has yet to do any vocal training. But these days I feel like I see a lot more transfem YouTubers who have done little to no vocal training, and that's given me more confidence on that front.

But the big one was Hbomberguy's recent plagiarism video. As I sat there watching it, I kept thinking about the time I found a CBR article that was just a crude 800 word summary of my two previous articles on Penders, published by a CBR writer who's put out over 4000 articles since 2019. If I've already been plagiarized before, and my writing is so frequently passed around as a go-to source on Archie Sonic drama, then I wouldn't be shocked if there were YouTubers out there straight up just plagiarizing me. I don't watch other peoples' videos on Archie Sonic, so I'd never know! So if people are just gonna paraphrase me when covering these topics anyway, why not take matters into my own hands and make what I would consider to be the definitive video on the subject? If hacks like James Somerton and iilluminaughtii can churn out these shitty video essays and people will still watch them, surely it can't be that impossible to make my own, right? (And also, uh, Hbomb literally told me I should make the video lol. If you're reading this, thanks for the encouragement.)

The what, how, and when

So here's the plan.

Part of this video essay will be an adaptation of my Medium article on the recurring themes of Ken's Archie Sonic run, with its content touched up and expanded upon. There were a few things I skimmed over in the article because I didn't want it to get too long, but again, people are out here watching ten hour videos about bad Nickelodeon sitcoms now. I can get away with elaborating a little more. I can add a few paragraphs talking about the Chaos Knuckles arc, or throw in a little more historical context I've discovered in the years since.

After covering the comics, the back half(-ish?) of the video will be dedicated to the copyright battles and their ensuing controversies, trying to give an accurate picture of what actually went down, the sheer scale of how bad Archie fucked up, and what our takeaways should be. This will have some similarities to my New York Magazine article on the subject, but I'll be rewriting it from scratch. I REALLY had to keep things short for that article because I was already way over the expected word count, and my tone was a little more straight-laced than normal because I was trying to keep things Professional. I can riff more and insert more of my own opinions this time, like I normally would.

I'll inevitably have to touch on some of Ken's Bad Tweets when discussing things that have happened after the lawsuits, but I don't want the video to just devolve into a list of times people got mad at him on Twitter, so I'm gonna try to keep that to a minimum in favor of focusing on his actual work. Things like the Scourge the Speed Demon incident and his continued statements on certain characters' copyright statuses probably warrant mentioning, though. And finally, assuming that the book really does come out this summer, I would like the grand finale of the video to be about those first couple chapters of The Lara-Su Chronicles.

I don't currently know when this video will get done, but it'll probably be in the back half of the year, especially with me waiting for the book to either drop or get delayed yet again. But I've actually already started writing a bit of the script, and will keep chipping away at it for a while.

So, uh, yeah, look forward to that? Wish me luck?

[isalisewrites]

A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part Two

Welcome to my ballsy series where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say ‘poor writer,’ I’m talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the overall plot of the books. 

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Part One Link.

Disclaimer for all readers of this series: 

I’m going to sound very confident in my posts where I work under the assumption I’m a better writer than JKR; because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You’re simply witnessing the culmination of over two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn’t just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

I’m not a perfect writer. No one is. I’m not a talented writer either. I’m experienced and skilled through years of study and practice.

I don’t care about J.K. Rowling. At all.

If you’re triggered by the concept and fact that JKR is a terrible crafter of writing, then you might want to take a step back and self reflect on that personal issue.

I still very much love and adore Harry Potter; you’re still allowed to love Harry Potter.

This is not a series to bitch or bash. This isn’t a shitpost. This isn’t an attack on JKR, no matter the disgusting bullshit she spews forth on Twitter. However, my hope is people awaken to the fact that JKR isn’t the goddess of writing we’ve all been led to believe.

This is a place of study and learning, where the purpose is to help students gain critical thinking skills and writing analysis tools to become better in their craft.

And, sorry, one more disclaimer for this specific post: 

Fanfiction is written for fun and is posted for free. I put most of my effort into my main fanfic, Terrible, But Great. (Yes, I intend to update Moon Rite soon, too) However, I also have two fanfics that are cowritten with another author; thus, the style of Shall I Stay and Badger Prey are understandably different. I spend three to four times the hours to edit a chapter versus drafting it. My process for fanfiction: I draft. I do one expansion edit. I do one proofread edit. I post.

However, if I were to publish a novel where people are expected to drop money on said book, my work flow would be vastly more extensive. To be clear, I’d do all of the following myself. I would not outsource. My process for published novels: I would draft. I would do three to four expansion edits. I would do two to three cutting edits. I would do three proofread edits. 

See the difference?

Because I don’t go through a cutting edit for my fanfiction, I’ll often come back later and see things I think are weak. I’m constantly seeing where I can tighten my work. There’s always room for improvement.

Remember: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is a paperback book that costs $10. My fanfics are free. If I, someone who writes for free and puts what she considers the bare minimum of effort into them, have a higher standard in the quality of my writing than a paid traditionally published novelist, there’s a problem here. 

All right, with that nonsense out of the way, buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. Let’s begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we’re going to discuss these five pages from HP5 and dissect one paragraph and a line from page 731. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.

(My favorite book in the series, btw. I fucking love fifth year the most. JKR did a damn good job with Umbridge.)

Since a certain anon lacked the skill to comprehend the difference between too much dialogue and stories driven by a high saturation of dialogue, let's go into further depth about dialogue.

What did I mean last week when I said: "Too much fucking dialogue!"

Today’s lesson will focus on the overall issue in JKR’s dialogue and in the prose surrounding those dialogue lines.

And since, apparently, I “lack the self awareness” to know most of my fics are “oversaturated with dialogue,” I’m going to use weaker examples of my own writing. Chapter 24 of TBG is heavily driven by dialogue with twenty-one named characters to juggle, something that's very difficult for me to manage. Though the chapter is lovely, I do feel it's some of my weaker work. In the end, I just didn’t have the energy to edit it a second time nor go through cutting edit.

Here are three different pages (some connected, some not) from Chapter 24 of Terrible, But Great. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.

You can already see the difference, I'm sure.

So, what’s the difference between a scene that has 'too much fucking dialogue' versus a scene that is highly saturated with dialogue?

Because there is one.

Let's set the scene for HP5. In the middle of an OWL exam, Harry received a vision from Voldemort, showing him that Sirius has been captured. He's being tortured to get something from a shelf, but Sirius refuses. Harry believes the vision is real. He tells Ron and Hermione, then asks for their advice on how to rescue Sirius. Ron and Hermione are both like, pardon, wtf, sir? (As they should be.)

We have five pages of this fight between them. These five pages are mostly dialogue with very little else surrounding it.

Also, note the final page where it has the worst sins of adverb usage. That page is what triggered me to begin writing this series in the first place, btw.

There's too much dialogue here. There's no description. I'm being told stuff, but I'm not being shown anything. There are no emotional anchors to Harry either. The more I reread this scene, the more I realized what was wrong.

There’s an emotional disconnect from Harry in the prose.

Do not misunderstand me: it is NOT to say that Harry isn’t emotional here. It's that the prose doesn’t grip me, the reader, by the chest and twist my heart with his overwhelming emotions. The prose doesn't prove anything, doesn't show me anything. This is an intense, terrifying moment for Harry. It should feel visceral. It should feel tangible. I should be able to taste his fear.

We also don’t get too much information about the emotional states of Ron and Hermione. We have hints, of course. But we can’t feel them. The emotions of the scene are dampened, muffled, dull even.

With an untrained eye, you might disagree. It's okay. You'll see what I mean soon.

Page 731 exact quote:

"I dunno how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they're at the end of row ninety-seven...He's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there....He's torturing him....Says he'll end by killing him..." Harry found his voice shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master himself.

(Btw, punctuation issue: you do not use an ellipsis and a period together and there should be a space after the ellipsis.)

This is the only instance in the five pages where we get any information about Harry's physical state.

And it's written in such a weak 'telling' instead of 'showing' way, too.

How and where was his voice shaking? How are his knees shaking? Are they knocking together in a weird way that's kind of physically improbable? Or was it actually his legs were shaking? Isn't he leaning against the door? If his weight was resting against the door, then there'd be less shaking in his knees or legs because his knees would be locked to brace his body against the door. His arms and hands would be shaking, though.

How does Harry master himself? What does that look like? Slow breaths? Running a hand through his hair? Rubbing his face and eyes? How is Harry mastering himself? Is it mentally? Then, where are those mastering thoughts? What are they and why do those thoughts in particular help Harry 'master' himself?

What's Harry's tone as he talking about Voldemort threatening to kill Sirius? How is Harry feeling about this? Give me MORE!

The dialogue is presented to the reader in a bland, empty fashion. Harry is relating something to Ron and Hermione. I could switch the dialogue out with anything and it'd still make sense.

There is little surrounding the dialogue to anchor it.

So, let's rewrite this, shall we?

"I dunno how," said Harry, letting out a shaky breath. His hands clenched into fists against the door of the classroom. "But I know where—they're in a room in the Department of Mysteries that's filled with rows of shelves holding these... weird little glass balls. They're in row ninety-seven. Voldemort, he's—" Harry's voice broke. His breath caught in his throat. The memory of the vision returned full force into his mind, the image of Sirius on the floor at Voldemort's feet stark in his mind. He ducked his chin; his chest inhaled in a desperate breath and the edges of his eyes burned. He's torturing Sirius—I can't just wait around. I can't lose him. Harry looked up at Ron, whose face had grown pale, while Hermione stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. The strength in Harry's legs weakened. "He needs Sirius to get whatever it is he wants and he's—" Harry sucked in a gasp, his voice trembling like an autumn leaf in a thunderstorm. "—he's torturing Sirius... says he'll kill him in the end." His knees buckled. Harry stumbled to the nearest desk; Ron reached out with a steadying hand on Harry's upper arm and silent gratitude filled Harry's heart. With shaky arms, Harry lifted himself onto the desk to sit and twisted around to face Ron and Hermione. He licked his dry lips, rubbed his eyes with a hand, and took slow, deep breaths to master his fraying emotions.

The original canon text has 57 words of dialogue with a total of 83 words.

My rewritten version uses 56 words of dialogue with a total of 247 words.

I'm going to drill this concept into your heads, my lovely students: this is what I mean when I keep saying JKR's writing is both bloated and underwritten.

I only rewrote a single paragraph and its following line. The five pages I've provided are filled with this kind of empty dialogue.

So, what have I done here? Can you see the difference? Can you feel the difference?

Let's analyze what I focused on in this scene to show Harry's body language and his thoughts. I upped the physical effects on Harry's body. His fear causes his voice to break in the middle of explaining what's going on. He's terrified of losing Sirius, the only father figure he's ever known. Voldemort might take another parental figure from him. 

And now the prose reflects these feelings, not just in his thoughts, but also in how he speaks and reacts to what is around him. He is not just speaking at the reader.

Harry exists in his world. 

And you can feel it.

When he stumbles to the desk, Ron is there for him. Hermione reacting could also be added here. There is a lot that can be added to this scene, if one wanted to expand this further. 

Yes, what I've done has increased the word count, yet it strengthens this short moment—and I'd do this for the entire scene.

What I did to the scene is merely one version of its potential. It could be rewritten in a multitude of ways and go in various directions. I spent 10mins to 20mins on it. I haven't edited it or refined it.

Can you finally see what I mean now?

If you compare the highlighted pages of HP5 to the highlighted pages of Chp 24 of TBG, you can visually see the difference in the density of the dialogue. JKR is the one whose writing is oversaturated with dialogue. My writing will always be highly saturated with dialogue because my stories are character driven. I prefer stories like that. But I also need the dialogue to be interesting and engaging, where the character feels alive in their world.

When I say there's too much dialogue, this scene is such a good example of this because Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all over the place in their interactions with each other. Yes, you want your characters to sound realistic, but you're also the author curating an experience for the reader.

There's a balancing tightrope act between having realistic dialogue and unnecessary dialogue.

There's a thin line between showing too much and telling too little.

Lastly, if I were to improve the overall scene, I would center the focus on Harry's desperation to rescue Sirius. As Ron and Hermione try to talk him out of it, where Hermione delivers that iconic line of 'you have a people saving thing,' I'd have Harry explode with something like this:

"You don't know what's it like! You both have your parents—I-I don't... You'd feel the same as me if it were either of your parents being tortured by Voldemort, yeah? I can't lose him—I can't lose Sirius."

I'm not bothering with description around it right now. I just wanted to give the baseline dialogue to show you the theme I'd carry through this scene. It's all about Sirius. It's all about the fear of losing him. It's about showing the emotion of the character and making the reader feel that deeply.

And that's what matters the most.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part Two in this series. We have discussed fives pages in JKR's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The pages in question are 731 - 735 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa

[galacticsuperstitions]

the minds of a lab at three different points (LONG rambling under the cut)

I am constantly in awe of the analyses people put out about Arknights on this website. I feel like my own interpretations are somewhat lacking as a result, but I was confident enough to post this, at least. I've had this idea for a long time now, I think since Lone Trail released, but I've only been able to make the time for it now.

Rhine Lab has so many fucked up elements and people involved in it that it's actually impressive. They were really gunning for "most unethical scientific consortium" reward. Really, though, it's just the result of Kristen gunning for her parents' wishes. All of the directors want something and all of those somethings are different.

Things I want to mention or just feel proud of (allowing myself this because of how long this took):

-I was originally planning on crossing out Saria's surname to reflect that we still don't know what it is in canon, but I don't know why whoever has this poster would do that, so I just kept it in. Hermon refers to Mount Hermon, which Saria's name apparently derives from. Technically, her name here is the same thing twice. Oh well.

-I don't know who this poster belongs to. It's just in some Rhine Lab tech's personal desk, I guess? Doesn't explain the doodles, though. Maybe they were bored and feeling spiteful about the potential job insecurity of your boss being comatose in space.

-I realized only while making this post that I made Saria's, Muelsyse's, and Jara's doodles reference Kristen, yet Kristen's only references herself and her parents. Completely unintentional, but appropriate nonetheless.

-I am so happy with how the poster came out. It makes up for how hard I had to fight Canva for it to come out like that. Here it is in full if you want to look at it closely for whatever reason. (writing an actual description for this thing was fun!)

-Andenate doesn't actually have a face under the sticky note. That's why he's still Mike Wazowski'd in the poster png. I didn't feel like drawing one since it wouldn't be shown in the finished pieces anyway. His jacket is just the same as Magallan's.

-Ifrit's picture board was a literal last-minute addition. It's why the images are sketches rather than being in the lineless style of the poster. It feels fitting, though, so I'm keeping it that way. Seeing Ifrit all grown up and doing so well in Lone Trail was wonderful. There's something in her being happy and healthy and also surrounded by not just her loved ones and friends from Rhine Lab, but also people outside of it. She's cultivated her life to be as fulfilling as she wants it to be, and while there is still room to grow, she has plenty of support and insight from others for it to do so. I may be misrepresenting her a bit (the sleepiness doesn't help), but man. I love Ifrit. She's so cool.

[starlazergazer]

Senators Shadow

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Summary: Anakin is your regular Jedi guard whenever your job in the senate brings you to Coruscant which wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t spend the entire time practically ignoring you making It clear he didn’t really want to be there. Until something changes on this trip and the two of you start to become close.

Warnings: Swearing, some jealous Anakin, scene where the readers being shot at from a crowd, that should be it

Word Count: 10K (may have gotten a bit carried away with this one but I hope its worth it!)

A/N: I’m a sucker for an enemies to lovers type thing plus a jealous Anakin moment so I wrote this to amuse myself (cause what’s the point of being a writer if you can’t write a fic for yourself once in a while?) Easily the longest one I’ve written so I hope you enjoy!!

You never really liked having to be on Coruscant. Things moved too fast here, you were always rushing from one meeting to another, prepping for speeches, consulting others, it often felt like you never got a chance to breathe only making you long for the minute you could leave and go back home.

And the longer you had to stare into Anakin’s eyes, the more you felt that longing grow.

“I appreciate the concern Jedi Skywalker” you addressed the man before you formally, interlacing your fingers and setting them on your desk, pushing forth an air of professionalism and authority “but I do not need a jedi guard for the time that I’m here”

A hint of a smirk graced his lips at your words, however, nothing more than its ghost ever appeared, a twitch in the corners of his lips. Often you wondered if you simply read too much into his expressions. “and I’m afraid your excellency that both the senate and the jedi council disagree”

There was no denying that Anakin was incredibly good looking, even if you tried to ignore that as much as possible, this simple fact was enough to have the people within the capital constantly whispering about him. Beyond this, however, he also had the reputation of being devilishly charming. You never got the chance to know that side of Anakin.

Sometimes you see glimpses of that version of him, you certainly did when you first met him as he introduced himself with a boyish grin and a look that had your cheeks stained scarlet, but since that first encounter it has been nothing but this stoic, aloof jedi that was now before you. And some stupid part of you wondered if it had been something you said that first night that pushed him away.

“Alright this is, however, my person we are talking about” you argued back, fighting down your own annoyance at his persistence “I get final say in what happens to it and that includes whether or not I have someone guarding it”

His answer was quick and to the point, as it always was “that is not how this works”

And oh how you loathed his complete lack of emotion, here you were out on a limb trying to reason with him, trying to compromise, trying to get something, anything out of him and still he responded as if you were little more than a talking brick wall.

“Then tell me Jedi Skywalker” You tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm yourself down, unable to keep the bite completely out of your words “how does this work?”

He leaned back in his chair causally, crossing his ankle over his knee, exuding confidence as he stated simply “either you let me act as your guard or you don’t make the speech next week”

You raised an eyebrow back at him, your voice dropping to a dangerous level “excuse me?”

“the jedi council has it on good authority there is going to be an attempt on your life so the senate is not going to let you on the floor unless they have reason to believe you aren’t going to die upon it” he explained indifferently, as if you were the one being ridiculous here.

“Wouldn’t resources be better spent actually looking for the person threatening my life then?” you pointed out with a sigh, posture slumping over slightly as you spoke, resigning yourself to the shadow being forced upon you for the next week.

“Oh we do have people on that” he assured you “just not me”

“No you’re on guard duty” you rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m on guard duty” he echoed back and you tried to ignore how hollow the words came from him, it would seem he was as happy about this assignment as you were.

And you wished you had a biting remark back for that, not fully ready admit just why his words bothered you so much, but you didn’t, instead you were left staring at Anakin in the chair before you, him doing the same as a brief silence fell over the two of you before a knock at the door broke it, one of your aide’s, head popping through the doorway.

“I have Jace here to see you senator”

You felt the smile grown naturally on your face at the news, unaware that your best friend and quite possibly the only person who could make this week better was even on Coruscant.

“Thank you please send him in” you nodded at her, eyes flicking back down to Anakin’s form, smile slowly dropping from your face as your gaze met his small glare “are we done here jedi?”

“It would appear so” he nodded stiffly, pushing himself up to a standing position, his mouth open, ready to say something when a new voice cut him off.

“Y/N Y/L/N it has been far too long”

A giggle escaped past your lips as Jace slipped into the room with wide arms, you not hesitating to meet him halfway across the room, more than happy to be caught up in his bone crushing hug as a greeting.

“Jace how could you not tell me you were going to be here” you chastised him with a small hit of his arm once he set you down, the grin never once leaving your face, you weren’t sure you could admit to even him how badly you needed someone on your side this week.

“Thought I’d surprise you” he shrugged with a wink and you were so excited to see him you almost missed the other voice as it spoke up from across the room.

“Senator”

Your head whipped around to meet Anakin’s gaze, a raised brow silently asking your question for you.

“I’ll be outside the room”

You didn’t have time to give any response before he was ducking out the door, finally leaving you and Jace alone.

“You have a babysitter” Jace mused with a smirk on his lips as he made his way to the bar cart in the corner, making the two of you a drink without being asked as you slumped down into one of the chairs before your desk.

“I have a babysitter” you groaned. The words, now that they were in the open, cementing themselves in reality “and it just had to be Anakin fucking Skywalker”

Jace snorted as he brought the drinks over, wordlessly handing you one as he sat in the chair next to you “of course it’s Anakin Skywalker, it’s always Anakin”

You furrowed your brow at him, taking a sip of your drink “it is not always Anakin, last time I had Master Obi-wan”

“Because Anakin was on a mission in Crait for nearly a month at that time” Jace pointed out with a smirk making you frown.

“I’m sorry you just know Anakin’s schedule at all times?”

“I knew about it last time because like I said you always get Anakin as security” he chuckled shaking his head at you as if it were obvious.

“I do not” you insisted still, mind racing as you thought back to the last time you had been assigned a jedi that wasn’t Anakin “Just last year I had Master Kuno”

“mmmm when you made that speech denouncing the banking clan” Jace hummed softly as he thought “I believe Anakin was on medical leave then”

You shook your head at your friend, sipping your drink “you do acknowledge that it’s weird that you know that right? It’s important to me that you know that”

Jace chuckled at that shaking his head softly at you “and it’s weird that you’ve never noticed that Anakin, if he is available, is always your guard”

“Alright so the jedi order decided to assign their young padawan to guard the young senator” you thought as you talked, more or less making up your own rationalizations on the spot “pair the two people who are up and coming in their respective careers”

Jace didn’t even bother to refute that, sending you no more than an unimpressed expression with a raised brow. You realized with a sigh you already knew exactly where he was going with this as he opened his mouth to speak.

“no” you held up your finger, interrupting him “don’t even try”

“Y/N it’s obvious” he sighed nearly making you choke on your drink.

“Obvious? Really Jace, obvious?” you nearly laughed “I can’t even get the guy to talk to me for longer than like two minutes”

Jace just shrugged at that, as if it made no difference “He’s a jedi, they’re weird maybe he’s nervous or something”

At that you did laugh, not liking how bitter it sounded out in the open “you’ve seen how he talks to every other woman in the capitol he’s definitely not nervous”

At that Jace froze, a single eyebrow raising as he nearly gaped at you “I haven’t, but I’m very interested to learn that you’ve noticed this”

You groaned inwardly, feeling your cheeks heat up on the spot “that is not the point I’m trying to make”

“It’s the point now” Jace cut you off with a wicked grin “Y/N Y/L/N is there something you want to get off your chest”

“I will have him come in here and throw you out” you threatened, unable to keep the small smile off your face as you did so.

“Hey if you wanted time alone with him all you had to do was say so” Jace held his hands up defensively, smirking down at you.

You nearly threw your drink at him.

-

You would think after all of these trips to Coruscant you would learn to pack properly. That, however, would make things just too easy.

You were prepared for meeting rooms, for the senate floor, for your bedroom. You had professional clothing, comfy clothing, pajamas, you were prepared for anything within the capital building that could take place.

What you were not prepared for was a walk to Dex’s diner.

You were supposed to meet a senator at the diner, the man absolutely insisting on dinner while you were meeting, and you could never really say no to eating at Dex’s.

But you could see Anakin’s look of confusion at your outfit choice as you immerged from your room, the man giving you a simple raised brow but still you refused to give into the embarrassment of admitting to your mistake.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” there was no malice in his question but still you felt your cheeks burning at its asking, looking back down over yourself, pretending to not notice that the clothing was much too light for the cold weather outside.

“Yeah why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“Uh no you look” and Anakin paused here, his eyes scanning your form briefly in a way that had you squirming slightly on the spot, his eyes finally making their way back up to your own, Anakin’s voice much softer than before “you look good Y/N”

And if you had thought you had blushed hard before.... Your gaze was quickly thrown to your shoes, a desperate attempt to hide the blush as you mumbled out a thanks before clearing your throat awkwardly, nodding slightly to the door, Anakin nodding back and stepping aside, letting you exit first.

Keeping your head held high you whisked past him, only regretting your situation as soon as the crisp air hit your mostly bare arms.

Warm clothing, how could you forget any and all forms of warm clothing.

You tried to hide your slight shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself to conserve body heat, rubbing a hand up and down your bicep.

“Where’s your coat?” the voice beside you startled you, all too used to walking in complete silence with Anakin, to nearly tuning the man out completely.

“I forgot to pack it” you shrugged, almost wishing you had something more to say, something to keep the conversation going.

Instead the familiar silence fell back over the two of you as you walked, your mind already starting to tune the jedi out once again when you felt something being draped over your shoulders.

In surprise you froze, Anakin following suit as he came to a stop in front of you, hands still on the ends of his robe that now hung around your shoulders, holding it carefully around you. Slipping your arms into the sleeves you held them up to your eyes taking a moment to admire the simple brown robe, how surprisingly soft it was, the way it smelled like Anakin.

“Am I even allowed to wear this?”

“It’s just a robe” Anakin shrugged, already trying to push past the gesture “besides breaking a rule like that is worth you not freezing”

“but it’s a special jedi robe” you protested “am I going to get special jedi powers now?”

And god help you you saw the corners of his mouth twitch up at that, a laugh that came out as more of a cough following shortly that had your heart skipping a beat in your chest “that’s not how that works. Now come on” he tried to usher you forward but you stopped him.

“Hold on what about you” you asked “aren’t you cold”

And you weren’t sure if Anakin noticed the small smile that grew on his lips, didn’t notice or didn’t care, either way you were glad to finally see it “no I’m okay, let’s just-“ and he paused out of nowhere, smile slowly dropping from his lips as he looked up into the sky.

Furrowing your brows you started to do the same, pausing only as Anakin started to approach you, hands coming just beside your ears as he reached behind you, your breath catching in your throat at his closeness. Slowly, grabbing the hood on the cloak he pulled it forward, shrouding your head in it just as you started to notice the fat water droplets that began to stain the ground beneath your feet.

“keep your hair dry” he all but whispered, taking just a second longer before retracting his hands and taking a step back, turning on his heel and ushering you forward with a nod in that direction “come on let’s hurry”

And then he took off as if nothing had happened, as if that wasn’t the most emotion you had gotten out of him since you had met, as if he hadn’t just spent the last several seconds standing closer to you than was strictly necessary, as if your heart wasn’t hammering in your chest so hard you could feel it.

-

Too much of your mental space the rest of the day was spent trying to come up with ways to get Anakin to interact with you again. Like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch you felt this desire to talk to him again, to see that hint of a smile grace his lips, to see that small twinkle in his eye as he huffed and shook his head in amusement down at you. Something, anything that could clue you into what was going on inside of that jedi brain of his.

Beyond proposing a trip to the library, however, you had nothing.

A small nod was all you got for your efforts before he fell into place behind you, always a few feet back, hands held behind his back, head held high, not a single word uttered in your direction, a true return to form even after what had occurred earlier.

And a part of you scolded yourself for thinking it would ever be different, that you had let Jace’s words weasel their way under your skin like that, that you ever thought you’d be anything other than a job to him.

So wordlessly you led on, entering the library with him in tow, doing as you always did and completely ignoring your shadow’s existence for the time being, trying to turn your mind to the task at hand.

But why had that never been as hard before as it was now?

Taking a brief trip around the shelves, Anakin in tow close behind, it was a bit before you could find the exact copy you needed, of course on the top shelf well outside of your reach.

You took a tentative look back at Anakin to see his eyes wondering aimlessly around the library not even paying attention. And for a brief moment you debated asking him for help, he’d given his cloak so freely the other day, had yet to even ask for it back, you’d taken to the habit of wearing it around your rooms when cold. It had been a crack in the walls he erected between the two of you so long ago.

But it was just that, a crack. You’ve spent years at this point with whatever small amount of time spent in Anakin’s company more or less ignoring him, used to his curt nods and short answers, it wasn’t quite so simple to get over that.

With a small sigh you walked over to a nearby table and grabbed a chair, pushing it back in front of the shelf, giving it a small test with your hands before stepping one foot up.

Anakin was by your side in an instant, hands out before him, coming up to grab you but remaining just a bit too far away “What are you doing?”

“I need a book on the top shelf” you shrugged, pushing your weight onto the foot on the seat of the chair, Anakin shifting closer as you did so.

“Alright then I’ll get it” he urged, “this thing spins would you just get down”

“I’m already up here I’ll get it” you brushed him off, one hand on the back of the chair to steady yourself as you brought your other foot up, trying to react quickly with every small movement in the base of the chair as it swiveled slightly.

“Senator-“ Anakin tried again, practically begging you to get down.

“I’m like two feet in the air I’ll be fine” your hand left the back of the chair and immediately the thing pivoted slightly beneath you, your legs reacting by crouching slightly so you could keep your balance.

“Y/N” and you felt him grab you by the forearm, a shock surging through your arm at his sudden touch, effectively freezing you in place, your eyes coming back to connect with his for the first time, noting the concern they carried. His other hand reached out, a book flying off the top shelf and coming right into his palm, Anakin not even breaking eye contact as he did it “Look I’ve got it would you please get down”

And for a second it was like you had forgotten how to breathe, you can’t even remember the last time he had looked into your eyes so intently let alone touch you, the simple act had left you absolutely breathless with gorgeous blue eyes bouncing back and forth between your own and for the first time you felt what it was like to truly be the sole object of Anakin’s attention. You could feel yourself practically shrink within it, your knees aching slightly though you were quick to blame that on your attempt to balance on the chair.

“Uh-yeah” you hadn’t realized how long you had remained still and silent beneath his gaze until you broke its spell, forcing your gaze from his down to your shoes, using his hand as an anchor as you carefully stepped down, not missing the sharp hiss of air that left Anakin the minute you had both feet on the ground.

“here” he sighed almost in relief, holding the book out to you, you carefully taking it from his hands as he moved quickly to push the chair back to the table you had stolen it from.

Looking down at the cover you couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, casting your eyes back up to Anakin only to see him already looking at you, a faint smile pulling up at his lips “what?”

“I actually need the one next to this one” you bit the inside of your cheek to contain your own smile as he sighed dramatically, looking back up at the self before easily picking the one you needed off of the top.

“Thank you” you traded books with him, just barely catching the slightly wider smile on his lips as he placed the first back on the shelf. And you decided that you liked that smile, liked being its cause.

Wordlessly he ushered you towards the exit with an extended arm, you nodding sheepishly at him before walking out the doors, Anakin’s footsteps as usual following close behind but this time, to your surprise, he sped up once you got to the hallway, falling into step beside you as opposed to behind.

“So what do you need the book for?” The question startled you, your head whipping around to him on instinct though you tried desperately to restrain your surprise, worried expressing too much of it would scare him off.

“Oh-he’s just one of my favorite writers” you tried to keep your tone as casual as possible, only making you worry it sounded forced, you didn’t like how easily you came to second guessing your every move in the jedi’s presence “I’m hoping I could use some of his style to influence my speech, make it sound a little better”

His brow furrowed at that, his gaze never leaving yours as he spoke “why? I like your style”

You nearly stopped walking, quick blinks coming as you tried to wrap your head around his words, the question slipping out of you before you could think better “you’ve seen me speak before?”

“When I’m free” he shrugged as if it were a given, as if there was nothing better for a jedi to do than listen to a junior senator give a speech.

And for the first time you started to wonder if Jace was right, if there was a reason Anakin always ended up as your guard, if there was more to this tough, distant demeanor than you had previously thought.

“Do you want a drink?” You regretted the offer as soon as it left your lips, easily catching the hesitation on Anakin’s face the minute you asked “I just mean I’m going to be up for a little longer and since you’re stuck keeping me company it’s the least I could do” and he seemed to relax slightly at that only making you tack on more “plus as a thank you for grabbing the book for me”

And there was that small smile again, his features lighting up ever so slightly as it graced his lips, your own mirroring it of their own volition.

“Yeah I’d like that”

-

“You did not!” You exclaimed with a loud laugh, hand coming out instinctively to slap his chest as he grinned back at you, smile hid behind his glass as he raised it up.

“I had no other choice” he defended weakly in a voice that told you he had many.

“That make for three ships you’ve crashed in this story alone” you shook your head with a chuckle “you know someone has to pay for those, namely the people of the republic”

“A small price to pay for peace” he shrugged with a lazy grin, taking a sip of his drink.

“Have you tried this thing, I think they call it landing?” You teased earning a chuckle from the jedi, the sound making your cheeks ache as you tried to contain your grin.

“I’m sorry senator how many ships have you ever flown and landed successfully?” he taunted with a raised brow.

And you could blame it on the alcohol, could blame it on the sleep deprivation, could blame it on the cozy atmosphere in the room. But really it was just Anakin that had you pulling out childhood stories, the way he put you at ease, the strange familiar air of a man who’s spent the last several years practically ignoring you. In all honesty this was the most you had ever gotten from the man in terms of real conversation and you weren’t ready to let that go just yet.

“My father actually taught me to fly as a kid” you offered with a soft smile, watching Anakin’s brows shoot up ever so slightly.

“Really?” he prompted simply, leaving the door open for you to continue if you so choose.

“Yeah” you chuckled softly, casting your eyes down to your drink “he loved the freedom it gave him, the idea that he could go anywhere he wanted at the drop of a hat, could live amongst the stars. I think he wanted to instill that same feeling in me”

“and did he?” he asked with a sentimental smile and briefly you felt like he wasn’t just looking at you but rather watching you as you told your story, something you took a strange comfort in.

“He did” you nodded “he died a few years ago and I associate flying with him so much I feel like I’m working to fall in love with it all over again, just this time alone”

And at your words you watched his smile slowly melt off his face, his eyes casting downward into his own drink, and you prepared yourself for the inevitable. The sympathy, the condolences, the pity, instead Anakin surprised you with a story of his own.

“As a kid I was a pod racer, thought I was significantly better than I actually was ya know” he chuckled softly, eyes glancing up at yours for a brief moment before casting back down “but I knew my mother never really approved, thought it was too dangerous, but she always was my biggest supporter despite everything. I had to leave her years ago for the order and sometimes I wonder if I’m reckless now in some ridiculous bid to be closer to her”

“that’s not ridiculous” you shook your head, Anakin’s eyes coming back up to meet yours “it was a comfort to have your mother care for you in that way, only makes sense that when you miss her you seek that sense of comfort all over again”

And he chuckled softly at that, smiling to himself “I suppose you’re right”

And this time you could definitely blame it on the alcohol, or maybe the slight pink hue you thought you could see in his cheeks, but suddenly you felt yourself forcing your next words to the surface, a desperate need taking over you to have them out in the open. “I know we never really do this but I really like talking to you Anakin”

And for some reason the name felt weird on your mouth this time, felt weird being addressed to him rather than said behind his back, yet still you rather liked it.

A small smile grew on his lips as he looked back at you, eyes bouncing back and forth between your own before he spoke “I like talking to you too Y/N”

And you certainly liked the way your name sounded when he said it like that to you, soft and sweet, less a call to attention and more an affirmation.

His eyes darted to the clock and he sighed softly, leaning forward to set his glass on the edge of your desk “Come on its way past your bedtime”

You chuckled softly at that, shaking your head even as you knew he was right “I’m a senator I don’t have a bedtime”

He laughed back at that, taking your glass from you and setting it onto your desk next to his “and senators need 8 hours of sleep just like the rest of us”

“You expect me to believe you get a full 8 hours of sleep a night” you asked with a raised brow, watching in amusement as he shook his head softly from above you.

“Alright like the rest of us except for jedi knights”

Despite that ridiculous answer you relented, hands coming to the armrests of your chair ready to push yourself up when a hand suddenly entered your field of vision, Anakin’s hand offered simply to you. With a slightly furrowed brow you looked up at him as you took it, standing up with his small aide, coming to a position that had the two of you standing nearly chest to chest and instinctively you felt a small panic rise.

Instead his other hand came to the small of your back as he ushered you forward softly, hand slipping easily from your own as you walked forward out of your office, focused entirely too much on the feeling of his touch as it slowly slipped from your back, on the way he fell into step behind you as usual though this time mere inches away instead of feet.

Too quickly you reached the door to your room, spinning around to face him “this is me” you regretted the statement as soon as it left your mouth, wincing slightly at the sound of your own words which just had him laughing softly.

“Need me to clear it?” he asked in a low tone, his voice barely above a whisper as he inched closer “see if there’s a monster hiding under your bed”

“I think I’ll be okay” you chuckled softly back, scolding yourself for the way your gaze slipped down to his lips, the way your fingers twitched, eager to reach out.

The moment of silence stretched and still you felt yourself drifting closer, felt the friendly atmosphere give way to one of thick tension as the two of you stared back at one another, daring the other to give in and make the first move.

Instead Anakin stepped back, the smile slowly slipping from his lips though never entirely leaving “goodnight Y/N”

And with a sigh you couldn’t entirely contain you nodded softly, leaning against your doorway as you watched him walk back down the hall to his own room, “goodnight Anakin”

-

You dragged yourself from sleep with shallow quick breaths, bolting upright in place, eyes desperately scanning the room for anything that looked familiar.

But of course this was Coruscant and nothing really was.

This wasn’t the first time your sleep has plagued by nightmares, nor the first time you’ve woken up unsure of where you were, of what was going on, of where the threat was coming from.

And logically you knew where you were, in your room, safe, with a jedi guard just next door. So you tried to force yourself to take deep breaths, a hand on your chest as if you could physically push the air into you. And for the most part you had succeeded, your breath slowly but surely returning to normal.

But it didn’t rid you of the initial panic, of the overwhelming sense of dread, of the crushing loneliness of going through this in a room that wasn’t your own.

And for the first time your mind jumped to Anakin, afterall he was just next door.

This past day had been the closest you had ever felt to the jedi, approaching something that resembled friendship as he made an effort for the first time to actually talk to you. And based on that you really didn’t think he would mind, even if it was just him sitting in silence next to you, it was nice just having something there.

But still waking him would be welcoming him to a part of you you weren’t sure you were ready to show him yet. It was a level of vulnerability you weren’t ready to show him yet. Not to mention the man was a jedi, faced death on a near daily basis, was always putting himself in dangers way, what right did you have to go to him with nightmares?

Making up your mind you slipped silently out of your room and made your way to the front door, heading as you usually did to Jace’s apartment.

-

You tried to slip out of the room quietly, more than enough experience at this under your belt to know that you could probably force your way through the front door with a sledge hammer and Jace wouldn’t wake up but still wanting to take precautions nonetheless.

Up on your toes you snuck through the door, pressing the button on the other side to close it, waiting till it fully shut to relax, spinning around to begin the trek back to your rooms, when movement out of the corner of your eye caught you off guard. With a small gasp you stepped back from the mysterious object, nearly stumbling over your own feet, when you realized you recognized the mystery man lurking outside of the door.

“Anakin” you breathed out in relief, hand instinctually coming to your chest in an attempt to slow your racing heart “you scared me”

At first he didn’t say anything, stayed leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his posture telling you that he couldn’t have been more at ease, but his expression... His jaw was set, clenched hard enough you could see the muscle tensing even from your position, his gaze hard and unflinching as it bore down into you, Anakin was pissed.

“Imagine how I felt when I woke to find your room empty” His tone was cold and biting, as if he were spitting the words at you rather than conversing.

“Alright maybe I should’ve left a note” you conceded “but I figured I’d be back in an hour or two tops, and it’s Jace’s place you’ve met him”

“A note” he scoffed back at you, pushing himself off the wall to come close to you, forcing you to crane your neck in order to make eye contact, refusing to give in and take a step back “What part of this do you not get?”

“What part of what?” you demanded, crossing your own arms over your chest “you found me quite easily what is the harm?”

“What is the-“ he chuckled bitterly as he echoed you under his breath, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he burst “you suck out on me!”

“for like an hour” you protested, rising your voice to match his, not caring at this point who heard you

“That doesn’t matter” he paused briefly between each word, putting emphasis on each as he glared at you “I was tasked with guarding you that means I go where you go, everywhere you go, that means you don’t sneak out on me especially not to just spend the night with some guy” he gestured almost in disgust back at Jace’s door “this isn’t some joke Y/N”

“And I’m not treating it like one” you countered, clenching your jaw as you fought back the urge to push him back “you’ve come with me to everything for the entire time you’ve been my guard, I haven’t left your side, I’m playing by your rules”

“this” he gestured vaguely in your direction, a bitter laugh in the back of his throat “this is not playing by my rules, this is disobeying my orders, and a fucking note is not the correct fix to this situation”

“So I should’ve what? Asked you to escort me to Jace’s room at three in the morning?”

You watched him clench his jaw at that, a harsh glare sent back at you as he silently loomed over you, neither of you saying anything for a few seconds, before a deep breath escaped him, his chest deflating slightly as he grabbed your elbow, pulling you down the hallway “let’s just go back Y/N”

But you weren’t giving up on this so easily, weren’t letting him get away with chastising you in the middle of the hallway like you were a child. You ripped your elbow from his grasp, slowing your pace “I can walk myself”

“Really you sure you won’t get lost?” he condescended with a raised brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest “won’t accidentally end up in some other guys room for ‘just an hour’, I think senator Passel’s in this hall I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about him”

You reacted without thinking, your hand coming up and slapping him across the cheek before you could fully process your action, though even after you couldn’t find yourself to regret it. And you knew that on some level Anakin had to have let it happen, it was nearly impossible to catch the Jedi by surprise. But the wide eyes he gave back to you could have had you fooled. You watched as his own hand came up to his cheek, touching the skin lightly, him mouth dropping open ever so slightly, his anger completely dissipating on the spot.

Yours, however, had yet to do so “You’re mad I disobeyed your ‘orders’ fine I can take that, but you do not get to treat me like this and you do not get to throw that kind of insinuation at me” you seethed back at him, hands clenched by your side so hard you could feel your nails digging into the palms.

“Y/N” and you name came out of his mouth on an exhale, a hand coming up to your elbow with a touch much softer than before, a plea in his eyes as he said it.

But you weren’t sure you could take any more of being in Anakin’s presence tonight. As you took a step back his hand fell easily from your arm and you tried to ignore the tingle on your skin it left in its place, tried to ignore the lump you could feel growing at the base of your throat, tried to ignore his silent plea for you to come back.

“Goodnight Jedi Skywalker” and before you could crumble you turned and walked back towards your rooms, hearing Anakin’s reluctant footsteps fall into place a few feet behind you.

-

You felt strangely energized the next morning at breakfast, shoveling food into your mouth as you jotted down notes and took pleasure in the fact that Anakin had yet to wake. Perhaps Jedi did need a full 8 hours of sleep. Senators, it would turn out, can survive on a fraction of that in combination with pure spite.

Your eyes barely glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps that halted a few feet in front of your desk, taking no more than a second to note Anakin’s form as he stood before you.

“Y/N” your name came out of his mouth almost hesitantly, still you refused to look up at him just yet, pretending most of your attention was still captured by the document before you.

“Jedi Skywalker”

You heard a small sigh escape him, a hollow chuckle filling the air “back to titles huh”

“what can I do for you jedi?” you asked, interlacing your fingers and setting them before you, pushing your posture straighter as you looked up at him in front of your desk, not letting a single emotion betray you with your expression.

Another sigh and he held up a piece of paper before you “we’ve received our first official death threat against you” and though you knew it had to be coming a part of you expected to be more shook by the news, expected to be more scared, all you felt at this point, however, was tired. Tired of being on Coruscant, tired of your job, tired of dealing with every consequence that came from these threats.

“Ok” You could see Anakin’s expression melt a little at your simple reply, could see the pity and guilt plain on his face, you wanted neither “anything else?”

Anakin nodded slowly, placing the piece of paper on your desk, taking care to step back from you after he had done so “because of it we’re more or less going into lockdown, the only people permitted access to this room are the one’s on this list provided by your security team”

You scoffed slightly as your eyes scanned the list, noticing immediately that one name was missing “Jace isn’t on here”

Anakin’s tone dropped slightly, his hand going into a fist at his side as he repeated “the only people permitted access to this room are the one’s on this list”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping as you threw the paper down onto your desk “you want me confined to my room fine, restrict who I have access to fine, one of those people will, however, be Jace, not only because he is my friend and I trust him but because he is instrumental to getting the work I need done”

And you could see him clench his jaw from across your desk, an angry hand running through his hair before he crossed his arms over his chest, eyes breaking from yours down to the paper before he sighed “fine”

And that put you off guard, if there was one thing you had learned about Anakin throughout your limited interaction it was that the man didn’t back down easily. Giving him a small nod you all but whispered a thank you, casting your eyes back down to your document, a silent dismissal.

The paper was wordlessly picked up from your desk before he started to leave, a new voice filling the silence left in his wake.

“Y/N I just heard-“ Jace’s voice was cut off suddenly, your eyes coming up from the document to see him in the doorway, held in place with a simple hand on his chest by Anakin, the jedi’s other hand resting on the hilt of his lightsaber as he glared down the man.

“he’s fine” you called out simply, eyes casting back down to the document without a second thought.

But you didn’t hear any change, Jace hadn’t started talking again, there had been no footsteps as he entered the room. Looking back up you saw the two men in the exact same position, glaring daggers into one another, each daring the other to make the first move.

“Jedi Skywalker he’s okay to come in” you instructed Anakin again, watching as the grip on his saber only tightened if anything.

“Anakin”

His gaze snapped to yours at the sound of his name, his expression softening ever so slightly as it did, his grip dropping from the saber.

“he’s okay”

And reluctantly he nodded, hand dropping from Jace’s chest as he righted himself, before his gaze snaped back to Jace, his next words coming out almost as a threat as he spoke them more to your friend than you “I’ll be just outside the door”

-

You’d be lying if you said you had forgotten about the other night, in fact you had done just about everything you could to do so, but despite your best efforts his insinuation still rang loudly in your head, his angry gaze as he spit the words at you still living in your minds eye, the fury that sparked in your chest then had yet to dwindle with time.

You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t really matter, so what if you were seeing Jace like that you were both single there would be no harm done. But another part of you hated the idea of Anakin thinking that, the same stupid, selfish, naive part of you that clung onto his every word and laugh that night.

But you had a job to do, a job that had pulled you halfway across a galaxy away from home to try and convince a small group of relevant senators that your position was correct and morally righteous which would be no small feat. That was exactly why you couldn’t have your attention pulled away from the matter at hand by some guy, least of all some guy as emotionally stunted as Anakin Skywalker.

“Y/N” you ignored the small plea from that very man, pointedly keeping your gaze on your notes as you paced back and forth from behind the stage.

Anakin sighed softly, an anxious hand running through his hair before he tried again “Y/N please I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“No” you cut him off simply, refusing to give him your attention, your anger, your anything. You had a job to do and he was being an active hinderance to that and you were not going to treat him as anything but that “I don’t want to hear it right now”

He nodded softly at that, gaze casting down to his shoes “yeah we can talk after your speech”

You scoffed at that, shaking your head before countering under your breath “or you can go back to ignoring me, I much preferred that”

Anakin furrowed his brow at that, taking a step closer to you “what do you-“

“Senator” one of your aides interrupted you with a smile, nodding her head towards the shut curtain before you “they’re ready for you”

“Thank you” you smiled back at her, squaring your shoulders and facing the curtain separating you from the stage, pointedly ignoring Anakin’s intense stare down at you.

Another soft sigh before he whispered “I’ll be off to the right side in case anything happens” and he was reaching for the curtain before you could respond, most likely knowing that you wouldn’t, holding it open for you to duck under slightly and be met by the bright lights and polite applause you were used to.

You smiled widely at the crowd as you walked up to the podium, setting your stack of notes on top of it and waving, giving them a practiced small nod and a polite “thank you senators”

Slowly the applause dwindled and you were faced with a silent room, milking the sound for just a moment before beginning “I want to thank you all for making time in your busy schedules-“ and you launched into the usual political fluff that began most speeches, stroking the senators egos before you got into the real meat of the issue.

You didn’t make it far, however, before you felt a sudden tug at your elbow, the force strong enough that you were pulled back from the microphone a few steps, a confused murmur making its way through the crowd before you.

Spinning around you followed the hand upon your elbow up to the jedi who owned it, only to see that he wasn’t staring down at you but rather up at the point where the walls met the ceiling, his eyes searching for something that was surely drowned out by the stage lights.

“What’s going on?” you asked him pulling your arm back into you, Anakin’s fingers not putting up a fight against it as he kept his gaze up, searching.

“we need to go” the words were spoken softly and with little weight only confusing you further.

“Anakin what-“ he cut you off before you could even get the question out, crashing his body into yours as he tackled you to the floor, arms wrapping around you to break your fall as he ducked the two of behind your podium. And you were ready to ask him again what was happening when you noticed it, a new burn mark on the wall just behind where your head had been moments ago.

It was only then that you realized the world had fallen silent on your ears, your mind tuning out the panicked yells and scraping of chairs as the people you had just been addressing scrambled for the exit.

Then there was a blaster sound.

The podium before you shook as it took the brunt of the shot, the furniture groaning telling you it wasn’t going to be able to take much more.

With wide eyes your gaze finally connected with Anakin’s to find his already on you, your name on his lips though you don’t remember hearing it.

“What?” You asked much too softly for the sound level in the room, a small look of relief still edging into Anakin’s eyes as he looked at you.

“There’s a door behind you to your left, I’ll cover you you make a break for it on the count of three” he instructed loudly but still calmly, the small panic in his eyes doing a fantastic job of never making its way to his voice. You nodded quickly at him, eyes darting over your shoulder to take a quick look at the door. His hand came up and squeezed your shoulder softly, pulling your gaze back to his “stay low okay. 1..2..3 go”

There wasn’t a moments hesitation before you broke for the door, no drop of doubt in Anakin’s promise to cover you before you left the safe haven of the podium, throwing yourself at the door to force it open and pushing it back closed behind Anakin the second he was through.

He never let up, however, not wasting any time before he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you off the door and down the hallway, you never fully being able to escape the panicked screams from that room.

“The others in there” you protested weakly, letting Anakin pull you further and further away from the room.

“Not important right now” he answered harshly, taking seemingly random turns down a labyrinth of hallways.

And your mind was spinning too much to protest any further, still struggling to bridge the gaps of the last few minutes and comprehend what had happened “did you see them?”

“No” Anakin grumbled “but I think the shot came from the vent system”

“So they could be anywhere by now”

Anakin didn’t respond to that, dragging you a few more feet forward before coming to an abrupt halt before a door you didn’t recognize, eyes checking both ways down the hall before throwing it open and ushering you inside, shutting the door behind the two of you.

It was jarring how silent it was within the room, the way the entire world seemed to suddenly stop spinning, finally giving you the chance to catch your breath, your mind reeling in such a way that made you wonder if you even really wanted the silence.

“Okay” Anakin spoke up, hand coming back to your shoulder, thumb hooked softly under your chin to physically pull your gaze to his as he hunched over slightly “you stay in here I’ll go-“

“What-“ the question came out before he could even finish his statement, your head shaking rapidly as you took a step back from him “you’re leaving me in here?”

“Just for a bit I need to track down-“

“No I can’t-” you interrupted him again, the same panic as before surging within you as you shook your head again, an anxious hand bunching up in your hair as you started to shift your weight from foot to foot “you can’t just- you can’t leave me here alone”

“Hey hey” and you could see his attempt to calm you down as he reached out, could see the fight behind his eyes between staying with you and finding the guy who shot at you, his hands resting on both of your shoulders halting your nervous movement “you’ll be safe in here but I need to track down-“

“Please” you interrupted him again, your single world making his argument die on his lips, his expression freezing slightly at the sound of it “Please Ani don’t leave me”

And you watched his chest deflate, a small nod before he answered “okay”

Before you could think better of it you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest. Again there was a moment of hesitation, a brief hiccup before his arms wrapped around you in response, and you heard him mumble against your hair “I’ve got you, it’s going to be okay”

And at that words you let a shaky breath out, feeling the weight on your chest decrease slightly at the promise, nodding softly against him before slowly letting go, untangling your arms from him “Thank you”

His eyes bounced back and forth between your own for a second before he nodded softly, taring his gaze from you as he stood up straighter, taking a good look around the room “We’ll just wait here for a bit, the rest of the order is going to be working on tracking the shooter down”

You nodded back at him again, taking a few steps aside to rest against the wall, finally fully feeling yourself relax as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

“I really am sorry for what I said the other night” the sudden voice breaking the silence caught you by surprise, your brows furrowing as you looked up at him “I was angry and I took it out unfairly on you and for that I’m sorry”

“Is now really the time to be doing this?” you asked with an edge of frustration to your voice, trying to hide it behind a soft laugh.

“You’ve been refusing to talk to me, now’s the first time I’ve really had your attention” he shrugged as if it were the obvious conclusion.

“yeah well try dealing with that for about three years then you’re allowed to complain about feeling ignored to me” you grumbled crossing your arms over your chest, unsure if you had really wanted him to hear those words or not.

His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, genuine curiosity on his voice as he asked “what does that mean?”

And a part of you wanted to scoff, as if he hadn’t noticed how he’d treated you for the entirety of knowing him “This trip is the most I’ve ever talked to you” you huffed, pointedly avoiding eye contact with him “When I first met you you were nice and talkative and normal, and all of a sudden the next time I’m around you’re nothing but cold and distant, could get barely more than two words out of you at a time. Made me wonder what I had done wrong”

You heard his deep sigh at your words, eyes glancing up at his form to see his gaze planted on his shoes, a soft reply coming in a voice you almost couldn’t hear “you didn’t do anything wrong”

Another silence passed between the two of you before you broke it, unsure exactly why you felt the need to justify yourself to him “I get nightmares sometimes, nothing too bad but sometimes it’s like I forget where I am and I can’t breathe and I just need someone there to anchor me, to remind me that I’m okay. Jace has been that person for me a lot so when I woke up I sought him out, I really didn’t think about how I was sneaking out behind your back”

Another sigh came from across the room before you heard a back sliding against the wall, eyes casting up to see Anakin had moved to sitting on the ground, back resting against the wall, eyes planted somewhere across the room before he laughed almost hollowly “I’m an idiot aren’t I”

And you couldn’t help but chuckle at that, moving to sit down next to him, careful to keep a good amount of distance between the two of you as you did so “I mean I certainly won’t argue with you on that point”

And this time his chuckle was realer, a warm sound you felt yourself despite everything drawn into “you know you could’ve come to me”

“If the roles were reversed” you asked him with a soft, sad smile “would you have come to me?”

And he sighed at that, gaze breaking to study your face for a moment, before he shook his head “no I suppose I wouldn’t have”

Another silence fell between the two of you, this one considerably less uncomfortable than the ones before, and for a brief moment you wondered where exactly this left you and Anakin, certainly closer than before but friends? Is that what you wanted? Is just that what you could be okay with?

“The jedi have a code” Anakin’s voice pulled your attention smoothly back to him, finding him a few inches closer than before, you weren’t sure who it was that had shifted “we can’t form attachments”

And you found yourself focusing on how hard the words seemed to be for him to say, how he was practically pulling them out of himself, you eagerly latching onto each one, nodding softly.

“So when I met you and you were incredibly nice and funny and easy to talk to…” he let the end of his sentence hang in the air, let the implication remain unsaid “Obi-wan noticed it before I did, was over my shoulder reminding me of the code right away and I figured if I remained distant then I wouldn’t be tempted to break it”

You felt the air leave your chest realizing that hearing it form Jace was one thing but from Anakin himself was completely different, the last few years spent around him clicking into place in your mind and you felt the need to reach out to him, if not to just hold his hand in yours. “Then why are you my guard every time I need one on Coruscant” you asked instead, forcing the distance back, giving Anakin what he wanted, what he said he wanted “Wouldn’t it have been better to avoid me entirely?”

A bitter laugh came forth at that, Anakin throwing his head back against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling “yeah, yeah it would have.” He paused briefly, a small smile pulling up at the edges of his lips “do you know how excited I get every time I hear you’re going to be on Coruscant? I tell myself every time that I just want to make sure you’re safe, that I want to be able to see for myself that no harm comes to you, but I know they’re all just excuses. Because even if it’s in complete silence I relish every moment spent in your presence”

And a huge part of you felt relief at his words. Relief that your feelings were reciprocated, relief that he didn’t actually hate you as you suspected, relief that it was all finally out in the open. But still there was a new weight on your chest, the burden of the jedi code no longer resting on Anakin’s shoulder’s alone, a burden that as not a jedi it felt unfair for you to carry.

“Where does that leave us now?” you asked quietly, eyes bouncing back and forth between his hopefully.

“The jedi order have their faults” he started after a bit, gaze skipping around the room, everywhere but meeting yours “there’s a few things I just don’t agree with them on and one of them is that having attachments makes me a worse jedi, I’m starting to wonder if remaining at a distance from you is really worth it, after this past week I’m not sure I can do it anymore”

“what if I don’t want you to remain at a distance?” you asked softly, watching almost with amusement as Anakin’s gaze rushed to meet your own, his eyes searching yours with hope for sincerity.

Finally his lips turned up at your words, he gaze flicking down to your lips for a moment, inching himself closer still till your shoulder grazed his “Darling if that’s the case then I shall live to make you regret asking me to stay close”

[venussaidso]

𝗞𝗲𝘁𝘂 𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟎

disclaimer: spoilers for all movies or shows mentioned.

the warnings: mentions of drug abuse, sexual violence, self-harm, genocide, mental disorders/illnesses, cannibalism and self amputation.

The most interesting theme within all the Ketu nakshatras was one that was unexpected, as it is common to mainly associate Ketu with concepts of disconnection or isolation from society as a whole -- since Ketu is often linked with the 12H. But it is more about the interactions with the unseen forces within society more than anything. Because the 12H also represents the collective's consciousness and all the interconnected energies that come with that which Ketu becomes possessed by. And it is Ashwini that is the most sensitive Ketu nakshatra, as it easily becomes consumed & absorbed by these 12H energies which often leads to chaos and loneliness.

Ashwini nakshatra embodies Nothingness which is the oldest energy in the universe. It's between a space before actualized creation, and after the rise of awareness that's emerged from Nothingness (or the Cosmic Void). It is very fitting that this is the first nakshatra; but it should also be considered the last as it essentially represents the non-duality of Life & Death. This theme is further extended in Bharani and beautifully explored in that nakshatra, but in Ashwini we focus on the spirit's evolution. The energy found in this nakshatra is as undeveloped as it is chaotic, which is why evolution needs to take place -- and this usually involves extreme harsh forces to tame it. It is in Ashwini where there's confusion or lack of self-awareness of one's own identity as energies here become repressed, unconsciously accumulating. I'm going to use some films as examples to explore this point.

First, I'm going to use the most typical Ketu-coded character. Ashwini Moon Christian Bale's Patrick Bateman in "American Psycho". This film follows an investment banker who relishes in the wealthy excesses of his superficial lifestyle in which everybody else around him also revels in. His life is empty, mostly revolving around getting into exclusive restaurants, wallowing in designer suits, having a meticulous morning routine etc. There's a pressure in general for conformity and Ashwini is sensitive to these energies which they take up, driving them to compete and also go too far with this -- because it's no longer about conforming anymore. It's become an obsession, and these pressures drive Patrick Bateman into homicidal tendencies as an outlet. This film perfectly encapsulates modern-day consumerisms, and it is of course an Ashwini native who is driven into a descent of madness from this empty, superficial culture he's subjected to.

Nothing can fill up the emptiness inside of him and he knows that. This crippling, painful understanding is what continuously manifests his violent self-hatred and hatred towards others. And this is why he is forever trapped in a cycle of loneliness, as he is surrounded by the same narcissistic, self-absorbed suits who will continue to maintain this soulless, superficial culture.

The movie was adapted from the book with the same name, written by Mula Moon Bret Easton Ellis whose own experiences inspired the book "American Psycho".

Quote from an interview; OregonLive (2010);

"[Patrick Bateman] did not come out of me sitting down and wanting to write a grand sweeping indictment of yuppie culture. It initiated because my own isolation and alienation at a point in my life. I was living like Patrick Bateman. I was slipping into a consumerist kind of void that was supposed to give me confidence and make me feel good about myself but just made me feel worse and worse and worse about myself. That is where the tension of 'American Psycho' came from... It came from a much more personal place."

-- Mula Moon Bret Easton Ellis

Now, onto the movie "Fight Club", which was directed by Magha Sun David Fincher, and stars Magha Sun Edward Norton and Mula Sun Brad Pitt.

The most highlighted character from this film, played by Brad Pitt, is Tyler Durden, who plans on making a revolution to destroy the hyper-capitalistic, materialistic superficial culture that we saw destroy Patrick Bateman from the inside in "American Psycho".

(video - 🎧)

Of course, just like Ashwini Moon Patrick Bateman took his obsessive consumerism too far; Mula Sun Tyler Durden lays on the opposite spectrum -- aiming to destroy modern society by blowing up all credit card companies and ruining the world's economy. Mula is related to destruction as it is ruled by Nirriti, the goddess of destruction. The oppressive forces that weigh on this Mula character, Tyler Durden, causes him into a spiral for freedom (9H), using extremities and acts of terrorism to be rid of ego/society. Whereas Ashwini, having no solid identity and just being undeveloped in nature, is more likely to conform; but so long as Ketu is there, there will always be an emptiness in the ambitious pursuit of things. Ashwini can grant excess wealth and fame, but with no inner fulfillment or balance, you see characters like Patrick Bateman. Or Daniel Plainview from "There Will Be Blood".

A movie directed by Paul Thomas Anderson who has Ketu in Magha, and stars Ashwini Moon, Mula Ascendant Daniel Day Lewis who portrays Daniel Plainview. Plainview is more Ashwini, as he is an extremely ambitious, capitalistic and competitive oilman.

His pursuit for wealth and power leads him to personal loneliness, isolation and emptiness -- we see how Ketuvians become so drained and eaten alive by the energies they absorb in the pursuit of things. Similarly to Patrick Bateman, he not only hates others but himself and wishes for no one to succeed in life.

(click on the gif(s) if they're buffering lmao, i swear they're cheap)

His primal competitiveness and self-loathing even drives away his only family -- his only child. His adult son means to do his own oilrig business and cuts his partnership with him. But Plainview's unchecked ambition shows that even after attaining success and power, he literally goes ahead to disown his own son as he considers him competition now. And now he extends the same hatred he has for others to him. Further isolating himself; this validating his deep sense of loneliness that was always there with his self-loathing.

The film ends in an Ashwini fashion; in which Plainview goes into a psychotic meltdown and murders someone who he has had a long stewing hatred for.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

I wanted to provide a brilliant video from the YouTuber "The Vile Eye", who explored the dark nature of this character; because it perfectly illustrates Ashwini nakshatra in a twisted way -- especially in how Aries in this segment is influenced by Ketu forces. Everything about this character is every Aries stereotype you can think of from the top of your head, but Ketu exaggerates it to the point of extremity and tragedy.

Amazing video for anyone who wants to understand Ashwini at its extreme which can manifest in real life of course.

Now in the series "Peaky Blinders", which I quickly wanted to mention, stars Ashwini Moon Cillian Murphy whose character faces moral dilemmas, as his relentless pursuit of power contributes to his moral ambiguity.

His ruthless ambition to become the most powerful in the criminal underworld is something I couldn't help but relate it back to Ashwini's drive & competitiveness.

The movie "Scarface" stars Ashwini Sun Al Pacino who plays Tony Montana. And fun fact, Tony Montana is loosely based and inspired by the real-life figure, Al Capone, who was literally a goddamn Ashwini Moon. So, I say Scarface is a fucking Ashwini movie.

Both Tony Montana and Al Capone had unchecked ambitions and an unrelenting desire for power. In Ashwini, extreme power can be attained, and we saw how Tony Montana quickly rose to it (as Ashwini is the Star of Transport and it is associated with Shidhra Vyapani Shakti which translates to 'The Power to Quickly Reach Things'). Similarly, Al Capone was also driven by the desire for power and he attained it.

Like Daniel Plainview in "There Will Be Blood", Tony Montana starts to experience isolation after all of his achievements. His chaotic behaviour contributes to his alienation, and he starts to feel intensifying loneliness, which seems to be a theme with this nakshatra. And this film also ends in Ashwini fashion; with absolute chaos, the psychotic unraveling of Tony and of course death.

I wanted to also add in the movie "Nightcrawler" which stars Mula Sun Jake Gyllenhaal who plays a character willing to go to the extreme lengths for success and personal achievement, to the point of exploiting others and not giving two fucks about ethical boundaries.

He has a distorted view of success and has an unchecked, ruthless ambition which is common in Ketu nakshatras. He is also a socially isolated character, behaving inappropriately as he is disconnected from social norms. He lacks zero empathy. In his obsessive & relentless pursuit of success, he is devoid of humanity. Had to mention this film because these themes are not exclusive to Ashwini.

But as I did mention, Mula is more likely to be aware of societal pressures and these natives often feel deeply disturbed by them -- while Ashwini is more focused on the Self, as it's ruled by the 1H. In the film "Falling Down", Mula Moon Michael Douglas plays a character who has become disillusioned and is now aware of the pressures and oppression caused by the modern-day life. This movie is literally directed by Magha Sun Joel Schumacher.

He confronts many issues such as homelessness and crime, which are heavily rooted in the greedy, capitalistic system of modern society. But he becomes violent and chaotic himself, going into a descent to madness (from absorbing the energies felt by the collective who also feel the weight of these oppressive forces within society). This movie deals with the consequences of unchecked rage, a theme shared in all Ketu nakshatras.

The film "Taxi Driver", which stars Magha Sun Robert De Niro and is directed by Magha Ascendant Martin Scorsese, depicts a man who suffers from extreme loneliness, alienation from society, and struggles with existential crisis. The film explores social decay; such as social disparities, the disillusionment of our main character to society's ills, crime, poverty etc. He goes into a descent into vigilantism, using violence as a catharsis which is a common thing for these Ketu nakshatras (mainly Magha and Mula as it looks at societal frustrations and the emptiness in life/modern culture).

The character also suffers from a possible case of untreated mental illness, and insomnia -- and this seems to be a theme with all Ketu nakshatras in general.

Another film where the main character suffers from extreme insomnia is "The Machinist", starring Ashwini Moon Christian Bale whose character's insomnia and untreated mental illness literally contribute to his isolation and alienation.

will be coming back to this film in my part 2 post

And the film "Fight Club", in which Magha Sun Edward Norton plays an insomniac character who has dissociative identity disorder. And his split personality is interestingly played by Mula Sun Brad Pitt.

Then we have the film "Insomnia", directed by Ketu in Magha Christopher Nolan, starring Ashwini Sun Al Pacino who plays an insomniac detective who faces some mental challenges.

There is a spiritual belief about insomnia, which suggests that there may be a disturbance in one's spirit; unresolved issues that have been long suppressed can be linked to an imbalance of energy within the body. This causes restlessness and more mental problems. This could make sense as Ketu and the 12H deal with what is unconscious -- and how that tends to be our deep, rooted traumas and the way in which they affect us & those around us. And not just traumas, could just be repression of one's own internal suffering from either loneliness or external pressures. We see this with Patrick Bateman, whose only outlet is literal murder, or Tyler Durden's 'revolutionary' fight club causing more destruction around him as planned. Both characters violently act out from these unaddressed decaying energies within themselves and from within society.

The series "Sharp Objects", directed by Magha Moon Jean-Marc Vallé, mostly deals with family traumas, but also shows how those traumas and unresolved energies literally cause death and chaos around them.

Camille Preaker, who is played by Magha Sun Amy Adams, is deeply traumatized and troubled. She has a history of self-harm and has many scars on her body; her self-destructive behaviour is a coping mechanism for what happened when she was young (sexual violence by a group of boys and witnessing the slow, painful and preventative death of her sister). Then we have her younger half-sister Amma, played by Magha Moon Eliza Scanlen, who has a hidden dark side that has been shaped by the family's troubled history and generational trauma. By the end of the series, we find out that Amma is the killer of the violent murders that have shocked the townspeople of Wind Gap. It is Amma who is responsible for all of the gruesome deaths of the girls whose teeth were removed. As Camille's coping mechanism is cutting herself as self-punishment for all the guilt she harbours from the death of her sister, Amma literally commits homicidal acts. All of this connecting to just how messed up, and complex, their trauma and the community they grew up in is. And then we have their mother, played by Mula Moon Patricia Clarkson, who has Munchausen syndrome and is responsible for the death of her oldest daughter. Camille was a witness to her sister's suffering and death, and she sees her mother as a monster and now her little sister is an extension of her. This series is such a good example of how our own personal unchecked traumas affect others, especially those who aren't involved. And how much destruction can be caused, as we see with Amma killing other girls as an 'outlet'. This is why I now realize how wrong I was about Ketu, as Ketu is not necessarily about isolating from society. Regarding society, Ketu will be the complex yet intricate unaddressed/rotting energies within society, and it always relates back to individuals' personal generational traumas. It makes sense that Magha relates to ancestry roots and origins of oneself, even the origins of one's trauma.

Now onto the film "Nocturnal Animals", which is directed by Magha Sun Tom Ford, stars Magha Sun Amy Adams and Mula Sun Jake Gyllenhaal.

Amy Adams plays Susan who is a successful art gallery owner. She receives a manuscript for a novel called Nocturnal Animals sent to her by her ex-husband Edward who's played by Jake Gyllenhaal. The book is extremely violent & tragic; but it actually turns out to be a symbolic reflection of their relationship and marriage. Bringing in the Ketu themes of unresolved trauma and getting to the roots of it (Mula theme). This book serves to make Susan confront how much of her actions fucked him up. The movie focuses on the confronting of one's past, telling of how trauma will still continue to shape the lives of those involved. And the movie shows that even Susan still has unresolved issues just by her repulsed reactions to extreme parts of the novel.

The movies "Split" and "Glass", stars two Ashwini Suns, Anya Taylor Joy and James McAvoy. McAvoy's character, Kevin, has dissociative personality disorder and these different personalities exist to keep him safe. His trauma is so extreme and deeply painful that it manifested into the creation of The Beast, the most dangerous and superhuman personality. Three kidnapped girls are prey to The Beast as they end up being devoured by it but there is only one doesn't fall victim to him -- and that's Anya Taylor Joy's character Casey.

The reason why she doesn't fall victim is because she, too, has suffered extreme trauma and her resilience through it is what creates an immediate connection with Kevin. It is when The Beast sees her scars that he calls her pure, implying that those who have been damaged are the ones who are truly evolved.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Also, "Split" is another example of how deeply repressed energies and traumas of one can ruin everything around them and victimize those close to the Ketuvians (usually uninvolved people's lives being violently taken; "Split", "Sharp Objects", "American Psycho", "Falling Down" etc.).

Ashwini Moon Zendaya in the series "Euphoria" plays a character, Rue, who has been through a significant amount of trauma, including the passing of her father. She uses self-destructive ways to cope with her deep emotional pain and grief, very similarly to Magha Sun Amy Adams's character in "Sharp Objects". Rue uses drugs to numb herself from her harsh realities. There is a moment in the series in which she has a chaotic meltdown.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Something I now understand with Ashwini is how explosive, volatile and scary its ungrounded energy can be -- exactly why I'd commonly associate it with hysterical meltdowns which can lead to accidental or unplanned homicidal acts or other forms of harm/self-harm. This scene of Rue is vaguely taking me back to Ashwini Moon Christian Bale's spiraling and meltdowns in "American Psycho".

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Ketu, especially with Magha, seems to cause erratic behaviours when its natives aren't purified of their long-accumulated baggage in their unconsciousness -- exactly why the 8H is also ruled by Ketu as Scorpio shares this particular theme. As long as there is deep disturbance and imbalance in the body, there is no rest for the soul -- even for future incarnations to come.

But now, I want to touch on the senseless harshness of Ketu. Remember, this energy embodies the eternal sucking void. Mula nakshatra relates to the center of the cosmic void and goes straight into the roots of it. Ashwini has already risen from it, while Mula is centering itself back into it. Mula is where we seek an awakening to the truth of what is behind reality. What is on the other side of the cosmic void? Truth is searched in Mula, but it seems that it is Ashwini that understands that chaos is the absolute truth of reality. There is no meaning to anything, which sounds nihilistic, but it is what makes life beautiful.

In the film "The Pianist", written & directed by Magha Sun Roman Polanski, starring Ashwini Sun Adrien Brody, starts out quite warm with a well-put together family and a handsome talented Ashwini man who dreams of being a pianist. But things take a drastic turn. We see a once bright-eyed boy turn into the shell of the person he once was after going through such harrowing events, and things just keep getting tragically worse and worse until there is not even a sliver of hope anymore. The majority of the film is literally just despair, senseless cruelty, and the protagonist's soul slowly becoming annihilated.

I've never watched a film more Ketuvian than this; surrounded by genocide, death and being completely isolated while being eaten by one's own lonely misery.

One moment you think one character is going to make it out alive somehow because they have the conviction and drive to survive, but the film immediately takes that idea away as they helplessly die. You think the protagonist is going to see some light, and the film even makes you slightly comfortable in some moments given the harsh realities, but you witness just how everything remains tragic. There are no answers to any prayers, as suffering is just ongoing. This tonality creates another layer of feeling trapped, and you watch as the character just lets life do whatever it wants to him as he is trapped in a world where he is helpless anyway. With Ketu, you realize that there was never any security or answers to this senseless chaos in this world to begin with.

But his survival at the end makes you question why he even went through all of that. There was no lesson to be taken from such a tragic, horrifying experience. Why did his other friends and family die but not him? In the end, he became a successful pianist as he dreamt of from the beginning. He was exceptionally talented from the start; these events took everything away from him except his passion for the piano. What he went through was senseless, as Ketu has no prime motivation. Saturn will push you through the worst so that you can reach a level where you can now attain all of your reaped rewards, Ketu doesn't care for what you get in the end -- that's Rahu's objective, as Rahu deals with ego; Ketu deals with the evolution of one's soul and that usually involves its annihilation.

The kdrama "Save Me", stars three Ketu natives; Magha Moon Seo Yea-ji, Mula Moon Woo Do-hwan and Mula Sun Ok Taec-yeon. It follows Seo Yeah-ji's character, Sang-mi, and her family after moving into a new town. They become influenced and entangled by a religious cult. Sang-mi becomes aware of just how oppressive and dangerous the cult is when she & her family literally lose all control to them. Sang-mi's attempts to escape become futile, as she remains trapped under the oppressive abuse of the cult, turning her more into a shell of the person she once was.

(The Mula male characters are the ones who find out about the Magha girl's whereabouts, and they plan to save her and her family from the clutches of the cult.)

She witnesses extremely harrowing events, and the drama makes you feel the sense of hopelessness that she's feeling -- trapped and completely helpless no matter how much she tries to save herself and family. There is a similar sense of hopelessness and lose of one's own identity found in "The Pianist", but in this drama it's more about extreme involuntary isolation from society (which I will be expanding on in part 2 of this exploration).

The film "Society of the Snow" is literally directed by Ashwini Moon J.A. Bayona, based on real life events. There's a documentary based on these events as well, "Stranded: I've Come From A Plane That Crashed On The Mountains", directed by Magha Moon Gonzalo Arijon.

Now, in the "Society of the Snow", there is a tone of hopelessness set in the film because of the gruesome reality that these characters (based on real life people) experience. And never in their lifetime did they think that everything was going to change so drastically from just living the average life of normal teenage boys. These characters, who were in a rugby team, get on a plane that would soon crash onto glacier surrounded by endless cold harsh mountains -- with just a piece of the wrecked plane remaining in which they take shelter in. The protagonists are surrounded by the dead bodies of friends who did not survive the crash, and now they must spend the first night in harsh coldness while many are severely injured. They couldn't even sleep, the first night being spent with many of them crying and wailing out loud, nearly freezing to death. One day after, a rescue helicopter searches for them, and they all scream out for help. But the helicopter misses them as they're barely noticeable under all the glacier that surrounds them. This is when the sense of hopelessness and despair kicks in and intensifies as the story progresses. Now that chances of being rescued have completely fallen to zero, they realize that they can't ignore their growing hunger anymore. They all have no choice but to eat the flesh of the dead bodies after running out of chocolates. We see how these decisions mentally challenge some of the characters. It is truly tragic as they were stranded, isolated from the world and completely in despair in every waking day, for a span of 72 days.

After being rescued, we see just how malnourished they were from the looks of their bodies. They come back home bone-skinny and weak. And the monologue in the ending scene tells us how the survivors wondered; "Why didn't we all get to come back [home]?" "What is the meaning of it all?" These are the questions asked when we observe these raw Ketu events.

Ashwini Moon J.A. Bayona also made the film "The Impossible", which is about survival and resilience -- based on real life events. Much like "Society of the Snow", it also has a sense of complete despair and there is an involuntary separation of a family (which reminds me of "The Pianist" in which Ashwini Sun Adrien Brody's character is also separated from his family in the story).

"Nothing is more powerful than the human spirit" it writes on the poster.

"Nowhere", is directed by Ashwini Moon Albert Pintó, a survival thriller about a pregnant woman who finds herself isolated from society as she's drifting in the sea trapped inside a container. Because of her newborn baby, she is forced to survive and protect her child even when there is no hope. The reason why she's even in the container is because she was fleeing a society of a dystopian future in which women & children are caged and murdered (Ketu's oppressive forces and her attempt to run away from them leads her to total isolation which is another manifestation of Ketu).

And we also have the film "127 Hours", directed by Ashwini Moon Danny Boyle, starring Ashwini Sun James Franco who plays Aron Ralston whose right arm becomes trapped against the canyon wall when he was on a solo canyoneering trip. When he is unable to release himself, we realize the severity of his situation. He is completely isolated and alone. His own supplies running out and he's losing his mind. The struggle for survival and one's own helplessness is a theme of Ashwini nakshatra as this eventually drives one into taking extreme measures for freedom -- as the audience sees him resorting to cutting his own arm off.

These themes seem to speak of the power and resilience of the human spirit, as emphasized in "The Impossible" and "Society of the Snow". Our ability to survive even just our own personal traumas must be a testament to our spirit being an extension of the Higher Power which is behind the happenings of all of these senseless yet significant experiences and events we go through.

It is in Ashwini that one's experience through harsh forces contributes to the spirit's evolution after total annihilation, which leads us on the path towards moksha. This is particularly why I state that Ashwini must be the last nakshatra, in my opinion of course.

Ketu is very pure by nature, and it wants to destroy impurities. The repression of one's accumulated dirt can manifest in destructive tendencies, this being a misdirected flow of Ketu energies wanting to express the very raw forces we're wired to run away from. By facing one's true inner self and embracing your entirety is how you embrace Ketu in general. But one must go deep and inward. All three Ketu nakshatras deal with getting to the roots for this reason.

Ashwini is ruled by the Ashwini Kumaras, gods of medicine and healing. Also known as divine physicians. In order to heal, one must get to the root of all disturbances in order to create the perfect medicine to heal. As Ashwini is ruled by the 1H, this does involve getting into the roots of oneself for self-liberation. Magha, on the other hand, is about tracing your own existence back to the consciousness of others -- usually family members and ancestors. Magha relates to generational trauma and shining light on that in order to be freer. Mula is symbolized by the roots of a tree, and 'mula' translates to 'roots'. It signifies ancestry roots as well, but mostly the truth. Mula is where disillusionment takes place as one gets directly into the roots of everything; going right into the galactic center -- which can also signify going right into the roots of our demons and letting all of that rotting energy burn from your body. And after this purification process, one's consciousness raises by default.

Ashwini has strong, undeveloped energies which can be tamed and grounded to be properly channeled -- in order for this to be achieved, one must let go of poisonous impurities so that they're no longer controlled/possessed by unseen forces. It is in Ashwini that we expand on the interconnection of the collective consciousness being tight, as this was secretly discovered in Uttara Bhadrapada and remembered in Revati. Ashwini nakshatra is extremely sensitive to outward energies, as are the rest of the Ketu nakshatras. Every individual's consciousness is affecting the whole world somehow. This being a Ketu theme in general describes the whole energetic field of the world and how we each play a part in it and affect each other's lives. As all Ketu nakshatras deal with getting into the roots of things, we must get dirty by digging into our own roots which are connected to the reasons for our layers of repressed emotions such as rage, numbness, resentment, hatred and grief which are commonly harboured in Ketu natives. These unconscious emotions, which form our Shadow Self, contribute to how we interact with the world and other people -- and there's always that capacity to harm or further traumatize others because of our own unchecked, hidden troubles. Mula also perfectly shows how all of the complex, interconnected traumas of everyone else are intertwining and creating more chaos and confusion in society; and the disillusionment to how the oppressive systems of society are just breeding more of these pains & troubles -- which in turn, in Ketu fashion, demonstrates just how trapped everyone is.

Continued in Part 2 of this exploration

[bheegibilli-studioghibli]

I love your writing so much!!!

Could you maybe write where hozier and you just get engaged or maybe finally get married and its the most sweetest thing? Maybe smutty??

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x gn!reader

Summary: Andrew plans out his proposal to you, meticulously laying it out to make sure it’s perfect. And it is.

Content Warning: language (slightly), mostly just a diabetic amount of fluff, use of y/n (i tried to avoid it but it was necessary here)

A/N: oh my god hey, thank you for the request! I made this fic centred more so around them getting engaged and around the proposal, I hope that’s okay. Also, this is just tooth ache sweet fluff, the smut would’ve made it too long. Maybe I can write a part two? 👀

Hydrangeas. You notice the hydrangeas sitting at the dining table, they grab your attention since they are, after all, your favourite flowers but you almost never get them to put up in the house.   

“Andrew?” You call out to him, smiling at the thought that he bought them for you.

“Yeah, hun. Oh shit you weren’t supposed to see those” he laughs trying to cover up his complete lack of subtlety.

“Did you get them for me?” You press them against your chest trying hard to suppress the stupid grin spreading over your face.

“No I got them for the poltergeist in the attic. Of course I got them for you” he crosses the room making his way to your side, he held your waist in his arms pressing a kiss atop your head.

“Why though? I mean it’s just a Wednesday” you couldn’t help but be a little surprised. Andrew loved serenading you, whispering the most heart flutteringly beautiful words in your ears and even cooking for you, he treated you like you had descended from the heavens. But flowers were new, it felt nice though the sheer surprise of it all.

“I just wanted to get them for you, I never get you flowers and I know you don’t particularly like receiving them but I saw them today and I thought if you” he gazes down at you, stroking your cheek with his free hand.

“Andrewwww, thank you they’re lovely. I love it” you’re usually a very confident person and you pride yourself in that, but things like these make you bashful to no end. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent. Always smells like home.

You feel his chest echo with his laugh, “oh come on it’s nothing” he pulls your head away, cupping the sides of it to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

“I should find a vase for them, clearly you’ve done a terrible job at hiding them” you tease.

“Okay okay, I wasn’t expecting you to come in here. I do pride myself in my secrecy, thank you very much” he chuckles as you entered the other room to look for a vase.

Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The flowers were supposed to be a surprise, well not the flowers per se but they were supposed to aid the process of revealing a bigger surprise, the ring. He had been feeling the comforting weight of the ring in his breast pocket for a few days now, not trusting himself to keep it anywhere but right next to his heart. After months of thoroughly coming up with all the possible ways he could propose to you, he has finally crafted a plan. Meticulously going over every detail, to have it be perfect. Today was the day. He was going to ask you to be his. Forever, if you’ll have him. 

He had unequivocally been yours since the day you started your courtship, but there was nothing he desired more than to be your husband. It made sense, it made perfect sense. 

And he wanted to you to feel the depths of his emotions. How every fibre of his felt intrinsically connected to yours. It had to be perfect, nothing short of it. But he had already fucked up, the flowers.

It’s fine, maybe he can get the ceiling covered in hydrangeas instead. A bouquet? What was he thinking in the first place, it had to be more special than that. He had called up all your friends and his to help him set up the house to look like a dream. After all he might be fulfilling one of his that night.

But he didn’t want anyone to be there when he proposed to you, he wanted to it to be the both of you against the world. He often thought of love that way. Especially the kind of pov e the two of you shared. It was intimate, tender and he wanted to uphold that. They had all agreed only if he promised to call them right after you said yes. If you said yes.

You were surprisingly unaware of the grand plans he had orchestrated. Your friends, back home, painstakingly trying to bring his vision to life. They kept him updated, sending him pictures through your dinner. He was so jittery but he tried to portray himself as if this was just another dinner date, after all he wanted dinner to be just as special. Afterwards, both of you walked a round the canal, hand glued together and laughter echoing through the air. It was lovely, like it always was with him.

Once both of you were back home, you turned the key in the doorway to let the two of you in. As you swung the door open, the sight that met you eyes was of your living room drenched in an aureate glow from the hundreds of flickering candles set up across the length of the room. Before you could take it all in, your eyes travelled up to see bunches of hydrangeas hanging from the ceiling in what looked like another roof altogether. You could see pictures of the two of you hanging in different corners, your first date, your first trip together, the first you went to show. Years and years of beautiful memories creating the timeline of your love. Leading to the centre of the room, where on a tiny coffee stand stood the bouquet you received in the morning, in the ceramic vase you placed it in. Your mouth agape, as you walked further into the room, standing at the centre of it, Andrew following closely behind you. His breath was hitched in his throat, did you like it? Was it perfect? He held his breath, as he let you take it all in.

You turned around to look at Andrew, his face beaming and eyes soft. 

He walked closer to you and then stopped right before he could be at arms length. Slowly sinking down to one knee. Oh. Oh. He was proposing. You felt your eyes well up with tears and as your hands flew to your mouth.

“Hey. Y/N Y/L/N, you are the light of life. A beacon of brilliance in what I thought was unbridled darkness. You are a force of nature. The way you carry yourself from your boundless kindness, enchanting smile, your ridiculous sense of humour, your ability to be the heart and soul of every connection you form suffice to I’ve been completely whipped. I love you. I love how smart you are, how you care so much, how you snort when you laugh, that mole on your chin, your incredibly lame puns, how steadfast you are in your resolve. And more selfishly, I love you because you make me feel like the luckiest man to walk the earth. I used to think that I needed someone to feel whole, you made me realise that I am already whole. I’m so grateful to have you, beyond anything I could ever articulate into a song let alone a mere speech. You inspire me to do my best and to be my best. You’ve helped my hone my craft simply by being you. By existing. Alongside me, behind me, leading me. And I love you, for all of it and more. So much so, that I want to spend the rest of our time on this godforsaken planet with you. Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I. I want to be in your light till death do us part, even then no grave can hold my body down because I know I will always crawl back home to you. Thank you for all that you are and all that you have been. Saying I love you is an understatement but it’s what my feeling are down to their most distilled form. I love you and I promise to love you till you let me. Please.

Let me.

Make me the most fortunate soul by marrying me. Will you marry me?”

If it wasn’t for the way you clearly looked down at him right now you would’ve believed that you had become a puddle on the ground. He was crying, you were crying. Your chest filled with the kind of love that cannot be caged, it was as if your heart was gonna burst through the walls of it’s enclosure and nestle itself in his hands. Because that’s where it belongs. You fall to your knees, at the same level as him now.

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes Andrew” 

You fling yourself into his arms as both of you fall backwards. 

“Really?” It’s as if he couldn’t believe it. Tears now freely flowing down his cheek, vanishing in his beard’s auburn forest.

“Yes you idiot, I love you. So much. More than can I ever fully comprehend. I love you, I want to be with you. Now and forever”

Before you can even catch a breath, you feel his lips crash into yours. Lifting you up off the ground, as his lips engulfed yours. You felt the saltiness of both your tears in the kiss, as he grabbed your face and tasted you as if he was man starved. I love you. I love you. Both of you kept reciting as if it was hymn into each other’s mouths. The intimacy of the kiss was unparalleled and the passion was palpable. You felt his hands cling to your every curve, as if he thought this was dream and he was desperately trying to hold onto it. But it was real, as real as the green hues of his eyes and the mole on your chin. You could do this forever you thought, you are going to be doing this forever.

I loved writing this so much, I just love telling people how much I love them so writing his little proposal speech was really fun. Thank you for the request anon, I hope I could do it justice!

[demonslayedher]

Low-Key Married AU fluff

Kochou said that I was disliked, so I asked her if she disliked me too. For someone so quick to have a smiling response to everything, she struggled to reply. She was the one who proposed marriage and swayed me, so I had thought that meant she had feelings for me. There would be no other way to read it. However, with as unbothered as she is by my absence, I have to wonder.

It’s been ten days since I had last contact with her. I went home to the Butterfly Mansion, but she had just departed for a mission, so I didn’t stay long so as not to trouble the girls. It may still be a few days before I can return again, but it’s always likely she’ll be busy. She’s incredible in that way, taking on all the care of our injured Corp members in addition to her Pillar missions. It must be in her personality to keep adding to what keeps her busy, like taking me in as though I looked like I needed the care. Although the times we’ve spent together have been nice, I don’t require it. My duties call for me to always be ready for battle, and I’ve always kept my heart steady.

So has she. We are Pillars first, and no amount of affection can sway us—whether an abundance or a lack.

I’m not bothered by lacking something I didn’t deserve in the first place.

Last night again, I was too late to prevent a family from being slaughtered. There were no survivors this time, aside from the eldest child who was still ravenous with a recent transformation. Having to chase him down and keep him from harming anyone else kept me off the trail of the progenitor of demons, who had to have been close by. For centuries, he’s evaded us this way over and over, sacrificing entire families to throw us off his trail. If I were to chide myself over every failure, I would have lost the ability to do anything ages ago. Each time, the anger is something I carry with me, to push myself harder the next time, and the next. Any extent more that I can push myself may be the difference to someone’s survival, no one can afford to lose their life over any of my own lost confidence.

“CAW!! TOMIOKA GIYUUUU! NEWS FOR TOMIOKA GIYUUUU!”

Each time it's a crow I think I recognize, my stomach drops. My mind is already playing the words I dread to hear, as though trying to protect my mind once I someday hear them.

"Kochou Shinobu has died."

Even if I hear them, I'm a Pillar first. That was what we promised each other. I'll always do as I must.

The crow says nothing as it delivers a letter.

YES, YES, I KNOW, THIS FANDOM HAS TURNED ME INTO SHIPPER TRASH. For this pairing, it was more specifically my own joke AU which later bit me in the back and made me start really, really enjoying GiyuShino (which, for the record, I do not consider canon). Was throwing ideas back and forth with @reicchel again the other day and so here we are with ship content!

Part of the reason I love the Low-Key Married AU (in which it's mostly canon as usual, except that Shinobu and Giyuu have been married for over a year or so, and it's not a secret but they make such little deal about it that many people don't even know they're married) is that it's a frame through which to see every interaction and either make it really, really funny, or very, very, sad. Everything was supposed to be funny, but it keeps hurting, hahaha... aaahhhh.

For instance, in a regular romcom situation, it should be funny that Kanzaburo doesn't deliver all of Giyuu's letters. Knowing these two, who might had started this whole "well, we'll be a couple when we have time" thing by actively writing regular letters, this could had simply given the impression that the other person wasn't writing as much, so they both naturally decreased frequency to match. It's a little lonely, but neither one is going to push the other for more attention.

No!! I refuse to let this post end with angst! Time for omake!!!

[stardewremixed]

First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him. 

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG. 

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen. 

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses. 

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

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When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle? 

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful. 

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd. 

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick. 

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn. 

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery). 

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life. 

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared. 

Through her actions. 

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches. 

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again. 

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer. 

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed. 

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten 

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter. 

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back. 

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her. 

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return. 

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference. 

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily. 

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time. 

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.” 

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him. 

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless. 

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better. 

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.” 

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He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm. 

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped. 

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse. 

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much. 

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.” 

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That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on? 

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler. 

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more. 

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day. 

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift. 

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time. 

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety. 

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special. 

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love. 

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play. 

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her... 

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"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed. 

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh. 

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared. 

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied. 

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.���

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.” 

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly. 

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest. 

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.” 

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat. 

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?” 

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves. 

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her. 

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“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.” 

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.” 

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker. 

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life. 

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.” 

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...” 

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?” 

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free. 

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When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward. 

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal. 

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side. 

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus. 

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade? 

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight  I’m in a good mood.  Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation. 

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"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night. 

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land. 

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager. 

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded. 

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"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet. 

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.” 

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye. 

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.” 

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real? 

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.” 

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity. 

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.” 

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.” 

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things? 

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty. 

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him. 

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction. 

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When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.” 

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?” 

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious. 

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.” 

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would. 

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.” 

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison. 

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!" 

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd. 

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt. 

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily. 

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair. 

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss. 

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner. 

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.” 

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her. 

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.” 

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked. 

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?” 

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team. 

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?” 

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence. 

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.” 

“It is special,” she replied. 

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.” 

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch. 

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”  

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him. 

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.” 

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.” 

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?” 

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly. 

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?” 

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.” 

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him. 

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life.  She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her. 

 “Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers. 

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.” 

[wwillywonka]

spock crying in the the motion picture novelization

as i was watching star trek the motion picture today, i found myself wondering how closely it and the book align only to find that the essential scene, the thesis statement of the tmp story, where spock draws a direct parallel between v'ger and himself while crying is simply... not in the book. i know the version that's more widely available now is the director's cut and that said scene wasn't even in the original theatrical release, but the movie is simply incomplete without it. so! i decided to write out the scene as if it were in the book! please enjoy my take on a prose version of spock's beautiful speech

“Spock?” Then, when his Science Officer did not answer, “Mr. Spock.”

Kirk rose from the captain’s chair and made for the console where Spock sat, facing away from him towards the screen that displayed Vejur’s activity.

“I think -" Kirk began.

Then, Spock turned towards him in his chair, hand releasing from its resting place against the thin line of his mouth. He was — crying. A single, shimmering tear was streaking down his left cheek. His eyes, usually so dark and, since his return from Vulcan, so indecipherable, now shone brightly under the dim, warm light of the bridge. His eyebrows crinkled inwards, not in contemplative thought but, and Kirk would have never guessed, worry. It seemed that open, unashamed emotion left over from Spock’s mind meld with the intruder had not yet dissipated, though Kirk was unsure if Spock’s tears were more Vejur’s than his own.

Spock nodded his head, lifting it a little towards his captain, slightly accusatorily. There was no attempt to hide, no apologetic aversion of gaze. It seemed as if he were telling Jim, “Yes, believe what you are seeing, Captain.

“I have returned.”

Kirk felt McCoy step into place at his side, the doctor’s eyes settling on the now multiple tears pooling down Spock’s face. The captain shared a look with McCoy, acknowledging their mutual concern and astonishment towards their friend.

“Not for us,” Kirk finally stated.

“No, Captain. Not for us.” Spock’s voice, if perhaps a little softer than usual, was confident, steady, calm. Certain. “For Vejur.”

Spock raised his hands, intertwining the fingers in a familiar, thoughtful gesture, but kept them suspended in the air, fidgeting.

Commander Decker approached, too, eyebrows furrowing as he took in the image before him. Kirk showed no sign of acknowledging his presence, the captain’s attention entirely focused on his friend.

“I weep for Vejur as I would for a brother," Spock continued. "As I was when I came aboard, so is Vejur now. Empty, incomplete, and searching. Logic and knowledge are not enough.”

Kirk thought back to every argument, every insistent remark Spock made during their initial five-year mission about his lack of emotion, about his fundamental inability to consider anything else but logic and careful reasoning. Were these out of desperation, a need for the humans of the old Enterprise crew to accept his words as fact so that he, too, could cement their validity? Maybe in Spock’s mind, the more times he declared it, the closer it would be to coming true.

“Spock,” McCoy cut in, colliding reality with Kirk’s thoughts and Spock’s poetic words. “Are you saying that you’ve found what you needed, but Vejur hasn’t?” Decker spoke first. “What would Vejur need to fulfill itself?” Spock moved his gaze towards the main screen, just past Kirk’s head in his line of sight. “Each of us, at some time in our lives, turns towards someone: a father, a brother, a god… and asks, ‘Why am I here? What was I meant to be?’” He took in a sharp breath. “Vejur hopes to touch its creator-“ And now, he lifted his gaze, meeting Kirk’s eyes. “To find its answers.”

“‘Is this all that I am?’” said the captain, quoting Spock’s words from their conversation in sickbay. “‘Is there nothing more?’”

[commandernachos]

Headcanons for Ragatha x Pomni and Zooble x Gangle?

Ragatha x Pomni:

-Ragatha, mainly at first could be pretty oblivious, partially due to whenever Pomni attempted to flirt with her she did it very badly

-Idk how to explain this but Pomni would like, accidentally phrase stuff to Ragatha in a way that sounded like flirting/something romantic, as well as accidentally letting her feelings slip

-Pomni's pupils dialate when she see's Ragatha

-Pomni keeps embarassing herself in front of Ragatha

-why are most of these Pomni related (it will keep happening), SHE ISN'T ALWAYS BAD AT FLIRTING sometimes she's particularly mesmerized by Ragatha and says like "you're so beautiful" or something, and Ragatha gets very flustered, of course then Pomni quickly realizes and covers her face/runs away to scream after realizing what she said

-I barely need to say this, since it's pretty much every ragapom art but Ragatha is very much better at flirting and likes to make Pomni flustered

-Gangle draws and writes ragapom art and fanfic

-Pomni and Gangle talk about their crushes together, which leads us to

Zooble x Gangle:

-LOVE LIKE YOU FROM STEVEN UNIVERSE, THAT'S THEM

-Zooble struggles to express and sometimes feel emotions

-they both lack confidence about their looks, and often assume the other has a crush on like Ragatha or any of the more human resembling characters and would never return feelings for them

-Zooble "I've only had Gangle for one day but if anything happens to her I will kill everyone in this room and then myself."

-Zooble is very protective of Gangle, will yell and perhaps strangle anyone who hurts Gangle *cough* Jax *cough* (or Pomni by accident, however Zooble really just glares at her and that's enough to terrify her)

-Gangle teaches Zooble to draw

-Gangle definitely gets flustered by Zooble HOWEVER

-Zooble gets even more flustered when it comes to doing romantic stuff

-Gangle would definitely tease Zooble a lot more

-Their relationship is quite suselle esque

-Pomni and Ragatha get into a relationship before them and try to help get them together (mainly preventing Jax to go up to them sgshjruaywhqn2jqhaujs)

[necroromantics]

Ticci Toby + Bipolar Disorder

Partially an educational post, partially a how-to-write guide.

(check out my how-to-write aspd/psychopathy here)

What is bipolar disorder?

Bipolar disorder (shortened to BD, not BPD), is a mood disorder that causes a person to experience extreme fluncuations in their moods and energy levels. These episodes swing from depressive lows to manic highs. Despite popular belief, bipolar episodes last a long time (1+ weeks), and typically have a period of stability in between them. It is NOT the same as borderline personality disorder, they are two very different disorders.

Does Toby canonically have bipolar?

Sort of. His canon reference sheet shows 'bipolar' as one of his personality traits. This is just an error on the creators part, since they were young and didn't know what real bipolar disorder is. Bipolar isn't a personality trait, and the mood swings in the disorder are not quick switches. The way it's used on his sheet is more like borderline personality disorder than it is bipolar disorder. So if we're talking about whats canon, I'd say it's up for interpretation.

Do you headcanon Toby to have bipolar?

I do, but mostly because I have BD myself, and I like to project that onto him. Theres no characters in media who have bipolar disorder that I enjoy/know of, because honestly its kind of a pain in the ass to write. I rarely include it in any of my stories involving him, even though having untreated bipolar disorder is something that would effect him every day of his life, and severely. I would rather people not write him having bipolar at all, than to write it as BPD or other misinforming ways.

How to properly write Toby with bipolar?

A bit of this can also apply to any other character. First, the obvious, is to do research. Bipolar is something that needs to be treated, because manic highs and depressive lows are so life-altering, damaging, and cause a lot of harm to the individual. Since Toby is a killer on the run, he most likely wouldn't have access to proper treatment, which means his entire life would be a series of intense highs and lows. This is why I usually don't bother including his bipolar symptoms in my writing, cuz it's a hassle incorporating him going wildly manic at random points, even though its the harsh reality people with bipolar disorder face. So if you're going to write Toby with BD, you will need to be prepared to write how inconvenient the disorder is for not only Toby himself, but everyone around him.

It would interfere with his work as a proxy, it would greatly impact his relationships with the people around him. It might even end up with him getting caught by the police, or thrown into a psychiatric hospital (most people with bipolar end up in a psych ward at some point). If you do want to write him being treated for his disorder, you'll need to look into medication. One of the most common ones is lithium, but did you know some anticonvulsants (the medication Tim takes in Marble Hornets), act as a secondary treatment for bipolar disorder too? Carbamazepine is an example of this. You could incorporate that as well, since in Marble Hornets anticonvulsants are used to potentially lessen the effects of The Operator.

What do manic episodes look like? How would they effect Toby?

Manic episodes are very intense highs in mood and energy. Despite what people say, real manic episodes are only experienced in people with bipolar disorder. Other disorders such as ADHD and BPD can mimic mania, but they are not classified as true manic episodes. So if you want to write mania, the character needs to have bipolar (or schizoaffective).

Some symptoms of a manic episode are racing thoughts, lack of judgment, feeling untouchable or overly confident, no consideration for consequences, talking a lot, jumbled words from speaking too fast, jumping from one task to another. It feels like a constant surge of energy going through your body, and its so overwhelming you can't stop to think about anything you're doing. You just feel absolutely euphoric, and capable, and like nothing can bring you down. A very real danger of manic episodes is that some people experience co-occurring psychosis alongside their episodes, such as delusions and hallucinations. Another issue is that people with mania are so full of energy, they don't sleep for days on end. These highs can also lead to dangerous acts due to the recklessness and lack of proper judgement on whats safe/smart in that moment. There is also hypomania, which is a lesser, more mild form of mania.

For Toby, it completely depends on how you view his character and circumstances. But for me, I think that in a manic episode, Toby would cause many issues in his relationships with the people around him. He would be much more irritable, paranoid, he would go on rants and talk a lot, jumping from one rant to another. He wouldn't sleep for days, he would become increasingly reckless and grandiose. Toby would fight more with others, go off on his own a lot more, do a lot of risky things, and with his CIPA he would most definitely get himself hurt a lot more and more severely. When you're manic, you don't stop to consider the risks of the reckless things you're doing.

What do depressive episodes look like? How would they effect Toby?

Depressive episodes may come directly after a manic episode, a crash, or they can come on randomly after a period of stability. They typically last longer than manic episodes, usually about 1+ months. They're periods of an intense drop in mood and energy levels, which are often pretty severe.

The symptoms of depressive episodes are similar to regular depression, but not quite the same, and typically on the more severe end of the spectrum. Utter hopelessness and bleakness, suicidal thoughts, oversleeping, lack of interest in anything, sadness, difficulties concentrating, slower thinking, social isolation. Bipolar lows feel like energy and life is being sucked right out of you. All you want to do is sleep, nothing feels interesting, or you don't have any energy to do things that used to make you happy. People are disappointing, you don't want to talk to anyone. The lows feel very heavy, very tiring.

When Toby is experiencing a low episode, I can't imagine he gets out much. He would probably disappear for a bit, to be left alone, because he doesn't want to be around anybody. He would spend his time sleeping as much as he can, and then the rest of his time doing proxy work, and then going back to sleep. He probably wouldn't want to be awake with his hopeless and bleak thoughts.

What are mixed episodes?

Hell on earth. Mixed episodes are when someone with BD experiences both manic and depressive symptoms in rapid succession or at the same time. This can look like feeling super energetic, but also horribly hopeless and depressed, or being on top of the world one minute, and then wanting to off yourself the next. They are very intense, and dangerous. It feels like you're losing your mind, and you can't catch yourself. You just have to sit there and let your mind take you on the worst rollercoaster of your life.

What are some things to avoid when writing bipolar disorder?

For the love of GOD stop mixing it up with borderline personality disorder. Bipolar is a MOOD DISORDER, not a personality disorder. The mood swings are not quick or volatile, there is no fear of abandonment, or unstable emotions. The mood swings are more like intense changes in energy that effects the mood, and they typically last over the course of a week+. Toby canonically does have volatile, rapidly shifting and unpredictable emotions, but that would not be a result of his bipolar disorder (besides maybe during a manic episode).

And the obvious, don't demonize the disorder and make him out to be a crazy person because he's bipolar. Toby is nuts, but not because he has BD.

If you have any more questions, Google is free, but make sure to find reliable and professional sources. But also, if you want to DM me or send a question in my inbox I'm free to answer with my personal experience, and headcanons, about bipolar and how it may present in Toby.