#this group of fucking weird beautiful definitely needs therapy group of people

[piratefalls]

1. Happy nov 5th, i still cannot believe it's real

2. TELL US ABOUT YOUR BFF!

HAPPY NOVEMBER 5 AKA WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

oh friend, this is an interesting question, because i guess the answer relies on what you mean by bff. like, my longest friendship? that's sarah, we've been friends for the last 25 years (mind you, I'm 32, so basically my whole life). in terms of closeness? absolutely sarah, because we're absolutely the embodiment of the "talking about a serious thing in text and then talking about something completely unrelated on social media" joke. but that term also basically covers everyone else i consider a friend friend.

here's the thing: i grew up in a village of 2,000 people. (yes, a village.) my closest friends today are people i grew up with. some of those people are also my friend's husbands. those people are my tribe, my ride or die, the ones who've seen the ugliest sides of me and loved me through so much. the people who instituted the table of truth rule so that we could speak freely because that shit was on lock. each of them has a special place in my heart. this post would never end if i went on a tangent about each of them individually. as a collective, they are my BFFs.

ask me a question for sleepover saturday!

[banj0possum]

DRE DRE OMG DRE!:O

I JUST HAB THE GREATEST IDEA OF ALL TIME DRE!

So, so I was thinking at like 1:33 am cuz ye, and I thought,

WHAT IF THE READER, HAD LIKE, A DISABILITY , AND IT CAUSED THEM TO LIKE NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE AROUND MUCH, AND AND THEY FEEL USELESS, SO THEYRE LOVER COMES IN, AND IS LIKE” u know ily right?” OUT OF NO WHERE, AND IT MAKES THEIR DAY???

I mean you dnt have 2, but it would still be like so cool:3

*me running at Usain Bolt speed in order to get away from sleep cuz insomnia helps brain go brr*

But have to sleep so go night night>:(

Yanderes x Disabled!Reader w/ a Mobility Disability

My OCs x Disabled!GN Reader

yall have no idea how long I've wanted to write this *sobbing*

CW: Adrian is stupid and ignorant a little, mentioned kidnapping themes, stalking, theyre a little bit too caring for you..

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Adrian doesn't use your disability to make fun of you, he's an asshole not a monster. But he is painfully ignorant of things when it comes to people with disabilities. Prepare to be asked a lot of shallow and sort of weird questions, not because he's judging you, but because he wants to learn more about you and maybe learn how to take care of you once you two get married and live together. He'd ask in random times "So why do you use a wheelchair?" "Can you piss correctly?" and a plethora of other things. If you use a wheelchair, he'd insist, no, demand that he'd push for you, he doesn't give a real reason for it other than "Your arms will get tired." If you're an amputee, he'd secretly save and steal money in order to buy you prosthetics if you ever showed your desire for one to him. He honestly doesn't care if you feel useless, you're his and he loves you and no matter what you think, he will always be there for you. "Are you fucking kidding me? You went to the library all by yourself yesterday! You played with those kids in the playground, and you carried that group presentation in math class! You're not useless, you dumbass, you're amazing!"

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Brandon, despite how ditsy he is, researches a lot about your disability, how to take care of a person with your disability and stuff that could improve your mobility. It's his duty as your boyfriend to give you the best care possible! As much as he loves to take care of you, he knows for sure you're able to do things yourself, he helps you with physical therapy if you ever need it. Being the star player of the lead team has its financial benefits too, so if there's something you found online that could help with your mobility, he's definitely buying it for you immediately!! There are times when you feel insecure about your disability but he's always there to give you lots and lots of reassurance and love! But to be honest, his way of cheering you up sounds more like a pep talk more than comfort, but it's his way of cheering you up :) "Who cares if you're not like other people? You're awesome and never forget that, with or without a disability!"

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Valeth, I shit you not, is taking away your wheelchair, your crutches, your prosthetic limbs, anything you need to move around on your own. He doesn't want you being able to escape his house and tell the authorities about him. Besides, why need those when you have him to carry you around and spoil you rotten with gifts and affection? If you let, him, he'll kiss the parts of your body that are affected by your disability, your legs, your arms, your amputated limbs, he wants to remind you how much he loves you despite your immobility. He'll whisper how much he loves you every night or when you feel sad. "You're perfect my little duckling, so so beautiful..."

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The Horde is keeping you in your bunker 24/7 unless you tell them you want to get out, but even then, they're right by your side the entire time. Bo is in charge with making sure you're never in pain or discomfort, physically and emotionally. "You're so beautiful darlin'..I wouldn't change a thing about your pretty little self~.." Screw rummages around the mall to find anything to help you move around like items from the medical areas. "I found this..uhm..do you like it?" Soda and Ribs don't really understand but they love you either way, regardless of your body. Ribs might steal your prosthetics or crutches though; you have to pry them out of his mouth like a dog that doesn't want to give up a stick.

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Wolfie thinks you're hurt and whines whenever he sees you struggling of sad, he licks the places of your body that are 'hurting'. Even when you reassure him that you're ok, he won't let go, he needs to make sure his little mate is ok! Forget wheelchairs, or crutches or prosthetics, he'll let you ride on his back, anywhere you want! Just give him lots and lots of pets and scratchies, good boy deserves it!

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Dorik is your loyal servant and will help you whenever you need anything. Oh, your wheelchair is folded up and you need help setting it up? Nonsense! He can carry you anywhere you want! Prosthetic limb nowhere to be found? Just stay in bed, he'll take care of it! Found out he's been hiding all your stuff so you depend on him and only him?...nuh uh.. and if you ever feel down, he'll be right there cuddling you and whispering sweet kinda creepy things to you. "You're my little angel, master~ A fragile mortal like you should be cared for with a gentleness of a thousand silks~!"

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Kalva forges high and low for anything that can help you. while he does enjoy keeping you nice and safe in the nest, you need some sunlight! He gives you branches, sticks, rope, anything you need to help you move around even just a little bit. With his nest building abilities, he would make you a prosthetic limb or cane for you. If you're a wheelchair user, he can just lift you up and prop you outside with him while he preens you. He might not know what's wrong but he tries his best to make you feel better. "My mate is so lovely, my lovely lovely mate! So pretty and cute!"

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Jasper can't help but be much more protective of you. He knows you can do stuff on your own, but he thinks as your best friend and future lover he needs to take care of you. He'd gladly be your caretaker if you ever need one, but he beats himself up for not accepting that you know how to handle yourself. Please let him draw and paint on your prosthetics or wheelchair! If you don't want anyone to touch your stuff, that's ok with him, but that won't stop him from making little artworks for you, like tiny paper stars with cute doodles drawn over it. If ever you feel sad, he has a nice cozy room, a weighted blanket, hot chocolate and his cat to comfort you. He's not the type to give pep talks, but he's a good cuddler.. "It's ok to feel sad, baby~..let's just lie down together alright?"

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Silas, Viktor and Garrick pester you every day to just let them turn you. You could be in unbearable pain, and you still refuse to be a vampire??? You could just have a minor limp or amputated leg and they're blowing your disability out of proportion, comparing you to a fragile porcelain doll. Imagine how much better you'll feel when you can no longer feel pain! Or when you have the ability to walk properly! It bugs you, it even makes you feel worse. If they go too far, they quiet down and sulk like sad puppies, whining and begging you to forgive them. They're sorry they took it too far..they just wanted you to be happier and healthier... "We're sorry darling, we just want you safe is all.." "Indeed my dove~ but we love you either way~!" "So cute and so fragile~! I don't know what's up with those two, but I wouldn't change a thing baby~!"

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Baron is always there for you, you dont even need your wheelchair or crutches anymore with how much he takes care of your needs. He says it's all part of his job but you don't really think making adorable little snacks for you is part of it.. looking at the little orange slices shaped like snails and cookies decorated to look like cats on your tray, you wonder if his doting is really his duty or if he just really wanted to take care of you.. Apart from that, he often watches as you look in the mirror and just frown. He gets up and checks how you're feeling as if a switch activated in his brain when he saw your sweet sad eyes. He can't bear seeing you so insecure when you're the most amazing person he's ever met.. "Boss, I don't care what you or others think, you are wonderful and worth regardless of your disability. In fact, it makes you even more admirable.."

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Caspian can relate to immobility. Out of water, he's more or less paralyzed from the waist down because of the weight of his tail, so you two hang out and joke about it together. He helps you cope by giving you someone to see yourself in. He daydreams about one day using some kind of magic to give you a fish tail so you can live in the ocean together like a happy couple. Sometimes he brings you to the shore of the cave you live in so you can soak your feet in the water while he sings for you. "My beautiful treasure~ your body does not define you. I see your soul, your heart, and it is beautiful~.."

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Hallow just sees it as an excuse to keep you locked up. He baby-proofs everything so you don't accidentally bump into something and get hurt. Yes, he takes away your wheelchair or prosthetics when you disobey him. He's a menace but he makes up for it by caring so much for you, you don't even have to lift a finger. If you're good, he gives your stuff back, all of them decorated with stickers and doodles all over it, mostly hearts and flowers. If ever you feel insecure, he coils around you in a warm hug and kisses you all over, you're not getting out until he hears a giggle come out of you. "My doll~ my darling~ my love~ my pretty little toy~ so cute~ so small~ your body is perfect~ just the way it is~!"

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Ashvan is on high alert 24/7, what if you get hurt? Or someone knocks you over and you can't get up? What if you can't move in a dangerous situation??? Stairs?!?!? He's absolutely panicking over you, but you being a cleric, you can simply use magic to get around. He knows full well that you can look after yourself but he can't help but linger around wherever you are to make sure you're ok, especially in fights. He's never far from you, acting like your defense as you heal the other members of the clan. He may or may not watch you sleep. Just being there for you! On days when you're not so confident in your abilities, he comes up to you with flowers he picked so he could hopefully make you smile again. "H-hi there! u-uhm..I-I picked these for you! heheh..uhm..g-good job during that battle! You were uhm..amazing..~"

[dream-to-be-frog]

small things i adore about dil dhadakne do:

how farah picked ayesha to dance with and how in scenes they are both in they genuinely get along and seem to talk and enjoy each other’s presence....

the way they seem like real people..... when ayesha asks for a divorce her voice starts off hushed and choked..... when she tells her family she doesn’t want to be with manav anymore (the first time, on accident) she walks out and her freakout walking seems natural.. like i walk like that when i am sick and anxious after an outburst....

the sibling interactions are actually SO GOOD... when kabir is laying on ayesha’s bed and steals her ice cream just to mess with her and in gallan goodiyan when they hook arms and are just being silly goofy together without it seeming weird or forced or weirdly sexual between sibling banter (a trend that fills me with fear and makes me want to puke) and how they support each other, especially against their parents

the couples all have like. really good chemistry. (noorie and rana we see less of but they’re genuinely cute too.) like sunny and ayesha have so much shit they haven’t even discussed but are so very obviously in love with each other. like how farah and kabir are in such a new relationship but everything kind of clicks for them but the arguments and fights seem natural for how new it is while also showing their closeness.

the way all of the family is shown to have problems... kabir is an ass businessman and doesn’t know what he wants out of life besides that it is not this...... ayesha hates her marriage and can barely stand her husband and has so many unresolved feelings for sunny...... neelam kind of sucks but i DO feel bad about how awful it must have been to know your husband was cheating on you but not be socially or financially in a place or society to leave him and how that makes her binge eat....... how kamal definitely sucks but he has anxiety and shit... like i may not like the parents but at times i can sympathize and they are both very human even in their badness... anyway y’all all therapy please my fucking god

the FRIENDSHIPS.... you can tell even in limited interactions how much kabir and noorie love each other, how close sunny and ayesha used to be, how well ayesha and divya get along even though they probably don’t see each other so often despite being cousins, how divya and rana and noorie are all friends now,

they have some really fucking good dialogue.... once again it flows very naturally and this is a very repressed group of people so whenever something comes to the surface they have to make sure it’s done right and it always is... the ayesha and sunny arguments are always so real sounding.. yo

the way that ayesha followed farah out when the fake noorie news came out... BESTFRIENDISM

kabir holding sunny’s entire head and saying seriously into his eyes: “i love you” (and then running off yelling “ayesha is getting a divorce” so true bestie)

kabir jumping off the fucking cruise ship like booboo the fool and sunny yelling right before he jumps “NO NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT” LMFAOOOOOO

mixed feelings on priyanka chopra as a person but she is SO BEAUTIFUL THIS WHOLE MOVIE her outfits her makeup her hair flawless i am so gay

the way that when kamal goes to attack the ship people to get a lifeboat all his friends are like okay i guess we are holding these random authority men down despite yelling at his son who he is trying to save like 3 minutes ago

neelu saying let me come with you! if not now then when! and the way ayesha fuckin’ dives under that man’s arm right as sunny comes barrelling towards him trying to help her get past and him asking are you okay. listen this whole scene is so good

“sunny? mera intezaar karoge?” “HAMESHA KE LIYE”

how this scene doesn’t wrap the movie TOO perfectly? it’s like: they are all trying to do better, but they are still working on it, and there are a lot of things they’ll need to learn to communicate through and work on together but maybe things can be okay

[thinslxx]

Rant lol

Tw for mental health issues in general

Been thinking about my friendships lately. And aside from the fact I consider a lot of people "friends" but in reality I don't talk to anyone. The only person I actively interact with everyday is my gf. Me and my best friend are SUUUPER close but we don't text much since we prefer seeing eachother in person. And the other friend, welp she is rlly nice and kind, I met her through my gf. Stil we don't talk unless she needs some advice which I'm fine with completely. But when none of them are active I just dont..speak ? to anyone. Despite being the class president I don't have much of a connection with my class. It's weird ig, they see me as a figure or responsibility (lmao) so they have picked me to be the class president for 3 years in a row. Which is cool great, but I have a hard time actuALLY interacting with them. I do have a small group of ppl I hang out with at school but most of the time I'm left alone or well left out. I even stopped responding to my name (deadname but I still have to respond to it at school) cuz I know no one is calling me, they are calling the other girl in my class with the same name. I just stopped turning around after enough times where someone called out my name but they meant the other one. I have also become really quiet, before I came up to people and initiated a convo..now I'm just at my desk drawing reading or on my phone. Also I have definitely noticed a shift in my behaviour when it comes participation in class. Before I was the bitch that would raise my hand before the teacher even finnished their question. Now I'm barely raising my hand or even listening to the professors. It's weird how much I changed cuz of everything that happened in the last year. Damn everything from completely destorying the relationship with my parents, anxiety and OCD therapies, forcefully coming out as bi to my parents, almost getting disowned etc. Sigh smh really this was THE year. I'm surprised I haven't killed myself like I'm in awe rn. impressive.💅 Honestly it's so fucked up that the only thing I hold comfort in is self destruction and my gf. But since she moved away I don't really have that either. I miss her so bad. I just want to hug her and hold her so she doesn't leave. Lmao messed up much ? I don't mean it in a possessive way🙄 I mean it in a please don't go way. But life is life Ig. All I can do now is lose weight and starve so i can be skinny and beautiful for real when she sees me again. My mum took a pic of me and my sister yesterday and I felt like ✨ throwing up ✨ when I saw myself. Disgusting. Not to mention we be celebrating 6 years of disordered eating 🎉🎉 I haven't had a normal eating day since I was 12 years old u know like a mentally ill motherfucker.

Welp this was a while bunch of thoughts. Stay safe guys please take care od yourselves the best u can ! I'm here if someone needs to rant/talk about anything, DMS always open as u can see I need friends as well💃💃

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Promo Monday Again!

Since this event is happening again, and since Bucky Quest is ending soon (tomorrow), I thought I’d make a post about more fanfics I rec as well as talk a bit about my own. So, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO - 

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER, SOME FICS I REC:

1) gossip about the weird guy who just showed up by abhorsenbranwen (T, 631) - “In between fixing the boat, some neighbors do some speculating about who the fuck this guy who may or may not have a metal arm but possibly mentioned running errands for Wakanda is.”

This text group chat is just so much fun. It’s not necessarily a romantic story by any stretch of it, but it’s just a fun story about people figuring out who the hell is Bucky and why he’s helping Sam fix the boat. It also has an amazing podfic version read by blackglass, GoLBPodfics (GodOfLaundryBaskets), Ravin_Pods (Ravin), Tipsy_Kitty

2) fanboy - a sambucky AU by dei (N/A) - “bucky is a journalist with the biggest crush on the new captain america, sam wilson. he accepted that he won't ever get a response from the beloved superhero... but what if one day he does?”

This twitter AU is AMAZING. It actually makes me want to try my hand at a twitter AU at some point, it’s just this beautiful multi-media story about two awkward guys who like each other trying to figure out if the other guy likes him too as well as the ramifications of a public reactions to relationships. Ugh, I just love it so much and I just learned there’s a sequel so excuse me while I read that lololol

3) behind everything that we do by cm (mumblemutter) (M, 5,617) - “Bucky takes care of Sam, in a way.”

There’s something just so good about Bucky taking care of Sam after he did something dumb that landed him in the hospital, how they interact as Sam recovers from his injuries. It’s sort of about the value of life, survivor’s guilt, the need to strive towards breaking points and how that can break a person. IDK I like it and it has a fantastic podfic read by  Tipsy_Kitty

4) i close my eyes until i see (i don’t need hands to touch me) by notcaycepollard (T, 2,257) - “Every month or so, there’s this recurring thought that runs through Sam’s head.This is your life now.

Which is why, he thinks bleakly, it’s utterly fucking typical that as they’re investigating something weird and probably janky some civilian called in over on Rockaway Beach, Sam looks away one minute and when he looks back, Bucky is a tentacle monster.

'Uh,' Sam says. ‘Dude. You.’

Bucky - it’s still Bucky, Jesus Christ - waves a tentacle.”

I don’t know why, but I find fics where people turn into animals are fun in the “Oh wow that’s a kooky but stressful situation” sort of way, and it’s always hilarious when it’s a tentacle creature (and I always appreciate when nothing weird goes down because of that lol). It’s a fun fic and it has a great podfic read by sisi_rambles

5) body language will do the trick by elizabear (E, 1,549) - “ ‘There’s no way you’re going to win this,’ Bucky tells Sam. ‘I am going to love language the shit out of you.’

Sam gives him a considering look. ‘You do seem like you’d be really good at that.’

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. ‘Thanks, pal, I—’

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

'Your ass looks great today!’ Sam yells.Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.”

Fucking. Therapy. Goats. I don’t know what to say, just the idea of them got me cackling, I love how this is the basically two idiots trying to aggressively love each other enough in healthy ways to somehow win therapy 😂 It’s very good.

Those are some of my fav fics, but let me also promote myself a bit at the end. I write something called Bucky Quest!

While it’s not completed (the last chapter comes out tomorrow!), it’s a fascinating tale that starts at the end of Captain America: the Winter Soldier and continues past The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, telling the story in between what happens in both the films and the series between Sam and Bucky. I try my best to keep canon compliant throughout the parts that are within canon, and try to see a fun branching timeline that could be possible in the MCU in another reality once I start writing past the canon. Definitely check it out if you think that’s your thing! 😊

[samsflannel]

survey results are in!

sorry, this is gonna be a long post. yesterday i posted a survey with a list of polls regarding Supernatural, and it was SO much fun. I got over 300 responses, which was A LOT to sort through for the short responses, but I’ve gathered all the “data” and here it is! My responses to each poll will be under the screenshots (they are in groups of 2). I’m going to include the short answer responses in another post. ENJOY!

1. Starting off strong.

2. Pleased with this one as well.

3. Yep, I expected this response from most of us.

4. Sami, I made the wincest and destiel response just for you. YW.

5. CMON YOU GUYS......live a little!!! samjack sexy

6. I’m not really surprised that Playthings got the bulk of votes here, but I think my vote would have been 8x23.

7.  :)

8. i’m disappointed that more people didn’t choose the yellow one tbh

9. it is sexy. it is. wake up.

10. i love Dean, but he’s definitely an asshole. and that’s what makes him a great character!

11. hehe.....i understand why not a lot of people picked noncon bait....u r valid its ok im gross.

12. WHO THE FUCK PICKED NO......have you ever consumed media

13. WBK.

14. damn, Dean kinda got the short end here! a lot of samgirls took this survey

15. i get why you wouldn’t like Bugs bc it does have harmful stereotypes about native ppl but the rest of it is peak season 1 wdymmm

16. almost 50/50 here! old vs new fans we love to see it. I am definitely wincest old guard.

17. YEP. Eric Kripke needs shock therapy for that one

18. The fact that some people admitted to being dry.....tragic. I think Eileen is a great character but they are NOT endgame.

19. SO YOURE JUST GONNA SIT THERE AND ADMIT HOW WRONG YOU ARE??

20. ugh. yeah. same.

21. who tf picked blue. cmon. red meat incest agenda.

22. SAM MOMMY MILKERS!!!!! hucow sam <3

23. Mixed on this one! My response is obviously yellow :)

24. I do think Bobby favored Dean somewhat.

25. Johnzazel agenda so true

26. HIGHKEY CANON. AND SEXY

27. someone requested a combination of blue and yellow and you’re so right i apologize.

28. mixed on this one for top vs bottom fans! almost a 50/50 split

29. ANNA DID NOTHING WRONG

30. I can’t believe this one is almost 50/50. Ruby girlboss you guys are haters

31. again. admitting you’re dry. THEY FUCKED

32. yeah :(

33. Q-anon level conspiracy theory.

34. I actually fall into the blue. I do believe Cas was in love with Dean, but not the other way around. I think Cas loving Dean makes wincest so much more spicy

35. I love sam so much

36. those of you who answered yes........join my movement.

37. c’mon. even if you don’t ship wincest you need to admit this one.

38. sorry this one was self-indulgent.

39. JESS PEGGED SAM.

40. idk, i personally think Cassie deffo pegged Dean. She has top energy.

41. So all the people who answered no have definitely not read the fic (were too young to remember it) or are squicked by underage which is ok! its one of those fics i read back in 2010 so i have fond memories of it

42. hahahah you guys were mean on this one

43. it’s canon bro sorry

44. thank god this one was majority yellow

45. i give wincestiel a valid pass! dean has multiple holes

46. Jack is hole <3

47. I actually think both are great (and ppl were mad I didn’t have that option srry) but deanpussy is incredible and underrated.

48. SEXY>>>>>>

49. thank you for enabling me.

50. can you guess the redacted part? it was: insert various objects into himself :))))

51. ok heres the big question! i’m not surprised ilysmmbb won, but i personally vote for “yeah, there he is” !! i think its underrated and such a tender moment.

52. i’m in the blue. i like cas.

53. i actually am in the yellow on this one. i think its more realistic, although blue is hot forsure

54. top 3 cas moment right there.

55. objectively yes on this one. thank god for COVID- *gets shot at*

56. sorry this was shady i’m not really like this usually haha. i think death is my fave besides Rowena

57. obviously i’m in the red. i’m shocked that so many people said Yes.......

58. Clearly.

59. I enjoyed fan fiction! i love campy episodes as you all know (like Dog Dean afternoon and such) so i loved fan fiction. it was a nice nod to someone like me who has been watching for a long time.

60. HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHO ANDY IS. i wish he would have been in the show longer........

61. uh....yeah.

62. Yeah c’mon. Dean would and you know it.

63. Thank god you guys didn’t fuck this up. I would agree, but Corbett is a close second for me.

64. IN THE RED BABY!!!!

65. we love a man bleeding out. we do.

66. i actually think misha is chill with J2 but.....you can’t deny J3 have more chemistry.

67. I uh......don’t think Dean would be a great father. is this me projecting my own issues with my father onto Dean? maybe,,,,

68. i’m surprised this was so negative! I think i would be interested

69. thanks for reading my shitty poetry!! i also had s4 dean in mind when writing this

70. CMON.....ITS KINDA SEXY CMON.......that spice of battered wife syndrome.......violent man in the house.......sam beaten down....im barking

71. haha yessss go yellow.

72. go yellow again.

73. I think I would actually vote yellow on this one. what a sweet and beautiful thing to say to someone, and its so very DEAN.

74. mhm. i think so. 

75. SEXY CONTROLLING OLDER BROTHER!!!!!

76. no idea why people answered yes to this one. that punch was fucked up. was it sexy? thats another story,,

77. WOKE. 

78. I do. I love pilot Dean.

79. Dean is a carfucker. any side of the fandom can recognize that

80. thank you GREEN!!!!!!

81. Sam is bi wtf! Sera Gamble erasure

82. Padackles commune <33333 they all fuck and they don’t know whose kid is whose!!!! (not really but this is sexy)

83.  THESE BROTHERS ARE WEIRD FOR SURE.

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch1 | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 4.7K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts. ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!

- minty <3

It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist. 

The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.

The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose. 

As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA. 

The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there. 

“Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine. 

After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him. 

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.” 

So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?

You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him. 

“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon. 

As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee. 

Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard. 

You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.

You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...

Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.

You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse. 

One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.

As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”

His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.

“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges. 

“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.” 

The older man nods. 

“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”

You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.

 “Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.” 

“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.” 

“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.

“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”

Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”

“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”

“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.” 

“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.

A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“

“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”

“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.

He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“

Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.” 

He seems astonished. “Really?”

“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.

His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.

You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?

___________________________

You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top. 

“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging. 

“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“

“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?” 

He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.

 “Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.

He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him. 

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash. 

You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face. 

“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy. 

Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.

“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.

You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”

Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.

He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.

“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”

“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity. 

“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.

“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”

“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.

“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”

“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”

“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.

“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding. 

“So what about the town you grew up in?”

“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!” 

“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”

You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”

“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”

“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.

“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”

You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.

“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.

“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.

“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?” 

“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”

He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.” 

“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?

You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.

“Yes. I am.” 

What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly. 

“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”

It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment. 

“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”

What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away. 

You recoil at that and curse yourself. 

They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing. 

The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.

“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.

“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.

Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.

“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.

“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...

“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.” 

“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”

“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”

“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.

“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.

Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with. 

“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”

“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”

After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”

“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”

You cannot say no to this man.

“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”

“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”

“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”

[rhysismydaddy]

The Bodyguard (Elorcan)

MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE SHIP.

I wrote a lot of Elorcan a while ago on my phone and realized I’ve literally been posting Nessian nonstop, so we’ll take a little break. 

I have no idea how many parts this is going to be, but it’s a bit more of a slow burn than my usual fics, so probably 5ish. Not much happens in this part, but it get’s more interesting lol. Let me know if you want to be tagged :)

Part 2 | Part 3

______________________________________________________________

Elide rolled out of bed Monday morning to the sound of a loud, incessant banging on her front door. How someone was managing to put that much aggression and frustration into a simple knock baffled her. 

She swung it open and yelled, “What the hell do you want?”

When she looked up--and up and up and up--to the man standing in front of her, she instantly regretted her choice of tone. 

This was not a man you yelled at. Hell, this was not a man you poked with a very, very long stick. 

The stranger towered above her, making all five feet of her feet insignificant. He had long dark hair pulled back in a bun, tan skin, and eyes that looked almost black. Chiseled cheek bones, a jaw set in a scowl, and head to toe black clothing completed the look. 

Elide didn’t know how to feel about his appearance, actually. 

It was definitely abrasive and intimidating. Or to most it would be. She’d lost her fear of “scary” men a while ago. She knew firsthand the most innocent looking man could be the most sadistic. 

And yet, beneath all the black clothing and deep scowl, the man standing in front of her was also attractive in a dangerous, rough way. 

But what the hell did he want?

“Elide Lochan?” he asked, his voice conveying everything written across his face effortlessly. 

“Um, yes?” How did he know who she was? 

“I’m with The Galathynius Guarship. I’ve been assigned to watch over you.” He seemed satisfied with that explanation, but she sure as hell wasn’t.

“Galathynius? As in Aelin Galathynius?”

If possible, his scowl got deeper. “The one and only. But more specifically, I owe the whipped little bitch who calls himself her husband a favor.”

“Hold on,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Rowan sent you?”

This was beyond weird. Aelin was one of her best friends, but she didn’t spend all that much time around her husband. 

The man in front of her sighed, so much aggression in the one simple sound. “I suspect that he was told to cash in the favor in this specific way by a certain fire-breathing bitch queen, but yes, he was the one who called me.”

“Okay, but why?”

His eyes met hers, and she somehow knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. It didn’t soften the words in the slightest, though. 

“He found you.”

Fuck.

An involuntary shiver ran over her, but she hid it behind a stretch. “How do they know?”

“Rowan said they’ve been watching your uncle for a while, and that he just bought an apartment in the city. He’s also made inquiries into this complex about you, and a black sedan has been spotted canvassing the building you work in.” 

He said it all in that same cold, almost bored tone, and for some reason, that kept the panic at bay. 

Elide straightened her spine and put on her best smile. “Thank you for telling me. I don’t need a bodyguard, though.”

He shrugged one massive shoulder. “I don’t care.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I owe Whitehorn a favor, and this is what the bastard asked for, so I don’t particularly care if you think you don’t need a bodyguard, although I expect that to be false.” He looked her head to toe as he said that last part, and her blood started to boil. 

She wanted him gone. Now.

Glaring at him, she snatched her phone and dialed Aelin’s number. 

“Hi, Elide. You know it’s like six in the morning, right?”

“Believe me, I’m not happy to be awake at this hour, either. I was woken up by...” she realized she didn’t know the man’s name. “someone pounding on the door. He says he’s my new bodyguard and that you had something to do with it.”

“His name is Lorcan Salvaterre.”

She sighed, continuing to glare at him. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but tell Lorcan Salvaterre to piss off. I’ve been on my own my entire life, and I’m fine.”

“Barely,” Aelin said quietly. 

She paused, ignoring that train of thought, then tried a different tactic. “You know he’s like ten feet tall right?” Lorcan rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to keep a low profile with him following me?”

Aelin laughed softly. “He’s a tall, insufferable bastard, but he’ll keep you safe. At this point, your uncle’s seen where you live and work, so keeping a low profile doesn’t exactly matter.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But-”

“Listen.” There was a little fire in her best friend’s tone now. “I do not plan on repeating what happened two years ago. Ever. So until we figure out how to throw Vernon in a deep, dark hole no one will ever find him in, Lorcan stays. Just ignore him.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered back.

She could practically see Aelin’s smile. “Good luck. Stay safe.”

The line clicked dead, and she threw her phone on her couch in defeat. 

“Your powers of persuasion are truly something magnificent,” Lorcan Salvaterre told her in a mocking tone. “I’m tall? Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s 6 AM and I’m tired,” she defended, suddenly annoyed. “But I’m already up, so I guess I’ll just go to work early.”

She shut the door in his face so she wouldn’t have to even think about inviting him in.

Damn.

Damn damn damn!

This was so frustrating. She felt... helpless and desperate and trapped. Everyone in her life was trying to keep her safe, but she found herself wanting to be alone and independent for once in her life. 

And she was afraid. 

After finally escaping her uncle’s country estate and moving to the city, she’d sworn she’d never let him make her feel like this again. 

And yet, just the mention of him being in the same city as her made her tremble with fear. Fear, and more than a little rage.

Elide stepped under the shower spray, closing her eyes. Images from her lifetime of misery flickered through her mind, and unlike usual, she didn’t even bother blocking them out. 

They played like a montage in her head, showing her all the reasons she had to be afraid of her uncle. 

Her parents funeral. The first time Vernon had asked her to come to his office. The hidden bruises. The ruined ankle from the time he’d refused to let her go to the doctor and get the bone set. The scars on her wrists and ankles from her chains. 

The emotional scars from everything else.

She squeezed her eyes closed, shut off the onslaught of memories, and stepped out of the shower. 

As usual, she put on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, even though it was almost summer. Even though she’d made peace with her scars, she didn’t want people to see and gawk. She got a few odd looks for being dressed so heavily, but it kept her more comfortable, so Elide didn’t care. 

She straightened her dark hair, swiped on a little makeup, and grabbed her bag. 

When she opened the door again, Lorcan was still standing there, leaning against the wall across from her. He didn’t even seem to notice her very conservative apparel, but his eyes swept over her face, studying her closely. 

“Ready?”

She nodded, a little nervous by how observant he seemed, but followed as he turned and walked towards the stairs. 

Living on the second floor had a few advantages, but the biggest had to be that she didn’t have to wait for the slow ass elevator that almost never worked. Soon, they were out on the street, walking towards her building. 

Feeling like a million eyes were on her now that she was in public, she tugged on her sleeves and ducked her head. 

“They’re probably staring at me, not you,” Lorcan said with a grimace. 

Oh, there was no “probably” about it. 

Everyone--everyone--was looking at the man strolling next to her. Some with blatant fear on their faces, some just in shock. 

She supposed she couldn’t really blame them. He was large and imposing and looked like he could snap anyone in half who dared to cross him. 

The attention still made her uncomfortable. She preferred to go through life unnoticed, and Lorcan was like a magnet to both men and women’s attention. 

Spotting her favorite coffee shop, she almost cried in relief. She tugged on Lorcan’s arm, and he followed her inside, dark eyes scanning everyone there for signs of a threat. 

Considering this was the most hippie, backwater place in the city, it was a short search. 

“Hey, Elide,” the woman behind the counter said with a smile.

Elide smiled back. “Hey, Asterin.” 

Asterin was one of her best friends in the city. They’d met in the hospital’s mandatory group therapy for people who had suffered certain times of “trauma” and had instantly bonded over their shared hate of one of the nurses. 

“Same as usual?”

She nodded, then turned to Lorcan. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” he responded, eyes hovering on Asterin as if she were a threat.

Granted, her friend was in her usual all black, mostly leather attire and had multiple piercings gracing her beautiful face, but this was Asterin for crying out loud. She was more than a little protective of Elide.

“Who’s the mutt?” the object of his attention asked in a too-friendly voice. 

Elide sighed, unsure how to explain. If Asterin knew her uncle was in town, things were bound to get a little haywire. 

“It’s a long story,” she dodged, sliding a bill across the counter. Her friend looked at her like she’d grown two heads. 

“When’s the last time I charged you?”

Never. 

She stuck it in the tip jar, making Asterin roll her eyes. A moment later, she brought back her vanilla latte and said, “I’ll see you Friday, right?”

For a moment, she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but it came rushing back a second later. Friday. Concert. Asterin’s band. “Yeah, sure.”

She could feel Lorcan’s eyes narrow, but she pulled him out before he could cause a scene. 

“What’s happening Friday?” he asked as soon as they were outside. 

Taking a deep drink of her coffee, she replied, “Asterin’s band is having a concert at MSK.”

He brooded for a minute over this information. “No. A crowded area is not exactly safe for you right now.”

Elide stopped walking, her eyebrows high on her forehead. “No? No?”

He was fucking crazy if he thought she’d do whatever he wanted just because he’d been assigned to follow her around. 

Lorcan repeated the word, and she saw red.

“You are not going to tell me what I can and cannot do, you stupidly large bastard. I’ve spent my entire life with someone who did that for me, and I won’t put up with it for a second longer.” 

He sighed, and that just pissed her off more. 

“If you’re not confident in your skills to guard me in a crowded area, then maybe you shouldn't be here,” she snapped. 

His dark eyes narrowed. “I’m more than confident in myself, Elide. That doesn’t mean it isn’t stupid to put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

She just rolled her eyes and stormed away, well aware his long legs would catch up to her in a second. “I’m going.”

“Fucking hell. You mean we’re going,” he corrected with a gruff. 

She smirked. “At least you won’t have to buy any new clothes. They’re a pretty goth band.”

Elide didn’t need to look to know his scowl deepened, and the thought brought a bright smile to her face as she walked into her office building. 

“Morning, Elide,” the receptionist, Tom, called. She waved back.

Lorcan did not. 

He just followed her down the hallway to the suit labeled Perranth Wellness Center, through the lobby and staff kitchen, and into her office. When she tried to shut the door behind her, his hand shot out above her head and stopped it. “I’m coming in.”

“You most certainly are not.”

He showed her she was, in fact, incorrect in that statement by pushing her out of the way and strolling in. Her office was exactly what it was supposed to be: calm, relaxed, covered in plants, and home to a comfy black sofa, two chairs, and a desk. 

As a therapist, it was all pretty much standard. 

Lorcan dragged one of the chairs into a corner near her bookcase, then sat down. 

“You can’t stay in here! I have appointments today!”

He gave her a strange look. “I assumed as much. I’m fine here.”

Elide pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from strangling him. “I’m bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. You legally cannot be in here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not leaving you in here with a bunch of crazy people.”

“They aren’t crazy! They just talk about their problems.”

The look on his face said that statement proved his point. “I can assure you I won’t care what they say.”

“I am not losing my license because you have some insane idea that my clients are violent!”

Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her, looking at her as if she were a naive little girl. “Elide. Has it not occurred to you Vernon could send someone as a fake client to get to you?”

No. 

“I’m safe here,” she lied. She wasn’t safe anywhere.

“If you actually believed that, then why do you have a knife strapped under your desk?”

How the hell had he found that? He hadn’t even searched the place!

She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to diffuse this situation. “I’m getting the idea you’re not up for negotiation on this point.” He shook his head like the stubborn asshat he was. “Fine. You can stay as long as you tell people you’re shadowing to become a therapist yourself.”

His dark eyebrows shot up. “I don’t exactly fit the bill for a therapist.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” The dark attire and permanent scowl were sure to raise some brows, but it was the only option. Elide rolled her eyes and tried to calm down. “Try smiling or something.”

He looked as if she’d suggested he run naked through the city in the dead of winter, but before he could argue, a knock on the door sounded. “Dr. Lochan? Your eight o’clock is here.”

She shoved Lorcan to the chair in the corner, and he plopped down with a sigh. 

“Send him in!”

This would be interesting. 

Twenty minutes later, Elide corrected her statement from interesting to big fat mistake. 

Her client, Wayne Jefferies, kept looking towards the corner Lorcan was situated in, eyes wide. As someone who had a strong fear of practically everything that moved, this situation was less than ideal. 

He tilted his ear toward something she couldn’t see, then whispered, “He’s here to kill me.”

Wayne was also a raging schizophrenic. 

“No one is here to kill you, Wayne. Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice.” Once he did, she turned around and shot a glare over her shoulder at the hulking brute. Stop it, she mouthed. 

His brow scrunched. Stop what? 

Scaring him! 

Before he could mouth something back, Wayne’s eyes shot open. “They’re saying I should kill him first.”

Oh, good gracious. 

“Feel free to try,” Lorcan said in a low voice. 

Wayne jumped to his feet, thrusting an accusatory finger towards the corner. “See! He’s after me!”

“If I was after you, you’d be dead,” her very helpful protector reasoned. 

Wayne paused, then opened his mouth to shout something else. Before he could, Elide said gently, “Sit down, Wayne. No one here is going to hurt you. I promise. Shut the voices out and imagine a wall being built around your mind, keeping you safe.”

Her client was silent, so she turned around and glared at Lorcan. He just rolled his eyes, then leaned back and closed them.

This was going to be a long day. 

~

After three other appointments, which had gone a little smoother actually, Elide was exhausted. Hearing about other people’s problems both helped rationalize hers and drained her. 

She walked to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, Lorcan following behind dutifully. 

“Dr. Lochan! Got a package for you,” Tom said, handing her a thin package. 

Before Lorcan could snatch it up, she grabbed a knife and cut it open, revealing what was inside. 

Yet another mistake. 

A handwritten note in beautiful, recognizable calligraphy, read: I’ll see you soon.

It was a promise, threat, and taunt all in one. How like Vernon.

Knowing he would never send just a little threat, she ignored the dread unfurling in her stomach and flipped the card over.

And stared down at a black and white picture of herself, asleep in bed. 

The covers were thrown back, exposing her bare legs, and her shirt had ridden up while she slept. She looked young and innocent. Vulnerable. 

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that it had been taken from directly in front of the bed. Inside her room. 

The angle of the camera made that obvious. It also revealed that the person who’d taken the picture had done so with painstaking care, getting just the right angle to make it look as if a lover had taken it. 

Bile rose in her throat as she stared at it, trying desperately to figure out how they’d gotten inside her apartment. 

And why hadn’t they just taken her then and there?

Lorcan snatched the note and picture out of her hands, jaw locking tightly. He studied the photo, the note, everything. “I’ll search the apartment when we get back. They can’t get to you with me there.”

His confidence was unwavering and let her relax a little. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

But somehow, in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn’t. This was just the beginning for Vernon. 

He’d always enjoyed the thrill of making her as terrified as possible before finally unleashing whatever sick desire he had planned out. The waiting was half the fun for him. 

And he’d just let her know he could get to her whenever, wherever. No matter who was around. 

It was a strong opening move, she had to admit. The obviously-desired fear was there, pushing on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. 

But there was something else, something new. Something that had only developed in the year she’d been free. 

It was rage, sure. But it was a cold, calculated rage that only came with one thing. 

Revenge. 

______________________________________________________________

ooOOooh dramatic ending for the win. 

Part 2

@ladywitchling @perseusannabeth @studyliketate @cursebreaker29 @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life

[azozzoni]

I must hate myself for posting when no one reads but. Based off this giftset ‘cause I can. - Another VDS christmas fic.

*

Glittering lights shone against the backdrop of the main square, the scent of pine, mulled wine, and imminent snow in the air as Jens stood at the entrance of the Christmas market. In theory, it wasn’t any different from any other Christmas market Jens had visited in his life. But in reality, it was nowhere near the same.

Stalls selling everything from candles to tea to sweets and jewelry spread out before him, drawing customers like moths to a flame. Cheery Christmas songs permeated the chatter of the crowd through loudspeakers placed throughout the market and still, Jens didn’t move.

He could only stand there and think, cold hands in his pockets, wishing he’d thought to bring a hat or gloves. Wishing that he’d thought almost at all before jumping on the bus to Utrecht.

It wasn’t necessarily that he hadn’t thought. He’d been thinking about this for months. Not the Christmas market or the seemingly endless bus ride over or the impossibly happy couples milling all around him. But the way his heart jumped into his throat when he caught sight of Lucas weaving his way through the crowd.

Lucas hadn’t changed, was Jens’ first thought. Not that he had really expected him to in the few months since Jens had last seen him. Maybe his hair was a little longer, a little darker, but otherwise, he looked almost exactly the same as that last day he had come to the skatepark to say goodbye.

It was a day Jens remembered vividly, even if nothing significant had happened. There had been some slapping of shoulders on Moyo’s part, a heartfelt hug from Robbe, and an awkward embrace Jens sort of wished he could redo on his part.

It was almost as awkward as the text Jens had sent Lucas earlier, saying he would be in Utrecht later. He hadn’t even asked if Lucas was busy, relieved when Lucas had replied excitedly and told him to come to the market.

Now that he was here, watching Lucas draw closer, he couldn’t help wonder what the fuck he was doing.

Before he could go over the events that had led him to this exact spot, to jumping on the first bus he found to Utrecht without much of a second thought, Lucas was there, standing in front of him, a smile on his face, and Jens’ heart was seizing in his chest, all fluttery nerves and anxiety he hadn’t expected somehow.

“Hey,” Lucas said, softly, and it was all Jens could do to swallow down the lump rising in his throat.

“Hi,” he breathed, the word appearing in a cloud of breath in the icy night air.

Jens had had many months to imagine this particular moment—and not a single one had involved him acting like an idiot as they stood there, the Christmas market busy behind Lucas, the cold street behind Jens, as if they stood on the brink of something magical.

“It’s been a while,” he said finally, and Lucas only smiled.

It had been almost five months, Jens realized, since Lucas had told him he was moving back to Utrecht to live with his mom. They hadn’t even gotten the whole summer to hang out. Lucas had only moved to Antwerp in the spring, shown up at school one day in March, been sat next to Jens in English class and whispered the answer to the teacher’s question under his breath when Jens blanked.

That had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship, as Moyo might have mockingly called it once or twice. It had definitely been the beginning of something Jens hadn’t expected.

As he hesitated, he felt it again—the way his stomach churned like a ship at sea, a clench as Lucas’ smile quirked, gentle.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he said finally, hopeful. He hadn’t really had a plan, a thought about what he might say when faced with Lucas. He’d just known that he needed to see Lucas.

Lucas’ smile widened as he nodded. “Yeah, sure, I—”

“Luc!” Another voice interrupted him before Jens’ hopes could grow too big, a guy in a puffy white coat lumbering through the crowd to grab onto Lucas’ arm. “I need mulled wine!”

Lucas’ glance at Jens was apologetic, partially amused as he dislodged the guy from his arm. Jens wasn’t really listening to what the guy said next, some other name, a complaint about not being drunk enough.

“I’ll be right back,” Lucas said as the guy dragged him off, and Jens couldn’t complain.

He needed that minute, he thought as Lucas disappeared into the crowd. He needed that minute to get himself together. It might have been a whim coming here, but it felt as if he’d meant to do it for a while. It wasn’t just a particularly depressing day between Robbe talking nonstop about the Christmas party he and Sander were planning, Aaron and Amber always making out everywhere. Even Moyo seemed lovestruck by Noor, of all people. How had Jens become the odd one out?

Even though Lucas had moved away months ago, Jens hadn’t forgotten him. The others, they’d mentioned him once or twice, but Jens felt as if he thought about Lucas at least once a day. He was sure the others didn’t. And it had taken him a long time to figure out why.

Huddled in his jacket, Jens shook his head, glancing around at the different booths. They all seemed so cheery, brightly-lit and emanating warmth that spilled onto the people wandering between them.

“Sorry.” Lucas appeared again, slightly out of breath, as if maybe he’d hurried back. “I pawned Jayden off on someone else.”

“It’s cool.” Jens shrugged, just glad Lucas had come back. Not that he’d thought he wouldn’t.

“You want to get a drink or a waffle or something?” Lucas asked after a second, and maybe he was a little nervous too.

“I’m good,” Jens said, and Lucas nodded. There was an awkward pause for a second as Jens wished he’d come with a plan. “Maybe we could just wander around.”

“Okay,” Lucas agreed, falling into step with Jens.

It hadn’t been this awkward before, when they’d hung out practically every day in Antwerp. Their friendship had felt so easy then, as if they’d known each other forever. They’d texted since Lucas had left, maybe once or twice a week, but nowhere near as often as before.

As they passed a stand selling hot cider, Jens glanced over at Lucas, and Lucas caught his eye with a smile.

“So how are the guys?” Lucas asked after a minute, and Jens jerked his shoulders.

“The same, mostly. Moyo’s in love with Noor but she kind of hates him.”

Lucas laughed, face lighting up, and Jens had forgotten what that felt like—a punch to the gut, the sudden onset of something churning deep inside him. It had taken him far too long to figure out what that meant, and now it was even worse.

“How’s your mom?” he asked to distract himself from the way his heart thrummed in his chest. “Last time we talked, you said she was doing better.”

Lucas nodded, hands in his pockets, elbow bumping into Jens’ as they squeezed past people crowded around a booth.

“I think we finally found medication that works. And she’s going to therapy a couple times a week. She’s back to working like normal. It’s good.” He nodded again, watching Jens.

“And I guess being home doesn’t suck?”

Lucas laughed, ducking his head. “It’s nice to be back. I did miss my friends, even if they’re assholes half the time.” He glanced at Jens, pausing. “Although I don’t think I ever told you how grateful I was that you guys let me into your group so easily.”

It hadn’t been that hard to convince anyone, Jens thought. Lucas had been cool from the minute they’d met, laid-back and easy going at least on the surface.

“Nah,” he said easily, wandering with Lucas through the different stalls, not really paying attention to what they were selling. “I think they liked you better than me.”

“That’s not true,” Lucas protested, grinning, and Jens shrugged. “How’s Sander doing?”

“He’s good,” Jens said, though he wished they weren’t talking about other people. He hadn’t really come here to catch Lucas up on what was going on in Antwerp. Lucas could easily find out on his own, but the small talk was easier than forming the words that had been swirling in Jens’ brain for months, ever since Lucas left.

He hadn’t clocked it back when Lucas had first moved to Antwerp. He hadn’t even really noticed the weird way his stomach would get all jittery and anxious whenever Lucas smiled at him until months into knowing him. He’d only ever gotten those feelings with girls, and really, only with Jana.

He’d thought it might go away when Lucas left, that they’d become those friends who liked each other’s posts on Instagram and nothing else. But the texting hadn’t stopped, and the feelings deep inside Jens had clawed their way to the surface after many sleepless nights, some stealth searching for gay porn in the dead of night, some stalking of Lucas’ Insta.

They paused as they reached a small ice skating rink in the center of the market, and Jens leaned against the barrier, watching kids and their parents sliding around on the ice. He hadn’t come here just to wander around a market with Lucas.

But he couldn’t figure out how to say what he was thinking, what he’d been thinking ever since he’d left school today and gone straight to the bus station.

“So,” Lucas said after a minute, watching Jens instead of the skaters. “You just felt like coming all the way to Utrecht to see a Christmas market?”

“Why else?” Jens joked, but he took a breath as he turned to Lucas. “Can we get out of here? It’s a little crowded.”

Lucas looked surprised at the request, but he nodded. “Sure. We can get out of here.”

As they left the market, Jens following Lucas into the considerably darker streets without the cheer of the booths and lights, he let out a breath.

“Is everything okay?” Lucas asked as they walked, side by side on the narrow sidewalk. He sounded concerned, eyebrows furrowed when Jens glanced over. “It’s not your parents?”

“No,” Jens said easily, shaking his head. “I mean, they’re still fighting, but it’s what they do.” He could only hope the divorce would go through soon and they would all be able to move on.

Lucas nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced that everything was fine. The road they were following curved around a corner along a canal, street lights reflecting off the water, the windows on the buildings hung with wreaths and a few twinkly lights.

Jens was surprised when Lucas stepped off the sidewalk, over to the edge of the canal, a small patch of grass beyond the row of bicycles. He followed, settling down next to Lucas, shivering at the wind coming off the water.

“I missed you,” Lucas said after a minute, so quiet Jens almost didn’t hear.

“You did?” His heart jumped in his chest, too hopeful.

In all the months Jens had known Lucas in Antwerp, Lucas had never shown any interest in the girls who flirted with him, girls who tried to dance with him at parties, always choosing to hang out with Jens and the guys instead. Jens hadn’t thought too much of it at first—Lucas had been the new kid after all. He could have been shy. But Lucas wasn’t shy, not like that. It hadn’t been until after that Jens had wondered if there was a different reason Lucas didn’t flirt with any of the girls.

“As much as anyone can miss a jerk,” Lucas said, half a joke, knocking Jens’ shoulder, and Jens let out a breath.

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Through the darkness, Lucas gazed at him for a minute, and Jens had to look away.

Now that he was here, sitting next to Lucas, their knees knocking into each other, so close yet so far, Jens thought it had just been a fit of Christmas spirit madness that had brought him here. What was he expecting to happen? But if he didn’t do it now, would he ever?

“Jens,” Lucas said slowly, licking his lips, eyebrows furrowed, “Are you sure—”

It was definitely Christmas madness that seized Jens as he leaned over and kissed Lucas. It was a quick kiss, barely a peck, just long enough that he felt Lucas inhale sharply. He was back in his spot before Lucas could even blink, mouth hanging open slightly—surprised or angry or confused, Jens didn’t know.

“What,” Lucas said after a breathless second in which Jens could swear time stood still. “What was that?”

“I thought you’d know what a kiss was,” Jens joked before he could stop himself, grimacing to himself. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be serious for once? Lucas was going to think he was just being stupid.

For a moment, Lucas didn’t reply, hands in his lap, staring at Jens and the way Jens stared at the water in turn.

He’d fucked it up, was his only thought as he stared unseeingly at the ripples in the icy water. He should have done it differently, maybe said something before he acted like a complete idiot and kissed him. It hadn’t been at all like he’d imagined—too quick, too nerve-wracking, too afraid Lucas might shove him away, into the water maybe.

Lucas’ hands on his neck, turning his face, brought him back to reality. Lucas was going to hit him, or at least tell him he had it all wrong.

But that wasn’t what happened at all with Lucas’ cold fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, a slight pressure pulling Jens to him.

This was the kiss Jens had imagined as their noses brushed together, a second before their lips did. Lucas’ lips were warm where Jens was sure his were cold, soft and lingering, almost hesitant as Lucas opened his mouth, let Jens deepen the kiss.

His hands slid to Lucas’ back, down his soft, black coat, tight around his waist as he felt Lucas inhale, press into him, chasing the slide of his lips.

Jens didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but it could have been forever. He would have been happy to stay like that forever with Lucas’ tongue against his, warm, heated breath between them, lips tingling, a smile here and there that made Jens’ heart do stupid little flip-flops in his chest every time. Lucas wanted this. Lucas wanted this. And so did Jens.

“I think my fingers are frozen,” Jens muttered as he slid down Lucas’ jaw, and Lucas laughed, quiet, pulling Jens into a hug instead.

His arms twined around Jens’ neck, secure, as if he wasn’t going anywhere, and Jens smiled at the kiss Lucas brushed to his cheek. He tightened his own grip as well, even if he could barely move his fingers. Even if his toes were numb, his cheeks red, more from Lucas’ kisses than the cold.

“I did miss you,” Lucas said again, whispered in Jens’ ear. “I thought about you all the time.”

Jens couldn’t help smiling, burying his face in Lucas’ neck as he took a deep breath, calm coming over him. “I didn’t know what to say, so…”

“You thought you’d just show up at Christmas and kiss me?” Lucas asked, pulling back finally to grin at Jens.

“It worked,” Jens pointed out, and Lucas nodded slowly.

“It did.”

Jens’ chest swelled as Lucas kissed him again, playful, gentle.

Lucas sighed as he moved back, hand falling from Jens’ neck finally, and Jens couldn’t help reaching for it.

“Your hands are cold,” Lucas said, sounding surprised, and Jens laughed.

“Well, I didn’t bring gloves.”

“Didn’t really think this through, did you?” Lucas asked, cheeky, and Jens shoved him playfully. All the nerves from before were gone, replaced with a simmering tingle of happiness filling his whole body.

“Fuck you. I came to see you. I wasn’t really thinking about anything else.”

Even in the dark, he could see the blush on Lucas’ cheeks at his words, the way he ducked his head as though embarrassed.

“Are you going back on the last train?” he asked instead, and Jens sighed. Another thing he hadn’t really considered.

“I guess so,” he said after a second, and Lucas was quiet for a minute.

Jens hadn’t really had a plan for what to do next. He hadn’t had a plan for what to do first, in all honesty. But now that they’d made it this far, now that he knew Lucas liked him to, whatever came next would just be gravy.

“You could stay at my place,” Lucas said finally, glancing up at Jens. “My mom won’t mind.”

“Really?”

Lucas nodded, warming Jens’ fingers in his. “And tomorrow’s Saturday. You could meet the guys.”

Jens hesitated. “Do they know you’re…” He certainly hadn’t told anyone about these feelings he’d been having for Lucas.

“I told them when I came back,” Lucas admitted, smiling slightly. “After I met this guy I couldn’t stop thinking about.”

“It better have been me,” Jens said, pretending to be offended when Lucas rolled his eyes.

“No, it was Sander,” he said, laughing when Jens shoved him, but Lucas didn’t let him, pulling him in for a kiss. Jens could forgive him if everything ended like this, with his heart fluttering, Lucas’ lips pressed to his. Lucas smiled as he broke away. “So can you stay?”

“I’ll tell my mom I’m staying at Robbe’s,” he murmured, anchoring his hands in Lucas’ jacket as Lucas grinned.

“Sounds like a plan.”

It did sound like a very good plan, Jens had to agree as he pulled Lucas back to his lips and kissed the smile right off it. A very good plan indeed.

[tap-tap-tap-im-in]

Alright, so I’ve gotten a lot more invested in queer online communities in the last few years. I decided I needed to start actually examining how much of my experience is and isn’t shared.

I don’t really want to join anyone’s discord because I don’t actually like getting to know people. I do fine once I know them, but talking to strangers has always given me anxiety, especially when part of what needs to happen is that I have to be open and potentially emotionally vulnerable. I’d much rather type all my secrets at a semi-blank screen and then maybe get comments back if I can bare to even read them.

Easy to find online queer communities means I ended up at reddit, which is where all of forum culture seems to have ended up, but reddit is still hugely popular with the much younger than me. So now I’m seeing a lot of the intracommunity drama that I only ever really heard about in passing in all my years on Tumblr.

This isn’t a new thought, I think I’ve reblogged the first time I saw it articulated just a few months ago, though I can’t find the post in my archive so maybe it was a side blog or a dream. But: gender and sexuality are highly mutable things. They are messy and hard to define. They are experiences that are so inherent to who you are as a person, that sometimes it’s hard to pull apart where things start and end, and things are endlessly influenced by your environment. This is why labels for queerness are broad strokes at best.

Sure, there are micro-labels, and if those help you find a voice for things you experience, more power to you. But the reality is, if I’m in a room with a bisexual, my “I’ve torn down all the walls and I’ve decided that everything is beautiful” brand of bisexuality isn’t necessarily going to be their experience of it. They aren’t betraying bisexuals by having that different experience, and they certainly aren’t changing the definition of what it is.

Labels are categorizations, and the reason you have to take people at their word for the labels they identify with is because no one will ever be in their head but them. They might be wrong, they might be confused, they might be using a label on their way to another, but there is no real way to know any of that without actually being them. And going around telling other people they aren’t what they say they are often does far more damage than simply letting them figure things out themselves.

I brought up the queer communities and the young people in them because I see this a lot there, and mostly with people that seem to be young, if they have not outright stated their age.

And I get it. I’ve done it. But the truth is, someone experiencing their sexuality or gender differently than you think they should is exactly as it should be. There is a breadth of human experience that defies language, and it’s beautiful that we should all be so different, even inside our specialized communities.

And all that’s before we get into the grossness of “well you’re not actually one of us, you’re one of those” that accompanies this kinds of “correction”. That’s in quotes because it should absolutely send a huge red-flag up in your brain. It’s the same shitty impulse that drives conversion therapy and legitimately dangerous hate groups.

Let people be weird. Let them be confusing. Let them be roughly colored in, sloshing over the edges, and hard to pin down. If they aren’t hurting anyone (and I mean actually committing real violence because I don’t have the patience to try to formulate an argument against “respectability politics” other than “fuck respectability”)... if they aren’t hurting anyone, leave them be. The absolute most you might do is gently say: “Hey, have you looked into [label]?” You know, the way you might help guide a friend who’s trying to find something they don’t have the language for yet.

“No, you’re not [label]. You’re [label]” - Asshole behavior, every time.

[suituuup]

Could do where Beca actually joined Barden two years later than she should’ve because she initially joined the army, but was sent home after she lost both her legs in a horrific battle. She meets Chloe but is reluctant to have any kind of a relationship because she is so insecure about her body.

so this is what it feels like

rating: m

word count: 3,6k

ao3 link

*

Barden University. 

Beca looks at the sign and heavies a deep sigh as the car rolls forward, stopping at the curb a few minutes later. The driver steps out and takes her wheelchair out of the trunk, setting it up next to the open passenger door. 

“Need any help?” 

“I got it,” Beca mutters, shuffling to the edge of the seat and easily transferring to the chair. “Can you just hand me my bag? Thanks.” 

She sets it on her lap and starts rolling away towards the main building, catching people staring. “What are you lookin’ at?” Beca spits out, glaring at a group of boys who instantly glance away. 

She doesn’t want to be here. She was perfectly happy across the world, working for the Army. She had friends there, a family. A landmine took that away from her, as well as her two legs.

She was flown back to the States after an emergency amputation and moved in with her dad and the step monster. The following year was rough, as Beca dealt with both depression and PTSD. Numerous therapy sessions helped her figure how to live again and slowly dragged her out of her grieving state. She eventually agreed to her dad’s suggestion about going to college, figuring she couldn’t stay hauled up in the house forever. 

She picked English as a major, as she’s sort of a book nerd, but she’s got no idea of what kind of job she wants to do. 

She likes music and enjoys messing around on her computer making mixes but… it won’t ever be good enough for her to actually make a living out of it. 

The first few days of classes are uneventful, except for the way people keep looking at her. Beca figures they’ll get used to it sooner or later, but for now, she glares.  

She hangs out at the library a lot or at the coffee shop on campus to work on her mixes. 

She’s at the library one afternoon, rolling up an aisle to get the book she copied the reference from on one of the computers.

“Damn it,” she mutters when she realizes it’s on one of the higher shelves, which are out of reach. 

“Need any help?”

Normally, Beca would say I got it, because she hates relying on other people, but one, she really doesn’t have it and two, the words die in her throat when she takes a good look at the stranger. 

A redhead, with the most vibrant eyes and smile Beca’s ever seen. 

Her brain eventually reboots and she blushes slightly out of embarrassment for taking so long to reply. “Um yeah. Could you grab me that green book on the top shelf?” 

“Sure thing,” the stranger chirps, standing on the tips of her toes to grab it. “Here you go.”

Beca takes it, setting it on her lap. “Thanks.”

She’s about to roll away, when the girl speaks again. “Would you be interested in joining an acapella group?”

Beca’s eyebrow shoots up. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to dance, too?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, we could figure something out, if you’re interested.”

“I’m not. I don’t— I don’t even sing.”

“Oh. Okay. Too bad.” She winks. “See ya around.”

She continues on her way, and Beca on hers. 

Beca sees her again two weeks later, at the Barden Beanery. She’s stuck outside because the damn automatic door won’t work and of course it’s starting to rain. 

“For fucks sake,” she grumbles, hitting the button once more. 

“I’ll get it for you.”

Beca looks over her shoulder to see that same girl from the library heading over. “Oh. Hey there, acapella nerd,” she teases as she manœuvres her chair to roll into the coffee shop. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” she replies, smiling softly. “Wow, this place is packed.”

Beca nods towards a table in the corner. “I think those guys are leaving.”

“Nice catch. Mind if we share?” 

Beca shrugs. “Yeah, sure.” 

She tucks her chair in the free space at the table and opens her backpack to pull out her laptop, ordering a black coffee and a slice of carrot cake when the waitress comes by. 

She and the redhead work in silence for a while, Beca with her headphones on (one ear left uncovered) as she messes around with her mixes. She soon loses herself into the music, bopping her head up and down to the rhythm.

“What?” She asks when she catches the other girl staring, blue-grey eyes peering at her above her laptop. 

“Nothing,” she murmurs, a serene smile on her features. “I was just wondering what your name was.”

“Oh, right. I’m Beca.”

“Beca,” Chloe repeats, nodding. “I’m Chloe.”

“Cool to meet you, Chloe the nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd!” She cries, laughing.

“You’re in an acapella group, so you’re a nerd by definition.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

They work together for another hour, Chloe bidding her goodbye when she has to get to rehearsals. Beca sticks around until 7, heading back to her hall to head dinner.

“Hi!” 

Beca looks up to see Chloe popping down on the seat across from her at that same table as three weeks ago. It’s a week later, and the place is near empty this time around, so Beca’s confused as to why she decided to sit with her. 

“Um, hello?” It looks like Chloe’s here to stay, and Beca can’t say she minds? Weird. “You look happy.”

“I am! The Bellas and I are competing this weekend.”

“Competing?” Beca cocks an eyebrow. “So this acapella thing is pretty serious, then?”

“Totes!” Totes? “Our plan is to get selected for the National championships in NYC.”

“Wow. Well, I hope you guys make it.”

“Thanks! You should come check us out if you don’t have anything planned.”

Beca scrunches you her nose. “I don’t know how I feel about being in the same room as so many nerds.”

A laugh flits past Chloe’s lips. “What are you working on anyway?”

“Um, mixes. I mix music.”

Chloe’s eyes adorably pop wider. “You mix music?? That’s so cool. Can I listen?”

The normal Beca would have said no in a heartbeat. She didn’t plan on making any friends, the last year’s events making her more withdrawn and more of a loner. But there’s something about this Chloe, something Beca can’t pinpoint, that makes it impossible for her to say no. 

“Yeah sure, if you want to.”

Beaming, Chloe switches chairs to sit next to Beca as Beca takes off her headphones to hand them over. She selects her Titanium + Bulletproof mashup and hits play, taking a sip from her drink as it starts. 

The look on Chloe’s face as she listens, one of pure enjoyment, makes Beca’s chest swell with something unfamiliar. 

“This is amazing!” Chloe nearly shouts, shrinking in her seat when people’s heads turn towards her. In a lower tone, she adds, “Sorry.”

Beca chuckles. “Yeah? You like it?”

Chloe takes off the headphones. Her eyes are sparkling, the same way Beca’s do when she listens to something she’s really into. “I really do. Have you thought about making a career out of music?”

Beca shrugs. “I did, yeah. I thought about going to LA, but my dad didn’t like that idea because he doesn’t believe there’s a career to be made. He wants me to try college first, for at least a year. I think he’s still pissed about me enlisting in the Army without telling him.” 

“How long were you in the Army for?” 

“Only a couple years,” Beca says, motioning towards her legs next. “Then this happened.” 

Chloe grimaces. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, well…” her shoulder lifts in a half shrug. It took her while to reach that state of mind; to stop being angry at the world for what she was going through. She learned to accept her handicap and to live with it, even if some days prove to be really fucking difficult. “It is what it is.” 

She doesn’t know why, but that weekend, she finds herself attending that acapella competition to check out the Bellas. The songs suck big time and the outfits are questionable, but Beca is too enthralled by Chloe’s beautiful voice to really care about the rest. 

“You came!” Chloe exclaims in surprise when she spots Beca at the end of the show. She’s bending down to hug Beca before Beca can protest, and Beca feels her face heat up as she awkwardly pats her back. 

“Congrats on being selected,” she says when Chloe pulls away, her lips stretching in her first genuine smile in a long while. 

“Thanks! What are you doing later?” 

“Um… nothing planned. Why?” 

“Wanna order pizza and watch something on Netflix?” 

Chloe’s question makes Beca hesitate for a few beats. She truly doesn’t know what Chloe sees in her, as it’s not like Beca has made any efforts to strike up a friendship, but she has to admit that spending time with Chloe is nice. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

The night turns out to be one of the best Beca’s had in a while. She doesn’t remember laughing that much since before, and it’s all thanks to Chloe and her dorky sense of humor and positive energy. They hang out more over the next few weeks, either at the coffee shop or at Beca’s dorm, and Beca quickly develops a crush on her new friend, berating herself as soon as she acknowledges her feelings. 

Even if Chloe does feel the same way, which is unlikely, it’s not like she’d go out with someone like Beca. 

“I need your help,” Chloe blurts one day, plopping down across Beca at their usual table. 

“What’s up?” Beca asks, glancing up from her book. 

“Our set list sucks. There’s no way we’ll make it through to the ICCA’s.” She sighs, then nibbles on her bottom lip for a couple seconds. “I was thinking… maybe you could make us a setlist? We’ll totes pay you.” 

Beca rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to pay me. But would Aubrey be okay with me helping?” 

“She will be, I’ll talk to her.” 

They spend the next few hours brainstorming songs, eating pizza and drinking root beer on the floor of Beca’s room. 

“How ‘bout Don’t You Forget About Me? It’s a cool song,” Beca suggests; they’ve been stuck on the third song for over thirty minutes. “So while a few of you sing the end of Price Tag, the lead could start singing Won’t you, come see about me, I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby,” Beca sang, faltering when she caught Chloe’s weird look. “What?” 

“You can sing!” She nearly shouts, her jaw dropped as she shoved Beca’s shoulder. “What the fuck, you told me you couldn’t!” 

Beca chuckles. “I was afraid you might harass me if I told you I could,” she pauses, eyeing Chloe. “Am I wrong?” 

Chloe grimaces, blushing slightly. “No. We were really desperate at the start of the year.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe how good you sound.” 

Embarrassment wrinkles the bridge of Beca’s nose. “I’m pretty rusty. Your voice’s beautiful, though.” 

“Thanks, Becs.” 

They work on the arrangement for another two hours, and just like that it gets past midnight, but it’s done. 

“We did it!” Chloe cheers, throwing her arms up. She hugs Beca tightly, almost making her topple over from the force of it. “You’re the best.” 

“Jesus, Chlo,” Beca laughs, hugging back and momentarily melting into the soothing embrace, kind of never wanting to let go. 

Chloe’s eyes flicker down to her mouth when she pulls away, and Beca barely has time to inhale before Chloe’s lips are on hers, soft and tender and just… right. Beca loses herself into the kiss for a second; a blissful second where her mind goes blank, before her insecurities slam into her brain at once and wrench her out of the liplock. 

“I’m-- I’m sorry, I thought--” 

“Well you thought wrong,” Beca mutters, gaze fastened on her thighs. She can’t. She can’t start something and have Chloe change her mind when she realizes she could do much better than Beca. “Can you go, please?” 

“I… okay.” 

Chloe swallows and hastily gathers her stuff, the door soon clicking shut behind her. 

Beca doesn’t see her for a week; she doesn’t go to the coffee shop, preferring to stay hauled up in her room to work through her frustration. 

A knock at the door cuts through her thoughts one night as Beca is chilling on her bed messing around with more mixes.

“One sec,” she calls out, shuffling to the edge of the mattress and transferring herself into her wheelchair. She rolls to the door and unlocks it, pulling it open as she backs up to make room. Chloe is standing on the other side. “Hey.” 

“Hi,” she says, her greeting uncharacteristically quiet. “Can I come in?” 

Beca nods and backs up some more, waiting for Chloe to slip inside. 

“Aubrey loved the setlist,” she murmurs with a soft, albeit nervous smile. “She says thank you.” 

Beca nods. “That’s good, I’m glad.” 

A sigh puffs past Chloe’s lips. “I’m really sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t-- I shouldn’t have kissed you.” 

Beca wets her lips, finding the courage to meet Chloe’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have snapped. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just--” she sighs, struggling to find the right words. 

“Just what?” Chloe presses gently. 

“You don’t-- you don’t want this.” 

Chloe tilts her head to the side. “What are you talking about?” 

“Look at me,” Beca raises her voice, motioning towards her amputated limbs. Tears burn behind her eyes as the frustration that’s been bubbling up inside of her finally bursts out. “I don’t have legs, Chlo! I can’t walk, I can’t dance, I can’t-- do normal person stuff.” 

“Beca…” Chloe whispers, taking a few steps forward and kneeling in front of Beca’s chair. Beca averts her eyes, hating that she’s on the verge of crying. “Look at me,” she coaxes gently, reaching up to cup Beca’s cheek. “It breaks my heart for you that you don’t get to do those things anymore, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you, or the fact that I want to be with you.” 

Beca blinks, the shield surrounding her heart splitting open and vulnerability shining in her eyes. “You… want to be with me?”

Chloe simply smiles. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

Beca’s eyes flutter shut for a few beats as she puffs out a breath, trying to tame down her insecurities about her body and letting people in in general. 

“Hey,” Chloe murmurs, squeezing her hand. “I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not ready for, alright? If you do feel the same way, we can take it slow. You set the tone.”

Chloe’s words soothe the anxiety swirling in Beca’s belly and her heart swells; she trusts Chloe and her intentions and god, she really wants to be with her, too.

Leaning forward, she cups the side of Chloe’s neck and brushes her lips across hers. Chloe hums, smiling against Beca’s mouth before she kisses back. 

“I’m taking you out on a date tomorrow night,” she says when they eventually pull away. 

Mind still tipped upside down from that kiss, Beca blinks and nods, a dizzy smile spreading across her lips. “Alright, nerd.”

The next few weeks turn out to be amazing as they easily fall into a relationship dynamic. They hang out even more, texting whenever they’re not together. It’s kind of gross, how happy Beca feels, but she figures she deserves it after everything. 

“Can we um— pump on the brakes a little?” She asks breathlessly one evening, squeezing Chloe’s waist as she straddles Beca’s lap.

“Yeah, of course,” Chloe rasps, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I liked that, I just— I’m not there yet.”

She’s terrified Chloe might not find her attractive or worse, be grossed out when she finally sees Beca completely naked. 

“That’s okay,” Chloe assures her, pecking her lips. “You set the tone, remember?”

“Thank you,” Beca murmurs, truly appreciative of Chloe’s selflessness. “Hey, so um, I have my first physical therapy session with my prosthetics next week and uh, I guess I would like it if you could be there?” 

She’s had countless appointments over the last few months to get measurements and fittings for her prosthetic limbs, and she would finally see whether or not she could walk in them next week. While she’s been wary so far about including Chloe to that part of her life, she knows she’ll need someone there for emotional support, and she can’t think of anyone better than her amazing girlfriend. 

Chloe’s eyes widen. “Yeah? That’s exciting!” Softening, she adds, “Of course I’ll be there.” 

Beca is a nervous wreck by the time her appointment comes around. After much internal back and forth about whether she wanted Chloe to be in the room while they set up the prosthetics and for her to see her stumps, Beca eventually figured she would sooner or later anyway.

Chloe doesn’t show any signs of being grossed out once Beca’s pants are off, and she even grabs Beca’s hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles, as though reading Beca’s mind and guessing she needed some sort of reassurance. 

Once the technician slipped the sleeves and liners on Beca’s residual limbs, she straps the prosthetics on. “How does that feel?”

“So far so good.”

“Alright, ready to take some steps?” 

Anticipation and slight nerves swirl in Beca’s guts as she nods, moving her wheelchair in front of the metal bars. She puts the brakes on and with the technician’s help, rises to her feet. 

Her trembling hands reach for the bars as the technician holds onto her waist with a belt in case she loses her balance. 

“Let’s try a couple stationary steps first,” she advises, and Beca manages to lift one foot after the other, familiarizing herself with the feeling. “Great job. Let’s try a couple steps?” 

Beca nods, exhaling slowly and gripping the bars tighter as she moves her right foot ahead, then her left. It’s wobbly and the sockets are a bit uncomfortable, but she knows it’s just a question of getting used to. Tears sting her eyes because she’s walking again, and while she knows the road ahead is still long, she also knows she’s going in the right direction. 

“Doing okay?” The other woman asks as Beca takes another two steps. 

“Yeah, I just need a small break.” It’s much more exhausting than she thought, sweat beading on her forehead already. 

Chloe’s grinning from ear to ear when Beca glances back at her. “You’re walking, babe.” 

“Yeah,” Beca exhales with a disbelieving laugh. “I won’t take you out dancing right away, but someday.”

Someday. 

Chloe takes her out for a celebratory dinner after and once they’re back to Beca’s dorm and on her bed to watch something on Netflix, Beca doesn’t reach for her computer, capturing Chloe’s lips in a yearning kiss instead. 

Their make out session quickly turns hot and heavy, and Beca whips her top over her head at some point, staring at Chloe with darkened eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“I love you,” Beca murmurs instead, cradling Chloe’s cheek tenderly. “I’m so sure.”

Chloe’s eyes soften, and a dazzling smile spreads across her lips as she kisses Beca. “I love you, too.”

Time slows down after that as they explore this new window in their relationship, and Beca doesn’t feel one bit uncomfortable about her appearance, not when Chloe is showering her body with so much love. 

The next couple months are pretty much perfect. Chloe and the Bellas win the ICCA’s, Beca continues making progress in physical therapy, to the point where she’s able to walk short distances with just the help of a cane. 

On Chloe’s graduation day, she shows up not in her wheelchair but on her feet, intending on surprising her girlfriend, who has no idea she got that far. She spots Chloe talking with her family across the room after the ceremony and slowly but surely makes her way over, gripping the bouquet of flowers in her right hand tighter as nerves over meeting Chloe’s parents sprout in her belly. 

“Oh my god,” Chloe croaks, her eyes widening and a bright smile lighting up her features when she finally sees Beca. 

“Hey you,” Beca greets with a lopsided grin, laughing softly when Chloe shakes her head in awe and tucks herself into her arms. Beca inhales her scent, closing her eyes as she basks in the closeness. “Congratulations. I’m so fucking proud of you.” 

Chloe kisses her softly, taking the bouquet from her to slip her hand into Beca’s now free one and gently tugging her to the older pair. 

“You must be Beca,” Chloe’s dad says, his eyes the same vibrant blue as his daughter’s as he extends his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“You too, sir,” Beca replies, accepting the handshake. 

“Please, call me Mike.” 

“And I’m Alice,” Chloe’s mom introduces herself next, her smile warm and genuine. 

“You’re joining us for lunch, right?” Mike asks, offering a matching smile. 

Beca smiles and her heart warms, not having expected an invitation. “Um, yeah, sure. I’d love to.” 

Chloe kisses Beca’s cheek once her parents start to make their way to the car, walking slowly to match Beca’s pace. 

“What?” Beca asks when she notices Chloe is staring at her profile. 

“Nothing,” Chloe murmurs, squeezing Beca’s hand. “I’m just really happy.” 

The Beca from a year ago would have never thought she’d know what it felt like; to be loved and loving someone like she did Chloe. Yet, here she is, the happiest she’s ever been, and she’s got the feeling it’s just starting. 

“Me, too.” 

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

So I finished watching Yakuza 7: Like A Dragon. Spoilers under the cut. 

(Mainly positive take, some criticisms. C+/B I’d give it.)

So, first of all, I didn’t play it, I just watched people on youtube so my perspective of gameplay should be taken with a grain of salt. But I really liked the turn taking fighting style! Like a real JRPG, I thought it was fun, it seemed fun anyway, and the strategies to JRPG make more intuitive sense to me than fighting games, which I don’t know at all. I did end up missing the hand-to-hand combat like... aesthetically and it kinda breaks universe rules a little. But, like, Ichiban seeing combat as a sort of heightened fantasy reality actually helps with that and the plot still treats us like average combatants. Like, there’s still no murder, despite a lot more weapon use, including guns. So... it’s a little sad and weird universe-wise, but seems fun to play. 

Ichiban is a great protag! Definitely not Kiryu! He has two dads, like 8 spouses, a lot of hair... He’s only 7 years younger than Kiryu and that’s... that’s a choice ^^; But he’s got a lot of good things going for him and I like his build. Interesting rage-grief he has going and a thing about revenge that Kiryu never had. And I like that actually, I like that Ichiban gets hit with different things than Kiryu did, but he still has flaws. Kiryu was never blind with rage the way Ichi got, but then, Kiryu also didn’t save his brother. Like, they have VERY different shit going on, which is GOOD. So I’m kinda annoyed that in the end we took Ichi’s dad and brother, just like Kiryu’s? Like... damn :/ Lame. Lazy. 

I love Ichi’s team! I love Adachi, Nanba, Saeko, Joon-gi, Zhao. Top notch peeps! I like that they all just like him and are here for a fun adventure with him. They’re all here for something different, which is also really cool. Zhao is sort of redefining who he is in... retirement I guess? Trying out being a companion rather than a leader. Saeko is longing for family, connection, a place to belong. Adachi was here to accomplish a goal, to restore his honor and provide justice. And Ichi’s been a big help to that. Joon-gi is... a whore. I’m sorry! He’s just this beautiful, obedient man who’s just here on lend and he does whatever the fuck you say. Do not put him in charge of decisions, he’s terrible at them, but he knows a lot and has a vast network. But he appears just to be here to serve everyone’s needs, so to speak, and to moon after Ichiban like everyone else. And Nanba. Nanba hates adventures. He hates germs. He hates people and friends and danger and doing things. But he’s here. Because Ichi makes him hate things a little less. Nanba is a cynical, cowardly bastard, and Ichi’s a fucking sunshiney idiot always trying to fix shit that isn’t his problem. And he makes Nanba get up and fight. He makes Nanba believe in tomorrow. Nanba doesn’t trust people, Nanba doesn’t hope. He’s a pessimist and lives only to complain. But he is first in line to get shot for Ichiban every fucking time. He’s always the first to Ichiban’s side when he’s in trouble. Leaving and betraying Ichiban broke his fucking heart and my ship is probably showing A LOT here but I don’t care. I fucking love Nanba, I love his arc, I did NOT see it coming. And they are definitely my ship out of this. The fact that Nanba without fail is always the first to put himself in danger for Ichiban guts me. With how much he doesn’t believe in good things ever happening, it destroys me that he’ll dare it all for Ichiban. Fucking wild. 

I thought it was cool to bring up a political villain, but... we didn’t really carry through on Bleach Japan’s thematic importance. We revealed them to be cruel and hypocritical, but we didn’t end up actually saving the slums or proving why the slums needed to be saved and that’s... kinda lame :/ 

I was really hoping that we might make a stand on why grey spaces were needed, on why organizations like the yakuza are needed but instead we... disbanded? And I don’t even know why? 

Like, it was to fuck over Ryo Aoki. But... he was a TEMPORARY problem. All you had to do was move the organizations underground until he was unseated, which the Tojo already was??? 

But instead... we brought down Tojo and Omi and... WHY?! Like, SERIOUSLY, can ANYONE tell me WHY! Because I have a LOT OF FEELINGS about why that’s a BAD CALL.

What are all those guys going to do now? “Oh, we’ll just make a security company” YOU’LL WHAT?! THOUSANDS of guys used to shake downs will now be hired to patrol rich estates and cover banks and business buildings?! Fighting WHO, themselves?! A LOT of that job is just watching some fucking cameras, what... what the fuck are you talking about Watase?! 

But I guess that’s still better than Daigo’s “I have no fucking idea” plan

NO WONDER Majima’s depressed at that funeral you JUST TOLD HIM his new job is BABYSITTING SOME RICH FUCK’S BUILDING. Fuck you guys! 

And HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING ABOUT POWER VACUUMS?! CRIME doesn’t disappear just because there’s no one there to manage it! That just means it gets worse! And rasher, crueler people grab power in the interim. Smaller but rougher groups will appear. More and worse crimes will happen now. You just disenfranchised thousands, not all of them are going to come with you to play security detail and not all of them WANT to. So why EXACTLY did we disband the yakuza? What problems did that solve??? 

What about all that shit about the yakuza being a home for people who didn’t fit in? What about people who fell through the cracks in the system, who don’t have anywhere else to go? 

If the yakuza, as an idea, was so fucking bad, WHAT WERE THE LAST SIX GAMES ABOUT?!

You can’t have an established series that accepts the idea that crime and violence are sometimes necessary or are even good things and have a compelling protag who does that, ONLY to turn around at the last second and pretend like it was always wrong!

If you were gonna act like the idea of organized crime is a Bad Thing, THEN THAT NEEDED TO BE A CONFLICT FROM THE BEGINNING

But you didn’t even do that!

We DIDN’T disband the yakuza because organized crime is inherently morally corrupt, no we disbanded because some prick thought he could use us! A PRICK WHO IS NOW DEAD! THE FUCK?! 

And DON’T GET ME STARTED on how this reframes Kiryu’s narrative. KIRYU WASN’T RIGHT FOR LEAVING YOU FUCKING BASTARDS. 

THE WHOLE POINT OF KIRYU’S ARC WAS THAT HE WAS FUCKING WRONG TO ABANDON HIS RELATIONSHIPS I- *screams into pillow*

AND why does Kiryu need to be dead now?! There is no more yakuza! Who does he need to hide from?! 

OH no wait, my mistake! We didn’t disband ALL the yakuza, just Omi and Tojo! You know, the two biggest cities in Japan. I’m sure THAT won’t have Fucking Consequences. But Kiryu still has to be dead for uh... Reasons.

This was just such a fucking dumb universe-building move. It’s not been thought through, it betrays the whole point of the franchise up until now, and I’m honestly just mad that they didn’t even feel the need to address it? Like, the yakuza’s just gone now, but it’s whatever. Who would even care about that. Like, that’s not going to be a plot point next game. It won’t matter, at all, I promise you. All of the in-universe implications this has, none of it matters. And I’m not even mad I’m just... tired. And annoyed a little. that you can’t be bothered to tie up your own rules. You won’t give your own writing decisions weight and that’s just... kinda sad. It’s just lazy and sad that they don’t care enough to connect the pieces. But I’ve had my heart broken enough by yakuza writing decisions. Of course they would do this, of course they haven’t thought enough about their own series to really consider what ending the yakuza would mean. Why would they? 

I’ll still watch the next game. Like, Ichiban is likeable enough and I’m interested in his arc enough that I’d play or watch next time. But... *sigh* We’re the Yakuza series with no yakuza. And y’all gonna act like that’s a good thing or pretend it doesn’t even matter. And I really don’t know what to do with that since you haven’t bothered to examine it either. 

On a nice Kiryu note, I did like that he was scaled appropriately, I like that Ichiban is Wiped Out after almost every fight. He’s a good fighter, but he has human endurance. Kiryu’s still god. He hits the hardest out of anyone you fight and you Don’t win and that’s As It Should Be. I’m REALLY glad they at least let me have that. I’m glad they let us fight Kiryu and we passed and it was a cool passing of the torch. I was so worried they were going to destroy Kiryu’s legacy and at least they didn’t do that. 

The coin locker baby thing... it was cliche and convenient, but in the way that Yakuza is cliche and convenient and melodramatic and over the top. It was sort of fitting and familiar that way. Shame we ended Swashiro like that, I think we could have done more and cooler shit with him but, eh. 

SPEAKING OF MORE AND COOLER SHIT

...all that effort, just to kill him? Alllllll that long time, that hard conversation, that break down with Ichiban... just to kill him. Just to make him Nishiki, all over again. 

I... fuck you. 

Why do you refuse to write a goddamn redemption arc

Fuck, you don’t even have to write it, have it happen off-screen if you’re so fucking afraid of it. Just have him recuperate in a goddamn hospital and, I don’t know, by next game just show that he’s doing better and is getting therapy and whatever.

Jesus fucking christ, he doesn’t have to MATTER in the next game just... don’t kill him. Jesus. Please.

All that fucking work and you’re STILL going to give Ichiban the trauma of losing someone he was trying to save. 

I just... it’s really gutting how much you don’t like your characters and you don’t like to write and you’re cowards. You won’t take risks. You’re too afraid of fucking up so you won’t do what the narrative calls for. 

Killing Masato was lazy-ass, punk-ass, coward shit and I wont’ stand for it. I did not expect to care about his ass by the end but you guys REALLY made an effort in making him a three dimensional character there at the end and explaining why Ichi would care about him and I was willing to come with you! I was willing for us to invest in this dumbass. We walk him all the way up to the edge and step him back. We let him let go. And then you just. fucking. gave up. You goddamn cowards.

I’m so tired of this shit

For all that, it was genuinely a really fun game and a really fun story with a lot of likeable characters. I think a solid C+, even a B. I really did enjoy most of it. It’s just... in usual Yakuza style, they only fucked up 2 things but they were a REALLY IMPORTANT 2 things. 

Oh and I did like the fact that Ichiban Still Doesn’t Know. No one tell him.

[mostweakhamlets]

Untitled Sheep Project: Vegan Cheese and Wine

CW for mature, semi-explicit beginning. Nothing is described in detail, nothing is actually sexy, but stuff is happening. 

This is an original story in project I’m working on. I’d love to hear any feedback or if anyone enjoys it! It was posted initially on my patreon where I’m gradually building this project up! 

“We’re going to be late.”

“I know, my darling, but it ruins the mood when you keep saying it, and that’s just going to make us even more late.”

Cherry Bomb knew that when she focused too hard on maintaining her arousal, it made the whole situation that much less sexy. Once she felt herself start to lose it, she couldn’t force herself back into the proper mindset. She had to think about what was sexy about looking down at her bored partner propped up on pillows, doing the bare minimum to help her out.

And then her thoughts wandered to what she had to do after: laundry, shopping, meeting a client. In this case, she thought about how she had to shave her legs and how she should really try to put on a little makeup. Then, she thought about what her newest step-sister would look like, and while she had no hard feelings about the woman, she did feel a sense of competition whenever they were going to be in the same room.

She thought about Peggy’s usual well-lined lipstick and neat eye shadow. She owned expensive, luxury brand makeup from across the globe while Cherry Bomb bought most of her makeup at Boots and let it expire in her bathroom before she managed to use even half of it. If she were lucky, her mascara wouldn’t be dried up and clumpy yet.

“Fuck it.”

They lost it.

She climbed off and crawled off the side of the bed, picking her panties off the floor and pulling them back on for the walk to the bathroom. Richard lifted his hands in defeat and threw the sheets off himself.

“I’m glad we wasted our time with that,” he said.

“Don’t start with any of that,” Cherry Bomb mumbled. “Let’s just get ready.”

And half an hour later, when she heard the unmistakable sound of him jerking off in the shower as she left the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she said nothing.

—

Vegan cheese turned out to taste not much different than dairy cheese, but it was just different enough for Cherry Bomb. She sipped her Spanish rosado wine to wash away the taste of the fake ricotta, and then scraped her tongue on her back teeth to get the coating of sweetness off.

Perhaps if she had been to an actual cheese and wine tasting before, she would know what to compare the vegan option to. Perhaps if she had a more refined palette, she would be able to make better conversation about it.

Her father, meanwhile, spoke about his latest research with the colleagues they had met. They droned on about studies and their results and gave little teasers about what they were going to present.

“You know,” Richard said, keeping his voice low. “The bar has other drinks.”

Cherry Bomb looked over at the bar that stretched across the back corner of the room, partially hidden by the crowd. Servers were leaving with trays of wine and individual people were gathering for hard liquor breaks. She waited for a lull in discussion.

“We’re going to step out for a smoke,” she said.

“Neither of you smoke,” her father said.

“We’re hoping that someone out there might peer-pressure us into it.”

She grabbed Richard’s wrist and pulled him away as he explained that they were just looking for fresh air after their many glasses of wine.

With her generous glass of whiskey and his generous glass of tequila, they stepped outside onto the empty patio. Groups hovered around the garden, smoking and making conversation. Maybe even gossiping about those around them.

Cherry Bomb took a moment to admire Richard. He was in a jumper she insisted he wear because the dark red looked so nice against his complexion and hair. That and she believed that a pale top would be a bad idea for a wine tasting—just in case of accidents. She reached up to re-tuck his white collar into his jumper.

“Can we talk about earlier?” he asked.

Cherry Bomb shrugged and took a sip of her drink. The stinging oakiness to it was a welcomed change from the sweetness of the wines that still clung to her tongue. The flavors did mix horrifically for a moment, but the next sip was that of strong liquor only.

“What should we talk about?” she asked.

“I think it might be time we talk to someone—”

Cherry Bomb cringed. Sex therapy was never something she wanted. She had always associated it with other people—people who had run out of options and were unable to communicate anymore. They were the people her father studied and wrote books and essays on. They were the fake names that appeared in studies next to stories about their failing marriages and deep parental issues.

“I don’t think it’s come to that just yet,” she said. “I don’t want to waste anyone’s time when there’s people who genuinely need that help. Besides, what are they going to tell us that we haven’t read on our own?”

“A lot.”

“I don’t think we need to resort to a therapist.”

“We’ve been having problems for nearly a year,” Richard whispered. “And it is multiple problems at this point. I’m keeping a list.”

“Then, let’s wait until it’s been a full year, okay? If February comes, and we’re still having problems, then I promise you that we can start looking for people. I’ll ask my dad if anyone he knows is taking new patients.”

“And that’s another thing we need to talk about. I don’t want your father involved in our sex life. If we do it, I don’t want him to know.”

“That’s reasonable, and I will respect your boundaries. We can Google it like other people.”

Richard smiled down at her. He looked far too sweet to deny anything. She wanted to cup his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss on the forehead, but she refrained.

Cherry Bomb watched the people around them. They all looked very posh with swanky dresses and suits and jewelry. But they also all looked the same, obsessed with being perceived as successful and upper class but not wanting to go too far as to look as if they were bragging. Though they definitely were bragging. The dress codes of the upper-middle class were all about being just relatable enough to people below them while also signaling to those above them that they had taste and money to spend as well. It was a balancing act in a circus of classism.  

Cherry Bomb counted only a few women without dyed-brunette, chemically straightened up-dos and two men in blue suits that they were trying so hard to look casual in. They swung their drinks around and pursed their lips and rolled their eyes.

It was who her father had become. Obsessed with appearing not out-of-touch but then flipping a switch once he safely could complain about how much he lost to taxes that year and how his gardener did a poor job planting new bushes.

The patio door swung open. Cherry Bomb looked over her shoulder to see Peggy scan the room before spotting them. Cherry Bomb swallowed the rest of her drink, clearing her throat after.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to get away.” Peggy walked to their side. She smiled at Cherry Bomb. “Your father is a brilliant man, but I cannot, for the life of me, follow what they’re talking about.”

Her eyeliner was perfect. It was a nostalgic style—something that would have fit in in the 1990s and went around her entire eye—and it fit her well. Just like her lipstick and foundation and dress. She wasn’t attractive in the conventional way. Her nose was a bit wide, and her face was more square than most women would have liked theirs to be. But that made her all the more attractive, Cherry Bomb thought. It made her unique, and she seemed to know it judging by how she held herself with so much confidence.

Or maybe she believed that she didn’t need to be attractive. That for her, looks were truly superficial and she had found happiness in her work and personality and social life and it had all reflected back out to give her a clear complexion and a few beautiful, silver wisps of hair.

“Imagine being raised by him,” Cherry Bomb said. “My bedtime stories were about debunking the Oedipus complex—he wanted to start me off with the Introduction to Psych basics.”

Peggy laughed. Cherry Bomb laughed, too, only because the liquor and wine she had had were all catching up to her and making her head float above her shoulders. Laughing made sense to her. Richard pressed his hand into her waist, and it felt distant.

“I’m leaving in a few minutes,” Peggy continued. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Cherry Bomb leaned in for a half-hug and a cheek kiss she would never give anyone else.

Richard leaned in for an awkward hug. Peggy wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight, though it wasn’t reciprocated in the slightest. She hummed as she pulled away and smiled up at him, letting her hands rest on his shoulders.

Maybe Peggy wasn’t that great.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” she said.

She walked off the patio and back into the event room. Her heels clicked the entire way.

“That was a bit weird, wasn’t it?” Richard asked. “I didn’t imagine that?”

“No. No, it was weird.”

They looked through the glass doors, eyes on Peggy until she completely disappeared in the crowd. Maybe Cherry Bomb would keep her distance next time they met. Surely, Peggy would catch the hint.

“Do you want to leave and get chips?” Richard asked.

“Fuck, yes. Please.”

[deannastrois]

to the end of the decade

I started this decade out…not great. And straight. I’m ending this decade maybe not perfect but accepting that I need to get better and working on it through therapy and drugs. And bi. So I’d say that’s at least something of a step up despite that I’ve had bad depressive episodes this year alone.

I also started this decade being a shadow in fandom, a lurker with nothing to say and not making friends. I’m ending it on a completely different note having actually begun creating and writing and having people on this site I’m more grateful for than anything. (and I’ll put my thanks to specific people under the cut cause I am nothing is not a weak, soft bitch at heart)

To all mutuals, thank you really for sticking around. I know I’m not the easiest to get along with and I hope to talk to some of you more at some point. I’m just so bad at it but <33333

@lembeau, I know things have been weird this year and that’s on me but at the end of the day you are always my forever girl and original otp. I don’t know how I would have gotten through some of the years without you, you’ve been my (salt)rock and best friend and everything in between. I hope things go well for you in the coming decade and know that I’ll always have your back and be immensely proud of what you’ve accomplished. I love you more than Eliza loves Goliath and in every universe the Middleman could ever give us.

@xsarahx, you were the very first person I started talking to and befriended on this site, even pre-musketeers days which is more of a throwback. We’ve come a long way from the Andrew Lee Potter days and I am always glad to talk to you about anything, including, of course, how comics have fucked up so badly these days. I’m with you till the end of the line, babe.

@sidewaystime, okay this one time I’m not gonna go with the red vs blue joke with your name I promise. Even if in my head I definitely am. Thank you for standing by all these years and I disastered my way through a career in computers, I’ll always appreciate someone knowing my absolute pain when it comes to users. Beyond that you’ve always got the best ideas for fandom aus and I love to hear them, especially if they’re old 90s fandoms. (and Canadian)

@sweetlyfez, remember back in the day when I was figuring out I was bi and it was all Constance’s fault? Well thank you for standing beside me as I figured that all out. And then laughing about it later because okay let’s be real, it is amusing in hindsight. You encouraged (and sometimes goaded) me on to writing femslash and I’ll never forget that.

@fonapola, we’ve come a long way from the musketeer-ing days. Who’d have thought our love our rare pairs would take us here but I’m glad we got there. Thank you for always letting me ramble on about those ideas and your own amazing ideas and fics and vids and everything when it came to that. You let a small thing grow large and kept the excitement going. Maybe one day we really will write our own thing together and have a shared world of sci fi and magic and someone clearly ready to be played by Howard Charles…Here’s hoping there’s more games I can drag you into it because I cannot wait.

@biportamis, oh Hannah I’d say I’m sorry for the million and one spams this year but that’s a lie and I’m not and if you’re gonna make me have musketeers feelings in 2019 then I’m gonna make you cry over Hawke. It’s equality. Jokes aside though I’m glad we always have those and holy shit you wrote a book!! Remember that?? That’s wild and I’m so proud of you for it, I can’t wait to see what you do this next decade.

@vulpyx, I am eternally grateful we got to talking and sharing fandom things, you’ve always been fun to talk to and I look forward to every pokemon game so we can make jokes about it and just be excited over it. And books! We need more good books, I hope that next Kyoshi one is gonna be good. I’m also really thankful that you’ve understood my anxiety and I wish I could help you with your own but know that I’m always here if you want to talk or need a distraction. <3

@waverly-earp, we have been through a lot of fandom madness together. Starting with AoS way back in the day and it just kept going. You’ve been a wonder through it all and an inspiration to make better gifs that look half as good as your beautiful edits. I love everything you create and wish this site wasn’t so terribly broken that it missed out on a good chunk of that stuff, but I hope you don’t stop because they always look so good. See you in the next decade with probably a dozen other fandom things to complain about (sorry not sorry)

@amandatapping, wild how quickly we bonded when it came to star trek but I’ll never regret that, the crazy things and injokes we ended up coming up with still make me laugh and you are the only person (aside from those femslash events) I’ll make ENT gifs for. Sorry I don’t love it like you do but I’m always willing to hear about how much you love it because it’s important to you and you’re important to me. #legged, baby!

@girlonthelasttrain, has it really only been two years since we started talking because it feels like we’ve been sharing memes forever. I’d say I’m sorry for spamming you with them but let’s be real, I’m not and it’s what Tidus would want. Truly a millennial icon. But really thank you so much for being around these past few years, I appreciate it every time you let me go on about my latest worries and panics and hyperfixations. I hope we get to share even more terrible memes over the next decade and I love you more than 13x7.

@alluringcliche, it’s been a while since the AoS days which really feels like it was already a decade ago but regardless I’m glad those days made us friends. Thank you for supporting me when I needed it and being there, I hope I could do the same when you needed it. I’m always down to talk about whedon shows even if joss has disappointed us terribly and this is our city now. All the best for the new year/decade and I hope to keep up more.

@dragoncharming, I was gonna call you my fandom backup but then that doesn’t feel like the right term but I also can’t think of the term to use when you’re always the person I count on to know if I’d love/hate something. You’re my guiding star for fandom, knowing where to steer me and what to steer me away from and I love you for it. I hope we get to play dnd together soon because that would be so exciting and thank you for everything.

@boydetective, oof I need to get better at texting more because I feel like I fell off the map this year and I’m sorry. I love getting to talk to you about small fandom-y things and sharing the wildness of KH and BNHA (aaaand I need to catch up again) and thank you for just rolling with it as I appear and disappear and I’m sorry about that. I’ll try to do better next decade.

@vulpixelates, thank you so much for letting me join a dnd group, it’s been a lot of fun and I am looking forward to meeting more of your characters in one shots and later on. And thanks for letting me ramble on about a million things and have Bi Panic about fifty times a year because that’s very real and I am very bad with it.

@adhd-athena, you know how next decade is starting with the KH DLC and it’s like…finally…some answers…. Well I bet we spend the next decade with just more questions and by the end of it we’ll finally have KH4. And even more questions. Regardless I’m looking forward to speculating all about that and DSC and other things with you, sorry for all the spams about those in advance I’m sure. Thank you for always listening <3

@malarkiness, I’m tempted to stick a picture of troi in here because that’s usually what I send to you and I have no regrets. Okay that’s a lie, I send you other things and I’m grateful I can always send you the most random things or rambling things and you just roll with it and amazingly haven’t blocked me yet. I hope we get to talk more about KH and FF and holy shit the remake is so close but it’s only like ¼ of it and Nomura what are you doing. (no one knows, not even him) All my love for you and the next decade of SquareEnix confusion.

@twilightacespect, it’s funny to think that I didn’t know you on this site until only about three years ago because it feels like we’ve always had this friendship. And by this friendship I mean you sending me cowboy things and me being haunted by them. Thanks beks. Okay okay, I love you a lot despite the cowboys. We’ve shared a lot of stuff and you’ve let me go on about a lot of fandom things and I’m sorry for the million and one spams over it when I hyperfixate on something we share. Except I’m not and suffer with me.

@organasoloskywalker, this year has been hard and I’ve said it a dozen times before but I wish I could be there with you. I’m always here for you though and I love you so much. Thanks for always being around to watch things with me and dragging into PGSM hell (“it’s a musical, you like those!” LIES LEXI, IT WAS PAIN) and a dozen other things. I hope we get to see each other sometime in the future and do a TAZ show or something but I’ll always be the voice on the other end of the line texting you pictures of my cat and loving Wedge Antilles. (and you) Also you know see you tonight for Fantasy High watching. <3

[triptychexe]

who you ship in triptych says a lot about you...

long ass post ahead where i either drag or validate all possible generation 1 ships. 

if you ship: nia x eli you: probably watch stepbro x stepsis porn. the fact that nia and eli have actually expressed how they see each other as siblings and are extremely uncomfortable with being shipped together says a lot. no one's saying you can't ship, but please.... don't bring it up to either eli or nia.

if you ship: nia x van you: can't tell the difference between a healthy relationship involving two people of the opposite sex and a romantic one. seriously... this ship is WEIRD.

if you ship: nia x cal you: ... might be on to something actually. like they don't really have many interactions and they definately aren't as close as the other members are but... if they were to get together... that'd be kinda interesting.

if you ship: nia x asa you: don't have the WORST taste, but if you ship asa with anyone other than yen, teo, or eli, be prepared to get absolutely slaughtered.

if you ship: nia x ura you: have taste. emmaculate, actually. the way that they subtly show how much they appreciate each other and how they interact so gently but meaningfully.... could be beautiful if they weren't so close.

if you ship: nia x zim you: are a basic bitch. everyone ships this. it's one of the biggest ships. it's still a good ship, but it's overdone.

if you ship: nia x yen you: probably sexualize lesbians TO THE MAX. the only reason why people started shipping them was because they mentioned in an interview how they went through a rough patch during debut era and now everyone writes smut about them hate-fucking smsdjfghs

if you ship: nia x teo you: probably only ship it platonically. we all know that they have a very sibling-like relationship. it's a wholesome ship if done correctly.

if you ship: zim x eli you: hm... actually.. it's not that bad. they definitely are bros, but they would be cute together if they weren't in the friendzone. i bet you keep this ship secret tho.

if you ship: zim x teo you: probably ship this platonically. they are literally best friends! they are so cute! everyone wants a friendship like this!

if you ship: zim x asa you: are a crack addict. this is just a weird ship. they are just... too bro with each other... the fact that zim has literally referred to asa as her "brother from another mother" has turned most people off from this ship. you have problems.

if you ship: zim x yen you: probably only stan girl groups including the female triptych units. you also probably are a wlw or apart of the lgbt+ community. we salute you soldier.

if you ship: zim x van you: are a weirdo UNLESS you ship it platonically, then you're an angel. zim and van have a really cute friendship and we don't need WEIRDOS like you to ruin that.

if you ship: zim x cal you: are good at making something out of nothing. zim and cal literally have no public content of them together. there's like 1 selca taken on zim's iphone 4s back in 2014. sometimes they'll be in the same frame together if you squint. you are literally eating crumbs.

if you ship: zim x ura you: are good at reading people. the way ura feels so comfortable around zim is super heartwarming and you KNOW ura isn't like that with anyone, which means what zim and ura have must be special.

if you ship: yen x eli you: hate asayen shippers. you tried to one-up them with this crackship, but its honestly just not working out. yen and eli don't have a whole lot of public content. keep reaching tho.

if you ship: yen x teo you: probably think someone likes you if they complimented you once. teo and yen are on good terms and clearly they enjoy each other's presence, but c'mon... there's literally nothing there.

if you ship: yen x asa you: are a DETECTIVE. people have been analyzing asa and yens relationship since the dawn of time and you are probably no exception. asayen moments compliations are in your 'watch later' playlist on youtube. we been knew sis.

if you ship: yen x van you: think ketchup is spicy. all these van x female member ships are so weird, especially when van has hinted that he doesn’t want anyone sexualizing his friendship with the female members. yen and van have a good relationship, but it's obvious they are just friends. open ya eyes.

if you ship: yen x cal you: have been fighting asayen shippers since day ONE. you know that cal and yen are close, but how close are they really? you probably love conspiracy videos. you also can't be wrong about anything.

if you ship: yen x ura you: have the best fic recommendations. probably own an ao3 account. yen and ura together would be absolutely powerful. y'all aren't loud either, despite it being a pretty popular ship. arguably one of the best ships.

if you ship: eli x teo you: are a veteran. eli and teo have been shipped since the dawn of time. i bet you used to stay up late just so you could watch go getters on youtube right when it dropped. good times.

if you ship: eli x asa you: are a veteran, but a boomer. you probably sexualize the fuck out of this beautiful friendship. we all know you're a gay fetishizer, we're just waiting on you to say it with your chest.

if you ship: eli x ura you: deserve jail time. i'm not even going to talk about this anymore. literally gagging.

if you ship: eli x cal you: are constantly fighting other people who ship this. please stop asking who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon because y'all KNOW they are both the little spoon.

if you ship: eli x van you: used to ship eli x asa but then realized that there are better things out there... like eli x van. a really cute relationship and eli himself has even admitted that he'd date van. you aren't THAT delusional. only a little.

if you ship: asa x van you: read one teacher x student fanfiction featuring these two and decided you vibed with it. i mean... they just don't really seem relationship compatible? like as friends, yeah, they're great... as lovers?? imma have to pass.

if you ship: asa x cal you: are probably chaotic evil. why would you want the two most chaotic people in this whole fucking group to get together?? what's going on at home??? is everything okay???

if you ship: asa x ura you: just won a free trip to therapy.

if you ship: teo x van you: probably have them married on the sims. you love the idea of them being domestic and cute together. you have great taste.

if you ship: teo x cal you: believe in magic. teo and cal are so awkward around each other. notice how cal still uses honorifics with teo, but he's stopped using them with the other older members? hm. interesting. better get those eyes checked.

if you ship: teo x ura you: have daddy issues that you never sought help for and now you're projecting it onto two innocent people. leave them alone. they HAVE A BROTHER/SISTER RELATIONSHIP!!!!!! IT’S ONE STEP AWAY FROM BEING INCEST!!!! GROSS!!!!! 

if you ship: van x ura you: are currently behind bars! congratulations! rot! van protects ura from people like you. both of them are uncomfortable with being shipped. leave. them. alone.

if you ship: van x cal you: are the pure friend in the friend group. no one's gonna invalidate your ship honey. keep your head up.

if you ship: cal x ura you: only ship it platonically and probably are living vicariously through cal and ura to help you get over a toxic friendship. oops, was that too personal? anyways, you are valid. just don't ship it romantically and you'll still have possession of your human rights card.

[asoulofstars]

The title of this is currently TBD, as I’ve yet to think of a witty title. Witty title will probably come from @niceofthenine‘s Artemis saying something fun in teasing Riona & Sawyer later. 

This is Part 1 of my Riona/Sawyer fake married AU that I absolutely fucking adore. This is all pre-crash, we’ll get to on Island stuff starting in Part 2.

           Riona frowned as a bar fight broke out. It was her last night in Sydney, and they’d just finished the conference, and she wanted to celebrate. But when the cops quickly arrived, they all arrested one man, and it was not the man who started it. Riona knew that the FBI had zero sway in Sydney, Australia, but she knew that self-defense was not a reason to get arrested. So, she followed them to the police station, even as the others from her group asked her where she was going.

           “Excuse me!” she called. “I was a witness to my husband’s bar fight!”

           “Husband? Where were you when he was throwing punches?” the officer asked.

           “I was on my way back from the restroom and passed some of my colleagues. I was part of the forensic science conference happening this week. And, I’ll have you know, my husband did not throw the first punch.”

           “Princess, they don’ seem to care,” he drawled. “Jus’ head back to the hotel.”

           “He is staying the night with us, Ma’am. If you would like to leave your hotel number, we will call you when we have decided to release him.” The officer handed her a notepad.

           She put her name and number down, and she frowned. “Is this how self-defense gets handled in Australia? The FBI handles things better than this.”

           “FBI? You’re FBI?” The officer snorted. “Come on, Ford. Let’s move.”

           Riona watched as the officer led the man away, and she sighed. Nothing left to do tonight, so she went back to her hotel. She packed everything up except for what she would need in the morning, and she went to sleep.

~*~

           “Mrs. Ford?” The same voice that had dismissed her last night was on the phone. “You can come pick your husband up. He’s leaving the country today, so apologies if you had another ticket.”

           “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Riona threw the suitcases into the rental, and she headed down to the police station.

~*~

           “Are you okay, Cowboy?” she asked, hands going to his face to check for fractures from his fight last night.

           “Yeah, Princess. Jus’ fine.” He flashed her a small smile.

           She blinked at his dimples, and she flushed. His small smile grew into a smirk, and she rolled her eyes.

           “James Ford, don’t come back.” The officer looked at Riona. “Keep him out of trouble.”

           Riona snorted. “Sure,” she replied. “Come on, Cowboy.” She wrapped her arm around his, and she tugged him out the door.

           “Well, you’re quick on your feet,” he said when they were out on the street.

           “You shouldn’t have been arrested for self-defense,” she replied.

           “Apparently the other guy is some prime minister of somethin’. They were not thrilled.” He huffed and waved his hands. “Guess I should get my stuff. Got a flight to catch.”

           “So do I; Oceanic 815. I can drive you.”

           “Since I’m apparently on the same plane, I’ll take you up on that.” He climbed into the passenger seat of her rental.

           Riona drove to his hotel, and she followed him to his room. He threw a couple things into his suitcases, and then he shouldered a bag.

           “Ready to get to the airport, Honey?” he asked with a playful grin, dimples flashing at her again.

           Riona snorted, even as his dimples again threw her off guard enough for her to not respond to his lack of actual packing. “I think I like Princess better.” She walked back to the rental car.

           “Good to know,” he replied.

           Riona couldn’t help but smile. This man was something.

           “What?” he asked.

           “I just don’t understand you. You’re minimalistic; you’re belligerent, but you don’t fight until you have to. You’re…very flirty.” She glanced over at him.

           “Well, you’re very attractive, and you’re the one who said we were married.” He chuckled. “I travel a lot; it’s easier for me to just have everythin’ packed up and ready.” He shrugged.

           “You are…very flattering.” She flushed. “And law enforcement is similar pretty much everywhere. They’re not going to tell a random stranger anything. Wife, on the other hand, they’ll give leeway to.”

           He chuckled. “So, Princess. What’s your name?”

           “Riona Gallagher,” she replied. “I’m going to go ahead and assume that you don’t use your real name, because you didn’t seem thrilled that the officer used it.”

           “I go by Sawyer,” he replied.

           Riona could tell that there was a story in his name situation, but she decided to let it pass.

           “Do you really work for the FBI?” he asked.

           Riona grinned. “Forensic specialist,” she replied. “I’m a lab rat, and even if the FBI had any kind of jurisdiction here in Sydney, if they’d actually responded to the FBI thing, they wouldn’t have given me much more once they found out I wasn’t a real agent.”

           He snorted. “Well, Princess, you’re also just not that intimidating. But I’m sure you do a hell of a good job.”

           She glanced over at him. “I can be very intimidating, thank you very much. You’d be surprised at the amount of times I’ve moved the biggest FBI agents just with my voice.”

           She could hear his grin despite her eyes being focused on the road.

           “Mmm. Good to know.”

           Riona couldn’t help the smug smile in response, and she glanced at him again quickly. She chewed her bottom lip and tilted her head. There was something familiar about him, both in the nagging sense that she knew him from somewhere but also in their ease. She was comfortable with him, and she enjoyed talking to him.

           “What?” he asked.

           “We haven’t met before, have we?” she replied.

           “I think I would remember you, Princess. Why do you ask?” He turned in his seat.

           “This is just too easy. I mean, I like talking to people, but I’m always overthinking something. I don’t feel like that with you.” She shrugged a shoulder at him.

           “I mean, awkward went out the window when our first conversation was in a police station after a bar fight,” he replied.

           She made a small noise of agreement with her throat. “I just feel like I know you from somewhere. But Los Angeles is huge, so maybe it’s just my brain being weird.”

           “You don’ happen to live in Park Wilshire, do you?”

           “I do, actually. 1G.” She made a turn and eyed him as they came up to a stop sign.

           “2F,” he replied. “I’ve only been there for a couple months; I did a month-by-month lease, because I travel a lot.”

           “So you mentioned back at your hotel. What exactly do you do?” she asked.

           “Little bit of everythin’,” he replied. “I like havin’ options. I don’ wanna settle down an’ miss out on opportunities.”

           Riona eyed him out of the corner of her eye, lips pressed together. She knew that was a partial truth at best. “Alright.”

           “What’s that mean?” he asked.

           “It means that there’s definitely more to that story, but just because I will tell someone pretty much my whole life story when we met last night, doesn’t mean that other people will expand upon things, so alright.”

           Therapy helped her in some social interactions. She learned to recognize the cues that meant not to ask for the same amount of information that she might give. She still wasn’t great about her oversharing, but that was a different story.

           Sawyer let out a breath through his nose. “Fair enough. Thanks for that.”

           “You’re welcome,” she replied. “How about a totally innocent question?” she asked.

           “Shoot,” he said.

           “What’s your favorite color?” she asked, grinning at him as she came to another stop sign.

           “Green,” he replied. “Yours is purple, right?” He gestured at her outfit.

           “That’d be correct.”

           “How ‘bout your favorite song?” he asked.

           “Oh, that song that just came out a few weeks ago. Mr. Brightside by The Killers.” Riona’s eyes lit up. “God, I wish that song existed when I was in college. Perfect stage dance song.”

           “Stage dance?” Sawyer asked.

           Riona flushed. “I was a stripper to pay for school. Sometimes I miss it; it was a really fun experience, and it taught me a lot about myself. But those late nights killed me.”

           “Still got those moves, Princess?” He smirked at her.

           “Yes, I do,” she replied. “Not that you need to know that.”

           “Maybe not. But husband-me must be a lucky man.” His dimples were prominent on his face.

           “Maybe he is when wife-me feels like putting on a show.” She shook her head at him. “And we are here!” she exclaimed as the airport came into view.

           “Finally,” he said. “Been here too damn long. I am ready to say sayonara.”

           “It’ll be good to go home,” Riona agreed. “I miss my cat.”

           He snorted. “Your cat?” he asked.

           “My beautiful baby, Freyja. She’s a Norwegian Forest Cat, and I picked her out from the shelter. She’s my best friend.” Riona paused and chewed her lip. “Well, best friend besides Aislinn, but Aislinn lives out in Massachusetts. She has a cottage and a huge garden and a couple horses, and she is pretty much my sister.”

           “Sounds like a good best friend,” he said.

           “The best,” Riona replied. “You have pets or friends?” she asked.

           “You count as a friend, right?” he answered.

           Riona flushed, chewed her lip, and stole a glance at him as she parked. “I mean, yes, but…just me?”

           He gave a vague shrug. “I don’ really do the whole friendship thing. Don’ stay places long enough to make meaningful connections. But…you helped me out, an’ I know you a bit better than I’ve known anyone in a long time, so…yeah. You’re a friend.”

           She didn’t have time to respond as he got out of the car, shouldering his own bag and taking her luggage with ease. She didn’t bother to question him, instead wrapping her arm around his and leaning into him as they walked towards the gate to wait.