#time. and it’s like.. at any given moment i am about 30-40% convinced that the things that are happening to me aren’t actually real or that

[pepprs]

i guess im starting a tradition of double ventposting lol but the last thing i’llsay (maybe) is like… all of that has a caveat which is that my emotional object permanence has been absolutely OBLITERATED by 3 yrs of covid hell and it is really doing a number on me. clearly

[rbillustration]

5, 8 and 30 c:

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

I don't really keep much purely for myself, but I'd say it's about a 60/40 split to how much stays on my Patreon/Ko-fi vs how much goes public. Only finished art really goes public whereas supporters get all the sketches and doodles - some of those I make for myself, but I share with supporters, if that makes sense?

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

I used to work on a novel/comic called Wired that I was so focused on trying to publish and then over time I realised it just wasn't the story I wanted to tell any more. It was a very gritty, cyberpunk-style action story and as I've got older, I've moved towards wanting to make stories more in that cross-section between fantasy, steampunk and sci-fi (Final Fantasy has definitely had a hand in that), and ones that are generally more uplifting. I'm in the planning stages of a new novel at the moment, but am deliberately not talking about it very much, so I don't burn myself out hard like I did with Wired before it was ever done.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

HMM this is hard because 'underrated' to me means that it didn't get the response I hoped for, I assume? And I don't want to ever seem like I'm not grateful for the response I do get to my art.

That said, my 'Hanged Man' piece didn't really get as much interest as I would have hoped, given that I personally felt I made some improvements in anatomy, composition and use of value. But it also requires some context to fully understand, so I understand why people might have felt they didn't relate to it. However, I always hope people can simply look at my art and appreciate how it looks even if they don't know the subject.

Another one I feel this way about would be 'Sundered'. I made a 3D mockup to get the lighting right, did studies, and generally worked very hard make it look convincing. However this one requires even more context to understand - you'd need to play through 3 expansions of FFXIV to fully know what it's about - but visually, I hoped it might strike a chord with some people. It's also fanart, which for a lot of people seems to do better than original content, but for me that is very rarely the case!

[theres-a-goldensky]

30 More The Untamed Fic Recs

Here we go again. Another Wangxian rec list. Are you bored of me yet?

Were these recs helpful to you? If so, you can check out my other Wangxian rec posts:

Part 1 - 40 recs

Part 2 - 23 recs

Part 3 - 23 recs

As ever, feel free to reblog.

You can also head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

1. say it's here where our pieces fall in place by Lirelyn - ~69,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Lan Zhan meets Wei Wuxian after he adopts a small A-Yuan, because Wei Wuxian also has a past with him. Lots of adorable family feelings and emotional hurt/comfort.

As often happened, Wei Ying’s voice preceded his entrance, calling to his co-worker through the open door, “Frankie, they forgot to order spoons again, can you hold down the fort a little longer while I —”

Lan Wangji was already looking to his entrance, head turning as if magnetized toward the voice, so he saw the moment when Wei Ying’s eyes landed on A-Yuan and the smile fell from his face. He looked stricken, and Lan Wangji immediately looked to his son in alarm. A-Yuan seemed fine. His small eyebrows were pulled together in a small frown as he looked back at Wei Ying, but that wasn’t surprising, given the expression on Wei Ying’s face. Lan Wangji had seen that face beaming, laughing, whining, wheedling, and occasionally angry, but never like this. He looked blank and hollow and it stirred something fierce in Lan Wangji: he wanted to rise up and obliterate whatever was making him look like that. Then his eyes lifted to Lan Wangji and there was a flash of something almost like betrayal, before he pressed his lips together and turned his back.

“I’m going to run out to the store and get spoons,” he said in a flat voice to his co-worker, and left without looking their way again.

2. the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships - ~41,000 words, mature - This is an AU of the novel where Wei Wuxian puts two and two together when Lan Zhan sneaks that kiss from him. It changes a lot of things.

Against his own will, Wei Wuxian found himself glancing at Lan Wangji’s hands. They were… certainly large enough that one of them could wrap around both of his wrists. And Lan Wangji was certainly strong enough, tall enough, broad-shouldered enough to bodily pin him against the trunk of a tree with no chance of him breaking free. Lan Wangji was the first person he’d come across in his slow comb through the vicinity of where he’d been so headily kissed.

Wei Wuxian drew a sharp breath. There was a connection to be made here. He didn’t think he was crazy enough to make it. Perhaps he truly was going slightly insane with demonic cultivation if he could believe Lan Wangji, the paragon of virtue and respectability, who lived unflinchingly under Gusu Lan’s three thousand edicts, who had at best only tolerated his presence as children, would sneak up to him while he was blindfolded, pin him against a tree, and steal a kiss from him in broad daylight.

3. and his wanting grows teeth by yukla - ~25,000 words, teen - This is a very interesting AU where Lan Zhan is a traveling cultivator and runs into Wei Wuxian and the Jiangs looking for shelter during a snowstorm. No spoilers, but this fic goes to a pretty dark place that genuinely shocked me, but I enjoyed. (Still ends well though.)

Without further ado, they are hustled past the entrance and into a smaller greeting area. Huang-bobo approaches the brazier in the center with his hands outstretched, warming his fingers in the heat, but Lan Wangji hangs back. As he carefully brushes the snow free from his shoulders, he feels the burn of a curious gaze trailing up and down his body, lingering at the guqin still strapped to his back; when the sensation pauses at his face and stays there, he lifts his head.

The boy with the ribbon lights up at the eye contact, flashes another dazzling smile, and gives a little wave.

“You must be new here,” he whispers, something like laughter threaded into his voice, eyes scrunching into winking half-moons. “All dressed up in white like that! You might lose yourself in the snowstorm!”

Something stirs to life in Lan Wangji’s chest. It’s—uncomfortable, he decides, and so he steps away. Teasing should not be encouraged with a response.

4. Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller - ~15,000 words, not rated - After Wei Ying's death, his spirit seems to linger. The story is told from Lan Xichen's point of view. I love an outsider point of view. I also love the way the author fleshes out his character as well.

Lan Xichen means to force his way inside, angry ghost of the Yiling Patriarch or no, but then his brother lets out slow breath, settling, the pain easing from his face as he falls back into a more peaceful sleep.

His hair is moving on its own, so subtly Lan Xichen might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking at Wangji so intently. It’s like someone’s running their hand through his hair.

The window frosts over suddenly, thick enough that he can’t see through it. Anxiety spikes through him so quickly he’s nauseous with it, but then the frost melts away and the opening notes of Healing start up again.

He can’t tell if it’s a warning or not. Maybe it’s just an acknowledgement. Wei Wuxian knows he’s there.

5. **leading tone by silencemostofall - ~32,000 words, general - This is a modern AU set in a world where people who love you leave a mark of color on you the first time you touch. Wei Wuxian has no color on him. So much emotional hurt/comfort. So much of Wei Wuxian's terrible self-esteem.

He can cover up his palms with his gloves, so that the blankness does not draw stares. But he has no marks on his fingertips, which he cannot easily hide, and none visible on his face or neck, the blankness of which is even more difficult to hide. People look at him and, with a single glance, understand the single most devastating truth that he knows about himself.

They assume that he does not have very many marks. He may be an eccentric, dramatic person, but the likelihood that an individual has all of their marks on, say, their feet or their torso or other places that are not immediately obvious-- that probability goes down as your number of marks increases. He can laugh as much as he wants about how he loves touching people for the first time with odd places, like the knee or the elbow, but it doesn't quite mask the feeling of other that he knows he exudes.

They assume that he does not have a lot of marks. This, while a heavy weight, is not unbearably so. It is okay that they think he is not much loved. It chafes a bit, and feels occasionally like something he has to furiously push down within himself, but it is not unbearable. What would be unbearable is if they knew the truth: that he does not just have very few marks, but none. That he is simply an individual who is not loved at all.

6. **pastel by antebunny - ~7,000 words, gen - This is a remix work of the above fic. It's from Lan Zhan's point of view and just different enough to be interesting. Still lots of emotional hurt/comfort. I love this concept a whole lot, and both of these fics are great.

It’s a simmering day in May, and Wei Ying is wearing long sleeves, long pants, and gloves.

His choice of dress isn’t unusual for many reasons. For one, there’s plenty of people who don’t like strangers seeing their soulmarks. There’s plenty of people who wish to keep them private by covering them up. For another, Wei Ying spends most of his day in various chilly computer science department rooms, He could just be wearing long sleeves for that.

7. one good thing by Yuu_chi - ~27,000 words, teen - Wei Wuxian has died (or did he??) and is haunting his old home. Lan Zhan moves in. This story has a happy ending! And so much yearning!

To the flowers struggling to grow on the other side of the glass, he says, “We’re getting a new roommate. Well, I’m getting a new roommate - you’re getting somebody who might actually be able to water you for a change.” The flowers outside sway a little in the breeze, and Wei Wuxian nods contemplatively. “He can’t be any worse than the last guy who lived here. Remember when I spooked him while he was cooking and he nearly burnt the house down? Of course you don’t. You’re fucking foliage, your memory is worse than mine. I remember though, so it’s cool.”

There’s the sound of shuffling behind him and Wei Wuxian looks up to see the stranger has entered the kitchen, setting the last of the boxes down on the table. Disgustingly neat handwriting declares the box kitchen - homeware. The stranger carefully brushes his hair back from his face and, without so much as a second of hesitation, cracks open the box and begins unpacking.

“Wow, you really don’t waste any time, do you?” Wei Wuxian marvels. “You literally just got here - who cares about unpacking? Sit down for a moment, breathe, have something to eat. It’s not going anywhere.”

8. with you, I am home by tellthemstories - ~47,000 words, mature - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is being forced to return home to entertain marriage proposals. So naturally instead he "convinces" Lan Zhan to pretend to date him. I love a good fake dating fic, and this one hits all the right beats.

Lan Zhan does that almost-smile thing that Wei Wuxian takes to mean he’s happy, or at the very least not-mad. “You don’t have any money.”

“Not true. I have the money from our last job, when we settled the vengeful spirit for the flower shop girl.” (He doesn’t. They have Lan Zhan’s money. Wei Wuxian spent his on a pack of loquats and three bottles of Emperor’s Smile wine.)

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “Do it for me.”

Thinking back on it two weeks later, standing alone in the middle of Jin Ling’s graduation banquet and watching Lan Zhan walk away from him, Wei Wuxian realises that this, this was the moment when he should have known. He should have realised in the way Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate or negotiate and just says with that half-fond, half-exasperated tone he gets sometimes, “Fine.”

9. and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen - ~11,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying can't find Lan Zhan, but hey, there happens to be a rabbit here instead. Features a very slow Wei Ying, emotional hurt/comfort and accidental love confessions.

Immediately, his heart settles and he grins down at his new friend. “Oh, hello there,” he coos, reaching out to pet the fluffy ears. The bunny is very, very still under his hand.

“Did Lan Zhan bring you today?,” he continues cooing. “I’m sorry I missed that, but your Dad didn’t tell me he was bringing you.”

Lan Zhan rarely brings his rabbits to work since they are as tolerant of crowds and unnecessary noise as he is. They were probably relevant to today’s lesson but…

Wei Ying frowns. “Why would he leave you alone? And where is your cage?”

10. how, or when, or from where by sarahyyy - ~10,000 words, gen - Wei Ying wakes up in the hospital with amnesia and can't remember the last few years of his life, including his best friend and the guy he's in love with.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes so hard Wei Wuxian is surprised his eyeballs don’t just fall out of his eye sockets. “That’s the worst part. He did. Whatever mating ritual you both have going on is so fucking weird, Wei Wuxian.” He snorts. “If you’d stayed asleep for any longer, I’d have lost my shit and thrown my myself out a window just so I wouldn’t have to talk to Lan Wangji again.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “Is this a good time to ask who Lan Wangji is?”

Jiang Cheng glares at him. “Your Lan Zhan,” he says, annoyed. Wei Wuxian must look as confused as he feels, because Jiang Cheng’s annoyance bleeds out into concern. “Your Lan er-gege? Your soulmate, Lan Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “No bells are ringing.”

11. ** a shared plate by yukla - ~26,000 words, teen - This is an absolutely gorgeous fic about Wei Wuxian traveling the world post-canon to rediscover himself and restore his faith in humanity and eventually find his way back to Lan Zhan. The whole thing is great, but the last two chapters are just *chef's kiss*

Lan Zhan,

Just as the mountains stand unchanging and the green rivers flow ceaselessly, we will meet again — and between then and now, you cannot hope to avoid my letters, either! Haha! Lan Zhan, I’ve seen so many things and met so many people, and it’s only been a month!

I miss you already

It’s so hot that I find myself missing the wind in Gusu’s mountains. Your poor Wei Ying is I’m melting away, Lan Zhan...

I’m realizing now, sixteen years is a long time to be away — the world is vast, and quite a bit different than I remembered. And in sixteen years, a child can also grow up into a man! It’s your job to catch me up on A-Yuan’s fun childhood stories! I do remember hearing something about a pile of rabbits...

12. with your arms outstretched to me by annemari - ~14,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan finally gets up the nerve to ask Wei Ying on a date, but things don't go as expected. Features emotional hurt/comfort (are we sensing a theme with these recs??) and just regular hurt/comfort.

"Oh, man, I was hoping you had some water with you," Wei Ying says. "I totally forgot to bring any for myself. Stupid of me."

"There is enough for both of us," Lan Wangji says. He has another bigger bottle in the car, as well.

Wei Ying hums but he only takes a few sips. He presses it back into Lan Wangji's hand. "I don't need any more."

Lan Wangji is considering arguing, but then Wei Ying shifts a bit, moving his ankle, and gasps very, very quietly.

13. ** A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart - ~22,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian has finished traveling and returned to the Cloud Recesses and Lan Zhan. But their lives never do run smoothly.

“Lan Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, recognizing him after a moment. His heart slams against his rib cage. “Where is Lan Zhan? What’s happened?”

Lan Jingyi flaps a hand at him, gulping air. Wei Wuxian hands him the water, and leans back against Little Apple’s side as he waits impatiently for the boy to get his breath back.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Jingyi gasps, just as Wei Wuxian is about to throttle a proper answer out of him. “Hanguang Jun was in such a state when he woke up, we didn’t know if you’d come and gone already.”

“Where is he, Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, as evenly as he can. “What happened?”

14. So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend - ~14,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel extraordinary pain unless he's touching Lan Zhan. Yet more of Wei Wuxian's self-esteem issues and Lan Zhan's steadfast devotion.

“Are you hurt, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks, pressing his hand to Wei Ying’s forehead to feel his temperature. There is no fever, but that doesn’t do much to mitigate Lan Wangji’s worries.

“No—I’m not hurt,” says Wei Ying, sagging forward to lean his weight into Lan Wangji’s hand like he can’t help himself.

It’s so strange—Lan Wangji can feel what Wei Ying is feeling. Although the relief is still very profound, wisps of other things are making themselves known; happiness; wistfulness; guilt. It’s all so fleeting that Lan Wangji can’t even begin to deduce what has provoked those feelings, but he wishes he knew their source.

15. puzzle pieces by Anonymous - ~6,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are roommates, and Wei Ying has started borrowing Lan Zhan's clothes.

“Hm? Oh.” With sleepy eyes that does— things to Lan Zhan’s heart, he blinks and tugs at the lower hem of the shirt, which is riding just above the curve of his thighs. Does Lan Zhan’s mouth water? Maybe. Yes. Absolutely. “Ah, yeah, sorry. Laundry day caught up to me before I could catch up with it. I saw this shirt left in the washer a few days ago, and—“ He blinks up at Lan Zhan through dark eyelashes that Lan Zhan wants to kiss, maybe, and gives him an uncharacteristically hesitant smile. “Do you mind?”

I mind the fact that we are not married, Lan Zhan thinks. But he can’t say that, and his tongue doesn’t know how to say anything else. So he stays silent.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says after a moment. “If you—oh, damn, I should’ve known, this is like real silk, must’ve been super expensive. Fuck. Okay, here, uh, I’ll take it off—“

16. ** Nothing But Trouble by brooklinegirl - ~60,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Ying is trying to be a good brother and get Jiang Cheng laid. Somehow this plan involves pretending to date Lan Zhan.

"I won't!" Wei Ying insists. "I'll ask out someone...high stakes. I'll find someone. I'll...okay, how's this? I swear that I'll ask someone out and keep at it for at least two dates."

"No."

"Three dates."

"Nope."

"Okay, okay, five. That's fair! That's more than fair! One person, five dates." He points at Jiang Cheng. "You have to do it, too. That's how a pact works."

Jiang Cheng stares at him. "Five dates," he says flatly. "Five. And yours can't be Nie Huaisang."

17. i'm the one for your fire by occultings (microcomets) - ~43,000 words, explicit - This is a Modern AU and a Cherry Magic AU! (Side note: GO WATCH CHERRY MAGIC IF YOU HAVEN'T.) But in short, Wei Ying turns 30 without losing his virginity and gets the power to hear people's thoughts when he touches them. He gets more than he bargained for with Lan Zhan. The author does a good job of translating the story to these characters. Wei Ying is not forced to be like Adachi, the main character of Cherry Magic. He's still himself, and the same goes for Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan’s voice is so clear, so sudden that it’s as though it’s spoken, the slice of a sharp object through velvet.

He’s touching me.

Wei Ying startles for a moment, wonders if he’d somehow heard his own thoughts instead, but — no, that had definitely been Lan Zhan’s steady, factual baritone, loud and clear.

God, this is still so weird. It still doesn’t seem totally real. But how else can he account for hearing Lan Zhan’s voice in his head, as clearly as if he’d spoken to Wei Ying directly?

18. like blue flame over my fingertips by tangerinechar - ~37,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are roommates, and Lan Zhan just finds himself wanting to take care of Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji’s roommate. Is a problem.

He doesn’t get an answer to the roommate problem until the next morning, when Lan Xichen texts him telling him that the apartment he’d suggested (and helped pay rent for) to Lan Wangji said in the small text that it’d be two people per apartment, the second bedroom wasn’t actually a guest bedroom, sorry, Wangji, you can move in with me if you want, I have space —

No. Thank you for your kind offer, Brother, but I will be quite fine, Lan Wangji texts back.

19. ** some impulse of delight by handclaps - ~20,000 words, explicit - College AU where Wei Ying decides he needs to help Lan Zhan get used to touching people. Lan Zhan agrees. Wei Ying is dumb and in love. Lan Zhan is less dumb, but still as in love.

Lan Zhan shakes his head and fumbles, tries to push the cotton wool into Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, realising. “Touching people, I know.”

He feels dumb. He thought he’d worn Lan Zhan down more than this, that they were friends now and that his whole no touching thing was mostly overcome. He took Wei Wuxian’s hand easily, right? He looks down at his belly full of scratches, dabbing at them moodily.

“Sorry,” he says, again.

Lan Zhan makes some kind of noise, but he is busy packing the first aid kit back, placing everything exactly where it was before.

“Lan Zhan, you’re going to have to do something about this,” Wei Wuxian complains. “I know you don’t like touching people and usually it plays as a kind of gentlemanly thing, but what about emergencies?”

20. And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene - ~43,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian returns after a year of traveling and rejoins Lan Zhan in the Cloud Recesses. He's doing a good job of pining and ignoring the obvious. Look, at this point, it shouldn't be a surprise that I'm a sucker for stories where Wei Wuxian deals with his ~*~issues~*~ and Lan Zhan takes care of him, whether he asks for it or not. This story has lots of that. I also enjoyed the case fic aspect of it.

“I do, I think,” Wei Wuxian admits. “Would be nice to see his face again after so long. And at least this time, I’m going to show up draped in finery. What do you think, Lan Zhan? I can’t possibly disgrace him—or you—wearing a cloak like that.”

“You could never disgrace me,” Lan Wangji says gently, that soft, affectionate look back on his face.

Wei Wuxian grins, warmed to the tips of his toes.

“I’ll remind you of that later. The next time I’m three jars deep and feeling especially shameless, you’ll have to remember those words, Lan Er-gege.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says simply.

Wei Wuxian smiles some more, overwhelmed by fondness.

21. darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter - ~7,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian really, really wants Lan Zhan to call him 'gege'. Lan Zhan knows a trump card when he sees one.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

Lan Wangji knows he will not stop, regardless of what he calls him. Still, he thinks about it. If there really is a way to make Wei Wuxian stop, should he not consider it? He doesn’t have any real interest in curbing his husband’s insatiable mischievousness, but he does like knowing things about him—everything there is to know.

If there’s something that persuasive in the world, that it can bring Wei Wuxian into submission when no one is under threat, could he stop himself from seeking it?

22. your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian - ~11,000 words, gen - Wei Wuxian & Lan Sizhui fic with the Wangxian in the background. Lan Sizhui wants another dad and Wei Wuxian wants a son, they just don't know how to explain that to each other.

“Hush,” Wei Wuxian says, in a low croon, like someone quieting a baby. Then he blinks, and looks away, awkward. “I mean—you shouldn’t speak. You’re tired. Rest if you need to.”

Lan Sizhui tucks his chin into his uncle’s shoulder, and lets his eyes fall closed.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?” Wen Ning whispers to him kindly.

Lan Sizhui takes a deep breath, and takes stock of all his aches, his ringing ear, his hollow chest, the way he had selfishly wanted Wei Wuxian to keep speaking to him in that careful voice, like he was just a child to be soothed and there was no real danger. How dangerous, to pretend. “No,” he lies. “It doesn’t hurt that much at all.”

23. when you're doing all the leaving (then it's never your love lost) by tardigradeschool - ~26,000 words, teen - AU where Lan Zhan with Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling's one-month celebration. Things go down, and it leads to Lan Zhan discovering Wei Wuxian's missing golden core. This obviously will not do, and oh look, the best doctor in the world just happens to be right here.

“How—“ Lan Wangji chokes. “His core —?” He looks at Wen Ning, half accusatory in his shock. “Jin Zixun could not have—“

“No, no!” Wen Ning says, holding out his hands. “He hasn’t had one for years, don’t worry!”

This is not as reassuring as Wen Ning seems to think.

“Please explain,” Lan Wangji says, pained. He feels for Wei Wuxian’s pulse instead; in the absence of a golden core, it will have to do as reassurance that he’s still alive.

Wen Ning is so anxious that the story comes out in a ramble, out of order. Lan Wangji wants him to hurry up, but he’s also not confident in his own ability to speak, so he just keeps quiet and lets him talk. His heart feels as if it’s about to fall from his chest, beating nearly twice as fast as Wei Wuxian’s does under his fingers.

24. A Match in the Making by lareine - ~30,000 words, teen - A Modern AU where Wei Wuxian sees his single and bad ass friend Lan Zhan and his single and bad ass friend Mianmian and gets some very dumb ideas.

To return to the point: Lan Zhan was peak adulting. Mianmian was peak adulting. And if they were both at the peak, then they were on the same level. What level? That mysterious level thing that everyone mentioned when it came to dating.

Whatever level it was, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were on it together. Wei Ying nodded to himself. So, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were allowed to date each other. The next question was: were they compatible? Did they have chemistry or whatever the fuck people called it?

25. Crack me open, pour you out by Tenillypo - ~16,000 words, explicit - Lan Zhan gets cursed to say whatever he's thinking. So his worst nightmare. Mutual pining, first time, all good stuff.

Lan Wangji freezes with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, lifting his eyes to stare at Wei Ying.

"I know! Just completely paralyzed." Wei Ying mimes being still as a board. "I don't know how long I lay there. It must have been two days at least. Good thing for Little Apple. He wandered back to the village when he got hungry, and eventually a few of them got brave enough to come look for me. When they rolled me over, the figure fell out of my hand and I could move again. Cunning little thing." He shakes his head. "I was weak as a kitten for a little while after they took me back to the village, and by the time I recovered, they'd burned the whole place to the ground. Such a waste."

Lan Wangji slowly lowers his chopsticks, heart racing unpleasantly. In his head, a picture of Wei Ying slowly wasting to death alone in the middle of the woods, with Lan Wangji a hundred miles away and none the wiser.

26. Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller - 13,000 words, no rating - Lan Zhan wants to bring his boyfriend home to meet his family. There are some things he definitely didn't realize about Wei Ying.

“He has a life here,” he says down the line. He doesn’t say that he has a life here too, one he likes a lot more than the one he had before. He misses home. He’d miss Wei Ying more. But he doesn’t say that, doesn’t say how vibrant he is and how beautiful and how little interest Lan Zhan has at seeing him among the high society he grew up with.

“Well, your life is here, Wangji,” his brother says. “You can’t stay away from home forever. You’re going to have to see how he does with the rest of us sooner or later. It might as well be sooner.”

It might as well be never, as far as he’s concerned. His family can meet Wei Ying at their wedding.

“I’ll ask,” he says.

Wei Ying has no interest in cultivation politics. They’re horrible, the five clans have an iron tight alliance that’s thirty seconds away from collapsing in on itself the moment someone from one sect steps on another sect’s toes. It’s the worst and he hates it. Surely even just the idea of it will be so horrifying to Wei Ying that Lan Zhan will be able to tell his brother no.

27. just our hands clasped so tight by electrum ~4,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan really, really, really just wants to give Wei Ying everything he wants.

“Despite your best efforts,” Wei Wuxian agrees. He shakes his head in mock-dismay. “How much longer do you think that will last if you keep buying everything I look at?” When this, too, fails to soften Lan Zhan’s resolve, he tries a different tactic. “We couldn’t even afford potatoes,” he says. “Back when I was with the Wens, at the Burial Mounds. Only radishes! If I survived that, I can certainly survive without another pretty comb.”

Lan Zhan’s expression is at once unmoved and yet somehow stricken. “I would have bought Wei Ying potatoes,” he says, like Wei Wuxian doesn’t know, by this point, that Lan Zhan would buy him anything. “If I had known…”

28. ** Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller - ~64,000 words, no rating - Jin Ling & Wei Wuxian with Wangxian in the background. Jin Ling is the best boy! And as he tries to rehabilitate his sect and his family and keep himself alive at the same time, he realizes, horrifyingly, that he has to be the mature one.

29. ** an act too often neglected by Ariaste - Lan Xichen / Meng Yao, ~61,000 words, explicit - The Wangxian is in the background here, but the main story is about Lan Xichen meeting Meng Yao on a dating app and getting immediately dickmatized. Meanwhile. Meng Yao refuses to be won over by Lan Xichen's charm. It goes as well as you'd expect for him.

The caption below is equally sparse: “5’6. Demanding.”

Lan Xichen feels a low simmer of arousal kindle in the pit of his stomach, and he gazes at that word-- demanding --for nearly as long as he’d stared at the photograph. He swipes right.

A few minutes later, a notification pops up: < Hm, the size of your hands is promising.

This is familiar. This is the flirtation stage. Lan Xichen knows the steps to the dance.

30. My Land Beneath Me by longleggedgit - ~30,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is cast out of his sect and out of China to America. And Lan Zhan just...follows.

Lan Zhan always waited for his tea to cool before drinking, which meant he had nothing to do but give Wei Wuxian a judgmental look. “No more McDonald’s.”

“You’re just bitter because you get indigestion from anything that actually tastes good,” Wei Wuxian grumbled.

Because Lan Zhan was insufferably mature and patient, he didn’t rise to the bait. “We have time to stop somewhere before class,” he said.

“Fine. But you’re paying this time.”

It was a bad joke, and predictably, fell flat; Lan Zhan was, after all, paying for everything, every time. Wei Wuxian frowned into his mug.

“You know,” he said, after another swallow, “you really don’t have to be here. I’m going to figure something out.”

*

Interested in 86 more The Untamed fic recs?

Part 1 - 40 recs Part 2 - 23 recs Part 3 - 23 recs

[dyinginlava]

Analysing “Let Me Be Your Vassal” (aka that one Dream & Wilbur conversation)

Wherein Cy decides going line by line through a scene from five months ago is a wonderful idea

Alright, let’s go! Recently I went back to watch Wilbur’s ‘Am I The Villain?’ video, since it was the first DSMP video I actually watched and I noticed something that made me actually go and find the vod from October 8th to specifically watch it: the details of Wilburs conversation with Dream where he asks for the TNT. Now, this did happen about five months ago now, but I think it would be good to look at this scene both with further character information we have now, and hopefully to clarify some things that newer fans might not be aware of! There’s also the fact that c!Wilbur is likely returning to the story soon.

I will be using quotes with timestamps to support my analysis, from this video. When [...] is used, it is to indicate an irrelevant tangent or repetition. Also, I feel it is important to note that this analysis is not meant to indicate moral judgement in any way: it is intended as a unbiased look at character actions and motivations.

First, let’s establish the exact situation here. At this point in time, we’re before the festival, and Dream has volunteered to help Pogtopia and has already given Technoblade supplies. He had also written a book to Tommy wherein he stated he didn’t support Schlatt due to his power-hungry ambitions, unlike Wilbur. After being seen as a villain in the last war, he didn’t want to become publicly involved especially through breaking a peace treaty, and instead offered to help from the shadows. He also gave Tommy his crossbow and some armour along with the book. While some may doubt his intentions as stated, I have reason to believe he’s being honest, as will be mentioned later. (Information taken directly from the book Tyrant, given to Tommy by Dream).

On Wilbur’s side, he’d just had his ‘then let’s be the bad guys’ moment after seeing Schlatt announce the festival, talking with Tommy on the way back to Pogtopia.

“We burn the place to the fucking ground!” - Wilbur 1:10:50

He starts making a plan:

“Okay, here’s the plan, right? Dream, Dream is on our side, Dream has TNT, Dream has everything, right? I say, we talk to Dream, and we ask him, very nicely, very kindly, ‘Dream, give us all the TNT you have’” - Wilbur 1:12:20

“The only reason Dream is working with us is because of the fact that we are the enemies of his enemies! That’s it! That’s all that joins... this!” - Wilbur, to Tommy 1:14:30

I feel a need to note here, that anything Wilbur says to Tommy about their allies shouldn’t be taken at face value: at this point his paranoia has begun clouding his view, as he also distrusts Tubbo, and later even doubts Tommy.

“Everyone who’s claiming to be on our side, they’re lying to us! Tubbo? he’s lying to you man! He would drop us at the second he realises that we’re not in the lead anymore!” - Wilbur, to Tommy 1:16:10

He has no proof to back up his claim about Dream, and personally I’m inclined to not believe his claim, seeing as Dream previously had no issue with L’Manberg after the peace treaty.

After some tunnel shenanigans happen, Wilbur asks Dream to talk privately: the conversation starts at 1:31:30

The conversation begins with Wilbur informing Dream about the festival, which he was previously unaware of. Dream laughs at the mention of the festival being a celebration of democracy, but whether this is because of his disdain for Schlatt or a personal dislike of democracy is unclear (question for another time: is c!Dream a monarchist? The SMP is technically ruled by a king after all, but they fulfil more of a neutral peacekeeping role in general. Theocracy???).

Wilbur then asks Dream if he thinks he and Tommy are the bad guys in the situation, and like Tommy, he disagrees. Wilbur proceeds to explain his reasoning, and then asks Dream what he thinks.

“I think that sometimes, a ruler is unfit, and that causes problems” - Dream 1:32:50

Wilbur then starts trying to persuade Dream to help him.

“Dream, I think you have vested interest though, I think that you would enjoy there to be conflict between Manberg and Pogtopia. And you know what, I’m here to facilitate that!” - Wilbur 1:33:00

Dream immediately denies this, and returns to talking about Schlatt.

“I don’t— Jschlatts a little bit more ambitious than you I’d say” - Dream 1:33:20

Note that at this point, Tommy meets up with Wilbur but is not in vc. Ignoring what Dream has just said, Wilbur makes his pitch:

“Dream, Dream, let me be your vassal! Dream, I understand you have a lot of TNT?” - Wilbur 1:33:25

Dream confirms that he has TNT.

“Dream, I want to be your vassal, I want to set this up, I want to rig the city” - Wilbur 1:33:40

This is the first time Wilbur mentions using the TNT to destroy L’Manberg. I also want to point out the use of the term ‘vassal’ here, as while the line itself is very well known, I’ve yet to see someone point out the relevant definition here is ‘a person or country in a subordinate position to another’ which you might notice, isn’t really the case here. Wilbur is asking Dream to supply him with something, there’s nothing subordinate about it. It could be that he’s implying that he’ll owe Dream for the favour, or it could be him seeing it as ‘helping’ Dream by destroying L’Manberg, as we’ve established his paranoia is leading him to see his allies in a negative light.

The two decide to meet at Pogtopia, and Tommy speaks up for the first time in the conversation.

“Dream, Dream don’t give it to him. It’s not right!”- Tommy

“Tommy it’s too... I have to.” - Dream 1:33:50 (overlapping)

‘I have to’ is an interesting line, and I’m assuming he’s referring to the promise he made to assist Pogtopia by supplying them. It does highlight how, at this point in time, Dream still seems hesitant about the plan.

Wilbur then starts talking to Dream but abruptly switches to talking to Tommy instead.

“Dream, I appreciate ... cause you see Tommy, the thing you’re not understanding is Dream only gave you that gear so that you could cause this conflict! You see, this is what it’s all about, Dream doesn’t want us to win! Dream just wants both Pogtopia and Manberg to be weak! [...] and Dream I’m not scolding you on this, it’s smart, you’re smart..” - Wilbur 1:34:00

To clarify my stance on this to people who are newer to the fandom, during Pogtopia, Dream and Tommy were actually on good, even friendly terms. It’s not until Dream joined Manberg that they became enemies again. Personally, I see this as Wilbur trying to make Tommy distrust Dream just as he did with Tubbo, although interpretations may differ. Wilbur complimenting Dream can be seen as trying to get on his good side and/or trying to persuade Dream that he wants to help Wilbur with the TNT.

“I’m here to help you, I’m here to weaken both of us!” - Wilbur 1:34:25

Dream then gets a chance to speak.

“I do want Pogtopia and Manberg to be nothing more, and I want L’Manberg to be... something” - Dream 1:34:40

Tommy asks why he wants L’Manberg back after he fought against them over it before.

“Schlatt is ambitious, and that’s a bad thing. He wants power, he wants land, he wants to expand. You having your own little server [...] that’s fine by me!” - Dream 1:34:55

Here Dream claims that due to Schlatt being power hungry he stands against him, but didn’t have an issue with L’Manberg just existing. I’m inclined to believe this claim, as it matches up with his actions in between the war and the elections. He also claims to have had a change of heart about L’Manberg, which again, seems to line up with his actions.

Wilbur then lets out a very evil sounding laugh, very melodramatic, I applaud cc!Wilbur for it. He then says something that I think is extremely important to this analysis, and part of why I made it in the first place.

“Dream, this has made me ambitious! If I’m taking power again I will be ambitious! Let me blow it up, let me destroy it all!” - Wilbur 1:35:15

Now considering what both Wilbur and Dream have been saying, there a very obvious conclusion you can come too here: Wilbur is claiming that he’d be just as bad as Schlatt if he was back in power, that there would be no getting the old L’Manberg back, that Dream would be better off helping his plan. Now obviously Wilbur isn’t evil— he’s paranoid, angry, and desperate— but this is what he claims to Dream, who’s knows he’s been willing to fight for L’Manberg before and has said he (Dream) wants to avoid fighting L’Manberg again. I know a lot of c!Wilbur fans get annoyed at people saying Wilbur manipulated Dream during Pogtopia, but you can’t deny that this moment specifically is manipulative: he’s specifically lying about his intentions to convince someone to help him. And it works! Dream arrives, and hands over the TNT to Wilbur.

Wilbur heads back to the entrance to Pogtopia, where Tommy holds him at bowpoint before Dream steps in, handing Wilbur a shield. Tommy talks about how they can rebuild L’Manberg rather than destroying it, but Wilbur laughs at it. Dream turns to leave.

“Dream, I will do you proud” - Wilbur 1:36:55

Dream offers to help him if he needs it, and Wilbur warns him about the festival. Dream leaves the game, marking the end of the conversation at 1:37:41.

When heading back into Pogtopia, Wilbur talks to chat about Dream being a ‘good guy’ but also repeating what he said before about Dream just wanting both sides to be weak.

Now that the main analysis is done, I did want to mention a few things that didn’t really fit within the main body for whatever reason: not enough evidence, may be biased etc. For one thing, I definitely noticed a shift in how Wilbur spoke to Dream, from initially just asking him for TNT to almost acting like the TNT was Dream’s idea. This could tie into the manipulation I noted, or it could just be a result of his paranoia causing him to misinterpret what Dream really wants. Or both! As I mentioned before, Wilbur’s narration can’t really be trusted because of this, but what we can do is compare actions and words: if what a person says their motives are lines up with how they act, then they’re probably being honest. There’s also the matter of context— Dream claiming to Eret that he’s always wanted everything to be Dream SMP territory when dethroning them doesn’t make much sense if you compare it to how he acted about L’Manberg after the war, at least until you realise he’s talking to the king of the Dream SMP and trying to play into what he thinks she wants— he even emphasise that them being able to take over after the war between Manberg and Pogtopia is only a possibility.

Anyway, this took a while but was fun to write, and hopefully even if you don’t agree with my personal interpretation of these events, looking at the quotes will hopefully be helpful for coming to your own conclusions! :D

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

.

.

.

It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[wonpilsonefeel]

Here’s a prompt list for request.

Ask for a minimum of one number (can be more) and pairing. Also add if you want it to be angst, smut or fluff.

ALSO MY ANON PART AINT WORKING BUT I WILL KEEP YALL ANON.

I didn’t come up with these prompts.

1. "How long have you been staring at that screen?"

2. "Do you really want to test me?"

3. "How did I end up watching this?"

4. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just worried someone is going to take you away from me.”

5. “I just want to hug you and never let go.”

6. “You’re an adult! Act like it!”

7. “Did you seriously patch up a stab wound with scotch tape?”

9. “Are you stuck?”

10. “Man, you sure got knocked around a lot today.”

11. “Just the idea of anything happening to you makes me feel physically sick.”

12. A miscommunication leads to everyone being told Person A is dead, and Person B does not handle it well. When Person A shows up completely fine, Person B is overjoyed. 

13. “It shouldn’t be physically possible for me to love you this much.”

14. “What would you do if I died?” “Can we not talk about this?”

15. “They’re too good for you.”

16. “You look so cute in pajamas

17. “You’re my favorite person ever.”

18. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do.”

19. “You need to be more careful!”

20. “Why are we on the roof?”

21. “I know it’s wrong, but I love you.”

22. Why are you like this?”

23. I can handle myself. You don’t need to protect me.”

24. I miss you.” 

25. You are not fine, you’re bleeding!”

26. Look, I really screwed up and I need advice.”

27. I hope you’re here to apologize.” “Is there something you want to tell me?”

28. You are sick, therefore I am going to take care of you. End of discussion.

29. I’m fine. It was just a nightmare. You don’t need to worry.”

30. I just want to cuddle.”

31. Every day I get to spend with you is the best day.”

32. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

33. “You have the most amazing smile.”

34. “You’re just not intimidating. Sorry.”

35. “Stop whacking me with that stupid rubber chicken!”

36. “Stop kicking me under the table!”

37. “What are you, five?”

38. “I heard a loud sound. Are you okay?”

39. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

40. “How on Earth did you get so muddy?”

41. “Close your eyes. Don’t peek.”

42. “You know, it’s hard to stay upset when I’m holding you this close.”

43. Person A spends the entire day throwing things at Person B, just for fun.

44. Person A keeps stealing Person B’s snacks.

45. You should really get some sleep.”

46. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

47. I hate children. They’re the worst.”

48. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

49. I wish you’d stop saying that.”

50. Person A tries (and fails) to convince everyone they aren’t in love with person B. 

51. I’m having a long day, okay?” 

52. Stop treating me like a child!”

53. I hate it when you rhyme my name with things.”

54.

55. Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

56. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

57. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

58. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

59. Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

60. Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.

61. French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.

62. Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

63. A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.

64. A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

65. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

66. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

67. Butterfly kisses against the other’s cheeks.

68. A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

69. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

70. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

71. Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

72. Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away.

73. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

74. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

75. A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company.

76. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

77. A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

78. Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.

79. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

80. Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.

81. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

82. One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

83. Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

84. Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

85. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

86. A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.

87. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

88. Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

89. An awkward kiss given after a first date.

90. Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

91. Cleaning the other person’s lips with a lick and a kiss.

92. Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

93. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

94. A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

95. Kisses shared under an umbrella.

96. Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

97. A kiss pressed to the top of the head.

98. Tentative kisses given in the dark.

99. Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.

100. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.

101. A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.

102. One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.

103. Short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date.

104. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

105.

106. Little one jumping in puddles wearing rain boots.

107. Shopping for nursery furniture for little one.

108. Holding the little one for the first time.

109. Being immensely proud when little one takes their first steps alone.

110. Little one’s first reaction to seeing/feeling snow.

111. Singing nursery rhymes to get little one to sleep.

112. Finger painting with little one.

113. Little one getting food all over their face.

114. Going on a walk together with little one.

115. Little one coming to sleep with you after having a bad dream.

116. Picking out little one’s first Halloween costume.

117. Little one’s first birthday.

118. Keeping little one from trying to eat crayons.

119. Little one’s first trip to the zoo or aquarium.

120. Showing little one a lightning bug for the first time.

121. Little one sticking their toes in their mouth.

122. Little one pulling on your hair with surprising strength.

123. Helping little one go down a slide at the park.

124. Little one needing an emergency bath.

125. Tickling little one’s chubby thighs until they laugh.

126. Singing songs and rocking little one to sleep.

127. Reading a book with little one on your lap.

128. Having to show little one that the food tastes good by having some too.

129. Playing airplane/train to get little one to open their mouth and take a bite of food.

130. Little one chasing after bubbles to pop them.

131. Playing peek-a-boo with little one.

132. Little one snuggling with a stuffed animal.

133. Playing “This Little Piggy” on little one’s toes.

134. Having little one help mix cookie dough.

135. Little one eating a slice of fruit and getting juice all down their chin.

136. Kissing little one where they got hurt to make the pain go away.

137. Little one stripping their clothes and running around in their diaper.

138. Waking up to little one crying out in their sleep.

139. Little one biting everything they can stick in their mouth as they teethe.

140. Little one sticking pretzel sticks up their nose.

141. Little one leaving sticky fingerprints on everything they touch.

142. Having little one help flip pancakes.

143. Giving little one a raspberry on their tummy after changing their diaper.

144. Watching little one go in and out of the kiddie pool.

145. Little one pointing out colors and shapes that they recognize.

146. Having little one wear their first formal wear.

147. Little one drifting off to sleep with a smile on their face.

148. Little one settling down after you finally figure out what they need.

149. Choosing little one’s name together.

150. Watching little one attempt to blow the seeds off a dandelion.

151. Little one getting in a laughing kick where everything is funny.

152. The first time little one picks their own outfit.

153. Little one chasing down the pet to rest their head on them and hold them tight.

154. Being unable to stay mad at little one when they give you puppy dog eyes.

155. Little one playing dress up with a grown-up set of shoes.

156.

157. Holding their hands when they are shaking.

158. Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

159. Traveling long distances just to see them.

160. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

161. Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

162. Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

163. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

164. Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

165. Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

166. Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

167. Telling them a dumb joke just to see their smile.

168. Following their family traditions that they enjoy.

169. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.

170. Singing and dancing to their favorite song.

171. Calming them down when they have a bad dream.

172. Having a tickle fight until you’re breathless.

173. Folding their clean laundry and putting it away.

174. Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room.

175. Bringing them a plate of their favorite sliced fruit.

176. Washing their back/hair in the shower.

177. Sharing your umbrella with them in the rain.

178. Listening to them while they vent.

179. Taking a picture together to print and hang later.

180. Tracing your names together in the sand.

181. Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

182. Doing a chore for them that you know they aren’t fond of.

183. Leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

184. Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

185. Tucking their hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

186. Helping scratch that itch on their back they can’t reach.

187. Pulling a chair out for them to sit down at the table.

188. Wrapping a blanket around them when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show.

189. Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

190. Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

191. Running out in the middle of the night to get a food item they’re craving.

192. Helping brush their hair after a shower.

193. Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

194. Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

195. Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favorite.

196. Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

197. Giving them space when they express wanting to have some time alone.

198. Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

199. Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

200. Standing between them and a busy road.

201. Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

202. Giving them a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

203. Staying up half the night to finish a game with them.

204. Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

205. Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

206. Buying them a special treat when you go out shopping.

[nonalectos]

Jury Duty

Fandom: The Nanny

Genre: Romance/Humor/Comfort

Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock

Rating: M

Summary: C.C. has been called to jury duty, and Fran decides to come along, placing C.C. in a very uncomfortable position considering the feelings she has been harboring for the nanny the last four years. To make matters worse, there's only one room left in the hotel.

Word Count:  2,826

Author’s Note: My first fic in six years, folks! I am currently neck deep in The Nanny hyper fixation, Fran x C.C. in particular, and I was inspired by my lovely friends and fellow shippers to write my first fic in years and very first fic for this pairing! Boy, have I come a long way since my Fran/Maxwell fanfic on Quizilla.com when I was 14-years-old. Interwoven with canon from S04E17: Samson, He Denied Her. Please enjoy!

This fic can also be found here on AO3.

“What’s that?”

“That’s...the nanny.”

_______

C.C. rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into her pillow, and groaned, the coolness of her satin pillowcase warming to match her body temperature a bit too quickly for her liking. As she shifted, contemplating whether to get up or relegate herself to a day in bed, ignoring all responsibility and...other stressors, an orange-brown fluff next to her feet growled.

Damn dog.

In order to prevent the mongrel from biting at her ankles, C.C. slowly pulled her legs up towards her chest before gently removing the covers, pushing herself up into a seated position, and scooting to let her legs hang off the side of the bed. She sighed and looked at her alarm clock.

5:30 AM

She had one of those dreams again. She was rarely the type to dream, but somehow her subconscious had been invaded by the intrusive thoughts she routinely pushed away during her waking hours. Sparkling red, a hand on her waist, her own hand tangled in a large nest of brown hair, and the recalled scent of scratch-and-sniff magazine perfume flashed through her mind before she could prevent it. She groaned again--loudly--and a retort, almost indistinguishable from her own guttural sound, emitted from the ball of fluff.

C.C. let out one more sigh before standing with renewed intention to have a good, productive day. She would bury her nose--and her mind--in her work. No one could get in the way of her and her job. She was the C.C. Babcock. She made her way to the kitchen and started her coffee maker. While she waited, she opened an envelope that she had left sitting on the table and froze, defeated.

_______

C.C. barged into Maxwell Sheffield’s office, ignoring the skip in her chest when she caught the image of brown, black, red, and white in her peripheral, accompanied by that--against all odds--alluring scent.

“Maxwell, you are not gonna believe this. I have been summoned for jury duty! Well, that is the last time I vote.”

The blur came closer. “Ms. Babcock, maybe I’ll go be on that jury with you.”

C.C. covered her panic with a chuckle. “Nanny Fine, you can’t just go.” This was it. The perfect moment for a witty jab. That would help. “It’s not like Supercuts.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got a drawer full of those things. Besides, there’s nothing keeping me here.” Fran glared at Maxwell, and C.C. silently stepped out of the office as she heard the man’s voice raise, only making out an exasperated, “Ms. Fine!”

_______

“Oh I’ve just gotta get on this jury!”

As Fran blabbed on, C.C. tried not to focus on how close together they were sitting and how she could still feel the heat from the nanny’s hand on her knee, even after she had removed it. As Fran handed her a book, C.C. was given another chance at a jab. She gasped theatrically.

“You know him?”

“No. You read?”

Fran snatched the book out of C.C.’s hand, and C.C. laughed, the awareness of her leaning closer to Fran escaping her.

_______

“What do you mean there’s just one room left?” C.C. growled at the hotel receptionist.

The receptionist looked at the tall, blond woman towering above them nervously. “I-uh I’m sorry, ma’am, there are no other rooms available. Just the one.”

“But we have two people--” Fran gently placed her hand on C.C.’s shoulder and stepped in between her and the distressed receptionist.

“Are there two beds?” she asked, smiling.

“Y-yes,” the receptionist said hesitantly and then, more assured after calming down, “Yes, there are two beds.”

“See Babs? No harm, no foul,” Fran said brightly, squeezing C.C.’s shoulder as she reached over the counter to take the room key. As they walked towards their room, Fran went on and on about the plot of the romance novel she had shoved in C.C.’s hands earlier. C.C. focused on her breathing, trying to remain calm. She could feel the heat creep up her neck the moment the kid at the desk said they only had one room available, and now she didn’t even have to look to know she had red blotches all over her chest and cheeks. She couldn’t distinguish between her anger and...fear? No. C.C. Babcock was never scared.

“So then when he pulls her in--” holding the book close to her chest, Fran twirled around to face C.C. as she continued walking down the hallway backwards. “Ms. Babcock? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” C.C. responded curtly.

“You’re not having an allergic reaction, are you?” Fran rushed up to her and lifted her hand to examine C.C.’s face as she spoke. “You gotta be careful with shellfish! You know, my cousin, Ernie, never had an allergic reaction in his life. One day, 40 years old, he ate one fried shrimp and BAM --”

C.C. slapped Fran’s hand away, “I’m fine.” Her heart was racing.

“Okay, okay, sorry Mrs. Hyde.” Fran threw her hands in the air, and C.C. could have sworn she gave a tiny pout as she turned around and continued towards their room. When she opened the door, she paused, pulled it back to her, and turned. “You know, Ms. Babcock, we should celebrate! How about a drink? A whiskey. Bourbon. On me.” She winked then stood up straight with a stern look on her face, “ Well. Not top shelf.”

“Nanny Fine,” C.C. uttered through gritted teeth, “I just want to--” she pushed past Fran and opened the door “--lie down.” She stopped in the doorway, still as if she had come face-to-face with Medusa herself.

One bed stood in the room.

_______

The first night was somewhat tolerable. Fran was very kind to C.C., ensuring she was comfortable and that she did not take up too much of her space. C.C. reciprocated by keeping her distance as well. Falling asleep was another story. C.C. was the first to lie down. Being on the side of the bed facing the bathroom, she saw the nanny walk out, wearing one of her bathrobes. God, I hope she has something under that. She could hear the shuffling of the fabric as Fran let the robe fall to the floor and felt the weight in the bed shift as the other woman settled in. Before she could make sense of what was happening, she felt two swift pats on her hip. “Goodnight, Ms. Babcock!”

“Hm,” was the only confirmation she could utter.

C.C. was hyper aware of Fran’s presence. She measured the woman’s breathing and could tell by the slower, deeper breaths when she fell asleep. It took her a while to close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw Fran’s hand on her knee…

Her shoulder…

Her hip…

C.C. jolted awake from a half-sleep. She sighed and stared at the wall in the dark. The blackout curtains weren’t closed all the way, and she could see a sliver of light flash on the wall every once in a while. She could hear sirens, car horns, distant yelling, and sometimes a drunken laugh. She didn’t know what time it was, but it felt like she had been drifting in and out of almost-sleep for hours, still aware of the body radiating heat and energy next to her. What is it about Fran Fine? was the last thought that crossed her mind before she drifted into a very, very light sleep.

_______

C.C.’s eyes traveled down Fran’s figure as she stood up when Vincenzo approached the stand, her expression a mixture of endearment and bewilderment. Why her?, a question echoing the sentiment from the night before repeating in her mind. The rest of the day in the courtroom was filled with typical annoyances, with the exception of a moment of outburst from Fran that left C.C. with the sting of an emotion she couldn’t quite place in the moment as she softly pulled Fran’s arm down.

_______

The next day, C.C. pinpointed the emotion as Fran spoke. “See, that is what happens when a man tells you that he loves you and then he takes it back.”

Jealousy.

C.C.’s face was still until she realized her arms were full of snacks that Fran had been piling onto her.

“What are you looking for?”

“My Dexatrim,” Fran responded.

C.C. rolled her eyes and stuffed the food back into Fran’s bag, the thought popping into her mind again. Why her?

_______

She was exhausted. Eight days, hardly any sleep, and “a horse is a horse, of course, of course” stuck in her head practically 24/7, C.C. wanted to explode when she read the words on the slip of paper, “And one ‘not guilty’…,” followed by Fran convincing another juror to vote “not guilty.” Every time she thought she was going to escape her personal hell, she was dragged back down. She was Sisyphus, and Nanny Fine was her boulder.

C.C. stood. “Could it be that you’re just a little sensitive to this shrew maid because you have some fantasy of ending up with your employer yourself?”

Sting.

“Let she who is without fantasy cast the first stone!”

Ohh, if only you knew, Nanny Fine!

The rest of the afternoon was full of more sting as Fran not-so-subtly talked about Maxwell and the children, but at least they were finally done. C.C. could go home and try to put this all behind her.

As they walked out of the courtroom, Fran hooked her arm through C.C.’s and cheerfully said, “I have a proposal.”

“And what would that be, Ms. Fine?”

“I propose we take one more night off. You know, eat, drink, relax, before heading back to work.”

“Nanny Fine, I really--”

“Pleeease Ms. Babcock?” Fran pleaded, stopping and tugging on her arm. C.C. looked into Fran’s eyes: earnest, gentle, kind.

That’s why her. “Well, alright.”

“You know, I really feel like this has been a good bonding experience for us.”

C.C. rolled her eyes...and couldn’t help but smile.

_______ 

 She wasn’t drunk, but she did feel a little tipsy. A little more relaxed. She and Fran were making their way back to their room after a pleasant evening of food and a couple drinks each. The nanny really was good company, when C.C. let herself enjoy it. C.C. settled into what she had established as her side of the bed for the previous eight nights, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her blond hair pooled on the feather pillow under her head. She could hear the sink faucet turn on. A couple of splashes. Off. The towel being pulled off the rack. C.C. tore her eyes from the ceiling to the bathroom door. Fran walked out and, as she walked around to her side of the bed, began to untie her robe. C.C. didn’t take her eyes off of her. Fran wasn’t wearing anything particularly risqué--why would she be--but the loose fitting, thin material that made up her pajamas hung on her perfectly. C.C. could feel her neck and cheeks getting warm again--a nightly routine for her body at this point--and she turned over to hide. Her head was reeling with the influx of emotions she had felt over the last week, a mental Rolodex: anxious, longing, annoyed, jealous, hopeful...hurt.

“Nanny Fine?” She wasn’t sure if Fran had fallen asleep.

“Yeah, Babs?”

Her heart skipped.

“Why…” she turned over to face the nanny. “Why do you put up with it?”

Fran had been facing the other way. She turned over. The bedside table lamp hadn’t been turned off yet. C.C. was able to look into the other woman’s eyes again.

“Put up with what?”

“Maxwell. He...well, obviously he isn’t willing to give you what you want. Why hold out hope?”

“Why do you?” Fran retorted with a hint of defensiveness.

C.C. was silent for a moment. “I think I’ve confused myself.” Oh god, how much did I have to drink? “I don’t think what I really desire is what...I thought I desired.” I don’t feel drunk.

Fran maintained eye contact. Silent. Almost as if she knew. C.C. cast her gaze down. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Why do you act so hard?” the woman said. The words were accusatory but the tone was soft and empathetic. Despite her attempts to keep them at bay, C.C. could feel the sting of tears and a lump in her throat. “Oh, Ms. Babcock,” Fran whispered, slowly rubbing the blond’s shoulder with her thumb. “You really are a wonderful, caring woman. You just won’t let others see it. Like you’re protecting yourself from something.” Earnest, gentle...kind.

That’s why her.

“You hurt others before they can hurt you.”

C.C. looked back into Fran’s eyes. Up to this point, she thought her jabs had all been in jest. “Have I hurt you?”

Fran laughed. “Oh, honey. It takes more than what you can throw to hurt me.” C.C. sniffled. “But listen. I was holding out hope for Mr. Sheffield because the other person I noticed--the strong, loyal, brilliant woman who crossed my path every day--didn’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated.” Before C.C. could interject, Fran continued. “Now, that’s not to say he’s a saint. Faaaar from it, missy. But you, Babs. I see a lot of potential in you, but you gotta soften up that thing you got in that chest of yours.”

“I...don’t--half the time, I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” the words started escaping from her lips, betraying every cell in her body, every natural inclination she had. At least what she thought up to this point was natural for her. “When I first saw you, four years ago, in that sparkling red dress...the way you moved, the way you talked, your confidence, god I felt so...so intensely jealous. But...four years later, and I can’t get that image of you out of my head. Just you. Not Maxwell.”

Fran lifted her hand to wipe a tear from C.C.’s face then back to her shoulder. She felt the woman’s hand travel from her shoulder down her arm…

Her waist…

Her hip…

Then she tugged.

C.C. placed her hand on the brunette’s waist as she was pulled in, the many inches between them closed. She gasped, and her breathing became uneven. She could feel the flush in her cheeks as she glanced down at Fran’s lips, which she now noticed were coming closer...and closer. She had kissed people before. Plenty of times. But Fran’s lips felt like home. They were soft and warm, moving in tandem with her own. The perfect fit. C.C. moved her hand up Fran’s side, taking note of every inch of her curvature, until she was able to tangle her hand in that nest of beautiful, brown hair. Every breath she took in between kisses was filled with that wonderfully intoxicating scratch-and-sniff perfume scent, and in the moments a soft, nasally moan escaped from the nanny’s lips, C.C.’s hips pushed forward and she moaned in return. Fran coaxed C.C. onto her back with a gentle but firm push and straddled her, not letting their lips part for more than a second. C.C. put both hands on each of Fran’s hips as Fran began to leave a trail of kisses down C.C.’s neck…

Her collarbone…

Her chest…

This is better than being drunk...

_______

C.C. finally got the rest she needed. She woke up from a deep sleep and could feel the tangling of sheets around her body. As she began to shift, she felt a heavy weight on her legs and her waist. A quiet, gravely moan emitted next to her ear. As C.C. rolled over, Fran shifted but didn’t move her leg or her arm. Instead, she tightened her grip and pulled the woman closer. C.C. caressed Fran’s face as her eyes fluttered open.

“Mornin’, Babs baby.”

“Morning, Fran,” C.C. said with a smile and placed a sweet kiss on the nanny’s lips.

_______

Hand-in-hand, C.C. and Fran walked up to the desk in the hotel lobby to check out. The receptionist from their first night was working that morning. Fran smiled and slid the key across the counter, while C.C. took out her credit card to pay for all the unexpected nights.

“Good morning, ladies! Hope you enjoyed your stay. Did the pull out couch work out alright?” the receptionist asked.

Fran and C.C. exchanged glances and both blurted, “The what?”

[a-froger-epic]

About the Interview

Since I posted the interview with J - a woman who has described herself to me as one of Queen’s first “groupies” - there has naturally been a lot of discussion about the veracity of the interview, the source, and my own motivations in posting it. I fully expected that, and I will say once more that nobody (apart from a small handful of anonymous trolls) has behaved inappropriately in these discussions. I have not received any “hate” because of this. There is no “drama”. Nobody is wrong, or a party-pooper, or attacking me by expressing their doubts. I have seen some awful bile spat at people anonymously recently, and that kind of behaviour has got to stop.

Now, if you don't think I am genuine, there is obviously nothing I can do about that. 

However, what I am hoping to do here is add as much transparency as I can in regard to how and why the interview happened, and also share my own full thoughts on it with you. 

First things first. No unverified, anonymous source can be seen as definitive proof of anything, ever. That is my stance. I have myself been criticised for so much as suggesting that other anonymous sources tied in with Freddie’s history are not 100% proof of one thing or another. But for me, an anonymous source can never mean more than at best: this seems very likely, but we can’t be 100% certain.

Perhaps I was naive to think that what I considered to be enough of a disclaimer at the beginning of the interview, was enough. My intention was to express that while I, personally, believe J to be a) the person she says she is and b) genuine about what she remembers, that does not mean I believe everything she has told me is fact or happened in that exact way. I thought this was obvious. Perhaps I was unclear, and I apologise for that. 

So let me be clear. There is nobody in the world who has perfect, factual recollections of what happened to them almost 50 years ago. Not even J herself claims for one moment that this is the case. She mentions several times that these are old memories from when she was very young, that she indulged in recreational drugs at the time, and that her views - of course - carry a personal bias. All this, I thought, would be enough for readers to know not to take everything they read at face value.

All of the above is why I kept my own thoughts and notes to a minimum within the interview, why I didn’t correct or point out obvious mistakes. I simply assumed that everybody would go away and read the interview against all the sources and information they already have, as I have done myself.

But maybe that was somewhat irresponsible of me, and I should have been the first person to dig into how J’s memories fit in (or don’t) with the information which is already out there, and how to put the two together. While I refrained from sharing all my thoughts alongside the interview (although I have fragmentally done so in response to other people since), others like @quirkysubject​ (here), @iwilltrytobereasonable​ (here), @emmaandorlando​ (here), @sarinataylor​ and @talkingismylifewrites​ (here) all had some very good things to say. All of them make excellent points. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES SEND THEM NASTY MESSAGES. I frankly can’t believe I have to say this at all.

I found myself in a difficult position, because as the person who had spoken to J and asked her all these questions, I did not feel as though I could dissect her words as freely as anybody else. She has put a lot of trust in me, and I do not want her to think that I question her honesty and intentions. Because I don’t. If I hadn’t felt as sure as I reasonably can be that she is the person she says she is, and that her story is genuine from her perspective, if I had been in any doubt about that, I would not have made it public.

Here's the thing:

Even if you don't believe J knew the boys, her recollections of the time period alone are still valuable and incredibly interesting, giving us a glimpse of early 1970s London. 

But I do believe J. Why?

Before I answer that, let me just say: I fully realise that of course the fact that it was my story J happened across, and me she decided to speak to because of it, makes me more inclined to want to believe her. However, other authors I'm friends with, as well as myself, have received messages from older people several times before. It does trigger nostalgia when a story is very strongly rooted in a time somebody has lived through. There are older people in the fandom. (I recently ran a poll and all age groups were represented even here on Tumblr.) 

Now, on to the reasons why my communication with J has felt nothing but authentic to me.

1. She was never in any rush to get in touch with me or relate information to me. It took her a few days to email me after she first spoke to me in the comment section, where I begged her to please get in touch. She then sent me the same email five times, over two days, because she couldn’t quite work my email address out at first. 

I ended up asking several questions more than once to get an answer because they were overlooked. The conversation went off on tangents, and we chatted about her weekend at her friend’s house (and I was presented with a beautiful snapshot of the beach), the memory box her daughter made for her, her work and other things. There were stretches of days at a time when J simply didn’t find the time to get back to me. And I may have badgered her with a few too many emails asking her to please remember to answer my questions when she has a moment. In short, it was the opposite of somebody rushing to share their story. I was doing all the rushing. (I realise that I am asking you to take my word for this, but this did not all happen in a vacuum. @plainxte​, @quirkysubject​, @fingersfallingupwards​, @onegoldenglance​ and @freddieofhearts​ witnessed the process first-hand, as well as my excitement and some of J’s original emails.)

2. J was very trusting. I know her full name, where she lives and her place of work. She sent me current pictures of herself and her husband unprompted. At no point did she ask me not to reveal her identity, that is a call I made because I did not want to expose her to any possible harassment.

3. There were a few things in her account of what she remembered which were so obviously at odds with what we know to be true - it’s well-known John is a bit taller than Roger, for example, but J remembered him shorter, Queen went to Sydney in ‘85, J remember it as ‘84 - that I couldn’t help but think, if I was somebody who was trying to convince others of a made up story, the first thing I would surely do is make absolutely certain to get the facts which are easily findable right. Instead, J always lead with: this was all a long time ago, I’m sorry, I’m doing my best trying to remember.

I realise that a very clever hoaxer could do all this and convince me. But here the question has to be, to what end? This would be quite an act for someone to arrange, to make it seem quite so naturalistic. Nobody would go through the trouble of doing that for nothing. There’s no monetary gain. Scandal? There is nothing scandalous in the interview. Attention? J is barely an active member of the fandom. She has managed to create a Tumblr though: @since72​. There is one post currently. 

It also took her a couple of days to get back to me after I posted the interview.

In brief, I have no logical explanation for why somebody would go to these lengths and fool me so cleverly, with such attention to detail, when there seems to be nothing in it for them. Why then did J bother to talk to me at all? What was her motivation? Well, after I thanked her profusely for doing this, she simply said that she felt she owed me as reading my story had brought back so many memories for her.

All of the above is why I strongly feel that J is very much real and genuine. But I completely understand that it all hinges on the fact that in order to believe everything I say is true, you would have to trust me. And I know that as I am just another person on the internet, you have no reason to do that. But I’ll get to me in a moment.

Here are a few more doubts which I have seen come up with regard to J.

Why would she be reading fanfiction about people she knew? That’s weird.

To be perfectly honest, exactly that was my first reaction, too. But then I thought about it and talked to friends about it. 

Firstly, J says herself that she was never a close friend. I agree that it would be far weirder to read fanfiction about somebody you knew very well. Having said that, John Deacon’s son has been known to read Queen fanfic about his father (and read it out on his YouTube channel). But I think given that it’s been half a century and J has been watching Queen in the public eye ever since, it isn’t really all that strange to read about fictional versions of them.

Secondly, a friend of mine noticed that it seems as though older people in the fandom find J overall more credible than younger people. I’m 35, and it is true that the older we get, the more we look for the things which remind us of our younger years. There is an urge to remember and re-live. You can trust me on this, or you can ask anyone over the age of 30 or 40. Nostalgia is real, and it only comes to you with age. Why would somebody who had briefly brushed shoulders with people who later became celebrities not take an interest in them later? It seems natural that she would. As J says, she never stopped being a fan of Queen’s music and came across fanfic when she looked up Adam Lambert. Is it really so strange that she would find fanfic about them entertaining? Having given it all this thought, I really don’t think so.

It’s unrealistic that she was so young.

This is something I have to disagree with. Times were different. Pete Townshend entered Ealing Art School at age 16, according to Wikipedia. My mother (currently 62) moved 600km away from home at the age of 15 to study piano at music college. I myself moved out from home at 17 (no tragic reasons whatsoever), but that’s beside the point. I have seen it framed in a way where it was said that “It isn’t realistic that a 16-year-old was hanging out with Queen who were all in their 20s”. I agree, it would be a little strange if the story was that one 16-year-old girl was hanging out with Queen by herself as their good buddy. But that is not the story. (Even though it is well-known that during the 60s and 70s, young teenaged groupies did in fact hang out with rock groups very frequently. Of course, J was not that kind of groupie.) She was simply part of a large circle of friends, by her own admission not a close friend of the band. Personally, I struggle to see how this is unrealistic in any way. 

It seems super suspicious that she lost her photos in a flood.

Yes, it does. I agree. J realises that, too. 

Like @quirkysubject​ said in her post, I don’t blame anyone who is too sceptical at this point. But there actually was a pretty bad flood in Australia in 1988.

There are mistakes in J’s story!

Yes, there are! Let me point them out to you. I already mentioned John’s height and Queen being in Australia in ‘85, not ‘84. I also think that her perception that Freddie was taller than Roger in ‘72, but no longer in the 80s, had everything to do with platform shoes. I have to say that I did ask J some questions which I knew were things which are almost impossible to remember about people you weren’t particularly close to. I knew there was no way she would be able to accurately recall their heights, but I still wanted to know what the impression was which she had come away with. I don’t for one moment think she could possibly know why and if Freddie’s nickname was really ‘Freddie Baby’ at EAS well before she went there. But I still wanted to hear what she thought of that. This is why I stated specifically that this entire interview consists of one woman’s subjective opinions and memories. That alone means you can absolutely not take any of it as definitive fact. That just isn’t how memory works.

Kensington Market and the stall:

J’s answers on this one thoroughly confused me. Not only did she say that while she saw Freddie at the market a lot, Roger was hardly ever there, but there was also some Indian man working at the stall during the week (who I don’t think could have been Freddie’s father). She saw Freddie at multiple stalls, a girl named Jill also worked at the stall… and J was under the impression that Roger and Freddie hadn’t even started the stall. None of this made a whole lot of sense to me, until somebody pointed out that the original stall owned by Roger and Freddie must have closed in the second half of 1971. (Sources: Queen in Cornwall & Queen: As it Began)

It is confirmed (same sources as above) that Freddie worked at the market until as late as 1974. I think it is therefore entirely possible that J would have seen him working at Alan’s stall, or helping out at other stalls, and the likelihood that Roger would have come to hang out with him on a weekend is fairly high, in my opinion. Later, reading about Freddie and Roger running a stall, J would have had no reason to think that this wasn’t the same stall she had seen them at. And yes, this is of course only a theory.

The gay pride march:

@rushingheadlong​, who has recently done a lot of fantastic research about Tim, confirms that there’s no chance (as far as we know) that Tim could have been at the march. Did any of them really go? Is J misremembering entirely? Could it be that one of them or two of them went, and looking back, J remembers it as all of them (minus John, however) because she was used to mostly seeing them all together? Does she remember them from another protest march and got it mixed up with the gay rights march? I can’t say. The march and who exactly went is a big question mark. Even J herself is only “pretty sure” that they were all there, and I have to say, I can’t tell you who was where exactly when I think back to when I was 16. Certainly not when there was a big group of people around. And that was only 20 years ago for me.

Lastly, I’m going to try and use the guide our awesome local historian @emmaandorlando​ provided on how to analyse new sources. Of course, I’m not a historian (and I’m also partly the source by being the interviewer, so I can perhaps only do this impertectly), but let’s give it a go.

1. Who wrote this document? 

‘Written historical records were created by individuals in a specific historical setting for a particular purpose. Until you know who created the document you have read, you cannot know why it was created or what meanings its author intended to impart by creating it’.

In this case, the answer is two-fold because essentially I wrote the interview, in as far as that I asked the questions, I gave it shape and presented it in the form in which it came, but the answers are J’s. I completely understand that this is already a big stumbling block for many, because not only am I presenting her as an anonymous source, but many of you don’t know anything about me. If you follow me on Tumblr, you will know that I have shared more with the internet than is probably wise. But still, I am somebody you know little about, presenting to you a person you know even less about. Whether you trust me or not is entirely down to your own judgement and instinct, and that will be different for everybody.

(I’ve seen it said that I’m plugging my own work through this interview. If that was my plan, I’m afraid it’s failed miserably. I looked, and DoA has gained a whopping 2 or 3 kudos.)

2. Who is the intended audience?

‘The relationship between author and audience is one of the most basic elements of communication and one that will tell you much about the purpose of the document. Think of the difference between the audience for a novel and that for a diary, or for a law and for a secret treaty. Knowing the audience allows you to begin to ask important questions, such as; “Should I believe what I am being told?”’

The intended audience is the Queen fandom on Tumblr and AO3. I have no interest in sharing this anywhere else because I’m not familiar with the other fan communities (Facebook? Instagram?) and wouldn’t know how to go about it. For J, the intended audience was mostly me, an author she likes who was very interested in her memories.

3. Why was this document written?

‘Everything is written for a reason. Understanding the purpose of a historical document is critical to analysing the strategies that the author employs within it. A document intended to convince will employ logic; a document intended to entertain will employ fancy; a document attempting to motivate will employ emotional appeals. In order to find these strategies, you must know what purpose the document was intended to serve.’

I got really, really excited. That is the reason. When J got in touch with me, I had a decision to make. I could ask her all the questions I wanted privately and share her answers only with my "inner circle” of fandom friends, or I could share everything with the fandom spaces where I’ve been very active in the last two years. I wanted to share the excitement and decided to do the latter.

I also wanted to present the interview in a way where it would be an engaging, well-structured read and not simply all of her emails to me dumped here with a quick ‘there you go’. So I tried to wrap it in a beautiful “package”, which is why I asked her for her art, for example.

4. What type of document is this?

‘The form of a document is vital to its purpose. The form or genre in which a document appears is always carefully chosen. Genre contains its own conventions, which fulfil the expectations of author and audience.’

An interview, written by somebody who has never interviewed anyone before.

5. Can I believe this document?

‘To be successful, a document designed to persuade, to recount events, or to motivate people to action must be believable to its audience. For the critical historical reader, it is that very believability that must be examined. Every author has a point of view, and exposing the assumptions of the document is an essential task for the reader. 

You must treat all claims sceptically (even while admiring audacity, rhetorical tricks, and clever comparisons). One question you certainly want to ask is, “is this a likely story?” Testing the credibility of a document means looking at it from the other side.’

This is for all of you to decide for yourselves, and that was always the case. Far be it from me to be upset with anyone who straight up doesn’t believe a word I say, doesn’t believe J is real or any other scepticism. I’ll say it again, DO NOT harass anyone for expressing their opinions on this! It is NOT WRONG to discuss a new source! It’s wonderful that people are doing it!

And so, we come to that last question: Is this a likely story? 

Personally, I can firmly answer that with: Yes. In my personal opinion, it is. I find J’s story very likely and there is close to nothing that makes me question that these are indeed her real memories. But given the nature of human memory, they are just as imperfect as anybody else’s and do not, and should not, supersede any factual, verified information we already have.

With that, I hope to have provided a bit more clarity and transparency, and leave you - as before - to make up your own minds.

[aperrywilliams]

The Right Moment (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist 

———————

Summary: Love confessions doesn't count in Spencer’s strengths. Don't you think?

Word Count: 5010.

Warnings: Curses… is so soft anyway. Fluff.

A/N: I’m so happy. This is my first fic with a beta, so y’all will not suffer with my all writing mistakes of before ones. All the love to the great @imagining-in-the-margins​

——————–

The first time I saw (Y/N), I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing for a few seconds. I could have counted the exact time, but I was so focused on looking at her that I only realized it when I was almost choking on my own breathlessness.

We were all in the conference room waiting for Prentiss to review a new case. She had already notified us a new member would be joining the team, which was a relief considering the amount of cases was getting quite heavy. Even just one more member could be of great help. When the two of them entered the room and Emily began to speak, I lifted my head from the file in front of me.

"Guys, this is the SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She is joining our team since today. (Y/N), meet the SSA Luke Alvez, SSA Tara Lewis, SSA Jennifer Jareau, SSA David Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid".

Everyone gave their welcome words except me, of course, given my edginess. I just nodded my head in greeting without saying a word. She waved back and quickly sat down to begin reviewing the case.

I couldn't say exactly what was the first thing about (Y/N) that I fell in love with. Perhaps it was her appearance as a determined woman, confident, intelligent, friendly, and very nice. She looked like those kinds of people who are able to fill a room with their mere presence. It wasn't long before my hypotheses about her were confirmed. Indeed, the entire team loved her immediately. She was the first person to say hello to Penelope in the mornings. She teased Luke as she passed by his desk, and bonded quickly and closely with JJ, Tara, and Emily. Rossi loved her too, especially at dinners at his house, where (Y/N) was always the first to compliment the chef.

And me? Well, it wasn't long until we became best friends. She was one of the few people who didn't bother or interrupt my ramblings. There were many times we had to make geographical profiles and visit crime scenes together; clearly not very romantic things. But the time we spent together was growing both inside and outside work. In our rare free time, we would go for a walk or watch a series sitting on the couch at her place or mine.

Those were the moments where I felt I fell more and more in love with her. For a long time, I tried to push those thoughts away by telling myself that it was something platonic, that it was the attraction of someone with a very different personality than mine. I tried to convince myself that eventually, the infatuation would pass and our friendship would persist. But seeing how the months passed and the feeling didn’t subside, I began to sink into despair within myself. I tried not to feed myself any hope.

(Y/N) was leading her life very well and I fit perfectly as the best friend – just that. Someone to trust and a shoulder to cry on. I tried to convince myself having her around was more than enough for me, even if there was no romantic interest from her.

"Do you know what it’s called? The Friendzone." Emily said to me one day after I had to confess my feelings towards (Y/N) to someone. A somewhat forced confession, since the whole team knew it already without me saying a word. It sure was printed on all my face.

"Whatever your name it, I’ll never get out of there". I replied with a shrug.

"But why don't you tell her? You should be honest with her about this, Spencer. You’re friends. You trust each other, right?" Emily inquired, trying to awaken some courage in me to express my feelings to the woman herself.

"Tell her? No, of course not. Our relationship would become weird. I don't want that.” I replied with a shake my head.

"How do you know if isn’t mutual? You two spend a lot of time together, and I've seen how you seeing each other. Maybe she also likes you." Emily was a very good FBI agent, but not the best cupid. There was no point in what she was saying to me. Friends can also spend a lot of time together. That doesn't mean anything.

"Of course it is not reciprocal! Two days ago, she told me she had a date with Tim Robertson from Organized Crime and she was 'excited.'” I emphasized the word ‘excited’ by making the quotes marks with my fingers.

"Uh-oh" she replied with that 'oh poor boy' look. “Spencer, eventually you’ll have to do something. Love is not going to disappear spontaneously.”

I only took a deep breath and drop the subject, but I kept thinking about Prentiss’ words. Was I meant to be the eternal friend? Statistics were not on my side: Studies show that if a man over 30 invites his female friend to dinner on a weekend, only 40% of women will likely consider it a date. But if the invitation is made by a non-friend male, the odds increase to 85%. If a woman is the one inviting her male friend, she is more likely he considered it as romantic date, because men are more frequently to consider everything as a date. Conclusion: I have no chance.

I felt more defeated when (Y/N) told me one day that she was now regularly dating Robertson. The boldest thing I asked her was if she liked him. She confessed to me it was ‘very likely.’

As the weeks passed, the cases came and were resolved. (Y/N) didn't spend as much time with me outside of work anymore. She had a formal relationship with the... guy... from Organized Crime. At this point not even the 'friendzone' comforted me, because I also felt I was losing my friend. What did that lead me to? Frustration. Anger. Introversion. Everything very Spencer Reid style.

One day flying back from a case, (Y/N) sat at the front of me and looked at me with concern, as I plunged into a book.

"Spencer, is something wrong?" she asked, leaning down and resting her hands on the table between us.

"Uhm? No. I'm fine." I replied, barely looking at her.

"Spencer, I know you..."

Oh, how I hate people think I’m an open book and everyone feel free to say they know me!... Even if they are right! For God’s sake!

"Are you upset with me?... You have barely spoken to me these days and we haven't sat down to talk for a long time..." She said, taking the book I had in my hands and laying it on the table. Thus, I was forced to look at her.

"No. I'm fine. Totally fine. And if we haven't talked for a long time, it's because you're apparently very busy…” My last comment wasn't very nice, but I couldn't help it.

"Oh, I see." I took my book again and opened it to resume my reading. "You’re jealous of my relationship with Robertson." She stated seriously.

What? Did she know it too? Had the pilot been told, too?

"No. Of course not. Where do you get that from? You can do whatever you please with your life…” I said with the greatest calm that my boiling blood running in my body allowed me.

“You're jealous because I don't spend time with you outside of work anymore. Spencer, honey, you’ll always be a priority for me. It's just I have less time now, you know? We're just starting something,  Tim and I. But I promise not to be one of those women glued to my partner all the time and neglecting my friends". (Y/N) ended her statement by gently stroking my hand over the book I was still holding. I felt relief and defeat at the same time. Clearly, it didn't feel better.

But (Y/N) was genuine to her word. Indeed, she looked for a way to adjust her time with him so we could return to some movie nights on the couch and occasional walks in the park. It felt good to at least fit into her life again. Of course, this had a flip side: knowing how her relationship with Tim Robertson worked, or not. The guy showed clear narcissistic features and although (Y/N) seemed to be aware of that - as the good profiler she was - her infatuation clouded her judgment. I couldn't blame her, either. I just tried to be gentle in my criticisms, but I saw how easily she dismissed them by always excusing him.

One night I was lying on the couch reading. It was close to 2 am when I heard two knocks on the door and a loud sob. I quickly got up to open the door and saw (Y/N) standing in front of me, crying. When she saw me, she threw herself into my arms and cried harder.

"I knew you would be awake..." She murmured with her head buried in my chest. I helped her into the apartment and sat her on the couch.

"Hey, what happened?". I asked in a soft voice so as not to disturb her more than she already was.

"I broke up with Tim..."

And here I was, with my shoulder ready to contain her tears. (Y/N) clung to my neck sobbing and cursing at the same time. It wasn’t the first time I had to witness a love breakup from (Y/N). As I said before, I was her best friend, and that forced me to know things that I often didn't want to hear, but it was only fair. She also was there for me many times. I had also cried on her shoulder and cursed - a bit - at situations that overwhelmed me.

I tried to comfort her by hugging and stroking her back. The sobs subsided over time, and eventually she fell asleep. I tucked some pillows under her head and covered with a blanket. I sat for a moment to watch her while she slept. I would have done anything not to see her this sad. She didn't deserve to be hurt by an idiot like Robertson. She deserved someone who truly loved her, unconditionally. Someone she could trust, who could be always there for her, who made her laugh and comforted her when she was sad.

She needed someone... like me?

I know, it sounds not so humble. But I would be all that for her and more if necessary. Maybe Prentiss was right. Maybe I should be honest and tell her about my feelings. At least I could know if I'd ever have a chance. Well, I would have to try. Here the results.

First Attempt

The next morning I woke up smelling a pleasant scent from the kitchen: freshly brewed coffee. I got up, rubbing my eyes before I saw (Y/N) making breakfast.

"Good Morning. Breakfast is ready!” She gave me a warm smile.

"Hey... you didn't have to bother with breakfast." I replied in a raspy voice due to the disuse as I slept. "How do you feel?" I hastened to ask.

"Like I broke up with my boyfriend. But it's okay. It'll okay.” (Y/N) said, giving a deep sigh. I approached the counter where she was while she passed me two plates ready with pancakes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, placing the plates on the table and sitting in one of the chairs. She got two mugs with coffee and sat across from me.

"The usual; men who end up being assholes. The initial spark’s gone. The end.” She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. "You know my taste in men follows an evident pattern, right?" (Y/N) stated with a sad smile.

"Maybe you need to double check your parameters and change it..." I said, testing the waters before I dove in. I didn't know what kind of reaction to expect, but she burst out laughing.

"I've thought about it – don't think I don’t. But bad habits are persistent.” She answered me as she cut her pancakes before popping a piece in her mouth.

"You could try at least..." Bringing out a confidence I thought I didn't have, I dared to take her hand over the table. She looked at me curiously.

"Do you think so? I honestly think I’m meant to be a total failure in love, always.” She told me with a grimace.

“I think you need a guy who understands you. A guy that’s there for you when you need him. Someone you can trust…” I didn’t know whether to persist with the description so as not to sound... too self-referential?

“But that's what I have you for, Spence. You are all that to me. That's why you are my best friend.” She said, squeezing my hand and smiling at me. I held my breath for a second and tried to continue.

"Perhaps... I could be more than that, more than a just..." I couldn't finish my idea because our phones started ringing. We had a case. End of conversation.

Fate: 1, Reid: 0.

Second Attempt

After a hard case that had us seconds from emotional overflow, Penelope had the wonderful idea we should go to a bar to 'drown' our frustrations. Hanging out with the team is always a good thing, although the idea of a bar never seemed entirely appealing to me.

Of course, I usually ended up being the designated driver since my alcohol consumption was minimal or nil. That night was no exception. Sitting with Rossi and Luke, I heard them talk about their love experiences as I watched the dance floor where Emily, Penelope, Tara and (Y/N), with high levels of alcohol in their blood, danced as if the world were to end in that moment. Rossi and Luke’s voices sounded distant to me. I could only focus on how (Y/N) moved on the dance floor and how I wished I could touch her... and kiss her... and...

"Reid? Reid!" Luke's voice brought me out of my fantasy. Not even in my own mind could I have in peace! Not even a single damn fantasy with (Y/N).

"Uhm?" I replied by inertia.

"I was asking you if you agreed with what Rossi said..." He asked. I wasn't even listening.

"Eh. Yeah. Sure. He has more experience… in everything.” I guess that answer was enough for the moment. "I'm going to get something else to drink". I said, getting up and walking to the bar. On my way I looked again to (Y/N), who kept dancing sensually with the others.

My emotional and sexual frustration by now was killing me. I gestured to the bartender for another soda. Focused on my own misery I didn't realize when (Y/N) gave me a gentle knock in the ribs with an elbow.

“Hey Reid! Don't tell me you're going to drink alcohol…”. (Y/N) joked.

"No, just a soda. You know I'm the designated driver today…” I replied as I nervously tapped the surface of the bar with my fingers. (Y/N) in her obviously drunken state suddenly hung her arms around my neck.

“Sorry Reid, always… always… you end up being our watchman. You can't even have some funnnnn…” She sighed, resting her head on my chest.

"It's okay. Seeing you all drunk to the bone can also be some fun.”. I replied, daring to take her waist to prevent her from slipping to the floor. She sighed again.

"I think... I don't feel okay... oh my… I'm feeling drowned… Spencer, I feel sick… I’m very dizzy … I feel like… ”

"Come, let's go out for some air. That’ll make you feel better."

We left through one of the back doors of the bar. Once outside, the fresh air made (Y/N) feel somewhat more restored. "Better?" I asked her.

"Yeah… I guess. But despite how drunk I’m… because I know… I’m soooo drunk… It isn’t pleasant to see that couple fucking on that wall...".I looked in the direction of her finger pointing a wall and the couple there didn't even bother acknowledging our presence. I must say some envy awoke in me. I took (Y/N)'s hand and led her further away from the alley before I pointed to the sidewalk and we sat down.

"Now we don't have to look at them." I told her. (Y/N) nodded. Breathing more coolly, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and smiled.

"Thanks Spencer. I don't know why you have such patience with me…” Oh boy. The emotional moment of (Y/N). Despite that, my love didn’t give up even a single millimeter.

"You don’t have to thank me. That's why we’re… friends, right?” I replied, barely outlining a smile.

"Yes. But… I don't know… you are always beyond that… I feel like I don't deserve you Spencer…” Her sobs began to mix with hiccups.

“For you (Y/N), I’ll do everything I can. Always”. I said it in a sincere tone. I never expected after having said that, that she would throw herself towards me and start kissing me. After the initial stun, my head began to wonder if that was okay.

Her drunken state told me that it was wrong, but it felt so good to have her lips on mine - ignoring the smell of alcohol, of course. It only lasted a few seconds. She pulled away quickly, as if a wave of sobriety hit her abruptly.

"Sorry! ... Spencer, I’m sorry!... I didn't want..." She started to stutter and cry at the same time.

"Hey, no... don't apologize. It’s okay…” I tried to calm her down.

"I don’t know what happened... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable..." She kept stammering, hiccupping and waving her hands in the air.

"It’s okay (Y/N), I don’t feel uncomfortable... Matter of fact, it’s the opposite." I was going to tell her; I couldn't take it anymore.

"No?..." Her confused face in another context would have made me laugh, but in that moment I was too busy being nervousing about confessing my love to a drunk woman.

"Well…". I took her hands and started stroking them gently. "For a long time I wanted to tell you... and I know we are friends, but I would like..." I had to clear my throat again. "What I mean (Y/N), is I love..."

Unable to finish the sentence, (Y/N) suddenly leaned into my lap, letting out an explosive puke on me. A second followed... and then a third.

The next day all she remembered was the dance floor, and the fact she emptied her stomach on me.

Third Attempt

I hate cases where unsubs try to escape. That always means a chase, and dramatically increases the probability of someone getting hurt. It was in Alabama, and the unsub had hidden himself in a barn. (Y/N) and I stepped in with our flashlights and weapons in search of him. J.J. and Luke were in the backup group.

What we didn’t expect was the bastard climbing onto an attic with his gun pointed at us. When I lit up his face with my flashlight and pointed at him with my gun, I only managed to shout "Stop! FBI!” before I heard a shot in my direction.

I felt a burning and intense pain near my face before falling to the floor. With another shot, (Y/N) struck him in the chest and the unsub fell to the floor.

Oh God, my body hurt a lot. I felt the blood run down my shoulder. The bastard had shot me in the neck! I was going to die in a filthy barn and without having ever declared my love to (Y/N). She quickly knelt down and tried to locate the source of the blood, pressing her hand to my wound.

"We need medics here!" She yelled frantically. I felt dizzy, and (Y/N)’s voice was further and further away.

Was I really going to die there? At least if that was going to happen, I had to tell her. "(Y/N) ..." I said to get her attention.

“No, no… no… don't speak Spencer, keep your eyes open, but don't speak. The paramedics are coming. Come on, squeeze my hand!"

"I have to tell...".I tried to speak but between the dizziness and the pain, I had trouble articulating words.

"Spencer, please. Listen to me. You're going to be fine… everything will be okay.” She tried to reassure me.

"I... love you..." I managed to say, trying to look her in the eye. She looked at me tenderly.

I said it! I said it! I could die in peace now, couldn’t I?

"Spencer, honey..." She said while stroking my hair. I closed my eyes and the paramedics came to check me. One of them asked (Y/N) what happened and how I was doing. She summed up the incident and finished off by saying between sobs, “Please do something. He is dying. He even started to rave."

Fuck!

Then I fell passed out and I don't remember anything else.

The Summary

I could keep on listing the times when I tried to tell her. None of them seemed to be the right moment. And when it did seem to be, something happened. Destiny definitely didn’t want my confession to come to light. So okay, I thought, maybe I should just keep it to myself forever.

One morning, I stepped in the conference room with my usual coffee in hand. There were Luke, Emily, Penelope, Tara, JJ and (Y/N). The conversation was about the latest BAU girls' night. I sat down, taking one of the files settled on the table and starting to leaf through it.

"No! In defense of (Y/N), I must say she was as calm as we were at the table when the guy approached to her.” Tara said.

"Ah, so there was no flirting?" Luke asked.

"Hey! Who do you think I am, Luke? We were there for girls' night, not to catch lovers." (Y/N) replied laughing.

"Of course, they didn't stop looking at each other all night..." Stated JJ with a giggle.

"No JJ! I don't know who you were looking at, but it wasn't me." (Y/N) defended herself. The conversation was inherently awkward for me at that point. I silently didn’t take my eyes off the file in my hands.

"Well, even if she did it, (Y/N) is a free woman and could have run away with whoever she wanted, right?" Luke had a point and that made my blood boil. I'm sure Prentiss noticed.

"Okay, but nothing happened in the end. The guy left and we kept drinking. And here we are, safe and sound.” Prentiss summarized, trying to end the conversation. My hands were sweating, and I looked sideways at (Y/N) who was giggling nervously. Prentiss was probably lying just because I was there.

“Oh yeah, but just before leaving he slipped you a piece of paper with his phone number. I'm sure you saved it in your contacts and called him later!” Penelope said directly to (Y/N), who didn't say anything back. Okay. I was fed up. This conversation had to end at that very moment. I closed the file and dropped it on the table with all the force of my frustration. I got up from the chair, clenching my fists and saying "Enough!" with my jaw clenched. Everyone in the room froze and stared at me in astonishment. Prentiss was the first to react.

"Okay, Luke, Tara, JJ Penelope... to my office. Now." Emily quickly left the room and the rest following her almost instantly. (Y/N) looked confused as the group left, then fixed her eyes on me.

"Spencer?... what's going on ?"

In silence, I closed the door of the room and leaned my back on it, crossing my arms over my chest looking at (Y/N). "You okay?"

"Not. I'm not okay. This is driving me insane.” I said, uncrossing my arms and scratching the back of my neck.

"Tell me, what's going on? Maybe I can help..." (Y/N) tried to get up from the chair to approach me.

"Just don't say anything, okay? I just need you to listen to me, and I need no one and nothing to interrupt me this time.” Just as a precaution I locked the door. (Y/N) opened her eyes with concern.

"Spencer, you're scaring me..." I just stared at her as she remembered I told her not to speak. "I’m sorry..."

“I'm going to start at the end, to make sure you hear it well. Okay?” I cleared my throat and continued speaking. “I love you (Y/N), I've loved you since practically the first day that you walked through this same door with Emily. And no, this goes beyond our friendship. Of course, I love being your friend. But that is no longer enough for me. Every time I see a man in your life, I feel something burning inside me. It hurts me deeply to see you suffer for some idiot who doesn't deserve you. I can’t take it anymore. I tried to tell you so many times, I think I’ve lost count. But if you never even considered the possibility, then I can't do anything else.

You don't even remember that you kissed me outside a bar! When I told you that I loved you while almost dying in a dirty barn, you thought I was delusional! Every time... every single time I thought I gave you signs, you either didn't see them or you didn't care. I don't know what hurts me the most, your blindness or your indifference. You’re a profiler like me! How is it possible that you never…? Damn it (Y/N)! The thing is, I can't live with this stuck inside me anymore. And I'm sorry if telling you all this ends up ruining our friendship, but not being honest with you seems so much worse now. And... and... since I told you this, I think you can go on with your day... Goodbye".

I pulled the lock and opened the door to leave the room. After my confession/outburst, I didn't even dare make eye contact with (Y/N). I was about to cross the threshold when one of (Y/N) 's hands slammed it shut again. I turned around and (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around my neck before she lifted on her feet and collapsed her lips against mine. My first reaction was to raise my hands and smash my back against the door. Stupid reaction, I don't even know why I did it.

That didn't stop (Y/N), who gripped my hair to keep our mouths together. Realizing what was happening, I took her by the waist and brought her as close as possible to me, emptying all my accumulated frustration into that kiss. I don't know how long we were like this.

Okay, yeah, I really do know. It was 2 minutes and 45 seconds. After that time, we both pulled away because we could hardly breathe.

"Wow... (Y/N)... what ...?" I tried to articulate some coherent phrase, but nothing else came out.

"Now you are going to listen to me." She said as she began to play with my tie between her fingers. “First of all: neither blindness nor indifference. Denial only. Spencer... I'm clear on all the times you tried to tell me. Really, even before I broke up with Robertson. Since the time we talked on the jet and I asked you if you were mad at me. I just wanted to deny it all this time. It’s stupid, I know, but I didn't want to hurt you. I was scared I would hurt you if I crossed that border of our friendship. And yes, I also remember the night at the bar. And when you got shot in the barn. I must insist, it was all to deny myself the possibility.

And here comes the second: I did it because I... I love you too. I have for a long time. Why didn't I do anything about it...? Well, it’s kind absurd now I think about it. I did nothing because I was afraid of ruining it. All my relationships end in disaster and I didn’t want that to happen to you. And if that meant locking myself out of the possibility of going further, I was willing to do that so I wouldn’t lose you…”

This time it was I who connected my lips with hers. It felt so good, so soft, and so warm. Not even my best dreams could compare to it. When we pulled back to catch our breath, we looked at each other and started talking at the same time.

"I’m so sorry Spencer... I never wanted you to feel like this..."

"I was waiting for the right moment..."

"If I knew how to compensate you for this..."

"(Y/N), if I had known..."

“What the hell Spencer, why we are so bad at our job…”

"We are the worst ... we should resign..." We both started laughing.

"Come here, Reid." She said, taking one of my hands and pulling me into a hug. "Could you forgive me for making you suffer all this time?"

She didn't need to ask me that. I would do anything for her.

"I let you puke on me... 3 times in one night. I think that exceeds all tolerance limits on my part, don't you think?"

She started to laugh, stifling the noise on my chest. It felt so good to have her this close, to be able to touch her.

"I love you (Y/N), so much." I said, stroking her cheeks and looking at her almost without blinking.

"I love you too Spencer. My friend, my partner… and now, my lover.” She replied, winking at me.

"Hey, that last one you still owe me... with interest due to all the time that’s already passed."

"Don’t worry, honey, you just have to hold on for a few more hours, and I assure you that we will catch up quickly".

———————

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

Exit Strategy (S2, E10)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:40 - Oh it’s Capshaw’s dream. Well. That’s upsetting. 

1:10 - .....she was performing surgery on herself?!!? WTF?

1:37 - The fact that Jessica broke into her adult child’s home to steal Martin memorabilia is hilarious to me. Also deeply upsetting. Because - dysfunctional. 

1:40 - “In my loft? Where I live?” hahahahahahaha sassy!Malcolm for the win! Also - there is something so so cute about the way Tom delivers this line. <3 It’s precious. 

1:46 - “I don’t always wake up screaming.” ....so historically we know this is true. Malcolm didn’t wake up screaming at the beginning of 1x15 when Eve was in his loft....but still... Malcolm’s mental health has been in tatters. I find it highly unlikely that he wouldn’t be waking up screaming. Especially since he was hallucinating last episode!!!!

1:55 - The Never. Ever. Room?!?!?! I’m shook. I’m amused. I’m horrified. I can’t believe that Jessica would let Malcolm keep that stuff in his loft. Why isn’t it locked up in a storage container or something? Jessica let Malcolm - the boy that Martin traumatized - sleep in the same building as all of Martin’s belongings?!?! Nah. Jessica is so overbearing .... I just don’t buy it. 

2:21 - “I am ignoring the Surgeon altogether.” Awww look at how proud Malcolm is to tell Jessica about his serial killer cleanse. He’s like, “I finally have news that will make Mom happy!!” <3 <3 Precious. 

2:36 - “He’s been calling. Non-stop.” annnnnnnd there’s are sad profiler. He’s putting on a good act for Jessica but he’s still clearly in a lot of emotional pain. 

3:15 - Really? The writers have Jessica riding the Brightwell train now? For real? I’m here for it but it feels kind of fast? Forced? Out of left field? I mean Jessica’s totally the type of mom who meddles in her kid’s love life (remember Eve?) but in the middle of the whole Ainsley-Endicott fiasco? Jessica should be more concerned about Malcolm’s mental state and less concerned with his relationship status. 

3:17 - Did Malcolm really just admit (sort of abstractly, but still) that he’s interested in Dani romantically? Doesn’t he realize that Jessica will try to interfere?!? He’s basically given her his blessing!!! 

3:25 - awwwww....the pic of baby!Malcolm and baby!Ainsley is so cute. <3

3:40 - UGH. I want to know more about that key and what it unlocks so badly!!!

3:46 - “Oh great. Detective Mom.” <3 I love it when he calls Jessica “Mom” instead of “Mother”. <3

4:36 - ......Mr.David and Martin have such an interesting dynamic. Martin listens to Mr. David without showing any signs of anger, resentment, or his usual psychopathic manipulation. Mr. David controls Martin much the way a parent controls their well-behaved child. I just find it so fascinating that Martin treats Mr. David with respect. That’s not Martin’s usual reaction when things don’t go his way.

5:00 - I’m so happy we keep getting more screen time with Hector. <3 This dude’s great. 

6:05 - soooo the fact that Jessica stabbed Daryl in the neck is probably going to inhibit Daryl’s ability to speak right? Making Daryl a useless source of information regarding the breakout?

6:24 - I love everything about this scene with Gil’s new car. I love that Malcolm’s “wow, the Coronet’s looking good.” is said with this little smile. As though Malcolm doesn’t really care about the car, but he knows mentioning it will make Gil happy. I love Gil’s rant about “No more Whitly’s around my car.” and Gil’s glare when JT asks about Tarmel’s around the car. I love Dani’s “boys and toys” line. UGh. It was just the little dose of found family that I craved. <3 BUT I do have one small complaint/concern. Gil. He said, “No more Whitly’s around my car.” Whitly’s. Why did he refer to Malcolm as a Whitly? 

6:54 - “Some major Japan-y vibes.”.....I’m sorry the word you’re looking for is “Japanese”?!?! Anyone else get super distracted by this line?!? 

7:56 - “Old people” HA. OMG. I love this so much. <3 <3

9:11 - As someone with severe social and general anxiety that has at times bordered on a form agoraphobia - Dani’s dismissive tone when she says “he’s afraid to leave the house.” hurts. Especially since it feels really out of character for Dani. She doesn’t usually dismiss people so quickly. Maybe there’s a story there? She had an agoraphobic family member? 

10:14 - “NYPD. Adjacent.” Why isn’t Malcolm a member of the NYPD yet? He trained with the FBI. He’s clearly capable of being employed as a detective for the NYPD. Is it because he doesn’t want to carry a gun? Is it because Gil doesn’t want Malcolm to carry a gun? Is it bureaucracy (probably)?

10:44 - Malcolm explaining why the antique pistol won’t fire is adorable. 

10:57 - This dude hasn’t left the house since March of 1997. Martin was arrested in 1998. Is this supposed to have some sort of double meaning? Like maybe Malcolm discovered that Martin was killing people in 1997 but the chloroform confused him for a while and he didn’t call the cops until 98′? Is this supposed to be a metaphor for the fact that Malcolm hasn’t been truly alive since 1997? He’s just been in survival mode - he hasn’t been living.

11:22 - “I’m not too good around people.” This dude is Malcolm. Malcolm lives in a state of constant fear and anxiety. Malcolm isn’t so good with relationships or casual human interactions. 

11:30 - It makes perfect sense to me that Dani is the detective that Malcolm brings in to talk to Gerald. Forget the Brightwell agenda. Gerald is a scared old man. JT and Gil are authoritative men (they’re teddy bears but they can also be scary). Dani is a woman. Women are typically seen as less of a threat. Though Dani could totally kick just about anyone’s ass. But it makes sense to me that a scared witness would feel more comfortable around the smaller female detective than the large male ones. 

12:03 - Ugh. I feel so bad for Gerald. The dude is clearly experiencing some sensory overload on top of his anxiety. :( 

12:15 - hahahaha the absolute best part of this little Brightwell moment is Gerald’s reaction. This old man just connected the dots and you can see it ALL over his face.  ....but also, it’s a really cute moment. <3

12:38 - “Too late if you ask me.” Is it just me or does Gerald seem protective of Rosalie here? Almost paternal? 

13:03 - “You still think like a grand master” Is this supposed to be an illusion to the way that Malcolm thinks about cases? He thinks like the killer in order to solve the case?

13:13 - WHY DOES MALCOLM KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT A CHESS LEGEND FROM THE 70s and 80s?!? Did baby!Malcolm have a chess phase? I want details.

13:22 - I love Gerald. He’s such a cute little old man. He’s scared but you can tell that he has a good heart and that he’s extremely smart. Look at how impressed he is with Malcolm. <3 He’s a lot like Malcolm. 

13:27 -”Memory was always my gift.” Memory is Gerald’s gift but it’s been Malcolm’s curse.

15:04 - Malcolm is so close to snapping. Look at this poor boy. He’s at the end of his rope. :( 

15:14 - “Looks like you got some sleep.” Awwww proud!Gil <3 

15:40 - “Agoraphobia often comes from trauma.” Yep. Malcolm identifies with Gerald. I wonder if Malcolm ever went through a period of agoraphobia? Maybe as a teen? 

15:48 - .....is this foreshadowing? When the truth about Endicott comes out is Malcolm going to be deemed an ‘unreliable witness’? Or maybe that’s how Ainsley is going to try and pin the murder on Malcolm?

15:58 - annnnnd we finally got a good shot of concerned!Gil. There’s no way that Gil isn’t reading between the lines here. He knows Malcolm identifies with Gerald and he knows Malcolm is having issues with his mental health, identity, and self-worth. SOMEONE CONFRONT HIM. WHERE IS THE MALCOLM INTERVENTION?!!?

16:20 - “Are you alright? Don’t answer that.”.....because Martin doesn’t actually care about Malcolm’s mental or physical health. Martin is a narcissist who has a story to tell. 

16:27 - “No. Me first.” I’m. So. Proud. Of. Malcolm. <3 <3 

16:56 - “That felt good.” :) Awwww... <3 I’m proud of Malcolm for this but Martin is totally going to hold it against him in later episodes. It’s going to fuel some sort of anger. Just wait for it. 

17:05 - Again. Mr. David acts like Martin’s dad. If Martin were 8 years old. 

17:40 - Chrisitan Brole is a treasure. His acting is incredible. Friar Pete is creepy, likeable, funny, and terrifying. Honestly. Give him an Emmy. 

20:00 - “*sigh* kid.” This breaks my heart. You can see Gil’s doubt and concern all over his face. He’s doubting Malcolm’s ability to make an accurate profile of Gerald because he knows how much Malcolm identifies and sympathizes with Gerald. He’s concerned about Malcolm because....I mean have you seen him lately? The boy is spiralling and it hurts to watch. But Gil is scared for Malcolm right now. Gil is now worried that the cases aren’t enough to distract Malcolm. That Malcolm can’t work on cases anymore. That Malcolm’s mental health has compromised his ability to work effectively. 

20:50 - “We’re friends. Partners” Listen to the longing in Malcolm’s voice when he says “partners”. He wants to be romantic partners with Dani - not just work partners. It’s obvious. This boy is an open book when it comes to how he feels about Dani. 

21:08 - “And she never will.” there is something about the way Tom delivers this line. How he sort of trips over the words. I can’t tell if it’s intentional or not but it works. It somehow makes it more raw and emotional. Malcolm wants so so badly to tell Dani how he feels but he’s convinced that he’s a monster. That she deserves someone more stable than him. Someone with less trauma. Malcolm is convinced that he’s not safe for anyone to love. Malcolm is convinced he’s going to snap and become Martin. 

21:17 - “Sounds lonely.” I love the way Malcolm immediately dismisses this as ‘tactical empathy’. Malcolm has accepted that he will be alone forever. He’s convinced himself he deserves it. I’m willing to bet that Malcolm rarely (if ever) actually feels lonely. Between coping mechanisms, hallucinations, and trauma - I doubt his mind is ever quiet enough for him to notice loneliness. 

21:27 - “You’ve spent your life mastering a game. I’ve spent mine mastering how people think.” .....ok but chess is basically about predicting your opponents moves and then Gerald graduated to people watching soooooo they’re really not that different. 

22:06 - I love this. I love how Malcolm turns on Gerald only for Gerald to emphatically explain how he lives through that window. Because - isn’t Malcolm the same? How many people have accused Malcolm of being a murderer when really he’s just a man who only feels alive when he’s solving murders and putting away killers?

22:50 - Rosalie helped Gerald much like Dani helps Malcolm. But Gerald couldn’t help Rosalie because he was trapped in his trauma. .....sooooo what’s going to happen to Dani? Or is this just supposed to be a reference to the fact that Dani can’t trust Malcolm because he’s keeping Endicott a secret and she knows something is up?

22:51 - ummmmm 60bpm??!?!? That’s a borderline athletic resting heart rate for a man in his 50s. There’s no way Martin’s in that great of shape. He’s trapped in his cell most of the day. 

24:28 - oooookkkkkayyyy so maybe Capshaw isn’t as smart as I thought she was. Martin is playing her like a fiddle. Although that dream sequence from the intro did make it seem like she was only interested in Martin because she craved medical power and respect. 

25:22 - Martin didn’t call Jessica his wife to screw with Capshaw. He genuinely still thinks of Jessica as his wife.....this is not good for the future. This tracks with the dreams Martin’s had throughout this season of going back home to his family. 

25:44 - Oh yeah. Jessica knows that woman is into Martin. 

26:41 - “Isn’t it obvious? It’s the key to my heart.” LMAO holy shit. 

26:56 - “I can tell when you’re lying.” “Not historically.”......Martin has a point. 

28:27 - This counts as my “someone confronts Malcolm about his mental health” bingo square for the episode right? 

28:35 - Look at Gil. He knows Malcolm is lying through his teeth and he’s so so tired of it. He looks so sad and annoyed. Gil loves Malcolm so much and he’s clearly concerned about Malcolm but I honestly think Gil just feels helpless right now. Malcolm is spiralling and Gil can’t help because Malcolm won’t open up. 

29:15 - “When she didn’t give up Clayton he killed her. Brave girl.”.....does this mean there’s going to be an attempt on someone’s life this season? Maybe Martin tries to kill Ainsley because she’s going to pin Endicott’s murder on Malcolm? Or Malcolm tries to kill Ainsley because she doesn’t give up Martin’s location? Or Ainsley/Martin try to kill Malcolm because he tries to come clean about everything?

29:26 - “If anyone can get through to this guy it’s you.” THANK YOU. Malcolm really needed that assurance. This dude is so full of negative emotions, self doubt, and pain. Every moment he feels supported, believed in, or loved is immensely treasured. 

30:26 - Oh Capshaw. You dumb dumb dumb woman. Look at Martin’s face. Capshaw has freed a monster. That’s Martin’s “I’m a raging serial killer” expression. 

30:29 - Holy shit. Look at how quickly Martin put the “I’m a harmless doctor” mask. In the span of about 1 second he went from killer to angel. Michael Sheen is incredible. 

31:04 - “You don’t have to be trapped in here.” It breaks my heart to hear Malcolm encourage Gerald to break free from his trauma when Malcolm is still a prisoner to his own. 

31:10 - “This is your next move” “No. It’s not”. THIS. This sums up anxiety disorders. Everyone tells you to ‘move on’ or ‘take a deep breath’. They all tell you that ‘everything will be fine’. They ask you ‘what’s the worst thing that could happen.” The problem: most people with anxiety disorders know the majority of their fears (or at least the severity of them) is irrational. Most people with anxiety disorders have tried therapy, drugs, coping mechanisms, breathing techniques, ect. Anxiety doesn’t go away because you want it to. Telling someone to move on - just makes it worse. Especially someone who has lived with severe anxiety so long that it feels like a crucial part of their personality. I’ve had a severe anxiety disorder for as long as I can remember - I don’t want to heal. I don’t know who I’d be without severe anxiety. I’m scared to find out. 

32:10 - “Family comes first”........soooo is Martin escaping to groom Ainsley for the family business (murder)? For Malcolm (to save him from Ainsley)? To protect Malcolm from a new Surgeon related skeleton (akin to Endicott)? WHY? 

32:33 - ahhhh Papa!Gil. I’ve missed you. 

33:25 - I have this headcannon that baby!Malcolm had pet rats at some point (he’d had snakes so I feel like rats would be in his wheelhouse). One day while Malcolm was at school the rats escaped from their cage and scared the crap out of Jessica. Jessica demands that the rats be removed from the home. That’s it. That’s the scene that plays in my head. 

33:39 -.....Jessica is wearing a ring on her left ring finger. Why? 

34:03 - “Jess it’s good to hear from you but -” They’re dating again now. Right? <3 

34:06 - “What?!” Fear and confusion. That’s the look on Gil’s face. We love to see it. 

 34:25 - “Martin is escaping.” Look at Gil’s face. He’s terrified. He’s staying calm and acting like he’s in control but this dude is terrified that the people he loves most in the world (Jessica and Malcolm) are in serious and immediate danger. 

34:50 - .....last I checked Malcolm was claustrophobic with specific closet-related trauma......

35:40 - “There’s only one play for a pawn.”.....does this mean Malcolm considers himself a pawn in Martin’s game? Disposable. Limited options. Replaceable. Of little worth? :( 

35:57 - “What would you know about it Judas.” Huh. Pete is pissed at Martin. Is it because Pete views Martin’s nasty relationship with Capshaw as a betrayal akin to Judas’ betrayal of Jesus?

36:36 - Jessica using her heels as a weapon is honestly such a mood. hahaha

36:54 - Poor Jessica. The moment she realizes that she’s trapped with a killer who not only hates Martin but also has an hallucinatory friend is haunting. This woman goes from terrified to petrified. But look at her poker face. She’s brave. She tries to talk her way out of it. She tries to think her way out of it. She’s like Malcolm.

37:42 - Jessica firmly telling Daryl not to take another step right before she stabs him in the neck with a high heel is everything. Listen to her terrified screaming. She can’t believe she just stabbed the man (even if it was self-defence). This woman did the impossible while scared to death. She is a badass. She’s my hero. I love her. 

38:12 - “All she had to do was tell me where my brother was. Except they were in love”.....does this mean Ainsley or Martin is going to try and kill Dani?

39:32 - “Don’t you think that’s what Rosalie would’ve wanted for you? This time make the right choice.” Wow. Malcolm is really metaphorically berating himself. What I heard was “Don’t you think Dani would want you to live without fear and guilt? This time - tell her your secret. Come clean. You’ll feel better.”

40:12 - ....so did Dani steal Gil’s keys or did he give them to her? Can we see how mad Gil is about this? Please? .....also the not-so-subtle “Dani is going to be a part of the Whitly family because she hurt Gil’s car” is not lost on me. I’m just more interested in Gil’s reaction to Dani hurting his baby. 

40:21 - “I see why you like her.” hahaha Gerald is all of us. Whether or not you ship Brightwell, you can’t deny that Dani is a badass and a good friend to Malcolm. That’s reason enough for Malcolm to like her - not necessarily in a romantic way. 

40:30 - Where the hell did Daryl go? If Jessica was trapped where did the man with a high heel in his neck go?!!?! 

40:33 - “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.” <3 <3 The whump whore in me is in love. Forget Gillica. I’ll listen to Gil comforting a traumatized member of the team or Jessica any time, any day. <3 

40:50 - I have so many questions about this escape. Are the guys sticking together? If not - do they know where the other guys plan to go/do? Where will they be getting the post-escape change of clothes (you know the ones that aren’t property of Claremont)? 

40:55 - I’ll be honest, I’m shocked. They’ve been teasing Martin’s escape all season but I really thought he wasn’t going to escape until the finale. Now I’m so excited for the finale. If it’s not a Martin-Ainsley-Malcolm showdown or a Gil-Martin showdown I’m going to be sad. 

41:13. - Martin and Gerald both just took their first breath of fresh air as ‘free’ men after 23-24 years. The symmetry of this episode’s two main plot lines is more obvious than usual. 

41:44 - Look at Gerald being Malcolm’s wingman. hahaha it’s so cute. He’s self-appointed himself as Malcolm’s grandpa and I’m here for it. 

41:51 - REALLY MALCOLM?!!? YOU CHOOSE TO LISTEN TO A VOICEMAIL FROM THE SURGEON NOW?!?! #MORON

42:29 - Martin’s entire message for Malcolm is haunting. Even now, he’s trying to manipulate Malcolm. “I’m not the man I used to be”. I’ll promise you right now - Martin will be killing at least one person in the next 3 episodes. He’s addicted to killing. End of story. 

“I’m doing this for you” ....Is Martin going after Ainsley? I’m genuinely concerned that Martin thinks Ainsley is going to try and kill Malcolm or pin the Endicott murder on Malcolm. I think Martin caught wind of it and is planning on ‘taking care of the problem’ (Ainsley). 

42:35 - Look at Dani. She’s terrified. For Malcolm. For Gil. For New York. For herself. She knows how bad this is and she’s scared. 

42:44 - “You fath-. The Surgeon.” THIS. Dani realized that Malcolm doesn’t need to be reminded that his father is a serial killer. Dani realized that family is more than blood. The Surgeon escaped. Malcolm is in danger. But Malcolm’s father didn’t escape. Malcolm’s father has been dead since 1997/1998 when Malcolm found out he was a serial killer. 

42:55 - Malcolm. :( Look at our baby. :( He’s done. Absolute horror and terror. He looks like he’s going into shock. I honestly thought (*cough* hoped *cough*) he was going to pass out. THIS is what’s going to remove Malcolm as a suspect for ‘aiding/knowing that Martin was planning on escaping’. Same with Jessica. Ainsley doesn’t have a terror driven alibi though. At least - not that we’ve seen. 

AHHHHHHHH this was such an intense episode. I can’t wait for Tuesday. <3

If Malcolm doesn’t have a full on mental breakdown soon I’m going to have a stress-induced breakdown for him. Seriously. 

 Thanks for hanging out. 

[marjansmarwani]

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by @lire-casander 💕

Name(s): Jillian

Fandom(s): currently 911 Lone Star. Previously...we don’t have to talk about that.

Where you post: Everything I post goes to Ao3 but I also post them here. (Fanfiction.net is for my old stuff that should never see the light of day and it will stay that way.) 

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos) Overall/this year: Brother (I will hear you call) with 402 kudos? I have no idea when that happened but damn. (Technically though it’s a collection of oneshots so the actual oneshot with the most kudos is Friends Like These with 355. Which still, damn.)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos) Overall/This Year:  The Boss’s Son (aka the role reversal au) with 258 kudos.

Favorite story you've written so far: Probably You Can Learn to Love (Again) (aka the teacher au) just because it was the most personal thing I wrote. I spent so much time and effort on it and I do actually love the way it came out. 

Fic you were nervous to post: I think it’s a tie between I had most, and then all of you because it was the first thing I had written in years and the first one for a new fandom and Trouble Will Come because it was the most original thing I had ever done (this is pre-AUs, mind you). I (used to) tend to stick pretty close to canon but here I was writing a multi-chapter sequel for one of my own fics for the character with the least screen time involving two OCs and it was kind of terrifying. 

How do you choose your titles?: Usually from a song or I bother @officerrxyes or @terramous and they come up with one for me. They are both much better at it than I am. 

Do you outline?: Yes. Almost every time. Sometimes it’s only 1 or 2 bullet points, but often it’s much more. I like having it so I can keep track and delete things as I go or to laugh at it once I am done and used none of it. 

Complete: 47 this year, all for Lone Star. Fun fact: according to Ao3 I have published 238,549 words during my time on the site (5 years)...and 191,275 of those have been this year. So, yeah. 

In-Progress: So many. I have 6 docs tabs open as I am writing this. There will definitely be at least 4 more full fics before the end of the year for events and other assorted things plus I have 4 more prompts to complete for those ficlets. 

Coming soon/not yet started: Even more. I keep joking that I have anywhere between 30-40 wips going at any given time and that’s not a lie. I am considering a part 2 to a certain AU, I still have some of those prompts I took earlier in the year to finish, @bellakitse convinced me to write another prompt (she didn’t have to try very hard, I was already strongly considering it) and...I think that’s mostly it? I also have a doc with just ideas that I’d like to get to at some point and there are many things on that doc. It all comes down to time and motivation. 

Prompts?: I love prompts, feel free to send them whenever! I swear I will get to them at some point, really. At the moment I am absolutely taking them for the ficlets and I still have a bthb card that I need to finish so I might post that again once I have some of the other stuff in my inbox done. 

Upcoming work you're most excited about: Maybe the one I keep referring to as the angsty christmas fic? It’s going to be angsty but if it goes the way I want it to it will also be very sweet, we’ll see. I’m also pretty excited about my tarlos secret santa fic but I can’t say anything about it for obvious reasons. And also that “secretly married and gets hurt at work prompt.” I started outlining it last night and I think I am going to have fun with the format!

No-pressure Tags: this is just me trying to remember who hasn’t been tagged and I apologize if I double tag you @reyesstrand @prodigalleverage @moviegeek03 @sneetchestoo @sunshinestrand @letitialewiss

[zeravmeta]

fuck it. soma cruz fgo servant profile bc i make my own content

Servant: / Servant Class: Soma Cruz / Alter Ego

Origin: / Region: Castlevania Series / Japan, 2035

Alignment: Lawful Neutral(?) “Yeah, not sure how I classify as Lawful given my past life, but whatever.”

Aliases: The Dark Lord, Dracula, Soma Cruz

Parameters: STR (B) / END (A+) / AGL (B+) / MP (EX) / LUK (A) / NP (???) 

Class Skills: Authority of Beasts (Fake), Core of Chaos (A), One Who Severs Fate (A)

Character Info: “In order for God to be perfectly Good, there must always exist an embodiment of Chaos, a Dark Lord to emerge from the evil of humanity’s hearts.”

For one thousand years, the Belmont bloodline had opposed the terrible night that Count Dracula would bring with his powers. After generations of suffering, the Belmont’s latest mantle bearer, Julius Belmont, along with their generational allies, the Belnades clan and a nameless soldier, had managed to permanently defeat Dracula with the help of the Hakuba Clan’s shrine magics. Severing his connection to his power and sealing Castlevania, the embodiment of his power, within a solar eclipse, Dracula had finally faced his demise in 1999, prophesied by Nostradamus one millennium ago. Thus, the strongest Dark Lord had fallen, his throne empty and awaiting a new master.

In 2035, Soma Cruz had visited the Hakuba Shrine to meet with his childhood friend Mina, unaware of the birthright he would claim.

Skills:

Chaos Ring A: An extremely powerful construct that channels the very essence of Chaos. It can only be found by the one who can traverse and control the Chaos Realm, the Dark Lords personal right. Wearing it grants the unlimited magical power of the Chaos Realm, but actual output depends on the user. If the Demon King’s Ring is the symbol of Dracula and his reign, then the Chaos Ring could be considered the symbol of Soma and his new beginning.

Thematic narratives aside, it’s a very convenient tool for Soma.

“It’s weird, but it feels like…it was made for me. Almost like a welcome gift.”

[5->3 Turns] [Charge NP (20%->30%), Increase NP Gain (10%->25%) (3 Turns), Gain a Delayed buff 1 turn after skill use (Unremovable): [Charge NP (20->30%)]

Armament Master D: Soma is extremely proficient at using any and all forms of weaponry. Due to Dracula’s vast reach, Soma has a vast number of different modern and mythical weapons and gear at his disposal, notable weapons including Excalibur (sealed in the stone), Hrunting, Caladbolg, Mjolnir, and even a Positron Rifle, to name a few. However, one weapon unique to Soma is the Claimh Solais, an Irish sword of light mentioned in many legends and defining the archetype of “Sword of Light.” It provides a great boost to parameters and is surprisingly light weight despite its size. Another unique weapon he wields is the Valmanway, the “Blessed Wind” that is always ‘cutting’ even when still.

(The rank is D because despite his proficiency, Soma has never had any formal training.)

“I mean, it’s just a sword, right? How complex is it? You can just swing it and things die. Though…considering I have ol’ Drac’s memories…sorta, maybe I’m just remembering it?”

[8->6 Turns] [Increase Atk (10%->20%) (3 Turns), Gain Critical Stars (5->15), Increase Critical Star Absorption (3000%) (3 Turns), Increase Critical Damage (10%->20%) (3 Turns), Apply Special Attack against Sky, Star and Beast attribute enemies (20%->40%) (3 Turns)]

Power of Dominance (EX): Soma’s inheritance from Dracula, or more fittingly, the Chaos Entity opposite to God. The Power of Dominance is a unique ability that grants a complete mastery over the abilities of any and all souls Soma can acquire from the enemies he defeats. All the monsters that Dracula unleashed in his crusade against humanity are the countless souls under his domain, even that of Death itself, and their powers rightly belong to him.

Soma can differentiate between the types of Soul Arts he uses, and this reflects accordingly in his Noble Phantasm.

“I never wanted this power, but I guess I’m stuck with it. I’ll always carry the target on my back, but at least I can look awesome as hell while doing it, I suppose.”

[5->3 Turns] [Decrease Enemy Charge by 1 (20%->50%), Select own NP Command Card’s type between Quick, Arts or Buster for 3 Turns. Effect of NP changes depending on which Command Card Type is selected. This skill is immune to debuff effects (such as Skill Seal)]

Noble Phantasm:

Advent of Sorrow – He Who Severed His Fate Against Chaos and God / Anti-Divine, Anti-Self / Rank (???)

A manifestation of Soma’s power truly made his own, separate from the title of Dark Lord and Dracula. Having defeated the Chaos Entity, he managed to sever its connection to his soul, and be saved from his Fate. Even so, he carries the Power of Dominance with him always, and the countless souls and followers of Chaos always wait and offer themselves unto Soma to lead and command them. In his own imperfect way, neither holy nor demonic.

After all, he’s only human.

(Note: If used by the true Count Dracula, this would be considered an Anti-Humanity NP)

[Type: Buster] – [Deals massive damage to a single enemy (1200%->2400%), Chance to Decrease Charge by 1 (80%->100%). Overcharge: Increases own Buster Card Effectiveness (20%) (1 Turn) and NP Damage (1 Turn) (20%) (Activates First)]

[Type: Arts] – [Deals heavy damage to all enemies (400%->800%), Chance to decrease Atk (15%->25%) and Critical Chance (20%->30%). Overcharge: Inflict Curse (5 Turns).]

[Type: Quick] – [Apply Debuff Immune (1 Time), and Restore HP each turn for self (3 Turns) (1000->1500), and Increase NP Gauge each turn for self (3 Turns) (5%). Overcharge: Apply Def Up for all allies (3 Turns) (25%->50%).]

Bond Lines: 

Bond 1: “Heh, thanks for having me! I’m still not too sure about how all this stuff works here, but if you need a monster taken down, I’m your guy.”

Bond 2: “So the rest of those dudes call you ‘Master’? Kind of awkward, but I guess they’re magical familiars at the end of the day. What? So am I? Sorry but, vampiric powers aside, I’m just a normal guy. I was even in University before I got dragged here. I’ll just call you [name] for now.”

Bond 3: “Do you like curry? Arikado said I shouldn’t be using these monster souls for dumb stuff, but they don’t mind. They always talk to me and really want to help me out wherever I am. Except Death, that guy sucks. He’s always breaking into my home and trying to convince me to become the next Dark Lord and to ‘accept my throne’ and stuff.”

Bond 4: “…It scares me, sometimes. Knowing not only what I am, but what I’m very capable of.”

Bond 5: “Y’know…you could always come back with me to my world, if you want to escape. I’ll take you to meet Mina, and Hammer and Yoko and Julius and Arikado and…Hm. Sorry. I know you can’t abandon this world, it’s where you grew up. There’s…a lot of people here who love you. You should always remember that and hold it close. It saved my life when I thought I couldn’t go on, and I know it will also save yours.”

Voice Lines:

(1): “I’m glad this place is a lot simpler than the castle. That place had so many hidden rooms and puzzles that I felt like I was going insane…No, as a matter of fact, DON’T tell me about all the secret workshops here.”

(2): “Hm? What’s up? I’m just relaxing here. Sorry if I’m taking up space. It’s nice to just take a moment.”

(3): “No, no, don’t worry. Even if I could, I’m not the type of guy to just go around stealing souls. I only do that to monsters, and even then, they become complacent once they return to me. I could show you some of the fun ones, like the Skeleton Gardener, if you’d like.”

Likes: “What I like? Curry! Oh, and Mina. She’s been with me for my whole life. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Dislikes: “This is gonna sound cliché, but garlic. It just tastes bad.”

Event: “Whoa, a party! Let’s go, I’m super bored cooped up in here.”

About The Holy Grail: “Wish granting? No thanks, I’ve read a ton of comics and things always go wrong. What? Of course, it’s a valuable source!”

Summon Quote: “Yo! My name is Soma Cruz. I’m just a regular high school student. Um…Where am I, exactly?”

Happy Birthday: “Happy Birthday, [name]! I’m so gonna throw you the coolest party ever! I’ll even invite Mina…If, uh, if that’s cool with you?”

(King Hassan): “D-Death!? Why are you…Oh. Uh, sorry about that. You reminded me of...someone. I’m sure you’re a cool guy underneath all that armor.”

(Vlad/Vlad III (EXTRA)): “Huh. So, in this world, the legend of Dracula is just that? A legend? Well, that’s a huge relief. I’m not exactly the kingly type.”

(Gilgamesh/Gilgamesh (Caster)): “Hey [name], could you give me a hand? This gold idiot keeps saying I stole his weapons, but they’re mine! …Hey! Stay back with those portal things! Someone, help!!!”

(Scathach): “Jeez, I bet Arikado will get along with that slave driver. Seriously, Arikado’s method of teaching me my powers amounted to locking me in a room with monsters and a pocketknife. Huh? She’s stomping over here!? [name], help me!”

(Marie Antionette): “I don’t know why, but…Looking at you makes me sad. I’m sorry.”

(Sessyoin Kiara): “Master, this lady is coming onto me WAY too hard. She keeps telling me to ‘embrace what I am’ and junk. I already get enough of that crap from cultists back home.”

(Sakata Kintoki/Astolfo/Romulus/Romulus-Quirinus/Ashwatthama): “Hey, you’re a pretty cool dude, huh? Finally, someone with some style!”

(Amakusa Shirou): “Ugh, you remind me of Fortner. And stop using rosaries around me, I’m not Satan, you jerk!”

(Mephistopheles): “Please, leave me alone. I’m not evil, nor will I ever be the Dark Lord. Just because I have those powers doesn’t mean I’m defined by them. Also, the alarm clock you gave me exploded, so I don’t think you’re all that trustworthy anyways.”

(Beni Enma): “Aww, you’re so cute...Wait, from the Underworld? A yokai? Guess you’re one of mine, then. If you want, I can loan you some Skeleton Waiters for your chain.”

(Any Avenger-Class Servant): “Hey, you guys are kinda like me! Everyone says you’re evil, but you’re actually really nice!”

(Arcueid Brunestud): “Master, that girl is shooting me some pretty weird looks....Huh? Reincarnating vampire? Oh, I guess I’d look pretty weird in that case. That’s not her fault, though. Maybe I’ll go say hi.”

QQABB Deck:

Buster Card: 2 Hit / -Soma raises Excalibur (still in the stone) and smashes it into the enemy-

Quick Card: 5 Hit / -Soma holds Valmanway in front of him, turns around, and multiple slashes envelop the enemy-

Art Card: 3 Hit / -Soma does two horizontal strikes, then a third overhead strike with Claimh Solais-

Extra Card: 6 Hit / -Soma punches twice, does a spin-attack with Claimh Solais, then jumps back and fires his Positron Rifle-

Level Up: “Whew…I feel so powerful.”

Ascension 1: “Whoo! Good job, [name].” 

Ascension 2: “This…This is just like then…[name], maybe don’t do this anymore.”

Ascension 3: “Please…stop. I don’t know if I can pull myself back this time…”

Ascension 4: “I see. Well…as long as you’re by my side, I’ll never succumb. So please…don’t die.”

Battle Start ½: “Just how many monsters out there!? In any case, let’s do this thing!” / “I’ll carry the mantle and defeat this terrible night!”

Skill ½: “Bullet, set…Enchanted, set…Guardian, set…” / “How about some of this!”

Attack Selection ½/3: “Hmm.” / “Seriously!?” / “Nice.”

Attack ½/3: “Hraagh!” / “Take this!” / “You’re going down!”

Extra Attack: “Let’s see you handle THIS!”

Noble Phantasm Selection ½: “Are…Are you sure?” / “I’ll trust you on this.”

Noble Phantasm: “I will never be the Dark Lord…You, God, and The World will just have to deal with it!”

Noble Phantasm Damage: “I won’t…Submit...!”

Regular Damage: “Gah!”

Defeated ½: “Mina….” / “Julius…our promise…”

Battle Finish ½: “That was a close one…” / “Anyone need some healing? I have some spare spoiled milk…Oh wait, none of you have a Ghoul soul, huh?”

[diamondsnpolaroids]

I know I havent posted in awhile, and I will catch you all up on my weekly polaroid progression shots but I've really been struggling this week and I need to get it out somewhere.

Yes. I am still pregnant. In 3 days I'll finally be 40 weeks. A milestone I never thought I'd get to because this entire pregnancy has been a rollercoaster of emotions, pain and endless struggles. I didnt want to be pregnant this long. At all. This is going to be long and there will be a lot of personal details, but I need to get it out. I'm tired of having all these thoughts with no outlet.

Since I was 16 years old I was convinced I would never be able to have a child. It was always a devastating thought until I got to the age of 22 when i finally kind of accepted the fact and was okay not becoming a mother. The one thing i wanted between those years, the one thing that broke my heart was I'd never be able to experience the feeling of being pregnant. That may seem silly because that's such a short period of time when it comes to being a mother. 9 months of growing a human compared to the years and years of seeing that person grow is so minuscule. But for some reason that was always what broke me most.

I was dating the same man that entire time. I was 16 when we first starting dating, and I'll be convinced till the day I die that he was my soulmate. He was my best friend over absolutely anything. I could be my totally authentic self with him. He knew how weird I was and stayed. He watched me drown myself in my depression and stayed. He saw me act like a child, like an adult, my worst and best moments. Experienced my grief and my biggest accomplishments and was always right there for me. Growing up with an alcoholic drug addict father I knew I needed a man that would never abandon his family for those things. He was the man I knew I never needed to worry about.

I never really noticed the abusive behavior. The mental torture, isolation, the control he held over me, how hard his harsh words would hit.. it never really crossed my mind because when the good times were good, they were great. When they were bad, I was convinced it was all on me. My depression was the controlling one. My insane mind was the problem. Never him. Then the alcohol started to take over. He consumed himself in it whenever he had the chance. His childhood was ruined by this substance just like mine was and he was slowly turning to it instead of working out his trauma that it caused. Hed increase the intake slowly but surely and when it got too much for me to handle I'd cry and beg that he stopped. Seeing how upset it made me the first few times hed stop or slow down. But it was never for long. Hed go a week and then once again it would slowly increase and the cycle would continue. After awhile, I was "crazy" and he was "just doing what everyone our age was doing". No one our age was drinking 6+ a night on week days and spending $200 at least per night on the weekends. By the time we hit 7 years it got to an all time low. April of 2019 I realized all of this wasnt okay any more. An old friend had walked into my life and for the first time in years I was treated like a human being with feelings. Real feelings that were valid. I was told and shown that I was no where near the same happy girl I once was. It was all over my face and in my body language that I was a totally different person and not in a good way. It was clear just by looking in my eyes that I was severely depressed. I was reassured that my decision to split to work on ourselves was indeed the best step forward I could have ever taken.

My boyfriend reluctantly agreed to end the relationship for the sake of bettering ourselves or else we'd never last as a long term couple. He stopped drinking. Wed still hangout but was met with an extreme depression on his end, begging for me to stay and help him through it as if I hadn't tried for years and years. I knew nothing I could do would make him change, it needed to be a decision he made for himself. He had ruined every part of my being and I needed to explore who I was as an individual. My old friend made me feel ways I hadn't in years and eventually I caved to my emotions and desperate need to feel wanted without the attachment and abusive behavior always on my shoulders. I wasnt with my ex, and I kept it from him. After a month I started to notice his changes but it wasnt enough. He still tried to keep me wrapped around his finger while questioning my every move. He was working on it though, and I was noticing the change, but I couldnt stop what I was doing.

After another month he found out. He was upset, naturally, but was still around. He still wanted to work on it. Then 3 days later I took my first pregnancy test. It was positive. I kept it to myself praying it was a fluke. I took 2 more the next day. It wasnt. I took one last one, called my doctor, then called him over. I told him, and it wasnt an ideal reaction. He was forcing an abortion on me. For someone who never thought they could get pregnant, to find out after years that it was indeed possible, I just couldnt. This was a miracle in my eyes. Once I told him I couldnt, giving him the option to sign off all his rights and to stay away if that's what he wanted, he accepted he was going to be a father. But he also disappeared. Just up and left, and I was met with the worst mental abuse he could ever dish out for weeks. I had never felt so low in my entire life. Being told our child is a mistake, how terrible of a person I was and how him not being around is totally and completely my fault. What i failed to mention is for the last 3 years of our relationship he would use snapchat to talk to girls behind my back. I'd check his phone after every fight and hed go out drinking, just to see up to 7 different girls names with a "sent" notification beside them. I'd delete them off his contacts, confront him, ect ect, but he never stopped. I was always ashamed I stayed with someone who could do this but my love for him was so blind and so strong.. I couldnt let go.

Whenever I would mention all the hurt he caused me, it never compared to me sleeping with someone else while we weren't even together. It was ALL. MY. FAULT. And he couldnt take even an ounce of responsibility for how he treated me and pushed me out of his arms. After 2 weeks of us knowing I'm pregnant, he started seeing someone else. He was drinking beyond what he ever was with me, and now he was with someone else. Some girl who was also fresh out of a long term relationship, totally okay with the fact he was to but also expecting a baby with. I shouldnt have been mad or upset, we weren't together, but it hurt. I wanted the man I thought I'd never have to worry about being a good dad to actually be here with me on this journey. But he wasnt. For the months to come he gave me promises that their relationship wasnt an offical thing and reassured me he doesnt think she'll be around long. I shouldnt give up hope on us. My hormonal, emotional self prayed that was true.. until they became official in September.

Once that happened, it was like a ghost town. I only saw him for the 3 ultrasounds we had to pay for. He never came to any doctors appointments, he didnt feel the baby move, nothing. The entire time blaming me for him not being around. I sat at home every day after long shifts at work knowing I'm all alone in this world, growing a baby, doing everything by myself while he lived his life with no responsibility, laying next to her every night. Every day my heart broke. Some days were better than others, but not a single day I didnt wish and pray that hed atleast be there for his child. I knew my feelings weren't relevant anymore, I just wanted my son to have a father. He needed to have a father. I wasnt going to let my kid go through life always wondering why he wasnt enough for him like I did. I still hurt for myself, but no where near as much as I hurt for my son. I was given empty promises from my ex, he said hed call every day so atleast if he didnt watch our baby grow inside of me, hed atleast know his voice when he finally arrives. But hed go days without calling, and it would somehow turn into my fault because I hurt him too much to call his son.

I've spent this entire pregnancy working on myself, on my mental health, researching how to be a mother, what I need to do and stay away from, how to cope with every type of situation that may arise. I've done nothing but work on growing myself to be the best person I could be for my son. He just stayed drinking away his problems, distracting himself in every type of way he could. Avoiding all responsibilities of becoming a father soon.

Fast forward to about a week ago, when a phone call got a little spicy heated between us and ended in me sending him some snapchats of myself by his request. I know I shouldnt have, he was with someone else, but I missed him and wanted one last feeling of being wanted by the man I always thought I'd marry. I did exactly what broke me the last 3 years of our relationship and I really didnt feel bad about it. For 2 days this continued until it just stopped and he got cold with me. Once again, I'm left broken hearted but this time, I know it's my own fault.

During the time before this, for months I highly considered giving my son my last name. It made sense. He wasnt reliable enough to even spend 30 seconds every day to call his son, how could I ever believe hed be there every day for him once he was born? It was logical. Everyone who knew our situation told me I should even before I brought up that being an option I was weighing in my mind.

A few days after our snapchatting stopped, I had to finally tell him. I couldnt bring myself to blindside him with something so serious. I should have, really, but I still hold his feelings deep in my heart, and I couldnt hurt the man I spent over 7 years with like this. So I told him. He broke. But not in any way I ever thought he would. He confessed how he still loved me, how everyone around him knows he still loves me, ending with how much this would break his heart, giving us no chance of ever being together again. We'd never be able to do things as a family, hed never look at me or our son again. It was, to say the least, extremely intense. But it also left me wondering if this was one of the many manipulative ways he knows to get what he wants. He always brought "us" up to get his way on things. It felt genuine, but I'm also extremely hormonal and yes I still love and miss him like crazy.

It's been a few days since then and theres been no word of any feelings since. Hes been cold and more distant and my heart is once again broken into a million pieces. Hes called a couple times but he still misses days. I was given the go ahead to try and self induce labour by my midwives so I have been. When he calls and asks what I did with my day, I'd tell him. Last night apparently I shouldnt have. I was met with anger because I should "leave him be, he'll come when hes ready" as if he knows any kind of physical pain I've been through these last few months.

These past 2 weeks alone I have felt nothing but pain. Between feeling my hips separating, my pelvic bones shifting and my son's head descending lower, constant back pain, not being able to walk properly, my kid sitting on nerves leaving my legs feeling paralyzed or sending shocks into my vagina. Not being able to sleep more than 2 hours at a time max, peeing every hour on the hour, his feet kicking my ribs so hard I curl over, getting his feet stuck under them as well. The pains are unimaginable as you can see, now mixed with all the emotional distress I've been under... you could imagine how I'm ready for this child to enter the world. But no.. I'm being selfish. He isnt ready. I'm fine to keep going. Because apparently my ex knows everything my body is enduring just to bring our child into this world. It broke my fucking heart last night when he yelled at me for it. Absolutely shattered it.

Which brings us to this picture. I couldnt sleep once again, and every time I woke up I was met with mind numbing depression and long crying spells. I feel more alone than ever. My 16-22 years of age is crying for me knowing this was all I ever wanted out of life and it has been constantly ruined and brought down by a man I never knew would act the way he has been. This pregnancy was so easy in almost every aspect compared to most women, I've been so so blessed to have such an easy time physically and yet I constantly feel as if he has ruined this experience for me. Sometimes the mental abuse from a man is worse than the physical. And he knew exactly how to ruin this all for his own selfish needs. I've spent all day today feeling ruined, beaten down, and just straight up depressed. I'm not ready to be a mother, infact I am absolutely scared shitless to be one. But I'm willing to go through being scared over all this physical pain I've been through that seems never ending. I'm ready to meet and love my little man. But once again I feel like I cant even be happy about it because of my ex.

I'm tired. I'm so so so tired of being so inlove with a man who has shown me time and time again he wont be the father I always knew he could be. My heart hurts so bad for my son every single day. And I'm just.... tired. Which is why I'm posting this picture along with my story. I know some women have it worse with their pregnancies and the fathers leaving. I know some men can be all of this plus physically abusive towards women. I know I dont have it the worst, but I'm trying. I need to for my son. I doubt this post will get very far, and I know a lot of judgment will come my way for it, but if my pregnancy journey can help even one woman not feel so alone, then I'm happy with sharing it.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #196

Sun Aug 25 2019 [01:53 PM] Wack'd: Normally I don't post covers but there's a lot going on here

[01:53 PM] Bocaj: A lot to unpack [01:54 PM] Wack'd: So for the record [01:55 PM] Wack'd: What actually happened was that Skrulls abducted Franklin Storm out of prison, replaced him with a Skrull. Skrull Storm then broke out of prison and claimed he'd given himself superpowers and was now a supervillain [01:55 PM] Wack'd: "The Invincible Man" [01:56 PM] Wack'd: When the Four figured out the truth, the Skrulls send Franklin Storm back with a gun strapped to his chest, but rather than murder his kids he dropped to the floor so the gunshot would rebound on him [01:56 PM] Wack'd: So, uh, no. By no metric did Sue and Johnny "murder" him [01:57 PM] Wack'd: This was all back in the 60s which I read a fucktillion years ago in 2016 so I hope that recap helped [01:57 PM] Bocaj: That sure is nonsense [01:58 PM] Wack'd: In fairness. Not bad revenge for being tricked by a comic book and having your soldiers turned into cows [01:58 PM] Bocaj: Fair [01:59 PM] Wack'd: So anyway Reed is in a hypnosis chamber to have his will broken so he'll kill his friends [01:59 PM] Wack'd: When his new bosses said that there was free mental health treatment I don't think this is what Reed had in mind [02:01 PM] Bocaj: Truly businesses supporting mental health hasn't gotten any better since the 70s... [02:01 PM] Wack'd: This mystery man who may or may not be Franklin Storm somehow has cannibalized Psycho-Man's suit for more effective hypnosis. You might remember him from the Four 1967 annual [02:01 PM] Wack'd: Also other stuff [02:03 PM] Wack'd: Also his assistant is Hauptmann, from the 85-87 arc where Doom tries to trap the Four in Latveria forever [02:03 PM] Wack'd: I really should be keeping a running list of who's been doing the most cannibalizing from the 60s [02:03 PM] Wack'd: Because jesus fuck have we been on a continuity kick lately [02:04 PM] Wack'd: BACK TO HOLLYWOOD [02:05 PM] Wack'd: Sue tries desperately to pretend she's had a single meaningful conversation with Johnny since 1964

[02:06 PM] Bocaj:

"Hey.... you" "Its me, Johnny! The loveable rascal! Your brother!" "Right right right of course!" -to Reed- "I have no idea who that is"

[02:06 PM] Wack'd: I'd like to nominate Keith Pollard for worst-ever drawing of any child, ever

[02:06 PM] Bocaj: Kill it with fire [02:07 PM] Wack'd: Maybe Pollard is just...bad at art?

[02:08 PM] Wack'd: The coloring isn't helping though [02:08 PM] Umbramatic: oh god [02:08 PM] maxwellelvis: I was about to say [02:08 PM] maxwellelvis: Good lord! First-phase Liefeld's Syndrome! [02:10 PM] Wack'd: Something I haven't mentioned is that Agatha is now Franklin Richards' live-in nanny which, I think, would probably have been a smarter writing choice from the beginning [02:10 PM] Bocaj: Oh so she returned to the job? [02:10 PM] Wack'd: It was always kinda weird that Reed and Sue had to shlep out to Agatha's house to see their kid [02:10 PM] Bocaj: This must have been around the time she told Wanda 'I've taught you all I can, laters' [02:10 PM] Wack'd: Yeah since New Salem and also her house got got she's been following around Sue and Franklin, including to Hollywood [02:12 PM] Wack'd: So Sue, Ben, and Johnny go sightseeing, and talk about reforming the team. Only problem is convincing Reed [02:12 PM] Wack'd: They arrive on the Walk of Fame, and--

[02:12 PM] Wack'd: I am officially declaring Pollard the worst [02:13 PM] maxwellelvis: AHH! ART ATTACK! [02:13 PM] Umbramatic: my eyes [02:13 PM] maxwellelvis: THE ART IS COMING RIGHT AT US! [02:14 PM] Wack'd: Ben tries to get an autograph but is shoed away by cops [02:14 PM] Wack'd: Who think he's a guy in a costume because Let's Make Another Deal™ is shooting across the street [02:15 PM] Wack'd: Okay, I laughed

[02:16 PM] Bocaj: Hah [02:16 PM] Wack'd: *Alex Ross goes on to use this panel as the basis for his drawings of Sue and Johnny* [02:16 PM] Bocaj: To choose which celebrities they look like? [02:16 PM] Wack'd: Yes [02:16 PM] Wack'd: Dats da joke [02:17 PM] Bocaj: Is it a joke? I thought you were seriously imparting trivia [02:18 PM] Wack'd: It was a joke, I can't actually name the celebrities off the top of my head that Alex Ross picks, sorry [02:18 PM] Wack'd: So the scenes from the cover happen but they're hallucinated in the middle of this lovely restaurant [02:19 PM] Wack'd: Also, this

[02:20 PM] Wack'd: So apparently this was all a battle in the center of the mind not in physical space. Sue, Johnny, and Ben lose, allowing Invincible Man to extract them from the restaurant [02:21 PM] Wack'd: Just another day in Hollyweird, lol

[02:22 PM] Wack'd: So back at Reed's new job, it turns out Invisible Man was--REED! [02:22 PM] Wack'd: He was hypnotized [02:23 PM] Bocaj: 😐 [02:23 PM] Bocaj: Another Evil Reed? [02:23 PM] Wack'd: But then he snaps out of it and gets angry so they're all thrown in a dungeon [02:23 PM] Bocaj: Another Evil But Its Not His Fault Honest Reed?? [02:23 PM] Wack'd: YEP [02:23 PM] Bocaj: Weird trend lately [02:23 PM] Wack'd: I know, right? [02:25 PM] Wack'd: I maintain that Wein was throwing a hissy fit over the idea of Reed having character flaws. But Wein is gone, and it's a weird grudge for two consecutive writers to hold, especially when the divorce arc has been over for like 45 issues [02:26 PM] Bocaj: Maybe the current writer is just copying Wein [02:26 PM] Wack'd: Maybe [02:27 PM] ThreeOfFour: someone tell The Maker he isn't special [02:27 PM] Wack'd: So anyway Reed agrees to go back to work because otherwise his friends die I guess [02:28 PM] Bocaj: Hey, the Maker. You're not special [02:29 PM] Wack'd: ...this guy hasn't appeared before this issue so I'm not sure why I'm supposed to care here

[02:30 PM] Wack'd: I actually went back and checked just now to see if this guy was in other issues at Reed's new job and no, he's not, Wolfman introduced to this supposedly important character just to make a joke about the fact that he's not important [02:31 PM] Wack'd: The beginning of the issue kind of implies that he's the mysterious man in chair? But there's a panel later on that implies it's Doom, so [02:32 PM] Wack'd: So this is what Reed's been working on

[02:32 PM] Bocaj: The set of a high budget fantasy movie? [02:32 PM] Wack'd: These mirrors are so powerful that they will drive you insane if you look at them with your eyes open, and even with your eyes closed it's not great [02:32 PM] Bocaj: why [02:33 PM] Wack'd: I guess this is what they thought solar power would be like in 1978 [02:34 PM] Wack'd: The Red-Haired Man is also planning on getting Reed his stretching back for some reason [02:35 PM] Wack'd: Back in the dungeon, Sue uses her force fields to break the team's shackle and the--okay

[02:35 PM] Wack'd: I know Janet has that whole speech about how when you focus on power sets and not what each personality brings to the team, you don't build something that lasts as long as the Avengers do [02:36 PM] Wack'd: That said I'm kinda feeling like Sue can do everything Reed could with far less threat of bodily harm [02:36 PM] Bocaj: But can she be a giant asshole who tells the others what to do all the time? [02:36 PM] Wack'd: Fair [02:37 PM] Wack'd: Also why are so many artists convinced Sue's powers come from her forehead [02:37 PM] Bocaj: That’s where psychic powers come from [02:39 PM] Wack'd: I should probably take a moment to point out the interior blue highlights on Sue's powers, an embellishment that will gradually lead to more dynamic illustrations and the eventual obsolescence of the classic dotted-line look

[02:40 PM] Umbramatic: Sue's slow evolution into one of the most powerful people in Marvel pleases me [02:41 PM] Wack'd: Anyway no sooner do they escape then they are immediately re-captured by Doom, who let them escape because they are powerless and he is great and yada yada yada [02:42 PM] Umbramatic: DOOOOOOM [02:43 PM] Bocaj: "There would be no plot if DOOM did not allow you fools to escape"

[elucere]

sad late august quarantine thoughts

When quarantine first started, I really thought this would be easy for me. And in some way, I was right. This has been easier for me than the average person and, arguably, much better than the first half of my year. I graduated in December and didn’t land a single job after pretty aggressively applying during my last semester. So during the months of January and February, I was completely broke and moved in with my family. I didn’t have any money or means to do anything but sit at home all day and wallow.

Being a student was such a core part of who I was and to suddenly lose that and have nothing to fall back on really did a number on me. Not only that, but the self-hatred was killing me. Not being able to snag a job was entirely my own fault- I just wasn’t good enough. The weight of failure followed me everywhere and I felt so completely defeated all the time. I was trying my best to stay busy one way or another but it felt impossible to find the energy to do anything. I filled my time by watching 12 seasons of Criminal Minds or cramming 30 DCOMs within one week. And when I wasn’t doing something stupid, I was crying. I found a job right before quarantine started and every single day I’m thankful. It was truly no less than divine intervention and it truly made the difference with quarantine. 

More than anything, though, what helped with quarantine is the fact that I’m used to being alone. My junior and senior year of college, especially, I didn’t really make friendships with the people I dormed with and none of those previous residential relationships followed me. At this point, I was eating every single meal alone. When I was upset, the only relationships I had to fall back on were ones I cultivated online. I already had a less than traditional college experience. The only parties I went to were my club’s socials and beyond the people I met there, I had nothing. Even then, if I was in large groups of people I would just completely shut down or not go. At first, being alone 90% of the time was very depressing. I cried a lot. But then, I got used to it. 

Which, when you think about it at first, isn’t that bad. The moments you have with yourself are just comfortable, neither really good or bad. And people say to live in the moment, yaknow? But moments only last so long. We don’t spend most of our time doing exciting things or going to exciting places. Like, hell, I work a 40 hour work week, do you think I’m trying to live in the moment? No, we spend most of our time reflecting and looking forward. Live in the moment is only a sentiment that’s worth so much. I remember going to Disneyland 4 years ago and when I was riding Big Thunder Mountain, I remember thinking to myself, “You’re in Disneyland this is your favorite place and you’ve been looking forward to this trip forever. Enjoy this moment.” And honestly, I would’ve probably enjoyed that moment just as much even if I didn’t have that moment of reflection. That temporary gratitude is only worth so much. But the memory of that trip is still able to give me happiness. Life is a collection of moments and you get to pick what stays with you. Living for and in the current moment is exhausting and not everyone can find enough joy in the little things to fufil them.

Getting used to your own company isn’t inherently a bad thing, but I think I was doing it for the wrong reasons. I would decline large outings, minimize my attempts at making friends, spend at least a year not talking to people in a group before I felt comfortable because I was so wrapped up in my insecurities. That’s what it all boils down to, I suppose, at least for me. Because when I’m out with other people, I’m happy for a few hours, and then I come home and it’s just straight crippling self-hatred. “Was I funny enough? Was I annoying? Did they like talking to me? I should ask if they enjoyed themselves? They won’t answer honestly even if they did. How would I know, then? Would they not invite me out again? And if they don’t, that just sucks. If they told me what was bothering them, I could fix it but now they aren’t giving me the chance.” And it goes on and on and on until I’ve convinced myself I’m the worst. And then eventually, the person does drop me because I basically projected all that insecurity onto the relationship and made those worries true. And then because I’m worried about doing that to someone else, I end up internalizing all my worries and it just gets worse and worse to the point where I have to go to the bathroom and cry during outings because I already feel like I’ve let everyone down. At this point, when a friendship begins to drift, I’ve already cut that person off in my mind because I’ve convinced myself that this was just an inevitability of the friendship, that I was never good enough for them and they were just talking to me until they found something better. Being alone may have denied me happy moments with others, but it also prevented me from creating painful memories.

This is where social media has kind of crippled my ability to form relationships with people too. Because I don’t want to reach out to a close friend and share this, no that’d scare them off. So let me post about my deepest fears and pain to like 100+ people on my finsta. That’s healthy and normal. Let me complain on my 300+ follower twitter account. And then I develop an unhealthy relationship with those sites when I don’t get the response I’m expecting. Posting online is like having friends without gambling individual heartbreak. When I put effort into a tweet or a project and it doesn’t get acknowledged, I feel it reflecting badly on me. It’s only a matter of time before I get caught up on how I come off online too and suddenly, it’s hard for me to post. I don’t know what to say. I’m not getting engagement, everyone must hate me. I don’t feel close to anyone. Everyone else has such close friend groups and it’s so hard for me to find that for myself, so what’s the point? So I get overwhelmed and leave for a while, but it’s a cycle like anything else in life.

Being so wrapped up in people’s hypothetical perceptions of you sucks so much. In April, I started writing for DiscussingFilm. Film criticism wasn’t really something I imagined myself doing and quite honestly I’m not sure how I ended up there. I’m grateful for the opportunity and everything it’s given me, but it also gives me something more to be insecure about. I’m a chronic overwriter. My stuff is way too long for no reason. That may just be my style, but when I read other people’s reviews, I burn with jealousy. They’re able to condense their thoughts so succinctly and clearly. We have the same words at our disposal, the same complexities of the human language, and yet how I express a thought is so much more awkward and jumbled. I hate it. And I sit at home, stressing to high heaven over some 1.2k word review just sick with worry about how others will perceive it. What they’ll think of it. If they’ll be disappointed. I can’t imagine a bigger heartbreak than the thought of someone opening my work, reading it, and thinking that it was a waste of their time. And that has most definitely happened somewhere in the world and I feel just so powerless to stop it.

That goes beyond insecurity though and speaks more to the feelings of powerlessness. This standard that you’ve set for yourself and if you can’t reach it, you feel awful. Not everything is in our control, but we have to assign a certain level of personal responsibility to it or else the chaos is overwhelming. It’s a fine line to walk, and honestly, I don’t know how to do it. How much of someone else enjoying my work within my control? Or getting hired? Or other people’s perception of me? If they think I’m funny or annoying? Probably less than I’d like to admit, but definitely a lot less than I’m comfortable with. Because even when I’m insecure, I’m still living in a logical reality where my actions have nearly complete control of other people’s perceptions of me and I could easily change them. But it’s not that simple and I don’t think it ever will be, really. So what am I supposed to do about it? Just stop stressing?

One of my favorite musicals is Newsies. The protagonist, Jack Kelly, is obsessed with leaving New York and going to Santa Fe and just becoming a cowboy. He feels trapped by the city and Santa Fe is his idealization of freedom. There’s a moment where he’s talking to his friend and she asks him if he’s going there or if he’s running away. Because, you see, if you’re going there and it’s not the right place you can go somewhere else. But if you’re running away nowhere will ever be the right place.

So when I was in high school, I idolized the concept of going away to college. I thought that if that happened, I would finally have the space to be myself and finally be happy. So when I had a really bad college experience, I realized college was my Santa Fe and I was running away. I had brought all of my baggage with me and my insecurities and my emotional turmoil and nowhere will ever be the right place for me until I work through those things. At first, I thought my problem was the people, so I cut them out. But now, I know that’s wrong.

Quarantine has given me a lot of time to self reflect. Who am I? What do I like? But more than that, it’s revealed to me how incredibly lonely I’ve kept myself. And I’ve always felt this way and somehow each year I manage to push myself more and more away from others. Newsies ends with Jack deciding to stay in New York because he realized he didn’t really want to leave, he wanted a reason to stay. He wanted to feel loved and valued, which is what we all do. To try and trick myself that the best way to protect myself is to shut myself off was stupid. Dumb. There are at least 35 DCOMs that come to this conclusion and I shouldn’t be having this conversation at 22.

I think what did it for me was the realization that I would be in the same place with or without COVID. It’s one thing to say that you’re sad because of all the things you can’t do, but the realization that you wouldn’t be doing those things regardless hurts a little more. It’s being accutely aware of how much you’ve taken for granted. The fact that I’m feeling just as fine now, amidst a global pandemic, as I have my entire life just speaks to how awful the mental prison is where I’ve trapped myself. Just because it’s always been this way doesn’t mean that it’s the best way for me. I deserve to do better for myself, but why won’t I let myself have it?

Normally, I’d internalize this. But that doesn’t really push me to change. Sometimes, all you need is for other people to recognize how you feel so you don’t really feel as alone. I don’t really expect people to read all of this. There’s so much happening in the world that we feel powerless to fix. I try so hard to do my part but it’s just exhausting. So many injustices are than the problems of one person feels so trivial. But I’d like to imagine that the struggles of trying to find yourself, especially right now when we’re so disconnected from another, is universal. This is one thing that we can fix. I am so sick and tired of being lonely and just hating myself so much. I want to be better, I want to feel better, and I want to figure this all out. But I’m not quite sure how. Vocalizing this all feels good and it feels productive, but at this point I just don’t know how to talk to people. But I’ll try and I guess that’s all I can really do.

Quarantine and a global pandemic may be a box we’re forced in, but it doesn’t mean we have to put ourselves in a mental one. When quarantine is over, we are going to walk out of it as new people and now is the time to decide what commitnments we want to make and what actual changes we’re going to work towards during this time to make sure those wishes for ourselves become a reality. 

I love all of you so much. You have value and are appreciated in your life. People are so complicated and sometimes it’s hard to grasp that everyone else has lives that are just as complex and nuanced as your own. Everyone is struggling and everyone is succeeding simultaneously in this big, increasingly chaotic world. So give yourself some credit and know your worth. It’s hard to define who you are, especially when you don’t really have others to compare yourself to and better define the differences. But also, remember people aren’t just one thing. Just follow what you like, try new things, and look inward just as much as you look outward.

[pazithi-gallifreya]

The Hourglass Garden (An Unus Annus-inspired short story)

*Author’s note: Firstly, this is NOT a fan-fiction, nor does it contain Mark or Ethan in any way, so apologies to anyone looking for that type of content. Rather, it’s a story centered around some of the motifs that crop up throughout the Unus Annus channel as a whole - an homage, if you will. These two guys got me to write again for the first time in years, especially when it comes to writing for myself. I’m just happy I was able to create something for the guys, and I’m so thankful to them for getting those wheels turning in my head again, even if they’re a bit slow. As much of a meme it may be on the channel at this point, I think the overall theme of running out of time is super important, and one I think too many of us dismiss a majority of the time, myself included.I even kept putting the writing of this story off, but I finally came up with enough of a concrete plot to put it together. Mark is always talking about how if you want to do something, you gotta grab the bull by the horns and just do it, so this is me doing that. We need to remember that we often don’t have as much time as we think we do, and the clock is constantly ticking. It only stops for us when we die, but us dying has no effect on time for everyone else. It moves forward without us. That’s not to say we have to rush to get everything done all the time. We still need to stop and appreciate the things and people around us. We just need to find a healthy balance, find what we enjoy, and also work hard, not only for others, but also ourselves. All of that is what this story is about.

-----------------------

          “Shit!” Aria gasped as the freezing wind nearly yanked the front door right out of her gloved hands. She reigned it back in, locked it, and pulled her beanie lower over her ears as she headed down the stairs towards her complex’s parking lot. She cranked the heat to max, sitting in her red 2007 Honda, cupping her still gloved hands and blowing into them before adjusting her rearview mirror. The crystals formed on the back windshield looked like little ice people. She smiled.

           It had been far too long since she had done something like this for herself. Her boss had recently quit at her editing company, making her schedule a living nightmare over the past month. The added pressure and stress hadn’t gone unnoticed by her best friend Beth, who, after much pushback on Aria’s part, finally convinced her to take a day off. “There’s this beautiful woodland garden about 40 miles out of town. There’s not as much to look at in the winter, so it’s not as pretty, but it’s still open. There’s also less people because of it, so if you’re looking for some solitude, as well as some fresh air, it’s the perfect place.”

          “In 30 miles, turn right on Hourglass Road,” chimed the robotic voice from her phone as she turned onto the highway. Any other day, she’d be blasting music and singing her lungs out, but not today. Today was a quiet day. She kept occasional watch over the crystal people slowly being sliced in half by the defroster, reminding her of her own temporary state as they dripped down the back window.

          Half an hour later, she turned onto Hourglass – a narrow gravel road that opened into a gravel parking lot surrounded by a short log fence, with an ornate sign that read Hourglass Gardens. She pulled in next to the only other car in the lot and pulled her coat tightly around her as she took in her surroundings. The fence opened onto a dirt path that forked in two directions. One led to the large old house that served as a local historical museum. The other traveled down to the woodland gardens. Aria turned off her phone so as to not be tempted, shoved her hands in her pockets, and sauntered down the longer path.

          A short way into the woods was a circular wooden bench surrounding a large, stone fountain  that was currently turned off, probably due to the season. The centerpiece was a huge hourglass surrounded by a stone circle with the phrase “Unus Annus” written repeatedly around the outside. The hourglass was filled with pure white sand, which had all sunk to the bottom. Tippy-toed, she reach up to turn it, but couldn’t get it to budge. She sighed as she took a seat and stared up into the bare branches that surrounded her overhead, silently thanking the powers that be for the seclusion. Beth was right, she thought. Not much to look at, but it’s pretty well-maintained... She stared into murky film at the bottom of the fountain. Mostly. At least it’s quiet.

          After several moments of taking in the stillness, she decided to move deeper into the barren woods. Every so often, she would run into little plastic markers with blurbs about the plants and wildlife people often encounter there. About 2 miles in, about every 20 steps or so, she began to notice little wooden markers close to the ground, almost hidden. They seemed to have arrows carved into them. They started along the path, then slowly got farther into the woods, away from the path. With time to kill, she figured she might as well go with it. There were no barriers, and having read many fantasy novels, she was always amused by the cheesiness of the “forbidden path” trope. Besides, she did come here to get away, after all, and what could be more detached from reality than following mysterious arrows in the woods into who knows where, even if the mystery was pretend. It was still the most excitement she had felt about anything in a while.

          She walked over another mile, and at one point resisted the brief temptation to turn back to the trail. She cleared through one final patch of dead shrubbery next to another arrow before stumbling into a clearing rivaling even the ones in her books – it’s like all the colorful butterflies and animals had congregated in this one spot, encompassed by rainbow assortments of flowers and dense foliage in full bloom, despite the fact it was January. In front of it all was a babbling brook, with an assortment of brightly-colored fish, complete with a little bridge nestled neatly over it. Funny, I didn’t even hear any running water before now. She knelt down to touch it, but something prevented her hand from penetrating the water; some invisible barrier.

          “I see you’ve made it.”

          Aria jumped at the sudden break in the silence. The voice was calm, yet loud somehow. A man in a white, hooded cloak stood on the opposite side of the brook, but still sounded as if he were standing right next to her. A strange mist spiraled around him.

          “What do you mean? Did you know I was coming? What is this place?” Aria asked, reaching her hand out in front of her, only to be forced back once again.

          The man pulled down his hood. “This is the end.”

          “The end of what? Who are you?”

          “I am the inevitable. This is where all of time resides. Everything begins here, and everything ends here.”

          “Are you saying you’re God, or something? Or Death? In the middle of a man-made sanctuary?”

          “I am neither. I am the in between. I am Time Itself. I do not reside on this plane, but I am wherever you need me at any given moment.”

          “So you’re saying you’re not really here?”

          “I am, and I am not.”

          “Am I the only one that can see or hear you?” Aria looked back to where she had entered. It was as brown and desolate as before.

          “Yes.”

          “Why? Why are you here? Why am I here?”

          “This is your turning point – the point where you decide whether to take back control of your own destiny or succumb to the darkness, the point where you decide to live a prosperous life or a waking death.”

          “How do I do that?”

          “Make the decision. Only you know which path you will walk down. When you truly have your answer and have confirmed it to yourself, return here before time runs out. You have one year. I will be waiting. Memento mori.” The man turned, slowly walking away as the mist swelled around him until in encompassed the entire meadow. A frog made a loud plop into the brook, and with that, it was gone.

          In front of Aria stood the looming hourglass fountain, now gushing with water. She pinched herself to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep on the bench. What just happened, and why was she willing to believe and accept it so easily? She walked closer to examine the intricate stonework. The hourglass had been turned over. A few grains of sand had already trickled their way to the bottom. She read the phrase again. “Unus Annus.” She turned her phone back on and typed the words into the search bar. “One year,” she said softly to herself. “Okay,” she affirmed. “Looks like I’ve got a decision to make.”

          She walked determinedly back to her car, feeling refreshed and invigorated, despite the mind trip she had just been on. As she turned the key in the ignition, she remembered something. “What was the other thing that guy said?” she mumbled to herself. “Memento mori?” She pulled her phone back out and searched the phrase. The translation read, “Remember you must die.”

-----------------------

Thank you to anyone who read this. Thank you to Mark, Ethan, and Amy for being such a positive and encouraging force in my life for so many years and all the experiences I’ve had because of you. Thank you for giving me some inspiration to start creating again. There have been a lot of hard times going on with my family that I haven’t been able to properly focus on myself, and I’m still working on a lot of things, but this is another small step to help me towards my goals, and I’m glad to have you both be a part of it (even if it ended up sounding like a cheap YA novel). Being a perfectionist, I may not particularly like the final product myself, and think it's weak in every aspect, but that wasn't what this was about for me. I just wanted to show some appreciation for some amazing people. It’s been hard for me to keep up with you guys’ videos as of late, but this channel has been a way for me to stay up-to-date with both of you in a small way, and it’s such a cool concept. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for the channel.

(Unus Annus is right on the verge of 2 million right now! Let’s get them there! They deserve it so much!)

- Anne