#which is the real reason it took 3 weeks to actually post this

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone. 

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care. 

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?” 

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.” 

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.” 

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now? 

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel. 

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.” 

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest. 

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it. 

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven. 

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense. 

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high. 

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk,  and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.” 

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?” 

 “I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth. 

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left. 

That was easy. Wow. 

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would.  But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not. 

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows. 

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable. 

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded. 

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home. 

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control. 

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip. 

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest. 

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt. 

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.  

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

 If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect. 

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls. 

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear. 

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you. 

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure. 

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell. 

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat. 

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm. 

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit! 

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions. 

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all. 

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way.  His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features. 

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically. 

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless. 

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious. 

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

 When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly. 

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing. 

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that. 

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing. 

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 9

Yay!! Another chapter of this lovely chronicle. I really do recommend going back and re-reading a bit since it's been so long.

But in this we have Harrington Sr. being an ass, the most epic confrontation I've ever written, and Dustin being sweet and asshole at the same time. The kid has range.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

****

Late at night in the last days before the school ended, they would climb up on the roof of the trailer and talk about their hopes and dreams.

Eddie had told him that he was going to try third time lucky to graduate. And then if he didn’t make it next year, he’d take the GED and walk away, ready to join Steve wherever he was. Not that he wanted to leave Eddie behind or the kids. But if he was to go to college, he’d have to.

Steve walked across that stage to thunderous applause, all his friends, the kids, Eddie and Wayne all cheering for him. Even Nancy and Jonathan had been there to cheer him on. But there, in the stands frowning at the people Steve had surrounded himself with, were his parents.

Steve knew he should feel grateful that they came at all. But he knew it was more about image and appearing to be the perfect parents than any actual interest. He saw them clap politely and then his father pulled out a newspaper and his mother fussed with her hair and makeup the whole time.

They took pictures with him afterwards with fake smiles plastered on and took him out to dinner to talk about his future. Which was all about joining the company and getting his business degree. Two things that Steve had no interest in doing.

He had hoped to get scholarships for college based on his sports so that he wouldn’t have to rely on his dad’s money, but that fell through.

He had missed the early decision deadline, because he had had his head smashed in. So he had sent the applications off at the start of the new year. But by then his grades had slipped due to the concussion and the letters coming back weren’t a good sign.

He would just have to try and reason with his dad about college and keep his fingers crossed he’d get out of this town somehow.

****

“These are your grades?” Mr. Harrington bellowed. “How are you supposed to get into good colleges and universities with these?”

The first week of June was not a good week, ever, in Steve’s opinion. It was when grades were mailed out and he had to listen to the screaming for a full week.

“I had that concussion in the middle of the year, remember?” Steve asked. “That set my grades back a bit. But I thought I would take a year of community college and build my grades back up to get into the better schools.”

“No son of mine is going to a state school!” Mr. Harrington roared. “And you can forget about that summer internship at the company! I will not have tell others that you didn’t get into a proper school.”

Steve could feel his stomach sink to the base of spine. He didn’t like where this was going. At all.

“You will get a job,” Mr. Harrington continued to menace. “I don’t mean some cushy life guard bullshit where you sit in some high tower, looking pretty, either. A real job. Retail. Build character.”

“But I already told Mr. Jones at the community center that I would lifeguard again this summer,” Steve protested.

“You go back there and tell him you have better things to do with your time!” Mr. Harrington shouted. “That new mall opened up. Starcourt. You’ll find something there.” He leaned forward into Steve’s space. “Do I make myself clear?”

Steve gulped, but nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good.”

Mr. Harrington turned on his heel and stormed back into his office. Mrs. Harrington stood at the edge of the room, almost swaying on her feet as she would move forward to comfort Steve, but then would change her mind. Back and forth.

Steve pinched his nose and rubbed the end. He looked up at her with dead eyes. “He’ll keep moving the goal posts. You know he will.”

This time she did surge forward. “You know it’s not like that. He only wants what’s best for you.”

“Best for me?” Steve murmured, barely holding back the tears. “Or what will make him look the best? Because I’m tired, Mom.”

“It’s hard,” Mrs. Harrington said, rubbing his arm gently. “But come autumn he’ll see how well you did and maybe he’ll let you try for the state school.”

Steve knew it was a lie or whatever that she was telling herself more than she was tell him.

He pinched and rubbed his nose, forcing back the tears. He wasn’t going to cry in front of either of his parents. It only enraged his father and prompted mocking from his mother.

Oh, she hid it under the guise of ‘tough love’ but it was all tough and no love.

He thought of Wayne and Eddie. Of how they didn’t have a lot of material possessions but they had each other and their love for each shone brightly.

Steve held up his chin and nodded. Then he grabbed his keys and wallet, forcing on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” his mother huffed. “Storming off like that after a fight with your father is so childish, Steven.”

Steve turned to her slowly and blinked. “To talk to Mr. Jones about not being able to lifeguard this year and go job hunting at the mall like Dad wants?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re always so dramatic, Steven. I suppose that was why you took so well to it. Of course, if you had any real talent you would have gotten a more substantial role.”

He squeezed his hand around his keys, the ridges digging into his palm, as he fought down the bile that rose to his throat.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Steve said through gritted teeth. He rushed out the door, careful not to slam it behind him.

He drove out to the community center and hit his steering wheel over and over as he cursed out his parents until he was exhausted.

He sighed and got out the car, making his way to front desk. “Hey, Janis, is Mr. Jones in today?”

Janis smiled at him. “Sure thing, sweetie. Just go on back.”

Steve caught Mr. Jones as he was coming back to his office.

“Hey, Steve!” Mr. Jones said cheerfully, coming up to him with a big smile. “You here for your schedule?”

Steve shook his head. “My dad didn’t like my grades and told me I had to get a real job. Sorry.”

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Mr. Jones said crumpling. “And there’s no chance he’ll let you do both?”

“No,” Steve said bitterly. “If he finds out I’m working here he’ll beat my ass. I wanted to come back, but I guess my dad had other plans.”

“Well, well,” a cruel voice said behind them, “it looks like you have an opening after all, Mr. Jones.”

Steve and Mr. Jones turned toward the voice slowly, knowing with complete dread who it was.

Billy Hargrove was leaning against the wall, arms folded and a giant smirk on his face.

“Looks like your loss is my gain, Harrington,” he said coolly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Story of my life since you rolled into town, Hargrove. You stole my friends, the captain of the basketball team, hell you probably would have stolen my girl if she liked jocks instead of tortured artists or some shit. It ain’t new.”

“You’re just bitter that I’m the superior you in every way,” Billy said with a sneer. “The sooner you admit it, the less heartache you’ll have, pretty boy.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “I have other talents, asshole. I can draw, I can act, and I can fucking swim. While you were out there fucking anything with a pussy that would let your scaly ass, I was beating records and making it to nationals as part of our swim team. You are just some washed up surfer in desperate need a wave. I am a swimmer.”

He nodded to Mr. Jones who had a smug smile on his face.

Billy was taken aback. “So you do have a spine. Huh. I would have never guessed it. Not with Max and Munson doing your dirty work for you.”

Steve got right up in Billy’s face. “I didn’t go after you, dipshit,” his voice low and menacing. Quiet enough that only he could hear. “Because I just wanted to graduate. But now that I have that diploma, I’m more than ready throw hands with you. Plus we all know I had you against the ropes until you cheated by smashing a plate to my head.”

He patted Billy’s chest and waving goodbye to Mr. Jones, he walked out of there, chin held high.

****

Steve had gathered somewhere around a dozen or so applications to the stores that surrounded him and sat down in the food court to fill them out. His eyes were starting to go cross-eyed when Dustin came up to him and sat down across from him.

“Dude,” Dustin greeted. “What’s all this shit?”

Steve looked up at him and sighed. “Job applications. My dad wants me to get a summer job.”

“But you have a summer job,” Dustin replied with a frown. “The rec center. You’re a lifeguard.”

Steve sighed again and shook his head. “My dad was pissed that I only got into a couple of schools and not the good ones.”

Dustin frowned and tilted his head to the side. “Is that because of what happened with Billy?”

“That’s part of it,” Steve agreed. “But I was really counting on a sports scholarship and with how shitty everything got I didn’t get a single one.”

“But you went to nationals with your swimming though,” the gap-toothed kid grumbled.

Steve put down his pen and planted his hands on either side of his applications. “Look, bud, I get that you think you’re trying to help or whatever but my team came in last at nationals. In everything. No scout was going to give us so much as a passing glance. No sports scholarship plus missing the early acceptance deadline and having to wait for regular admissions means that I’m on a waiting list for most of the good schools, didn’t get in to the decent schools, and my dad won’t let me go to the community college. So here I am doing the best I can, okay?”

Dustin pouted but gave up on pushing the issue. He grabbed the applications and began looking through them.

“Hey!” Steve cried trying to get them back, but Dustin kept dodging him.

He set down three applications. “You can put in for all of if you want, but I’d focus on these three.” Scoops Ahoy, The Gap, and Shapiro’s.

Steve picked them and looked at them. “Why?”

“Those are going to be the ones that kids aren’t going to want to try for,” Dustin said. “And you have to get this job because of your dad. These are more likely to hire you.” He pointed to the ice cream shop. “That one is your best bet.”

Steve nodded. That was one he had been expecting to get too.

“So when are you leaving to nerd camp?” he asked, taking the applications from the kid.

“It’s called Camp Know Where,” Dustin scoffed. “Know as in k-n-o-w where. It’s really cool.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That still doesn’t tell me when you’re going, dork.”

“Oh!” Dustin said, eyes wide. “Tomorrow. My mom is buying me the things I’ll need so I can leave bright and early.”

Steve’s expression softened. “I’m going to miss you, you know?”

Dustin nodded back. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

Someone called his name and he looked up. “It looks like my mom’s calling me. Good luck on the job search.”

Steve stood up and gave him a hug. “Have fun, okay?”

Dustin nodded and ran to catch up to his mom as Steve went back to his applications with a sigh. He really was going to miss that butthead.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: ELEVEN SLOTS OPEN

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

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8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec

[bluebeary-jay]

CONGRATS!!! 1000 FOLLOWERS IS SO AWESOME AND I'M HAPPY FOR YOU!!🥰🩷

For the celebration I'm thinking Joel has lived in Jackson for months and has a bad reputation so people mostly avoid him and he always keeps to himself. BUT reader is the exception, always with a big smile and really polite to him (and he has a terrible crush on her). She always sees him alone at the bar looking around and seeming dislocated and decides to ask him "may I have this dance" cause she likes him too, but he panic and refuses. Later he realizes he's missing his chance with her and tries to fix it. Just some nice fluff (with age gap please🙏)

HIIIII SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT NONNIE

(okay so I'm back-ish, I apologize to everyone for disappearing but i had a rough couple of weeks and had to deal with a lot of stuff. i actually finished this fic some time ago but didn't have strength to post it but i'm more ready now so here you go <3 i hope you'll like it, i had a lot of fun writing it!! and thank you for requesting!! love you 🥰)

Joel Miller was a recluse. Everyone knew that, though not many were aware that he didn’t exactly choose this kind of life for himself.

He really hoped that things would get better after he settled down in Jackson with Ellie, but the residents of the town made it very clear that they didn’t want his company. It stung a little, especially since Joel didn’t think he gave them any reason to be wary of him, but he hid his hurt well. With time he got used to nasty whispers, people giving him a wide berth and basically everyone but Tommy and Ellie avoiding him. It was unpleasant, sure, but he learned to just deal with it.

Well, there was also you.

Joel had no clue what your deal was. Why you weren’t shying away from him like your fellow peers and why you went out of your way to always catch him into a conversation or smile at him whenever you saw him.

“I think she’s crushin’ on ya,” Tommy told him once during a dinner at his house. Ellie and Maria weren’t present, the latter showing the teen some clothes she might want – and thank fuck for that. Joel would murder his little brother if he said such nonsense in their presence.

“The hell you’re talkin’ about?” he spluttered, his eyebrows furrowed when Tommy sent him a smug, knowing grin. The question was completely unnecessary, of course, since they were already talking about you, but still Joel hoped he somehow misinterpreted his brother’s words.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Joel.” He sprawled out on the chair, still with that stupid smirk. “I really think she’s into you. I’d ask her out if I were you.”

“There’s no… I assure you she isn’t.”

“But if she was–”

“She’s not. Now can I eat my meal in peace?” Joel placed his hands on the table, but Tommy shook his head.

“But you like her, right? She’s nice.”

Joel sighed. “Yeah, she is.”

“And pretty.”

That Joel didn’t fall for. He glared at his brother.

“Jesus, Tommy, let me have it. I’m lucky she even wants to talk to me, with all her friends tellin’ her I’m bad news and me being half her age older.”

His eyes became solemn and voice took a lower, quieter tone, which told Tommy the matter was hitting Joel harder than he let on. He sat up straight, getting rid of the teasing smile.

“Alrigh’. Sorry for bringin’ it up.” Joel sighed and nodded, signifying that everything was okay. “I just want you to be happy, y’know. Maybe you should give yourself a chance.”

The older Miller didn’t answer and took a big swig of whiskey out of his glass.

The problem was, he didn’t need Tommy to tell him all that. Joel would have to be blind and stupid not to notice how breathtakingly beautiful you are, and this, combined with your intelligence, passion and sense of humor, was his ultimate undoing. Every time he talked with you, it was all he could do to hide the redness in his cheeks and the weakness in his knees.

But he did. ‘Cause, let’s be real – even though Joel recognized he had a terrible crush on you (though it took him weeks to make peace with this fact) he knew there was no way in hell you’d find him even a fraction as attractive as he found you. He was almost twice your age,  for heaven’s sake, and such a young, gorgeous woman as you would never agree to throw her life away to be with an old man.

But God knew that with each day you broke down his walls, the desire to kiss you was becoming more and more agonizing. Every smile you sent his way worked only to feed his imagination of how soft your lips would surely be if he could only brush his thumb across it, not to mention touch them with his own. He wondered how your hands, so much smaller than his calloused ones, would feel on his stomach or shoulders. How it would be to embrace you with his arms, skin to skin and without any layers in-between.

Those were not the thoughts he should be having, especially in public – yet here he was, several days after his conversation with Tommy, imagining impossible while he watched you laughing on the dance floor with your friend. You looked so carefree, so happy and full of life, your energy only reminding Joel sourly of his own old age.

He noticed you glancing his way several times throughout the evening but he knew it didn’t mean anything, it would never mean anything other than your innocent friendliness. So he just quickly looked away lest you realize he was staring.

Joel took a swing from his glass and looked around the bar, trying to take his mind off you – fruitlessly. His eyes still darted back to you every few seconds, involuntarily roaming over your exposed skin visible under the nice outfit you picked for tonight. It was driving Joel insane with longing and need, and all he could think of was the mental image of how kissing and touching you gently would feel like.

Bet you’d feel so perfect under his palms.

He closed his eyes and propped up his forehead on his fist, trying to tune out the music and all the distracting background noises.

Keep it together. 

He had to remember that he was way too old to be this enamored with a young, pretty girl like you. You would surely be repulsed if you had any clue about what was going on in his head, and some of the thoughts he had–

Then, Joel felt a light touch on his shoulder and lo and behold – there you were, standing right in front of him with a bright smile, as if summoned by his thoughts.

“Hi,” you said, tilting your head in that endearing way that made his insides tighten. “What are you doing here alone, cowboy?”

Joel prayed that he wasn’t blushing, though his hope diminished increasingly when your eyes wandered curiously across his features. Your eyebrows rose slightly and he cursed internally.

Fuck, you were so beautiful.

“M’not…” He cleared his throat and started again. “M’waitin’ for Tommy. He had to sort somethin’ out with… uh, someone.” He drummed his fingers against the table but stopped immediately, not wanting to give you an impression that the conversation with you was boring him. “You don’t have to do it, darlin’.”

You gave him a puzzled look, and he explained. “Y’know. Hang out with me. The people like to talk nasty things and I don’t wanna expose you to that.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” You shrugged with a sweet smile which Joel could kill for just to see it one more time. “And I… enjoy spending time with you.“

It didn’t mean anythin’. You were just bein’ friendly.

But even though he kept repeating it to himself like a mantra, Joel could not take his eyes off you. You were a vision – your profile bathed in the soft lights of the bar, your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked over your shoulder, deep in thought, at the stereo tower. The current song’s notes died down and a new one, much slower and romantic, started to play. You took a deep breath and let out a nervous laugh. “Actually I wanted to ask you something. If you don’t mind.”

“Ask away, darlin’.” He offered you a small smile, hoping to put you at ease, and you wetted your lips – which nearly gave him a heart attack and caused him to almost miss your next words.

“May I have this dance?”

Joel’s world stopped for a moment. He was in the middle of lifting the glass of whiskey to his lips but his muscles stiffened and the tumbler slipped out of his cold fingers. It didn’t shatter, but the rich liquid spilled all over the table. Your eyes flickered to the overturned glass, but Joel didn’t pay it any mind, too stunned to look at anything else but you.

“C-come again?” he stuttered, his voice strained and small. In the corner of his eye he noticed people at the next table glancing their way, alarmed by the noise, but he forced his attention back to you.

“This is my favorite song,” you explained shyly, an adorable blush spreading across your cheeks and neck. “So… may I have this dance, Joel?”

Now the people sitting around them definitely heard that, because they started smirking and whispering, and one person went to another group standing nearby on the dance floor. Joel felt his own face growing hot as he watched them pointing not-so-discreetly in his direction.

It was like the most wonderful dream and the most horrible nightmare come true at the same time.

He couldn’t do it. There was no way, not in front of all the people of Jackson who hated and despised him. He didn’t want to give them a show to gossip about or worse, subject you to their disdain.

But you still stood in front of his chair with an innocent, hopeful smile, though you started to shuffle the longer Joel was silent. The song – your favorite, supposedly – was passing in the background but you kept waiting patiently for an answer to your question.

He had to come up with something. Or just explain to you that he doesn’t dance – the sweet little thing you were, you’d probably understand and not pressure him into doing it. At least he hoped so.

C’mon, say somethin’.

“No.”

Your face fell instantly and Joel’s eyes widened at the mortifying realization of what just came out of his mouth.

Anythin’ but THAT.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds in the silence of the bar before your eyes started to glisten and you averted your gaze. Someone to Joel’s left snickered derisively and in the next second whispers erupted all around you two. You seemed to shrink in yourself, embarrassment and regret marking your beautiful face, and Joel’s heart almost broke when a tear slipped from your eye, and then another one fell down your other cheek.

“Okay,” you murmured, wiping the treacherous tears quickly and keeping your gaze trained on the floor. “Sorry. Sorry.”

You turned on your heel and went to exit the establishment, your step gradually turning into a run when the giggles and whispers around you became louder. The door swung open on the winter wind and just like that, you were gone.

Then all eyes turned to Joel – and the shame Joel felt increased at least tenfold.

He saw Tommy standing up and walking toward him from the other side of the room with worry written all over his face, but Joel didn’t stick around to hear what he had to say. He stood up and left through the same door you did, glaring threateningly at anyone stupid enough to still snicker at the situation they witnessed.

Ten minutes later Joel was standing in front of your door, trying to keep his knocking below the ‘desperate’ level.

He realized that he had to tell you. He intended to keep the feelings he harbored for you bottled up for the rest of his life but you needed to know the reason why he turned you down. You needed to hear from him that he cared about you, that it wasn’t some malicious act toward you but sheer cowardice stemming from the problem that he was madly in love with you.

“Hello? It’s… it’s Joel,” he choked out through his tight throat as he knocked again, a little louder this time. “Darlin’, can I talk to you?”

No response came, though he saw the lights in your house were on, and Joel had to take a deeper breath to calm his nerves. He prayed that he hadn’t completely screwed it up, but for now all the evidence spoke against him.

You wanted to dance with him. You gathered your courage just to ask him for a dance and he said no.

Joel knew he lost his chance. He lost you. You were his only friend in town and he somehow managed to fuck everything up with just one word.

He was so lost in his wallowing in despair that he almost missed the door opening slightly. In the gap of the doorway he caught a glimpse of your iris – and though it was only for a split second, Joel could clearly see that your eye was red. A pang of guilt pierced his chest but once you saw it was him, you shut the door again.

“No, darlin’, please. Please, just let me explain.” A wave of desperation and fear threatened to drown him and Joel’s heart clenched in his chest. “I’m so sorry, I acted like an asshole but I never wanted to hurt you, I just… I-I panicked.”

He was babbling, not even knowing if you were still there on the other side of the door, but the desperate and remorseful words were spilling out of him like a waterfall.

“I’m so sorry. Sweetheart…” Joel sighed, putting his hand on the cold wood of the door and listening for a couple of seconds, but there was no sound coming from inside. “Please. I’m beggin’ you, open the door.”

Then he heard something – a sound like blowing one’s nose. Joel froze for one, two… three seconds, and nearly collapsed in relief when you unlocked the door.

“You can come in,” you said, but didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re probably freezing, no?”

Joel nodded, feeling his throat going dry at the sorrowful sight of you. He crossed the threshold, closing the front door quietly behind him and looked you over. You hadn’t changed out of that pretty outfit of yours yet, although it was now covered by a long cardigan that you draped over your shoulders. In your hand you held a crumpled tissue but quickly pocketed it when Joel’s eyes fell on it.

He opened his mouth with a sharp inhale but before he could apologize, you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry for that,” you blurted out and glanced up at him but quickly looked down at the floor again. “I shouldn’t have asked you to dance in front of all those people and I overreacted because then everyone was looking at me… Look, it wasn’t even that big of a deal so don’t read into it. Everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he said softly and you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You have nothin’ to apologize for. I’m sorry for embarrassin’ you. I panicked ‘cause I–”

“It’s fine,” you muttered again. “Just forget it.”

“I can’t. Listen, sweetheart, I panicked ‘cause I wish I could let myself read into it.”

Your head snapped up and Joel swallowed heavily, realizing how stupid that sounded.

“What I mean–” Fuck, he really was shit at talking so openly about these stuff. “I… I have feelings for ya. Had ‘em for a long time now but I never planned on actin’ on ‘em ‘cause I know I’m too old and you’d never…”

“You’re… really?” you asked with wide eyes, but he tuned your words out, fearing that you were going to kick him out at any second.

“I’m only tellin’ you all this ‘cause I need you to know I care about ya and I didn’t say ‘no’ outta malice or… or ‘cause I don’t like you. I do. Too much, I’m afraid.”

You were staring at him, mouth agape and silent. Joel didn’t move, awaiting your reaction – whether you tell him to get out or scream how disgusting he was, he was going to take it. And then, if you never want to see him again, he’ll accept it. One day. But he doubted his heart would ever recover.

“Let me fix it,” he begged, his voice just above a whisper when you didn’t give any reaction to his confession. “Please, darlin’.”

Your eyes skimmed over his face as you hummed to yourself, almost irritably calm. Joel swallowed, the weight of guilt and anticipation pulling him down – and he was ready to fall to his knees before you when finally you lifted your hand to brush his lower lip with your fingertips, so delicately he could barely feel it. He froze and tried not to breathe, not wanting to cause you to pull away.

“I noticed something when you were rambling,” you said with a hint of reflection. Joel had no idea what was happening or why were you acting that way, but he daren’t move. He briefly entertained a thought that he was dreaming, but then his attention got caught by the sight of the corner of your lips twitching slightly, as if you were keeping yourself from laughing.

His chest expanded with hope so strong, it was almost unbearably painful.

“What is it?” he forced himself to speak, the nerves making his voice weak and raspy.

“Your accent gets heavier when you’re nervous,” you mused, as though to yourself, now trailing your fingertips down his stubbly cheek. “It’s cute.”

His heart lurched at your words. You gazed up at him and absently bit your lip, which Joel found downright sinful.

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to gather the courage to make the first move?” Your words were bitter, but there was a trace of relief in your voice. Joel let your fingers wander across the lines of his jaw and cheekbones, wishing he had enough boldness to touch you like that, too, but suddenly, your hand stilled and your eyes met his again. “Did you mean it? The things you said?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, his own fingers twitching as he restrained himself from reaching for you. His head was spinning, trying to comprehend the meaning of your actions and words. “But do you–”

You touched his lips lightly again, silencing his question, and your features slowly were overtaken by a large, bright smile, which seemed to lift all the heavy weight of worry from Joel’s shoulders.

“You wanted to fix it, right?” you asked in a teasing whisper. He nodded. “Then just ask me.”

You weren’t angry. You weren’t pulling away.

You wanted to dance with him and you gathered the courage to do so, and now Joel had to do the same. He couldn’t waste this second chance you gave him.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards and he exhaled shakily.

“May I have this dance?”

You pursed your lips to hide your joy and side-eyed him, but your eyes were sparkling with playfulness. “You know, I think I should respond the same way you did. Just to be fair.”

“Sweetheart, don’t play with this old man’s heart,” he whispered and smiled shyly when you giggled at the exasperation but also uncertainty in his voice. Joel still felt kind of out of it, too stunned to trust his mind that this was really happening – but the sound of your laughter brought him right back to Earth, to the place he wanted to be more than anywhere else.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight, Miller.” You took his hand and brought it to your hip, making Joel’s breath hitch in his throat and cheeks grow warm. His reaction didn’t get past you, and you smiled at him so radiantly that his world started to spin. Then your arms wrapped around his neck and you pressed your body against his. “But you’ll have some atoning to do.”

His throat was dry, but Joel returned your shy smile, stepping to the side and guiding you carefully to the thumping rhythm of his heart.

And a couple of minutes later, after more hushed apologies and assurances during your slow-dancing, Joel placed his hand on your cheek, almost letting out a relieved whimper when you nuzzled your face into his palm.

And after another few minutes went by, when he leaned in and you didn’t stop his lips from meeting yours, he knew he was a goner.

He couldn’t get rid of the big smile on his face – perhaps the first real one since arriving in Jackson all those months ago.

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader.

!! This is Chapter 3! Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 can be found here! If you'd like to be here for the next part, ask to be added to my taglist! It'd be my pleasure ♡ !!

{{-Story Description: You're a youtuber with a fairly decent following deciding to help your good friend Tanner with a minor film project, with you set as the leading lady. When the actor for the male lead is a no show, Ted takes up the role himself. One problem: This short film's a Rom Com, and you just met the guy.-}}

//18+, Def gonna be some smut. Reader is implied to be afab, under 5'5 and has specifically named friends, all who have no real connection to Ted.

This story will be in multiple chapters. Also gonna post this on Wattpad and Ao3 (when I figure them out LMAO) under the same username: ObsessiveStarla. Hope you enjoy :^)\\

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Word count: 3.5k

Chapter 3: My Eyes Are Up Here

The first day of shooting the film finally came and went. We had spent most of that afternoon figuring out what every character's wardrobe would be like and making sure everything on set looked good on camera. If any furniture needed to be moved, we moved it. Paintings were taken down or added, blinds were closed or left open, overrall it felt like the first day was about preperation. While I had thought we'd get at least some filming done on the first day, it actually worked out well. It gave Ted an entire day to go over the script with Tanner, and Joe the entire day to play the role of my father, demanding I stay away from bad boy Ted. I mean that sarcastically. Mostly sarcastically.

The plot of the film is almost similar to our real lives: We're supposed to be a bunch of adults out of college trying to hold on to our youth while spending their last summer together at some...summer house. There's a few extras that are meant to be playing our friends, but the main focus is on the relationship of Ted and I; our characters, I mean. At the end of the first day, everyone part of the film crew leave to sleep at their own accommodations except 5 of us. Ted, Myself, Tanner, Joe and another member of the editing team, though I don't learn his name tonight as he spends the entirety of it in his assigned bedroom. Joe had offered to get me a separate Airbnb when he realized I was the only one staying here that didn't identify as a guy, but I'm not uncomfortable with these arrangements. I have a lock for my assigned bedroom if need be, but I have no reason to distrust anyone else that will be spending the next 3 weeks living here.

The first night passes with no problems from anybody, except from Ted. He started knocking on my wall around 12am. Took a good couple minutes and a quick Google search to realize the fuckass was knocking 'cunt' in Morse code. He stopped shortly after I messaged him a picture of my middle finger being held up at the same wall.

The next morning i'm involved in a few scenes with some of the extras first so I can get a real feel for being on camera in this light, which also gives Ted time to read over the script in another room. In the film, my name is supposed to be Kara, and he's Mason. Tanner picked simple names. Ted looks like he could be named 'Mason'. The scenes go by fairly quickly, doing the necessary repeats to get multiple takes and angles, standard procedure when filming. I find myself to be quite a natural at this sort of thing. Other than the occasional stammer, I'm able to speak my lines and act the part with little to no difficulty. No bloopers just yet.

Next thing I know, morning turns into noon and we're having to move outside to take advantage of the last bit of full sunshine we'll have for the day, including Ted, who will finally be joining me in front of the camera. Like Ted had explained yesterday, we'd been filming a lot of the scenes out of order, this one included. At this point in the story, several days have passed, and our characters have already shared their first kiss, so our chemistry needs to be on point to make it believable. We need to act like there are some real, lingering feelings for one another while keeping it subtle. It was actually challenges like this that made me agree to take the leading lady role. I could've easily been one of the extras and only have a page or two to read off of, but I wanted to explore true acting, not just pretending.

I can't say I'm inherently a romantic. I'm certainly intrigued by how romance in film was handled decade's ago compared to now and I'd absolutely invest myself into a romantic comedy of the 90's or 2000's if one was turned on in front of me, but I didn't sign up for this to play pretend with a handsome guy. I want to explore the trials and tribulations of this cheesy kind of storytelling I'm a sucker for. I want to see if I'm capable of bringing chemistry into one scene, then slipping it into my pocket for the next as if it were never out there.

My thoughts are cut by Tanner and Ted meeting me and the rest of the crew outside, with the script still in Ted's hand. He's still in the white t-shirt they fitted him with yesterday, changing his slacks into some dark blue jeans. He looked pretty good in jeans.

"Okay, so we wanna get some establishing shots.." Tanner explained to us, Ted moving to come stand beside me. "We're gonna get some of the extras to toss around a football and sort of...run around, get some shots of them playing. You two are gonna go stand over by that post and just...talk..." He pauses on that last word, as if to really emphasize it. "Just talk?" Ted repeats, raising both of his brows with a smile. "I don't like the way you hesitated there, my good man."

"No, I mean--"

"I feel like you're trying to imply something, good sir."

"Yeah, Tanner. He can talk to the 'pretty lady'." I pitch in with a knowing smirk, getting a look from Ted. "We won't need an intimacy coach just yet."

"No, I get it.." Tanner chuckles slightly. "What I was trying to say is now might be a good time to talk about what your 'tell' is going to be, if you can't think of anything to talk about."

I furrow my brows in confusion, silently looking to Ted for an idea of what that is. He looks equally confused. "Our 'tell'?" I ask.

"Yeah, for when you have to kiss." Tanner replies, pointing at Ted and I. "We can't just count down from three and shout at you. It has to feel natural, so if you have a tell, a non-verbal way of signaling that one of you is going in for it, it makes it...realistic and saves up some time."

I suppose the way Tanner explained it make sense. It makes me think back on a moment in Stranger Things. There's a scene at the end of Season 2 where everyone's dancing, and you can just barely see Finn Wolfhard's mouth move before he goes in for a kiss. He had mouthed 'I'm coming in' or something like that to Millie and it's noticable in the final shot they went with. Tanner wanting to avoid that is completely valid.

"OK. No problem." Ted was the first to agree with a casual shrug, turning to look at me. I give a quiet little nod in return. "Where should we go stand?"

"Just over there would be perfect." Tanner pointed over by the large empty flagpole in the distance, a bit farther away from the rest of the extras. "I'll just be a little more to the left with the film crew, I'll give you a. O.K. signal just before we start filming so you know when to start and I'll shout 'cut' when we're done."

"Sounds good to me. Let's go." Ted beckoned me to follow, heading towards the flagpole.

I'm walking somewhat behind Ted, blushing a little to myself as I take in just how much taller he is than me. He's definitely at least a foot taller, maybe more. I'm only noticing it now. I wonder how tall he is?

"It's 6."

I stop walking for about a second, almost wondering if Ted had somehow read my mind. "What?"

"It's 6 kisses. I counted."

"O-Oh." I giggle a little to myself, crossing my arms over each other to rub them with my hands. "You counted them? Did you even read the script?"

"Better than you did! How do you over count kissing?"

"I counted 7!"

"You added one in, you fuckhead."

"Why the fuck would I add one in? What, you think I was enticing you with an extra kiss, asshole?!" I move up a bit to stand beside him as we walk, just so I can playfully nudge his arm. "I counted 7!"

"You fucking wish, princess."

"Ooghh, you fucking wiiiish!..." I start to mock Ted's strong voice again. "You're projecting. Maybe you under-counted."

"How about you under-count how cute you think you are, huh?" Ted snickered to himself, nudging me back a little harder. "We're supposed to want to smooch it up more once we get to this pole, I need to be able to stay in character."

"That sounds like a you problem. I can stay in character, even with your headass."

"I am going to stick you up on that fucking flagpole, princess. One more."

"Stick--" I pause and close my mouth, resisting the urge to burst out laughing. "Stick deez nuts down your throat."

Ted and I erupt into laughter, almost getting a little hysterical. I leaned forward and hugged my stomach while Ted flung his head back. I'm sure at least some of the others could hear us, our laughter was practically echoing out. We knew we had to come down from our laughing fit when we reached the flagpole, letting out a few more cackles and giggles. I lean back against the large flagpole, it's wide enough for me to push all my weight on it without shifting one way or another. From here, we can see that Tanner was still talking to the film crew as they mess with their large cameras. I'm having to squint and raise my hand up to cover them from the sun's bright, harsh rays, though I smile to myself. I'm glad I agreed to help with this.

"How much longer, do you think?" I ask Ted, watching as Tanner moved over to a different cameraman. Before Ted can answer me, I see Tanner turn to us and raise his arm up high. I can just barely make out the O.K. symbol he's doing with his hand. Next thing I know, the sun's rays are no longer over me. Did some clouds move over it, or...?

I turn my body, only to stiffen it up against the flagpole, almost like I'm trying to push my body into it. Ted is now completely towering over me, only being held up by his forearm resting above my head against the pole. He's crossed his legs somewhat, so if he were to remove his arm, all of his weight would come crashing down on me. "You feelin' alright there, (Y/N)?" Ted's grinning like an absolute winner, keeping his dark brown eyes on me as he removes his round glasses and rests them atop his head. I feel like his eyes could be replaced with the red laser of a sniper, and I'd be just as tense.

"Wh-Why are you--"

"Ohhh, nothing sassy to say now, eh? Where's more deez nuts jokes, hm? Where's being an annoying little cunt?"

Before I can create a coherent response, I feel another one of his hands move closer to me. Ted rests his hand right on my forehead. "You're burnin' up, princess. Did you pack some sunscreen? Gettin' real red over here.."

Something about the way he's bullying me is making my stomach twist. His tone, his words, his smile....

I try to turn my head away to get his hand off my forehead. It works, but his hand moved down to the side of my chin, gently pushing it to the side to make me face him once more.

"My eyes are up here, baby."

I glare daggers right back at him. I can't tell if he's actually flirting or if he's just fucking with me 'cause of yesterday. Both are plausible.

"Y'know this isn't helping your case." I collect my composure enough to speak plainly.

"What case?" He asks with a snicker.

"The case where you don't think I'm a pretty lady."

"I don't. Tanner said I need to act like I'm into you, so I'm acting like I'm into you."

"You're a terrible actor."

"I act for a living."

"You make YouTube videos for a living."

"Well, I'm good at pretending to like you, so.."

Ted's earthy orbs linger on me as he removes his hand from my chin. I'm not sure what I'm feeling at this moment. Is it embarrassment? Is it uncomfortable? Am I...intrigued? Interested, even? The way he speaks to me, it's just...

"Sh-Shouldn't we be discussing what our tell is going to be?"

"St-St-St-Stammerin' up a storm over here.." Ted mocks my stutter, his confident grin becoming even more annoying to me.

"You're not funny.." As the words leave me, I realize I've been smiling a little at him.

"What, and you are?"

"I mean it! I--"

"Woww, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, princess? All that knockin' bothered you?"

"I'm gonna knock you into this fucking pole if you don't shush. I meant about the tell." A chuckle escapes me. "He's gonna want to know what we've come up with. Any ideas?"

Ted let's out a gentle sigh, finally pulling back to stand beside me against the pole instead. I feel like I can breathe properly again. "It's gotta be subtle, yeah?" Ted asks, crossing his arms. "I believe the term Tanner used was 'non-verbal', but yes." I cackle a little. Tanner has a certain way of speaking that's rather amusing. He's one of those friends that are naturally funny, whether he's intending to be or not. "Something that, if picked up on camera, would make sense in the moment.."

"Like a wink?" Ted asks. I turn my head to him, watching as he gives the most non-subtle wink I'd ever seen a man give me. A chuckle leaves me. "More subtle...like..." Thoughts about how the kissing scenes are shot wander through my mind, where the camera may be at any given moment, whether or not there will be a close up. It needs to be as non-verbal as possible; the most subtle way a person can signal to another that they want to kiss them.

"...Like...a quick look at the lips."

"Like a quick little one-two?" Ted asks, moving his eyes from my lips to my eyes to give me a physical demonstration.

"Yeah. I'm sure people do that when they're about to kiss someone."

"You're 'sure'?" Ted's smile drops, his change in expression suggesting he's nervous. "Oh man, don't tell me I'm about to be your first kiss.."

"Oh fuck you! I've had my first kiss! I'm in my 20's!" I laugh at him, watching as he let's out a sigh of relief. "I've had several kisses with several other boys, thanks!"

"Wowww, okay, first of all, kissin' the bro's is different." Ted points his finger at me, trying to appear serious with his lips tucked in a bit. "Second of all, boys? I'll have you know you'll be kissing a MAN, (Y/N). A fully grown 26 year old man!"

"What happened to the 'man' that was supposed to put me up on the flagpole, hm?"

"I basically already did, and you turned into a tomato."

"My feet didn't even leave the ground."

"Were you expecting me to pick you up? Cause I can do that!"

"Oh please, looks like the heaviest thing you ever carried was a Tuba."

"Okay, fuck you, I was in theater, but I can throw a mean ball and could absolutely carry you."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely."

"Try it."

Ted raises a curious brow at me and turns his body towards me once more. For a moment, I thought I saw his eyes wander downward, but our moment is interrupted by a shout, though it's not from Tanner. Right before my eyes, like time moved way faster than I was ready for, Ted had moved around me to stand in front of me to catch a fast-moving football. His back was close to me, in fact, this was the closest he's been to me so far. Though for only a brief moment, I could feel his white shirt slightly caress the tip of my nose as the wind blew. He smelled like...pine trees.

"Dude!" Ted shouted at the extras as he threw the football back. He may not have been a jock in high school, but his form was pretty good.

His. His football form. Y'know, like, not--not his--

I think that football would've hit me if Ted hadn't reacted as fast as he did.

"Jesus..." Ted huffed before turning to me again. He noticed how tense I had gotten, reaching to touch my arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't back up into you, did I? You alright?"

"I-I'm alright.." I managed to mutter back. It was odd hearing his voice sound so concerned for me. Up until now, most if not all of our interactions had been full of sarcastic, tyrannical but overall light-hearted jabs at each other, but in this very moment, I realized we may have unintentionally developed something here. I'm not saying it's necessarily romantic, but...there's a tension building up between us. It's not just in my head, is it? Does he feel it too? Is that why he's?...

"That...works too." Tanner catches up with us, alongside the man that had thrown the football. I didn't even realize they had been approaching us.

"What, did you plan that?" Ted turns to Tanner, sounding quite frustrated with him. "That could've hit her."

"Dude, I'm so sorry, I messed up my throw..." The man next to Tanner spoke with a genuine frown. "I-I meant to throw it higher up and hit the pole, the sun blocked my view. It's my fault."

"No, I told Dan to throw it, I'm sorry." Tanner speaks up as well, his hands resting on his hips nonchalantly. "I've been shouting at you two for, like, a good minute. I thought it would've been funny if Dan hit the pole.."

Ted and I are silent. Oh fuck. How long have they been trying to get our attention? How did we not hear them? I can tell Ted still isn't satisfied with the answer. Angry wasn't a good look for him, I don't think it's a good look for anyone.

"We need to buy you a whistle.." I manage to get out a joke, smiling to show everyone that I wasn't upset. I knew Tanner hadn't meant for anyone to get hurt. He probably trusted this 'Dan' to make the shot. Tanner wouldn't hurt a fly. He /would/ hurt a spider, though. He hates those things. "Yeah. Clearly." Tanner chuckles slightly, slipping his hands into his shorts pockets. "I'm really sorry."

"I'm okay, Tanner. Teddy's got me." I move away from the flagpole to place my arm on Ted's shoulder, leaning against it somewhat. I think my attempts at showing him I was OK finally worked, watching as he looks down at me with a friendly scoff. "I should've let it smack you in your stupid face." He remarks, finally bringing some of the tension from that altercation down. "Maybe, but at least I believe you now." I smile at Ted, moving my hand off his shoulder. Dan apologizes one last time before moving to rejoin the extras. Tanner let's us know that we'll be moving back inside to check on the shots before returning to the cameramen to help pack up. Ted and I start walking back to the house, though he pauses for a moment.

"What do you mean you 'believe me now'?" He asks, furrowing his brows while smiling. "Believe what?"

I give him a cutsey smile and reply simply.

"That you could carry me."

I walk a bit ahead of him, feeling the weight of my cheeks from how wide I'm smiling to myself. I hear a quiet scoff from Ted, though the rest of the walk is quiet.

After a few minutes of packing up and walking, we all return inside to look over the footage and set up for other scenes the extras will be filming. Now is the time we let Tanner know that we've figured out what our 'tell' is going to be. I look over at Joseph in the meantime, who's across the living room helping an extra with adjusting their outfit. As Ted explains the idea, Joe shoots me a look, furrowing his brows like I had just disobeyed a direct order. I return the look with a shrug. He's just going to have to deal with it. Tanner absolutely loved the idea, said it would add 'real intimacy' to a scene if he caught it on camera.

I suppose that's it, then. If I'm ever going in for a kiss, I'll look at Ted's lips to let him know.

__________________________________

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 ||

[ahhhhhhh-e-i-e-i-o]

this is ur free pass to talk about ur hyperfixation. i have no idea wtf it is but i want to hear

You dont understand how happy that just made me, I literally giggled and jumped up and down like a little girl.

Ok so it's this show called SKAM, or Shame in norwegian (and I'm deep in it rn). So it's basically this Norwegian teen drama but there's a ton of remakes around the world (so far I've seen Skam France and WTFock which is Skam Belgium, but there's a ton, like Skam Italy and Skam Austin). But the cool thing is when it aired it was in real time and random, so basically if there was a clip of an episode that took place at 5:30 on Monday, it would air at 5:30 on Monday and then at the end of the week they would release the whole episode. But ALSO, they would randomly release texts between the characters AND all the characters had Instagram accounts run by the show that would post randomly. And so basically each season follows a different character and the OG only had 4 seasons but some of the remakes have many many more, and the remakes have to follow the same characters and general storyline of the first four seasons, but then they can do whatever they want and it's really cool.

So basically everyone's favorite season (and the reason I watched) is season 3 because it's about these guys Even and Isak who fall in love (and we love queer romance) and it's actually soooo good. Basically Isak is gay but super in denial and has all this internalized homophobia that goes out the fucking window when he meets Even, a raging pansexual with enough charisma to make a lesbian fall for him istg (ok maybe not a lesbian but at least a straight man I'm sure). But, mild spoiler, Even has bipolar disorder and has this intense manic episode around Isak which fucks everything up and his ex is like super toxic, but then they get over it and have some of the cutest scenes I've ever seen in TV history.

I've really onyl watched season 3 of Skam France and WTFock, and just clips from the other ones, but from what I can tell, Skam France is very similar to the OG, and WTFock is a little darker (like at one point they get beat up on the street by homophobes). But I really like the remakes because the characters aren't exactly the same even though the story is. So like Robbe (Belgian Isak) is super adorable and little tiny baby and like Isak is too but not in the same way. And like Eliott (French Even) has more of a temper and he's a little more "cool guy" and yeah idk.

I also love love love season 5 of Skam France because it's about Arthur who is the love of my life (dear lord he's so hot) and he goes deaf and I think it's a really great story. I also really like television that focuses on a sense (or lack thereof) especailly hearing because you can do some really cool stuff with it. I think the show did some things about it really excellently and some things I would've done differently just to evoke a different or stronger emotional reaction but I still think it was really cool.

Idk I just love it sm it gives me so much dopamine and just like. joy. ahhhhh thanks for letting me rant even if you don't read it I love talking about Skam and my friends are probably so happy I'm talking about it here and not to them anymore haha.

[genericpuff]

lmao so RS just confirmed she STILL does not, in fact, have a buffer.

FAST PASS SPOILERS AHEAD

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To kick this off, let's be real, 2 weeks is NOT enough time to build up a reasonable buffer.

When she took that 2 week break after the wedding episode went up, I knew 1 of 2 things was going to happen:

She was going to piss away the entire break on social media not getting anything done

Even if she DID get anything done and a reasonable buffer of more than 3-5 episodes built up, the episodes likely wouldn't be very high quality as you can't turn out shitloads of decent quality panels like that in just 2 weeks.

I think Rachel really just needs to acknowledge and take ownership of the fact that she is not good at managing herself, her time, or her team. When she started LO in the Originals section, she even admitted to not having a very strong buffer.

Now yes, in her defense, she hadn't fully transitioned to drawing LO full time when she started, but even still, she seems to treat her FastPass episodes as her buffer rather than creating an actual buffer.

A buffer is not "well I still have 3 episodes locked to the general public" or "I have the next couple episodes sketched up".

A proper buffer is "I have the next several episodes finished and exported and ready for their respective release dates." This ensures that they aren't racing to meet deadlines during the release period after pre-production (which is a surefire way to screw yourself over or write yourself into a corner) and that if anything happens in real life that prevents them from working on future episodes, they can still put out new episodes because they have a cushion of episodes still waiting to be released. Webtoons typically recommends its creators have anywhere from 9-15 episodes of buffer ready by the end of the pre-production phase. That usually means 3 free episodes, 3 FastPass episodes, and at minimum, 9 more episodes sitting on the backend, adding up to a minimum of 15 episodes. It sounds like a lot, but when many WT series run for 40+ episodes per season, 15 is a small number. Especially for a comic like LO which had 90 episodes in its S2 run and 116 in its first season. S3 of LO is already 37 episodes in.

She's also basically admitted to just writing as she goes in the past because most people working on their webtoons in productions like these have at least a decent skeleton of a story going on that they don't have to write as they draw. Writer's block doesn't happen in webcomics unless you're writing as you're going, same as how it doesn't typically happen in animated movies because you should already have a basis to work off of before you start the brunt of the visual work that needs a narrative structure to exist.

Now, all that aside, the reason I'm bringing this up again (as I've talked about her buffer range before) is because I've once again been proven that Rachel doesn't have a shred of a real buffer.

And the smoking gun this time was the horse.

This stupid fucking horse.

Now, besides the fact that we're a little sus this is meant to be an in-comic jab at all the criticism of LO pointing out how Persephone always looks like an MLP character-

-but that pony toy drawing didn't make its first appearance in Episode 241, it made its first appearance on Instagram. Not as a preview for episode 241 or as an official LO drawing, in her own words, 'just a pony'.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

As always, this is still just an estimation based on what goes out in LO and what Rachel posts to her IG/Twitter, but this pretty much tells me her buffer is STILL only 1-2 weeks ahead of time, because that pony drawing time lapse was posted two weeks ago. When we checked the actual timestamp of the post the day the episode it showed up in went up (Episode 241) it was ten days old.

Not to mention, the timestamps on those reddit posts? A month old. Granted, we had been making MLP jokes in the ULO/antiLO community prior to that, but the fact that this "my pretty pony" gimmick came out so soon after someone did literal art of Persephone crossed over with MLP, it really just furthers the suspicion (in addition to shitloads of other instances) that Rachel is snooping in on these crit communities to try and "clap back" at them through her comic. Which is something she'd only be able to do with a limited buffer anyways as it allows her to change things on the fly in response to criticism or whatever hurt her feelings that week.

That said, I won't be certain of this 1-2 week buffer estimation until we see when cowboy hat Hades shows up.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

I'm calling it now - it will be showing up in this week's episode which goes up April 22nd.

Place your bets, folks.

[throwaway-yandere]

I want to be honest (no this has nothing to do with fics lmao youll get it as scheduled)

This post is an explanation as to why I consider myself as "retired". I know I've said it's because of studies, but that'll be 1/3 of the truth. I want to talk about the true three real reasons why, and I'll do my best to be straight to the point. This isn't a cry for help (I swear to the heavens it is NOT). This is just to clear out assumptions.

Here's the other two reasons:

Grief & Mental Health

Writing itself & interactions

Grief & Mental Health:

I'll pour my heart out, so I'm sorry if it's long. As I said, I'll be straight to the point, so: my grandfather around the first week of June. I remember how I received the news so vividly. I was listening to Two Birds while washing the dishes at 12 AM. My mom went down the stairs with my father, crying as they tell me the news that he's gone. We drove half an hour to the hospital where I get to pat his head one last time. I remember mindlessly wandering the hospital halls— I remember mindlessly using the free alcohol attached to a wall. I remember breaking down as I realized I just cleansed away the hand that last had contact with him. I remember every detail, from the ride home where I messaged my good college friend to tell her that she needs to be a good nurse because the public healthcare system in the country is awful. I remember silently hating everyone and everything. I remember thinking about how cruel it was that life took away the one relative who genuinely cared about me and I was sure was related to me by blood. I remember thinking how much I'm distant to everyone else on my mother's side except him. I remember feeling so empty. I remember not sleeping for two days straight.

But let's back track for a bit. Before his death, I did have one final conversation with him. He was sedated and tubed miserably. Deep down, I knew his time was coming. So, I just made jokes about how grandma was growing senile and mistook me for a nurse for ten whole minutes. Then, I thanked him for everything he's done, and told him I'll become an engineer. Just like him.

And now here I am, dorming 3 hours away from home. I dormed because I had nearly decided my life meant nothing after lack of sleep through daily commutes and workloads. But I am lonely and unwell. I don't know what I want in life. I don't know what I actually want to be, but I already shifted courses as a chemical engineering student. I was so stressed to the point I've accidentally cried to my chem professor in a phone call. I don't know what I'm doing with my scholarship and education if it's for no one. And I am scared that I'm draining my parents' already limited resource for nothing. That I'm wasting the scholarship my country had given me nothing. That I am wasting my people's taxes for nothing.

It was only when another friend told me that I seem to live my life based on other's decisions and opinions did I notice just why I'm incredibly miserable.

I know I don't have dreams for myself. And even if I did, how the hell will writing and drawing feed me in the future when the industry in this 3rd world country is absolute garbage?

I guess Asians really do the things they hate so they can get what they love. Okay, I'll stop making jokes.

I miss my long-time friends, Phitre and Frost. I also miss my old blockmates when I was a BSEd-Math student. I am too used to eating alone, studying alone, walking alone. I am too used to being an outsider. But I'm not used to silence. I'm not too used to hearing actual silence.

All I have is Discord and Messenger.

And even then, it's quiet.

Writing itself & Interactions

I love writing and drawing. I just hate posting it at this point, which is why I made another account that's purely interaction-based.

I love writing a lot— my happiness is turning shtposts into something terrifying. I don't like writing romances, I like the thrill instead. I like laughing like I'm Hubert from FE:TH after thinking of an evil plot twist.

But I hate posting it. Because I know, no matter how much effort I put it, it's not enough. No matter how long it is— no matter if you learned basic coding for it— drew art— made interactive google forms— it's just not enough. I literally made two long separate fics with different endings depending on your choices and it just performs less on something I didn't actually put anything on.

Lord.

Lord I hate Creative Differences for that. I finally understood why bands hate their hit songs because of that lol.

Don't comment something like "oh, you content creators are just whining—" I am whining. Why? Because we don't treat artists and writers like they're human enough. Like we're just uploading content and that we don't want to hear what the others have to say. I remember there was one ask telling me how they're gonna miss traumatizing their friend— and I'm just sitting there wondering "why didn't YOU tell me their reactions? Why are you making me feel like I'm talking to a brick wall for 2k words and more?" It's not their fault. I am not mad at this anon. They've done nothing wrong, but lord do I hate feeling like this.

I could follow "part 2???" requests, finish all my drafts for the events. But I know. I know the chances of the person who requested them won't actually answer after all the effort.

[insert Berkut's "all that effort, what is it all for?!" voice line from FE:Echoes here to lighten the mood]

But that aside.

It's just silence. Just notes, when I feel like comments are what matters more. I'm used to being alone, but I really hate silence. I hate it so much. That's why I'm always so grateful to the people who do interact often, and don't say that's not true because I can prove it. You can see me make content just for them, dedicate fics, art, everything. I love them, I love the "noise".

I know we all have lives, I know we're all busy, I know. I respect your time, I respect you.

And I think it's just time I respect myself as well.

So that's why I'm retired. No pressure on events (idol and letters), no pressure on anything. I'm actually taking my time in End Of Year Blues. It's nice.

Edit: I forgot to mention

My father hates that I write. He constantly tells me to stop it, to prioritize my academics, when writing is my only way of coping.

So.

Haha, what the hell do I even do anymore, right?

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Hi

Not OFMD specific but might be of interest

(copied without permission given to reproduce)

Found in Private Eye 16-29th Feb

Warner Gloss:

Labour's business charm offensive continued last week, as Keir Starmer proudly posted that he had met with David Zaslav, CEO of Warner Bros Discovery, aiming to "work in partnership with the creative industries to drive growth".

Named by the New York Times as the man who "blew up Hollywood", Zaslav in fact seems to be doing everything he can to prevent growth in the industry. Having merged hi cable TV company, Discovery with entertainment conglomerate Warner Bros in 2022, Zaslav took on $56bn in debt and enacted cost cuts of £3bn.

To achieve this he set about binning TV shows and films that had already been completed in order to claim large tax write-offs - most notoriously superhero caper Batgirl - and removing shows from streaming services to avoid paying residuals fees.

In a move that might have had more appeal for St

armer, Zaslov also hired Chris Licht as CEO of CNN in 2022 to make the news service more appealing to conservative viewers - but then fired him within a year after ratings hit rock bottom. Under Zaslav's watch, the stock price of Warner Bros Discovery Inc has fallen by nearly 60% - probably not quite the growth Starmer would hope to discover!

END

Firstly thank you for your round-ups, much appreciated!

"make the new service more appealing to conservative viewers" Why am I not surprised.....

Secondly I am disturbed that the possible future leader of the UK or his advisors didn't do more investigating before agreeing to or asking for this meeting, very disappointing.

Thirdly "removing shows from streaming services to avoid paying residuals fees" Should we be concerned by this for series 1 and 2?

best wishes

Susannah

Hey omg I'm like 3 days behind on messages/replies/asks I'm sorry! This weekend was crazy! Hi Susannah!

Oh interesting! I've never read Private Eye, I'll go check them out now! Oh darn- looks like a paywall, thank you for pasting the text! (And no problem about the recaps! Thanks so much for reading them!)

To address your second point: I wish I knew more about Keir Starmer! I'm in the US so I only know tangentially about him. You would think someone would have vetted the situation a bit more though (although you know Zaslav has been a bit of a sneaky little fucker about everything until he was outed more recently). Sorry I don't have much to say on that point!

To address your third point:

Yeahhhhhh, my hope is that it won't affect OFMD too much because it's a bit more of it's own thing (and not a WB proprety like the Coyote movie). I think they could actually make money selling S1 and S2 as opposed to loss since there's such a demand for it, so personally I don't think it's going to be much of an issue, but I have no real authority or reason to believe that except common sense (which we all know hollywood doesn't always have).

@fuckyeahisawthat had a good take though, it's kind of anything goes unfortunately.

I have faith though... because like a lot of my tumblr colleagues have said, David Jenkins would have probably told us by now if in fact, there was literally no hope. He's been pretty good about putting out hints and letting us know where to focus our efforts, and as of yet he hasn't flat out said "Thanks anyway guys, but its not going to happen.

That in itself gives me hope for s1, s2 and s3.

Anyway, thanks for the write in Susannah! I'm really sorry again it took me so long to answer, and then I doubt I gave you anything of real substance @_@. I hope you're having a lovely day, and would love to chat more!

Take care, sending love!

Abby

[dominimoonbeam]

Hi, first I wanted to say that I really love your writing and thank you so much for sharing it.

You're amazing and so talented and you made me addicted to your writing. The way you write characters is so real and your way of writing scenerios in general makes me so Invested in the story.

Another thing, I don't know if you accept requests and if you don't feel free to ignore it:

Can I please ask for Sam comforting darlin after a long week when they basically shut down from stress? (Can you tell I'm projecting?😅)

Please don't feel pressured to do it, I know you're working on a lot of stuff now too so maybe just keep the idea for the future?

Anyway I wish you a happy rest of your week, take care of yourself and rest if you need to!

Anon! Thank you so much for all the kind words! You're not the only one needing some comfort and care lately! I think something about this season has been rough for people for a bunch of different reasons, myself included. I've got you! Or at least, I tried. Hope you like it! And I hope things turn up and go smoother for you soon!

Sam/Darlin comfort fic below the cut. Will probably reread and post it on ao3 later on.

<3

They were tired.

Dead tired. Like they wished they were dead. No, no, that was bad. They didn’t wish that. They just… It had just been such a long fucking week and it felt like everything was going wrong. Nothing big enough that they could point it out or complain. Just, off. And they hadn’t been able to sleep. And it seemed like the longer it went, the longer they hid it well enough that no one pressed for an explanation they couldn’t begin to come up with, it got heavier rather than lighter.

When they got home that night from a job, they were actually relieved Sam wasn’t back yet. The last thing they wanted to do was to drag him down with them. God, he deserved so much better than them. They tossed their keys on the side table, toed off their boots, and hung up their jacket. The side of their face throbbed. They’d gotten hit with a fucking bat. David thought their cheekbone was broken and had only finally allowed them to go home because he knew Sam would take care of it.

Darlin sat down in the big chair, their favorite chair, and told themself they’d just sit for a minute. And then they’d shower, see if their face was really that much of a mess, and if it was, maybe they’d drag their ass over to the clinic and get a healer there to fix it. They felt bad making Sam patch them up all the time, but they also hated the idea of anyone else touching them let alone mending them.

They could put an ice pack on it. Maybe the swelling would go down on its own.

They sank back in the chair and closed their eyes. Just a minute.

-

Sam was still at the Solaire house when he got a call from David.

His heart always lurched high in his chest when he got a call from David, his first thought always that frantic fear that something had happened to Darlin. Why else would David call him instead of Darlin or instead of using the group chat?

Sam stepped away from the big table of squabbling younger vampires and a very amused William.

“David?”

“Hey Sam,” David said, voice gruff but easy, instantly relieving that tension in Sam’s chest. “I just wanted to check in and see how they’re doing.”

The tension was back. “What?” Darlin had been off for almost a week, barely talking but not willing or ready to tell him why. He wasn’t sure they knew themself, not yet. But somehow he didn’t think that was what David was talking about.

The pause stretched. “Are they not home yet?”

Sam was already grabbing his jacket and waving heading for the front door. “They might be, but I ain’t. Why?”

David sighed. “Sorry. It’s not an emergency, Sam. The job got rough and they took a bat to the face… I would have taken them to a healer but they insisted—”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding. Of course, they would. “I’m heading home now. I’ll let ya know when they’re patched up.”

He called Darlin in the truck but they didn’t answer, which conjured a mess of panicked thoughts. What if they’d passed out behind the wheel? The thought of his Darlin in a twisted wreck was hard to push away and almost immediately replaced by other tragic imaginings.

He exhaled small relief when he saw their car in front of the house.

The front door wasn’t locked. Darlin never locked it when they were home. And there they were, asleep in the big chair. He sighed and put his keys down with theirs. Another step inside and their eyes opened. Well, one opened, the other was swollen shut.

“Damn…” Darlin winced as he closed the door. They sat up with some effort. “Sorry, I think I fell asleep… What time is—”

“Don’t you dare stand up,” he warned when they were starting to tip forward. He was already in front of them, gently catching their shoulder to ease them back. He kept his voice in a low hush, thinking their head had to be hurting inside and out. “You shoulda called me, Darlin.” He knelt beside their leg, carefully fingering hair out of their face. The bruising was new, like it had only just begun, and the swelling was bad. It looked like their cheekbone was broken. “David said you got hit with a bat?”

Darlin sighed, shoulders slumping. “I wasn’t paying attention and this guy… Yeah.”

Sam clicked his teeth to keep from snarling at the idea of ‘this guy’ whoever the hell he was. He reached toward their face but they caught his wrist and pulled it gently down to their heart instead. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, surprised.

Darlin smiled weakly, eyes already closed again. “I know. You always are, cowboy. But I don’t…” They sighed, their smile gone. “I don’t want to cost you anything right now, you know?” Their voice had gotten small, like they were far away inside themself.

Sam kept his hand to their chest, feeling their heartbeat through his palm. He leaned against their thigh, so they’d feel him right there next to them, practically leaning into the chair with them. “You never cost me anything,” he whispered back. “Healing you is a privilege. It makes me feel like there’s something I can do for you. I love you, Darlin.”

Their face pinched, not a wince but close, and he thought if they opened those eyes, they’d be teary. His other hand stroked up the side of their thigh, squeezing them gently. “Tell me what it is,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.” He said it quietly, like it could be just between them.

Darlin sighed and he heard all the exhaustion and strain in that breath. “I don’t know. I just… It’s been a bad week. It’s everything. I just feel… Everything. And I’m tired and I hate myself and I can’t… I can’t take things from you when I feel like I’ve got nothing to give.”

Sam watched them the whole time they choked out that barely audible confession. They’d never told him these things, but they didn’t shock him either. They hurt, because he never wanted them to feel like that, but they didn’t shock him. “Do you trust me, Darlin?”

That good eye opened enough to look at him, surprised. “Of course. I love you.”

He stroked his thumb against their collar, above their heart. “I’m going to heal you and then we’re going to take a bath. You can talk or you can relax. We’re going to get some well needed sleep and I’m going to order your favorite food. And every step of the way, I’m going to remind you that you’re incredible and all the reasons I love you, all the reasons your pack loves you, and all the reasons my clan loves you. You get to feel however you feel, Darlin, but that voice in your heart telling you bad shit, that’s asshole is lying.”

A tear rolled off Darlin’s lashes, even though their mouth was set in a stubborn line, like they refused to acknowledge it.

He reached up slowly, so they could stop him again if they needed to argue about this more, but he also couldn’t leave their face like that. His fingertips brushed the edge of the bruising and Darlin’s eye closed as that warm magic slid through their skin, spreading out. The delicate bone in their cheek healed and the swelling went down.

They exhaled relief when they opened both eyes and blinked at him.

He could see an apology building in their eyes, trying to form on their tongue. He took their face in both hands and leaned in, touching his forehead to theirs the way he’d seen the pack do. “Trust me,” he pleaded. “I ain’t ever going to lie to you, Darlin, and we’ll get through bad weeks together.”

Darlin stayed tense for another few seconds, like they might push this comfort away, but finally they sagged. Too tired maybe?

Sam smiled when they tipped their face into his, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. He kissed back and then pulled them to their feet to lead them to the bathroom. He had to make a dash back to his jacket to send a text off to David, telling him Darlin was fine but they were taking tomorrow off.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

About you last post, I think a reason why the show took such a weird and concerning direction of Adrien having this therapy role, I don‘t really believe that the writers take Marinette‘s PTSD serious (at least outside of derision). The whole show her „weirdness“ was played off as comedy (TA said so himself in a tweet a while back) and the phone call scene you were describing also had vibes of making Mari look quirky like „haha look she still can‘t be normal about her bf“.

The worst part is that I feel like the writers could actually write good mental health representation but only when the plot demands it. Adrien being visibly depressed in s4? Makes for good drama. Adrien forgetting all his problems after he gets with Mari? Well duh love solves everything. Marinette having a panic attack? Makes the scene where she looses the miraculous more intense. Almost every other instant of her panicking? Hehe funny.

The whole show her "weirdness“ was played off as comedy (TA said so himself in a tweet a while back)

Oh, her weirdness was absolutely supposed to be read as comedic pre-Derision. I never consider those jokes funny, but they were very clearly jokes. In fact, it always weirded me out when people took her actions seriously because those people never applied that logic to the other absurdist humor used in the show.

My go-to example is Party Crasher. If you're up in arms about Marinette being a "stalker", but aren't equally or even more concerned by a bunch of adult men just randomly showing up to hang out with a group of 14-year-olds, then maybe you're holding the teenage girl to an unreasonable standard and ignoring the fact that she's written by a bunch of adult men who clearly think that teenage girls act like fangirls around their real-life crushes.

Marinette is not a real person. She's a character in an absurdist romantic comedy aimed at kids. Her actions have to be judged in that light if you want to make any sort of good-faith analysis.

The problem is Derision and the choice to make all of Marinette's Adrien-based-behavior a PTSD response. Once you go that route, the absurdist humor excuse is dead in the water.

Absurdist humor is all about making things so ridiculous that you can't take them seriously. For example, Marinette having Adrien's schedule for the next week isn't absurd because that schedule exists. She could absolutely get her hands on it! Her having his schedule for the next 3 years? That's absurd. You can't take it seriously because it's impossible for her to have a schedule that goes that far into the future. It would have, at most, a handful of events because you just don't schedule most things that far in advance.

But if you have Marinette do a big, dramatic confession where she shows Adrien the schedule and apologizes for it? Then none of that matters. the absurdist nature of it goes away because you have treated it seriously and absurdist humor is all about not treating the absurd too seriously. Derision was the equivalent of that big dramatic confession. You can no longer use absurdist humor to justify anything Marinette does and, notably, they don't. She's massively toned down post Derision and things are being taken more seriously with her and Adrien actively working on her behavior, which is a problem because this is also true:

I don‘t really believe that the writers take Marinette‘s PTSD serious

They've given her a serious issue, they're taking it seriously enough to have Adrien and Marinette address it, but they're not being serious about how you'd treat PTSD and that is the worst possible way to approach this issue. I'd be happier if they just flat out ignored it or used magic love to heal it with a kiss and never addressed it again.

When writing comedy aimed at kids, there's a thing that I like to call The Seat Belt Principle. If you've ever seen a show where a kid character was about to launch themself off in a rocket, only to fasten their seat belt first, then you've seen this principle in action. It's the idea that, in a kids show, you can have wild things happen so long as it's something that a kid can't emulate. If a kid can emulate it, then you have to take it more seriously. This is why kid characters always fasten their seat belts even if it's pointless because the child audience needs to see seat belts as cool and a thing that you always use.

The Seat Belt Principle applies to more than physically dangerous situations. If you are portraying any serious, real-life issue in a kids show, then you need to handle it differently than something that a kid will never face. To put it another way, Ladybug can have ignorant parents, Marinette cannot. Sabine and Tom not knowing that their daughter is a superhero? Not a problem, superheroes aren't real. Sabine and Tom not knowing that their daughter is experiencing horrific bullying or even straight up ignoring it? Big problem, bullies are very real.

This is where we get to the mental health stuff. A lot of media treats mental health issues as something that can be solved via romance and nothing could be further from the truth. Romantic partners can make the fight easier, but they shouldn't be your whole army if you can help it. The show doesn't seem to get this.

As you pointed out, the show keeps giving the characters metal health issues for drama and then hand waving those issues away via romantic relationships and that's a big yikes for me. You don't have to introduce mental health issues into your romantic comedy, but once you do, you have a responsibility to portray them accurately. They clearly don't want to do that and that's why season five's love square romance is a hard pass for me. There's a world of difference between bad jokes and bad mental health rep. I can overlook one, the other is a personal pet peeve and I've seen the negative consequences in action first hand. I think we all have! Who isn't familiar with the concept of a person being confused that "X is still depressed? But they got that new job/have a new SO/got engaged/etc."

[bleachbleachbleach]

8/12 - 8/18/2024

I wrote a version of Renji 11 what is at this point several years ago (RIP me), and have since just been throwing random stuff/required additions into that Note with no rhyme nor reason, so it took over two hours this week just to sort it all out. But! It is sorted!

Modern-era Renji 11 consists of 3 new scenes and 3 already-existing scenes. I wrote 1.5 of the new scenes. As far as how well I think this Chapter is going, I dunno. As a narrator, Renji’s kind of like, oh hey, here’s a thought I had. And here’s another one! Which feels legit but I’m not sure if it allows the reader to understand which pieces of information are actually important for following the narrative.

You know those reblog memes that like, ask people to identify hallmarks of your writing? The concept is fun, but it wouldn't work in practice because 0.02% of anyone who might see that post would have any familiarity with my writing. SO. I WILL SIMPLY TELL YOU. My hallmarks are that I love an interstice—love having things that should be on the cutting room floor not on the cutting room floor—but am also a firm believer in stories not needing to have every scene the characters experience to exist on the page. This combination means there’s a good chance that actually relevant, defining scenes simply do not exist and only the interstitial nonsense does. I think in certain stories this can be a real thing that works. I think it can also have the effect of nothing hanging together, making any sense, or meaning anything, without certain bits of key information/certain scenes that I simply did not include because they exist in my head and therefore exist everywhere right. I think that’s where this chapter is.

Maybe the remaining 1.5 new scenes will help ameliorate that, but I feel like that’s asking a lot of them. And then, theoretically, you’d think fixing the existing scenes would go more quickly than writing from scratch, but I don’t know that they will. Because the story leading up to this point has changed enough that the characters are in very different headspaces and perceptions of each other than they were when I first wrote those scenes. Well, that’s not true—Kensei and Renji are in a very different place with each other. Renji and Hitsugaya need to have the exact same conversation but, you know… better. And FRANKLY, I do not know whether entirely overhauling Kensei and Renji will be harder or easier than merely line-editing Hitsugaya and Renji. =_=;;

I’d really like to finish Renji 11 by the end of next week, and then take some time to finish out the revisions on Rukias 7 and 10, which are the most related to Renji 11. Then I’d like to go back to do final line edits on Chapters 4, 5, and 8 before heading into the big mess of revision that is Hisagi 9, because those revisions will be most related to Hitsugaya 12.

I’m not anticipating getting much done in September, because I have a major work deadline September 30th, and the rest of autumn will probably be kind of garbage, too, and I probably won't exist. But I would love to finish Part II (so, Chapters 12 and 13) by December. Well, speaking honestly, my original hope was that I would finish Part II by May, but here it is, August, and I am still working on Chapter 11. So: I would LOVE to finish Part II by December.

—

I did a low-res mockup of the fic banner several months ago (okay, this might have been last November). I pulled out some high-res assets to work with on Friday and played around with a new design I thought was fun, but it turns out design-wise the old mockup looks much more polished. Or it would, if I were using higher-quality materials. XD So I’ll probably go back to the old design. The only reason to continue with the new one is that it reflects the clusterfuck spirit of everything that happens in this fic, but I kind of like the way the old banner puts a pretty bow on the clusterfuck lurking beneath the surface. Maybe I’ll solicit opinions once I’ve made a more serious mockup of the first version.

[roguemaki]

Hey! I hope your week is going great :)

Like everyone else, i wanted to send you a heartfelt thank you for your immense efforts and time that you take out of your day to translate and type set these interviews and videos.

It always brightens my day when i get a notification from you and i know I’m in for a treat so it’s really truly appreciated from our end 🙏🏼

I was also wondering that when the asticassia school assembly BD comes out, if you could consider uploading it somewhere so that people who can’t purchase it would be able to watch it as well? I was really looking forward to seeing the VAs performance on stage and also some of the comedic moments like Suletta rapping but unfortunately, money is a bit tight for me right now. 😞

If you could consider it that would be awesome but if you rather not do jt, that’s totally fine as well :)

I also wanted to ask for your advice regarding learning japanese. I took some classes in college but haven’t kept up with it. Do you know any resources that you felt were really helpful to you when you were learning the language? I really want to dedicate myself to it this time! I’d really appreciate any tips, thank you! :)

Hey hey~ I actually got some fantastic news at work, so my week's off to a great start. :3

And you're very welcome! Thank you for enjoying and supporting my TLs.

I pre-ordered the School Assembly BD and am planning to subtitle it in parts, similarly to how I'm doing the Ep 24 Character Commentary… but for an upload of the full thing, I have to be more circumspect: I'll post when the rip is available and give contact info so interested folks can reach out directly. Just trying to avoid getting Eye of Sauron'd by Bandai-Namco, lol.

Regarding Japanese study: we're in similar boats! I also took classes in college and got back into serious self-study after not practicing for a while.

Here are some self-study resources I find useful:

For daily Japanese practice…

Renshuu for vocabulary and grammar. WaniKani for learning kanji. Ringotan for kana and kanji writing practice.

Renshuu is a site (also available in convenient app form) for building up vocabulary and grammar with quizzes, games, and community activities. It's by-and-large free - premium provides some enhancements (like more listening/pitch tools), but isn't necessary for most of the content. WaniKani is a fantastic resource for learning kanji. They use some truly memorable mnemonics to teach radicals/vocabulary and schedule lessons/reviews in a way that promotes real retention. Give Levels 1-3 a try since they're free, and if you like the teaching method, a lifetime premium sub is reasonably affordable when it goes on sale (like on Black Friday). I use Ringotan, a free phone app, to supplement WaniKani (which is focused on reading/recognition) with writing practice.

Other resources/tools...

Install Yomitan, an in-line dictionary extension, on your browser.

Dokusho Bookclub is a site for finding reading materials targeting specific JLPT levels.

Out of the many resources available on YouTube, I want to highlight Kaname Naito's channel - he teaches in depth vocabulary and grammar used in actual conversational Japanese.

I have a routine of always doing my "dailies" and just try to read/watch/play as much Japanese media as possible... Thankfully there's so much good stuff available online nowadays. :>

Hope you find something useful for you in this list. Good luck with your studies!

[hislifesuckspoll]

Life Sucks! Pinned Post

I'm your host, Mod Tim!

Submissions: closed

YOUR SUBMISSION WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED IF YOU DO NOT FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS. And I'm deleting it.

Have a fav that's always down on their luck? We see you! This poll is not gender exclusive. It says "his" but you can submit whoever you want. Please, no in real life submissions...however, if you feel that you have a very compelling case in which I should allow an exception, I will consider it.

Please read all the rules and guidelines before submitting a character or asking questions. As time goes on (if needed), I'll have a questions and FAQ tag :}

T3RF$, R4DF3M$, AND N4Z1 CODED CHARACTERS ARE NOT WELCOME.

No H*rry P*tter or Att*ck On Tit*n content. Thank you.

So What's This About Anyway?

If your character has one of the following, they may be entitled to compensation:

an outrageous, i mean really, it's just ridiculous, amount of bad luck

the audacity to exist and for some reason, the universe took that personally

a personal grudge held by God himself,

they don't do much actually but shit sure does try to do everything to them.

They are disqualified if:

they are participating in active destructive behavior. If can track back to their actions being the cause to their suck life, disqualified. Example: people who are like Bigby Wolf. He ate several people, including a child, which caused mistrust. Despite trying to do better by becoming a sheriff later now, he continues to put himself into rough situations and has yet to work on his aggression (not including the implications of the 2nd game trailer).

If they qualified before their villain ark. Example: Doofenshmirtz. Yes, his life sucked. He was literally abandoned to be raised by ocelots. And yes, his evil plans blow up in his face (literally) out of deserved consequence. He chose this life.

This character has to be a neutral party or doing some active good.

You can have multiple submissions, but only one character per submission. Each submission requires at least one sentence of propaganda. Do not use propaganda to bash other characters. If you do, nobody will see it anyway. Promise <3

Something to keep in mind! I have a busy schedule so posting will not be consistent. I'll do my best to get something out at the start of, at least, every other week.

Thanks for reading everything! Tell me your favorite ice cream topping under the 0.0. I love an obscene amount of sprinkles. "No toppings" or "I don't eat/like ice cream" is also acceptable.

Alright, go crazy.

[under-lore]

Update on this blog

Hi !

So as you might have noticed, things on this blog have been quite slow for a few months now.

I’ve been asked a few questions about what was going on, or why have i not been posting even close to as many theories as before, etc...

So i’ve decided to try and answer all that as a sort of Q&A update to this blog.

Where have you been ?

I apologise for the lowered activity. My personal life lately has been causing me a lot of pretty bad problems, I’ve attempted 4 times within the last 3 months to pick this blog back up the way it used to be, but something would always come up at the wrong time and have me choose to delay it until that was fixed. Just last week, my personal computer broke down the very weekend i intended on doing so, and it is currently still in reparations so im writing this from a different device.

I do have several unfinished drafts and many things i want to talk and theorise about (i still haven’t posted a couple things that i’ve teased almost a year ago...), but i haven’t been able to find the opportunity to do so. I however have fairly good hopes that i might be able to get this blog back up and running within the next 2 weeks when my computer is fixed.

Hopefully, for real this time.

And again, i apologise about all this.

Whatever happened to the YouTube channel ? You posted one first video 6 months ago, and since then its been quiet...

The channel is not dead. I do intend on posting many more videos there in the somewhat near future. Some based on existing posts on this blog, and some more unique ones.

As a matter of fact, my computer gave up on me the day right after the day i told my friend and temporary editor that i wanted to start working on a second video... Tough luck...

It might be a bit early for me to say this, but once the blog gets picked back up, the YouTube channel should follow suit in the weeks that follow.

What have you been doing ?

Although the blog has been significantly slowed down for personal reasons, i have still made some progress on a few Undertale related projects of mine. While i have been generally staying quiet about those so far, i’ve decided to mention one of them today. After having been in this fandom for nearly 7 years and having seen literally hundreds of these from other people, it looks like it is now my turn to do so :

Im working on an AU

I will wait for a bit more progress before officially announcing it, but i am fairly impatient to be able to start talking about it !

What happened to asks ?

For a while even a bit before the blog lost its steam, i have been answering asks less often.

I used to always answer every single ask i got on this blog, but eventually as it grew bigger, there were too many of them for me to answer and it started to prevent me from posting theories as fast as i wanted to because otherwise i would get late on asks and have way too many in stock.

Eventually, i was overwhelmed by the number of asks i got and couldn’t keep up anymore. So i sort of took a break from the asks and now only occasionally respond to a couple.

I am actually not sure what to do about this situation. Because i do like answering questions i get, but i usually make pretty detailed answers which take time, and this blog lately has been quite short on time. I would be open to suggestions regarding how to handle this issue.

Thanks a lot for reading !

[noelwho]

Ultimate Chronological Order Imodna Playlist!!!

Hello! I feel like I have to introduce myself ‘cause I’m barely on Tumblr. I’m still learning how to use it, I posted a couple of fanarts and they went really well, so I want to try and make myself a spot in here. My name is Noel (they/them) and I’m a big fan of Critical Role. I started watching a few months ago, with Exandria Unlimited. Once I was done I went ahead and started Campaign 3. I’m currently on episode 49 (I know, I have a lot ahead yet). I also watched the first season of Candela Obscura and a couple of One-Shots.

Today I’m here to talk about the Lesbian Southern Gothic Witches. Earlier this week I started to obsess over a playlist. An Imodna playlist, to be more specific. It started with me listening to one I found on spotify (I will credit below because it’s been a huge inspiration for this project) and I got the urge to make my own. At the beginning it was something chill, something normal…until it was not. Over the course of the last 3 days I haven’t thought about or listened to anything else. I got the idea of making the playlist in chronological order and I started to take it very seriously. I divided their history in 10 different chapters and assigned each song to the correct time period. At first it was just gonna be into chapters, but then I started to put them in order inside the chapters too, and it became very personal. For real, this playlist has been the one and only thing I wanted to talk about for days. Last night I finally finished it. I’ve played it for run tests several times and I think it’s finally ready to see the light (kinda feels like the project of my life even though I only spent a few days working on it).

After all this brainrot it didn’t feel right to just tweet a link to the playlist, I wanted the world to know everything that went through my head in the process of making this. I also don’t have many people around who care about Critical Role, and I thought it was a good opportunity to connect with the fandom. So all of this took me here, to tumblr. All of a sudden it became very clear that this was the perfect place to set my baby free.

There’s some things I wanna make clear before you start reading, the first being the classic: english is not my first language. Sounds like a joke at this point but for real, it’s very likely that this thing is full of grammatical mistakes and I want to apologize in advance (specially about the in/on/at situation, I’ve been having lots of trouble with those for some reason) This is also the first time I do something like this so it may not be perfect. The second thing is that this will obviously be filled with spoilers. In fact I actually haven’t even got to The Scene, I saw it around on Tumblr and Twitter (impossible to avoid that spoiler, but I don’t really care). I’m aware that there’s a lot of Imodna moments that I haven’t seen yet, but I couldn't wait to start this playlist. I don’t know if the episodes I have left to watch will translate into new chapters or into new songs for the chapters I already have but either way, I will keep this post and the playlist updated.

With that being said, welcome to this ride through an unhinged mind. Fasten your seatbelts and enjoy!

The tether scene is one of my favorite ones. I love that metaphor with a passion. That’s why I chose this name for the playlist. With the photo I wanted to make an allusion to the red thread myth given that Laudna herself carries around a spool of red string. I even edited the picture so the hands on the right are slightly gray like Laudna’s.

There’s not just one specific vibe to this playlist, but I find it to be a very calming one, with the exception of some specific moments that we will talk about later. I tried to avoid strong and distracting beats so I could keep it a little ethereal. Lots of acoustic guitar (which I love). I’m not going to talk about every single song because some of them have pretty obvious meanings. Usually the songs aren't a 100% match, but they do have a part to it that speaks to me and to the story on a certain level.

× Imogen and Laudna’s separate lifes ×

At the beginning of the journey that is this playlist, I wanted to introduce the characters. Intertwining their songs, we get to know Imogen and Laudna’s pasts, before they have each other to face the terrors of being witches in a world that doesn’t quite understand them.

Delilah - Florence + The Machine (Laudna)

I sometimes wonder if Marisha has ever listened to this song, because oh my fucking god. I wanted to start the playlist with Abbey, I didn’t because with the intertwining I couldn’t make it fit, but this one is a very good start as well. This song shows perfectly how it must have been being brought back by Delilah and having that power all of a sudden.

Abbey - Mitski (Imogen)

Matilda - Harry Styles (Laudna)

Imogen - Nick Mulvey (Imogen)

Laudna's lullaby - Ginny Di (Laudna)

Time comes in roses - Bess Atwell (Imogen)

The Tradition - Halsey (Laudna)

Burn it down - Daughter (Imogen)

There’s several songs from this album on this playlist. It couldn’t fit better. It reflects perfectly the moment Imogen started to develop her powers. It even refers directly to the way she parts ways with her town (which doesn’t happen for a few chapters but still I felt this one belonged here). Her fear of being a disappointment, her father becoming absent, the feeling of being cursed. It’s all here.

The hanging tree - The hunger games (Laudna)

Still I wait - Anna Leone (Both)

Even with everything they had to go through, they both still wait and cling to hope.

× Imogen and Laudna meet ×

Finally, their paths cross. They experience the feeling of warmth for the first time in a long time. They both feel the need to keep the other one close and begin to appreciate the little things in life, learning how to be taken care of. Goodbye loneliness.

Season of the Witch - Lana Del Rey

I'd like to walk around in your mind - Vashti Bunyan

How important is this song knowing what Imogen can do…

Comfortable Silence - Bella Porter

Without you without them - Boygenius

A hole in the earth - Daughter

That Moon Song - Gregory Alan Isakov

Love brought weight - Old Sea Brigade

That distant shore - Steven Universe

Sick of losing soulmates - Natalie Dawn

I Hear a Symphony - Cody Fry

Sidelines - Phoebe Bridgers

The bug collector - Haley Heyderickx

Sometimes I feel that it’s always Laudna taking care of Imogen, as if she didn't have anything on her own plate. It can't be easy to live with a voice in your head and paranoia. This song shows how Imogen is there to hold Laudna too when it becomes too much.

Look up - Joy Oladokun

If the last one was an Imogen’s POV, this one is totally a Laudna’s POV. Her and her silly little pep talks. “You’re so capable”.

Daylight - Taylor Swift

I love the idea of them learning that life can be good if you find someone to share it with. This song encapsulates that perfectly.

Spell - Dora Jar

I wanted this one to be the last one of the chapter because it introduces the idea of leaving together.

× Imogen and Laudna run away together ×

“Would you run away with me?” They learn what it’s like to have a home that’s not a place, but something entirely new. The past still follows but they’re no longer crushed by it, because they don’t have to sustain it on their own.

Departure - Daughter

Second child, restless child - The Oh Hellos

Just the two of us - Grover Washington, Jr.

I really like to imagine Imodna slice of life scenes when I listen to this song.

Dandelion Wine - Gregory Alan Isakov

Homesick - Dwara, Khotton Palm

Graceland Too - Phoebe Bridgers

When I realized how much of a Laudna's POV this song is, I almost cried.

Telepath - Manchester Orchestra

I really really like Manchester Orchestra, it's one of my favorite bands. I never let go of the chance of spreading them around, and this one is the best song they have. Laudna's POV for sure.

everything i wanted - Billie Eilish

With songs like this one and Intertwined, I wanted to introduce the idea that even though they're definitely better off now that they left the town, that doesn't instantly solve all of their problems. As I said before, the past follows, but they're no longer alone with it.

Savior Complex - Phoebe Bridgers

Intertwined - Dodie

Nothing else matters - Phoebe Bridgers

As long as they're together, nothing else matters.

× You lied ×

Even though I only have a few songs for this precise moment of the story, I thought that it was very important to include their first fight. The gem is broken and Imogen feels betrayed. Laudna is left abandoned and thinks she deserves to be punished for Delilah’s wrongs. We explore jealousy for the first time.

Witches - Daughter

The silence at the end of this instrumental song represents the loneliness that Laudna felt when Imogen left her alone after her incident with Delilah

Landfill - Daughter

There are two possible ways of reading into this one. This is in my opinion a Laudna's POV. She could either be talking to Imogen, expressing her deep rooted desire for a punishment for what she’s done; or to Delilah, alluding to the attachment she has to her own powers (that at least as far as she knows are there because of Briarwood) opposed to the hatred she feels for her and for herself for wanting those powers (this is a theme that they explore later on future chapters)

Are you okay? - Winnetka Bowling League

Afterglow - Taylor Swift

The archer - Taylor Swift

× Laudna’s death ×

Otohan Thull relentlessly kills three members of Bells Hells. A coin is flipped and Laudna is gone, again. What awaits beyond the afterlife? Perhaps a little girl, a monster and a tree.

DVD menu - Phoebe Bridgers

If death’s not exactly DVD menu by Phoebe Bridgers, then someone tell me what’s like because I can’t imagine otherwise. I freaking love how this song connects with Daffodil.

Daffodil - Florence + The Machine

Death with dignity - Sufjan Stevens

Bells in Santa Fe - Halsey

I like to imagine that Laudna didn't appear in Nightmarish Whitestone immediately. Up until this point, she's in a limbo, accepting her own death. Bells in Santa Fe marks the moment she sets foot in that Upside-down kind of world. The constant repetition of “All of this is temporary” is like a mantra for her, the only hope she has of getting through it with her sanity intact is believing that this will also end and she will finally find peace.

Willow Tree March - The paper kiss

Hard times - Ethel Cain

Tether me - Galleaux

With this song and the next one, I wanted to express desperation. We don't get to know in the series how she feels throughout all of this, but I can only imagine how terrifying it must have been. There's a point where anyone would have started begging for help.

Matilda - alt-J

× Imogen’s grief ×

“Is she your favorite?”. Imogen feels deeply guilty for what happened. The possibility of bringing Laudna back is the only thing that’s keeping her from losing it completely. All the regrets, all the words she wishes she said before, all the times she didn’t approached her when she wanted to, come afloat. Grief, disassociation and sorrow.

Words - Storefront Church, Phoebe Bridgers

This song is meant to represent the exact moment of Imogen floating and losing control, with Otohan in her head pushing her to let go.

Goner - Twenty One Pilots

No other song in existence can express better the moment Imogen realize Laudna's gone for good.

Lanterns lit - Son Lux

True Faith - Ashley Johnson

Hurt for me - SYML

Carry you - Novo Amor

My love - Florence + The Machine

Lucky for you - Novo Amor, Gia Margaret

Killer + the sound - Phoebe Bridgers, Noah Gundersen

Should have known better - Sufjan Stevens

Ya'aburnee - Halsey

Show you a body - Haley Heyderickx

Imogen (even Laura) loses hope for a moment during the ritual they do for bringing Laudna back. The end of this song summarize this repeating a lyric over and over (you can clearly see through this playlist how much I love repetition).

× Back together ×

After Bells Hells confront Delilah at the Upside-down-Whitestone of Laudna’s nightmares, Pike manages to bring her back to life. Imogen and her are back hand by hand, and nothing can ever tear them apart again. Here’s where I think something awakes inside them, but they are far from realizing it.

I am the Antichrist to you - Kishi Bashi

Like an angel “fallen from the sky with grace”, Laudna’s back on Imogen’s arms.

Darling - Halsey

This love (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

Now that you're home - Manchester Orchestra

Lose you again - Manchester Orchestra

Halloween - Phoebe Bridgers

But not kiss - Fayer Webster

Like I said, something changes after this. What they’ve been through is not nothing. This song is here to show that something is born deep inside them, on their subconscious far from their reach yet

× Back to Gelvaan ×

Same as with the “You lied” chapter, I felt that this one was important even though I just have one song for it. It just matches perfectly. Imogen and Laudna visit Imogen’s hometown and the place where they met, searching for answers. Old wounds, some closure and an emotionally absent father.

My tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

× Tethered ×

In this chapter the platonic bond is peaking. It takes place right before The Unraveling, giving in to the “Can I kiss you?” phase and becoming romantic. They’ve been through hell and back just to stay together. This is my personal favorite bit of the playlist, everything is extremely intense but not yet explicit.

Tethered - Sleeping at last

I Will - Mitski

Anchor - Alli X

Don't let them see you cry - Manchester Orchestra

Crosses - José González

Quietly - Manchester Orchestra

Francesca - Hozier

Moon song - Phoebe Bridgers

Capital Karma - Manchester Orchestra

Everywhere, everything - Noah Kahan

In a week - Hozier

Monster - King Princess

j's lullaby (darlin' i'd wait for you) - Delaney Bailey

I will follow you into the dark - Miya Folick

I wouldn't ask you - Clairo

× Can I kiss you? ×

Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The beggining of something new, the next and most logical step of this journey. The platonic becomes romantic and they get to truly explore the feelings they always had, and some novel ones. This is the moment I know less about, but I’ve used my imagination and my own headcanons.

Can I - Genevieve Stokes

I debated a lot whether to put this one at the end of the last chapter or the beginning of this one because I don't know how relevant Laudna's death is up to this point, and there's a huge reference to this in this song. I know for a fact that the Delilah’s plot is not over and things will change, but I couldn't resist the urge to put it in here, given the name of the song and its obvious connection to the chapter.

We'll never have sex - Leith Ross

Wading in Waist-high Water - Fleet Foxes

This is the last time - The National

All my ghosts - Lizzy McAlpine

Prière pour la nuit - Barbara Pravi, November Ultra

Chewing Cotton Wool - The Japanese House

Bandages - Rachel Bobbitt

This is it, this is The Ultimate Chronological Order Imodna Playlist. I don't know if I'm the first one doing this, probably not, I don't know if this has any value to anyone beyond myself, but I had a hell of a lot of fun. If only one person were to read this till the end I would be more than satisfied.

I’ll link here the playlist that started all of this. Massive respect for this person whoever it is, I took lots of the songs from here

Infinite thanks to anyone who gets here or saves my playlist, feel free to respond with any song that you think adds to the story!! Something tells me this isn't the end of my Imodna brainrot so,,,, more things could be on their way (a fanfic, perhaps?).

No idea how to end this so… long live Lesbian Southern Gothic Witches!!!

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Chenford week 2023 Day 3: Something’s Missing Day (July 13)

Incorrect dialogue (tumblr posts, tweets, etc.) or scenes you wish we’d seen

Missing moment or underrated moment

Amnesia, missing pet/person, missing object/ring, etc.

When I first watched the 5x02 ending I was shocked that they actually acknowledged what almost happened between them and I loved that! However,  I found the scene somewhat hard to follow as we didn’t really know where either of their heads were at and although Eric and Melissa absolutely nailed it with the emotion they can only communicate so much with facial expressions and tone of voice. So I decided to write a fic of that underrated moment and include what was missing for me: Lucy’s thought process.

---

Lucy’s internal monologue during the 5x02 ending - A Chenford fanfic

“Hey. What are you doing here?” Lucy says as she answers the door, surprised to find Tim on the other side. She hasn’t seen him much since the end of their UC op when they found Chris, bleeding out on Lucy’s couch. She hasn’t been purposely avoiding him. No. Just spending lots of time with Chris, helping him recover.

“Just checking in.” Tim replies casually, “How are you feeling?” He continues addressing Chris, seated behind Lucy in the living room.

“Okay. Lucy's taking great care of me.”

“I have no doubt,” Tim smiles, “Hey, can we talk?” he continues, addressing Lucy, timidly.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” She stutters stepping into the hallway for a little bit more privacy, unsure why he is here.

“So, I, uh... I hear you're on the fence about going to U.C. school.” Tim offers.

This is true Lucy has been struggling with deciding whether or not to attend UC school since she received the offer a few days ago. But she’s surprised Tim knows and is even more surprised he’s here to talk to her about it. 

“Chris called you?” She reasons.

“Yeah, which was unexpected,” Tim voices her thoughts, “Um, he wanted me to talk to you.”

She knows UC is a great opportunity and she is definitely still interested in a career in undercover work, even if her last UC op stirred up some uncomfortable feelings. It’s just she feels guilty leaving Chris while he’s still recovering, and she has enough things to feel guilty about regarding this relationship. 

She keeps it short when she replies: “It's not the right time.”

“He's gonna be fine.” Tim reassures her, once again seemingly reading her mind. “You owe it to yourself to go.”

“I know, but…” Lucy stutters, once again blaming herself for Chris getting hurt and nearly dying. After all, Rosalind had targeted him specifically to hurt Lucy. 

“What happened to him isn't your fault,” Tim interrupts her thoughts, trying to provide reassurance. 

But it doesn’t work. Because what Lucy really feels guilty about is not that because of her, he became a target of a serial killer, but because he hadn’t even crossed her mind when she heard about Rosalind’s escape. She had worried about Tamara and insisted she be kept safe but didn’t so much as think about Chris until she found him bleeding out on her couch. Didn’t so much as think about him when she kissed another guy, twice, and ultimately invited him back to her apartment for a night cap. A night cap that was only interrupted because Chris was already at the apartment, on the edge of death. And that’s really what she feels guilty about. 

But should she? Did she really do anything wrong? She’s been asking herself that a lot lately. Running through it again and again in her mind. The kisses had been for work, for an undercover operation which took a lot of bad people and dangerous goods off the streets. They hadn’t been real, hadn’t mean’t anything. She’s told herself that a million times and every time it’s answered by Tim’s voice inside her head: “call me crazy but it just doesn’t feel like pretend.” She’s still sticking with her basic biology theory and blaming that along with high levels of adrenaline for her highly questionable decision of inviting Tim in that night. She still doesn’t know what she thought would happen or what she wanted to happen had they not found Chris. She tries to tell herself nothing. Maybe a friendly drink. And she’s finally told herself that enough times that she’s started to actually believe it. Nothing happened. It was an innocent act and she has nothing to feel guilty about. Right? Okay maybe she doesn’t fully believe that, but maybe she should. Then she realizes the answer is standing right in front of her. 

“We were about to…” Lucy starts, fully expecting Tim to jump in and rationalize their actions. Lift this burden from her mind. She can already hear Tim chuckling casually as he teases her, “We were about to what?- have a drink together. Oh no someone better call HR.” Or she can see him rolling his eyes getting ready to correct her like he used to as her TO. “We were about to what?- sleep together. We wouldn’t have let that happen. The stress and excitement of the day may have gone to our heads a little, that’s it, it happens, it’s not a big deal.” But in either scenario she pictures Tim as the world usually sees him: calm, steady, and slightly amused by her antics. His default. What she doesn’t expect is what comes next.

“But we didn’t.” he jumps in almost immediately, voice laced with emotions, Lucy can’t quite identify, but they give the sentence a feeling of heaviness. “We didn’t.” He repeats as if trying to convince himself of something. 

That’s when it hits her. She didn’t just potentially hurt Chris when she invited Tim in that night, she also hurt Tim. Made him feel uncomfortable, confused, used, disappointed in her? She wasn’t sure, but the thought that she has damaged the relationship between them, the most important relationship in her life, nearly breaks her.

“Uh, are you trying to get rid of me as your go-fer?” She asks, suddenly terrified.

“No,” Tim forces a small smile as his voice swells with more unidentifiable emotions, “No, I'm trying to look out for you.” And his eyes are shining like he’s holding back tears and it’s hard for Lucy to bear. “It’s time for you to move on.” 

Lucy just nods, struggling with all the emotions swirling around in her mind. Move on from what? From patrol, from Sergeant’s aide, from him?

“And some time away would be good.” She asks, begging him to explain, to understand, to address whatever this tension is that’s suddenly built between them.

But he doesn’t, “It's a great opportunity, Lucy,” he says and all she can do is murmur as she tries to hold back tears of her own. “You should go for it,” he finishes quickly then turns and walks away.

And then she’s alone, standing in the hallway, feeling like her heart has shattered. She would have preferred he yelled at her. She’s used to angry Tim. They’re good at arguing. But she doesn’t know what to do with a Tim that’s seemingly radiating pain caused by her. She fears anything she might try will only make it worse. So she decides to give him the last thing she wants to: space. And as she stands there, trying to pull herself together, she vows to never do anything that could jeopardize her relationship with Tim, ever again.