#which like . infuriates me for obvious reasons LOL

[nicklightbunny]

truly tho if I'm being honest, I feel like the idea of Denji truly ending up with anyone is really trivial. I like where the manga is going with Asa, that's really cute tbh, but I feel like obsessing over who he should end up with is really dumb because there's a whole point in the story that Denji craves intimacy above all else, not necessarily romance, he's just so stunted in his maturity that he thinks romantic/sexual intimacy is the only one that exists. Himeno, Reze and Makima all intentionally play on that because he's easy to manipulate, which was the point... Meanwhile, Aki and Power give him the love and support he didn't know he was craving, and end up making that dream of Denji's come true even if he didn't realize it at first, because that was the point of their family (even if Makima constructed it). My point is that people like to treat Denji and his love interests as a "will they won't they" situation, but it's really about Denji exploring what he truly wants in his life and ending up on the radar of people who want to take advantage of that vulnerability.

Sorry that was long but this has been On My Mind.

NO EXACTLY ‼️‼️ i LOVE the idea of denji and asa ending up together , they’re more or less the same character ( family’s dead , don’t fit in , secret devil in them , etc ) but ultimately whether or not they do doesn’t matter too much to me . that’s not to say im not rooting for it SO HARD because truthfully they’re adorable and i want to see more of them , but the people who are so hopefully optimistic that we will see denji settle down with a girlfriend / someone to raise his pseudo-sister are completely blindsided . whatever denji’s idea of love is has been permanently altered against his will . bah . fuck you makima

[wlwanakin]

hi keaton! thoughts on anakin and obi-wan’s relationship if anakin left the order for padmé and the kids? the mess and fallout is so interesting to me and no one ever talks about it

i’ve been thinking abt this a LOT bc i chronically keep writing stuff where obi-wan and anakin don’t talk anymore lol and a falling out feels like such an inevitability with most “fix it” scenarios that people just straight up don’t consider?? and i do find that annoying. any scenario where anakin leaves the order for padmé (and the twins) would cause a rift (of varying size, depending on the circumstances) and i don’t think it’s an unfixable one but i do think that to get to that idealistic uncle obi-wan point everyone loves it’d take years and a lot of working through things and a lot of Talking About It, which obi-wan is generally not super fond of as he processes approximately one emotion a year, so it’d be a laborious process and he is not going to be attending the twins’ first birthday party.

throughout the war obi-wan is aware of anakin and padmé’s relationship and he’s fine letting them have it, and honestly i think that might make things worse if anakin found out bc it’s instance #2517485857 of obi-wan refusing to vocalize support for him, and also would not soften the general disapproval for anakin Choosing To Leave. and that is a bit explosive! as most things are with anakin really. bc obi-wan did let anakin have that but he is also extremely steadfast in his belief that anakin Needs the jedi, that they’re his family etc and obviously there’s the responsibility aspect of it all and i’m sure he’d make that known and that’s gotta be an infuriating thing to hear from someone you’ve always yearned for familial affection from but never gotten a sufficient amount of it from. and i do think anakin’s rots novel mindset of “my wife and kids are my family, not you guys” would cross over, along with the resentment buildup, and…well! they certainly wouldn’t be parting amicably.

i think the specifics of how long the fallout lasts, how severe it is etc really depends on the specifics of the scenario. like if we’re talking an au where the clone war is still raging there’s a much bigger sense of abandoning duty and i think it’s also harder to process the moral ills of your closely held religion when you’re smack in the middle of them and you kinda have to push all your growing disillusionment aside and keep clocking into The War every day and i think that might lead to a worse and longer-lasting relationship rift, just because too much shit is happening at once and no one has processed anything and why would they wanna process more things. a peacetime scenario would probably fare only slightly better, though i think how much better highly depends on how obvious the moral rot of the order becomes to obi-wan due to whatever circumstances led into ambiguous happy au, and frankly if he doesn’t let himself process his own disillusionment then anakin’s is going to continue to be incomprehensible and that disconnect will continue to make his perception be “you abandoned your religious moral obligation” which is not gonna fare well!! obviously!!! especially if obi-wan’s loyalty to the order remains to such a degree that he expects the twins to be brought to the temple.

in General i think anakin leaving would leave to an explosive fight where obi-wan tries to talk him out of it, and maybe they do stay in contact in whatever strained limited way they can or maybe they don’t but it can’t really be The Same. they do love each other and i do think that deep down they want each other in their lives and that is the main reason i don’t think a fallout between them would be permanent but like i said at the start it would be laborious to get to a point where they’re actually close again. they have to Communicate Their Feelings, they have to close decades old wounds, obi-wan has to admit his wrongs and express affection in a way that is actually remotely normal, anakin has to actually sit down and process things that happened to him, entire worldviews must come into question, like it’s not really gonna be fun for either of them (esp for obi-wan). and i really think this is the kind of thing that has to take years bc anakin needs time to heal from his Everything and obi-wan needs time to come to terms with the fact that hey maybe his worldview was not correct? maybe the order he gave his life to is not entirely noble? and neither of these things are things that come easy. and while those things are happening it’d probably be better for them to not talk bc any talking they do would probably be incredibly unkind lmao

[kpop-s-akura]

Gym Buddy || y.jw

🌸Pairing: Yang Jungwon x fem!Reader

🌸Description: When school forces you to run the mile every Monday — and lessens your will to live — Jungwon is there to keep you going.

🌸Genre(s)/Content: SFW; fluff; some humor; non-idol!AU; high school!AU; established relationship; curse words; appearances by the rest of ENHA; Jungwon is best boyfriend😘; Reader hates exercise and is kinda bratty lol; kissing; jokes about violence (no actual violence); pet names (babe, dearest, darling, baby, love); written for mobile; let me know if there's anything else!

🌸Word Count: 2.6k

🌸A/N: I'm finally back after so long! If you read my first chapter of my True Beauty fic, I'm so sorry but there's the slimmest chance I'll be continuing that (at least for now). I also apologize to those who I promised to enter collaborations for. There's honestly so much I have to say and apologize for, but for now, I hope you can forgive me and enjoy this piece. I hope to be back very soon with another one!

Happy reading!💙🩵

❀❀❀

“This is bullshit.” You deadpanned, half-assedly hugging your right arm to your chest with your left.

Jungwon could only chuckle at how obvious it was that you didn’t want to be here, at how visceral your hatred was.

Cute, he thought.

You whipped your head to your boyfriend’s sound of amusement while he was stretching his arms, happiness written all over his face from your “pain”.

“I’m serious, Wonie!” You whined from your place on the ground, now in a side lunge. He only snickered again, a bit louder this time.

“I know you’re serious, babe; you’ve been complaining about it ever since the beginning of the semester.” Jungwon continued his stretching routine, prepared for the whole tirade that you were most likely going to lay on him — not that he ever minded.

“Like, what’s the point of the mile run? To punish us?”

“It’s to keep you active and fit, dearest.” Jungwon spoke in a saccharine voice, giving the same answer to the same question that you ask nearly every other Monday. But it did little to soothe your anger over school mandated exercise.

“Like hell that’s the reason! I think it’s a plot…” You mumbled the last part. You both came out of your stretches and turned to look at each other. Jungwon had a soft smile of adoration, while you wore a petulant pout that the former cooed at.

“You’re just so adorable!” Jungwon leaned in closer, gently petting your hair. You could feel your face blush at his words and actions.

“Stop flirting with me, Won.”  You mumbled under your breath so it was only between you and Jungwon. 

“I’m not flirting. I’m merely speaking the truth.” You had half the mind to kiss — slap — the smirk off his smug face that had dimples pinched into each squishy cheek, only serving to make you more infuriated.

Jungwon didn’t pay attention to your body that shook in anger since he knew you weren’t actually angry — just very flustered. 

And he loved to fluster you.

“What’s going on, lovebirds?” You and Jungwon turned to the voice that approached you; your hand that was mid-air and about to slap Jungwon’s hand away from your head — which was still heavily petting you — slowly descending back to your side. 

Jungwon walked over and brought him in for a bro hug.

“Trouble in paradise?” Riki questioned as Jungwon put his arm around the younger’s (and shorter’s) shoulders.

Though a joke, it was a fair question given the scene he had walked in on: Jungwon up close and personal with his hand on your head, a sly smile on his face; and you nearly shaking like a leaf with a beet-red face.

Riki knew it wasn’t a lover’s quarrel. He knew you two and that scene better than that.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Riki looked between the two of you and your different answers for a second before snorting with a burst of laughter.

“Riiiiiiight.” He said in the most unconvinced way, drawing out the vowel.

“Hey, guys!”

You looked over and waved at the three new people who had traveled over to your trio — Jake, Heeseung, and Sunghoon– who then waved back.

“Ready for the mile, everyone?” Heeseung smiled. Before anyone had the chance to reply, you answered with a loud and prolonged groan of irritation that probably would’ve echoed had you all not been outside.

Heeseung let out a puff of laughter. “I forgot, Y/n — you’re not exactly one for exercise, are you?” He smirked.

“Nooooooo...” You plopped your forehead against Jungwon’s left shoulder with a childish whine, having made it closer to his side during your friends’ appearances.

Jungwon made noises of fondness at your cuteness and laid his head on top of yours. He brought up his arm that was attached to the shoulder you were laying on in order to pat and pet the side of your head.

You didn’t bother making a fuss about it this time, instead nuzzling further into him and moving your head inwards to his neck, standing slightly in front of him.

The moment of closeness between you two, and the sounds of adoration and awe from the boys, was then interrupted by a very loud and obnoxious fake throwing up sound.

“Ew, why are you two so lovey-dovey?” Sunoo rhetorically asked, throwing a disgusted side-eye as he approached the rest of you. Jay snickered, trailing slightly behind, and gave him a nudge.

“Why are you still single?” While Riki was never very good at holding in his laughter, and did not even bother trying this time around, the rest of the boys tried their best to stifle their joyous sounds as Sunoo shot you a glare that held nothing but contempt.

“I will kill you, Y/n.” He spoke lowly, but you just rolled your eyes playfully while dismissing his empty threat; replying—

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jungwon let out a small chuckle and pat the top of your head before wrapping it back around your waist. 

A loud ring of a whistle alerted all eight of you as your heads shot to its source.

“Well,” Sunghoon started, “time for the torture to commence.”

Your classmates were then brought over to the starting line of the track and field, where the teacher placed you all in a sort of clump.

Jungwon took his wireless earbuds out of his pants pocket, placing the right in his ear while offering the left one to you.

He put the case back into its previous spot, muscle memory from your guys’ makeshift routine driving his actions.

You took it and placed it snuggly in your ear, anticipating the start of the “Mile Monday😩” playlist you and Jungwon had made with some honorable mentions from the other boys.

Since you two were bonafide lovers of music, it being one of the few things to calm you and your temper (besides the cat boy himself), you two made a couple’s playlist alongside your several others for every other type of the occasion. 

This particular one had upbeat, uplifting, and just general feel good vibes.

Perfect.

Jungwon turned to look at you once again with that soft smile, as if he was trying to soothe your lingering negative feelings about what you were all about to do. Ever the empath.

“Are you ready?” You couldn’t help but smile back.

Jungwon was always so good at putting you in a good mood or distracting you from the bad things, not that this was necessarily bad as you had thought (though you would never admit that).

You let out a dramatic sigh, making Jungwon laugh.

“I suppose. Promise you won’t run ahead of me?” You smirked, lifting your pinky up.

Jungwon reflected your expression back, still laughing, at your gimmick. He locked his finger with yours.

“As always, darling.” Your lips turned up as your heart filled with warmth at the pet name and his ever-present, patient smile. 

“Alright, girls and boys!”

You broke the physical contact to turn to Mr. Park, who stood in front of your classmate’s clump.

“You all know the drill: Complete the four laps around the track in twenty minutes or less. You can walk or run, but remember to not push yourselves and keep your own pace.” Everyone nodded along with the professor’s words.

“Alright! Timer starts…” Mr. Park stepped over to the side, timer in hand.

“NOW!”

At his go ahead, some students sprinted, some jogged, and some started off with just walking. 

Heeseung and Jay were the first to zoom off at the front of the pack, speeding forward like their life depended on it.

Jake and Sunghoon jogged in the beginning, but soon got competitive with each other and decided to race.

Riki and Sunoo decided to preserve their energy for the time being and just stayed near the back to chat.

Jungwon and you started with a light jog; wanting to get this over with, but not going so far as to end the mile with throwing up.

You were doing quite well and were able to make it through the entirety of one full lap before slowing down to walk half a lap, and then speeding back up; Jungwon followed suit with whatever you did.

“I’d say we’re not doing too bad, no?” You questioned, slightly winded, but not yet holding onto any debilitating stitch in your side.

You two were now back to walking with two full rounds down.

“Not too bad, sure. But I think we can do even better…” You whipped your head over to Jungwon for the second time this evening, this time with an incredulous look at his mischievous expression.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked tentatively and slightly scared, but Jungwon’s smirk just widened.

“I say we jog nonstop to the end.” You stopped in your tracks at this.

“No way in hell am I doing that, Yang Jungwon.” Jungwon seemed to have expected your refusal.

“No need to pull out the government name, darling. I’m merely suggesting that we get the mile done faster. The sprinters and most of the joggers are already finished.”

You followed where Jungwon gestured to, a patch of grass at the center of the track where a little more than a handful of people were gathered.

Lying down, chilling in groups; chatting and just relaxing. 

You could see Heeseung and Jay lying flat down on their backs with their empty water bottles, probably from chugging them right after they finished. 

Sunghoon and Jake were about a foot away from them, the former laughing obnoxiously in the latter’s face as he got onto his stomach and started to do push-ups; a punishment for losing whatever competition was going on between them, you were sure.

You winced in empathy as you witnessed the pure pain Jake had on his face as he went through with the penalty. 

As for Riki and Sunoo, it looked like they had just finished their turn with the mile. They walked over to the four older boys and plopped down next to them. Riki got on his phone while Sunoo passed him a water, keeping one for himself.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Jungwon could feel the victory on the tip of his tongue, knowing you’d take his bait. He saw you subconsciously bite your lip in envy at seeing all of your friends the way they were. 

You turned back to face your sly boyfriend.

“Of course it is! You know that this is the last thing I want to be doing right now.” Jungwon nodded before continuing to walk.

“Then what’s stopping you, hm?” 

You started to become genuinely concerned that you were going to sock your boyfriend in his perfectly beautiful face at the rate of his teasing and taunting. 

(Whether that was with your lips or your fist — TBD.)

But you knew that he was trying to motivate you. He was just doing it in a very frustrating way.

“It wasn’t really on my agenda to end up on the floor, dead, at the end of this class.” You sarcastically replied with a glare.

“Oh, come on, baby. You and I both know it takes more than jogging two laps to take you down.”

Well, when he said it that way.

“How about this?” Jungwon leaned in closer to your face with his hands clasped behind his back.

“If you’re able to jog the whole time for the last two laps, I’ll treat you to ice cream and anything you want at the snack bar.” This caught your attention as your widened eyes shot up to meet his, intrigue coloring your irises in a way that made Jungwon giggle in adoration.

“I’ll throw in infinite kisses.” 

Jungwon then pecked your left cheek. 

“As a tester.” 

You breathed heavily, almost sounding like a wistful sigh.

To hell with it.

“Then let’s go.” Once you had started to walk with him, Jungwon started to gradually pick up the pace, forcing you to do so as well. 

You kept his deal in mind and pushed yourself beyond what you were originally able to, subconsciously mouthing along to BAEKHYUN’s “Betcha”.

You internally chortled.

How fitting.

As you and Jungwon neared the end of your last lap, the boys had risen from their areas of rest and came to stand near the finishing line.

They started cheering once you rounded the last corner of the track.

“Come on, guys, you can do it! Just a little more!”

“Yang Jungwon! Yang Jungwon!”

“Y/l/n Y/n! Y/l/n Y/n!”

“*Weird, loud, siren noises that don’t sound like they should be able to come from a human but they are.*”

“Let’s go, lovebirds!”

“LET’S GAUR!”

If you weren’t so focused on your legs not failing you, you’d have started to tear up at the display.

Just then, you heard Jungwon — nearly out of breath but still going — speak in a quieter voice compared to your guys’ personal cheerleaders.

“Come on, baby. Let’s finish this.”

A grin spread across your lips at your boyfriend’s encouragement; pumping your legs even faster, surpassing Jungwon by a couple of feet in a sprint and crossing the finish line.

The six boys crowded around as you collapsed to the ground on your hands and knees, now spilling words of praise.

Jungwon crossed promptly after you and joined with a smile on his face that showed the epitome of proudness. He bent down to lock eyes with you and placed his hand on your left shoulder.

“You alright, darling?” You nodded with an exhausted, but equally proud smile.

Jungwon beamed back before helping you back onto your feet.

“Well I’ll say, Jungwon and Y/n,” Mr. Park walked over to your group, clipboard in hand, “that’s your best time yet!”

The rest of the boys continued to yell their congratulations as Mr. Park went back over to his previous spot in order to log the other student’s times. 

You gasped in happiness at the news. Once you turned back to Jungwon, he picked you up in a hug and spun you around.

When you were brought back down, you were met with Jungwon’s soft lips on your own — tasting the strawberry chapstick you gifted him for your previous anniversary. You wrapped your arms around his neck, slightly coming onto your tippy-toes while his hands held onto your waist for stability. You both smiled into the kiss before you pulled away.

“Now get me ice cream.” Jungwon laughed cutely and caressed your head.

“Whatever you want, love…” He pressed his forehead to yours. As you two were about to kiss again, there was a chorus of excitement.

“Ice cream? I heard ‘ice cream.’” Jungwon groaned quietly and you began to laugh. Jake had overheard and was now hyping the rest of the boys up with the idea of getting ice cream.

“Snacks too, Jakey.” You added in. You giggled at how his eyes lit up and how energetic the guys got.

Jungwon faintly knocked his forehead against yours with a pout, he knew there was no stopping his friends from tagging along his date (and from shaking him down for ice cream and snacks).

You press a firm kiss to his left cheek, briefly relishing in how soft and pillowy the skin is. The little frown was instantaneously replaced with a shy grin. You didn’t allow yourself to become bashful, pushing yourself up to lay your lips on his in a sugary embrace.

The two of you stood in your own little world, barely aware of the six boys debating whether or not they should also take a trip to the convenience store at the corner.

[z-eusie]

i finished blood of zeus and i'm going to try and formulate some of my thoughts on it here. i'll preface this by saying i really enjoyed the first season (it had some flaws, and there were parts i didn't like, but overall the story was interesting and i liked most of the portrayals). spoiler warning for season 2 ahead!

i had quite a few gripes with the show this season. it very much so felt like a set-up season (which is fine), but it also made the show feel very slow. one of my biggest complaints was actually about heron as the protagonist - i didn't mind him in season 1, but in this season, he felt so flat, boring, and irritating that i genuinely tuned out most of his scenes. his role in the story made sense in the first season, but now, everything feels much bigger than him and he has no reason to be involved in all of the godly drama. get him out of there lol. he has no understanding of the politics of olympus and is mortal, but he can shoot lightning and zeus liked him so he deserves to be a contender in who gets to lead them? HUH? (an oversimplification, i’m aware)

my second complaint was ares. i've seen a lot of people reiterate my feelings, that it was frustrating to see him portrayed so negatively, that his storyline with persephone was bad and that his antagonism was infuriating. which i also agree with. i think my biggest issue here is not that he was an antagonist, but that his motivations for antagonism were weak at best. ares sided with hera in season 1. he should NOT be able to parade himself around olympus the way he did this season - hera had to go into hiding and even poseidon was removed from the overall plot because of their deeds. but there seems to be no repercussions for ares, which is flaw number 1. flaw number 2 is that his reason for hating heron and being a general jerk is that he isn’t a bastard and deserves more renown than any of the others. i think it would have been FAR more interesting to make ares’ storyline centered not on his sense of superiority, but actually his jealousy (kind of the way wrath of the titans did it. in that film, he was jealous of perseus and the love zeus had for him). ares being jealous that, despite being zeus’ ‘heir’ in this context, and one of his few legitimate children, he didn’t have his father’s love, and he loathes heron for it. you don’t really get that sense from him in this show, and i think it would have been far more compelling for his anger to have come from envy instead of pride. the persephone stuff i just can’t even touch on because why.

my third complaint is actually about demeter and persephone - demeter in particular. her being the villain is so frustrating, but i can’t exactly be surprised. i knew the moment that this show portrayed hades and persephone as a loving couple with a romantic origin that demeter was going to be villainized. but the way they did it is ridiculous. she’s not a grieving mother - she’s pure evil. the storyline with the cordyceps was fucked (and also… really insignificant, somehow). but i think the part that aggravates me the most is that it completely ignores why demeter froze the earth the first time. she did not do it to be spiteful, or out of anger. she didn’t do it to punish anyone. she was a grieving mother, a mother who had lost her daughter and no one in the world seemed able to help her, and her grief manifested in dying crops. in this show, she’s just vindictive, cruel, and genuinely terrifying, and i cannot stand that she is once again being villainized in one of the FEW greek myths that actually centers a woman’s emotions and does not belittle them.

fourth - i love hades and persephone, but their little scheme was so wishy washy. hades as an antagonist felt half-baked, and the fact that no one on olympus actually saw this coming is a miracle because everything hades did felt really dumb and obvious. i feel like there were a hundred different ways the two of them could have gotten what they wanted. i also loathe the idea that zeus cheated his way onto the throne - i’m glad the show didn’t actually blame him for it, that hera took the fall, but i think that the fates work a little more powerfully than that - and that cheating wouldn’t be possible in this circumstance. zeus did earn the throne and he deserved it, and i will die on that hill. (my other complaint is hades and persephone’s design. blond persephone is the bane of my existence lol and hades looking like an older ares was… sigh).

a few other things i didn’t like: the way the story of typhon unfolded. at first i thought they were implying that typhon was just. plain old defeated by all the gods together, and i was frustrated, but they sort of fixed it by stating zeus was the only one who stayed to fight him. however, the lack of focus on zeus in this story means that they’re ignoring the personal stake zeus had in needing the eleusinian stone under his control. it was also weird that they implied then that there was no king of the gods until AFTER typhon, which is… a long time, actually.

the gorgo plotline also felt kind of unnecessary. seraphim’s arc could have easily been about his mothers instead and we could have felt the same level of sympathy but alas.

there were some things i really did like though! and those are as follows:

athena and hestia. zeus trusting the two of them with the very stone that gives him his power was beautiful, and i love how hard the two ladies fought to keep it safe. hestia wrecking the keres was incredible (and also hilarious to me. anyone who read my fic ‘mnemosyne’s curse’ will know that hestia scorched the keres in that story.. and then did in blood of zeus which was amazing haha). the inclusion of hestia in the story was nice. and i really loved the way the show portrayed athena’s intelligence - not just in combat or in solving problems, but she was quite emotionally intelligent as well which was a nice touch.

i liked hera’s attempts at reconciliation. i think they could have been more detailed, but her defending zeus at his trial broke my heart and i loved the way she handled the conflict. poseidon as well - his willingness to admit that zeus should have been king, and him backing out of most of the conflict for the throne was a very interesting touch i didn’t anticipate but really enjoyed.

zeus in tartarus. i mean, i didn’t actually like it because it broke my heart but him repenting and still ending up in tartarus was painful and i cried a lot i’m not gonna lie.

zeus kid solidarity - watching them work together and fight was incredible, and i adore all of their character designs so much.

melinoe and zagreus. if you know me you know i’m a fiend for the underworld family and seeing them was so cute. i just wish melinoe’s design was spookier, but alas, all of the gods seem to be very ‘pretty’ so i get why they didn’t.

every scene with zeus. his leadership shining through, his quiet acceptance of his fate, his humbleness. y’all can say what you want about him, but he proved in this season why he deserved to be king, and his absence clearly drove everyone else to some horrible acts as well - meaning what they condemned him for is not something only he is guilty of (what gaia said at the end). i will defend that man to my dying breath, and it pains me to see him this way but it’s also so good.

i am very excited to see typhon as the villain next season. i’m hoping this means they will set zeus free to help them defeat the foe only he was brave enough to stand up against uwu

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 08

08 - Play Along

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc / nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc

word count: 5.3k

masterlist/intro: here | crossposted: ao3

warnings; irritating moody noah lol, angry/jealous nicholas, alcohol, noah teaching how to play pool, creepy guy at bar, implied past SA experiences, physical fight, blood, love triangle a brewin', 18+ ONLY MDNI

a/n: don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

Noah somehow convinced me to drive us to a bar down the street from the warehouse where we were brainstorming with Bryan.

“So, remind me why you couldn’t have just driven here yourself?” I asked, looking over at him in the passenger seat of my rental car.

“I don’t have a car.” He replies flatly.

“You’re a world famous rockstar, and you don’t have a car?”

I hadn’t notice just how tattooed his hands are until I catch them moving up and down his thighs. The small action reminds me of ways I soothe my anxiety, especially in stressful work meetings.

“Not ‘world famous’, nobody even knew who we were til last month.” He’s quick to correct me and his grumpy tone makes it transparent that he’s still annoyed about getting kicked out by Bryan.

“Right.” I reply shortly.

I pull up to the small seedy bar Noah directed me to. It’s nestled within a larger strip of restaurants and shops. The random tiny city we’re in is not nearly as busy as LA and the buildings are all rustic and brick.

I’m not even parked a whole minute before Noah has already slammed his door behind him and headed towards the front door. At this point I should just expect to have to babysit every single grown man in this fucking band.

When I walk into the establishment, I’m smacked in the face by thick cigarette smoke and my face twists in disgust. It’s packed for 2pm on a Tuesday and almost every single patron is accompanied by a lit cigarette. I spot Noah at the bar already, just receiving his first full beer.

“A cosmopolitan please.” The words can’t come out fast enough, I need alcohol more than air itself right now. The bartender nods and starts curating my order.

Noah scoffs, “A cosmopolitan really? Could you get any more pretentious?”

“Oh my god.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Could you just shut up for literally like 5 minutes?” Right on cue the bartender places down a stemless martini glass with transparent red liquid. “At least it’s better that some basic ass beer.” I take a long sip of my ice-cold drink and alleviation begins the moment the alcohol meets my tongue.

He finishes the last of his beer and lands it hard on the wooden tabletop. “Fine. Whiskey and Coke please.”

“What is your deal huh, why are we here? What exactly are we doing?” I ask the obvious, finishing my own drink already and gesturing to the bartender for another.

He lifts his new glass, “You’re looking at it, Thornhill.”

My brows immediately scrunch together, “How do you know my last name?”

“You think you’re the only one who does their homework?” He asks ironically. “You do work with us after all.”

Both of our new drinks are halfway gone already with replacements on the way. Getting plastered midday on a Tuesday with my most infuriating client in some hole in the wall California bar was not on my bingo card for the week. But these boys keep surprising me, it’s almost refreshing. Almost.

Noah is quick to get started on the fresh drink in front of him, maybe too fast. The glass hadn’t even hit the table before it was half gone.

The numbing already growing in my fingers reminds me that all I had for breakfast was a green juice. Noah’s eyes travel over the bar and land on something across the room then back on me. His eyes are mischievous and playful, “You know how to play pool?” His lips spread into a competitive smirk.

I raise my brows at him. The man that was just 30 minutes ago arguing with me about music video lighting now wants to play pool?

“You want to play pool… right now?”

He laughs, which makes me realize I’d never heard him laugh. It’s nice. If I wasn’t already so exhausted by his bullshit already, it might’ve even made me smile.

“So, you don’t know how to play is what you’re telling me.” He slips off the stool and grabs my arm dragging me off my own.

“Hey, hey!” I smack his hand off my burgundy blazer, “This is designer, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get your bourbon-y fingers all over it.”

His eyes roll so hard I think they might fall out. “Oh, so sorry princess.” He raised his hands up in defense. “Wouldn’t want to get your Prada dirty.”

While derogatory, the nickname makes my cheeks heat up but I’m not quite sure why. “It’s YSL actually.” I correct him, not that it matters but I guess when you pay almost $4000 for a jacket, it seems like it matters.

“See? Pretentious.” He points at me before going over to the table to set up the game.

I brought our drinks and my bag over to a wooden chair just behind the tables so I could keep a close eye on them. I decide that between the weak airflow in the bar and the sticky surfaces that it would be best to shed the jacket. I slip it off my arms and immediately remember that the blazer was essential to the look, since I only have a black lace corset underneath. But with the 4? 5? drinks I’ve had, I don’t care right now.

“Okay so since you don’t know how to-” Noah turns to look at me and seems to forget his words, he just blinks at me with a deer-in-headlights look.

I step closer to him, “Ya know, it’s not polite to stare.” I say in a hushed tone and poke his pointy nose. Whether or not he is actually looking at me like that, doesn’t matter, my confidence is boosted regardless. Surviving in an industry like the one we’re means walking a fine line between power and control. Men are easy to control when you know how to use assets correctly. And right now, he’s looking at the assets on my lace-covered chest.

“What were you saying again?” I ask, putting my weight on my palms at the edge of the table and leaning forward.

He clears his throat and diverts his eyes away from my cleavage. He directs me to a triangle filled with variously colored balls, some solid, some striped and all with numbers on them. “So basically, you want to get all your designated balls into the holes.” He hands me a long stick, “This is a cue, this is what you’ll use.”

“Got it.”

He perks up a brow above an eye, “You’ve really never played before?”

“Nope.” I take a sip of my potent drink without breaking eye contact with him. “Never thought I’d like it. I’ve watched exes play though. Seemed lame.” I say, sounding more apathetic than I actually am.

“Alright well,” He tugs at the hem of his long band shirt, “You might like it.” He knocks back the last of his drink and holds out a hand to me, “You want a refill?”

I drink the last bit of my own, letting the ice slide down the glass and sit on my numbing lips for just a second before handing it to him. “Please, thank you.”

The minute he leaves me, I become very aware that I’m the only female in the dark bar and every set of eyes is on me. I cross my arms over my chest and retract into myself.

Not long after Noah returns, we start playing. He explained how he “broke” the triangle and he ended up being solids which meant that I’m stripes. After a very bad attempt at hitting a ball, he decided I wasn’t doing well.

“No, no, no.” He waves me off before my stick touches the white cue ball. “Here, I can help.” He rounds the table and stands behind me. I obviously knew he was taller than me, but it isn’t until just now that I realize just how much taller he is than me – the top of my head barely meets his shoulders. And the boots I’m wearing have heels, making me even taller than normal. His sizeable hand runs down my spine and hooks it around my hip to readjust my position. His other arm goes to help adjust my arm that’s holding the stick. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol, but my skin is burning anywhere he’s touching me and the way his hand engulfs my hip completely sends a buzzing between my legs. His fingertips are mere centimeters away from my core and I am extremely aware of it.

“See, not so bad.” He smiles, pulling away from me and it’s only then that I notice he actually helped me hit the ball.

My eyes linger on him longer than they should’ve. It must be this dim bar lighting and the copious alcohol I’ve had that is making see him through a new filter. His smile meets his eyes and he’s just so…bright. His chocolate eyes are so welcoming and kind, a stark contrast to how harsh and cold they are normally. He’s so much more attractive when he’s not scowling at everything I say.

“What?” He wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do I have something on my face or something?”

“No, no.” I shake the thoughts from my head. “I just don’t think I’ve ever really seen you smile.” I blurt out stupidly. “It’s pretty.”

He rolls his eyes walking over to the other edge, “Shut up.”

“What?” I ask walking over to where he’s lining up his cue to the ball. His tongue his tightly held in thought between his lips.

The cue ball clashes into a grouping and sends balls flying across the table, some landing in holes. “You’re still on your boyband bullshit.” His voice gained his usual attitude once again with a bit of drunken slur.

“What?” I shake my head, “No, no. I’m not talking about that.” I chase after him around the table. “I mean it.”

Though I should’ve taken the excuse he provided himself as to why I was even paying attention to his smile in the first place.

The long-haired boy holds his cue stick like staff looking at me with an unconvinced look. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Vallie.” He says in a deep gravelly voice that almost sounds like a threat.

My eyes widen slightly when I look up at him. “I meant it.” I repeat softly, this time with a somewhat intimidated undertone.

He eyes me beneath a skeptical propped brow like I just told him something completely out of the realm of possibility. “Let’s just get back to playing.” He grumbles and walks over to finish off drink.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Similar to Nicholas, Noah also has a sort of whiplash duality, just different. I see tiny peeks of a sunshine-y Noah hidden beneath his grouchy storm-cloud persona. It makes me wonder what it would take to see more of the Noah that was just joking and smiling with me.

After another round or two and various refills later, I’m winning. Again.

“How are you winning when you just learned how to play?” Noah asks, pushing himself off the pool table. “Are you conning me or something?” His voice now has a thick, noticeable slur to it, but I don’t think much of it.

I giggle, “No. I just like to win.”

He scoffs playfully and grabs his own glass with my empty one. “You sure you don’t want another?”

I bite down on my thumbnail thinking, but ultimately refuse. “Nah I’m good for now.” I’ve hit the fine line of if I have another, I could get sloppy. Sloppy mixed with what I felt earlier with his hand on my hip could get me in trouble.

He nods and heads to the bar. I pull my phone from where I tucked it in the waistband of skirt and rest against the table as I scroll through emails I’d missed. Suddenly, I feel a presence that definitely isn’t Noah’s. It’s larger, meaner, and darker.

“That your boyfriend with you darlin?” Speaks a low southern accent. His words seem harmless, but I can tell by his tone that he’s not.

My eyes rise to meet him, he towers over me about as tall as Noah maybe an inch or two more. He might be as tall as Noah, but he’s about double his size, wide and muscular. His face is angular and sharp, adorned with middle-aged wrinkles. My gaze glances down to notice that he’s holding two drinks, one that looks like the one I’ve been drinking all day.

I keep an arm around my waist, my phone open facing me and prop a brow at him. “Maybe. What’s it to you?” I neither confirm nor deny out of caution.

“Well, I was thinkin’ you could have a drink with me.” He holds out the similar-looking drink. “The bartender told me you’ve been drinking cosmopolitans.”

I analyze the martini glass within a quarter of a second – the red liquid is dull, murky and the ice is bobbing at the bottom. I’ve lived alone in big cities long enough to know not to take drinks from strange men, especially when they look suspicious. I’ve dated enough men to know what this familiar uneasy feeling in my stomach means. My thumb maneuvers slowly and discreetly to my camera app and hit record. I would send my location to someone, if I had someone to send it to.

I smile politely, “I’m okay but thank you.”

As I predicted his energy shifts and he steps towards me, “Oh c’mon pretty girl, it’s not very nice to refuse a free drink.”

The fear coiling around my spine forces me to fake a laugh, “I’ve really had enough, but thank you.”

He steps even closer backing me into the pool table, the curved wooden corner digs into my lower back. The bar is so busy that nobody is taking notice of what he’s doing.

“I don’t think you heard me, it’s not nice to refuse a free drink.” He says lowly within the small space between us. “We could just play a round of pool and have a good time.”

The walls begin to cave in on me and air is vacating my lungs. I’m paralyzed, panicking and my heart is racing so fast I fear it may tear through my ribcage.

From the moment he was just near me I knew, I just knew.

I always know.

“I’m just not interested, I’m sorry.” The words slip from me quickly and I brace for verbal impact.

He bridges the little gap that’s left between us and sets each drink at each side of my hips, caging me in with my arms wrapped around my body and my phone still recording. “You think you’re better off with that toothpick of a date you have?” He hisses.

Right on cue Noah returns, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I must’ve really been working off survival muscle memory because I had completely forgotten Noah was with me until just now.

The mystery man pulls back from me with the biggest bullshit smile on his harsh face. “Oh, I was just offerin’ your friend here a drink.” He raises the drink to him.

I chuckle nervously and wave him away, “It’s alright Noah, it’s fine, he was just being nice.” I scratch my arm anxiously. I want the interaction to be over and I’m not expecting Noah to defend me, he barely likes me as a person.

“No Vallie, I saw him.” He sets down his beer and points a finger at him. “You were being fucking creepy.” His drunken voice is rising, and I’m scared that it’s only going to make the situation worse.

The man chuckles at Noah like he’s a puppy barking at mountain lion. “What is this your girlfriend or something?” He asks as though that it’s something he hadn’t already suspected.

Noah briefly glances at me then back at him, “Yes, as a matter a fact she is.” He states assertively but his poker face isn’t that good. I’m surprised that he’s even gone this far to defend me but I’m appreciative.

He laughs even harder, “Oh you really expect me to think a girly twig like you can pull a girl like her?”

Noah doesn’t skip a beat, “You think a meathead asshole like you could pull a woman like her?”

While Noah is scrawny compared to this traditionally “macho man”, I think that was the manliest thing I’ve ever seen a man do for me.

However, it is painfully clear how drunk Noah is by the way he chooses to get in this huge man’s face.

“You’d better fucking watch it, Toothpick.” He growls in his face, then breaks eye contact with Noah to look over at me. “This pathetic joke of a man is your boyfriend?”

Noah doesn’t waver, doesn’t back down with tight fists at his sides but I can’t take it anymore. I may not get along with him, but he doesn’t deserve to be insulted like this on my behalf.

“Yes.” I say confidently with a straightened back, even though it couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Yes, actually, he is. And I’ll prove it.”

I instantly realize that I have no idea how exactly to prove it. So, I go with the first thing I think of within a split second.

I give Noah a brief look that says play along – though, I’m not sure he had enough time to understand the message because when I stand on my tippy toes, take his face in my hands, and land my lips into his, he freezes.

It feels like time freezes too as my eyes flutter closed and I melt into the kiss. Drunk in this shady bar, in this shitty scary situation, right now, it feels like it’s just me and Noah. In this moment, with our lips locked, the bar is quiet, everything is calm, and it feels really fucking good to win at pool. I can’t tell if the swirling in my tummy is from the panic or from something else entirely.

When I finally pull from him, my brows can’t help but furrow together in confusion. He looks back at me with a similar expression – though it’s hard to really decipher any real reactions in his glazed over eyes.

What the fuck was that?

The asshole is visibly over the charade. “What the fuck ever. Maybe next time you shouldn’t let your slut of a girlfriend leave the house looking like a whore.”

Before I even have time to process what he just said, Noah’s fist swings and crashes into Mystery Man’s face.

“Oh my god.” I gasp and bring a hand over to cover my mouth in shock.

It takes a second for the muscular man to react, his hand immediately going to his now bleeding nose. He doesn’t fully realize his condition until he holds out his fingers covered in blood.

His mean eyes then land on Noah like he’s a bullseye target. “You little fucking shit.” The man charges at him and in the blink of an eye, he’s on top of Noah on the ground just pummeling into his face.

“Noah!” I run over to him, not really knowing exactly what I could do.

Luckily, we’d already garnered the attention of the whole bar, so other similar sized patrons were able to pull the man off Noah before he had time to do worse damage. They drag him to the opposite corner of the bar and they fade into the background with my focus now being on Noah.

“Fuck Noah.” I mutter as I land on my knees near his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I stammer frantically looking around at what I could use to help him. The workers near us must’ve read my mind because they brought over a huge stack of napkins. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He says nothing and flutters his glossy eyes closed when I start to clean him up. He winces when I dab the blood gushing from his nose. “I’m sorry.” I repeat breathlessly, trying my hardest to keep a panic attack away. He flinches a bit when I try to gently wipe his busted lip. “Sorry.” I repeat again, because what else am I supposed to say to someone who just got beaten up because of me. I don’t dare go near his already swollen eye until I get access to some ice… or maybe some frozen peas.

“Should I call Nicholas? Or Jolly?” I ask meekly, folding the napkin within my hands.

Noah groans. “Nicholas.” He brings his hand to his forehead. “Don’t call Jolly. He’ll kill us.”

Us

There’s something about that word in that statement. I can’t explain it, but it seems so much bigger than just Noah and I.

Before he finishes his statement, I’ve already texted Nicholas. I’m surprised at how quickly he responded and even more surprised when he says that he’s not even 5 minutes away.

“Nicholas is here? He said he’s visiting a friend at a tattoo shop in this strip.”

“How convenient.” He grumbles sarcastically and uses his hand to cover his eyes.

When I return my gaze to him, I notice his bloody and bruising knuckles. “Oh my god your hand!” I gasp and take his hand in mine. I urgently steal the condensation off a nearby beer glass to wet a clean napkin and use it to delicately clean each knuckle. An overwhelming sense of guilt fills my chest, and another even worse feeling wraps itself around my throat with thorns. My heartbeat begins thumping so hard I can hear it in my ears and I’m trying my hardest to steady my now trembling hands.

He peeks an eye at me while keeping the other scrunched closed. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft with an inflection reminiscent of concern.

My eyes begin to burn the minute he acknowledges my panic and only makes everything worse. I focus intently on where the napkin is meeting his skin. “Mhm.” I know the moment I open my mouth to speak any semblance of emotional control would disappear. I discreetly attempt to stabilize my breathing so that it might tether me back to earth.

“Hey,” His brows knit together and lifts himself up onto his elbows. I never let go of his hand. His other hand finds my chin and gently redirects my gaze to him. “What’s wrong?”

My eyes fill with tears but immediately screw shut in a last-ditch effort to keep my composure. I rarely cry and even more seldom do I cry in front of others. And here am I, about to cry in front of the person I least want to.

The lump in my throat is painful and I try to swallow it down in an attempt to keep my tears at bay. “I’m fine, just let me keep cleaning you up.” My cracking voice gives away just how close I am to unraveling. A tear escapes me and I’m quick to wipe it off with the back of my hand.

He sternly but gently grasps my wrist to stop me from continuing. “I’m not letting you keep going until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know… a panic attack maybe?” A couple more tears escape, and I swiftly wipe them away. “You don’t deserve this, this is all my fault.” My eyes fall back down to his bloody hand in my own. “You look like this, because of me.”

He sits up more, analyzing. I can feel him dissecting me – even though we’re both drunk, it feels like he can see right through me. “I think it’s more than that Val. What’s up?”

That’s the first time I’ve heard my name come out of his mouth without some sort of insult attached to it. It sounds nice. I wouldn’t mind hearing it that way again.

My breathing is slowing down marginally, and I choose to ignore that his touch might have something to do with it. Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with it, right?

I take a deep inhale in preparation to speak without crying. I hold his bruised hand carefully with both of mine. I keep my attention on my thumb that is grazing across the black ink on his fingers. “Um.” I press my lips together and take another breath through my nose. He gives me my time, doesn’t rush or interrupt. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I hear my own voice crack and it feels like I’m somehow betraying myself by crying. “But, it’s not the first time something like…that has happened.” I blink some tears from my eyes and still focus on his hand. My voice is small and quiet, not the way I ever like to hear it. “It’s not even the second or third. And they’ve all been so much worse.” I let out a sad, sobby chuckle. “Which is why me crying about this is so fucking stupid because this was nothing. Worse things happen to people all the time and this was just some guy being a creep and–“

“Hey,” He rests his free hand on top of my own that were fidgeting more than I’d realized. “It wasn’t nothing. It was something. Something worth getting in a fight for. Okay?”

“It just shouldn’t be this upset over something so small.” My voice is not even a whisper. “It’s my fault.”

Weak

Is the only thing that is repeating in my head over and over.

I could’ve gotten myself out of the situation sooner.

I shouldn’t have frozen up.

I should’ve just taken the drink.

It didn’t have to escalate to that point.

I could’ve handled it on my own.

I shouldn’t be crying.

I was weak.

I am weak.

Weak.

Weak.

Weak.

He sits up and takes my chin into his fingers, titling my face up to meet his. The growing swelling all over his face only makes me feel worse. “You’re not stupid and it’s not your fault.” I know he’s trying to keep it together for me, but I can tell he’s struggling to form and deliver coherent sentences. “I don’t need to know any of the other instances to know that you were never stupid or that anything was your fault. Okay?”

I nod but it’s not enough for him. “I need to hear it.” The look in his chocolate eyes is one I haven’t seen in him before. Even behind his drunken daze and black eye, his eyes are genuine, kind, and concerned. A warmth blooms in my chest – it reminds me of when you’re running from the rain, and you rush into the safety of your car. That feeling of reaching a warm, safe place, that’s what I feel.

“Okay.” I reply quietly. “Thank you.”

While Noah is mere inches away from my face with his hand on my cheek, I hear a familiar voice. “What the fuck.” States an already irritated Nicholas.

Our eyes snap up at him and Noah instantly pulls away as if he has something to hide. Nicholas’ eyes shift between us, seemingly trying to decide which to address first.

“What the fuck did you do Noah.” His tone is immediately defensive.

Noah sloppily falls back onto the floor. His eyes go back to focusing on the ceiling. With Nicholas here, he looks unimpressed, maybe aggravated – definitely aggravated. For the person he told me to call, he seems quite unhappy that he’s here.

“No, no, it’s my fault.” I stop him before he continues to blame Noah. “He was protecting me.” I lower my voice into a whisper for the second half, “He helped me.”

“Bull fucking shit.” He sighs then the crouches down to inspect Noah further. He carefully pushes some bloody hairs away from his face, Nicholas’ touch on him is gentler than even mine. He gets a clear view of Noah’s face, it’s adorned with a black eye, a bruised nose covered in dried blood and a gashed open bottom lip.

“Do you think he’ll have to get that stitched up?” I bring up my thumb and chew on a freshly manicured nail.

He tugs at the injured boy’s lip looking at it closer, “No he’s fucking fine.”

While Nicholas is visibly angry, he seems oddly calm, at least calmer that I expected. I suppose it makes sense though, I’m sure this isn’t his first rodeo with a drunken Noah in a bar fight.

He lets go of his lip letting it harshly snap back into place earning a whine from Noah. “Hey!”

Nicholas stands up straight and offers me a hand to get myself up. Once I’m up in front of him, he gives me a once over, probably questioning my outfit of a lace corset and a skirt. “What were you guys doing here?” He questions angrily and closes a bit of the space between us.

“It’s a long story.” Between the alcohol, the fight, and my fading panic attack, I don’t have the energy to go through it all. He goes to argue with me, and I shut him down, mirroring his low grumbly voice. “I’ll explain later.”

His thick brows fall straight, evidently not liking my answer. He takes a moment, as if he’s trying to decide on the next thing to say without pissing me off. “He could’ve gotten you hurt. He could’ve hurt you.”

I scrunch my brows up at him. Sure, I’ve seen Noah storm out of numerous doors, and I saw him get a little abrasive with Bryan earlier, but would he actually hurt someone? Would he have hurt me?

“He didn’t, Nicholas.” I place my hand softly on his chest in an effort to calm him down. “Believe it or not… he saved me.” The sentence surprises even me as I say it.

Skepticism plasters itself across his face. “Saved you from what exactly?”

My eyes flutter to the ground and the same panicky feeling from before spins behind my ribcage. “It doesn’t matter.” I wave away the technicalities. “Point is, he didn’t do anything wrong. You should let up on him.”

He gives me a you’ve-gotta-be-shitting-me look.

The man from before – which I learned from the guys that pulled him away earlier, that his name was Mike – is being escorted out of the bar by two men who look like security guards.

“Oh, so you didn’t just need one scrawny bitch you needed two?” He practically spits at me while wiggling beneath the guard’s grip.

“Excuse me?” Nicholas snaps immediately turning to narrow his eyes at the man.

He laughs, “This one’s even more pathetic.”

I’m not sure why that, out of everything, fills me with the most rage of all. Anger spreads through me like electricity and every cell in my body propels me towards him.

An arm hooks around my waist and recoils me backwards before my fists can reach his body. Even though Nicholas is shorter than Noah, he still towers over me, and I must look tiny in his arms.

Mike mocks me while the guards try to urge him towards the door.

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t fucking talk about them like that!” I struggle trying to escape from Nick’s surprisingly strong arms.

“Hey, hey calm down,” Nicholas hushes me with a little chuckle. “I got you.” His hand gives my side a reassuring little squeeze. “It’s okay.”

Once Mike is completely out of the bar a heavy weight is lifted from my chest and I can finally breathe again. Whether on purpose or by chance, Nicholas’ arm is still wrapped around me, but I don’t mind it. His warmth is comfortable against the frigid air of the bar. It feels nice, like a shelter.

Only then does it occur to me that any sort of panic or fear I was feeling before was soothed by him. In his arms I feel safe, and it reminds me of the way I felt with Noah earlier.

“C’mon asshole,” Nicholas snaps at Noah who’s looking half dead, still laying on the ground.

Noah covers his mouth and squeezes his eyes closed, “I’m gonna need a fucking trashcan.”

“Enough with the dramatics.” Nicholas rolls his eyes, and I can practically feel the impatience and aggravation radiating from his body. “Get the fuck up so I can get us home.”

There is that word again: us.

Us.

It’s a just small detail of wording but for whatever reason, I cling onto it like it means something.

Maybe my time with them won’t be as fleeting as I thought it would be.

next chapter -> 09 - Lavender Haze

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @kingdomof-omens @persuasivus @strawberryruffilo [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N: The love for this story has honestly been so overwhelming (in a good way obv) and I couldn't be more grateful. I really thought this would flop lol so, thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.

i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to asks but i still love them 😅 i'm so sorry)

ALSO! Thank you so much for the love on my new series, Intertwined 💗 New chapter coming soon! 💗

[what-gs-watching]

"Why is no one having a good time? I specifically requested it."

Here’s a thing: my husband used to watch a ton of tv, all the time. Always had something on in the background. But then he got sucked into TikTok and his attention span broke, so I’ve been watching most things myself.

He just put together a snack to wind down from his work day, and came back in for a glass of milk. I’m on the couch and as he swished by he said “I just turned on Brooklyn Nine-Nine”, which in and of itself was surprising, only to continue “and remembered he’s dead…” and I let out a wail I’ve been mostly ignoring. 

Andre Braugher, I’m so sad that you’re gone. Brooklyn Nine-Nine is one of my absolute favorite comfort shows, and I’m not sure how I’m going to stand it now, for a while. Captain Holt is iconic, you can’t watch that show and not fall in love with him. 

And now it’s just…sad.

Nine-Nine is another one of those shows I started watching religiously while it was airing on cable, the entirety of the reason being Andy mother-effing Samberg. I have been in love with him (and the Lonely Island, which we should talk about eventually) since that crazy man joined SNL and so nothing was going to tear me away from his randon sitcom. I came for him, obviously, but I stayed for everyone else.

Including, and mostly, Captain Raymond Holt. 

I’m not gonna lie, he might be the most realized, well-defined character on the show. The man has layers. Gay, black cop who finally becomes captain of his own squad. Deadly serious, married to a professor, proud dog dad, lover of rules, hard grudge-holder, extremely literal and blunt, with the weirdest sense of humor. 

Most of the best moments of this show involve Holt. There’s an entire scene wherein the squad is put on the night shift and it’s fucking with everyone’s relationships and someone suggests his bad mood is because he needs to  bone down with his husband. His reaction has me crying every single time.

He has a dance-off with a kid on the street. He goes undercover as a straight person and does it hilariously. He gets incredibly, heavily, disturbingly invested in the Halloween heist game Jake sets up each year. He creates a ridiculous balloon arch for a wedding and gets deeply attached to it, and is infuriated by the fact that everyone thinks it’s weird as hell. He has the most fantastic arch rival relationship with an old partner, to the point where he plans to deliver a scathing eulogy when she unexpectedly dies. He learns the choreography set to Salt ‘N Peppa’s “Push It” and performs it to distract Amy while she’s giving birth. 

It feels like a lot of characters on tv are two-dimensional, but good lord, Holt was in full technicolor, and it’s obvious the reason it works so well is because Andre Braugher was a master of his craft. He WAS Holt, for a lot of people, including me. No one else could have stepped in and created that man. 

Throughout the show, Jake treated him like a surrogate dad because his own father (lol at Bradley Whitford in that role) was a dumpster fire, and it was really sweet. He just wanted validation, and acceptance.

In the finale, he tells Jake, "On my first day here, I asked Jeffords to tell me about everyone, He told me you were a great detective, but the one thing you couldn’t figure out was how to grow up. Well, I think you’ve finally figured it out. Over the years, you’ve sometimes referred to me as something of a father figure, but I want you to know, if I had had a son, and he had turned out like you, I would be very proud of him.”

I have a dad of my own, he’s wonderful and I love him and we have a great relationship, but y’all, Holt can be a surrogate dad for me too. He can be one for everyone. He always had a pearl of wisdom and he supported the entire squad in absolutely everything, and he was just an excellent human. Who was FUNNY and multidimensional and just…dope. 

He’s one of those perfect characters. And they don’t come along that often. So I guess the point is, thank you, Andre Braugher, for bringing him to life, and giving us the gift that is Captain Raymond Holt. I’m glad we still have him, even if we don’t have you.

[ardentpoop]

thanks for answering. Yeah im aware that they were talking about two different things in The Purge episode and Dean hearing something different than what Sam meant. I thought you disliked the characterisation of Sam, that's why i asked. The part of Dean going "thought you were ok with me (dying)" and Sam going "i lied" as if that was what he meant in The Purge– that i understand why youd hate that. I do too, though i also get why Sam wouldnt argue with it in that moment. And its also kinda.. So Dean to use (even unconsciously) the fact that hes hurt and Sam panicking to make Sam agree with Deans meaning/make him twist his own words/basically redeem Dean of his mistakes. But yeah, the most infuriating part is how the show kinda glosses over these moments and makes it hard to like, think about it and understand, for a casual viewing, so the fandoms misunderstanding about those parts makes sense and is definitely a writing issue. At the end of the day, on one hand it makes sense to me that Sam internalizes Deans guilttripping, and struggling with his own beliefs, considering he already internalizes Deans thoughtless comments + his already existing issues with guilt, but on the other hand, youre right, the writing doesn't explore it/dissect it enough and frames it very badly sometimes. Not always, but often enough to cause inconsistency and misunderstandings. Anyway, like i said, i thought you just disagreed with Sams choices in s9, and i usually agree with your opinions which is why i asked and added this much context (and did it again rn because i also dont wanna be misunderstood). So thank you for clearing it up and sorry for rambling on again

no worries! I’m often defensive around here for obvious reasons lol so I feel like sometimes I’m overcorrecting with people who do understand sam - clearly the case in this instance :)

also for the record I don’t dislike a single bit of sam’s characterization throughout the entirety of the 15 seasons; it is literally all fascinating and sympathetic to me and I’m in love with him the whole way through. any criticisms I make abt his arcs are guaranteed to be specific to how his actions are framed by the writers and abt the miles and miles of missed potential in terms of his trauma and his feelings abt dean, etc, especially compared to dean’s treatment by the same writers.

and btw it wasn’t even just this moment in “do you believe in miracles?” though that pisses me off tremendously on its own. there’s also at least one other moment in s10 - I think in “the werther project” dean goes “I thought you didn’t care about me” or something along those lines and sam goes “come on, I told you I didn’t mean that.” like they very much did double and triple down on this poor writing choice post-s9. it is an insultingly shallow summation of the gadreel issue, which I consider to be one of the worst (complimentary) samndean conflicts in the entire series, absolutely laden with narrative potential, which makes its limp conclusion extra disappointing to me.

[bloody-wonder]

Could you expand on the part about Jean vs Neil's sexuality? I assume you meant how it's portrayed in the book, I never made any comparison, so I'd be interested in hearing about it. But it could be applied to fans too. I've not seen anyone try to say Jean can't be bi or is bi because of his abuse, like people do with Neil and his asexuality. While infuriating, it's sadly not surprising. Nobody ever did it with Andrew either. Just Neil.

yes i meant that there's an obvious difference between how neil, being demi, perceives andrew throughout the aftg books and how jean, being bi, reacts to jeremy and many other hot people he encounters. it's interesting you say you never made any comparison bc for me it's impossible not to compare and see the differences. back in 2020 when i joined this fandom, it was a huge thing for me to discover that certain fanon spins on andreil aren't irksome just bc they're ooc - they're upsetting bc they erase the way nora depicted aspec attraction in a media landscape where aspec rep is still difficult to come by and aspec relationships especially so. learning that these things have names and constitute queer identities was a revelation and made me a very analytical romance reader - and a very frustrated one too bc now that i know that complex romance stories featuring people like me can be written i have little patience for characters being instantly attracted to each other for seemingly no reason.

that's why scenes like this

“I like to indulge,” Jeremy said with a dimpled smile. Kevin’s words mocked him in the back of his thoughts: “Some of them you like.” Jean cut off that line of thinking so fast he felt dizzy. It didn’t matter that Jeremy Knox was annoyingly easy to look at; Jean knew better than to look at another man too long. He’d learned that lesson the hard way and would not survive a revisit.

have a mixed effect on me. on the one hand, i recognize that this is true to the experience of allo people and admire nora for no doubt intentionally writing neil's and jean's sexualities in such a different way. both of them end up in mm relationships altho neither of them is gay - which i think adds nuance to the yaoi lol. on the other hand, to me, a relationship that features writing like this is just inherently less interesting. like, this is literally just my subjective preference but it did factor into why i didn't like tsc as much as aftg.

the things you bring up about certain fans' double standards when it comes to the potential influence of abuse on one's sexuality are very true. nobody ever claimed andrew is gay bc of the abuse he suffered and i don't think people would use this argument with jean, altho biphobia and bi erasure are definitely a thing in many fandoms. interestingly, the scene i cited above adds another layer to this conversation: so the logic of aspec neil deniers was (wishfully using the past tense here) that you can basically bully a person into being aspec and that's why neil isn't really demi, he's just repressed etc etc. but in jean's reaction to jeremy's looks and in his internal monologue throughout the book whenever he finds someone attractive we see that he doesn't welcome these feelings. he's thinking: i'm attracted to him but i've been hurt before and so i don't want to feel this way - it will only lead to problems and more hurt. now, were it true that one can be bullied into perceiving hot people around with the same kind of disinterest as neil, the many instances of sex-related physical and psychological abuse jean has been through would have doubtlessly gotten him there. instead, he's still very much bi and traumatized.

[erigold13261]

That Rerevolution post was spectacular! Question! Why is white such a jerk in this FRAU? Also… “rest in piece” what a pun to put in/j fitting, though.

I'm so glad you liked it! I didn't even mean to write that much! I was just going to write about Eve and Neon but once I got done with Eve I thought of Yinu which then made me think of Sayu which made me think ahead to Tatiana's fight but I had to finish 1010's first, ugh! It was so much fun to write!

Also that "let us die in piece" was actually a typo lol! Meant to write "peace" but by that point I had already spent about 3-4 hours on the ask so I missed some obvious errors like that lol.

As for White being a jerk, he is one because he feels like his life was ripped away from him and that he is being punished all thanks to Blue's actions.

Blue attacked Ex-Jay, attacked West, attacked B2J and yet HE was promoted to leader because White couldn't handle the pressure of leader. White became just a figurehead for 1010 while Neon gave all the responsibility and power of leader to Blue.

Not only that, but Blue is the reason Purple was destroyed by Tatiana. Blue attacked a human (either West or Ex-Jay, idk which right now) and was supposed to be the one Tatiana destroyed, but Purple jumped in the way to save Blue.

So to White, everything is Blue's fault, even before Blue stopped the revolution. Once the negative changes happened after the revolution (1010 being stripped of their ability to fight back, hatred of robots forming, and NSR turning very toxic), White just kept blaming Blue for everything.

It is similar to Eve in the sense that both of them blame it all on Blue, and then that blame extends to others. Like White is mean and resentful to the other 1010 members because he is no longer the leader and feels like they don't respect him anymore, which would be Blue's fault.

There is also an internalized hatred of himself for not being a good leader when he was one. Thinking that maybe he could have stopped Blue but failing to do so. He refuses to accept blame however, and instead turns that hate for himself into hate for others.

It also doesn't help that once things started getting toxic and people started gaining up on 1010, the only people lower than White in terms of power were Yellow, Red, and Green. So of course White is going to try and force whatever power he has over them to try and get the feeling he is a leader again. And to try and MAKE those three respect him through fear, similar to how Tatiana runs NSR.

The only reason that White isn't fully fears by the rest of 1010 is because Red stays near Neon or Blue, Yellow knows how to pin the blame onto others, and Green doesn't give a shit about life anymore. Which just infuriates White more because he doesn't have power.

It's not even like he is power-hungry and wants to control everything (like Tatiana), he just wants some control of his life and to be able to make his own decisions. He is following Tatiana's rule but acting more like Yinu, except being a lot more hostile/aggressive instead of depressed and docile like Yinu is.

So yeah, just White not being able to deal with losing autonomy and being punished for other people's mistakes would be the biggest reasons why he is an asshole.

[asbestos-11]

controversial opinion but:

galaxy > ie s2 > chrono stone > go > ie s3 > orion > ie > ares

ares fucking sucks and the only good things about it are nosaka and haizaki. idgaf about the plot, the characters are ass and idc about it enough to rewatch it.

the original is cool and all but i have no want to rewatch it and the original raimon is boring. some plot points are interesting, but overall i just don't care much for the plot. it is iconic tho.

orion can be infuriating and plot points/ characters are dropped so fast. irina's whole motive makes no sense and kageyama is pointless in this one. tho it's so funny bcuz it's so bad, kinda the room vibe yk? personally i really enjoyed the attempted murders, ichihoshi being a menace and kidou bullying him. probably would rewatch only select episodes. oh also i hate how ichihoshi's did is treated and how his ndness is cured by getting the fubuki treatment.

the ffi arc is cool and very iconic. i rewatch it every now and then. appreciate fudou being developed but i wish there was more to his arc. fubuki gets character nuked which is sad :( kageyama dying is cool and the payoff of the whole garshield daisuke kageyama plotline, while silly, ties the series off nicely. very iconic very pog.

i think go is my most rewatched season and for good reason. i like the conflict and the plot + the characters are interesting and i get so invested in them. tho i hate gouenji during the movie and him condoning god eden is just yikes. tho go introduced keshins which i couldn't care less for and i think they are used as an asspull most of the time (ie majin pegasus/majin pegasus arc, matei gryphon, taiyou's keshin bullshitery). i hate that they didn't do much with kariya, hikaru and the rest of raimon cuz they deserve to be explored.

cs has a special place in my heart as it's the 1st season i watched subbed and not on prime time television. also it was the 1st time i interracted with the fandom (even if it was just reading fics). appart from that i am a sucker for time travel and history in general. i love fei and kinako's arcs and that sweet sweet angst. tho i'm a bit mixed on miximax since i find it aesthetically pleasing and cool, but also kinda meh on it's execution plot wise. i really dislike el-dorado and the ssc conclusion and the way the ssc are talked about/treated. i also hate asurei lol

s2 my beloved you have introduced me to blorbo from my show. love the premise and the plot, the drama and the copious amounts of angst. fudou is a thing /pos and while i find the whole dark emperors match iconic i also don't care enough about it. i love the aliea kids as they're the highlight of the season to me. the only thing i dislike is hitomiko's treatment of raimon but it is understandable story wise, still i am miffed. also fubuki merging is kinda meh to me.

i don't think i need to explain galaxy as a fave bcs i think it's quite obvious that i really really like it. hell my bio literally says that. i do have my problems with galaxy, like sakura's character being forgotten, kageyama being alive and the anime being worse than the game. surprisingly i like souls.

[postive-rainworld-anarchy-conf]

As someone who mods for the popular rw confession blog on this site (least I assume its the most popular? Idk), my confession is that im sorry that pro-Az people are mad that their ask where they said Emily is a gross pedo that should kill themselves didn't make it through the anti-harassment rule. Its not our fault that Pro-Emily people know how to format their confessions to not be name-dropping dogshit and make it through. Most of the 'Vauge Az asks" got through because they were talking about how scared the situation made them feel, or about the side of the fandom they didn't like as a whole, which is not harassment or name-dropping. Sorry you read everything like its about your friend group, but someone saying they feel scared about teenagers harassing others in the fandom isn't automatically about just one guy believe it or not. Im not saying which side im on cuz it doesn't matter (and thats against our rules anyway), im just saying no one on the pro-az side knows how to silently say they dislike someone without being it being obvious and a huge dick.

We got rid of the 'You can talk about drama' rules weeks before the doc even came out, and asks from the time it was dropped haven't even posted yet (our queue is still submitting posts from July 10th.) Ya'll can stop whining in our inbox about how we post nothing but anti-Az asks, the last drama ask was posted months after the org drama ended and weeks before it started again.

Half tempted to @ your blog so people will stop trying to get their drama asks through /j. Your doing gods work on this blog and sorry for posting a huge rant in your inbox lol (also before anyone tries playing detective, im one of the quiet mods on the blog who never talks. Good luck)

"oh fuck I sure do wonder why I have 8 messages in my blog" looks inside how the fuck did anyone even find me. I literally just dusted off the blog to laugh at a really really bad document for a bit, guess uuuuuuh...... ok! (I did not, as they say expect the unexpected.)

I don't really know how to respond honestly. I mean the no harassment rule does fall apart after long enough and enough bullshit happening.

really hard to not harass people when those people are infuriating as all hell.

this isn't like, a "you should answer those asks" it's a "wow alot sure did happen, and it sucks that you have to sift through this stuff to pick out the stuff you can actually post."

and it really sucks that the pro-emily side is often the one that just, better follows the rules, I may be 100% on emily's side but like, a confessions blog is a confessions blog and I know how much it sucks to be shoved out of their without your ask ever getting answered.

but like, those rules have a reason. is it a good reason? yeah? also good on you for adding a 'no drama' rule, this shit is fucking toxic.

also I'd say you can edit the asks to make the fit the rules and repost them as anon but like...

that's alot of work! and I don't expect anyone to do that honestly. I wouldn't even do that. and I'm, actually insane.

---

onto the next ask...

oh god people not understanding what you mean, the blog this one is based off of (whom I'm not going to say because while I dislike them, they did say they didn't want to be affiliated with this blog so yeah lol) did that so, so much. but I get it, it's scary when someone has an opinion you don't like and says that their blog is based off of yours

honestly I think your blog is the gold standard for confession blogs, literally. it's always fun to scroll through and see what dumb shit people say just because they can, without worrying about the repercussions.

when I learned about your blog I instantly went "why the fuck am I doing this, this is already done, but better and more popular"

though I guess I've come to realize that I'm filling a different part of the niche. especially since you aren't really wanting to answer drama related asks, probably a good decision honestly.

I wish you luck with running the blog. it's a tedious process, especially when everyone just instantly went insane when they saw the document.

also Post Script;

that would be really hilarious if you @ my blog being just like "heeey, this fuck WILL answer your asks." and I'd be fine with doing it, especially if it makes wading through your inbox easier over time. though I completely understand not wanting to do that.

people read "this blog follows the harkness test" and think "oh, you must be a zoophile" when in reality, I'm an ao3 user and this shit is fucking lame compared to the stuff I've seen.

and your already getting a ton of angry people at your door for the crime of... having rules... and... following those rules...?

Post Post Script;

can I just say how fucking insane it is that I've gotten asks from both emily AND the real rainworld confessions???

90% of my asks used to be me just saying shit. I guess this is the thing that happens when you do this kind of thing.

Post Post Post Script;

seven red suns pronouns are 7/8/9 duh.

anyways, hope your having a fine day, this was an interesting way to start mine! and don't worry, you did post both of these with anon, I thankfully didn't have to gaze upon the true form of that which wishes to stay unknown.

[william-s-churros]

i am a fan of ip theft but i think if youre gonna do it, you need to do it well lol. but honestly even if you arent stealing shit you should try to do a good job, though lmao. the unique problem with poorly-made derivative works though is, quite obviously, that they will make you wish that you were engaging with the thing they are derived from, rather than wasting your time on this hot garbage that doesnt even have the decency to offer anything new or interesting with the same old ideas, and possibly offers even less than that. so the issue for me with ip theft is less with how moral or immoral stealing ip is, but more with just the outcome in terms of the quality of the thing in question, particularly in relation to the ip upon which it is infringing-- and as such, a term like "derivative" is useful as a piece of criticism, particularly when it is supported with further critique and extrapolation on how that derivativeness is reflected in the quality of the work. i certainly dont think people should automatically celebrate something simply because it is extremely derivative or outright plagiarism. that would be stupid! something being derivative speaks to nothing more about it than its derivativeness, an entirely neutral concept outside of perhaps the disadvantage inherent to a derivative work, and that is that it invites comparisons to the work it is derived from, so if it sucks, its very obvious, and it can even be a bit infuriating at times because its like. well, youre already stealing, so why not also steal the shit that makes this thing, you know... good? you already have a perfect example of that lol. and i certainly dont think all derivative works are lazy, but i think that they absolutely can be extremely lazy (if youve ever watched an asylum movie, you know) and made by rather unscrupulous people who arent particularly motivated by much but making money and that comes through in the quality of the work. i think this last point is part of the reason why people do have a bit of a negative knee-jerk reaction to works that are blatantly derivative to the point of plagiarism-- as much as there are people who might plagiarize a work to make something of value, so too do many people plagiarize works simply to avoid doing the work required to make something of value.

[flashflashhundredyarddash]

batfam and the Cain Instinct

dick will fistfight jason no hesitation. jason says one (1) annoying thing and dick is ready to kick his ass

dick and tim will be totally chilling and then dick will just full strength punch tim out of nowhere tim hates it

cass kicked dick's ass when they first met BUT!! BUT!!! cass is still his little sister so he IS legally obligated to fight her so it's like playfights + randomly shooting cass with a nerf gun

EVERYTIME they are driving together dick will punch duke when he sees a buggy and duke doesn't understand because he feels like he's ALWAYS getting punched.

dick will kick damian's ass

steph will also kick damian's ass

steph and cass have cain instinct but it's very small so they fight over snacks.

jason's cain instinct is fucking literal eiowiewoe. THEE biblical jason

deliberately goads dick into getting annoyed and then as soon as dick gets close to him jason is always like BRUCE DICK IS PUNCHING ME and bruce is like you deserve it

jason had ONE drag out KNOCK OUT fight with cass and bruce banned them from fighting ever again so now they just do aggressive stareoffs

jason will jump tim anytime anywhere. tim is drinking a smoothie in the middle of a forever 21 while bart decides if he wants the pink sweater or the yellow sweater and then BAM body tackle into the clothing rack. everytime anyone questions them they're just like it's exposure therapy.

on the other hand, tim will ALSO jump jason anytime anywhere. he doesn't even stick to gotham. jason is in madrid for a case and when he gets to his hotel room, BAM 153 pounds of tim drake just starts whaling on him.

jason will just walk into dukes room and stand there for a moment and when duke is like what jason is like you're a fucking nerd and walks out. i am the eldest sibling so i have never been on the receiving end of this but i understand that it is psychologically devastating

jason walks back in five minutes later and is like oh yeah alfred wanted to know if you were hungry

jason and damian fight literally all the time, and every single time jason critiques damian which is. infuriating

cass will just walk up to dick and wrestle him to the ground until he cries for mercy

cass is only like several months younger than jason so whenever jason is like i am your BIG brother cass gets genuinely angry about it lol.

tim and damian are the only ones who actually try and fight cass. tim + cass like once a day have an argument that devolves into them wrestling and screaming on the floor while they pull each others hair. true love.

cass just punches duke out of nowhere for no reason. she learned it from dick.

damian tries to spar with cass but it's very obvious that it's like. an adult tiger pretending to be scared by a baby tiger. that vibe.

[prose-for-hire]

Bad to the bone

Part One

Pairing: Spike x Giles!reader

Request: Not really requested. Inspired and suggested by the 🏜 Anon !! This is a second part to ‘Bad boy, lunchable reader’ 

Warning: Bit of a rocky relationship with Dad!Giles, mention of reader feeling a kind of abandonment by him.

A/N: I’m not sure how similar reader is to the original fic (can a reader be ooc lol). I just wanted to show the softer side of their relationship despite the people around them being more hostile. It was really nice re-visting this one !! 

You ran, waiting on the kerb rather than in the house. You knew your dad wouldn’t follow you out. Not after that argument. You tried to just ignore what had been said, as if it had never happened.

You waited for the sun to set, knowing he would come for you as soon as he physically could. Your vampire. Ever since he had told you he loved you, you had been completely loved up. And everyone around you appeared to be against you both for it.

Despite it all, you couldn’t help your heart soaring when you saw him approaching on the motorbike that had suddenly come into his possession.

He grinned when he saw you, dismounting the bike as you walked towards him. He pulled you into a deep kiss. It knocked the breath from your body, his tongue meeting yours with a fierce passion. He always did this as soon as he saw you, just couldn’t resist it. Could never resist you.

He gestured for you to join him and you happily started to sit behind him but he paused you, brandishing something you hadn’t noticed what with his distracting kiss.

“On. Not bloody moving ‘til it’s on” He warned, coaxing the helmet into your arms and stared, waiting. When you didn’t put it on he spoke again, “Come on, stole it special didn’t I?” He encouraged softly. It made you smile when his tone softened that way. He only did it for you. You had always known his heart was softer than it appeared.

“Hey! You don’t even wear one, you’re treating me like a baby”

“Humans have skin. Soft, squishy parts. And you got the softest of all, pet” He said tenderly, moving his hand to rest against your upper arm ,as if in appreciation of said skin, “Can’t have you in harm’s way”

“Fine, but only if I can drive on the way back” You warned, putting the helmet on your head.

“Love-”

“If we crash you can do the hero thing, y’know, save me all vampire-style and kissing me”

“Yeah while all your bones are crushed beyond recognition”

“You… you wouldn’t kiss me if I was smushed into the floor?” You pouted, which made him tense his jaw. He loved you, God he loved you, but you didn’t half ask some stupid questions sometimes. You were so soft and unassuming though, you really wanted to hear the answer. He was a sucker for you.

“’Course I would”

“You mean it? You’re not just saying it?!” You laughed, looping your arms around him still stood beside the bike and pressing yourself into him. Almost hitting him with the extra padding around your head. You closed your eyes, so relieved that he was here.

“Just… come on, pet” He gestured behind him, trying to peel your arms from him. You just smiled a little giddily because you were in his presence and tried to press more kisses to his face through the visor. He looked around, making sure Giles or the Slayer wasn’t around. You weren’t listening so his tone changed a little harder, “Get on the bike or I’ll drive away into the sunset”

“Yeah, dust in the wind” You muttered with a pout but moved to sit behind him. He caught it but didn’t say anything.

You were clinging to him, his waist. He loved having you this way, driving you through the streets. Allowing everyone to get a good look that you were his. You leaned against his shoulder, the tension releasing from your shoulders the further you drove away.

You arrived at his crypt, a place you loved. It was a solace. You were able to love freely here. Without anyone’s unwanted opinions or fists getting in the way.

Nobody accepted your relationship and your dad was the worst. You had argued with him again. Just before Spike came to pick you up. It was becoming almost every day now. You wished you could share how much you adored Spike. How happy you were. How he took you to the library and sat there the entire time you were studying. How he offered such loving comfort. How he was there for you without question, without agenda. He was yours.

This is how you had ended up exchanging more infuriating words with your father.

“Look at him, Y/n, for pete’s sake! He’s bad to the bones of him!” He seethed as you tried to mention casually that you were staying over at Spike’s. You didn’t ask permission seeing as you had lived alone for most of your life until you had moved back in with him again.

“Dad, please, just believe me – I love-” You began, trying in earnest to get him to understand.

“You don’t know the bloody meaning of the world, child!”

“I’m an adult, Dad, I’m not your kid anymore!”

“No, I suppose you’re just some stranger I allow to live here rent free”

“I can leave”

“Then you should do so, as quickly as you can” He had said it in the heat of the moment and instantly regretted it. He was driving you further into Spike’s arms and he only comprehended this as his last syllable pierced the air towards you. Leaving you wounded, fleeing the scene.

Spike took your hand softly in his, guiding you through the grave stones and into the crypt he called home. Nobody would ever believe you if you told them how soft his heart was. All they saw was the big, bad vampire that had crashed into Sunnydale.

But he was good, no matter his faults. He was so good to you. He could get violent, you had seen the evidence from the fights he got into. But he would never let you see that. Wanted to protect you, make sure you were always safe.

He had been so close to trying to hurt your Dad recently. Giles had threatened him away from you. Shoving him hard into the wall upon realising he couldn’t fight back. Spike stood and took it. No matter how angry he got. He would have risked the headache if it hadn’t been for you. His way of proving he wasn’t backing away. He wasn’t going to lose you.

Spike hadn’t told you though, didn’t want to see you cry again. He hated to see you cry. Didn’t want to be the reason you were upset. He’d hide it from you, not wanting you to fall out with your Dad again. He knew how much his approval mattered to you.

It soon became apparent, however, that you were already slightly down. He didn’t press you to talk to him, just pulled you into his side. You had settled on the sofa in his crypt. He had cleaned up again, always swept around the crypt and tried to make it look habitable when you were coming over.

Wanted the best for you. Always.

You leant into his chest, not able to hide your frown now. What your Dad had said was finally sinking in. You didn’t know whether to ask Spike if you could stay here. Or whether this would only make things worse.

But this worry began to dissipate with every loving second you shared with him. You loved his jewellery. He often wore a single silver chain around his neck. You twisted your finger to look his necklace. Thinking, brow furrowing lightly now as you did.

He kissed you softly on the forehead before casting his eye back to the tv as he spoke, “Your old man again?” he questioned, knowing your moods as if they were his own. You just nodded, hiding your face. Nestling into the side of his neck.

He wrapped his arms around you protectively. As if he sought to save you from the world outside the crypt.

This is the man that was entirely bad to the bone. The vampire. A killer. But one who would never harm you, hated even a word said against you. Who would defend you even past his last breath. Who would whisper such tender love. Such sweet affirmations. His poet’s heart sung for you. You had found him writing feverishly. About you. For you.

You couldn’t describe it properly, but with him you felt safe. Safer than you ever had before. Despite everything you knew. He had told you his past in excruciating detail. But you still confirmed your love after. Because of the way he was with you. The way he cared. You knew something had shifted within.

He put something on the television as he pressed such tender kisses against your skin, trying to get you back to face him. God, he loved your face. He pressed his lips along your jaw, small kisses making a path of his love.

“Let me make you feel better, love?” He posed the question innocently but his eyebrow was telling you different. He loved to kiss the pain away. he was a big believer in healing through this kind of affection. He always wished to make you feel his love so intimately. He was the typical bad boy but you loved the bones of him.

Spike latched onto your neck, soothing kisses. Hands slowly roaming. He cherished every inch of you, sliding you onto his lap as he pressed further kisses against your skin. Your lips.

Wanted you to know that he was with you. But you never doubted this. His love always surrounded you. Like a quilt. An aura.

Suddenly this soft moment was shattered. This peaceful moment you held in reverence lost. Buffy had dropped in. Again.

“Get off them! Now!” She barked, an obvious disgust written all over her face. It made you both so uncomfortable. You loved so deeply and yet nobody could see through the attitude. The past he wasn’t ashamed of sharing with you despite always worrying about your reaction. You knew it all now and loved him more for it.

You didn’t understand how everyone else hated him so.

“Buffy, what the fuck!?” You muttered, she always brought this reaction from you now. You sprung from Spike who just moved his head a fraction to lazily glare at the slayer.

“Get up, Spike” She scowled at him.

“You can’t just come by unannounced and start slaying! It-it’s like Spike just coming to your house and starting to bite people at random!” You complained.

“He has done that…” Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest, “Twice”

“Oh… right” Your brow furrowed a little, you were still getting used to the vampire thing.

“’S’alright pet, only a nibble. Like when I-” He arched a suggestive eyebrow as a heat ran up your face.

“Do not finish that sentence” Buffy warned before turning to plead to you, “Y/n, you know he’s no good. You know what he is. You don’t have to do this, to disrespect yourself this way”

“Buffy, I love him… he’s my boyfriend”

“Apart from the boy part, oh and the friendly part!” She rolled her eyes, “Come on” she grabbed your wrist and started to pull you away with her.

“Buffy, we’re not friends! You didn’t care to even know me until you found out that I was with Spike. This isn’t about me, it’s about… how you feel”

“No. it’s about you breaking Giles’ heart. Have you seen him lately?” She prodded, her tone turning harsh. She had tried to be understanding, played the concerned friend but she had given up.

She couldn’t understand liking Spike without hating yourself for it. Without treating affection as a transaction. He’s a demon. He had done horrible things and appeared to her to have no redeeming qualities. Apart from, admittedly, the fact that he was kind of attractive. Only in the right lighting, obviously.

“Yeah, I saw him thirty minutes ago when he threw me out of his house” You replied firmly. Your softness gone as she had made your life her business. Again. Buffy was so shocked she dropped your wrist.

Spike instantly got to his feet and moved swiftly to your side. His hand on you, he knew what this meant. He knew this would hurt you so much. You had felt distant with Giles for a long time, he moved away to basically raise some other kid. And left you behind. And now this was happening all over again.

You felt abandoned. Like he had created an entirely new family right here. Not made of blood but with the young people he helped all of the time. It was a secret he had kept from you and they had all been in on it. How could your own father make you feel like you were an outsider in your own home?

Spike’s hand was soothing on the small of your back. His eyes only on you. Sensitive to every minute inflection of emotion on your face. His expression held such understanding. Buffy looked between you, faltering only slightly before righting her face. He really did appear to love you. On the surface at least. His eyes didn’t move from you, his eyes glassy as he felt your emotions almost as strongly as you did.

He couldn’t help that swell of hope that you would move in with him though. No matter how concerned he was for you and your troubles, he was overjoyed that you might want to stay with him. To have you, by his side even in the day. To be close to you. Domesticity that he pretended he didn’t crave when you were around.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise…” Buffy offered. It was sincere. Of all the things she knew about Giles, she hadn’t expected him to parent like this. It was harsh, much harsher than he was on her even. She appeared to soften, want to offer a hand of friendship.

But Spike was already ushering her out of the door without her so much as collecting up her thoughts before she left. He hurled some choice insults out of the door with her before slamming the door shut.

He immediately moved to your side. Closing the space between you and allowing you to lean against him. He cradled your head whispering hushed assurances. That he would never leave you. That he would always look out for you even if everyone else turned from you. Which was exactly what it had felt like.

He knew this, knew your own thoughts as if they were his own. He didn’t like to admit it, although it was evident to you in abundance, but he was so soft for you. Especially when you were alone this way and you needed him. He was so comforting the gentle nature he shared with you almost made you cry. He continued to reassure you and held you to him through the night.

He wasn’t able to bite back any comments he had on your Dad, ones he had held inside for a while. He had never really liked that man.

Spike, this man who was so bad to the bone was your only comfort. All he wanted was for you to be happy, no matter what. He was soft with you where nobody else had been. He lifted you up, helped you carry on. He was yours.

You did move in with him after this, spending time together. It only made your relationship stronger.

You would make up with your Dad eventually. At your college graduation. He felt guilty, you had very rarely spoken to him since he told you to leave. He was protective, despite you having spent a large portion of your life looking after yourself.

He would never approve of your relationship with Spike fully, despite his assurance that he would never stop loving you because of it. He apologised though for his behaviour, something you hadn’t recalled him saying to you often. And something else.

“I’m proud of you, Y/n” He said, a hand patted yours. Your gasp audible. He had never said that to you before. It had honestly been all you had wanted to hear from him.

You still returned home to Spike though. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He wished so badly he could have been there but it was the middle of the day. He showed you just how pleased he was for you either way when you returned. He was so supportive, even if you hadn’t made up with your father, Spike was all that you needed.

It wasn’t a fleeting love, you were his. For life.

[maschotch]

I feel like we're missing an obvious question here

Maschotch, who was your favorite unit cheif? As in who did you enjoy seeing in the unit cheif position more (I know you like hotch and Emily so I'm assuming it's one of the two, but who knows maybe you liked seeing Derek or Gideon being emotionally destroyed)

Seperate question: who do you think did the best job because those could be different answers lol

ajkslhfg very normcore/unoriginal of me but i gotta say hotch on both fronts. not even just bc he's my fav but like... process of elimination

who did i enjoy seeing in the position most? gideon was a fun funky guy but i preferred seeing him as the slightly unstable former-unit chief ousted due to his breakdown. that just works so well for him, i love that energy. any excitement i would've had for seeing morgan as unit chief was dampened by all the ways they did it wrong... having him being the one who doubted hotch the most before taking his position, putting him in an office faaar away from the bullpen, everyone else not really taking him seriously. it was just. it couldve been better. in any other situation i think i would've liked it more. i do find emily as unit chief very very fun, i think hotch calling emily to take his place is just soooo interesting for both of their characters. but. she's way fucking overqualified? she went from running the entire interpol office in london to running a unit of 8 in the fbi. and they didn't acknowledge it as a demotion at all or even had anyone be impressed with her work. she should've had a reputation, she should have contacts, she should have a million other things just from her experience alone that they just.. didn't bother giving her. poorly executed by the writers. i honestly like the thought of jj as unit chief, but its the same problem with morgan: it's less about her own qualifications and more about fucking up the team dynamic. her role as unit chief didnt seem to matter at all to her or anyone else and it was very forgettable.

who do i think did the best job? i mean even if i thought it was gideon, hotch still did half gideon's job for him. morgan did well all things considered, but he was thrown too quickly into the spotlight and made some weird choices. emily... god emily should've been great but for the sake of reid's prison arc they needed her to be incompetent, which is another reason i fucking hate that arc. it's less of "she did a bad job" and more "if hotch was here this wouldn't have happened" which is just as infuriating. which i get is just the stupidity of the writers, but still. as for jj, she didn't get a chance to do much, and the only thing i really remember is her failing to contain her frustration in her meeting with barnes and her storming through the bullpen with wannabe-aragorn energy

even though hotch really is one of my top two favorite characters, that's not the reason he's my favorite unit chief. he just... suits the position. i love the roles the others play when they're not unit chief: morgan and emily were more fun as profilers, and gideon being a scorned unit chief was just such a neat dynamic. hotch as the overworked, overburdened leader is just Who He Is as a character, and there's no better place for him to be

[hermannsthumb]

As per our convo, Newt getting set up with Hermann via Hermann’s father’s binder full of pre-approved suitors for his son...

(from @k-sci-janitor 👀) easily one of our funniest concepts yet. I was going to end on newt coming over for dinner scenario but I like the ominous open ending. I'm not actually sure when kaiju attacks fall in the PR timeline so excuse my handwaveyness, LOL

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermann’s relationship with his father is what one would call strenuous at best, but—Hermann must admit, to the man’s credit, and in spite of his many flaws—he took the news of Hermann’s sexual orientation as unflinchingly as if Hermann had told him the day’s weather. It was a bit annoying, in fact. Hermann had agonized over the proper way to breach the subject for months, certain it spoke to some sort of personal ruin (whether ostracization from the Gottliebs or being forbade following through on any attraction he may feel whilst still living under the family roof, he wasn't sure), before finally simply announcing it one day at the breakfast table on a whim.

It had been a long-standing tradition that Hermann’s parents compile a binder—effectively of dossiers—on all the most eligible bachelors (for their daughter) and bachelorettes (for their sons) to aid in the choice of the latest Gottlieb mate. It was easiest this way, or so Hermann and his siblings were told. Parental approval was already secured. The histories of each were already secured, which bypassed any nasty shocks that might emerge in the courtship stage. Most of them were children of his father's colleagues or bright minds in their own rights: surgeons, and dentists, and mathematicians. Poets were strictly forbidden.

The occasion of Hermann’s breakfast table announcement had also been the day Hermann’s father presented him with his very first binder of prospective mates—a few days after his eighteenth birthday, and shortly before he was to go off to begin work on his PhD. His father had slid him a hand-written binder of names, no more than a dozen, and all with accompanying photographs. “All are accomplished young women,” he assured Hermann. “We can arrange any meetings of your choice over your winter holidays.”

Hermann glared down at the row of frozen smiles. He stabbed his fork into his cooked tomato wedge. “I don’t want to marry any of these women,” he said, and turned his glare on his father. He still had a rebellious streak in him at that point, something nurtured by a charismatic young man he used to trail after in boarding school, who pierced Hermann’s ear with a sewing needle in the boys’ toilets and listened to songs about setting things on fire. In late this streak had manifested itself in Hermann in nicking packets of cigarettes from his father’s study, one of which was in his pocket now. The weight of it made Hermann feel bolder. “I don’t want to marry any woman,” he continued. “I like men.”

The binder was drawn away in silence, and Hermann was free to eat his toast and tomatoes. The next morning a binder of young men was in its place.

(In a way the acceptance infuriated Hermann. It meant he could not blame his father’s obvious dislike for him on an unfounded, homophobic prejudice; rather, it was a result of Hermann’s own personal failings.)

The binder was placed at Hermann’s breakfast plate every day until he left for his studies. It was placed at his plate when he returned from them five years later. Not even the emergence of the kaiju from the bottom of the ocean shortly after Hermann turned twenty-four dampened his father’s hopes, nor turning all their scientific efforts towards the new jaeger program: some names were removed from the binder (the reasoning Hermann shudders to think at), more still were added, though Hermann is expected only to consider it once a week now on account of his busy schedule. This was one of such days.

“Your brother is very happy with his wife,” Hermann’s father reminds him. “She was one of my first suggestions for him, in fact.”

Hermann is not fond of his sister-in-law. Too rude—too cold. Though perhaps that makes her perfect for Hermann’s brother. “Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about these days than whether or not I’m going to marry?” Hermann says. He adds milk to his tea. “I’m sure they’re all, er, marvelous selections, only—”

“Your sister, too, with her husband,” father says.

Hermann sighs. He hasn’t got much of the rebellious streak he used to in him anymore—too stressed. Not fancying a fight before they’ve even begun today’s coding work, he picks up the binder and begins flipping through it. Sons of engineers working on the jaeger program with them, prominent young chemists, many of whom Hermann has been presented with since he was eighteen. Plenty of them are even handsome. Half of Hermann wonders if he should just pick the least-unappealing one of the bunch and be done with it already. He turns the page over and freezes. “Oh,” he says. “This one is—new.”

“Hm?” father says.

Hermann holds up the binder, tapping at a new entry. “Newton Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” father says, nodding. “A child prodigy from Berlin—he’s made tremendous strides in kaiju science in such little time. And,” he adds, “three PhDs. Two of them before he even turned twenty.” The unspoken implication was that Dr. Geiszler far surpassed Hermann in intelligence and Hermann should feel ashamed for not skipping as many grades as Dr. Geiszler.

Hermann feels he ought to resent Dr. Geiszler for it, but he's finding it difficult to summon up any animosity towards him. It's likely because Hermann finds Dr. Geiszler to be strikingly handsome in his photograph: cheeks which haven’t quite lost their baby fat (giving him the appearance of being a scruffy hamster), large, thick glasses, tousled hair, an easy grin. Three PhDs, and German at that. And a child prodigy? “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to me before,” Hermann says. He seems precisely the sort father would. Geiszler’s photograph is black-and-white and a bit grainy, but Hermann swears he could make out the lightest bit of freckles across his cheeks.

“I’d not heard of him until he published an article last week on kaiju biology,” father says. “Besides—he’s moved to America.”

Geiszler has three piercings up the side of his left ear. “I am going to write to him,” Hermann declares.

Father nods, and picks up his newspaper, clearly already disinterested. They speak no more of it that day.

It is not hard to find Dr. Geiszler online (his name is not the most common, and his field of study certainly isn’t), nor is it hard to match his photograph to his faculty page on MIT’s website. From there, Hermann retrieves Dr. Geiszler’s email address. He takes the evening to read over Geiszler’s publications spanning back to 2003 before he gathers up the courage to type out an actual email.

Dear Dr. Geiszler,

You do not know me, but I have recently been made acquaintance with your work and find it—Hermann pauses—scintillating. My father and I are—Hermann backspaces this—I am currently working on the development of the jaeger program…

There’s a response waiting for him the next morning. It’s as enthusiastic as it is brief. Dr. Gottlieb- That’s so awesome!! Believe it or not I’ve been following your work too. I have a million questions for you about the jaegers. If it’s classified info I promise I won’t tell. -Newt

It makes Hermann smile like nothing ever has before.

Hermann’s correspondence with Dr. Geiszler does not transgress beyond the professional until the following January. By that time, Hermann and his father have successfully completed the coding for their first jaeger prototype, and Hermann has been offered his fair share of tenured university positions to pick from as he likes. He finds himself oddly disappointed that none of them are in America with Dr. Geiezler. This, which leads to the realization that he’s grown rather fond of Dr. Geiszler, is perhaps what drives Hermann to uncharacteristic sentimental extremes on January 19th: he orders Dr. Geiszler a birthday present. The first email Dr. Geiszler sends him after that addresses him as Hermann. The first email Hermann sends Dr. Geiszler after that addresses him as Newton. Things move rapidly after that.

“Are you still writing to that young biologist?” Hermann’s father asks him in March. Hermann has spent the last two months devouring every bit of information Newton has seen fit to divulge about his personal life: his dexterity with no less than three different instruments, his favorite loud monster movies, how he’d love to get a kaiju tattooed on him one day. Hermann suspects he might be falling in love with Newton. In hardly five months! These are war times, Hermann supposes, so it would make sense. People are meant to do such extreme things.

“I am,” Hermann says.

“I’ve asked around about him,” Hermann’s father says. His expression is stern—unimpressed. “About his character. I’m not sure it’s wise to continue your correspondence.”

The reasons are this. Dr. Geiszler’s methods are unorthodox. Dr. Geiszler is loud and uncouth, and has little respect for his intellectual superiors. Dr. Geiszler was thrown out of a convention once for storming up on stage and stealing a microphone from an engineer to shout about the destruction coral reefs. Dr. Geiszler was in a distasteful band for several years. Dr. Geiszler was once arrested for egging a politician’s house. Dr. Geiszler has gone on record as describing the kaiju as “kinda cool”. Almost none of this is news to Hermann; in fact, that which is only causes Hermann’s affection for Newton to grow. “I will consider your advice,” Hermann says, knowing he won’t. Besides, it's not as if his father really has Hermann's interests at heart—Hermann knows he merely wishes to preempt any scandal Newton Geiszler could possibly bring upon the Gottlieb name.

In April Newton goes on television and declares that he’s sure the kaiju are extraterrestrial in origin, on account of their great size and his brief examination of a sample from the second kaiju to make landfall. He’s laughed off by his older peers before he can get another word out. The email he writes to Hermann afterwards is furious, capslock-heavy, and expresses that Hermann is the only one who takes him seriously in the whole world. It leaves Hermann certain that he is in love with Newton.

“Dr. Geiszler was interviewed on some American television program,” Hermann’s father says a few days later.

“I know,” Hermann says, proudly. Newton was on television. “I watched it.”

“He made some extraordinary claims,” Hermann’s father says.

But Hermann is thinking only of the outfit Newton wore (skinny jeans and an oversized leather jacket, so out of place compared to the suited other scientists sitting around him), the shade of his eyes (hazel), his short stature (hardly taller than Hermann), and the cadence of his voice (high, but not unappealing). He’d been so confident, and carried himself with a self-assurance that was foreign to Hermann. It was marvelously attractive. “I’m sure they're correct,” Hermann says. "Every single one. Newton is a terribly brilliant scientist." All bold claims are met with derision at first, are they not?

Newton’s theory is proven correct after the next kaiju attack, when experts other than him get their hands on kaiju samples and validate his claims. The general consensus after that is that the kaiju are not of this world. And Newton was the first to propose the theory! Hermann sends Newton an email full of congratulations, and Newton responds with a heart emoticon in his sign-off. Newton isn't just a brilliant scientist. “Newton is a genius,” Hermann tells his father, dreamily.

The binder reappears on Hermann’s work desk a few months later, Newton’s page torn conspicuously from it. Hermann tips the whole thing straight into his trash can. He has more important things to worry about—arranging a meeting with Newton, perhaps. Hermann ought to have him over for dinner.